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mannien · 3 years

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Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

(Tom) I got you something today

After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood. She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

(Me) You were in Disneyland????

(Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today

(Me) I’m so jealous rn

(Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!

(Tom) it’s alright

(Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

(Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

(Me) I bet you loved this feeling

(Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

(Tom) Don’t tell anyone

(Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

(Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

“I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

“That’s exciting, right?”

“Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

“That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

“I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

“No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

“Yeah? How was work?”

“Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

“Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

“You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

“I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

“Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

“You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

“I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

“I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

“You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

* * *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

“How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

“Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

“It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

“Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.

****

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear@sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection@cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0 @spideyspeaches

If it bothers you that you’re tagged, please let me know!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland x oc #mornings in Sheffield park #misp #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

downhill (gbd)

an early december snowboarding trip to colorado with your favorite boys is on the agenda. nothing can go wrong... right?

word count: 6.8k

warnings/tags: jealous!grayson, angst, mild injuries, arguing, angsty angst angst I did my best okay I hope it’s worth the wait :’)

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

It was the kind of cold outside that you could feel through the car. Even the metal frame of the van seemed to be shivering as Grayson continued down the highway, hand warm in yours on the center console. The sun had dipped down under the horizon, and you shifted again, trying to get comfortable in the passenger seat.

“All good?” You felt him squeeze your hand, eyes flickering over to you. Nodding, you squeezed back, shifting so you could lean against him, resting on his shoulder.

“Yeah, just trying to keep my ass from going numb,” you admitted, grinning when he let out a dry laugh. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“You wanna go sit in the back for a bit? It’s almost Ethan’s turn to drive anyway, then I can join.” His eyes flickered to his phone, maps pulled up. Four hours left until you got to Keystone Colorado.

“I don’t wanna miss the Christmas lights.” Half the reason you were going back to Keystone was because Grayson proclaimed it to be the cutest little christmasy town he’d ever seen.

“Baby we’re on the highway for another -” he checked quickly - “three hours. Go wake E up for me so he’s ready to drive, I’ll make sure you see the lights before we leave.”

Even though it was your first time traveling long term in the van, you’d become so comfortable in it. You easily unbuckled and climbed over the center console, letting out a squeak when Grayson’s hand came up to swat your ass while it was up in the air.

Ethan was sprawled out across the bed in the back of the van, head towards the back doors, arms crossed over his torso - the perfect position for pouncing. Grayson laughed as he watched you in the rearview mirror, heading around the seats before getting a three step run in, giving you just enough momentum to launch onto Ethan.

“BOO!” You yelled, landing directly on top of him. His groan was so loud that even Grayson jumped in the front seat. “Gotta wake up, almost your turn to drive.”

“That’s twice that you’ve jumped on me today. I’d rather Grayson wake me up than you,” he grumbled, eyes still closed.

“I’m offended.”

“Because I can hit him,” he finished, making you grin.

“I’d like to see you try!” Gray called from the front, shaking his head.

“Is it really already my turn to drive? Isn’t it your turn yet?”

“Bitch I drove the first 5 hours this morning, I don’t wanna hear it,” you scoffed, rolling to the side and flopping down on the cushions. Just laying down was enough to remind you that you had in fact been up since 4am, having been the designated alarm clock for the group. The coffee you’d downed was long gone now, and with the gentle bumps of the car on the road, you knew you’d be asleep soon if you stayed down.

With that, you sat up, reaching around to get into the ‘junk’ drawer, pulling out the old deck of cards that you’d tossed in. Ethan narrowed his eyes at you, hesitant. You didn’t blame him - it was common knowledge that you could kick his ass in cards.

“War. That’s all I’m playing.”

“Lame,” you muttered, but you dealt the cards out anyways. The game helped pass the time, both of you getting a little animated when you’d pull away with a lead. He threw a card at you when you got the last ace, knowing he’d effectively lost. You stuck your tongue out in response. Bad move.

That mischief that you’d seen so many times flickered in his eyes, and you made a dive for the front of the van towards Gray. It was futile; Ethan’s arms immediately trapped you and he drug you back onto the bed.

“No!” You squealed, knowing exactly what he was going to do. The two of you ended up in sore loser situations more often that you’d like to admit, and you crawled away, trying to avoid it. Unfortunately, the van wasn’t as long as you thought and when you turned around, he was right there, pinky finger up and devilish grin on his face. He put it in his mouth and you made one last dive, but he caught you, effectively giving you a wet willy that you cringed away from.

As soon as you could you scrambled off the bed, up the tiny hallway and past the curtain, crawling into the front seat and curling up in a ball. Gray moved on instinct, arm stretching over to your seat, blocking the gap between them so his brother couldn’t make it through.

You grinned, knowing you’d made it to safe territory as Ethan glowered at you over the seat.

“Don’t make me pull this van over,” Grayson cautioned, putting on his best dad voice. You just laughed as Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Traitor,” he accused with narrow eyes, sitting back into the second row of seats as Grayson pulled off the exit to find a gas station. Once he pulled in you hopped out of the van, stretching your legs and heading in to pee. You started walking as fast as you could, the air so cold it took your breath away.

“Hang on, I’m coming.” Gray jogged to catch up with you, leaving Ethan behind to pump the gas.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, bumping him with your arm. Almost five months ago you had told him that one time at one gas station you’d gotten kinda spooked, and ever since then, he made sure you never went in one alone if he could help it.

“I know.” He kept walking anyways, following you in and over to the corner of the store where the bathrooms were, standing by the shelves and trying to look non-creepy while he waited for you.

By the time you got back, Ethan had finished up; you could see him in the driver’s seat, plugging in his phone. Gray opened the door for you and you gladly climbed back into the warmth. You beelined for the bed, grabbing the blanket and immediately climbing under it.

You heard him laugh first, and then you felt the cushions dip as he crawled over, laying down and resting his head on your side until you turned so he could cuddle up to you.

“Keep it PG back there, I can’t close the curtain,” Ethan called, prompting Gray to flip him off. You didn’t care if Ethan saw, you wiggled down until your face was even with Gray’s, pulling him in for a kiss. You could feel his smile as he brought an arm over and under you, rolling to pull you on top of him, your hair falling around him. He reached up to push it back, holding your head and guiding your lips back down to his, skin soft and warm against yours.

Something about being so close to him just relaxed you like nothing else - you didn’t care about anything, worry about anything when you were in his arms. It had become home to you in the best way.

The downside of that? The fact that you were so comfortable that you had to pull away and let out a huge yawn. As soon as you were done you looked down to see him watching you with a smile.

“Am I boring you?” He teased, leaning up to press a kiss to your neck.

“No, you’re just cozy,” you hummed, nuzzling down onto his chest. He had on his yellow Cudi hoodie from coachella, and you traced the letters on his chest absentmindedly, eyelids heavy.

Before you knew what was happening you were fast asleep, Grayson smiling when he felt your breathing even out above him. He shifted you over onto the bed, rubbing gently over your back to keep you lulled. Once he was sure you were out, he kissed your head and slid off the bed, moving up to the passenger seat to keep Ethan company. He turned the music down so it didn’t wake you up, and E filled the silence.

“What happens when I get a girl? All four of us won’t fit in here,” he mused.

“We’ll figure it out, we could always pitch a tent if we had to. Gotta find a girl whose gonna put up with you first.”

“Ha- ha. If you can find one, I shouldn’t have a problem.”

On instinct, Grayson craned his neck up to look in the rearview mirror, checking on you. You were still asleep, curled up on your side in the middle of the bed. You looked so small and cute back there, it took more willpower than he thought it would to keep himself in his seat.

“She still out?”

Grayson just nodded, still watching you. “She was exhausted bro, I don’t know how she even stayed up that long.” Ethan’s eyes flickered up to the mirror, and he smiled.

“You picked a good one. She’s gonna fit right in.”

Grayson was pretty sure it must be a twin thing that Ethan could sense his worries even when he hadn’t voiced them. It didn’t matter how much he loved Y/N, he was still a bit nervous to bring her home to meet his family for the holidays in just a few weeks.

“I’m not worried about Ma. She’s gonna love her, I already know that. I’m worried about Cam.”

“Why wouldn’t Cam like her?”

“Cause Cam doesn’t like anyone we date, ever, you know that. She’s too damn protective.” Just the thought of his sister and his girlfriend in the same room together made his palms a bit clammy. He wiped them on his sweatpants quickly, hoping Ethan didn’t notice.

“Neither of us have ever brought a girl home like Y/N before though. And let’s be honest... Cam’s never been wrong, has she? Even if she’s a little over the top, you gotta admit, she’s got a radar for crazy. She always knew before we did if things were gonna go to shit.” E raised an eyebrow, and Grayson couldn’t help but laugh. His sister really had called out every crazy ex before he had been able to see the red flags.

“Now I’m really scared, cause I gotta trust her. Her track record’s too good, what if she says Y/N is actually batshit crazy or some shit? Then what?!”

“Well, she is dating your ass, so she’s gotta be a little crazy,” Ethan grinned until Gray smacked the back of his head.

“It was her idea to invite you along, so yeah, I’ll give to yah, she’s a little crazy.”

“I helped build this van, I automatically get invited on all trips that it embarks on.”

“Ethan you put in two fuckin screws, you didn’t build shit.”

“Cause you wouldn’t let me do anything!”

They bickered for a few more minutes before they got over it, moving onto other conversations until they ran out of highway. When they got off the exit, they were immediately greeted by the most christmasy town they’d ever seen. Every store, every porch was covered in twinkling lights - Gray considered waking you up, but you looked so peaceful that he let you be, knowing he’d have another chance to show you.

Everything went to plan until Ethan pulled into the campground that was supposed to house them for the night. The woman was nice enough, but even her polite tone didn’t make the news that there were no open campsites any better.

“I’m sorry boys, we filled up the last spot about an hour ago. Lots of people trying to get their ski trips in before the holiday rush. There’s a rest stop about 5 minutes up the way, you could park there for the night.”

“It’s alright. Thank you for your help.” Ethan mustered up the best smile he could through his exhaustion and turned the van around, pulling back out and onto the road.

“We’re gonna freeze our asses off again. The whole point of the campground was so we could run the fucking heater.” Grayson checked his phone - it was 20 degrees.

“We’ll just have to make it work. We can wake up and drive around in shifts if we have to. I’m fuckin toast man, you are too. We gotta at least try to sleep,” Ethan muttered, eyes peeled for the rest stop. Grayson didn’t have an argument for that.

As soon as they pulled off at the rest stop they were climbing into the backseat, stretching their legs for a minute before they grabbed the extra blanket they had and headed to bed.

“Don’t wake her up, she doesn’t go back to sleep easy,” Grayson cautioned, careful to move the bed as little as possible while he climbed in. Ethan copied his movements on the other side of you, trying to settle in.

“Night bro,” Ethan muttered, rolling over to face the outside of the van before reaching up to turn off his light.

“Night,” Gray answered. You were still sleeping soundly, facing towards him, some of your hair falling into your face. He couldn’t help but smile - you looked so peaceful, so cute all curled up in your pullover. He leaned over and kissed your forehead before reaching up to turn off the light, his hand finding yours that was resting face up by your head. With your fingers intertwined, he fell asleep almost immediately.

It was peaceful - until it wasn’t.

When you woke up, there were too many things going on at once. For one, the light was on, practically blinding you, which didn’t help the mission you had of figuring out what the fuck was going on. Two, your face was freezing, but your back was warm. And three, you felt heavy, and it took you a minute to realize that there was an arm slung over top of your torso, wrapped around and under you.

Seeking the warmth and the comfort, you relaxed back against his chest, blinking to try and figure out what was going on.

And that’s when you saw Grayson, up on his knees on the bed, hovering tall and angry above the both of you. It clicked then, and you realized exactly what had happened.

“Ethan, what the fuck!” Gray was yelling, his voice bouncing off the metal all around you and making you wince.

Ethan only stirred, and did the worst possible thing he could have done in that moment - you felt his arm tighten around you, pulling you against him firmly, face hiding behind your head to get away from the noise.

“E, Ethan wake up,” you muttered, knowing it wasn’t going to end well. He didn’t have much of a chance to even disengage before Grayson was grabbing his wrist and yanking his arm off of you, much more force behind it than necessary.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Ethan groaned, starting to wake up. You did your best to move quickly, rolling away from him and ending up bumping into Grayson’s thighs. Damn tiny home. Grayson’s anger dissipated for just a second while he helped you sit up, and you climbed off the bed, half to find water and half to avoid what you knew was about to happen.

“What the fuck?” He mocked. “Are you fucking kidding me Ethan?”

“Dude, I don’t know what’s up your ass right now, but can you just wait until the morning to be a dick please?” He rolled over towards the outside wall of the van, trying to avoid the lights. It didn’t last long - Grayson was on him in a second, pulling him back over onto his back. Ethan put his arms up in defense, and it was a smart move, because right after that Grayson started shoving, pushing at his chest and his shoulders.

“Grayson, what the fuck is your problem right now?” He was fully awake now, his anger rising.

“My problem? My problem is that I woke up to you all over my fuckin’ girl, that’s my problem. The fuck is wrong with you?” He shoved him again, and you winced when you heard Ethan’s body hit the metal of the wall. You knew it didn’t hurt him, but it still made you upset.

“Guys-” you tried, but you knew it was futile - you knew better than to try to get into the middle of one of their piss matches. Your voice fell on deaf ears, and you sighed, climbing into the second row of seats. The leather was cold, so you tucked your hands down into your sleeves, curling up on your side while the argument continued.

“Bro, I was fucking asleep. I probably thought she was a blanket or something, it’s cold as fuck in here.” Ethan tried to defend himself. You hoped Grayson would be calmed by his words, but of course, he wasn’t.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re fucking cold, Ethan. You can keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh, shit, you’re so right! Let me just check in with my motivation real quick... oh wait, I was fucking unconscious.”

Your exhaustion only heightened your annoyance, and you moved your arm up over your ear, pleasantly surprised with how much noise the fluffy fabric blocked out.

You’d almost made it back to sleep, surprisingly comfortable in the seat when Grayson noticed you were gone.

“Y/N? Y/N! Where the fuck did she go?”

You only reacted when you felt his hand on your arm. You turned to look up at him, and even if you were annoyed your heart tightened at the little bit of panic left on his face.

“I thought you left the van, you scared me,” he breathed, still keeping a hand on you.

“Nope, just trying to get some sleep and avoid the testosterone overload,” you muttered, quirking an eyebrow.

“Come back to bed.” There was a twinge of guilt in his tone, and it softened you whether you wanted it to or not.

“I can sleep just fine right here. Might avoid me becoming a tug-of-war rope at 3am.”

“Baby. Please.” He was pleading now, tugging on your arm just barely. The stubborn part of you fought it, but you knew you were going to give in eventually. Might as well do it now.

Grayson relaxed a bit when you stood up, taking your hand just for the quick walk to the back of the van. Ethan was on his side, facing the wall again, but you could tell he was awake when he scooted over as Grayson climbed into the middle where you had been.

It was petty, but you figured it would solve the problem well enough, so you didn’t fight it. He turned the lights off, and as soon as you were laying down Grayson’s arm was around you, pulling you back against his chest as tight as he could, cold nose nuzzling into your neck.

“Mmmm, you’re warm,” he hummed quietly, just for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you possessive fuck,” you mumbled, cuddling up to him despite your words.

“You love it.”

“I don’t love when you fight with Ethan.”

“I always fight with Ethan.”

“I know, that’s the whole point,” you sighed. He shifted behind you, and you felt his hand come up to brush some of the hair off your neck, fingers moving to the collar of your pullover so he could find some skin and press a kiss there.

“I’ll try to behave tomorrow. Promise. As long as Ethan keeps his hands to himself.”

You just rolled your eyes before closing them, soaking in the warmth of him there next to you as you drifted off.

----------

The first sip that hit your lips was still too hot, and you frowned down at your mug.

“Not good?” Ethan quirked an eyebrow, already downing his latte across from you.

“Still too hot,” you mumbled, blowing down onto the liquid, watching the ripples spread across the top of the foam.

“Before he gets back -” Ethan nodded at his brother, who was still waiting for his coffee by the counter - “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I mean, I was asleep, but I still feel really bad cause I know that was probably weird for you.”

“E, chill. It’s fine, really. We were all cold as fuck, I don’t blame you for grabbing the first warm thing you found. I’m sorry he’s so damn protective, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” You did your best to reassure him quickly but sincerely. He just mouthed a quick “thank you” as Grayson sat back down at the table.

Even though they hadn’t outrightly bickered yet, the tension was obvious between the boys. Gray sat turned almost entirely towards you, his back to Ethan in the most subtle of standoffish ways.

You stayed out of their arguments as much as you could - you had no place interfering in the twins relationship with each other, that was for sure. But it didn’t mean you didn’t feel bad for Ethan sometimes when Grayson was being a dick. You frowned as you watched him quietly sip at his coffee, knowing that if he said something that could even be slightly misconstrued, his brother would take it and run with it.

“So what gear do I need to get exactly?” You opened up the conversation, hopeful that it wouldn’t devolve.

Grayson launched into it, explaining everything you would need to rent out for the day ahead of you, from your board and boots to your goggles and helmet. It got him talking, which kept him from giving Ethan dirty looks, which was your ultimate goal.

You kept the conversation going as best you could for the rest of the morning, just bringing up random things to keep the emotions light and friendly. You got your reprieve about an hour later, when the three of you arrived at the slopes and walked into the rental store at the bottom. Someone greeted you at the door, giving you a chance to take a breath.

“You make a good mediator,” Ethan muttered in your ear when Grayson followed the employee towards the snowboards. Maybe you hadn’t been as subtle as you originally thought.

“Might as well be my full time job living with you two,” you teased, bumping him with your shoulder.

“Hopefully he gets the stick out of his ass before we hit the slopes.”

You headed over to Grayson, Ethan in tow, and started to listen to the instructions from the employee. You got a bit lost in the jargon, but you understood that the boys got advanced boards and you got a beginner one.

“It’ll make it easier if you mess up, cause it’s more bendy,” Gray explained, offering you an encouraging smile. You weren’t the most coordinated, and you’d never tried to snowboard before, but you’d promised you’d try.

“Sounds good to me,” you shrugged, letting out a bit of a clueless laugh.

“First time out there huh?” The employee offered you a bright smile - he was a bit shorter than the boys, with a sweet face and a head full of blonde hair.

“Yeah, gonna give it a go.”

“Nervous?”

“A little,” you admitted.

“I’m sure you’ll do great, you seem like a smart girl. Just stick to the green slopes at the start, those are for beginners. If you need some tips, just let me know.”

Grayson’s arm was around your waist immediately, pulling you against him so hard you almost lost your footing.

“I can handle the tips. Just need the gear,” Gray said, tight smile on his lips. It took all your willpower to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right. Let me just go get the rest of it.”

“Thank you,” you said, elbowing Grayson in the ribs as soon as the boy turned around and disappeared to the back storage.

“So we’re being assholes to customer service workers today too, huh?” You accused. You saw Ethan’s eyebrows raise as he held back a laugh behind his brother.

“He was flirting with you.”

You didn’t get a chance to refute it because the boy came back with all the gear in his hands. Most of it was for you - the boys already had jackets, boots and goggles. You passed them their helmets while you scooped up all the puffy fabric and Grayson paid.

The whole interaction didn’t come up again until you were on the lift, all geared up and headed to the first green slope. Ethan had gotten onto the seat behind the two of you, and you knew he’d done it on purpose. You tried a softer approach - instead of bringing it up, you just leaned over and kissed him. Your goggles that were nestled on top of your head clinked together, and you giggled at it before you leaned back.

“What was that for?” He mused.

“Just a reminder that I’m yours and you don’t have to worry about a teenage ski resort employee. Or your brother. Especially not your brother.”

You expected him to laugh, or at least smile. You got neither.

“A reminder? Why would I need a reminder?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just been getting jealous really easy lately. Thought maybe it was something I did,” you muttered, already shrinking down. You got annoyed when he was pissy with other people, but when he was pissy with you? You felt like an ant, tiny and fragile.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the short ride was silent, and you were relieved he still helped you get off the lift despite his attitude. But that was about the only help he gave you - he went down the slope almost immediately, leaving you at the top with your board in your hands. You pulled your goggles down over your eyes, hoping that might keep you from tearing up more than you already were.

“Here. I’ll show you,” Ethan’s voice was as soft as ever when he came up beside you. “Put your board down, and strap your right foot in.”

You did as he instructed, glad that he had his foot in front of your board so it didn’t slide away from you.

“Okay, now you just gotta feel it. Kick using your back foot for a minute so you can move and get used to it and find your balance, and then bring your other foot up on top. To go faster, shift forward a bit, and to stop turn your board sideways. I’ll go with you in case you can’t get stopped.”

You followed his instructions, gliding just barely over the snow. You were crawling forward, but you started to get the hang of the feeling. All was good until you tried to stop, overcorrecting and immediately losing your balance.

“Woah, I gotcha, you’re fine.” Ethan caught you, somehow managing to stay up on his board as well. You’d never understand how both boys could be so athletic.

“Thanks. Was that right? I mean, besides the stop.”

“Not bad for your first, uh, 2ft run,” he grinned, teeth as white as the snow he was standing on.

“Thanks for helping. Sorry he’s being a dick, I know you all usually snowboard together.” It was kinda their thing. Maybe you coming along wasn’t such a good idea.

“This was your all’s trip, you were nice enough to invite me on it,” he reminded you. “So I’m sorry he’s being a dick. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. Right?”

“Right,” you smiled.

“Okay then. Let’s keep practicing.”

Ethan’s patience was endless. He showed you the ropes, encouraging you as you got your control down, even cheering so loud that everyone looked when you made it all the way down the slope without stopping.

“We should go up to an intermediate slope. I think you can do it.” His confidence transferred over to you, and you just shrugged, laughing a bit at the sound your suit made when it rubbed against itself.

“If you say so.”

“Let me go find Mr. Grumps, I’ll meet you back at the lift.” And then he was off, looking for his twin. You undid your straps, picking up your board and heading for the lift.

Five minutes later, you saw the boys approaching, boards tucked under their arms. Just from their walks, you could tell that Grayson was still pissed, and you sighed at the sight. When he got in his head like that, there wasn’t much you could do to bring him out of it. But that didn’t mean you had to put up with it either.

So you only felt a little guilty when you climbed onto the lift seat next to Ethan, leaving Grayson to sulk by himself.

Ethan just quirked an eyebrow over his goggles, making you laugh.

“Nobody wants to ride with Mr. Grumps,” you teased.

“Understandable. We’ll just make this a best friend run instead of a couple-and-third-wheel-twin-brother-run.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When you got off the lift, you didn’t hesitate. Knowing you’d lose your confidence if you waited, you started down immediately, exhilarated by the feeling of the freezing wind in your face. You felt in control, like you could conquer the world. Ethan was right behind you, whooping and yelling as you both tore down the slope, picking up speed.

All was well until someone cut a bit too close to you, almost running into you, turning at the last second and sending snow up into your face.

“Woah!” You squeaked, trying to turn to avoid them. It happened quickly after that, a blur of white snow, hard ground, yelling and a body colliding with your quite hard. A sharp pain erupted in your ankle as you jolted to a stop, only then realizing that your eyes had been squeezed shut. You opened them to see pine trees above you, slightly discolored by your goggles.

“Y/N! You okay? Are you alright?” Ethan’s voice was in your ear first, and then he was moving, shifting from underneath you. You pieced it together quickly - he’d grabbed you, kept you from slamming into the trees. Which meant he’d taken the brunt of the force.

“I’m fine, I’m okay. Are you okay? Holy shit.”

“I’m alright, just a little winded,” he said, trying to take a few deep breaths.

“Just breathe, you’re okay,” you encouraged, but you weren’t sure he heard you over the yelling that had erupted back on the slope. You looked up to see Grayson, running over as quickly as the snow trapping his feet would let him. When he got to you he sent snow flying when he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Baby! Are you alright? Are you hurt? You okay?”

“I’m fine, Ethan took the worst of it.”

“E, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassured him, moving to stand up against the tree.

“I saw you all go off track, I thought you totally lost it, that was scary as fuck.” The panic was still evident in his voice, and you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. It grounded you more than you thought it would, and you shifted to him, asking for a hug. He pulled you to his chest, squeezing tightly.

“C’mon, let’s get you up.” Gray stood first after he let go, and you leaned forward to unstrap your board. As soon as you touched your left foot you winced, the breath you sucked in hissing through your teeth.

“What, what’s wrong?” It was Ethan’s voice, which surprised you.

“I must have hit my ankle on the tree. Hurts like a bitch.” Now that you had noticed it, there was no ignoring it. It throbbed like your heart was there instead of in your chest.

“Can you walk on it?” Grayson pushed his goggles off his face, concern strong in his eyes.

“I don’t think so.”

“I told you she wasn’t ready for an intermediate slope Ethan, I fuckin’ told you!” Grayson turned on his brother, and you spoke before you could think.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Grayson turned back to you, eyes wide. “You should be thanking him right now, he just saved my ass. And where were you? Oh right, sulking. Like you have been this whole damn trip. I’m done dealing with it. So just get me off this damn mountain. Please.”

They both just stared at you for a minute, unsure of exactly what to say. It wasn’t often that you had an outburst like that, but your anger was still bubbling, only fueled by the pain in your foot.

“I’ll go flag somebody down. Do you think you can get her out of the trees?” Grayson’s voice was small, and you immediately felt a twinge of guilt that you tried to ignore.

“Yeah, yeah I got her,” E answered, already moving over to you. He reached down and picked you up bridal style, heading back out to the edge of the slope. Once he sat you down and went back for the boards, you watched Grayson, who was traversing down to the medical tent located halfway down the slope.

Five minutes later and you were in a small sled, which was tied to the back of an ATV of sorts. You already knew you looked dumb, but Ethan laughing at you didn’t help matters. You flipped him off and stuck your tongue out.

“I’m coming with you,” Gray offered.

“No. You two are gonna go down at least three more slopes, and you’re gonna come back to the van and be happy siblings again. Okay?”

“Y/N...”

“I’m not asking. Give me my board, and go,” you instructed. You were pissed enough that he didn’t question it, handing you your board in defeat.

The paramedic looked back at you for a signal. You gave him a thumbs up and he pulled away, sending you on your way down the mountain, the boys watching you leave.

The process was easy enough at the bottom of the mountain considering they put you in a wheelchair to get you to the small clinic they had on site. The nurse was nice, reassuring you that they saw stuff like this all the time and there was nothing to be sorry for.

An hour later, you had the diagnosis of a severe sprain and a crutch to use to help you get where you needed to go. They had been nice enough to take your gear back to the rental, which meant you could head straight for the van. It was a relief when you made it there, glad that you’d been trusted with the keys.

With no hesitation, you climbed back to the bed, glad to have a place to put your swollen ankle up. It was already starting to get dark, and you knew the boys would be headed back soon.

back at the van, just knock when you get here cause I might be asleep you text, moving your phone over and cuddling down under the blankets.

Sure enough, you awoke to the knock on the metal door about an hour later. The entire interior was pitch black, so you turned on a light before you headed to the door, hopping on one foot until you got to the seat, sitting down and reaching for the door.

It slid back to reveal only Ethan, standing there with a goofy smile.

“Did you kill him or something?”

“Thought about it,” he joked, climbing up and around you, immediately moving towards the console and maneuvering into the driver’s seat. You narrowed your eyes. Something was definitely up.

“He’s going to try to make this up to me isn’t he.”

“Yes.”

“Did he at least apologize to you?”

“Yes.”

“And you aren’t going to tell me anything else are you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Cool.” You sat back into your seat as Ethan backed the van up, heading god knows where. There was no point in stressing about it - it was happening whether you liked it or not. You tried not to speculate as Ethan drove back through the town, but you couldn’t help but get curious when he turned into a neighborhood.

“Pretend I’m not here,” he mumbled, pulling over to the sidewalk and putting the van in park.

Before you could ask, the door was opening and there stood Grayson. But you only looked at him for a moment before you looked down, something catching your eye.

“You’re here to apologize. And you brought... an office chair?” Your eyes flickered between his face and the chair. He offered you a small smile, holding up a cup.

“And hot chocolate. Just... just get a blanket and come out here. Please.”

It wouldn’t have mattered if you didn’t want to, you were too intrigued to resist. Ethan passed you a blanket from the passenger seat, and Grayson came up to the side of the van, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you down gently onto your good foot. It took a bit of hopping, but soon enough you were settled in the chair.

He handed you the cup before he wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. You felt him press a kiss to your head before he closed the van door, tapping it twice, signaling Ethan to drive away.

“You gonna fill me in?” You craned your neck back so you could look at him. Even with just the light of dusk, you could see the guilt written all over his face.

“I was a dick this whole trip. And I ruined it. For you, and for Ethan. I don’t know what got into me, I’ve just been in my head a lot, but I took it out on you all instead of just talking about it. Which is dumb as fuck. And shitty. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Sincerity dripped from every word he said, and you were surprised at the weight that it lifted off of you.

“You’re forgiven,” you grinned, glad that you didn’t feel like you had to be mad at him anymore.

“Really?”

“Yes really. Now are you gonna explain where you stole this chair from and why?” You accused.

“I didn’t steal it. I convinced the lady at the coffee shop to let me borrow it for an hour.”

“Convinced?”

“I gave her twenty bucks,” he grinned, shrugging one shoulder up to touch his ear. You couldn’t help but laugh at him. You sipped at your hot chocolate as he started to push you down the sidewalk.

“I promised you I’d show you the lights before we left. And somebody went and sprained their ankle, so I had to improvise the cute little walking date I had planned,” he explained, making your heart swell. Sure enough, as the sun continued to dip down, more and more houses intricate light displays were coming to life, mixtures of crisp white and colorful arrangements.

“Woah, look at that one!” You pointed at one with snowmen out in the yard, only realizing that he was filming on his phone when you turned around to look at him.

“You’re so cute,” he smiled, continuing to push you through the neighborhood. You weren’t sure how long it lasted - there were too many houses to count, and you both rated them out of 10 each time, picking out your favorite parts.

When you reached the end of the road he spun you around, leaning over you, hands on the armrests for support. The lights behind him turned into fuzzy circles as your eyes focused on his.

“I promise I’ll make this up to you. Take you on another snowboarding adventure and not be an asshole this time.”

You scrunched your nose at him. “Yah know, I think I might be more of tropical girl. Beaches. Fruity drinks. You shirtless instead of in five layers,” you grinned, tugging down on his hoodie so you could pull his lips to yours.

“You taste like chocolate,” he mused, kissing you again, tongue running over your lips. “I’ll take you wherever you want, you just say the word.”

“Right now? I have an idea of exactly where you can take me...” You let it hang in the air for a moment.

“Oh?”

“Mhmmm. Back to the van. So I can get my hands on... some fucking ibuprofen. This shit hurts,” you pointed down at your foot with a wicked grin.

He huffed out a breath that turned to fog in the cold air.

“I deserved that one.”

“Yep.” You pulled him back down for one more kiss, savoring the warmth of it on your cold lips. “I love you, even when you’re a dick.”

“I love you more. Thanks for dealing with my annoying ass,” he sighed, forehead against yours.

“It’s worth it. Now c’mon, apparently we have an office chair to return.”

#ITS DONE ITS DONE ITS DONE #it's not edited so pls ignore mistakes I shall fix tomorrow #BUT HOLY SHIT I FINISHED IT JESUS #this one fought me SO hard #grayson imagines #lynds writes #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #gd imagines #dolan twins imagines

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

ipsum exitio (pt. 1)

a/n: for reasons explained here, this fic will be released in 2 parts! i want to thank everyone again who’s expressed an interest in this, and i hope that it lives up to some expectation. this fic is really big on introspection and includes a lot of arguably necessary exposition.

but more importantly, i want to thank @/a-kaashi (raenah) for being a huge support and my beta for this piece. she’s put in so much effort and thoughts into helping me make this into what it is now, and i can’t thank her enough.

plot: self-destruction is in the calm before the storm, in the eye of a hurricane. but when the forces are right, the winds are rapid enough, the catalysts send you hurling, you find yourself leaving a monstrous and disastrous path in your wake.

characters: ushijima wakatoshi, semi eita, iwaizumi hajime (in pt. 2), and male oc, w/fem!reader possessing vagina/uterus/uterine-system (other oc’s also included)

wc: 16.5k

genre/warnings: (+18) slice of life, angst, descriptions and moments of high anxiety, explicit smut (in pt. 2) (w/slight degradation, size kink, spanking, etc.) & virginity loss, alcohol consumption, talks about virginity and sex toys, slow burn, pining, implied bisexual reader

pt. 2

A breeze flows in through the open window of your apartment, softly caressing your face as you lean against the sill on your elbows. You drink in the view of Tokyo at night like a fine wine sliding down your throat, attuning to all your senses. With tear ducts dry and dust caked along the rims of your eyes, they shut in defeat, the semblance of a white flag splayed on the back of your eyelids. Cars honk in the distance and your legs struggle to support your weight. The scent of sulfur from the earlier downpour teases at your nostrils, causing your nose to scrunch a bit as you openly take in the scenery before you again.

A nearby billboard flashes bright, mechanically cycling through advertisements and never resting. The LED lights paint a picture that you are all too acquainted with, even more so with the man in the frame. Your body is plunged into a lake of bitter nostalgia as your heart wrenches painfully. Instead of fighting against the resistance of the water and gravity, you succumb to the anchor dragging you down, knowing that eventually, the waves will recede, and you will return to shore again.

Inhale. Count. Exhale.

Breathe.

11 years ago

Shiratorizawa is and always has been a battle ground. It was a miracle that you even made it there, quite honestly. The pressure and the overwhelming suffocation of competition filled your lungs and lodged in your airway the day you moved into the dorms and attended orientation. Everyone seemed so tense, so on edge, clutching their folders and packets like lifelines while absorbing all information possible. A stray few seemed more at ease and relaxed, but to you at the time, that immediately sounded the alarms – to seemingly thrive in this environment from the very beginning could only be the marks of a dangerous but powerful person.

What became a source of comfort was the realization that everyone else felt equally as anxious as you, terrified of the hidden lions camouflaged in the masses. And each year, students crippled under the stress and high expectations – if you had to make an estimate, at least 83% of the student body would experience a breakdown during the time of final exams. But in the midst of all this academic madness, this debilitating drive to do more and reach beyond the sky, everyone found refuge in the school’s sports teams. Be it basketball, swimming, diving, volleyball, tennis – chances were someone in the top 5 of their respective sport within the prefecture would be at Shiratorizawa, and nothing proved more freeing than screaming your lungs out for the prides of your school.

Interestingly enough, you had found that liberation in the volleyball team, being able to turn off your brain with a switch and focus on something that had nothing to do with the filled pages of incomplete to-do lists in your agenda. Air batons in hand, water bottle by your side for the inevitable dry throat, you hollered and chanted with everyone else in the stands and watched the opponents surrender at the feet of none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi.

A force to be reckoned with, a skill that was so beautifully and adeptly honed, you understood very early on the massive admiration for the boy. Even only at 16, Wakatoshi had the physique of a grown man, the severity of his complexion intimidating everyone within 100 meters of him. The terrifying force of his spike and devilish spin resulting from being dominant in his left hand left the crowds in awe. It was evident that the coach used this to the team’s advantage, and suddenly, you felt the burning desire to be on the floor. You wanted to sit on the bench, to see his movement from the side and within an envious proximity – no worry for stray balls, only the chance to witness something so athletically beautiful and magnificent.

And even though you were crushed under a mountain of assignments and projects, as well as a whole slew of mini-projects you had given yourself to make your life harder, you were determined to add this on your list. The lack of self-control in pursuing your desires was going to kill you in the future, but this was not the day. So you dove in towards the trenches, filled out an application, gave all the reasons why having you as a manager would be more help than harm, and suddenly, you were standing on the side of the court next to coolers of water bottles.

You didn’t bother hiding your adoration for Wakatoshi, always having had a bit of a soft heart for the strong, silent type. He was a boy of few words, and each one seemed carefully chosen yet also charmingly candid. Most, except for his teammates, were relatively terrified to talk to him, but he was always polite and thanked you for your hard work. Perhaps it was your constant vulnerable state induced by stress that made you more likely to develop your first real crush on someone, to search for a refuge of sorts. Wakatoshi always seemed to have his life together, and it became painfully obvious to the others that you had developed affections for the school ace. Satori teased you endlessly, going as far as scheduling a poor attempt at an intervention to get a confession out of you. Whether it had been out of pity or a relentless amount of pressure from peers (read: Satori, again), Wakatoshi, by the grace of something powerful, accepted your feelings. Nevertheless, he was very clear in pointing out that this wouldn’t be like any other relationship.

“When not in class, I am most likely at volleyball practice. I do not subject myself to public displays of affection.”

“I understand.”

“I will also likely not have time for dates. I am sure you are aware of this with our heavy course load.”

“Of course.”

“But I will try my best to reciprocate some of your feelings. I have no experience in this, as you might know, but all I ask is for your support.”

“That’s without question.”

“Very well then. Are you sure you want to continue with this?” He inquired, his eyes boring straight into yours to search for the answer.

Little did you know that your affirmation had signed a warrant for your soul, a revelation that would only unearth just thirteen months later.

Being in a relationship with Wakatoshi was easy. There was no need for all the overthinking of whether your actions would annoy him or not; or drive him away from you. If he had qualms about how you were acting, he wouldn’t bother with beating around the bush and instead tell you very directly, though gently as well. In the beginning, it was much easier to be quiet around him than to speak; the theme of your relationship would simply be ‘comfortable silence’.

He eventually became more relaxed around you with time, sometimes even voicing his worries and slight frustrations after practice while helping you clean up. Wakatoshi greatly appreciated how you were always ready to listen to him, despite the tremble in your muscles and dark eye bags from fatigue. You even joined him on his morning runs sometimes despite the fact you could only survive a small leg of it, turning back towards the campus when not even a fifth of his distance in. With advice from Satori, he had asked for more details about your day and your life in general, his brain filling in the gaps of the mental picture he had of you.

What once was a mere outline, roughly penciled-in of nothing more than your physique, the more he learned, the more colors he painted in. To him, you were shades of navy and gray with dashes of gold, emerald, midnight black, magenta, and rouge. The final picture was nothing close to artistic, but it lent to his understanding of your overall personality: unwillingly scattered, pained, anxious, yet determined and compassionate to a fault.

Procrastination was your best friend, you had told him one evening on a newly established weekly stroll, especially when it came to large assignments. You weren’t an organized planner – instead, you would let ideas stew and boil in your head, only mental images of the process and final result there until you couldn’t wait any longer to pen it down. Then you would pull nights of just three to five hours of sleep, running on caffeine and pure drive. What was even more frustrating was that you would find trouble for yourself, avoiding assignments by coming up with new unrelated projects that most definitely did not need to be on your priority list.

For example, if you had a presentation due in a week to discuss the 5 main themes of Great Expectations in front of your class, you’d first let all scenarios of it play out in your head. Then when it became too much, you’d go off and do something for the volleyball club that wasn’t on top of the agenda or complete a question set for the Math Olympiads club you were in as well. Considering those were more positive, productive digressions, other times you would pick up another book to read and feel the need to finish, download a new game on your phone, or scour the internet for cooking videos on the best ways to make hayashi rice.

What amazed (and somewhat alarmed) Wakatoshi was that you would pull it all together in the end. Not only were you balancing academics and extracurriculars, you were bearing the weight of your friends’ worries and stress on your shoulders with the biggest smile you could muster, casting aside most of your well-being to make room for theirs, as well as this relationship with him. Projects were still completed, assignments still mostly unflawed turned in, management of their team still in top shape, and being almost a perfect partner suited for his taste. All were held in stride, even if it was obvious to him that after major assignments were completed, you were either smiling less, saying fewer words, or stuck in your head more often. And he knew, as you had expressed one time out of exhaustion and beaten defenses, you were worried that you still weren’t good enough.

So the cycle continued. In waves and a whirlpool, Wakatoshi watched you unravel and tighten, unravel and tighten, unravel and tighten, desperate to prove that you had a place in this academy just as much as anyone else. Time and time again, you had voiced your worries and doubt, and every time, he assured you that yes, you were worthy of your place here. You knew the boy never lied to comfort others, and he knew that you knew this. He began to grow displeased with your mental reservations, finally determining one March evening of your second year that he could no longer continue this relationship with you.

Satori, of course, had protested vehemently. (“You can’t just break up with her like that, it’s cruel!”). Wakatoshi failed to understand the social implications, ignoring the advice from his friend as he prepared for the routine, weekly stroll with you. When he slipped his sneakers on, his muscles remembered to grab his spare jacket as you were prone to feel chilly on these nights. It wasn’t until the end of the stroll when your nose was slightly tinged red at the tip and your figure engulfed in his jacket, did he hesitate at the intersection between the boys’ and girls’ dorms, and Wakatoshi being the blunt human he is, voiced his thoughts.

“I think it would be good to end this relationship,” he stated with no warning, yet felt a twinge of guilt when your face fell and froze into a subtle state of shock. He let you process his words, patiently waiting for your response.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths. But not too deep. Don’t freak him out. How do you stop freaking yourself out? Oxygen. Lungs.

Inhale. Exhale.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, training your eyes to look straight into his right shoulder, tracing the logo of the ICS foot. Hell knows you’re not tall enough to see past it. “Have I been asking for too much of your time?”

“No.”

“…Have I been too clingy?”

“No.”

“Then…what’s the reason?” You shakily asked, tears of confusion beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“…you’ve spread yourself too thin.”

This time, it was only appropriate to look at him straight on. As always, there was no hesitation evident in them, his direct truth bleeding through his retinas. It must have been words that he had decided on long ago to describe your mental state.

“Please elaborate,” you softly demanded, subconsciously hugging your arms at the biceps.

“You’re doing too much. You think you can do it all, but you’re simply unable to. It’s okay, but I think this relationship is one more thing on your plate that you don’t need.”

But you heard it. You branded the image of his words in your brain and read between the lines, running on overdrive as the darkness rapidly ate at you. It was easy for the demons to sneak in with dubious tones, repeating the phrase that you had been fighting so hard to keep buried inside—

You’re not good enough.

Perhaps you had become a burden to Wakatoshi. You had turned into the thorn in his side, something he no longer wanted to tolerate and keep in his life. Perhaps it was expected, you bitterly thought while shrugging off his jacket. The bite of the cold night teethed and gnawed at your skin, but the pain was almost welcomed now. He took the fabric without a word, only feeling slightly guilty at the sight of stray tears gradually streaking down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you sniffled, arms wrapped around yourself again for some vague sense of protection. “That’s fine, I get it. You have Nationals and the Youth team as well – it’s mainly best for you to end this.”

“(Y/n) –”

“It’s really okay, Wakatoshi. I appreciate you being straightforward with me. I’ll see you at practice,” you quickly interjected and turned to trek back towards the dorm, sending a quick but lifeless wave behind you. The shards of whatever was left of your soul trailed behind you like scattered stars on the concrete. Even when your roommate and friend brought your disheveled figure into her arms, they did little to ward off the parasitic spectres in your mind.

You spent most of that night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep despite the exhaustion weighing down on your eyelids. Your thoughts refused to cease for just one second in its brutal beatdown on your heart, having played back every moment you possibly messed up on from the day Wakatoshi accepted your feelings to the time of separation. The questions began to plague the blood in your veins, your heart thrashing erratically and causing a cold sweat to break over your skin. Gentle, warning waves of nausea churned through your stomach as the anxiety effectuated into its more menacing, ghastly manifestation. You felt your breaths quicken out of panic and screwed your eyes shut – what did you do cope before? What could ground you behind the rails before you fell over the edge and into the folds of a dark ocean?

Deep breaths. Count. Breathe. Exhale. Start from 100.

Inhale.

Count.

Exhale.

Repeat.

You fell asleep before you hit 20.

You stayed on as the manager despite every ounce of your heart demanding you to quit and run, pettily attempting to prove Ushijima wrong. Satori directed empathetic glances your way multiple times for a few days, but you never wavered. There was no time to feel sorry for yourself or accept pity from others, especially as Nationals was right around the corner. Getting away from campus excited you and as much as the trip was about volleyball, the boys looked forward to spending a few days in the capital.

But the championship fell short, and soon, the third year began.

Your roommate was understandably concerned. On top of more rigorous classes and upcoming college entrance exams, you balanced your manager position, math club, an online job tutoring English, and yearbook duties. It was an absolute miracle that you found enough hours in the day to be on top of everything, and you were proud. This not only meant that you didn’t just peak in middle school, but it also meant that you could do all these things and still turn out great. At the end of the day, a sense of pride overwhelmed you more than anything – this had to be your way of defeating your anxieties: occupy yourself until there was no time to think about them.

The months rolled by. Your cycle continued. Shiratorizawa fell to their knees in front of Karasuno. You got into The University of Tokyo. Graduation proceeded without a hitch.

To your naïve, broken soul, the stars seemed to have aligned and the puzzle pieces were fitting. But to those around you, they could only watch as you fell deeper into the massive hole you dug on your own, dirt smudged on your cheeks and hands blistered from the wooden handle of the shovel. You were going to snap again one day, and it would be more painful than the first.

University soon gave you an adequate understanding of what exactly your personality had unfortunately become: self-destructive. At the time, you had only thought it appropriate to disregard your own health for those you loved (and there were quite a few of them) while balancing academics. That fault was one you had long come to terms with: that you gave away too much of yourself. Someone needed to rant at 1AM? Your phone ringer was always on at full volume (unless you were, of course, in class). Someone needed a ride to the airport? You were there, jokingly asking them to bring you back a snack from their travels as thanks. Someone needed to crash at your place for a day or two to get away from a shitty ex? Extra blankets and sheets, as well as an air mattress from home, were all prepared in the cupboard at your apartment.

As demanding as Shiratorizawa was, Todai stressed you out on another level, especially with your business major and computer science minor. On several occasions, Ushijima’s words had rung loud and clear, echoing in the chambers of your mind. “You’ve spread yourself too thin,” his baritone voice plagued you at the most inopportune times of the day (read: when you were attempting to balance, again, too many things).

And as much as you enjoyed the companionships of your friends, both old and new, you began to achingly yearn for a more intimate relationship that would allow you to collapse into comforting arms, especially on days that endlessly dragged you on your feet. The fact that it was only freshman year made your head spin, but nothing could truly deter you from your deepest desires.

You should have realized that this would only result in isolation with nothing but wooden walls, a balcony, and a shattered heart to keep you company.

7 years ago

“I agree,” Sayuri, a senior and close friend from the art department, affirmed when you expressed this romantic aspiration to her over ramen at a nearby izakaya one September night of your sophomore year. “Everyone’s so obsessed with their careers these days, you included,” she jabbed and pointed stained bamboo chopsticks at you, causing your shoulders to flinch and hunch back in some shame. “Buy some alcohol, give yourself some free nights. The only times I see you doing something not related to school is when I drag you out on weekend shoots with me.”

Sayuri was an expressive girl who took the world in stride and captured the streets of Tokyo with her camera like no other. The two of you had met in an interest organization meeting, instantly bonding over similar pastimes and your two personalities just clicked. She somehow embodied everything you weren’t, and you deeply loved her. More often than not, Sayuri was the one to keep you from completely losing yourself, absolutely refusing to let you become a mindless soul stuck in a business suit and wedged between the crowds in a subway, needlessly calculating away to gain more greed and wealth. “You’re too good for that,” she once told you when you had unexpectedly showed up at her door, drenched from the rain and your own tears caused by a string of unfortunate events.

(“You’re at your best when you’re a little more free, a little more relaxed, you know?”)

“But your weekend shoots are fun!”

“Which is exactly why you should do more other fun stuff!” Sayuri exclaimed before she took a sip from her bottle of ramune. “You know what? Tonight. We’re gonna download Tinder and tapple. You’re a hot commodity, and there’s gotta be some decent guy who’s down for a few casual dates. Hell, you might even have a better chance at finding another girl who can treat you right.”

“You’re not wrong,” you sighed. “Some men can be such pigs sometimes.”

“A-fucking-men.”

Sayuri rarely ever went back on her word, and much to your chagrin, you found yourself curled up next to her on her cream faux-leather couch. Her arm slung over your shoulders as she helped you pick out your best photos, including a shot she had taken of you when she begged you to be her subject on one of her shoots. “My professor needs me to practice portrait shots, please please please help me out here?” She had implored a couple weeks ago, and because you could never say no, you had grumbled your agreement before putting on a nicer outfit and some light makeup. You weren’t going to lie – those were some of the best pictures of you by far, and made you look much more attractive than you ever thought or felt.

A bio was set, photos strategically ordered, and you were tossed into the world of online dating.

“This is a really bad idea,” you groaned ten minutes later as Sayuri swiped through the profiles showing up in your pool. “I haven’t even slept with anyone before.”

“Oh honey, I bet half of these men only ever got their dick wet once and came in two minutes flat. They think they’re impressing someone but they’re only fooling themselves,” Sayuri scoffed and then grimaced at a man’s daringly shirtless mirror selfie. “This poor guy needs to eat more; I can see his ribcage! You don’t need someone who doesn’t appreciate food.”

“What if he’s got an eating disorder?” You seriously speculated, heart going out to the possibility of that.

“Well now you make me feel bad after swiping left on him and – oh hey! You got a match!”

“What? Who the hell did you swipe right on?!” You screeched; chin craned to get a good look at the person on your phone.

“Calm down, you don’t need to worry! I have impeccable taste in men! Hey, don’t give me that look,” she cried out when she saw the questioning raise of one of your eyebrows. “Look, he was cute, had a safe bio, and he goes to Tokyo Tech! So he’s a smartypants like you! Guy must’ve been swiping around too for there to be a match this early.”

“So he’s just desperate and I got swiped right on for passing his minimum standards? Am I supposed to feel like I should be given an award?” You scowled.

“Just wait for him to message first. Keep it light and breezy, we’ll see if he’s suspicious later,” Sayuri waved off, continuing with her search for your perfect, laid-back date.

“But seriously, I’m worried some guy is gonna start expecting sex from me,” you huffed, leaning back to lay your head on her shoulder. Instinctively, she rested her own on top of yours.

“You’re really worried, huh?”

“Makes me a little anxious, yeah,” you admitted, fingers fiddling with a stray thread on the sleeve of your old Shiratorizawa jacket.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well...I’m not waiting until marriage or anything. I’m not putting my virginity on a pedestal or anything, I just kinda want to get it over with, you know? I know your first time probably isn’t all flowers and rainbows, but I figured that I’d at least want to lose it to someone I trust.”

“So you’ve thought about this quite a bit then?”

“Have for a while, if I’m honest.”

“Name them.”

“But—”

“Names, (y/n). I gotta make sure they’re good enough for you.”

“They’re decent, I promise. I mean, I just know they’d never hurt me or throw me to the curb after it happens.”

“You do realize that’s the bare minimum, right?”

“Do you want names or not?”

“Okay okay, go.”

You exhaled as blood rushed to your cheeks. To say their names out loud made it much more embarrassing, especially since there was a high chance they never thought about you sexually before.

“Semi Eita, Daichi Sawamura, and…Ushijima Wakatoshi,” you mumbled the last name, knowing Sayuri’s less-than-positive feelings for the guy. She knew the entire history of your relationship with him, not that it involved a whole ton, but she was just overly protective of you.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi?? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Did you not hear the other two?” You squealed, swatting her with a sleeve that you had retracted your arm into.

“Okay, fine, but tell me about them.”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Can’t.”

“Ugh, okay look. Eita is...he’s a nice guy. He seems a little rough around the edges, but he was always soft with me. Never gave me a hard time until he got replaced with another starting setter our third year, but he knew it was for the better of the team, as much as he didn’t like it. And even though his competitive streak got the best of him sometimes, he just...I don’t know. He’s dependable in his own way, stuck with me after the break-up and would check in on me from time to time. We still keep in touch a little.”

“Find me a picture of him, then tell me about the other guy.”

“Sure,” you agreed, tapping and swiping through your phone, mainly scrolling through years and years of photos you had kept. “Daichi-san is...well, he’s like if Wakatoshi was more emotionally available.”

“(Y/n), anyone is more emotionally available than Ushijima.”

“He softened up towards the end of our third year, okay? Cut him some slack, please. Anyways,” you cut Sayuri off. “I met Daichi-san our third year briefly during the Spring Qualifiers for Nationals. Extremely nice guy, mature, seemed pretty dependable being the captain of a team with some rowdy underclassmen at the time,” you lightly laughed at the memories.

“You’re really into the dependable type, aren’t you? Reliable? Takes care of you? Can relieve your stress at the end of a long day? Do you have a da—” Sayuri insinuated suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows until you finally interrupted her.

“Hey, there’s no kink-shaming in this friendship!”

“I’m just teasing, babe. Go on about Mr. Dependable” she giggled, causing you to roll your eyes as you continued.

“I saw him a bit more when I picked up a part-time job at a local convenience store for a couple months, only because I quit my online tutoring job. It was just before graduation, but he visited a few times. Seemed like it was closer to his house than the one he usually stopped at by his school. It was never busy, and he’d stick around to chat.”

“Oh my god, he was into you!”

“What? No! Like I said, he’s honestly just really, really nice. Did you know he’d buy his teammates buns every once in a while?”

“Oh, for the love of God, you had a crush on him, too!”

“Fine, just a tiny one!” You quickly admitted while batting away Sayuri’s excitable swats on your thigh. “But I was worried he was just some rebound crush, and he was staying in Miyagi while I was preparing to move here, so it’s not like anything would’ve happened. He was funny, too, and always asked about my well-being even though he didn’t really know me. Honestly, he was too good for me,” you said quietly and seemingly deflated.

“Nobody’s ever too good for you,” Sayuri comforted and pulled you into her arms. “I don’t care how perfect they are. If anything, you’re too good for them.”

“You hype me up too much,” you smiled sadly, holding onto her intertwined limbs. “I just...he didn’t deserve to get pulled into my mess. And it’s not just him – nobody deserves to. The last thing I want to do is hurt someone because I couldn’t get my shit together.”

“...even if you get hurt yourself?” Sayuri murmured.

Your silent, solemn answer spoke volumes. Life had turned you into somewhat of a martyr, someone absolutely terrified of inconveniencing others, yet relentless in your support for the important individuals around you.

“One day,” Sayuri started gently. “You’re gonna find a guy who loves and cherishes you to no end. You’re gonna get a taste of the love that you give to others, and he’ll never let you go. He’ll stick with you through everything, and you’ll realize that you do deserve that kind of love. It’s inevitable, really only a matter of time. And maybe he’ll show up when you least expect it. Just don’t give up yet, okay?”

“...okay,” you mumbled, tightening your grip momentarily as a tacit gesture of gratitude. “Sayuri, if we’re 30, single, and same-sex marriage gets legalized in Japan, can we get married?”

“Sweetie, we don’t have to do it in Japan, might as well just move to the U.S. and get married there. So yeah, sounds like a plan,” Sayuri agreed, half-joking.

And she knew you meant it, too.

6.5 years ago

You (jokingly) blamed Sayuri completely for anything that happened on Tinder afterwards.

Many casual conversations turned fruitless, never getting to the level of comfort that you felt you wanted to meet someone face-to-face. The search became more of a pastime than anything, and it became the same old, boring procedure. Reintroducing yourself and your interests for what seemed like the twentieth time existed like an unwanted pill you had to swallow every day, a habit done with a sense of boredom and banality. Sayuri called you picky, and perhaps you were looking too much into it. But you were allowed to have standards, right?

About half a year after your first night with Tinder, you found a person that you felt somewhat okay with. Ito Tsugumi was a junior at the Tokyo Medical and Dental University living in the undergraduate campus. He seemed respectable, understanding, and never made fun of your own interests and likes. The guy completely understood that this was casual, but he still wanted to meet you at least once, take you out for coffee or something and see where it goes from there. And that was perfectly fine with you.

March weather meant it was still pretty chilly in Japan and living by the ocean didn’t exactly help. You were glad that this was just a coffee date, because not only did it mean you could indulge in a nice cup of hot chocolate, but you also didn’t have to worry too much about how nice you looked because all of that could be sacrificed in the name of warmth. If Tsugumi was going to judge you based on your outfit designed for comfort, he wouldn’t be worth your time anyways.

Anxiety coaxed you into arriving at the designated café ten minutes early, shakily paying with your card and almost dropping it en route to the cashier’s hands. You spotted an empty two-seater along the back wall, but not right by the glass window where the frost would most likely creep through. Positioned in a seat so you’d have a decent view of the entrance, you sent a frantic text to Sayuri for moral support because your nerves were absolutely frying at the moment, to which she sent you a Sailor Moon GIF of Usagi throttling Minako before a message that read, “you’re a cute piece of ass and he knows it. flaunt it babe!” Rouge flooded your cheeks out of the embarrassment that was now mixing with the butterflies in your stomach, and luckily you fought it down when the door rang open.

If you had to be honest, Tsugumi looked more handsome in person than in his pictures, and that screamed danger to you. He only had to look around the café once before spotting you and quickly made his way to your table with a smile. While part of you had registered it as a bit of a Cheshire grin, you immediately dismissed it as a product of your paranoia. This was just a meeting with something warm to drink, right? There was no rule stating that a relationship had to come out of this. If he ever gave off a warning sign, all you had to do was run and never speak to him again. Easy.

You stood from your seat, almost entirely putting your weight on the table when your legs momentarily refused to cooperate with you. The grin on his face held firm as you bowed to each other in greeting and you couldn’t help but have a small one of your own. Were you flattered that he arrived five minutes ahead of the original meeting time? Perhaps just a little, but maybe you were sweating the small details too much.

“Have you already ordered? I can get us something,” he offered. Just as you were about to let him know that you already bought a drink, one of the baristas showed up with a large mug of hot chocolate and set it down with a table napkin. You quickly bowed and thanked them before turning back to Tsugumi sheepishly, gesturing awkwardly towards the white porcelain cup.

“It’s really nice of you to offer though,” you tried to appease. “We’re all broke university students anyways, I wasn’t going to make you buy me a drink.”

“I would’ve been more than happy to,” he replied warmly, a sense of adoration in his eyes that seemed far too intimate for just a first meeting. Nevertheless, his gaze made you avert your own to trace the swirls in your drink. “I’ll be right back,” he continued before leaving to order. Good, this gave you a few necessary moments to gather your bearings.

You needed to calm the fuck down. This wasn’t your first rodeo, though Sayuri would vehemently disagree. “Weekly walks around your high school campus don’t count as dates, (y/n),” she quipped in the past, giving up when you, for the thousandth time, defended Wakatoshi and his actions. And you had been very attracted to him as well, so what was so nerve-wracking about this now? Your relationship with Wakatoshi had held far more implications if things ever ended badly, with the same social circles and everything. Ito Tsugumi was merely a dot outside of most of your realms and possessed very little power over the important things in your life. Your focus needed to be on something else for the time-being, like the smell of ground beans with sweet traces of freshly baked pastries, or the faint coffeehouse music playing through the speakers, or the pots of devil’s ivy hanging from the ceiling. Just anything besides wondering if you had stray hairs out of place, or if your makeup wasn’t blended correctly, if your nails looked asymmetrical—

You had put on your best “I’m doing great!” face once Tsugumi was returning to his seat opposite of you. At first, nothing was said and the both of you could only laugh at the awkward shift in air. But when you spotted a faint shade of scarlet on his cheeks, you felt that you could let out a breath of relief because perhaps, you weren’t the only one feeling a little nervous.

Tsugumi was a wonderful conversationalist and an appreciator of comfortable silence. He seemed just as nice as he was in his messages, and when you went on occasional ramblings of something you felt passionate about, he listened attentively and always asked the right questions at the appropriate times. Even when you profusely apologized for talking too much the first time, he only gave you a blinding smile with his head tilted cutely before saying, “It’s okay, I like listening to you talk.”

And your heart was nearly set aflame.

Two hours easily passed the both of you by, with you discovering much more about him: He wanted to be a dermatologist, had lived in Tokyo his whole life, doted excessively on his mother who owned a little bakery near his house, had a good bond with his older brother who was working to be a pilot, was aware of the fact that he came off as a douchebag sometimes, admitted to some said stereotypical douchebag behaviors, and owned a cute little bobtail cat named Renji. Tsugumi eagerly asked for another chance to meet with you, promising that he would buy your drink no matter what. Is it allowed that someone even dares to match your view of perfection? Is he flying too close to the burning star?

You learned a few weeks later that you should have never given him the chance.

And what was absolutely infuriating was that you should’ve noticed it sooner. The sun he was reaching so highly for was not to become the perfectly flawed man, but attempting to attain something out of greed and selfish desires. He was abandoning any apathy for the people he drew into his sticky web as long as they helped him build his wings, and you fell for it.

(“I like you a lot, you know? You’re probably one of the nicest girls I’ve ever met.”

“With your history of partners, that’s not possible,” you laughed softly. “You probably met way more nicer girls, just never got the time to get to know them.”

“I’m serious, though. I think I’m pretty lucky meeting you.”

“…thank you.” But you couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.)

With Ushijima, perhaps you had jumped in too quickly; so with Tsugumi, you made sure to maintain a healthy distance at all times. You were determined to take this slow and learn from your previous mistakes, and while that could have saved you a whole world of hurt, it wasn’t enough. Tsugumi wove you into his life by joining you on study dates, always doing his best to meet you at your university library instead of his, bringing you small snacks you had mentioned liking once or twice, calling you frequently when you were both free to check up on you and ask how your day was, and even dragging you along to meet his mother at her bakery. By that time, only three weeks had passed, and you had become (rightfully) concerned.

The gentle chime of the bell on the bakery doors had quietly alerted the matriarch of the Ito family of a customer’s arrival, and though her face had visibly brightened at the presence of her younger son, hesitation quickly crossed her eyes as they landed on you and the intertwined hands. Minute facial reactions could speak volumes, so you took that glance to heart as something to healthily ponder over, knowing that there must be some reason for it. His mother was nothing but polite, even gifting you an almond croissant when Tsugumi mentioned it was one of your favorite pastries. You desperately tried to pay, almost embarrassed that you were given something for free, but she wouldn’t have it and Tsugumi had to drag you out before you snuck too much change into the tip jar. But after you had bowed and had begun to wave goodbye, another emotion formed on her face and nearly caused you to stumble.

(Minutes later, you had placed it as pity.)

It all came to sense when Sayuri frantically called you the next night, strumming up every possible curse against “stupid, greedy swine in the form of men”, Tsugumi’s name laced between the syllables slipping off her tongue. You had immediately shut your notebook closed, trying to calm her down, “Hey, whoa, slow down Sayuri, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Holy fuck, (y/n), he’s got a fucking girlfriend!”

Three things crossed your brain then. 1) You were glad that you had maintained the walls around your heart, 2) Tsugumi was cheating on his girlfriend, and 3) you were unexpectedly not surprised that something like this had come up. Your dating life had started with a streak of bad luck, and you were pretty convinced that it would strike again, no matter what.

But that hadn’t stopped you from feeling your heart drop to your feet, simultaneously also feeling the breath get knocked out from your chest. Completely speechless, you spent a few seconds processing Sayuri’s words and quickly after, the anger began to simmer through your veins. In fact, you weren’t exactly angry that he had strung you along (due to your guarded, paranoid detachment) – you were more furious at the fact that he was probably cheating on some lovely girl, and even if she wasn’t lovely, nobody deserved to be cheated on. Not even a snake like Tsugumi.

You sighed. “Well, how’d you find out?”

“You said the fucker didn’t have social media? Well I decided to snoop because who doesn’t have social media these days—” “Plenty of people don’t, Sayuri.” “Well, with his looks and his past – again, it’s not a problem that he’s slept around, he can do whatever the hell he wants for all I care AND as long as he doesn’t have double standards – but I figured there had to be something out there. I found an old Twitter account, then found what I thought was his ex-girlfriend’s account but it’s actually his girlfriend’s account, and it turns out, he’s got a newer Twitter account he actually keeps up with. He thinks he might be slick, but the idiot didn’t even put his profile on private.”

You held the phone between your shoulder and ear as Sayuri spelled out the girlfriend’s Twitter handle to you, your fingers simultaneously typing it into your web browser. Another handle is listed in her cutesy bio, saying that she belonged to the owner of this other profile, and when you open it in another tab, Tsugumi’s face stares straight back at you. Sayuri was right – he had done a pretty shit job at hiding this. A cursory look through his tweets and hers, everything you needed to know was there.

She was a first year at a university in Kyoto who spoke highly of Tsugumi, tweeting photos of them two and tagging him quite often, and her friends all supported their relationship. It made you feel sick to your stomach that you had been spending time with a cheater, one who was throwing away a three-year relationship.

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” Sayuri asked through the speaker. You didn’t realize that you had been quiet for the last few minutes, so wrapped up in your thoughts.

“I need to talk to him,” you said quietly as your heart began to race. Confrontations were not your forte, no matter how much your business classes tried to prepare you to be a stronger speaker. It should be easy, like ripping off a Band-aid, yet the idea of calling Tsugumi up and telling him that you had to stop seeing each other wracked your nerves like an earthquake.

“Easy. Call him and tell him to go fuck himself, then hang up and block his number. He doesn’t deserve any more of your time.”

“I know, but…you know I’m not good at this kind of stuff. And I’ve never had to have this conversation with anyone before…”

“(Y/n). You used to manage a whole team of teenage athletes, and I know there were a ton of times when you had to put your foot down and get them in line. Treat this snake like one of them, get it through his head that he should burn in hell—” “Sayuri!” “—and then avoid him for the rest of your life.”

You sighed again and massaged your temples. That’s right, you could be firm, and with Tsugumi who you hadn’t been that close to, it should be easy to just let him know that the act was up. Yeah, you could do this.

“Do you want to keep me on the call?” Sayuri asked, her anger finally simmering down.

“No, it’s okay, I can handle this. But thank you though.”

“Yeah of course,” she replied softly, compassionately. “Are you okay though?”

“Well…maybe it hasn’t fully hit me yet, but it’s frustrating.”

“You can be angry, you know.”

“I’m not angry, I just…” you hesitated, searching for the right words to better describe your feelings. But without control, your throat began to close and choke, salty tears clouding your vision. You desperately tried to hold back the first sob with a hand over your mouth, panic striking your heart at the sudden rush of despair, but Sayuri quickly caught on.

“(Y/n)...” Sayuri cooed, her tone sympathetic and soft.

“No, if—if I’m angry,” you hiccupped, wiping your spilled tears away messily. “That means I cared, even though I told myself I shouldn’t have,” your voice cracked and heaved another sob as your heart took the final twist of the knife. Everything that you had tried doing to prevent the painful effects of possible disappointment were coming to crash down on you, and all for nothing. Sayuri held silent and let you cry out your anguish – she knew better than anyone that you just needed these moments of catharsis, to let all your emotions out before you would try to think logically again.

“God, I’m such a fucking idiot,” you blubbered after a couple of minutes, standing to retrieve a tissue from the kitchen.

“You’re not, really. You give people the benefit of the doubt and try to see the best in them. Usually that’s not bad, but…an asshole decided to come along and take advantage of it. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

“I’ll try but…fuck, it’s so embarrassing to think about it now. All the signs were probably there, right? And I just believed everything he told me,” you sniffled, setting your phone down with the speaker on as you blew your nose.

“I’ll be there in the next hour or so,” she stated resolutely, and you could hear her moving around her apartment.

“Sayuri, you don’t—”

“Don’t be silly, (y/n). It’s not a good time to be alone now, okay? You want me to pick anything up from that convenience store by the station?”

You had let out another mucus-y sniffle, eyes roaming over the cabinet door of where your snacks were. “…can you see if they’ve got a bag of that flower plum candy I like? If not, a bag of nori-shio chips, please.”

“Of course. Hang in there, okay? Don’t call or text him until I’m there.”

“Got it. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t need to thank me, (y/n). And look…,” Sayuri trailed off and your ears caught onto her shutting and locking a door. “It’s okay to ask for help, you know? Especially if it’s me, so don’t forget that.”

“But—”

“I know you’d do the same thing for me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then there’s no problem. I’ll be there as soon as possible, will keep you updated. Love you!”

“Love you too, Sayuri. Be safe.”

Click.

Two hours later, with an opened bag of candy in the cabinet and an empty bag of chips in the trash can, sleep came to you and Sayuri in your bed, and you had never felt luckier.

Based on Tsugumi’s calling habits, you weren’t surprised that your phone rang on the dining table sometime around 10AM, the screen lit up with a picture you had taken of him at the library on one of your study dates. It amazed you for a second how easily your emotions could be flipped around, that this specific set of colored pixels had once brought you a tiny amount of fondness and only now twisted your face in extreme discomfort. Last night, you and Sayuri had run through all possible scenarios of why Tsugumi decided two-timing was something to engage in, including his possible thought process behind getting you involved in his life so quickly. At the end of it, two things were 99% certain: you were going to let him explain, and you were not going to give him a second chance.

“It’s like ripping off the Band-aid,” Sara had echoed your previous analogy when talking about your worries and hesitations in the confrontation again last night. “The quicker you get it over with, the better.”

“But it’s the ripping-off that’s the worst part, not what comes after. Tsugumi isn’t one to give candid, quick explanations either. He’ll probably try to get me to forgive him, which only prolongs the inevitable. So it’s…a slow rip, not the kind where you can bite your tongue and yank it off as fast as you can – and it’s more painful that way, too.”

“You’ve got a point,” Sayuri had huffed. “If anything, I’ll be here for moral support.”

She casted you a quick look over her shoulders from the sink where she graciously offered to wash the dishes from breakfast, and your pursed lips gave the tacit confirmation that it was none other than Tsugumi on the phone. One quick sigh later, you swiped the green pick-up button, activated the speaker, and answered, “Hello?”

“G’morning, (y/n)! How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied softly, wanting to stay calm and collected. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I was just a little worried since you said you were tired so early last night. It’s not like you to sleep before 11PM. Did anything happen?”

You discretely scoffed to yourself, hoping that Tsugumi hadn’t caught it. Sayuri rolled her eyes in such a dramatic fashion that you almost burst out laughing.

“Nothing much, I just had a really long day and felt kinda tired.”

“Well, I feel better now hearing that you’re okay. I’m glad you weren’t sick or anything. Did you get a good sleep last night then?”

“It was good, yeah.” But no thanks to you.

“Well, if you’re up for it, you wanna go out today? It’s the weekend and I have some free time before I need to start studying for our next round of exams. Did you want to check out that bookstore on the other side of the city? Or the Ghibli museum over in Mitaka?

“Ito-san, can you do something for me?”

“…sure, what is it?”

You quickly took a deep breath. This was it; this was the start of the discerption.

“Can you tell me why you’re cheating on your girlfriend of three years who clearly has no idea of what you’re up to?”

The chilling silence that resonated throughout the apartment sent shivers down your spine. Sayuri had long finished up washing and drying, and the only sound that was registering was the chirping of birds outside your window. Even then, it was faint at best, and you briefly wondered if Tsugumi had just hung up on you. But an electric rustle and a static sigh convinced you otherwise, and Sayuri’s expression morphed into one that simply signaled, “Get ready for the bullshit.”

“…so you found out then?”

“You didn’t exactly try very hard to hide it,” you quipped while crossing your arms.

“I know, I just…when did you find out? And how?”

“Last night, and how doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“Why are you doing this? I know social media usually isn’t much to base personality on, but she seems pretty nice and definitely doesn’t deserve to have a boyfriend who’s been sleeping with other girls for the majority of the last eighteen months.”

“You don’t know anything!” He quickly defended himself, but not elaborating any further. “It’s just really complicated…and she’s not what she seems.”

“Okay, so let’s say she isn’t. If it’s been so bad dating her…why haven’t you broken up?”

“We never…got around to it, I guess?” His voice came out sheepish. At least the guy felt some shame in his actions.

“You’re ridiculous. Did you really think you were going to get away with this forever? Like what if I hadn’t found out?” You almost seemed desperate to know the workings of his conscience, simply because no matter what his explanation was, it would most definitely confound you. Were you being too simple-minded?

“I swear I was going to break up with her! I really wanted to – you made me want to finally talk to her and just end things –” This time, you made sure Tsugumi heard your scoff of disbelief. “—and I promise, it was going to end eventually, and I was going to seriously ask you out. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m serious.”

“Ito-san…if you did break up with her, would you have told me about it later on?”

“…no, I wouldn’t have.”

At the end of the day, his honest and unfortunate answer resolved all your doubts.

“I figured as much. At least you were honest with me about it and didn’t bother lying to say you would have.”

“I’m really sorry, I really didn’t mean to hurt you this much. You’re such a nice girl, (y/n), seriously. I’m so sorry and I don’t…deserve a second chance, but could we still be friends?”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you snapped at him. “I was more worried about how much you’re hurting your girlfriend.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah, and while you probably caught on that my self-esteem isn’t exactly the highest, I know that I don’t deserve to be lied to and strung along for the ride or for whatever game you’re playing yourself against.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“You know what? Fuck being your friend, too,” you bit out, your anger getting the best of you again. “Nobody likes being friends with liars, and I’m not about to change that for myself, much less change that for you. Maybe in like, 40 years when we’ve all moved on with our lives and you’ve become a better person, but if you’re asking to be my friend now after everything you’ve done, that’s a firm no.”

“But please—”

“You need to fix this shit. Do you realize that I met your mom? And I could see it in her eyes – she knew exactly what you were doing, right? She knew you were still dating someone else, but you wanted me to see her for some sick, twisted reason. I’m telling you; I could see it in her face, and you know what it said? She pitied me, Ito-san. I’m sure she’s a nice person, but I bet 10 to 1 that the croissant she gave me was out of guilt, because clearly, I had no idea what was happening. You can’t tell me that I’m wrong, can you?”

“Oh god,” he muttered, and you almost hadn’t heard him with the blood boiling in your ears. “Yeah, she was actually really pissed. Lectured me for a whole hour over the phone that night, told me she didn’t raise me to be a cheater and stuff.”

“Well, I’m not going to repeat it. But whatever else she probably said, I agree with her. Get your shit together, honestly. It’ll do you some good,” you stated resolutely.

“We really can’t be friends?”

“No. But…look, if you’re in some sort of really toxic relationship with this girl, you can tell me, okay?” You ignored the incredulous look on Sayuri’s face, taciturnly promising that you’ll explain yourself after the call when she starts making large X’s with her forearms and mouthing, “Hang up!!”

“I’m not saying it’s okay to be friends – I’m just saying that if you’re struggling with something and need someone to talk to, you can…talk to me. But only if I’m your last resort. I know you have other good friends, so you can’t use this as an excuse to try and get close with me again. It’s not gonna work.”

“…Mom was right, you know? You really are too good for me, too nice.”

“I don’t know about that, but maybe she’s onto something. Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t. Thank you, and again, I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry, (y/n). You didn’t deserve this.”

“Your apology’s accepted, but you’re not forgiven. Remember what I said: do what you can to fix it now before it all comes crashing down on you.”

“Okay. Then this is goodbye?”

“More of an extremely prolonged ‘see you later’, Ito-san. Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Bye then – I’m sorry.”

“Bye, Ito-san.”

And before the boy received another second to delay the inevitable, you somewhat aggressively tapped on the bright red hang up button. Immediately, your shoulders slumped and fell back into your seat, a breath escaping your lungs as if you had been underwater for the entire duration of the call. Your eyes focused on the chipped paint of your ceiling, vision blurring as you begin to think back on the phone call. Was there anything you could have done differently? Had you been too soft on Tsugumi by giving him permission to contact you as a last resort?

“Yes, you pulled a ludicrous move, if that’s what you’re asking yourself,” Sayuri commented, her own arms crossed in front of her chest. Sometimes, she knew you a little too well.

“I was just trying to be nice,” you half-groaned and half-whined, bending back forward to bury your head in your hands.

“Well, what’s done is done, you can’t take it back now,” Sayuri said defeatedly, coming towards you to pull you into a hug. “If he’s smart and can take a hint, he’ll stay away.”

You returned her embrace as best as you could. The Band-aid was off now, wound exposed to the open air, but you knew it would eventually heal. The only remnants of it would exist as faint memories, the pain fleeting at best.

“I think we should tell the girlfriend,” you suggested to Sayuri. Tsugumi would probably end up extremely furious with you, but not only did you owe him utterly nothing, he never said you couldn’t say anything to her either. So with Sayuri’s Twitter account, an elaborate explanation, a link to a folder on Google Drive with screenshots of your text conversations both on and off Tinder (the ones that you’d have to be in a deep state of denial to think were untrue or simply taken out of context), you completed the task that no person would ever want to accomplish in their lives. As heart-wrenching and torturous it would inevitably be, Tsugumi’s girlfriend deserved the truth and the ability to take matters into her own hands. Had your positions been switched, you would’ve liked for her to do the same.

Hours later in the living room, you made the executive decision to delete your profile and uninstall Tinder from your phone. While Tsugumi might have been an odd, terrible, slightly harrowing experience in trying to start a relationship with someone, perhaps you weren’t ready for one either. You needed to wait until you were more confident, bolder, and had things locked down in your future. For now, any efforts toward desiring and developing a serious romantic relationship would be redirected to your academics and career. That stability had to come first in advance of your emotional needs.

When you expressed this to Sayuri, she gave you a look that seemed somewhat disapproving. Instantly, you began to curl in on yourself, doubt coiling around your heart. “Do you think I’m…overreacting?”

Sayuri shook her head as a small smile graced her complexion. “I can’t dictate how you feel, and if I were in your position, I’d probably be thinking the same thing.” Her eyes softened as she drew up her knees to her chest. “But you know what I said when we first started all this: I don’t want you to give up just yet. What if there’s a really great guy that comes along but you’re still trying to focus on your career? Are you gonna deny yourself and make it a missed opportunity?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, feeling troubled now. “I guess…he’d have to really be amazing for me to even consider it, you know? But who knows, I’d probably do something reckless and end up hurting myself again.”

Sayuri could tell that your anxiety was beginning to get the best of you, the doubts and insecurity once again plaguing the blood in your veins. This conversation had to be postponed for later – because now, your recovery was of utmost importance.

“You know what you need now that you’ve sworn off men for the next few years?” Sayuri started, her tone unexpectedly filled with mirth and suggestive insinuations. The Cheshire grin spelled trouble to you, and you were becoming afraid at what the answer was. Shakily, you humored her, “What would that be?”

Sayuri denied you an immediate answer as she abruptly bounced up from the floor, scuttling off to your room before returning with your laptop. Her fingers quickly pried it open, excitement rolling off her in bright ripples as she gestured for you to type in your password. As soon as you unlocked the device, she snatched it away and took over the keyboard. You warily eyed the screen as she pulled up an incognito window and typed in the website to Amazon.

“What are you doing??”

“Okay, (y/n), tell me. Do you know why sex toys were invented?”

Immediately, you wanted to melt into the ground. Not out of embarrassment per say, as you’ve had open conversations about sex and related topics with Sayuri multiple times, but if you were going to be truthful, this definitely wasn’t the first time she was trying to get you to buy a sex toy or two for yourself. There was no way you made it almost twenty-one years of life without having masturbated before, and you were okay with just your fingers now (and occasionally, your detachable showerhead).

“They were invented because people want to feel good. Do you know how many people on this earth have dicks and can’t figure out how to use them well, but still think they’re a gift to the world? I bet the majority of them couldn’t definitively tell you where the clit is, and I bet even more still think that girls pee out of their vagina. And you know what? Everyone deserves a partner who will take the time to figure out what makes them feel good, especially those with a vagina. Best way to do that is to find out yourself and see what works for you.”

“But I’m fine with what I do now!”

“Just please trust me on this one, okay?? Get a vibrator at least, please?? If you hate it, I’ll treat you to dinner for a week!”

You waved her off. “You don’t need to do that, but you just need to promise you’ll stop trying to talk me into buying more sex toys.”

“Deal. But I really doubt that’s gonna happen,” she sang, typing in a couple of words into the search bar. “I’ll buy it this time.”

“Hey—”

“Consider it an early birthday present! If you want to pay me back so badly, buy me our next couple rounds of curry don and we’ll call it even.”

“I can’t fight you on this, can I?” You asked dejectedly, accepting defeat and waving a white flag.

“Nope!” Sayuri exclaimed, absolutely no shame whatsoever in her voice. Instead, she sounds entirely elated that you have very little say in this, but in her defense, you weren’t exactly protesting. “Here we go – and we get that sweet, sweet Prime shipping. Yes, I know what you want to say—” Sayuri interjected when you opened your mouth with an objection. “Jeff Bezos is a terrible man who’s providing a good service but should distribute his wealth better, but I’m still on that free student trial? I know I’m already going to hell, but I’ll make up for it in the next life!”

There was never a way to stop Sayuri from doing what she wanted if she had her mind set, and this just happened to be one of them. A few more clicks of the touchpad and taps of the keyboard echoed throughout your apartment before Sayuri shut your laptop closed. You didn’t need to hear her confirmation that the deed was done, given the vicarious excitement stretched across your best friend’s face.

At the end of the day, this was Sayuri’s way of trying to comfort you, reminding you that she always had your best interests at heart. Your heart brimmed to the edge with sentiment and gratitude, causing your own giddy laugh to spill from your lips.

Life seemed to resume its regular routine afterwards, as mundane as it can be for a university student. Sayuri had you tag along on her shoots again, then you would return home to finish up some assignments and get your readings done, the lingering smell of dinner wafting around in the kitchen as you scrubbed a pan clean – truly, the only thing that seemed to be missing was Tsugumi’s incessant phone calls. But you had neither the energy nor the apathy to long for them – and Sayuri was right. If he was smart, he would know better than to ever contact you again.

You hoped for all your sakes that he would learn to rewire his brain and think rationally.

Present

It takes you a few seconds to register the rapid knocks against your apartment door, the rapping of knuckles against hardwood reverberating with a sense of urgency. Part of you expected this sooner or later, but you are in no condition to face the person on the other side. The rhythm shifts as the beating of the wood begins to sound more solid, signifying that the visitor is now choosing to lightly bang their fists instead of calloused knuckles.

Please leave, you weakly scream in your mind, eyes screwing shut to combat the oncoming tears. Your figure begins to crumple even more against the rail of your balcony. You can’t see me like this, so please go.

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there,” a deep male’s voice permeates through the wood, though muffled and scratchy. “Please, let me talk to you. I’m sorry, I—” He pauses, a groan of frustration escaping his throat. Your vision refuses to refocus, bleary as you weakly take in your view of Tokyo again. Without a doubt, the man must be ruffling his hair frustratedly, distressed and discouraged.

“I shouldn’t have said that. Please let me in and apologize properly – I owe you that much.”

You owe me nothing, silly. It’s my fault.

Eyes the shade of the earth in the billboard observe you, and you wonder: if seen in person, would they have stared with pity?

It’s time to stop running away.

So with sluggish steps, you make your way to the only barrier barring you from your fate. The two deadbolts slide back and click in place, echoing louder than ever. Your hand trembles in its path to the doorknob, faintly grasping the chilling metal and turning it until the latch pulls back far enough to let the door open.

And there they were, the eyes that held the key to your undoing, that had watched you crumble and fall, that had looked after you in more ways than you could imagine, peering straight into yours. You know them well, perhaps too well, and your knees nearly buckle at their intensity. It takes every part of your being to stop yourself from slamming the door closed, to hide away and escape destiny.

It seems that irises in the shades of olive will be the banes of your existence.

4.5 years ago

It hadn’t taken you much to admit it, but Sayuri was undeniably forgiven for taking the initiative to buy you your first sex toys.

About a year and a half had passed since the whole Tsugumi fiasco without as much as a text from him. The virtual silence made it much easier for you to do as you planned: throw yourself into your academics, prepare yourself for your career, and simply focus on anything else but the gaping yearning for a romantic partner. In the time that flew by you, Sayuri secured her own boyfriend, a charming J1 league soccer player who complemented her well. And even though it was obvious how smitten they were with each other, Sayuri always made an effort to include you in their dinners and hang-outs, so much to the point that you felt a swirling mixture of embarrassment and guilt for how often you were third-wheeling them. You had classmates and other friends to hang out with occasionally, and you weren’t one to always feel the need to be with others. You could handle (and frequently chose) self-isolation to refuel on social reserves – it was abandonment that scared you most.

As per usual for many business majors, you spent a semester overseas to broaden your horizons, basing yourself out of a city in Germany and tagging along with the other exchange students around Europe. New traditions and customs were learned, museums and historical structures explored – though one thing you hadn’t expected to return with was a new portion of your brain designated for the nuances of alcohol. Something that you hadn’t meant to care for in the past now existed as a part of your business identity; you needed to know the different wine glasses, the different brands of whisky, how to choose your drink wisely, which drinks are acceptable depending on the situation. If you wanted people to take you seriously in a world that prevented women from touching the sky, you needed to pocket the things that others would normally take for granted.

Part of you believed you were a better version of your past self at Shiratorizawa – while you were busier than ever, your time management skills had improved. That wasn’t to say that procrastination was no longer your best friend; it had leveled down to just a really good friend. You still possessed many of the bad habits in picking up unnecessary projects right before big assignments were due, putting a little too much on your plate, and working yourself to the bone to get everything done on time. The slight improvement existed in the form of less time spent on them, and you embraced this small progress.

And for many months, life existed on that continuum: Sayuri, friends, family, academics, and career.

That was until you received a seemingly innocuous text from Semi Eita.

A text from Eita was not abnormal in any way – as you had mentioned to Sayuri previously, the two of you had kept in contact over the last few years and remained friends. The text that appeared on your phone on a Tuesday night caused a grin to split your face, and all thoughts of indulging in some “me-time” were instantly discarded as you read his message.

[“I’m planning on visiting Tokyo this weekend and checking out a couple of things for the band. Are you free to hang out?”]

To your surprise, you hadn’t run into many of your classmates from Shiratorizawa, not that you ever tried, perhaps. So that might’ve been on you, but somehow it was much easier to stay in touch with your volleyball boys, despite their shortcomings in reaching for Nationals. You rarely visited Miyagi, and even if you were in the area, it was during New Year’s when everyone would be with their families. Without the heart to pull them away from filial time and duties, updates on your boys came mainly from 4 different group chats and the occasional video calls. Eita asking if you were available to hang out was a chance for a breather that you didn’t realize you needed.

With the adrenaline and exhilaration pumping through your veins, you tapped a response that probably seemed too enthusiastic to be you: too many exclamation marks and too many offers.

[“you caught me at a good time!!! i have a couple of days off before i need to start on my next project. it’d be fun to show you around!! and depending on how long you plan on being here, you’re more than welcome to stay in my apt!!! i’ve got an air mattress and a futon, whichever you’d prefer!!”

“Actually, that’d be really nice. Are you sure it’s not a bother?”

“of course not, semi semi!!”

“I never should’ve told you that you saying that ridiculous nickname isn’t nearly as annoying as when Satori says it 🙃🙃. But if it really doesn’t bother you, I might take you up on that offer then. Going to and coming back from Tokyo in one day is too much, and I was starting to look at cheap inns. This way, we’d have more time to catch up and hang out.”

“honestly, stay as long as you need to!!! like i said, my whole weekend is free :). there’s a cute little place nearby that serves great tekka maki!! i’m also not too shabby at making it either.”

“My favorite food homemade? Satori would be really jealous. And probably Shibaru. I can’t wait to rub it in their faces.”

“i’ll send you the name of the station closest to me, and then i can pick you up!!! actually, just send me your itinerary when you figure it out so i can plan.”

“Once a manager, always a manager. Will do.”

“looking forward to it, semi semi!!”

“Me too.”]

Still riding the high, you keyboard-smashed a text to Sayuri, explaining what had just transpired and how excited you were to see an old friend. At first, she was just as happy for you, until she caught on to who exactly was coming to visit, and immediately sent an “OH SHIT” text, followed by a number of sexually suggestive emojis. She didn’t have to be there to know your cheeks were now thoroughly flushed – in fact, you had been trying to forget the fact that Eita was someone you were trusting your first time to have sex with, and you refused to trip yourself silly to make it possibly happen. Last you remember, Eita had dated a girl for a small period of time, but that was about a year and a half ago and there hadn’t been much word from him about it.

The next few days passed in a blur – as promised, Eita had sent you his general itinerary, and while he was a working man with a band as a side gig, train tickets from Miyagi to Tokyo weren’t exactly cheap. Knowing him, he would attempt to take opportunities to pay you back for your hospitality, and you were going to make sure that this wouldn’t happen. At least, not very often. You made a rough schedule around his own that included lots of down time, if there was somewhere he wanted to go visit himself, time for you to make meals for the both of you, one or two movie nights depending on how long he would stay, and more.

The task was almost overwhelmingly nostalgic, that instead of sitting hunched over at your desk in Tokyo, you were back home in your dorm at Shiratorizawa arranging their schedules in preparation for Nationals. This realization of yours came in the very early Thursday morning, but as you began to recall more and more of your time there, you abruptly stood from your chair and shook your head. Not long after, you burrowed yourself under the sheets, phone playing your sleep-inducing playlist on the nightstand as you desperately willed yourself to rest and retreat to the dream world for at least an hour or two.

Then Friday arrived, and before you knew it, you were standing at the designated train station, bouncing excitedly in the arrivals section. You were excessively tipping your toes to look over the others also waiting. But amongst the incoming crowd, you easily spotted Eita’s signature hair color, the familiar hue of ash blond filling you with adoration, and as soon as he was over the dividers, you couldn’t bother containing yourself and bounded over towards him. With a duffel bag slung on his shoulder, phone in hand, dark skinny jeans, a casual pale blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up[GU1] , his reflexes were quick enough to recognize the human bundle of joy sprinting towards him. Eita’s best memories of you were in your Shiratorizawa uniform, so seeing you in casual streetwear threw him for a loop at first.

The earnest beam on your face could warm the iciest of glaciers, and he easily lost against the facial muscles fighting to form into his own smile. As you deftly dodged the other people in your route to him, his arms seemed to naturally fall open in a gesture that welcomed your inevitable embrace. Eita was pretty sure you squealed before jumping onto him, but his focus had to redirect to his arms so they didn’t drop you.

“Semi Semi!” You happily cried out into his ear over the hustle and bustle, arms tight around his neck as he held you close. He gave you a brief, affectionate squeeze before setting you down, causing your arms to fall. But his hands held onto your shoulders, giving you a quick once over and making his assessment. He always had a soft spot for you back in high school, knowing that it wasn’t easy managing a team of teenage boys who were ridiculously hungry and driven for a common goal. When news got around the team that you and Ushijima had broken up, he always kept an extra eye out for you and worried that you’d continue to work yourself to the bone in university.

But the girl before him seemed different: you seemed brighter, elation and happiness rolling off your body in waves. Your face was a bit thinner than it was four years ago, but perhaps the childhood features had matured over time. Additionally, you were a bit taller, though he still could easily see over your head, and overall, you looked somewhat healthier. He hoped that you were learning to relax a little more and take some more time for yourself, again very much aware of your past self-destructive habits.

Eita said nothing and ruffled your hair playfully, a snicker leaving his lips as you pouted and moved to resolve the new half-made bird’s nest. “Come on,” he chuckled, fishing out his phone to open Snapchat. “I promised Satori a selfie of us the minute I saw you.”

“Well, we can’t have him waiting, can we?” You joked back, hiding half of your figure behind Eita’s free arm and giving your best beam over his shoulder. Eita gave his best half-smirk, half-smile, knowing that Satori would absolutely eat him alive out of jealousy. He took one and let you take a closer peek, but before he could send it with your approval, you reached over and swiped to see what filters could be used. To make it easier, Eita just handed over his phone and watched you add silly stickers, his eyes resuming his assessment of you again. But it didn’t take long until you were handing him back his phone, giggling as he took in your newly formed masterpiece and scoffed while hitting the send button.

“Come on, manager,” he sighed, slinging an arm over your shoulders as the two of you made your way to the exit doors. It took very little effort to drag you with him, not that you were complaining. “What’s the plan?”

“One second!” You exclaimed and tapped through your phone, pulling up the picture of the schedule you’ve made. “Oh, yes! Okay, how heavy is your stuff? Do you mind walking around with it?”

“It’s not much, just clothes and toiletries.”

“Perfect, I was really counting on you being a sufficient packer just like back then. We’re gonna make a detour on the way home – I need to get some groceries for dinner but there’s also this takoyaki stand near there that you just have to try! It’ll change your life, I promise.”

“Can I change my mind and say I want to go home first?” He asked jokingly, but that didn’t stop the narrowing of your eyes.

“You’re just saying that so you can throw our schedule off and make me suffer!” You accused when you spotted the devious smirk on his face, the kind he’d put up in the past sometimes when the ball landed just where he wanted it during a pinch serve. “Fuck you,” you cursed but with no malice at all, instead laughing at his antics. “I will leave you here alone right now and you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay for the night. Let’s see how well you do.”

“There’s this really powerful thing now called a cellphone, and it’s got this wonderful little app that can pull up the map of the world. Have you heard of it? It’s called Maps—”

“You’re insufferable,” you said as you shook your head and made a futile attempt to push him away from you. Eita either kept up with part of his exercise regimen or miraculously retained most of the muscle mass he gained in high school because the flesh at his waist refused to give in when you pressed firmly against it. All he had to do was tighten his arm a little bit to get you stuck against his side, and you knew you had lost for now.

“You lie, manager. Admit it, I was your favorite,” he teased.

“Have you always been this cocky? Just because you have a few people screaming your name during a gig doesn’t mean everyone wants you now,” you huffed.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t your favorite.”

“You’re wrong – Wakatoshi was my favorite.”

“Even after the breakup?”

“No doubt,” you replied with no hesitation.

“I still think you’re lying.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Eita-kun,” you chuckled, feeling quite comfortable under the hold of his arm. “Walk faster, I need to get the good produce at the store before it’s all snatched away.”

“Hey, I’m the one accommodating your tiny steps.”

“Take that back!”

Being with Eita was easy, to say the least. Old friends could fall in line together easily, and there was little to no awkwardness during interactions. He flitted around your apartment like he’d been living there for the past few years, and very few topics were off the table for conversation. You had become more open, a little livelier, he realized. If anything, his previous assumption of your current mental state was getting confirmed over and over by the minute – you were happier, a little more relaxed than how you were during the last year of high school.

As much as Wakatoshi was a good friend, based on Satori’s slip-up of what had happened, he wished you had been let down easier. It was more than a miracle that you hadn’t run away from them, but you were more guarded, putting up nothing more than a gentle, amiable smile most days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you genuinely laugh at their antics during practice. Yet you were here now, sitting next to him on your couch and almost full-out cackling at some ridiculous anecdote of his about his roommate freshman year. Maybe your giddiness was amplified by the shot of sake you took just fifteen minutes ago, but that, yet again, didn’t stop him from understanding that things have changed a lot in the last four years.

He likes this current you, somewhat new and improved. More relaxed, more open, more easy-going…this was good.

“So are you still talking to that girl from a couple years ago? What was her name,” you muttered and started snapping your fingers to get the ball rolling in your alcohol-muddled brain. “Oh! Her name was—”

“—Yui?”

“Yes!” You giggled, leaning back against the couch and sipping from your third shot of sake of the night. “I remember she was cute, sad that I never got to properly meet her.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled. “Yui and I were more casual anyways. She ended up moving when she got a new job and we’d be long distance, so we broke things off.”

“When’d that happen?”

“Mmmm, about a year and a half ago?” Eita questioned himself, a little unsure of the exact timeline. “Yeah, sounds about right,” he confirmed and leaned over to the coffee table to pour himself some more sake.

“That’s been a long time then,” you sighed. “Anybody else since?”

“Nope. Things got busy afterwards with the national exams and putting the band together, so I just never really thought about it. But what about you?” Eita asked curiously – had you moved on since your break-up with Wakatoshi?

At first, you hummed to yourself, eyebrows furrowed in a manner that suggested you were struggling to find the right words. But then your face relaxed and morphed into a mix of mischief and embarrassment, small laughs spilling from your lips and he was wondering if he needed to start worrying.

“I did see a guy a couple of years ago,” you began while staring into your cup, avoiding Eita’s gaze. “You wanna know how I met him?”

“How?”

“I…okay wait, do you promise not to judge me?” You somewhat slurred and held out a pinky as a gesture for him to fulfill a promise. He nodded and linked his pinky with your own, interlocking then twisting so you two could stamp thumbs.

“Good, so the answer to your question is…yes, I met a guy. On Tinder.”

Eita wasn’t expecting that last fragmented sentence to come from you of all people and had been mid-sip during your revelation. It was a miracle that he didn’t spit out the alcohol all over your couch, but he choked and had to pound his chest a couple of times as the sake went straight for his lungs.

“Don’t judge me!” You whined, shoving him from the side as he waved off your accusation. A full pout formed on your face and you looked genuinely upset.

“I’m not judging, I swear,” Eita ensured over haggard coughs. “I just didn’t expect that – I thought you were gonna tell me you met this guy at some random place on campus.”

“Once you know the whole story, you’ll be glad he doesn’t go to my uni,” you scoffed before downing the rest of your cup. Eita watched you wince and fight the pleasant burn down your throat, preparing for the possible train wreck of a story you insinuated.

You laid it all out for him, from the very beginning to when Sayuri first got you to download the app up until the last phone call you had with Tsugumi. Eita listened attentively, grimacing, laughing, and frowning at all the right moments. He watched you struggle to verbalize the anger you had felt, the frustration from even being angry to begin with, and by the time you were done, you were exhausted. You simply stared back at him with a lazy, tipsy smile that contrasted all the defeat in your bones and attempted to hide your efforts in pretending that you had completely moved on. Eita could tell, though, that that was unfortunately not the case. The pain had lingered, and you were never going to forget…or forgive yourself.

He released a heavy sigh, placing his empty cup gently on your coffee table and grabbing yours from your fingers as well. Once both were away from the possibility of being spilt, he reached out a hand to you, wiggling his fingers as a tacit gesture for you to grab them. Whether your fingers had trembled from the excess resentment or some personal effect from the sake, the second your fingers interlocked, your eyes began to water. At this sight, Eita quickly pulled you to him with a strength you had forgotten he possessed, repositioning your bodies until he was leaned against the back cushion with your side cuddled into his frame – your knees bent and feet on the other side of his thighs – and one arm wrapped around your shoulders with a free hand intwined with one of yours in your lap.

Part of him had expected you to completely break down and bawl, but instead you released silent tears, occasionally sniffling and wiping them away with your free hand. He murmured words of encouragement into your hair, just loud enough to not startle you but to remind you that he was there. Eita instantly regretted not keeping in touch more, even if Sayuri kept a close and endearing watch over your well-being. But you were engaging in an old habit of yours, the one where you’d put up a strong front to not give anyone a reason to worry, that you could handle things on your own.

Maybe he was feeling a bit lonely as well. The alcohol running through both his and your veins certainly wasn’t there to aid in any good decision-making, and the two combined with your own emotions, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going for when he gazed down at you, waiting for you to look back up at him.

Your eyes were surely bloodshot by this time, and you could feel the tears slowly dry and crust between your eyelashes. Eita’s heavy, pointed scrutiny willed you to look back at him. Even with your slightly blurred vision and sake-addled brain, you failed to miss the way his eyes flickered down to where your lips were. Naturally, you glanced at his own with alarms softly sounding in your brain. This wasn’t a good idea, but you were two slightly lonely adults and if he wanted to…

Perhaps Eita had become a mind-reader over the last four years. Your heart rate skyrocketed as he leaned down at a snail’s pace, leaving you more than ample time to prevent this moment from ever happening. But it was undeniable that part of you wanted this, that at some time during senior year, you had briefly envisioned a few times what it would be like to kiss the setter.

Just once, to feed curiosity’s sake, to unveil the unknown.

Eita’s weakly parted lips were still, frozen when they gently met yours with the slightest bit of pressure. His shaky breaths faintly tickled your skin and you caught the whiffs of sake and something minty, the scent slowly intoxicating you. Something sparked in your veins, a slow tingle crawling up from the base of your spine, and you nearly shivered. A fragment of your brain registered the tightening of his hand in yours, a tacit and telling gesture of, “It’s okay. It’s up to you.”

You could resolve this in the morning.

You took the plunge, lips slowly moving against his to signal your tentative approval. Eita’s lips were as soft as rose petals, so tender against yours that reminded you of the full moon on a clear night sky. At every step, at every change, he soundlessly requested permission, whether it be with a cautious nudge of your nose with his or a squeeze of your fingers, and you granted the shift in angles, the slow repositioning for a position more comfortable. It hadn’t taken long for Eita to lose himself in you, wrapped up in this new, uncharted territory that you guided him through. He was more than satisfied with just kissing you, now hesitantly straddling his figure, at a comfortable, languid pace with his hands cradling your cheeks.

At some point, your hands had traveled to wound behind his neck, fingers lightly grasping the ash blond strands at the nape of his neck. When you subconsciously tightened your grip on them, Eita sharply inhaled, applying more pressure against your lips and causing you to lean back somewhat from the new force. He searched for stability by trailing his hands down to your waist, his hold tender yet unshakeable. Eita wasn’t planning on going any further, not when you weren’t completely sober to make a choice like that, but that didn’t stop him from scattering light kisses on your cheeks and jaw. Clearly, the alcohol had lowered some of his inhibitions, but not enough as his lips lingered over the span of your neck – his desire to mark your skin, to paint it with hickeys and signs of affection, would only unleash something darker inside of him, something that you weren’t quite ready for yet. Your heady breaths echoed in his ears and he felt you shake with temptation, your head subtly lolling to the side to allow him more room as a tacit gesture of consent.

Just one, he berated himself. Just one.

His nose ghosted over the skin from your jaw to your collarbone, catching the faint scent of what he assumed to be a mix of your body wash and natural scent. His senses found it comforting, grounding, and reminded him just how precious you were to him. You weren’t just a random girl at the bar he thought would be temporarily nice to make out with – you were (y/n), the girl who had watched over him and encouraged him during some of his most difficult times with a sport that was once his life, the manager who cared for him and his teammates to be nothing but their best, the person who the boys would unwittingly go to war for if anyone were to bring you trouble.

So he made that known, kissing the joint between your neck and shoulder, and reveled in the breathy gasp that escaped your throat. Little by little, he applied more pressure, preparing you for what he was about to do. His lips softly sucked on the skin, just enough so his teeth could graze it and nibble. Your hands were now fully entangled in the strands of his air, and as they tightened, Eita became more forceful and meaningful. You were entering a faint haze of ecstasy as he worked that one spot, determined to break the capillaries beneath your unmarked flesh and let the inevitable bruising bloom. He knew how beautiful you would look when he was done, and if he had your permission to, what a sight you would be with more littered on the rest of your body.

When he pulled back and deemed his work sufficient, he placed one last kiss on top of it before gazing back at you. Your eyes were half-lidded and hazy, traces of lust pouring into them as you struggled to even your breath. You knew in your bones that Eita was too much of a gentleman to go any further than this, and you were incredibly grateful. If something was going to happen between the two of you, you wanted to make sure that both of you were undoubtedly sober and fully aware of the decisions made.

Eita leaned his forehead against yours, stealing a few chaste kisses and rubbing his nose affectionately against your own. When he felt you were calm, steady, he made sure your legs were wound tight around his waist before standing from the couch with ease, arms holding you securely to his chest. His feet carried the two of you to your bathroom, placing you on the little counter space by your sink before unraveling your limbs from his figure.

Quietly, he handed over your toothbrush and squeezed out a small dollop of toothpaste onto it, repeating the actions with his own. The both of you tiredly brushed your teeth, somewhat thankful for the minty paste that would replace any lingering notions of the sake. But that hadn’t stopped you from staring at each other during the motions, only breaking the silence when foam escaped his lips and you couldn’t help but let out a tiny snicker. To which he only rolled his eyes dramatically, yet quickly held your gaze again as his own was filled with amusement and mirth, much akin to the look he had given you when you picked him up at the station earlier.

Minutes later, you two were tucked in your bed, facing each other in the dark. Eita tentatively searched for one of your hands, weaving them together once he completed this small quest of his. Little needed to be said as your blinks began to take on a slower pace, sometimes staying shut for a second or two before snapping back open. Your grip was loosening in his, but he felt he knew why you kept trying to get a good look at him, why you were unwilling to let sleep overtake you.

“Turn around,” he whispered. Too tired to question or fight back, you did as you were told, waiting with bated breath. Not long after you had done so, you felt the mattress closer to you divot just a bit more as an arm carefully snuck around your waist. You lifted your neck a bit to move your hair towards the side you faced so that Eita’s breathing wouldn’t be quite as obstructed, and he thanked you for the thoughtful action with a chaste press of his lips against your shoulder. The two of you adjusted slightly to ensure the position was equally comfortable.

Eita felt you considerably relax, almost falling back into his hold. His arm around your waist spoke volumes to you and part of him knew, part of him wanted to assure you that—

“I’ll be here in the morning,” he promised.

Because Eita knew that perhaps, you two needed to be reminded that you both weren’t alone, that there were people out there who desired both you and him; that the loneliness was just a blip in the timeline, and that eventually, your needs to be loved and appreciated wholeheartedly would be fulfilled someday by others than each other. You two could be good together, but the circumstances and other factors weren’t perfect. Maybe in another lifetime, Eita thought to himself.

And just as he suspected, that promise was all you needed to peacefully succumb to the dreamworld, with him following soon after.

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

07 | Illegirl

→ previous | next

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, kissing/making out, (kinda??) sexual fantasies

→ wordcount: 6.2k

You need to get rid of all the memories you've had with Jimin.

It's quite simple, actually. You've broken it down into four rules.

1. Don't call him Jimin. He's merely your teacher, not friend

2. You've never ever kissed him before. In fact, let's just say you don't even meet him outside of school for whatever reason

3. You don't know anything about him except his age, name and profession. You certainly don't know anything he hides behind his pretty face

4. Lastly, you weren't his friend, you never were

Ever since the mistaken incident, all fun was stripped away from your life. Essentially, whenever Jin was away, you had Jimin to rely on, but even he was distancing himself from you. You knew it was for the better.

You see a bland pattern these days. During class, Jimin still calls on you (to ensure normal behavior), but both of you avoid eye contact. After class, you silently walk into his classroom and walk out when Jimin's ready to leave. You don't ever exchange words, even when he drops you off.

If you're absolutely forced to talk to him, you don't call him Jimin, you call him Mr. Park, because that's what he really is to you. Only friends call each other by their first names, and Jimin's just a teacher to you.

And you're just a student to him.

You count off the long days until your cousin will come back home. Every day seems to drag on and you constantly can't wait to go to bed for a short while but only to wake up again and start the shitty cycle once more.

But finally, finally, fucking finally, the day comes when your cousin will be back. You're a bit reluctant to accompany your teacher to the airport, but you don't have a car, much less a driver's license.

The car ride is awkward, just as you expected. You manage to sit still, looking out the window the whole time to avoid any chance of eye contact, running math equations in your head to distract yourself.

Of course, in the end, the uncomfortable ride was worth it.

It's Seokjin, after all.

"My baby cousin, best friend! Still alive, I see!" your cousin practically screams as he bull-runs towards you and Jimin, his suitcase basically flying behind him. That earns a few strange looks from passers.

When Jin reaches you, he embraces you in a warm hug.

"I've been living off instant ramen," you whine. "It's not fair that you don't let me get out of the house alone!"

Your cousin cocks his head as he looks between you and Jimin. "Hey, don't you two usually eat together after school?"

"We were both busy," Jimin quickly says, glancing your way awkwardly.

"For a month?" Jin questions.

"Yeah... a lot of homework," you trail off. "Mr. Park still made sure I got into the house safely every time though," you add for some good measure.

"Mr. Park?" your cousin says suspiciously, raising his eyebrows. "Since when did you call Jimin, that?"

Busted.

"Hm... did you two fight?" Jin asks, putting a warm hand on your shoulder. He looks at you meaningfully, as if trying to compel you to tell the full truth. You're not falling for that.

"Oh, of course not," you say giggle unconvincingly. "Why would we fight?"

Jimin laughs nervously. "Y/N's right. We didn't fight."

Jin looks like he doesn't believe both of you. But thankfully, he knows not to push it. "Yeah, I expect it was something like Y/N accidentally got a B on one of your tests, Jimin," he jokes, rolling his eyes. "Anyways, I missed you two," he announces joyfully, bringing in you and your teacher for a hug. "I'll treat you two to a nice dinner."

You perk up, face suddenly glowing as you smile—it felt nice to smile, actually. You haven't done it in a while. "Oh thank god," you say. "No more ramen!"

You haven't really had your fair share of awkward dinners, but goddamn, if you had a list, this dinner would be on the very top of it.

Jin is the only one who's trying to strike up a lively conversation as you and Jimin act like brain-dead zombies. You're half-expecting your cousin to give up on his attempts to crack corny jokes, but no, Jin continues on. You guess you're thankful to have him to make the dinner not a complete shitty event.

Halfway through the meal, Jimin checks his phone, his face feigning surprise. "Oh!" he says rather loudly. "Um, something came up... Er, teacher stuff. I've got to go," he says quickly, standing up. "I'll pay."

"Excuse me, Jimin, I said this is my treat. Go on ahead to your... supposed teacher meeting," Jin says, ushering his friend out with the flip of his hand.

Anyone could tell Jimin was just faking this to get the hell out of here, but none of you were actually going to mention it.

Your teacher just looks gratefully at your cousin and practically dashes out of the nice restaurant.

An awkward silence fills the air for a while.

"So... even if the two of you didn't fight, something still happened," Jin says, turning to face you fully.

"It's nothing, really."

"Nothing? Then do you care to explain why you've lost so much weight? You haven't been eating," your cousin lectures. He points at the dark bags under your weary eyes. "And you haven't been sleeping. You're slipping back to your old habits, Y/N. What happened?"

"It doesn't hurt to do some extra studying..." you mutter. "I've got all the time in the world now," you say sarcastically.

Jin sighs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Y/N," he says sternly. "How many minutes of sleep are you getting a night?"

"Forty-five," you say nonchalantly. "Don't, Jin. It used to be thirty minutes a night so you better not bring out that huge lecture again."

"I thought it was getting better..." your cousin sighs. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, and you know that."

You nod. "I know. But you're here now, right?"

Your cousin looks at you so sadly, you feel like you just might burst into tears. "Y/N, I won't always be here with you. I know I call you my baby cousin, but honestly, you've got to grow up."

His words hit you hard, only because you know he's right.

"I can't always be there to baby you, okay?" Jin says, massaging his forehead with the palm of his hand. "As of now, you're only in high school—in less than a year you'll be going to college. Life is so much more than studying. Stop using that, that shit to distract yourself from things that should mean a lot to you!" your cousin practically yells. He buries his face into his hands.

Your mouth is agape. Jin never cussed. He must be so mad. You fucked up—you've been fucking up for a while, actually.

"Jin," you say, softly shaking your cousin's shoulder. "Jin. I'm sorry."

When he looks up, you're shocked to see smudged tears dwelling on the smooth surfaces of his skin. You've never seen Jin cry—only on stage when it was scripted.

At that moment, you want to tell him everything—you've never actually hidden things from your cousin until Jimin rolled around. You want to tell him about that night Jimin was drunk and kissed you, about your crush on your teacher, how he helped you become the happiest you could be, how a month ago both of you made a huge mistake and kissed... You want to tell your cousin that you've been slipping back to your own habits because you wanted to distract yourself from thinking about him.

But you don't tell him.

"Y/N, I try, okay? I really try to make you happy. Yeah, sometimes it makes me want to rip my hair out, because god, you are such a brat at times!" he chuckles through his tears. "But Y/N, I love you. And I know, whatever has been going on between you and Jimin has been making you happier than ever. It's something I couldn't do for you, and I still beat myself up over that. But something happened between the two of you, and the happiness is gone now. You don't have to tell me anything, but just... don't go studying for hours when you face some sort of problem in your life, okay?"

Fuck, now I'm crying.

You nod, making your tears flow down your face. "Okay. I'm sorry," you manage to say. "I'm so sorry. I've been so selfish—"

Jin wipes your tears away with his soft sweater, pulling you into a tight hug right after. "It's okay. You're still learning, you're only 17. Besides, my outlet is theater. While you were practically starving yourself for a month, I was literally having the time of my life with the drama crew. Don't worry about me too much. I'm not the one who still needs to figure out what to do in life."

All you can do is nod into Jin's chest, sniffling slightly. You love him so much you can't even explain in words.

"Fix things up with Jimin, try, okay? I don't care if you end your senior year having a B, or seven F's—what matters is your happiness. Try to consider that the next time you try to starve and sleep deprive yourself," Jin says softly, his fingers sifting daintily through your hair, caressing it in a way you think a mother would do.

You hum in agreement, your head still resting against your cousin's warm chest. You want to stay like this forever.

But after a few minutes, your cousin tugs you back, smiling brightly at you. "Now, we've put on quite a show in this restaurant, haven't we?" he whispers in a giggly voice.

Whut.

It's only then when you realize this whole episode had happened at the restaurant. In public. You can feel the judging gazes of people.

Oh fuck no.

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!" you hiss, gripping your cousin's sweater, face colored bright red as you can't bear to look up again.

Jin laughs heartily. "But what's life without a little public embarrassment?"

He looks up to you as much as you look up to him. As your older cousin, Seokjin always feels the need to take care of you, to make sure you're doing okay. At times, he forgets that he should put himself before others. At times, he forgets that he has a life outside of taking care of you and several grubby high schoolers. At times he forgets who he even is.

But on the days that he forgets, he thinks back to what you always tell him. You, the bratty, but amazing sunshine of his life.

"Jin, you're the goofiest guy I've ever fuc—I mean, freaking met. You'd think such a goofy guy would be empty-headed. But to think that I'm wrong... You're an amazing actor. It's scary to see you on stage sometimes because you're not Jin anymore. Like I swear to fu—flopping god that you change into a completely different person!"

"Y/N, are you complimenting me, or roasting me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm doing both. One shouldn't take too many compliments at once. It makes them big-headed."

"Well, I can't argue with you, I know that. But you really think I can act?"

"Okay, Jin, I know you can act, alright? I've seen you. Honestly, you should try pursuing it. Oh my god, if you ever get famous, write a play about me!"

Jin chuckles at the memory. He never ever liked letting you see his weak side. To you, he was always some superhero who would always crack up jokes to lighten up any dark mood, his specialty was saving awkward dinners from spiraling out of control.

But since you were deprived of the details of Jin's darker part of his life, he needed someone else to vent to: Jimin.

"Jin, you should start to worry more about yourself than Y/N. Seriously, all you do is talk about her—is she that worrisome?"

"Jimin, bro, you don't even know. She's just... different and I'm so worried about her and how's she's gonna handle you know, life."

"You know what you need to do?"

"What?"

"Take a fucking chill pill. Let the girl be. She's 17, isn't she? You've been babying her too much, you know that? The more you worry about her, the more restricted she'll feel. She'll learn by herself. Life is trial and error—you should know that."

"I—"

"Okay, and in the meantime, holy shit, man, take care of yourself. All you do is teach, take care of Y/N, teach, take care of Y/N, teach, take care of—"

"I think I get the point."

"Yeah? Well, doesn't look like you get it. Jin, do something for yourself for once. What do you like to do?"

"You know, the usual. Sleep... Look in the mirror..."

"If you're not gonna be serious, I'm going to leave—"

"Fine! I like acting okay? I love it. Every year the drama team is invited for competitions and I'm never able to go, so we've been losing every time."

"I presume you can't go to take care of Y/N?"

"Yeah.. uh—"

"I'll take care of her then, buddy. You go fulfill your dream, bro; you deserve it."

"Wait, actually? For real? You'd do that? This better not be one of your jokes."

"Do I look like I'm joking? You deserve to be doing what you want, Jin. Everyone does."

Jin feels so warm inside as he recalls that memory. It was thanks to Jimin that he was able to experience the time of his life at the competition, doing the thing he loved. It had also been thanks to Jimin that you had been happy for quite the longest time.

If Seokjin didn't know any better, he'd say there was just a bit of chemistry between the two of you—it was either that or a solid friendship. But for some reason whatever was there is now gone.

You were colder, more distant than before and even Jimin had stopped laughing so often.

"I know I'm asking you this a lot these days, but are you happy, Y/N? You don't look like it..."

"That's because I'm not. But don't you dare worry about me, it makes me feel selfish. I'm going to find things out when the time comes. You know, I care about you too. And honestly, I want you to stop worrying about me because it's stunting your happiness. I'm 17, I can figure things out myself."

"Can you figure things out by yourself? For real?"

"What did I just say? Yes, I can! I'm telling you, I'm starting to get life, alright?"

Jin shakes his head, sighing. He could always see through your lies. It was painfully obvious you were just saying the things he wanted to hear. He could see the confusion in your eyes whenever you stared at Jimin, he could see how blank your stare was when you were looking at anything else.

So. Obvious.

"Y/N, are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Jimin?"

"I'm absolutely sure."

Jin wasn't so sure you were sure.

The young teacher really hadn't meant to kiss you. Things had just taken an unexpected turn, and judging from your reaction, it had been an enormous mistake. It physically hurt to have lost his other best friend, but he tried hard to not let it affect his life.

He could see it affected you though.

Of course, he had noticed you had lost weight—he also noticed the growing dark circles under your usually sparkling eyes. He could see how much duller you were. He also noticed he was smiling less without you.

Jimin sighs out loud as he makes his way into his car. He really missed having you around, with your unique, spunky personality, beautiful smile and hilarious side comments.

As he's driving, he can't stop thinking about you. Your face, your laugh, god, even your handwriting—sometimes he just spends long minutes admiring your neat penmanship on your tests. He knows every single one of your writing quirks—how you take your time to put a cute little dash over your 7's, or how beautiful your 4's look compared to everyone else's.

Stop it, Park Jimin. You'll crash your car if you don't stop thinking about her.

It takes five minutes longer than it should've, but Jimin finally arrives at the local market, clutching his clear shopping bag. He painfully looks down at it. It reminds him of you.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Um... clear."

"That's not a color, Y/N!"

"Do I fucking look like I care?"

"But that's like saying your favorite fruit is a carrot."

"Wait, my favorite fruit is a carrot! Damn, how'd you guess??"

He can't help but chuckle at the memory, but he abruptly stops, remembering you two won't be able to share memories like this anymore. Sighing, Jimin trudges into the supermarket.

He's been going here a lot these days. Ever since he found out you had not just one sweet tooth, but 28 sweet teeth, he'd been trying to learn how to bake pastries, buying all sorts of ingredients to create saccharine dishes. Just for you.

It wasn't much of a miracle that the last time you had baked together didn't turn out to be a disaster. Jimin had practiced.

He loves cooking with you. You always look ethereal, hair a bit frizzy from the heat and tied back from your face with stray strands brushing against your face. Your cheeks are always flushed and somehow frosting always gets on your forehead. Even thinking about you makes all his sadness and hurt disappear into thin air.

Except, Jimin wasn't going to the store to buy ingredients to bake. He was going to buy some beer. He hadn't gotten drunk ever since he'd accidentally kissed you—the first time, that is. But he figured today, he needed it. He needs to get his mind off of things. He needs to get his mind off of you.

Jimin walks through the aisles, blank-minded, stopping only at the alcohol section. He randomly picks at a pack of beers, knowing he'll probably end up drinking it all today. He grabs it, hand hovering to place the pack in his clear bag.

But again, it reminds him of you.

"I don't know why the fuck you would ever drink. Like, does it taste good? What's the fucking point?"

"I dunno. I just kinda drink it when I want to alleviate stress, I guess."

"Well, that's stupid. You should try ice cream. That stuff makes you feel better right away and it doesn't make you go wack and do hilarious shit you'll end up regretting."

"Are you actually shading me, right now?"

"So what if I am??"

Jimin smiles at the memory. The first mistaken kiss between the two of you was such a joke—you two would always make fun of it. Why couldn't the second one be treated the same?

He sighs, clutching the pack of beer as he puts it back on the shelf. Chuckling to himself, he starts to make his way to the ice cream aisle.

Jimin scans the series of ice cream flavors to choose from. Immediately, the mint chocolate chip ice cream catches his eye, and without hesitation, he takes the tub and places it whole in his shopper.

Y/N's favorite. Jimin smiles, then starts to walk to the checkout, only pausing when he remembers he needs a new set of his favorite red pens. Nodding his head to himself, Jimin makes his way to the office supplies section of the store, scanning the shelves to pick out his favorite.

Big mistake.

As soon as he picks up the 3-pack of his much-needed red gel pens, it reminds him of grading, which reminds him of grading tests, which was exactly what he had been doing just three minutes before he and you had ruined your friendship. Your face looms in his memory.

Something stings inside. It rips his heart and then shrivels it up as if he had dumped it into highly-concentrated saltwater. Like lemon juice on a paper cut—but the paper cut was a gushing wound.

It was as if he only just realized he lost someone crucial to his happiness.

Jimin can't help but make a sour, hurt face, instantly tossing the pack of pens away from him. He doesn't want to deal with bad memories. The pens can wait.

Instead, Park Jimin finds himself wandering back to the alcohol aisle, absentmindedly buying an even larger pack of beers, setting it next to the tub of ice cream. There's enough room in the kitchen for both anyways.

His thoughts are completely blank as he drives home. It's as if the rush of pain he'd felt earlier had hurt so, so much he was now immune to it. It was numb.

He reaches his house, setting down the beer and ignoring the ice cream that would surely melt if kept out in the open; he pauses in his steps, hand midway through raking his hair back. All because he sees his couch.

You loved that couch. Actually, you practically lived on it whenever you came over, insisting to even eat dinner seated on it because "it's fucking comfortable."

When you sleep over, taking his bed, he sleeps on that same couch where he can smell your soothing scent. It lulls him to sleep.

But then comes the fantasies.

"Someone will hear!"

"Let them hear."

"God, Jimin, you have no fucking morals," you breathe shakily. "What if Jin walks in?"

"Jin? Walk in? In my house?" Jimin laughs hotly against your neck. "You're just making excuses, baby girl."

"Why would I make excuses?" you say weakly, gripping the hem of his shirt. "I want this just as much as you do."

"Oh?"

Jimin hums as nuzzles the sensitive part of your neck with his nose.

"R-really, Jimin? But here?" you stutter as your eyes automatically close and your mouth parts.

"We'll take it to the couch, love," he answers, sweeping you up in a smooth fashion and softly laying you on the couch before making his way on top of you.

Your body is enveloped by the plush couch and Jimin whose legs are on either side of your hips. He dips in unhurriedly, his tongue touching your lips before his. You wrap your arms around his neck as Jimin cups your face with both hands, kissing you slowly.

Lips still attached, you tug at the hem of his button-up shirt, and Jimin takes the hint to slowly start unbuttoning it. You shift below him to help him with his buttons and before long, his shirt is off and discarded somewhere on the floor. Only then do you move apart from each other's lips.

You marvel at his fit body, reaching to run your cold fingers across his toned muscles. Jimin doesn't give you enough time to continue your sightseeing as he pushes you back down, playing with the bottom of your t-shirt. He gives you a seductive look as you practically melt under him.

"Why don't we take this off too?"

"J-Jimin..."

Wait a fucking minute. This isn't right.

Jimin sighs loudly as he gives his head a little shake as if it would erase him of that rather inappropriate fantasy. At least he's glad it was one of the more innocent imaginations he's had of you.

But now he feels more broken than ever. You're something he can't have, your relationship only exists in the depth of his mind, hidden away from judgment. Jimin sighs again, ripping open the pack of beers and taking one. It's not even cold, but at this point, he doesn't care.

He just wants to forget.

On second thought, he grabs the whole pack and takes it with him to the kitchen, setting it down, choosing one and cracking it open in one swift move. It's a familiar, refreshing feeling.

Jimin raises the can to his lips, waiting to feel the rush of the bitter contents on his tongue. But he freezes.

He's thinking of you again. It's as if his brain can't function without thinking of you so often. Yet this time, it's not the thought of you, it's the sight. Jimin sees your smiling face, the way your sweet lips part to reveal your smooth teeth in a brilliant grin. He can't but to smile to himself as well.

Almost immediately, he sets the beer down.

Maybe... Maybe you might not want to be friends anymore, but Jimin knows that he does. He figured that's all it takes to make him happy. If the thought of you can make him content, make him choose the right decisions, then he'll just have to continue thinking of you.

He's sorry he moved in to change a friendship into a relationship so fast, and he might just regret it, but in the end, he's glad he's met you.

Jimin slowly picks himself up to grab the tub of your favorite ice cream, scrounging for a spoon. The first bite is heavenly, wonderful and phenomenal.

Just like Y/N.

He shakes his head as he takes another scoop, placing it in his mouth to melt slowly.

Damn. I'm so whipped for her.

You sift heavy textbooks around in your arms, fumbling with your lock before getting it open. Throwing the books in, you sigh as you slam your locker shut. These days, you had lost interest in a lot of things you used to like—school included. Things just seemed so bland. You didn't ever feel like socializing with anyone, forcibly dragging yourself to class every single day.

"Hey, Y/N!" a familiar voice calls as you whip your head around to respond.

"Oh, Jungkook!" you reply, "ah, and Yoongi, Taehyung..." Immediately, guilt courses through your veins. You'd been ditching them during lunch for quite some time now, ignoring their frequent 'where are you?' texts. They'd come to confront you for sure.

"Were you sick?" Jungkook asks as he reaches you. "I didn't see you in school for a while."

"I bet you happened to drop your phone in the toilet as well," Yoongi snarks.

Taehyung coughs awkwardly. "Since you haven't been answering our texts."

"Well, I—" you sigh. How are you supposed to tell them you've been wanting a lot of alone time these days without brutally mutilating their feelings? The answer was too obvious.

"Uh, yeah I was sick. And yeah, I kinda drowned my phone in the toilet," you say. Lies. "I'm sorry if you worried."

"Damn, did you drop your phone in the toilet after you used it, or before?" Yoongi laughs, earning an elbow to the ribs from his truly, Jungkook.

"You don't have to be sorry, Y/N," the sweet math nerd muses, giving Yoongi a dirty look. "We're sorry you haven't felt well. You're better now, right?"

You stand there awkwardly, not wanting to engage in a full-blown conversation. Your daily dose of alone-time was calling, and you desperately wanted to succumb to it.

"Yeah... um, I'm okay, been better. Sorry, I kinda have to go..." you fib. "Um, doctor's appointment?" It sounds more like a question than a solid lie but it'll do for now. "See you sometime later, I guess."

Turning around, you quickly walk away, faintly hearing confusedly murmured goodbyes from your friends. You speed around a corner, finding refuge in the girl's bathroom. Setting your things down in the big stall, you sigh, sitting down on top of your backpack.

It almost feels like the old days.

Except back then, you didn't have to ditch your friends for solitude because you had none. In a way, you feel slightly guilty. Your friends just wanted to hang out with you, it was that simple. But surely, if you hung out with them, you'd ruin the fun and the happy mood.

It's better to not meet them at all than meet them and remember bad things.

It's an upgrade, you think. You used to be afraid that others would hurt you. Now you're afraid you'll hurt others.

Some kind of upgrade.

It's even worse with the situation you have at hand (ahem, the Jimin one). You rarely lift your head up in class, flinching just slightly when he calls your name to solve a problem. It's harder than you think. To get rid of a crush, that is.

Not only that, but it's also wrong to be infatuated with your teacher. You just don't know what to do anymore. Jin didn't buy your feigned happiness—well, any idiot could tell you weren't as content as before. And now you've got a handful of people worrying, fussing over you of all others.

Why couldn't they just leave you alone?

No, that's stupid.

Deep inside, you want them to care, to worry for you. It gives you a feeling that you're not so alone.

"Y/N? You little liar!" a masculine voice screams from the entrance of the girl's restroom.

"Oh shit," you breathe. That was definitely Taehyung. Fuck. Just stay quiet, it's not like they can—

"We're coming in!" Yoongi yells, making the blood drain out of your face.

"Wait, guys!" Jungkook pleads. But it's too late. Yoongi and Taehyung barge into the girl's bathroom, rattling stall doors. Thank goodness you know for a fact no other girls were in here.

Before Yoongi or Taehyung can break down the stalls, you quickly unlatch your door, coming face to face with the two students.

"Ha! I knew you were in here!" Taehyung declares. "Jungkook swore he saw you go to the restroom and not to the office!"

"Doctor's appointment, huh?" Yoongi smirks.

"Well, I—"

"Save it. Jungkook, you little brat, get in here! Stop being a wimp!" Yoongi yells at the top of his lungs.

"Yoongi, will you quiet down? This is the girl's restroom," you hiss.

"But if this is the place you choose to eat your lunch at, we'll be here by your side," Jungkook says, smiling as he timidly walks in the stall. He looks alert as if anyone could open the door to the restroom and catch three teenage boys in a bad act, (which was perfectly plausible).

You don't know how in the hell you're supposed to respond to this. This. This is what friendship should be, isn't it? You'd never really known until now. It's such a beautiful, heartwarming feeling.

"Actually, JK, my man, you can be by her side, Yoongi and I have some business to take care of," Taehyung giggles has Yoongi links his arm around his.

"Wait, huh? That wasn't the pl—"

"Buh-bye!" Yoongi sings, waving his fingers at you and Jungkook as he and Taehyung strut out of the bathroom, not once looking back.

You and Jungkook are completely stunned into silence.

"Wow, they're really out to get us, huh?" you finally say, laughing under your breath.

"Y-yeah," Jungkook agrees quickly. "Listen, Y/N," he turns to you, the surprising sternness in his voice hinting that he was being extremely serious. "I understand you like your alone time, maybe a bit more than others. But sometimes the most dangerous, harmful and hurtful thoughts come when you're in solitude."

He's right and you know it.

"Aw, Jungkook, don't worry, I'm fine!" you say in the most lighthearted way you can. You chuckle sourly inside. No, I'm not.

"Y/N, you're not fine," Jungkook sighs. "For the longest time, I thought you weren't hanging out with us during lunch because... because you hated me or something. But now, I think there's something going on in your life that's hurting you, keeping you from being the better you."

You're speechless.

"Do you have anything to tell me?"

You do.

"I don't."

"Y/N, it's a burden to tell others every single detail of your life and problems, but it's also a burden to not say one single word about it," Jungkook says. "I don't know anything about you except that you like math... I want to know more about you, what goes on in your life, what problems you have. I want to help you."

It's then when you know you've been a mystery to Jungkook. You know a shit ton about him from your friendly talks, but you never talk about yourself. You realize you had only ever told Jimin everything that went on in your life. He was the one who could possibly know you better than Jin, himself. Jimin.

His name echoes in your head, but it feels so empty and dark.

You hadn't even known you were crying until Jungkook wordlessly wipes your tears away with the hem of his sleeve. He softly pats your back, then hesitates before he leans in to embrace you. Something about that makes you start crying. Too bad it's the ugly kind.

Jungkook seems a bit taken back at your sudden burst of tears, but he only holds you tighter, rubbing warm circles in your back. The best part about it is that he doesn't say a single word. He gives you time to cry your heart out, giving you company when you should feel so lonely.

You hiccup, leaning back from Jungkook's chest but still in the warmth of his embrace. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't... I'm so sorry," you blubber. Damn. Why the fuck—

"Unrequited love?" Jungkook asks softly.

You give him a strange look. "I guess you could say that..."

"Thought so," he mutters. "But he loves you back," he declares confidently.

Your head jerks up and you take a second before you start to laugh, the last of your tears dripping down from your chin to the ground. "How would you know?"

"You're Y/N. Everyone loves you back," Jungkook says, grinning. He dabs at your wet cheeks with his sleeve.

"And you're supposed to say that because you're my friend," you chuckle. "Trust me. It's not even 'love.' It's a little crush that I shouldn't even have had in the first place," you explain. "I'll be fine."

Jungkook smiles. "I trust that you will be." He's about to say more, but you hear the restroom door swing open as a few loud, gossipy girls come in.

You quickly tug Jungkook into the stall with you, locking the door. "Oh shit!" you whisper, grabbing at your friend's shirt.

"That was close!" Jungkook chuckles quietly. He smiles at you, and it's so contagious that you can't help but smile back.

You finally realize that you're not alone, that you shouldn't be alone. There are people willing to listen, to help you. There are people willing to break school rules and hang out in the girl's restroom with you, for goodness sake. You need to get over this 'unrequited love' and focus on the better things.

It took you a good ten minutes to escape the girl's restroom with Jungkook safely—curse high school girls who like to gossip their mouths off when they should really be flushing down their business. The two of you spent the rest of lunch casually talking as if you hadn't broken down crying not too long ago. It felt good to talk to someone. Especially since you've been so focused on shutting people out these days.

Now you're in the best mood you've been in months as you practically skip to Jin's drama classroom.

"Today's been a wonderful day!" you belt out singing as you swing open the door, twirling dramatically into the classroom. Looking up from your little happy dance, the color from your face drains as you see Jin and Jimin staring at you in shock.

Okay. I was expecting Jin. But Jimin? Really?

You're so embarrassed. All the mirth from before had officially been drained away.

Jin's the first one to break the silence as he laughs heartily. "A wonderful day? That's great, Y/N! Did Jungkook confess?" he teases.

You roll your eyes. "No!"

Your cousin wiggles your eyebrows at you as from the corner of your eye, you can see Jimin looking down at his shoes. Your heart stings at the sight.

"Yeah, um, so... Let's go home?" you awkwardly suggest, tightening your grip on your backpack.

"Oh right... About that," Jin chuckles nervously. "Jimin's taking you home today."

The light in your eyes extinguishes immediately. "He can't!" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Jimin looks up at your sudden outburst, your eyes meeting.

Crap. Shit. Fuck.

Jin cocks his head. "Don't worry, Y/N, he's not going to crash the car or anything," he laughs. Your eyes plead at your cousin. "Sorry, for the late notice, Y/N. I have some team meeting I have to go to. Now, behave yourself! I'll be home in a few hours. Bye!" Jin gives you and Jimin an equally goofy grin as he sashays out of his classroom, happily waving his hand as a final goodbye.

You internally groan. This was going to be so bad.

—previous | next

—masterlist

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin imagine #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #teacher au #jimin fanfic #illegirl

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clockdust8 · 3 years

Text

laptop: El Camino precise ladies volleyball proving to be Open city title contenders

help our high faculty activities insurance by using becoming a digital subscriber. Subscribe now. The El Camino true women volleyball team is continually in the conversation in regards to the desirable metropolis part teams. however this season, the Royals suppose they’ve had to work a little more durable to earn recognize. “I believe in the starting, I don’t suppose loads of teams saw us as an immense threat,” referred to instruct Alyssa Lee. The Royals lost their first in shape of the season, falling three-1 to Palisades. when you consider that then, they’ve gained 14 straight apart from two tournaments. Lee pointed out the group become settling into positions in that first match, perfecting rotations and finding out who the starters may be. After the basics have been settled, ECR went on to win the Burbank Varsity event and the Kennedy Annual Irish clash Invitational in La Palma. The success has been rooted in protection, and it begins with senior libero Larissa Dakoske. “they have got this expectation, and she or he lives as much as that expectation, that she’s going to cover every hitter and he or she’s going to circulate that ball and play defense and get that ball returned up for them,” Lee talked about. “loads of the balls that may have been kills are usually stored alive by her.” Senior backyard hitters Amaya Bernardo and Makayla Magee headline the offense. They may now not have the dimension that different groups do, Lee observed their event and the group’s protective ability help them outlast the opposition. ECR accomplished 2nd within the West Valley League last season, which was shortened due to the COVID-19 pandemic. In 2019, they have been third. A league title is actually on the agenda, but the Royals don’t wish to stop there. “loads of these ladies also have their eyes set on that championship ring,” Lee stated. “above all my seniors, because they’ve been close just a few times however here's the last opportunity. They just are variety of thirsty for that ring.” other West Valley League teams to preserve an eye on consist of Taft and Granada Hills constitution. Taft went 12-four in its nonleague schedule with losses to Crescenta Valley, El Camino precise, Buckley and Saugus. Granada Hills charter is 7-1-1 with a loss in 4 to Hart and a tie with Saugus. Chaminade, West Ranch off to scorching birth Chaminade, ranked No. 1 in the CIF Southern part Division 4 poll, is eighteen-0 heading into its Sunshine League opener in opposition t Notre Dame (four-four) on Wednesday night at domestic. Bridget Brady is without doubt one of the key weapons for the Eagles, together with setter Danit Cohen. but the go-to participant is Izzy Martinez, a member of the US beneath-19 seaside national group and Cal Poly commit. Martinez leads the team in kills, digs and aces. She has a kill price of fifty one%, in accordance with Chaminade teach Cory Chandler. West Ranch (10-three) has taken an early lead within the race for the Foothill League title. The Wildcats swept Canyon earlier than beating Saugus and Valencia in four video games. On Sept. 9, the Cats beat Hart in five for a four-0 start in league play. In that in shape, Kennedy Osunsanmi hit .450 and had 12 kills. Kiley Gustin hit .260 with six kills and Tori Davis was .350 with 9 kills. McKenna Edwards logged 15 assists and Kelsey Schauble introduced 13 assists. Tharushi Silva served up three aces. 먹튀검증

#먹튀검증

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justcallmehitgirl · 5 years

Text

Good Woman Part 4 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Peter knows he’s getting in too deep.

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: smut, language, fluff, and some angst.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I meant to get this chapter out sooner, but I’ve been bar prepping during the day so my writing has been limited to my nights. I’m excited to see where this story goes so I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are about to get interesting is all I can say for now. As always, thank you for reading! Your support really means a lot to me and inspires me to continue writing.

(4/21/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE // PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / STORY PAGE

“You wanna come over and watch ‘Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ after school? I just downloaded it yesterday!” Ned exclaims, bouncing on his feet excitedly.

Peter glances over, readjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder as students hastily brush past them towards the entrance doors, signaling that it’s the end of another day.

He gives Ned a half-smile. “Sorry man, I can’t today. I gotta work on some stuff.”

Ned’s eyes dart around cautiously before leaning in and whispering, “Spider-Man related stuff?”

Peter shakes his head. “No, just academic decathlon-related stuff.”

Ned knits his brows. “Academic decathlon? But you haven’t been to practice in weeks.”

Peter massages the back of his neck, his forehead creasing. “Yeah about that, I talked to Mr. Harrington and I’m stepping down from the team—”

“Dude, you can’t! You’re the only one who aced Physics, you can’t leave us!”

“Relax Ned, it’s all good cause I’ll be helping out with coaching instead.”

Ned knits his brows. “But Y/N Y/L/N’s in charge of coaching?”

“Yeah, I’m actually meeting up with Y/N after school.”

Ned stops in his tracks, placing a hand on Peter’s arm.

“Wait, I think I hallucinated for a second. What are you doing after school?”

“I’m meeting up with Y/N.”

“Holy shit, you’re seriously going to hang out with Y/N? When did you start talking to Y/N?!”

“Chill, Ned, it’s not a big deal,” Peter shrugs, continuing to walk forward as Ned follows.

“Not a big deal? She’s one of the prettiest and smartest girls in our school. And you were just saying how hard you’ve been crushing on her for years.”

“Shhh, Ned! Besides, that was like a month ago.”

“So you don’t like her anymore?” Ned asks, raising his brows.

“I never said that.”

“So you’re in love with her?”

“Ned,” Peter groans. “It’s complicated.”

“How? When? I need details, Peter!”

Peter licks his lips, contemplating whether Ned should know the entire story.

“She just sat next to me in art class the other day and we started talking and then she asked me for help.”

“I can’t believe she asked you for help. You know she doesn’t give any guy at this school the time of day, right?”

“Gee thanks, Ned. And so what? She has a right to spend her time as she wants. She’s a busy person with a lot of responsibilities. She wants to go Ivy League you know.”

Ned just shakes his head. “You got it bad for her, huh?”

Peter rolls his eyes, stopping outside the doors of the library.

“I’m meeting her here.”

“You are one lucky dude.”

If he only knew, Peter thinks.

“Let me come with you,” Ned beams, tugging on Peter’s arm.

“What? No way!”

“C’mon, I need some entertainment this afternoon since you’re bailing on me.”

“Ned. . .”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then.”

Peter playfully shoves Ned’s shoulder. “Thanks man, I’ll see you later.”

Peter heads inside, taking a quick look over his shoulder to see Ned still watching him intently. He motions for Ned to leave, who throws his arms up in mock frustration as he walks away.

Peter scans the library, his breath quickening as his eyes land on you. sitting at a table by yourself. You’re sitting alone, your chin resting on the palm of your hand with your eyes cast down at a textbook. Peter’s eyes are wide as he gazes at you for a few moments, admiring your serene expression. He’s become so used to being with you alone in the confines of your cozy bedroom, where it’s just the two of you wrapped up in each other, that it’s a bit jarring seeing you in such a similar state in public.

His hands feel clammy, imagining how to interact with you outside your bubble. He wonders if you’ll figure it out. Peter knows you’re smart—he’s sure you’ll figure it out eventually. But lately he’s been wondering what sort of image you’ve built in your mind as to Spider-Man’s true identity. He wonders if you think he’s some sort of suave Tony Stark-type, or a rugged Steve Rogers.

But he knows for a fact that you’ve probably never considered it could be him: Peter Parker. Peter Parker from Queens with no parents and no money who lives with his aunt in a cramped two-bedroom apartment. The same Peter Parker who spilled milk all over himself in the third grade, got teased every day in middle school, and was too much of a coward to tell you to your face how much he likes you.

Peter frowns and wonders if he’s actually jealous of his alter ego—his alter ego who got to hold you, kiss you, and touch you all over. He thinks he’s going crazy. But he knows that even though him and Spider-Man are one in the same, one got to call you his while the other would only ever pine for you.

The more he ponders, the more he just wants to turn right back around, walk out of the building, and watch “Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” with Ned. He briefly thinks it’ll be easier to just make up some excuse to stay away from you at school.

But there’s a part of him that simply aches to be around you as himself and give you the things that Spider-Man can’t. His heart pounds, silently hoping that maybe one day he will.

Peter draws in a deep breath and rakes a hand through his hair before continuing towards you. He grips the strap of his backpack. “Hey.”

You look up and smile, eyes bright. “Hi Peter.”

Peter gulps, tugging on the collar of his shirt as he slips into the seat across from you. “What’re reading?”

“U.S. Government,” you respond, lifting it up to show him the red, white, and blue cover like you’re Vanna White.

He chuckles lightly and unzips his backpack to take out his laptop. “Who do you have?”

“Mr. Grant. He’s tough, but he really prepares you for his exams. Plus,” you lean in close, voice hushed, “I think he’s secretly a softie, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Duly noted.”

“Are you taking U.S. History now with Mrs. Taylor?”

Peter nods, booting up his laptop.

“Focus on the chapter takeaways at the end of each section. That’s where she usually gets her exam questions from. Oh, and try to volunteer a lot. She usually bumps up your grade if she sees you making an effort.”

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” Peter smiles.

“Of course,” you smile back and close your textbook. You both just smile at each other for a moment before you blink, looking away to start up your laptop. Peter clears his throat, cheeks flushed as he looks back at his computer screen.

“So, I was thinking,” you continue, “that we could go off of Mr. Harrington’s practice questions first. Then we can look online and compile some of our own. I found a bunch of older questions that they’ve asked in the past which we can use as a guide or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah definitely. I mean, I defer to the expert.”

“Great. Oh!” You reach down to dig through your backpack. “I brought index cards. I usually write the questions down on them so it’s easier to go through later.”

You fish out a few unopened packs before reaching across the table to offer them to Peter. He reaches over to take them, fingers lightly brushing against yours.

“Sorry,” he blushes, gripping the index cards tightly in his grasp.

“You’re fine,” you wave. “Thanks again for helping me with this. I was thinking about it more, and I realize I may have cornered you into it. I can be a little pushy.”

“Not at all,” Peter blurts quickly. “You didn’t corner me into it and you’re not pushy. I’m happy to help, and I’m pretty glad I can apart of the team in some way so I guess I should be the one thanking you for asking me.”

You smile. “We’ll call it even then. I feel the same too, by the way. I really miss being on the team if I’m being honest.”

“Why did you quit?”

You sigh heavily and shrug. “My course load is more intense this year so I had to make some changes. Plus I tutor after school so that’s absorbed a lot of my time.”

Peter cocks his head. “You tutor?”

“Yup, sixth and seventh grade math at Queens Rock Middle,” you beam.

“That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

“I love it. I feel like I’m really making a difference in their lives, which is pretty rewarding.”

“Yeah, I. . . uh. . . I wish I was helping people like you do,” he says lamely

Well, besides saving New York from impending doom from time to time, of course, he thinks.

“Well not to sign you up for something else, but they could always use more volunteers.”

Peter squints his eyes playfully. “I feel like you have a secret agenda going on here.”

“Of course, I need to groom a protege to take my place. It’s part of my evil master plan.”

“I doubt you have an evil bone in your body.”

You raise your brow. “Wanna bet?”

You eye him deviously, and Peter gulps—feeling a wave of tension blanket over you both. You suddenly laugh.

“I’m just kidding! Lighten up, Peter,” you tease.

Peter gives you a lopsided grin. He watches as your gaze lowers onto his mouth. Your smile falters.

He furrows his brows. “What?”

You blink and look away. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I was just thinking we have a lot to get through this afternoon so we should get on it,” you murmur, voice tight.

Peter simply nods in response, mouth settling in a hard line as you turn your attention towards your computer screen.

You sit in silence for the next hour. Peter chews on his bottom lip while occasionally stealing a few glances over at you. You keep your eyes cast downward, attention fixed on scribbling down questions on the index cards laid out in front of you. He watches as a piece of hair falls over your face, and he clenches his fist to stop himself from reaching over to tuck it behind your ear.

“Hey Y/N.”

You both look up. Peter’s eyes immediately narrows while his jaw tightens.

“Hi Brad,” you greet, voice even and stoic. Brad’s eyes dart between you and Peter before settling on you, ignoring Peter entirely.

“So, are you ready for the Calc test on Monday?”

You give a half-shrug and respond, “I think so, although I’m struggling a bit with derivatives.”

“Same,” Brad breathes, throwing his hands in the air. “I was struggling like crazy when Mrs. Park was first explaining it."

You chuckle, “Agreed.”

“Well, if you’re still struggling with it, w-would you maybe want to study together this weekend? I’m a big fan of study buddies.”

Peter grips his pen tightly, feeling it start to snap in his hand. He wants to shout, Back off, Brad. She’s mine. Peter immediately admonishes himself—recognizing that such an outburst would be entirely weird and inappropriate. He knows you aren’t his, or even Spider-Man’s. You didn’t belong to anybody.

“Oh that’s so nice, I really appreciate the offer, Brad. But I prefer to study by myself. I’m not really great studying with other people, tend to get too distracted and stuff.”

Peter can sense that you notice Brad’s look of defeat so you add politely, “I’ll definitely let you know if I change my mind though.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s no problem, Y/N. I’m free whenever.”

You nod and plaster a smile on your face. Peter’s forehead creases as he watches Brad continue to gawk at you. You blink and smack your lips together. “So. . . um, me and Peter have to get back to writing up questions for academic decathlon.”

Your voice shakes Brad out of his stupor, face flushing. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll. . . uh. . . see you later.”

He waves awkwardly and hastily scurries away. You shake your head and continue working.

“I think he likes you,” Peter pipes in, eyes cast down as he busily scribbles on an index card.

You glance up, nose crinkling. “Brad? No way.”

“He was practically drooling over you,” Peter remarks.

“You think so?”

Peter purses his lips. “I’m sure of it.”

You smile. “Brad’s not a bad guy.”

“Are you. . . like. . . interested?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “No, not at all. Brad’s nice, but I wouldn’t want to go out with him.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter mumbles.

“Plus, just between us, I—I’m already seeing someone actually.”

Peter perks up at your response, but he keeps his eyes cast down. “Really? Do I know him?”

“No, he doesn’t go to Midtown.”

“College guy, huh?”

You laugh. “Umm… no. Well, I don’t think so actually.”

“Is it serious?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, he sounds like a really lucky guy.”

“No, I'm pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” you beam, a flush creeping on your face as you turn your attention back to your index cards.

Peter quickly glances at you while the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

—

Peter does not move at first, body pressed near your window as he observes you.

You’re lying on your bed, a pillow tucked under your chest as your eyes scan your computer screen. He takes in the sight of you, from your oversized sweatshirt to your form-fitting black leggings. You toy with a lock of hair, the light emanating from the computer softly illuminating your face.

Peter finally lifts his hand to lightly knock, watching your head jerk in his direction. You smile brightly, waving your hand to motion for him to enter. He obeys, pushing open the window and slipping inside. You quickly shut your laptop close, moving it aside. You sit up as he approaches you, lifting up his mask to give you a kiss.

“How are you?” you ask against his lips.

“Better now that I’m with you.”

“You’re such a sap,” you tease.

“I can’t help it, I’m with the girl of my dreams.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Are you just trying to butter me up?”

“Me? Not at all.”

You shake your head and look away bashfully.

“Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up with his finger so you’re looking at him. “I want to show you something.”

You tilt your head, and he grabs your hand. You stand up, and he leads you towards the window, gently tugging you along as he pulls his mask back down. You turn your head, and quickly glance over at your bedroom door. Will your parents notice that you’re gone?, you think. Would they freak out? Call the cops? Should you risk it?

But those thoughts are quickly squashed by the warm feeling in your chest as you bend down to crawl through the window, his hands lightly grasping your hips in support. As your feet land on the fire escape, your body straightens, your eyes looking up at the night sky.

Peter stands beside you, and you turn, brows quirked. “Where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he pulls you close to him. He wraps his arms around your waist. “Hold onto me,” he whispers, voice hot and soft against the shell of your ear.

You loop your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you breathe.

You glance down, body tensing and bottom lip trembling.

“Are you okay?” He runs his arms over your hips.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Ready?”

“No,” you chuckle nervously.

Peter peers down at you, his voice soft and soothing to compensate for his covered face. “Hey, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You reluctantly nod and Peter exhales deeply. He takes a few steps backward before leaping off the fire escape, your face immediately burying in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes tightly. Your hair whips in the wind as Peter swings over the bustling city below, your grip tightening around his shoulders as you let out a surprised shriek at he momentum.

“Don’t be afraid!” Peter shouts, glancing down at you.

You breathe in deeply before lifting your head and opening your eyes. You blink as you hesitantly looks down, your eyes roaming over the cars zipping through the streets, the lights shining from street lamps, and the crowds of people drifting down the sidewalks.

“Everything looks so tiny,” you murmur, awe transforming your face.

“It’s cool, right?”

You look up, your eyes glistening as you nod excitedly. He grins underneath his mask, tightening his hold on you as he continues swinging from building to building. Your wide eyes dart around, mesmerized by the sight as you clutch him close as your heart beats wildly.

Neither of you had been in love before, but the thought crosses both your minds: “Maybe this is love.”

He feels you nuzzle your face against his chest, your body still and relaxed as you continue absorbing the sights and sounds surrounding you.

Peter eventually slows his movements, spotting a good place to stop and rest.

Once his feet meet the rooftop, you untangle yourself from his arms, jumping up and down exuberantly.

“Holy shit, that was amazing! I can’t believe you can do that all the time!”

“It’s one of the perks of the job.”

“Does it ever get old?”

Peter shakes his head. “No way, sometimes I’m just jumping out of my skin to get out here. To be above the ground, it makes me feel like a bigger part of the world.”

“Thank you for this.”

“I know I can’t give you much right now, and I can’t take you out on dates dressed like. . . this, but I wanted to show you a little piece of my world.”

“I really appreciate that.”

You pause for a moment, your forehead creasing before you continue, “Do you think you’d do this forever? The whole superhero thing I mean?”

“I honestly I don’t know. I feel like I should though. You see, when you can do the things that I can do and you don’t and then the bad things happen. . . they happen because you didn’t do anything to stop them.”

“That sounds like quite a lot to carry on your shoulders.”

Peter gives you a half-shrug. “You get used to it.”

You nod before looking away, your head tilting as you gaze up at the dark sky.

Peter watches you, your mouth

“It’s quite a sight,” you murmur.

His eyes never leave you as he responds, “It is.”

You hug yourself, your body shivering as a cool autumn breeze envelopes you.

“Cold?”

“Just a little.”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you close as he strokes your back. He feels you relax against him, enjoying the warmth emanating from his suit.

“My brown-eyed boy,” you hum softly.

You both begin swaying to the tune. Peter’s movements are a little clumsy, but your smiles encourage him to continue, even extending his arm to spin you around, earning him a giggle.

He slides his hand down your back, his fingers brushing against your bottom. As he starts to move his hand, you look up.

“You don’t have to stop. I like it when you touch me,” you whisper.

Peter licks his lips, feeling the familiar heat rising in his belly. His eyes dart around the empty rooftop over to the surrounding buildings.

“But. . . “

You take his hand, placing it over your covered center. He tilts his head, pulling his mask above his mouth as his throat bobs.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care. I want you,” you say, your voice husky.

Peter just nods dumbly, gently grabbing the back of your neck to press his lips against yours. The kiss is slow and soft, his hand resting below your ear as your breaths mingle. You press into him, your heart beating rapidly in tandem with his. Your tongues dance for dominance, the intensity building as your hand travels down his spine, his body quivering from your touch.

You pull your mouth away, turning your body in his arms to press your back against his chest. He runs his hands along your body, feeling his way from your waist up to your chest. You turn your head to kiss him again, moaning in his mouth as he massages your breast through your sweatshirt.

Your lips fall away from his, your mouth gaping as his other hand hovers over the waistband of your leggings.

“Please,” you whine.

Without missing a beat, he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his teasing fingers making you tremble. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder as he runs his fingers over lips, parting them slowly. He start to massage your clit, your wetness trickling onto his hand to help his movements.

The hand massaging your breast snakes underneath your sweatshirt, your nipple hardening instantly under his thumb. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him.

You grip onto his forearms as you rock against his hand, increasing the pressure on your clit. Your eyes flutter open, your eyes fixed on the stars above you.

His fingers briefly leave your clit as he pushes them inside you. Your face flushes as your tight opening clenches around him, his touch drawing even more slickness from your folds.

“Do this feel good?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod. “You make me feel so good,” you moan. “You make me feel beautiful.”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

He removes his slick fingers from inside you, and you softly mewl. He continues caressing your clit, finger rubbing in steady circles. You tighten your grip on his arms, body tense. You grind erratically against him, his hard length nestled between your cheeks.

You start to babble incoherent words, filled with breathy gasps and moans.

“I want you to come for me,” he whispers, quickening his movements on your clit.

He places his lips on the side of your throat, licking and sucking your pulse point. You cry out loudly as you start to shake in his arms as you cum. He slips his fingers back inside of you, and your pussy clenches around him. He rocks against you, increasing the pressure against his crotch.

His lips leave your skin, head falling forward as his orgasm follows. He grunts, thrusting against you in short jerks as he releases.

He holds you firmly against him, cupping your pussy in his hand as his thrusts slow. Your body slumps against him, He turns you around in his arms to softly kiss you, as you practically melt in his embrace.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” you smile dreamily.

He smooths his hand over your hair. “You’d be the first.”

“You’re just being modest. I bet you get all the ladies in real life.”

Peter chuckles. “Maybe in a different life.”

“In a different life, huh? Well maybe in a different life I can say that I met you somewhere? Like when those couples say they didn’t meet on Tinder or something.”

He smiles. “Okay, where did we meet?”

You bite your lip. “Umm, how about on the bus?”

“The bus?”

“Yes, ‘Speed’ was one of my favorite movies growing up so I thought it was kind of romantic that Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock got together at the end.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. He strokes your lower back. “Mental noted. Please continue.”

“Okay, hmm. . . how about I was coming home from school one day. All the seats were taken so I had to stand. . . but then you saw me and you were such a gentleman that you gave me your seat. Then we introduced ourselves, and you complimented my sweatshirt, which happened to be my favorite Mickey Mouse one.”

He hums in approval as you continue, “And then you saw the math book in my hands and—”

“And we talked about your love for math,” he finishes.

You look up and grin widely. “Yes, exactly. And then I noticed your Star Wars shirt and we talked about how I haven’t seen the new Star Wars movies.”

“Wait, how have you not seen the new Star Wars movies?”

“I’m a sucker for the originals. I still refuse to watch the prequels.”

“Blasphemy I tell you,” he teases. “But please, keep going.”

“But alas, we arrived at my stop so I had to leave, but you followed me even though your stop was blocks away. You walked me to the doorstep of my apartment building and then we exchanged numbers.”

“And we texted all day and night,” Peter murmurs.

“And then I saw you on the bus the next day, and the next day, and the next day. And then you finally asked me out.”

“I like our story.”

“Yeah, me too,” you yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. It’s getting late and I gotta get out of this suit,” he softly laughs, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

You knit your brows together, opening your mouth but the words fall from your lips as realization dawns on. You glance down at his crotch, your cheeks reddening.

“Are you sure you can take me home in that. . . state?”

“I’m not sure, this has never happened before,” he blushes.

You bite your lip to stop the giggle from escaping your mouth. You place a chaste kiss on his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ready?”

You nod as he pulls his mask over the rest of his face. You inhale deeply as he leaps from the building your body still buzzing from your orgasm. You close your eyes, resting your head against him as the wind rustles through your hair.

Once Peter lands on your fire escape, he nuzzles his face against your hair before easing you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you.

“When will I see you again?”

He strokes the side of your face, closing your eyes as you lean into his touch.

“I don’t know. My patrolling schedule is. . . unpredictable.”

“Okay,” you smile weakly, shoulders slumping.

Peter bows his head, wishing he could wipe the disappointed look from your face. “In our story, I take you to my favorite pizza spot.”

"Go on.”

“And then we get ice-cream. . . go to Astoria Park and sit in one of those benches to watch the sunset.”

“Does this date end with a goodnight kiss at my front door?”

“Sure. . . then I can awkwardly explain to your parents why I’m kissing their daughter.”

“My parents would love you.”

“They would?”

“Mhmm, as long as you don’t tell them that we sneak around at night, of course.”

He laughs. “Sounds fair.”

Peter wants that more than anything. He craves normalcy with you wants—he wants to meet your parents, walk you home from school, take you to the movies. He wants you to hang out with him and Ned and show you all the Star Wars prequels. He wants to call you his.

Peter closes his eyes, hoping this never ends. But soon another thought creeps up in his mind that makes his throat feel tight and chest hurt. He frowns, instinctively clutching you closer in his arms.

He knows that everything ends eventually.

Tag list: @thatpeterparkerfan / @professionalphangirluniverse / @julimelodi / @sighharrington / @merelymarianne / @soloseb / @superspideyy / @babyjesuscat / @stardust-ghost / @oh-annaa / @iloveyouironman / @nyeddleblog / @bloominess / @itsjust-evalyn / @shawnmendes-thewriter / @cotton-octopus / @ghostofdrfluke / @imofficiallyobsessed / @charismas-world / @f1zzy-izzy / @kissykissykissykissykissy / @thepeterfuckinparker / @ahajalen1 / @vhgirlforever / @sargentjamesbarnes / @icecoldghost / @space-princesssss / @undiadeestos / @teenageeggsneckpasta / @ lindabanri02222 / @franbway / @5sosuperntaural / @spookyanairwin / @spideyluke / @writing-panda-uwu / @yanderepeterparker / @tomshufflepuff / @slutforbuckybarnes / @mindset-jupiter / @mutuallynotmutual / @maybemona

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paradox-n-bedrock · 4 years

Text

"Doctor Cerberus’ House of Horror" Tarot Review

When I did my rewatch, I had a lot of thoughts about the cards used in the tarot episode. I wanted to clean them up to post here, but I really don't have time, so it's getting dumped mostly as is.

This is pretty much the actual cards followed by my wish for what the readings could have been (ones that accurately reflected the character arcs, despite being somewhat misused to support Lilith's agenda), since I feel that an occult centered show should do a little better representing the cards and not diving into the ~woo Death is the scariest card~ trope.

Sabrina, re: Nick: Magician, reversed Tower, Three of Swords

Reversed Magician would have made more sense, as that would have more to do with illusion/trickery than upright. The Tower here is meh, I feel it would have been better used in Ambrose's reading to cap things off, but we'll get to that later. Plus its use is heavy-handed on top of the Three of Swords, which is a spot-on card as betrayal, heartbreak, and even misinterpretation of intention.

Theo: Knight of Swords, Wheel of Fortune

The Knight of Swords means driven, determined, blind to obstacles and/or consequences, while the Wheel is turning points, cycles of life, nothing is permanent. These could have been very good cards for Theo, but the way they were used was gross. A continuation of the invasive media focus on trans bodies. An additional minor arcana here could have been Three of Wands representing planning, control over life, and expanding opportunities.

Roz: Justice

Repercussions, decisions, morality, truth of self. Solid card for her, but it's a rip off that she only got one. Reversed Emperor would have been alright to represent her dad, but its authoritarian abuse of power connotations could have been used more effectively for Zelda about Blackwood and their marriage. Maybe the Hierophant instead, since it's a little milder, more focused on tradition and religion. I'd add Ace of Cups (spiritual or emotional release or freedom, could be associated guilt or blockage if reversed), too, but maybe that has more to do with the storyline I wish she got than the one she actually did.

Zelda: High Priestess, the Hermit

High Priestess is intuition, subconscious, sometimes spirituality. Actually not a very Zelda card? But it could be iconic Zelda if reversed, representing not listening to her own misgivings about the marriage and the general cognitive dissonance between her actions and beliefs. Hermit I really enjoy here because it fits her in-progress self-development, though I know that wasn't how they intended it. As I said before, Reversed Emperor would also be excellent here, representing Blackwood and all the garbage she's about to go through. Her scene was bizarre though and I hated it.

Five of Swords (unchecked ambition, isolation) also applies very well to Zelda in her situation, since three major arcana is a heavy spread, though I don't know which one I'd remove. She's about to go through some heavy shit, so maybe it fits.

Harvey: The Fool, Hanged Man, Ace of Pentacles

These are fitting cards for Harvey, too, but Lilith is straight-up lying to him about their application? Like it's all about being at the beginning of your journey and letting go of burdens/feeling stuck before you can move forward, plus Ace of Pentacles is financial/career opportunity... Hanged Man arguably could have been better used for the Nick situation, but it was Sabrina's reading, and apparently, I didn't care enough to give them a third card.

Harvey's reading was actually what gave me the idea of how fun it would have been if the cards for all of them had been accurate to their storylines through the season, while Lilith just straight up misrepresents the meanings or their application.

Ambrose: The Hierophant, The Devil, Death

Oh, this is where the Hierophant comes in. Alright, whatever, the church is fucking everyone over, so put it anywhere and it's marginally applicable. But I would have used Nine of Wands (trials and tribulations). The Devil is fine - attachment, restriction, dependency, indulgence in material things/hedonism. Fits for the church/Blackwood essentially dictating his access to the outside world. But Death? Why they gotta do this to me? This particular use of Death is always nonsense, it means major change and can be a very positive card? This is where the Tower should have been to cap things off, as upheaval, disaster, crumbling foundation.

Lilith: The Empress

Aaand Lilith pulls the Empress for herself, which, uh, is not the first thing that comes to mind with this Lilith, though the fertility and creativity and connection to Earth are apropos for the mythological background. But she's still seeing herself as Lucifer's queen here, so I can kind of see it? I would have loved to see the Chariot instead, representing her sheer drive, determination, and ultimately victory, but RAS thinks his viewers are too oblivious to figure out what the Anti-Pope is, so we definitely can't use Google.

#chilling adventures of sabrina #zelda spellman #theo putnam #lilith #caos #tarot #caos lilith

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 5 years

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How would Canada, Prussia, and Romano handle every country but theirs dying? And the micronations. Asking since I'm writing a fanfic, and it's set in the future with time shenanigans. [And yes, america dies, italy, Russia, Germany, everyone but those three and the micronations since they're so small]

Hello, lovely!

This ask took me a bit to warm up to; Hetalia is my happy-go-lucky escapist fandom, but the more I thought about this, the more my own curiosity was piqued.

I took the liberty of assuming this was sort of a “sudden death” scenario, and that the lads find out the Others are missing at relatively the same times. I also tried to be optimistic, and I apologize if some of it is unrealistic.

Hope this is sufficient, and perhaps inspires you in your future writing ventures!

Lovi and Gil knew immediately that their brothers were gone.

Lovino felt the hegemony fall to his shoulders as he was watching the sunrise, sitting on a dock with his feet under the water. He was immediate rage, cursing any name he could think of for the responsibilities now falling to him, for daring to take away someone so young.

Gilbert, on the other hand, knew as he was brushing his teeth, bright pink bubbles swirling down the drain as he simply collapsed into himself, crumbling to the floor. “I was supposed to go first. Not you. Never you.”

Matthew was the first one to reorganize, take charge of the situation. With all major world powers gone, Canada was now the leader of what remained of the Free World, and he took his duty very seriously. Having been in Berlin already for a meeting, he hunted down the remainder of Germany, dragging the eerily quiet Gil along with him to find any others.

Mattie played the strong one, keeping a stiff upper lip throughout the first few weeks of the crisis. It’s not until he goes back to his house and sees one of America’s stray Converse and Mexico’s favourite hoodie that he completely breaks down.

The humans are in chaos, the global economy having crashed, and a large majority of them now gone. There is panic of an epidemic, of a possible apocalypse, with looting and strong alliances forming between any survivors.

It has been three weeks.

Gil remains stiff and silent, though he does consent to food, sleep, and bathing. Lovino hovers near him in case the idiot tries to do something foolhardy when he finally overcomes the shock.

Italy, what is left of Italy, ties with what remains of Germany for second in strength in this new world. Lovino keeps a stern face, greets each minute of regrowth with a solemnity that Feli and Toni would have teased him endlessly for. When Marcello bursts through the meeting doors one evening with news about refugees, he nearly loses his composure; Seborga looks more like Veneziano than Romano ever cared to admit.

The panic has mostly settled, and an eerie sense of calm and faux normalcy hangs in the air for humanity. There is no real normalcy- Most continue trying to determine if their loved ones are still alive, many don’t return to work, some carry on as if they had no interruptions.

After months of debate, Rome is once more declared the centre of the world, and Lovino and Marcello move permanently into their family home. Many of the micronations soon join them, adopting Ladonia’s preferred communication strategy of staying in touch digitally.

Lovino takes on his new responsibilities easily. He’s lost half his population before, led empires before, been at the centre of the universe before. So long as he keeps himself busy, he can ignore the missing sarcasm, ignore the missing “Fuck!” tossed around every five minutes. The big house is almost filled to capacity; it still feels too empty.

It has been two years, and Humanity is working together to connect everyone who remains to a proper global network. In times of distress, everyone comes together.

Most migrate nearer to the micronations, seek out shelter in one of the three main remaining nations. But there are some who refuse to leave their homes, and efforts are made to ensure everyone has access to medicine, electricity, and clean water.

There is more progress now, with no real economy to stop it.

Gilbert remains quiet, though he observes everything. He signs whatever forms need his attention, acknowledges any issues to be addressed. But he can’t help thinking that it should be Freidrich or Ludwig here, that they should both be here.

He misses his inside jokes with England, with Scotland. He misses raising hell with France and Spain and Denmark. He misses shit-talking with Japan, Belgium’s bounding energy, Seychelle’s fierce optimism. All gone, with the survivors trying to build a new world order out of the ashes.

Ten years, and Mattie officially moves in with Lovino. Castel Sant’Angelo has once more been renovated- now into a central home, with more than enough space for every representative to keep their own room. Mattie just shrugs when Lovi raises a brow at his luggage. “It was too quiet, and someone has to keep you in line.”

It has been twenty years; Gil still has yet to speak.

Several attempts have been made to create some form of economy. Each was shot down.

Humanity, now interconnected more than ever, has resumed interest in teleportation and space travel.

Twenty-five years, and everyone now understands at least three languages.

Thirty years, and Mattie sometimes swears he can see Ukraine keeping watch over the garden.

Thirty-five years, and Lovino and Marcello are thick as thieves. Seborga is finally as deadly a shot as Romano, and Lovi has started to embrace his more childish ways at his brother’s encouragement.

Forty years, and two of the Big Three are arguing over which Grecian deity most closely fits them. Lovino insists there is no way he could be Zeus, just as there’s no way in hell Mattie could ever qualify as Poseidon. The debate could have raged for hours, but a dark scowl from the unanimously voted Hades left them both feeling too sheepish to continue.

On the forty-fifth anniversary, Lovino snuck off to the north, taking a boat to explore what still remained of Venezia.

Fifty years later, and the first person to Mars smiled for the camera. In a dialect birthed after the Great Disappearance, she sent love to her family, and made a small speech about progress and adventure and all the hopes for the future.

Millions of miles away, from a small kitchen in the Black Forest, a grainy television delivers the message to a soul older than comprehension. The words sank in, the phantom of a firm hand resting on his shoulder. “We will continue to rebuild, and we will grow stronger.”

For the first time in decades, Prussia smiled.

Fifty-seven years, and no one questioned why Matthew is completely smashed during the first two weeks of July.

Sixty-three years, and Mattie was trying to dig Prussia, Sealand, Wy, and Hong Kong out of a mud pit, cursing up a storm as the four continue to throw more earth at their rescuer’s head.

After eighty-six years, Gil has stopped wearing black. He came to breakfast with a vintage white t-shirt that read “Spread Pages, Not Legs (the ace agenda)” across the front, and Mattie nearly choked on his orange juice before he finished reading.

One century later, and no humans are left alive that can remember the Great Disappearance, the only recounts in history books. The world has rebuilt, and the people have learned to move on.

The micronations have grown into their power, now hosting monthly meetings to discuss policy, agenda, progress, shipping- All the things that society needs to function.

Missing from today’s meeting are the three eldest nations, who had left early in the morning without a word. No one is sure where to find them, where they could be. They’re not gone though, so there is relief.

It is 5 am local time. The sun will be rising soon.

Matthew murmurs a chant, golden glow slipping past his lips and circling around the small trio. Lovino harmonizes with his own sounds, some deep, dark, and inexplicably ancient rasping coating each syllable, cold air tying itself to the dancing lights. Gilbert watches on for a moment, holding in his hand a pile of letters and Alisdair’s old lighter, waiting. The moment comes, and he sets the papers ablaze.

The winds of Lovi’s spellwork and the control in Mattie’s ensures not a speck of ash will hit the ground, and all three watch as their words fly up, disappearing in seemingly midair.

They wait until they are satisfied, then begin the hike back to their car, parked on the old A303, Mattie nearly tripping as Gil rushes past him, desperately trying to beat Lovi in their impromptu race. The Canadian snickers quietly as both of them fall in the process, underestimating the steepness of the hill. Taking the initiative, he rushes past them, outright cackling at the outraged squawks of protest behind him.

None of them see the hazy figure sitting atop the bluestone, smiling softly before fading away.

The world is finally at peace.

And one addition, in case anyone was curious:

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dviciousbikefemme · 4 years

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This past week has been full of ups and downs. From long days in the desert to warm and quality company, we’ve been dealt a set of experiences that are unforgettable. Times have been tough. Phoenix wasn’t too inviting at first and I am thankful for the Warmshowers we ended up with last night. We will remain here until the rain is over. For those of you that don’t know what a Warmshowers is, it is a hosting network that puts long distance cyclists up in individuals’ homes for free. It’s essentially couch surfing for cyclists.

Once again, I think posting once or twice a week will be normal for me until I’m at a better cadence. Everyday is a little unpredictable and I never am quite sure where we will end up. But that’s the point and we’ve made it work so far. In so many ways this lifestyle has released a lot of anxiety and is relief from the sort of stories and assumptions I create in my head around daily interactions and subtleties. You know what I’m talking about. Mind chatter. I don’t have my therapist with me on the road but being on the road forces complete presence.

And when I’m typing these little snippets of life out, it always takes longer than I’d ever expect. You kinda rack your brain with “What do I want to share?””I want to be authentic” “Is this boring?”. This is for me as much as it is for y’all so looking back on these memories, I want to be able to connect with every flavor of feeling.

Since Ocotillo, we’ve pedaled through some major stretches. Leaving Ocotillo on the fourth day started out pleasant in the morning sun. We followed SR98 through the Yuha Desert and its interesting terrain. We paralleled the border with open skies and the mountains of Mexico on our south side. The temperature was great and I was feeling hopeful and touched from the night before. Upon exiting the Yuha, the landscape quickly changed as we drew closer to El Centro and Calexico city limits. Miles and miles of solar panels and broccoli that would never touch the small grocery stores in the very region that grows it. Small towns in the deserts are very much food deserts. You typically can find only packaged foods and meat. Vegetables are scarce and when you do run into them, they are brown and slimey. Once we reached Calexico, the traffic became heavy. There we entered SR111 where we did several miles beside semis and big box corporate stores. At the end of this 50 mile day we settled into a Days Inn in Brawley. We treated ourselves as we foresaw another long stretch ahead. Between the town of Brawley and the town of Blythe there’s about 80miles of limited resources. We wanted to be well rested for day five. That evening we stocked up on groceries and water and caught ourselves up on the Democratic campaign and Coronavirus drama.

Leaving Brawley we pushed through more agricultural land and passed by several sad lil CAFOs (concentrated animal feeding operations). This day was one of our hardest as it was roughly 65 miles and through some tough conditions. When we continued east on SR78, the landscape changed dramatically, once again. We entered into the Algodones Dunes of Southern California that would lead to the “town” of Glamis. Glamis is a town that exists seasonally. It’s a giant playground for folks with a lot of money. We saw some seriously fancy off-road vehicles in the Dunes. It’s scattered about with millions of dollars worth of trailers and RVs, dune buggies and generators. You have to see it for yourself. I didn’t quite capture this stretch in any quality photographs as it was a tough climb with a lot of sand on the shoulders, but I certainly never saw anything like it in my life. We had one guy dipped down off the road under the shade of his trailer awning, hollering up at us, wondering if we might like a beer. We politely declined with a peace sign as we thought it might be dangerous to try and slide down there. A couple miles after the friendly stranger, we dropped into the convenience store of this “town” for an ice cold cola and water refill. There I fantasized about riding around in the buggies. Sure would’ve been fun.

From Glamis on, the road conditions became worse as we proceeded down the shoulder-less 78 in high sun and head wind with cars traveling at about 65mph. Toward the end of it there were several miles in the desert full of dips in the road, making visibility very difficult for both us and for cars and trucks. I grew tired and hungry and frustrated. And with every little hill that came my way I would audibly groan a mighty groan. At about 5:30pm we reached the BLM Oxbow Campground, resting peacefully on the Colorado River. It had a very clean pit toilet but with no access to potable water. We wouldn’t reach all services again until the next day, 20 miles away in Blythe. Our moods quickly transformed from sour to sweet as we enjoyed the beautiful, cool and clear night sitting in the silence of the moonlight— silently loving, silently relieving pain and silently oozing with pride of the hard day’s work.

On Saturday morning we didn’t have much of an agenda and decided to take it easy. One of the snowbirds at the grounds asked us if we needed anything —we said YES COFFEE PLEASE. So we shared our morning with Don and Judy of British Columbia. We talked about music and the great North American landscape and the other bikers they’ve met through their years of travel. They eventually reminded us of the time and we began to pack up and head to Blythe.

Blythe was only about 20 miles out and once we arrived in Blythe we didn’t leave. We went to the Ace Hardware for some camping fuel. Outside the store we met Robin, a town local who invited us to his drinking hole that doubled as a Warmshowers host. We weren’t quite sure if we wanted to quit for the day. We went out to grab lunch (a delicious huevos rancheros!) and discussed what to do next. We wanted to check this Warmshowers out before completely dismissing it. It is located at the B and B (beer and bait shop) a couple of miles outside the main stretch. Upon arrival, we were greeted with ice cold Coors Lites... and another round... and another round... and another... and then we bought a round... and before we knew it we were setting up our tent behind the shop and getting a car ride to the grocery store. The property holds the shop, a few trailers with residents and a rescue goose named Lucy. We had a wonderful afternoon with a handful of kind folks and colorful stories. One man told us of “transporting bodies”. He’s rotated his work between being a medic and working in the prison system. Scott, on the other side of the table, was witness to a completely different set of experiences. He is a former addict and was incarcerated for several years. This group of sweet people spoke of the man, Wayne, that started the communal property and his love for everyone that came through. Warmshowers has been running there for 10+ years, still thriving, even after he sold the property to take care of his sick wife. I was touched by one of the community members that approached Bobby and I while we were setting up camp saying “Blythe is the armpit of CA. We feel forgotten about, but we do have each other here. We want you to feel comfortable and at home. Whatever is ours is yours and if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. We rely on one another in this town”. We felt grateful to have passed through Blythe and crossed such heart warming folks.

On Sunday morning, we rose early in the dark with the time change. We spent a lot of time going east on the I-10 that day. We met a couple of cyclists at a rest stop. One of them is from the US, the other from Australia. We expected to see them again, and the next day did at a Mexican restaurant whilst stopping for lunch. We did about 50 miles yet again and camped at Ramblin’ Roads RV Park in a place called Hope, AZ. We talked to another cycling group, this one consisting of three women from Maine. Mary chatted us up a bunch. They were not looking to stop quite yet and had a few more miles to do that day. We had a lot of time that evening so we made glorified Ramen and dug into the books we are reading. I caught up with my mama on the phone and encountered some of the cleanest showers I bathed in thus far.

Monday we trekked far into Wickenburg, our final stop before going into Phoenix. We stopped halfway for lunch and ran into both groups of women. The three from Maine goofed off and snacked on Mexican sweets in front of a convenience store. They were also heading to Wickenburg and figured we all might end up camping together. And we did that night at the Aztec Village RV Park. We had a grand time with these fine women. Noreen, the matriarch of the group, is hesitant to introduce herself to people at first and knows how she likes things. She is direct and communicates very well. I really like her— she’s very gentle and nurturing once she gets to know you a little more. She is a former Acadia National Park ranger. Working there is how she got to know Mary. Mary’s got a hankering for finding Gila monster skins and armadillo tails. Auralie (sp?) was the third and youngest of the group. Noreen met her by “shushing” her at a French film viewing. Auralie is French-American and is quite funny. She kept reminding us all that gender and time are both social constructs. Can’t say I disagree. We cooked dinner together and spoke of our adventures and about how much fun we were all having. They are a splendid group that really made me homesick for my SHRIMPS. Shrimps are the gals I bike and bond with back home in WA. Don’t ask as to why we are shrimps. We just are. That night it began to rain, it covered up the loud sound of traffic rushing by. We all woke up to wet tents. Bobby and I got an early start to Phoenix. Before taking off we said “See you later down the road” to our new cycling friends.

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aceofstars16 · 6 years

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Okay so I got tagged a LOT and I didn’t get around to answering until now and this is...gonna be looong so I’m going to put this under a cut haha xD

I’m also not tagging anyone, but if you want to do any of these feel free to!

Tagged by @friendlywildflowers and @tiernamente

ONE insecurity:

Ummm, does the future count? Cause I’m really insecure/unsure about anything with my future *flops*

TWO fears:

Letting others down

Bring stuck in the same place for the rest of my life

THREE “turn-ons”: ???

Nice smiles

Being able to make me laugh

...I’m also a sucker for blue eyes man

FOUR life goals:

Write and publish at least one book

Help orphans/foster kids in some way

Continually seek God no matter what

To be a good friend

FIVE things I like:

Thunderstorms

Dark chocolate

Nature

Space

Music

SIX weaknesses:

Laziness

Fear/anxiety

Forgetfulness

Insecurity

Drawing dynamic poses

Lack of motivation

SEVEN things I love:

God

My family

My friends

Cats

Texas

Good stories/fandoms

OCs (mine and others haha xD)

Tag EIGHT people:

Tagged by @shenzi-hemlock

Rules: Answer to 30 questions and then tag 20 blogs you’d like to get to know better lets be real im not gonna do that

Nickname: Ace is the main one

Gender: Female

Zodiac: The Taurus one of whatever it’s called xD

Height: 5′6-7ish?

Age: 22

Time: 1:54 PM

Favorite Bands/ solo artists: Ummm, I’ve been big into Imagine Dragons recently actually, but also NEEDTOBREATHE and Owl City

Song stuck in my head: I don’t know but “Believer” is playing right now so?

Last movie I saw: Antman and the Wasp!

Last thing I googled: I was about to say it was “mission synonym” but then I remembered that I googled the radar cause it was raininggggg

Other blogs: I have a BUNCH that I never use xD

Do I get asks: Somewhat?

Why I chose this username: Oh gosh this story again, I was like 12 or something and saw “Ace of Hearts” which wasn’t even an amazing movie but I liked the title and then I thought Ace of Stars sounded cool so I kept that till I got on dA and that username was taken so I added 16 on the end cause it’s my fav number xD

Following: 225

Average amount of sleep: I need...a lot of sleep...usually at least nine hours haha *flops*

What I am wearing: My arc reactor shirt and jean shorts

Dream Job: I’m not even sure, something with cats or horses maybe?

Dream Trip: I really want to go to Iceland tbh...and also meet some of my mutuals xD

Favorite Food: Chicken is amazing, I love chocolate, I love most types of fruit, just give me something kind of sweet and I’m usually good (though I like salty things too xD)

Play(ed) sports: I played basketball when I was younger, but I wasn’t very good haha xD

Hair Color: Medium/golden brown

Eye color: Hazel

Most Iconic Song: Ummm...I have no clue...xD

Languages you speak/ are learning: English...I’ve tried learning Spanish and ASL but...I know I couldn’t carry a conversation in Spanish and I could maybe say like...only a lil bit in ASL

Random fact: I collect ticket stubbs, but I’ve kind of run out of room in my itouch case so...now I’ve started losing them...xD

Describe yourself as aesthetics: The ocean, stars in the sky, thunderstorms, fuzzy socks, fluffy kittens, autumn leaves, staying up late talking, large sweaters, boots, going on walks in the fall, quiet nights at home, sporadic shopping adventures, warm fires, icy AC (opposites but it depends on the time of year xD), minty chocolate goodness, contagious laughter, hanging out with no agendas.

Tagged by @mandaloriandragontrainer

Nickname: Ace

Height: 5’7-ish

Orientation: Straight/Asexual I think

Nationality: American

Favorite fruit: Ooooo that’s hard....I go through phases, right now I’m loving cherries

Favorite season: I don’t think I can pick I love parts of all of them tbh

Favorite plant: Bluebonnets always

Favorite scent: Vanilla, and also cinnamon...and fresh bread

Favorite color: Blue!

Favorite animal: CATS! And horses, cheetahs, fennec foxes, regular foxes, and dragons...I love lots of animals tho xD

Tea, coffee, or hot chocolate: Tea unless it’s dairy free hot chocolate (I love hot chocolate but...I shouldn’t have it with real milk...xD)

Average hours of sleep: 9ish

Dogs or cats:

Favorite fictional character: TOO MANY TO NAME

Dream trip: Different from the other ask? Hmmm...Argentina

When was your blog created: October 2013

Number of followers: *goes through and blocks porn blogs* Ummm 1,633 somehow???

Random fact: I’m gonna steal mando’s fact and say I’ve cosplayed as a Ranger, genderbent Hiccup, Rey, Jyn, and Eleven (and a few others but...I’m not gonna name them all xD)

What do you do & do you like it: As in like a job, or? Cause I don’t have a job and I’m still trying to figure out school/life so...I legit don’t know how to answer this...*flops

Tagged by @sturwurstrash

Name: I don’t put my real name online

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Orientation: Ace (heyyyy sameeee)

Height: 5′7ish

Favorite Color: BLUE

Book Recommendations: The Lunar Chronicles and Ranger’s Apprentice are both great and underrated in my opinion! :D

Movie Recommendations: Anything Marvel (well, MCU, there are other Marvel movies I’ve never seen/are older that I don’t recommend xD), Gifted, Second Hand Lions, Mulan, HTTYD, and lots of other animated ones xD

TV Recommendations: Star Wars Rebels, Stranger Things, White Collar, Parks and Rec, My Little Pony, and The Tangled Series

Music Recommendations: Oh gosh I have such a wide range of likes...aside from NEEDTOBREATHE, and Owl City ummm...musicals? Mainly Dear Evan Hansen and the Greatest Showman, but Hamilton and Finding Nevereland too (okay and HSM 2 just came on...it’s not amazing but...it’s fun...xD)

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: *looks at the other tag* tea

Cats or dogs:

*replies with another gif cause I can*

I want to live long enough to witness: Ummm...I honestly don’t know, my friends that don’t know God to come and know him, that’s the first thought to come to mind

Weird Obsessions: Ummm, I really love socks? xD

Tumblr Birthday: October 2013 (I’ve answered this so many times I legit know without looking xD)

How many side blogs: Ummm three, but I’m part of like three group things too

Random fact about me: I think I’m like 1/128th Native American or something like that? All I know if like one of my ancestors (like great or great great grandma?) was married to a chief of a tribe, though I don’t know what tribe

Tagged by @la-na-da

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Taurus or however you spell it

Height: *writes 5′7ish for the third time today cause I waited so long to reply to these xD*

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?: Who knows, hopefully with a job and able to drive

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?: Hmmm, aside from the ones I already listed? I mean I’d love to go to England, or New Zealand, or Switzerland, or Alaska/Canada

What was your coolest Halloween costume?: Coolest? Hmmm, I’m gonna go with my Ragner’s outfit I wore to a Halloween party (though I changed to Hiccup later cause it was too hot to wear for long xD)

Favorite 90s TV-show?: Ummm...I think most of the shows I loved were early 2000s...hmmm, was Pokemon going on then? Maybe Pokemon, or Arthur, that started in the 90s right? xD

Last kiss?: Does kissing my cat’s head count?

Have you ever been stood up?: Dude I’ve never even been on a date, as for friends? I don’t think so

Have you ever been to Las Vegas?: Ummm, maybe? I honestly don’t remember but I don’t think so?

Favorite pair of shoes?: Probably my Chacos, I wear them the most, but I love my long boots too, they are just too hot to wear most days xD

Favorite fruit?: I aside cherries before...so how about peaches?

Favorite book?: Oh gosh I can’t pick!

Stupidest thing you’ve ever done?: Ummm...a lot of things? I can’t really remember them though? How about the time I accidentally pulled off a horse’s halter along with his bridle? xD

#aceo rambles #about the aceo #imma do this music one separately...cause...why not? xD #pardon any grammar issues i didn't read over these xD

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recentanimenews · 2 years

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The World’s Finest Assassin – 07 – You Gotta Moisturize

“You know, I’ve tried all sorts of moisturizers. I even went fragrance-free for a whole year. Now my sister, she uses some kind of uh… uh… uh… uh… aloe vera with a little sunscreen in it, and ideally, we should all wear gloves when going to bed, but I found out that that creates a kind of an interference with my… “social agenda”, you know what I mean.”—Frank Catton, Ocean’s Eleven

“It’s all going according to plan”—‘Illig’ thinks this as he lay in bed flanked by the undyingly loyal Tarte and Maha. He says the loss of their parents makes them seek human warmth, and their infatuation with him has made them his “pawns”—he continues to insist in his head that there’s a distance between artifice of his precious Plan and the reality as the girls see it: that is and has been kind and generous enough to demand that their loyalty and love.

After Illig heals his father’s legitimate son with his Tuathe Dé skills, his father agrees to adopt Maha as Illig’s sister, and also agrees that no matter when this charade ends, Illig or Lugh will always have a home to go back to in Milteu—a smart backup plan Just in Case.

As far as the merchant world goes, Illig takes to it like a fish to water and intends to make a huge first splash, converting one of his father’s failed liquor stores in the city into a cosmetics and confectionary shop focused on women. Knowing brand trumps quality in this competitive industry, he has an ace up his sleeve: there are no moisturizers in this world.

Not only does Illig impress his father, but his mother too, though she’ll still always hate him as a symbol of her husband’s impropriety. I’m sure Illig appreciates her directness. Six months pass, and Illig and Tarte watch the women and the money pour into the store. Illig further galvanizes Maha’s loyalty and love by making her the store manager, who hires her friends.

Maha and her friends are now living the dream they dreamt while living on the streets before being captured. Maha couldn’t be more content, and we learn Illig has also trained her in the skills of assassination. Such are her and Tarte’s depth of devotion to their master and brother, they’ll happily brutally torture a corporate spy in the night. Illig didn’t even have to be there.

This week is the wackiest Goddess interlude yet—in which she’s rap-dueling with The World’s Greatest MC, only to learn that 30 years later he’s done nothing because all he does is insult people. But while they provide a measure of comic relief, they also show us that of all the Worlds Best ___’s the Goddess has brought to a new world, Illig seems to be faring the best.

We also learn that once a month Illig travels to hang out with Dia, who is essentially his big sister. They collaborate on new spells and catch up. Just one day a month must be lonely (that bittersweet loneliness has been beautifully expressed in the Dia-centric ED), but even if Illig cynically thinks he’s just keeping another pawn loyal to him, there’s clearly more going on than that.

While Illig’s constant assurance to himself everything is going according to plan make me nervous for some kind of unanticipated setback, the first instance is pretty low-key: his body has arrived at puberty, and after a mana-intensive day at Dia’s, he sleeps soundly between Tarte and Maha…and wakes up to learn his body has had its first wet dream.

Tarte and Maha immediately assure him that in the future they will be able to “take care” of this new development without issue or delay, and Illig, who didn’t seem like much of a ladies man in his past life, is understandably flustered. While this first crack in his plan is mostly silly, the fact he now has less than five years to defeat the hero provides potential for many more. So much remains unknown of the hero, from their gender to the possibility of fulfilling his mission without killing them.

By: braverade

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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chrisabraham · 3 years

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Transcript of Guy Kawasaki’s Remarkable People podcast with the podfather, Adam Curry:

Guy Kawasaki:

I’m Guy Kawasaki, and this is Remarkable People. This episode’s remarkable guest is Adam Curry. Adam was one of the VJ’s, video jockeys of MTV, back in the 1980s. In this position, he interviewed some of the most popular musicians of the time. This includes Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney.

Adam is an early adopter and pioneer. He embraced the web and podcasting long before other people. In fact, he helped make podcasting a thing by collaborating with Dave Winer on podcasting technology. He also created one of the very first podcast, The Daily Source Code. In 2005, Steve Jobs previewed Apple’s podcasting efforts by playing The Daily Source Code on stage at D, the most exclusive tech conference. It was a huge deal when Steve used a product like this.

Adam also started companies along the way that offered services such as web designing, video sharing, incubating, and podcasting. He currently co-hosts the No Agenda Podcast with John Dvorak.

I’m Guy Kawasaki, this is Remarkable People, and now, here’s the remarkable Adam Curry: podcaster, VJ, and pioneer.

Adam Curry:

August 1st, 1981 is when MTV kicked off. I didn’t come in until ’87, as they’d gone through the first wave and they were doing an expansion, and that expansion meant that they were going on primetime cable, basic cable, which was forty channels, and that meant that that would be available everywhere.

And back in the day, only people who are old enough to remember this, but cable was a joke. It was, “Yeah, that’s not real TV, no one’s going to advertise on it, no one cares about it.” They had the ACE Awards, and then they laid out the CableACE Awards, and each of these cable systems was just like their own little fiefdom that the owner would be a typical guy with a Cadillac with horns on the front, like, “Yeah, it’s my wife. Hello, MTV man.”

So we’d also have to tour the affiliates to make sure that they kept us on their stations, on their cable networks. So it was real Mickey Mouse. And I was living in the Netherlands, and they recruited me from there. I was doing television over there. And I came from a state broadcaster and we had fourteen cameras, five makeup rooms. It was all gunmetal gray. None of it was spiffy or anything, but we had a proper camera operator and a cable puller, all the stuff you’d want, and MTV was basically a studio. We shared the studio at the time with, I think the Sally Jessy Raphael show, this was on the Unitel Video on 57th Street in Manhattan.

And there was a couple lights. The lighting director would come in once a week and he’d say, “Okay, stand in your spot,” and he tapped the light, “Okay, this is good. I’ll see you in a week or two.” We had no makeup, no wardrobe, we did all that ourselves. It was really, really guerrilla television, very low rent, and it was kind of being run by radio people like a radio station at the time.

So I fit right in, I felt great, although I never really connected well with the management. I think they thought I had too many aspirations. I had all kinds of things written in my contract they didn’t like, like I could do radio, and they just thought that was ridiculous. “Are you going to be a VJ or a DJ? What do you want to be?” I said, “Why can’t it be so both?”

There were other things, like I was in the music meeting as the only on-air talent where they decided what they would accept to play on the channel, and some producer things I’d negotiate because they came to me so that gave me an upper hand. But it was not the drug-fueled bosom babes rolling around the studio-type vibe that you might think it was, it was quite sedentary, quite tedious. In fact, we’d record, not in real-time, but just the segments. So we never actually saw the videos while we were taping it.

Guy Kawasaki:

What?

Adam Curry:

We’d seen them before. Yeah. Go on YouTube, you see me, I’d be like I’m looking off camera, I’m literally looking at like a floor manager or a production assistant like, “All right, that’s great to see Bon Jovi up there.” And they talk about the next video and then here comes, I look off to the side, I’m just looking into darkness, and then they would literally… This is so pre-internet.

They would take these big tapes, these pneumatic tapes, which is like a big Betamax kind of would look like, and they put them in a car service, drive it to Long Island to the network operation center, where we had guys all day long who would insert like Adam Curry, 12:00 PM segment A, and he’d play it and then he’d click the other machine and play the video, and then he’d fast forward, queue up the next segment, Adam Curry, 12:00 PM segment B, and he’d play that. So it was kind of a playout system like a radio station with cart machines. And it was really, really, really low rent.

And I was on the Internet at the time and they had a Wang computer. I’m like, “Whoa, these guys are ancient.” It was crazy. They were doing the Word processing on the Wang and sending it down from the studio. Whoa, it was great.

Guy Kawasaki:

You’re bursting my bubble here, Adam. So you’re telling me that you didn’t just watch the video and then react to it?

Adam Curry:

It’s all acting, Guy.

Guy Kawasaki:

All that was fake?

Adam Curry:

All of it was fake, man, all of it, every single bit of it. Yeah. And this is why I rarely do mainstream things anymore. I know how it works. I’m always disappointed.

I remember when Michael Jackson died and I got all these calls like CBS Evening News, “I want to talk to you.” I’m like, “Okay, that’s fine.” I was doing other stuff at the time, I wasn’t on MTV anymore. And I spent three hours interview, some walking shots, and then you watch at night, it’s literally fifteen seconds of me going like, “He’ll be missed.” All the other stuff I said was… I’m like, “I’m not going to do that anymore.”

I’m so spoiled by podcasting and the freedom that we have. There’s a lot of disillusionment there, but man, does it work. Does the mainstream trickery just work beautifully. Everything is a great product that I see, it really is. It’s not truthful but it’s a great product.

Guy Kawasaki:

Back then, did the experts scoff at the idea that there would be only music videos? Did they say, “American public doesn’t want this, they want movies, they want Disney specials, just to have two minute videos over and over again is not going to cut it”?

Adam Curry:

Interesting. Again, it was really radio people who drove this, and they said, “Oh, we can run this like a radio station, add VJ’s, and they’ll do shifts.” And basically, as a VJ, you’re one step lower on the rung from curable lepers, incurable lepers, then down there is VJ.

So they really want just interchangeable talent that you can just pull in and rotate out and have them look pretty and do their thing, don’t bump into the furniture, and we’ll play the songs. But something else happened, and the revolution really came from creatives.

So the first thing was these videos. Directors were making videos and they were doing them on really small budgets, and this became an industry. And so the first thing that had to happen was, we had to legitimize what was going on.

So every MTV Video, you would see the director, and the director would get a credit at the beginning and the end of the video. And that was not only an interesting negotiation that we went through with certain guilds, but it also really gave legitimacy to the product. And then you got celebrity kind of directors who would jump into the game, and there was people directing for each other. So that really became quite a thing. Then with John Landis and the Thriller video, all of these things really built up into this is an actual product that stands by itself, which ultimately also became MTV’s demise as we know it, when music videos were so commoditized that they found themselves competing with other networks for premieres.

So the next Michael Jackson video was going to BET. And so Viacom, MTV Networks, they said, “What? Let’s just buy BET, because we can’t have these guys cutting into our business here.” So they did that.

And then the commoditization just continued, particularly as online started coming to play, and they saw that they could get a 0.3 rating for music videos, maybe a 1.0 in primetime with some special programming like Dial MTV, or what later became TRL Live. But you did a long form programming like MTV Beach House, or MTV Real World, or Sporting Fool, or Remote Control, the game show, now you’re talking a three rating. And that was it. That was the smartest decision they could have made.

Sad for what it was, but the music video was no longer a viable business, and so they just went straight into, “We’re targeting this audience and we’re going to go after them 100 percent,” which a lot of it is low hanging fruit, teen moms. It’s crazy, it’s a lot of reality shows.

So the joke, the meme that goes around at the fortieth anniversary is, “Happy birthday, MTV, forty years and fourteen years of music,” all the rest was different kinds of programming. But it’s nice because it’s something that our generation, and that really is older millennials, I would say, up until… or maybe it’s just the older millennials and some boomers in there as well, that was something we shared.

It’s like the rotary phones on the wall. You can show it to people, they’ll be like, “That was like our thing. You stand here waiting for it, and you grab the cord and go around the door into the basement, really?”

So it’s that, that it’s hard to understand, but I’m so happy that I was a part of it, and I was there for seven and a half years. And to this day, I’ll be in just the most odd circumstances, maybe a CEO and then they figure it out like, “Wait a minute, aren’t you the guy from…?” And then the shirt opens up, Metallica T-shirt’s on underneath it. So it’s kind of a cultish thing at this point, but I’m very, very happy that I was a part of it.

Guy Kawasaki:

Wow. And tell me, how did MTV go from this scrappy startup held together by duct tape, into really defining the culture?

Adam Curry:

First, I will say Tom Freston was really important in that. I feel that he led MTV in his own Tom Freston way. He was a very, very interesting guy, very, very rock and roll, but complete suit, you wouldn’t know it. But you look into his background, he was into import export with Afghanistan. It’s like, “Okay. I know enough about Tom. This guy, he’s rock and roll.” And he had a good connection with the music industry. He understood what they wanted, because MTV is just a part of the system, and it became that very, very quickly, with all the negotiations and what goes on, “And who do we put in on special rotation to hook up someone else?” All the favors are all there.

And it was top forty radio sliding towards hip hop, the artists, and the video artists who put it all together, they made the words come alive. The videos, at a certain point was just the budgets were crazy, and record companies would still put them up and put up those kinds of budgets, and that started to change over time. So more creativity came in, the technology changed.

Final Cut Pro, that was instrumental for MTV Music videos in the latter part of I’d say the ’90s. It was like, “What? Nonlinear video editing and I can do this at home?” I remember going to CBS Sony records in 2005 or something, I was going to see I… ’04 maybe… see if I could do anything with the music business with podcasting. And I’m in the lobby there, and in Manhattan there’s a second floor lobby, and that’s where everyone waits until you’re called up to God to go meet with whoever you’re going to meet with. And I couldn’t believe what I saw.

It was just like 100 hip hop groups, and they’re all filming stuff, and they got soundtracks running, so I guess they’re doing a part of the videos that they’re going to get their record contract, and Simon Le Bon from Duran Duran is sitting there waiting next to me, and we’re looking at all this, and all of a sudden the lady comes on the speaker, “Mr. Simon Le Bon, Mr. Simon Le Bon, you can go up now, Mr. Simon Le Bon.” This is Simon Le Bon, we know who he is, and the whole thing was just mayhem, Guy.

I was like, “I don’t recognize this industry. I don’t know who’s making the money where it’s going.” And of course, the music business in general has really been stripped to its bare bones with Spotify and streaming and all the types of deals that were done to keep the broadcasters rich and musicians starving. The same story as always.

Guy Kawasaki:

Nothing’s changed.

Adam Curry:

No, not really, not really.

Guy Kawasaki:

And were you part of the, “I want my MTV promotion group”?

Adam Curry:

No, no.

Guy Kawasaki:

No? Not at all?

Adam Curry:

That was before me. That was the very first, when they just started off and they needed to get cable stations to carry the signal, that was the thing. Just like radio, you had to clear the stations and you had to talk to all these guys. I should know who came up with this. But the “I want my MTV” was an easy one.

You got all, especially the British guys to say, Bowie, The Stones, you got Madonna, you got Billy Idol, it was all the icons of the moment, and they loved it too. They were part of it. It was very, very community type thing, and it was heartfelt, even though there was money behind it and the intent was to create a four billion dollar brand, which it is, or at least annual revenues. So it behooved everybody. It was fun to watch. But the early days, no that was not me. I was not a part of that.

I was a part of Spring Break. This is a good one. So Spring Break became famous, MTV Spring Break coverage, but MTV didn’t want to just go to Florida and watch kids belly flop. That was never the idea. The idea was, “How do we get Budweiser to advertise on the channel?” And I was a part of this pitch. So we went to Budweiser, Anheuser-Busch, and we said, “Look, your beer is down there in Florida and all these other places for spring break. We’ll do wall to wall coverage like big inflatable bottles of Bud everywhere,” and they went for it. Then of course, it wound up with me on the Bud Light boat with Spuds MacKenzie. Okay. But we did whatever we had to do, and that was purely to get them on the station, and it turned into kind of an unforgettable programming that they repeated over and over again.

Guy Kawasaki:

Man, you’re bursting so many of my bubbles, Adam.

Adam Curry:

No, but this is good. It was really fun to do. It was real. The realest thing I think was the Video Music Award. Those were live, they went out live, the early ones.

Later on, it became a little too contrived. And it was so good in fact that the VJ’s were not actually invited. If it was in Los Angeles, you had to fly yourself out, you had to buy your own ticket. They were horrible to us. It was like, “No, no, no, this is special programming. This is not for you.”

But like the people watch this all day long. So you get to do one little segment or something like outside. I’m standing outside here, all the stars are inside, I’m the schmuck VJ on the outside.

Guy Kawasaki:

So as a VJ, you basically watch these videos and then you had to just make it up on the fly? You weren’t meeting with them, you weren’t interviewing? How did this work?

Adam Curry:

Oh, no, no, no. There was plenty of interviews and stuff that would then get chopped up. I had several shows throughout the years that would include, would basically be six segments in an hour, of which three could be two minutes and just typical, it was like typical television because you got to sell more Skittles.

So we do that, and those things were great, and I loved doing that, many, many interviews, but it was never really like a live show, except for a Mardi Gras was live, we would cut live to Mardi Gras, which was really fun, back before you got killed in the streets. Spring Break was live, and the afternoons were live for a while with the Dial MTV where people would call in and request their favorite video.

So no, it was actually a lot of fun, and they were, in general, highly scripted. So every VJ was highly scripted, there was a teleprompter. And I just said, “Just leave it empty because I’ll just make it up. I know what’s going on.” Because I was researching. I had found the internet in ’87, ’88, and I was on Gopher. I was poking around, I was looking at news groups.

Guy Kawasaki:

You were on Gopher?

Adam Curry:

Yeah, I’m on. I got a SLIP account through Panix in New York City, and I figured out how to set up that SLIP connection, and you got your PPP stack and all that stuff, and then you fire up the terminal. “Oh, okay, there it is.” And then you log into the Gopher server and check around. But I really had more fun with the newsgroups and email.

Email was phenomenal because my audience was college students who, A, didn’t count in the ratings at all, so they didn’t even know how many were watching. They were watching but they had very different ideas about what videos they liked. So I’d get feedback from them and that’s how I ultimately set up my own Gopher server and registered mtv.com to run it, and I would pitch that on the air from time to time, so people had put little stories up.

And so I typically had new stories a day before MTV News itself because I was getting it from the people out there in the country who were emailing me these stories. And then it was I think around ’90, and I got an email from a guy in University in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, and he says, “Yeah, Adam, I’ve got this thing, and I wanted to try it out.”

Guy Kawasaki:

Let me guess. A?

Adam Curry:

Yeah. Marc Andreessen. He says, “Adam, check this HTTPD server out?” I think it had like 1.4 or something. And I set it up and like…browse. I’m like, “Oh, wait a minute.” And that blew my mind. And I wound up leaving MTV maybe a year later to start my own company because I was like, “This is it. This is the real future, what’s going on here. I’m just mucking around on this cable news business or cable business.” And so yeah, that’s really how I got sucked in very, very deep, and I saw that I could be much faster, much nimbler, do more fun stuff, less restrictions online. And it was truly the Wild West.

AOL wouldn’t let you on the internet, if you recall, and people were like, “Come on, man, give us a browser, give us a browser.” And like, “Okay.” And you got that browser, and had to just click all those warnings like it’s dangerous out here, anything could happen, which is exactly what you wanted. And after that, AOL became a dial up company. Everything got sucked into the internet. It was beautiful. It was really an exciting time.

Guy Kawasaki:

Okay. Only one more question back in MTV days because we got to make the transition to the web here. Were you there when Michael Jackson required that everybody call him the King of Pop?

Adam Curry:

Yes. This is one of my favorite stories. So there were many deals that were made, and they typically revolved around the Video Music Awards. So if you wanted to have an artist of stature appear, then you maybe would have to play some other video by the same label, or some other favors were made, deals we’re done. And Michael Jackson, he was going to perform, and we had a whole Michael Jackson weekend planned around the premiere of his latest video, I don’t remember what that was, and of course teasing that he would be on the Video Music Awards.

And the way it worked on MTV is you tape on Thursday; you tape for Friday and Saturday… Wait. On Thursday, you tape for Friday, Friday, you tape Saturday, Sunday, something like that. Somehow we threw in a Monday somewhere. But we wouldn’t work on the weekend, but it was the weekend.

So we all did our bits, forty-eight hours’ worth of programming. And then I got a call Friday night like, “Y’all got to come in tomorrow because someone messed up.” The deal was every single time you say Michael Jackson, it had to go Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. I don’t even know if Michael Jackson cared, but we reshot the whole weekend just to make sure we didn’t screw anything up with that deal. That’s how political it was when it came to the deals. But it was all for the good. We wanted Michael Jackson to be on the show, I guess, but there was some grumbling.

Guy Kawasaki:

I can just imagine. Let’s get out of MTV days. We already touched on this a little bit, but tell us about this getting on the web. What a concept, right? How did that happen? How are you this early adopter, this pioneer of the web?

Adam Curry:

Well, I’ve always been a tinkerer. So my love of radio started when I was thirteen. I got a… and I still have it… Radio Shack 101 projects, and it’s a breadboard and it has components; you connect them with different length wires and stuff. And so that’s how I built my first transmitter, my FM transmitter, and that’s how I kind of fell into radio because I needed something to play on my transmitter, and before I knew it, I was building a mixer and understanding how to mix in a microphone, etc.

So my dad actually, we were living in Europe, and he was into all kinds of PR stuff, but it was online, and the first thing he brought home was a Minitel terminal from France. And France was very, very sophisticated early on. Every household had this little terminal and it was meant for hotel reservations or restaurant reservations and some news, etc. Turns out it was being used by sex workers a lot, so they had to scuttle the project at some point because there was a message board thing.

So my dad had all these weird computers and the one that I really grabbed hold of was the Sinclair ZX80, which was basically this plastic keyboard with a module on the back, which was the RF modulator that hooked into the TV and you could write and load programs through a cassette. But I worked part time at a computer store on weekends, and a buddy of mine who I think he might have had the Commodore VIC-20 at that point, but we built our own modems, our own acoustic modems.

So we ripped apart old phones and we put them in little boxes, so you could put the phone cradle right on top, and it worked, I want to say like three baud a minute or a second, whatever, but it worked. And so that was kind of my introduction, then bulletin boards and that kind of thing that followed. And then I put everything aside as my radio and television career started when I was nineteen in the Netherlands. And then when I got to the States in ’87, the first thing I did is I went to 47th Street Photo…

Guy Kawasaki:

Oh, my God.

Adam Curry:

…and I bought a Mac Plus with a scuzzy external hard drive, twenty megabytes, with that big scuzzy cable, remember to terminate. You could plug an RV into that thing. It was so much power. And the 1,200 baud modem, and I was using it for CompuServe, because I discovered CompuServe by then, I thought that was phenomenal. Prodigy was coming around, around that time, I think, that was a Sears deal. But all of this stuff was nothing because I kept hearing people say, “The internet, man, the internet. It’s impossible to get on but all the cool kids are there.”

And so I just fooled around night after night until I finally got a dial up account with Panix New York, figured out how to get the TCP/IP stack running, and I was off to the races. And from there, as I said, it just progressed into the web.

A guy from Sun Microsystems, Karl Jacob, who later… I think he’s still an advisor… He might have been on the Facebook board at some point. But he was at Sun and he said, “Check this out, Adam.” And at this time, I had a 56K frame relay in my house, “Look out, I’m cooking with gas now.” And so he streams a sound file from San Francisco to my computer in New Jersey. I’m like, “That’s it, man. Why am I mucking around on this cable business? This is where I got to be.”

And so literally, I finished the number one video on the Top Twenty Countdown, and I said, “That’s it. I’m leaving MTV. I’m going to start my own company. I’m going to do something on the internet. I don’t know what it is, but that’s where the future is, and I’m done and I’m out.” And I left and I never looked back.

Went right to my radio syndicators and started a company called OnRamp, and the first thing we did was this Fifty-sixth Annual Grammy Awards, we did what we call the cyber cast, with two sponsors, VISA and Casio. Casio was sponsoring because they’d just come out with digital cameras that you could connect via a serial cable to your computer so you could then upload the photos. And we were using CU-SeeMe video, hello, one frame a second, and it was a tremendous success.

Guy Kawasaki:

Oh my God.

Adam Curry:

And we even brought a T1 line into the Shrine Auditorium, and it was cowboy stuff. It was really crazy. But it was all East Coast, right? It wasn’t until I met the West Coast guys that I really understood how nuts the world was. And that’s where I met such luminaries as Marc Canter, and Dave Winer, and John C. Dvorak, John Perry Barlow, and I really didn’t know that much about the culture of Silicon Valley and computers other than the thing I held in my hands. So these are like profits, man. I was like, “Wow, there’s a whole another thing going on out here.”

In fact, I was still at MTV I think, and Halsey Minor gets in touch with me, he said, “We’ve got this thing which is a pilot called CNET. Come on out.” I’m like, “Okay.” So I go, and they had an idea, they brought in Kevin Wendell, a top… He helped build the Fox Network, not Fox News, but the Fox television station network, and they were going to do like a cable channel or something called CNET, and they had a whole bunch of people in just shooting all weekend long.

I said, “This should be an internet thing, really.” He says, “Oh, yeah, good idea. What should we do?” I said, “Well, do you have cnet.com?” “No.” “All right. Hold on a second.” I register cnet.com. I ran their email for at least a year, IMAP or POP3 email boxes for them. They never had an idea that it was going to be seen at the computer network the way it turned out to be.

So there were all these things I was just coming across, but that really enamored me with… If you sit down with Marc Canter and he’s smoking some weed, man, you can listen to that guy for hours like, “Wow, these guys are nuts.” And so that’s how I kind of started to learn about, again, the tinkering side, RSS. This is what I learned from Dave Winer. He was building microblogging, really, he was building RSS and the aggregator, and Marc had his multimedia stuff, and all of these different things happening.

Meanwhile, I moved to Amsterdam at the end of ’99, to go back. I had a Dutch wife and she wanted to be near her parents, and they had cable modems. Now, this was cool because cable modems was not fast or anything, but it was always on. You didn’t have to dial up, you didn’t have to tie up a phone line. Napster was just happening, so people were like, “Holy crap. I’m sharing all this stuff and I’m literally poking inside someone’s hard drive and pulling mp3 files out, and it’s all kind of working, but it was also slow.”

And that’s when I came up… I wrote a blog post called The Last Yard, and I had this idea that since the computer was always on, why couldn’t we just have the video file that you absolutely want to see instead of the experience of the day, which was click, wait, wait, download, click open up with another program, the real player starts to jerk open, all this stuff that was a crap. I said, “Well, wouldn’t it be great if there’s some program that would run in the background, something I wanted to see was ready, would download it, but then would tell me later,” because once it’s downloaded, then it’s just one click, it plays. So what I don’t know won’t hurt me. That was my whole concept.

And somehow, when Dave… and I was very involved, because I loved his product, Radio UserLand, I said, “Well, this is a two-way system. You create an RSS feed on the blog, and I aggregate it, and I can read it on my end. Why don’t we do like a file attachment?” But it wasn’t that simple. I had to go fly to New York and I had to explain to him what I was talking about, and I think he probably thought I was a schmuck.

Like, “What’s this Hollywood guy doing here telling me what to do?” But he saw it, he saw the light. And I think by the time I was back in Europe, he had kind of coded it in. And for two years we were testing this functionality, just going back and forth and like, “Oh, cool. There’s another 100 megabyte file that Dave uploaded last night in San Francisco, and I don’t have to download it. I click, it plays right away.” It was all kind of fun, for me at least.

Dave was working with Chris Lydon. I know that they had done some stuff for his radio program, but when I saw the iPod, yeah, that’s when it all came together. I’m like, “Ah.” Because I looked at the iPod, and that was not a digital Walkman or whatever people were saying, I looked at it and I said, “That is almost exactly like the Sony transistor radio my grandmother gave me when I was seven years old that I have under the pillow, it was the same size.” I said, “This is a radio, it’s a radio receiver.” And now we can have the radio shows… subscribe was the word of the time… you subscribe, and then this little program is going to look for the new episodes or whatever. We were calling it episodes, I think. And it’ll download it and put it on your iPod and Bob’s your uncle. And that’s where we started. Literally, that’s where we started.

And I’d started doing The Daily Source Code, which was a daily podcast. We didn’t even know what it was called at the time, and the whole point of The Daily Source Code was, I was talking about what the developers were building because they were building more radios. Ii was like, “Oh, the iPod Rex, and iPod Lemon and all these.” We didn’t have apps, we didn’t have phones or anything. My God, the tools we have now is so unbelievable compared to then. So yeah, and so that just took off real fast. I mean, people grabbed hold. I say that to Tony Kahn from WGBH, he was quite instrumental, unsung hero because he really pulled NPR into the game early, early on, and he was pushing them very hard. And that really gave it legitimacy, and yeah, it grew so fast. It was only a number of years.

Guy Kawasaki: I've

So people have applied the moniker “podfather” to you. Is that accurate? Are you the father of podcasting? Well, then what’s Dave Winer? Is he the mother?

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