#every time i buy a subway now i think about the one that was ripped from my hands that day. im haunted by it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shorkbrian · 4 years

Note

Ooh i’m so excited rn omg...what i need rn is more of aizawa and villian!soulmate reader. They just keep acting like a brat until aizawa takes them home and punishes them X3

Prelude - shoutout to y’all for being so patient with me! appreciate it so so much. Also, there was like one other ask that I wanted to include here but I couldn’t find it, so rip. Also, @bbygirlpastel ty for the “Villain? I’ll show you a villain.”

Pairing - Yandere Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - dub con, non con, NSFW, overstimulation, no actual penetration. Creepy Aizawa, vibrators, uhhh literally nothing good here. Dead dove man, if you look at a dead bird and KNOW it’ll taste disgusting and make you sick to your stomach.... DON’T FUCKIN EAT THE BIRD. listen to the warnings my dudes!!

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/6p8eEdiZLKJH8tcjGZuNTK?si=9r_2kgkoR56h9UkBCybxLw

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

Maybe he wouldn’t be this infatuated, this utterly obsessed, this angry with you if you had just given in from the start.

You weren’t even a high-priority villain, just some desperate nighttime thug that preyed on innocent bystanders. Snatching wallets, causing a ruckus, stealing from thrift stores or gas stations a couple of times a week. You were a nuisance, but not big enough to catch Aizawa’s attention - not until you stole a women’s watch right in front of him on the street while he was buying a snack from a food-cart before his shift started.

And yeah, Aizawa tried to keep a low profile, not flaunt his hero status in order to effectively capture and subdue villains, but surely you would’ve noticed the man clad in black, obviously sporting hero gear standing nearby. But you didn’t, and then he was grabbing your shoulder so he could drag you to the police station. Aizawa had been surprised when you wiggled out of his grip and took off, and damn, you were fast.

The game of cat-and-mouse had begun, and while the underground hero failed to catch you that night (and every subsequent night he saw you out on the streets) he was determined to do so. Well, maybe not /as/ determined. When it came to you, the man was easily distracted.

The clothes you wore were baggy, hid your form effectively. But if someone looked close enough, they could notice the curves of your body, especially as you ran, evading capture. Aizawa was loathe to admit at first, but it was tantalizing watching you flee from him.

He beat himself up over it. He’d always had a solid grasp of self-control, and usually he felt no attraction to his targets, even if they were wearing the skimpiest of outfits. One time he had turned in a villain wearing nothing but pasties over her breasts and panties (her quirk was seduction-based), and he hadn’t felt anything but utter boredom as he filled out paperwork at the police station while they found her some actual clothes. It probably had something to do with the “soulmate” quirk he had been hit with once, but Aizawa had never really put much faith in it, nor thought about it extensively. He had always had a bit more self control than other men.

So for him to almost have feelings for some low-life idiot? It made his skin burn with irritation (and maybe something else, but he wasn’t ever going to address that). It didn’t make any sense.

The fact that it didn’t make any sense did not stop his brain from plastering not-suitable-for-work thoughts about you whenever he ran upon you committing some minor crime. It was infuriating.

The satisfaction the man felt from finally pinning you down, taking advantage of a small stumble, tackling you down and pressing you into the cold concrete of the rooftop was probably unholy. It just felt so damn good, catching you, forcing you to submit, getting you underneath him. When he had flipped you onto your back, you wouldn’t look at him, just staring off to the side, almost as if you were ashamed.

You should be - stealing from anyone and everyone, being a brat, making Aizawa’s life difficult as you infiltrated every waking moment.

He had started to lecture you, starting out with his usual cool-headed,

unbothered demeanor, but slowly getting more and more annoyed as you still refused to look at him. Pretending he wasn’t there, refusing to listen - Aizawa felt the urge to slap you, just to make you react.

He settled for harshly gripping your chin, forcibly turning your head so he could look at your eyes. Eye contact was an important thing to Aizawa - it was the basis of his quirk, but he wasn’t prepared for the punch to the gut he felt when he looked into yours.

Words escaped him, mouth dropping open, his body frozen. There was - there was something going on. You took advantage of his pause, shoved the man off of you, took off running. Aizawa could do nothing but sit there, staring after your form with his own eyes wide and wondering. What had just happened?

He reflected on the moment for the entire rest of the night, musing over the strange feeling coiled in his stomach, the weird tug in his chest, his brain wanting and desiring and lusting and it was so distracting, he wanted it to stop, but at the same time, he wanted to indulge.

The realization finally hit him - the soulmate quirk he had been hit with, all those long years ago.

Some lady had come up to him while he was shopping, smiling at him toothily before asking him wether he believed in soulmates. He had stared at her for a second, before blankly responding with a curt “no”, turning back to continue browsing the selection of applesauce packets. A hand on his wrist, a burning sensation from his arm to his heart, and then he was rounding on the woman, ready to drag her to the police station for using her quirk in public without a license.

She had just cackled, citing something about soulmates and how he was going to believe now, he’d learn what it would feel like to find your true love when he looked into their eyes. Some sappy, romantic, crazy bullshit that he had ignored and promptly forgotten, before calling the police.

The lady had been deemed mentally ill, driven mad by the loss of her husband in a hero-based accident. Aizawa quickly forgot about the incident.

Aizawa didn’t believe in soulmates, and even if they existed, there was no way in hell that his soulmate would be a villain.

But apparently, the universe did not care about Aizawa’s opinions.

He tried to ignore it, turn a blind eye whenever he saw you sneaking around late at night, would turn and head the other way. But there was no denying the burning flame in his heart, the yearning to see you again, to talk to you, learn about you, what you liked, what you didn’t, where you had grown up, what your aspirations were.

Aizawa hated it.

But he couldn’t ignore it.

The feelings grew and grew, festering in his body like an open wound, infecting his mind, crawling through his veins and slowly seeping into every aspect of his life, until all he could think about was you. The man needed it to stop.

The cat-and-mouse game was picked up again, except this time, Aizawa wasn’t going to give you any opportunities to get away.

You were able to sense the change, could see the rabid look in his eyes when he sought you out for the first time since the night you had slipped out of his grasp. There was something different, and it wasn’t good, it was dangerous.

You managed to dodge him for a time, and some part of Aizawa swelled with pride that his supposed “soulmate” was so clever. The other part of him wanted to break something.

He was almost frightened by the change in him, this volatile anger, the impatience and the lust. That wasn’t who he was, but ever since meeting you, looking into your eyes, it’s what he had become. Maybe if he tracked you down, got close to you, spent some time with you, this needy feeling would go away. You couldn’t run forever.

Aizawa caught you during the daytime, when both of you were off-guard and not paying attention. It was luck, really, or maybe destiny or fate, that he had looked up to watch as passengers filtered onto the subway. You were wearing the same baggy clothes you always wore, hoodie over your head, earbuds in.

There was a backpack slung over your shoulder, and Aizawa watched you sling it off to place it in your lap as you sat down before the doors closed.

It was easy to follow you home, to the dingy little deathtrap you called your own, on the first floor of an abandoned, moldy motel building. It was even easier to follow you inside, through the broken window , his footsteps undetected through the blare of music in your earbuds.

It was less easy to subdue you, with the desperate fight you put up, trying to kick and punch and scream as soon as Aizawa’s thick arm circled around your throat. Still, the man had been subduing unruly villains for a while now, and it wasn’t hard for him to keep his hold on your smaller from, no matter how you thrashed in his arms.

When you finally passed out from the lack of air in your lungs, Aizawa gently followed you down to the floor, staring at you for a moment (god you were pretty, how had he not noticed how pretty you were?) before looking around the room.

It looked like a regular motel room, except there was no TV, there was signs of rot dotting the walls, and the air smelled decidedly unhealthy. He wrinkled his nose as he took it in - you would be much better living somewhere less unsavory.

Which, Aizawa’s home was perfectly capable of hosting an unwilling guest. Aizawa wasn’t naive enough to think you’d be happy waking up in an unfamiliar room, but he figures it would be better than jail. Like hell was he going to hand you off to the police, not when the ache in his chest was subsiding in your presence, the burning need for something lowering to a slow simmer. Justice be damned, Aizawa was going to be the judge, jury, and executioner in this particular case, and he had yet to decide your fate.

----

“You are insufferable - if you would just give in, everything would feel so much better. Holding out like this is illogical.”

He was tired. Tired of your stubbornness, tired of your refusals, tired of your insults, tired of the way his skin itched and blood boiled every time you spat at him or knocked over the plate of food he brought to you.

When he was met with silence, Aizawa sighed. This was getting old. It had been a month since he’d brought you under his roof, a month of holding back, a month of playing nice, a month of letting you “adjust”. But you hadn’t adjusted, hadn’t even tried, and he was tired.

“You’re only hurting yourself by acting like this.“

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to act like this if you hadn’t kidnapped me.” You spat, glaring daggers at the man.

Aizawa paused, almost humored by your spiteful response. “You would rather I have turned you over to the police? The prison system isn’t kind to pretty little things like you. No matter how tough you pretend to be, you’d be broken in less than a week.”

You scoffed, pulling at the chain that held your ankle to the wall. “As if this is somehow better. You’re a sick man, I hope you choke on your next meal and /die/.”

Aizawa gestured to the room, his patience wearing thin. “I could make it worse.”

And he could. He could take away the thin mattress you were sitting on, shorten your chain so you couldn’t reach the bare-bones bathroom, he could stop feeding you, or make you eat scraps like a dog. Of course, he could make it much better too, but only if you’d stop fighting him at every turn.

“I don’t even know what you want. You’re just an old pervert, you’re no hero. You claim to be good and just, but you’re no better than the villains you put behind bars.”

Within a second, Aizawa was crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, yanking you forward until you could feel his heated breath across your face, could see the tension in his eyes.

“I want you to behave.” He ground out. “I’ve treated you with nothing but civility so far, but if you’re so determined to see me as nothing but a villain, then fine, I’ll show you a villain.”

Aizawa was at the end of his rope. It was uncharacteristic for him to exhibit such anger, such impulses and wild feelings, but when it came to you, Aizawa felt like he was an entirely different person, ruled solely by his instincts.

With a push, you were sprawled onto your back on the mattress, quickly trying to scramble upright, ready for an attack. But Aizawa just watched, letting you panic before you realized he was going to stay put. Well, stay put for a time.

There were some things he needed to go get, to show you how good he had been to you, to prove that he had been nice and accommodating. But if you wanted to play dirty, then Aizawa could play dirty.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes locked onto your face. You were such a shy thing, barely able to hold eye-contact, always blushing and stammering and fighting when he made you look at him. It wasn’t his fault that your eyes were enchanting, drawing him in like a spell. If he could, Aizawa wouldn’t mind spending a few hours just watching you, watching your eyes take in the world. Of course, that was an illogical desire, but the man found he was having a lot of those these days.

You huffed as you felt him watching you. “You’re a creep.” The man didn’t answer, and you deflated, voice coming out small “Please…. let me go. I won’t like, steal stuff anymore, alright? Just let me go.”

Aizawa could bet that you were scared - after all, you were nothing more than a common crook. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever been held hostage, the first time you’ve been immobilized. You were probably used to intimidation, maybe even abuse - someone living in a rotted, abandoned motel and living off of what they could steal each day probably didn’t have a good story to tell about what had happened to them.

Either way, Aizawa didn’t really care. If it wasn’t for the tearing sensation in his chest when he was away from you for too long, he’d definitely have handed you over to the police by now. It was driving him insane, how he couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t live now that his mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of you.

When he went out at night, he worried that you would hurt yourself, or escape - get away from him somehow. When he was at home, trying to do the “right” thing and give you space, not touch you, not invade your space, he was bombarded with the single-minded desire of holding you, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest.

It had to stop. He didn’t know how to make it stop.

Aizawa had tried everything, from leaving you alone, to spending time watching you from the other side of the room - the man had even tried to erase the supposed “soulmate” quirk he was infected with by using his own quirk in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. Nothing seemed to help.

He had tried to be nice, he had tried to be good. But there was still the tugging in his chest, the itch he couldn’t scratch when it came to you. He wanted to do so much, but he wasn’t a villain, he wouldn’t force you.

But there lay the problem.

Aizawa wanted to.

He closed the door behind him as he left your room, the “torture chamber” he had said once, deadpanned tiredly in an attempt at a joke. You hadn’t laughed.

The man supposed that this last month had really just been him warring against the dark, whispering corner of his mind that urged him to just take. To do what he wanted, to lay waste, to ravage you in every carnal way he so desired. To force you to lay by his side at night, force you to give him long, loving kisses, force you into domesticity.

Aizawa knew it was wrong. He had tried to ignore that part of him, push it down, focus on the logical solutions he could think of, the ones that kept his actions pure and heroic. But at this point, with you resisting so strongly? How you called him a villain, a pervert, a creep? Why not let the villain inside take a moment in the spotlight.

That’s what he was thinking as he gathered items into his arms from his room, spending hardly any time picking out what he wanted and needed. He’d had so many dreams, so many thoughts of what he would do to you once you finally submit to him. The man had plenty of ideas, especially now that he was deciding to throw his inhibitions out the window.

The fact that you most likely weren’t going to be willing merely meant that Aizawa added a spreader bar and an extra set of cuffs to the growing pile in his arms.

Stepping back into your room was almost thrilling, seeing your eyes snap up, to the bundle of items he held, then at his face. They were so wide, scared, panicked. It was a good look on you honestly, one that Aizawa didn’t mind seeing more often. He was done being the nice guy.

“This is entirely your fault, you know that (Y/N)?” He mused as he strode forward, crouching to set down a towel on the ground, slowly laying each item down onto it. Might as well build up your fear and anticipation.

“If you hadn’t provoked me so, I would’ve been able to be continue holding myself back.” He could hear your breathing pick up as each item was set down, had to fight down a mocking smirk. “You had to be a brat though, egg me on like that. Well, if it’s not apparent by now, you’re probably going to regret that.”

“Please, please, oh god, this-you don’t need to-you-there’s-“

“Didn’t you just accuse me of being a villain? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations here, isn’t that what you want?”

Aizawa finished emptying his arms, then headed towards you, holding the extra pair of cuffs in his hand. He caught your eyes, watching you beg, try to push yourself back into the wall, away from him. There was no doubt that you were terrified, practically having a panic attack as you hyperventilated, eyes darting between Aizawa, the cuffs in his hands, the items on the towel behind him.

It was easy for Aizawa to grab ahold of your already-bound wrists, pulling them down to the ground, right above the top of the mattress. Quickly, one cuff was attached to your wrist, the other cuff slipped through a small, recessed metal ring in the ground.

After you had…. “moved in”, Aizawa had done some renovations. The angle he had you trapped at now kept your arms stretched above your head, immobile and unable to move more than an inch in any direction. It’d be uncomfortable if you were left like that for too long, but Aizawa was still planning on being somewhat merciful today.

You were still babbling quietly, pleading with the man. “You don’t need to do this, please, please please please please-!” You sobbed out the last “please”, trying to wrench your arms free. Of course it was useless, and you were doing nothing but tiring yourself out, but Aizawa didn’t mind.

It was easy to attach the spreader bar to each ankle, despite the way you cried and kicked, ankles slipping out of his grasp a couple times before he could finally pin them down. Aizawa felt eerily calm, patient, but at the same time seething, excited, almost foaming at the mouth for what he knew was to come.

“Struggling won’t achieve anything, but feel free to do so.” He encouraged, shuffling backwards on his knees to look at you, stretched out body on display.

You were still wearing clothes, a thin t-shirt, a pair of loose basketball shorts - all Aizawa’s. He had immediately told you to leave your old clothes outside the bathroom door when you showered the second day after he had captured you.

You had resisted at first, but quickly relented when the man raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders before advancing towards you menacingly. You had gotten the message loud and clear, immediately backing down, agreeing to wear the clothes you were given.

Aizawa retreated to the towel, swiping a pair of scissors off of it. Brandishing them, he snipped them twice in warning. “You might want to be still for this part. I don’t actually want to cut you, so if it happens, it’ll be your fault.”

And then he bent over, carefully snipping the clothes off of your rigid body.

As soon as the last shred of fabric fell away, you breathed in air, immediately letting out a loud, tearful wail. Aizawa felt a twinge of regret, but the quickly-growing bulge in his pants currently outweighed any other feelings he might be having.

Putting the scissors safely out of reach, the man let himself rest back on his heels, surveying your body the way one surveys their food before taking a bite. And oh, was he going to eat you up.

You were writhing, tears falling from yours eyes, still babbling out nonsense as you begged for him to stop, to reconsider, to think about what he was doing.

“I’ve thought about this plenty. It’s called fantasizing.” He murmured, before gently resting his hand against your naked hip.

You spooked like a wild horse, thrashing the second his hand made contact, crying and wailing, shying away from his touch.

Aizawa was glad he had the foresight to bring a gag.

You were so worked up, you didn’t even notice him grabbing it, didn’t register his hand clamping around your jaw, wrenching it open and shoving the ball gag past your teeth. You quickly fought against that too, outright screaming, trying to shake your head, pull away from the hands fastening the strap around your head. But Aizawa was quick, and good with his hands, and your screams became muffled, nothing more than desperate background noise to the defiling of your body.

Resuming his exploration, Aizawa cradled your head in both hands, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you relax, it won’t be as stressful for either of us.”

With another muffled scream, you turned your head, tear-filled eyes glaring at the wall.

“Or you can be a brat.” Aizawa laughed, a sound he wasn’t used to making. “Either way, it’s not gonna change what’s happening.”

Returning to the towel, Aizawa picked up the next couple of items, turning back to see you watching him through teary eyes. He presented the items in his hands, showing them to you. If you were curious, might as well let you see how he was planning to take you apart.

The second your eyes fell onto the lube, the bullet vibrator, the skin-safe tape, you wailed again, closing your eyes in horror, shaking your head. Aizawa breathed out his nose, humored at your terrified reaction. Not so tough when you were tied up, at the mercy of a man, were you?

Your legs were already held apart by the spreader bar, and no matter how you squirmed when Aizawa kneeled next to your hip, you couldn’t close your legs. When Aizawa’s warm hand ghosted over your stomach, you cried behind the gag, and when his hand made contact with your soft pink folds, you absolutely bawled, the sound loud and pitiful even as muffled as they were.

Aizawa wanted to tease, to feel all around, rub against your labia, tickle your clit, skirt around your opening. He let himself indulge a little, before pulling back, squirting out a dollop of lube onto his fingers. When the cold wetness touched you, there was barely any reaction, the way you were already panicking essentially making you loose all feeling.

That was alright, Aizawa knew that would change soon.

He let his hand wander around your entrance, massaging the lube into your skin, taking special care of your clit, your inner labia, the puffy folds. The man got lost in the sensation of your warmth underneath his fingertips, eyes slowly falling shut, a low hum coming from his throat in a natural attempt to soothe you.

The man didn’t know how long he stayed like that, gently massaging wetness onto your skin, humming, but by the time he opened his eyes, your weeping had essentially subsided. You were making cute little sniffling sounds, trying to calm yourself, your own eyes closed, limbs almost relaxed, as if you’d accepted your fate.

When Aizawa took his hand away to reach for the bullet vibe, you barely moved. When he pulled back the lips of your labia, nestling the small, ovular vibrator against your clit, you only flinched. He pinched your labia lips almost painfully, hiding the vibrator underneath them as he pushed it hard onto your clit, before taping thick strips over your skin. When he was done, the vibrator was firmly in place, immovable, covered almost completely by your labia, which in turn was held over the vibe with the skin safe tape.

The vibe was turned on, and Aizawa swore that your back arched so fast and hard he heard it pop. You writhed on the thin mattress, pulling at the chains binding your hands to the floor, trying to turn onto your side, bucking your hips, jerking and twisting this way and that at the overwhelming sensation. Aizawa had never used the bullet vibe on himself, but he’d felt the strength of the vibrations against his hand as he decided on a setting for you, feeling the tingly sensations through your skin through the tape, before kicking it up a few notches.

You were screaming behind the gag - Aizawa guessed you weren’t used to toys, but he felt no remorse. He put a strong hand on your hip, holding you flush to the mattress as your hips moved about wildly.

“This is what a villain would do. They’d tie you up, assault you…. Tear you down and exhaust you until you turn into a broken little cockslut. Aren’t I so much nicer? At least I plan on taking care of you after. Plus, I’ll still lo-“

He cut himself off, grimacing at the words that had almost slipped out. Aizawa wasn’t ready to admit that to himself just yet. He wanted to hold onto the allusion that he could resist you, that he didn’t need you, that you weren’t unequivocally important to him

Not like you were listening.

With a sigh, Aizawa sat back, content to watch you writhe as you wiggled your hips, the movement making your breasts jiggle slightly. Aizawa groaned internally, his erection straining, throbbing inside his pants.

“You’re so beautiful, your body is…. Indescribable really.” The man mumbled, eyes trained on your form. A sheen of sweat was covering your skin, making you shimmer, making you slick. Aizawa’s hands itched as he looked at you, wanting desperately to wrap around your waist, to hold you close as he rut against you. But he wanted to prove a point. He wanted to show you that he could be nice, that he had been treating you good, that you shouldn’t be a childish brat and shout insults at him every day.

But god, was it hard to just sit back and watch you.

He unzipped his pants, reaching past the waistband of both pants and boxers, hissing as he took his erection in hand. He was wet, leaking precum, but did he expect anything else? You were laid out in front of him like a feast, delicious.

You were so overwhelmed by the vibrator strapped to your pussy, you didn’t even notice Aizawa beginning to jerk himself off. It’s probably better that way, he figures - if you realized what he was doing, you’d probably have a fit. Your cries faded into tearful whimpers, long whines, which then morphed into guilty moans, enjoyment that you couldn’t hide. When you came the first time, Aizawa was watching your body, stroking his cock in time to the way your hips jumped against the vibe.

When you came the second time, hair a mess, Aizawa moaned your name a little, his own cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire as he squished his thumb against the tip of his cock.

The third time you came, screaming out muffled nonsense, Aizawa couldn’t take it anymore.

He leaned forward, quickly undoing your gag, having to let go of his cock to work on the straps. When the plastic ball was free from your mouth, drool slicked over your chin, gulping breaths being taken, Aizawa surged forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he kissed you hungrily.

You whined into his mouth, naked chest pressed against his shirt, crying in overstimulation as the vibrations between your legs didn’t give up.

“Mhm, you taste-“ The man had broken away from your mouth, only to dive back in again for a quick taste before speaking again. “-so damn good.”

“Aizawa-Aiz-aah! Aah!” You keened, a fourth orgasm washing over you, leaving your nerves tingling, buzzy.

“That’s right, that’s who’s making you feel so good. You feel good, don’t you?” He pressed, crowding closer to you. He was in the process of pushing down his pants, his boxers, kicking them off.

“No, no no no, can’t-can’t-it hurts! Mmmfh-!” You moaned, back arching again.

“Don’t lie. Listen to yourself, you sound like a whore.” Aizawa chuckled breathlessly, turning you slightly onto your side. He was feeling hot, flushed, feverish. He wanted to do so many things - fuck you stupid, cuddle you close, give you warm hugs and kiss your pussy until you ground against his face.

“No I…. I don’t!” You yelped, the way he was positioning you pushing the vibrator into a different position. “Aiz-mmmm, Aizawa! Please-oh god, oh god-oh, please, st-OP!”

A kiss shut you up, Aizawa licking inside your mouth, feeling your saliva smear against his stubbled chin, felt you fighting against your bindings again. Where did you get all the energy?

He didn’t break the kiss to look down, to take himself in hand and guide his cock into the tight plushness of your thighs, right up against your dripping, messy cunt.

When he pushed forward, his mouth fell open. There was so much /pleasure/, he felt dumb, thick-headed and cotton-mouthed. You were so warm, so wet, and the vibrator was still buzzing away happily, pulsating through his cock as it rested against your pussy.

He wanted to cum, right then and there.

Feeling his thick cock pressing between your thighs, you wrenched yourself away from the kiss, whimpering as he pressed his cock up to chase the buzzing sensation, increasing the pressure of the vibe against your skin.

“Wait, ah, wait! Please, no more-mhmm! I’ll-I’ll be gO-od!” You whined, hips bucking again as the feeling built up again.

Aizawa thumbed at the wetness covering your face, trying to wipe away the tears, but simultaneously forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, I won’t look, there’s no need-fuck-no need to be embarrassed sweetheart.”

He reassured, knowing you were close to humming again. This time, he didn’t want you to have to finish alone.

With another gentle caress to your cheek, Aizawa grabbed your hips, before smoothly sliding his cock through your thighs, fucking right against your pussy. It felt incredible, better than anything else he’d ever experienced in his sex life - hell, in his entire existence.

Aizawa tried to hold himself back from humping against you, pumping his hips wildly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when he was so worked up, not when you were moaning and gasping in his arms, shaking towards another orgasm.

“That’s it, almost there, just a little longer.” He reassured, voice strained and almost cracking in pitch as he neared his end.

“I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me! Don’t-aaah! No, no, plea-SE!”

Your muscles tensed, Aizawa could feel it, your body pressed so tightly against his own. Then you were gone, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent gasp, brows furrowed as you were forced into cumming again.

It made Aizawa burst, feeling your thighs tense around his cock, your cunt convulsing, body trembling. He came easily, covering the inside of your thighs with his sticky seed, before quickly pulling himself free.

He had just had an earth-shattering orgasm, but he needed to get you cleaned up. After all, you had just had /several/ earth shattering orgasms.

The vibe was turned off, the tape gently pulled away You flinched at every tug, skin burning with sensitivity, all of your nerves fried and overstimulated.

Tape off, Aizawa reached up and unbound your hands, quickly throwing the vibe and extra set of cuffs back towards the towel (he hoped - his brain wasn’t working well enough to know if he was accurate or not).

Aizawa felt... good, warm inside. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings swirling around in his chest, the contentedness that came from just holding you, but he couldn’t exactly deny all of it either.

The two of you sat there, you lost in your own headspace (subspace? Aizawa didn’t know the terms.. but for you, he’d be willing to learn).

“You did so well, look at you.” The man breathed, looking down at your body. Fuck him, even covered in sweat and cum and fluids, you were still the most enticing thing he had ever seen.

You didn’t respond, just occasionally blinking at the ceiling, still as a mouse.

You were submissive and compliant for the time being, not struggling when Aizawa gathered you into his arms, cradled your head to his chest. His heart soared at the physical contact - you hadn’t let him do so much as look at you without yelling or snarking some mean insult. This was progress.

Aizawa kissed the top of your head, noting that the two of you would need a long shower in a bit.

You were so fucked out, Aizawa almost felt a little bad at your disheveled state.

At least he had been merciful this time.

458 notes · View notes

khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Note

boopity boop let's goooo

im so tired why am I so tired

when you love someone is such a good song and sooo them

oh, sexual content? nice let's go

im not putting that song on I dont have earphones and I need to be safe-

what the fuck is nanotechnology

I think to google just complicated it

so proud of him for the scholarship 🥺

“I just finished my paper on scanning probe microscopy,” Magnus informs him. “Can I get a ‘hell yeah’?”

HELL YEAH!!

no clue what this shit is but you goo

oh no sad backstory?

pokes him why did you move here??

ooo fashion design

BABE THE MODEL IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU

please dont kill me for calling you babe

“I’m hot,” Magnus notes.

So true omg

this is totally not a one-time thing

ah yes the lightwoods

Stay out of trouble, Ragnor had told him before Magnus had left Cambridge, and stay out of the spotlight.

kinda hard to do when you're dating the senator's son

HE'S NOT BREAKING UP WITH YOU

alright let's talk

babe you're confusing me where are we going with this

yes? and?

They're so gestures

yes that explains it

I just said something which should not be repeated on here

love the communication here

bootylicious is a real word????????????????

"love" EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

That's literally the sound that escaped me

oh, we're doing this right now? okay then

"seven and a half heartbeats" I-

BESTIE COUNTED-

Alec makes a face at the word ‘vagina’. Magnus laughs at that.

WHY DID THIS MAKE ME LAUGH SO MUCH

why the fuck are you saying random words now-

Dani did you read the ingredients list on lube for this?`

“No,” Alec shakes his head. “Look. I know you buy supplies because you live on campus. But this is different. I’m not going to ask you to have sex with me and then ask you to go buy condoms while I wait here. That’s just shitty.”

It is. Magnus wonders why some people before Alec didn’t realize that.

He wonders why he didn’t realize that.

I know this is the bare minimum but god I love this man so much

“I like the way it tastes,” SIR WE ARE IN A PUBLIC SPACE-

he just...grabbed them all 😭

“I don’t know this man,” Alec deadpans.

Me at my friends

we had an extra-long break today and Lyn and I were in the sports ground playing badminton while my original friend group were going...borderline crazy in the background

so yeah I get it alec

DON'T SMOKE

“It’s my mouth and my lungs.”

“Your mouth is temporarily mine,” Magnus says and Alec laughs.

“What about my lungs?”

“I’ll let you know if I ever get into organ trafficking.”

“You’re going to sell the lungs of a smoker? God, you are a shit trafficker.”

I love these idiots so much

also

STOP SMOKING

ALEC-

I see we are still a fan of ripping clothes-

“I’m not taking the subway shirtless,” Magnus says breathlessly.

“You can take one of my sweaters you are pretending not to steal,” Alec hisses against his ear.

I mean you could-

ok but Magnus kind of freaking out every time alec pulls away or smth like that just makes me more curious about his backstory

like I KNOW SOME SHIT HAPPENED

I have this weird look on my face where im smiling and so close to crying

THEM!!!

“Do you have any idea,” Alec whispers, cupping his face. “How beautiful you are?”

“I have an inkling,

he truly is

They haven’t even started, and Magnus already knows.

He knows there will not be another time like this, not with anyone.

dude

why you gotta hit me where it hurts?

lets out more profanities than a drunk sailor.

so me at any given moment?

xoxo by somi is playing and like I wanna search up the lyrics but too lazy

my friends love somi

"baby"

TEARS

GONNA GO CRY NOW

oh no the middle

YOU DONT WANNA GO TO THE MET GALA???

“Oh, is that so? I can’t wait to see the headlines. Magnus Bane Gives Up on the Met Gala Three Months After Giving Up on His Marriage.”

I am so sorry for laughing

also, I thought this was the middle????????????

oh right we're still gonna get divorced moments

no clue what the fuck is an uncontested divorce

are there many different kinds?

ohhh right cool

hehhehe max knows how to use a gun

and he's good at it

SELENA AND LEXI BIRTHDAY

Magnus do you need a hug?

FALLEN ANGEL YEEEEEEEEEEEE

ew Rafael you're going to Disneyland why do you have a textbook with you?

THE TEXTS LMAO

THIS IS INSANE

that's so cool omg private plane

the tension fuck

it isn't the good kind either 😭

OH WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE

NICE HI HELLO HRU

my boy got game

alec why are you acting like that about this 🤨

this seems so unlike him

Magnus is very right

ALEC

MAX WILL NOT COME TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS SHIT

oh my god snooping is not okay

idfc it's your house

I had this talk with my desi parents and they understood I GOT DESI PARENTS TO UNDERSTAND THIS

COME ON DUDE

all the questions Magnus raised are very valid ones

alec please this gestures you have to talk to him

Alec hates talking to kids about sex. Magnus remembers when they had the talk with Rafael when the boy had been 15. Alec had literally pretended to get a phone call and left the room when Magnus had explained to Rafael about the clitoris.

I...I guess I kind of get that...

but knowing about safe sex and having the right resources is so so important

he's 17. teenagers do crazy stupid shit sometimes

“He doesn’t like talking to you,” Alec corrects. “Don’t generalize it.”

alec-

sigh

yes Magnus talk to him

dude if he doesn't wanna date anyone then that's that

ok Magnus has a HUGE problem with guns and shooting references

this is some depressing stuff

oh crap Magnus guessed about David

Magnus stands still for a minute and tries to figure out where to go or what to do. He has never felt safe in this house. He has never had a safe place in the mansion, other than Alec’s arms.

He can't go there now, can he?

oh wow pain just hit me in the face

Rafael holding his hand 🥺

im sorry but the "dearest" gave me flashbacks

not dearest 😭

oh this hurts

The thing about taking time for yourself is that it eventually has to come to an end. And going back to normal life and making up to the people you had abandoned usually comes with an apology tour.

Magnus doesn't get it.

What is the point in taking time for yourself if you are going to feel bad about it and apologize for it?

Isn't the whole point of taking time for yourself is to feel better?

oh this

fuck apologizing

be a bitch

dude David and Max not talking

I wanna see max's pov

“There is no reason for you to sneak your way back into the group, Magnus,” the other man says. “For us, you never left.”

oh pain wow ok

OMG GIANT CAKE WITH DUCK

omg jace organized this

EMMA

CAPTAIN??? CARSTAIRS???

MIGHT CRY

“Lexi, right?” Emma grins. “Your father used to torture our whole unit by showing us a thousand pictures of you and your siblings.”

AHAHHKJSDUHKDFJFVHUJKHDGFJHGF

PRECIOUS

LEXI STAPH BEING SO GAY

dont actually

“Sexy,” the girl says and then blinks. “Uh. I mean. Lexi. My name is Lexi.”

I CAN'T-

ALEC BEING LEXI'S GAY YODA

I CAN'T WITH THIS DUO

THEY'RE SO PRECIOUS

RAPUNZEL AYYY SELENA

I see it

blonde wig!!!

BLUE BODYPAINT

SO MANY REFERENCES

oh fuck so hot

ASHGDSCHDFUH MAGNUS CALM THYSELF

alec does look very hot though

im very much thirsting

OMG IS THIS LITTLE KID CALLED MALLORY???????????

max is obviously in love with David

omg rose

im gonna cry

max deserves a hug

KARAOKE AYYYY

Alec why are you trying to remove the eyeliner-

I have a guess-

but anyway

SJHDCUIHDFVUIHFIJDVDF MAGNUS IS GONNA HELP HIM

Alec is quiet for a while. Then he speaks. “The sheets don’t smell like sandalwood anymore.”

the pain

it's fine im fine

HE-

HE SLEEPS WITH THE BABY WRAP

“Because I fucking miss you too!” Alec hisses at him. “I fucking miss you, Magnus.”

I miss you too, Magnus wants to say.

dude

oh fuck

bro

I could cry

Alec loves so much that it makes you feel so overwhelmed sometimes. As if you don’t know what to do with all the love he gives you.

So, he keeps staring. Magnus keeps looking at Alec, wondering for the hundredth time, why he wasn’t lucky enough to have this forever.

SO CLOSE TO TEARS

GET BACK TOGETHER

BITCH DO IT

“Nothing,” Magnus says sadly. “I just really want to kiss you.”

HONEY NO-

oh great they are kissing now

OH, THEY ARE GONNA HAVE SEX IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM AT DISNEY???

NOT DISNEY

Magnus.

Not baby.

Because they can’t go back to that. Not anymore.

So, Magnus offers the same courtesy.

He doesn’t say Alexander.

Just Alec.

oh you did not just do that

my heart just broke further

LEXIIIIIIIII

MAX FUCK

OH FUCK

DUDE IM IN TEARS

FUCK THIS SHIT

SO MUCH PAIN

ok the end now

dude that's so cool

so proud of him

He fucking hates that their phone calls now start like this.

Because they don’t call each other regularly or for no reason – only out of urgency and necessity.

im done I can't do this anymore

MONOPOLY YAY

“You’ll do what your father says,” Magnus yells back.

“I shan’t!”

“Listen to me, you little monkey-”

I missed this

them

OMG ALEC TELLING THE KIDS ABOUT HIS TICKLISH SPOT

I AM NOT OKAY

THIS CHAOS

“The last time I did that; I came home to my Ottoman on fire and the chairman wrapped in toilet paper like a mummy!”

oh well-

EW SHINYUN

EW HE'S GOING ON A DATE WITH HER

EW EW EW

If Magnus doesn’t stop asking if it’s okay before breaking his heart every fucking time, Alec is going to fucking kill him.

hurts so much

MAX AND ALEC'S DUO AYY

the coping methods go from "makes sense" to "well okay then"

ALEC AND MAX ARE ANTI-SHINYUN AND IM SO HERE FOR IT

“Well, if it’s so distressing, maybe he shouldn’t go,” Max points out. “Maybe Shinyun won’t show up anyway.”

“Maybe she will get hit by a bus,” Alec hums thoughtfully.

“You two are assholes,” Rafael huffs and walks away.

“Do you want to spit in his coffee or should I?” Max asks.

god I really hope she gets hit by a bus

OH NO HE LOOKS TOO GOOD

NOO

I mean very sexy but like NOO

ew shinyun

“You shouldn’t be dating people who don’t make you a priority,” Max sniffs.

Alec does not grin at that.

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

they are so salty omg

Alec sincerely hopes tonight goes fucking awfully for Magnus and Shinyun, so they both realize it's never going to work out and decide never to do this shit again.

dude same

ohh them together...

OMG THEY'RE DOING ACCENTS

omg they're so amazing

MAX IS BEATING THEM ALL AT THIS

AMAZING

MAX SMART BABY

max...

so he's practically given up

“Exactly! I like it!” Max groans. “Why can’t I just like something and leave it at that? Why do I have to do something with it? Why do I have to prove to people that I am good? I know I am good. That’s enough for me!”

THIS

If max doesn't want to pursue swimming professionally or some shit then well it is what it is

aww, they are talking ❤️

MAX YES YOU DO YOU, BABE

“I thought you wanted to own all the house there?” Magnus asks.

“I don’t mind sharing it with you,” Max shrugs.

God, these soft fuckers.

THEM

SOFT BITCHES

“It’s Mina,” Max says awkwardly. “I might have texted her saying I was going to commit murder.”

“She is probably calling you to help you bury the body,” Magnus grins. “Give her my love.”

true friendship right there

omg shared memories

“We are laughing about how ugly you are,” Rafael replies.

“Oh nice,” Max says. “I thought y’all were laughing about how dumb you are.”

precious

NO FUCK OH

I ACTUALLY SCREAMED OUT LOUD

STOP

NO NOT BABY

IT'S FINE IT'S COOL

IT'S ALL COOL

PLEASE KILL ME

ooo internship for max

LMAO HE'S THIRSTING OVER JUSTIN TRUDEAU

“Bapak, have you seen that man’s ass?” Max asks incredulously.

“You will be saying none of this to the Prime Minister’s face!” Alec warns.

“Or tweet any of it!” Magnus adds quickly.

MAX I CANT-

ew shinyun

ew ew ew

I gave up on jtv after 3 seasons

I could not watch her embarrass herself anymore

THEY ARE HUGGING

if the person who steps out of the elevator is shinyun I will kill myself and then someone else

dude this whole hug is breaking me

im so sad

this hug

This. This! Whatever this is.

What they have. What they built together.

And what they will never lose, no matter what a piece of paper says about their marriage.

They cannot lose this.

They will not lose the way Alec’s breath, just his fucking breath, makes Magnus shiver.

They will not the way Magnus’ gaze, just a single stare, and bring Alec to the brink.

They can’t possibly ever lose this.

STOP FUCKING WITH ME

this hug was the most precious thing ever

im gonna cry

it's like 8pm I just got done with this. I am so tired. Gonna go and write now byee

You know, sometimes I forget what I write in each chapter right after I write it. It's the same for me with exams and other stuff. My memory is very selective.

So, every time I read these live blogs, I am like, oh I wrote that! Nice!

Thank you. ILY BYE.

#tlnd

11 notes · View notes

lillian-nator · 3 years

Text

Wallflower AU (aka highschool au made w/ @bellfort3)

V i b e s - hanging on the roof; walking across train tracks; skipping school; Lakes, yes, something with lakes; something with different types of sodas. - My angsty teens are gonna have painted nails - Tommy bleaches his hair; Wilbur dyes his hair black - dramatic fuck. - Wilbur in eyeliner plz - Wilbur wears doc martens; black, yellow, maroon, silver shiny - Tommy's worn the same exact jean jacket for the past 5 years; it's 2 sizes bigger than he is; but he wears it every single day; it has fur on the inside; and its light washed with tears; the tears didn’t come like it; he's just ripped it over the years - He doesn't wash it very often, but he's glued patches on it, and Wilbur's drawn on it in sharpie. He just layers hoodies or flannels under it when it’s cold, but still wears it when it's hot - Tommy's also worn the same shoes for YEARS, they’re duct taped together at this point, they're white converse, they're not white anymore, and he's bleach-washed them SO many times that they permanently smell like chemicals. - The laces are frayed, so bad that he doesn’t even wear the laces most days. - Tommy doesn't shy from going in mud or water though, he'll wear the shoes to their fullest and then some. - I think you can tell by now, that Tommy just doesn’t come from a lot of money. - They live in a kind of run down town, very poor, old, smallish. - Wilbur is middle class, which is very well off in the area he lives in. - Wilbur gives off family disappointment vibes. Where he has to sneak out at night, Tommy can leave through his front door. - Wilbur calls Tommy “sunshine”, but very sarcastically since Tommy is a dick :) - Tommy has one of Wilbur's old beanies; it's black and monster branded, the monster logo is green - Wilbur gave it to Tommy 3 years ago, and Tommy never gave it back - btw Tommy's 17 and Wilbur's 19: Tommy's a junior and Wilbur's a senior - Wilbur only drinks Green Apple Monster - Tommy drinks sugar free redbull, but mostly only when Wilbur buys it for him, because Tommy usually doesn't have pocket change - Wilbur and Tommy bring speakers to the train tracks and dance and by that, its them jumping around and occasionally pushing someone over - Tommy uses his allowance to buy cigarettes; Wilbur vapes - both mentally ill - Wilbur is essentially the modern emo. He has this one yellow and black flannel that's oversized, and he wears it multiple times a week - it’s a problem.

- Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo - That’s the group. - I have just been talking about Tommy and Wilbur but they are the main characters so you can suck it. - A scene with Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo, at a lake, throwing each other in, and Tommy gets his shoes soaked, but he saves his jacket from the fall. Water gun fights, and they drink energy drinks and eat chips. they lay in the grass and contemplate life, Talk abt life yes. Abt existence. Abt how shit it is. Half of them have to wake up early and sneak home, the other half get to stay as long as they like. - Tommy tucks his t-shirts into his pants, which are always very baggy black jeans with just gigantic holes. - Tommy and Dream both have ADHD, however, Tommy's meds are purely from welfare, he cannot afford to give any out. Dream however? From an upper-middleclass family. Basically millionaires in this town. He can afford to lose some of his meds. - He yells in the clearing "COME GET YOUR DRUGS CHILDREN" - Besides, I've learned that there are like so many different ADHD meds, and maybe Tommy is just on something a lot stronger than adderall. He can't partake in the pill popping, but he doesn't mind. He does it every morning. - They don't do it often, maybe once a month, depends on how big Dream's prescription is - not that he regularly takes them like a good boy should - And I won't ever write this, but Gogy hangs out with them every so often, in which Gogy and Wilbur have an on and off again hooking up type relationship - whenever they hang out, Gogy like sits and Wilbur's lap and shit - Tommy and Punz GAG - "EW the fuck - get your hands off eachother. ITS GROSS - NO PDA IN MY BACKYARD"

- They hang out in an abandoned Building. But they don't try to fix it up. They're not fucking VSCO girls. They just want somewhere to hang out - If anything they make it worse - they fucking trash the place - It’s not intentional though - It’s like they can have fun without worrying abt the mess - just, sometimes they spill hawiian punch mixed with vodka everywhere - THEY GHOST HUNT AND OUIJA BOARD AND SHIT - They hang out in cemeteries too. they play manhunt in a cemetery, but like the regular version- like just hide and go seek in the dark. - they've done seances even though almost all of them are atheists - anyways the point of the fact is, is that half of them (excluding the minors you know) I'm looking at you Karl and Q - somethings going on between you two have made out with guys, and I'm not gonna sugar coat it, most modern like takes on religion do not take kindly to that

- they go to prom - and Dream somehow ends up with a ton of weed, because he had just turned old enough, and had the money - and they get fucking high OUT of their minds, like they're never doing it again - like, George and Wilbur definitely hooked up at Wilbur's house, which they aren't supposed to do - because Wilbur's parents will fucking flip that Wilbur is sleeping with a random person. No one is quite sure where SapNap ended up, and Tommy lost one of his shoes. In a panic, they spent the next 3 hours looking for it to find it at the lake by the school - Tommy fucking cradles it to his chest. - (are wilburs parents homophobic?) (yes maybe a little side of homophobia) (Is wilbur bisexual or gay?) (he is ‘whoever the fuck looks bangable’) (fair enough) (he is ‘gogy my king’) (TRUUUE) - the bleachers - they hang out under the bleachers

- Gogy = Stylish stoner - very popular, but never not high - Karl is like the goody two-shoes of the group, doesn't skip class, and is on the principals list, however, he will NEVER back down from space brownies - its his weakness - Tubbo has a subway pass, and they do that thing where Tubbo swipes it and everyone fucking bolts into the subway, and they take all the trains at like 4am and just hang from the bars and shit - Wilbur still dresses relatively like, nicely and scholarly, which puts everyone off. He wears very loose sweaters with button-ups underneath. with khakis or black jeans and his docs - where his best friend, our Tommy, wears borderline yellow converse, and one bleached two-sizes-too-large jean jacket, and some second-hand-store hoodies, that are always a bit too worn in, but so, incredibly Tommy - Tommy who legit hasn't brushed his hair in years, not with a brush anyways - too frantic to brush his teeth most mornings. but always chewing gum; Tommy's always everywhere at once - ADHD meds only half-working on him, they couldn't afford the good shit - He'll never quite understand Dream handing out his adderall for free, Tommy would kill for the hard shit, but hey, he's never gonna stop his friends from having a good time

- Let's talk about Karl Jacobs - good ole' goody two shoes Jacobs - all of his teachers are constantly trying to get him to stop hanging out with Tommy and gang - every parent teacher conference is "we love your boy, but we are concerned about his friends" - Teachers have meetings with him, about how the people you surround yourself with can change your future - Karl's like, from the good side of town, plays first in the drumline, plays violin on the side, straight a's, clean-white-air-force-ones type of guy. Name brand clothes. Combed hair - Packed lunch every day from his mom; gets dropped off by his mom, kisses her goodbye; Mom is like very involved in school too - PTA parent - it's fucking good kid Jacobs - and he's sneaking off with fucking potheads to go to college parties and abandoned buildings - Does he do drugs? Well, he’s a big fan of treats if you know what I mean :wink wink: - ….you ever see Ted's video about a 500mg edible …. yeah. - big fan of gummy bears and brownies - Karl shows up to Parties and there are shouts of "Fuckin' goody-two-shoes Jacobs is HERE" - a lot of people make fun of him and think they can push him around - He seems like a softie; welcome mat type beat - but fucking watch this man chug 5 cups of whatever you give him, and then still win beer pong - Like his best friend is fucking quackity, he can do the hard shit - its very much a his parents have no clue who he actually is type beat - Look, his parents have no clue where he is ever - And if they even know he’s out, they don’t know where or with who - If his mom is at all involved in the school, she'll hear about Quackity, basically a drug dealer with how much hash weed he hands out on a daily basis. - Tommy has to be contained in order for the school to run smoothly, and Wilbur is a dramatic fuck that sleeps through most of his classes - Tommy has to take frequent breaks - They make him spend 3rd period in the principles office - Like he obviously needs help but he can’t afford it at all. Even the school can’t do anything for him bc he can’t get anything official for himself - like he can't even try to concentrate - He gave up so quickly in high school, bc they don’t have enough time or staff to help him - he tried in middle school - but man, did he give up in highschool - Yeah. He knows it is hopeless. Can't even afford college anyway. he'll just do whatever Wilbur does - here's an idea: Fucking Karl Jacobs showing up to school one morning just absolutely hammered out of his mind - Karl just showing up to first period AP Physics, and he's barely awake, honestly smells so much like weed and booze, and if he breathed anywhere near you, you could just feel the alcohol radiating from his breath - He's extra bubbly, laughs at everything - takes out his notebook to take some sort of notes, and just fucking giggles at the shapes and equations. He is very spacy, he clearly stayed up all night doing something very illegal; he gets up and jumps around. 2nd period band? oh boy - He gets sick at lunch bet - Like everyone got Drunk but Karl got FUCKED up - It was his birthday, bet - He took like 17 shots over the course of like 8 - 12ish hours, and I looked it up, despite karl being super scrawny and probably like 140 - 150ish pounds - which isn't a lot for being 5'11 - will not kill him - BECAUSE, you guessed it, he turned 17 - He didn't sleep, he was awake taking shots and just fucking who knows what until 6am when they stumbled to school - at lunch, 11:30 in the morning - he's head down on the table, miserable - he doesn't have a hangover yet, because it's only been a few hours, but man, is he nauseous - just the smell of food makes his stomach churn - and the thing about fucking Jacobs showing up drunk as hell - is that at least one of his teachers has called his mom about it - SHES PRESIDENT OF THE PTA FOR FUCKS SAKE, ONE OF THEM KNOWS HER - And the teachers aren't stupid, Karl is so obviously drunk - generally Karl is pretty quiet in class; but now he has no distinction between hanging with hs friends and being in class - he's shouting and cracking jokes and is very tempted to kick his chair over - Anyways, Karl fucks himself over, end of story - ONTO PUNZ’S RELGIEOUS TRAUMA WOOOOOOOOOOOO - It's Punz - fuckin' golden boy Punz; he plays football; and goes to church; and calls his mother "momma"; wears a nice church outfit; and is polite to the bible study mothers that come over on tuesday nights and gets them drinks - just a fuckin' golden boy - A religious family. Go to church every Sunday. Sunday school. Holidays. But. The kid just realizes that they don’t believe in god. Them telling the group like they’re high and he’s like “you know? Some of the shit that’s happened to us proves to me that god rlly isn’t real.” - and Punz like prays every day for Tommy's dad to get his job back; or for Gogy to get better parents; or for Karl to live the life he wants; and NOTHING EVER WORKS. THEY'RE ALL STILL FUCKED. - by the way we will get the the Tommy's dad losing his job later - But Punz's life is controlled by something he doesn't even believe in anymore - because he's still going to the like church breakfasts, and christmas service, and every sunday morning, and helping his mom's ladies bible study, and his parents are talking about sending him to a youth bible camp - - and he doesn't even think he believes in god anymore. - Punz kind of took out his own personal, religious, and family struggles out the way most teenage boys do. Drinking, and lots of sex. - SO I just imagined this like, really dramatic moment, where its the morning after Punz had a one night stand at some sort of party down the street, and he's long past saving his virginity for his wife, but he's buying her the morning after pill, which his church is just so against, and he has like the moment of, "if you do this, you're done." and he does it - he's had a couple of those moments, like, when he first had sex, and when he first smoked weed, or popped a pill, or snuck out at night, or skipped church - but that was the moment of "there is no going back" - like any type of drug or procedure that aborts an embryo, or that blocks fertilization thats already in process in like: the biggest no no in his church community - so once he stepped out of that drug store, he kind of took a breath, and just came to terms with it - "I'm an atheist." - Punz is the pastors son. - he's like, pre-commited to a catholic college - he’s in deep. - so when he first announces it to his friends, one really late night, "I think god might not be my thing." - they just start whistling and say "FINALLY, THE PASTORS SON HAS TURNED AROUND." - Dream just like turns over to him "how many chicks did you fuck to make you realize that?" - Tommy just slings his arm over Punz, "I'm glad you've quit the Jesus shit, Punz. Your better than it." - There’s gotta be this girl ok. He rlly rlly wants to have sex with her but he always backs out. The thing that breaks him. Is that he gets drunk and loses his virginity to someone who is not that girl - like, he likes this girl, and has a good connection with her, and she likes him, and he knows that its gonna be comepletly consentual, and she's like fucking beautiful right? - and she's the one he wants to loose it to and he's a stupid fucking idiot and loses it to some fucking random ass chick that doesn't even go to their school - This triggers a spiral. After that? He slowly starts giving less of a fuck abt everything. He fucked up the one thing you can’t do over and god he’s so painfully aware of it and so painfully aware that he didn’t even fuck up right. - You’re supposed to wait till marriage. Nope. You’re supposed to do it with someone you love and trust. Double nope. He. Fucked. Up. - its just like he wanted to do something bad. he wanted to fuck something up. he was questioning his faith, his like, great and sturdy and always-there faith for the first time, and what better way to test faith than to do something shitty and see what comes of it. and so he was planning and planning and planning how he was gonna do this terrible thing - which is such a good kid thing to do, to put so much thought into your own rebellion - but he wanted this to go perfectly. - Little Pastors Son, Punz, wasn't gonna wait till marriage. - He was gonna have sex with the girl of his dreams before they were even dating - but man did he like her. Did he want her. - And then he fucked some random girl when he was black out drunk. He's fucked everything up - he can't wash this away with confession - he's tainted. He's dirty. - He looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize the heathen staring back. - He hates who he's become. - But he never goes back - he can't. He's dirty. He's wrong. - but the more he goes down the spiral - the more he realizes that one mistake shouldn't have made him feel like that - that if god was real, which he honestly wasn't sure in that department, he wouldn't want Punz to feel like the scum of the earth for doing something wrong. especially when he felt so bad after he did it. This system was fucked. He didn't want to be apart of another cycle - and he's just lying to himself every time he goes to church, and reads a cerse for his mom, and meets with younger kids at the church, and plays flag football with fucking church virgins who are good catholics and follow all their mommas orders - And every night when he says grace he means it less and less. he always does it when his momma asks, but boy does the lords word mean shit to him anymore From Ethan: - A turning point to the others in Punz's breakaway from Catholicism is like - He prays before he eats, usually. Sometimes they wait for him to finish his prayer before eating themselves, just out of politeness. He's a friend, he gets that shred of etiquette - And then one day he just doesn't. They got some fast food for a whole group dinner out at their hangout spot (a warehouse, did you say??) Tommy is staring at it intently but he waits for Punz to pray. Tubbo's already started eating but the rest wait - And Punz just starts eating - Dream nudges him, "No prayer, Pastor's boy?" - "No prayer," Punz mumbles into his food. "I'm trying something new." SO, TOMMYS DAD LOSING HIS JOB ARC W000000000 - it starts with Tommy showing up in a different jacket one day - like you have to understand, he's worn this jean jacket every single day for as long as WIlbur has known him, which is like 6 years - Like Tommy shows up in this giant, khaki work-jacket and it's his dads... - HIS DAD DIDNT DIE - his dad lost his job, which is essentially death to a family who already couldn't sustain themselves - and Tommy shows up to school, face pale and cheeks sunk in and there are visible bags under his eyes - and Wilbur just rushes over immediately and hugs him so tight to his chest - and Tommy just sobs, "pops lost his job -" gasp "I can't - we can't pay the bills this month. everything - its all falling apart Will." - "Hey - hey. Stop. It's gonna be fine. You're gonna be okay. You always are dude." - Tommy does have to get a job - and he probably does drop out of school unofficially, like he just stops going. - he sleeps during the morning classes, and heads into work at 10am - he's a carpenters assistant. it pays well as they need young, able men. but most of the younger citizens in the town go to school - he has to take the day shift because the day shift pays better - he doesn't mind it, he doesn't - it gives him the opportunity to get all of his energy out; but he misses going to school. as much as he hated it, he misses his friends. - and lets be honest, its hard as fuck for his dad to find a new job, he doesn't have a great resume - he didn't graduate from highschool. and he isn;t in top health condition, he definitely doesn't have health insurance - so Tommys stuck with this job for a long time - his dad uses his last paycheck to buy Tommy workboots so tommy feels in debt to him - He’ll get his GED eventually. - I think - The like religious status of the rest of the group brought to you by me - Everyone who I don’t mention is just a hard atheist - Karl and Wilbur are catholic, but to a lesser extent, Wilbur doesn't really go through with lent, and Karl only sometimes does. They go to a different church and go pretty much on holidays only, a sunday a month maybe. - SapNap goes to Punz's church, they've been friends for years. - He goes to sunday school but misses a lot of sermons because of his siblings sports games. - He is involved, but not to the way Punz is - SapNap's mother is in fact in Punz's moms bible group - Punz sometimes doesnt attend the bible group and Sap's mother is all "now you tell that pastor's boy to actually attend next time, got it?" and Sapnap dies a little on the inside - And George is an orthodox christian, but he's pretty much quit due to the blatant homophobia he's seen at his church.

AND NOW ON WILBUR SOOT AND KARL JACOBS AND BARKING - Wilbur has siblings, fun fact - that we will never talk about or address - but definitely nothing like Wilbur, more the Karl Jacobs type - Wilbur is the oldest. he's always lectured about being 'a good influence on your brother and sister.' - They’re big sports kids. Softball and Basketball (tall genes). Straight Bs; Bed by 10pm; Have never missed school - Parents pride and joy :) - Just good suburban kids, Have friends next door, help the neighbors, attend the cul-de-sac barbecues. - Basically who Wilbur used to be up until highschool (until Wilbur met weed and a good group of stoners) - Sure he was a disappointment and he had no clue what to do with his life - But he was happier - Never really liked being the goody- two-shoes boy next door, he doesn't know how karl does it “Playing good boy like a dog” - Also he used dog terms around Karl - Because he’s “Playing good boy like a dog” - He’ll throw Karl a beer and smile “go fetch” - He laughs so hard when he sees Karl be good in a class or play it up for his parents; Because Wilbur’s so past trying - Wilbur will walk by and just bark at karl. Bet. Just Growls lowly; Walks in a circle; Anything to make Karl’s parents (or Wilbur’s own) stare at him and scurry away - Karl’s parents push Karl forward and like hold their younger kids close to their chest, whispering “keep close, don’t look at him” - They tell Karl to stay away from kids like him. - And boy do Wilbur’s pa#rents hate it, They push him along and whisper yell at him As he throws his head back and cackles - I mean imagine, like a stereotypical middle class suburban family: House wife, blue collared father, Two kids; in sports jerseys, Girl in braids, boy in khakis - And then there’s Wilbur: Doc Martins, black jeans, collar and sweater, beanie. Definitely high on something - Chains LOTS OF CHAINS - And he's Barking. Fucking Barking At the nice family down the street - And then he takes out his vape right in front of his parents and silently offers Karl a hit with a smirk - Cause Karl’s too busy playing good boy - And as Karl’s family looks back, as Wilbur is corralled by his mom - He flips them off with the biggest smirk uou will ever see - Wilbur's kind of an ass - And Karl really wants a hit of that vape.

#wallflower au #wilbursoot #tommyinnit #karl jacobs #quackity #sapnap #and Big Q #georgenotfound #gogy #punz #dream #dreamwastaken #tubbo #long post

92 notes · View notes

silksandcravats · 4 years

Note

Well well well... you're just in time Zimmermansbrat... Morby is sending out asks tonight...

You are a new follower and dont know me perhaps very well, but sometimes I like to send out litte challenges and stuff to you writers out there, and I have one you may like to sink your teeth into...

Use the following to write a story...

https://youtu.be/Tk46D1eFXZo "Dont Wanna Go The Other Way" by Cody Chesnut.

Yep I know, this looks totally nuts right?

It's a technique my mums writing group use to create new stories, or perhaps brain storm around problems in their work.

There are rules... you can add whatever you like, but you have to use the song and at least three pictures.

I'm gonna do one myself, so I can see if it works as a new idea to get out of my writers block.

Please dont feel obliged to answer, it's totally up to you if you'd like to participate... but it would be awesome if you did!

Have Fun and Thanks for the follow

Love

Morby

❤

Morby! So nice to hear from you again, thank you for this wonderful ask! This collage just seems so Sackler to me so I had to, lol. I feel like the final product ended up being a bit jumpy, I had a bit of trouble smoothly stringing along the different aspects into one imagine plotline, but I had so much fun with this challenge! I hope I did it justice!

masterlist

summary: y/n spends the day with her weirdo neighbour and nobody could have predicted how things pan out.

warnings: swearing, a poor understanding of New York geography

You stood by your front door, jaw clenched, keys gripped tightly in hand, ear pressed against the wood as you listened as closely as you could for the telltale sign of your weirdo neighbour across the hall retreating into his room.

“Oh shit, fuck are you going speedy?”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you cursed silently. You didn’t have to look up to know who was speaking, the booming, goofy, tone. You took a deep breath to compose yourself before pulling backwards, at least as much as you could with his vice rip on your arms still present.

“Hey Adam, ugh, I was just going to run some errands I-”

“I was wondering what the fuck everyone’s been up to? It’s been quiet as shit down this whole hallway, felt like I was in a ghost town or some shit.” He interrupted you.

“That’s great um.” You tugged your arms slightly and he got the message, he released your arms finally with a quick ‘sorry’. “Anyways, um I was just headed out, I’ve got some shopping to do so.”

“Yeah so do I, that’s just where I was headed we can be like shopping buddies or whatever.” He offered, showing off a toothy grin, big eyes meeting yours. He was attractive, with his big strong nose and his long floppy black hair, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t. You’d found yourself rather drawn to him in the beginning, but that had only lasted until the first few times he had opened his mouth. He turned out to be rather strange and awkward and it just wasn’t something you could get past, and so you had begun avoiding the pretty weirdo at all costs.

You were ready to turn him down and be on your merry way but you were tired of avoiding him and you didn’t know how much fight you had left in you. Not to mention it was well into winter now, which meant the sun would only be up for another hour or so, and you never fancied walking through your part of New York alone after dark. And so you found yourself agreeing, how long could a few groceries take after all?

“Great but you’ve gotta come along to some to do some of my errands too.” He said, turning and walking ahead, making it halfway down the hallway in just a few long strides.

“What like drycleaning?” you asked, trotting along to catch up with him.

“No, not really.” He answered vaguely, hurrying down the steps two at a time.

You started with your shopping, which he let you get through without too much trouble. In fact, the whole ordeal had been almost pleasant, you were trying to pick out an onion when you looked over to see him holding two different zucchinis in his hand.

“Hey y/n. Do you think I’m more like this one or this one?” He asked rather loudly through the store, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I think,” you paused, settling on one of the freshest looking onions near the top of the stack, “that it’s a wonder you’re still allowed out in public.”

“Oh shit,” his expression shifted, his grin deepened and he looked somewhat surprised by you, “You’re a little feisty after all.” he sounded impressed, “Well if you can guess which one is right, I’ll buy all your groceries.”

“Ok fine.” You crossed your arms, pretending to seriously contemplate the vegetables, you decided to be generous, opting for the slightly larger one. “Left.”

“Actually the answer was neither, it’s bigger than both of these.” He winked, tossing the vegetables down and circling around to your side of the display.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true.” You jabbed sarcastically.

“I can show you later if you’d like.” he teased, walking into your space.

“Shut up let’s go.” you tried to be serious but a little giggle slipped out anyway as you playfully pushed him forward towards the checkout.

Adam’s errands turned out to be a somewhat chaotic stroll through a small corner park. You must have spent much longer in that little park then either of you had been expecting, you sat on a little bench for a while just talking. You told him about the work you had been up, and he turned out to be an actor, telling you about an audition he had recently been to, and how he thought he did really well but honestly he didn’t really like the movie’s concept so if he didn’t make the role then it was no big deal.

Never being one for small talk, you were sure that your little day out with Adam would slowly trudge by, loaded with plenty of awkward silences, but it turned out being with Adam was easy. He had no trouble keeping the conversation going, and he always managed to bring up things you actually wanted to talk about. And he was so funny, you’d be willing to listen to his jokes all day except that at one point he made you laugh so hard your stomach began to hurt and you couldn’t get a full gulp of air down your lungs for almost a minute straight.

It wasn’t until the sky began to turn a pinky-orange that you realised what time it was and suggested to head back. You had wound up rather far from your apartment complex so you both made the decision to take the subway home. It was rush hour by now so you had to push and shove a bit to get down the stairs and over to the platform you needed, and it was an even tighter squeeze when you got onto your actual train. You ended up shoved tightly against him for the first few stops, it was silly, but you tried not to let yourself dwell on the giddy feeling you got being so close to him.

As you made your way out of midtown, the car cleared out some, and Adam appeared to be growing restless, surveying his surroundings to find something to occupy himself before settling on the fire extinguisher by the door. He played with the features of it for a moment before pulling it off the wall to examine it closer.

“Adam, put it back.” you quickly scolded when you caught wind of what he was doing.

“Relax I’m just looking at it.”

“You’re not supposed to touch it!” You insisted.

“If I wasn’t supposed to be touching it then they should have attached it to the wall better.” He continued playing with the extinguisher, pulling the tiny safety bar out, dropping it carelessly, letting it rattle against the floor.

“They can’t do that, what if someone needs it, Adam, please put it down,” you begged, trying to grab it from him, but he pulled it away quickly.

“Oh come on, this thing’s probably been in here like a kajillion years, shit wouldn’t even work anymore.” He continued, twisting it in his hands.

“Yes, it does! Now leave it alone, I’m serious.” You begin to panic at the thought of him doing something dumb.

“Wanna bet?” You could see the mischief practically glittering in his eyes as he suddenly mounted the extinguisher. You felt the blood drain from your face.

“Adam I swear to God if you-”

But you were too late, suddenly a thick cloud of fire retardant burst through the canister filling the car with smoke and panic, the force sending Adam a few feet forward before his weight pulled him back to the ground and he toppled over in a fit of laughter.

“Adam!” You screeched humiliated as the car erupted in coughing fits and a few swears. You glared straight at the floor as you marched over to him, avoiding the heated glares and shouting, as you pulled him up quickly.

“Come on this is our stop.” You announced sharply, pulling him towards the doors as the train came to a stop.

“No, it’s not.” He looked at you confused, still halfway smiling, proud of his own stunt.

“Yes. it. is.” You say through gritted teeth, pulling him onto the platform.

Of course, it wasn’t really your stop, and you could’ve saved yourself quite a few blocks of travelling time by staying on, but the thought of carrying on with those passengers, after what Adam had done, for even a second longer was too much to bear. It wasn’t until you were nearly at your building that Adam seemed to pick up on just how upset the whole thing had made you.

“Hey look I didn’t know it’d be such a big deal to you.” He offers, kicking a small rock along the pavement as he trudged on.

“That was so embarrassing, you can’t do shit like that Adam.” You grumble, not willing to forgive him.

“It’s New York, people do fucking weird shit here every day,”

“This is the worst apology I’ve ever heard.” You stopped on the first step of the building, turning to look at him.

“I’m sorry? Ok? I won’t do shit like that ever again when we’re out together? Happy?” He said, moving onto your step next to you.

“When are we going out together again?” You asked, cocking your head slightly.

“Have you ever been on the roof?” He asked back, ignoring your question entirely, backing up the steps.

“No? Wait I don’t think we’re allowed on the roof!” You followed him up into the building.

“Drop your shit off and meet me in the hallway, I’ll make things up to you I promise.” He winked.

“Do you keep your bike up here?” You tried and failed to hide a smile at the sight in front of you. Adam was in front of you twisting and turning his handlebar, trying to show you how he could lean back and balance on the back wheel.

“Sometimes I do, no assholes have tried to steal it yet so,” his speech comes out almost in grunts, as he focused intently on performing his trick for you.

“You wanna try it?” He asks, dismounting and moving some of his hair out of his face.

“That’s ok, I’m not a stunt master like you,” you excused, “besides, I’m not sure my feet would even reach the pedals, that thing’s huge.”

“Hey look at this!” He dropped the bike, moving to the ledge of the roof, “you can see for fucking miles up here.” You followed him over, pulling the hoodie you had grabbed from your place tighter against you as a cool gust of wind flew by. It was pretty much dark now, and you could see the lights of your city clearly from here. It wasn’t a particularly tall building you lived in, there was bigger on either side and across the way, but you could see clearly down both sides of the street. New York felt bigger with all the lights on if that was even possible. There was something about the bright city lights that set off curiosity in you. People really lived in every single one of those windows, they had a whole life, and family and friends and jobs and dreams and you’ll never know most of them.

“It’s amazing isn’t it.” you sighed, staring at as much of the world as you could possibly see from your little perch.

“Yeah, it is.” He said, watching you watch your city.

You really had meant to go back to your place after that, but Adam had coaxed you into coming into his apartment instead, insisting that it was only fair for you to see his place after the day you had together.

“Do you want like juice or anything?” He offered, trying to be hospitable as he closed the door behind you.

“No thank you.” you smiled, taking in the place. It was messy for sure, but you’d seen worse, there was a lot of open space in the middle of the room, there was a couch at the far end of the room, but it was covered with clothes and things at the moment.

“You like music?” He asked, messing with something that must be sitting on a small table by his front door, he moved slightly and you could see the device he was hiding.

“You have an actual record player? That’s crazy, I didn’t know people still had those.” Your feet were ready to give out after the day you’d had, so you decided to sit down on the floor, watching him shuffle through records before settling on one and moving to put it in place on the player.

“You know what they say, no music, no life.” He moved the needle, letting it drop near the edge of the vinyl. An R&B artist you vaguely recognised began playing through the apartment.

“You listen to this stuff?” You asked, watching him sit next to you on the floor, moving directly to a lying position on the floor.

“Come on, it sounds better down here.” he insisted, patting the empty wooden panels next to him. You obliged, leaning back against the hardwood, shuffling slightly to get more comfortable.

“I really am sorry,” he added after a while, another apology filling pushing into the brief silence of the room as you both waited for the next track on the record to begin. You kept your eyes trained on the ceiling, but you could feel his gaze move to you. “Guess I’m just a shit flirt.” Your eyes grew as you took in the weight of his words as if on cue the opening lines of the next song began softly through the apartment. You held off on laughing at him for the song choice, focusing on holding onto the words which had just come out of his mouth.

“You’ve been flirting with me all day?” You ask, turning on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow, staring at him.

“Oh fuuuck yeah,” he shrugged, turning to look at the ceiling again. “I flirt with you all the time kid,” he added casually, tapping his foot against the wood as the chorus began to pick up.

“W-what?” you asked, dumbfounded. “You were flirting… with me?”

“Of course I was, you’re funny and I think you’re pretty smart.” he listed off easily, still staring at the ceiling, “ also you’re fucking so hot, I fucking just wanna look at your face all day.”

“Why didn’t you ask me out of something?” You hummed, looking down at the floor.

“I guess I thought that was kinda what today was.” He rolled over, suddenly his face was only an inch or so from yours.

“It can’t be a date if I don’t know it is, it only counts if we both agree that-”

“Can I kiss you?” he cut you off, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“O-okay.” your face suddenly felt hot, but you had little time to dwell on it before he leaned in, kissing you eagerly, nose prodding against yours, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face. He nipped and nibbled at your bottom lip for a moment before wiggling his tongue into your mouth, kissing you more eagerly. His other hand came up to your side, and in one swift motion, he tugged you on top of him.

You got lost in kissing him for the tiniest moment before you mentally re-entered the room, ears perking up at the sound of the song entering its second chorus.

“Can we redo all of this in about 2 minutes?” You giggled, pulling yourself off his mouth slightly to stare down at him.

“What? Why?” his face scrunched up in confusion and then he gripped your face, pulling you down again.

“Becaaaauuussse,” you groan, pulling back again. “Don’t wanna go the other way by Cody Chesnutt cannot be our song.”

“Too late now kid,” He hummed pulling all of your weight down to him, tucking you into his chest. “Too late now.”

#zimmermansbrat #charlie barber #flip zimmerman #kylo ren #my writing #adam driver #adam driver writing #adam driver x reader #zimmermansbrat writing #adam driver fluff #adam sackler x you #adam sackler writing #adam sackler fluff #adam sackler fic #ben solo #adam sackler imagine #sackler #adam sackler x reader #hbo girls

94 notes · View notes

obxhoe · 4 years

Text

Leather and Lace || Rudy Pankow {1}

Lovers forever face to face My city your mountains Stay with me stay I need you to love me I need you today Give to me your leather Take from me my lace

(eek i’m nervous about this. hope y’all enjoy. message me if you wanna be on my taglist!)

CHAPTER ONE

ZOE’S POV:

Sophie’s alarm clock is blaring yet again after the third time she had snoozed it this morning. I can hear it in my bedroom… across the freaking hallway. I pad into her room,

“Soph.” No response. “Soph!” I whisper-yell. “Sophie!!!” She jolts up, ripping her eye mask off.

“I’m up. I’m up.”

“I’m leaving in 20 minutes for class, I won’t be home until at least 11 tonight, I told Liv I would have dinner and a wine night at her place.”

“I’m probably sleeping at Aaron’s tonight so…” I raise an eyebrow at her. Aaron is this new guy she met over Bumble and the two of them have been seeing each other every day since their first date 3 weeks ago.

“Alright well have fun and try not to do anything dumb”

“You know I always do” I laugh and shut her door, walking to my vanity to quickly put on some makeup and grab my stuff.

I’m about a quarter way through my senior year at NYU, and about a quarter away from an existential crisis. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life yet. Basically every single one of my friends have boyfriends and they talk about marriage and babies and all that shit. And it’s cute. But I’m fine on my own. My last boyfriend Peter always had me feeling suffocated. The constant “Babe” and “Baby”. The obligation of having to FaceTime someone all the time. Having to be around someone every minute of every day. I was exhausted all the time. Currently, I’m an international business major with a minor in accounting. Taking a full course load, and working a part time job in an accounting firm on top of that. I don’t exactly have time for anything else.

I check the time and see that I’m running 5 minutes late. I slip on mom jeans, a giant t-shirt I stole from my dad years ago and run out the door. The walk to school is always my favorite part of the day. The West Village was my dream neighborhood to live in and once I saved up enough money from working throughout school, I finally was able to rent a tiny two bedroom apartment. I mindlessly scroll through social media as I speed walk to “campus”, it’s really just a few buildings in the city, there’s no open space or anything. Unless you count Washington Square Park. I pass the West 4th street subway station and my phone fumbles out of my hand as a result of someone walking straight into me.

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I say grabbing my phone and seeing the screen cracked. This is not exactly what I need at this moment.

“I am so sorry” I hear a voice above me, “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling. Oh my god!” He sees my phone. “I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.”

“Ok chill for a sec dude” I stand up brushing my hair out of my eyes. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.”

“Oh you’re not mad. I thought most people who live here have a stick up their ass all the time” He says, and I finally look up at his face. Those eyes, those fucking eyes. My breath catches in my throat as I realize I’m staring at him. Something about him looks or feels familiar but I can’t place my finger on it.

“Uh yeah most people are like that.”

“So are you not from here?” He asks “Cause ya know, you’re nice and stuff.”

“Oh no I live here. I go to NYU, I’m actually on my way there now.” I look at my phone to check the time but I can barely see due to the cracked screen.

“Uh it’s 9:0-”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me” I groan loudly, class started at 9.

“Late for class…?” he asks cautiously, not sure if he’s going to make it worse or not.

“Yes. I have to go, like right now.” I say starting to turn to walk away.

“Wait. Let me buy you that coffee so we can discuss the phone thing. Today isn’t great for me, how does tomorrow sound?” I nod and he hands me his phone. “Put in your number.” I quickly type in my information and hand him back the phone. “Well Zoe,” He says looking down at my contact, “I hope to see you later.”

“You too, I didn’t catch your name though.”

“Rudy. Rudy Pankow.”

“Well Rudy,” I look at him, flashing a small smirk “I’ll be looking forward to your text.” I turn and walk away as fast as I can. Of all the things that make me anxious, being late to class is pretty high up on the list. But I think the idea of meeting Rudy for coffee is consuming my mind more than the fact that I’m late is. I slip into the back of the lecture hall about 15 minutes late, luckily not drawing any attention to myself. I take out my notebook and try to take notes, but my mind is elsewhere.

RUDY’S POV:

I don’t know where the hell I am right now. Chase was completely wrong when he said the New York subway system would be easy to figure out. I have to go film a few interviews for Buzzfeed about season two and I’m lost. Totally lost.

“West 4th street-Washington Square” The crackle comes over the speaker.

“Fuck it” I mumble and get off. I can just take an Uber, so much for trying to get the whole experience. I walk up the stairs trying to order an Uber, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. All of a sudden I slam into what I can only hope is another tourist, the last thing I need is someone yelling at me for looking at my phone.

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I hear a voice from next to me mutter.

“I am so sorry” Fuck. She’s beautiful, and I’m just straight up dumb. “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling.” For fucks sake Rudy shut the fuck up. I look to her hand and see that I shattered her entire phone and my stomach drops. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.” Yes good job. Just offer up an entirely new phone, that’ll help. I mentally smack my forehead.

“Ok chill for a sec dude” She stands up, locking her eyes with mine. My eyes can’t decide where to look. Her eyes? her lips? She’s stunning. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.” My face turns bright red. I’m a fucking idiot. She’s running late and I decide to just shoot my shot. I shove my phone at her offering up coffee. A smile breaks onto my face when she takes it and types in her contact info. Zoe.

“Well Rudy, I’ll be looking forward to your text” She smirks at me. God dammit I have never seen anything like her before. She spins on her heel and rushes away. I slide into the nearest taxi, not getting the chance to order an Uber. What the hell just happened?

ZOE’S POV:

I can’t get him off my mind. This isn’t like me at all. Usually I turn random men on the street down, I mean who doesn’t? What if this guy is a serial killer. God Zoe what did you do. Ok but he seems nice enough right? Ugh. I stare at my glass of wine, mind wandering.

“Earth to Zoe” Liv waves her hand in front of my face. I blink and look up.

“Sorry I’m exhausted. Too many unhappy clients today.”

“Uh huh sure.” She rolls her eyes and my friend Katie laughs next to her.

“What?!” I say, a little too defensively.

“Who’s the guy? You only ever act like this, all out of it and daydreamy when there’s a guy”

“There’s no gu-” I get cut off.

“Oh don’t even try. Who is he.” Katie slides next to me and pours more wine in my glass.

“It’s really no one. I met him on the street, he sort of smashed my phone. Well I guess I did. When he ran into me. And then he offered to buy me a new phone just like that. I was like well at least buy me a coffee first, you know, jokingly. But then he actually made a date for tomorrow to get coffee. He said he’d text me, but it’s been hours so I doubt it’ll actually happen. Probably is just being nice.” I mumble the last sentence.

“A guy on the street?” Liv raises her voice.

“Are you crazy?” Katie says, setting her wine glass down a little too hard.

“I know I know. But something about him just felt familiar. Like I had seen him before or something. He seems our age, he had these insane blue eyes. I couldn’t stop staring.” I look down at the table. “I probably won’t even go, it’s a dumb idea.”

“Dude, you’ll find someone. I promise. It just takes time” I look over to Liv.

“That’s the thing though. I don’t even want someone, I’m fine on my own right now. If I started seeing a guy, I wouldn’t have time for him, the two of you, work and school. I would literally have a mental breakdown.” I laugh. Part of me knows I’m lying. I don’t want a boyfriend, that part is true. But if that boyfriend was Rudy, I would have to reconsider. That’s crazy right? I’m definitely going crazy. I don’t even know this guy.

“Ok well let’s get drunk and watch hot boys on TV. There’s a show Liv and I wanted to watch on Netflix called Outer Banks. Have you seen it yet?” Katie asks me as she goes to the couch.

“I don’t have the time for that.” I plop down next to her.

“So that’s a no” She grabs the remote.

“I’m so fucking excited. I keep seeing stuff about the show everywhere, season two is coming out next week.” Liv squeals. Katie starts the show and I start chugging my wine so I can get a new glass. I choke on my wine and spit it out all over the ivory rug.

“Zoe! What the Fuck?!” Liv yells, obviously pissed I just ruined her rug. But I can’t stop coughing. I look back to the TV to make sure I’m not seeing things. It’s him, I could never forget those eyes.

“That’s him” I choke out, “That’s the guy who I ran into today.”

“Rudy Pankow? The guy on the TV right now? Are you sure?” Katie looks at me.

“There’s no way.” Liv shakes her head.

“I’m dead serious. That’s the guy.” My phone vibrates from across the room and we all look at each other. I run over to look at it.

Meet me at Think Coffee in SoHo tomorrow at 3pm. Apple Store right next door ;) -Rudy

“No. Fucking. Way”

Taglist: @pink-meringues @x-lulu @perkeusjackson

#Rudy #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy x reader #rudy pankow x oc #Outer Banks #jj outer banks #obx rudy #jj #jj maybank

43 notes · View notes

nigahamyeon · 4 years

Text

hearts awakened

i. a man's heart

Yisoo woke with the first rays at the break of dawn. Her eyes still closed, she could feel the beginning warmth of the sun on her face. Slowly, she raised her head, opening her eyes and blinking a few times. The window of her small room was facing east, and her bed was standing right in front of it, so she could feel the first sunbeams on her, everyday.

After a few moments of just looking outside, she raised her shoulders, sat up, and extended her front legs into a long stretch that she could feel through her entire body. Then she rolled onto her back, then onto her legs again and jumped out of bed.

Yisoo was a Gumiho, in Korean legends known as the nine-tailed fox, a kind of shifter. And she always slept as a fox. She could never really figure it out how to sleep in her human form, every position felt awkward, she never really knew what to do with her legs in relation to her torso – she had read about different sleeping positions, of course, but it all just felt so unnatural, and she was never able to relax. As a fox, however, sleeping was intuitive. Just curl up into a ball, tails around you, head on your hind legs. Easy. Sleep guaranteed.

It took a few moments until Yisoo fully transformed into her human form. Right after waking up she had difficulties getting her ears and tails to fully vanquish, especially since she felt herself weaken again. But she had already taken care of that, tonight she'd get stronger again. When her body turned into a slender figure of average height, she stretched out her human arms while standing on tiptoes.

First the fluff brush – she used it every morning to get rid of all her fur that she left behind on her bed when sleeping as a fox. Second, washing up, brushing the hair and styling it into a loose braid. Then clothes, and lastly, putting on make-up. Objectively, she wasn't in need of any kind of make-up as Yisoo was more beautiful than the common Korean girl, but she just loved the way a winged eyeliner made her slanted eyes look, and she could make her face look a little bit less fox-like.

She put on her necklace, a simple golden one with a blue-shimmering bead pendant, also known as yeowoo guseul – just that it didn't hold her powers and intelligence, like in the legends, but her very soul. It was the most important part of her, and if she was separated from it too long, she would die. Well, not instantly, but she’d get gradually weaker until she couldn’t keep up her human form anymore. And if someone were to destroy it… well, she didn’t actually know what would happen then. But she’d probably die as well.

By the time she was finished with her morning routine it was already half past 7, and she had barely time to eat something for breakfast.

“Good morning,” Jongho greeted her as she was rushing into the pathetic excuse of a kitchen that was part of the apartment. He had a cup of coffee in hand, handing it over to her to take a few sips.

“Thanks,” Yisoo mumbled and opened the fridge, just to see that it was almost empty. Not even the yoghurt that she had saved was there any more, one of her many roommates must've eaten it. She hated most of them. Except Jongho.

“I heard Outside Conformist are playing tonight at the Flask tonight, you wanna come?” he asked her, trying to lean casually against the counter.

“I can't, tonight is the night, you know? I already prepared everything,” Yisoo looked apologetically at him.

She really liked Jongho, even though he was a werewolf. Generally, Yisoo disliked all kinds of canines, even though she was, technically, also one. Never, in her whole life (and she had lived for a long, long time), had she had any good experiences with any kinds of wolves, dogs and the kind. But Jongho was different, maybe it was because he wasn't part of a pack (he used to be, but was shunned by them for a reason he never told her) or maybe because he was generally just different. Either way, Yisoo wasn't blind nor stupid, she had picked up on the fact that he showed signs of romantic interest in her. She could smell the pheromones he produced, and she could read the body language. It was more than obvious.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, “does it have to be tonight, though? The hunters have been really active lately.”

“Yeah, they've been onto me for a while now,” Yisoo sighed, “but it has to be tonight. Can't throw away weeks of preparation, you know.”

“Yeah, I'm just worried is all,” he looked at the bottom of his cup.

“Let's go out tomorrow night, all right? Outside Conformist may not be playing, but we'll find something else to do,” she said and his face instantly lit up. With a look at the clock, she said her goodbyes and see you laters, took her coat and bag and made her way to the subway station.

It was a very usual morning, a lot of traffic and Yisoo made it just in time to catch the subway. It was crowded and it stank after sweat and kimchi. With her nose and ears being more sensitive than those of a human, she had always a hard time riding the subway, or the bus, or actually any kind of public transportation. But she did her best to live a life as ordinarily human as possible. Even enrolled into university and studied some random subject that she found vaguely interesting.

When she arrived at university, she still had enough time to get a cappuccino from the campus coffee shop and got into the lecture hall at the same time as her professor did. He smiled painfully obvious towards her, and she feigned a cheeky smile back at him. Some harmless flirting, but it'd make sure to help her grade a bit. Yisoo scanned the room for an empty seat, and sat somewhere in the middle next to a girl that she already knew. Kind of. They saw each other frequently and maybe they had talked, once or twice. She was a nice girl, very fun to be around and it seemed like she had a lot of friends. Yisoo sometimes imagined being friends with her, with a human. What it would be like, she wondered. During all her years, she had ever really been close to mythical creatures, like herself.

For lunch she went to a ramen shop near the university that was run by a Fae. Yisoo could only wonder why no one ever picked up on the fact that he was so painfully obviously not human. It was nothing she thought about too often, much rather she'd eat up her bowl of noodles and not think about anything.

After that, more university and then she'd go to her own part-time job – an employee at a gas station in a rather shady part of Seoul. She could've gotten a better job, at a better location that paid her better, but Yisoo chose this gas station for a reason. It was in a district that was rather problematic, a lot of humans, almost no otherworldly creatures. Many of the people that lived here were social outcasts, criminals of all sorts and really just the scum of society.

It was perfect.

She did meet a lot of drunks here, sex offenders and abusers. Yisoo was not afraid of them, there really was no human who could ever meet eye-to-eye with her when it came to fighting. But, as she still was a Gumiho, she had to consume a human heart every so often – and she stopped killing just about anyone, no. With the hunters being as active as they were, and Gumihos being classified as dangerous and therefore being actively hunted by them, she couldn't murder blatantly obvious. Also, she just didn't want to. Since she developed consciousness, Yisoo started to just look for her prey in men that she considered the scum of the earth. So, actually, she was doing the world a favour in eating their heart. And, of course, with these types of people it took a long time before someone found out they're missing and start looking for them. Win-win.

Her shift was over at 10pm and her date, or rather dinner, for the night was already waiting for her. He looked like he didn’t even really try, wearing the clothes he usually wore when he went to buy liquor late at night. One might’ve thought that he wanted to impress her in some way, but it didn’t look like it. For him, it was an easy way to get laid, since she planted the seeds for some daddy issues and other things that could make girls potentially go for pathetic older guys. They walked from the gas station to - what he thought - was in the direction of her apartment. In reality, though, Yisoo was luring him into the forest where no one would be at night to hear him scream.

They were walking at a rather slow pace, he was telling her about his time in the Korean army, she pretended to care and laughed from time to time. He didn’t even notice that they were walking past trees and trees and even more trees, slowly deviating from the path. It was pitch black, and he only realised it when Yisoo suddenly stopped. Manipulating men was just too fucking easy. And yet, even though she was extraordinarily careful in choosing her prey, she still felt bad for him. A little. He was talking to her, and Yisoo felt his pulse rising, his heart pumping faster and faster. Funny, she didn’t take him for someone who was scared so easily. Just a bit of darkness and a mysterious lady inside a forest were enough to trigger his flight instinct. A shame, really, Yisoo thought as she felt her hands slowly turn into claws and her animalistic instincts growing louder and louder. She did like it when they tried to fight her.

It was over before it even started. With the swift motion of her claws she pierced through his chest, an agonising cry of pain leaving his mouth but before he could finish it she ripped his ribcage open. The heart was still beating for a few moments, and Yisoo transformed fully into a nine-tailed fox before feasting on his heart. She knew of some Gumihos who actually ate the heart in their human forms, and she could never understand why. Human teeth weren’t made for chewing the strong muscle of a raw heart.

By the time she was finished it was probably around 10:45pm, she thought. Maybe she even got home in time for the new episode of one of the dramas she watched at the moment. And maybe was Jongho also home already, and they could watch it together. Still a fox she was digging a whole with her fore-paws. It was just faster that way. Plus, it was necessary, just because no one was looking for him didn’t mean that no one could find him. Leaving the corpse of a man out with just his heart missing? Not such a good idea. Yisoo grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the hole, covering it up with the dirt and some leaves. Should do well enough.

That’s when she heard the snapping of a twig - followed by the sound of an arrow piercing through the sky. But it was too late - by the time she could react she already felt the sharp pain of the bolt in her thigh - it had gone right through. Yisoo yelped, bit the arrow head and pulled the whole thing out before running for her life. Her leg was throbbing, she felt the blood drooling out and the pain was so strong she could barely put her paw on the ground. As she was speeding through the forest and had almost reached the city, she felt the pain pass and her leg getting stronger again. Once she turned into a side street and hid behind a giant trash container, she quickly turned into her human shape again, hoping they wouldn’t recognise her this way and giving herself a bit more time. For a few moments, she just stood there, back pressed against the cold stone wall, and listened. Nothing.

The hunters were onto her. Never had it been this close before. How could this have happened, she had been so careful all this time. Yisoo felt her heart beating frantically in her chest. Her fingers were closing tightly around her yeowoo guseul - and she took the pendant and put it deep in her cheek pouch. Yisoo felt the cool surface against her teeth and mucous, and the magic of her very own soul pulsating in her mouth. For just a second she wondered what would happen if she would just… swallow it. It would still be with her - inside her gastrointestinal tract, to be precise. But she didn’t swallow it. Once again she listened closely but she couldn’t make out any sounds that might belong to the hunter. Cautiously, but as casually as possible, she started walking out of the side street and nearer and nearer towards the main road. Yisoo scanned every person that she saw and kept her ears on high alert for any alarming sounds. Her heart was still pounding in her chest.

She crossed the street and was now only one block away from the well lit main road. Two guys, all in black, were suddenly just a few feet away, right in front of her. Yisoo could smell blood, and a distinct smell that she never smelled before, but was told of. The smell of not one, but two hunters. It was a gamble. Would they know that she was the Gumiho that they were looking for? Or would they only be alarmed if she changed her behaviour now? One step, two steps. Her eyes followed the guy who was next to her. Time seemed to stand still for the moment that they were passing each other. Yisoo could feel her blood hammering inside of her. In the corner of her eye she saw him moving his arm inhumanly fast, and a sword appearing out of nowhere. Yisoo was faster and leaped away. Right into the arms of the second hunter, who was suddenly behind her, his fingers clawed into her shoulder.

Then she felt the sharp edge piercing through her flesh. And her heart. A deep grunt escaped her throat, her knees giving up under her, her body hitting the concrete ground. Even through the pain, she kept her jaw shut tightly. When he removed the sword, she grunted again. The blood was pooling out of her. And then it stopped.

“What. the. fuck.”

#ateez #ateez writing #ateez au #ree

13 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Level Up, Chapter Seven (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“Mom, I’m not going on a date with your financial advisor.” Vanessa has to resist the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that her mom won’t hesitate to rip her a new one for it if she catches her.

“He’s young and tall and wears a suit.” Vanessa’s mom points the spatula in her hand in her direction. “Don’t you wanna date a suit?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that wants to date a suit.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow as she hops onto the counter, her legs dangling.

AN: New chapter time - thank you guys for being so patient and waiting for this one. Writing is going a bit slow for me these days, which means slower updates. To anyone who’s left a review on this story, hi I love you, thanks for being great and giving me even more motivation to write. Seeing people are actually reading and enjoying a fic because they say so is a good kick in the butt for any author’s muse. Let me know what you think of this chapter, too. As always, thank you writ for betaing <3

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not, he’s cute! And polite too, you know how much I like that.”

“He’s young and tall and wears a suit.” Vanessa’s mom points the spatula in her hand in her direction. “Don’t you wanna date a suit?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that wants to date a suit.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow as she hops onto the counter, her legs dangling.

Vanessa’s mom shrugs her shoulders. “Just tryna help you out, baby. You haven’t dated anyone in a while, have you? Who was the last one? That ugly looking-”

“No need to roast my exes.” Vanessa makes a face when her mom snickers.

Vanessa appreciates her mom’s intentions, but sometimes they’re a little off the mark. Or a lot off the mark, from the guys that she’s tried to set Vanessa up with lately.

It’s not as if Vanessa isn’t out to her mom. She is, or rather, has tried to be. Multiple times. The first time was in high school, when Vanessa had kissed her best friend and cried about it to her mom after her friend had started to avoid her, and her mom had told her that it was a phase that she’d grow out of. And then there was college, where Vanessa’s mom would meet her various girlfriends with brightly coloured hair and piercings and eclectic fashion senses, only to call them her close friends. It’s the difference in how Vanessa’s mom has treated her ex-boyfriends versus ex-girlfriends, paying way more attention to the boys even when they hadn’t been anything to write home about.

Vanessa’s tried. But it’s hard to make the point stick when her mom laughs off the idea of having a girlfriend, changing the subject a little too quickly. But hey, it’s better than her mom wanting to disown her. Vanessa will take it.

A knock on the door gets Vanessa out of her head and she hops off the counter to pull it open, as her mom sets the dishes on the table. The pastry box in Alexis’ hands makes Vanessa light up and she grabs it, bringing it to the table while Alexis follows her inside.

“Nice to see you, too, Vanj.” Alexis sits down across from her, sticking out her tongue.

Vanessa sticks hers out right back. “I saw you earlier today at our place, chill. Didn’t even have time to miss ya.”

Their mom, at the head of the table between them both, waves her hands. “Shh. Don’t ruin the family dinner ambiance.”

Alexis snickers. “As if we don’t get into at least two arguments every time we all have dinner together.”

The monthly dinners remind Vanessa of a simpler time when the three of them were always under one roof. Her mom would make an extra effort to get home from work on time, cook them something that they could all eat together rather than something for Alexis and Vanessa to reheat when they got home from school. It’s nice that no matter how old they get, the dinners have stayed the same. The dishes are the ones that Vanessa’s enjoyed since being a kid, ones that she’s tried to replicate in her own kitchen with little success. But at least she still gets to enjoy them now, as an adult, at her mom’s.

“Pass me the rice.” Alexis holds her hands out, wiggling her fingers, and Vanessa’s about to reach for the corningware before noticing the glinting on Alexis’ wrist.

“Where’s that bracelet from? Damn, Rob splurged. Good for him.” Vanessa has to admit, Rob doesn’t have bad taste. The bracelet on Alexis’ wrist is delicate, the stones on it sparkling under the light.

“It’s from dad.” The nonchalant tone of Alexis’ voice makes Vanessa’s fork clang harder on her plate than she intends it to.

She has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? He’s buying your love now? That’s what it’s come to?”

“Don’t be jealous that he’s buying me gifts and not you.” Alexis sniffs, before taking another sip of her drink. “At least I’m making an effort with him.”

“I’m not jeal-”

“Stubbornness doesn’t get you anywhere. He says he misses you, ‘cept you won’t give him the time of the day.” Alexis shrugs, and Vanessa can feel her hands balling into fists.

“‘Cause he doesn’t deserve it, that’s why.”

“Not that he’d want you around with that attitude anyway.” Alexis raises her eyebrows, and Vanessa’s seeing red, she really is, because fuck her sister-

Vanessa’s mom’s hand is up at her shoulders, blocking her from standing up before she can do so. “Don’t punch your sister.”

“I’m going.” Vanessa growls out, trying to scoot her chair back because she hates it, the smugness radiating off of Alexis for absolutely no reason. When she has nothing to be proud about.

“No you’re not. Sit down and eat your food.” Their mom looks tired as she takes a drink of her wine, nearly draining the glass.

Vanessa scowls. “How do you not care about this? Doesn’t it bother you?”

Because heaven knows, it bothers Vanessa. It doesn’t make sense, their dad wanting to connect now after not giving a shit for so long, and why is Alexis playing right into it? Why should their dad just get whatever he wants whenever it’s convenient for him?

Their mom sighs. “Because I am an adult, and so is Alexis. And so are you, if you’d mature a bit. It’s not a bad idea to give people second chances.”

“He’s not buying my affection back. Fuck that.” Vanessa crosses her arms. “How’d he even afford that bracelet, anyway? He’s never been the type to be financially stable.”

“If you’d ever talked with him, you’d know he’s turning his life around. He’s doing better.” Alexis’ smug tone is nauseating, enough to make Vanessa’s skin crawl.

It all sounds so fake, so put on. Like their dad’s trying hard to impress them and the fact that Alexis is buying into it? Pathetic, in Vanessa’s opinion.

She can do better. They all can. Not that Alexis seems to want to do so.

Vanessa’s brain feels like it’s floating inside of a dark cloud as she leaves her mother’s apartment with Alexis. The subway is only a few blocks away, but it feels so much longer to Vanessa while trying not to talk to her sister, as to not give her the satisfaction she wants. Because she knows Alexis thinks she’s in the right, and that she always is, as the older one. That Vanessa’s eventually going to give in and follow her advice.

Her phone buzzes as they wait at a busy intersection, and Vanessa almost misses the signal to cross when she sees the picture that pops up on her screen.

It’s a cat so fluffy that it’s reminiscent of a mountain lion, and Vanessa can’t help but squeal. Brooke’s mentioned her cats before but Vanessa’s never seen pictures of them, because she’d definitely remember such a sight.

The cat in the picture is stretched out on a couch, his paws up in the air as he sleeps. Vanessa hits the text notification that follows, trying to ignore the smile growing on her own face.

BLH: Henry’s as excited for our practice tomorrow as we are. His hands are already protecting his face.

VVM: WHY IS YOUR CAT SO CUTE

VVM: sorry no caps lock

VVM: but also yes caps lock

BLH: You should meet him and his brother sometime!

VVM: PLEASE

“Alexis? We should get a cat.” Vanessa nudges her sister as they descend the steps towards the subway.

Alexis rolls her eyes. “Oh, so you’re talking to me now?”

Vanessa doesn’t respond right away, in favour of looking at the second picture that pops up on her phone, the grey cat sleeping on Brooke’s coffee table. “Bet Rob would like one.”

“He already gets enough p-”

“Don’t complete that sentence, ew!” Vanessa pretends to dry heave as her sister cracks up, the ice that has been building up between them the entire evening breaking into pieces.

Vanessa knows Alexis and her will be fine because they always are, for how much they bicker. It would just be easier if neither of them were so stubborn. Not that Vanessa’s going to be the one to give in this time.

Brooke’s already in the gym when Vanessa pushes her way in the next morning, trying to hide the yawn behind her hand that betrays the fact that it’s 6:45 and the sun still hasn’t risen outside. Vanessa’s eyebrows push together when Brooke spins almost comically to face her, coffee in one hand and breakfast burrito in the other.

“Why are you so perky this morning?” Vanessa herself isn’t, that’s for sure. Not when she’s used to pressing snooze on her alarms until the last possible moment before she has to get up for work.

Brooke shrugs, though her energy is nervous, her foot tapping on the floor. “This is our first training session.”

“You’ve been training me for months.” Vanessa replies, raising an eyebrow as she does, and Brooke shrugs.

“Yeah, but this is the first actual session. I’m coaching you. Trying to get things into your brain.”

“You’ve done that plenty with your terrible singing. There’s no way I can get that belting out of my brain, ever.” Vanessa snickers, reaching out to pat Brooke’s shoulder as she pouts. “Kidding.”

“I’m a great singer. I got the gumption,” Brooke sniffs, “I can’t help it when Celine is on.”

“Is that why your workout playlist has so many ballads?”

Vanessa ducks out of the way when Brooke grumbles, reaching over to shove her shoulder. “Tell me why I should coach you again?”

“‘Cause I’m a delight, and you know it.” Vanessa grins, batting her eyelashes, and Brooke rolls her eyes.

“Go get changed, you delight. We have stuff to do.”

Vanessa pauses at the locker room doors once she’s in her workout clothes at the sight in front of her. There’s a mosaic of pages ripped out of notebooks scattered along the floor, interspersed with diagrams drawn on chart paper, all neatly arranged while Brooke sits in the middle.

“Wanna explain?” Vanessa’s not sure if Brooke hears her at first, from the way she’s furiously scribbling on the page in her lap, but then Brooke’s head comically bobs up as her fingers tap on her knee.

Brooke shifts in place. “Okay, so I didn’t exactly know where to start. I mean, I was thinking I could try and think back to how my dad used to coach me but that’s not a box worth opening right now, y’know? I mean I could, but repression is way more tempting. So then I was looking up coaching methods and what works for one person may not work for another, and then I started thinking about how I really didn’t know what style worked for you best and what would be the most effective way for us to collaborate and…” Brooke cuts herself off as she takes a breath, weakly pointing to the mess around her. “So we have this.”

Vanessa whistles, crouches down beside Brooke while trying not to rustle any of the papers. “There’s a lot to untangle here.”

“We can’t go wrong with being too prepared, right? At least we can try everything and then maybe one thing is going to work and I’ll actually be useful as a coach.” Brooke shrugs sheepishly.

“What are you out here talking about, useful as a coach? You’re plenty useful. Look at how much I’ve improved over the last few months.” Vanessa throws a look at Brooke, who for once, looks slightly self conscious, from the way she fiddles with her sleeves. “You’re telling me our practices together haven’t made a difference in my fighting skills?”

“Maybe a little,” Brooke admits, “but how do you know any of it was me? You’re taking classes at the same time, you’re building that muscle memory. That plays a big part.”

“And how would I build muscle memory if it wasn’t for our practices?” Brooke looks unconvinced, so Vanessa carries on. “Look. I ain’t asking you ‘cause I think you’re an Olympic champion boxer, or anything like that. I’m asking you ‘cause you know your shit and you can handle me in the gym and know how to get me to cool down. I need that.”

Vanessa thinks back to their last practice, when all Brooke had to do was hand Vanessa a granola bar to give her some sugar and Vanessa found herself able to focus, less frustrated during their drills. It’s almost like Brooke is learning the little parts of her that don’t necessarily come up in conversation, more so the ones that only become obvious when you truly pay attention.

She nudges Brooke’s side. “I don’t care if you haven’t coached before. I’ve never been a boxer before any of this shit. You think I know what I’m doing? I don’t care if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Okay, but I really, really, don’t know what I’m doing-”

Vanessa shrugs. “Well then, we make a good team. If we’re gonna do this blindly, at least we’ve got each other for the journey.”

Brooke gathers up some of the papers around her, holding them out in front of Vanessa. “We won’t be doing it completely blindly, though, I was thinking we could try out methods that are evidence based and see what works the best and what leads to carryover-”

“I don’t know why you’re bringing up some academic shit right now, in a gym of all places, but what we’re gonna do is try shit until something sticks.” Vanessa grabs the pile of papers in Brooke’s hands, smoothes them out.

Brooke snorts. “That’s basically what I said.”

“Be less boring about it, then.”

It’s enough to get Brooke smiling, though, reducing the nervous energy that is radiating off of her in waves. “Get your gear on. We’re going to get to work.”

“That’s more like it.”

And so it begins. Vanessa’s alarm clock is set an hour and a half earlier every morning, the sun rising in tandem with her body heat during her first workout of each day. Brooke doesn’t pull any punches with the conditioning routines that she drafts every morning - Vanessa had thought in the past that Kameron was bad with the cardio and strength outside of the ring, but Brooke’s making her feel like she’s a beginner again, from how much her muscles are complaining with every move she makes.

Take today, for example. The circuit that Brooke’s written out on her clipboard is torturous, positively torturous, and Vanessa knows that she has to get through it eight times, but she’s only on her third round and she’s already about to collapse, never to get up again. She wipes the sweat off of her forehead before resting her hands on her knees, bending over in half to try and catch her breath, before Brooke’s voice behind her rings like a bell.

“Mountain climbers, let’s go! No stopping.”

“Bitch, do you want me to die?” Vanessa pants out as she gets on all fours nonetheless, her arms shaking as she presses her palms into the ground.

“No. But what I don’t want is for your endurance to putter out during a match at the worst time. You’re gonna have to build it, and not only that, but learn to push through when it feels like you can’t.”

Maybe if Vanessa wasn’t currently dripping sweat onto the mats below her, her arms about to give out, then she’d be moved by the almost poetic words. But she’s too out of breath to care, especially when all she can focus on as she stands back up is the way her legs feel like jelly and her arms like anchors that are about to break off.

Brooke’s look is sympathetic as Vanessa rolls out her shoulders, preparing to do her set of burpees next. “It’s not always going to be this difficult. Your body is going to build and build and build that strength and endurance and soon, you’ll be able to do all of it without breaking a sweat.”

Vanessa has to pause as she crouches down to shoot Brooke a look. “See, I’d believe that, pants on fire, if you weren’t making the circuits longer and more intense every damn session. How’s it gonna get easier if you keep upping the difficulty?”

“You haven’t died yet, have you?” Brooke sips on her iced coffee almost languidly, not a hair out of place, and Vanessa has to hold back a grumble.

She’s going to kill Brooke one of these days, she really is, if Brooke doesn’t kill her with these workouts first.

But Vanessa does trust Brooke, and so keeps pushing herself, follows each routine as best as she can and not skipping reps if she can help it. Sure, she can’t move her muscles without pain, and Silky and A’keria look at her funny even though she swears that her waddling isn’t because she’s getting some good dick, she’s just working out, that’s all, but…it’s worth it. It has to be worth it, Vanessa isn’t going to allow herself to believe anything else. She’s pushing her body to the limit for a purpose, and that purpose is to kick some ass in a boxing ring and feel good about it.

That’s what Vanessa tells herself at least, as more and more of her hours not spent at work become dedicated to training, going for massages for her sore muscles, and watching old boxing matches instead of Netflix whenever Brooke gives her boxers to research. It doesn’t feel like it’s a drastic change because it’s still fun to Vanessa, pushing her in ways that she’s never expected.

A’keria gives Vanessa an apprehensive look, though, when she hides one too many yawns behind her palm one day at work. She’s not necessarily falling asleep as she does the client’s makeup, but her morning workout today had been more grueling than usual, and having to stand for hours on end at the moment isn’t doing her sore limbs any favours.

“Can I ask you something, Vanj?” A’keria’s eyes remain on the client in front of her, the comb in between her fingers expertly parting the woman’s hair.

Vanessa squints her eyes as she blends the shadows on her client’s crease, trying to get both eyes to match. “Yeah, what?”

“Why are you doing all of this? The boxing, the gym?” A’keria looks up at Vanessa, the motions of her hands stalled. “What’s the point?”

“Didn’t I tell you at the beginning? Alexis made me so I’d stop blowing up in her face.” It may be the short answer, Vanessa knows, but it works for now.

A’keria sighs, and her eyes are too knowing, too willing to look into Vanessa’s soul. “Sure, I get a couple of classes here and there. But you’re running yourself ragged.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Am not.”

Because she’s not. It’s just what she needs to do, and how’s she going to get anywhere if she doesn’t? The next tournament is coming up soon, and if she does well in this one at the higher level then hey, maybe she can compete even more regularly and maybe have a proper match and-

“Just promise me that you’re taking care of yourself. And I don’t want an empty promise of you just nodding your head and saying yes, Kiki, I will, I want an actual promise that you’re gonna put yourself first.” A’keria points her comb towards Vanessa and she feels like she’s five, being reprimanded by her kindergarten teacher.

“I am putting myself first. Have you seen my guns? That’s self love, baby.” Vanessa flexes her bicep, pretends to give it a kiss and it’s worth it when the client in front of Vanessa lets out a giggle, and even more so when A’keria rolls her eyes.

“Tell me why I still care about your stupid ass.”

Vanessa doesn’t miss a beat. “‘Cause you love me.”

“Somehow.” A’keria mutters, turning back towards her model. “But if you don’t take care of yourself while doing this boxing nonsense, I’m gonna have to whoop your ass.”

“Duly noted.” Vanessa snickers, and it’s enough for A’keria, whose frown lines smooth out between her eyebrows. “Didn’t know you were so worried ‘bout me.”

A’keria shoots her a look. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re one of my best friends. And who else would listen to me griping about my man? You think Silky pays any attention to anything but Jerry Springer on the TV?”

“You’ve got a point there. So, update me,” Vanessa leans towards A’keria, a conspiratorial tone in her voice, “are y’all back together yet? Or are you still leaving him on read for exactly seventy two hours before texting him back? Which, by the way, makes no sense as a strategy.”

“It’s kept him for this long, hasn’t it?” A’keria shrugs her shoulders, a proud smile playing on her lips. “He always comes back. It’s like I have him on a rubber band that always snaps back into place. Never fails.”

“That makes no damn sense, and you know it. But men never do.”

Vanessa’s glad she’s not with a guy for now. She’s always found it so confusing, with the games and the signals that inevitably get crossed and the misunderstandings and it’s much easier, really, hearing about it secondhand from her friends.

Not that being interested in girls can be any better, from what she notices at their next practice before the next tournament. Vanessa had her session with Brooke in the morning and she’s back now hours later in the gym, a place that she feels like she never leaves anymore, curled up on a bench in the locker room and watching the scene that’s unfolding in front of her.

To any ordinary bystander, this scenario would be representative of any millennials - a girl swiping through Tinder with her friends providing commentary beside her. But what Vanessa really sees is Monique showing off the various pictures that pop up on her phone, while remaining completely oblivious to Monet sulking on the bench that is perpendicular to her. Sulking may be a stretch, but Vanessa can tell that the force with which Monet tugs on the zipper of her gym bag isn’t typical - it’s a sign that she’s unhappy with the situation.

“What about this girl? She put a quote from Shark Tale in her bio. And she lives on the east side. Imma swipe right.” Monique holds up her phone, and the brunette on her screen is cute, yes, but Monet’s shoulders slump a little and it becomes just a little bit harder to react in a blase way.

“Uh, yeah. Super cute. Love that.” Vanessa gives Monet a thumbs up, and she can feel Asia’s elbow in her side because of how unconvincing she is but hey, she’s trying.

She scoots down slightly on the bench, leans over to whisper. “What do you expect me to even say?”

“I dunno, but flashing a thumbs up ain’t gonna do the trick.” Asia mutters under her breath, jerking her head towards Monet, who’s begun to braid her hair with a scowl on her face.

Vanessa shrugs her shoulders, trying to keep her voice from exploding as much as it wants to. “So what the hell do we do?”

“What do you mean, what do we do? We don’t do anything because they’re adults, and they can sort it out themselves.” Asia’s look is pointed, one that Vanessa delicately chooses to ignore.

“We can’t do that. They’ll be miserable. Neither of them even realizes how much they like each other, and they’ll just keep doing this stupid dance.” Vanessa chances a glance towards Monique, who’s slowly lowering her phone back towards herself after Monet turns away with a curt nod. “This is ridiculous.”

Asia sighs. “You think they’re gonna hear a word we say? Hey, dumbasses, you both have a crush on your best friend, spoiler alert, it’s each other. They’re gonna tell us that we’re being silly and they’ll be in even more denial.”

Vanessa bites her lip, because the jealousy that’s radiating off of Monet is hard to miss, except apparently for Monique, who shuts off her phone and sighs as she stands up. “Ugh. You’re right. Doesn’t make this shit easier to watch.”

Vanessa keeps an eye on them throughout the class, nearly catching a jab in the face from Asia in the process. Monet and Monique seem to be back to their normal selves, bickering as they practice their drills but Vanessa doesn’t miss the lingering glance from Monet as Monique fills up her water bottle, or the way that Monique opens up her mouth to say something, eyes wide, as they finish an exercise before abruptly closing it. Vanessa feels like she’s watching a movie where she just wants to yell at the main characters to kiss already, except it’s two of her friends who should be together but are only now beginning to realize how much they like each other.

“Don’t do it.” Brooke’s holding back a smile at her desk when Vanessa falls into the chair across from her once the class is over, after regaling Brooke with Monique and Monet’s situation.

“Not doing anything. But I want to.” Vanessa slouches in her seat, resting her cheek on her palm. “Those two clowns are perfect for each other. Hell, I thought they were already together when I first started here.”

It’s not a lie. Vanessa remembers the way that Monique and Monet would always finish each other’s sentences, and be holding on to each other in some form or another. They still do, though Vanessa does notice more hesitancy lately in the way they reach out, more tentativeness in their words.

Brooke shakes her head, leaning forward on her desk. “You have to let them work it out themselves. Forcing something between them when neither of them seems fully ready is only going to lead to a mess.”

“You say that as if we’re all not already a mess.”

Brooke snorts. “True. You most of all.”

“Rude-”

“Kidding.”

“Good, you better be.” Vanessa sniffs, though she can’t keep a straight face for long, not when Brooke’s already holding back a laugh.

Brooke shrugs, thumbing through a pile of papers on the corner of her desk before pulling one from the stack, turning it towards Vanessa. The flyer for the upcoming tournament is a bit of an eyesore with the neon colours, but Vanessa tries to ignore the attempts at graphic design as Brooke points at the upcoming date. “Isn’t the tournament that you all signed up for coming up soon, anyway? It’s at least a three hour drive to get there. Maybe the two of them will talk it out during the ride.”

“Or they’ll ignore the huge elephant in the room and just pretend like absolutely nothing is going on.” Vanessa shrugs. “I feel like it could go either way.”

“Sooner or later, they’ll reach a point where they have no choice but to confront it. And when they do, they’ll see what’s been in front of them this whole time.” Brooke leans back in her own seat, and Vanessa can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“That’s somehow the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Are you a secret romantic?”

Brooke makes a face. “Most definitely not. I’ll take a comedy over watching something like The Notebook any day.”

Vanessa’s mouth drops open. “You take that back. That’s my favourite movie!”

“The Notebook? Really? You can’t call me sappy if that’s your favourite. Do you cry every time you watch it, too?”

“Maybe?” Vanessa raises her hands in surrender. “I can’t help it! It just tugs on the heartstrings.”

“Why watch it if it just makes you sad?” Brooke has confusion written across her face, and Vanessa has to pause while she thinks of an answer.

“I dunno. It’s sad but it’s a good sad, y’know? The kind that makes you feel something ‘cause even if there’s loss they still had so much love, and those moments are the ones that make everything else worth going through.”

Vanessa can’t help the longing in her voice because as silly as it sounds, she wants something like that. Something worth fighting for. Maybe it’s cliche, maybe it’s the thoughts of a teenage Vanessa from all those years ago who’d watched the movie for the very first time, but she still wants that feeling.

But who knows. Teenage Vanessa had also wanted a perm back in the day, and that had been a mess that had taken years to grow out.

“You’re the secret romantic between the two of us.” Brooke tilts her head and Vanessa shrugs, because she can’t deny it, not really.

“Who said it was a secret? I got taste between the two of us.” Vanessa can’t help but snicker at Brooke’s mock offended face.

“Just for that, we’re starting half an hour earlier tomorrow for training.”

Vanessa though, is unperturbed. “Liar. You hate waking up early as it is. I know you too well.”

“Maybe.” But the way Brooke’s eyes are glimmering, the way she has a grin of her own, somehow makes Vanessa want to know her even more.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #level up #holtzmanns

22 notes · View notes

madpanda75 · 5 years

Text

“Taking Chances Part Two: The Kiss”

Rafael realizes who the reader is related to and emotions are acted on 😱! Check out Part One on my Masterlist.

Thanks for all the amazing feedback. You guys are the best! ❤️

Rafael sat in his usual seat at Forlini’s bar, drinking a glass of scotch. It had been three weeks since he had first met you. Since then Rafael had visited the gallery almost on a daily basis, always under the facade of looking at a new piece of art when in reality it was to see you. The only problem was Rafael had seen every piece of art several times and he was beginning to run out of excuses to stop by the gallery after work or during lunch.

But did he really need an excuse? Judging by the way your cheeks turned bright pink and the coy smile you gave him when he walked through the door, Rafael suspected the feelings he had for you were mutual. Except what did he know? He had been out of the loop when it came to flirting, relationships, and dating for far too long. Maybe you always behaved that way with clients when you wanted to make a sale, laying on the charm with older men. Still there was something about you that was genuine. Being with you, Rafael didn’t feel the need to have his guard up. He felt safe.

Finishing up the rest of his drink, Rafael ordered another all while racking his brain for a reason to visit you. Perhaps he left a glove at the gallery? That was when he heard your voice calling his name. He turned his head to find you standing at the bar with those pink cheeks and a smile that made his pulse quicken.

*****

You leapt across a patch of black ice, nearly falling in the middle of the bustling street. The weather man had predicted snow that day. A throng of people surrounded you, anxious to get home and away from the cold. You shivered within your coat, quickening your steps. Forlini’s was just on the next block. You had promised to meet your brother, Sonny, there after work and as usual you were late. While stopped at the crosswalk, you felt your phone buzzing in your coat pocket.

You answered it, already knowing who it was. “Hey, Sonny. I’m sorry. I know I’m late but I swear this time it wasn’t my fault. My boss made me stay past closing to make sure the new art installation was set up.”

“Actually, Y/N. I called to tell you I can’t make it,” Sonny sheepishly replied. He hated letting you down.

“Dominick Carisi Jr., I just walked 15 blocks in the freezing cold because you insisted on meeting tonight and now you’re ditching me!?” You exclaimed.

“I’m sorry. I was busy working on a case and I completely forgot this term paper I have to write tonight on capital punishment.”

“Cheerful topic,” you dryly said, now standing outside Forlini’s. “You owe me. How about basketball this Saturday at the park near my place. Loser has to buy the winner a box of cannolis from Antonio’s.”

“Unbelievable, it’s snowing and you still want to play basketball!?”

“A little snow is not gonna stop me from beating you. So what do you say? 10 at the basketball court?”

“Fine, I’ll bring coffee,” Sonny grumbled, knowing he would give into your every whim. You had your brother wrapped around your little finger.

“Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite big brother?” You teased.

Sonny laughed. “I’m your only big brother. Love ya’, sis.”

“Love you too.” You hung up the phone and went into the restaurant. You were already there might as well have a drink and warm up.

Walking over to the bar, you froze in your tracks. There was Rafael. Immediately butterflies began fluttering in your stomach. His back was to you, nursing a drink, occasionally glancing up at the TV screen behind the bar. The man hadn’t even glanced your way and already you were a wreck.

It had been a while since you had felt this way about anyone. 18 months to be exact when you came home early to find your fiancé in bed with another woman. After that you had sworn off love. You were devastated, your heart all but ripped out of your chest and thrown into a blender. Being alone was easier and less painful but meeting Rafael changed that. There was something about him that made you come alive again. That made you believe that not every man was a misogynist, cheating pig.

So rather than run out, pretending you never saw him, you cleared your throat and stepped closer. “Rafael?” Rafael set down his drink and whipped his head around, meeting your gaze. Those green eyes seemed to pierce right through your soul. You were beginning to experience borderline dangerous heart palpitations. “Mind if I sit here?”

“No, please,” he replied, motioning to the chair next to him. You shrugged off your coat and sat down, ordering a glass of merlot from the bartender. “So what brings you here? Kind of out of the way from your gallery.”

“I was supposed to meet my brother but he ditched me. I can’t really blame him. He’s a detective with the NYPD and going to school at the same time.” You shrugged and took a sip of your wine. “He’s pretty busy these days.”

“That is a lot to take on.” Rafael said, eying you almost suspiciously. Your brother sounded a lot like a certain gangly, obnoxious, blue-eyed detective he knew. But there was no way you were related to Sonny. The NYPD was one of the largest police departments in the country. Surely there were other detectives who happened to be attending school at the same time. It was just a strange coincidence. “I’m an Assistant District Attorney with Special Victims Unit so I work a lot with the NYPD.”

“Then you must know my brother! Dominick Carisi, but everyone calls him Sonny.”

Rafael choked on his scotch, his worst thoughts now confirmed. “Carisi is your brother?”

You arched a brow, watching Rafael cough and sputter for several seconds. “I take it you know him.”

“You could say that.” Rafael’s eyes widened. Amazing. Out of all the people to have a crush on he had to pick a Carisi. There was no way he could pursue you now. He downed his drink and quickly ordered another. Studying your face for a moment, he tried to find any family resemblance. Perhaps there was a faint trace of a Staten Island accent when you spoke but that was it. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say Carisi was your brother. You two don’t look anything alike.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you teased, but your heart fell. You liked Rafael and the last thing you needed was your big brother getting in the way. “Can we change the subject? I’m sitting at a swanky bar next to a handsome man and the last thing I want to talk about is my brother.”

A smile tugged at Rafael’s lips. “You think I’m handsome.”

“Actually I was talking about the other guy,” you said, motioning to the man sitting next to you on your left side. Rafael peered over your shoulder to see Judge Nelson, drinking a beer and munching on pretzels while watching a basketball game on the TV. Bits of crumbs flying over the counter as he called out the coach for pulling a player. Judge Nelson also bore a striking resemblance to the crypt keeper.

Rafael snorted a laugh, starting to feel a little more at ease now that the initial shock was wearing off.

“Okay, Rafael. You know where I work and who my family is, so now I want to know about you.” You giggled and set your drink down, turning your chair to give him your full attention. “Tell me everything.”

*****

Now knowing who you were related to Rafael tried to resist temptation, quickly realizing it was a losing battle. You were his version of kryptonite, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes while innocently biting your bottom lip, your leg brushing up against his. A man could only take so much. It didn’t take long before Rafael found himself flirting right back.

You completely lost track of time talking to Rafael. The conversation flowed between you both. You told him how after your father’s heart attack, you realized that life was too short and decided to switch from a business administration major to an art history degree. He told you that he briefly considered a career in theater before ultimately deciding that the law was his passion.

The hours flew by and before long the bar was closing. “I can’t believe it’s so late,” you said, hopping off the chair. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“My pleasure. I had fun tonight.” Rafael held out your coat for you to put on. You silently cursed the cold, wishing you didn’t have on so many layers so you could feel the warmth of his bare hands on your body.

By the time you left, snow was beginning to cover the streets and sidewalks, showing no signs of stopping. “Which way are you going?” You asked.

“Uptown. You?”

“Same. I was gonna take the subway home.”

Rafael rocked back on his heels. “Well since we’re going the same direction. We could split an Uber or a taxi or something,” he suggested.

“Sure. As long as it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Rafael replied, taking out his phone to get an Uber. He wasn’t quite ready to say good night to you just yet, even if it was just a 15 minute car ride home.

*****

The drive uptown was mostly in silence. Rafael glanced down at your hands resting in the middle seat between you both, inches away from each other. He slowly moved his hand closer, his pinky finger barely brushing up against yours. Turning from the window, you locked eyes with him, a soft smile on your lips as you placed your hand in his.

Suddenly the driver came to an abrupt stop, pulling up to the front of your apartment building. Rafael stepped out of the car, insisting on walking you to your door. ��Wait for me, please. I‘ll be right back,” he told the Uber driver. The man nodded his head, grumbling that the wait time would be added to the fare.

The heavy wet snow made the sidewalks slick. One misstep on an icy patch and you were about to make a slapstick tumble. Rafael was quick to react, catching you in his arms before you hit the ground.

You looked up into the eyes of your rescuer and blushed. Rafael’s pulse was racing. His face so close to yours, he could count the snowflakes landing on your cheeks. Once you found your footing, he reluctantly let you go. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Nice catch,” you said but your feet had other plans. You tried to take another step and ended up sliding even closer to Rafael, gripping onto the lapels of his jacket to steady yourself.

The heady scent of his cologne stirred your senses. He smelled like citrus and spice, woodsy and crisp. Like the type of man who would read Tolstoy to you and then later fuck you up against his cedar desk. He electrified you. Reaching up with one hand, you cupped his cheek before placing a soft tentative kiss on his lips. You pulled away a fraction of an inch, gauging his reaction.

Rafael stared at you with lust-filled eyes. Your warm breath mingling with his in the frosty air. His nose nuzzling yours. “Oh God, what was he doing,” he thought. “This is Carisi’s sister. Don’t do this. You can’t do this.”

“Rafael,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers running through his hair.

“Fuck it,” he said in a husky voice, pulling you into a searing hot kiss. Rafael’s mouth moved fervently over yours, his tongue gently parting the seam of your lips. You tasted better than he could ever imagine, sweet and tart. You let out a soft, pleasure-filled moan, returning the kiss with vigor, sliding your tongue over his. Rafael ran his hands up and down your back, holding you close. Despite the frigid temperature, a warmth spread throughout your body, radiating through every vein. Your lungs were burning. It felt like you were going to explode.

Needing to catch your breath, you eventually broke the kiss. Slowly you opened your eyes, meeting Rafael’s gaze, both of you panting hard. He smiled at you, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Would you like to have to have dinner with me sometime?”

You leaned forward, kissing him one more time, your forehead pressed against his. “Yes,” you softly replied.

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @melsquared79 @dreila03 @frenchiefoxy @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @graniairish @lolacolaempath @ashley-chi @imjustreallynosy

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #barba #rafael barba x reader #barba fic #barba imagine #law and order svu imagine #barba x reader #law and order svu fic

214 notes · View notes

bobasheebaby · 4 years

Text

100 New Girl Prompts

So many prompts, most of which are funny. Break at 15 cause it’s mega long.

1 "I'm using my bride/groom card!" — Cece

2 “Can we just take a minute to celebrate me?" — Schmidt

3 “So many emotions." — Nick

4 “I'm totaling my assets. It's really bleak." — Jess

5 “Look at those horny horny hippos.” — Nick

6 “I got mozzarella sticks for fingers." — Nick

7 “Every moment you're on this Earth is a moment I know where you are." — Nick

8 “It is my Secret Santa alias." — Winston

9 “Friend face." — Winston

10 “It's perfectly fine to watch TV all day." — Nick

11 “If I were off my rocker, would I take a weekly selfie with my cat?" — Winston

12 “I can't find my driving moccasins anywhere." — Schmidt

13 “Believe it or not, that's not the first time someone's broken my feeling stick. I have a travel size." — Jess

14 “Put on some pants, or at least some really high socks." — Jess

15 “You like me? You like my personality?" “I was surprised, too.” — Schmidt & Cece

16 "I just wanted to listen to Taylor Swift alone!" — Jess

17 “That's like the president and the vice president not being best friends." — Winston

18 “I'll take the strongest drink you have, and also a wine spritzer on the side in case I don't like it." — Jess

19 “You have the right...to remain hugged." — Coach

20 “If you are for one second suggesting that I don't know how to open a musical, how dare you!" — Schmidt

21 “I was sabotaged by my baby box." — Jess

22 “We are literally the most embarrassing people on the planet." — Jess

23 "It's a weird life, but it's where I'm at right now." — Nick

24 "You gave me a cookie, I gave you a cookie." — Nick

25 “Go put a dollar in the jar right now." — Coach

26 “This is my jam." — Coach

27 “Saturday is a day for sleeping, and damn it, you will not take that away from me!" — Winston

28 “Are we eating or are we not eating?" — Winston

29 "Eating cookies and avoiding confrontation." — Jess

30 “Because it's a great story, and I'm a teller of stories." — Nick

31 “I like being weird." — Jess

32 "This is the worst thing to ever happen to me. I've lived a very fortunate life!" — Jess

33 "I don't like it. It's too much responsibility." — Nick

34 “Are you cooking a frittata in a sauce pan? What is this – prison?” — Schmidt

35 “I hate your mustache because I miss your upper lip.” — Schmidt

36 “He’s/She's got that giant heart that's part compass and part flashlight and he’s/she's just the greatest person I have ever met.” — Nick

37 “Who's that guy/girl? It's NAME." — Jess

38 “Watch your front because we've got your back!” — Cece

39 “Picking lint off of a man's/woman’s sleeve is the most intimate gesture.” — Cece

40 “Blast from the past, how's that ass?” — Jess

41 “I hate this. I just wanna sit around and do nothing, but that is not hot.” “That's hot to me. You add some sweatpants to that and that is better than porn.” — Kai & Nick

42 “Look at that font! What is this? Amateur hour? At least use Palatino.” — Nick

43 “I’m like a sexual snowflake. Each night with me is like a unique experience.” — Schmidt

44 “Where have you been? I am having a major life crisis, and you guys are, what, just driving around, French kissing each other like a couple of Dutch hookers?” — Schmidt

45 “No sig oths.” “Just say ‘significant others.” “Maybe you have that kind of time, but I’m on a tight sched.” — Schmidt & Cece

46 “I know this isn’t gonna end well, but the whole middle part is going to be awesome.” — Nick

47 “NAME, you’ve been staring at this guy/girl for 5 minutes. Please tell me you’re checking him/her out, otherwise you’re a serial killer. Which would explain a lot.” — Schmidt

48 “This is a horrible neighborhood. There are youths everywhere!” — Schmidt

49 “Guess whose personalized condoms just arrived!” — Schmidt

50 “I’m really gonna need you to step it up tonight, okay? When I see you, I wanna be thinking, ‘Who let the dirty slut out of the slut house?’” — Schmidt

51 “Can someone please get my towel? It’s in my room next to my Irish walking cape!” — Schmidt

52 “Have you seen my sharkskin laptop sleeve?” — Schmidt

53 “Don’t pretend to know my pain.” — Schmidt

54 “Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.” — Nick

55 “I don't know what I'm doing emotionally or -- let's be honest -- sexually.” — Jess

56 “What if I have some idea of love in my head and it’s just totally wrong?” — Jess

57 “Life sucks. And then it gets better. And then it sucks again.” — Nick

58 “I like getting older, I feel like I’m aging into my personality.” — Nick

59 “You know, sometimes I feel like I’ve never really felt love.” — Winston

60 “When you care about somebody you do what's best for them even if it sucks for you.” — Schmidt

61 “Old people freak me out. With their hands and their legs. They’re like the people version of pleated pants.” — Schmidt

62 “I’m gonna have to run all the way home, and I have my slipperiest loafers on.” — Schmidt

63 “Downstairs neighbour put a password on their wi-fi.” — Nick

64 “You were denied a cell phone because you have the credit score of a homeless ghost.” — Schmidt

65 “I’m only attracted to guys/girls who are afraid of success and think someone famous stole their idea.” — Jess

66 “This place is fancy and I don’t know which fork to kill myself with.” — Nick

67 “Without sex, he’s/she’s not your boyfriend/girlfriend. Okay? He’s/She’s a friend you buy meals for.” — Schmidt

68 “I feel like I wanna murder someone. And also, I want soft pretzels.” — Jess

69 “So when I do the chicken dance, I do it a little differently. Instead of doing claps, I like to do a peck. It’s more realistic.” — Jess

70 “NAME doesn’t have a life plan. He/She doesn’t have a day plan. I once found a note that he/she wrote to himself that said, ‘Put on pants.'” — Jess

71 “I don’t want to kiss and tell, but I ruined my dresser during intercourse. Will you go to Ikea with me?” — Jess

72 “Can I get an alcohol?” — Nick

73 “I want to kill you, because I respect you. NAME! I think I understand hunting!” — Nick

74 “Look, we’re not trying to be mean. We just don’t want you to be yourself… in any way.”

75 “I have decided to give up on men/women and put all of that energy into tomatoes.”

76 “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? No, a summer’s day is not a bitch!” — Nick

77 “I only wanna make a drink a coal miner would want. Straight forward. Honest. Something that says, ‘I work in a hole.'” — Nick

78 “I’m not convinced I know how to read, I’ve just memorized a lot of words.” — Nick

79 “I like chipmunks more than squirrels.” — Nick

80 “I can’t believe I’m the sober one. That’s actually never happened before in my life.” — Nick

81 “Beans are nothing but soggy nuts.” — Schmidt

82 “Can I interest you in some white noise?” — Winston

83 “Those are pickles in progress.” — Winston

84 “Who’s talking to you, Depression-era garbage man?” — Coach

85 “I need everyone to shut up.” — Coach

86 “Your asses belong to me now.” — Coach

87 “That’s what’s up, that’s what’s up. No doubt. Diggity.” — Coach

88 “I hate when Schmidt cries. He sounds like a ghost singing ‘Hey Ya.'” — Coach

89 “I’ve made out with half of the guys/girls in this room.” — Cece

90 “You always see the worst in people.” “Yeah, because people are the worst.” — Jess & Nick

91 “I’m sorry we’re not going this weekend.” “But It’s free.” “Did you say free?” “Yeah.” “We’re 100% in. I’ll go pack now.” — Nick & Jes

92 “I’m going to end up alone. I’m going to be a single old man/lady flashing people on the subway.” — Jess

93 “I’ve got two perfectly good forks on the end of my arms.” — Nick

94 “If we needed to talk about feelings they would be called talkings.” — Nick

95 “When you question my pajamas, you make me question our entire friendship!” — Jess

96 “Why can’t I have the things that I want?!” — Schmidt

97 “Bathtubs are medieval filth cauldrons.” — Schmidt

98 “They don’t hate me because I’m old. They hate me because of my personality.” — Schmidt

99 “It’s like you’re ripping the side block out of my mental Jenga.” — Schmidt

100 “I’m not actually quite sure how to stop this.” — Schmidt

#new girl prompts #new girl quotes #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #drabble prompts #jessica day #nick miller #cece parekh #winston bishop #winston schmidt #coach #long post #read more

40 notes · View notes

abbysroad · 4 years

Text

a contribution to the discourse, or: five years in new york

I’ve drafted this post six (6) times in the last four months, and every time, I tell myself that no one wants to hear it and I stow the words away. But fuck it, this is my blog, and I’ll write about what I want.

I realized, in July, when I rented a car and drove to the Catskills with my boyfriend, that I hadn’t left the city of New York since December 2019. Even though I’m not from here, and I’m always welcome at my parents’ house in Massachusetts, I didn’t leave the city in April, stayed in my apartment and listened to the ambulances screaming all the way to Wyckoff, started trying to count them but lost track every day. I didn’t leave because I couldn’t risk unwittingly spreading the virus to my parents, and I didn’t care to take a bus or train to get there. And what would I do there, anyway? I pay rent here, vote here, pick up prescriptions from the pharmacy here, and, until some fuzzy recent moment, considered this my home.

Early on in the pandemic, it became fashionable among the New York media Twitter circle I inhabit to make fun of those who fled—to parents’ houses, to upstate cottages, to anywhere where birdsong could substitute the sirens. But really, how could you blame the ones who left? I keep thinking about this tweet that says, “The cleavage is not ‘people who leave nyc / people who stay in nyc,’ it’s ‘people who see the city as a place of [cultural] consumption / people who see the city as a place of lived struggle.’” Allow me to be flip: Isn’t every place a place of lived struggle, barring, like, the Hamptons? Life’s a struggle, and we’re living it.

Let me show you something I wrote in my notes app on October 3, 2019 at 7:11 p.m, as I rode home from work on the L train, euphoric:

From the south side of Union Square, in the yellow dusk streetlight, I spy the creepy clock and my freshman year dorm. I’ve learned that it’s ok to start a story with a time and a place, that not all meaning grows from abstraction.

A year ago I slammed a door because my boyfriend came home in a surly mood and didn’t notice the lobsters I’d left crawling on the counter. Today I bought two more and ordered him to pick up a bottle of wine. I walked from Bryant Park to Union Square and bought Trick Mirror at the Strand. I entered the subway with insufficient fare, waited for the emergency door to swing open as it always does, and, with four other women, scurried through.

The subway rushes me to the home I have created, to the cabinets full of potatoes and rice and canned chicken stock, the refrigerator with butter, milk, eggs; the dull tip of the record player needle; the box of books in disarray. The rags ripped from sheets I’ve lain and loved in, that I use to scrub the bathtub and to wipe the counter clean. The pot I’ll boil the lobsters in, stolen from my parents’ house, which teems with things much the same.

And I know that if I needed to, I could start all over again. There’s no knowing if the world I built in four years will last a lifetime. Tonight, it doesn’t matter.

I couldn’t tell you what I was wearing that day, or how the lobster tasted, and the year-ago argument, now two years past, is a smudge in my memory. Sometime before it got hot out, but after things were bad, so April or May, I forgot my ATM PIN completely—the PIN I used to use every time I bought groceries or refilled my MetroCard—and had to have the bank send me the code in the mail. We’re going through a collective break from reality where our former selves are ghosts. All that sentimental bullshit now tastes funny in my mouth.

Disillusionment, I’ve decided, is realizing that the barista who used to give you free coffee once a week only memorized your name so she wouldn’t have to ask you every time you bought a bagel. That the optician, who remembers your name because his daughter is an Abigail too, is really just some schmuck who drives a car to work and dumps his trash on the sidewalk on the wrong day of the week. That you’ve bought all your acquaintances. That you could buy them anywhere—for less.

The tl;dr is that I’m moving to Denver at the end of the month, and we’ll have a big apartment with two bedrooms and we’ll be close to the mountains and we won’t know anyone. I work remotely. There’s nothing keeping me here. I love New York dearly. But you know how the old saw goes, about if you love something...

#writing #nyc #denver #becoming what i hate #one who flees #to another city at least #it's not because new york is becoming quote unquote crime infested #it's about trying something new

7 notes · View notes

orderofthefanfic · 5 years

Text

It’s All Over But The Laughing

Summary: Gotham was a trash heap of destitution and neglect. The rich barely even saw those less wealthy worth enough to step on and any who suffered were helpless. Arthur Fleck was no exception. Suffering from a disorder that left him ostracized from his world, even in the smallest of places, it felt as if no one even saw him. Until he met you. A similar case of loneliness and despair, it was never a case of whether you were seen, but of whether you were heard. Despite your gigs as a cheap singer, the words of your heart were never understood, with a stutter that frightened you from saying your mind and a world that silenced you from showing your truth. The day you met Arthur Fleck was the day your life changed forever.

Pilot

It wasn't completely unusual for people to linger in the halls of the social office, but her face, Arthur hadn't seen before. He slowed his pace, out of curiosity, most of all, and studied the stranger's nervous form. She sat in one of the decrepit chairs in the main hall, left as a makeshift waiting room despite the lack of people who even came to this office, shaking her knee as her hands, clasped tightly, bounced atop it. Her eyes scanned the room frequently, in Arthur’s favor, stopping just short of where he stood to observe, and a sickened look enrobed her aura. With a harsher bounce of her leg, she pushed a breath of air through her pursed lips, flattening her back against the chair and leaning her head back to face the ceiling. He intended to move on from watching her when one of the other psychiatrists in the building made their way towards her. At their approaching footsteps, she shot her head up, an anxious grimace playing on her face.

“(Y?N)? What are you still doing here?” The doctor looked to her watch, furrowing her brow, “Our sessions been over for 20 minutes.”

“Dr. Setler!,” The girl, who Arthur now overheard as (Y/N), began to wring her hands roughly, “I-I don’t...d-didn’t,”

She stopped suddenly, scrunching her nose and huffing a burst of air with a twitch of her head. He thought she was just stammering, her nerves getting to her, but as she continued to speak, he realized she struggled through multiple words, stopping almost entirely in between some, and continuously scrunching her face as she grappled through her sentences.

“I th-thought we had an extended session today and I didn’t get your call it was sh..compressed. I was going to wait until my ride arrived.”

Setler raised her brow, a tight-lipped smile flashed towards the girl that seemed in the least bit forced, “That’s going to be quite some time, yes?”

“Well, yes,” When she finally stuttered out her answer, she spilled out with a slight panic, “I’d rather just wait, I don’t truly want to call.”

Her mouth hung open as if to say more, but the doctor waved dismissively in her face, placing a hand on her back and leading her, quite reluctantly, to the public phone in the foyer, “Nonsense, Remember we talked about practicing with phone calls? You’ll only get better. Waiting here all day is obscene.”

She attempted desperately to disagree, but between her struggles to speak and dismission of Setler, she was unwillingly shoved to the device, and a receiver was thrust into her trembling hand.

With a rough pat on her back, Dr. Setler gave a short wave goodbye and took off down the hall. Arthur was not one to enjoy eavesdropping. He knew, and it was ingrained in him, that it was rude, but even with his consciousness scolding him as he stayed out of suspicion and listened, he was unable to stop. She stood blankly for a few moments before she slowly began to spin in the numbers, swaying on her feet as she unknowingly sealed her fate with each rotation. Although he couldn’t hear the speaker on the other side, he gathered enough.

The conversation looked painful to be involved in, the girl’s already debilitating stutter exemplified over the phone, and the stress that seemed to be gripping her was tightening with every word. In summary, she was behind on her paycheck, thus placing her behind on her already reduced-price medications. The man on the other end, who she’d addressed as her uncle, was audible even from where Arthur stood, although his words were indistinguishable, his distaste was crystal-clear.

“No meds, no roof.”

A persnickety individual, he seemed set on his personal philosophy that if she wasn't on whatever medications she was prescribed, instantly, she wasn't mentally sound or safe to be in his home. The ideal made Arthur sick.

At some point, the girl had half resulted to begging, pushing the phone tightly to her cheek and clenching her fist until her knuckles turned white. Her uncle was highly impatient with her stutter and as the conversation pressed on, she, too, was becoming increasingly frustrated with her inability to converse concisely. Within the limited range of the phone cord, (Y/N) paced and screamed internally. After desperate convincing, she managed to buy herself a day, 24 hours to pack up whatever life she had in her uncle's apartment and leave it behind. Part of her was relieved, the other was still preoccupied with finding a new apartment.

When the death buzz of an empty phone line stung in her ear, she finally gave up on trying to hold whatever was left of her together. Tears sprang to her eyes the second the receiver touched the hook and her palms rubbed her face angrily. Stumbling and shuffling to the seat in the hall, she slumped heavily into the worn and flaking leather. Her face was covered by her hands, muffling her weary cries, and a frown took over Arthur's own expression.

A moment or two passed, the otherwise quiet hall echoing with her sadness, before Arthur finally forced himself to stop creeping on the poor girl and at least do something . And so, Arthur Fleck did what Arthur Fleck wanted to do most: make somebody laugh.

He approached her slowly, his light footfalls rising only slightly above her sobs and cautiously lowered himself into the seat next to her. She stiffened but remained otherwise unchanged. He placed an immense amount of will power into keeping his own self calm, hoping a fit of painful laughter wouldn't rip through him. An awkward second passed, and when he thought about how uncomfortable his silent presence probably felt, the joke he'd been balancing on his tongue jumped out.

"Why are poor people so confused?"

Although she didn't verbalize her acknowledgment of him, he sensed a loosening of her hands as he cries quieted ever so with curiosity. She was unnerved, she wouldn't deny that, but she couldn't ignore what he'd just say out of the mere oddness of the question. Unknowing of its humorous intention, she stayed unmoving and waited.

Whether it was with good or poor judgement, Arthur nudged her shoulder as he delivered the punch line, "Because they don't make any cents."

Nothing. At first, there was absolutely nothing, then what to him sounded like harder sobbing, and then finally, a sound he was all too familiar with (maybe just not from others), laughter. Sad and bitter laughter at first, but soon it morphed into soft but genuine chuckling. Her palms began to rub her face with a pitied groan, her head shaking in self-disbelief and she assertively wiped the fallen tears from underneath her red eyes.

"Th-That's the worst joke I've ever heard," Arthur's heart plummeted, "I love it."

She finally turned to look at him, a weak smile tugging at her lips, and something deep in him glowed.

"Well, I'd hoped you would." He returned the grin, shifting in his seat as she took a few steadier breaths.

It was evident she was apprehensive about speaking, something Arthur understood, although perhaps from a different perspective. Her eyes darted quickly to the brown paper bag in his hand, her ears honing in on the unmistakable sounds of pills, and she seemed almost to relax more at the realization he was a fellow patient at the office.

An awkward silence grew quickly between them but he rubbed his palms on his knees and confided, "I didn't mean to listen in, but I overheard you don't have a ride and you're nervous about taking the subway alone. If you want, I take the subway all the time, I wouldn't mind joining you, if it would make you feel better."

He felt like he may have been rambling, pulling back as he pressed his lips together. She was staring at him silently, a strange look on her features and Arthur began to panic that he may have said the wrong thing. Or maybe he sat the wrong way, or did the wrong thi-

"I'd r-re..verily appreciate that." She tripped out, her head nodding softly as her eyes seemed to gleam. "Seriously, it would mean a lot."

His lips twitched upwards again and he sighed in relief, rising from his seat as he extended his hand towards her.

"My name is Arthur."

Her hand, still trembling, slipped gently into his, contradicting the firm grip and sharp shake she gave him.

Nodding, she flashed her teeth at him genuinely, "(Y/N)."

(A/N): Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I watched this movie opening day and I have not stopped thinking or talking about it since. It was stunning and I just fell in love with the characterization of Arthur. Joaquin did a phenomenal job and everything about the film was beautiful. Also! I have never written a character with a stutter and I, unfortunately, do not personally know anyone who does that I can ask and get advice from. I tried to do research and watch video examples of how a stutter affects someone, the types of stuttering, and what it sounds like, but as someone who does not have a stutter and doesn't see it in person, I may not portray it as well as I'd like. I would love any feedback or advice you can give me on how I do or should depict stuttering and if there are any inaccuracies or over (or under) exaggerations, please let me know! I love to hear your feedback and comments!

#arthur fleck #joker #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck fanfic #joker fanfic #joker x reader #reader insert #joker reader insert #platonic #joker 2019 #fanfiction #writing #dcu #joker dcu #mental illness #mental disorders

238 notes · View notes

foreheadtouch · 5 years

Text

i don’t want your memory. (i want you here with me).

Why do you want to learn Russian? With that question I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed.

*3k words of pure angst*

———

It was an eerily frigid January night—black and silent—like drifting out in the middle of space. People doing everything in their power to escape it. The wind chill burned against my cheeks and the freezing air seemed to shrink my lungs to the size of lemons. Each breath I drew was sharp and labored.

Inside Hobie’s apartment wasn’t much better. My blood felt hot and thick underneath my skin—the heat was turned up slightly too high, so as to make me sweat underneath the itchy sweater that I couldn’t take off, because then of course, I'd be cold again.

The sky was deep and dark and not a single star was visible. I felt that if I stared too long, its vastness would swallow me whole. Only the bright white headlights of whirring cars seeped through the window and bounced across the walls of my bedroom in a series of dizzying flashes.

I sat on my bed with a half empty bottle of vodka, feeling claustrophobic in an empty room.

The heat made me hyperaware of any nagging discomfort that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. Every itch and ache was pulled out of me, like a magnet with scraps of metal.

I tried readjusting the neckline of my wool sweater, but it would not stop scratching and clawing against my skin, almost choking me. Had it somehow gotten tighter during the day? Why couldn’t I breathe?

I was just drunk enough that my movements were sloppy and my fingertips felt slightly numb.

I looked over at my desk, where a brand new copy of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot was resting, the lamp shining directly on it, like an ironic spotlight, and I felt the walls close in on me.

I didn’t want to, but I thought back to the conversation I had that afternoon.

It happened in the campus bookstore. Dozens of hasty university students were furiously barreling through the narrow passageways between shelves filled with books like Guide to Financial Markets, Plato’s The Symposium, Multivariable Calculus Volume 1, Shakespeare’s King Lear.

How was your break? Did you get the classes you wanted? Oh, I’m actually working at this bank. Doing research in this laboratory.

Their obnoxiously eager attitudes and bright eyes bore a sharp contrast to my own. I couldn’t remember the last night I had gone to bed sober. My eyes were sunken and glassy. Plum-colored patches formed under them and had not gone away. My skin had developed a grayish, sickly looking tinge that caused Hobie to insist I take a multivitamin in the morning. And how many days in a row had I worn this sweater?

I moved, begrudgingly, against the grain of the crowd, and slumped through the shelves while people forcefully shoved against my shoulder and scoffed at me under their breath for going the wrong way. But who cared what these crappy trust-fund kids and pompous brainiacs thought of me. I drowned out their complaints and dragged my fingers across the spines of the books, until I had successfully collected all the necessary novels for the upcoming term.

“Wow! That’s a lot of Dostoevsky! Let me guess… Based on your reading list I’d say… Intro to Russian Lit and… maybe Conversational Russian with Professor Khachanov?” the bubbly girl at the checkout asked as she scanned my stack of books. I wasn’t expecting her to actually pay attention to them.

I wondered how many espresso shots went into her morning coffee or if she was this energetic naturally. She seemed like the kind of girl who kept her customer service smile on 24/7. I could not bring myself to muster up enough energy to match her excitement.

“You guessed it.” I replied with a stiff, lifeless smile and apparently, less enthusiasm than she had hoped for, judging by the little twist her mouth did. She began transferring the books into an ugly canvas tote bag with the university logo on it that I knew cost extra money. I didn’t ask for it, but I also didn’t care enough to tell her to stop, so i just watched her silently and adjusted my glasses.

I thought my curt reply would signal that I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but she started up again: “You now, that’s not very common. I see a lot of Slavic Studies and International Relations students take Conversational Russian, but not English majors. You guys usually just take Intro to Russian Lit. Why do you want to learn Russian? Is your family Russian or something?” She stuck her hand out for my student ID card.

Immediately after she stopped speaking, my palms grew sweaty and my pulse thumped throughout my body and I felt its rhythm pound in my ears. My mouth went dry and I felt a lump form in my throat. I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the store glared and pierced my brain.

I cleared my throat, which felt like sandpaper, unable to force any words out, so I stood there, like a dumbstruck idiot, blank-faced and silent, for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Finally I managed to stammer, “I uh, I want to be able to read the original translations. At some point, I guess.”

With my head down, avoiding eye contact, I quickly snatched the receipt from the girl, shoved it into the canvas bag, and hurried out the door. God, she probably thinks I’m a psycho. But it didn’t matter. I desperately needed to get away from there. Away from that question.

Now, hours later, in my stuffy bedroom, I sat confronted with my crime, suffocated by the truth. Why had I really signed up for conversational Russian?

———

It was the same reason I found myself buying the cheap brand of vodka that we used to drink together, even though I could afford better stuff now. It tasted like jet fuel and burned my throat, but it was familiar and reminded me of the countless, blurry days we spent in a state of drunken stupor.

It was the same reason that on my way home, I would hesitate and then walk to the gas station around the corner for a pack of Marlboros, even though Hobie had taught me how to hand roll my own cigarettes. “They’re much better this way, Theo. It’s all about the craft. About paying attention.” And it was true, they were better, way better actually, but that didn’t stop me. I didn’t want better, I wanted him.

It was the same reason I took the subway down to Brighton Beach and the Lower East Side on weekends and wandered through the Russian neighborhoods, pretending like I was meant to be there. Because maybe, just maybe I was.

It was the same reason I would lie down with Popchik on my chest and close my eyes, feeling the weight against my lungs as I inhaled and imagined the warmth of him pressed up next to me, boney arm draped over me, holding me.

It was the same reason I curled up in bed at night with my earphones in—the Velvet Underground’s entire discography lulling me to sleep. Except for “I Found a Reason.” I recognized it by the first note and would immediately skip it. I couldn’t listen to it.

The habit we had of maintaining a constant level of drunkenness and snorting whatever we could find up our noses had unfortunately stuck with me. When I removed myself from my own depressing turmoil and looked at my life like a stranger would, I knew it was a problem. Without me realizing, it had spiraled from being a vice to a legitimate addiction.

But I didn’t have a reason to stop.

I tried so hard to forget him. I really did. Every time that feeling started to creep up, to gnaw at me, I would try to press it as far down as it could go. I would crumple it up into a tiny ball and throw it far far away. I would hold it underwater until it hung limp and lifeless.

I had no choice, because if I let it linger, just for one moment, it would consume me entirely.

It was a dull ache that never went away. The sting of tears welling up in my eyes. A lump in my throat. A knot in my stomach. Weak knees, like right before you’re about to faint. Heartache.

Sometimes he would come to me in a dream or in a nauseating, intoxicated hallucination. It was like looking at a reflection of him on water or through a mirror. It was almost real and I could have pretended he was there until, looking at him wasn’t enough and I greedily reached out to touch him. Suddenly, the water around my hand would ripple in expanding orbits and he would vanish.

We existed on two different planes now. I was here, doomed to live in this reality, where at one point, we had faced the disorder of life together, but now he was reduced to a figment of my imagination, a cursed dream, a memory of what once was.

And so that night, I gave in. I surrendered.

While I stared at that book, I let the memories wash over me with a force like a wave, crashing violently against a cliff. The rock I was grabbing onto crumbled beneath my finers and I was ripped away from my pretense of safety and pulled back into the sea—back to Las Vegas. Back to Boris.

———

“Potter. You can’t ask me to read to you and then just… fall asleep.” Boris said, through laughter, as he flicked my head.

My dad and Xandra had gotten into a big fight. It wasn’t their usual bickering about him watching too much football and not paying enough attention to her. Or about her staying out too late after work with friends and forgetting to make him dinner.

I couldn’t quite make sense of the full argument, or even remember why they started yelling. From the broken shouts, I figured out that my dad had lost a lot of money. And he had used some of Xandra’s? Or was about to? I wasn’t sure.

All I knew was that when Boris and I came home that night, there was a dent in the drywall of our living room and they were shouting. Judging by the accumulation of beer bottles on the coffee table, my dad had been drinking. A lot. They hadn’t even noticed us walk in.

We grabbed Popchik, who was a shaking mess in the corner of the kitchen, and we went back to Boris’. His dad was away on “special business.” I knew enough by then not to question it.

“Is great, actually,” Boris said, “when he is gone, he leaves money. 30 bucks this time.” He looked at me with his wide, dark eyes, sparkling with childlike excitement, as if we had just won the lottery.

We got started on our usual routine when we had extra money. Getting fucking blasted and buying cigarettes and a family sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

We were passing a cigarette back and forth in his bedroom, sitting shoulder to shoulder, faces inches apart. Boris was slouched next to me, in silence, but a comfortable silence.

The air was charged with something electric that I couldn’t find a word for. I turned my head and traced his profile with my eyes. I didn’t realize how long I had been staring, but when he slowly turned and looked up at me, softly, my stomach jolted.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” He asked, sitting upright, still maintaining his gaze. I liked how he could read me so well. It was a mark of how close we had gotten, how we moved in and out of each other’s minds with little effort.

“Yeah. I think I’m too wasted” I said, looking away abruptly and taking another drag of the cigarette before passing it to him, our fingers brushing, as he took it from me and brought it up to his lips.

“Stay here, Potter. I have great idea. You’ll love this, promise. Will cheer you up right away.” He got up quickly and handed the cigarette back to me.

“Where the fuck would I go?” I laughed and watched him slip into a room down the hallway.

He came back smiling and holding something behind his back.

“Please don’t tell me that’s more vodka.”

“Is not vodka. Guess again.”

“Boris, I have no fucking clue.”

He rolled his eyes and held out a thick book. The title was in Russian but fortunately, it was one of the words Boris had taught me. Идиот.

I was a little confused. What did this mean. Where was he going with this. I scrunched up my nose and said, “I don’t know enough Russian to read a whole novel.”

He sat down next to me and shoved me a little.

“No, идиот. I read. You listen.”

So I did. I slid down the wall and rested my head in his lap. Boris put one arm over mine, held the book in his other hand, and began to read the opening chapter.

I always appreciated how he was so forthright and unapologetic with his movements. He didn’t hesitate when resting his hand on mine. Or playing with my hair. Or stroking my arm.

He didn’t leave room for me to resist, not that I wanted to, although my first instinct was usually to pull away.

“This book. My favorite.” He started reading: “В конце ноября, в оттепель, часов в девять утра, поезд Петербургско-Варшавской железной дороги на всех парах подходил к Петербургу…”

I couldn’t understand a single word, but I didn’t care. I liked the sound of his voice when he spoke Russian. The way his mouth shaped the letters was firmer and smoother in Russian than in English—it was sultry, almost hypnotic. I closed my eyes and felt the soft vibrations of his voice wash over me.

I also liked the way I felt in his arms. Safe, cared for, loved, even.

———

That was, after all, why I signed up for Conversational Russian. Because of Boris. Because I might not ever see him again, and the thought of that was too unbearable, so I did everything in my power to feel close to him. To stay connected to him in some way. Any way.

Because I was in love with Boris but somehow I had lost him, caught up in the tangled tragedy that was my life.

I didn’t know if it was for good, but how would I ever find him in this great big world? It had been years since I last saw him and months since I last heard from him.

One day, I realized his face was becoming fragmented. I tried to construct and image of what he might look like now, like I was collecting scraps of torn up newspapers and piecing them together with glue.

Dark wavey hair against translucent ivory skin, a sharp contrast like an old film photograph taken in black and white. I could see the blue and purple veins underneath his skin. I could see his ribs poking out. I remembered his striking but soft eyes, always filled with a glimmer of curiosity—an inextinguishable thirst for life and all its excitement. The way they could communicate thousand of phrases in just one glance. His full lips that were often chapped and bleeding. But I miss them. The way the felt against my own that night. And the many nights before.

The image of the fourteen year old Boris I knew would forever be seared into my memory, in the way cattle were branded with molten hot metal. But what was he like now?

Sometimes I would pull out my old phone and read back through our conversations, then close my phone, and hold it over my chest while tried to hold in tears and catch my breath.

Other times I would look up at the moon and wonder where in the world he was. And if he ever looked up at the moon and thought of me.

Did Boris think of me? Did Boris miss me? Was Boris breaking apart and tearing up inside too?

Oh, the countless nights I would type out long messages with no intention of ever sending them. Are you okay? Where are you? I miss you.

I knew what loss felt like. That’s wasn’t unknown to me. I had lost my mother. For good. But the thing about Boris is that I didn’t know if it was for good. And that small chance is what was killing me and eating me away, but it was also the only thing keeping me alive. Because there was still a chance and I wanted to believe in it. I needed to. Things fall apart. But things come together too. But how many times? Had our time come and gone?

Maybe I would go the rest of his life wondering what could have been. That would be a death sentence I was sure of it. Because it was torture not knowing.

How would I ever be able to know peace when there was that small chance—that infinitely small chance we could meet again.

I wanted so badly to get a text one day from an unknown number. Potter. Is me.

I wanted to shout across the world. Here I am. Here I am. I won’t ever stop looking for you. I love you.

So I would continue hoping. I would keep going to Brighton Beach. I would keep searching the ends of the earth, forever.

But as for now, I had to learn how be content with the memory of him.

#the goldfinch #boreo #theo x boris #my writing

101 notes · View notes