#this i probably don’t have an intense personality and i know how to navigate small talk just fine!!! but this disconnect where i just keep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaitropdonglets · 18 days

Text

Connecting with the Autistic Adults in Your Life

Tips for educators, therapists, friends, and loved ones

Devon Price

Following

Published in

Age of Awareness

13 min read

Jan 7, 2020

1.3K

I’m an adult Autistic person, and I love being Autistic.

Autism has brought a lot of wonderful things into my life. It’s given me the focus and intensity required to become a prolific writer. It’s helped me develop an analytic, critical perspective that can cut through the bullshit of bureaucracy, meaningless social rules, outdated gender norms, and so much more. And Autism has taught me to be strong in the face of judgement and ostracism, allowing me to stand up for what is right and provide a warm embrace to other people who have been excluded for being strange, inappropriate, not enough, “wrong”.

But for all its gifts, Autism also has its share of challenges. Actually, scratch that. It’s not Autism that’s the problem. It’s how other people respond to Autism.

Mainstream, neurotypical society creates loud, bright, unpredictable spaces, then expects Autistic people to navigate them seamlessly, without a wince or a complaint. When an Autistic person struggles, they are typically blamed for being oversensitive, or non-compliant, or simply for not trying enough. Without ever meaning to, allistic (non-Autistic) people lay out numerous Autism-unfriendly expectations for how other people think and act, and routinely express themselves in ways that Autistic people find confounding.

When we aren’t subjected to allistic expectations and norms, many Autistic folks get along just fine. Being Autistic, by itself, can be pretty easy. It’s being Autistic around neurotypical people that is hard.

A couple of days ago, an allistic therapist tweeted at me, asking how she could better serve her Autistic patients. I was so glad she knew to ask. Most mental health providers aren’t taught much about what Autism looks like in adults. Adult educators usually don’t know a thing about the topic. Neither do the friends and loved ones of Autistic adults. There’s a lot of very general information about childhood Autism to be found online, mostly stereotypical stuff best suited for cisgender boys with “masculine” interests, but if you love an Autistic person who differs from that mold, particularly an adult, you’re probably kind of lost.

So, how do you support the Autistic adults around you? How can you make the world a more accessible place for us? How can you be a more accommodating coworker, therapist, lover, or friend? Here are a few tips, inspired by a blend of my own experience, the (limited) research that is available, and countless conversations with my Autistic peers:

Communicate Directly — Even When It’s Uncomfortable

I often find that non-autistic people communicate in indirect, symbolic ways. They often care more about conveying a general feeling than they do expressing the literal truth. A lot of their messaging occurs on a non-verbal or social level, and when you’re Autistic, it’s easy to miss entirely.

Many non-Autistics seem to be especially uncomfortable with negativity. Saying “no” to an idea, telling a person they’ve got the facts wrong, passing judgement on an unethical act — these are really difficult for allistics to express. Instead, they’ll approach the truth from an angle. They’ll use sarcasm, veiled compliments, and small talk to make a point rather than stating it outright. It confuses Autistic people a lot, and makes us feel crazy.

For example, I’ve noticed that when an allistic person doesn’t want to do something, they will often point out an irrelevant flaw with the suggestion instead of just saying “sorry, I’m not interested in that activity”. Or they’ll say “maybe” when they actually mean “no”. They’ll broadcast countless nonverbal messages that mean anything from “please come over here” to “stop doing that” to “please leave me alone to talk with this person”, and then get frustrated when Autistic people can’t read them.

There’s also a frustrating lack of consistency in what an allistic person’s veiled message even is. Sometimes, an allistic person will vent or complain about a stressful situation as a way of indirectly asking for help in handling it. Other times, they’ll vent and complain because they want a supportive ear — and will be offended if somebody tries to offer them advice. It’s very hard to tell the difference.

Many Autistic people have a hard time detecting sarcasm, and we usually believe people mean exactly what they say. So if you want to express yourself to one of us, don’t dodge the issue. Just say it outright.

“I can’t do that”“Please give me some space”, “I don’t understand what you mean, can you explain it again?”, “I’m tired of talking about this”, and “I would love to do that” are all great examples of clear, direct communication. Just say what you mean. It’s that simple!

Of course, I recognize that for many allistic people, being straightforward isn’t actually simple at all. You’ve been taught all your life to temper rejection with praise, to hide disagreement behind agreeable language. But when you’re communicating with Autistic folks, you’ve got to throw that playbook — and your fears of being “negative” — out the window. As a general rule, we don’t get offended when people tell us “no”.

In fact, clear boundaries and honest rejections can help us feel safe. Most of the time we have to guess frantically at what allistic people mean, so it’s a relief when one just lays out how they’re actually feeling. Also, try not to be offended when we are similarly direct or blunt with you. We’re not trying to be hurtful or barbed. We’re just trying to express our feelings in a way that won’t be misconstrued.

Manage Expectations

Autistic folks expect people’s actions to be predictable and logical. To most of us, numbers have specific meanings, life has a structure, and things happen for a reason. When allistic people operate in vaguer, more intuitive terms, it can really throw us for a loop.

Here’s a really simple example. If my partner says he’s going to be ready to leave the house in five minutes, I assume he’ll be out the door in exactly five minutes. But often, “in five minutes” means something way more amorphous and vague to him than that. It’s more about a feeling of readiness than it is about something quantifiable. I know this about him — we’ve been together nine years — yet my brain short-circuits with confusion every single time it happens.

Similarly, when an allistic coworker tells me they’ll have a draft ready “by tomorrow”, I assume they have an accurate gauge on how long a task will take, and have set aside that amount of time to get it done. This almost never actually happens. I have found that for most allistic people, “tomorrow” is more aspirational than it is literal. When someone says “this will be done tomorrow” what they often mean is something like, “I’m gonna start working on it sometime this week”.

No human being is completely rational; even Autistic folks aren’t robots. But when we’re surrounded by allistic people who communicate in vague, emotion-based ways, we often end up feeling like confused robots who haven’t been properly programmed to interpret human speech. We thrive on consistency and feel most at ease when we know what to expect, so the more accurate you can be with us, the better.

Not sure how long an activity will take to complete? Give an estimate that allows room for error and setbacks. Want to cancel plans? Just say that you need to cancel, instead of using wishy-washy language about how you “might not be up for it”. Have to deviate from the pre-determined schedule? Let the Autistic person know as soon as you can, so we can prepare for it. Don’t try to soften the blow with euphemistic language — we might miss the message or be confused about why a change is happening.

Be Willing to Go Deep

I will never understand why someone would choose to only love something in half measures. It’s tragic to me that some people never get to throw themselves into the depths of passion for fear of seeming “weird”. Loving something intensely is a wonderful escape from the stressors of everyday life. It’s a transcendent experience. It helps us develop new skills and knowledge bases, and connects us with other people who share that capacity for depth.

Of course, allistic people are completely capable of going just as deep as Autistic people are. You can decide at any time to abandon your fears of seeming “cringey”, and take the plunge right along with us. You might find you like how it feels to lose yourself to obsession every once in a while.

Want to dive in? It’s really easy. Just ask an Autistic person about a topic that interests them, and really listen, with a genuine ear. Often, allistic people will do this frustrating thing where they’ll bring up an exciting, complex topic, but then quickly lose interest the second an Autistic person really tries to engage with the topic’s depth. It’s not a crime to prefer small talk, but most Autistics want to get more philosophical or analytical than that. Try coming along for the ride. You might learn something!

Autistic people love to share information about the topics that excite us. The process is called “info-dumping”, but it’s really an expression of affection and passion. You don’t have to sit and listen to one of us prattle on about Pokemon forever if you don’t want to, but if you can find common ground with one of us, there’s a lot of potential for connection and creativity.

Passionate Autistic people are the lifeblood of every nerd community, online database, and digital subculture. We pour a ton of energy into these social groups, and help make them into eccentric, comfortable spaces where everyone is welcome. Don’t be afraid to join them and geek out with us — nobody is going to judge you. It’s cool to be earnest. It’s fun to care about things! And the more time you spend with Autistic people, the less self-conscious you’ll feel about whatever freaky or niche interests you might have lurking inside you.

Don’t Expect Our Emotions to Look Like Yours

A few months ago, a lot of well-meaning feminist writers wrote pieces celebrating the fact that climate activist Greta Thunberg doesn’t smile very often. In a world where women are expected to be easygoing and pleasant to look at, it seemed revolutionary for a teenager girl to move through the world with a flat, serious face. Shockingly, most of these essays said little about the fact that Thunberg is an out, proud Autistic young woman.

You cannot separate Thunberg’s steely confidence from her Autism, and you can’t discuss the criticism she faces without acknowledging the ableism at the core of it. Thunberg isn’t just criticized for frowning because she is a young woman. It’s also because her way of emoting and expressing herself is deeply, proudly Autistic, and most people are still very uncomfortable with that.

Autistic emotions are different. We are often “flat-affected” and seem far less expressive and outgoing than our non-Autistic peers. This can leave people with the impression that we have no feelings or internal lives at all. Our neutral, resting expressions can read as angry, blank, or depressed to allistic people. We often get told to “smile!”, or get criticized for seeming unfriendly, but faking the cheerful bubbliness that allistic people desire from us can be downright exhausting.

Expressing emotions as an Autistic person is a total double-bind. If we try to look calm and behave “normally”, people think we are emotionless automatons. Yet if we express ourselves in the loud, physical, abnormal ways that feel authentic, people think that we’re freaks. Whichever route we choose, we end up being corrected and reprimanded constantly. By the time we’re adults, most of us have been told thousands of times that our emotions are totally inappropriate, so we’ve learned to don an impassive, phony mask instead.

“Masking” Autism is exhausting. A lot of research has shown that the better an Autistic person is at feigning a neurotypical personality, the greater a toll it takes on our mental health. So if you want to be a true and committed ally to the Austitic folks around you, you’ve got to get comfortable with our unique ways of expressing emotion.

If you love an Autistic person, don’t try to guess what they are feeling. Don’t assume that just because their face is flat and serious-seeming that they are angry, or sad, or depressed. Don’t ask us constantly if we are “doing okay” or if “something is wrong” — it can feel like a reprimand to put our mask back on. Don’t tell the Autistic people in your life that their happy flapping or sorrowful bawling is “too much”. Read up on Autistic meltdowns, and come to understand how emotional overloads feel.

Most of all, don’t pressure Autistic people to feign a neurotypical personality. One of the most damaging things you can do to one of us is to judge and stifle our authentic, healthy communication.

Relax the Social Rules

Most social norms are completely arbitrary and have no logical explanation. This confounds the hell out of most Autistic people. Why does wearing a piece of elaborately knotted fabric around your throat signify that you are a professional? Why are some complicated hairstyles considered fancy, yet other, equally elaborate hairstyles are considered workplace-inappropriate? Why do we routinely ask people how they are doing, yet never expect a negative reply?

At best, these pointless rules are an annoyance that neurotypical people learn to ignore. At worst, they are a means of exclusion, making public life inaccessible for anyone who is marginalized. Rules about what counts as ‘professional’ conduct and attire are often racist, sexist, transphobic, and ableist to a massive degree.

One of the greatest gifts of Autism is a keen ability to see through all this arbitrary prejudice. Many of us find it nigh impossible to follow rules that make no sense or are damaging. If a piece of useless fabric is physically uncomfortable, we’re not gonna wear it. If a gender norm is reductive, we’re not going to follow it. If there’s an injustice staring us in the face, we’re going to want to confront it, even if the allistic people around us view doing so as ‘impolite’.

In mainstream, neurotypical society, this amazing gift is instead perceived as a curse. Sitting comfortably and wearing cozy clothing is seen as sloppy or immature. Honesty and authenticity gets us labeled rude. If we don’t provide the socially expected amount of eye contact, people think we’re liars, or even joke that we seem dangerous and scary. We end up being ostracized despite having done no harm at all.

If you want to help Autistic people thrive, you’ve got to loosen the rules. In professional settings, really consider which expectations are important, and which are arbitrary signifiers of status or ability. Does having a dress code impact how business is done in any measurable way? If people are permitted to a little strange, is there any harm done? Do you need every employee to be a talented conversationalist, or is there room in your world for people who are shy, with stuttering voices or gazes that never leave the floor?

Outside of work and school, consider how social norms influence your social perceptions. Are you creeped out when you see a guy rocking in place on the bus? If someone takes a few seconds longer than normal to answer a question, do you respect them less? Do you think it’s wrong or inappropriate for an adult to sleep with a stuffed animal? Do you only choose friends who dress, talk, emote, think, and live as you do? Why?

Don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people who make you feel a little awkward sometimes. And don’t hesitate to stand up for those among us who come across as unusual, eccentric, or harmlessly awkward. People who behave and think in non-normative ways can challenge you and help you to grow. And being around a variety of types of people can free you to be more authentically, bizarrely yourself, too.

…

Being Autistic in a neurotypical society means constantly violating the rules of a game that no one taught you how to play, and which you never consented to being a part of. You’re constantly being told, in indirect ways, that your actions, mannerisms, and words are unacceptable. People seem to be constantly misleading you, and yet find your attempts at clearing things up to be rude or suspect. When you do finally figure out the rules of the game, you discover that they are incredibly taxing and emotionally depleting for you to follow. It can be despair-inducing, and deeply isolating.

This can all change in an instant, however, when an allistic person makes the choice to meet us halfway. When people are honest and straightforward with us, we are able to form safe, healthy relationships with strong lines of communication. When we are celebrated for our weirdness, we get to challenge the status quo in important, far-reaching ways. And when we are allowed to express ourselves without fear of reprisal, we get to share our deep capacity for joy with a world that desperately needs it.

Autistic people do not need to be cured — we need to be accommodated.Thankfully, if you’re an allistic ally, accommodation can be easy. Just relax your adherence to social norms, get comfortable with a bit of strangeness, and tell us how you’re feeling. We want to get to know you. We have been reaching out and making overtures all our lives. Make an effort to know us, too.

0 notes

lizzygrantarchives · 13 years

Text

GQ, October 6, 2011

The mysterious and much-debated singer discusses the phony controversy, coping with the hype, and where exactly she came from.

Lana Del Rey is tiny, and tucked into a heavy leather motorcycle jacket. She moves a tangle of dyed, amber hair from the right side of her head to the left, and back again. She looks away, then bats a weighty set of fake eyelashes. She’s wearing a silver and possibly diamond-encrusted crucifix. In person, Del Rey looks exactly like the pouty, mysterious chanteuse who caused such a commotion this summer with her song, the lush "Video Games." She also looks like a wide-eyed, fidgety 24-year-old woman. Which she is. Del Rey—AKA Lizzy Grant, her less exotic government name—is perceptive and confident, but she was nervous on the afternoon we spoke, in a booth at La Bottega, a restaurant in New York’s Maritime Hotel. That afternoon a conveyor belt of eager journalists, of which I was queued up, greeted her. While we spoke, she answered some questions with clarity and assertiveness, and others with squirms and hems and trailing sentences. She has a cartoonish Betty Boop snicker she will tack onto the end of a particularly cute response. She’s funny, but also exasperated. Occasionally, when tongue-tied, she’ll flap those lips of hers while exhaling, making the sound of a snorting horse.

It’s not hard to see why. Del Rey’s garnered a surprising—some have argued undeserved—amount of web fame in a short space of time. The video for "Video Games" was released on July 1 and she has since been positioned as everything from "the Kreayshawn of Indie" to the "the new singer music bloggers love to hate." The stakes are probably smaller than that, though not for any objective reason. Just a few years ago, Del Rey was still going by Lizzy Grant, singing her own songs to little acclaim in Williamsburg watering holes and small Lower East Side venues. She recorded an album with the well-regarded veteran producer David Kahne (The Strokes, Sugar Ray), but it languished, as debuts by unknown NYC jazz-pop singers often do. When it was released, no one cared and it was pulled from iTunes two and a half months later. Though Del Rey—a name refashioned with her management, but not an alter ego—has a flavor of the megabyte feel, she says she’s been at it too long for that. "I think people got really bored on the Internet," she says, explaining the torrent of think pieces. Del Rey—who ate strawberries, yogurt, and granola—and I spoke about the controversy surrounding her rise, her early days as a singer-songwriter in New York, and that pouty reputation.

You’ve had an intense few months. How are you acclimating to all the attention?

Some days are good, but some days are sort of tiring—but the good stuff is really good. Today is fine, everything is good. Sometimes I just feel nervous about what people are going to say, but the record’s beautiful, so that much is great.

Tell me about your hometown, Lake Placid.

I go back now to visit my grandma and grandpa, but it’s not really somewhere I’ve spent a lot of time, not since I was 14. It’s beautiful. It’s a vacation destination. Olympics. It’s small, 2,800 people [laughs] it’s very different from here.

Why did you leave at 14?

I went to boarding school. It was difficult.

To be away from your family?

Just sort of to, I don’t know, I was just trying to begin to imagine the future or whatever. It was difficult navigating my own way, I guess.

Did you have a sense of what you wanted to do?

I knew I wanted to do something creative. I didn’t think I’d have the luxury of doing something like that, because I didn’t know anyone who had pursued anything they really adored, but I had dreams for singing or writing. I wasn’t sure how to do it.

What were your parents like? What did they encourage?

Honesty and being a good person.

Did they have a sense you were creative?

Yes, definitely. I was a different sort of child, as half the children are. They are or they aren’t. I was in that category of being free-spirited [laughs]. I was always a singer, it was nothing anyone planned on me doing for real, because it’s an unusual thing. I was just sort of saying, even having modest ambitions to have a small career at singing, it’s still really difficult to do that. Everyone wants to sing or act or whatever, so...

When you left boarding school, you came to New York?

Yes, I went to college. At Fordham.

What’d you think of New York?

I didn’t live at school, I lived where I could and studied what I enjoyed studying. I took what I wanted from that education but was making my first record at the same time. I don’t know anyone from school. I was just leading a different life. I was really interested in writing and other things.

Were you a social person as a teenager?

I was social, just in a different way. I loved my teachers. I feel like kids can be hard to get along with sometimes and I don’t know anyone from my school I’ve been to. I’m sure they were nice.

You were never entrenched in the college lifestyle?

No.

Were you ostracized?

No, I didn’t feel ostracized. I just had different priorities. I was reading and writing. I was pursuing my own education [laughs] which paid off, I’ve learned so many different things.

What precipitated that first album?

I was doing open mic nights in the city with my guitar at Layla Lounge, Galapagos, where those places are open. Same place every girl singer was playing. One of many tragic Lower East side songstresses, oh dear! What must they think? And I met really nice people. Everyone in Brooklyn was doing a folk thing, and I was in that camp, singing sort of jazz. I entered a songwriting competition, I didn’t win, and one of the judges on the panel was an A&R man at a record label that had no other acts and I signed to them. We sent my demo out to five people and David Kahne got back to me that day, and said I think you’re amazing I want to start with you tomorrow. He was like my Harvard reach school, I couldn’t believe it. I was really excited. It was the first time anyone of any importance said I was good and I ran with that validation for a long time.

Were you having fun playing clubs?

It was daunting. I love to sing and I really love to write, but in terms of being onstage, I’m not that comfortable, which I think is sort of clear [sighs]. Um, so. I don’t remember what you said.

What did your parents think when this started to happen?

My parents were lovely. They’ve always been supportive. When you love your child, you don’t know what to do with someone who wants to do what no one else does successfully. If I had someone younger I loved, I’d be worried for them too if I didn’t have guidance to give them. I was never successful in a noteworthy way, no one wrote about me, and I didn’t have recognition. I’ve met a lot of musicians along the way who thought I was good, and they knew that was important to me. Having a simple career as a musician who liked music was good enough for me. They slowly came to understand that was going to be my future. It’s changed in the last three months. I don’t know what it means. It’s definitely different, though.

Did it change at all when you connected with David?

I thought it was going to be the beginning of everything, but my record was shelved for two and a half years. But because it was so dark, no one wanted to spend money on promoting it. After two and a half years, everyone came to the understanding that it wasn’t the project they thought it was. I was the only person on their roster, they signed me because they liked me. It was a passion project. Working with David, we thought good things were going to come. But just because you work with someone famous doesn’t mean you’re gonna be famous and no one wrote about that album. It was only out for two and a half months on iTunes. You would think it gave me a nice launching pad, but things stood still for a long time, until only for the last three or four months.

All the things that didn’t happen then are happening now.

It’s the weirdest thing. It’s not like I’m huge or anything but it’s still the strangest thing.

It’s a lot of attention.

It seems like that. It feels like that. I don’t really know what to do. But um...

Did you anticipate any of this?

No.

Obviously you made some choices that are different.

I’d say no. It’s what you do when it’s time for your second record. I’d written everything I wanted to write. I’d liked what I’d done, I’d liked my first record, it was autobiographical and beautiful. "Video Games" is a five-minute ballad with no instruments, it was a downscale from what I’d been doing with a fucking live orchestra. It was synthetic harps and no drums. It was a perfect melody for me, I thought it matched me. When people liked it, it was my least commercial song, it wasn’t even a song anyone wanted on the Internet. It was a baby.

What did that tell you?

Nothing. "Yayo" was perfect just like that. I’ve had a million songs like that. I had another creepy video to that song, too. It doesn’t tell me anything except that God is ridiculous. That’s all. It’s fascinating. Could it be the tipping point, where unbeknownst to me where so many hours of thinking and working came into play? I don’t know. Maybe I reached my 10,000. I don’t know. It’s very strange. [squeals]

You’ve become a lightning rod for a lot of conversations.

It could be about a bug. I don’t even do anything in real life. I just sit in my studio and write, I call my friends, I watch television. I don’t do anything. Write crazy stuff if you want to. I’ve been telling [my publicists], it has nothing to do with me. I mean, everything has nothing to do with me. I don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t know what they’re talking about. Not like you care that much. You’re just writing the article.

I just haven’t seen something like this in a long time.

Are you being serious?

I wouldn’t be here talking to you if you hadn’t sparked a conversation.

I’ve been reading tabloids since I was nine. I love a good story. Some of the talking points took on a tone that really had nothing to do with me.

Obviously, the video is a talking point. And so is the name change.

It’s 2011, it’s not like I planned on erasing my history. I’ve been a pioneer of the Internet myself since a decade ago. I was just trying to create something sonically that I could aspire to. First of all, no one was even listening to me for ages, so I did whatever I wanted. I had no fans, the same bands I’ve talked to for five years, and all of a sudden, everything changed, and they were like, "You used to be like..." The point is, I know what I like and what to write about thematically and I have integrity in my musical choices and I’ve stuck to that and I think it’s a nice gift for me because I have stuck to my guns about what I want to hear sonically, so at least I’ve done that right. I’ve made the record I like. I haven’t even had that many interviews, so I don’t know where they get the stuff they’re getting. Not that I’m important or anything, it’s just that I don’t know. Curiosity is good. That’s what [my publicist] Marilyn says.

I’m curious about the aesthetic you’ve chosen. The video seems like a conscious choice to match feeling with sound.

If I had known as many people were going to see the video as they have, I would have made different choices. Seeing myself on the screen makes me cringe. I understand that I am that way, pouty. [Lana purses her lips] I think if that many people were going to see it, I would have made different choices.

Do you regret it?

Do I regret it? I believe nothing happens by mistake. You know, the universe has a divine plan. That sounds dramatic. So I guess I don’t regret it, but I can’t say I’m happy with it. I’m happy with other things in my life. The video wasn’t my finest moment. That’s fine. [laughs]

Is there a correction you want to make?

Yes, I’d love not to make my own videos anymore! Correction #1. Yes I’ve started that, and I’m so happy about it. Johan Renck, he’s perfect. He loves shooting with 35mm, he understands I love the richness and texture of film, he likes the same iconography and symbolism, he makes great choices, and thank God I don’t have to be like, in charge, sort of. I was sort of doing what I could with what I had at the time.

It’s amazing how impressions are born from that. It’s interesting to hear you tell the story the way you tell it. The perception is you’re a character, created and molded.

That’s not the case. I haven’t had any help for a very long time. It’s only recently. You have to understand, record labels don’t invest in people who are unknown. Do you know what A&R guys say to people now? "Come back to me when you’ve sold 1 million units." That’s the case, and I know because I know everything about it, you know. They don’t sign unknown acts. First of all, it’s an impossibility in the economic environment now. The funny thing is, when I signed to my new labels, I was so happy because I was going to have help. I have great ideas and everyone’s so on board. They like my videos and writing my own songs, and then all of a sudden, this fucking weird thing happens where everyone was like... I don’t know. Yeah. It’s interesting. I think people got really bored on the Internet.

Tell me about your relationship with movies.

I have kind of a funny relationship with movies. I don’t have to see the whole movie to get an impression of it or to let it have an influence on me.

A lot of people have been eager to draw the David Lynch connection.

They want to make that connection or make me that person. I just don’t lead a double life, so I’m not really like any of the characters. I sort of do what I say and say what I do which I’m happy with because it makes my life real easy. When I was younger, people would say that I was inspired by David Lynch, so I went and watched his stuff and I was surprised. I thought it was smart, with what I was trying to do lyrically. So I started watching some of his stuff. I’ve never seen his movies in [their] entirety, I’m more interested in him as a person and how he came to be successful taking an alternative route, sort of a subculture icon.

What can you tell me about the album? Does it have a title?

I think I’m going to call it the title of the next single, Born to Die.

That’s dramatic.

I know.

Where are you in the process now?

I think they’re all done, seven of the singles will be on the record. I have to think about the remaining tracks. It’s quite a big batch. The third single is my favorite, I fucking love it. I think it’s out late December or early January. That’s the one Johan’s going to work on the video with me.

I’m curious: Are you making a lot of money now?

I think I’m going to, but not yet.

I see "Video Games" showed up on The CW’s Ringer.

I only got $500 for each week, when "Kinda Outta Luck" was the promo for the Gossip Girl thing. $500 per week for four and a half weeks leading up to the series. It’s not about the money, it’s about the exposure. If they don’t have to show you, they won’t. If my team wants it to be on television, it will be on television. I have a limited control over where things are placed, because my team does that. Creatively I’m in charge, if I wasn’t, I would stop. If things continue to go the way they’re going, I’ll have money.

That’s good. That’s part of the goal.

Yeah. It’s nice not to live in fear. That’s part of the goal. Not being afraid of what’s happening to you.

Do you have any misgivings about songs being placed commercially?

I feel nervous about a lot of things, and that’s one of them. But you have to let go because it’s just...in the end, you focus on keeping the songs, the words, the production as good as you want it to be. The rest is all okay. [laughs]

What else makes you nervous, besides having these conversations?

That’s it. Everything else is really easy.

I assume other artists are calling you to collaborate.

That’s funny. I’m not collaborating with anyone. I have interest in it, just maybe not yet. The third single is the last part of my trilogy. This last song is sort of... I care about this one. That’s sort of it. [laughs] Oh, dear.

Who do you want to work with?

I don’t know. I really don’t.

Who do you look up to?

No one.

Do you feel like you’re making music to fill a void?

No. And don’t write that you think I am.

I won’t. What music do you listen to?

The same thing I’ve been listening to for a while. Nirvana, I’m always listening to them. I like Frank Sinatra, Elvis, I really like some of the film scores to my favorite movies.

You’re into icons.

Yes, I guess so. Like most people. It’s not like I think my art is inspirations from icons strung together. They’re just sort of people who others talk about. I am definitely interested in the masters of different genres, they’re talented and popular for a reason.

If you could have done anything differently, aside from the video, in the last three months, would you?

You always want people to be nice to you. So of course, the reception to be warm and nice, just like anyone else, you’d hope people would be loving towards you like you plan on being towards everyone else. I think I might have done something differently, but I’m not sure what it would have been. I don’t know how to do that.

Do you feel the weight of expectation?

Not really. I just don’t want everything to go terribly. I know the songs are good. I’m just not really sure what’s going to happen.

What would be success?

I already have it. I had it a long time ago. It’s nothing to do with my music. Music is secondary, at this point. The good stuff is really good, but I have success because I’m at peace and I’m a good person in my everyday life and that’s important.

Was it a struggle to get to that place?

A little bit. But that was a long time ago.

Does it make being creative easier?

Yes, because you’re not in trouble!

What was your version of trouble?

I don’t know.

You don’t know or you won’t say?

No, I don’t know. We were doing so well. [sighs]

I’m not trying to intrude. I’m just curious.

Yeah.

Is there a timetable for the album?

Yeah, we’re going to release it in March, but I think now it’s more like late January, so sooner than I thought but the songs are there.

Is that to capitalize on the moment?

From what I understand.

Originally published on gq.com with the headline Ice Breaker: Lana Del Rey.

#2011 #GQ #Sean Fennessey

0 notes

findingtheself64 · 8 months

Text

Being brown and borderline

/media/28c6269f26e7a875dbfe35e5fe3a6271

The intersection of racism and borderline personality disorder is not discussed as it should be. In this article, I try to explore how racism affects people with borderline personality disorder. In my opinion, being a racial minority with borderline personality disorder creates the biggest emotional pain in humanity. Already, Borderline Personality Disorder is known as the disorder that causes the most intense emotional pain, as they sabotage the very relationships they fear losing so intensely, and they are known to feel like having an exposed nerve ending, or having skin that’s flipped inside out. As a people with intense feelings of abandonment, rejection, and judgment, and existing in a society that’s judgmental and isolating to darker skin colors, it creates intense daily emotional pain, and it is made worse by the fact that we can be evil human beings too, but we are aware of it and feel the guilt in the same extent, making us hate ourselves, others and the cruelty of the “natural way of things.”

Racial splitting

I sometimes experience anxiety in my own household, as I notice that my oldest brother is white while I’m talking to him, and it triggers my anxiety at that moment. I become awkward because I don’t trust him all of a sudden, but I cannot split on him out loud as I cannot comprehend why I’m being technically racist, and mean, and I don’t want to ruin things in my family. So, I become awkward, I try to end the conversation and go to my room as soon as possible, it can be quite alarming, and it sounds crazy.

I am afraid of white people, I’m afraid of their rejection and judgment. I’ve “split” on all of them.

Falling in love with a white person

…

/media/a10cd3e071e8714e83782ee3a0316803

I fell in love with a white person, but I didn’t trust them because they were white. After all, I already feel that they don’t like me as much because of my skin color. They think I’m ugly. So, I cannot fully express my vulnerability. So I become mean to them, I tell them I love them, but I try to hurt them, I try to pretend that I don’t need them, I don’t want them. I, cruelly, try to convince them that they are flawed too, as I think they know I am. And it probably increases the stigma on both borderline and my skin color, and it further makes me hate myself.

As I navigate in the world with racial splitting, it becomes difficult. People with my skin color become all good, and people from different skin colors become all bad. For me, with quiet BPD, my distrust manifests in awkwardness, and sometimes seething sarcasm and meanness in interpersonal communication. I hate myself for it, and I try to resist it, but I can’t.

The stigma of racism and how it doesn’t help me

Talking about this out loud made me realize how many intense feelings I could not word out loud because they are racist. I am technically racist, as I try to protect myself from my intense feelings, I become a mean person to a skin color. “Hurt people hurt people,” etc, etc. I “hate them” because I’m afraid of them, I don’t feel emotionally comfortable.

Splitting isn’t necessarily going from intense like to intense hate, rather, for me, when I split on someone, sometimes I still love them and respect them, I’m just so afraid of them, that I expect them to hurt me and leave me, or not like me as much as I did. So I hurt them and leave first.

/media/ac7c0e1514a249c2d799b23f5c8df2bc

How racial splitting has impacted my life

Avoiding T.V. shows and gifs with white main characters.

Avoiding relating to white friends.

Acting small when dealing with same-age white cooks and shopkeepers.

Afraid of opening up to someone because they are white.

P.S. These feelings go away as I interact with more white-skinned people in my community, and, hopefully, feel that they oversee my skin color as well. Even more hopefully, feel they they oversee my skin color even when I don’t oversee theirs.

/media/c4f6c3a764efc8dfed4cc802fa1ba2dbBeing borderline.

0 notes

your-dietician · 2 years

Text

My virtual torso went to Meta Connect 2022

New Post has been published on https://medianwire.com/my-virtual-torso-went-to-meta-connect-2022/

My virtual torso went to Meta Connect 2022

Moments before Meta’s big annual developer conference was set to begin, TechCrunch’s staff scrambled to see who had a charged Meta Quest headset, which it turned out was nobody. But because I knew what corner of the closet mine was in (upper left), here I am.

After merging my work Facebook account (Taylor Linguini) with Meta’s new universal login system, I pushed a software update, RSVPed to Mark Zuckerberg’s big keynote and popped on that bad boy. I also popped on its USB charger because this thing doesn’t last that long to begin with and sometimes Zuckerberg likes to do a lot of words.

It took me a little bit of gesticulating wildly to remember the controls, but then I was ready to watch the Meta CEO’s keynote, which was attended by myself and 5,400 of my closest friends’ torsos, a number that probably accurately reflects how many Meta employees and wayward tech reporters were required to watch this thing in three dimensions instead of two.

Firing up the ol’ metaverse, I was plopped right into a virtual plaza full of signage and a big brand fountain in the center (all brands need a fountain) with that floppy blue infinity sign. After navigating to the keynote portal and thrusting my virtual torso into a large depiction of Mark Zuckerberg, I got sucked into a VR time-loop situation, wherein I got kicked back to the plaza and had to do it all over again, but eventually [hacker voice] I was in.

During the keynote, Zuckerberg’s newly revamped avatar chatted onstage, which I watched in an instance with maybe 15 other people, all of whom probably worked for Meta and thought I was completely deranged, which is mostly not true. While they calmly stood around a small virtual amphitheater watching the keynote, I did the opposite, scooting frantically between them and taking screenshots while pressing myself as close to Zuck’s instanced avatar as I could, much like any self-respecting press nightmare person would do at an IRL event.

Everything worked pretty well, and it was mildly more entertaining to watch a tech keynote in VR rather than on my computer, but way less practical. I couldn’t really record the audio any more or take notes, since my field of vision was dominated by virtual reality, which is not yet superior to reality reality as far as jotting down my little notes goes. And it was hard to describe the funny things happening to my work pals, who were not in VR with me, which drove a wedge between us, in my opinion.

One thing I will say is the avatars in Horizon Worlds look pretty okay now (mine is kind of hot, to be perfectly honest), but man, people are doing some wild stuff with their arms. Presumably, like me, everyone else in my little pocket world was watching while seated at their desk, intensely gripping their little spherical joystick deathstars, the only remaining tether to tactile reality.

The effect of that is everyone sticking their arms straight out like zombies or worse, twisting them up in horrible contortions because, like me, at some point they got sick of holding the controllers and set them down haphazardly. I even found one poor fucker levitating in space at the great floppy infinity fountain, his body folded hopelessly into itself three feet off the ground. I’m just bringing this up because we’re adding feet now, but maybe we should be un-adding arms, you know?

Ultimately everything went pretty smoothly except the scary stuff with the arms. There should probably be a “desk mode” that puts up a standard animation of crossed arms or whatever so we don’t all look like horror shows in Horizon Worlds. Meta, if you’d like to hire me, I’m a genius but I do think that would be a conflict of interest.

Also I have to say that my dog licked me out of nowhere while I was in there and that was totally shocking and I said “Whoa!” out loud, and that really pulled me out of the experience.

Correction: Amanda actually said she knew where her Quest headset was but had a headache and didn’t want to go into the metaverse. Also it wasn’t charged. TechCrunch apologizes for the confusion.

Read full article here

0 notes

megumvis · 2 years

Text

JUJUTSU KAISEN ROMANCE TROPES

- <3 -

SATORU GOJO AND GETO SUGURU | LOVE TRIANGLE

tell me u wouldn’t be in a love triangle with these mfs

they’d fight over u ngl

stop ruining their friendship dude 💀

kidding, they both would love you a lot, seeing they considered each other friends till the very end

and while they do envy one another, they recognize that they both fell for you, without even meaning to hurt the other

once they get over the petty phase, they both pine over you like schoolgirls

so it’s up to you to have the hard decision of choosing between them

or have both they’d be fine with it

they’d definitely tease you for falling for the both of them though 💀

YUUJI ITADORI | FRIENDS TO LOVERS

okay, let’s be honest, who DOESNT want a FTL with yuuji?

he probably doesn’t even notice a difference abt how he feels towards you till nobara or someone brings it up

“bro, what’s up with you and (your name)? you’ve been acting totally different. you like them or something?” “oh shit i do”

so yeah, very chill abt it too

you’d think he’d be a stuttering mess and all blushy but he decides to go along with the pace your at, maybe change how he acts to be a bit more romantic or polite and let you fall for him in your own right

and if you end up not liking him romantically, then he’s fine with that and is cool with staying friends

overall, yuuji is the best person to have a FTL with

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO | FAKE RELATIONSHIP

he does not have any romantic feelings at the start, so don’t except this to be an intense desire of feeling and unresolved romantic tension from the beginning

megumi probably got tired of gojo and the other students pestering him about his love life, so he chose the closest person available, you.

he has to trust you a lot to be in a relationship though, even if it’s fake, so take this with joy

overtime, as gojo ANNOYINGLY plans more dates for you two without saying so till last minute, and just having to stay together to keep up appearances, you fall for each other

and it is not “there’s only one bed trope”, don’t bring that shit onto my tumblr

it’s the amusement park dates, where you scream and grab each other after going down a steep ride. it’s the thrill of having company with you, to be able to speak your feelings and have someone beside you to respond, even if their answer is small

you and megumi have that

and you both realize that this is what you’ve wanted for a lover, this is what you’ve craved since you were a child with infinite dreams. so it starts off slow

cheek kisses to “ease suspicion” and holding hands in the hallway so you can “stay close to each other and not get lost”

make as many excuses as you want, it’s not going to keep him from leaping up and kissing you once he realizes you like him back

usually megumi isn’t the first one to kiss in these things but i call bs, he sees his chance, he takes it

bold as death i swear

NOBARA KUGISAKI | ACCIDENTAL KISS

okay, HEAR ME OUT

being friends with an older family member, and hanging out at their place, only for her to come barging in looking for her lost lipgloss

“oh, hey! you’re (name), right? i’m nobara, i’m sure you’ve heard all about me!” “hi, but i’m sorry i haven’t, i’d love to get to know you though!”

so you’re friends through that mutual person

“hey, do you think i could borrow (name) for a bit? i need their advice on something.” “nobara, can i hang out with my friend for just a bit?” “jeez, no need to be all prissy…”

so, you need to navigate your time between your friend and other friend as best as you can, which is difficult

the three of you are probably watching a movie when you have your first kiss with her. the mutual has fallen asleep, and the ending credits are starting to play as her head drops against your shoulder

at first, you think she’s fallen asleep as well, and shyly go to press a kiss against her forehead. but she feels your movements, and hadn’t been asleep in the first place

so she turns her head, and your lips connect

let’s be honest, it’s short, she gets all embarrassed, and you hurriedly run back home

it’s a lot more awkward after that

nobara stops dropping in unannounced when you’re over, in fear you hate her, despite having done nothing wrong

and you do the same, you stop opening her door and saying hi on your way to her family members, you stop the good morning texts

it hurts you both, but you both fear the feelings of each other, and it’s up to you to make it up

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gender neutral reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumvis #itadori yuuji #itadori x reader #nobara kugisaki #nobara x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

229 notes · View notes

copperbadge · 3 years

Note

Hey this is a weird one! Your nonprofit post is going around. And I’m in a position where I can give a lot of money away, lately. I don’t 100% understand how to tell what is and isn’t a good charity? Like I know charity navigator gives you a lot of information but also like….favors organizations that aren’t paying very many employees? And you probably can’t help as much with this part, but how do you decide which types of causes to support? Like I like animals, but it seems fucked up to choose them over people, and there’s only so much money…

This is a good question and a very complicated answer. To start with I'm going to point you to a previous post of mine, which talks about the best way to find and form a relationship with a nonprofit. Most of the information you want will be there.

Charity Navigator is not a terrible way to go about finding local nonprofits to support; they've expanded the data they collect, and if someone is rated highly on Charity Navigator they're probably pretty good! It's just good to bear in mind that most solid nonprofits put 20-30% of their money towards "operating" costs with the exception of some, like Charity:Water, which claim that 100% of their proceeds go to program costs. (Technically this is true; there's an entirely separate foundation that pays their operating costs, so your donations aren't paying salary, but someone's is. Charity:Water is a perfectly fine nonprofit, they just operate unusually in that regard.) It's also normal for a good charity's CEO to make six figures; in order to keep good talent you really do have to pay a CEO upwards of $100K/yr. If you bear these facts in mind you'll be okay when it comes to evaluating Charity Navigator's information.

Deciding on a cause to support can be intensely personal. I think we all have an imaginary "outsider" in our head who looks at us and judges us, sometimes; to that imaginary outsider, choosing animals over people can seem fucked up. But you can play that game forever, the Who Deserves It More game -- do drug addicts or domestic abuse survivors deserve it more? Should you support police watchdogs or racial equality groups? Should you give to a shelter that only provides short-term solutions or a politician who is lobbying for ones that will take a while to achieve but be more permanent?

I think a lot of Cynthia Heimel when people ask me about this. She wrote an essay about how her "thing" is dogs. She couldn't figure out where to put her time in terms of activism; she decided that you just have to pick a cause and then put on blinders to the rest. Someone's got to obsess about stray dogs and she decided it was going to be her. That helped me a lot when I was younger.

Ultimately, a lot of people are not even thinking about giving, yours or often theirs. The majority of the time, if you say "I work with this animal shelter" what is going through someone's head is "Oh man I bet they get to play with puppies" and not "Why aren't they feeding starving orphans." There's a lot of virtue signaling online that tends to imply you should only give to the most worthy cause, when in reality that's a judgement only a very few, very difficult people will make of you. Most people who hear you are supporting a nonprofit will just be pleased you are. And honestly whether or not you give, and where, is nobody's fucking business anyway.

And you can spread it around if you want! Currently, I give monthly in small amounts to the Anti Cruelty Society (animal welfare in Chicago), my alma mater (education), and the Resurrection Project (housing and homebuying aid for underserved populations in Chicago). Yearly, I buy memberships to the Art Institute for myself and the Audubon Society for my parents, and I fundraise for my employer. Sporadically, I give to local Chicago initiatives that feed underserved and unhoused communities. Whenever I publish a novel, I do a fundraiser for something thematically linked to the novel. Sometimes I give to peoples' gofundmes for moving costs or car repair or top surgery, particularly when I've gotten a little windfall.

Anyway, that's my two cents. I give to organizations that have touched me personally or touch on causes I am intensely invested in, which seem to be actively working in the communities they claim to serve, who pay their staff a decent wage and haven't got any recent scandals when I google them :D I can only recommend others do the same.

#nonprofits #charity #philanthropic giving

293 notes · View notes

cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

Fic for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "Healing & Recovery". We've all been saying jmart need a lot of therapy after the finale, so...yeah.

Disclaimer: I have never been to couple's therapy. I have done some reading on it, but this is not intended in any way to accurately reflect real world therapy practices. Please just assume that anything "off" is due to the way couple's therapy is practiced in AU-land (though of course feel free to let me know if you spot anything egregious).

“Why don’t you start,” Judith suggests, “By telling me about the incident?”

The two men on the sofa give her identical startled looks, as if she’s uncovered something incriminating. Martin seems to regain his composure first; he clears his throat, and his hand moves to cover Jon’s, unconsciously protective.

“Sorry, wh-what do you mean by “incident”?”

“For most couples who come to see me, there’s an...inciting incident,” Judith explains. “Something that makes them realize they could use some professional support to work through things. Of course any couple can benefit from seeing a therapist together on occasion, to deal with small issues before they become big ones. But, well, it’s the same way that everyone knows they should go for regular check ups with their GP rather than waiting until they actually get sick—it’s just not something most people get around to until they need it.”

She pauses to give them time to consider that, and after a moment Jon nods, looking mildly embarrassed.

“Right,” he says. “That’s, ah, I think that’s fair.”

“There are pretty strong extenuating circumstances, though,” Martin huffs defensively. “We didn’t exactly have the option for therapy in the a—wh-where we lived before.”

“It’s not intended as a criticism,” Judith tells him. “You’ve chosen to talk to a therapist, and that’s a big step—one that many people never take. You’re ahead of the curve, Martin.”

Martin looks mollified at that; he’s clearly a bit touchy about perceived criticisms of their relationship, and Judith doesn’t want to get him on the defensive. She gives them both an encouraging smile.

“So,” she says. “Is there an incident you’d like to talk about?”

The two of them look at each other expectantly, as if each is waiting for the other to start. After several long moments of silence, Jon raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Martin sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “So, we, uh, we recently realized that our...garden was a-a bit of a mess. So we—Jon and I—we get together with our...housemates, to figure out what kind of flowers we should plant. Fuschias or—or hydrangeas. ”

He pauses to glance nervously at Jon, who gives him a reassuring nod, squeezing his hand.

Right, Judith thinks, This is probably not about flowers.

“We agree we all want fuschias,” Martin continues, “Except Jon—he wanted hydrangeas. But we took a vote, and it was fuschias.”

“Except of course most of our—our housemates weren’t there for that meeting,” Jon interjects, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, but we agreed we couldn’t wait to ask every single person,” Martin says sharply, back on the defensive. Jon’s brow furrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, but he changes his mind and shuts it again. Conflict aversion is one of the most common dysfunctions Judith sees in the couples she treats; very few people want to disagree with the person they love, and even fewer know how to have a constructive conflict. She makes a mental note of it for later.

“Go ahead, Martin,’ she suggests gently. Martin looks unhappy, but continues.

“So we agree to plant the fuschias the next day, but Jon—Jon sneaks out in the middle of the night and starts, uh, planting hydrangeas. Without telling anyone.”

Without telling me, Judith hears in his hurt tone. Jon’s arms are still folded, and he’s almost squirming in his seat with the effort to not interject; Judith decides it’s a good time to invite him into the story.

“Jon, why did you feel so strongly about the hydrangeas?”

“It’s—it wasn’t that I wanted hydrangeas, I just couldn’t a-accept the idea of—of fuchsias.”

“Couldn’t allow it, you mean,” Martin grumbles. Judith lets it pass and continues to focus on Jon.

“Why is that?”

“They, uh, they spread…” Jon waves his hands vaguely. “Their—their...roots? They would get into the, uh, the neighbors’ gardens, completely take over, destroy everything.”

“Potentially,” Martin insists. “There was no guarantee—”

“There was no reason they wouldn’t,” Jon snaps.

By now Judith is not only sure that this has nothing to do with gardening, but suspects that neither of these men has ever seen a fuchsia in their lives. It’s fine, though. This is far from the first time a client has invented a story out of whole cloth so they can work through something uncomfortable without actually describing it. And this is their first session; Judith hopes in the future they’ll trust her enough to give her the real story.

“Remember,” she tells them. “We’re not here to decide that someone was objectively right or wrong, we’re here to help you understand each other and improve your communication skills.”

“Right,” Martin mutters, unconvinced. Jon’s expression is distressed, but he continues.

“There was no other choice,” he says wearily. “The only other option was—was azaleas, and I know you didn’t want that, Martin.”

“Absolutely not.” Martin sounds horrified. “But hydrangeas, Jon? Do you really think that was a better option?”

“You have to see the difference.” Jon’s tone goes stiff and incredulous, as if he’s winding up for a lecture, and Judith decides to cut that off before it starts.

“So what I’m hearing,” she says, “Is that you both had very strong, conflicting opinions on this topic. And that’s okay—it’s okay for you to disagree, even on something important. You’re not always going to agree on what the right thing to do is. Often there is no single “right thing,” so it comes down to how the different choices make us feel.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good way to make a decision that affects the wh—a lot of people.” Jon clearly considers that his opinion on not-flowers was the objectively correct one. Judith smiles.

“People aren’t computers, Jon. Even the most logical minded person in the world is influenced by their feelings—about important issues, about other people. You’d be surprised at how much of our decision making is rooted in emotion; either how we anticipate the outcome of our decision will make us feel, or how we are feeling in the immediate moment of the choice.”

A spasm of something that might be grief or pain flashes across Jon’s face, and he leans unconsciously in Martin’s direction. Martin’s arm instantly goes around him, offering comfort without thought. It’s clear that these two love each other deeply, unquestioningly—and that’s also part of the problem. When someone you love thinks that you’re wrong about something that’s important to you, it can feel like a rejection of your entire self.

“I’d like to pause this discussion for now, and try a little exercise,” she says. Jon nods, sitting back up and disengaging from Martin’s embrace; Martin looks attentively at her, though his expression is unsure.

“One of the biggest challenges we face with people we love is recognizing that they are separate from us. I know—” she says, raising her hands to stop the objections she can already see forming on their lips. “Of course you know that you’re separate people. We all know that, rationally. But emotionally, it’s natural to see the people you’re close to as extensions of yourself—it’s an evolutionary impulse to aid group bonding. It happens with friends and family, and it’s an even stronger impulse between partners.

“We have to do a lot of work to truly internalize the idea that the people we love have their own inner emotional lives that drive their opinions and decisions. But once you are able to fully grasp that truth, it makes disagreeing with the person you love feel less emotionally fraught; it’s a powerful tool for navigating conflict constructively.”

Jon is frowning, but it’s in consideration rather than disapproval. Martin still looks skeptical, his body language defensive, though he doesn’t say anything. That’s probably the best she’s going to get for now, Judith thinks.

“So,” she says. “The exercise is this: I’d like each of you to take a few moments to think, and then tell the other person something about yourself. Not a fact, but something that you feel. And I would like you to listen without interrupting when your partner tells you their feeling. Can you each do that?”

“I, ah—” Jon’s frown deepens. “That’s...rather difficult to do on demand.”

“I know,” says Judith with sympathy. “That’s why I’m here, to support you both in doing the difficult things. If it was easy, you wouldn’t need a therapist to facilitate.”

“Right,” says Jon. “Okay.”

“Martin?”

“Fine,” he says, but his tone is reluctant. Judith gets it; vulnerability is hard enough in front of someone you love, never mind with a stranger in the room. It’s easier to pretend that it’s pointless, that you’re not really putting yourself out there to be hurt. She has the feeling that Martin is someone who would rather avoid being hurt, even if it means closing himself off.

“All right,” she says. “When you’re ready, Jon, would you mind going first? No rush, take all the time you need.” Hopefully, seeing Jon take the first step might help Martin get over some of his defensiveness.

“Oh,” he says, and for a few moments his expression devolves into one of intense concentration. Then he nods, turning towards Martin.

“Start with “I feel”,” Judith suggests.

“All right,” he says, breathless with nerves. “I, uh, I feel...responsible. For—well, for everything, basically. And for everyone. Bad things have happened to people, and it’s my fault, because I should have done something. Everything that happened, back there, it was all because of me.”

“It wasn’t you, Jon!” Martin protests. “Annabelle told us—”

Judith is about to remind him that he’s supposed to just be listening, but he cuts himself off first. Jon laughs, an ugly sound that’s more like a sob.

“And how is that supposed to help? Knowing that the—that they were using me my whole life, how does that absolve me of any responsibility for what I did? For the fact that I failed to do anything to stop them? I couldn’t even go through with the one thing that could have actually meant something, because—”

He clamps his mouth shut, his jaw locked tight; Martin looks down at his hands, his expression distraught.

“Because of me.”

“Martin—” Jon’s tone is wounded, and he reaches for Martin’s hand. Judith sees reflections of a shared pain in both their faces, though she doesn’t understand why; this would be a lot easier if they’d just tell her the truth.

But you didn’t get into this profession because it was easy, did you?

“Thank you for sharing that, Jon. I think there’s a lot more for us to explore there, but let’s give you a break and give Martin a chance to share, okay?”

Jon nods, clutching Martin’s hand in his. Martin gives a long, slow exhale.

“Righto,” he says with false, brittle cheer. “”I feel,” wasn’t it? Right. Jon, when you do something stupidly self-sacrificing for other people, I feel like everyone else is more important than me.”

Jon flinches.

“Martin,” Judith says, keeping her tone level. “Let’s keep the focus on what you feel, not on what causes you to feel that way, okay?”

“Right,” Martin mutters, and glances at Jon. “Okay. In that case, I feel...like I’m not important. Like the only thing I can really do is—is take care of you. And if I can’t even do that, then what bloody use am I? That’s it, I suppose.”

“Martin…” Jon says again, softly. His eyes are wet, and he’s clinging to Martin’s hand like a drowning man to a plank. Martin swallows hard and shakes his head, but he makes no move to extract his hand from Jon’s grip.

“Thank you, Martin,” Judith tells him. “I know that wasn’t easy to share, for either of you. But this is the kind of honesty that we need, in order to build strong communication. Let’s all take five minutes—if either of you want to take a bathroom break, or get some water—and then we can talk about where to go from here. All right?”

Martin disappears to the loo, while Jon wanders around the office, looking with polite interest at the shelves of books and ornaments. Judith writes a few notes for herself, to follow up in future sessions. She hopes there’ll be future sessions. Both of these men seem deeply hurt, traumatized by events that they’re just barely alluding to, and have clearly been struggling through as best they can with less than ideal coping mechanisms, trying—and likely failing—not to hurt each other in the process. They both need individual counselling as much as couples’ therapy—maybe more. She’s certainly going to recommend it..

They clearly love each other, though. And they want to make it work. If they’re willing to put the effort in, they have better than even odds in their favor.

Martin’s eyes are red-rimmed when he returns; he sits on the sofa as near as he can to Jon, who presses their shoulders together. Judith can’t help smiling at the sight.

“How long have the two of you been together?” she asks. She always asks new clients at the end of the first session, rather than at the beginning; that way she can get a feel for the relationship without preconceptions based on longevity. The two of them look at each other properly, for the first time since Martin came back in, and matching, sheepish smiles break out on both their faces after a moment.

“So it was three weeks in Scotland,” Martin begins, ticking it off on his fingers. “And then—how long?”

“Uhh, it’s...let’s say half a year, give or take?” Jon makes a face that says he’s really not all that sure.

“Right, and then we’ve been here nearly six months. So...about a year, all in all?”

“But we knew each other for over three years before that,” Jon insists earnestly.

“It sounds as if the two of you have been through a lot,” says Judith. “And not all of it gardening related?”

“No,” Jon says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Mostly not.”

“We barely scratched the surface today—and that’s normal. Relationships are complicated, and it takes a lot of time and hard work to build understanding and communication. But I promise you, it is worth all the effort. You both made a really strong start today—it takes courage to be that honest, even with your partner.”

The two of them give each other a long look, and the smile they trade is tentative, but genuine. They haven’t solved anything today, have only just begun to reveal their hurt and their insecurities; they have a long journey ahead to get to a truly honest, healthy place both for themselves and their relationship. Judith has a feeling they’ll persevere, though—that losing each other simply isn’t an option.

“So,” she says, “Should we make this a recurring appointment?”

Jon glances questioningly at Martin, who bites his lip and then nods firmly, taking Jon’s hand in his.

“Yeah,” Martin says. “We’ve done much harder things. We can do this.”

“Together?” says Jon, and Martin smiles.

“No matter what.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

949 notes · View notes

watevermelon · 4 years

Text

✧ MSBY Soulmate!Atsumu x Reader

➳ Summary: You knew all about his personality, whether through the rumor vine or the numerous warnings your friends gave you. But there was no avoiding it - he was your soulmate after all.

➳ fluff; mutual pining; small jealousy; slight angst with a happy ending ➳ Navigation

—-xXxXxXxXxXx—–

When he first met you, Atsumu hadn’t wanted to hear it.

This was in the prime of his life, being scouted for a Division 1 volleyball team was his life-goal and the only thing standing in his way was the upcoming Olympics. Which, of course, he was rumored to be included on as well.

Even back in high school, there were tons of fans and girls alike who would willingly fall to his feet. Regardless of his reputation, they were eager to share a single night despite knowing it would probably be their last. And Atsumu reveled in the excitement of the attention, feeding off the cheers and shallow admiration many threw at him both on the court and in the bedroom.

Atsumu didn’t want a soulmate, someone whom he was shackled to for the rest of his life.

No, initially he didn’t want you.

As for you, the feeling was mutual to a degree. Soulmates were a touchy topic for many, conversations about colors and contrast was something you could not personally relate to. The moment you met your soulmate, it was described to you as suddenly bathing your entire life in color.

A part of you was curious about your soulmate, where he was in the world, what was he doing and who he was with. But never had you centered your life around it, more like a passive curiosity that you hoped would one day be satiated.

You were a student of Inarizaki during its prime, the members of the volleyball team very popular among the student body. You had made acquaintances with Osamu and Suna through one or two classes, but never were you particularly close to them.

Your close friends often warned you about the leader of their trio anyway - Atsumu Miya and his drove of fuckboy energy.

There was no doubt that the twin had multiple fan-clubs and obsessive flings surrounding him. You remembered once feeling sympathetic for his soulmate - thinking about how hard it would be to get him to saddle down to a single person. Especially, with the way he lived his life, it seemed the setter could care less about the concept of soulmates to begin with.

No, Atsumu would be a terrible soulmate for whoever was unfortunately linked to him by the red string of fate.

And while he was admittedly very handsome, you did not particularly care about the setter to actively reach out to him.

Besides, it was not like he even knew who you were to begin with.

The years went by and any thoughts you had about the setter were filed away in the quiet recesses of your mind, only appearing once in a while when Miya Atsumu showed up on some article or newspaper cover for something regarding volleyball. You were silently proud of his accomplishments and representing your school and perfecture, achieving his dream and all, but hadn’t particularly cared about him in the first place.

That was all until one day, you walked into Onigiri Miya years later.

Even though Osamu was the quieter twin, he either had a good memory or was oddly sentimental, since he remembered your name immediately when you took a seat at the bar.

“I see the years have treated ya well.” Osamu started casually, almost making you blush at how the twin could say something like that as if totally normal between old friends. “How’ve ya been doin’?”

“I’ve been working in the city, just something temporary while I finish grad school.”

“Ah, you’ve always been smart.” He complimented.

“Nothing compared to you though.” You countered, “You look really happy doing this. And you have a few branches opening, I heard.”

“Keepin’ tabs on me?” He baited.

“Just like hearing about the success of our classmates.” You shrugged.

You were sure Osamu had something sassy to say back to you before he got called away by another customer. He motioned for you to stay as he walked to the other side.

Your eyes followed him for a few seconds, watching how despite working around food constantly, he still had an athletic build after all these years.

(Really, the dude was built like a dorito chip.)

And while you would have liked to stay and flirt with the pretty onigiri twin, a similar voice started from the door. A light chime signaling the front door opening, you heard a greeting toward Osamu, making you turn in your seat in interest.

Only to double-over in surprise as your world was suddenly too bright.

You had no time, not even seconds to get your bearings. Your life of white and black tones was suddenly full - the table covers were black and red, the plants at the windowsill were green with different arrangements of orange. You took in your surroundings quickly, soaking up colors for the first time in your life.

It seemed the other man was just as surprised, cursing as he went before you lifted your eyes simultaneously to look each other in the eyes once more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Atsumu asked under his breath, but you heard it all the same.

What on earth could you possibly say to that?

Within seconds, the situation was whirling around in your brain that this was possibly the worst possible moment of your life.

You were soulmates that didn’t want each other - for opposite reasons, surely. You did not want to be with Atsumu since he was too much of a player to take the concept seriously and attempting anything with him would only result in heartache. And Atsumu didn’t want you because he surely had an endless amount of women he would rather be with.

“That’s what a girl wants to hear.” You countered as you crossed your arms.

You hadn't expected your first meeting with your soulmate to be met with expletives and it seemed Atsumu finally remembered a semblance of his manners.

“Sorry, ya caught me off-guard.” He started, “Now ain’t the greatest time for me.”

“Oh boy.” You murmured as you turned back in your seat at the bar, Atsumu taking the open one next to you.

“Wait, (L/N)? From Inarizaki?” Atsumu asked after he motioned toward Osamu in greeting.

“That’s me.” You formally introduced yourself, extending a hand out to him. He regarded you quietly before taking his phone out for you to take and put your number in.

“I knew it, I don’t forget a pretty face like yers after all.” Atsumu smoothly said. This was your soulmate and all you felt in response was resentment, thinking about all the women he probably used that line with. You handed him back his phone as he continued, “Wow, look at ya all grown up.”

“And look at you, a professional volleyball player.”

Atsumu looked at you with a critical eye, not one that you could really decipher, but it was clear he was looking at you very thoroughly. “Been to one’ve my games before?”

“Only a few times in high school.” You replied, facing his stare head-on as his smirk only widened. You weren’t sure what this was, but with a player like Atsumu, you were sure he was already sizing you up in a way you didn’t want.

Something told you that if you looked away, you would lose.

And so you held your ground, matching his intense stare as your onigiri meal waited for you at the bar-side.

Thankfully, his name was called out by his twin and Atsumu’s attention was grabbed away before you could break.

“I didn’t know ya knew each other?” Osamu started as he returned, a glass in hand as he wiped it dry with a towel.

“We don’t.” You said instead.

Atsumu’s smirk tightened as he answered, “Just found out we’re soulmates, actually.”

Osamu put the glass down and turned to you, “'Tsumu fucking with me?”

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered.

“Unfortunately?” Atsumu emphasized as he turned to you more fully, the infuriating smirk still on his face for some reason, “I’ll have ya know that Imma great catch.”

“Debatable.” Osamu countered.

You laughed at his quip before looking at Atsumu, “Yeah, but I’m sure you don’t even want to be ‘caught,’ right?” You shot-back at the setter, “Unless you’re going to try to convince me that you still don’t want to entertain the droves of women at your feet?”

“Think ya have me all figured out?” Atsumu asked as he leaned closer to you, a quirked brow on his face. You looked toward Osamu who looked strangely amused, eyes going between you and Atsumu.

“I think I know enough to know why ‘now ain’t the greatest time’ for you.” You replied sassily as you shot back his first words to you, pushing at his chest to give back your personal space.

Atsumu just took your hand and put it in his own, calling your bluff. “Oh? Like how my time and attention are on Olympics while I’d rather treat my baby properly?”

“Oh god.” You said as you laughed.

You laughed.

To his face?

All the setter could think about was how interesting you were.

He had expected his soulmate to ‘fall at his feet’ as many had in the past. To cling to him for attention and to demand an exclusive shackle to them. But here you were: beautiful and independent and even physically pushing him away.

You grabbed your hand out of his light embrace and turned back to your food, smiling at what you thought was just another line he would feed to his other one-night stands. Atsumu bit his lip in frustration and looked briefly at Osamu, who was watching the two of you like his own personal source of humor.

If you were any other girl, Atsumu would wave you off. Say that he didn’t have time for one girl who didn’t care, he had dozens who would willingly take the spot instead.

But you weren’t just any other girl, you were his soulmate.

And he could already feel the strange draw towards you.

Not even a few months ago he would scoff at the supposed soulmate bond. All the other members of the Black Jackals had found their other half and what they ranted on and on about made him sick. Bokuto somehow found a way to insert something about Akaashi at almost every conversation and Atsumu would constantly catch Hinata, even during midgame, staring at Kageyama.

They sickened him.

And yet somehow he now understood.

Seeing his soulmate before him, you were one of the first few people in a while that he felt like he had to prove himself to. There was probably an endless amount of expectation against him, he was sure. Being old classmates and seeing his name on a tabloid almost every other month would definitely do that.

And somehow only minutes into speaking to his soulmate, Atsumu wanted something different.

“I could always prove it to ya.” He shot toward you, making you laugh again.

Alright, this shit ain’t gonna cut it.

Atsumu licked at his bottom lip before pulling your bar stool closer to his, relishing in the way your eyes widened in surprise as he did so. “Come on, ya lookin’ at yer soulmate. Just say what we both want and we can leave here together right now.”

You shot him back an incredulous expression, a challenging look in your eye as he put the ball in your court. It was strange to feed off the provocation of someone else; a new type of adrenaline in him as he wanted to get to know you.

“Sorry, but I’d rather not leave with a man who has hickies down his neck from some other woman.”

Atsumu almost felt himself click his tongue in frustration, but you were not exactly wrong. Just a few hours ago he was inside someone he couldn’t even name with a gun to his head, but that was a world before you.

A world before color and the sassy soulmate who seemed to want nothing to do with him.

And while Atsumu wanted to prod a bit more, or at least get you to concede that he was the greatest option in the world, his phone rang out with Sakusa’s icon flashing on the screen.

Your eyes were drawn to the noise and you commented, “I’m sure you already have plans today anyway.”

Dashing that thought away, he lifted his phone to your eyes and showcased the proof to you. “Think again, my teammate is on the other line ready to chew my ass out.”

“Oh.” That shut you up, before shrugging and turning back to your food, “Well, I’ll see you around Atsumu.”

He leaned toward you, lips dropping beside your ear and lightly stating, “Keep ya schedule open this week.”

You hesitated for a second before saying, “Maybe.”

Atsumu answered the call and started gathering his things, his thoughts only half on Sakusa as the spiker complained about his cleaning habits in the locker room.

“We should probably exchange numbers again.” Osamu took out his phone, motioning it in your direction.

You took it with a smile, to which Atsumu scowled and made a point of reminding his twin. “Yer better know she’s my soulmate.”

Osamu sighed outwardly and you just laughed adding, “And he’s the better twin afterall.”

Atsumu’s eyes darkened, phone completely forgotten as he took a step toward you, “I’ll remind you later who really is the better twin.”

He made it so easy to tease him, to challenge the world Atsumu built-up around him. You wanted to break it for some reason, to knock him down a peg for being stuck with a player as a soulmate.

And so you shot back, “I’d like to see you try.”

Atsumu smirked as his hand casually grazed up your thigh and squeezed at the skin there. “That’s a promise.”

He shot both of you goodbye’s before returning to his phone call and walking out the door. Atsumu had the last word for now, but you weren’t going to fall to his feet so easily. Turning back to Osamu was no help either, his expression amused as he watched the entire moment play-out.

“An here I was wantin’ to ask ya out.” Osamu stated plainly before shrugging as you sat still in your chair at the irony.

You expected that to be the last you’d see of Atsumu for a while - weeks or months or maybe even years as he entertained the long list of women that would be much easier to maintain than a soulmate.

He called you the next day, inviting you over for dinner and a movie before the weekend started.

You steeled your spine, telling yourself that the gorgeous setter was not going to get to you in a single night. He lived on the better side of Tokyo, just his zip-code alone was a flex of his wallet. And so when you reached his penthouse floor, you took a deep breath in the elevator before you entered his domain.

Again, you expected him to make good on his promise before, to make a move and prove to you that he was a playboy, asshole that you knew from high-school, but instead you had a pleasant first night.

Atsumu Miya entertained you with a home-cooked meal of all things, the two of you sat across from each other at his mahogany dining table.

“Who would’ve thought you would know how to cook well?”

“Ya know who my brother is?” Atsumu joked, “As if 'Samu will me live if I was an ass in the kitchen.”

“Of course, you’re just an ass in other places then.” You shot back, receiving a playful look of offense from the setter, before continuing. “But this tasted amazing, so thank you.”

Atsumu had that smirking expression on his face, like he was carefully watching you, picking you apart in his mind as he thought about the next ten moves in this strange game.

The setter put a hand on your knee under the table and you expected that to be the move, for it to slide up the rest of the way. But instead he tapped the area twice before he stood, grabbing your empty plates and motioning for you to go to the living room.

“Why dont’cha get comfortable for the movie while I wash these?”

You weren’t disappointed, per se.

Just surprised, if anything.

And the night continued on just as tamely, playful and even flirty banter between the two of you over the action movie that played out. At one point he draped a casual arm across the back of the couch, resting his hand on your shoulder and pulling you to lean against him.

You had witty banter back and forth and when the movie finally ended, Atsumu commented how it was getting late. Surprised again, you took the out and allowed him to call a car for you. Atsumu walked you down to the street and only when he was opening the door for you, did he lightly pull you at the waist to chastely move your lips together.

Lasting only seconds, he pulled away just as quickly and ushered you into the car and whispered in your ear, “See you soon, (F/N).

Everything you had expected of the playboy you thought you knew was shattered, no sudden move to get you on your back on his bedsheets. Yes, he still said plenty of flirty things to you, but he had yet to actually act on it. Was that simply a bluff before? Or was he playing a longer game to get you off the defensive?

“Yer so cute, (F/N).” Atsumu complimented you once as you lounged on his couch another day, “There are days I can barely keep my hands off ya.”

And before you could recognize how quickly your life was changing, that first initial date snowballed into more dates and somehow you had gotten to the point where you would visit his place fairly often. Whether for dinner or a simple hangout, it seemed Atsumu was keen on inserting himself into your life little by little.

And somewhere along the way, you started to doubt your earlier musings of a fuck boy with no regard for a soulmate. Maybe he had changed from high school? Or maybe, he had changed when he met you?

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

He had convinced you one night, when you came over for dinner or whatever it must have been, when it started to absolutely downpour outside. He insisted that he did not feel safe sending you home in this weather, to which you countered that you had travelled in worse.

That did little to subdue his worries and instead you found yourself in an oversized jersey getting tucked into his bed that night.

“What’s that face about?” He asked as you laid there together, bed sheets up to your shoulders as he placed an arm beneath your head.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

You thought the first time you’d ever see his bedsheets would be when he was inside of you, not tamely laying beside you and kissing your forehead goodnight. And when he pulled you closer to him, cuddling you to sleep that night, that was one of the safest times you had ever felt.

If this was just a game, if you were just another one of his girls, he would have made a move that night, right?

And so you believed that Atsumu was honestly as earnest in his actions as he said, trying to get to know you for you. Not because you were just another woman to put as a notch on his bedpost, but because he was genuinely interested in you.

That was until you saw the first dating scandal since you had met the setter.

He had plenty of other scandals before this, many women had been attached to his name before, but never had you cared in the past because that was simply his reputation and you barely knew him. But now you had an active role in his life, how could you not know about some woman he was apparently also spending time with?

You did not want to believe some random tabloids over the trust of your soulmate. At least, that was until one day you overheard Atsumu on the phone with his twin.

“Listen, I took out (F/N) that first time cause ya told me to.”

That shit hurted.

The entire foundation of your relationship was based on the fact that his twin pressured him into getting to know you? Did Atsumu even want to get to know you in the first place? Was he really playing with your feelings this whole time?

You turned and went back to his living room, filing this away in your mind as you took a seat. If Atsumu didn’t actually want you in his life, then you would surely give him the space he wanted to begin with.

But you had missed the rest of that phone conversation.

“But I feel like I’ve already fallen for her. I don’t know, she’s different. Ya, ya. I know, I won’t fuck it up this time.”

And so you resolved to put between each other the space he wanted initially.

When you first met, he was pretty vocal about not wanting a soulmate at the time. But he had convinced you along the way, that maybe this was something the both of you wanted.

You were wrong.

Phone calls went ignored and you stopped replying to texts after a few curt replies. You needed distance if you were going to get over Miya Atsumu and his inevitable line of one-night stands.

Your soulmate was supposed to be the one person in the world who completed you, who understood you whole and made you feel loved. And while you were on the precipice of those feelings, it all quickly came crashing down with reality.

Atsumu Miya did not want you.

One night, as you were studying for grad-school, you were working on your part of the group project and were expecting a call any moment now from your other partners.

When the phone rang out, you picked it up without regard to the name on the screen until it was too late.

“Hey, (F/N)? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” Atsumu’s voice started immediately and it was not like you could hang-up on him now.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy trying to make rent, y’know. Not everyone can be a world-renowned professional athlete.”

There was a small pause on his end before, “... you could always stay with me if you have financial problems.”

What?

Why would he offer that? Just to make you suffer when he brought other women home?

“Don’t say things you’ll regret, haha.” You try to put back that earlier distance, “I’m sure you have a laundry list of girls who are eager to hear back from you after all.”

“What? (F/N), that’s not--”

You cut him off there, “Listen, I’m waiting on a couple people for a school thing. I’ll see you around, Miya-san.”

Miya-san.

Where had he fucked up?

In the weeks Atsumu had gotten to know you, it was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t felt for anyone. It was like the unspoken bond crap that Kita had explained to him in high school or that Suna, who recently found his own soulmate, raved about was actually real.

For the first time in his life he wanted to spend time with a woman for longer than a single night. He wanted to bring you home, kiss you good morning, and possibly have a home with both your names on the mailbox.

And while not even a few months ago he would have scoffed at shit like that, Atsumu wanted it and felt that for the first time it was in his grasp.

So where did he go wrong?

The last thing he ever wanted to do was actually make you feel unwanted and he feared that his initial words might have sparked something within you.

It was no surprise when Atsumu showed up at your apartment unannounced the next day.

Not expecting any company, you waltzed over to the door, thinking it might be a package delivery, and opened it in your pajamas.

Atsumu walked right past you and into the living room, words striking with the specificity of a cobra. “Are you just fucking with me?”

You sputtered before closing the door, “What?

He ran a stressed hand through his hair, but maintained eye-contact with you. “Yer my soulmate and I wanna get to know you. Am I alone in wantin’ this?”

“Shouldn’t I ask that of you?” You shot back, “You made it clear as day that you didn't want me as your soulmate to begin with!”

Atsumu sighed and took a step closer to you, closing the distance to lightly grab at your elbows. “For fucks sake, that was months ago. Don’t tell me that all that time together meant nothin’ to you?”

“Of course it meant something to me!” You exclaimed back, before pushing at his chest while he did not budge a single inch away. “Don’t act like I’m the one half-assed in this.”

He scowled back, “What is that suppos’ed to mean?”

You did not hesitate, "I know you only spent time with me because Osamu told you to.”

Atsumu recoiled in surprise and you took that as your escape, pushing his lingering hands away as you made for the kitchen. But the setter was out of his stupor quickly, trailing behind you.

“Fuck, what did ‘Samu tell you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything, I found out the truth myself.”

You could tell Atsumu’s stress level was skyrocketing, from the way his hair was mused without care and angled strangely in certain ways.

“Ya got it all wrong, it was just that first time!” Atsumu replied right behind you.

“What do you mean?”

“‘Samu was the one who told me to call ya the next day, but I was going to eventually ‘cause I wanted to get to know ya myself.”

You slowly took in his words, but it was hard to make any sort of decision with the setter right in front of you. A part of you, one that attributed it to the soulmate bond, was basically begging you to forgive him and wrap yourself in his embrace. That part wanted to feel those muscular arms around you once again, to feel safe in the arms of the one person in the universe meant for you.

But, afraid of getting hurt and without much argue left within you, you tossed back. “Yeah, eventually.”

Atsumu put a strong grip on your waist, holding you there in place before you could run away again.“‘Samu told me to, but I could’ave easily not done nothin’ that first night or any time after.”

You bit your lip at his words, Atsumu was laying all his cards on the table and he wanted a response from you.

And he wanted it now.

“Please, ya know me better by now.” Atsumu turned you in place to face him, leaning down to whisper his words against your forehead. “I know Imma bad deal - I can’t imagine what ya thought of me back in high school and even earlier this year. I have a bad history and an even worse reputation.”

“But after just a few weeks, I don’t want ya out of my life ever again. Just hearin’ ya call me by my last name yesterday nearly killed me.” Atsumu continued, trailing his lips further down until your foreheads were touching, “Lets give this a try - a real one. Give me the chance to make you happy for the rest of our lives.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the insistent inner tug on your heart and how the setter was encompassing all your thoughts. “Atsumu… I--”

“Stop overthinkin’.” He interrupted, “I don’t want to bombard you. But I promise I won’t ever purposely hurt you.”

You took in a harsh breath, wondering how on earth this could be the same Miya Atsumu who plagued your high school. He had changed, not just from then but from the short amount of time you had already shared together. Opening your eyes slowly, Atsumu was still clutching you around the waist, but his eyes were carefully scanning your expression.

“Okay.”

You replied, leaning into his touch more as the smile on the setter’s face widened.

He did not waste a single moment, leaning down to capture your lips with his. You stood surprised for a second, before pushing up to meet his gentle touches. There was no sudden epiphany, no instant speech of undying love after. But there was no denying the harsh flutter intensifying after every inflamed touch.

Your heart pounded hard in your chest as you leaned more into the setter, knees going weak as his tongue roamed your open mouth. Your only focus was on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictive it was to have Atsumu invaded all your senses. From the intense smell of his cologne to the light tickle of his blond hair against your head, Atsumu was dominating your every feeling.

And so it was quite a surprise when Atsumu gave you one final peck, before moving to your forehead and placing a light butterfly kiss there and backing off entirely.

“Fuck, just look at you.” He commented as he leaned back, looking at you up and down. There was no doubt the sight that greeted him, you messy with drool, tousled hair, and rumpled clothing. “Even in your sheep pajamas, it’s hard for me to keep my hands off ya.”

Your blush intensified at his words, putting a playful hand on his chest and muttering a small, “Shut up.”

“Never.” He quipped back, putting another kiss on your forehead before pulling away, only your hands still joined. “Now let’s get your apartment packed.”

“What?” You asked, confused. Your mind was still nothing more than a cup of spilled milk after Atsumu had all but ravaged your senses.

He smiled before pulling you back to your living room. You followed wordlessly, his previous statements slowly pouring into your brain after the intense liplock. It was hard to focus on anything when the attractive setter was making a point to kiss you at an open chance.

“As in packed to move in with me.”

2K notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing vii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 4, 627

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

Despite being friends with three (well, now four) people on the football team—you didn’t fancy attending football games at all. It was highly unlike the usual scene you were comfortable with. It was loud, rowdy and people didn’t understand the concept of personal space when they’d shove and push others aside just to get a better glimpse of the players on the field.

Yet, you attended every single one of the football games—and you were a familiar enough face that the coach smiles at you when you hover outside the changing rooms; a simple request from the captain himself.

You’re a little shocked at yourself at the fact that you had no idea who Namjoon was prior to his introduction. He was the captain of the current football team, which apparently, throughout your college’s history—brought the most wins ever. And, he was also well-known that lecturers applauded him for his impeccable work-to-life balance.

Somehow, the divulgence of your own thoughts makes you frown. Because perhaps you were truly anti-social. You weren’t even acquainted with common school affairs in spite of being apart of the student council.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

You don’t dwell too much on your thoughts because you’re unable to, not when the door slams open and bodies of college men pour out with large shouts and their padded shoulders—looking very much prepared for their game.

The anxiety settles into the pit of your stomach when you realise you stick out like a sore thumb. The jeans and white top you were wearing was quite a typical outfit to wear to a game, with the addition of ironically—a baseball jacket. But when you were definitely smaller than the footballers; it was hard not to feel out of place.

Especially when they look you over before continuing out to the field. While you attended games before, you were never asked to meet in the changing rooms. Jimin and Taehyung knew well enough not to ask you, and Jungkook … well. You were always his dirty little secret, weren’t you?

And you see Jungkook first, grinning like a madman when another footballer brings him into a headlock and hollers something you assume is their hype-cheer.

It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Things were meant to have been settled, but the tight feeling in your chest when you look at him only reminds you that some things were hard to erase.

Before you can look away, Jungkook spots you—and he pushes the arms of his teammate off ever so slightly before turning to him and muttering a few words before he’s stalking towards you.

Your eyes widen, definitely not expecting him to pay you any mind.

“You’re here?” He furrows his brows.

You clear your throat, and you realise navigating a conversation with him after what’s transpired is much harder than you expected it to be. The fact that he was so casual about it when he left you with a kiss on your forehead makes you even more conflicted.

“I am.” You mumble. “I told you, remember?”

Jungkook blinks as if he remembers something, and his expression hardens ever so slightly before he’s schooling his features.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “I knew that. Just didn’t know you’d be … here.”

Here was probably referring to standing outside the changing rooms, and you can’t help but flush at the declaration.

“Um, yeah. Namjoon—” Before you can finish your sentence, you see the captain heading towards you with a large grin; looking over Jungkook for a brief moment.

“You’re here!” His words are exactly the same as Jungkook’s, but it evokes a different set of emotions in your chest.

You smile as sincerely as you can, which is proven difficult when you can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“I am.” And you repeat the same thing you said to Jungkook. It feels odd, but you push the feelings aside. “Good luck, you.”

You offer a small punch to his shoulder, an awkward attempt at supporting him and you almost apologise but Namjoon smiles even wider.

His hand reaches out to your hair, gently patting it as he looks at you fondly. You don’t think anyone’s ever treated you so … tenderly before, not upfront and after one meeting at least. And you’re definitely flustered.

“Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here.” His dimples are on full show when he looks down at you with a kind gaze.

You clear your throat and look away, hoping the dim lights didn’t amplify the blush on your cheeks.

“Of course. We have that exhibition next to look forward to if all else goes South.” You grin cheekily up at him, words still soft.

You hope that your joke doesn’t rub him the wrong way, and it doesn’t because he snorts in response. All while Jungkook is silent.

“That’s a win itself, isn’t it?” He says smoothly, and your eyes widen at his blatant—or at least you think—flirting.

And before you can splutter a response, Jungkook is nudging Namjoon’s arm with his shoulder, the movement slightly rougher with his shoulder pads in place.

“We gotta go, Cap,” Jungkook says stiffly.

Namjoon doesn’t realise the hostility in his tone, but you do. And you frown ever so slightly, but you cover it up when Namjoon looks over at you with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll see you after the game?” He asks, eyes lighting up.

Your lips tilt upwards and you nod your head.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon jogs off first, not before grabbing his protective gear as Jungkook lingers ever so slightly, stuttering in his feet as you have the vision of his back towards you.

You’re about to head towards the bleachers, a spot that Namjoon purposefully reserved for you with help of his coach; but Jungkook turns around and his face is hesitant.

“Will you …” He swallows as you raise an eyebrow at his uncertainty. “Will you cheer for me?”

The question is odd, especially when you know that he’s aware that you were here for Namjoon. Usually, that would imply that you were rooting for him. But, you’ve never been able to say no to Jungkook. Not even when you want him to feel the same hurt you’ve felt.

“What friends are for, right?” You mumble, eyes darting to the ground for a second until you look back up at him again.

What you don’t say is that friends don’t do the things we did, or that there was no manual to teach you how to navigate the throes of your relationship after everything that’s happened. Nor do you tell Jungkook that you’re always cheering him on, but you can’t do it outwardly. Not tonight. Not for a while, too.

Jungkook’s face falls obscurely, but he forces a tight smile before grabbing his protective gear too.

“I’ll look for you,” Jungkook says.

Then he’s off, with a squeeze to your shoulder that leaves your heart feeling a lot heavier.

You ended up sitting next to the school photographer, who you now know as Yena. Prior to this, you’ve heard the student reporter club have a few intense individuals apart of them—word you heard from Yoongi, the President himself—and he was already as intimidating as one could get. But there was Yena, who essentially made people cower in fear when they’d make eye contact with her.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing she asks when you slide into your seat. Her tone isn’t condescending, neither was it purposely made to make you feel uncomfortable. Rather, she asked it in a rather bored tone—as if there were better things she could be doing.

“Um.” You squeak.

Yena rolls her eyes, “Relax. I’m not going to bite your head off despite my grotesque appearance. Ever heard of a conversation starter?”

You blink.

“You’re very pretty.” You say softly.

Yena narrows her eyes at you for what seems like forever as you clear your throat. Then, she snorts before patting you on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean objectively ugly, sweetheart.”

The tilt of her lips make your ears flush and you never found yourself downright intimidated by someone, but there was something about her that made you want to listen to her.

“O-Oh.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, _____. Has anyone ever told you that?” She emphasises her point with a tilt of her head.

“N-Not really …” You mumble.

She sighs as she kicks her feet on top of the railings in front of her while her eyes follow the line of footballers that pour onto the field, already moving towards a group huddle.

Her camera is already in her hands when she snaps the shot like second nature, before plopping back into her seat.

“Well, you are. People are gonna eat you alive, you know?” She says pointedly.

You fiddle with your fingers before you find the courage to look at her.

“How did you know who I was?” You wonder out loud with furrowed brows.

Yena scoffs before turning to look at you with a blank expression. And it’s the worst part in you that makes you think that you’ve said something wrong.

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpans. “Girl who made honours three years in a row? First female student council president? Lecturers pet? Curve-setter? The list goes on, really.”

You flush as you turn your head away.

“I didn’t mean …” You mutter.

She waves you off. “You don’t have to sound so guilty about it. You’re smart and you’re capable. Own it.” She shrugs.

You blink up at her with wide eyes, and for the first time; she properly looks at you and your surprised expression.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

When a whistle blows, the game has somehow started and you have half the mind to begin cheering like the rest of the crowd. But the awkward part of you remains rooted in position.

“So.” Yena leans in with a grin on her face. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

It’s … odd. Purely because you’ve never spoken to her before and you’ve briefly heard about her in passing when you communicate with Yoongi on pastoral affairs. And for someone to speak to you so freely and casually, like you’ve been friends for years—feels nice.

And it’s probably also because you didn’t have any girl friends that you could really trust. People on campus were … they were mean and they usually wanted something from you, whether it was to get to one of your friends or get insights on events so they’d get a boost on their reputation.

“Earth to _____?” She drawls.

You snap your head towards her and your ears turn red once again.

“There’s isn’t … any guy.” You confess.

Yena snorts as if she doesn’t believe you.

“Really now?” Her grin approaches a smile when she rests her chin on her palm. “You know not just anyone sits here, right?”

You shrug. “What about you? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She blinks, then leans back before kicking one leg across her other.

“Photographer pros. Or cons. Especially if you consider watching disgusting men sweat and chase after balls is something to be grateful for.” She rolls her eyes.

You laugh when she complains, and it’s likely the first time you’ve relaxed your shoulders around her.

“That does sound kind of gross.”

She nods her head as if to say right, before offering you a cheeky grin.

Then, her eyes zero onto the field, then back to your face—and eventually back to the field before she hops off her seat once again; waving her camera to signal you that she was going to carry out her duties.

You think Yena’s cool. A little intense, and kind of scary—but a nice person nevertheless. Maybe you were a blind optimist that saw the good in everyone, but there was something about her that you really liked. The kind of person you wish you could become.

The cheers get immensely louder, especially when you note that Jungkook’s scored a goal—his beaming expression displayed on the big screen while you hear girls and guys alike cheering his name.

It’s times like this where you’re reminded of how different you were from him. While he received praise and approval from the masses and was born to be loved by them. You were quite the opposite; the cheerer and the supporter but never quite the one receiving it.

His eyes skim the crowd, and you can see from the screen that his brows furrow ever so slightly. But he’s quick to return to his groove, fist-bumping a teammate along the way.

You sigh because even when you weren’t intentionally looking for him it’s like your heart only wants you to see what’s familiar. And funnily enough, the hurt is familiar too.

In the middle of it all, you try your best to smile—and throw in a small whoop on your own, hoping to blend in but be present enough to be heard.

Yena returns only when it’s half-time, her own body covered in sweat while she huffs, slapping a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“God. You’d think they’d slow down after fifteen minutes but nooo. They have to go flex on their fragile masculinities because they think growling and ripping off their shirts is peak alpha male character.” Yena mutters and it’s the first thing you hear from her.

You offer her a sympathetic smile before digging into your bag and pulling out a handkerchief, one that you always carry around.

“Here.” You smile at her toothily.

Yena eyes the fabric sceptically before looking at your face and back to the handkerchief.

“You sure?”

You nod your head, jutting out your hand once more to emphasise your point.

“Ah. I can see why Namjoon nabbed you up.” Yena coos, ruffling your hair as your eyes widen.

“H-How—?”

“How did I know? Well besides the fact that my job is to literally stick with the team and capture moments and make them look pretty—I’m nosey.” Yena shrugs and your face pales. “Oh, and I saw you guys at the changing room too.”

If she saw … that meant—

“Thought you were with the meathead Jeon for a moment.” Yena snorts.

Your eyes dart down to your lap, and Yena picks up on your silence immediately. But unlike the conventional person; despite her curiousity, she respected your privacy more. So she doesn’t, she just offers you a smile and a nudge to your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Yena assures, sighing as the voices of the footballers fill your area as they come up for refreshment. “He’s nice.” You weren’t sure who she was referring to so you just nod.

“Yena—pass me a bottle!” A boy calls, and you half expect her to do so, but instead, she delivers him one better—a middle finger.

“Get it your self you dickwad!” Yena calls back.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to look at her, completely unbothered when the footballer shoots daggers at her nonchalant figure.

“Men. Think you always owe them something.” She scoffs.

You find yourself unconsciously nodding your head, and once again Yena recognises the gesture but doesn’t mention anything.

Instead, she turns towards you and levels you with a wide grin of her own.

“You’re cool. We should hang out.”

The declaration makes your eyes widen even more and you realise how much you’ve fumbled and made yourself look … stiff the entire time you were attempting to converse with Yena. But she seemed to be unbothered, and the thought makes you excited.

“We should?” You parrot with a squeak.

She nods and you’re still finding it hard to process the fact that she’d brought that up out of the blue.

You weren’t bad company. But you were … you.

“You’re like Ms Bona Fide.” Yena tuts. “People these days are either out to please or to receive.”

You furrow your brows.

“And I’m … not?” You say softly.

“You’re present.” Yena shrugs and throws you an easy-going smile.

God. She was so cool.

Namjoon scores the final goal.

You expect him to call the hangout off because, well, he’d closed the game and he was the captain. It was only normal that he’d want to celebrate.

So when Yena nudges your shoulders while your head is bent and focused on your mobile device, you slowly looked up with furrowed brows to see her cocking her head to the side with a knowing grin on her face.

And you see Namjoon, out of his gear and in a plain t-shirt and sweats while he waves at you.

You can’t help but gape at him.

“I see you’ve surrendered to good company instead of a zoo.” Yena greets Namjoon first with a snort.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and you gauge that they’re at least well-acquainted. Acquainted enough that Namjoon subtly tries to flick her off, but you catch the gesture as soon as it comes.

“Promises are promises.” Namjoon shrugs as if he wasn’t aware that you were still gaping at him. Mouth open like a fish out of the water.

“Well—be nice, captain.” Yena whistles, throwing her camera into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before she turns to look at you, a gentle nudge with her shoulder to yours as she levels you with an intentional look in her eyes.

“Don’t start any fights, Yena.” Namjoon gently chides, but his tone is joking.

Yena waves him off, then waves at you one last time, leaning down to whisper something into your ear that has you flushing.

“Tell me how it goes when we hang out.”

And she leaves you with a keen sense of excitement on the prospect of a new friend like her to look forward to hanging out with.

Namjoon looks over at you, and gently reaches for the tote bag you’ve slung over your shoulder as he tugs it off you with a soft pull.

“Let me.” His smile is all teeth and dimpled grins when you reluctantly let him take your bag from you.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyes attempting to look at him but his gaze is so focused on yours that you find it difficult to make eye contact.

“We’ve got an exhibition to go to, don’t we?”

You nod your head enthusiastically as he chuckles, allowing you to lead the way as you find a little prep in your steps. It was nice. Having a friend like Namjoon.

“Captain’s not coming?” Yugyeom groans, ruffling his hair with a towel as the rest of the footballers filter out of the changing room.

Jimin snorts in response. “No. He’s got a date.” The emphasis on the word date is obvious in the immature sense, evoking wide eyes as responses.

“He bailed on us for some pussy?!” Yugyeom cries.

Jungkook has to clench his fists by his side when he hears how his teammate casually referred to you as just some pussy. You weren’t just … that.

“Watch your tone,” Jimin growls, and Jungkook’s thankful that Jimin was more of the confrontational type and didn’t allow shit like this to slide easily. Especially when it came to you. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widened before gawking at the blonde boy.

“You mean Namjoon is going on a date with _____?” The rest of the footballers murmur in response, possibly out of confusion. “How did they—doesn’t she not … date?”

Jimin sighs, already ready with a response on the tip of his tongue but Jeonghan, the keeper interjects.

“Wait, I was under the impression that she and Jeon were a thing?”

At the mention of his name tangled with yours, Jungkook, who has been relatively silent throughout, freezes as his hands stop rummaging through his duffel bag while he tries to ignore the inquisitive stares he’s receiving from his teammates.

“W-What?” Jungkook stutters caught off guard.

Yugyeom narrows his eyes at the boy, while Jimin silently observes with an unreadable expression.

“Now that you mention it …” He trails off, head tilting upwards as if he was deep in thought. “I did always see the two of them alone with each other.”

Jungkook clears his throat as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

“We’re friends,” Jungkook says stiffly and he hopes it’s believable, despite his hoarse voice. “Friends hang out.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Or she’s a two-timer.”

This time, Jungkook can’t keep his face neutral.

“Talk about her like that one more time and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” He growls to the other boy, whose eyes widen in response.

“I was kidding—” He raises his hands in defense but Jungkook is shoving the remainder of his belongings into his duffel bag before hauling it over his shoulder and storming out of the room, ears burning in both frustration and anger.

“You don’t joke about this type of shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath right as he leaves the rest of the members brewing with confused expressions as they look at one another with concerned expressions.

Namjoon, as expected, is a museum enthusiast. That much you could assess when he was excitedly chirping about how much he appreciated all types of art, abstract, modern and contemporary and vintage—you name it and he could likely give you a break down of the nuances behind styles and techniques.

He is also great company. Namjoon is a comfortable line between involved and chivalrous, never pushing farther than what you were able to offer but engaging you in insightful discussions that you found yourself being intrigued by.

While you expected more … forward gestures, Namjoon is respectful and you’re surprised but not really. He was mannered encompassed into human form.

So, when the security guard informs you that the exhibition was over and that the two were the last guests in the hall—the two of you reluctantly had to bring your night to an end.

“That was fun,” Namjoon says once the two of you exit the hall, just two figures in the night who have thousands of words to say about the masterpieces you’ve witnessed.

“Honestly, I was already looking forward to it but seeing the pieces the art students curated in person was just another type of euphoria.” You confess.

Namjoon nods in agreement. “I totally agree. You can just tell that they’ve really dedicated all their free time to the work they’ve displayed.”

“Art is beautiful, isn’t it?” You mumble, eyes looking back to the museum as you grin up at Namjoon who’s already looking at you.

“Yeah.” He breathes, and the way he’s looking at you under the dim moonlight makes you irrevocably flustered. “Beautiful.”

You clear your throat as you shift on your heels, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t too apparent. The night was still wondrous, and you feel a type of comfort in Namjoon that you haven’t felt in a very long time. But there’s still a lingering thought in the substandard part of your mind that reminds you of doe-eyes and a bunny smile.

“Thank you for your time, Namjoon.” You say shy, fiddling with your thumbs.

When you find the courage to look at his face, he’s already beaming at you.

“No. Thank you.” He reassures. “I know you’re super busy so for you to find time out of your schedule to hang with a virtual stranger really means a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen, but then your face neutralises as you flush.

“I’m not that busy …” You mumble.

Namjoon chuckles. He doesn’t even snort or offer a sarcastic remark in response. He just acknowledges it with a kind smile and doesn’t comment further.

He’s different from what you’re used to. A challenge. A burst of rebellion that loved to roll remarks off his tongue.

You don’t want to think of him just yet.

“Regardless. You’re here. And I’m grateful.”

You nod your head lamely, clutching your bag into your chest (after relentlessly whining to Namjoon to allow you to hold it yourself when you felt a little useless).

“I should—I should head back.” You cock your thumb towards the direction of your apartment.

Immediately, Namjoon steps forward and is ready to head the same way you are.

“Let me walk you back.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“I’m not asking this time, ______.” He frowns.

You snap your lips shut. Though you did feel a little bad, it was late and the rational part of you knew that it was best if Namjoon walked you home.

“Okay.” You say softly.

Before you can begin walking, he tugs you by the elbow so gently, but firm enough for you to nearly stumble into his chest.

And he’s so tall, so you’re peering up at him with wide eyes as you gauge his nervous expression.

“I-I’m sorry if this is a little forward but—” Namjoon clears his throat. “W-Well I think—I really think you’re nice. And great. Like—good company, you know? So I’d r-really—I’d enjoy—”

You blink at him as he attempts to find his words.

“Namjoon.” You whisper gently, tugging the hem of his shirt.

At your gesture, his mind blanks but he remembers that you’re still looking up at him with a confused gaze.

“Okay. Fuck.” He whines as a giggle escapes your throat when he peers at you with an exasperated expression. “I’m not usually this much of a mess. You just make me nervous.”

“O-Oh.” You breathe, “I do?”

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know if it was obvious but I’m kind of into you.” He says softly, rubbing his hand over his neck.

You don’t expect it, not at all. So you can only muster gawking at him at his sudden confession.

“And you don’t need to—you don’t need to say anything about it. We can pretend like I didn’t just confess to you. We can just be friends.” He rambles, eyes wide. “I just wanted to let you know … yeah. So I really hope we can still continue to hang out even though you might think I’m a creep and I really didn’t offer to walk you home because I had intentions. Really just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You continue looking at Namjoon with wide eyes. Because you’ve never been on this end before. The one receiving the confession. You’ve never really given a confession either, and you try to suppress the bitter memories of the confession you tried to give Jungkook that wasn’t verbal but with your presence.

With you giving up certain parts of yourself for him so he could see you.

“Please say something.” Namjoon chuckles nervously.

“I—…” You choke. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We can pretend like I didn’t just say that.” He winces.

You shake your head. “No. No. It’s fine, Namjoon. Really.” You reassure him gently. “I really appreciate it … I just didn’t … expect it.” You finish lamely.

“You’re a very interesting person,” Namjoon tells you, lips twitching in an attempt to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

Interesting? You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone call you interesting before. Not outright, at least.

“I’m really not.” You say sadly.

Namjoon furrows his brows but doesn’t reach out to you further, his hands still remaining limp by his sides.

“Hey.” His voice calls out. “You are. You’re definitely one of the most interesting people I’ve met in my life.”

You blink.

“T-Thank you.”

He waves you off, gesturing towards where you gestured towards earlier.

“Shall we?”

And somehow, Namjoon has a way of making everything feel easy. Like a temporary space for you to feel safe, to feel wanted.

So why doesn’t your heart flutter?

553 notes · View notes

getofy · 4 years

Text

bakugo as your boyfriend would include...

request: what would dating bakugo be like?

gn!reader (but there are slight fem themes if you squint); fluff; headcanons; no spoilers

character: bakugo katsuki

a/n: this goes out to my one & only <333. ilysm deku kinnie pls enjoy! also, @ bakugo simps i hope this feeds u well. he’s sm fun to write for. headcanons + a short playlist are under the cut.

*ty to my bakugo kinnie/simp friend for helping me write this. i appreciate u. A LOT of these ideas r hers!!

FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM SOUNDS LIKE:

01. TEENAGE DIRTBAG by WHEATUS

02. GUTTER GIRL by HFHW

03. BOYFREN by LOVE LEO

04. IN TOO DEEP by SUM 41

05. TOUNGES by THE FRIGHTS

06. R U MINE? by ARCTIC MONKEYS

katsuki is a very emotional person. he feels incredibly deep and profound things, but has trouble expressing it in a healthy manner. this being so, him as your s/o would consist of a lot of subtle displays of affection! such as...

-> SHOWING YOU HOW TO DO STUFF:

he’ll teach you small things about his hobbies. will 100% show you how to play the drums, mountain climb, etc.

literally you learn so much with him it’s insane. he claims it’s because he couldn’t stand dating an incapable person, but in reality it’s just because he likes feeling useful/needed HAHA.

-> TOUCHING YOU:

this man is lowkey super clingy...so he will always find a way to be physically close to you.

a BIG fan of putting his arm around your shoulder fs. don’t mention it to him though because he’ll IMMEDIATELY stop doing it.

-> LETTING YOU SIT ON HIS LAP:

if you’re comfortable with it, he’d adore it if you sat on his lap!! like fr if you walked up to him when he was lounging on the couch and did it this is how it would go...

“what’re you doing?”

“sitting down, why?”

he just stares and then grunts before going back to whatever he was doing

don’t let his indifference fool you, he is very pleased.

probably looked up at the ceiling and thought about it for an hour once you left

he thinks about you a lot

-> ALWAYS COOKING FOR YOU:

he pretends like it’s a nuisance, but it genuinely makes his day when you eat the stuff he prepares. literally if you’re hungry just ask him to make you smth and he’ll do it. he actually gets angry if you decide to cook without him.

one time, katsuki seemed really tired because of training and school. so you tried to make something for the both of you guys to enjoy together. it uh...didn’t go well...

“what are you doing?!”

“cutting vegetables...”

“no. you’re doing it all wrong. give me the knife.”

“excuse me??”

“GIVE ME THE KNIFE.”

you ended up giving him the knife

the meal was great!?? but he scolded you for like 30 minutes after PLS.

-> SHOWING YOU OFF:

he’s proud that you’re his s/o, so of course he’s gonna brag about you to EVERYONE.

it’s not overbearing or in an annoying way either. it’s moreso him talking about your accomplishments and stuff like that.

he literally only shows you off for his own benefit. NEEDS everyone to know how cool you and him both are.

it’s an ego thing.

i take back what i said abt it not being annoying. it’s a nuisance to everyone who ain’t you.

-> SITTING NEXT TO YOU:

like i said before, he needs to be close to you at all times. sooo he always sits next to you. no questions asked.

expect to see a pouting, petty katsuki if you decide to sit next to somebody that isn’t him.

“are you seriously mad that i sat next to deku and not you on the bus?!”

“‘COURSE IM MAD.”

“you’re impossible.”

“HUH??????”

-> LETTING YOU WEAR HIS CLOTHES:

PRACTICALLY CHUCKS HIS SHIRTS AND HOODIES AT YOU. LITERALLY JUST- PELTS YOU WITH HIS CLOTHES UNTIL YOU PUT THEM ON.

you took his hoodie without asking ONE TIME and now he’s hooked on seeing you in his clothing.

he’ll always pretend like he’s doing you a favor though.

gotta love how annoying he is!

-> GIFT GIVING

i wouldn’t go as far to say that gift giving is his love language, but he’ll buy things that you bring up in causal conversation a whole lot.

he just kinda bashfully shoves the gift in your hands and watches as you fawn over it.

“awww! how’d you know??”

“you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

he loves seeing your pleased expression!! +100 boost to katsuki’s confidence.

-> HELPING YOU WITH ACADEMICS:

we ALL know how smart this man is.

he will 100% help you study for school if you’re struggling!

don’t expect him to go easy on you though.

if anything, he’ll probably be harder on you because he really wants to see you succeed.

he basically carries you through math

-> KNOWING MUNDANE FACTS ABOUT YOU:

i can see him knowing EVERYTHING about you. your birthday, your morning routine, your favorite snacks, your favorite songs, etc.

it doesn’t take a lot for him to remember this stuff either???

like, he thinks you’re unforgettable, so he just knows

-> WANTING TO IMPRESS YOU:

he wants you to know how cool he is so bad it’s laughable.

he’ll show off during training exercises FOR SUREEEE

bakusquad teases him abt it when he does lol they ALLL know how whipped he is for you

kirishima: wow, you’re really into it today bakugo!

denki: well (y/n) IS watching

bakugo: SHUT UP.

MISC HEADCANONS!

-> you enable him so much...like way too much. please get on that. someone needs to hold this stupid man accountable. he probably likes it when you scold him despite his protests so don’t be afraid to tell him off baby.

-> your approval makes his heart go $$/!/?!!!error??77776. like, even before you two started dating, he would ALWAYS feel flustered whenever you would compliment his outfits, fighting style, etc. now that you guys are dating, he still feels extremely dazed when you dote on him.

he’ll probably act super cocky about it though

“ ‘course i look good, idiot.”

he’s trying his best to suppress the stupid smile trying to take over his face. eventually, he lets it out, and tbh everyone in 1A knows that it’s because of smth cheesy you told him.

he is SUCH a softie for you it HURTTSSSS GAHHHH!!

-> katsuki is a very protective boyfriend.

this goes for everything, but especially applies during intense situations.

will literally lay his life down for you without thinking twice about it. don’t fight me on this. it’s canon.

if you’re going on a dangerous mission, you BEST believe this man is tagging along with you.

if for some reason he can’t go, he’ll make it a point to stay up way past his bed time waiting for you to come back.

when katsuki chooses you over sleep just know that you’ve won at life.

he doesn’t see you as inferior in any way. he knows you can handle yourself, but he really wants to keep you safe bc if something bad happened to the love of his life he would be in shambles.

on a lighter note, if mineta bugs you, he’ll absolutely wreck him. will literally punt that grape boy into the next stratosphere.

also!! he’s not the type to care about what you wear. if you’re wearing smth a bit more revealing, the most he’ll say is that you look hot. literally is so unbothered.

he trusts you a lot so it’s like 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

protective ≠ possessive

-> dates w/ him are super all over the place! one weekend, you guys will just chill in his dorm and the next he’ll be laughing maniacally as he chases you down during an intense round of laser tag.

-> he’s big fan of competition, so he’ll turn everything into one.

let him win.

-> his hands are really sensitive because of his quirk, so if you kissed them he’d turn to mush.

im literally begging you to touch this man. help him. he is so touch-starved it’s not funny.

-> he runs hot so cuddles w him are so nice and comforting :(. will pull you in close and tight and NEVER let go.

in short, while dating katsuki definitely comes with it’s quirks, it’s a beautiful relationship. he respects you endlessly and will do anything to ensure your happiness. treat him right and he’ll do the same!!

have fun dating explosion boy!

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit permission

back to navigation -> click here

masterlist -> click here

#my hero academia #anime #bakugo fluff #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #mha headcanons #boyfriend bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x y/n #bakugo katsuki x you #bnha #mha x reader

408 notes · View notes

helliontherapscallion · 4 years

Text

Shenanigans and Love (Adrenaline Junkie Part 13)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: the Warden, mentions of death, phantom pain syndrome, extreme fluff

Word count: 3,226

The light glow of the redstone lamp illuminated your work space. Currently, it was about two hours before everybody was due to wake up and you were hovering over your journal containing your notes on the Warden. Not much was known about the cave-dwelling creature, but you found a couple of books about it at the library. So far, you found out that it indeed didn’t have eyes; it navigated via a mixture of hearing and a vibration network found in the blocks that had the glowing tentacles on them (you now knew that they were called ‘sculk blocks’). The sculk blocks would pick up on movement or touch, it would send vibration waves through the air, where it would reach the Warden’s own sculk stalks. Without the sculk stalks on the Warden’s head, the Warden was defenseless.

You also read about the anatomy of the creature. Known juvenile specimens ranged from seven to eleven feet tall while adults spanned from twelve to a whopping twenty feet tall. While their average lifespan is unknown due to the parasitic nature of the beast, it is known that they are out of their juvenile stage once they are approximately twenty years old. Thinking back on the one in the cave, it was about twice as tall as you were. That was a juvenile mob and it’s probably grown rapidly since then. The thing that killed you so viciously was a juvenile. You shuddered thinking about what an adult could do.

Juveniles are charted to be more erratic in their decisions while adults were known to be calculating and alert. Known weaknesses were known to be the sculk stalks and the heart. It was going to be incredibly difficult to take it down by yourself, but if worse comes to worse, you’d gladly take the beast down with you. Just in case, you left behind a small will with things you were planning on giving to your family. You were going to leave your workshop and your blueprints to Arthur, your collection of diamonds to Tommy and Wilbur, your stock of netherite and gold to Technoblade, and your wealth and life savings to Philza. You requested that Philza take care of Arthur, you couldn’t ask for a better father figure to have than Philza. Only the best for Arthur. In addition, you had a letter prepared for every member of your family. They were still in their first drafts, but they were coming along fast. In them, you detailed how grateful you were for every single one of them and reminisced on your favorite memory you shared with them. You still had about a week and a half left before you planned on attacking the cave, but you always liked to have extra time to complete things.

Your alarm clock sounded with harsh, lazer like beeps before you quickly silenced it. You didn’t need Arthur or Philza waking up so early. Sighing, you hid your journal and letters under a false bottom drawer and gently closed it. You trudged up the stairs quietly and made your way to the bathroom to shower for the day. When you took off your prosthetic, you could feel the phantom pains shoot up your nonexistent wing. In addition to that, the feathered stump and the areas around it felt stiff. The warmth of the shower did nothing to alleviate the pain.

After your shower, you started to make breakfast. Soon after, the other members of the household filed into the kitchen with differing energies. Arthur, the hyper, knowledge craving kid he was, walked into the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his head held high while Philza followed him with disheveled hair and tired blue eyes. With breakfast situated at the table, everyone started eating. You continuously shifting uncomfortably in your seat didn’t go unnoticed by the two as they eyed you after they woke up a little more.

Finally having enough of your constant movement, Philza finally spoke up, “(y/n)?” You hummed, turning to look at him, “yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

You suddenly become hyper aware of your movements as you force your body to sit still. “Everything’s fine, why you ask?”

“You look a little uncomfortable. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

You sighed, “I’ll tell you later. Arthur did you have anything specific you wanted to learn today?”

His eyes shone with the brightness of all of the stars in the universe as he made quick work to swallow his mouthful of toast, jumping in his seat slightly as he chewed. “Yes! I was wondering if you could teach me how to work with comparators!”

“That takes a lot of time and patience to learn, we probably won’t get it all done by the end of the day today. Is that alright?” He enthusiastically nodded, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and running off with a mouthful of unchewed bread.

You could feel a slight worry stab your gut, “Arthur, swallow your food before you run! You could choke!”

You watched as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, vigorously chewed, swallowed, and resumed his sprint upstairs. You dragged a tired hand through your hair and sipped at your coffee.

“Ender, now I know how you felt with us when we were kids. Kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

Your dad chuckled, sipping at his own coffee. “He’s a lot more tame than you four were. Techno and Wilbur weren’t that bad, you were just a tad bit more chaotic, and well, you remember how Tommy was. You’re just way too worried about him. Kids will be kids, they do crazy things and sometimes you can’t stop them. After the couple months of adopting Tommy, I just let him learn from his mistakes. You gotta let them learn from their mistakes or else they’re never gonna learn. It’s just something all parents have to do if they want their kid to grow as a person.”

“That’s tr- wait, parent? Arthur’s my protégé, not my kid.”

He smirked over his mug and raised an eyebrow at you, “really? Cuz you seem awfully worried about him.”

“Dad. I’m just worried that he’s gonna accidentally kill himself. What, can I not be worried about my protégé?”

“No need to get defensive, just trying to point out the obvious-”

“The obvious? Dad, I'm only twenty. I’m not adopting anyone anytime soon.”

“I adopted Techno when I was twenty three,” he pointed out with raised eyebrows, “besides, I think you’d be a great parent. You’re already a parental figure for Arthur anyways, so nothing would change too much.”

You were silent for a moment as you stared at him blankly. You never viewed yourself as a parental figure type before. Your current lifestyle of never leaving your workshop would never be able to accommodate having someone that depended on you. You could hardly take care of a goldfish (you still had Bubbles’ grave in the backyard at your house in L’manberg), let alone an entire human child. Sure, you babysat Fundy when Niki was too busy to, but that was your nephew and it was only for a day at a time. You planned on taking Arthur with you back to L’manberg (only if he wanted to of course), but you didn’t think that far ahead. He was probably going to have to stay at your house. You weren’t cut out to be a parent, you wouldn’t be good enough for Arthur.

Philza, noticing your slightly panicked zoned out state, quickly reassured you, “you don’t have to make a definitive decision right now, you have time. Just- just consider it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to come to me. I think I’ve raised enough kids to know what I’m doing,” he chuckled to himself.

Your feathered wing dropped in relief as you gave him your best smile over your coffee mug. “Thanks Dad, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re a lifesaver.” Right after that, a particularly large burst of pain shot along the length of your nonexistent right wing and loitered in the area around the base of your wing. You bit your tongue at the sudden pain as you felt the muscles twitch.

“It’s no problem, I’ll always be here to help ya.” He smiled at you before his eyes snapped to something behind you. His smile dropped as he eyed you concerningly, pointing behind you. “Is- is it supposed to do that?”

You followed his eyes behind you to your prosthetic wing. The metal was twitching in sporadic bursts with varying intensity. You could hear the slight scratching of the metal clashing lightly against the wooden chair. Though it was very inconvenient, you supposed you should be glad that it was moving with the muscle impulses of the muscles you used in flight. Suddenly, you could feel a muscle directly on the base of your wing twitch as the metal moved in tandem with the impulse. The entire wing extended to it’s full length and knocked over the chair next to you. It stood erect for a bit before another twitch caused another spasm that worked its way throughout the length of your metal wing. This time, the wing reared back to your body and almost smacked you in the face. If you didn’t move, your eye would’ve probably been plucked out by one of the metal feathers.

Your flesh wing puffed up slightly in embarrassment as you turned to look back at the blond man in front of you, “technically? I mean, it’s just the sensors picking up on the twitching. I-I’ll get the chair.”

As you stood up, you grunted in pain as another spasm hit you. This time, your wing extended fully perpendicularly to your back causing the muscles in the base of your nubby wing to be pulled unexpectedly. Hissing, your hand shot to rub at the base of your wing. “Fuck that was a bad one.”

You heard the screech of wood on wood as Philza stood up and hurried over to you, dodging a couple of swings from your wing. His hands were hovering indecisively in front of him. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take it off. Just- hhh, just take the sensors off. There should be seven of them, all on my back and shoulders.” You bent over with your hands gripping the table with each spasm of your muscles. You could feel the fabric of your shirt being pulled slightly from your body and the warmth of your dad’s hand brushing against your twitching skin as he hurriedly ripped the sensors off your skin.

Once they were all off, the metal wing drooped limply downwards, occasionally being moved slightly when what’s left of the flesh stiffened. “Good, can you unfasten the belts? There’s three of them, they’re a little- ah, a little tricky. After that, carefully pull the metal out through the slit in my shirt. Make sur- sure the sensors don’t rip.”

You sighed when you felt the wing being taken off from you and pulled through the slit in your shirt. Slumping back down into your chair, you reached a hand around to nead the skin on your back. You could feel the twitching slowly decrease in intensity, leaving a sore feeling in its wake. Your wing was placed gently onto the table in front of you, some parts hanging off the side. “Goddamn, I haven’t had an episode that bad since I grinded out making weapons for the War.”

You could hear water running before a glass was placed in front of you and Philza picked up the chair you knocked over and pulled it up next to you. He started to rub circles around the muscles around your wing. You sighed in content, feeling the knots in your back being relieved, “thanks. That feels good.”

“(y/n)?” A small voice said from the doorway of the kitchen. You shot up and bit back a groan when your sore muscles were moved. The young boy was leaning into the doorway with his hands on the sides and his mop of brilliant copper hair hung downwards. He looked worried and slightly scared.

“Hey Arthur, we can start your lesson soon, I just need a sec.”

“Are you okay?” His wavering tone and small voice combined with the tears slowly filling his eyes broke your heart. Eyes softening, you stood up and walked over to him, pulling him into a soft hug. “Of course I’m okay, you don’t need to worry buddy,” you deepened your voice and spoke dramatically, ‘(Y/n) Minecraft the Great, Conqueror of the Unknown’ will never be taken down!”

He gave a watery chuckle against your shirt and burrowed his head deeper into your shoulder, gripping you tighter. You reached up to stroke his hair and wrapped your left wing around him loosely, shielding him from the world with a protective feathery barrier. You could hear Philza picking up dishes from the table and quietly start to do the dishes. Despite the occasional twitch in your back and the phantom pain shooting down your wing, you directed all of your attention to Arthur. Eventually, he pulled away and wiped at his blotchy face. “Are you still up for the lesson?”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth, Philza interrupted him from behind you, “you’re not doing anything until you feel better (y/n).”

“Dad, honestly it isn’t that-”

“Don’t say it honestly isn’t that bad, we both know that’s not true. You’re on bedrest for today.”

You grumbled to yourself as you stood up and handed your glass of water to Arthur, who sipped at the contents giving you a small “thank you.” Nodding, you were escorted out of the kitchen by Philza and ushered to the couch. Once you were laying down on your stomach, he handed you a book and placed a hot water bottle on your back. Before you could stop it, a pleased hum left your lips as your body relaxed on the couch. “You’re staying here. I better not find you anywhere else when Arthur and I come home.”

You lifted your head up and stared at him with an eyebrow raised, “where’re you taking him?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes lit up slightly before he put on his stern facade once more. “Just to the village. I need to pick up a few things.”

“And you need him why…?”

“Well, I can’t go without someone helping me! I’m an old man after all.” He started to nudge Arthur towards the door and slipped his shoes on.

“You’re only thirty six, but whatever. Arthur, be good for my dad.”

“Alright (y/n), feel better soon!” He gave you a bright smile before he was pulled out of the house by Philza.

You tried to read, but the nagging worry for Arthur in the back of your mind never allowed for you to be immersed in your book. You knew Philza would never let anything happen to him, but you couldn’t help but worry whenever Arthur wasn’t in your line of sight. You supposed that it was a part of being an avian hybrid; you needed to constantly know if the child was alright. You tried to force yourself to go to sleep, but the pain prevented you from doing so, so you ended up mindlessly watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Before you knew it, your eyes closed and you were put in a light slumber.

You were awoken by the front door opening and laughter filling the house. You cracked open your crusty eyes and groaned as you sat up. You looked at the two with bleary eyes. Arthur was laughing at something Philza said as the blond looked over at you. “Hey hun, you feelin better?”

“Yeah a bit. What’d you get at the village?”

“Just some things for dinner. Arthur, wanna help me cook?”

Arthur, being the walking ball of sunshine that he was, nodded vigorously and started to drag the older man to the kitchen. Furrowing your brow, you called out to them, “do you want me to help?”

“No, stay there. Don’t come in!” Arthur’s excited voice shouted back to you, making you raise a brow at his words. You couldn’t lie, you felt nervous at his words. Just what did he have in store for you? Occasionally, you could hear yelps and bangs, which made you want to go into the kitchen even more. But you held off, trusting Philza.

About an hour and a half passed before you were summoned to the kitchen by an overly excited Arthur. Once in the kitchen, you were in slight awe. Spread out on the table was your favorite meal with the addition of fresh cookies left to cool on the stovetop. “All this for me?”

They smiled at you as Arthur ushered you to your spot at the table. “I… don’t know what to say. I- thank you guys.”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Arthur’s idea. I just helped.” Philza looked over at the blushing boy with a smile.

You reached over to ruffle his hair, “well, thank you Arthur. You know me too well, these are all my favorites!”

The boy bashfully smiled at you, “there’s something else too, but that’s for after dinner.”

You put a hand against your heart, touched, “Two surprises in one day? Ender, you’re spoiling me!” Arthur laughed at you.

Dinner went by fast with light-hearted laughter bouncing throughout the kitchen. The dinner and cookies tasted amazing, your taste buds felt like they were in heaven. After dinner, Arthur drug you to your room with an excited Philza following you two. On your bed sat your wing, but it had colorful things attached to the surface. Furrowing your brow, you looked closer to find various magnets sticking to the iron surface.

They ranged from the nonbinary flag to small mobs to little puns (your favorite ones were ‘olive you’ and ‘bird puns fly right over my head’). You could feel your smile widening at every magnet you saw, your wing fluttering in happiness. One of the magnets made you stop completely though as you stared at it with wide eyes. It was simple, but oh did it make your heart sing in joy and your eyes fill with tears. On the magnet, in big, bold letters were the words ‘world’s best parent’.

“Arthur…” You looked at him through blurred vision. He looked nervous, looking anywhere but at you and shifting on the balls of his feet. You lunged forward and pulled him into a tight hug and wrapped your wing around him, making sure he was as close to you as possible.

Philza watched the exchange with a soft smile before he decided to let you two have some privacy. His heart was full of happiness as he walked downstairs to clean up the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his wings fluttering uncontrollably. He was ecstatic to officially welcome Arthur to his family. Sure, he had a small hand in leading Arthur over to the ‘world’s best parent’ magnet, but it was Arthur that picked out the magnet for you. He knew you were going to make a fantastic parent.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash4 @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @lestrangenymph @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado @laura--444 @wing-non @lovely-echoo @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @mysteryartisticwriter @momo-has-a-gun @misfortunatem00n @w-0-r-n-n @v-kouya @kusuinko @cheybaee @dulcedippers @jaciahbabes

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #mcyt x reader #platonic #reader is gender neutral #tw: the warden #tw: swearing #tw: phantom pain

336 notes · View notes

neoculturetravesty · 4 years

Text

We met in online class - Part 3

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language, drinking Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Happy birthday to Huang Renjun, the boy who lights up the world. Sorry for making him so angsty in this fic. Tried something a bit light for him on this occasion.

You’re embarrassed beyond belief.

You had expected maybe an awkward moment or two. But the look Renjun is wearing on his face as the two of you exit the restaurant is one that makes you queasy. You feel so bad. The poor boy had tried so hard to make this date special; and you’d done everything you could to make it cumbrous. You tried, you really tried to act naturally. But, everything about tonight had made your words get caught in your throat. The fact that he’d chosen your uncle’s restaurant of all places… the fact that he had prepared all that he had… the fact that he looked the way he looked tonight. All of it had you taken aback because you’d never been on a date this nice before. This boy had really put you off your A game.

Still, you didn’t like seeing him wear this expression. You weren’t sure what part had irritated him the most: that you kept fumbling over your words? He’d usually been kind and patient with you, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe his pride had been hurt by how it had ended? Renjun didn’t come across to you as a spiteful person but he had made so much effort on this date. Oh man, maybe he was angry.

To be fair, the poor boy hadn’t said anything since you’d left the table. Perhaps it was in what he didn’t say that you felt most embarrassed. You feel so terribly guilty, but walking out into the fresh air helps you get your act together. You stride ahead and grab his arm. You two needed a moment.

“Renjun, wait. I… I need to explain myself.” you begin but gauge his reaction first.

He turns to you and you can’t read the expression on his mask covered face. He doesn’t say anything, so he’s probably letting you talk. Whilst you can’t read him, you pull your own mask down so he would see you fully and understand what you mean.

“Renjun, I’m so sorry. When you texted the address, I thought about telling you to choose another restaurant. But I didn’t want you to think I was blowing you off or having second thoughts. I just… oh my God, I am so embarrassed and I just…” you take his hand in both of yours because you really want him to feel the sincerity in your words “... I’m so sorry. I just went along because I was really excited to see you… like this… on a date…”

Renjun is looking at the ground, like he’s weighing your words, or thinking about what to say. You wait for a beat, or two or three. But on the fourth beat, you say,

“Tell you what, this date doesn’t have to end like this. I know you didn’t eat at all, and honestly, neither did I. My apartment is just around the corner. Do you maybe wanna come over for some ramyeon?” you look at him, your eyes hopeful. You really don’t want him to be mad at you. Your stomach feels uneasy, and you’re pretty sure the French food had nothing to do with it.

“What, no condoms this time?” he finally looks up to ask and now, his eyes are smiling.

“Huh?” you begin but then your eyes widen as realization hits and suddenly, you’re much too aware of his hand in both of yours. You drop it right away and you’re blushing intensely when you say “No, no condoms this time. I mean actual ramyeon.” you cover your face with your hands because yes, you’re embarrassed, but also, you’re grinning because Renjun is teasing you again and you prefer it way more than his silence.

You hear the sound of his amused laugh and then feel his hands close around both your wrists, gently pulling them down. “I’d like that. Let’s have that ramyeon.” he says with a kind voice.

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath till you let it out and give him a relieved smile.

“Great! I’m actually really good at making ramyeon. Don’t be too surprised when all other ramyeons are ruined for you forever.” you say just as the valet brings your car around.

“Honestly, Y/N L/N, after our French cuisine extravaganza, I’m pretty sure I’d thankfully eat sand if you cook it for me well enough.”

You laugh because you’re happy he’s talking again. You get the sudden urge to hug him, because you’re thankful he’s giving this date a second chance. You don’t, though. You’re not sure how he’d react and you didn’t want to ruin the moment when it had only just turned around.

So you choose to hop in the car instead, waiting from him to get in and put his seatbelt on. You pause for a moment after he’s settled in and then you turn to him.

“I, uh… I didn’t bring condoms on that day because like, uh, I was expecting anything or whatever. I just, um, my… my roommate. She put it in my purse as like a joke.” you feel so stupid having to explain it but you feel like you need to because ugh, ugh, ugh.

Renjun is laughing silently and you get the feeling that this time he’s laughing at you.

“I mean, it was pretty forward for a first date. And you know, I’m not that kinda guy.” He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head, still laughing.

“Ughhh.” you bury your face into the steering wheel but it only makes your head honk the horn, which makes you jump.

“Hey…” Renjun reaches out his arm to touch your shoulder and you turn to peak at him, an embarrassed grin on your face. “I’m only kidding. But yes, the quality of my jokes is really going down because now I’m fully starving.”

“Say no more, Huang Renjun.” you say and put the car into drive.

It’s only a five-minute ride and you’re glad for it, because you really, really want to turn this day around. You just couldn’t have your first proper date end on such a sour note. You pull into your building’s garage and silently hope that you had everything you needed to make the perfect ramyeon. With Yeri stress-eating her way to her thesis, your stock would run out way earlier than either of you expected. If that were the case, you would have to very sneakily order some in; you mentally start to calculate how long it would take the grocery app to get you your stuff, given the time of day.

In your planning, you haven’t noticed that the two of you are already in the elevator and it’s Renjun’s voice that brings you back to Earth.

“You live in the penthouse?” he asks.

“Yeah. It was the only place they had available at that time. Super inconvenient. It was hell trying to move all our stuff all the way to the top.” you try to make small talk because the elevator seems to be going on and on. Why did you have to live so far up top?

“Okay, here we are!” you say as you lead Renjun down the hallway and unlock your door. “Um… do you mind if I like… spray you down? My roommate is kinda really particular about having people in the apartment these days…” you ask apologetically.

“Oh, no, absolutely. Do what you have to do.” Renjun says, a bit absentmindedly. His eyes seem to be going past you and towards your living room. You pray to the heavens that it wasn’t a big mess. You had modelled way too many outfits for Yeri before you had left the house.

“Okay, here you go.” you hand Renjun a pair of lounge shoes as he pulls his mask down. “Close your eyes, please. Yeri made this concoction with Lysol and sanitizer and God knows what else.”

Renjun closes his eyes obediently and stands in a T-pose and you can’t help but smile. By the time you’re spraying him, you’re fully giggling.

He giggles back and peaks with one eye open “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You’re just. You look so cute, Huang Renjun!” you almost squeal and fuck, you can’t stop giggling.

“Heyyy!” he groans and grabs the spray bottle from you and aims it at you. You shield your face with the backs of your hands while Renjun attacks you. “I’m not cute, okay? You’re the one that’s cute.”

“Okay, that’s enough! I think I’m as sanitized as I will ever be.” you squeal and start to move away but Renjun grabs your waist and sprays you some more. He’s basically drenching you to death, and it’s just as well, because your breath has once again been caught in your throat. He is close to you, too close. Suddenly, your heart is thumping in your chest and you wonder if he can hear it.

He notices your stillness, looks at you and pauses. Like he can feel the electricity in the air. Everything stills and your throat is dry, because your freaking breath won’t let out. You think you’ve forgotten to breathe; almost as if the Lysol is creeping down your airways. He’s holding your gaze and you can swear he’s moving closer. But your stupid throat won’t stop bothering you.

All of a sudden, your head turns out of it’s own accord and you’re clearing your throat into the abyss. Renjun straightens up, his hand leaving your waist. Dammit. Maybe it was all that damn Lysol that was choking you, after all.

“Let’s make that ramyeon.” you choke out, turning your back to him and heading in.

“Yep, ramyeon. Lets.” Renjun nods his head like you’ve said the most logical thing in the world. The two of you pretend like nothing even happened.

You lead him into the kitchen. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got soda, beer, soju.” you say as you open your fridge and do a quick inventory.

“I’ll just have a coke.” Renjun says and you nod. You grab a couple of cans and your ice box and set it down for him on the island.

“Have a seat because what you’re about to witness is pure magic.” you tell him as you grab your apron and suit up to impress the boy in front of you. Renjun runs his fingers through his hair and gives you an expectant smile and your brain choses that exact moment to tell you that your crush is at your place. For the very first time. And the two of you are all alone. You turn around before he can see you blush and you get to work.

“Those are big words, Y/N L/N. I hope you won’t be eating them. I’d much rather have you eat the ramyeon with me.” he snarks as he sits on the barstool on the kitchen island, sipping on his coke.

“Oh, I just love the cynics of my cooking. There aren’t many of them left in this world, so it’s nice to meet the survivors.” You mean business, so you’ve already tied up your hair and laid down your pots and pans. All the time you’ve spent watching Masterchef auditions has prepared you for this moment. You’ve put the noodles to boil and are already heating up a sauté pan. You throw in mushrooms and look up to see Renjun studying you in amusement.

“Damn, you’re not playing around.” Renjun says and you could bet money that he almost sounds impressed. “Hey, be careful with that.” his tone is one of worry now as he watches you chop up some more vegetables.

“I’m always careful, Huang Renjun.” you say as you work the chef’s knife across the bok choy, peppers, ginger and tofu. You throw them in the pan one by one, trying not to be too distracted by the fact that your crush was worried about you. “Can you handle a bit of heat?” you hold up the spicy sauce that Yeri’s mom would always bring for you.

“I can handle it.” he cocks an eyebrow and you grin.

“I’ll keep it mild because I don’t wanna take any more food risks today.” you laugh and add some broth to your noodles.

“That’s fair. It smells amazing already so my expectations have really skyrocketed, by the way.” Renjun tells you, licking his lips.

You grin as you set down two bowls. If the boy didn’t like you after this, then he was probably a really tough cookie to crack. “Honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’.” You mimic as you ladle in the broth over the noodles and start arranging your vegetables in the bowls. You slice your boiled eggs and mutter “Success!” as they come out to be the exact texture you were looking for. You top everything with some sesame oil and sesame seeds. You step back to look at your work. It looked like the most Instagramable bowl of noodles you’d ever created, if you said so yourself.

You lay some side dishes on the counter then proudly set your creation before the artist. If anyone knew how to appreciate aesthetics, it was probably him. You look up at him, expectant. Waiting for your result.

“Whoa.” is all he says, almost like he’s taken aback.

“I think this might be my magnum opus.” you say, nodding seriously as you sit on the barstool next to him.

“This looks like it came straight from an anime.” Renjun makes an impressed face and picks up his chopsticks. He takes a bite and for a moment says nothing. “Oh my God.” he turns to you.

“Oh my God?”

“Y/N L/N. You’re gonna have to marry me now. There is no other way around it.” he says deadpan.

You grin and punch the air with both fists like you’ve won a Michelin star, not just the Masterchef audition. “Huang Renjun, I don’t mess about with ramyeon.” You say and begin to eat. Your eyes close as you let out a satisfied moan because yep--you’ve really done well. To be fair, there was a lot riding on it. You had to perform well today, of all days.

You both eat comfortably and deeply, a striking contrast to how you’d eaten at the French restaurant. Renjun gives you more compliments as he eats and you keep grinning like an idiot, heart exploding with joy. At one point, you have to tell yourself to chill out, to not let a boy’s compliments make you feel so validated. But how could you not be on cloud nine when the boy in question is cute as fuck and you’ve just cooked for him for the very first time? So you just smile wide at him and hope he can’t see the hearts in your eyes or the victory in your attitude that you’ve really managed to turn this around. All the awkwardness from earlier seemed to have evaporated.

“Okay, Y/N L/N. You were right. This is the best ramyeon I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.” he admits and you’re way too happy to see that he’s basically licked his bowl clean.

“Oh man, Huang Renjun. I thought you were a survivor. But here you are, another cynic that I’ve managed to convert.” you say proudly.

“Yes. Here I am.” he smiles at you.

And there it is again. The electricity in the air. Because Renjun is holding your gaze and once again, you become much too aware of his proximity. Were your bar stools always this close? Maybe you had to talk to Yeri about remodeling this area. You’re turning toward him and he’s sliding off the stool, his eyes never leaving yours. He comes closer and your heart thumps against your ribcage again. Your mind is clouded by his perfume because he’s so close that your hands find home on his shoulders. You forget to think for a moment; your blood throbbing hot in your ears as he leans in.

“I’m hooome!”

The two of you jump, your heads turning in the direction of the loud voice. You turn back to look at each other, then you jump away from one another, almost as if the spell has been broken and you’ve realized how close you were and how dumb an idea this was.

You lament your luck. You can’t believe you’ve been cockblocked out of your first kiss with Renjun by your stupid roommate.

It was almost a week later that you heard from Renjun again. Not that you hadn’t really talked in between. If sending one another memes over Instagram counted as meaningful communication, then yes, you’d been in contact. But then a couple of days ago, he had texted you more than a full sentence:

“Hey! Remember the 127 party Donghyuck (Haechan) talked about? It’s this Friday. Do you maybe wanna go with me? If you don’t want to hang out with frat boys on your Friday night, I totally understand! We could hang out some other time.”

Sometimes, you really wondered if you had any sort of an inkling of pride within you at all, because you didn’t even wait another second to reply:

“You know I wouldn’t miss a single chance to hang out with Haechan. Text me the address and I’ll be there! (Also, what sort of a party is this? I don’t want to be underdressed like last time hehe.)”

Turned out the 127s were hosting some sort of an outdoor Sports Day, except with drinks a plenty so everyone would be knackered as they played. The setup reminded you of every ill-fated Sports Days you’d ever been to at school, except with a lot more booze than you remembered. The two of you had barely walked into the grounds when Haechan jumped in to greet you with the same unrestrained energy.

“My friends! The Coronial lovers! Mr. Huang Renjun!” Haechan had leaned in to kiss Renjun on the cheek but he had really skillfully dodged it, like he had predicted what he would do. “Ms. Y/N L/N.” your reflexes hadn’t been quite as quick as Renjun’s because you had ended up with a mask covered smooth on your cheek. It made you cringe and laugh at the same time. Haechan had very animatedly told you of all the games they had planned for today and had pushed you in, forcing you to mingle with the rest of the crowd.

Renjun was currently being swarmed by the group of rowdy boys and you were watching with an amused expression on your face.

“Embarrassing. Some people should just not be let out in public.” you hear a voice just above your shoulder. You turn around and chuckle.

“Hendery. Didn’t think you were the kind to kick it with the 127s.” you chuckle.

“Neither did I. They’re cool I guess. I like Haechan. More people need to be as shameless as him.” he comments, knitting his brows together.

You smile wide. “I like him, too. He really keeps everyone together, doesn’t he?” you muse as you watch the boy work the room (or playground), currently attacking everyone with more cheek kisses. “Hey, who’s that boy over there? The one in the blue-ish shirt?”

“That’s Kim Jungwoo. He graduated a couple of years ago but he keeps coming to these parties.” Hendery says, scrunching his nose.

You laugh and then let out a long sigh. “I don’t blame him. When I start thinking about life after graduation, it makes me want to fail my courses just so I could repeat them. The future is scary.”

He nods knowingly, then says, “Hey, speaking of which. I heard we’re going to be partners in the SMK Trainee Drive.”

Suddenly, you feel your belly do a summersault. Whenever your college hosted a recruitment drive, SMK was always the hardest to get in, especially for business majors. Not only was it super competitive, but people dreamed of getting chosen because it almost always guaranteed a job once you had graduated.

You blow air from your mouth and square your shoulders. “Wong Hendery. Let’s show them how it’s done.” you hold your hand up to give him a high five but he grips your fist with his and puts his game face on.

“We’re going to crush the competition.” He declares and you feel reassured. You felt way more driven with a partner than working solo, anyway.

“Hendery, don’t waste all your arm energy now, save it for the wrestling match!” Haechan interrupts, thumping him on the back. “Go find your team, we’re about to start! 00 liners, this way!” he says, throwing an arm around you and walking to your team. You look over your shoulder and give Hendery a thumbs up.

You join the 00 liners and look at Renjun amongst them. He looks the most uninhibited you’ve ever seen him. He’s smiling without concern and seems to be enjoying himself. You get the feeling that he’s surrounded by friends he trusts and it fills you with warmth. That boy deserved the world as far as you were concerned.

“Okay, team. Here we are. The moment of truth. We can sit around like a bunch of shmucks or we can leave this ground knowing that we owned this fucking school! So what are we gonna do?” he yells like a sports coach.

“We’re gonna stop being embarrassing.” Lee Jeno gives Haechan a death smile and Haechan thumps his chest.

“That’s right brother! Okay, first order of business. Everybody take a shot! No one enters the battlefield sober!” He gives his commander’s speech and passes around bottles of something. You’re not sure what it is but it smells strong.

“Down on 3. 1, 2, 3!” he yells and without thinking, you down whatever you’d been handed. You groan out as it hits and look up to realize that your groans are harmonizing with the others.

“Ohhhh yes! Now we’re ready! Okay, second order of business. We need an entrance song. I was thinking, Girl’s Generation…” Haechan goes on and you see that it has made Renjun laugh. You laugh along as Haechan makes the team learn the cheesiest dance moves. A boy in a headband you’ve never met seems to be fully into it; a few girls seem to be tagging along amused. Na Jaemin looks like he’s humoring his friends at best.

“Okay! Let’s get ittttt!” Haechan drags the last part and leads the charge towards the center of the ground for an arm wrestling battle. There is excitement in the air now, and you have a feeling that it has less to do with the match itself and more to do with whatever liquid courage Haechan had injected in everybody’s veins. You find yourself walking at pace with Na Jaemin.

“You doing alright there, buddy?” you ask him because the poor boy looks like he was once again dragged out here.

He gives you a kind smile “Yep. I’m all good.”

“Not really your scene, huh?” you ask empathetically.

“I mean, I’d much rather stay indoors but Jeno said I needed some fresh air. Renjun was going to stay in with me but he betrayed me last minute by deciding to be social.” He notes, throwing some kind of a look your way.

You give him an apologetic grimace. “Oh man, I’m sorry for ruining your plans. But where’s your girlfriend? Why didn’t you invite her?”

“She’s quarantining.” he tells you patiently.

“Oh no! Is she okay?” you look at him, almost stopping in your tracks.

“She says she’s mostly all the way okay now, though she still doesn’t have her sense of smell back. But I guess any day now.” he nods, looking ahead.

You look at this profile and your heart goes out to him. “Hey, I know of a place that’s making these really cute care packages for people that have been affected. They’ve got a super safe system of delivery as well. I can hook you up if you like. They’ve got the cutest things for you to choose from.”

He looks at you and gives you a genuine smile. “That would be great. She’s probably tired of all the soup I’ve been leaving at her doorstep.”

You give him a fond look. “Okay, cool. I’ll help you put it together and everything.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” he says before you are interrupted by a loud cheer because the first match has begun and it’s between the boy with the headband and someone else you don’t recognize. The match doesn’t last a full two seconds before the boy with the headband is defeated. Haechan plays up looking crestfallen and “lunges” at the opponent but is playfully stopped by Renjun and the defeated boy. You throw your head back and laugh out loud. You were maybe enjoying these dramatic antics a little too much, but also, it was nice to see Renjun letting loose like that.

Haechan is up next and is defeated just as quickly and you soon realize your team stood no chance. A couple more boys from your team go next and it’s a bloodbath. No matter how much you cheer your teammates on, they’re dropping like flies. By the time Na Jaemin walks up to the stand, you’ve all pretty much accepted your fate.

But then. Jaemin’s arm slowly starts crossing over the midline and then the 00 liners are on their toes jumping up and down, cheering on top of their lungs and before you know it, Jaemin has earned you guys your first victory.

“Go Nana!” you hear people scream followed by a chanting of “Superstar! Superstar!”

You cheer along and watch as Jaemin-the-dark-horse defeats two more opponents in a row. And when he earns yet another victory, the 00 liners are going berserk, with Haechan yelling “Victory shots!” making you guys chug down whatever drinks you’re holding. But that becomes your undoing because Jaemin finally loses to Lee Mark, a senior boy.

A few girls from each team have their go and there’s an uproar when it’s pointed out that the boys were letting them win. It’s a loud, drunken commotion now and you don’t realize it is Rejun’s turn till Haechan points it out for you and much to your amusement, he’s up against Hendery.

“Go Renjun! I believe in you!” you cheer at him as he takes his place.

“Go Injuniee!” Haechan yells and you all watch for a moment with bated breath; but as soon as the match begins, you’re all doubling over, laughing. Renjun is no match for Hendery and he knows it, which is why he’s taken the opportunity to turn this into a comedy show. You laugh as Renjun hangs onto Hendery’s arm and wiggles his legs animatedly. But Hendery holds his ground well and let’s Renjun put on a show for everyone before he puts some girth in his hold and flattens Renjun out in one. Renjun walks back defeated and you welcome him back just as dramatically, like he’s a soldier returning from war.

“You did well, Injunie.” you put an arm around him and tell him and he grins at you before he is swarmed by the rest of your team. Your opponents are declared the winners but you guys do your Girl’s Generation dance anyway and take more victory shots.

You guys have no idea how you make it through the rest of the day because by the time you’re on your last game (a strange relay race that involves complicated costumes and eating donuts hanging from strings), you’re stumbling and being rowdier than usual. You’re yelling at one another, trying to get Yangyang (as you’ve learnt is the name of the boy in the headband) in his many legged costume but it is more complicated than usual because none of you are in your right mind. You, in fact, don’t remember the last time you got this drunk... Yeri would be proud.

There is more commotion and many more arguments over what the actual finish line is, because by the end, even the self-appointed referees are knackered beyond belief. You don’t know how it happens but all of a sudden, Kim Jungwoo has been declared the winner of tonight, though all the games you played were in teams. But this funny result is agreeable to everyone because Jungwoo is being tossed in the air and being presented with a mini beer keg. Turns out, there wasn’t much that college students wouldn’t celebrate... if you’d put enough drink in them.

You find yourself jumping up and down along with the rest and you don’t realize that you’ve stumbled till Renjun catches you and you’re smiling at him so widely. You’re pretty sure your face is flushed a bright, drunk color because Renjun is looking down at you with an amused smile.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You alright there?” he asks and you loop your arms around his neck till you’re basically hanging onto him.

“I’m having the best time ever, Injunie.” you tell him but your words are coming out all sloshed so you try to make yourself clear. “Best time. Best time. Why does it sound so funny in my mouth? Best time. Best time.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows but his smile keeps growing. “Okay, time to take you home.”

“Nooo, Injunie, but Haechan was going to show me how to make his death cocktail and I have to help Jaemin make a package for his girlfriend and I’ve made a new friend and her name is Lia and I can’t leave now!” you whine at him, grabbing a fistfull of his hoodie. Damn, why do your words keep sloshing around in your mouth like that?

Renjun loops an arm around your back and starts walking you “Okay, you can just take a quick nap at home and then when you come back you can do all of those things, okay?”

You consider his words and realize that your eyes were droopier than usual. “You’re a genius, Huang Renjun. I guess I could take a little, itsy bitsy nap.”

The next thing you know, you’re in the back of a cab, your head resting on Renjun’s shoulder. He feels so nice and warm and you feel so damn comfortable. You cuddle closer to him and turn your head to look at him just a bit. “I’ve got such a bad crush on you, Huang Renjun.” you tell him and you see his head snap in the direction of your voice and you want to keep talking to him but your eyes are closing again.

When you wake up in the morning, you have no recollection of how you got back home but Yeri’s making you her hangover tea and telling you how proud of you she was.

306 notes · View notes

tetsvhoe · 3 years

Text

AFRAID | HAIKYUU FILO SMAU

MASTERLIST | PREV | FIN.

#25 i almost love you

– oh ayan onting backstory chaka redemption arc kay aiko baka may maka relate

– omg finally chapter di ko na to hahabaan basta thank you so much for the support and the laughs! this was my first ever smau and series i hope you all enjoyed and i hope to see you in my future works!

– wag niyo kalimutan si anak ni imelda at anak ng mafia boss, ha? :(( <3

taglist | anitwt

@mirakeul @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe @szeonn @banananaa4 @stffychn @vvvselfindulgence @devilgirlcrybabiey @knmsapplepi @duhsies @littlemochi @mikeystomanjacket @noitsmrleorio @agasheeee @roanniee @softsakusas @your-girl-mj @hello0i @crustycookiebestie @shanthesamurai @naviation-xx @sciophobia @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @bakugouswh0r3 @aizameow

iwaizumi shuts his phone off with a faint click, throws his head back against the headrest and shuts his eyes. he feels lightheaded, hands clam around his phone and the steering wheel subconsciously. was he always this nervous to talk to you? he can’t remember the last time he’s seen your face, the last time since he’s heard your voice. he misses it so much it makes his heart clench.

he lets out a long shaky breath as he wills himself to open his eyes, peer out the window. the club lights pulse faintly in the darkness of the night, he hears the faint music and clamor of club goers. the team’s last reply was from roughly an hour ago. he shivers thinking how he managed to cut the drive time in half and thanks the heavens for the mostly barren roads he drove through.

he can only imagine how everyone must be hammered by now. the “demonic hour” as they collectively dubbed 3:00am, is nearing. the demonic hour is when ushijima starts speaking in english considerably louder than his usual stern yet soft spoken voice. bokuto slouched against his seat, arms over his chest, passed out and snoring steadily. atsumu and sakusa may start swapping personalities soon, osamu and suna are talking about extraterrestrial life, and hinata is probably stumbling on the dancefloor holding in the urge to puke. iwaizumi also fondly recalls your friends, how kiyoko would be sleeping on top of the table, god forbid someone tries to wake her. alisa would be flirting with someone’s girlfriend, and tendou making everyone take “shots” of water, nearly falling off as he laughs at their muscle memory reactions as if they are still taking a slug of alcohol.

and of course, his mind wanders to you. how you slur your words and swear you’re not that drunk. you gauge each miniscule action and word carefully in an attempt to prove to everyone you’re sober, but it only gives you away so much more because you’re moving in x0.75 playback speed. he catches himself smiling at the mere thought and blushes though he’s alone in his car. the demonic hour turns you to an angel, quite ironically. you’re poutier than usual and throw a hissy fit at iwaizumi when he refuses to get you lugaw or mamiin the middle of the night out, not like he can resist your pleads for long anyway. you can’t keep up with the usual playful banter anymore and flirt terribly.

the thought of some other man finding you during your demonic hour flings iwaizumi out of the driver’s seat and he’s marching into the club before he knows it. it doesn’t take long for him to weave his way in and navigate your group, and the scene he finds is exactly as he imagines, but where are you?

“ten, ten, saan siya?” he shakes tendou into sobriety. he peers up at him with dazed eyes before grinning widely upon recognizing iwaizumi.

“oy, tangina mo! ano ginagawa mo dito?” the red head laughs. “‘di ko sure lumabas daw siya saglet.”

the rest of the group slowly registers iwaizumi’s presence, greeting him with clumsy high fives and fist bumps and “ba’t andito ka, kupal?”, “late na late na ba’t humabol ka pa?”, “akala namin di ka pwede ngayon?” and he returns each greeting half-heartedly as he constantly searches for your shadow in the crowd.

suna teases iwaizumi’s panicked state before pointing out you might have gone outside for a smoke. a sour feeling brews in his stomach; how could they have let you gone alone, why weren’t they sure where you went? but he saves the frustration in favor of finding you as soon as possible.

he all but runs outside through a back door near the bar which leads to a terrace overlooking the parking lot. his whole body stills as he sees your back turned to him, the heavy metal door creaks to a close, letting the loud pounding of the club music fade. he half expects to see you barely able to hold your weight with your own legs or with another guy, probably why he was so worked up in the first place, but you were alone. you seemed sober enough. it scared him even more.

as if feeling his presence, you look over your shoulder. iwaizumi debates turning on his heel and making a bee line for the exit, back to his car, and driving another hour or so to manila, but he’s frozen in his place.

you offer him a small smile, motioning for him to join you. “hayop ka anong ginagawa mo dito, ha? nag-drive ka pa, eh late na late na.”

iwaizumi is hit with the realization that in all that time he was driving alone with his thoughts, he didn’t even think of all the things he wanted to say to you. his head was simultaneously full and empty, there was just you.

“ikaw kasi kani-kanino ka nagpapa-picture. akala ko pag-papalit mo na ‘ko,” he manages to blurt out, yet you don’t miss the way his remark lacks the usual sass and playfulness.

“tama naman. ayoko na sa’yo eh,” you laugh, glancing over your shoulder to catch his scowl and an ad-libbed curse. your features soften when you notice the seriousness in his features as he stares into the nothingness ahead. you’re about to ask him if something was wrong when he sucks in a sharp breath.

“ako gusto ko sa’yo,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes meeting yours.

“what?” you laugh nervously, suddenly hyper aware of the way your heart hammers against your chest, of how you get a whiff of his usual perfume because you’re so close, the dark circles under his eyes, the distraught etched on his furrowed brows.

“i said i like you,” he repeats louder and firmer.

“i know what you said, i’m not sure i understand—”

“i like you, fuck i… i don’t know why it took me this long to say it to your face, but if i’m being honest, i was just afraid. i still am, but between being afraid of my own emotions and being afraid of fucking this up, i am actually quite fucking terrified of losing you more than anything else,” he rambles in one breath, words trembling but intense. it knocks the air out of your lungs, and you don’t know why tears start lining your eyes. “i might… even be falling in love with you fuck—”

“haji…” you whisper, body turning towards him like a magnet. he lets out a breath he didn’t know you were holding, oh how he missed you calling him that so soft and endearingly. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for you to finally grow the balls to say that,” you chuckle, almost bitterly. “but i don’t know how to go about with this anymore.”

“let me set things right. i know we did things out of order, but i want to make us work,” he pleads, rough hands coming up to softly stroke your cheek with his knuckles.

your lips form a tight-lipped smile. he knows you’re about to ramble and finds it adorable. “i’m… i’m not so sure anymore, this is more complicated than i initially thought. w-what about the distance? haji, i’m not built for long distance i—”

iwaizumi grabs your wrist and pulls you against his chest. a strong arm wraps around your waist, his other hand holds the back of your head. you can feel both your hearts beating harshly against your chests, your cheeks heating up while you relish his embrace.

he places soft kisses onto your temple, whispering. “don’t worry that pretty little head of yours too much, there’s no rush. i’ll wait for you for as long as it takes. maghihintay ako.”

your eyes flutter open, light seeps through your vision and iwaizumi’s blurred figure slowly becomes clearer. he’s sat on an office chair, pulled right next to your bed. he watches over you with a soft smile.

“good morning, tomador.”

“tangina mong manyak, kanina mo pa ako pinapanood matulog?” you yawn, stretching your arms and limbs. did he not sleep at all? If he did, that shabby office chair couldn’t have been comfortable in the least. “akala ko ba babalik ka rin agad sa manila, akala ko umalis ka na kagabi.” you sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. the clock reads 6:07am.

iwaizumi tilts his head to the side as he eyes you, a small smile tugs at his lips while you glare at him. “cute mo pala pag bagong gising,” he remarks. “gusto ko lang siguraduhin natatandaan mo pa ‘yung kagabi.” he stands up, pushing the chair back and walks over to cup your cheeks.

“oo naman, tanga. ‘di naman ako lasing kagabi—”

“ano sinabi ko?”

you blink back, stunned. you know what he means, but suddenly can’t get the words out of your mouth.

“hm? akala ko ba natatandaan mo, anong sinabi ko sayo kagabi?” he smirks, squishing your cheeks together in his hand.

“uh… s-sabi mo ano, gusto mo ako.”

“gusto lang?”

“baka… sabi mo baka mahal mo na rin ako,” your ears burn up as the words leave your mouth, you attempt to look away but iwaizumi jerks your face to look at him smirking menacingly at your flushed state. “chaka ano pa?”

“sabi mo mag hihintay ka, ‘yan okay na! tangina mo,”you pry his hands off and attempt to close in on yourself by hiding behind the strands of hair that fall over your face.

“good girl,” he chuckles. “una na ‘ko, ha? tawagan nalang kita mamaya, tulog ka ulit maaga pa.”

you nod wordlessly, still avoiding his gaze. you watch his retreating figure, but he halts right in front of the door. he looks over his shoulder, “bye, i almost love you,” and winks.

summer didn’t last a hundred and four days, not this time. iwaizumi came to visit you a few times over the course of barely a month and a half of vacation. you managed to make it work for until then. he was even more busy tending to documents and requirements for his fourth year on top of helping his mom and grandmother, but he made time for you. he always did.

you both made adjustments to accommodate the distance. regular phone calls, curt text updates, movie marathons on discord, sometimes with your squammy group of friends. some things stayed the same, the regular cussing each other out, the snide remarks, the usual roasts. except this time, days end on an “i almost love you” note.

as you’re running late for your first day of third year, you realize barely anything has changed. and when you run out of the house, hopping on one foot as you tried to stuff the other into your shoe, you see iwaizumi parked outside of your house, leaning against his car, and twirling his keys on his finger, he manages to make your world come to a standstill once again.

“good morning, anak ng mafia boss. late na po tayo, bilisan mo na dyan.”

just like that, you’ve come full circle.

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu filo smau #haikyuu filo au #haikyuu college au #filo!iwaizumi #filo!iwaizumi hajime #filo haikyuu #filo iwaizumi #filo iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu filo #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #[ archive ]

95 notes · View notes

thestorycfus · 3 years

Text

The Sweetest Apparition - Part 3

Pairing: Peggy Carter x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and historian who specializes in the life and legacy of Captain Carter. After Nick Fury uses the Tesseract to bring Peggy back, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts the reader to help her navigate life in the XXI century.

Warnings and notes: Food, mentions of Steggy, mentions of Stucky, very small mentions of war. Other characters are also mentioned. This got way longer than the first two parts, but there’s also way more Peggy here. This series takes place after the last scene of What If… episode one, including spoilers to that episode. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Word count: 2,304

Series Masterlist

It should be a short walk to your apartment, but you made a small stop each time Captain Carter was curious about something. You also got some take out on the way, making sure to pick at least four different options from separate places and a couple of desserts too, since you didn’t know her taste yet. It was a while before you made it to your street.

During the entire time, your chatting was limited to safe topics - how loud and bright the city was, how many screens there were, the amount of coffee options that existed now. You watched Carter fall in love with her caramel coffee and made a mental note to buy her more sweets.

Soon, the Captain would also need to go shopping. Fury had gotten her the formal white blouse and the black pants she wore now, an outfit much more discreet than the uniform she was wearing when she fell, but that was her entire wardrobe at the moment. That was another mission you should handle, but it could wait until after lunch.

When you finally got home, you placed the food over a kitchen counter and gave Carter a quick tour of the apartment. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would be enough for both of you until she was more familiar with this century. The tour ended where it started: in your tiny kitchen. You pulled a stool for the Captain and presented her with the options for lunch.

“I suppose you’ve never tried some of those, so I got a few different meals. Burritos, sweet and sour chicken, calzones and Pad Thai. For dessert, there’s lemon tart and triple chocolate cake. I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Peggy took a seat and examined her options. You wondered if that would be, technically her first meal since the 40’s.

“They are all tempting, but I might start with this one.” Her eyes were fixated on a burrito as if it was the Holy Grail. Yeah, that was surely the first time she ate in seventy years. She dove in, so focused on her meal that you didn’t dare to interrupt. Meanwhile, you took the other stool and picked a calzone, eating it while you watched Carter.

You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that she was really here, and it was surprising that you hadn’t completely freaked out so far, but the prospect of the rest of the day started to worry you. The Captain would certainly have a lot of questions and, if there were inquiries that Fury left for you to answer, they probably pertained more to her personal life than to great historical events.

If the registers about her were right, it wouldn’t be long before the real conversation started. Peggy Carter was too smart to have such a debate in the middle of the street, but she wasn’t known for stalling. As soon as she finished her meal, in the privacy of your (now shared) kitchen, you would have to provide about seven decades of answers.

Before you could try to prepare yourself, she was done with her second burrito. You almost suggested dessert, but the look she gave you left no room for pauses. Carter turned on her stool to face you directly, her posture becoming straighter and her eyes never leaving yours. She was the perfect image of Captain Carter, the hero, the legend who defeated all odds. Still, when she spoke, there was softness in her voice.

“The meal was lovely and so is the apartment. I can’t thank you enough for you kindness, Agent L/N, but I must ask a few things more of you. If you have studied about my life, you must know what happened to Steve Rogers after I was gone.”

You should be ready for that. Of course her first personal concern would be about Rogers. His story with Carter went down in history as a tragic tale of love, bravery and loss. To his last days, Rogers had made it his mission to honor her legacy, but that wasn’t all that he did. How do you tell a person that the love of her life went on to live a decades long, fulfilling relationship with someone else, even though, from her perspective, they were together the day before?

“Please, call me Y/N. And you can ask anything, Captain. I will tell you everything I can.” You took a deep breath, going through the words in your head in search of the best way to let her know. It was best to keep nothing out. Carter deserved that. “Steve Rogers continued to serve as the Hydra Stomper until the war had ended and all known Hydra operations had been eliminated. After that, he stepped out of the suit so that Howard Stark could continue his research with the Tesseract. I believe neither of them ever gave up on bringing you back, but, in many ways, they also moved on to build new lives.”

You made a small pause, in case she wanted to say something, but Carter only gave you a nod, encouraging you to continue. It was impossible to look away from her eyes, or to keep anything hidden when she stared at you with such intensity. Even in silence, sitting still, she emanated a power that kept you talking.

“A few years after the war, Rogers and Stark started an intelligence agency to keep the world safe from threats we could barely understand. They named it S.H.I.E.L.D., because of you. That is the agency I work for, directed by Nick Fury.” There was something poetic in the way that same agency ended up being the reason Peggy Carter was back, but it wasn’t your place to point that out. “Rogers never stopped fighting, even without the suit. He was a legendary agent, working along with James Barnes until they retired. They were also together for the rest of their lives.”

That was the piece of information you feared would break Carter’s heart, but she had a bright smile after hearing that.

“That suits them. All of them.” The joy in her voice sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but ask.

“Were you and Rogers… Together? It is said so in the official files, but…” In your studies, you sometimes wondered if their relationship was just a myth, maybe a publicity stunt to humanize the fallen super soldier. It was your job to question the data, but you had never paid that possibility much attention until now.

Instead of being offended by your invasion of her privacy, Carter laughed so lightly and freely that you felt your cheeks getting warm.

“Oh, darling, Steve Rogers had a heart too big to have only one soul mate. He was the love of my life, yes, and I was the love of his, but not the only one. A love so beautiful and dedicated is supposed to be shared. Of course I’m sad I didn’t get to share the rest of his life with him, but I’m relieved to know that he and Bucky had each other. And that’s not to say I’m a being of such virtue that I’m above jealousy. I felt jealous of Steve alright, many times, but I could never be jealous of him with Buck. They fit well together and they were good for each other. They were real, just as Steve and I were. Steve deserved to be loved through a lifetime. I’m grateful that he was.”

Carter’s eyes shined with tears, but she didn’t allow any to fall. Maybe she would let herself grief for the lost possibilities later, but for now she was handling such an emotional journey with more elegance than you thought possible. It didn’t seem to be an act at all. On the contrary, what touched you the most was the honesty in her words. That selflessness of being genuinely happy to hear of how her soul mate lived on without her, in love with someone else, told you more about Peggy Carter than any history book ever had. And that’s how she reacted right after being thrown into the next century, coming directly from a war and landing in a world she didn’t recognize.

“I don’t think history ever made you justice, Captain. The general public thinks of you as a hero, but they’re so far from knowing the person behind the suit... You know, it’s very nice to meet you.” You couldn’t help but sharing a bit of what was on your mind. To that moment, your hero was turning out to be even better than your daydreams, and it was only fair to let her know so.

At that, she gave you a big smile and your heart skipped a beat. You would have a hard time sharing an apartment with this woman.

“You are far too kind to me. To be honest, they never showed much interest on me, suit or not, until I went against official orders and started throwing tanks around and fighting the battles that needed to be fought. I am more concerned about what I am able to achieve, regardless of how they will see me. And there’s no need to call me Captain, Y/N. Heavens, we live and work together now and you’re my guide to modern life. Peggy is fine. And it’s nice to meet you too.” She took the initiative to get a slice of chocolate cake, already making herself at home. You had the feeling that her adaptation to this world wouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered. Peggy Carter would take whatever she was given and make more of it than anyone imagined possible.

“As you wish, Peggy. Speaking of that, there’s a lot I think you’ll like to see about life now. What else are you curious about?” You took your own slice of cake, trying to feel at ease in this conversation. You couldn’t be on high alert whenever Carter was around if she was going to be around all the time, but that was easier said than done. Your responsibilities here were enormous and, to be frank, you were determined to be your best self and impress her, even if just a bit. Maybe telling her about the wonders of nowadays technology would do the trick.

“I am curious about everything. I can’t wait to know all about the development of science, or what I missed in seven decades of sociopolitical turmoil, but there’s one more person I’d love to hear about before we get to that. You mentioned Howard moving on with his life, didn’t you? What exactly was that little menace up to while I was gone?”

Now, that was a rich topic of conversation.

“Well, Stark continued his research with the Tesseract and with many other projects, sometimes along with the US government, and he built a billionaire empire. Weapons, all sorts of technology, wild parties. The man had everything. He has a son, Tony, who inherited the tech, the money and the brains, but with a stronger inclination to heroism. You see, Tony Stark built himself a supersuit, partially inspired by his father’s Hydra Stomper, but with a larger variety of uses. It’s said that Steve Rogers was a sort of mentor to him, but I couldn’t get Stark to talk a lot about it when I interviewed him.”

You couldn’t tell which part made Peggy more excited. She nodded along as you listed Howard Stark’s achievements, as if it was all expected, and her eyes got wider when you told her about his son. When you mentioned Rogers, she almost jumped in her seat. She was already invested, but dropping that name sealed the deal.

“Fury gave me this.” She took two business cards out of her pocket. “It has his telephone number and Barton’s too. Could I use your telephone to call him? I would like to meet this Tony Stark, and I bet Fury would be able to reach him.”

Giving Director Fury a call from your cellphone felt strange, but how could you deny Peggy that? If the Director gave her the number, he wanted her to be able to reach him, right?

Instead of dialing yourself, you showed Carter how to use the phone. She looked like a kid on Christmas whenever she was given access to new technology. You would make sure she got a cellphone of her own soon so you could show her everything the device could do.

She called Fury and you waited as they talked for less than two minutes. Peggy handed you the phone when she was done, with a smile that said she got what she wanted.

“So, what did the Director say?” You asked, anxious to know the outcome of the call.

“We’re meeting Tony Stark tomorrow at 2pm in his tower. Was it him who named it Stark tower or is that Howard’s doing?” She narrowed her eyes a bit, still smiling.

“The tower was built by Tony, so I think we can’t blame Howard for that one.” You joked. “Are you meeting Fury at S.H.I.E.L.D. before you two go to Stark’s?”

“Oh, Fury is not going. He booked the meeting for you and me, if you would like to accompany me.” Peggy sounded hesitant, as if she had just considered that you might not want to join her on that plan.

"You’re asking me if I wish to be there when Captain Carter meets Tony Stark? Please, if I didn’t get the chance to be a part of that exchange, I would beg you for a detailed retelling as soon as you got home.”

Your reply made Peggy laugh once more, and you were getting used to that sound very quickly.

#peggy carter #peggy carter x reader #peggy carter imagine #peggy carter x you #captain carter x reader #captain carter #what if #what if spoilers #marvel #peggy carter m #marvel m #m #the sweetest apparition series

93 notes · View notes