#sorry as usual for taking 84 years to reply to asks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

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i love you, say it back

wordcount: 1.8k

warning: you might gag it’s pretty fucking cute also there’s cursing there is always cursing

_____

“Hey, Soph.” Rafe tried snapping her out of her thoughts as she mumbled to herself, trying to calculate her midterm grades. Sophie had been chewing on her lip for the past ten minutes, anxious about if she could pull off an A in two of her classes or if she could manage a B+ on her global history midterm. “Hm?” She mumbled, keeping her eyes tracked on her calculation in her notebook.

“You’re stressing me out.” He nudged her foot under the table, trying to get her to look up. They were alone in her architecture lab, late at night, and Rafe was mainly keeping her company, just doing some homework while she was working on a model. It was a typical spot for them on Thursday nights, if he wasn’t able to convince her to go out instead.

“Oh I’m sorry, you’re free to leave then.” She replied, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Soph.” He tried catching her attention again, looking at her with a fond smile.

She glanced up with an apologetic look. “Sorry, didn’t mean it.”

“I know. Hey, let’s take a break, we’ve been here for five hours. What are you working on now?” Rafe came around and stood behind her, pulling her shoulders back to rub them.

She resisted for a second then let her head fall back, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m figuring out my grades. I need at least an 84 on my global history midterm to pull it up, and I need a solid 87 on this model to keep my A in environmental studies, and an 88 on my other one to keep the A in programming, which is going to be fucking impossible, and -”

“You’ll be fine, baby, you’re a great student, you work hard. Take a break.” He urged, trying to tug her up out of her chair. She spun in the chair, looking up at him. “You don’t understand. I can’t, I still have at least 20 hours left on this one model.”

“You have a whole week -”

She scrunched up her nose in the familiar way she did when she was frustrated and Rafe had to resist grinning at her. He had made that mistake once, maybe twice, and she had just gotten pissed off that he wasn’t taking her seriously. “No, I have to get this portfolio perfect too. I’m applying to master’s programs next year and if I half-ass this project then it’ll show.”

He took her hands, tugging again to pull her up. “Soph, I love you, but you gotta stop putting so much pressure on yourself. Let’s take a break.”

I love you.

She froze and tuned out every single word after that, just blinking up at him.

“You what?”

“I said you need to stop putting -”

Sophie shook her head quickly. “No, before that. You said you loved me.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows, his arms going slack and he dropped her hands, exhaling slowly. “Oh. Did I?”

She spoke quickly, anxious, and grabbed one of his hands. “If you didn’t mean it that’s fine, I -”

“No!” He interrupted her and knelt down to her eye level in the chair. “I did! I do. I mean it.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, keeping eye contact and softened his voice a bit. “I love you.”

Sophie gave him a tight-lipped smile, clearly nervous. “Really? Me?”

“Of course you.” He grabbed the chair beside her and pulled it to sit, then rubbed his thumb back and forth over her hand, growing tense again. “I wish it hadn’t just slipped out like that, but I’d been meaning to tell you.” He paused. “I’ve known for a while now, I think.”

She finally came to her senses and pulled him in with both hands on either side of his face, giving him a deep kiss. He finally relaxed and smiled against her lips. “I...you’re my favorite, you know?” She grinned.

He nodded and did his best to hold back his disappointment, his heart pounding in his ears and all he could think was she didn’t say it back. “Yeah. Better be.”

She kissed him again, long and slow, then pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his. “I, um...I can’t...” Sophie trailed off, hoping he’d get the hint.

Rafe cocked his head. “Can’t what?”

She leaned away, biting her lip anxiously. “I can’t say it back. I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t - I don’t know -”

His face fell for a moment but he recovered quickly, forcing a short smile. “Hey, hey.” He interrupted, cutting her off with a quick kiss. “I know. It’s okay. Let’s just... let’s go take a break. Walk around, move a little.”

“I don’t know, Rafe, I gotta finish this -”

“Not asking, angel.” He stood, tugging on her hands again. She gave him a wry smile, shaking her head. “You know what that does to me, not fair.” Rafe laughed and nodded. “I know. C’mon, I’ll drag you out of here if I have to. Ten minute walk and then I’ll let you work again.”

She laughed and stood, giving him a quick hug first. He caught her around the waist and wrapped his arms around her, tight. “Love you, Soph. You’re my girl, don’t forget it.” She only nodded, words on the tip of her tongue as she rested her head against his chest. “Hey Rafe?”

“What’s up?” He held her for a little while longer, smoothing his hand over her hair.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, not willing to look at him. She’d felt it coming from him for a while and had tried to prepare herself, but the weight of his words fell on her like a ton of bricks.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He kissed the top of her head, then let her go. “Come on, let’s go walk.” He cleared his throat. “Get your mind off of things.”

She didn’t need a translator to know what things meant.

Although every single instinct in Sophie was screaming at her to distance herself from Rafe for the next decade until he lost interest, she made herself continue to hang out with him like normal. She saw the way Rafe’s face dropped after she told him she couldn’t say it back and absolutely hated the way it made her feel - something that made her stop and think.

She’d never let herself get too attached in previous relationships, always being the one to break it off first. Usually she allowed herself a week-long maximum mourning period, then moved on to the next thing. The fact that Rafe even cared enough to say he loved her made her want to stay, to try, just for him.

Rafe was a little distant on his own part, trying not to get too upset with Sophie for not returning the sentiment. After all, he felt like he’d known since December - only two months into dating - and it didn’t feel right for him to say it then. He was a little hurt, but he’d also tried telling her at least twice already and chickened out. He just hoped she was feeling the same way.

Two weeks later, she snuck Rafe into the Theta house up the fire escape. She had just turned in her final project and declared a celebration was in order. He had the routine down by then - walk over, wait around the corner ‘til the coast was clear, hop the gate then come up the fire escape to the top floor. Allie and Julia were just leaving as he was climbing up the stairs, trying his best to keep quiet.

“Skip the fifteenth step.” Julia advised him as they watched him scale the stairs from the parking lot. Rafe paused, unable to place the voice in the dark and tucked a shoebox under his arm, not sure if he should hide or just run. “I’m not causing any trouble, I swear.” Allie laughed and shone her phone flashlight on him. “Just us, Cameron, we won’t tell.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Is Soph up there waiting?”

“Yeah, will you convince her to come out with us tomorrow? She’s being lame.” Julia called out.

“I’ll do my best. Can you stop shining the light? I’m gonna get her in trouble.”

“Climb faster.” Allie teased as Sophie pushed open the door up top. “You two are the worst, you know that?” She called down, grinning as Rafe made it up.

“Yeah, yeah, you love us!” Julia yelled back, much louder than necessary. Sophie laughed and grabbed Rafe’s hand, pulling him down the hall and into her room quickly. “Are they gonna give me shit every time I come over?” He asked, smiling.

“Yeah, but it’s ‘cause they like you.” She raised her eyebrows. “What’s in the box?”

Rafe grinned, holding out the shoebox with a poorly-tied ribbon on top. “Made you something, to celebrate. Presentation isn’t quite there, but. It’s something.”

“Something.” She repeated, raising her eyebrows. Sophie took the box and untied the ribbon, then gasped when she opened it. “Rafe, you didn’t!” Inside were 7 cupcakes, haphazardly decorated with pink frosting - her favorite color.

He beamed, rocking back on his heels. “I hope they’re okay, I had to use the fancy ovens we have in the Delt kitchen. And it’s just from a box, but the box is normally okay, I think? James stole one - he didn’t know - but he thought it was good.”

She pulled out her phone to take a quick video of them first, then panned the video up to Rafe. He pushed her phone away with a grin, turning a little red. “It’s kind of cheesy, I guess. But. You deserve it. I’m proud of you.”

“God, I love you.” She breathed out, grinning ear to ear.

He paused for a moment, seeming to process, then came over and wrapped her in a tight hug. “You said it back.”

“I mean it.” She kissed him quickly, a blush on her cheeks. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied, pressing his lips to her forehead. She giggled and reached up, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “You have dried frosting on your face.” He scowled but let her rub it away. “Pretty sure there’s flour in my hair too.”

“How’d you know I wanted cake?”

“You mentioned it last week when we watched Matilda, you said you wanted to celebrate with it when you finished finals. But more importantly, you love me back.” He grinned.

“I do.” She laughed. “I mean it, too. I love you.”

“I could hear you say that for ages.” He smiled, looking pleased. “I swear I’ll never get tired of it.”

“Careful what you wish for.” She teased and reached up to kiss him again.

Rafe laughed against her lips, then pulled away just to press his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you waited, you know. I didn’t want you to say it back just to say it.”

“You know I would have held out longer if I didn’t mean it.” She nudged her nose against his. “You’re still my favorite though.”

He beamed and nudged her nose back. “Always my favorite, Soph.”

#rafe x sophie #mine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #college rafe #frat rafe

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celestofisekai · 3 years

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Love Through Time

I made an isekai story of Marius but since it’s isekai to ancient China, his name is going to be Lu Jinghe. The full fanfic is here

You are currently doing your history project about ancient China, more specifically the Tang Dynasty era. You are reading the books you borrowed from the national library. It shows you what life was like in 618-907 CE China. You especially like how the clothes look from the early Tang Dynasty to the late Tang Dynasty. The early Tang woman would wear narrow sleeved tops with long vertical striped skirts and there are usually shoulder straps on the skirts. Through the course of 95 years of clothing styles changing, the Tang Dynasty reached their golden age where the clothes were more loose and fancy.

Followed by the middle and late Tang Dynasty where the clothes are now more flowy and ethereal looking. "I wonder what it's like living there and wearing those traditional clothes, especially the middle to late Tang dresses." you sigh dreamily, imagining what it would be like wearing those flowy dresses. You sadly had to go back to reality and continue your project till it was midnight. By then you're already asleep on your desk a few books and papers scattered on the desk and floors.

↝✤↜

You slowly woke up from your sleep to see that you're not in your room. It looked like the interiors of a historical building. You're confused but try to keep calm and look around to investigate. Starting from your clothes which look different from the one you wore the night before. You see there's a wardrobe so you walk towards it and open it. You inspect the clothing articles in the wardrobe and conclude that you may be in a house built in middle or late Tang.

"Strange." you mumble before walking out of your room and start to wander around the house until you meet an old woman that you never saw. "My darling granddaughter! Why are you walking around in your night dress!?" she exclaimed, pulling you back towards where you came from. She closed the door before setting you down on the bed and opening the wardrobe.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" you ask, looking at the old woman. "Is my granddaughter beginning to be forgetful? Even I, your 84 year old grandmother, isn't that forgetful." she replied, emphasizing on the word your and grandmother.

'Grandmother?' you thought, eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

Your 'grandmother' seems content with the clothes she used and turns towards you. "Don't scrunch your eyebrows like that. You're going to get wrinkles." she warned, giving you the clothes she picked out. "Hurry up and get dressed. We have a busy day ahead of us." she stated before she left the room.

You looked at the stack of neatly folded clothes before you stood up and changed.You walked towards the three panel room divider and started to change. You took off your night dress and undergarments one by one. You then change into a clean and new set of undergarments. You then put on the blouse before tying the knot at the front. You then take the skirt before stepping in it, bringing up the black panel and tying it at the front as tight as you can.

Once tied you proceed to bring up the front panel. Wrapping it around your back and tying it again in the front. Looping the remaining belt several times to create more friction but you feel it’s harder to breathe now that the skirt was tied securely. You take the hezi and turn it around to make it easier to tie, starting from the two inner ties then the two outer ties, turn it around.

Once changed, you walk out of the room again and start to look for your 'grandmother'. You found her at the back. There were people working from sorting out cotton to weaving fabrics. ‘I guess this family is in the textile business.’ you said in your head, walking around the place before spotting your ‘grandmother’ talking to a girl. You then approached both of them and the younger spotted you and said, “Xiao meimei! There you are! We were supposed to go to the market today!”

‘Xiao meimei? I don’t have an older sister…Where have I woken up in?’

#x reader #tot marius #marius x reader #tot #tears of themis

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sunlightdances · 4 years

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Happy Mistake (College!Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Request from @jbbuckybarnes: Being assigned roommates with modern!Bucky. He's a giant and looks like he's a bully, but he's actually so shy and soft. Author’s Note: *It’s been 84 years.gif* So sorry this took so long! Note: There’s note writing in this fic - italics are the Reader, and bold are from Bucky. PS - I listened to the playlist “Relaxing Classical Strings” on Spotify whilst writing and I highly recommend it. Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes, Marvel, or any related characters from the MCU. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (including collections or hosting sites) without my permission! Reblogs are gold. I’d love to hear from you if you like this!

You’re sweating a little as you unpack your last box, wondering why colleges always pick the absolute hottest day of the year to have everyone move in.

You step back and admire your work - your bookshelf is organized and you’ve got one of your favorite scented candles burning on your nightstand. You can already picture yourself studying here, and staying up too late drinking homemade cocktails with your roommate.

Loud voices from the living room draw your attention, and you feel those nervous butterflies - you hope you get along with your roommate for this year. Last year was definitely an adventure, and not in a good way. You’re just praying this person is nice and considerate.

Heading out to the common area you stop in your tracks, seeing three guys lugging in boxes. They smile at you a little curiously, but don’t say much. You look around them for your roommate, but you have no idea what they look like. You’re a little embarrassed to admit that you can’t remember what their name is either - you lost that handy piece of information almost immediately after it was mailed to your parents’ house over the summer.

“Hi,” One of the guys says, holding out his hand. He’s tall, well built, with dark hair that looks like he spent an hour coiffing it just right. His eyes are the most distracting thing about him. “I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

You smile and tell him your name. “I’m waiting for my roommate - are you helping her move in?”

His smile fades. “Are you kidding?”

You feel your face get hot. “... No?”

He stares at you so intensely you can practically feel it. “Where’s your friend? Are you helping him?”

“Holy shit, dude.” His friend - large, blonde, and a smile out of a magazine - says, laughing.

James sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We have to go to the RA. I think they made a mistake.”

You frown. “What are you talking about? How would you even know? You’re not--”

“Your roommate? It’s me.” He digs in his pocket for a letter from the University, handing it to you. Right there, in bold letters, it reads James Barnes, Easton Hall, 305.

Your stomach sinks when you realize what happened. “Oh. Right -- I don’t know how this could have happened.”

He groans, turning to his friend. “Remember when you said moving in for a second year would be easy? You’re a jinx.”

You fold your arms over your stomach, trying to stave off the urge to cry. It’s not your fault or his fault, but you just wished this wasn’t happening. You just wanted an easy year for once.

“Hey,” James’ friend says, looking at you with so much concern you almost believe you’ve known him longer than 5 minutes. “It’s going to be fine.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“God. Stop flirting.” James complains, elbowing Steve.

Steve looks annoyed, “Shut up. Let’s go fix this before one or both of you are homeless.”

The RA was almost zero help. They gave you plenty of sympathetic looks, but otherwise had no idea what to do to fix your situation.

Back in the dorm, you sit helplessly on the end of your bed, trying to ignore James on the phone in the common area.

You look up when he comes into the room, knocking lightly on the door frame. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You reply, wondering if you look as pathetic as you feel. Your insides are a twisted up ball of anxiety.

“The admissions office was no help. They said they’d have to sort it out and with everyone moving in, they might not have a free room for either of us for a few days.”

You nod, and he tilts his head slightly to one side. “Hey, this isn’t your fault.”

You huff. “I know, I just-- I wanted this year to be better than last year and it’s already off to a terrible start.”

His eyes are sparkling a little as he pretends to be offended. “Most girls would be excited at the prospect of sharing a dorm with me, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “I guess you better get unpacked. Who knows when or if they’ll ever get back to you.”

He winks so you know he was joking before. “You can call me Bucky,” he says offhandedly. “All my friends do.”

That was three months ago, and you’re still living with Bucky Barnes.

You’re making it work, but it’s still an awkward conversation every time you have friends over. You still haven’t told your parents.

You’re an adult, but you’re still sure your Dad would flip knowing you’re living with a very eligible bachelor. Very eligible, as you’ve learned.

You’ve never met someone who goes on as many dates as Bucky does. Some of them you’re positive are just friends, and he invites you out with them sometimes, but it still feels weird. Most of the time you stay in, opting to study instead of third wheeling it with Bucky.

You’ve taken to leaving each other notes around the dorm when the other one is out - the only way you can think to get a message across sometimes.

All out of milk, stop at the store on your way home?

You leave that message taped to the fridge in the morning when you leave before him, and when you get home in the afternoon, there’s a new note in its place.

Forgot the milk, but got chocolate chip cookies. Priorities? Then, scrawled smaller, (sorry. Will buy in the morning)

You roll your eyes, but eat two of the cookies while you’re doing your homework later that night after dinner.

The next morning, you hear the door a few times and are just about ready to open your bedroom door and throw a fit when you hear Bucky shush someone.

“Dude, can you please speak at a normal volume for someone at six in the morning? She’s asleep--”

“Sorry, I’m a morning person.” You recognize Steve’s voice and roll your eyes, rolling back over and hoping for a few more hours of sleep before your first class.

Meanwhile, Bucky follows Steve out of the dorm, trying to keep his steps light and quiet as he shuts the door behind them.

Steve chuckles, and Bucky glares. Pretty standard for this pair of friends.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so worried about her. It’s cute.” He ducks away from Bucky’s punch.

“Shut up.”

“Really, dude. Don’t think I missed the way you looked at her on move-in day. When are you going to do something about it?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, “It’s a bad idea.” Steve scoffs, and Bucky continues, “Seriously. We’re roommates. If something happened and it didn’t work out--”

“How do you know it won’t work out?”

“Just drop it, okay?”

Steve shakes his head, but doesn’t push it any further. Bucky swallows his feelings down, down, down. He can at least admit to himself that Steve’s right about one thing: when he first met you and thought you were his roommate’s friend or sister or something, he was ready to lay on the charm.

You’re beautiful, and funny, and there’s something about you that sticks with him like glue. He can’t shake the feeling, and he really doesn’t want to.

But he’s afraid, too. Because what if it does ruin everything? If he’s honest, you’re the best roommate he’s ever had. And not just because the dynamic between you two is good, even though that’s definitely part of it. But you’re courteous, and you do small things like set the coffee maker up the night before so there’s hot coffee on mornings when he gets up earlier than you do.

You leave him a reminder on the kitchen counter not to forget his notebook, the one with the torn cover that he always loses. You check on him if he’s staying up too late and you make sure to buy the ice cream he likes when it’s your turn to do the shopping.

It’s like you actually care about him beyond just being his roommate, and he’s never felt that kind of connection with anyone before.

At that, he has to keep himself from stopping dead in his tracks as he walks with Steve.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Bucky comes home while you’re tugging on a sweater, getting ready to leave for your first class. You lean out of the door, smiling, but he heads straight for the shower and shuts the bathroom door.

You frown; it’s unlike him to ignore you completely.

You figure he’s tired after his run with Steve, but can’t get rid of the niggling worry in the back of your mind that something’s wrong.

The day drags on, and you find yourself nearly falling asleep during your last class - your mind elsewhere and attention lacking. Towards the end of class, you text Bucky, asking him if he’s going to be home for dinner.

No response.

Not unusual, but to your anxiety brain? You immediately start thinking the worst. You’re replaying every conversation from the last week, trying to remember if you’ve done anything that could have possibly made him upset.

When you get home, his bedroom door is shut, but the light is on. You try to go about business as usual, writing him a note that there’s dinner in the fridge and sliding it under the door when he still doesn’t come out, even after an hour of meal prepping.

Taking the hint, you take your own meal into your bedroom and shut the door.

After an hour or so, you try not to feel hurt when you hear his door opening, and then the sound of the front door. No matter how hard you try not to take it personally, you can’t help it when your stomach sinks.

He doesn’t come back that night.

Or the next two.

By day three, you’ve moved on from hurt and have settled on anger.

There are no more notes, no anything to indicate that he’s been in the dorm at all and has just missed you. There’s nothing.

This goes on for a few more days before you’re sitting on the couch, listening to a key being put in the lock. Your heart starts to race, and you sort of hate yourself for leaning forward, waiting for him to step into view.

It’s not Bucky.

Steve looks sheepish, even a little upset as he gives you a wave, shoving the keys in his pocket. “Hey,” he says quietly. “I’m uh-- Bucky asked me to get a few things.”

You don’t even know what to say. This feels like a break up, except you and Bucky have never been together, and you have no idea why he’s not sleeping here, or why he’s not talking to you.

Your throat starts to tighten as you fight off the threat of tears.

And it’s worse because Steve looks embarrassed, and he looks sorry for you and he’s so nice, and you hate it. You don’t want him to pity you.

You just watch helplessly as he goes into Bucky’s room, the sound of drawers opening and closing the only thing you hear for a few minutes before he comes back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, I-- I told him he should talk to you. I don’t really know what happened--”

“Nothing happened.” You say, frustrated. “I just came home one day and he ignored me and he’s been ignoring me ever since.”

Steve’s jaw ticks. “What day was that?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. A few days ago. When you and he went for a run early in the morning.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry. I think-- I need to go talk to him. Hang in there, okay?” He ruffles your hair as he leaves, and you realize he’s left Bucky’s bag behind.

Bucky is staring at his phone when Steve comes back, slamming the door behind him. “Christ,” Bucky mutters. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem.”

Bucky frowns, looking up to see his best friend looking pissed.

“I just went to your dorm. Your roommate was there.”

Bucky feels the familiar feeling of guilt and self loathing come over him, but doesn’t know what to say, so he lets Steve continue with his tirade.

“She had no idea you were here. She had no idea why you were gone, and she had no idea what she did wrong.” Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You made it seem like you guys had a fight or something! And then she said you’ve been ignoring her ever since our conversation the other day. If you’re really pushing her away because I was giving you a hard time--”

“That’s not what’s happening.”

“Then why the hell are you sleeping on my couch?” Steve asks exasperated. “It’s not like I don’t like having you here, but come on, dude.”

Bucky swallows heavily, trying to get his bearings. “You were right, okay?” He says it quietly. “I’m-- getting attached.”

Steve watches him carefully. “I think you need to be telling her this, not me.”

Bucky rubs his face. “I know.”

Steve smiles slyly. “I forgot your clothes. Looks like you need to go home.”

Bucky feels like an idiot.

He’s knocking on the door to his own dorm because he was in such a rush to leave Steve’s, he forgot his key.

And now he’s waiting for you to open the door, half sure that you’re going to slap him across the face when you see him.

The door opens, and he’s struck by the sight of you. You look sad. But you’re beautiful, and he has no idea how he thought he was ever going to be able to live with you, see you every day, and not fall head over heels for you.

“Bucky.” You sound surprised.

“Um-- I forgot my key.”

“Oh, sure. Uh-- come in.”

He follows you inside, and takes a deep breath. “I think we need to talk.”

You look apprehensive, and he hates himself for doing this to you. You sit down on the couch and he does the same thing, mirroring you.

“I owe you an apology. I didn’t -- I shouldn’t have just left. Or ignored your texts. I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s not like-- you don’t owe me--”

“Yes, I do.” Bucky is adamant. “Look - when we first met, I was really unsure how we were going to get through this. Obviously we weren’t meant to be living together. But now I can’t imagine it any other way.”

You laugh, though it still sounds a little sad. “I thought you were this big, scary guy.” You look down at your lap, wringing your hands. “I was really wrong about you.”

Bucky wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and make up for every sad feeling you’ve had over the last few days.

“I’m sorry. I never should have ignored you. I was-- I was kind of panicking.”

You tilt your head. Bucky thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Why would you be panicking?”

He decides to just bite the bullet. “I think I have feelings for you.” At your quick inhale, he shakes his head, “No, I know I have feelings for you. You just-- crept up on me. And I freaked out, because Steve kept getting on my case about it, and--”

His rambling is stopped when you grab his arm, tugging him towards you before throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug. Bucky freezes at first, but soon melts into you, sighing at your touch and burying his face in your neck.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and Bucky feels his knees go weak. How he ever thought you weren’t going to have him wrapped around your finger, he has no idea.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

6 months later

“Buck?”

“I’m coming--”

“We’re going to be late…”

“We’re not going to be late. We’re going to be early, because you think early is on time.” He comes out of the bedroom, pulling his leather jacket on. He grins at you, voice softening. “Look at you.”

You feel your face heat. “Stop it,”

“What? I can’t compliment my girl?”

“If we’re late again, Steve is going to roast you. And if he doesn’t, Peggy will.”

Bucky grabs your hand, rolling his eyes. “You worry too much. Come on.” As you’re walking, he’s muttering under his breath about double dates, but you can tell he’s happy to go out - the both of you have been so swamped with school, you’ve been shut up in your dorm for days.

The day after your talk with Bucky, you slowly but surely began working your way towards a relationship. It wasn’t hard - you were already close friends, and without the fear of thinking either of you were going to be rejected, it was easy to take the next step.

Now, as you walk through the building hand in hand, you’re so grateful that someone in the housing department screwed up.

From the spark in Bucky’s eye as he winks at you, you think he is too.

#bucky barnes x reader #prompt fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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stahlop · 3 years

Text

Ready to Run (2/?)

I know it's been 84 years since I posted a new chapter. I am so sorry. Between birthdays, Secret Santa, January Joy, and Neverland New Year, I kind of over extended myself. I'm hoping to update this every two to three weeks now.

Thanks to @imlaxdris71 for continuing to be my beta for this story.

Prologue Ch.1

Read it on Ao3

“Belle.” He says to his boss and the head of the vlog site. “Come on. It’s an opinion piece. You can’t fire me for having an opinion.”

“I left you four messages and a slew of texts, Killian.” Belle sighs as she pushes a piece of mousy brown hair that has escaped her barrette away from her face as she looks for something on her laptop.

“And that surprises you? I never answered your messages and texts when we dated either.” He looks over at Will who happens to be in the office as well, which is odd because Will doesn’t usually come to meetings between them. Will is usually never out of the editing room when they’re at the office.

“What’s your boyfriend doing here?” Killian asks grumpily. He’s perfectly fine with Belle dating his best friend. He gave Will his blessing when he asked Killian if he could date Belle after they’d broken up. There were no hard feelings between him and Belle; they just worked better as friends.

“Moral support.” Belle says, her eyes lighting up as she has apparently found what she is looking for.

“Since when do you need moral support, Belle?” Killian teases. Belle does not look amused.

“I’m here for you, you wanker!” Will says practically knocking Killian out of his chair.

“Aha!” She says as she pulls up whatever it was she was looking for. “First rule of journalism, Killian, regardless of whether it’s an opinion piece or not, if you make up your facts, you get fired.” She gives him a stern look, one he got very used to when they were dating. It was a wonder she’d never killed him.

“Second rule: never work for an ex.” He sighs. Belle’s face gets even more stern. Killian has never even seen this face before, and he thought he knew them all. She sighs again and clicks a button on her computer. Killian hears the printer spitting out a piece of paper behind her.

“That has nothing to do with it, Killian.” She says as she rolls her chair around to the printer and grabs what it was she printed out. “If you make something up you get fired.” She looks completely exasperated with him, another look he knows all too well. Killian sighs this time.

“I didn’t make up anything, I had a source.” Belle knows him too well to think he would just make something up, so he’s really confused as to where this whole tongue-lashing is coming from.

“Someone reliable?” She questions raising her eyebrow at him. “Or someone in Liam’s bar?” Oh, he knows her way too well.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don't knock drunk guys in bars. It means they're not driving.” Will laughs at his joke. Killian puts out one arm toward Will and then looks back at Belle as if to say ‘See?’, but she’s still not amused by him. “Besides, l am an opinion vlogger. This is what opinion vloggers are supposed to do.” Killian is slightly agitated that Belle is making him defend himself over this. Usually, he just gets a talking to and that’s that. “It's what you like. We push, we stretch, we go out on a limb. That's what makes me good!”

“No, it’s what makes you fired.” Belle fires back. Killian’s had enough of this.

“What the hell, Belle?” Will laughs again from behind him. So much for support.

“Emma Swan has written a grievance against you and asked you to be fired or she will sue us for slander.” Belle says with finality. Killian’s eyes go wide with shock. Maybe he shouldn’t be getting his ideas from drunk guys in bars. And now that he thinks about it, he really shouldn’t have used her name. Will comes up behind him and rests his hands on Killian’s shoulders in a comforting way.

“Please Belle, this is my life we’re talking about.” He says, no longer feeling cocky about all this. The wind has been blown out of his sails, so to speak.

“If you go quietly, I’ll see about getting you severance pay.” She says not looking at him in the eyes and handing him the paper she had printed out. He opens it to see the email that Emma Swan had sent about him and he realizes this is real. Just yesterday he was envisioning winning awards for this piece and now he doesn’t have a job.

“Come on mate.” Will says helping him out of the chair and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I’ll walk you to your desk so you can collect your things and escort you out.” They begin to walk out of Belle’s office.

“I can do it myself.” He says rather angrily. He instantly regrets it. It’s not Will’s fault he’s in this mess.

“Well, actually, I do. I have to physically make sure you leave the building.” Will says a little embarrassed.

“Of course.” Killian replies back. This was not how he foresaw his day going at all. Will has ceremoniously provided him with a small box to put everything in. He gathers up a picture of himself and Liam from when they were stationed together on the same ship, both looking pristine in their uniforms. He picks up the picture of Belle, Will, and himself, back when they were all just a bunch of single friends, before dating complications. A picture of himself graduating from college goes into the box, as well as other knicknacks he’s collected over the years. He leaves all the notebooks and writing utensils, he has enough of those at home.

Will stays silent through all this until the elevator doors close behind them.

“I have an idea that will get your job back.” Will says still facing the elevator door and not actually facing Killian.

“What?” Killian says, confused. “What are you saying?”

“Revenge.” Will says now facing him with a slightly evil smile on his face. He and Will have been friends for a long time, and this is the first time Killian has ever seen this creepy smile grace his face. “How would you like some? A chance to prove that although your story wasn't entirely factual, your theory was correct.”

“The real story on Miss Swan.” Killian interrupts.

“All the gory details.” Will’s actually rubbing his hands together like a movie villain. Killian raises an eyebrow. This is a side of Will he’s never seen before. For all the trouble they got into as young men, he’s never been blatantly evil about it. But he would like to get his job back. “And if she runs again, even better.” Will shrugs as the elevator bell pings that they’ve reached the ground level and the doors open up to the lobby.

Will waves goodbye before the elevator doors close back up on him and Killian is left to ponder what Will has said. “Bloody hell.” He whispers to himself and immediately shifts his box to one side and grabs his phone from his pocket. He scrolls to find a car rental place and places the call as he walks outside of his former employer’s building.

“Yes, I’d like to rent a car for next month.”

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After Henry had been born, Emma Swan had vowed to protect her heart and his heart from any further heartbreak. Having grown up in the foster system, it wasn’t that hard. She’d felt she hadn’t been loved from a very young age, and even though her parents had eventually gotten her back at the age of 10 (they’d been 16 when they had her and thought they’d been giving her her best chance by putting her up for adoption), she still had those trust issues. Neal did nothing to help those issues, and even after he’d gotten out of jail five years later, he was barely there for Henry, despite only living a few neighboring towns over.

The problem though, was that Emma’s parents were the perfect fairy tale couple (despite the less than fairy tale teen pregnancy and adoption). They had met as children, the mayor’s stepdaughter and the farmer’s son. Her mother, Mary Margaret, and her father, David, had not hit it off at all. They fought like cats and dogs (David even had a scar on his chin from one such fight in which Mary Margaret threw a rock at him). It had eventually all come down to some school dance where they were forced to dance together as the dance’s king and queen, and they had never been apart since. They had married after college and established their careers, and when they had discovered they were pregnant with her little brother, Leo, they decided they wanted their whole family back together. Or at least, have contact with Emma if she’d found herself a loving home already. It took them a few years to find her, and it took Emma a few years to really trust them. After all, they had been the reason she’d been in foster care in the first place. And having a three-year-old brother practically right when she came to live with them sent those trust issues spiraling, as she’d been given up by the Swan family at the age of three when they’d conceived their own child. That was why she’d fallen for Neal so hard and fast. Her parents seemed like true love, and she’d wanted that too. But obviously it didn’t work out as well for her.

And sure, she’d tried finding another guy who could love both herself and Henry unconditionally, but something had always pulled at her gut right as she was walking down the aisle that made her run. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she didn’t want to regret marrying someone, even if she’d been pretty sure right until she walked down the aisle.

And that’s why Graham was perfect. He knew her. He was under no pretensions about her past. He was currently the town sheriff, but before that he’d been one of the local deputies that helped the FBI take Neal down at her first wedding (the fact that she can think first wedding when she’s never actually been married is still something that wars in her mind). They’d been friends for a long time, he being only three years older than her. And it was after her aborted marriage to Walsh that he finally made his feelings known. Henry already loved him, thought of him as a father figure, and that’s all that mattered. And here they were, a year later, getting ready to get married.

And she was going through with it this time.

“Graham! Graham!” She runs into the sheriff’s station high off the email she’s just received. “They canned him!” She says excitedly, shoving her phone in his face.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emma.” Graham says, dark blonde hair flopping in his face as he gives her a big ‘luckiest man in the world’ smile. “Try this on.” He hands her a large hiking backpack that he has at the station for some reason.

“Listen.” Emma says, absentmindedly putting her arms through the large pack’s straps as she reads. "Dear Ms. Swan, I apologize to you for this unfortunate matter. Killian Jones’ vlog will no longer be appearing on our site. Best of luck in your upcoming marriage! Belle French.” She closes her phone and looks at Graham who is now beside her but still holding the pack up, which feels really heavy.

“That’s my girl!” He grins at her, then his face becomes serious. “Now this is the weight of the pack you’ll be wearing on the Inca Trail.” Graham has always wanted to go hiking on the Inca Trail and see Machu Picchu. It’s not really something Emma has ever thought about doing, but it makes Graham happy. It was definitely a better idea than Walsh’s honeymoon plans, which involved seeing different monkey species in their natural habitats all throughout the US. Or August who wanted to go to New York Fashion week and try to crash the runway shows. And then she’s suddenly falling backwards as Graham’s strong hands move away from the pack and the sheer weight of it pulls her down to the ground.

“Um, I think it’s a little heavy, hon. Can you help me up, please?” But instead of helping her up he kneels down and starts peppering her with kisses. She squeals in delight as they start making out on the sheriff’s office floor. Hopefully, no one will come in and interrupt them.

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Emma is hanging out at Hairandelle, Elsa’s hair salon, while Henry is visiting with his Uncle Leo, when she sees the black Chevelle convertible drive through the center of town. It’s a weekend, so they do tend to get tourists, especially with the beautiful fall foliage that has started appearing on the trees. Elsa raises an eyebrow toward her. She knows how much Emma loves cars. She’d restored her yellow Beetle all by herself, the only other thing Neal had left her with besides Henry. And the Chevelle is beautiful. Emma is tempted to go outside and take a look, has actually opened the door when the driver (who she’d only been able to see from the back until now) gets out of the car, parked in front of the local B&B. He looks slightly familiar to Emma, and then he takes off his aviator sunglasses and Emma’s temper flares!

“I can’t believe him!” She yells as she slams the door behind her, the bell jangling all over the place. Elsa’s expression changes quickly from the knowing smile she’d been displaying previously to one of confusion.

“Can’t believe who?” Elsa asks.

“Killian fucking Jones!” She points out the window at the Chevelle. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen Elsa sprint from her seat so fast as she pushes past her to get a glimpse of the man in the flesh. They both stare at him over copies of fashion and hair magazines.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Emma asks, a little panicked. She can’t imagine it’s for anything good, not after getting him fired from his job.

“Maybe he’s here to apologize?” Elsa says. Emma looks at her as if she’s suddenly turned into a snowman.

“Doubtful.” She looks back over at him from behind the magazine and he turns toward them at that exact moment. He looks the same as he did on that awful vlog that he spoke on. Dark hair that was styled to look like he just rolled out of bed. Scruff on his chin that made Emma think things she really shouldn’t. Graham had the same type of scruff, he probably just makes her think of him. He’s talking to Leroy, the town gossip, and the grumpiest man she’s ever met (who likes to spend a lot of time in her jail cells after a night of drinking). He points straight toward them and then, they make eye contact. She squeaks and moves her magazine back up over her face. “Oh, god! Did he just see me?” She can feel her entire face flushing.

Elsa laughs. “He doesn’t know what you look like, remember?” She says patting her shoulder. But Killian Jones is now heading straight for them, and Emma is pretty sure Leroy just pointed her out to him.

“Shit!” Emma says as he continues toward the hair salon, a swagger in his step. She quickly jumps into one of the large bubble hair dryer stations, stuffs her hair up into the cap, flicks the machine on, crosses her legs, and puts the magazine up in front of her face just as the bell on the door starts jangling again.

“Hello.” Killian Jones says looking at Elsa intently, probably trying to figure out if she is the woman whose life he tried to ruin. “I’m looking for Emma Swan. Leroy over at the B&B said she was over here.” Emma wonders if Elsa would pretend to be her so she can make her escape. Elsa just gives him her patented eyebrow raise before asking him, “Are you a reporter?” like she doesn’t already know the answer. Emma smiles behind the magazine. Elsa’s going to mess with him. He’ll never know what hit him.

Killian Jones, to his credit, looks a bit taken aback that Elsa just straight up asked him if he was a reporter.

“What?” He seems to be trying to play it off as confusion instead of shock at being called out.

“It’s just that it’s been the most recent experience in our town that anyone asking about Emma happens to be a reporter wanting to interview her.” Elsa goes back to her style station and starts picking up various pairs of scissors, inspecting each pair.

“Because of her upcoming wedding?” Killian Jones offers.

“Oh, no.” Elsa says, turning back toward him brandishing a particularly sharp pair of scissors. “Because she got that asshole vlogger fired.” Killian Jones gives a nervous smile. Emma suppresses a giggle from behind her magazine and pretends to continue to be engrossed in the correct hairstyles for your face shape.

“I am just such a reporter.” He says sticking out his hand to shake Elsa’s. “And who might you be?”

“Elsa Frost. Yes, I get the Frozen jokes all the time.” She says never wiping the smile off her face. “And you are?”

“Looking for Emma.” Killian Jones says flashing a brilliant smile at Elsa.

“Of course. Emma -- Someone to see you.” Elsa yells directly at her. Killian turns to look at the only other person in the salon, herself, and Emma can’t bring herself to drop the magazine from her face quite yet. She should have known Elsa wouldn’t be subtle. It was not her style.

“Emma?” Killian asks, stopping right in front of her. Well, this couldn’t be more embarrassing.

Emma slowly puts the magazine down and gives Killian Jones her brightest smile, as if seeing that she isn’t affected by him will make him change his mind and leave. She remembers at the last moment that she has the bubble hair dryer over her head and manages to flip it up and not bump her head on it. She doesn’t need to completely mortify herself quite yet.

“I really don’t know how much more you can say, sir.” She will not give away the fact that she knows who he is. He thinks he’s playing it cool, but the fact that he’s a vlogger doesn’t hide who he is in the least. Which gives Emma an idea.

“Hey Elsa!” Emma yells out. Elsa comes back around toward them, her blonde braid swishing behind her. As planned, Killian looks at her as she comes around and Emma mimes cutting his hair behind him. Emma quickly puts her hands back to her sides when he looks back at her. “Do you think I should give this reporter the inside scoop on my wedding?” God she hopes he takes the bait. He looks back at Elsa expectantly.

“I think…” Elsa taps her fingers along her cheek, “no one interviews Emma in here without a haircut.” Her face is full of mirth, but her voice is serious as hell.

Killian’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, ladies, just had one.” He then runs his fingers through his hair as if to prove his point.

“Well,” Emma has another idea that she thinks they’d be able to pull off. “what about a nice hot towel for your face? Get all that city dirt out of your pores?” She gives him a wide smile. “I promise I’ll answer your questions.” Killian looks at her questioningly, but then decides to take the win. He gives a smirk and sits down in the chair.

“So, when’s the big day?” He asks while Emma puts the cape over him. Elsa props him back in the chair so he’s in a lying position.

“A week from Saturday.” Emma says in an upbeat voice. She sounds like one of those peppy cheerleaders she always hated in high school.

“Church wedding?” He asks with an amused look on his face.

“No. I’m not a church person.” Emma laughs at the notion. “We’re doing an outdoor ceremony in the woods at Graham’s cabin.”

“Sir.” Elsa interrupts. “I’m just going to put some lotion on your face, just to make it smoother. Your face will feel so nice once the hot towels are added.” She turns to grab what she needs and smothers a laugh that bursts out with a cough.

“Gum.” Emma explains. “She’s always choking on her gum.”

“So, Miss Swan. Are you nervous for your upcoming nuptials?” He asks, ignoring Elsa’s outburst altogether.

“No, but I have been having these bizarre dreams…” And Emma makes up a whole slew of bizarre wedding dreams including all her past grooms walking her down the aisle and looking down to find herself in a red, leather wedding gown.

“What do you think all that means?” She asks him as Elsa removes the hot towel from his face and puts him back up into a seated position.

“I’m not really quite sure,” he begins and puts his hand to his chin as if he’s truly thinking about her dilemma, but stops short when he realizes his scruff is no longer there. His eyes grow wide as he jumps up from the chair and turns toward the mirror.

“Smooth as a baby’s bottom.” Elsa says giving Emma a high-five. Killian doesn’t respond but stalks out of the salon instead. Emma follows him. She’s not done messing with him yet.

“Mr. Jones,” she says as she opens the salon door and rests against it while still open. “I hope you realize what a mistake it was in coming here. I’m not some simpering little girl that you can tell lies about and bully to make yourself feel good. You can’t make me feel bad.” She tries to sound casual about it and leaves her arms resting at her sides, even though every instinct in her body makes her want to cross her arms over her chest. But this guy knows body language. She could tell from the way he carried himself in his vlog. Crossing her arms makes her look mad and angry and she can’t give him that.

“I’m not here to make you look bad, Miss. Swan.” He scrubs his hands over his face in frustration. “But apparently you want to make me look bad.” He says as he rubs his now bare chin. He looks like a totally different person without his scruff. Younger, more innocent. “What I’m here for is revenge.” Killian gets up close to her. Too close for comfort. She can smell the chemicals from the hair removal product they used to rid him of his beard. But she can also see his blue eyes and while Graham’s eyes are also blue, Killian Jones eyes are a blue all unto themselves. Emma can see why women find him attractive. “In my heart I feel I’m right about you and I’m going to prove it. You got me fired, Swan. That’s not something I take lightly. You chew men up and spit them out. You’re going to do to this poor wanker what you did to your other three grooms. Run.” His eyes are practically black now. Emma can tell he’s getting off on this ‘dressing down’ of her, but she keeps the smile pasted on her face because she can’t let him see that he’s getting to her, no matter how off his theory about her may be. “You are going to run again, and I’m not leaving here until you do.” Emma almost expects him to jab a finger into her chest, but instead, he backs off and gives her a grin as if he won that round.

“You know Mr. Jones, I’d love to stay and discuss my psyche or whatever it is you think is my motivation for being a multiple time runaway bride, but unlike you, I actually have a job, one I need to prepare for. Goodbye.” She turns and walks off, resisting the urge to look back at him. She won’t give him the satisfaction.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @captainswanmoviemarathon

#captain swan movie marathon #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs au #cs au ff #inspired by runaway bride

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solecize · 4 years

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EIGHTEEN FOREVER - PT 1.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. it all starts off when the bad boy greaser with a heart of gold, wong yukhei, almost runs you over with his beat up chevy on your way to school. your love story is immortalized through pen and paper, midnight ink and bloodstained envelopes spanning months on end. the sixties are a time of freedom and heartbreak—the time of your life. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lucas x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. period au (1960s) / high school au / slice of life / fluff / angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, alcohol use, violence, drug use, light sexual references, mentions of death, themes of war, implied toxic family relationships, probably some historical inaccuracy but only if u squint 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.3k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. not proofread, as usual <3 all of the poems do not belong to me. in addition, smoking is normalized in this fic, in addition to slight tinges of sexism. i do not support either, but the elements were added due to the time period.

for the one with the pretty eyes:⠀ ⠀ 555-968-84 ⠀ ⠀ call me. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ (in the blue chevy in front of you)

on your side of town, graduating high school was as rare as a teenage male walking around with clean knuckles and hair that wasn’t slicked back with thick pomade. you were proud of yourself for making it this far, while all of your other friends dropped out early and had babies or began to work full time. books weren’t for everyone and not everybody could afford it. college was a long shot for most of the graduating class, or at least the ones from your neighbourhood.

“who are ya taking to prom, huh?” kunhang was relentless in sticking his nose all up in your business, bothering you for weeks on end about your date. he began kicking the passenger’s side from the backseat to annoy you further and you flipped him off with a growl.

sicheng watched the two of you with a snort, muttering something about you two being geeks and proceeded to kill the engine of the car, once finding a suitable spot at the drive in.

you rolled your eyes. “why do you keep assuming that i’m even going? why’re you going?” kunhang was your only friend who was going to be graduating at your side.

“because i can. i think that’s more than enough of a reason.”

just a fraction of the kids you knew from your neighbourhood attended prom, most preferring to hit the watering holes to party with fake ids rather than stand under hot lights and drink bland punch. then again, only a fraction of those kids had the privilege of being able to go. however, the event was a waste of time, if anyone asked you.

“i have other things to worry about,” you retorted. “like exams.”

you carried a lot of pride on your shoulders. you were the only child in your household to make in this far in academics, with your mom long gone in the cooler behind bars and your father leaving this world when you were young. your older sister lived the glamorous housewife life and barely spoke to you, turning her nose up at the family that she left behind for fortune. it was just you and your older brother fending for yourselves in that tiny house that was always empty, with you constantly out and your brother always working out of state for his truck driving job.

“it’ll be a gas, c’mon,” kunhang began to pout. “i’ll even let you dance with me.” between the girls that nearly broke their necks whipping around to get a good look at him in the school hallways, you doubted he would be able to.

pretending to gag, you replied. “ew, no.” you laughed and exited the mustang to avoid him swatting at your arm.

the clementine sky was just about dipping into the horizon, brightening the small lot with warmth and comfort. chatter and laughter wafted in the air, along with cigarette smoke and the hug of youth. june’s summer beast was just about creeping in, as other attendees pulled up in miniskirts and wife beaters to beat the heat to a pulp. it was the perfect evening for a crappy movie and an ice cold coca cola.

sicheng teased, “i’m surprised you’re even making it out of that hellhole with a diploma, much less going to the prom.” he poked kunhang’s side and the other male yelped, pulling him into a headlock as the three of you walked. you rolled your eyes.

weaving through the crowd of people making their way back to their cars, you were heading towards the concession area with the boys. as always, sicheng insisted on arriving just a little bit later because he liked being parked far away from the screen.

you were lost in the thoughts of buttery popcorn and a cream soda when you stopped in your tracks, frozen. sicheng and kunhang noticed this, having just released each other in their psuedo fight, and looked at you strangely. you wanted to facepalm yourself.

you exclaimed, “aw, fuck, we’re a whole buncha idiots. we forgot!”

the two boys looked horrified, as they slowly realized what you all had done. immediately, your group scurried back to sicheng’s mustang and tried to avoid shoving into people. the outing had just begun and the last thing you needed was kunhang’s hothead smacking into someone’s jaw.

“chenle! chenle, you good, buddy?”

upon closer inspection, you could hear the sounds of thumping up against the inside of the mustang. sicheng nearly fell over when he reached for the trunk, heaving it up to reveal the red-faced younger male. he dramatically gasped for air and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

sicheng’s body folded and doubled over, as he tried to catch his breath in laughter. “holy shit! dude, you fucking idiot!”

“me?” kunhang was wiping tears from his eyes, body rumbling with his snickering. “who’s idea was it to bring the kid?”

you loved having chenle around, your younger wisecrack of a neighbour who often tagged along with the three of you. he was an absolute ball of sunshine. unfortunately, being the youngest meant being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

obviously, the boys meant no harm, but you were the one with the softest heart between all of them and was far more gentle towards him. “aw, we’re really sorry, chenle,” you managed to sputter out between your laughter.

“why do i always end up going in the trunk?” chenle frowned, shoulders drooping. “and i ain’t a kid!”

and of course, chenle and kunhang began shoving each other, albeit playfully at the very least. you sighed and came to the conclusion that you were friends with a bunch of goddamn zoo animals and that you needed some female friends. they stopped when you yelled at them to knock it off.

sicheng replied, “sorry, buddy. you’re the smallest one, so you luck out.” of course, it would never be him because it was his car, even though he was the bright one who suggested hiding one of you in the trunk to avoid paying for an extra ticket.

“can we just get our popcorn now?” chenle had officially given up, though his pout stained his face.

you all murmured in agreement, though everyone shared the same shit eating grins for accidentally abandoning chenle in the trunk of the mustang. he continued to claim that he was suffocating the entire time, as you lost yourself in the daydream of a refreshing drink from the concession stand amid the intense humidity.

then, kunhang called your name and that’s when you realize you’d walked ahead when everyone else stayed behind.

the three boys were inspecting something on the windshield of the mustang. sicheng remained neutral, so you figured it couldn’t have been a scratch or crack or something. you jogged over to peer over at what they were all looking at.

“when did someone leave this. . . .?” sicheng trailed off, trying to remember if he saw any figures approach in car. it must have been right after they initially left.

it was a piece of lined paper, likely torn out of a notebook and tucked underneath one of the wipers. the handwriting was clear and you cocked an eyebrow. pretty eyes?

“wow, someone left a note for me,” kunhang grinned.

chenle cleared this throat, looking elsewhere. “uh, actually, i don’t think it’s for you, man.”

you followed his eyes, realizing that he spotted the said blue chevy. a handful of guys lounged around the back of the pickup, some you even recognized from school and others you just knew. there was the former football team linebacker, yangyang. your once upon a time lab partner, xiaojun. even your older brother’s best friend, kun. there was ten, who worked at the ice cream shop that you frequented.

then, there was the one who was looking straight at you.

everyone knew yukhei, but nobody really knew him. he had a shield of mystery in between himself and the rest of the world, only truly with the same four guys at all times. that’s how you saw him as, anyway. otherwise, to the rest of your town, he was the bad boy with a heart of gold, the boy with witty retorts and the brightest smile that you’d probably ever laid eyes on. something seemed so off about the way he portrayed himself to everyone else, though.

of course, to the rest of the girls at your school, he was the top candidate on everyone’s list for a prom date. you knew that enough, from the explicit whispers from girls that you overheard in the middle of class. everyone wanted him.

that’s why, if he hadn’t locked eyes with you, there was no way in hell you’d believe that yukhei wrote that note for you.

the idea scared you and you weren’t thrilled by the possibility of having wong yukhei. that’s why you immediately crumpled up the notes and tossed it to the side. he watched your every move as you did so.

after all, yukhei nearly ran you over the week before and he clearly could not remember your name.

the week before.

“are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

so, you were a little sleep deprived. you’d been up until the early morning hours finishing an essay worth a chunk of your grade, which shouldn’t have taken so long if it weren’t for the fact that you had to deal with the constant distractions that were your friends. at some point, chenle and sicheng dropped by and decided to make you cookies in the kitchen to cheer you on as you reached the end of the school year—obviously, that escalated into a disaster. you spent a few hours cleaning before you could finally kick the two knuckleheads out of your home.

that morning, you literally rolled out of bed onto the floor when you woke up. this was upon realizing that you slept through your alarm clock for school, snoozing off into the deepest sleep of your life after finishing your assignment. that’s how you found yourself sprinting from street light to street light, hoping to at least make it before the end of second period.

then, there was the baby blue chevy pickup speeding in like lightning from your left. you honestly should have heard it from a mile away, with the gurgle and sputter of an engine humming the disgusting tune louder than anything else on the street. however, you were too lost in the daze of fatigue and trying to remember if you packed yourself a lunch.

you noticed the truck a little too late, as it was a few away from you before you yelped and attempted to hop away, but ended up landing straight on your bottom. the impact nearly knocked the wind out of you and you braced yourself for the crash. thankfully, the driver had enough sense to come to a screeching halt, just about to touch you. this is when you yelled at the male behind the wheel.

the features of his handsome face knitted together. “aw, shit, shit shit—are you alright?” he yelled.

it took half a second to process what just happened, ignoring the stinging ache oozing in your backside. you took a sharp inhale and everything exploded like a volcano. shooting right up in a sitting position, you were met with the eyes of wong yukhei.

“do i look alright?” you snapped and he opened his mouth to reply, but you didn’t let him get even a word out. “you almost killed me, running that stop sign! i’m freakin’ exhausted, probably got three hours of sleep and i had to deal with my brother’s idiot cat almost clawing my eyes out on my way out! i’ve been running for forever and my legs ache like hell and i have to go to work straight after school! and. . .and, worst of fucking all, i’m late for school!”

yukhei simply blinked, staring back at your state, with dark crescent moons slapped underneath your eyes and your chest heaving for air. you were, in all simpleness, a mess. he smiled slightly, running a hand through his precisely twirled up, slicked up hair. you narrowed your eyes at his response.

he simply replied, “you wanna hop in?”

“i—what?”

“c’mon sweets, i’m sorry. i fucked up, at least let me give you a ride to school,” yukhei said, unbuckling his seatbelt. he began to exit his vehicle, gliding over to you and extended his hand. a smile remained on his lips and your head started to spin.

that was definitely not the response you expected. the only reason you went off on him so harshly was because you were used to dealing with the idiot hoods from your block, who seemed like they were raised without a lick of manners in the very few braincells in their heads. as a woman, you knew that you were going to automatically be treated lightly and built strong walls for that very reason. to have yukhei respond with such quietude was foreign to you and you felt a weight drop at the pit of your stomach for your reaction.

reluctantly, you grabbed his hand and he helped heave you up. you stumbled slightly once you rose a little too fast and you instinctively grabbed for leverage, which happened to be a handful of his leather jacket. yukhei didn’t seem to mind, though, which astounded you because other guys like sicheng and kunhang carried their leathers like their pride and joy, with even the slightest crinkle driving them mad. you apologized regardless.

yukhei attempted to steady you, both hands on either side of your shoulders. “s’okay, no worries. you kinda took a hard fall there.”

you gulped down the ball forming in your throat, trying to look anywhere but into his deep brown eyes. these were the same eyes that girls cursed for tearing into their hearts and bringing on permanent cracks. the same eyes that girls cried over in the washrooms at school. school. you were late for school.

“um, yeah, let’s. . .let’s just go.” you’d been counting time in your head since leaving your front door and knew exactly what time it was, but you still pulled up your sleeve to glance at your watch. anything to avoid looking into his eyes.

something must have creeped in under your skin and taken control of your muscles because you were not the type of person to get into a stranger’s car. alright, wong yukhei was no stranger, but he had a reputation that you were well aware of. it was just as bad. or maybe it really just because you were—

“—late for school again, but i guess i’m used to it and you’re not,” yukhei had been saying, but you were zoned out and had just opened the car door.

it seemed to had only occurred to you then, but you sometimes forgot that yukhei still went to your school. he had a distinct group of friends that he spent time with, all of which had dropped out quite some time ago. he never really struck you as the academic type and as far as you could remember, you never ran into him in the hallways or in class. the only reminders of his existence in the place were the indecent fantasies written about him on the inside of the girls’ bathroom stalls.

“you sure you’re okay, y/n? it is y/n, right?” yukehi glanced over at you from the driver's seat, roaring life back into the pickup with the turn of his key.

you thought you heard incorrectly, but then he repeated it. yukhei actually knew your name and it wasn't just because he was this popular boy that all the girls went after, but you were in shock be ause you'd never even exchanged words before as far as you knew. he seemed to read your mind and gave you a look that read "surprised you, didn't i?" with the raise of a single eyebrow.

yukhei continued as a further explanation,“i sat behind you in history class last year before i transferred out of it.”

clipping in your seatbelt, all you could reply with was, “yeah.” your eyes darted over to the way he mindlessly gripped the steering wheel with one hand, with a beautiful swirl of reds and blues staining his otherwise immaculate knuckles. he let the other one hang loose out of the window. “you promise to drive safe?”

a goosebump inducing grin, one bright enough to outshine a sun, stretched across his lips. “yeah, cross my heart.” yukhei said this, even as booked beyond the speed limit. you didn’t say anything. “to be fair, sweets, you weren’t exactly lookin’ out when you were sprinting earlier.”

you awkwardly twirled the ends of your hair hanging down your shoulder, but tried to keep an annoyed expression. “i was counting on drivers following road signs, yukhei.”

he smiled even wider. “ah, so you do know my name.”

that was a pretty ridiculous thought, there was no way that he wasn’t just teasing. yukhei had to be even just the slightest bit self-aware enough to see the way he’s flanked by girls at school. he was popular, enough so that quiet kids like yourself who never talked to him knew him. besides, you all lived in a town where everybody knew everybody and chances are, their kids come to know their kids and so on. nobody escaped the little bubble and routine that you all settled in.

something tugged at your heartstrings, though, at the way yukhei lit up.

“what’s the story behind those bruises?” you finally said, cocking your head to the side.

“hmm?” yukhei murmured, as the sight of your school building came into sight. “oh. just a badge of loyalty. you know how it is.”

unfortunately, you did know. around here, boys seemed to travel in packs and each one had each other’s backs to the grave. some found it silly, but there was an air of unspoken understanding.

“some kids from the south side give y’all trouble?”

if you had to guess, you would have probably gone with the reason being yukhei’s hothead of a best friend, yangyang. there was one particularly bad outburst last month, when you and kunhang went to the diner after school, only to be interrupted by a fight erupting between yangyang and some rich kid from the south. of course, the prep had his boys with him to back him up and bring the fight outside, prompting yukhei and xiaojun to get involved automatically. you had watched in amusement from the other side of the window with your strawberry milkshake, as yukhei beat a guy up against his own car.

“not me, my little sister. that shit don’t ever sit right with me, runnin’ their mouths on an innocent girl like her.” something in your brain clicked and you remembered that yukhei had a kid sister, only because she was in chenle’s grade and he used to have the biggest crush on her. “it’s just the two of us and our grandpa, so i feel extra responsible for her.”

that was the way your brother used to be with you, when he turned legal just before your mom got sent behind bars. you’d always have appreciation for him and in turn, you gained a new wave of respect for yukhei.

“what’s the story behind ms. honour roll being late to school?” it took you a second to realize that he was talking about you and you snorted.

you replied, “i’m surprised you asked. if i were you, i’d be scared of me going off on another rampage.”

“yeah, i’d bet you’d really get mad the second time. maybe even beat me up?” yukhei smirked, making sure you were paying attention to the fact that he’d obeyed the next stop sign they crossed paths with. you rolled your eyes.

“you’d end up just like one of them roman emperors,” you mused, watching a trace of confusion emerge on his handsome features. “c’mon, that’s from like the second week of our history class.”

yukhei merely shrugged. “i was too distracted.”

“distracted? by what, the teacher’s droning voice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nah, this real pretty girl that sat in front of me. so much so that i had to transfer out because i would have probably flunked out.”

before you knew it, he pulled into the parking lot of the school. before being able to announce the arrival, you’d already nearly ripped off your seatbelt and zipped out of the car, yelling a thanks as you scurried off with a deep rouge tinting your cheeks. there was still ten minutes left before the end of second period. yukhei only chuckled, watching you.

dear yukhei,

remember that first night at the drive-in? honestly, i thought you were a real fox. someone i had no chance with. the fact that you gave me a chance scared the hell out of me. you know how many restless nights i had, tossing and turning because i wanted to know why you chose me? out of the girls in the world, you made me feel like a goddamn diamond in a pile of dirt. i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget the way you made me feel that summer, the first and last one we spent together.

love, your sweets.

after ignoring yukhei at the drive-in, you were positive that was going to be the last you heard from him. however, he still plagued your thoughts like a ghost. you had no idea why, but you knew that it scared you. it was the day after and you arrived to school early, trudging to your locker with a yawn. you thought your eyes were deceiving you, when you pulled open the door to be met with a note flying out of a random crook.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

and, to a lightning shock to the middle of your chest, you looked over to your side to find yukhei. he leaned against a wall of lockers, not even pretending to listen to the two girls talking to him. he was looking straight at you and smiled. you let out an exasperated scoff, wondering if you were dreaming.

you’d received a few more of these love poems before you decided to take matters into your own hands. or, really, it was chenle who forced you to do so. you didn’t dare confide in either sicheng or kunhang about your new admirer. there was no doubt that they’d turn their lip up at the idea of love poems, would probably go on and call yukhei some emasculating name. they also knew of yukhei’s reputation and were a tad over protective.

alright, a “tad” was an understatement. kunhang was furious when he realized yukhei was trying to make a pass at you at the movies and sicheng had to shove him back into the car to prevent a fight. it also seemed that it was so that he could find a different parking spot, away from yukhei and his friends.

although he began courting you from a safe distance, yukhei was not one for subtlety. you noticed that right off the bat when he boldly gave you his number in front of all your friends. the poems in your locker was another thing, as he was always just around the corner to ensure that you knew they were from him.

she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.

the latest of them, discovering the folded up note in your locker once again, had particularly swept you off your feet.

“what if he’s like this with every other girl?” you began to worry, fiddling with the phone cord in your hand.

you were seated in your living room one tuesday night, crossed legged on the ugly floral couch with a joint in between your lips. sicheng and kunhang left just minute prior, leaving you with chenle. he was watching television in your dad’s old armchair, in an identical position as you. neither of you were in the mood to go out, having being burned out by final exams. meanwhile, chenle made your house his second home when he couldn’t get a foot in his own door without his parents yelling at him for any reason they could find.

chenle snorted. “if wong yukhei wrote love poems to every girl he’s been with, i’m pretty sure we would’ve all heard by know.” he took a drag out of his joint. “besides, he only has eyes for you, even when he has other broads hangin’ off of him. everyone’s been noticin’ that the girls’ve been backin’ off of him lately, too.”

at this point, you were no longer scared of the idea of wong yukhei. in fact, it excited you. maybe it was the marijuana doing its usual duty, but you had a sudden surge of energy flowing through your veins.

reaching into the back pocket of your capris, you uncrumpled the first piece of paper that started it all. you hadn’t thrown out the note from the drive-in after all, recovering it just before sicheng insisted that you guys were to move. letting go on the deep breath that was imprisoned in your throat for what seemed like an hour, you slowly began to dial in the number.

“hello?” a familiar deep voice rumbled.

“hi,” you managed to squeak out and you gave chenle the middle finger when you caught him snickering. “i’m looking for yukhei.”

you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “this is him. who’s calling?”

“um, y/n.” you wedged the phone in between the side of your cheek and your shoulder, unconsciously beginning twirling a loose strand of hair.

there was a pause on the other line and you weren’t sure what to make of it, possibly disbelief. “oh. hi, sweets.” yukhei chuckled. “i see you’ve decided to give me a chance.”

“does this mean the notes are gonna stop?” you teased, but deep inside, you were hoping the answer was going to be a no.

he simply replied, “’course not. unless you say the word.” there was some fiddling on the other end and you could’ve sworn you heard the sound of a lighter. “when are you free?”

“you askin’ me out, yukhei?” you giggled and chenle rolled his eyes at you, throwing a pillow in your direction. you covered the phone with one hand, telling him to fuck off, before sweetly bringing it back up to your ear.

“how’s friday?” the male exhaled a little loudly—was he smoking, too? you wanted to feel a little bit powerful, so you convinced yourself that it was out of nerves.

you responded a little bit too quickly. “yes. friday sounds good.” swallowing down the realization, you proceeded to give him your address.

“good,” yukhei repeated after you, slowly drawing out the word like molasses. “i’ll pick you up at eight. see you then, sweets.”

the call ended and you sat as still as a statue. closing your eyes, you lost yourself in the daze of smoke and the thought of yukhei. were your ears ringing? the faint hum and static of the television faded out, as you leaned back into the couch with a stupid smile playing at the corners of your lips.

someone cleared their throat. you cracked one eye open and lo and behold, chenle was looking at you like you were a lunatic. in that split second, your face dropped back into annoyance and you hurled the nearest cushion in his direction.

“hey!”

“what?” you snapped.

chenle continued his earlier snickering. “guess that went well, then, huh? i told ya so.”

you put out the joint in front of you and proceeded to bury your face into your hands. your state of disbelief felt permanent, like you were stained with the thoughts of wong yukhei forever. without a word of warning, you began to screech uncontrollably and the younger male nearly jumped out of his seat.

“ahh!! what the fuck, y/n?!” chenle heaved, holding his hand on his heart like he’d been shot. he accidentally knocked over the bag of pretzels that he’d been munching on, spilling it all over the carpet. normally, you would have freaked out over the mess, but you were too entranced in the fact that you had a date with the most handsome boy in school.

that’s when chenle knew you were either: possessed or completely smitten.

the grin on your face was so wide that it hurt, but you blocked out the pain. “we have a date!” with that, you nearly jumped onto the armchair and hauled chenle in a bone crushing hug that left him without any oxygen.

“can’t. . .breathe. . .” he was blue in the face at this point, struggling to even get his words out.

you giggled and released him, patting his cheek as he did so. chenle gasped dramatically for air, coughing as he did so. he shot you a glare.

“so, when’s the day of this stupid date?” he grumbled, settling back into his spot and began picking up his mess.

returning to the couch, you said, “friday. he said he’s going to pick me up.” you once saw that chevy of his as the devil machine, but now, you were swooning at the thought of it pulling up in front of your house.

“friday?” chenle’s eyebrows suddenly reached his hairline.

you gave him a questioning look. “yeah, it’s a little soon, but—”

“no, no,” he shook his head. “it’s not that. uhh, don’t you remember what’s happening on friday?”

you began to search your brain for any important dates, like a test or a birthday that you should’ve jotted down. “huh?” you came up empty and tilted your head slightly to the side.

“that’s prom night, stupid.”

if you hadn’t been hit with a ton of bricks before, this was an entire goddamn building raining down on you. wong yukhei had not only chased you with love poems and asked you out on a date, but he had asked you out to prom. this was really happening.

you didn’t give a damn about prom night, but you knew what it meant to other girls and it seemed like you just won a year long race between the class of seniors itching to get their hands on yukhei.

he wasn’t the only reason for your disbelief, but it was also the fact that you managed to get roped into attending prom anyway, after months of complaining about it. you groaned, lying down on the couch. this meant you had to go out and buy a freakin’ dress.

my love,

there are two times in my life when i was left absolutely breathless. the first time was when i first met you and i mean really met you. i always knew you in my heart. we were about fifteen when you moved to this town, this town that i’d grown to resent all of my life. i associated these streets with violence and hatred and i wanted nothing more to get away as fast as possible. i was hanging out with ten, loitering at the ice cream place, while i waited for his shift to end. that’s when you came in and you asked me about what flavour was best. i had a crush on you ever since that day, but could never seem to work up the courage to approach you first. yeah, i’m a fucking idiot, i know. i had those other girls following me around, but i could never quite shake off that feeling of, well, you. i’d never felt so damn. . .shy? when a girl made me feel that way, i knew you were special.

the second time was on prom night.

"ah, ah, don’t open that yet.”

you pouted and put the note back in its place, nestled in between the dozen of peonys. they were the colour of the sunset, a soft peach that brought butterflies to your insides. when yukhei had arrived to your front door with these, you nearly gasped out loud because they were so stunning.

the colour was identical to the sky above, as the clouds faded into one another and touches of navy loomed at the base of the point where the land met the heavens. yukhei’s windows were rolled all the way down and you let the wind penetrate against your being, caressing the locks of your curled hair. you’d applied an absurd amount of hairspray to keep it that way, so you weren’t concerned about the wind ruining the style.

yukhei glanced over to your side. “you can open it at the end of the night. promise.” the more you saw him smile, the more charming it became each time.

when the two of you pulled into the school parking lot, you immediately spotted kunhang and his scratched plymouth. he was leaning against the hood, sweet talking his date, some girl named meixiu that you didn’t know. probably an underclassman, you had no idea. he waved at you and probably just you, as you failed to miss the way his upper lip slightly twitched when yukhei exited his vehicle.

kunhang was the only person you guys were meeting, since both of your friend groups consisted of drop outs. you gave a polite wave to meixiu and gave kunhang a quick side hug. meanwhile, he and yukhei exchanged curt nods, as the parking lot began to reek of testosterone from the stares between the two alone.

“nice threads,” meixiu broke the silence, peering at your dress.

thankfully, you rummaged far enough into the last of your sister’s things that she left behind before moving out and came out with something decent. it was a boatneck satin dress with an empire waist and went down to just above your ankles. under the glare of the sunset, its baby blue hue contrasted beautifully. definitely pretty and saved you money and time. considering your lack of female friends, it would have been a real pain in the ass to have to drag either sicheng or chenle to a boutique.

“thank you,” you smiled at meixiu.

when you opened the door to greet yukhei, he had looked like someone just slapped him. he looked absolutely stunned and began drinking in the way you had dressed up, like an angel appeared in front of him and breathed the word of god. you were just as stunned when you were met with his put together appearance. you always had a soft spot for a tuff leather jacket and calloused hands, but seeing yukhei in a tuxedo made you rethink your preferences.

“wow,” the two of you had sputtered out at the same time and after a pause, began to laugh together.

meanwhile, kunhang merely blinked at your appearance. “turns out you’re a woman after all.” he yelped when you smacked his arm for that comment. “what? just because you walk around in a miniskirt doesn’t mean you’re a lady—” you hit him again.

“a pretty damn fine one at that,” yukhei snaked an arm around your waist and you relaxed slightly. “ready to head in?”

that baby blue dress. the way you lost yourself in the music on the dancefloor without a care in the world. my god, i wish i could capture that memory in my mind forever. i was still so goddamn shy and the only way i could express my feelings was through letters. some things never change, huh?

yours truly, yukhei.

the rest of your night was just as you imagined it would turn out. some lame music, bad refreshments, and glares from literally every girl on the dancefloor when they saw who you arrived with. all eyes were on the two of you when you walked in through the doors, though you knew it was partly out of curiosity to see who wong yukhei would bring to prom.

suddenly, you were beginning to be treated different. guys you’d never spoken to for four years cornered you into conversations that you had no interest in. girls complimented your dress and not in the way meixiu did, but like panthers sneaking up to stalk their prey. you nearly finished the contents of yukhei’s hidden flask out of annoyance.

“easy there, sweets,” he said, eyes wide when you slipped him his almost empty flask.

you laughed a bit. “sorry. i’m just slowly starting to get tired.”

“sleepy?” he asked, brushing a stray curl of hair out of your face.

the two of you were leaning on a wall, silently bopping your heads to the tune of the bluesy guitar playing throughout the school gymnasium. yukhei, you discovered, was a really good dancer. although shy at first, the majority of your night was spent on the dancefloor. you were sure you picked up on a few of his moves, even. you teased him about it on your way to the back, after he declared that he was parched.

“no, not that kind of tired. i mean, like—” you gave a quick side glance to a group of girls to your left that had been glaring in your direction all night,“—tired of that.”

it wasn’t as though you were overly concerned with the other girls, but it was really starting to get on your nerves.

“then, let’s get out of here?”

sure, the night was still young, but something twinkled in yukhei’s eyes and you knew that the date was far from over. you looked over at the crowd, not being able to find kunhang. he’d live if you didn’t tell him a goodbye. you shrugged and tapped your nails against your clutch.

“get out here, where?” you asked reluctantly, wincing as you did so. the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was make an assumption, but you also wanted to set clear boundaries before the night went on.

yukhei raised his eyebrows. “i mean, like, we could go grab a burger or somethin’. i’m starving.” he chuckled, but you smiled at his response.

“alright. i’m good with that.”

you didn’t even notice yukhei grabbing your head and lacing your fingers with his own—it just felt so natural. he gently led you back to the main entrance and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles ever so slightly flexed underneath his suit and the way he styled his hair into perfect swirls with gel and the crystal clear confidence in his eyes and—

“oh, ho, so you ended up working up the nerve to ask y/n out after all?” there was no mistake about it, that voice belonged to your old history teacher. it was the voice you heard in your nightmares, after all. “gimme some skin, yukhei!”

the old man sat in front of the entrance, where the tickets had been checked at the beginning of the night. presumably to catch any drunk teenagers stumbling out of the gymnasium, he was the only chaperone outside of the main floor.

you furrowed your eyebrows together. yukhei awkwardly shook hands with the teacher. then, you remembered what yukhei had told you before when he gave you a ride to school. your lips parted slightly.

“you stole away one of my favourite students, you know that, ms. y/n?” he continued.

turning to yukhei, whose ears began to transform into a brilliant bubblegum colour, you said, “you weren’t joking about that?”

“why would i be joking?” yukhei chuckled.

you paused and shrugged. “i dunno. i thought it was just one of them cheesy things guys say. like you were just trying to make me swoon or somethin’.”

“what? aw, c’mon, sweets, i can do better than that!” yukhei exclaimed and poked your side, causing you to giggle and yelp.

your old history teacher rolled your eyes at the two of you. “just go on, go home!” he began shooing the two of you away like some puppies.

yukhei continued leading you out of the building, only until you stopped in the middle of the parking lot when you heard a familiar song. it was unmistakable, you would have recognized the record from miles away. he froze, noticing the way you had done the same.

“are you alright?” he stepped forward, reaching out to touch your arm.

you felt a little silly, but you said it anyway. “they’re playing my favourite song. you think we could. . .?” you trailed off, hoping he would agree.

there wasn’t a guy you knew that absolutely detested the beach boys. sicheng whined like he was in pain every time you put one of their records one. you had to basically hide all of their music from your brother, taking them away from the main living room shelf in fear that he would eventually trash them one day. yukhei pressed his lips together, listening to the song—clearly he was no exception.

“you’re into these fools, too?” he teased.

yukhei began stripping himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders and you immediately revelled in the warmth and faint scent of his cologne on the fabric. the night had fully set in and a dull chill kissed your bare skin. under the moonlight, the man looked immaculate.

you scoffed. “they have good music!” and that they did, but it was something about the group that made you sway in place and felt like you were high on love.

“why don’t we just dance here?”

the parking lot was empty save for the two of you and the countless of cars. even the streets were dead silent and the only sounds in the air were the beach boys telling you to not worry and the soft rustling of the leaves. then, there was yukhei. his same damn charming smirk that seemed to have already captured your heart, but was not nearly as powerful as the thoughts he spilled out into words for you on paper.

you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands found a place on your waist, like the two of you had done this millions of time before in another life.

dear y/n,

you are the stars.

yukhei.

#neowritingsnet #neowriters #nct-writers #nct fic #lucas x reader #nct au #nct imagine #wayv imagines #lucas imagine #yukhei x reader #wayv x reader #wayv fanfic #nct scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop au #— EIGHTEEN FOREVER .#i had to repost ughh

83 notes · View notes

hufflautia · 3 years

Note

hI this is a tOTALLY ANONYMOUS PERSON ASKING. and i am asking u to answer everything on here😌

lmajfniasnf yall i forced menna to send me this ask and i was kinda kidding but also a bit serious but also kinda kidding- ok anwyas here we go

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed? closed

(2) Do You Have Freckles? no

(3) Can You Whistle? yes

(4) Last Song You Listened To. “Needed Me” by Rihanna

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour? grayish green

(6) Relationship Status. in love with loki<3!

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now? cold, my fingers are cold and menna knows this

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky? no i did not, quite the opposite actually!

(9) How Many Followers? around 650

(10) Zodiac Sign. taurus

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour? brown

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily? yea

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower? usually

(14) What Books Are You Reading? no book bc i have no brain cells

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

“i cannot imagine,” replied the scarecrow; “but we can go and see.” -the wonderful wizard of oz! i forgot i had that book, i got it from library for school last year but then quarantine hit and i couldn't return it bc the library closed

(16) Favourite Anime? i barely watch anime, so i guess “Attack on Titans”, being that its one of the few animes I've watched

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of? my math teacher

(18) Do You Collect Anything? only the souls of the innocent. also chapstick.

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch? wontons that fucked my stomach up bc the meat was not cooked properly :D don't we love that?????????????!!!!!!

(20) Do You Dance In The Car? not rlly

(21) Favourite Animal? dog

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics? no

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed? usually 11 or 12- depends on day

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now? no

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean? pool

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog? clandestineloki

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water? i don't care as long as its safe

(28) What Makes You Happy? my siblings, my best friends, loki, tom hiddleston

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

i saw this and thought it was a good fit but then i realized it was too calm so

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music? without

(31) Dogs Or Cats? DOGSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be? yellow

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox. i don't care

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean? I've never swam in a lake before, so lake

(35) Do You Believe In Magic? yea

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing? gray

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue? no

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It? depends

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You? yes

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now? of course, loki will always be an obsession of mine bruh

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly? nO BC IM SCARED OF BUTTERFLIES

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People? yes:’(

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams? of course

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes? yes

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry. ParaNorman

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds? sunflower seeds

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be? the neighbourhood

(48) Are You A Picky Eater? kinda

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper? eh

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning? kinda

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write? yes

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud? depends on mood

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents? wrap

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up? sleepy hallow ft foushee- deep end freestyle

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather) winter??

(56) What Are You Craving Right Now? l o k i (my original answer was warmth but its basically the same thing)

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

(58) What Is Your Gender? female

(59) Coffee Or Tea? tea

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About? nope, i finished it on Friday and Saturday like a bad bitchhhhhhhhh

(61) What Is Your Sexuality? bisexual

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning? depends on day

(63) Favourite Pokemon? squirtle i guess

(64) Favourite Social Media? insta

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories? they're fine

(66) Do You Get Homesick? kinda

(67) Are You A Virgin? ill leave it up to ur imagination bitch (MENNA IM SO SORRY IM NOT CALLING U A BTICH IM JUST SAYING THAT IN GENERAL)

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now? i forgot the name, but its white and fancy and from the same brand

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free? hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm that is a very good question, probably the motel

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life? AHAH depends on what u mean by “still in my life”!!!!!!! i guess technically yes, but I've already cut off those bitches in my head 😌 manifesting it into existence <3

(71) Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters? avatar 2

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex? i don't have one

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now? “not you, i didn't wanna hurt you”

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest? brown bc if i say any other color, its probably a yt person and also brown be smexy

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set? yes, yes

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate? honey buttered biscuits

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone? among us, maybe Minecraft

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not? no bc i don't know how and i would call for someone else to help

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?probably bc I'm a hermit

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network? amsifnda this is ME ur talking to

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People? yes kinda, unless they're awkward (aHEM BREAKOUT ROOMS WITH NEW BUT AWKWARD PEOPLE-)

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them. i used to but not anymore

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed? i want it closed but the person i share the room with leaves it open bc they say we’re gonna fuckin suffocate if we leave it closed and i hate it bc ✨trauma✨! DONT WE LOVE TRAUMA??!?!?!?!??!?!?!? :D............

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today? i baked biscuits, i did college stuff, i showered

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed? usually mismatched pjs

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now. chapstick, natural skincare serum, lotion, face masks

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person? day

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc. don't have any

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

a snake chased me and it was weird as fuck

(90) Favourite Soda Drink? don't have one

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite? people laughing, violin and piano, my friends voices, my siblings voices

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More? SWEATS

(93) How Do You Look Right Now? comfy

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You. showering

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want? maybe an important quote? “dont trust owls” imprinted on my face

(96) Favourite YouTuber? stephanie soooooooooooooooooooooo

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my-arlington-academia · 4 years

Text

The main 10 cheering up a crying Scholar (Y/N) finally part 2!

Here are Neha, Raquel and Tadashi! I had to cut the last 5 in 2 posts because tumblr doesn't allow more than 250 blocks of text... But anyway! I finally did it! It's been 84 years... though I feel like those are not really headcanons anymore. They're all so long that it would be more accurate to say that they're scenarios. Sorry! It's probably gonna be really annoying scrolling up and down.

Neha

- crying is a really good way to let your emotions out and it always worked out for you

- whenever it's all too much you make yourself cry to feel better afterward

- one day, once you finished crying your phone rang

- it's from Neha, she's inviting you to her room

- oh boy.

- when you moved into the dorms Karolina did say that the previous owner of the room would put loud music on and they would hear it

- 'did Neha hear me cry?' God you hope not

- When you knock, the door immediately opens as if Neha was right in front of it waiting for you

- She pulls you in and starts taking your measurements

- "I've decided to use you as my model for my next outfit."

- "W-what?!?"

- now you're almost sure that she did hear you, or else why would she make an outfit just for you when she's got Karolina?

- surprisingly a few days later the outfit is done! Does it really take that little time usually? You're pretty sure that Neha already had the design ready in her sketchbook

- during that time though, everyday until the "outfit" was ready she would go out of her way to talk to you everyday even though she's usually either busy or with Karolina

- she knows that it annoys her but even when Karolina was around Neha would still come and chat with you for a bit

- You're guessing that she didn't want you to feel like you're alone in your hard times

- when the outfit was done she called you over again

- "Here, try it on!"

- there's more excitement in her voice than usual and it's really freaking cute

- "You mean right here, right now?"

- she keeps staring at you in silence before coming back to her senses

- "Oh, right. Sorry. I'll turn away while you change."

- but then while you're taking your clothes off the door flows open

- "Neha, did you see my-"

- Karolina looks at the both of you and while she's trying to process the scene all that she gets from the situation is: you taking your clothes off in their room, and Neha waiting for you to take them off while facing away?

- "N... Nevermind. Just do your thing I'll come back in one hour. Or uh, two hours. Actually."

- She closed the door in a hurry. Welp. She probably misunderstood.

- Neha kept on facing the wall but you could see her ears getting red

- that little accident is quickly forgotten when you've put the outfit on

- it's so elaborate and classy. it's making you feel self-concious

- Even though Neha was the one who made the outfit she blushed when she saw you in it

- "You look so lovely- uh. I mean the dress! The dress looks lovely on you, obviously, since I'm the one who made it."

- her bashfulness is making you blush too but you tell her that you can't pay for it

- "Are you kidding? It's a gift I've made for you. No one else in the world owns this and won't own it because I won't put it on sale. It's a special outfit only for you."

- She takes her sketchbook and rips out a page, it's a sketch of the outfit and... you're the one wearing it on the drawing!

- "To be honest, I had already heard you crying a few times in your room and I didn't know how to help. So uh... I guess what I mean is. I've been planning this for a long time but I wasn't brave enough to ask for your measurements until recently and um..."

- She's rambling and rambling, you've probably never heard her talk this much

- "Basically... when you're sad come over. Or ask me to come over, whatever. Our rooms are right next to eachother so whether you cry in your room or here I'll hear you anyway so you might as well be with me."

- this was maybe not the best way to phrase it, but you got the feeling she was going for and that's all that matters

Raquel

- Noticed that you weren't feeling good right away

- but more in a "are you catching a cold?" kinda way

- but it didn't have anything to do with your health

- You actually wanted to explain what happend as soon as it did but when you tried to, tears came down immediately from the very first sentence

- Raquel grabbed you by the shoulders

- "It's okay! You can tell me later if it's too hard."

- The next day when you were getting ready to go to school Raquel came to your room dressed in casual clothes

- "Hey Y/N! Let's skip today."

- You tell her that you can't because you're a scholarship student and all but she ends up convincing you anyway

- "It's all fine, it's just for one day! Everyone thinks that you're a really hard-working, punctual and honest person! They'll believe whatever you say."

- "Raquel... I am a hard-working, punctual and honest person..."

- "Exactly! And that's why you can take advantage of that and no one will doubt you."

- Oh well...

- it's not like you were looking forward to that math test anyway

- you sneak around and get out of the school through Raquel's knowledge of... blind spots?

- you feel a little guilty about it since you'll have to lie to the teachers later about "not feeling well"

- Raquel makes you forget that pretty easily though

- "Okayyy! Now let's go have our breakfast, I know a place."

- "Ah, cool."

- "You don't sound really excited... But you know, the both of us sneaking out of school to go on a date: isn't it a little bit like we're secretly lovers during war time between two kingdoms in a movie?"

- Wait, this was a date?? You had no idea

- You spent the whole day just walking around town in different fast foods, parks, and shops

- everytime you wanted to buy something Raquel would try to buy it for you

- You refused everything except the food, she was being extremely pushy about paying for the food

- on the way back you decide to tell her about your troubles again, this time hopefully you won't burst into tears

- She's incredibly understanding and doesn't let you downplay your feelings

- anytime you say "it may sound stupid"/"maybe I'm being too emotional" she's like

- "No! Fuck that! There's a reason why you feel this way and it's not dumb."

- You get a little bit teary eyed and before you can even think about crying Raquel hugs you

- then she whispers in your ear

- "Did it hurt?"

- "Uh... what?"

- At first you thought she meant your feelings because obviously it did hurt, you just spent like 20 minutes explaining what had happened

- but then you understood

- is she seriously trying to cheer you up with pick-up lines?

- "So did it hurt or did it not?"

- "You mean, when I fell from heaven?"

- She makes the biggest grin before replying

- "No, when you fell for me."

- You're trying your best not to burst into laughter

- "Nah, not really. It was a quick fall."

- Oh no, you outsmarted her lame pick-up line

- you guys end the day with the most stupid pick-up line fight

- little do you know that Raquel will shoot a ball in the face of a certain someone for hurting you

- maybe multiple times if she feels like it

Tadashi

- To be honest he didn't really notice at first

- maybe it was one of your "bad days", Tadashi knows what it's like so he totally gets it

- but then when it's been 3 days in a row and you're still in that state?

- he cancels all of his work and assignements for the day

- calls you over in such a professional manner that it's kinda scary

- he literally asks you to meet him in the student council's room

- tells you to "please sit down" in front of him

- Honestly, this situation is making you really tense. Did Tadashi figure out that one time, 3 months ago, when you stole a smoothie from the cafeteria?

- "Look, I'm sorry okay? I was just really thirsty and I needed sugar. Also, it's not like I wasn't allowed to get one! There was no one at the counter so I figured it wouldn't hurt to..."

- Tadashi IAmConfusion™ looks at you

- "Why are you talking about that now? Don't worry, I know."

- Now it's your turn to get confused

- "You mean... you knew and you didn't give me detention?"

- Now he looks a bit frustrated

- "Come on Y/N, I'm not that mean. I won't give you detention just because you came 5 minutes late to our meeting."

- This is most likely a misunderstanding...

- "This is what you were talking about just now, right? That the reason why you came here late is because you were drinking a smoothie. I figured you were probably busy doing something so no need to feel so guilty about it."

- "Oh. Oooohhh... yeahh... totally. Sorry."

- Now that this is out of the way, he asks you to tell him what's on your mind

- At first you hesitate a little but, if there's someone with whom you want to share this with, it's Tadashi

- he's listening really closely to what you're saying without cutting you off but sometimes you can see his eyes getting a bit darker

- Like, you're not being specific enough about a detail or something and he's probably taking notes of all the questions he has so that he can ask them when you're done

- At some point though, you become really emotional and your voice starts cracking when you're talking

- You end up crying and your tears fall on the desk

- Tadashi jumps out of his seat, his chair falls down as he panics

- "Hey! Y/N?? Err... Um..."

- Takes you in his arms carefully, like he's not really sure if that's what he's supposed to do when this type of thing happens

- "It's okay! I'm here... I'm here so... d-don't cry Y/N I'll do something about it no problem!"

- when you've calmed down he puts down his wallet on the desk

- "Uh... what?"

- "You can use it."

- "You mean your money??"

- "What else?"

- he explains that you can take all the smoothies and premium food in the cafeteria with this

- "Are you kidding? I can't use your money for that."

- He's literally trying to cheer you up with money which is obviously not the way to go about it

- He sees that you're not convinced so he pulls out his phone and shoves the screen on your face so closely that you have to take a step back in order to read what's on it

- It's Tadashi's to do list, probably the place where he writes all of his tasks for the week

- The spot on number one is you. It reads "1. Y/N"

- when you look at him Tadashi is furiously blushing and looking away

- this is incredibly sweet until you notice how wrong this sounds

- "Wait... Tadashi?"

- "Yes?"

- "I'm first on your... "To do" list? Seriously?"

- "What's that's supposed to mean? Of course you're number one on my- Oh god..."

- he just understood how wrong it sounded and took the phone back before rewriting the list

- He's making it so easy for you to tease him

- the poor boy is literally begging you to stop it but you can't until he shows you his phone screen again

- this time it's written "1. Make Y/N smile again", you're literally his number one priority. This is so sweet to the point where you can't tease him anymore. It would be too mean.

- As for Tadashi, let's just say that he's about to get "really mean" with the person you were talking about just now and he's not going to hold back

#sweet elite #se #main 10 #I was this 👌 close to forgetting that I have to write the rest of those scenarios #scenarios #well at this point I think everyone gave up on waiting 😂#sorry if some of them are silly but I only write top quality cringe 😎

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juniebjoneswrites · 3 years

Text

Bring Me Home // Harry Styles

This is War (2)

What does running do for me? Other than being a gateway drug to mindlessness, it shows me places I didn’t know existed. It also gives an incredible high that puts some meat on my bones. Like seriously. I could write love letters to my endorphins. I would ask how they’re doing and if they missed me while I was gone. I would ask how they felt in the dark and when it came time to play, I would dream of their favorite games. They have answers to questions I can’t ask, and know when to turn a blind eye to the darkness in my mind. I am thankful for their wilful ignorance.

There’s a street I run that has a name I’ve never cared to remember but I know the way there like I know my way up the cliff. It’s been an ongoing venture. I see the lives there in the mornings as they wake up, innocent to the day that reaches beyond their grasp. I know if they stretched a little further they could touch it. Would they hand it to me if they could? They’ve seen me running for so long now they think I’m just a girl from down the street. I belong, so I must be safe. Right?

I see them in the night when they stumble home after a day when their outstretched hand just wasn’t quite good enough. They have all the makings of myself. I revel in their sorrow, but offer help. “Ah, one of the runners,” they say. They ask how I am and if I’m liking the neighborhood. I smile politely, “It’s beautiful, I’m just around the corner,” I always motion behind us regardless of where we face. “It’s the brick one with a balcony,” usually they’re too wrapped up in their day to realize they’re all bricks with blaconies, or too polite to press further. Maybe they just think I’m being clever and safe.

“Let me help you inside,” I call out to a man as he stumbles from his car. He gives me a look of recognition as he hands me his keys. I smile in return. We’ve spoken before.

“Thank you,” he licks his lips. I smile wider, fighting back bile in the back of my throat. “Would you like to join me?” It would be a lie to say that all our conversations were innocent.

“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t like that,” I respond coyly.

“No wife,” he holds up his bare ring finger. ‘Bare’ being a generous word. There’s a tan line where his band would be, he's taken it off for the night. Maybe wants me to think he’s newly divorced.

His wife is on a work trip for the night. I know this because she told me the day before as I helped her put a big, fancy carseat in the back of her car as the child herself was throwing a fit. “Of course it delivers the day before my trip and I have to rush before work to get it in,” she laughed and wiped her brown hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. Her wedding ring glistened in the morning sun. “Husbands are useless, but I’m sure you’ll learn that eventually.” I laughed with her and commented that he must be okay if he’s going to be watching the child while she’s gone. She tells me her daughter will be with her grandparents.

His words tumble out together and I hear them fall around me like a castle under attack. “But seem like someone who wouldn’t care,” A flattery king. Knights may be able to stop the soldiers but they can’t fight catapults. My anger bubbles. I steal my smile. I move up the stairs and grab his keys. This is a war.

Leaning against the frame I put the key in the door and swing it open wide. He smiles, I whistle a tune, he stumbles through. I lead him to the couch and he pulls me on top. He tastes like a deep bourbon and nachos with extra onions. I let him take my running jacket off. The knife I have in a hidden pocket clatters to the floor and I worry he’ll question the sound. He doesn’t, and it’s clear he doesn’t care that I have, in fact, been running. I tell him I need to use the restroom and that I'll be right back. He gestures vaguely so I find my own way, but not to the bathroom. How easy to trick with a promise of reward. I line up my men.

Their family photos are on the walls telling stories of vacations and holidays. Just the three of them, the prettiest lie of them all. I stare as if I could learn some secret as to how a mother could do what she did and move on. I see theirs play out like a book and I’m filled with an anger that blinds me. They’re ready for orders.

I think of my knife so I stock back to the man on the couch only to be met with snores. Sometimes it just works out. I pity him, in his suit and tie, his loafers haphazardly in the entryway. I fantasize my life in this home. I walk their rooms and lay in their beds, I drink their juice and eat their snacks. My fingers trace the walls for fault lines and I wonder if there had been a boy here how different it would look. She wouldn’t have needed the child’s seat, he was already grown. The crayons of the walls in his room would look different here. The dolls and gowns, replaced with his stones and telescope. I am angry. A life he never knew and will never see. He would have liked a sister. Fill it with rocks.

I pull his picture from the pocket of my running pants and look for a marker. “1993-2016” I write. “You killed him.” I am not the only one to blame. ‘He found you!’ I wanted to scream at her, ‘You left and he still found you,” but that wasn’t entirely true. I had found her. I brought her name into his home and changed things, so now I will bring his name into this home and change these things. “Elijah Perry” I write near the bottom, “Taken three months before his death.” I clip the photo to the fridge and walk out. Release.

When does the sheep become the wolf? Or was I a wolf in sheep's clothing this whole time? I am growing claws and my teeth cut my mouth as I speak. It fills with salt and blood. Maybe I’ll become like cured meat with all this salt and my decay will be slow. Agonzing. My fur will matt and my family will become afraid. I will age slowly and watch them leave, seeing their funerals from the woods edge. And when the wolf finally leaves to possess someone else, the only one who will see me to my grave will be a ghost.

I don’t run again. I walk the veins of the city and let them guide me through it’s ebb and flow. It feels like I’ve thrown the daughter of a cliff into a stampede of wildebeests and I wonder what she’ll think when she’s older. When do I get that scar over my eye? I think I deserve the mark. If Cain did then so do I.

“Hey sweetie,” a voice calls from the shadow of a rundown bar. Unfortunate luck for him if he tries anything further. I flip him off and keep walking. I recognize my surroundings. There’s a pizza place up the corner. A long night of treachery will leave you hungry.

The warmth of the pizza fills the coldness in my body. I didn’t realize I started shaking until I reached for my water. I quickly fist my hand and push my pizza away, my breaths becoming fast and impatient. Resting my head on the table I let the solid coolness rush my mind and steady my thoughts. I focus on my breathing and count backwards from one hundred.

100, 99, 98, 97, 96, I can see his face. 95, 94, 93, 92, I watch him at a New Year's Eve countdown grinning and blowing his whistle. 91, 90, I squeeze my eyes tighter. Press my head harder to the table 89, 88, 87, I might be sick. 86, 85, 84, 83, 82, 81, 80,79,78,77,7767574737271

I see him on the cliff.

I’m telling him to stop.

He doesn’t.

I throw my head back and open my eyes. 48, 47, 46, 45, 44, the warped window reflects a distorted version of myself with no discernable features, just a shadow ready to disappear at the first sign of light. A fly crawling on the window stops on my face and I’m wondering if it’s an omen.

The door opens with a jingle from the bells and a figure stands behind me. I don’t care to look at the reflection. “Fuck off,” I let out through a cry. I am very intimidating.

They don’t say anything and walk away. I drop my head, tears sliding off my face. A moment later they return and hand me some napkins. I glance at them and then at my greasy, sauce stained pile of my own. Reluctantly I take them, “Thanks. Now please leave.”

I wipe my face as they shuffle in place and hesitantly clear their throat. I’m instantly annoyed. I spin around to face them, “What?” I say in more of a defeated, angry tone.

Well kids, I guess we get to answer that question here and now. I let my head fall to my arm that rests on the seat’s back. “Of course,” I mumble. “Why not?” Turning around I pull the pizza back to me and take a bite. He still doesn’t move.

“Well if you’re going to,” I motion to the seat next to me. He takes it and looks even more uncomfortable which makes me laugh slightly. “You’re being really weird, you know,” I say through a bite of pizza. “If I didn’t know you you would have a bloody nose already.”

He sits up straighter, “Sorry,” he picks at the paint on his nails. “I, uh, just saw you and recognized you from running and the gas station. Just wanted ask if you’re okay,”

“Why?” I ask harshly then, closing my eyes, wince at my stupidity.

He looks confused, “You don’t remember?” “I remember the gas station just fine,”

“No, uh, we’ve been waving at each other... while we run,” it sounded more like a question than a fact. His eyes dart around. “For, like, a few months before the gas station and then I stopped seeing you,” he trails off.

I started running after Elijah went missing. I wasn’t a runner before then so what sparked this new interest, I couldn’t tell you. I ran night and day after realizing it was the one thing that stopped my thinking and focused my breathing. There is a lot I don’t remember from the past year, this being one of them.

“You don’t remember?” he asks. I don’t say anything. He nods understanding, “I just thought you recognized me but didn’t want to…. Interrupt… or something,”

“I have no problem interrupting,” I reply. He slightly laughs, “but what’s wrong you can’t fix, so,” I take another bite of pizza. “And I wave at all the runners I pass. Good to have people remember you if you go missing,” I give a slight wave of my hand and shrug.

He nods. “Well I hope I see you running again,” he gets up, unsure of his movements, I guess not wanting to push any further.

“June,” I say, as he rights the chair, “That’s my name. Fair since I know yours.”

“Nice to meet you, June.”

My smile lasts until he’s past the shop's window and I'm back to staring at my face. I think of Mulan crossing her bridge and wiping half her makeup off in her reflection. I think of Harry and what in the actual Wattpad hell just happened. I close my eyes and rest my chin in my hand while I finish the second pizza. Harry’s face turns into Elijah’s and the waves start crashing. My body tells me to run.

(1)/ 2 / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6)

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heychangbin · 4 years

Text

Contingency Plan

TW: major character death

A/N: hey y’all, it’s been a while. also I’m sorry.

Gen Tag:@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @suchatinyinfinity @bts-smolarmy @elanor-of-imladris

Billy Russo Tag: @nananananananananananabatman @shinebrightlikeafanbase

It was late when you pulled against the door of your apartment building, the cold from the metal handle quickly seeping through your gloves and stealing the warmth from your fingertips, letting go of it as soon as the opening was enough for you to slip through. You thanked your ucky stars that the foyer was warm and quickly ripped the cold cotton gloves from your hands, cupping them in front of your mouth and exhaling against your fingertips, hoping to get some warmth and feeling back into them. Once they felt warm enough you made your way to the mail boxes that lined the wall in front of the stairs that you had to take to go up to your floor.

You stuck and turned the small key to open your mailbox, grabbed the numerous envelopes and tucked them under your arm and closed the small metal door and dragged your feet to the stairs and started the trek up the two flights of stairs to reach your apartment.

The usual 42 steps felt more like 84 when you stopped in front of your door, sticking your key in and unlocking the door. You made your way in, dropping your keys into the small bowl that sat on the table next to the door after closing the door, slipping the chain on and turning the deadbolt.

You walked into the small kitchen, dropping the mail on the counter as you reached into one of the cupboards and took out your favorite ceramic cup and filled it with the warm decaf that was in the carafe.

You took a few measured sips as you sorted through your mail, tossing the junk mail into the trash and setting your bills to the side to open in the morning. You were on the last two pieces of mail, one a postcard and the other a small padded envelope. You picked up the postcard, a black and white picture of the Griffith Observatory and turned it around and saw your friend Sarah's familiar handwriting. It said the same the few others she had sent said, wish you were here, the california sun would do wonders for your complexion, you need a vacation and cali is the way to go! At the very bottom she let you know she was sending you a souvenir from her last trip to Santa Monica. You picked up the padded envelope, not bothering with reading the label on it assuming it was the souvenir Sarah had mentioned and tore the top open and peeked inside. All thoughts of Sarah and what her souvenir vanished from your mind as you reached into the envelope and pull out a small flip phone.

Suddenly, it’s not just you in your dimly lit kitchen sorting through your mail on a cold January night, it’s 2 years prior Billy standing across from you a black duffle bag on the square kitchen table between you,

“If he….when he finds out that...that I knew--knew and did nothing to stop it, things are gonna go sideways real hard and real fast,” he said

“Bill,” you said, reaching out to him and taking hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze, “you did what you--”

“I didn’t though!” he yelled, ripping his hand from under yours, “I could’ve done something, said something but I didn’t, I didn’t and now….” he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the hard mask settling over his features, “now, we have to be prepared,” he took the zipper and dragged it across the length of the duffle bag, opening it wide and revealing its contents. The duffel was filled to the brim with stacks of crips dollar bills, you saw tens, twenties, fifties, and hundreds, on top of it all a couple of matte black hand guns, magazines, and a couple of passports.

“Billy? Billy what’s all o’ this?” you asked, voice coming out breathy as your eyes danced from item to item.

“This is our ticket to a new life.” he pulled out one of the small booklets and opened it and handed it to you. You took it and looked over the opened page, the picture was of Billy but it wasn’t one you’d seen before, his hair was longer all around and looked as if he had run his fingers through it countless times, his face was clear of all his facial hair, and the beauty mark under his right eye was nowhere in sight. Your eyes jumped to the information beside the picture and everything was different, names, dates, places. You were about to ask who Benjamin Roberts was when he handed you the second passport, your eyes going wide when you saw your own picture, your eyes jumping to the information and like the first, names, dates and places were different.

“When everything goes sideways,” your ripped your eyes away from the small booklets to look at Billy, whose eyes were boring into yours, “I’m going to send you this phone in the mail.” you looked to see the small flip phone in his hand, “You’re gonna have to make sure that it’s always on, never leave it out in the open but you’re gonna have to keep it close. When it’s safe, I’ll text you, tell you to wait for my call. Once i have a secure location for us to meet, i’ll call you and give you the address. You’re gonna take this bag, drop a couple changes of clothes on top of all of this. When you leave the house, you gotta lose your phone, drop it in a trash can, the gutter, doesn’t matter, but it can’t be with you when you take a taxi to the address I’ll send you, I’ll be waiting for you inside.”

You shake yourself from the memory and flip the phone open, pressing and holding down the power button when it immediately doesn’t light up. It feels like an eternity has passed by when the animation of the phone company finally finishes and the phone is loaded the phone pings and vibrates with a text.

You click your way into the message and even though you know what to expect, ‘cuz who else would send you a burner phone, you feel relief flood your system.

Wait for my call.

You check the timestamp and balk that it’s been a few hours since the message was sent. Even though you know that you haven’t missed his call you rush to your room and pull the top drawer, you shimmy it off the rails carefully and once it pops free you set it on the floor next to you. You kneel in frot of the dresser and reach your arm into the empty space and feel around for a minute until your fingertips touch the edge of the strap, you grab it tight and pull it out, hugging it close to your chest when it clears the drawer frame.

You pause for a moment, take a deep breath and go through the mental checklist that Billy had had you memorize for this exact moment, and despite the amount of time that’s passed, you can recall it like the lyrics of your favorite song.

Text. check.

Bag retrieved. Check.

Change of clothes.

You open the duffle and reach for the drawers in front of you and pull out a few shirts, socks, underwear and throw them into the bag, you get up and head to your closet, yank a couple of jeans from the hangers and toss those in as well.

Change of clothes. check.

You slip into a comfortable pair of shoes and wait.

******

Time blurs together, seconds, minutes, hours, the only way you know that it’s coming up on it being 3 days since you received the text is the timestamp and the date displayed on the home screen of your phone.

You flipped the phone open for the hundredth time that day, no missed calls. Battery full. Signal full. You closed it again and set it back down against your leg. Outside the light started to fade and the hope of you recieving a call from Billy was dwindling. To be fair, Billy never gave you a time frame, it was the one thing he couldn’t predict, he had just told you that once it was safe, he’d call.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, he’s gonna call. When you opened them again you focused your eyes on the images on the TV, the show had changed from the last thing you remember watching, when the show took a commercial break you got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen, made yourself a cup of coffee and went back to the couch, it’s then that you noticed the phone vibrating on the couch. In your haste you nearly dropped your cup of coffee, you picked up the phone, flipped it open and put it to your ear,

“Billy?” the word was out of your mouth before you knew it and it was met with a wet chuckle on the other side followed quickly by a wheeze and some gurgling.

“Billy? Billy where are you? Are you okay?” you asked not being able to keep yourself in check.

“Sorry it took me this long to call, I just--I just wanted--needed to hear your voice.”

“Billy what are you talking about, where are you?” you could hear the desperation in your voice

“Curt’s basement. Listen, I want you--” his words were interrupted by another groan, “want you to take everythin’ an--” you knew where this was going, knew it in your bones, and you felt your strength leave you. “Listen, I’m not gonna make it….but I wanted--”

A loud clang interrupts him and you hear him call out Curt’s name followed by a confused and low “Frank” then a fit of laughter that turns into wet coughs. You feel as if your chest is collapsing, if Frank was where there then….

2 loud pops cracked through the small phone speaker

“Billy!!” you screamed, but there was no reply.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fic #the punisher fic #billy russo x you #canon complian #jigsaw billy #jigsaw #the punisher season 2 #i didn't check this too closely so sorry for any and all mistakes

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burnouts3s3 · 4 years

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Last Meal, a Yu Yu Hakusho Fanfiction

https://amzn.to/3pPKgR8

(Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan work. I do not own or claim to own the property known as Yu Yu Hakusho. Yu Yu Hakusho is copyrighted and owned by Shueisha, Weekly Shounen Jump and Yoshihiro Togashi and is licensed and localized by Funimation Entertainment. Please Support the Official Release.)

Last Meal

Former Spirit Detective Yusuke Urameshi made his living running a small Ramen stand. While the profits were meager at best, the shop gained a very favorable reputation for anyone who managed to drop by for a bite. Long gone were the days of Yusuke chasing after demons and criminals. Having quit his position from the Spirit World, he had long settled into his new role as the smart mouthed cook who often mouthed off to ungrateful customers.

After a long day with no customers, Yusuke took the moonlight sky as a sign to close up. He was just about to turn the lights off when a figure approached him.

“Sorry, pal, we’re closed,” Yusuke said, his face turned the other way.

“Not even for your old Principal?” an elderly but warm voice asked.

Former Principal Takenaka looked particularly out of character. Instead of wearing his usual beige suit with blue tie or the black suit he wore to Yusuke’s wake, he was instead in a Red Tracksuit, as though he came back from a long jog. His blonde hair now had streaks of grey in it and began to recede. Yusuke could also count much more wrinkles on Takenaka’s face.

“Sure, why not?” Yusuke turned around and began heating up the stove.

As Yusuke prepared Takenaka’s bowl of ramen, his mind wondered back to his Junior High days. Before Yusuke’s death, Yusuke often thought of Takenaka as an authority figure meant to nag him into submission while being a hypocrite. Yusuke unfairly placed him in the same category as Mr. Iwamoto only to realize, at Yusuke’s wake, that Takenaka thought more highly of him than that. Shamefully, Yusuke didn’t really keep in contact with him during his Spirit Detective days or his three year trip into the Demon World.

“You’re looking well,” Takenaka said.

“Sorry, I don’t take tips in the form of compliments,” Yusuke continued to have his back turned as he finished up the ramen.

“Am I so transparent?” Takanaka smiled.

“Not as much as you think you are,” Yusuke placed the bowl of ramen in front of his principal.

“I’m glad to see you doing so well for yourself,” Takenaka said, separating his chopsticks and picking up a hearty helping of noodles.

“Oh, you should see me during my off hours,” Yusuke said. Of course, Yusuke wasn’t sure how to put ‘by the way, I was almost king of the Demon World this one time until I was knocked out by this other asshole and lost the tournament I started in the first place’ into a conversation without making it terribly awkward.

“It’s good!” Takenaka said before taking another bite of ramen.

“Well, my wife’s a cook after all,” Yusuke washed the other dishes he intended to leave until the next day. “She’d be pissed at me if I gave somone a lousy meal. It’d give her family a bad reputation if she married someone who couldn’t make ramen.”

“I’m glad to hear Keiko’s doing well,” Takenaka chuckled.

“How’s retired life treating you?” Yusuke took a rag and started to wipe down various parts of the stand.

“Not as comforting as I had hoped,” Iwamoto said. “I’m going to miss that school.”

“Don’t tell me Iwamoto or Akashi took over!” Yusuke yelled. The thought of Iwamoto becoming the Sarayashiki Junior High principal stirred something inside Yusuke so fiercely, the former Spirit Detective was tempted to use his Demon powers to blow up his former school.

“Of course not!” Takenaka said, affronted at the idea. “I wouldn’t let those vultures near my school. In fact, one of my last acts as principal was to fire those two.”

“Some good news for once,” Yusuke sighed.

“Yusuke, do you remember that boy you saved that day you got hit by a car?”

“How could I forget?” Yusuke replied. Saving that boy started everything for Yusuke: taking his trial, returning to life, becoming a Spirit Detective, training under Genkai, taking on Team Toguro at the Dark Tournament, hunting down Sensui and discovering his Demon ancestry and going into the Demon world.

“You’ll never believe this, on his spare time, he volunteers as a crossing guard!” The older man chuckled.

“Yeah?” Yusuke asked. “Good for him.”

As Takenaka finished the ramen, he set the empty bowl down, placed the chopsticks on top and reached into his suit’s pockets.

“Darn, I think I forgot my wallet,” Takenaka continued to dig deeper into his pockets.

“Woah, I wasn’t serious!” Yusuke said, waving his hand off. “I’m not going to charge my old principal for a meal!”

“You’re too kind,” Takenaka slowly got up from his booth seat.

“You know Yusuke, out of all the students I had, you were, by far, the biggest pain in the ass.”

“I get that a lot,” Yusuke smirked.

“But you were also the one I was most proud to see graduate,” Takenaka smiled.

“Easy, or you’re going to make me blush…” Yusuke scratched the back of his neck out of a nervous tick.

“I’m glad to see you made something great out of yourself,” the former Principal smiled.

“Ready to go?” A female voice said. Yusuke didn’t need to turn around to recognize Botan’s voice, her signature oar she was currently riding on, or the bright pink kimono she was wearing, but did so anyway to wipe the countertop around Tanaka’s meal.

“That’s right,” Takenaka said, turning to Botan and taking her hand.

“We usually don’t allow ghosts to enjoy human meals,” Botan tucked a blue strand of hair behind her ear “You should consider yourself grateful.”

“I am,” Takenaka smiled.

“Any message you want to pass onto Koenma while I’m there, Yusuke?” Botan asked, gripping one hand onto her oar with the other holding Takenaka’s hand.

“Tell Pacifier Breath I hope he’ll graduate to pull-ups this century,” Yusuke smirked, picking up Takenaka’s empty bowl and placing into the sink.

“Still have no regard for authority, eh, Mr. Urameshi?” Takenaka sighed.

“I can’t grow up too fast!” Yusuke smirked. “Otherwise you wouldn’t recognize me!”

“Goodbye, Yusuke,” Takenaka smiled, holding onto Botan’s hand as she flew them upwards towards the night sky.

“What’s he saying goodbye for?” Yusuke sighed. “I’ll see him soon enough…”

(A/N: For those of you who don’t know, Brice Armstrong, the voice performer for the Dragonball Narrator, the original Captain Ginyu in Dragonball Z and most notably, in my opinion, Principal Takenaka from Yu Yu Hakusho, passed away at age 84. So I decided to write this quick one-shot to honor his memory. I give my condolences to his friends and family. Thank you for your performances.

Until then,

Keep writing!)

https://amzn.to/3pPKgR8

#yu yu hakusho #yyh #yoshihiro togashi #hunter x hunter #hxh #wsj #shounen jump #justin cook #brice armstrong #yusuke urameshi #urameshi #yusuke #funimation #funimation entertainment #Shueisha #rest in peace #botan #cynthia cranz

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wetwellie · 4 years

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Back to the Future AU (Ye be warned this is a pretty long one):

The Samwell Hockey team has become used to finding their eccentric alumnus, Dr. Justin Oluransi, hiding out in their attic quite often. He is an 84 year old man, you can’t really scold him for busting out of the nearby retirement home to tinker with experiments and inventions that never work. He never bothered anyone, and no one bothered him. Then Shitty moved in and was freakin stoked for their guest.

“Hey pops, what did they call you on the team?” “…Ransom” “Awesome. Hey. You’re super good at science right? Could you help me brew up something in the tub?”

Dr Ransom was then initiated as the grandpa of the team. He helped with the recipe for tub juice, and they dragged out a bed for him to sleep on when he’s running from the Home.

Dr Ransom also helped with homework from time to time in exchange for said person becoming Ransom’s personal assistant for half an hour or so.

(“Bro why do you have 17 hickeys all over your back?” “Doc put a lot of suction cup things on me last night in exchange for his graphing calculator.”)

Of course, there was a man who never indulged in speaking with the man who even thought about spending time with their Attic friend, and that was Jack Zimmermann. They were sort of pushed into each other’s acquaintance during an epikegster in Jack’s second year. Jack had locked himself upstairs for the night. He hadn’t had the best game performance and kept thinking about everything he could have done better--should have done better. It was overwhelming him and every noise, every movement, every thought had been pretty daunting. He had been curled up on his bed when he noticed that the tapping he’d heard wasn’t from the party. It was from an elderly old man in a labcoat knocking on his window.

It was nearly 10 below (Celsius), so he couldn’t just let him out. Jack unlocked his window and helped Ransom in.

“Sorry about that, pal.” Ransom had said as he plopped himself onto Jack’s bed “Two cats were already...pretty ocupado in the attic when I went to work for tonight. Remind me to wash those sheets thoroughly.” “Is there anything I can do to help you out?”

“Unless you’re comfortable with kicking those people out of my attic. I’m afraid I can only ask for company.”

“I don’t think I would be very good company” Jack said, trying his best to politely refuse.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, once you’re comfortable. What’s your name again?” “Jack” “Nice to meet you man! I’ve seen you around, but you always seemed to be focused on one thing or another. I haven’t made it out to any of your games, but I’ve heard from the others that you are very dedicated to hockey” “Well...isn’t everyone on the team?” “I suppose you’re right. But everyone on the team isn’t a hardass captain.” “They called me a hardass?”

“Only during the preseason” Ransom chirped. Jack didn’t laugh.

“I suppose I could’ve been more of a hardass when I was captain of the team.” “You were captain?” Jack asked, trying his hardest to sound like he was interested.

“Co-captain, actually.” Ransom said, with an expression that was unreadable.

“Wait!” Jack threw up his hand and pulled open his laptop. In the google search bar he googled “Google” and THEN started typing a phrase he knew familiar, clicked on a purple link to a bare bones site with barely any bells and whistles. There were only links to years. “What year did you graduate?” “Undergrad?” “Of course.” “1955″

Jack scrolled down to that number and hit click. The page that loaded was filled with scanned articles, and paragraphs of stats and commentary. Ransom only looked at him.

“The coaches wanted someone to go through all of the old stuff and digitize it. The manager who had been working on it before graduated last year, and I volunteered in their place” He then made a noise and clicked at the screen a couple more times. He turned it to face Ransom and pointed at an old photograph from the newspaper. The clipping had removed all of the article below it. In the photo was two young men in their hockey uniforms on the ice. They were holding each other close and raising a large jug in the air that had the words “SIN BIN” written in big red letters.

Jack pointed to one of them “Is this you?”

Ransom didn’t answer. His attention was fully on the photograph being projected on that blue-white screen. If Jack had been paying more attention, he might have seen Ransom’s throat hitch as he gulped, or tears starting to form and just barely being held back. But sadly, his attention wasn’t so focused. He did, however, notice when the doctor let out a howling laugh and pointed at the jug.

“The sin bin! God that takes me back. Do you still have one of those?” “No” “Get one! Every captain needs one.” Ransom explained. “We used that money to buy cheap booze and pricey butter.” “Butter?” “It’s a long story.” Ransom said “But that’s not the point. You put money in the sin bin, and the whole team benefits from it. Your hardassery will have some sort of benefit.”

The two then melt into a conversation about hockey, captaining,the past, and even science for a bit. Albeit, Jack only wanted to know how legit “Breaking Bad” was. “I’ve never made any drugs, believe it or not. But I’m sure the science checks out”

Every once in a while, when talking about the past, Ransom would quickly change the subject. Jack would do the same. They danced around the things they didn’t want to speak of, and usually fell back on chirping each other about their technological ineptness.

It was 4am when Jack heard the party start to die down. Jack was discussing the merits of having the Internet as a research tool as a student. Ransom shook his head. “I know from this side that it is helpful, but it would have been awful during my studies. There would have been so many outlets and so many distractions. I had enough panic attacks as it is, that would have surely worsened it.”

There was a rather pregnant pause before Jack tentatively said “Panic Attacks?” “Yeah. There was a lot of stuff to panic about back then.” he said. He looked at Jack, fiddlling with the loose strings on his shirt, and added “I guess there’s a lot to panic about right now, too. Life can be a bitch.” Jack let out a hollow laugh. The silence never really ended, however. Instead, Ransom took that as his cue. “I should check to see if the lovebirds are post-coital by now. But remembering college, I doubt it.” Jack stared at Ransom dubiously. “And I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t want to scar you with any mental images! Anyways. I should get going”

He ended up walking to the door before being compelled to add “And if you ever need to talk, you can always see me when I’m in the attic. I’ve got a lot of life experience and surprisingly good ears for my age.”

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

Jack should have been more surprised at how often he found himself with Ransom for the rest of the semester. Whenever he wasn’t practicing or studying or keeping up with Shitty, he was in the attic. Mostly he helped lift heavy things that Ransom needed to tinker with, while the Doctor chattered on and on about “Important Shit!” that he’s learned in his life that will help Jack.

“Is there anything that has stayed more or less consistent over the past 60 years?” Jack asked one day.

“Hockey Butts are still as toned as ever.” He replied without missing a beat. “And they take years to erode. They are truly God’s gift”

Jack actually laughed at that and said “Amen”.

In the months that came to pass, Jack would grow to call Ransom a friend as well as mentor. However, he couldn’t help the feeling that he never truly knew him. Jack had confessed many things to him: about his pressure to always be better, about the overdose, about Parse. And while Ransom didn’t have the magical words to make those hurts all better, he listened without judgement. That was all he needed.

Winter turned to Spring without much of a struggle that year. Ransom spent most of his time searching online for the best places to purchase rare ores that he simply has to have, while he mumbles something about a gigawatt. Jack usually spent his time talking about Hockey or the new thing he had seen on this documentary a couple nights before, or Shitty being Shitty. He found himself a lot more empty-handed in the attic in the months before. Jack heard a lot less “fill this cylinder up with exactly 5.74 ml of hydrochloric acid” and a lot more “carry this new clock and hang it up in the attic. Mamrie Cartwright is having an estate sale and this was 2 dollars”.

Soon he found himself packing up his room for the summer, and popping up to check on Ransom before seeing him off. A few days before, the graduating members of the team had given him a “World’s best Grandpa” T-Shirt, with a “dr” scribbled in between the lines in sloppy marker. Ransom had given them all a bottle of Tub Juice to remember the Haus by.

Jack was surprised to open the door to the attic to see Ransom packing a suitcase.

“Headed somewhere?” “You think I don’t deserve a vacation too?” “I never said you didn’t. Where are you headed?” “I’ve met an old friend up at Niagra falls every summer for 60 years, so I’m gonna do that. And then I have to visit a science convention or two” “Sounds like a busy summer. You take care of yourself.” “I should say the same! If I come back and any of you cats have flat asses, I swear I’ll die on you. So eat some protein for my sake.”

“Will do”

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

It’s July 4th when Jack recieved a call from an unknown number. “Allo?” he answered.

“Jack! You brilliant bastard! It’s me.” “Ransom?” “The one and only. Listen. I don’t have a lot of time. Do you know where the mall called “Le Boulevard” is?”

“I don’t know, it sounds kind of familiar?”

“That’s good enough. Would you be kind enough to meet up with me on the 7th at precisely 3:15am?”

“What? Why?” “I can’t tell you right now, but it’s a matter of great importance. And I know that you will understand when I explain, but I can’t explain now.” “I don’t know how I’ll get there” “Please, Jack! I can’t lone this one.” Jack paused for a long while before saying “I’ll think about it” and hanging up the phone.

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

Jack’s mother came into the room the moment that the call ended. She asked who it was, and Jack answered. Explaining the whole deal about the man who had been hiding in their attic for the better part of two years. She seemed very worried until he mentioned how he was the captain back in the fifties.

“In the fifties? Do you think he knows about the fire?” “Fire?”

“Yeah. When I was going there, one of my English professors mentioned it. The old hockey house, before yours and that sorority. It burned to the ground. 2 people died.”

“Ransom never mentioned a fire” “It might have been after his time then” said Alicia. “It still seems like such a shame”

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

It’s 2:45am and Jack has gotten no sleep whatsoever. His group text is blowing up with pictures and videos of ongoing celebrations in the states. It’s times like these that he truly wished he knew how to turn off notifications. He scrolled through the chat and stopped at canadian teammates responses. It’s a picture of him wearing the flag as a cape and eating what seemed to be really old timbits. It’s captioned “Happy 3 days after Canada day”. Jack laughed, so he responded “haha”. Immideately after the response, Jack’s phone starts vibrating like crazy. Ransom is calling him.

“Jackie my man! Are you ready???” “Ready for what?”

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babybluebanshee · 5 years

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Feedback - A MHA Fic

Hizashi Yamada may be loud, obnoxious, childish, goofy, and frankly have the stupidest hair on the planet...but he's still a teacher.

Aaaaaand Ashido makes five. Sorry, kid, but “tooken” is not a word.

Hizashi made a harsh red line through the incorrectly conjugated verb, then moved his pen over to a legal pad. In large capital letters, he wrote “VERB REVIEW B4 WEDS.”

After he finished writing, he tapped his pen against the paper once. Twice. Then, he underlined his note. Three times.

He moved back to Ashido’s paper, and tallied her score in the corner - a 64%. Not bad, by Ashido’s standards, but it could stand to be improved. He’d have felt slightly better about it if he hadn’t written even lower percentages on Mineta, Kaminari, and Hagakure’s papers.

He sighed and polished off his soda. As was his way, he tried to look at this from a positive angle. He’d known the unit on irregular verb conjugation was going to be rough going in, especially in a language as absolutely insane as English. He taught the damn course and he sometimes had trouble with it. At least now he had an idea of where the students needed the most work before the test on Wednesday. The extra review would be good for all of them. And hey, maybe he could do some browsing online and try to find some review games. Those seemed to help when the kids were struggling with sentence structure.

Hizashi smiled as he tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket by his desk. Everything would be fine. Class 1-A was one of the most promising groups of kids that UA had seen in years, and what they didn’t learn right away, they always managed to get eventually. He scribbled a little happy face on Ashido’s page (to complement the one she had doodled after her name), and set the sheet amongst the other graded assignments.

He casually looked over the next, slightly crumpled sheet in the stack. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Goddammit, Bakugo...

For the past three weeks, Bakugo had been turning in assignments that were only partially done. At first, it had just been a question or two left blank. Then five or six questions. Then entire sections.

This time, aside from his lazily scrawled name in the corner of the paper, Bakugo had left this entire paper blank.

Hizashi shoved his hand up under his glasses, trying in vain to rub away the headache this would doubtlessly bring on. He was so glad he’d taken out his hearing aids while he graded. Right now, the noise would not have helped. At all.

He marked a giant zero in the corner of the page, pressing so hard he was momentarily afraid he’d rip a hole in the paper. As he set Bakugo’s paper off to the side, his stomach clenched in hunger. This was as good a stopping point as any, he supposed. Time to find something to constitute dinner.

He padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Just as he was trying to decide if he felt motivated enough to go through the trouble of cooking vegetables and meat for some ramen, or just blasting it in the microwave and eating like a poor college kid, he spotted the pink bag on the counter, the words “Shrimp Chips” emblazoned on it in cheerful bubble letters. He lunged, quietly blessing Shouta and his pathological need to have a constant supply of garbage food in the apartment at all times as he tore into the foil bag with his teeth. He pulled out a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

Something soft and fluffy snaked its way between his legs. Looking down, he saw Mame’s two giant green eyes staring up at him from the black void of her face, gazing longingly at the chip bag. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily. She opened her mouth in what Hizashi assumed was a pleading mew. He smiled down at her and shook his head, moving his legs to sidestep her. Mame bounded away from him and jumped onto the nearby table, splaying herself out quite contentedly on the table in a pile of papers, discarded mail, and Hazashi’s school bag. She immediately rolled onto her back and stretched out a paw longingly. She then brought her paw back to her mouth, once, twice, three times.

She was signing “food”. And Shouta said you couldn’t teach a cat to sign.

Hizashi chuckled, swallowed, and then signed back, “First of all, child, you’re not even supposed to be up on the table.”

Mame blinked in response.

“Second, these are my chips. None for you. Shouta doesn’t want you eating anything but cat food anyway. He already feels bad when he has to explain to the vet why you’re so fat.”

Mame rolled back over, letting out a squeak of indignation, before stretching and jumping off the table. Unfortunately, her shifting weight jostled Hizashi’s bag, and before Hizashi could set the chips aside and catch it, everything inside had spilled out onto the floor. He tried to glare angrily at Mame, but she had suddenly become very interested in thoroughly cleaning her front paw. He supposed it didn’t matter. He could never stay mad at her anyway.

He brushed the chip dust off his hands and began to sort through the mess on the floor. Honestly, he’d needed to clean out this bag for a while. Its contents were a mess of lunch receipts and old notes he’d written to himself and playlist ideas for the radio show that had never fully come to fruition. As he crumpled up the trash in his hands, he uncovered his gradebook. He groaned slightly as he began to realize that meant he hadn’t recorded any of the worksheet scores yet, and he was already more than halfway through the pile. He’d have to go back and do them all again.

At least he’d caught himself. And he also had shrimp chips. That sort of softened the blow.

He gathered up the rest of the mess from his bag and put it on the table. He’d sort through it all before bed. Then he gathered up his gradebook, tucked the chips under his arm, grabbed another soda from the fridge, and walked back towards the bedroom.

He flipped open his gradebook with one hand, so he’d at least have it open to the right date by the time he sat down. It fell open to a page near the beginning of the semester. He was just about to shake the book to turn the pages (very nearly losing his underarm grip on his chips), when something caught his eye.

“Bakugo, Katsuki: 88%”

Huh.

His eyes drifted downward, to the next assignment he’d catalogued. An 87%.

He approached his desk, and he began arranging his things to his liking, but he never once took his eyes off the grade book. He scanned the next assignment. Bakugo had scored an 84%.

Hizashi sat down slowly, his chips and the rest of the papers forgotten. He turned the page in his gradebook. Bakugo’s next grade was an 89%.

The next was an 88%. Then a 90%, followed by an 85%. Another 87% and another 89%.

This didn’t make any sense. How could Bakugo start out with such high scores and then suddenly start turning in blank assignments?

He turned the page and got his answer. A 73% was the next grade he saw. It wasn’t exactly failing, but it was a dip in quality, jarring compared to the previous pages.

Maybe the blank assignments weren’t so sudden.

He continued to scan the page. The percentages hovered around the low seventies for a while. On the next page, they dipped into the sixties. Checking the dates, Hizashi saw that these grades began three weeks ago, right around the time Bakugo had started turning in the half-finished assignments.

The decline was steady, until Hizashi finally got to the last assignment he’d recorded. A 58%. A far cry from where they’d started.

His phone was in the corner, next to his hearing aids. He snatched it up and opened up his text thread with Shouta. His husband would be out patrolling right now, but it was still early, and Hizashi hadn’t gotten any breaking news updates on his phone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch Shouta at a bad time.

Quickly, he typed, Yo, have you heard anything from Cementoss or Ecto about Bakugo’s grades?

Shouta’s response was quick, taking a little more than a minute. Hizashi was the only person who could brag that Shouta had never left him on read in the entire time they’d known each other.

No. Why? Short and sweet. That was Sho for you.

I’m grading 1-A’s last assignment. Noticed something super weird.

Yeah?

So I’ve complained at you about the kid turning in unfinished work, right?

Many times. They’re enjoyable rants.

Before Hizashi could reply, Shouta sent another message. Do I need to talk to him again about getting his work in? Because I’m sensing the last talk didn’t stick.

Hizashi smiled and replied, Not sure yet. I looked at his grades from the beginning of the semester and they’re good. Not perfect, but good.

Hmm…

Then I started noticing him slipping. He was still handing in complete assignments, but he was getting more stuff wrong. Then he starts handing in this half-assed stuff and his grade just drops more. It’s weird.

What do you think is going on?

Dunno yet. That’s why I was asking if anyone else has said anything. If they had, I was thinking maybe we could have him talk to Hound Dog or something?

Like I said, haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’re not shy about telling me when someone is struggling.

It was true. Hizashi had never known either of his fellow teachers to turn away students who came to them for extra tutoring. And if the students wouldn’t come to them, they had no problem approaching them privately and gently insisting they should. There weren’t many students who would say no to a guy who looked like a walking corpse and someone who could make the parking lot swallow you up.

It just made everything more confusing. He couldn’t think of why Bakugo was doing so much worse in his class than any of the others. It couldn’t be because Bakugo particularly didn’t like him. Not that the kid was particularly fond of any of his teachers, but Hizashi had seen the way Bakugo behaved around people he genuinely hated, like poor Midoriya. That explosive resentment was a far cry from the casual annoyance Hizashi usually saw on Bakugo’s face when they were having a long lecture about diagramming sentences.

Then the word caught him. Explosive.

He thought of Bakugo during training, igniting the nitroglycerin-like sweat that poured off him, and making thundering explosions, loud enough to rattle windows and be heard for miles.

Hizashi’s gaze flicked up to his hearing aids, still at the corner of his desk. English had been a challenge for him because of them. Obviously, learning another language entailed being able to listen to it and pick up the various patterns, words, and grammar rules.

He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. Yes, English had been difficult for him, because he’d been deaf since birth. He knew that was the reason.

He could only imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn’t even realize something is wrong yet.

He tapped out a response to Shouta’s last text. I think I know what to do. I’ll explain when you get home. Love you xoxoxo.

Hizashi picked up Bakugo’s blank worksheet. Next to the zero, he wrote, much more lightly, “See me after class.” Then he underlined it. Three times.

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

Hizashi kept his eyes trained on Bakugo as the rest of the class filed out of the room. He thought it pretty telling when the normally cocky little twerp was trying his damnedest to look everywhere but at him.

Finally, Bakugo stood up from his desk and approached the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets. As he did, Hizashu covertly touched the screen of his phone. The video he had queued up began, and a high-pitched whine filled the room. Even though his headphones cancelled out most of the feedback, it still made him wince as his hearing aids worked overtime to process the frequency. It was irritating, but he’d survive. He needed some proof.

“What do you want?” Bakugo muttered tersely.

Hizashi flicked his gaze down at his student’s pocket, where he’d stuffed the blank homework assignment Hizashi had handed back to him. As if sensing that Hizashi was looking, Bakugo crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it further down.

“Look, I’ll do the stupid thing again if that’s what you want,” Bakugo said, a bit louder. Hizashi knew the kid was trying to intimidate him. He tried it with literally everyone who even looked at him funny.

Hizashi just sighed quietly and replied, “This isn’t about one assignment, Bakugo. It’s about the last several assignments.”

Very few of his students had ever heard Hizashi use his “authority” voice, as Shouta called it. Hizashi honestly didn’t like using it. Most of the teachers in UA were some form of intimidating, and he didn’t want to be that way. He wanted his students to feel like he was a friend, rather than an authority figure. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know when it was time to straighten up and start putting on a teacher voice.

At least the tone had gotten Bakugo to stop looking at the floor and move his eyes somewhere in Hizashi’s general direction.

“It’s not my fault your class is a waste of my time,” the kid muttered.

“Then you should have no trouble explaining to me why your average score on my homework was an 87% until recently.”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first, but Hizashi could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, trying to offer up some angry response that would hopefully scare this prying teacher off.

The high-frequency playing on Hizashi’s phone droned away. It was starting to make his skin crawl. Bakugo didn’t show any signs that he even noticed it.

“Guess your teaching bored me so much it made me drop a few IQ points,” Bakugo offered up weakly. Once again, his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor.

Hizashi took a deep breath, and said, “Bakugo, how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

That really got Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes contracted to pinpricks, and he straighten his whole body to look Hizashi square in the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. His words echoed through the empty classroom. “I can hear just fine!”

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said, picking up his phone and showing it to Bakugo. “Then why couldn’t you hear this high frequency that’s been going for the past few minutes?”

For a split second, Bakugo looked at Hizashi like he’d slapped him. Then the familiar rage contorted his features again, and he shouted, “You’re a liar! You didn’t have anything playing on that piece of shit!”

Hizashi held the phone out to him. “Check if you don’t believe me. But blow it up, and I’ll have you expelled faster than you can blame Midoriya.”

Bakugo swiped the phone from Hizashi’s hand and looked down at the screen, studied the video of the high frequency. He tapped play on the screen, and instantly, the dreadful noise filled the room again. Hizashi actually flinched a bit at the renewed onslaught.

He watched his student stare in silent confusion at the video for a whole thirty seconds before Bakugo spoke up again. “I...it...this stupid video doesn’t even have any sound,” he grumbled, thrusting the phone back towards Hizashi.

Hizashi took the phone, mercifully muted the video, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. “Now, back to my original question: how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any stupid problems!”

“Then you’re definitely gonna need a better excuse to explain away these half-assed assignments,” Hizashi retorted firmly. A brief flicker of confusion crossed Bakugo’s face, and Hizashi guessed this was the first time a teacher had actually sworn in front of him. Hizashi took advantage of the confusion to add, “I talked with Aizawa and the other teachers. My class is the only one where you pull this stunt. Incidentally, math and literature are classes that don’t revolve around being able to hear what your teacher is talking about very well. Unlike, say, English.”

Bakugo merely growled.

“Maybe you’ve noticed ringing in your ears? Or that sound is fading in and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Bakugo’s sudden shout filled the room. Those red pinpricks were back on Hizashi, full of fight and fire. He had no doubt that Bakugo’s palms were roughly two seconds from starting to pop. “If you can’t get it past your stupid, gel-encrusted hair and through your thick skull, then maybe you’re to one having problems with your hearing!”

Hizashi couldn’t help it - he started to laugh. He’d been prepared for Bakugo to insult and demean him (the crack about his hair was almost a given), but this was just too good. And the look on the poor kid’s face - torn between unbridled confusion and an animalistic urge to jump the desk separating them and claw Hizashi’s eyes out - only made him laugh harder.

Finally, Bakugo barked, “The hell is so funny?!”

Hizashi simply reached up and slid his headphones off, being sure to turn his head slightly so Bakugo could see the thin wires running from the insert to the black processor behind his ear.

“I kinda hope I’ve got a problem with my hearing,” he said. “Otherwise I paid through the nose for the world’s ugliest jewelry.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. He just kept staring - gaping really - at Hizashi’s ears.

Hizashi set his headphones down on his desk, and said, “I’ve been deaf since I was born, but I’ve only had hearing aids since I was about six. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were expensive.”

No reply.

“The doctor who fitted me with my first pair as a kid told my parents that’s probably why I cried so loud. I literally couldn’t hear myself and stop.”

Still no reply.

“The headphones serve a double purpose. They protect my hearing aids against damage, and have a backup power source for them if the batteries ever die while I’m fighting villains or helping in a rescue.”

Silence.

“Bakugo?”

“...you mean to tell me those stupid headphones you wear actually have a purpose?”

Hizashi laughed out loud. “Excuse you, but those things are the height of fashion and function. At least that’s what Hage pays me to say.”

Was that a flicker of a smile Hizashi saw on Bakugo’s face? He decided not to press his luck by asking. Instead he said, “Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Bakugo chewed his lower lip a bit. Another beat of silence passed, and then he finally grumbled, “A while.”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t say anything sooner, but I already know why.”

“Screw you.”

“So you’ve noticed some symptoms?”

“...yeah. It mostly started as ringing.”

“Started?”

“Yeah, it’s worse now. Now sometimes people will just...cut out when they’re talking to me. If I’m not looking directly at them, I miss what they say.”

“And I’m not gonna ask you to learn lip-reading just to get by in English class. It’s a pain, trust me.”

“You can read lips?”

“Yep. I sign too. Since I went through a chunk of my life not being able to hear anything, it can be a little overwhelming. I sometimes take them out when I’m at home. Or in a boring staff meeting.”

That one actually got Bakugo to laugh. Or snort, really. But at least it was something other than confusion or fury.

Hizashi smiled and said, “But you’ve been able to hear your entire life, and if it’s caught early, you might not need as elaborate a set-up as mine.” He took a business card from his back pocket and held it out to Bakugo. “This is for a woman named Nanama Sakakibara. She’s one of the best audiologists in Japan. I want you to think about seeing her. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that your explosions are what’s damaging your hearing, so maybe think about hitting up Power Loader for some ear protection in that costume of yours.”

Bakugo gave him a stiff nod, but eyed the card like it might bite him. He flicked his glance back up to Hizashi’s. “Do I have to take it?”

Hizashi’s smile morphed into a cat-like grin, and he said, “No, of course you don’t have to. I can always keep it to give to your mom when I set up an emergency parent-teacher conference to discuss your near-failing English grade.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at him, then silently snatched the card from Hizashi’s hand. “You’re a dick,” he grumbled.

Hizashi merely smiled wider and picked up his headphones, sliding them back into place over his ears. He slipped back into his announcer voice and said, “I’m a dick because I care, sparky.” He gave Bakugo a double finger-gun, and added, “Now amscray before Eraser gets suspicious about why you aren’t at training yet.”

Bakugo began to move toward the door. Hizashi found it pretty promising when he didn’t immediately shove the card into his pocket, with his incomplete assignment.

When Bakugo reached the door, he stopped, one hand on the door frame, his shoulders tense and his head ducked down.

A beat of silence.

Then: “Thanks or whatever.”

And suddenly Bakugo was gone.

Hizashi shook his head. The gratitude was more than he’d expected. At least it was better than holes blown in the walls.

#hizashi yamada #present mic #katsuki bakugo #deaf mic #deaf bakugo #shouta aizawa #my hero academia #mha #fanfic

268 notes · View notes

goffilolo · 5 years

Text

Revival of Midoriya Izuku part 2

Well well well, its been 84 years hasn’t it? as always you can find the fic under the the same name on ao3. looking forward to the comments and notes

“I can’t believe you dragged me out before I could put on some of my best moves” whined Izuku as he fell into step with the doctor.

“See, the issue here is that there is no difference between your best and your worst moves” deadpanned Shin. “I was saving you from yourself” he added as an afterthought, while mentally praying (to whichever God that has yet to be killed by Izuku) for the safety and sanity of Izuku’s new crush.

It’s been a long day for both of them to say the least. What started off as a casual meet up for breakfast ended up becoming another one of Izuku’s shenanigans that got them both arrested. While that in itself is nothing new, this time they’ve been held up for much longer than usual, because of course they were.

The duo (or trio if you were to count the alleged dog) were currently on their way to Izuku’s house, as the doctor insisted on walking him home from the police station while his mom went in the opposite direction to buy some groceries for tonight’s dinner.

“Saving me?” scoffed Izuku “I think it’s a bit too late for that. But it doesn’t matter, I still have a chance.”

“How so?” asked Shin, with about 80% of disbelievement and 20% curiosity.

The question above has unfortunately unleashed Izuku’s Rant ™ mode.

“That guy mentioned coming back from an entrance exam. If we take into account all the schools that are within a relatively short distance from the police station, as well as the time he arrived, the only logical conclusion would be the UA exam that we KNOW took place today. Also he’s Tensei’s brother, which means he has to have a pretty good quirk so I don’t doubt he passed the entrance exam with flying colours. Do you know what that means Shin?!” asked the teen, with an excitement of a squirrel on 23 red bulls.

“It means that your stalker tendencies are making a comeback?” which apparently was the wrong answer as the doctor’s kneecaps soon found themselves becoming victims of Trash Bandit’s headbutting.

“NO!- I mean, yeah but-” stammered the boy “-the point IS that I know where to find him! Once the new school year starts I can just go to UA to see him whenever!”

“Uh-huh, and what about that teeny-tiny detail of, oh I dunno, YOU NOT ATTENDING UA, IN FACT YOU NOT ATTENDING SCHOOL AT ALL?!”

“First of all, don’t you fuckin use that tone with me Doc, you’re making it sound like I’m a drop-out” pointed Izuku “And second of all, how dare you assume that something as simple as a security system can come in the way of me getting laid.” Not to mention he has technically enrolled into a high school, whether or not he will actually attend is a different story.

“Why do I even bother?” lamented the doctor “I should’ve just kept you locked at the psych ward when I had the chance.”

“But ya didn’t!”

The two continued their usual banter, until they finally reached Izuku’s neighbourhood, at which point the boy took the pity on the bespectacled man and told him to go home, knowing that the man haven’t slept in the last 36 hours and that another 12 hour shift was awaiting him tomorrow morning.

“Oh shit, I do need to go home” mumbled Shin. “I didn’t get to call my wife when we were at the station.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get to call her?” asked Izuku, while trying to hide his surprise and disappointment at the doctor’s marital status, as it puts his matchmaking plans to an end before they would truly begin “Didn’t they give you one call to make?”

“Well yes, but it was a long day and I got hungry, so I ended up calling a takeaway instead.”

“You know Shin, I never thought I would say this about you, but BIG MOOD.”

It was only after they bid each other farewell and went their separate ways that Izuku has noticed something strange. He felt like he was being followed, and for once it wasn’t a quil induced paranoia (or maybe it was? kinda hard to tell these days), looking over to Bandit, he noticed that the sheep also seemed to be on guard. So it’s not just me then .

He made a subtle turn, trying to see if there there were any people behind him. In doing so he failed to notice the the sudden appearance of a tall figure in front of him and was thus more than unprepared for the incoming “ I AM HE-! ”

“BANDIT! ATTACK!”

What followed was a litany of confused screams and vengeful sheep noises enveloped in a spontaneous cloud of smoke, which Izuku threw his axe at, because that is now his go-to solution for any problem. If he wasn’t already so startled by the whole situation he probably would’ve noticed that said cloud of smoke was vaguely All-Might shaped, at least before the sheep was added to the equation. As the smoke began to dissipate it revealed a tall, skeletal figure of a man who looked like if one of those ugly ragdolls you find at goodwill stores came to life. The man in question barely managed to stop the incoming axe using his bare hands, keeping the blade in a karate chop like hold, which would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that Trash Bandit was hanging off the man, chewing on his blond his hair. So to say that the current situation was confusing would be a big understatement.

“Who the fuck are you?!” asked Izuku, playing up his ‘good cop/bad cop’ act, except the good cop went and killed himself 9 months prior by smashing his head open against a koi pond, because that’s how it always is within the world of criminal justice; the good ones die too young. Doesn’t matter, Bandit can play a cop, whether he’d be good is questionable, but he’d still a better job than like 90% of the police force he dealt with so far. Except Tsukauchi, he’s a good bitch, far to overworked and underpaid for his job. He’s perfect. Him and Shin would be perfect together, if the doctor wasn’t married that is. Wait, what was he saying?

Oh yeah.

“I asked who the fuck are you” he repeated while pulling out his backup axe out of his yellow backpack “And I don’t like to repeat myself, especially to some old, creepy guys who seem to think it’s ok to go around following underage boys” he explained as he waved his weapon in an unspoken threat.

Which seemed to do the trick as the stranger started to fumble around looking for an excuse and a way to pull the sheep off his hair.

“Aah, sorry about the misunderstanding! We’ve met briefly during the villain attack earlier today. What you did back there was incredible young man!”

“Yeah yeah, pretty sure I would remember meeting a guy who looks like he’s one step away from dropping dead, now answer my question. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

The man seemed to hesitate as he looked around to make sure no other people were around, which was dumb given that they were still very much in a public place “It’s kinda complicated” he said eventually, like the bullshitter he probably was.

“Look bitch, my whole life is ‘complicated’ ” exclaimed Izuku using obnoxious air quotes “So out with it!”

“What I’m about to tell you is extremely confidential” replied the man, with the grave seriousness of someone who’s about to reveal to their own son after ten years of absence that they’re a mercenary, and yes he is getting personal, fuck you “Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone about my identity-”

“Your fuckin’ secret is safe with my indifference” deadpanned the boy.

The man sighed and took a tentative step back. Once again a cloud of smoke enveloped him. It disappeared almost as soon it came, revealing a figure of no-other than motherfuckin’ All Might.

“I suppose this form is more memorable , isn’t that right young Midoriya?” asked the man, as if he wasn’t a goddamn living legend revealing his secret identity to a kid whose hobbies include committing felony, ravaging through junkyards; and being gay.

“JESUS FUCK! You can’t just DO THAT! Revealing your secret to a random civilian? What the hell All Might, you had too much dumb bitch juice or what?” screamed Izuku, or rather ‘whisper screamed’ as he was trying to juggle scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’ and having an internal meltdown over scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’! To say that the situation he found himself in was bizzare would’ve been an understatement.

After all, it’s not everyday that you meet a man whose very face was a reminder of all the things you could not have, and the person you never got to be. He felt wronged, like the universe has robbed him of an opportunity, except that is not the case as there was nothing to steal to begin with. Still, that vicious little voice inside his head that always whispered ‘you can’t do this’, ‘you can’t have this’ in a poor imitation of Kacchan became almost bearable over time. Almost , being the key word. It became less of an insistent, self-deprecating chant it once was, and slowly morphed into something akin to a static noise from those old TVs; quiet and ever so slightly inconvenient at best, but otherwise unnoticeable unless one deliberately thought about it. And now, being forced to face All Might, Izuku could hear that voice louder than ever before, reminding him of what a failure he used to be, how naive he used to be and ‘did you really believe you could ever compare yourself to him? ’

“Actually, you know what? Nevermind” he continued, hoping to carry the conversation enough to distract him from his own thoughts “Just...why did you want to talk to me? After what happened?”

“Ah, yes! What you did during that villain attack was incredible my boy, reckless but incredible” exclaimed All Might, with the casualness of someone remarking on unusually nice weather despite his overly enthusiastic tone “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such honest bravery, especially from someone as young as yourself. Even when faced with a villain that other heroes did not dare to go up against, you still ran head first towards the danger, despite lacking any power yourse-” and his inspirational ramble got interrupted by a bloody cough and YET ANOTHER cloud of smoke, reverting him back to his skeletal form.

“Ok yeah- I get it! I’m awesome, the baddest bitch in the town and whatever the fuck, but CAN YOU PLEASE stop coughing up blood?”

All Might continued to wheeze for another minute or so, while Izuku and by extension Bandit were fretting over him.

“I apologise, my health is not what it used to be”

“I can tell”

“You see, 6 years ago I was fighting this one villain-”

“No, stop- don’t care” interrupted Izuku as he waved his hands in a dismissive manner “Please spare me the unnecessary narrative exposition, everyone already knows the story.”

“Who is ‘everyone’? And what are you talking about?” asked All Might in utter bewilderment.

“ Oh, you know ” says Izuku, addressing the reader more so than answering All Might.

That answer explained exactly nothing, but All Might was willing to let it drop and move onto the actual reason for his sudden presence, which if he was being honest with himself he was already regretting.

“Midoriya my boy” he said instead “The reason I wanted to speak to you is because I have a proposition for you...”

“Goddamnit! I knew it!” exclaimed Izuku in a sarcastic, yet over dramatic manner not unlike the characters from Shin’s favourite telenovelas “I knew you were a dirty bastard all along, picking up boys off the streets, using your hero persona to gain their trust-”

“I beg your pardon?!” shouted All Might, ever so scandalised as he did not catch onto Izuku’s joke.

“Then beg” deadpanned Izuku.

Making fun of the number one hero was all nice and good in Izuku’s opinion, but the man did seek him out for a particular reason and they’ve been loitering around the neighbourhood long enough. It was about the time to stop the jokes and get to the point.

“Ok ok, jokes aside, what do you want?”

“I want you to be a hero”

Ouch, too fuckin’ soon.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this you All Mighty fool but that’s not gonna happen” replied Izuku, utterly unimpressed and very much ready to start crying at any point now “I’m a ‘quirkless nobody’ remember?”

“That can be changed” announced the man, with such conviction that Izuku was almost willing to believe it, despite the ridiculousness of the statement.

“I don’t think it can”

“My quirk is rather unusual, in a way that it can be passed onto another person. I was also quirkless before it was passed onto me and so-”

Oh, no, no no - no fuckin’ way, this is not happening! He knows where this shit is going-

“-due to my health it’s about time for me to find a successor”

“All Might” said Izuku, his voice trembling in fear of what was coming “Don’t, please don’t ask me that question” because he couldn’t bear to hear it, the possibility that was all but wasted, that came far too late, that he let go off before it even presented itself-

“I want you to be a hero” repeated the man.

Instead of an answer, All Might received a pitiful wail.

Because it wasn't fair, wasn’t fair at all. Izuku knew that life wasn’t fair, the fact learnt and ingrained deep within his soul since the day he received the diagnosis. And yet THIS was a new height of cruelty all together, it made Kacchan’s remarks seem like light teasing in comparison. It took everything he once deeply desired, but couldn’t have. Everything he had to give up on that rainy afternoon 9 months ago in order to put himself back together after falling apart for something he could never have; it took all of that and dangled it in front of him like a cheap bait. It was pure mockery. It made his blood boil. So much so that he could do nothing but cry and fall on his knees.

“You know -sob- if you made that offer a year ago, I probably would’ve said yes”

“And now?”

“And now” he whispered in between the sobs “And now I’m gonna ask you to fuck off!”

“Why?” asked All Might, completely stunned by the boy’s reaction.

“BECAUSE I CAN’T DO IT!” screamed Izuku, like a wounded animal that he very much looked like “ I CAN’T BE A HERO, NOR DO I WANT TO BE ONE, NEVER AGAIN!”

It was all too much, far too much, he needed to leave, leave this conversation, leave this man, leave this thought and never look back.

He slowly stood back up, Bandit ever so faithfully waiting at his side holding one of his axes in his mouth like a dog who proudly brings the morning newspaper to their human. Still, it felt wrong to leave without saying anything else, especially considering All Might’s bewilderment.

“I-” and he wasn’t even sure how to explain himself “I always wanted to be a good person and help people, don’t get me wrong, but-”

“But?”

“-but I’ve learnt that being a hero and doing the right thing are two very different things” he stated, remembering the words of his father; words far too powerful, presence far too brief. “Being a ‘hero’ no longer stands for the bravery, nobility and selflessness. It used to, but now it’s merely a job title; a dangerous job yes, but it’s just a job. Originally all real heroes were vigilantes, weren’t they? They took the risk for the sake of doing the right thing, regardless of what the law said, and now heroes are just glorified cops” he ranted.

For a moment Izuku thought he said enough, but there was another thing; a personal thing , even more personal than the whole ‘failed dream’ and ‘existential crisis’ business.

“You said you used to be quirkelss as well, didn’t ya?”

The man in question nodded, not sure where this is going.

“So tell me, the great All Might” exclaimed Izuku as he approached the hero, spitting his name like it was a curse “Why did you accept that quirk?”

The man stood still, staring at Izuku, as if looking long enough will tell his the correct answer.

“Did you want to be a hero? Or did you want to do the right thing?”

“I-”

Ok, so maybe abruptly leaving All Might in the middle of the empty street wasn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, but Izuku never denied being a dumbass so fuck him sideways. He was far too worked up for all of this bullshit. The day already turned to shit with the whole sludge fiasco and now the universe decided to test his patience and sanity (which he did not have much of anyway). Although he is a little glad that he left before he could dish out some of the more vicious things he had in stock, like calling All Might a ‘quirkless sellout’, or anything else of that variety as long as it got the point across. Sure he promised to keep the man’s secret, but he never promised to be nice about it, because fuck him, he can still do good things and help people, even without a quirk.

The point was that he was bitter, which ok, nothing new, but he was particularly bitter about the whole quirkless thing. It wasn’t so much that he thought of himself as worthless, those days were long over for the most part thanks to months of therapy. It was All Might’s offer that felt like a slap to the face.

Regardless of his current views on heroism he had potential , and isn’t that how the whole thing started? All Might approached him because he saw potential…

A potential that couldn’t be of much use without a quirk.

And didn’t that fuckin hurt.

He suddenly regretted burning the entirely of his All Might merch right after being discharged from the hospital, because now he had nothing left to destroy.

Nevertheless he dropped Bandit off at home - his mother already there, working on tonight’s dinner - and made his way to the Dagobah beach, or what was left of it anyways. During the past 9 months he became more restless; even with homeschooling he had far too much free time than he knew what to do with, which partially resulted in his shenanigans, but it also resulted in looking for a place where he could just be . His mother, bless her soul, was far too overbearing at times despite her good intentions and Izuku was a bit more than fed up with hearing “Are you ok?” every twenty minutes like a goddamn clockwork.

And so he started visiting the local beach, which hasn’t looked like a beach in a long time, as people began to dump their junk there years ago. Bad for the environment, great for Izuku’s need for solitude.

As he entered the beach grounds and began to stumble through the usual mountains of trash he greeted the few people who usually hanged around the place, one of them being the ‘Florida woman’.

Florida woman was not her actual name, but he never asked and she never told him. All he knew was that she was from Florida and that she frequented the trash beach grounds, because it was the only place empty enough where she could take her pet crocodile out on a walk without people screaming in terror at the giant reptile. The crocodile in question, named Cracksaw was lovely and much more obedient than Bandit, he couldn’t understand why people made such a big deal about it.

Another beach regular was Hitoshi, who Izuku met in a cat cafe last year. The guy looked like a lovechild of a zombie and one of those tiny troll dolls from the early 2000s, although Izuku’s hair is just as much of a mess, so he probably can’t judge. Hitoshi was also applying to UA’s hero course and so they originally agreed to meet up this morning so that Izuku could give him some words of ‘encouragement’ or whatever the fuck it is friends are supposed to say. However, since Izuku got caught up in an impromptu fight with a villain he wasn’t able to meet him in the morning.

“Where have you been this morning?” asked Hitoshi.

“Fighting a villain” replied Izuku, ever so casually.

“I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not”

“It’s better if you don’t”

Which is how most of their exchanges went anyway. The less they know about you the better afterall, at least according to the Florida woman. Nevertheless he got caught up in a bit of a smalltalk with Hitoshi, asking about how he did at the exam and so on.

“And so we’re all sitting here, the presentation is just about to start and suddenly the door slams open and some guys runs in-” remarks Hitoshi, more excited than Izuku has seen him in a long time, which to be fair doesn’t say much, because he still looks like he has a serious case of a tired bitch face “- foaming out of his mouth and muttering about fighting a sheep. For a moment I thought you had something to do with it, but the guy looked like he had rabies”

“It’s not rabies, that’s just his personality” replied Izuku, fully aware that he did in fact had everything to do with this, but was not willing to give out anymore details.

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.”

“Oh buddy, I sure will.”

#demise!au #bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfic #revival of midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku #All Might #shinsou hitoshi #iyashi shin #the florida woman

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