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stardustshelb · 1 year

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"Strawberry" Part One

Word count: 6,749

Chapter One

“Are you sure you can’t drive me to the airport in the morning?” I asked Kenneth wearily. I knew he was reluctant to allow me to go to Nashville for Riley’s bachelorette weekend. He says he’s worried about my safety, but I know the truth is that he doesn’t want me to go out without him, especially with a group of girls.

He groaned, “I have to be at work by 8 a.m. and your flight leaves at noon. I’m not sure if you know how time works but–”

“My plane leaves at 2 p.m. I have to be there by noon,” I interjected before he finished his insult.

“Whatever. Either way, I can’t swing it. Just drive yourself or get one of your friends to give you a ride,” he said as he shut the bathroom door in my face.

He knows good and well that Riley and our other friends live hours away in other states. Everyone got out of this town the second we graduated college. Well, everyone except me. Kenneth took over his father’s business so I stayed behind too. I don’t resent him for it; I love my small town. I love that my family is no more than 15 minutes away in every direction. I love my job and my students. I love my simple two-bedroom home where I spend most of my evenings alone with Sassy, my border collie. I love my comfortable life. But I hate that my best friend since middle school took a marketing job that required her to move 738 miles away from me.

Life sometimes gets lonely when your closest friends are your coworkers who are old enough to be your parents. Finding a teaching job in this small town was easy because I went to school here. My classroom is the same classroom I once sat in to learn 9th grade English; now I am on the other side of the desk.

When Riley asked me to be her maid of honor, I cried tears of joy… and jealousy. Kenneth and I have been together since we were 16 years old. Although we celebrated our 10-year-anniversary in August, we were quickly approaching the two-year-anniversary of our engagement. Riley met her fiancé less than a year ago; yet, I am the one putting on a bridesmaid dress before a wedding dress.

“Can you turn off the light?” Kenneth’s question snapped me back to reality. I looked at the piles of folded laundry on my side of the bed with my barren suitcase next to them.

“I’m still packing,” I said.

“Well, some of us don’t get to go to Nashville. Some of us have to go to work to help fund a trip we don’t even get to go on,” he responded.

Ouch. Yes, it’s true Kenneth is the breadwinner. His father’s business is lucrative and Kenneth does well for us. He has asked me to quit my job time and time again since he can support us financially. Everyone knows a teacher’s salary isn’t much to brag about, but I still feel pride in bringing home a paycheck every month. I love my job too much to quit. It’s already lonely in the evenings; I can’t imagine staying home all day by myself too.

“You know I booked the cheapest flights I could find. Everyone else is flying in together and I am arriving a day early because tomorrow’s flights were more expensive than–”

“Turn off the light!” Kenneth snapped.

I collected my laundry piles and tossed them into my suitcase before shoving it to the floor. I guess I will have to finish packing in the morning after he leaves for work. I put my phone on the charger, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. Sassy jumped into bed to sleep by my feet, our nightly routine. She has always been my protector. I am going to miss her so much while I am gone, but I am looking forward to this miniature vacation. I haven’t had a trip to look forward to since my senior year of college. Kenneth is always too busy with work for us to have a vacation together. He doesn’t like to fly but he also gets car sick. If anywhere I wanted to go required more than two hours on the road, count him out. Plus it will be nice to see Riley again. I shut my eyes and tried my best to fall asleep. I am used to going to bed angry. Anger is like melatonin to me at this point. But the excitement and longing kept me awake. I pulled my headphones out of my nightstand and connected them to my phone. I scrolled through my Spotify playlists until I found one to soothe me to sleep. I selected “Boyfriends” by Harry Styles and the irony wasn’t lost on me as I drifted off…

Chapter Two

I collected the parking ticket from the machine as I drove into the airport’s economy lot. I found a spot closest to the entrance, but I knew I was still going to have to walk a billion miles. The economy lot is furthest from the airport but it’s the most affordable option. I wanted to save every dollar I had for this trip, so I figured it was a small sacrifice. I parked and started to collect my things from the trunk of my car. I grabbed my carryon suitcase and hung my purse on its handle before I started my trek to the airport. Anxiously double-checking every item on my pack-list in my head, I walked through the double doors of the airport. I made my way up to security and got in line behind what seemed to look like the entire population of my town. Luckily, the line moved fairly quickly as I approached the TSA agent’s desk. I placed my luggage on the conveyor belt, removed my sandals, and emptied my pockets.

The large woman in the TSA uniform waved me through the body scanner. “Come on through, sweetie.”

I stood on the yellow marker and held my hands above my head. I knew I had nothing on me that would set off any alarm, but this moment always made me hold my breath.

“You’re good, sweetie. Have a good day,” she smiled as I breathed a sigh of relief. I collected my things and scurried off to the side to put my shoes back on. When I grabbed my phone from the security tub, I noticed that I had two missed calls from Kenneth.

I called him back as I tried to make my way through the crowd, pulling my luggage behind me. He answered on the first ring.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” he asked with a bit of anger in his tone.

“I was going through security. I couldn’t be on my phone,” I explained.

“Well, I only have so long of a lunch break and I wanted to check in before you got on your flight. What time are you set to land again?” he asked.

“3:30 p.m. for the hundredth time,” I sighed.

“Ok, you need to text me as soon as you land,” he commanded.

“Sure thing,” I replied.

“Alright, well I’m gonna get back to work,” Kenneth said.

“Hey, don’t forget to give Sassy a treat after she goes outside because that’s what she’s used to. Oh, and don’t forget that she likes to have dinner at–”

“I’ve owned the damn dog just as long as you have. You don’t have to give me instructions,” Kenneth cut me off.

“Can you send me pictures of her throughout the day? I’m really going to miss her,” I pleaded.

“You’re going to miss the dog more than me,” Kenneth scoffed.

I thought about that comment for a moment as I approached my gate. I glanced over the TV screen to verify my boarding time.

“Wow, you don’t even deny it,” Kenneth said.

“I’m sorry. I got distracted by my gate. It’s really busy here. I will text you when I land. Please send me pictures of Sassy. I will keep you posted. I love you,” I nearly lied into the phone.

“Love you too,” he said halfheartedly before ending the call.

While pulling my belongings behind me, I found a spot to sit down in the waiting area of my gate. The airport seemed to be a madhouse, but it looked like my flight wouldn’t be so crowded after all. There were more empty seats than I expected. I checked the “Nashville Babes” group text on my phone. I’ve had the notifications silenced for weeks because I can’t stand getting notified every 10 minutes. I asked Riley to text me separately if there was anything I really needed to know. I hate that I appear to be an unsupportive maid of honor, but seeing my phone light up constantly throughout the day–and night–has been a nightmare for my anxiety. Riley knows and understands that I get overwhelmed easily. She took charge of planning her own bachelorette weekend because she knew I would get stressed out. I still feel guilty about it, but she assured me that she truly wanted to plan it. I wasn’t going to argue. She’s always been the most supportive and constant person in my life. I hate that I am secretly jealous of her when I should be reciprocating the support.

“Now boarding Group A!” the airline attendant announced over the gate’s speaker. I checked my boarding pass: Group C. Once again, I took the most affordable option on the cheapest flight I could find. Being last to board on Southwest meant that I am doomed to a middle seat between two strangers. I just hope that whomever I get stuck between put on deodorant today. When I say I’m looking forward to a vacation, I mean I am looking forward to a break from 15-year-olds’ body odor. One of the many drawbacks of being a teacher.

“Excuse me,” a man in a white sweater and khaki pants said as he tried to shuffle by me. I thought he looked funny wearing both a baseball hat and sunglasses indoors. That doesn’t look suspicious in an airport. I moved my things from his path and he headed to board the plane. So he’s in Group A… This guy has money. Well, maybe not. He is flying Southwest after all. I’m sure I could have booked Group A tickets, but I didn’t want to ask Kenneth for any more money than I already needed. This trip was fully funded by me and I was proud of that. Well, until Riley picked the most expensive Airbnb in Nashville. I almost fainted when I received her Venmo request. I was grateful she didn’t charge me extra for staying one night by myself since I had an earlier flight. I swallowed my pride and asked Kenneth if I could have an extra $400 to add to my savings to help with my portion of the bill. He gave me the money with no issues, but he has enjoyed holding it above my head every chance he’s had.

Once I heard the announcement for Group C, I grabbed my things and headed to stand in line to board. I glanced at the Nashville Babes group text: 80 missed notifications. I cleared it from my phone as I opened the Southwest app to show my boarding pass. Once I was scanned in, I headed through the hallway to board the plane. I stepped on the aircraft and gazed over the heads of strangers who were all avoiding eye contact. I knew they were all pleading to themselves that I wouldn’t take their middle seat. The flight wasn’t too packed, but there were no empty window or aisle seats left. Wonderful. I scanned the rows once more looking for any open overhead space when I noticed someone’s eyes locked on me. Eyes that I hadn’t seen before; yet, a face that looked all too familiar. The Group A stranger had removed his sunglasses and was staring at me. I started to move down the aisle when he whispered to the guy in the row with him. Whoever he was, he looked angry receiving whatever news he just got. No chance I want to sit between a bickering couple. I located a row nearby filled with two women who looked rather normal. I went to lift my luggage to put in the overhead space when the Group A stranger grabbed my suitcase.

“Allow me,” he said with a smile that displayed the tiniest of gaps between his unusually white teeth. But rather than placing the suitcase in the compartment I had decided on, he placed it in the compartment above his row.

“Would you prefer the window seat or the aisle seat?” he asked.

“What happened to the man who was sitting with you?” I answered his question with a question.

“I asked him to sit elsewhere. I figured you’d prefer a better spot,” he smiled that smile again.

Bewildered, I responded: “I’ll take the aisle.” No way would I be confined to the window seat with this strange man trapping me in. I needed an escape route in case he was a pervert or something.

“Perfect. I love to watch the clouds anyways,” he said as he shuffled into the row. I followed suit but sat to keep an empty seat between us.

“Why didn’t your friend just sit in the middle if you wanted to give me a good seat?” I asked confusingly.

“That’s my–um–assistant. He can stand to sit elsewhere for the short flight since I see him all of the time. I’d prefer to sit next to someone more pleasant anyways,” he joked.

God he’s adorable. A little too forward but adorable nonetheless.

“Well, I appreciate you doing that for me. I figured I was going to have to sit between two strangers, but an aisle seat is definitely a welcomed surprise,” I said.

I opened my phone to inform the Nashville Babes that I had boarded and would be landing in roughly an hour and a half. I completely ignored the hundreds of messages that came before mine. I was about to put my phone on airplane mode when I received a private text from Riley.

Riley: “You ok?”

Me: “Yes, of course. I’m so excited to see you! Get ready to lose oxygen from my hug when I see you tomorrow.”

Riley: “Just checking. Haven’t heard from you in a couple days. Let me know when you land and when you make it to the Airbnb. Safe travels, love.”

I sighed as I read her message over and over. I smiled and held the message down to “love” it before searching through my purse to retrieve my headphones.

“Already getting the music out and we haven’t even heard the safety instructions yet. I think you need to pay attention,” I heard the adorable stranger say.

“There isn’t much I can do if there were an emergency. Knowing that I need to breathe oxygen through a mask that will drop in front of my face is all I need to know,” I said with a laugh.

“Just make sure to put your own mask on before you help me with mine,” he said.

“Who says I would help you?” I turned to him and asked.

“I helped you with your luggage. I helped you get an aisle seat. The least you can do is help me breathe,” he said with a smile that displayed his perfect teeth again.

I laughed and replied, “Ok, well I am not banking on there being an emergency, so no need to worry.”

“Does anyone ever bank on an emergency?” he asked. Smart ass.

I rolled my eyes and placed my headphones in my ears. I opened my Spotify app to find the playlist I downloaded to prepare for the flight.

“Who are you listening to?” the stranger asked. I am beginning to wish I had sat between the two women after all. Not having to play 20 questions with this guy would have been worth sacrificing the extra space I had in this aisle seat.

“Nobody yet as I literally just opened the app,” I responded.

“Can I give you a song suggestion?” he asked.

“Um… I guess?” I replied questioningly.

“May I?” he asked as he reached for my phone.

“I’m not giving a stranger my phone,” I said with a shocked expression to my tone. The nerve of this guy.

“What am I going to do? Run off with it? You’ve got me trapped in,” he smiled showing that cute, tiny gap again.

“No thanks,” I said as I went to start my music.

Suddenly, he unbuckled his seat belt and stood up from his seat. I stared at him wide-eyed as a flight attendant stopped by our row to say, “Sir, please stay seated and buckle your seat belt.”

He waved to the irritated attendant and displayed a soft smile as he sat in the middle seat beside me. Immediately I was hit with his fresh cologne scent that made me crave more as he started to buckle the seat belt. You have got to be kidding me.

“What are you doing?” I somehow yelled and whispered simultaneously.

“Please let me pick a song for you to listen to. Then I will leave you alone. I promise,” he said with a slight pout to his lips. God, his lips. How did I not notice those yet?

“Give me your phone in exchange,” I said with an air of confidence in my voice.

“Ah, so she’s smart and she’s beautiful,” he said as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants. I tried to hide the blush that I could feel warming my cheeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I received a compliment.

“I’m not unlocking it, but I will let you hold it for ransom,” he said as he held his phone out to me. I took it from his hands as his fingers brushed against mine. I felt an immediate rush of energy run through me as our hands briefly touched. What was that? I handed him my phone and watched as he typed the words “Greta Van Fleet” into the search bar in my Spotify app. He made a face that almost seemed disappointed, and then clicked to download the band’s complete playlist. He attempted to hand my phone back to me, and I stared at him confusingly as I reached for it. I was too busy watching him with my phone; I never even glanced at his lockscreen. Before I gave him back his phone, I tapped the screen to see what his background was. On display was a photo of a crowd of lights, but the photographer must have been standing on the stage when they took it. There had to be thousands of phone flashlights in this one photo. It reminded me of tiny stars in the midnight sky.

“I took that picture, ya know?” he said with a proud smile.

“Are you a concert photographer?” I asked.

He let out a wild laugh and then glanced down at my phone’s screen, “It’s almost finished downloading.”

“I thought you said a song suggestion. A. One. Singular. Not a whole playlist,” I said.

“I mean… I wanted to give you options,” he said.

Waving his phone to him I asked, “So, is this crowd picture from this band’s concert?”

“Yes,” he said, like there was more he was wanting me to ask. I decided to have the upperhand and gave him his phone back without asking another question. I watched my screen as the playlist was nearly completely downloaded.

“I’m Josh,” he said like he was annoyed that I hadn’t asked for his name yet.

“Hi, Josh,” I replied disinterestedly.

“And you are…?” he asked.

“I’m about to listen to this playlist,” I said with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Smart, beautiful, arrogant…” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that,” I said as I put my headphones in. “You can move back to the window now.”

“We are about to take off. If I stand up, I’ll cause a scene and then we’ll be delayed. Then I’ll probably become a flight risk and be forcibly removed off of the plane. Everyone would be recording the fiasco and posting it online. Let’s just avoid all of that and I’ll stay seated here,” he said with a smirk.

“You have quite the imagination…” I said hiding my smile.

“I’m sacrificing a coveted window seat for you. I hope you know that,” he replied.

“I never asked you to change seats,” I said.

“No, but you didn’t object either,” he responded with a smug expression on his face.

Once the playlist completed its download, I switched my phone to airplane mode. I sighed in frustration and scrolled through the playlist to view the songs. Whoever this band is, they have quite a discography. I wanted to ask him which song I should start with but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I scrolled until the title “Trip the Light Fantastic” caught my eye. Intrigued, I selected the song and tilted my head back to listen to it. Before I shut my eyes, I noticed Josh was staring at my phone to see which song I chose first. I closed my eyes and relaxed as the lyrics danced through my ears. I have never heard anything like this before. I was so entranced in the music that I didn't even realize we were now speeding down the runway about to take off. The music, plus the feeling of lifting off the ground, was nearly overwhelming in the best way possible. I felt like I had stepped into the song itself. When the song ended, I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted to stay in this moment for as long as possible.

“What did you think?” I heard Josh ask as I removed my headphones.

“Wow,” is all I could formulate. My thoughts ran wild and I wanted to describe the feeling I just had, but I couldn’t put it into words.

“What did you think about the guy’s voice?” he asked.

“The dude is talented as hell. I just wish I could understand everything he sang,” I said.

There was that wild laugh of his again. “Yeah, I think the band receives that criticism a lot,” he said with a shrug. I truly wanted to listen to another song, but I didn’t want him to know I was so interested in this band. I guess one could call me stubborn.

“While I love to share music with new people, I’d love to talk some more if that’s alright with you,” he said sheepishly.

“I feel like you would talk to me even if it weren’t alright with me,” I said sarcastically.

“Smart, beautiful, arrogant,” he repeated. I playfully pinched his arm.

“Hey!” he exclaimed as he rubbed his arm.

“I let it slide the first time. I wasn’t going to let you get away with it again,” I said.

“Now that I’ve been physically assaulted… Are you going to Nashville for business or pleasure?” he asked.

“I’m attending a bachelorette party,” I said.

“For you or someone else?” he asked, looking down at the dainty ring on my finger. The same ring that has been without a wedding band companion for nearly two years. The same ring I wanted to leave inside the jewelry box before I left my house this morning.

“It’s for my best friend Riley,” I said with a sadness that I couldn’t hide like I normally do.

As if Josh sensed the change in my mood, he completely turned his body to face mine. I could tell that he positioned his head to get me to look at him. I locked eyes with him and it was like I could actually see the wheels in his head turning.

“How long will you be in Nashville?” he asked.

“For four nights. I had to take two days off from work, but I’m looking forward to it,” I said with a forced smile.

“You don’t sound like someone who is excited to attend a bachelorette party,” he said.

“It’s just a lot, but I am excited for Riley,” I said trying to convince the both of us that I really was excited.

“What do you do for work?” he asked while continuing to hold eye contact. As I stared into his dark brown eyes, I studied the long lashes that I would kill to have.

“I teach 9th grade English,” I responded.

“Smart, beautiful, arrogant, and a world changer. A difference maker. One who shapes the minds of our youth. You’re a hero to our doomed society,” he said. I felt my cheeks redden as I processed the way he just described my job. I don’t normally feel appreciated at work, not even at home. It felt good to have someone remind me of my purpose.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m just a glorified babysitter,” I said with a nervous laugh.

“You should never feel that way. I think you have one of the most important jobs in the world. I’m just a concert photographer,” he said with a tone that I couldn’t quite place.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I said, finally giving into a real smile. I watched his eyes fall to my mouth and I could feel a million butterflies in my stomach. Why does he have such an effect on me? I shook the thoughts from my head as I opened the Southwest app to see how much longer our flight had. A little over one hour to go with a stranger who makes me feel better about myself than anyone has in years. Maybe I should take a nap.

“What’s on the agenda for your bachelorette weekend? Bars and strippers?” he asked with a smile.

“Definitely the strippers. That’s a necessity,” I responded with a smirk.

“Well, when I’m not taking pictures at concerts, I happen to moonlight as an exotic dancer,” he said returning the smirk I gave.

“I’m sure you make more money taking pictures,” I said biting my lip.

“First you physically assaulted me and now you’ve verbally assaulted me,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said, covering my face from the embarrassment of inadvertently insulting him.

“No, you’re right. The crowd usually pays me to keep my clothes on,” he said tilting his head down in shame. Unlikely.

“What’s your stripper name?” I asked. Before he could answer, the plane suddenly dropped in altitude. I heard screams from the rows behind us. I gasped and grabbed his hand before shutting my eyes. The turbulence was over quickly as everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at the same time. I slowly opened my eyes to realize everything was ok. I didn’t realize I was still holding Josh’s hand until he asked, “Are you ok?”

“Yes, sorry about that,” I said as I quickly jerked my hand back to my lap.

“No need to apologize for the hand-holding. It was nice while it lasted,” he said with a wink.

“Who was the first person to cross your mind when you felt the plane drop?” I asked him in a serious tone.

Without hesitation, he responded, “My mom.”

“Tell me about her,” I said.

“She’s the most important person on the planet,” he said looking at his hands. “She has given up so much for me and I hope I make her proud.”

“I’m sure you do,” I said while trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I’m not sure if my nerves were shot from the temporary panic or if his sentiment was getting to me.

“Who did you think of?” he asked.

“Honestly… I thought of myself,” I admitted with shame.

“Really? Elaborate on that,” he said as I could tell he was giving me his full attention.

“I’m sure I sound narcissistic, but I thought I was about to die without having lived, and then I’d leave a legacy of nothing behind,” I said with a sigh.

“I know I don’t know you. Shit, I don’t even know your name. But, I can tell that your death would most definitely leave an impact on people,” he said.

“Nothing like discussing death with a total stranger,” I said with a light laugh.

“Death doesn’t scare me. I know it’s not the end. I just enjoy my life and the love I can give to the world while I’m here in my physical form. The love I provide won’t leave when I fade away,” he said. I stared at him like I just heard one of the most philosophical phrases come from another person’s mouth in years. He’s insightful and adorable.

“I got that from a song, by the way. It’s on the playlist I downloaded to your phone. Don’t be too impressed,” he said with a laugh.

“Ah, plagiarism,” I said.

“That’s actually my stripper name,” he said with a smirk.

“Now I definitely know you aren’t making any money,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“How about I give you a glimpse of my routine and you tell me what I can do to improve my shtick to make more money?” he asked.

Stunned by his foreward remark, I immediately felt guilt running through my veins. This is the most flirting I’ve had since high school. I’m not used to this sort of attention. I looked down at my hands in my lap.

“I’m sorry if that was too much. I–” Josh began to say.

“No, no it’s ok. I was just worried I wouldn’t have enough money in my purse to get you to keep your clothes on once you started,” I said stifling a giggle.

“Alright just kick a man while he’s down,” he said as he clutched his hands over his heart. He threw his head back acting like he was wounded and I eyed his neck. His adam’s apple protruded, making me feel weak.

“I wonder if there is a doctor on board to help you,” I said sarcastically looking around the plane.

Suddenly he rose out of his seat and shouted, “Is there a doctor in the house?”

Completely stunned, I stared at him with wide eyes. I cannot believe he just did that. I watched a flight attendant quickly make his way over to our row. Oh my God.

“Sir, are you having a medical emergency?” the flight attendant asked him. Next to the attendant stood Josh’s assistant, the angry man who changed his seat earlier.

“No, no, I am ok now. Sorry for the alarm,” he said, trying not to laugh. His assistant rolled his eyes and quickly returned back to his middle seat. I’m sure he is used to Josh’s antics by now. The flight attendant gave a displeased look to both of us before walking away. I felt like I had just received punishment for a crime I didn’t do. Guilty by association.

“That was so not funny!” I exclaimed with a sigh.

“I can’t help myself sometimes,” he said with a smile. This dude is nuts.

“You’re a lunatic,” I said, getting my headphones back out.

“No, wait. I am sorry,” he said. “I’ll move back over to the window seat and leave you alone,” he said with a sense of shame in his voice. I put my headphones in as I watched him change seats then position his body to where he was looking out the window. I was no longer in his line of vision. I opened my Spotify app and his Greta Van Fleet playlist was there. I hesitated. I wanted to listen to another song but I also wanted to block this guy from my mind and listen to my own music. Against my better judgment, I selected “Light My Love” from the playlist. I closed my eyes and listened to one of the most beautiful songs I had ever heard.

Chapter Three

I was six songs deep into this playlist when I felt someone tap on my arm. I reluctantly opened my eyes for I was enjoying being in a complete and utter trance of this band. Josh looked sheepish as I removed my headphones.

“Do you care to let me out to use the bathroom? I really need to stretch my legs,” he said. Without responding, I shifted my body and moved my legs into the aisle to give him a clear walkway. He shuffled past me and I got a whiff of his cologne again. He smells so damn good. Maybe I’m being irrational for giving him the silent treatment. I’m 26-years-old but I’m acting like I’m 12. I decided to act more civil once he returned to our row. I don’t want to look too anxious, but I couldn’t help but watch the bathroom door awaiting his return. After what felt like an eternity, I decided to do something irrational. I can be crazy too. I took my headphones off and left them in the seat as I shoved my phone in my jeans pocket. I stood up and started to make my way to the bathroom to check on him. As I got closer to the door, it opened and he exited. I wanted to retreat back to my seat from pure embarrassment, but there was nowhere to turn. He looked up at me and scrunched his eyebrows together like he was confused. As he should be. I decided to try to play it off that I needed to use the restroom rather than run back to my seat like I desperately wanted to. As he moved past me, his body brushed against mine and I felt every nerve from my toes to my scalp tingle. I felt like I could no longer breathe. I made my way into the tiny bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. “Get it together,” I said aloud to my reflection. I took a few deep breaths and made my way back to my seat. I made the mistake of looking at him because his deep brown eyes were once again locked on mine. A shiver immediately ran through me. I sat back down in my aisle seat and tried to think of something to ease the awkward tension.

“What has been your favorite song off the playlist?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“That’s difficult to say. I have genuinely loved all of the ones I’ve listened to so far,” I said with a smile. His cheeks almost looked like they were a new shade of pink. Was he blushing? I quickly added, “Thank you for sharing this band with me.”

“Thank you for listening,” he said back with a smile. I bit my lip as I felt like the awkward tension was over. However, a new tension was forming.

I checked the Southwest app and realized we were set to land very soon. I put my headphones back in my purse as a sign that I was ready to talk to him. He picked up on my cue because he quickly switched seats again. His cologne hit me and if I hadn’t been sitting, I may have collapsed. He buckled his seat belt just before the overhead light signaled us to do so.

“What’s the first thing you and your friends are doing tonight?” he asked.

“Actually, I am flying in a day earlier than everyone, so I have the Airbnb alone until everyone flies in tomorrow,” I said. I suddenly realized that I shouldn’t have told a stranger that I was going to be staying alone in an unfamiliar city, but the words had already left my lips. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Really?” he said as he sat up straight in his seat. I nodded but then looked away. I can’t believe I just overshared this information with him.

“If you’d like some company…” he said quietly. I quickly turned my head back to him. I was dreading another night by myself, especially without Sassy. Riley said I could FaceTime her tonight, but I didn’t want to bother her while she finished packing and getting her stuff together. I was going to use the time to decorate the place before her arrival anyways.

I stammered, “Josh, I–”

“How about dinner? I can take you to some of my favorite places in town. What do you like to eat?” he asked with a big smile. The idea of not being alone was tempting and as frustrating as he had been at times, I really did enjoy his company.

Before I could give him an answer, I felt our plane touch the ground as we braced for a complete stop. This was always my least favorite part about flying.

“I really need to decorate the Airbnb and unpack. I’d like to get settled in rather than go out. Plus, I don’t have a vehicle,” I finally responded as the sounds of seat belts unbuckled around us.

“If it’s not too forward, I could always come over and cook for you. I can bring some groceries and wine, or whatever else you’d like to drink. I can even help you decorate. You can’t spend your first night in Nashville alone,” he said.

I mulled over his offer as people around us began to stand up and form a line in the center aisle as they collected their luggage from the overhead compartments. Josh appeared not to be in any hurry to leave, nor was I.

“Fine. But I want to text your full name, picture, vehicle description, and phone number to Riley in case I go missing,” I said with a matter-of-fact tone.

He laughed nervously and then said, “Give me your phone.” I put in my passcode and handed it to him. He stared at my background, a picture of Sassy and me, before opening the contacts app. “I’m giving you my number so you can text me your address when you’re ready for me to come over to cook you dinner,” he said as he was typing. I watched the plane empty row by row until it felt like we were the last two remaining on board. I noticed his assistant standing in the aisle waiting on Josh. “I think you’re going to get an earful when you get off the plane,” I said, eyeing the angry-looking man.

“I usually do,” he said with a smile as he passed my phone back to me. I glanced down at the contact name that read Plagiarism with the winky face emoji. I covered my mouth as I laughed loudly.

“Ahem,” we both heard his assistant clear his throat as he began tapping his foot impatiently.

“Ok, I think it’s time to go,” I said as I grabbed my purse and stepped into the aisle to let him out. While Josh exited his seat, he stood so close that I could smell his delicious scent again. I watched him open the compartment and get our luggage out. He lifted the handle of my suitcase and handed it to me. I smiled at his kindness, avoiding eye contact, because I had about all that I could stand.

We made our way down the center aisle following his assistant off of the plane. Before he stepped inside the airport, I watched as he put his sunglasses back on. Weird.

“I’ll be anxiously waiting for your text,” he said to me as he pulled his hat down a little further over his face. Before he walked away, he said, “I’ll send you all of the info you need for Riley when I hear from you,” with a wink.

I made my way down to ground transportation and requested an Uber to take me to the Airbnb. I sent Kenneth a text to let him know that I had landed, but I texted Riley that I was going to call her ASAP. I needed her advice now more than ever. I knew I was treading in dangerous waters by allowing that adorable, frustrating, sexy, funny, crazy stranger to come over, but something made me want to be around him. I may be in too deep, but I’ve always been a strong swimmer.

#josh kiszka #joshua michael kiszka #greta van fleet #greta van fic #gvf #josh gvf #fanfic #lovestories

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mamadoc · 29 days

Note

FUN FACT FRIDAY!!! What’s one fun fact about you that you haven’t shared with us yet?

Hmmmm…

I grew up in a middle class family with five younger siblings in Washington state. We lived comfortably. I always had enough clothing and food. It was a good life. But we never did anything big or exciting or traveled much. When I graduated from high school, I had only been to 7 states. The furthest EAST I had traveled was Wyoming, which is solidly in the west. I had only been on an airplane once to fly to college.

Then I served a mission for my church in Korea for 18 months in the middle of my college years. My time there really turned on my desire to see more of the world.

I studied my heinie off to get into medical school and spent the meager amount I made by working part-time in college to fly around for interviews.

I moved to Upstate New York for med school where I met my husband. He’s half Japanese and spent half of his life in Japan and half in the US. He grew up traveling a lot more than I did with all the moving he did growing up.

We now live comfortably in the Midwest with our 4 sons. We are able to do SO much more than I did growing up. We travel and do all sorts of interesting and fun activities. I’ve now been to 47 states and 16 countries. Even my youngest, who is 4 years old, has been to 34 states and 6 countries.

Travel gets me away from my neverending to do list and my very demanding and tiring work environment. It’s the break I need for my mental health and well being. It’s one of the things that brings me great joy. I gave up my 20s for my education, but now I have a job that I love and get to see and do really cool things.

I don’t know if that’s the type of thing you wanted for this question, but there you go.

Do you want to share a fun fact about yourself??

#asked and answered #fun facts #I LOVE TO TRAVEL #worked my heinie off for this #my kids don’t know how good they have it

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sabraeal · 4 months

Text

in a world of locked doors, she's an open window; Part 1

[Read on AO3]

There are few things Gojo could say he is unequivocally— naturally— good at. There's school— that’s what Kitagawa-san would tell him, pointing at his middling scores, ones that always make the board but never quite the top. But that isn’t natural talent; no, that is the result of weeks of study, of all the small bites he takes each night to help digest the whole.

And sewing too— that’s what Ji-chan would say. Or rather, you make a fine mebina, Wakana, accompanied by an affectionate pat on the shoulder— if he could still reach— but what he means is the clothes they wear. And he might be right, but…

But Gojo remembers the pile of small kimono he had to remake those first few months while he struggled to understand ‘cutting on the bias.’ Or how the first pattern he drafted refused to fit together at the shoulder, mismeasured so badly that Ji-chan had sat at his elbow for his next attempt, gently reminding him to mind both size and proportion. Not to mention those first costumes he made Kitagawa-san— forgetting that unlike dolls, humans needed to move in their clothes, needed to breathe, and…

And sometimes he simply wonders if, unlike everyone else, he doesn’t have talents so much as struggles he simply got better at handling. Or didn’t, considering how half a year away from graduation he still can’t get the eyebrows to sit right on this kashira.

“It’s good, Wakana,” Ji-chan grunts, shuffling behind him. “I’d be proud to put a doll like that on display.”

Gojo squints, tracing the curve of his brush. “It’s not like yours.”

Laughs do not so much bubble up from Ji-chan as they do burble, like a stream squeezing itself through the gravel in his throat. “And why would it be? Don’t you know how long have I been at this?”

“Forty—?”

“Fifty!” Ji-chan barks, setting a stack of loose-bound books on the table before he settles under it. “It’s fifty this year. And even if I didn’t have all those years on you…”

No kashira painter holds the brush the same way. A fair point, if Gojo didn’t objectively hold his worse. “What are those?”

Ji-chan blinks, staring down at those books as if he hadn’t seen them before. “What? These? They’re the accounts. Sales, purchases, that sort of things. You’ve seen them around, haven’t you?”

Once, when he was still able to wriggle into Ji-chan’s lap. He’d let him flip through it, marveling at the endless pages of cramped characters— and closed it when Gojo had squinted at a few strokes and tried to stumble through the words. They’re notes for me, he’d sniffed, dust whuffing up from the pages, not everyone has to be able to work them out.

“I though you would have switched to, er…” Gojo clamps his teeth around the word, digital. The shop might have a website— one designed by his uncle nearly fifteen years ago now, when he insisted that any legitimate business needed an online presence— but Ji-chan still wouldn’t get an email address. “I didn’t realize you still had, um, physical copies.”

“There’s nothing wrong with doing it by hand,” he huffs, hunching over his arms. “And now when that accountant comes, I can just hand him the whole thing. No fuss at all! Not like with those file things.”

Gojo can’t bring himself to mention that using 'one of those file things' would mean the accountant didn’t have to come to them. Then again, knowing Ji-chan, that would be yet another tally in the ‘con’ category— much as he might like to say that he preferred to stay at the studio, surrounded by familiar faces, Ji-chan could spend hours on quick trips to the corner store, coming back not only with the ingredient for dinner, but whose grandson just went to medical school, or which neighbor's daughter is having yet another bundle of joy.

Instead, he manages, “We have an accountant?”

“Of course! You don’t think I do all this math myself, do you?” Ji-chan laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a smart kid, Wakana, but you got that from your grandmother. I might have done all the work, but she was the one who kept the lights on.”

His hand sweeps over a hard cover, a fond smile chasing on its heels. Gojo’s tongue twists, useless in his mouth, and— and it’s not often that they talk about it, about what it was like before. Before it was just them, trying to make the empty space feel like home. He wants to say something, should say something, but he’s never known how to put this sort of thing into words— how to say, I miss them too and I’m glad it was you all at once.

“And now I have to pay someone else to make sure I don’t muck it up.” Ji-chan pats the cover with a rueful chuckle. “Costs a pretty penny too!”

Gojo frowns, setting the kashira aside in its canisters. “Can I see one of those?”

Ji-chan blinks. “If you’d like.”

“I would.” He slides the ledger across the table, hefting the cover open. Ji-chan’s spiky scrawl stretches across every page, too much at first, too messy, but then--

Then they setting in into neat columns, numbers running up one side of the page and labels down the other.

There may not be much that comes naturally to him, but holding this ledger in his hands, seeing how the rows tally and the columns coalesce into concrete answers— this decision finally does. “I think I could do this.”

Ji-chan glances up from across the table. “Wakana?”

“For—for the shop,” he clarifies, tongue tripping over itself to keep up with his thoughts. “I think I could learn to do this.”

It’s silent for a moment, both of them sitting utterly still, Ji-chan’s wide eyes not even blinking.

“Well,” he creaks, after a moment. “Do you think that’s something that needs a degree?”

It all falls together quite quickly, after that. There’s relief on his homeroom teacher’s face when he stops by the office, the fabric of his uniform pants scratching his palms as he tells her he’s changed his mind about university. There’s the exams of course— and a round of cram school in the fall, expensive enough that Gojo feels balanced on a knife’s edge, wondering if the money they might save will ever equal what he’s spent trying to learn.

Kitagawa-san only laughs when he worries.

“I guess I’ll just have to cosplay twice as much.” It’s hard to take her seriously when she’s taking bites from a burger the size of her own head; a promotional item she’d dragged him into the heart of Saitama to try. “Then you’ll break even like nothing!”

“I only charge you for materials, Kitagawa-san,” he reminds her. Expensive ones, sometimes, but it’s worth it to see the way she lights up, looking at herself and seeing someone she loves.

“Well, you should let me pay you for your labor or whatever, my dude!” Her hand whips across the table, smacking his shoulder hard enough to make him jump. “Maybe then Juju-chan won’t say I’m a total mooch.”

Freeloader, that’s the word Inui-san uses. And once, more memorably, deadbeat. “I couldn’t…”

“Whaaat?” Kitagawa-san nearly launches herself over the table to stare at him, a smear of some condiment at the corner of her mouth. He tries— uselessly— not to stare. “Why not?”

“Ah…” His mouth works, trying to wrap itself around a reason. Because you were my first customer— too sterile, not a lie but dodging the truth enough to make his shoulders itch. Because you’re my friend— but he has others now, ones that do pay him in full, and she knows it. Because you were my first friend— still not quite true.

Because there’s no better payment than to see you happy. Ah, that’s— that’s not something he can say either. Maybe Amano-san could; he was charming, able to say the most heartfelt words like a performance. But Gojo— Gojo could only sound earnest, and she would be able to hear it, all the other words he can never say, and—

“Oh,” he murmurs, holding up the menu between them. “Did you see they have desserts?”

For so long— maybe even earlier than primary school, earlier than the day his only friend ran out the door with tears in her eyes— it felt as if every door had been locked against him. As if even asking to open a window in this room he’d made for himself was an imposition, a burden that could only be begrudgingly carried, and never for long. And then Kitagawa-san had come, dragging him out into the light of day, showing him how to do more than ask for some elbow room, but take up space, and—

And so it’s strange now to watch how the very stars align to make all this happen. A few extra commissions roll in just in time to make cram school not only break even but put him in the black again. He only sits in three exams— all of them to colleges either in or near enough to Saitama to allow him to still stay with Ji-chan— sweating through each one only to find himself posted on every acceptance list. He chooses the closest, and—

And now he’s here, seated toward the back of the lecture hall, squinting at the screen, trying to discern whether that's some new mathematical symbol on the teacher's notes or a flaw in the screen.

“Gojo-kun. Gojo-kun.” He glances sternly from the corner of his eyes, sighing at big dark ones staring back, half-black, half-red ponytails bobbing. “Do you have an eraser?”

Darting a glance toward the front of the hall— the professor is still elbow deep in his explanation— he fishes one out from his bag.

“Thanks,” Sugaya-san chirps. “Hey, this lecture hall is pretty full, huh? Weird.”

It’s the beginning of the semester, he wants to tell her—would, if they weren’t supposed to be in class. Most of these diligent academics will peel away over the next few weeks, until only he and a handful of other students scattered across the seats in the hall. Something Sugaya-san might know, if she hadn’t spent last year doing the same thing. Or at least she had in the classes they shared, taking shifts at her family’s restaurant and begging notes off him instead.

“You know what?” Her head tilts, thoughtful. “I think I gotta pee. Watch my stuff?”

“Sugaya-san!” he hisses, whipping toward her. “Class is almost—!”

It’s no good, her chair is already empty— aside from the bag slung over its back— the door to the classroom snicking shut at her heels. Gojo sighs, shaking his head. No wonder she and Kitagawa-san are friends; neither of them can sit still for a minute.

“If you have any questions” —Gojo’s head snaps to the front of the class, watching as the professor turns off the display, a handful of students already on their feet— “Please comes to the front. These problems will be on your exam.”

There’s only a trickle of his classmates that wind their way to the professor’s desk, most of them preferring to hurry out the door. Gojo’s tempted to join them; there’s only an hour until his next class, his only opportunity to eat before he gets home this evening. Enough time for a leisurely lunch, if he brought a bento or ran out to get one from the konbini around the corner, but—

But it’s the longest break in his whole schedule, and the only one that coincides with one in Kitagawa-san’s. Kitagawa-san, whose break is one and a half hours and likes to try something new each day. He just has to hope his meal comes quick enough that he can sit and eat.

Gojo glances down at Sugaya-san’s bag, slung over the seat. He can’t just leave her things here. But maybe he could take it with him-- she' eats with them after all, and he'd be saving her the trouble of carrying it to the restaurant--

“Wacchan?”

His muscles seize so quickly he nearly chokes. He’s…he’s hearing things. He must be.

His knuckle blanch where he grips his bag, bone white against navy blue. Maybe, it’s for someone else. Yes, someone else. No one’s called him that since—

“Wacchan?” There’s a laugh— not familiar, not as a woman’s voice, but he recognizes it anyway. Would have recognized it anywhere, even in a crowd, since it had been his favorite sound when— “Sorry, no one probably calls you that anymore. Maybe…Wakana-kun?”

Gojo’s head jerks up, and he— he must be mistaken. There’s no way that he— that she— that those eyes could be so familiar, not even if it’s her. Not when…when it’s been so long…?

“E-excuse me. Do I…?” Know you feels…abrupt. Terse. Curt, even. But he’s not sure what else he can say, not when his eyes keep trying to add a small side tail to the side of her bob, when what keeps echoing in his head is—

Why do you like girls’ dolls, Wacchan? You’re a boy. His breath comes barbed now, sticking spines into his chest each time takes one in. I hate you, Wacchan!

“Ah…” He clears his throat, a half dozen of those little spikes clattering down his windpipe. “Have we…met?”

Her head cocks, the once too-short bangs now perfectly cut to slip across her forehead. “Have I really changed that much?” Her mouth curves, mischievous. “You wouldn’t forget your best friend, would you?”

“N-n”— it’s terrible how easy the shape comes to his mouth, like it’s been waiting— “Non-chan?”

Her mouth rounds, matching the wide shape of her eyes, and he claps a hand over his own. “Sorry. I mean…Mizuno-san. It’s…nice to see you again.”

He says it politely-- friendly even. The way Ji-chan does when he can’t quite place a customer. But her forehead scrunches up, and— what if she cries? Right here, where anyone might hear, calling him a freak or a— a degenerate, or even—

“Mizuno-san?” she sighs instead, disappointed. “Are you really going to call me that?”

“I c-can’t just call you, N-n” —his voice drops to a whisper— “Non-chan. You’re not…we’re not little kids. It wouldn’t be…appropriate.”

Her lip juts out, just the way it used to. “Well…you don’t have to be so formal, do you?”

He makes an uncertain noise, more cornered animal than grown man, but she only stares up at him, eyes so wide, so expectant, he blurts out, “A-are you in this class? I haven’t…um…seen you…”

“I hadn’t either until today. I usually sit a little further back.” She gestures vaguely toward the other end of the room. “But I saw you sit down— you’re really tall, you know? Way bigger than most guys— and I was sure I recognized you. I worried that it might be too weird to say something— it’s been a long time right? And guys’ faces change so much— but then I saw, well…”

Her chin jerks to the open flap on his back, right where black hair and an enigmatic smile peer out from the pocket— his latest kashira, not the least bit hidden. “Ah! Oh…I…haah…”

“Your grandfather still runs that place, doesn’t he?”

“Um…” Gojo clears his throat, fists clenching tight around the back’s strap. “Yes. He does.”

Mizuno-san lets out the lightest laugh, eyes crinkling up at the corner, and all at once, it’s real. It’s her. Non-chan. Only older now, grown up in a way he’s not sure he’s achieved. “I guess that means you really are going to get saddled with that place, huh?”

“I…” It’s true; the shop will be his when Ji-chan retires— if he ever does— but there’s something about how she says that— saddled— that doesn’t sit right. That feels less like an honor but an obligation. “I don’t—”

“Ah, hey, Gojo-kun!” A small hand smack him in the vicinity of his shoulder, falling a few inches short of the goal. “Thanks for watch my stuff, bro. Want to…”

Sugaya-san trails off, eyes darting to where Mizuno-san stands, smile wide but eyes tight. “You…uh…good, my man?”

��Yes,” he lies. “Ah, I just…Mizuno-san, er…we…uh…”

“Didn’t I just say you didn’t need to call me that?” she laughs, not as bright as before. “I’m Mizuno Nobara. Wacchan and I went to elementary school together.”

Sugaya-san’s perfectly plucked eyebrows disappear behind the sharp horizon of her bangs. “You did.”

“Yes,” Mizuno-san says tightly. “You must be…one of his friends?”

“Sugaya.” She glances at him, too quick, before adding, “Sugaya Nowa. We met in high school. Through Marin-chan! Who, uh, just texted.”

Gojo blinks, fumbling with his pockets. He hadn’t even thought to look, not even when class got out. “She did?”

“Yeah, while I was peeing.” She flicks on her phone, squinting down at the screen. “She says there’s some place she’s been dying to try out around the corner. We can meet her there.”

“Oh.” He glances up at the classroom clock, wincing at the time. “We should hurry if we don’t want to be last for ethics.”

“Ethics,” she groans, throwing back her head. “Last thing I want to talk about after lunch is like, hostile takeover stuff. We shoulda taken the morning one.”

With infinite patience, he reminds her, “It was at eight o’clock.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“Oh, you have plans?” Mizuno-san asks, mouth settling into a grimace. “I thought if you were free we might go catch up, but…?”

“Yep yep.” Sugaya seizes his arm like pet birds take to a perch, fingernails digging in hard enough to turn his half-started sentence into a squeak. “Super set. Like, written in stone kinda can’t-move-it. Ritual disembowelment type thing.”

“Oh.” Mizuno-san’s wide eyes linger on him, wistful. “Some other time, I guess.”

“Y-yes! Definitely.” He tries a smile, but by Sugaya-san’s grimace, he’s wide of the mark. “That would be…nice?”

“Okie dokie time to go,” she sing-songs, dragging him out by the arm. “Nice to meetcha, childhood friend-chan. Seeya next time!”

There's a strange taste in his mouth as they leave the lecture hall, a nagging feeling that he has somehow missed something important. He means to ask Sugaya-san once they've gotten outside, but--

But Gojo’s barely put a whole foot into the hallway when there’s a squeal of sneakers against polished floor; his only warning before arms wrap right around his middle, fake nails catching on the fabric at his stomach. “Gojo-senpai!”

“K-kitagawa-san!” His hands hover useless over her cross arms, uncertain of how to untangle himself from her. “I-I told you that you don’t have to c-call me that.”

“Awww, but it’s true, my dude!” Her whole weight slumps against his back, warm and wiggling, like an overexcited puppy. Which he wouldn’t mind, not at all, except— except her underwire digs into his spine, a firm reminder of just what is pressed against him, and well…

Well, he’d like to be able to think for the duration of this conversation, that’s all. Not lose track of every word she says two syllables in as his brain forced him to imagine what it might look like if he had the neck flexibility to appreciate it. “I appreciate that, Kitagawa-san, but—”

“But I’m your kouhai,” she pouts, chin hooking around his elbow. “And you’re my senpai. Omigod, does that mean you should be taking care of me? Wait, that sounds so funny right? ‘Gojo-senpai, please take care of—’”

“We’re the same age!” Heat licks up his neck, stained pink as a shrimp’s shell. “I don’t think the same rules apply just because you, er…”

Started late. That’s what he meant to say. But it feels…rude, the way late bloomer had felt when his teachers had whispered it between their desks. Like somehow she’s behind because she’d spent a whole year flying around, doing exactly what she loved and getting paid for it.

“Huh? Why not?” Her head cocks, the grip she has on him loosening. Physically, at least. “You’re still my senior, aren’t you? I mean like, if we didn’t know each other, I’d totally call you senpai, and everyone would think that was like, super normal and stuff, so—”

“Marin-chan,” Sugaya-san sighs, pigtails tilting over her shoulders. “You’re torturing him again.”

“Whaaat?” He shivers when she steps back, hands hooked around her hips, a chill seeping up his spine. “I’m not! Totes not. Right, Gojo-senpai? Not torture at all, nu-uh.”

“Ah…” She turns huge eyes on him, so hopeful, and all he can manage is a half-hearted, “K-kitagawa-san…”

“Mah-ri-ne.” Sugaya-san pulls out each syllable, impatient. “Are we going to eat or what?”

“Uh, yes? I’m starving, my dude!” Kitagawa-san prances around him, sneaker squeaking as she twirls to his front. “You’re starving too, right, Gojo-kun?”

Gojo clear his throat. That’s better at least. “I…could eat.”

“Then let’s bounce!” She claps, smile blinding over her steepled fingers. “Where should we go? I just saw a guy like two days ago selling those meat-wrapped onigiri across from the student center or whatever, so maybe—”

“Ah!” Panic grips him at the thought of her cholesterol. “I thought…didn’t Sugaya-san say you had a place in mind?”

Kitagawa-san blinks. “I did?”

“Didn’t you?” His gaze darts to where Sugaya-san stands, too innocent.

“Sorry, bro.” Neither her words nor her shrug are the least bit contrite. “Thought it looked like you needed a rescue, so I did what I had to do, you know.”

He, in fact, does not know, but before he can inform her of the fact, Kitagawa-san’s eyes go huge in her face. “Rescue?” She’s practically starry-eyed, glancing between the two of them. “You needed to be rescued?”

“N-not as—”

“Sure looked like it,” Sugaya-san tosses over her shoulder, ambling down the hall. Her stride is two steps to Kitagawa-san’s one, and with hers one to his two, well— it doesn’t take long to catch up. Not when Kitagawa-san is so interested, at least. “Some girl came up to him after class. Said she was his childhood friend and then tried to get him to a secondary location and everything.”

“I-I don’t think you need to say it l-like that—”

“Secondary location?” Kitagawa-san breathes. “Childhood friend?”

“You looked uncomfortable,” she drawls, unconvinced. “So I did what anyone would do: lie a whole bunch and hope it works. Which it did! You can thank me any time.”

He nearly does, mouth already halfway wrapped around the word before he stops himself. “Mizuno-san wasn’t—”

“She was.”

“I don’t—”

It’s too much for Kitagawa-san; a squeal is his only warning before she bursts out with a shrill, “Oh-em-gee!”

Her hands clap over her mouth. “A friend? From when you were kids? That’s unreal, Gojo-kun!”

He can’t quite guess how; it always seemed as if everyone had one but him, as if he were the odd one out for not having a group of friends from middle school he struggled to keep up with, but—

“Omigod, you should invite her! To lunch I mean!” Kitagawa-san bounces on her toes, not so much walking as skipping beside him. “We’d get to hear all about what you were like in school? Ahhh, how fun would that be, right?”

Her cheeks are flushed, eyes shining, and yet his stomach twists, even though he can’t account for why. “I-I don’t know…”

“Come on, please?” Her nails snag on the placard of his button down, pulling him toward the orbit of her eyes. “I promise I’ll be totes normal about it. Even if she tells us about your cute baby cheeks. Omigod, or has pictures? Do you think she has pictures?”

He grimaces. There's a horrifying thought. “I don’t….think so.”

Her shoulders hunch, defeated. “Aww, well, still. You should invite her! I bet we’d have a great time.”

Sugaya-san shakes her head. “I dunno, seems like a bad idea.”

“Really?” Kitagawa-san blinks over at her. “How?”

One small hand juts out, giving a uncertain shake. “Vibes.”

“Well, that seems like a silly reason not to try.” She swings back to Gojo, all smiles. “You’ll ask her won’t you? I promise I won’t ask for anything else all week.”

“Er…” He doubts that promise will last the walk. “If you really want to.”

She nods. “I do.”

Sugaya-san snorts. “Your funeral.”

#my dress up darling #sono bisque doll wa koi wo suru #gojo/marin #my fic #future fic #a world of locked doors #kisekoi #1000 followers #listen i have always wondered when we were going to see the childhood friend again #because it's so obvious that her freak out comes from this big kiddo crush #like we're missing such big context for how this all comes about #and the anime really plays this as like. little kid jealousy #and all i could think is. this girl is going to grow up. what does this sort of jealousy look like #especially when the boy you liked got So Cute. and hangs out with literal models #Gojo considers himself so on the outside right now. or well less so post that idol arc #but it would never occur to him that someone could look at him NOW with all these beautiful women #and think he was anything but a friend

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jojoturnip · 2 months

Text

Maybe what I needed you to understand was the love I had for him.

The love I still have.

I've been making a timeline of my life in therapy. It's split between good memories on top and bad ones on bottom. There's so much bad, that much you were willing to accept, but there is a lot of good, too.

Sometimes it's the good that keeps me up at night more than anything.

A younger me runs around our old apartment carrying the wand he hand-carved me from cherry wood ("all purpose, good for a young girl to learn all sorts of magic on"). I asked him to keep a crystal point off the top unlike the other wands he made because I liked to wave around, and I was afraid I'd hurt something I had a sharp tip. Besides, I loved that wand so much I kept it under my shirt, at the ready for playing pretend any chance I got. I'd have scratched myself to hell and back if he had added a point. He put a piece of polished, smooth citrine on the other end of it so I could at least channel some energy.

Citrine was my favorite stone. Because it was yellow. Because I loved the color yellow. Because it meant happiness and joy and sunshine. Because that's who I was.

He wrote me a song once, before he even got with my mom officially. He named it, "Sunshine Girl." My mom recorded me singing to myself in the mirror as I blow-dried my hair once and sent it to him as he wrote it. I was so embarrassed.

He would pick me up from school a lot, and I loved that part of my day. My elementary school got out earlier than my sister's middle school, so it meant riding around with him and getting fast food while we waited. He would teach me about music on the radio, tell me my voice was much prettier than Melissa's, and listen to all the drama I would bring home from my day.

When he went to auctioneering school, we practiced the tongue twisters together in the living room, laughing about Betty and her butter batter. He graduated as the valedictorian of his class. I cheered him on from the audience.

He taught me to shoot a bow, adjusted my draw weights and sights, cut me grips from his leather scraps, and fixed up the old long bow when I snapped it from pulling it too far. His hands over my shoulders as he taught me how to stand, over my three fingers as he taught me to aim. He made a quiver with me by hand with buffalo rawhide and sheep leather and sinew. He brought home horse hair for fringe but I was too freaked out to add it. He made the fringe from leather and pony beads instead.

The wand and the quiver and a locker we painted together and so many more things he gave me, made for me are sitting in that storage unit I'm supposed to empty. I don't know how to face them all.

I love him. I miss him. I think that's what you'll never be able to understand.

You didn't want to understand.

I have to juggle what he did, how he hurt me, with how he loved me.

We can call it grooming or gaining my trust or a false childhood built in manipulation, but that doesn't change the fact that it was my childhood. My reality. What I know love to be.

You said you couldn't handle cognitive dissonance. Can't you see I was born from it, bred from it, grown and germinated from its hard and rocky substrate?

A friend told me she thinks I drove you insane. The way I hold and stitch these contradictive truths together. I think that's the most reasonable explanation I've heard so far.

A part of me wants to apologize here. I am sorry that my life was too much for you to bear. That it scared you to see me go back to my family, to love people who hurt me time and time again. I know that must've been hard. I do understand where you are coming from.

Another part of me knows that I never asked for you to take that problem as your own. I never asked you to deal with my parents. I never asked you to save me. I didn't want that. I just wanted someones shoulder to lean and crash on while I carried the burden myself.

Instead, you told me that it was too much for you.

Instead, I supported you through every goddamn second of you refusing to take care of yourself. How was that not too much? You had the option to change. I cannot change my memories, my childhood.

You ask me to lose my family but you cannot get new parents like you can a boyfriend.

You like to compare my situation with you and your ex, a fool's comparison. Your abuser did not raise you. You keep your life when you walk away. You were not made of a boyfriend you met in college. Our situations are different. Our lives are different.

We are different. You never seemed to get that.

My life is tainted. I can't look through rose colored glasses, the stain remains. But I can't get rid of the memories either, or cast them out in distaste. They are a part of me. They are what made me.

I think I needed you to see that.

Remember a week before you broke up with me, you called asking for the explicit details of quite possibly the worst events of my life. Things I can't write about, much less talk about. You said you wouldn't be able to understand me without knowing.

You left me crying on the phone. It was never about understanding.

It took me one and a half years to tell you the bad stuff. It was harder to tell you the good, you know. It's all racing around, conflicting inside of me, too. But if you wanted to understand me, know me like a partner should, it required knowing the good. Seeing me, and how I am built of cognitive dissonance. Seeing the power that it gives me in empathizing with you and others, and the pain that it gives me, too. My existence is a fragile thing.

They were not excuses. They were glimpses into my mind. Into what I go through every single day.

When I let you in, you only wanted to see the bad. But you have to see the good, too. The gut wrenching good that bleeds out of me in yellow. The citrine stones and bamboo arrows and rainbow cheesecakes and Annie lockets.

I'm a storyteller, and I wanted you to know my story. You only wanted to hear a parroted version of your own sung back at you.

I am not you. I never will be.

#my writing #randomly crying as i tried to sleep tonight led the this #okay not super random #reading a fanfic about marcy and andrias got to me #but i didnt even get two lines in #i dont know theres something about her love for her abuser that just #hits home #cant wait for what the amphibia art book eill do to me

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misslovasstuff · 2 years

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Eddie Munson x reader

One shot

(for all those who want some Eddie fluff :,)

“Lover’s lake?” - you eyes shine as you look upon the lake reflecting the moonlight. A smile appears on your face when you notice a small boat nearby.

“Shall we?”- Eddie lends out his hand, helping you to get on the boat. He pushes it to the water and quickly gets on, sitting in front of you.

“Let me take you a bit further from the shore.”- he winks and you smile, looking down.

The sky was beautiful tonight. It never had occurred to you to stare at such mesmerising constellations, that is until, you looked at his eyes.

He looked at you like you were everything he had dreamt about, you were his moon, his pain and his joy, thus his pupils extended and made it look like his eyes went black with silver sparkles in the middle of that tempting night.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”- you speak, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Well, the sunrise here looks beautiful. I was hoping we could witness it together.”

Fuck. You couldn’t explain the grip this man had on you. Eddie was the most beautiful surprise of your life.

When you first met him, he didn’t strike you as the person he truly really is. You found him cocky and rebellious. But, since he stood up for you in that history class, you began to see him in a different light.

He is kind, gentle, considerate and extremely loving. When Eddie hugs you, not only does your heart skip a beat, but you feel like you’re home in his arms.

His smile warms you inside and makes you feel like you are worth something in this damned world, as long as you can make him laugh.

The way he always holds your pinky when you’re stressed, and how he brings you flowers he picks from his way home to you, makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“Are you cold?” - Eddie asks and leans closer, taking off his denim jacket by putting it on your shoulders.

“How do I look?”- you ask, smiling.

He stares at your for a moment, putting a strand of hair behind your ear: “Adorable. Absolutely stunning.”

You close your eyes and put your head in his shoulder as he begins to talk about his day.

“Dustin is important to to you, isn’t he?”- you ask as Eddie talks about his club members.

“I mean, yeah, the kid doesn’t have a father. He lives with his mom. That’s something hard to deal with. Also, he’s a genius. Dustin for sure got a bright path ahead of him.”

“You talk like you’re his dad.”- you smile and tease him.

“Ha, right. - Eddie smiles and looks away. - I know you’re close to him too.”

“Yeah, like you said, Dustin is a special kid.”

You look at each other for a moment and laugh.

“We really sound like a married couple, don’t we?“- he claims, leaning on his back, watching the night sky.

“Maybe we are.”- you lean next to him, reaching for his hand.

“What?”- you feel his hand looking for yours until they intertwine.

“Maybe in another universe, we are married and very much in love.”- you say.

“Mmhm, perhaps in another parallel universe, we already have purchased that house near the lake.”- Eddie adds.

“You think so?”

“Definitely.”

“You know what would be cool?”- you ask. Eddie looks at your eyes, approaching closer.

“What?”- he asks.

“If we graduate this year, let’s start living in that parallel universe.”

Eddie widens his eyes, blushing a little.

“Are you proposing to me?”- he teases you but you push his face away.

“I said after we graduate.” - you smirk and his arms embrace you, sinking his face in your neck, lending small, gentle kisses.

“I would have said yes.”- he whispers in your ear which drove you crazy. You gulp and start kissing him back, every skin of his that you felt on you.

It didn’t take long for your lips to meet, which were dry before touching his, which were desperate before tasting his.

He caresses your skin and pulls your hair away from your face.

“You’re so beautiful, - he couldn’t see shit in that darkness, but he felt you, the magic you had done to him, the greatest addiction of his life, was you. Only you.

“Let me love you tonight, - Eddie says softly while kissing you over and over again, never getting enough of those blazing pearls of yours staring at his. - Let me feel you tonight like never before.”

He had just lit a flame that even the deeper waters couldn’t perish. Would it be too bad if you were to undress him right there, make love to him, kiss his tattoos and caress his hair until he feels loved?

Would he let you get a hold of him, put gasoline to that damn fire and make him call your name in this beautiful serenity?

You knew too well that you didn’t have to ask. He loves it when you’re on top and he is your little plaything. But he also adores when you let him explore every inch of your body, trace your skin with his fingers until his one hand is on your neck and the other teasing the hell out of you.

It’s almost sunrise and you’re sleeping in each other’s arms.

Your eyes open from the sunlight, and you tilt your head to see him, who is sleeping so peacefully in your arms. You lend a kiss on his lips and he wakes up, squinting his eyes.

“Is it already morning?”- he asks as he embraces you.

“Good morning, love.��- you say and hear him giggle in your chest.

In whatever universe we are, let us be together, always.

#eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie my beloved #stranger things one shot

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inkofamethyst · 1 year

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April 30, 2023

I didn’t know how to respond gently when my saxophone-friend asked directly whether him calling me pretty much exclusively to rant was bothering me. The past month or so has been the heaviest in a while. I skirted around the issue a little, expressing how I journal to alleviate some of my irritations and worries, and how it’s human to have feelings. He asked if that was how I managed to seem so well-adjusted, so calm, cool, and collected. It’s like, well, no one is going to deliberately show the world their worst moments, myself included.

It’s a little funny, I saw a tiktok about how friends-to-lovers in real life only works under very specific circumstances, and it put into words the fact that starting a relationship with someone in your organization (company, cohort, DnD campaign, friend group, other meaningful club) takes careful consideration because both people have to recognize the risks of what could happen should that relationship not pan out and still think that the relationship is worth those risks. It was something I was considering even when we had just started dating--that I probably wasn’t willing to leave our club if our potential breakup wasn’t amicable. And that was one of the several reasons I kept myself at arm’s length. We just hadn’t been friends for long enough for me to work that risk assessment out for myself before we started hanging out. And this very morning, I promised myself that I wouldn’t rush into any friends-to-lovers situations without those careful considerations, and maybe even having a discussion with the guy beforehand about it.

My photo-friend is convinced exes can’t be friends. I’m not so convinced, not based on a singular experience, anyway.

Today I’m thankful that I got to hang out with my photo-friend all day yesterday :) I’m thankful that we had the opportunity to just dance like middle-schoolers for an hour (but if he asks, I had a dreadfully, miserably sweaty time). I’m thankful the weather was nice, I’m thankful the food was good, I’m thankful for all the exercise scuttling about campus.

I really don’t know how I was supposed to respond to my saxophone-friend, especially after he’s been pummeled with bad news over the past month. I am still very sensitive to the idea of being thought of as the “cold-hearted girl” compared to the guy who everyone adores. The orchestra brings me so much joy but I cannot wait to graduate and leave these school-specific worries behind oh my god.

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romeulusroy · 1 year

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Hello! I love your writing so much and I would love to request a ship with one of the succession guys!

I’m 27, I’m a special education teacher, and I’m working on finishing up my masters degree! I love my students and I love coming up with fun, goofy ways to get them excited about learning.

I have ADHD and I need a lot of structure in order to function, so I went right from college to the Peace Corps to grad school. I’m a little worried that after I graduate I’ll be kind of lost. I’m also a little bit of an adrenaline junkie and I’m very into adventure sports, roller coasters, and any kind of excitement! I’m told that I’m really good in a crisis and average (to below average) in day-to-day situations.

I have a bit of an avoidant attachment style. It can be hard for me to get serious with someone without feeling trapped. I had hardcore oldest-daughter syndrome growing up and I’ve done my best to get away from that as an adult, but sometimes that leads me to push people away.

I personally think I’m funny and charming but I know that sometimes I speak without thinking. I genuinely enjoy being social and spending time with people for short bursts but then I need to crash for two days to recover. I also love reading, watching science fiction movies, and all kinds of puzzles (jigsaw puzzles, crosswords, trivia, sudokus, etc.)!

You are so cool for making these! Thank you again for all the great stories! :)

Hi my love! I ship you with: Connor Roy!!!

He loves your love for your students, for your job. Seeing them makes you so happy and that brings more joy to him than anything else. He loves helping you with lesson plans, with arts and crafts and projects. He loves hearing about your day. Even after an especially long day you can always find something to have joy in. He's cheering you on from the sidelines and he wants you to know that. He takes a lot of pride in you, in your work. You knew what you wanted and you got it. That's mind blowing to him. He also loves how you are in a crisis. The Roy family is constantly going through crisis and every single one of his family members are reactive. You take a step back, look at the big picture, get a sense of the situation. It's comforting to him to know that you're going to have a level head in the middle of a mess.

You love how kind he is. It might not always come out right, but he really does care and feel for everyone around him. That leaves him with his heart on his sleeve and it gets damaged quite a bit. You're there to protect it, protect him, from the worst that people do to him, especially his younger siblings. Connor is constantly thinking of others, especially you. How he can make you feel more loved, more listened to, more appreciated. You do the same for him knowing there aren't a lot of people in his life who would do the same for him.

Your relationship is work. Connor is more than willing to throw himself into a relationship. You're not. He's very aware of this and does his best not to scare you away, not to make you feel suffocated or stifled, while also showing you how much he really likes you. It's a fine line the both of you have to walk. You try to open up more, let yourself be loved without wanting to flee. He tries not to be so much, so overwhelming with his emotional wants and needs. Connor, growing up the way he did, is very needy for love and affection and validation. It's not easy to find that balance, but when you do, you're perfect together.

Your first date is for dinner. It's kind of a fancy place he picks out, but he just wants to make the best possible impression. The conversation flows effortlessly between you and though you would have though, with anyone else, you'd feel exhausted after, you're social battery is still pretty full. Connor doesn't drain you like others would. You talk about your families, bonding over being the oldest and a kind of parental figure. You laugh over how ridiculous your siblings are. It takes a week for Connor to call you after, but only because he doesn't want to scare you away. Really, he'd spend every day with you if he could.

Relationship Headcanon: You and Connor spend a lot of time doing puzzles. He's not too great with them, so he's often interrupting you to get help with his. You don't mind though. It's worth the look on his face when he's figured it out. It's quiet time you get to spend together doing something you love. There's no expectation to talk or to be anything, just get to relax and solve your puzzles.

Thank you my love!!! Hope you like it! 💜💜💜

#connor roy #kaitbishop-ships

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newpersonteeth11 · 1 year

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Corrado Martini (Prequel)

You were Christopher Pembroke, a wealthy high-schooler. He was Corrado Martini, a handsome, cocky, intimidating, junior who got whatever the fuck he wanted.

From a young age, you were obsessed with him. In middle school, you did whatever you could to be on his groups, in his classes, etc. He noticed, and realized you were rich. He began bullying you mercilessly.

You paid him every bit of your allowance as a "fag tax". You thought he was your friend, but in high school everything changed. He fucked every hot girl in highschool, and you paid him even more.

If you ever missed a payment, he would beat you to a pulp.

One day, you missed your payment, and he punished you by beating you with your own textbooks, leaving you limping back to your home. He also doubled your taxes (4x your allowance). The only way to pay him would be to steal from your parents, but even that wasn't enough. That day, he came for his taxes.

You explained you couldn't pay it, how you just needed an extension. "An extension, a fucking extension" he yelled, "Get on your knees now, fag". "Sir, I-" you tried to say, but you were cut off by him kneeing your balls, you fell to the floor in pain.

"I said get on your fucking knees, fag" you complied. "How much you got, fag?" he roared. "I have $3,500, sir" you replied, meekly. "$3,500? $3,500?! You were supposed to have $10,000" "I'm so sorry, sir" you replied, begging, "Please don't hur-" you plead, before he kicked your stomach, causing you exorbinant pain. "You don't tell me what the fuck I do" he yelled. "Now, until you give me the $15,000, you're my personal bitchboy. Got that fag?" he yelled, intimidatingly. "I thought it was $10,000" you quietly groaned, before he hit you again. "Now it's $20,000, got that fag?" he yelled. "Yes, sir" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For the next year, he treated you like shit, you did his homework, you served him, you were beaten constantly (becoming his personal punching bag), and were trained like a dog with negative reinforcement:

Sit

Stay

Makes you unable to move.

Speak

Forces you to answer truthfully to whatever question Corrado asks

Sleep

Makes you fall asleep no matter where you are

Wake

Wakes you up no matter where you are

Down

Makes you fall to his knees

Embed It

Makes whatever Corrado says become your unquestioned truth and fact.

Obey

Makes you obey any commands (i.e. Obey, say i’m sorry)

Punishment Time

Makes you kneel before him, and forces you to handle pain until you pass out.

Worship

Makes you worship Corrado's perfect body

Piggy Bank

Makes you give Corrado any amount of money (i.e. Piggy Bank $1,000)

Suck

Makes you suck Corrado off

Cum

Makes you immediately cum

When you stared at Corrado's abs, you went into a trance-like state. Corrado used it to introduce the commands. Then every day for an hour for a year, Corrado beat the commands firmly into your subconscious, and soon, when Corrado said a command, your subconscious took over, and your mind went blank and followed the commands, unable to be stopped by your thinking mind.

At graduation that year, Corrado whispered in your ear the words that would define your life for the next decade: "Embed it, treasure this moment, because for the rest of your life, you will never experience anything as fulfilling as serving me. For the rest of your life, when you're on a date, you'll be thinking of me, when you're fucking, you'll close your eyes, thinking of me, and when you sleep at night, you'll be dreaming of me, my perfect body, and at the end of the day, you'll be fantasizing that it's me waiting at home. You know why, It's you true purpose. You'll never cum again, only I can let you. Your wife, your kids, your friends - they'll never bring you the joy that serving me does. You'll always be a worthless faggot" Corrado then went on stage and accepted his degree, you didn't see him for more than a decade since then.

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nyc-uws · 1 year

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This Is What No One Tells You About Losing A Child

“It’s easy to wonder what one thing I could have done that might have changed the events of that day.”

By Casey Mulligan Walsh

At 8, my oldest son, Eric, practiced juggling a soccer ball on his knee for hours most fall afternoons, waiting for the big kids to walk by our house on their way home from practice.

By high school, he spent most evenings on the phone with one girl or another; he’d listen, commiserate and advise. On weekends, he was off to the lake or the soccer field or, in winter, the slopes, already teaching kids the snowboarding he loved so much. He was a carefree boy with big plans of his own.

But in the year and a half leading up to Eric’s high school graduation, my marriage exploded and, despite my best efforts, the kids were trapped in the middle.

Further challenged by a failed romantic relationship and other roadblocks, Eric was no longer the gregarious teen who’d taught his teachers to snowboard, too, and answered my serious observations with a light-hearted, “Thank you, Captain Obvious!”

He finished his senior year a volatile young adult, on the edge. He’d turned into someone I hardly recognized.

I had no answers back then. I hardly knew the questions to ask. Though I’d tried everything to make Eric see how much I loved him, I didn’t know how to help him find his own way out of the downward spiral he couldn’t seem to escape. What I did know was that I would do anything to make whatever had gone horribly wrong into everything that was right.

On graduation day, Eric donned his cap and gown and walked down the aisle, reaching out to shake the school board president’s hand and receive his diploma — just as I’d always imagined. His brother played in the band, and I sat alone, grieving the family I thought I’d built.

Though I worried about Eric’s future, I had no way of knowing that a year later, he’d be killed as he rounded a curve on a road he’d taken countless times before. His old silver Audi flew into the air then fell to the ground, mercifully hurting no one else. But he was gone.

I was no stranger to grief. Having lost both parents by the time I was 12 and my only sibling when I was 20, I had determined to do everything in my power to recreate the family I’d lost. Yet I’d also come to believe, as Carl Jung said, that “I am not what happened to me, I am who I choose to become.”

I clung to this conviction even after Eric died, determined to never forget my beautiful son while also embracing what lay ahead for me.

As it turns out, grief and joy can — and do —coexist. Today, more than two decades later, I have a life I could only have dreamed of back then. Married now to a wonderful man, together we have five kids and 10 grandkids. We laugh — a lot — and are grateful every day that we’ve ended up here together.

I’m no longer deeply sad on holidays and birthdays and at other times when Eric’s absence once cast a long shadow. Now, on Christmas, I think of the years when Eric was with me with a gentle fondness that often brings a smile.

Yet grief is anything but linear. It’s here, then gone; dormant, then wild. It’s the monster that sneaks up on me when I least expect it and whispers in my ear about the things I could have done, that could have been, that can still bring me to my knees.

Eric died on June 12, a peaceful sunny Saturday sandwiched between college and high school graduations here in the Northeast. It’s sometimes difficult for me to identify with the joy of parents who burst with pride as their teens move into a future filled with promise when my own graduate is gone.

Those achingly gorgeous late May and June weekends, sun high in the sky, gently warming the earth and all of us on it, can still leave me overcome with grief and the cellular memory of a carbon-copy day those many years ago. It’s easy, then, to wonder what one thing I could have done that might have changed the events of that day.

A decade after I last saw Eric, I sat with my husband in a New Orleans café, an escape from the happy chaos of Bourbon Street, and caught sight of a young man with his parents at the table across from us. I imagined they were visiting him in his senior year of college or maybe helping him settle into an apartment for his first job. He had a soccer player’s build, an irreverent glint in his eye, a freckle-faced, sun-kissed complexion. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was the Eric who had figured things out. He was the Eric who had lived.

Fifteen years after Eric’s crash, we drove up the New England coast following a relaxing few days at the beach. As I navigated to our destination, my eyes were drawn north to South Portland, Maine, where Eric had hoped to study and play soccer, though those plans were dashed as his life began to unravel.

Suddenly I was thrust into a litany of “what-ifs.” Visions of the life he could have had. If only. Overcome with regret, I felt the pain come roaring back so hard I could barely catch my breath.

I still miss Eric every day. Again and again, life sneaks up on me and puts me right back in that time and place those many years ago. In a craft brewery in Vermont, a tribute to the life of a boy who had died in a snowboarding accident reminded me of my own boy in so many ways. In an Edinburgh pub, a crowd of young men sang loudly — and amusingly off-key — and raised their beers to celebrate their football club’s victory. I looked for Eric in the crowd.

Yet it’s when I feel the loss most strongly that the joy is strongest, too. I see Eric’s enormous grin, hear his sweet voice, feel the stubble of his freshly buzzed haircut. The pain and the pleasure live side by side, because life doesn’t stop, even when we think it should.

There’s another thing I’ve learned in the decades since Eric’s death: Life rarely works out as planned. Looking back on those tumultuous years and the times I’ve struggled with whether I could have changed things for him, I’ve come to understand how little control we really have as parents. As human beings.

We can’t hold on to something that was never meant to be ours forever. Accepting that so much of life is outside our control is both frightening and freeing. I’ll spend the rest of my own life seeking the sweet spot.

In the end, it wasn’t knowing when to work harder, cling tighter, care more deeply that was the real challenge for me. Though these things have their place and time in our careers as parents, a different lesson was mine to learn.

From the moment our babies arrive, we’re learning to let them go.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch!

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/death-of-a-child_n_60b7abf6e4b0f479d60c2249

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tahdashi · 2 years

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WRINKLY HANDS AND PICTURE FRAMES

SYNOPSIS: keiji brings you along to revisit his childhood at his grandparents’ home. who knew that love is stored in wrinkly hands and old picture frames?

INCLUDES: fluff, grandparents, mention of future kids, kinda sad if you squint but not really bc i love keiji

WC: 1.2k

Akaashi Keiji has never been alone.

Throughout the three years you’ve been together, he’s told you about all the people he holds close to his heart: his mom, his dad, his cousins, and his grandparents. You’ve learned that he’s an only-child, spending most of his childhood with his cousins who were only a few years older than him. He’d go to his grandparents’ house every weekend as they missed him dearly, always wanting to keep him happy with dishes upon dishes of his favorite foods. Keiji tells you often, with a soft smile on his face, how much he misses his grandma’s cooking. Her fried rice is heavenly, he’d say.

And that’s why you’ve ended up in the middle of his grandparents’ kitchen on a random weekend in May. He hasn’t visited in a while — his grandma’s wrinkly hands on his cheeks show just how long it’s been since she’s seen her precious boy. Work has taken over his life, he explains, and he doesn’t fail to look over at you with a flushed expression as he tells his grandma how he’s being taken care of by you.

Being dragged into the living room by his grandfather to relax, Keiji feels an overwhelming feeling of joy. It has been a long time since he’s been here. Pictures have been added onto the walls — some of his cousins who’ve graduated university, some of his cousin’s kids with missing teeth and youthful smiles. He wonders if one day, his own kids’ pictures will be up on that wall.

You, on the other hand, are feeling a bit… nervous. It’s not that you’re meeting his grandmother for the first time (you’ve met her a couple times, actually. She’d pop by the apartment from time to time to give her grandson homemade soup when he was feeling ill), it’s just that you haven’t gotten to know her that well. So this time, you take the chance to learn about her world — the one with her precious Keiji, the one with her sweet husband who always seems to have his camera on him, the one with so much love in it.

“Granny, how’d you and your husband meet?” you ask, your voice flowing over the sound of simmering onions in the pan. She pauses, and her cheeks rise in a wide smile.

“Oh my, that was a very long time ago.” She continues to dice the vegetables. “I was about 18 years old, in my first year of university, and he was working at the convenience store by my school. He was just so handsome. I think I had a little… crush on him.” She continues to tell you about how she’d visit the store often, picking up random items that would soon collect in her bedroom.

She looks at you.

“My Keiji tells me you two met at school. He talks about you a lot, you know that?” Her voice is quiet in an attempt to keep her words a secret from the two men chatting in the living room. You can’t help but feel your face warm up at her words.

“He’s a good boy, my Keiji,” she sighs contently. “He grew up a bit lonely. No siblings, not too many friends either, but he’s a good boy. He has a big heart.”

You nod, agreeing with her loving statement. “He does.”

“I used to worry that he’d have trouble finding someone. Although he was quiet, he always wanted to be around people. I think it’s great he found someone like you.” And at this, you feel tears prick at your eyes.

“I’m really lucky to have him,” you admit. The warmth of the cooked vegetables radiates from the pan and into your face, and it feels as if you’re being wrapped into a tight hug.

She hums at your words and puts her hand atop yours.

“I hope I’ll get to see you two get married one day. I want to meet my great-grandkids!” she exclaims with delight. The wrinkles by her eyes intensify, and you can see the resemblance between her and her grandson. They both hold the most sincere smiles under smooth, tan skin.

“Keiji needs to propose sooner or later, I’d also love to see us get married,” you say lightheartedly. And the sound of both of your laughters fill the kitchen along with the heavenly aroma of her cooking.

The sound draws your boyfriend into the kitchen, and he’s looking at the both of you with a curious expression, his eyebrows twisted in confusion, but his lips turned slightly upward.

“What’s going on?” He asks as he passes over to the stove to see what smells so good.

“We were just talking about you,” his grandma tells him, pulling him away from the stove before he can reach his hand into the pan to get a piece of cooked meat.

“Oh? What were you saying?” He looks at his grandma, and then at you.

“When are you going to get down on one knee, sweetheart? Your grandpa and I want to see you get married!” She shakes his hand in an exaggerated plea. If you’ve learned anything about his grandma, it’s that she’s into theatrics (a stark difference from her more reserved husband).

“Oh,” he falls silent and brings his free hand to rub at his neck. “Soon.”

“It better be soon, Keiji. My great-grandbabies need to sit on my lap like you used to. Ah! You were such a precious baby. Don’t you want some of your own?” She asks him, letting go of his hand and pinching at his cheek.

“I- I do, of course. We haven’t talked about this yet,” he says. The truth is, he’s imagined his future with you in full-detail. He knows that he wants three kids. He knows that he wants the oldest to be named after his grandparents. He knows that he wants to pick them up from school and cook a hot meal for them. He knows that he wants all three of them to play together, be close to each other, and to love each other. He knows that all he wants is for his kids to be surrounded by love.

Because even though Keiji grew up lonely, he was always surrounded by love.

His grandmother stops the teasing there, and cradles Keiji’s face in her palms before pulling him down to her height to kiss his cheek.

“No need to rush it. Your grandma will always be here. Don’t stress,” she tells him, knowing his tendency to worry about pleasing others.

That night, as the four of you chat over dinner with steaming bowls of fried rice in front of you, Keiji takes a glimpse at the wall covered in picture frames. His eyes land on a picture of him as a baby. He’s clinging onto his grandpa’s leg as their old family dog licks his face. And just like that, his future plans with you expand. He wants so much with you: a nice house, a comfortable bed, three kids, a puppy, and a loud, joyful life. And so, as his grandparents laugh over the story you’re telling them, he adds up the days he’ll have to work overtime to afford that ring he’s been eyeing. In this moment, he feels truly lucky knowing that you’ll always be by his side — that he’ll never feel lonely again.

Because how could he when he’s surrounded by laughter, love, and his never-ending dream of a future with you?

#oh my god hi guys long time no see 😋#this is so .#i’m just unwell #i love this boy so much i could cry #also suguyu nation said caps is better than all lower case so i listened #sayu.writes #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi fluff #akaashi fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq imagines #hq x reader #i forgot how to tag things i hope this works mwah ok bye bye

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iwadori · 3 years

Note

So I'm reading your works and I love them !! I was thinking of requesting some kind of drabble or whatever you like, about a female reader who has thick thighs and is somewhat plump and is in love with Tsukishima but he makes a comment about the food and she feels bad and when she meets Bokuto in the boot camp Bokuto is too cute and attentive to her asking for her number and a date. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just ignore it and good luck with your blog. Sorry my english is bad<3

When they make you insecure PT 5 (tsukishima,bokuto)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part 6

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

Tsukishima

You and Tsukishima have been dating in your first year (as you both went to the same middle school together.)

You were in love with Tsukishima, you always have been to be honest, but once you became officially boyfriend and girlfriend your feelings amplified.

But recently, Tsukishima hasn’t been so nice.

“Y/N we’re going on another training camp at Nekoma” Hinata exclaimed running up to you, as you leaning against Tsukishima “and you get to come too this time!”

You recently became the new trainee manager as the third-year manager, Kikyoko, is going to graduate. Tsukishima acted as if you being around all the time in practice was the worst thing in the world, but Yamagucchi always assured you that ‘Tsukki’ was just joking.

“Oh well that’s fun...” you say entertaining Hinata’s excitement. You were kind of excited to go to the training camp too, as it was in Tokyo after all. You were always a big fan of volleyball as your dad used to play for the national team and you were planning to play on the girls team this year but you felt that you didn’t have the body for it (which was obviously not true.)

Hinata kept on rambling on before Tsukishima insulted him. “Gosh Kei, you don’t have to be so rude.” you complained, he slightly nudged you off of him and put on his headphones showing you that he was not in a good mood.

You let the rest of the practice continue, making notes of things and basically being Kiyoko’s shadow. As it ended, you waited outside for Tsukishima to walk home with you, but one of the guys told you he left 5 minutes ago. You knew there was no point of chasing after him so you just walked on your own, making you sigh in defeat.

Tsukishima was what you would describe as hot and cold. Some days he was fine a ‘perfect gentlemen’ but other days, days like this Tsukishima was just Tsukishima.

When you got home, you decided to watch matches of all the other schools just to get some insight. You were watching a Fukarodani V Nekoma match from a few years ago and something caught your eye, well someone did to be more specific. A beefy, bicolour haired boy who was hooting like an owl was mesmerizing to watch.

You saw that his name was Bokuto Koutarou which triggered your next actions, which were to internet stalk him. You learned that he was the captain of the team and the team’s ace and the 5th ace in the country which piqued your interest in the boy even more.

‘This is going to be an exciting training camp’ you think to yourself before going to sleep.

`Kiyoko gave you an itinerary of all the things you should bring, since you weren’t going to be joining in any of the matches you were reminded to bring things that would keep entertained.

You get to the bus at the crack of dawn, ready to be driven to Tokyo. Hinata and Kageyama were already arguing (let’s pretend that they didn’t have to do the retakes in the test) Tanaka and Nishinoya were being loud, and the rest of the members were already asleep. You wanted to sit next to Tsukishima but when you were about to sit down, he put his carryon bag in the seat next to him.

The bus ride was around 4-5 hours, and you spent your time reading and sleeping. Daichi got the loudmouths to calm down making the bus ride more tolerable. You suffered from slight motion sickness but you powered through.

When you arrived there, you saw all the other teams and their buses too. You felt a bit overwhelmed, seeing these tall boys just crowd around an entrance way. But too your surprise, noticing your slight anxiousness, Tsukishima grabbed your hand in a hand-hold.

The Nekoma coach, explained how the day would pan out and where each team would be residing for the week. There was a lot of commotion getting everyone settled, Hinata and Nishinoya were basically bouncing off of the wall commenting on all the people and the place and how they’re going to ‘crush the competition.’

You could tell that when the other teams were looking at Karasuno they were all staring at Kiyoko. Inquisitive about how there wasn’t only one girl manager but there was two. As you were walking your eyes locked with Bokuto Koutarou’s making yours widen, you blush and turn your head quickly.

What you didn’t know was, after your small interaction, Bokuto elbowed Akaashi and said “Akaaashi AKKAAASHI, did ya see that? did ya?” he was flying with happiness “That girl from Karasuno smiled at me. She’s really pretty.”

“I think she’s from Karasuno” Akaashi said “So maybe you’ll see her around”

Bokuto stared off in the direction you were walking in “Yeah, hopefully.”

The first day, everyone got settled in and then the teams went straight into games. There were two different gyms and today, in gym 1, you were watching Karasuno V Nekoma. (By the way I literally don’t remember the teams at the training camp besides Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukarodani.) The game was very back a point each team making point after point, you already knew of Nekoma’s captain, Kuroo Testurou and the setter Kenma, you’ve actually played games with Kenma online before so you were fairly acquainted with him already.

The games ended and it was now dinner time, the canteen was packed with all the boys rushing to line up for the food. You waited at the back of the line, not really caring about when you got your food. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked over to see Boktuo,

“Hi.” he said “I’m Bok-”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” You finished “I'm a big fan..” you cringed immediately at your excitement ‘pull it together Y/N’ you scold yourself.

“Oh well hi, I’m glad you know who I am” he said “and may I ask for your name?”

“Oh I’m Y/N L/N” you say with a slight blush “I'm the trainee manager from Karasuno.”

“Cool! Well I hope to see you aro-” he starts

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, I already got your food for you.” Tsukishima said pulling at your arm a bit harshly, dragging you over to a table with the Karasuno team.

“Gosh Tsukki, no need to be so harsh” you say rubbing at your wrist, he didn’t apologize and just started eating his food.

You look down at your plate and see the small portion that Tsukki got for you. The Karasuno bunch was being loud, as they usually are, so when you whisper “Tsukki what the fuck is this” whilst nudging him in the side, he didn’t hear you (or atleast he pretended he didn’t.) You tried again but a little louder saying, “Tsukishima what the fuck is this.” you realised you said it a bit too loud as the whole Karasuno table stopped their conversations to look over at the slight commontion you caused.

“What do you mean Y/N?” he said with a slight smirk on his face.

“I mean what’s with the portion size of a bird that you gave me?” you ask getting upset “Do you really think im that big?”

“Well, you could start eating less that’s for sure.” he said earning gasps from you and some of the people sitting at the table “Y/N let's face it, you eat like a pig and you look like an elephant, me making your food portion smaller is the least I could do.”

By now you had tears in your eyes, Tsukishima was a dick. You knew this, everybody knew this to be honest, yet you still loved him. He wasn’t like this in middle school, yes he was a bit snarky and rude (but wasn’t every middle schooler?) High school Tsukishima was like a completely different person. As much as you wanted to run away and hide, you knew you couldn’t.

So you stood up and said “Tsukishima, I’ve spent 3 years loving and pining after you, because I thought you were this great guy, but turns out you’re a huge asshole” you start making some of the people listening in smile in laughter “Tsukishima, I’ve hated this past year dating you, you’ve been such a huge dick and I’m finally stopping you. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” You start making your way to exit before finally saying “Oh and by the way I’m not the pig here, you are... oh and I’m breaking up with you.” You left, hearing a few laughs and some claps behind you.

You felt relieved, like the massive cloud that’s been over your head is finally gone. You went to the gym since you knew it was empty and picked up a ball to just throw it around a bit. After a while of ‘de-stressing,’ you hear someone else enter the gym.

“Oh I didn’t know you’d be here.” said Bokuto

“Well here I am,” you say awkwardly “I can leave if you want me too, I know this is for actual volleyball players.”

“No no it’s fine you can definitely stay, in fact do you mind setting for me?” he asks

“Sure, of course I don’t mind” you reply, excited you get to play with someone. You haven’t played in ages, you always begged Tsukishima to just throw a ball around with you but he never did.

You set to Boktuo a lot, with him always asking for ‘another one’ everytime he spiked the ball. Eventually, you were tired of setting and wanted to spike. You originally was a spiker to begin with taking after your dad. Thats why you took a liking to Bokuto in the first place cause he reminded you of the joys you had when watching your father play.

Bokuto set a ball to you and you spiked it with great strength and accuracy smiling at the burning feeling you felt in your palm.

“Woahh” Bokuto shouted going towards you in amazement “Where did you learn how to spike like that?”

“From my dad, I don’t know if you heard of him before but my dad’s name is D/N L/N...?” you say

“D/N L/N, Y/N he is my idol!” he shouted again “I want to be just like him.”

“I think you can, I see a lot of similarites in the way you both play.” you say

“Really! And you’ve seen me play before..?” he asks

“Yeah, I watched some of your games before coming here... you’re really good” you shyly admit.

“Wow.”

You and Bokuto spend the rest of your time, talking about volleyball you’re interests, things you have in common, your likes and dislikes. Talking to Bokuto was refreshing, he didn’t randomly insult you or make snide comments about your weight or your looks. He just genuinely looked happy to be there talking to you, unlike Tsukishima.

Seeing your change in mood, Bokuto stops talking and asks “are you alright? I forgot to ask earlier, but I saw what happened in the canteen and I hope you’re okay.”

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just things with me and Tsukishima reached a breaking point, I guess...” you say sniffling a bit talking about it “But it’s fine now I’ve broken up with him and I feel better already.”

“So you’re saying your single...?” he asked blushing a bit

“Yeah I guess I am...” you smile blushing also.

“Okay great...well I hope this isn’t too forward after everything happened with Tsukki and all but...” he starts “but would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Who me?” you ask as if you weren’t the only other person in the room

“No the volleyball” he responds sarcastically “Of course you Y/N.”

“Are you sure, cause to be honest Bokuto you’re a really good-looking guy” you say making him smile widely “so I think you need someone to match your level in attractiveness” you look down and his smile drops.

“What do you mean?” he asks before realising all the stuff Tsukishima said about you “Y/N you’re beautiful, your face, your body just you.” you blush at his words “when I first saw you when you were walking past us in the entrance way the first thing I thought and said about you was “Akaashi who is that girl she’s beautiful.””

“Really?” you ask with disbelief

“Mhm” he nods excitedly “So will you go on a date with me?”

“I guess so...” you say a bit unsure

“HEY HEY HEY!” he exclaims “I gotta go tell akaashi!” he runs out of the gym in a hurry making you laugh, but he comes back to give you a quick unexpected kiss on the cheek making you smile.

You checked your phone for the time realising that you’ve been with Bokuto for 3 hours and you knew that everyone would be going to sleep now. As you are the manager you slept seperately from the rest of the team but before you went to your sleeping quaters you went to Karasunos.

“Y/N where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.” asked yammagucchi

“It’s fine yams don’t worry about it, guys” you say catching everyones attention “I just wanted to apologise to you for my outburst at dinner, it wasn’t my intention to cause a scence.”

“It’s fine Y/N” said sugawara “He definitely deserved it.”

“Yeah as your marvellous senpai we gave him a good telling off” said Tanaka and Nishinoya making you chuckle.

“Okay well thanks guys, I’m going to sleep goodnight.”

“Wait Y/N can I speak with you.” asked Tsukishima gesturing to outside the room

“Umm sure” you respond following him into the corridor.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done over the past year and how I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, you don’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”

“I can’t say I can forgive you yet.” you say making Tsukishima look sad “but maybe with effort from you we can become friends possibly?”

“Just friends?” he said with hope in voice thinking that you could be something more.

“Just friends.” you repeated and confirmed “Besides I have been asked on a date”

“With who?”

“None of your business stingyshima” you mock the nickname that Hinata calls him making him scowl and you smile “Goodnight.”

After Bokuto’s confession and Tsukishima’s apology, the rest of the training camp went off without a hitch. In your breaks and lunchtimes, you got to know more about Bokuto and with Kuroo’s help you even got to sneak out to actually go on your date. You sometimes even went to practice with them getting to show off your skills, with Bokuto cheering you on and complimenting you every single time.

Tsukishima kept his distance for the most part, and kept the snarky comments about you and Bokuto to himself (even though he was dying to say them.) You eventually fully forgave Tsukishima in your 3rd year but you definitely weren’t as close as you used to be. Tsukishima’s comments and actions did affect you for a while however with the help of your loving boyfriend, you were reminded how beautiful you are no matter what weight, shape or height you were.

You and Bokuto stayed together, you made sure to come to every one of his games and when you introduced him to your dad he fainted on sight. Your dad and Bokuto got along, and became very close friends, Bokuto always came to him for advice (especially volleyball advice.) You loved Bokuto and he definitely loved you too.

AN: I hope you liked it, since I didn’t want to make it too similar too the Atsumu insecure one. And I feel like it dragged out a bit but got rushed in the endd....but oh well...

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyu #tsukishima angst #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima headcanons #bokuto scenarios #bokuto angst #bokuto x reader #signedwithane😌

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #eric smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric x reader smut #eric x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

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gustingirl · 2 years

Text

i don't know you | j.kiszka x reader

“I don’t know you, but you make me wonder who you are”

- in which your life becomes a rom com -

request: 67. "Just pretend to be my date.” with josh

warnings: mentions of anxiety attack, graphic vocabulary of anxiety attack

disclaimer: shoutout to @gretagolden for the idea, ily!

“Welcome to Frankenmuth” was written in the biggest white letters you had ever seen and yet you couldn’t feel happy. You really wanted to enjoy your return to your hometown; you had your whole family in this exact town waiting patiently for your common, isolated returns just to see your face for a couple of days. And you really wanted to feel excited about your comeback to the town that watched you grow, but something inside you wouldn’t find that joy you needed. As you sat on the passenger seat with your sister driving you back home, you looked outside the window distressed, just thinking about the amount of fake smiles you would have to show.

It shouldn’t be this way; one should feel happiness upon going back to the place where everything started. Especially if that place was never the source of a traumatic experience. You loved Frankenmuth so much; you loved just how cozy and fun it was. You knew every single soul walking down the streets, and if you didn’t know them personally, you had heard about them. Like you could spot your childhood’s best friend’s little brother without having once seen his face. And how you knew about the one guy who moved to Russia and married like three different women and became some sort of important chef in a small town of that big country. And how you had heard about the four guys who became quite successful with their little rock band. It was impossible not to know who lived there, and that was the source of your disturbance.

Though your time during middle school was quite fine, you completely despised high school, and you hated how the last two years ruined the entire idea you had of your beloved birth town. You would always curse at yourself for falling for Simon. How dumb could you be? He was the fucking popular kid of your school, how could that story ever end well for someone like you? Hey, don’t get me wrong. There’s literally nothing wrong with you, but you were never the type to seek attention so desperately like Simon did. You never once cared about others’ opinions and you never needed to be surrounded by people who kissed your ass for you to not feel lonely. In fact, you felt lonely several times and it was fine. You didn’t always need to have someone with you to feel nice, but Simon was the complete opposite to you, and it was about time to be your wrecking ball.

He had entered your life with a typical fuckboy charming smile that 16-year-old-you couldn’t reject, and with a couple of dates and a stolen kiss he became your boyfriend. You forgot who you were when you joined his life. Simon introduced you, dragged you, even manipulated you to become someone like him, and you blamed yourself for being so naive. With time and some meditation you came to the conclusion that you weren’t the one who should be punished, as your friends were also not the best companion.

They were nice to you, loving too. But you realized later they could not be trusted. However, graduation was near and all you could was fake your entire personality after a breakup that left you crying in your room for weeks and after realization hit you that you had nobody you could trust.

That was exactly why coming back felt like torture. Yes, you had your family that you missed a lot. But you could live without them. You knew you had to come back eventually, at least once per year. Still, you could barely bring yourself to enjoy time with your family, as you were expecting to run into the entire world you hated so much.

And you, obviously.

The first ones to come visit your home were that little group of friends that you loathed so much. You never could find the courage to push them away from your life. However, you could still fake it a bit around them. So you did, as expected.

They managed to convince you to go shopping with them and all you could do was remain silent as they gossiped about every single soul that went to that high school. They were toxic enough to mention your ex and how hot he looked now, though you rolled your eyes and nodded, throwing a shy ‘I know’ back to them.

You found some peace once you entered the changing room. The girls stayed far away, still chatting away all the drama they have heard of. You could barely hear them, anyways, as the music in the store was loud enough to turn this place into a nightclub.

“He was always hot, though!” you managed to overhear as the song was being changed

“No, girl, he was horrible back then! He was a fucking theatre kid, for the love of God”

That last bit felt like a dagger went through your soul. You were a theatre kid too and your friends had always picked on you for that. Their stupid jokes about virgins being the only idiots to like theatre had never been funny and yet you could only laugh them off, hoping high school would end sooner so you would be able to move far away.

“Shut up, Y/N was also a theatre kid” one of the girls said as they seemed further from before

“Exactly my point” the way they all laughed just made you want to puke right there, embarrassment and anguish mixing up inside your stomach “But she’s ok now”

You were about to roll your eyes once more to ignore their annoying voices when a name popped up, making you stay in your place for a few seconds.

“Well, Joshua now is literally sex with two legs. I would die to be able to fuck him”

Joshua? You barely remembered a Joshua from your class. There was one but he was some freaky who loved engineering a bit too much. There was no way they were talking about him.

And it actually took you a while to remember that name.

“Joshua? Yeah I remember him” your sister said as she ignored your presence at her room’s entrance

“From my class, I mean” you clarified, knowing the name was pretty common and she could be confused

“Yeah, I know, dickhead. He was this short little guy, loved talking and really loved attention too. I remember seeing him walking around the hallways greeting literally every single teacher. God, he was annoying” your sister recalled, sighing before finishing her last line

“The girls said he’s hot now” you commented as you sat on her bed, obviously gaining a small kick on your ass for committing such crime

“I heard he has a band now. Well, his brother has. He’s part of it, I think. He had a twin, remember? Jake was his name. You had Calculus with him”

That name did ring a bell. You suddenly had some images in your head of stupid pair projects you would always be assigned with that Jake.

“He had the emo hair, right?”

“So did I, you asshole, and we looked good” you rolled your eyes at her reply

“I remember him, had no idea they were twins. But wait, they said this Joshua was a theatre kid, shouldn’t I remember him? We went to the same clubs”

You were confused as your sister attempted to reply but was caught off by her loud laughter.

“Don’t you remember playing the oompa loompa? For that Willy Wonka play?”

The new memory made your face turn bright red, while your sister began laughing even louder. Now the name rang a bell.

“Wait….please don’t tell me this Joshua was Wonka”

Your sister really tried to hold it in but she couldn’t do much about it as she replied with a nod. For the sake of your theatre kid phase and your fellow partners, you threw a pillow at your older sister before leaving her room.

That night, you spent it digging up old yearbooks, trying to remember the faces you had spent years erasing from your memories. You found your stupid fake friends all around the book, as they were as much sluts for attention as your ex. It was a bit easy to find the twins as they were obviously put together. You actually ended up finding Joshua all over the place too, and his face still didn’t bring many memories. You didn’t recall one encounter, not even one. But his face was familiar. You did relive that play of Willy Wonka and for how long people clapped at him. It was evident he loved the stage and the applause, so it was no surprise he was in a band now. However, and to nobody’s surprise, you closed the yearbook quickly after finding his face, as soon your curiosity had died.

The following days were all the same, and they were all grey. You had heard from the one who believed was your close friend the supposed reencounter of your class during the festivities, and the little excitement you had for your stay at Frankenmuth was soon gone. Seeing everybody again? Really? You couldn’t even bring yourself to imagine that night. You insisted you didn’t feel like going but there was no chance your friends would let you do it. Eventually they convinced you, and you started believing they had casted some spell on you that had you saying yes with little to no convincing.

The nightmare that reunion was causing you felt like a huge migraine that was haunting your soul. The mere idea of having to dress up to literally face your dark past, the one you had been working hard to forget, was nothing but pain afflicting your heart. Every single activity you did was just a distraction from your future, yet it wouldn’t work. While you showered, you were worried about dressing up in a way that would have everybody’s jaw dropping to the floor. While you were having dinner with your family, you could only think about having to follow your friends around as you greeted every person you didn’t want to see. And even while walking down the street for your “mental health walk”, you were crying inside your head as you were sure you would have to see your ex again.

These stupid worries were constantly attacking your head and you just couldn’t shut them up. Even then, when you went grocery shopping.

You were walking slowly down the drinks alley as you tried winning some alone time. You loved your family but your home was being too noisy and claustrophobic, and so you accepted the task of grocery shopping to be able to be alone with your mind. You weren’t sure how good this was, as your mind was also as torturous as your house. But at least you could listen to music, be at peace with your soul and have the chance of buying the products you liked.

But all peace shall be destroyed by the hands of strangers, you believed. And this little quote I have just made up was the best thing I could use to describe the following events, ones that were so quick and weird that you could still feel dizzy about them.

As your eyes were moving around the snacks in front of you, the sound of shoe soles sliding down the floor made you be a bit more alert. However, you didn’t divert your attention from your target, not until a voice called you. Well, almost.

“Hey, you!” someone yelled, making the four people in that hallway turn their heads around.

You could barely react as this someone stood quickly in front of you, holding you in your place by grabbing your arms tightly.

“We’re dating, ok?” he quickly spitted, quite literally, as you had to remove some saliva from your cheek.

“Huh?” you tried making sense of what he was saying, but all you received was a eye roll

“Just pretend to be my date”

There was an instance that felt like an eternity as this not-so stranger held you close to his face. Yeah, there was not a doubt that this was Joshua. His face features were the same though they were definitely more shaped and more…mature? Would that be the word? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t even think about it, as his eyes were nailed on yours. If there was one thing you remembered about this guy was that his stare was penetrating. You had your sister confirming it, even. People around the school would talk well about him, but everybody would highlight his eyes. They said there was some magic in them that had you looking away in shame, as it was impossible not to blush. You were a victim of it now, though it was the complete opposite, really. You couldn’t stop looking at him.

Had he always been so handsome? Well, you did recall then the little conversation you overheard your friends having days before. As Joshua grabbed your hand and dragged you behind him, you began feeling goosebumps over your body. Your friends were right; he really was hot, you could say even, he literally was sex with two legs. You didn’t believe their words until now. I mean, it was impossible to ignore the way his back and arms muscles flexed as he was determined to take you with him. And those curls, had they always been this way? Didn’t he have like short, straighter hair? It didn’t matter, these curls were just amazing on him. But it was the undercut that had you drooling a bit. You were never a fan of these types of haircuts but it looked so perfect on him.

You were dying to call his name so you could see his face one more time, but all you did was freeze in your place as Joshua made a stop in front of a couple. And definitely not any couple; right in front of your eyes, Simon stood there, holding in his arms a girl of your age.

“Y/N” Simon’s eyes were as wide as yours upon seeing your face. You swallowed as you felt Joshua’s eyes on you, as well as the girl’s.

“Hi” was all you could say, the pressure feeling suffocating

“Had no idea you were back home” he muttered as he scratched his neck. His shy attitude was soon gone as his eyes met this girl’s stare “Um, I thought you were single”

“How did you know that?” it came out as natural, as your intrigue was genuine

“Well, she’s not!” Joshua suddenly spoke, his tone changing the atmosphere quickly.

So many things were happening at the same time, and so many questions were invading your mind. Who was she? Were they dating? Why is Joshua pretending to be your boyfriend? What is he trying to do? Why is Simon looking at you like that? What is going on?

No answers were available, but it didn’t matter. The second you felt Joshua’s arm around your waist, with the hand landing on the side of your hips, everything went blank. No thoughts were visible inside your head, and no heartbeat was like the previous one. A new, pretty weird question appeared in replacement to the questionnaire you were having. What the fuck was Joshua doing to you?

“Well, this is new” the girl suddenly spoke

“How so?” Joshua asked, his eyebrows shifting and making him look even more beautiful than before

“I thought you had taste, darling”

Now your eyebrows shifted as soon as those words came off her mouth. She obviously didn’t know you like you had no idea who she was. The tension was new and it could be cut by a single scissor within seconds. The boys froze in place as her eyes landed on you, checking you out from head to toes. It came to your mind the only possibility left; Joshua needed a date in front of his ex. It was a misfortune that he had to choose his ex girlfriend’s boyfriend’s ex girlfriend (yeah, that was hard to say). But you were determined to show, especially to Simon, that you were no longer the underdog they met at high school.

“Baby, he dated you. Nobody on this earth thought he had taste”

Your words were exactly those scissors I mentioned and Joshua couldn’t stay still. He froze for a few seconds, shock probably taking over him, until he came back to earth to release a small laughter he was trying to drown. Simon reacted too, though still shocked. The girl, the stranger you did not like now, was even more frozen. To your surprise, it was Simon who broke the ice you had created to freeze everybody.

“Um, let’s go, Mel. We’ll see you at the reunion” he basically muttered as he dragged his alleged girlfriend outside the store.

While Joshua watched as the new couple left the place with a huge argument, you felt like the walls were closing on you. You held your throat, feeling like air was not entering your lungs anymore. Your knees suddenly went weak and you struggled to stay on your feet. One leg stopped working and you stumbled in your place. The familiar feeling of an anxiety attack growing inside you was pretty evident and you couldn’t stand. You seeked for something to hold and all your arms found was Joshua. His head turned quickly upon the new touch, and his eyes opened like plates as he noticed your state.

“Woah, you good?” his arms fidgeted in the air as he tried to hold you

“I-I need air” you whispered, as you began feeling your throat closing

“Ok, ok, calm down, I’ll take you out of here”

Poor boy was struggling as he suddenly forgot the way out. It was obvious he had never been in this position before and he looked everywhere for the exit. Once he found the little green sign, he held you in his arms while he made his way outside. You followed right behind as much as you could, though most of your weight was being held by Joshua.

When you managed to put your foot outside the store, you felt the freeze hit your face with violence. The warmth the grocery store had given you this last hour was gone as soon as the winter's cold embraced your body. It wasn’t as bad, anyways. You were used to these winters by now.

Joshua was looking everywhere for the answer but, to his luck, you had been through this before. You found a wall nearby to rest on and, to give your knees a break, you sat down. The pain of not being able to breathe was still around and Joshua noticed. He sat in front of you, unsure of what to do next.

It was his touch that felt like someone had given you your oxygen back. It was random, new, even extraordinary. The way his hands stroked your hair brought you pure peace. It did make you feel like a dog at start, but the action was so reassuring that it only had you feeling understood.

After sensing like air was entering your lungs, you looked up. His eyes soon again found yours but this time, they were being accompanied by a sincere, sweet smile.

“There you are” he spoke much more sweetly than before

“I’m sorry about that” you said after sighing

“No, I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation” although it was evident you were feeling good, his hand was still stroking your hair. However, you didn’t want him to stop

“It’s fine, how could you know he was my ex anyways” you tried hard to maintain eye contact but it felt impossible; his eyes were so intense they could see through you

“So he was your ex” there was a silence as Joshua seemed to be thinking “Did we go to the same school?”

For seconds, you thought of lying. But quickly, you could imagine people recognizing you at the reunion and it only sounded stupid to hide such an useless truth.

“Yeah, we did, Joshua” now his curious expression was mixed with confusion

“How do you know my name?” he asked quickly “Were we friends?”

You giggled at how cute his reactions were.

“Aren’t you like, big famous now?” for some reason, it felt wrong to admit you did remember him

“Not big famous!” now it was his time to giggle, though his were softer and even followed by a bit of blush “but leaving Frankenmuth did help eventually”

It was truly surprising how he never once stopped caressing your head. The dearness this single touch was giving you was so overwhelming you were even craving more. But, at some point, this was a total stranger to you.

“Tell me about it” you muttered.

With his help, you managed to stand up. Joshua took care of you quickly, asking small questions to check if everything was ok. Though the day was ending and you actually never did the grocery shopping you were supposed to, something inside you didn’t want to leave him. His presence was so addictive, and you, for the first time, felt happy in your home town.

“So, what now?” you asked, your eyes looking around for witnesses of your ‘almost’ anxiety attack

“I guess we’re dating now” he replied with his characteristic charming smile.

Wow.

Was this really happening?

i may do another version with this prompt btw! thanks for requesting and for reading!!

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fics #gvf #.gvftxt #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet x reader

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