#no bleach Saturdays so here is a thing i made

[rukiadriedhisrain]

original

#bleach #my edit #shuhei hisagi #kaname tosen #lilynette gingerbuck #coyote starrk #no bleach Saturdays so here is a thing i made

[steddieas-shegoes]

always you

wanted to wish @rozzieroos a very happy birthday! you've been so supportive of me since the beginning and it makes a world of difference to someone who is always just a bit nervous to share the things they write. i am unfortunately not a very crafty bitch, so i can't return the friendship bracelet favor right now, but i hope this is a nice little sappy gift for ya! sending you big hugs and all my love 💕 - mickala

rated t | 1,324 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, the most miniscule hurt and almost entirely comfort, boys in love, side platonic stobin stuff but robin isn't technically there

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Steve always had an adrenaline crash after a visit from Robin. The first time it happened, Eddie was convinced they would have to move to Boston just so Steve could get out of the funk. Luckily, they figured out what to do after a couple of days.

And every time it's happened since, they manage to get him out of it pretty quickly.

But this time seemed worse, and Eddie wasn't sure why.

As far as he could tell, everything about the visit was normal. Robin came for a long weekend, they all went to dinner together the first night, Eddie had to work on Saturday so Steve and Robin had their fun together. Sunday, they all went to brunch together before dropping her off at the airport.

And Steve was fine! That evening he was cooking dinner and dancing to music while Eddie wrote some notes for a campaign he was running with work buddies. They ate together and Eddie did the dishes while Steve went through his nightly routine of locking up.

They even gave each other blowjobs in the shower.

But this morning, as soon as Eddie opened his eyes and smelled the bleach, he knew it was bad.

He sat up and looked out the open bedroom door.

"Fuck."

He got up quickly, throwing on the closest pair of pants he could find, probably Steve's since they felt baggier than his own, and made his way down the hall to the bathroom.

Steve was on his knees, scrubbing the shower like it personally offended him.

"Hey sweetheart, everything okay?" He asked hesitantly.

"Fine," Steve answered, clearly very far from fine.

Eddie sighed and sat on the closed toilet lid. "Stevie, it's okay if you wanna have a sad day. I know it's hard when Robin goes back home. I'm off today so we can just relax in bed if you want."

Eddie would never tell Steve that the reason he was off was because as soon as he knew when Robin was going back home, he'd requested the day off to be here for Steve.

"I don't need a sad day. I'm fine."

"Yeah, that's why you've scrubbed the shower until it's literally sparkling at way too early in the morning," Eddie reached out and covered his shoulder. "It's okay to miss her. I know it's hard."

Steve stopped scrubbing.

Eddie prepared for what was likely to be a very ugly and loud sob.

Steve turned to him with his lips quivering and eyes watery.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie said as he got on the floor with Steve and pulled him into his lap. "It's gonna be alright. We're gonna visit her next month, remember?"

"I know," Steve said against his shoulder, voice wobbling like he was still holding back tears. "I just don't wanna keep doing this."

"What?"

"I hate being so far from her. We were supposed to live close enough to see each other every weekend and have sleepovers and now she's in Boston with her girlfriend who is amazing, and I'm here with you and you're amazing, but I miss her. And I know she misses me." Eddie could feel tears soaking his shirt. "And it's stupid that we're so codependent still, and I feel bad that you probably feel like you're not enough."

"Sweetheart, I don't ever feel that way. I've never felt that way. Have I made you feel like I feel that way?" Eddie tightened his grip around Steve.

"No, not really," Steve shrugged. "It's just I know we're a lot. And I know it sometimes probably seems like I need her more than I need you, but I don't."

"Sweetheart, I know that." Eddie kissed the top of his head and smiled. "You're a package deal. I knew that the moment you kissed me in the hospital room. I was getting Steve and his platonic soulmate Robin, or I wasn't getting Steve at all. I know how important she is to you. Don't you think she's important to me too?"

"I guess," Steve shrugged again, sniffling against Eddie's shirt.

"Well, how could she not be? She helped make sure you stayed safe before I was there to protect you. She knows exactly what to do when you have nightmares, taught me everything she could so I could be there for you. She sends me tapes she thinks I'll like when she sends you care packages. She was the second person I ever came out to! "

"Wait, I thought I was the second person you came out to."

"You were the third. She was a practice run when I saw her staring at the young nurse who checked my vitals the day I woke up. She's the one who told me I should tell you," Eddie nudged him away for a moment so he could look down at him. "I wouldn't be on this floor with you five years later if not for her. She's kinda important to me."

"I just hate that I get like this!" Steve finally said. "I hate that this happens every time. It's not fair to you."

"Love, it's okay. I know how to help." Eddie kissed his forehead. "Go ahead and wash your hands and go get back in bed. I'm gonna grab a book and we're gonna cuddle for a bit."

"But-"

"And then!" Eddie continued, louder. "We'll get pizza delivered for lunch even though we shouldn't. We'll call Robin. We'll take a bath. I'll wash your hair. I'll make us that roasted chicken stuff you like for dinner. It'll be perfect."

"Okay."

"And then-"

"There's more?" Eddie could hear the smirk in Steve's voice even though he'd buried his face against his neck again.

"Of course there's more." Eddie poked his side. "And then we're gonna start talking about moving closer to Boston so we can visit her more than three times a year."

"Eds, we can't afford Boston."

"I know. But we can afford New England if we find the right spots. We'll have her send us some ads for places for rent. I can transfer within the company. You're a teacher, you can work anywhere."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is so easy. Making you happy is the easiest thing I'll ever do."

"But you have to be happy too."

"I will be. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I'll still have you. And let's be honest, it's way more likely that one of the New England states is gonna let us get married before fucking Illinois."

Steve chuckled. "Married? Who said anything about getting married?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention? I planned on spending the rest of my life with you."

"I know that, goofball." Steve let out another genuine laugh. "I just didn't think you'd ever wanna actually get the law involved if they ever let us."

"Steven, I don't involve the law, the law involves me."

"I don't think that's how it works, babe," Steve kissed his neck before pulling away. "I think all that sounds nice though."

"Then hop to it, Harrington! We've got a bed to get back into."

Once they settled in their bed, Steve curled into Eddie's side while he opened the book they'd been reading for a week now, he looked up at Eddie with a soft smile.

"I love you a lot, you know?"

"I know, angel. I love you a lot more," Eddie replied, leaning down to kiss his lips softly.

They'd spend the day exactly as Eddie said they would.

They'd find a place only two hours from Robin and move less than a month later.

They'd get married as soon as it was legal for them to do it.

They rescued a dog.

They even adopted twins.

And every single time Steve wanted to see Robin, they packed up the car and went to visit her.

Because Steve had Eddie, and Eddie had Steve, but they both had Robin.

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #idk i just think we should appreciate robin's place in THEIR relationship more #like you're tellin me she doesn't latch onto eddie too??? #you're tellin me eddie and robin aren't thick as thieves??? #please

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You find more comfort in Bradley's home and in his arms than anywhere else. But time is ticking down, and only a win by the Angels on Saturday evening will give you more of both. Bradley tries to make a compelling argument, because he knows it's finally time to start speaking his mind.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, oral and smut (18+)

Length: 7600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

You woke with a small jump as soft lips and a bristly mustache met your cheek. "Bradley?" you mumbled as his deep chuckle next to your ear made you shiver. When you started to push the covers off and open your eyes, you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

"I'm leaving for work, but you should stay in bed. You deserve a day off."

Now you were looking up at him standing next to his bed in his khaki uniform with all of his pins and his name tag. And he looked so good, you knew you were staring. It was almost startling seeing him like this when you were so used to all the Padres shirts and snug fitting jeans. Most of the people in his life were probably more used to this look. The Lieutenant Bradshaw look. But it was rendering you speechless. 

"Can I come to work with you today?" you asked him, earning another chuckle. Spending the day at his house doing your laundry, relaxing and eating everything in his refrigerator sounded actually pretty perfect, but you'd just rather be doing all of that with him here, too.

"It's not Take the sports writer you're completely infatuated with to work day."

Now you were the one laughing as you set up in bed and reached for him. "When's that day? I'll make sure I'm off."

He kissed you sweetly as his hand found your hip. "I think it's in April."

You were giggling against his smiling lips when he suddenly groaned. "I need to go. Text me if you need anything? Or if you just want to distract me?"

"I will."

"See ya, Ace."

When you heard the front door open and then close, you rolled over in his bed and buried your face in his pillow. Then you squeezed it to your body. Bradley smelled incredible, especially since you were so used to the sterile bleach scent of hotel bedding and the stale air of ballpark press boxes. You wished you could bottle this up and take it on the road with you. Take a little bit of Bradley wherever you went. 

Before that thought could take further shape, you climbed out of his bed and shivered in just his TOP GUN tee shirt. Since he told you to make yourself comfortable, you allowed yourself to root around in his dresser drawers in search of a pair of socks. Your eyes caught on the frame of his mirror hanging over the dresser, and you smiled at your reflection as you reached up and touched the ticket from game one. It was the media pass he won from the radio program, and you traced the corners of it before you sat on his bed and put on a pair of his comically large socks. 

It was early, but you were hungry, and you found a fully stocked refrigerator when you went to the kitchen. Bradley's home was a treasure trove of things that were normal for other people but not for you: bedding that smelled like heaven and a delicious assortment of fresh food. You pulled out a container of berries and then found oatmeal in his cabinets. Your stomach was growling loudly as you poured yourself some coffee from the pot he left out for you. 

You sat on his living room couch with your breakfast and looked out the window. It was probably always this sunny here, always this inviting. Bradley's cottage was easily five times the size of your apartment, which you rarely thought about beyond it being a place to hold all of your things that didn't really matter. You didn't have time for stuff; just the clothes on your back and your computer. 

When you finished the last bite of oatmeal, you felt tears in your eyes. You were so lonely. You were so tired of forcing yourself to work harder and harder to make up the deficit between yourself and your colleagues. You just wanted to hide here, in San Diego, with Bradley. You felt safe and desirable, and he wasn't yelling at you or telling you that you needed to go to Boston.

You took a deep breath as you went to the kitchen sink with your bowl and mug. There were a few other dishes there, so you washed everything for him and set them out to dry. It had been years since you hadn't done at least a little bit of work on a day off, so you went to get your computer out of his bedroom. But it smelled too good, so you carried your computer back to his bed and snuggled in where you could work on the beginning of your next article before the game tomorrow afternoon. 

Your inbox was completely filled with offers from recruiters with other newspapers and online outlets. You knew some of them would send you a job offer in an instant without even asking you to interview with them. Some of them had even managed to corner you when you were on the job; they knew your schedule as well as you did. You were always sent to the most high profile matches and events. And while some aspects of what they were offering you sounded very enticing, you were already at The New York Times. 

After you took some deep breaths, you deleted all of them and opened up a blank document and got to work. But you didn't get far before you closed your laptop, because writing baseball stats was a lot more fun when you were sitting on Bradley's lap. You decided to text him.

How's work?

Then you remembered he told you that you could check out his collection of baseball cards in the garage. You jumped out of bed and walked down the short hallway, peeking in the extra bedroom on the way. You opened one door, but it was just a linen closet which he actually had organized by color, which you found charming. The next door led you out to the small, attached garage which was also very tidy. You looked at everything on his shelves before you found some boxes that said Nick Bradshaw- Baseball Cards. The marker was very faded on the cardboard, so you slid the first one down very carefully.

When you carried it back inside to the living room, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand. Once you set the box down, you saw that you had a new message from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Work is not as fun as playing hooky with you. What are you up to, Baby?

You took a selfie with the box of baseball cards which you assumed had belonged to his father. You added the caption 'About to dig through these and swoon all over your living room.'

The collection was impressive to say the least. You didn't collect cards, because you didn't have the time or space for them, but you knew which of his were valuable when you looked through them. You thought about how much fun it would be to organize these a little better with him. Your phone was vibrating again.

Bradley Bradshaw: You look gorgeous. Send me another picture?

You sent him another selfie, and then he asked for another one. This game went on and on until lunchtime when you decided to mess with him a little bit. 

Now send me one, and you'll get something sexy in return.

He didn't respond immediately, and you figured he must be busy. You made a sandwich for lunch and ate it with some potato chips. Then you found his washer and dryer in a little closet across from the bathroom door and started a load of your dirty clothes. And then you got ready to get in the shower. 

Your phone vibrated on the sink vanity, so you grabbed it before you stepped under the spray of hot water. And you almost dropped it when you saw a set of two photos of Bradley out in the bright sunlight in his uniform. In the first one, he was wearing some aviator sunglasses and smirking. In the second one, the sunglasses were gone, and he was smiling. 

"Fuck," you moaned as you looked at the photos, making sure you didn't get your phone wet.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now where's my sexy Ace?

Before you could tell yourself what a big mistake you were making, you snapped a photo of yourself, water cascading down your breasts and a grin on your face. You sent it with the caption 'You look so good in those aviators, I'm about to start touching myself.'

You were standing there thinking about it. Your nipples were hard, and you were thinking about the scratch of Bradley's mustache on your skin. But his next message had your hand pausing before you could touch your clit.

Bradley Bradshaw: Jesus Christ, Baby. How am I supposed to focus when you send me something that good? Don't you dare touch yourself. I want you dialed up to eleven for me when I get home.

And now you were a whimpering mess as you tried to shower without letting yourself get off, wishing you had brought some sexy underwear on this trip with you.

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

Well now Bradley was a mess, thinking about your body while he was supposed to be listening to a safety demonstration out on the tarmac. Why had he bothered to come to work today? He should have taken a second day off and spent it with you. 

But you were leaving soon, and that was why he decided to try to keep to his normal routine. And you were exhausted whether you thought so or not, so he wanted you to have time to relax and unwind. 

"Hey," Nat whispered, nudging his arm. "You okay?"

Bradley sighed and nodded, and then he held up his phone with a photo of you with the baseball cards for her to see. Nat pushed him a little further away from the group and hissed, "She's at your house? Are you insane?"

"Nat," he started, running his hand through his hair. "I know-"

"No, I don't think you do, Rooster. You're going to get your heart broken."

He nodded and looked down at their feet. "It's already unavoidable at this point. And she makes me feel so good."

His best friend sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know you're supposed to come to the Hard Deck for Mickey's birthday tonight, right?"

His plan was to bring you along, buy you a few drinks, maybe dance to the horrible collection of songs in the jukebox with you. "Yeah," he replied. "I'll come if she wants to join me, but I don't want you giving her the stink eye all night."

She scoffed. "I'll be perfectly nice to her."

Bradley shook his head, starting to get pissed off. "Will you though? See, the thing is, I'd like to think that I'm not the only one headed for some heartbreak here, Nat. I'd like to think she feels the same way I do. Like maybe I'm too good to be true, too. And maybe spending time with me now is worth the pain later."

Her face softened immediately. "You are, Rooster. You're too good to be fucking true. I promise I'll be nice. At the Hard Deck and next week if you want to talk about it then."

After that, Bradley just left early instead of hanging out on the tarmac with the others. He skipped the showers since he'd barely even done anything today. Then he could get home sooner and see you and just shower there. When he climbed in the Bronco, he texted to let you know he was on his way. And then he sat there with his key hovering next to the ignition. 

You'd be gone by Monday morning. This was the only time he'd ever get to tell you he was on his way home to you. More than anything, he wanted to know if you were falling in love like he was. He wanted to know if there was even a tiny part of you that wanted to stay. 

Ace: Hurry! I'm making dinner. And you should keep those aviators on when you get here... I'm dialed up to eleven.

He shoved the key into the ignition. He was pretty dialed up as well, but he knew it was at least in part because his heart was invested. He lived so close to base, it only took him a few minutes to get home. When he reached to remove his sunglasses and leave them in the cup holder, he smiled. Then he dashed up the walkway to his front door with his keys in hand and his aviators perched on his nose.

You were right there when he walked inside, wearing one of his favorite tropical print shirts and a pair of his socks and a bright smile. His house seemed more inviting than it ever had before. It even smelled like you were making something delicious. And then you were in his arms, and his hands were inside the unbuttoned shirt all over your soft skin.

"I missed you. Been thinking about how good you look in this thing all day long," you moaned, running your hands up and down the front of his uniform shirt. "But the sunglasses make it magical."

"I missed you, too." Bradley kissed you as your hands made their way slowly down to his pants. "You had me dialed up all day and I wasn't even with you." He wanted to ask you so many questions right now, but you were kissing his mustache and bumping his sunglasses with your nose while you wrapped your hand around his cock and started jerking. And then he couldn't remember anything except how happy you made him.

When you sank to your knees in front of him, Bradley yanked his aviators lower on his nose. You were smiling up at him as you yanked his pants down a little lower and licked away the bead of his precum before you kissed his tip. "Why is this so hot with you in your uniform, Lieutenant?"

Bradley groaned loudly as you took a few inches of him with a smirk. "Why is this so hot with you in my shirt and socks?"

You popped him free and giggled. "All my clothes are in your washing machine. Even my underwear."

"I love that for myself," he grunted as you took him deep. With gentle fingers, he stroked your face as you gave him head in his living room. It was like some depraved housewife fantasy, the way you felt so familiar to him. The way he could smell dinner cooking. The way you bobbed your head and moaned for him.

You sucked on his balls and ran your tongue slowly back and forth as you looked up at him. You had one hand wrapped around his length, and you were touching your tits with the other. Your gaze was the neediest thing he had ever seen as he stroked your cheek. Every time you released him, he groaned for you, and then you just started sucking on him again. He could feel himself tightening up as you kissed his balls and whimpered. 

"Fuck," he growled, hauling you to your feet and getting his lips back on yours as you gasped in surprise. "I wanna fuck you."

"Please," you gasped, nodding and looking toward the couch. 

He shook his head and lifted you up with both hands on your bare ass. "In my bed, Ace." 

"That's even better," you whispered, sucking on his neck and raking your fingers through his hair. "Your bedroom smells like you. I love it in there."

"Fuck," he grunted again, his cock slapping against your ass as he carried you to his bed. And then you were on your back with your head on his pillow as he took off his aviators and tossed them down next to you. His shirt was hanging open on you, and his socks looked ridiculously adorable on your feet, and your legs were spread wide, your pussy already so wet for him. "You are the hottest thing I have ever seen," he announced before burying his face in your pussy and making you scream his name. 

"Bradley!" you screeched and gasped over and over again as he got his face all wet from you before bringing his lips up to yours for a kiss. His uniform pins were brushing against your breasts and you were grinding your pussy against his cock. 

"Shit," he gasped, pulling your lip between his teeth and releasing it. "Where are the condoms?"

"In my suitcase in the hallway," you whimpered. "Skip it if you want. I have an IUD."

And if Bradley thought he was losing his mind ten seconds ago, it was nothing compared to letting himself slip inside your warm, wet pussy with no protection at all. "Ace," he rasped, watching your face as he pushed himself deeper until your back arched off the bed. He fucked you with his hands on your hips until your legs were shaking. You had your hands all over his face, continuously pulling him in for kisses. 

"You feel so good," you gasped, running your feet along his thighs.

He pressed his lips to your ear and asked, "Are you getting close for me?"

"Yes," you moaned, reaching for his hand and drawing it up to your lips. You sucked on his fingers for a few seconds, taking him painfully close to the edge, and then you pressed his fingers to your clit. 

He worked in quick strokes, listening to the sounds you made as you got louder. When you pulled him closer for more kisses, he indulged you before he said, "I wanna watch you come for me, Baby."

And then you did. You came apart with his fingers on your body and his name on your lips. Your face was beautiful as you gasped and babbled nonsense as your pussy drained every drop of cum from him. You were perfect as you reached for him and said, "Now you better kiss me."

You and he had your lips all over each other for so long after you both caught your breath that he was surprised and delighted all over again when he started to pull out of you and remembered he came inside you.

"You're blushing," you whispered as you looked up at him on his knees between your legs.

His cum was slowly oozing out of your opening and dripping down to your ass. "Baby, if you could see what I see, you'd understand." He was transfixed. Obsessed. He leaned down to kiss your pussy and taste himself there, licking along your skin with a soft grunt. 

You propped yourself up on your elbow and tugged him by his hair, and he just knew you wanted to taste it, too. So he kissed you, letting you suck on his tongue. Then he jerked away from you and turned toward the door.

"Is something burning?"

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

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Bradley said for the hundredth time as you sat on his couch with him eating pizza. "This isn't as good as yours would have been."

You just laughed. "Seriously, this is probably better. I'm not great at cooking. I was just trying to impress you."

Why exactly, you weren't sure. What difference did it make to Bradley if you could cook a chicken casserole that was good or not? He wasn't yours to impress. You weren't going to be here past Sunday night at the very latest, and that was only if the Angels won game six tomorrow. 

"I'm impressed," he replied, his cheeks a little pink again.

"Yeah," you said, trying to push your feelings to the back burner. "I could tell how impressed you were with me in your bedroom."

"That's not what I meant," he said, looking down at his lap with a frown that made your heart ache. You tossed your pizza crust into the box and climbed on his lap. You and he had taken a quick shower together after he called in a pizza order, and now you were both in your own clothing. 

You kissed him and tried to change the subject. "What time are we leaving for the bar?" you asked. 

When he met your eyes again, he said, "We can go whenever. And we don't have to stay long. Just long enough to say happy birthday to my friend and have a drink?"

You could hardly believe he wanted to take you with him. His friends would want details about who you were and why you were together, so you would just follow his lead. 

It was a short drive in his cool Bronco to the bar, and he sang along to the radio and held your fingers laced with his the whole way. And then he paraded you inside with him like it was the most natural thing the two of you could be doing. "That's Mickey, the birthday boy wearing the blue Captain America shirt. And that's my best friend Natasha wearing the annoyed expression because someone is talking to her."

You laughed, and he leaned down to kiss you as you walked toward the pool table. As you walked past the bar to meet everyone, you noticed the bartender's gaze following you and Bradley as you went. Her expression was one of curiosity as she mixed a drink. 

"Ace, this is Nat," Bradley was saying, and you turned in time to grasp hands with the woman that he referred to as a 'mean little spitfire'. 

"It's nice to meet you," Natasha replied. She didn't look happy exactly, but she didn't look like she was upset that you were here. "I've heard a lot about you."

You looked up at Bradley, a little surprised. "Oh. I've heard a lot about you, too. Bradley said you're smarter than all the guys."

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. Yes, I am. Thanks for acknowledging it, Rooster. You two want drinks?" she asked. 

"Go ahead," Bradley replied. "We'll get some in a minute."

"Hey, Rooster!" Mickey shouted as he waved in between taking shots. 

You laughed. "I don't know if I'd ever get used to everyone using your call sign," you told him. "It's so amusing to me."

Then Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in closer. He kissed your forehead softly, but he looked serious. "If you stick around in San Diego, I bet you'd get used to it, Ace."

You swallowed hard as you looked up into his brown eyes. You could tell he was being sincere, which made everything hurt a little more. But you were saved by the group of guys all calling for him. Bradley sighed and kissed your forehead one more time before you and he were absorbed by the group. 

A few minutes later, your head was swirling with names and faces when Bradley asked, "Do you want me to get you a drink?"

"I'll come with you," you told him, and he nodded before taking your hand a little hesitantly. You were confused, because then he wrapped his arm around you just like he always did, and his fingers were softly stroking your side through your shirt. But then when the bartender turned your way, it clicked. She and Bradley had slept together before. You could just tell. 

"Hey, Bradley," she said, already reaching for a pint glass and pouring what must have been his usual beer. The way she looked at him and talked to him was just a tiny bit too familiar. 

"Hey," he grunted before turning your way. "What do you want to drink, Baby?"

You met the bartender's eyes and couldn't help but smile as Bradley brushed his lips along your temple. You weren't his, but he was choosing you right now. And it felt incredible. "I'll have the same thing," you told her before turning your face so he could kiss your lips. 

Bradley dug out his wallet without really looking at her, and she ran his credit card as you sipped your beer. He wasn't being a jerk, and she didn't seem overly jealous, but you just knew they had a past. 

Then the two of you threw some darts and played some pool, and Bradley was more than happy to point out that mini golf was probably your worst game. "Happy to see you can handle a pool cue better than a putter," he whispered with a grin.

"Be nice, or I'll leave my golf ball behind at your place," you replied. 

He looked a little sad as he shook his head. "I want you to keep that." You knew you would, and he knew you would. You could picture the perfect spot for it in your apartment, but you already knew it would never make it there. You'd keep packing that stupid blue golf ball from your date with him in your luggage and take it everywhere with you. 

"Can we go now?" he asked suddenly, his face a little sad. "Back to my place?"

"Yeah," you agreed, and after a round of goodbyes, he led you back past the bar with his arm around you. The bartender tracked your movements, but you didn't care. He was yours right now, the way he was touching you. 

And he was yours when you got back to his house, the way you were touching him. "Ace," he sighed as you rode him in his bed. His body was delicious, but his voice was what had you a mess. "Baby, you're so good. Can't get enough of those little noises. Keep going." The feel of him once again inside you without a condom as he verbally coaxed you to orgasm was only part of what you knew you were going to miss. 

Because the rest of it came next, when he was curled up with you in the dark, quiet room, his arm draped around you, pulling you close. The only sounds were his breath next to your ear and his deep whisper. "Night, Baby."

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

"Stay in bed," Bradley whispered again. It was Saturday. Game six was this evening, and he was trying his hardest to draw you back to him again. He had successfully made you snuggle in and fall asleep with him again after the first time you woke up.

"You'll mess up my sleep cycle for when I'm in Boston," you murmured before you snuggled against him with the covers pulled up to your chin. "But you're so warm."

Bradley indulged in a brief fantasy where you would fly out to Boston, complete your assignment, and then fly back to San Diego to be with him until you had to go somewhere else. And you'd be here when he got home from a long deployment. Ready to take him to bed and hold him just like this.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked as you ran your nails along his cheek and kissed his nose.

He couldn't tell you, no matter how much he wanted to. "Thinking about how I'm still the worst Padres fan ever. The Angels better win today. We deserve seven games, Ace."

"We do," you agreed, and Bradley was delighted that you fell asleep in his arms again. 

When you and he finally got out of bed, you went to his dresser and pulled on one of his tee shirts like this was a normal occurrence. "Will you let me make you breakfast?" you asked with a smile.

"I was going to make breakfast for you," he replied, patting your ass on his way to the bathroom. "But we could make something together."

You were already in the kitchen, kneeling on the countertop and looking in his cabinets when he came out of the bathroom. "Do you have chocolate chips?" you asked. "We can make chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, maybe some oatmeal. Sorry, I'm just so excited for something other than a free continental breakfast."

He wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you down as you squeaked. "Not up there," he whispered, kissing your neck as he set you on the floor. "In the pantry."

You turned and scampered across the kitchen, and now Bradley was sincerely hoping he had all the ingredients you'd need for pancakes just so he could make you happy right now. "Found them!" you announced, holding up a bag with a smile that made him weak. 

"Let's get started." 

It was too much fun being with you. The pancakes you made turned out beautifully, and you and he ate on his couch again. This time he accidentally dripped maple syrup on his bare abs since he wasn't wearing a shirt. "I feel like you did that on purpose so I'd either buy you another shirt or lick it off of you."

He smirked. "I mean, I wouldn't be mad if you did."

You sighed dramatically as you set your plate on the coffee table next to the box of baseball cards. "Fine. Extra large shirt? You want the Padres this time?" Bradley laughed at your words, and then you leaned down and licked him clean as you looked up at him. Then you climbed into his lap and kissed him. 

"The Angels better win tonight," he murmured against your lips. "I need them to."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" you asked, and he carried you there, expecting maybe some more tongue exploration. But what he got was you curling up in his arms again, your lips pressed to his chest. You were quiet for a bit before you asked him softly, "What would it be like being in a relationship with you?"

This was an echo of his question from Thursday night, and now he could appreciate that he had really put you on the spot then. How could he describe something spectacular that he wasn't going to get to experience with you, in a way that would make you remember him fondly. Bradley made sure his breathing was calm and even as he said, "Probably just like this, Ace. A whole lot of this right here."

You didn't say anything for a long time, and you kept your face buried against him. But eventually you nodded and said, "I would like that."

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

When Bradley held your hand during the game at Petco Park, everything seemed a bit more somber today. The press box was quieter than usual even though the crowd was going crazy. During the seventh inning stretch, when you leaned in close and kissed his cheek, Quincy turned around and asked, "You bring him to every game now?" as he nodded at Bradley. 

"He's my intern and my sex slave, Quince. And that's strictly on the record." 

But Quincy was undeterred today even as you and Bradley laughed quietly together. "Heard Greg was thinking about pulling you out of here early to send you to the Bruins? He only pays you so much because you're useful to him. Being a woman and all."

Bradley watched your head snap to face Quincy with a look of barely concealed rage. "Try not to cry too hard over the fact that I make more money than you even though you're twice my age." 

Quincy grunted and muttered, "Same old, same old with you. Always gotta be on top. Always gotta get the last word in."

Bradley watched you press your lips together like you were trying your hardest to not have the last word right now. It was obvious that wasn't why you made it as far as you had. It was also obvious Quincy was trying to bait you. Bradley just felt a little bit bad that he could be used as ammunition against you. "You want something to drink, Ace?"

When you nodded, Bradley stood and went to get you a water bottle. "Thanks," you muttered, looking down at your keyboard as he handed it to you. 

"Hey, don't let these assholes get to you," he whispered as he slipped back down into his seat. 

He was drawing little shapes along your back with his fingers as you looked up at him in surprise. "I don't fucking care about Quincy.... the Padres are up three to zip." You laughed sardonically. "You know I'll have to leave in the morning if they win, right?" you asked him.

Bradley nodded. He couldn't even say the words out loud. So he focused on the game and held your hand tight. The Padres were using their relief pitcher a little early, and he looked fatigued. His pitches were wild, and he was walking batter after batter. Then right at the top of the eight inning, Bradley heard the crack of a perfectly hit ball. 

"That's a grand slam," you whispered before the ball was even beyond the fence. Instead of marking it down on your stat sheet, you tossed your pencil aside and kissed him. "Angels up by one run," you said against his lips. 

"They need to hold the lead," he replied, letting his forehead rest against yours. "They need to. I don't care who wins the World Series, but they need to do it in game seven, not game six."

His words made you smile so much, he wrapped his arm around you to keep you as close as he could. And when the final score was the Padres with three runs and the Angels with four, you were practically on his lap. You were even smiling when Greg called you a minute later to tell you to get to Boston first thing on Monday morning after game seven on Sunday night. 

"I'll have to book my flight," you said to Bradley as everyone started to flood out of the press box ahead of the crowd. "But we have two more nights together instead of just one."

You and he were quiet after that, your fingers laced together as you walked out to the parking lot and rode back to his house. He didn't feel like he needed to rush right now as he unlocked his front door and followed you inside. You pulled him in for a kiss that was so sweet, he was surprised. Just your arms around his neck and your lips moving gently on his. 

"We have some time before my midnight deadline. Can we get changed and snuggle in bed like earlier?" you asked him, your eyes closed as your lips hovered near his. "I want to change into your Padres jersey."

Bradley had goosebumps on his skin as he whispered, "It's your Padres jersey now." 

You looked so damn pleased with yourself as you ran toward his bedroom, shedding your clothes on the way. Bradley undressed down to his underwear while you did the same and then slipped his jersey on before heading for his dresser. "Your floor's cold," you mumbled as you grabbed a pair of his socks and put them on before jumping into his bed. "And now I look ridiculous."

Bradley shook his head as he stared at you. He'd been holding back enough, and he just didn't want to do it anymore. "Nah, Ace, you look... like everything I want." 

"Bradley," you whispered, pulling his blanket up over your face. "You can't."

He slipped in bed and burrowed under the blanket with you. Your eyes were bright as you looked at him in the dim bit of light. "I can't help it," he replied, and you eased yourself into his arms. "There's nobody like you. You're the Ace for a reason."

"God," you whimpered, kissing his lips and his cheeks, and teasing your fingers through his hair. Your palms were warm on his cheeks as you traced every single scar and the curve of his lips. You ran your nose along his mustache, and you just snuggled closer and closer to him. "I can't think straight when I'm with you. It's like, I feel like I could..."

"Like you could what, Baby?" he begged. He needed you to finish that sentence, but you didn't. You just kissed him until you were the one begging and pleading. It was so easy to give you what you wanted right now, because he wanted it, too. He yanked his underwear down and pulled yours to the side, and when he slipped inside you, he watched you pull the blankets down. And now he could see you a little better, and you really were exactly what he wanted. 

It was slow and sweet, and he knew he'd never feel this good with anyone else. He didn't want to let you go. He held your thigh on his hip and rocked into you, thrusting as he thought 'stay, stay, stay'.

"Bradley," you moaned, pushing him onto his back and riding him until you came. He was afraid he was saying exactly what he was thinking now as words like need and permanent surfaced in his mind while he babbled. You told him to cum inside you again, so he did. And when you curled up on his chest, he kissed the top of your head. 

Your lips were on his neck as you silently ran your fingers through his hair. "Ace," he whispered, but you just shook your head. So he pressed his lips together and rubbed his hands up underneath the jersey, and you shivered against him. 

A few minutes later, when he was nearly soothed to sleep with his cock still nestled inside you, Bradley felt your body jerk. "Oh no. What time is it?" you gasped. You climbed off of him abruptly, a look of panic on your face as you searched for your phone. "Fuck!" 

Bradley climbed out of bed as you fumbled your phone and ran for your computer which was charging on his chair. His cum was on his abs and your legs, but you didn't stop to get cleaned up before you ran for his kitchen table. "What can I do to help?" he asked as he followed you.

"Nothing," you snapped, booting up your computer. It was almost 11:30, and Bradley wasn't sure exactly how much you'd written before and during the game; he had been too concerned about the Angels winning tonight. 

He got you some water and whispered, "I can help you proofread it," but you didn't respond. You just typed away frantically while he hovered around the living room, glancing in your direction constantly. Your brow was creased in frustrated determination, and Bradley felt like an asshole for not suggesting that you or he set an alarm before climbing in bed. Because he could absolutely lose all track of time when he was with you, whether you and he were fucking, talking or cuddling. And he knew it.

When he looked at the clock on the microwave, he winced. It was nearly midnight, and you were still typing and looking at your stat sheet. "Anything I can do?" he asked again, but you just shook your head, so he went to the bathroom. He got himself cleaned up and then just leaned on the sink vanity with his head cradled in his hands. 

Fuck. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any stress when you were with him. He felt like an idiot. When he finally returned to the table, the clock said 12:01 and you were still typing. He was waiting for your phone to ring. Greg would be calling you to start screaming any second now. And he had to stand there and watch it all unfold. You submitted your article at 12:07, and you looked up at him with sad yet determined eyes before you answered your ringing phone. 

"Greg," you said, your voice sounding strong and sure even though your face was defeated. And then Greg was hollering nonstop as you held the phone a few inches away from your ear. Bradley hated it so much. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek while Greg reminded you not too kindly that you missed your deadline by seven minutes. Then Bradley cupped your face in his hands and held eye contact with you while you told Greg it wouldn't happen again before you ended the call. 

The silence was almost deafening as you held your phone and looked up at him. Bradley swallowed hard, but his voice was still a harsh whisper as he said, "I hate it when he yells at you."

You shook your head and grimaced as tears filled your eyes. "Well, I missed my deadline, so he had every right to-"

"No," Bradley said, dropping to his knees in front of you on his kitchen floor. "He doesn't, Ace. He shouldn't do that. It's just seven minutes."

"But it's a deadline for a reason," you supplied immediately, looking down into his face. "One minute is the same as seven is the same as sixty. It shouldn't happen at all."

Bradley scoffed. "So he sits up until three in the morning in New York just to call you and scream? That's fucked up."

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "I let myself get distracted by you. This is my fault. But when I'm with you, I can't think straight. Which is bad."

"Ace," he whispered helplessly as you cried. "But if we were together-"

"We can't be together," you told him. Your voice was soft and sorrowful, but it felt like a gunshot to Bradley. His ears were ringing from the sound of it. He could tell you were stubborn, but right now, he felt stubborn, too. It wasn't very often that he allowed himself to want something, and never on the scale of how badly he wanted you, but he thought right now it would be worth fighting for this.

"I've seen your email inbox," he whispered, and your eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't need Greg or the New York Times to be successful, Ace. You bring everything to the table, and clearly other people see that."

"Bradley," you said, shaking your head sadly. "It's the New York Times. The pinnacle. There's nowhere else for me to go that wouldn't be a step backwards in my career, and that's a fact. My job is important to me. Writing is important to me."

"But you're more than who you write for-"

You cut him off as you raised your voice. "You knew immediately who I was when you saw my name, because I work for The Times!"

Bradley buried his face against your thigh as he tried to will his heart to stop pounding so hard he could barely hear. He kissed you there before he looked up at you again in agony. "People would follow your writing anywhere, because you're that fucking good. Have you ever thought about writing for someone else?"

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "No." "Baby, you could make a big name for yourself on an independent platform. Your style is fun and it flows. You can find something better for yourself than the New York Times. This doesn't have to be that hard."

"It's not that easy either. I told you how it would be, Bradley," you said, your voice taking on a pleading tone. "You would hate it when I was away for long stretches. You would want someone else. Someone easy to be with. Someone who was always in San Diego."

"That's a fucking lie," he growled. "And you know it."

You were silent for a minute as your eyes settled on your lap. "New York is my home. I'm settled there. And you're settled here."

He felt sick. The words had too much finality. But you were waiting for him to confirm, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was let you down. "Yeah. I am." Then he realized he was crying as well when he reached up to cup your cheek again. You melted into his touch before you slid off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. "Ace. Look at you," he whispered, and you met his eyes as your lip quivered. "You're perfect. The perfect woman. I want to be with you. And I think you want to be with me, too."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he held you while you cried. "I'm sorry, Bradley," you murmured against his shoulder. 

He knew you were scared to even think that something might be a better fit for you, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe it would be career suicide if you left your job. He didn't know a damn thing about it really. All he knew was everyone wanted you with them. Including him. It was hard for him to breathe as he asked, "What do you have in New York that you couldn't have in San Diego? Here. With me."

But you didn't answer him. You just stayed curled up on his lap until after one in the morning with your arms wrapped around him and his securely at your back. He tried his best to memorize how good and yet terrible this felt, because in a few days, he knew he'd probably give anything to feel you in his arms. 

When you finally eased away from him and kissed his lips, you tried to smile as you said, "Let's just enjoy our last day together."

Bradley closed his eyes against the pain. "Sure, Ace."

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

All I feel right now is pain. I miss feeling joy. The final game is next. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #how you play the game

[s-sugustar]

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ synopsis: You could never be happy.

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ pairing: Modern! Eren Yeager x black! fem! reader

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ cw: death, angst

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ author's notes: took me about an hour to write this or less -. not proofread, oh and first fic since i’ve deleted everything from before .

I'm scared

Eren knew he was going to die soon. His health wasn't getting any better but he tried. No matter how much medication he took, or treatments he had, the cancer was not going away anytime soon.

He hated himself for not seeing the signs, not paying attention to how quickly he'd lose his breath or how he'd cough up blood once in a while. He always talked about how he wanted to die young and well, quite unfortunate but he got what he thought of constantly.

Eren knew you hated hospitals for a long time, even when you had a skating accident a couple of years back, they had to sedate you before taking you to the hospital because you fought with everything in you not to go.

The slow beeping of monitors or the scrubbed tiles that reeked of bleach just reminded you of death in some instance. Or maybe it was because it was the place your mother died when you were six. She had a heart problem, the doctors never stated what it was; all they did was kept it brief with you and your father.

You cried that day, the one person you had been extremely close with. The one you made cookies with every Saturday night to take to church on Sunday. The one who read you 'Princess and the Frog' every single night till you knew the story word for word. She was your rock, the one who shushed you when you fell and others had laughed but she, oh she told you that it was okay, and she kissed the bandage every single time.

In the back of my mind, you died

When Eren told you the news, everything around you slowed. The ticking of the old wall clock became slower, the hairs on the back of your neck raised and with the blink of an eye, you were back in the same hospital room when they covered your mother's dead body with a white cloth. Only this time, it wasn't your mother, but it was Eren.

When you got away from your thoughts, you looked back to him in fear and hurt. Seems like the universe wasn't on your side anymore, if at all. Although you barely cracked a smile towards him, you knew he could see past everything you had built up. "I'm sorry y/n."

Work was quiet when Eren wasn't around, and silence was something you didn't like. You saw Jean and Connie every day at work and you enjoyed their company, truly, but you felt as though something had been missing. You knew what it was but you refused to acknowledge it too. When you first visited him, it had been the 6th of November, outside was bright but chilly in contrast to how the room you were in felt.

You felt squeezed, hopeless and everything within the room was making you sick but you stayed, just for him. You saw how much paler he had gotten when he was first admitted, the bags under his eyes seemed to darken than before and well his breathing...he needed a mask wherever he went. He was in pain and there was nothing you could do about it, just like your mother.

It was inevitable but you knew he wouldn't be here much longer, so you stopped visiting him. Afraid that it may be the last time you'd see him. Although impractical, you thought it was best, especially after the last visit.

"The doctors said that there isn't much they can do now." He whispered, his head laid in your lap as you drew small shapes onto his shaven head, somewhat soothing the both of you as you heard the words that fell from his lips and his reaction to what he had said. You paused in your administrations causing Eren to look you full in the eyes, a distant look in his eyes. You stared at him, contemplating what to say but he had beat you to it.

"I wish we had more time together, just you and I. I wish things didn't end up this way because I know how scar-." You couldn't bear to hear the rest of what he had to say so you shut him up with a kiss. Sinking deep making him whine in desperation for more. After pulling away, Eren sat up before reaching under his pillow to hand you something, a letter to be exact. You looked at him in confusion before he answered, "I want you to open it the day after my funeral."

and I didn't even cry, not a single tear

The funeral was short or at least it had been for you. You couldn't bear to look at him lying peacefully in the casket, you just couldn't. You barely had anything left in you after you said what was laid on your heart to say. It was too much for you to handle, so much so that right after your speech, you walked out, not looking back as you headed to your car in tears.

You laughed on the way home, wasn't funny how gloomy and quiet outside had been? Some say that the earth could feel when we lost someone. Oh, the irony. The trees didn't sway from left to right nor did the sunshine. Quite the opposite you'd say. When you made it to your room, the first thing you did was glance at the letter that had been sitting on your desk since your last visit; the last time you saw him. You couldn't wait till tomorrow to open it so you took it out now.

I wonder what the letter said.

#eren yeager x black reader #eren jaeger #x black reader #eren angst #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan angst #eren yeager x reader angst #— 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 ! #— 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓! #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #black y/n #black reader #— 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ✧

[theastrical]

yesterday exist; so does today

Alzheimer is a hastle to deal with, you know this well, after all you’ve been here since the day you graduated nursing school, yet you’re still working in the central care centre for the paycheck. You know you shouldn’t have involved yourself in the matter of patients, realising it would emotionally torture you till you retire.

kaeya & fem!reader (platonic relationship)

implied major character death, mentions of suicide, heavy angst, comfort/hurt

note: hmmm honestly i don’t really know what i write since i write this out of boredom..AO3 LINK

“Kaeya Alberich, age 35. Current symptoms, memory loss and confusion.” same old thing again and again, writing down the patient’s data and insert it into sheets for the centres “transparency”, interacting with them and leave them to the hands of the doctors until they finally meet death years later. you read the data that was preserved on your desk and you gave off a long sigh, just like another day, a patient’s data worth of nothing on your hands are waiting to be checked by you.

The writing was messy, like an old calligraphy, the patient placed the picture quite asymmetrically, he also seemed to have slipped down several documents which you also have to read. Some of it written as “confidential, only medical teams and legal experts can access”. Finally, something to stick your nose into that makes this job at the very least, interesting.

“hey you look like you wanna bleach your own eyeballs, what’s up, new patient?”

you got caught up by one of your closest colleagues, jumped through the words, your voice all hoarse from the lack of water you consumed. “Yea, he gave me these documents that probably cost me half an hour to read…”, the americano you bought almost gone, making you to give a longer sigh.

“don’t bother buying another coffee, your shift is almost done.” , your colleague implies after your words.

“Hmm…okay.”, muttering the words. Your eyes widened by the data he had registered over himself.

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten a patient who registered themself over their own name instead of a legal guardian, right?” , you asked your colleague, who seemingly has no life inside his eyes.

“hm? yeah, in fact, i’ve only gotten two people who registered themself here, two of them are old folks without a family…their death made me mentally drained, i miss them both.”

“fuck”, you curse with a voice that now seems to have a slight regret on it. “What?”, he replied. “He’s not even old enough to register himself in this centre”, “how old is he?”, your colleague asked out of curiosity, since this sort of cases can make your mind all rounded, he’s young, so why bother admit himself in this death row…”thirty five, 7 more months to thirty six”. “our age, is it not?”, he replied while moving his chair to your desk, now interested. “based on how he write his data, the symptoms are already chronic.”, you mutter, observing every of the information while your colleague looking through his diagnosis.

“goodluck taking care of him”, your colleague pat your back.

and just like that, you know you’re going to face the most emotional phase you’ve ever had in this hell-hole workplace.

By Saturday, you met the man. His eyes are sharp, rigid and bold, hue blue that never to be seen before, and believe it or not, he looks like he came out of a fictional series. His eye-bags are visible and his hair all tangled up from the braid he made by himself, allegedly. “Goodmorning, am i talking to Mr. Kaeya Alberich?” , he fidget his fingers over his cardigan, playing with the cloth that he worn just to avoid any of his hallucination and confusion. I know that means he’s uncomfortable with the surrounding or maybe his own existence…”yes..”, his voice sounds like a chirping crows, hoarse and deep, yet soothing to hear.

“Sorry, i have to ask, why am i here..?”, oh my, it already seems like he’s already losing his sense.

you take his confidential papers and explain it to him, all patient and prepared to have him lose his mind, you explain it with a voice that made his ears able to accept it just by a slight mutter, “mr. Alberich, the papers say that you choose this centre so you can go through your daily life without worrying of improper death. Hence you’re here to retrieve the deal, to have yourself admitted in here.”, he looks at you with confusion, but suddenly he changed his thought and his once-reaction flew from that face of his. “Oh? Hahaha! Is that why i’m here? Because of myself?? Oh funny! I haven’t write that one on my notes! Maybe i have to after this!!”, his laugh sounds sarcastic, it makes you uncomfortable…but alzheimer patients are always like this, they can’t control what they currently suffer from and you’re the one to take care of em.

“anything else would you like me to explain?”

“quick question, what’s your name?”

“[name]”…you seem to have doubt his question, whatever he needs from you to ask your name? This is weird.

“nice to meet you, would you mind taking care of me while being my friend?”

“you don’t have one sir?”, shit, i dropped the bomb.

“i have one, but we…i-…i forgot haha..”

it’s expected, his scan was something out of the ordinary, it’s no use trying to avoid the worst case scenario, it’s already in front of him.

“mr. Alberich, i would love to dis—“

“s-sorry can i have some water first..? I forgot to bring my water bottle from my apartment..”

you nod and brought him a cup of water, you start to inhale the air around you. “So..can we start our discussion? If so, may i ask you to fill out of these forms for me, if you’re unable to, we can ask your legal guardian or…”

“i’m sorry uh…i-i don’t remember my legal supervisor or guardian…” he stops at his track, probably going all confused from the lack of context his brain has dismay for him. “may i ask wether you can help me fill this out based on the…i-i don’t remember the registration i made sorry… but can you fill out based on those..?”

“It’s fine i understand…let me accompany you to the doctor’s office, how does that sound? I’ll inform the doctor about your details after the check ups…since this is a u—“

“doctor’s office..? I thought this is a library..? I must’ve gotten lost…i should borrow the book to write an essay for the professor oh shit..?! N-nurse?!! Wh-why did—“

suddenly your colleague barge in to the conversation to help you with this patient you’re handling, a rare cause that can’t be helped by a normal being.

“Sir, please calm down. This is Alzheimer medical centre, the papers say that today you’re being admitted to this ward for the sake of your own self, so please don’t act rash. We’re here to help you.”

he calmed down before tears run out from his eyes. Typical symptoms of Alzheimer patients are their intense change of emotions, it’s hard to deal with since you don’t know either if they’re going to stay sad, happy, or angry, or just…neither? You don’t know, even your colleague can’t read them.

you pat his back, “sir, how about you talk to the doctor first and we can discuss about the next matters soon? Will that be easier for you?”, your voice sounds genuine, this is the first time though. This man ticks your heart to feel such an empathetic move, it doesn’t make sense, since you never feel the need to feel them too.

“…sure…i’m getting insane….please help me nurse….f-fuck i don’t even remember your name…”, he chuckles after that insane remark he just made. “o-okay, l-let’s just go…make sure that i won’t die before my birthday…please..?” Is that his last wish? If it is…then sure, i’ll make sure tomorrow and today exist for him. I can always do that but…why now? Why him? Shit whatever happened to the promise i made to myself?

“okay. I will.” i smiled, shit, i’m not even that good on keeping promise to myself. I just broke it now…and i’m currently lying too. What if he expect so much?

he’ll just forget it, i’m sure of that.

but then the guilt? No…no, i don’t even want to think about it anymore.

everyday, you would visit him, in that small room, the aroma-therapy you had set for him was quite of…soothing and pleasant, you’ve always put some aromatherapy on the side of chronically ill patients just for them to remember that they’re currently living on reality, for them to remember that…they’re currently still going on with their life and that’s fine, it’s hard enough to survive, to wake up. Kaeya seems to have knew this well, after all, he would always greet you with a smile, a ghostly smile. He would always talk to you, trying his best to train his vocal, sometimes there’s hole inside his conversation, but that’s okay, he tried to stick in the present and not in the future. That’s enough for you to know that kaeya still has the energy to keep on living.

he’s surviving…all he had is this room, his clothes, and himself. No, not even himself. He doesn’t even know the existence of himself. Maybe i’m the replacement of that blank space across his memory? Yeah that’s what a nurse supposed to be, right?

he had always stare at the window when you passed through the hall of the ward, almost like he had lost his senses over that spot. Sometimes you would hear him mutter…”don’t…jump.” to the window, his tears coming through his eyes, and his hands are shaking. It was terrifying, at first. He would get near the window while his eyes are all watery and he doesn’t seem to realise his own movement.

“hey…stay alive…”

“hey…hey….i’m here…”

“why did you jump…?” , this exact sentence hasn’t been told before. Thus, made you jump into conclusions…

after what happens to be an hour after that mutters he made inside the room, you went to check on him. He’s on the couch, reading his own essay. The handwriting almost unreadable, the essay was long, confusing, and…the papers are all scraped.

“Hey…mom?”, shit, it’s only been a month since he was admitted here. The scan told me that his progress is fast and horrid…yet this one is too much.

you continue the act, that’s what you’ve been told and what you’ve learned. “yes kaeya..?” .

“mom, an insane person leave this paper inside this house…can we stop…renting this place..? It’s dangerous right? Can we leave mom..? I’m scared…i’m so scared mom.” he nudge on your clothes and start to hug your arm.

“n-no sweetie…there’s no such as an “insane person”. Now…how about we eat our food first to keep you healthy from being hunted by the ghost..?” This would be a good way to communicate with kaeya…you thought. Sihce he’s slowly losing touch, it’s better for him to dream, after all…he wants to survive this until his birthday, right…?

you served him the food…it’s not the best one, yet it already made kaeya hungry. Though, suddenly he loses his reconnection to his hallucinations once more..

when he look at you again, his face turns into a confusion…he smiles politely, “s-sorry uh…i remember meeting my mother…uhm…might i ask if you know where is she and…who are you?”

“I’m [name]…and you must be kaeya right? Your mother asked me to have you here.” You lied, so whatever you would say can never shocked him nonetheless.

“o-oh i see…but mother has died…just a few days ago…she jumps from that balcony…” he points out to the window, there’s no balcony, he’s hallucinating that he is on his house now. “well..at least i know mom left me with a new friend…right, [name]..?”, you gulp, yet you just smile and nod. You know this is the only way he can connect to the world…

“kaeya?”

“….who’s kaeya?”, he asked you. His eyes wander. Then it meet yours. He holds your hands, securely. “I wanna know kaeya…i’m…yaya…mother told me i’m yaya so i’m yaya..”

“somebody i know, you’re interested?”, you teased him, your voice brightful, chuckling at the way he seems so interested at the man she would call his past, sugarcoating the man you see before you. It has been 2 in a half month since he was admitted here, tomorrow is already the third month.

“is he…smart?”, that’s the first thing he asked. He’s presenting your image as a maid that has the same as his. His hallucination seems to touch the corner of his past..

“no he’s dumb…he doesn’t remember my name.”

you told him and he immediately scoffs..”hmph! Then why do you talk about him, i don’t like dumb folks.” He must be a brat back when he was a kid huh?

“Nothing, just feels like it.”

“then you’re quite of dumb for thinking and talking about him..he probably doesn’t remember you. So abandon him!” his hallucinations are actually right, he doesn’t remember you and you’ve been trying your best to make sure that even when everything goes bad…he still has the chance to live.

because…you can see yourself in this position. Helpless, nobody, and lonely. The emotional relation that connects you both are intense and unintentional. Yet you kept on trying to make sure, the part of you that he has in him…is enough to keep him living. Since, all you wanted is to see another version of the person you want to be..alive. You read the confidential paper on your desk once more, the one where he slip over his registration papers after you leave him all alone inside his room.

“This hasn’t been legally acclaimed and i just like to have this piece of information slip through the files you guys have of me by now. i have read several of information about this disease, i know that i can die just by being there or here, but there are somethings i like to share about my life. Something that would probably remind you when you see me through this illness, hallucination or memory loss, or both, maybe you can correlate those with my story. My mother committed when i turned 15, that was her present for me…she loathe me, she think of me as a burden for not being the one who’s sick enough to die just like my adoptive brother, diluc. So when she die…i thought i also have to die. After all, i have nobody, my father was away and i’m just his adoptive son, whatever have i done to this family? So…in my early adulthood, i develop a chronic memory loss due to trauma, as per my psychiatrist mentioned. It was…alright, at first. But then..at the age of 30, it becomes some-what more like a delusional. I know it wasn’t right so i decided to check myself at this age, 35, when i barely even remember what is my name without my phone reminding me who i am again and again. I wanna die…i can’t help but to live off the guilt i didn’t even made. So please…my only last wish is to die at the age of 36…just like the age of my late mother. Alzheimer is my karma and i wish, for all of you, to repent my sins…just like what i intend to do.”

“I’m sorry for putting so much pressure on all of you, but i assure…this is what i intend to do for the sake of the guilt that drive me insane everyday.”

I realise that He’s a suicidal bastard who’s unlucky, i’m trying…i’m trying so hard so he can live and survive another day. ‘Cus i…i can let somebody as young as kaeya to die and rot in a bed that every patient left with silence in their heart. Cus i can’t let somebody who always smile at me for giving them survival chance to die. His instinct says that he wants to live, so why bother reminding him of this. I’ll just follow his hallucination…until he finally know that he lives and he has to. So please…don’t remember your last wish, just remember that…the day you die, is the day you wish to rest forever.

So kaeya, remember that i’m here, for you to live, until you’re exhausted.

At the fourth month, he lost half of his memory of his adulthood.

At the fifth month, he lost his mobility. Limiting his speech and whatever he usually do daily…is nothing.

i kept trying, i kept on trying…so he wouldn’t remember his last wish. I want to change his course. Cause tomorrow and today still can be change, it still exist the way it is.

10 days before his birthday, you nag on him. Telling him a delusional story you made out of his hallucination for the past months. You’ll pretend to be his mother, his brother, and everything…convincing kaeya to survive. His muscle memory reacted, positively, just like what you expected. After all, you’re trying your best…to make sure that this man last longer than his initial death, cause he deserve one last chance that Alzheimer cannot give to him.

“kaeya…mother is proud of you for reaching this far.”, you mutter to his ears…it perks up. His head wants to move to the direction of your eyes.

“kaeya…you’re doing great…don’t give up now, it’s almost your birthday, maybe let’s have a party with diluc too? He enjoys being with you too, you know?” , his muscle picks up that words and smile slowly.

“kaeya…what do you wish for..? I’m sorry that i can’t be the best mother…that’s what you asked for right..? A present mother..?”,

“Then…survive this week…next week…and more months to come. You deserve a chance to live and see more of the world..” you recreate the words he helplessly crave, so kaeya….with all of his might, able to live, able to regain his purpose in life, to have his guilt all weakened, to the point that he decided to…live for another day. It seems evil, indeed, it is evil, but that’s what he needs…kaeya deserves to live unlike those old fucks that has no manners, kaeya is only a child in adult’s body…

he wants to live, but he can’t…right?

“kaeya…happy birthday….” , you mutter the words perfectly. You pronounce the words as if you’ve already excelled your ways to imitate kaeya’s mother for him. If it’s sympathy, why are you being so kind..? If it’s empathy, why does it matter if he’s alive or not? Because at the end of the day, you find yourself in that piece of him, a kid in a grown up body, and you wish to have somebody like you…live another day, just like you.

he cried. somehow…his tears shows his pain…his past…and everything. Despite the delusion you’re feeding him with, he still holds onto the hope of another day where he can hear his mother’s forgiveness.

his tears was falling rapidly while his eyes are all shining…finally, you sighed. There’s a hint of survival in his eyes once more and it made you…proud, even when you’re not a thing to them.

he survived 36…and i hope i survived 67 too. It’s nice to know that you’re my last patient, kaeya…let’s chat again, i know you would love to hear my story…even when you don’t remember my name any longer.

you put the flower on his memorial space.

from “nurse [name], have a happy reunion with your family.”

taglist: @dailypenpen , @daydreaming-paradies

#genshin impact fics #genshin fic #genshin fics #kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader angst #kaeya angst #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich angst #kaeya fics #kaeya alberich fics

[hxneyhxrts]

Sun Bleached || Jake “Hangman” Seresin (part 8)

Part 7

note: not to be a broken record but you guys are amazing, my heart is so full. this is a pretty Gwyn-heavy chunk so here we go, sorry in advance. also there MAY or MAY NOT be another part posted tomorrow since i’ll be away from my computer all day but i’ll do my best soldiers. love you guys xx

warnings: explicit language, anxiety, very brief mention of death

Red

Two days.

It had been two full days.

Jake had not spoken to her even once except to tell her a quick “good job” after a particularly grueling series of drills. Beyond that, though, it was radio silent.

Gwyn had almost worked up the courage a few times to pull him aside and ask what was going on, but each time she opened her mouth to get the words out, she felt that tense air of isolation he had projected on to her for the past few days, and retreated.

Even her texts had gone unanswered. She had only sent two, just quick pictures of things she thought he might find funny like Coyote pretending to steal his helmet, but she had sent them only to be met with the taunting face of “delivered” and then nothing.

Even at their worst, when he had sought her out to scathe her and rile her up, he had still sought her out. She’d almost prefer that to this newfound cold shoulder he had thrust upon her so suddenly. And it hurt, she could admit that. Not just because she craved his approval as her squad leader. Because even if they weren’t together the way she selfishly wanted them to be, they were still friends. Not in the same loud and obvious way that she and Alec were friends, a relationship that had been forged through many late Summer nights and the intensity of finishing out the academy together. No, Jake’s friendship was different. His was Saturday mornings and Sunday evenings, socks on hardwood floors, sun bleached clothes left out on a laundry line for too long, cotton sheets that pulled off the bed corner with too much shuffling, the words “I heard a song that reminded me of you”, and every other little silly thing that just felt like Jake.

Everything that felt like home.

She could accept that she had messed up by letting her feelings develop into the absolute headache that they were, but she couldn’t accept that they weren’t friends. A sad, greedy part of her wouldn’t settle without him in some shape, however he would have her. She needed him in a way she hadn’t needed others before him, and if she couldn’t be with him, at least she could be close to him.

If he ever decided to speak to her again.

—-------

She hated her job. She did.

Top Gun had been hard enough, but applying everything she learned to real world simulations and fighting tactics was damn near impossible.

Well… not entirely.

Only when she was as distracted as she was.

Gwyn had made it through most of the dogfight unscathed, only by the grace of some higher power and Alec’s steady stream of “watch out!” every few minutes when she inevitably checked out again. But luck had run out once she made it to the final three, and Payback had gotten her before she had a chance to come to from wherever her mind had run off to.

“Gwyn, it’s fine,” Alec moaned, striding to keep up with her as she all but stomped across the tarmac back to the hangar. She was seething, angry with herself for letting this wild wave of emotions keep her from focusing in the air. It was not fine, not when it came to this.

She vaguely registered Jake and Payback dismounting from their planes, casually following behind them. She noticed Jake’s eyes cut to her briefly, even as he conversed with the other pilot.

Phoenix gave her a little wave from where she perched against a table in the hangar, and God everybody was here and everybody was looking at her. They saw her falling apart, they were watching her, and they just watched the absolute worst flight of her life. The best of the best and she had let herself be downed right in front of them.

“Gwyn, I’m talking to you!” Alec nearly shouted after her, and fuck, more eyes were turning in on her, and she hadn’t even fully crossed the tarmac yet.

“I don’t feel like talking right now,” she pushed out through her teeth that had clenched so hard she thought they might break. She needed to get inside and lock herself in the rec room for a bit. Anywhere, really, just for a moment to breathe. She could feel the physical weight of everyone’s stares as they bore into her, and God was there nothing else they could busy themselves with while she crumbled?

“You’re just having an off day. It’s not a big deal, Gwyn.”

She whirled on him, and it was as if the dam inside her had started to fracture. “Not a big deal? Is that what I should tell your mom when I let her know her son didn’t make it home because I was having an ‘off day’?” Panic coursed through her at the notion, and fuck they were still looking at her. She focused on Alec and his confusion and how it wrinkled his brow, but she could still see their curious gazes in her peripheral.

That internal dam fractured a tiny bit more.

Alec’s brow smoothed into a gentle understanding, and no, she didn’t want his understanding or his pity, she wanted to be left alone to figure this out. She wanted him to shout at her and call her reckless the way Jake had. She wanted him to upset her enough that it made her sharp, put her back on her feet so she could stop thinking about the tall blonde pilot who was still fucking watching her.

“Cheek, it was just a drill. You’re better than your flying today. I know that. I wouldn’t throw myself into your backseat every day if I thought otherwise.”

He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what today meant.

She clenched her jaw, and turned. She couldn’t do this, not today.

“Gwyn!” Alec called after her, steps bounding behind her once more.

“I’m really not in the mood to have this conversation right now, Alec.” God why was it so hot today? Sweat was pooling above her lip and dripping down the back of her neck. Bob caught her eyes for a moment, flashing her a concerned look and Christ, they all saw right through her.

“Fine, walk away just like you always do. You’re getting pretty good at that, huh?”

If Gwyn thought the dam had fractured just moments ago…

This was it completely caving in.

She spun back on him faster than she thought herself capable of, and lunged at him. Hands caught her, several of them as she spat at her RIO. “Fuck you!” she shouted, watching as Alec recoiled slightly before smiling.

“There she is,” he smirked.

She was going to kill him. She pulled and yanked against the hands restraining her, aiming straight for Alec. To slap him or shout, she didn’t know. Her vision had gone almost white, only zeroed in on him and that stupid fucking smile he was wearing. He was baiting her. Riling her up enough to make her snap at him. He knew her better than anyone, knew what she needed sometimes.

It still didn’t make her feel good.

She thrashed again with renewed vigor until a stern voice cut through the shouts of those around her.

“Gwyn, enough!”

Jake.

She couldn’t look at him. Shame coursed through her at her behavior, and she settled down before she could make more of an ass of herself. Alec’s smile dissipated at her surrender, but it didn’t matter. She was already pulling away and stalking in the other direction.

—--------

In the end, it had been a supply closet she found her solace in. Time passed without her keeping track of it, and she only emerged when the sweat on her temples had dried and her flight suit became suffocating. From there, she slid down the corridor to the locker room where she isolated herself in a cold shower for much longer than she would willingly admit.

She was still tense when she finally pulled herself out from beneath the stream, but at least she was clean. At least she could think again.

It wasn’t right to lash out at Alec, and she knew that. He had been looking out for her in his own strange way. They fought, of course, maybe more often than people realized. But never like this. Never this intense or angry.

It was like she was on an island with her feelings, no one else around to see them or understand them or help her dissect them. She knew there was anger on that island with her, and maybe some confusion. Sadness for how she acted and how it had taken her completely falling apart for Jake to speak to her for the first time in days.

It just seemed unfair. To work for all of this so hard and screw it up over something as silly as her feelings. Unfair to Alec, who’d have to find another flight partner if she couldn’t get it together. Unfair to the team, who had welcomed her with open arms just for her to screw up at every turn. Unfair to Jake, who had only done his best to get along with her and created a monster out of her once she fell in too deep with him.

Maybe even unfair to herself, for closing herself off to all of these things until she had erupted.

She sighed. The day was long and awful, but in a few hours she could drag herself to a bar outside of the city and (now legally) drink away the lump in her stomach. She wouldn’t dare go to the Hard Deck, not when the rest of the team had all but conquered the corner of it. The last thing she needed right now was to face them and their questions and their concern.

She shoved her flight suit into the gym bag she had brought and made a mental note to throw it in the wash when she got home to rid it of the god awful anxiety sweat stench that had buried itself in the threads. She closed her locker with more force than necessary and went to busy herself for the next few hours until quitting time.

Maverick’s hand was still raised to knock when she pulled the door open.

“Mav,” she greeted, taken aback by his presence. The older gentleman smiled at her, but it was strained.

“Lieutenant Canadee,” he started. “Mind if we talk real quick?”

This was it. She was getting fired. Or grounded. Or having her wings stripped. She had fucked this up so badly that they were taking her out before she fucked it up further.

She thought about Alec and how hard he had worked and how many chances he had taken on her and how he was going to be stuck with some randomly assigned pilot who didn’t know the kind of dynamic he excelled under. She thought about her brother, the commander who’d have to answer for her and why she had been stripped of her rank and how it reflected on him.

She even thought about Jake and how she wished she could take it all back. All of it.

The cold bite of the necklace around her throat grounded her and tore her apart all at once.

As if sensing her worry, Maverick spoke again. “Nothing bad. Just wanted to check in.”

Her chest relaxed, but only slightly. She leaned against the doorframe in an attempt to look casual when she felt anything but. “Sure. What’s up?”

The captain glanced around the hallway before turning back to her and lowering his voice. “Everything okay? I heard you had a bit of a blow up with Shaw today.”

She swallowed. Of course he had found out somehow. “I’m good,” she croaked out. “Just got a little fired up I guess. Alec and I can push each other’s buttons from time to time.” She paused, trying to gauge the look on his face. “Today just wasn’t my day.”

Pete nodded, and there was that infamous understanding he seemed to carry with him like a weapon. Always seeing exactly what someone on his crew was feeling and sympathizing with them. “That’s alright,” he assured. “Happens to the best of us. Just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem moving forward.”

Gwyn bristled at the hint of warning she sensed in his words. “Of course,” she ground out. “It won’t happen again.”

The captain sighed, clearly picking up on her defensiveness, and settled his hands on his hips. “I’m not trying to get on you, Gwyn. Seresin just asked me to talk to you to see if-”

“Wait, Jake sent you?” she clipped, brow furrowing.

The older man’s mouth snapped shut as if he hadn’t meant to say anything. Her heart started beating in her ears. Blood swept across her cheeks, painting them pink.

Jake had sent him to talk to her. Jake had Maverick speak to her because he didn’t want to.

She was marching away from the other pilot before she could process the rage that enveloped her. She could hear Maverick shout after her, but she was too far gone, too angry to stop. Her feet carried her around the hallway corner and right to the men’s locker room.

She shoved the door in hard enough that it smacked against the wall, loud enough to startle the small group of males gathered inside. Her focus immediately snagged on Jake in the center row of lockers.

“You’re sending Maverick to do your bidding now?” she hissed, voice echoing through the small space and making Hangman’s mouth drop open.

“Gwyn,” he started in shock, and the sound of her name in his mouth after so many days of completely ignoring her only fanned the flame of outrage burning in her head. “This is the men’s-”

“You send Mitchell to talk to me instead of doing it yourself? I thought you were our fearless leader, Seresin,” she spat, pushing past Bradshaw who had tried to stop her advance with an arm around her waist. She shoved him off and glared at Alec who made to step in.

“Gwyn-”

“I’ll deal with you later,” she snarled at her RIO. Alec swallowed, but backed off.

“Guys,” Jake started, addressing the other men who had gathered. “Give us a minute, would you?”

The group shuffled out quickly, Alec remaining for a moment longer than the rest to look at Gwyn warily before he ducked out.

Then they were alone.

Jake’s fists were clenched. “If you think for a second, that I’m going to allow you to just walk in here and shout at me in front of the rest of my team, you are-”

“Would you have listened to me any other way?” she bellowed back, chest heaving with every breath. “You’ve been ignoring me for days! I get if you’re mad at me, but goddamn-”

“I’m not mad at you,” Jake interrupted, his posture stiffening. “I just-,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just needed some space.”

Gwyn scoffed. This was ridiculous. He was trying to push her off again.

“You only need space from someone when you’re mad at them, Seresin.”

“Stop calling me that,” he hissed. His eyes held something like hurt as he regarded her closely. “Just stop.”

Gwyn’s hands flexed at her sides. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shout and say all of those terrible things she thought about him when they first met. Wanted to hurt his feelings the way he had hurt hers and leave him to stew in it the way she had.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted instead. Jake opened his mouth to speak, but she pushed on. “I shouldn’t have taken the plane out without checking in with you. I should've waited until the control tower techs got here, and I’m sorry.”

Jake scrubbed a hand down his face, looking every bit anguished as she was. “Cheek, I don’t care about the goddamn flight.”

“Then what are you mad about?” She was getting desperate now, her voice bordering on hysteric, and God she wanted to cry.

“I’m not mad,” Jake insisted tiredly.

“Then what is your fucking deal-”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The air stilled. Time had stopped. The silence between them held its breath, too.

Gwyn’s mouth had parted, the words hanging in the air and it was like she could see them, floating in the space in front of her and mocking her.

I think I’m in love with you.

She couldn’t speak. She tried, but no words came out.

Life was cruel in the way it teased her. In the way it would whisk her through the last few days and give her this moment in a men’s locker room as the finale to her grief.

I think I’m in love with you.

Jake’s mouth thinned into a stern expression. “I’m sorry.”

And God, he was sorry? He was sorry for voicing the very thing she had been praying he’d give her for weeks now, and now that she had it, she could only gape at him stupidly.

It was everything she had wanted, and she panicked at how easy it felt to think about falling into him. How easy it would be to throw away her resolve and chase after this feeling headfirst and foolish. How easy it would be to wake up to him as golden sun poured in through the window and traced their silhouettes delicately.

It was that easiness that scared her. That had her throwing up makeshift barriers on all sides while her brain scrambled for something to say.

“Say something,” Jake pleaded, almost whispering.

She couldn’t. Not without giving in to him.

And giving in to him just wasn’t something she could afford to do.

Not when she had spent so many years pushing to be better. Not when Alec had faced months of mockery for tying himself down to the only female pilot in the whole program, never once doubting her to get them through it. Not when Mo’s eyes had lit up when she finally told him about her stories from Top Gun, and her dad had nearly wept with pride. Not when Jake had spent years perfecting his flying to get to where he was, and throwing herself into the middle of it would surely wreck it. All of it.

Gwyn had the mental image of a carefully constructed tower, wobbling and shaky, but still standing on the back of her work, every building block relying on the next one. She saw it nearing collapse as Jake’s every word chipped away at the foundation of it, and how it would all come tumbling down if she let it.

So no.

She couldn’t.

She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but still, no sound came out. She swallowed. Once. Twice.

Then she turned on her heel and left without another word.

—--------

This hurt so much worse than any breakup she had ever been through. Worst of all, this wasn’t even a breakup, not really. This was her putting an end to her foolishness.

She wished she could be a fool.

Gwyn wanted nothing more than the privilege to do away with all of it and call Jake. She’d call him and apologize and he’d laugh and then they’d be fine and she’d have everything she really wanted.

She didn’t.

She wrapped herself in an old quilt her grandmother had made years ago, the fabric soft and worn against her skin, and took up her place on her couch alongside Disco. She paged through different movies, finally settling on some 80s movie about naval pilots her dad had loved and that had sparked her interest in flying in the first place.

Disco snored away next to her softly, and Gwyn had almost lost herself in the movie when a knock rang out through her house. With a sigh, she dragged herself out of her nest and trudged to the door.

It was Alec on the other side, a small bouquet in his hands and apology written across his features. He took one look at her and half-smiled. “Hey lovey.”

“Hi,” she whispered, clutching the quilt around her shoulders tighter.

“Can I come in?”

She was crying as she nodded, jerky and desperate for her friend, and he swept her into a hug while she wept into his shoulder.

He rubbed her back soothingly, shushing her cries gently and kissing the top of her head. “I know.”

He knew. Of course he did.

“I saw Seresin as I was leaving. I kinda figured…” he trailed off as her sobs heightened. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I got you.”

He held her for a few more minutes, content to stand in her doorway while she cried, before pulling back to look down at her. Gwyn could feel how red and puffy her eyes were, and Alec was smiling at her when he spoke again.

“Tell me all about it.”

Part 9

taglist: @rachelccollier @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @the-winter-marvel33 @barbiewritesstuff @dilfsandtherapy @dempy @itevilhag @supernaturaldawning @katesmadness

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #jake hangman x reader #top gun maverick

[partial-bouquet]

(it would probably work better if I put my Night Vale post under it's own post than the sexymanotd poll)

… the spider’s mechs were very well made, but also very tiny. So it was easy to deal with.

Listeners, here’s something strange, a skeleton, you know, like those commonly found in Old Town, is on the outside of my booth. He seems bored, as most skeletons are. I can’t imagine the existence of being a sentient skeleton. Then again, I suppose that’s all we are, just wrapped in flesh and stuffed with a little bit of straw and bugs.

[paper sliding across desk]

Oh, another red envelope! Must be telling me who this fella is!

[tearing paper]

Ah. Mhm. Okay. So this skeleton is named Sans Undertale. What a unique name! You know Comic Sans is one of my favorite fonts!

This fine skeleton is dressed in a light blue hoodie, black gym shorts, and pink fluffy slippers. Wow! Sans here should be a runaway model, where only the most fashionable people run away in terror. I’d vote for him there.

He now seems to be sleeping, he has eyelids somehow, but I also have eyelids somehow.

You know listeners, come to think of it, this fashionable fella might be my new competition in this “sexyman competition”. Now I can’t compete with his fashion sense, i’m just in the usual radio host garb, plus a cool bleached jean jacket, like The Beatles wore when they all had mustaches, and played on mustaches.

Oh I should put on one of their records later! I love the one wear it’s just Paul McCartney screaming “THIS IS NOT US! THIS IS NOT US! THIS IS NOT US!” and there’s the sounds of fire and shattering glass. A classic!

-

And now, The Community Calendar.

On Monday Dark Owl Records will seemingly be on fire, Michelle Nguyen and her girlfriend Maureen will be totally fine about it, and say it’s a statement on the music industry cannibalizing itself. They will be trying to light candy cigarettes with the fire and failing and laughing at people who try to help. The fire will end with the building miraculously being okay.

This Tuesday the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency will be holding a surprise party. Be alert! Prepare for the surprise at any time! Be wracked with paranoia! What was that?!

Wednesday is. It just is. Accept it.

Thursday we will all stare at the sky and smile, until the existential crises set in.

Friday will be worth about $2.67 and a cool rock

Saturday is the city wide Block Party, bring your favorite block and compete in the block race!

Sunday is a limited run NFT worth thousands of dollars initially that will be worthless within about 24 hours.

-

Back to our guest in studio. I don’t know what to do about him. He’s still sleeping and it’s rude to wake someone up who’s sleeping.

I’ll tell you what, I’m going to have a nice long think and consider what to do. While I do that, you all can go to the weather.

-

Keep on Chooglin - AJJ

-

Okay so while the weather played, I talked with Sans. He is genuinely a nice guy and seemed to not be concerned about the whole thing. He didn’t even sign up for the competition, much like me.

So we had a kinship there.

The last of the votes are rolling in as I speak. Sans is still here just giving me a nonchalant thumbs up, which I am returning.

[paper sliding]

Ah, here is the results. This is a bigger envelope than last time, still red though.

Do you want to come in as I read them?

Sans is shaking his head no.

Alright then.

[paper ripping]

It appears I have won listeners. And there’s a Burger King style cardboard crown in here that says “#1 Tumblr Sexyman 2023”. And a $25 gift card to the Burger King in the mall food court.

I might use it if the pythons which infest it are removed, though reportedly, they make some mean burgers. Something to consider.

I can see Sans leaving the studio, with a taller skeleton, I guess this is Papyrus, his brother.

[calling out]

It was nice to chat with you! Consider being a runaway model Sans!

Ah he’s giving a thumbs up.

I think this is a nice ending, though I must say, I think my husband, Carlos, deserves the title of sexyman much more than me.

I will now go to spend some time with my personal sexyman.

Goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight.

(Idea credit to @bigcommunist )

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #cecil palmer #cecil gershwin palmer #night vale #night vale fanfic #tumblr sexyman poll #cecilsweep

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 7/4/2023

I...uh...definitely do not know where last week went. I must have done something. My son was at camp last week and this week, and my daughter is not, so I have been spending a lot of time with her, which is fine, but tiring, and also eats into my "getting stuff done" time. I work best with big blocks of uninterrupted time, so I can plan out what I want to do and do it. If I just get little blocks of time here and there, I just waste them on my dumb phone game. Also, we had a family gathering at my house this weekend, which means that I cleaned a whole bunch. It's nice to have a clean house, but it doesn't necessarily feel like *an accomplishment.*

I feel like I am not keeping up with anything, which makes me feel disoriented and overwhelmed and I hate it. It's not like I'm missing important things, and I made a to-do list for this week, which has a million things on it, very few of which I actually want to do.

What I want to do is write, but I think I only want to write because it's *not* on the priority list, so it's more like a wistfulness about the fantasy of writing. I did 0 writing this week.

I did do a lot of drawing, and am now done 4 parts of my Celebrate Bleach drawing. Part 3 took so, so long! They're just pencil sketches, and I might take a stab at lining them, mostly just to improve consistency between them. I had hoped to get five parts done, but I am feeling very tired, so maybe I'll just call it at four. It's the Friday prompt, btw, and the story is for Sunday. New Bleach on Saturday! New Bleach on Saturday!!

PS: My daughter and I have been watching Sailor Moon Crystal lately, although as she tells me what she likes about it (dramatic shouting, transformation sequences, characters themed around space and rocks) and what she doesn't (kissing, Tuxedo Mask's dialogue, which she declared "cringe"), I told her she would probably prefer a shounen, and she agreed. She is familiar with Naruto and One Piece from kids at school, and isn't interested in either. I'm trying to get her to give Bleach a try and she's like "i have never heard of that show, no one has ever heard of that show." What is wrong with the youth of today??? I think she might actually be willing to give it a shake, but she's too into the Sailor Moon at the moment, which is fair. We'll just have to see!

#writing update #art update

[useless-bi-otch]

Cookies'n Cream - Chapter 10

Last chapter / MasterList / art by @aneenasevla

Chapter 10 - Smashed Pedestal

Saturday, two hours before the date

Okubo couldn't stop wondering if going to the Dai-Uchu-Sakaba, with only two hours to go before his date with Tomori, was a good idea. He was early, but when meeting with friends, he almost always lost track of time.

He really didn't want to be late. Delays during a first date made for bad first impressions; even idiots without a shred of experience with the opposit sex were aware of that. Even more so in his current situation, when he wanted to impress this woman like he'd never wanted to impress anyone before.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons he was so anxious. That and the meeting place she had chosen, which brought back some very unpleasant memories. Would there be people who would recognize him from that day? Would he be unlucky enough even for one of those college girls to show up at the bistro? And wouldn't he be being extremely pathetic if he let something like that spoil his night with Tomori?

That was why he was going to meet his friends. At that moment, they were the only ones who could help him deal with that nervousness, even if their method involved a dose of bullying typical of male friendships. He would be forced to face his embarrassment through mockery and psychological violence. And honestly? This was what he needed.

He parks the SUV a few feet away from the bar's entrance, glancing into the backseat to make sure Tomori's gifts are there before he exits the car. He expected to find all three of them at the bar when he walked in, but when he opened the door, all he recognized was Rihito's unruly, bleached mane; he was already being served by a bartender who wasn't Himuro. There was no sign of Kaneda either. Apparently he arrived early...

"That's right, pal, just the way I like it," He excitedly encouraged, raising the glass of drink in the air when the bartender finished filling it "Today is a day to celebrate, and I want to start in style!"

"Oh? And what are we celebrating, sir?," the bartender asks with a crooked smile, probably hoping that winding up the customer's conversation would result in more drinks being ordered and a fatter tip going into his pocket by the end of his shift.

"Oh, nothing much. Only the simplicity of life that makes it more interesting," Lihito takes a sip of his drink, closing his eyes "That promotion at work, that unexpected good news, our friends and the joy we feel when they get good things too..."

"Only when they know how to get the best out of these good things," Okubo says as he approaches the counter, making Rihito turn around and the bartender look up "Because when they don't know, we feel like beating the crap outta them, really..."

"Okubo!," Lihito exclaims, surprised, but still smiling "What the hell are you doing here? Is the date going to be here at the bar?”

"Nope. The atmosphere here is nice, but it's not the most romantic," Okubo murmurs as he sits down next to his friend, who laughs derisively.

“It's not the most sappy, you mean. But I'm glad you didn't change the meeting point. For a second I thought you decided to bring Miss Uta here because you'd feel more confident with Himuro, Kaneda and me around. I'm not cut to be a kindergarden teacher who takes kids to the bathroom by their hands, hahaha!"

"Screw you..."

Lihito laughs again, giving Okubo a cracking slap on the shoulder before exclaiming to the bartender, “Remember what I said about the joy we feel when our friends get something good, pal? This motherfucker right here is making me really happy right now. After years of collecting rejections, he finally landed a girl who deigned to give his ugly mug a chance. Isn't this worth celebrating?"

"Oh, congratulations, sir," The bartender says simply, while Okubo grunts, half red: 

"Pot, meet the fuckin' kettle! And if I collect rejections, you have a trophy room full of 'em, asshole."

"Don't yell for the whole bar to hear, you jerk! But seriously, what are you doing here? Isn't your date in a couple of hours?," He then widens his eyes “Oh no… she didn't cancel the whole thing, did she?"

"No, no, the date’s still on," Okubo assures quickly "That's... That's why I'm here."

"Huh? I don't get it," Rihito shakes his head, confused "Shouldn't you be getting ready then?"

"I alreay am. I've taken a bath, put on some cologne, filled up the car, bought her some nice gifts, the whole package..."

“Okay, but that still doesn't explain what the fuck you're doing here. Did you just come to kill time until it's your turn? Or...," Rihito then widens his eyes, noticing his tense and anxious posture, and Okubo makes an embarrassed face at his indignant expression "Oh no. Oh hell no, bro! You're not going to tell me you're chickening out, are you?"

"No! I mean...uugh!," He puts both hands on his face, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning a little over it "I'm not chickening out, backing out or anything like that. It's just that..."

"It's just what? Are you just whining, thinking of a thousand ways this could go wrong? Then fuckin' stop it!," Rihito slams a hand on the counter, pointing at him with a snarl "When you enter a octagon, do you enter it confidently, with your head held high, or do you shit your pants while thinking about the many ways you could lose the match? Dude, you didn't become a heavyweight MMA champion by anticipating defeats and being pessimistic!"

"I fucking know that! But this is not a match, something I can overcome and win by punching and kicking! I...," Okubo lets out a huge sigh, gesturing agitatedly to the other "The things that are at stake here are more complicated than  trying to keep a fucking belt, Rihito."

"How so? There's nothing complicated about it, dammit!," Rihito takes a sip of his glass before continuing "You take her out, start a nice chat, pay her check, take her dancing, make out with her and then spend the rest of the night fucking her brains out! People have been doing this since the dawn of the world, man. If it were something that complicated, blue balls would be a worldwide epidemic!"

"Uugh...," Okubo moans, shaking his head "You don't understand..."

"What am I not understanding? Fuckin' tell me!," Rihito asks in frustration "You finally got what you've been wanting for the last few weeks, with a girl who clearly has a massive crush on you. It would only go wrong if you acted like a freaking idiot. What's making you so nervous and insecure?"

Okubo opens his mouth, distressed, wanting more than anything to open himself up to his friend, be honest, beg for him to shine a light... and nothing. His tongue refuses to form words. It was as if something had tied it up in a blind knot. An invisible force clogged his throat as well.

Explaining about his misadventures involving the bistro he had to go to in less than two hours would be almost like reliving them, and would probably be even more humiliating considering that he'd have to admit his inability to get over being dumped without being traumatized in the process.

But it was Rihito he was talking to. Rihito was in the same boat as him, Rihito would understand better than anyone... and still, the fucking knot in his tongue wouldn't untie, damn it!

“I… I don't know, man. I just don't want anything to go wrong, you know?," He sighs, speaking lower, sounding almost anguished "I know it's just going to be a one night stand, but still… she's my fan, dude. Someone who looks up to me. I value these things and I don't want to lose them. I don't want to give her reasons to think I'm a disappointment. And because of these thoughts, this fuckin' anxiety just won't leave me alone..."

He rubs his eyes wearily. Rihito remains silent, and when Okubo glances at him sideways, his expression was tense, worried, his brow furrowed. Shit, he knew that look. The last thing he wanted was his friend's pity, it would be a level of humiliation he would never recover from...

"Hey, pal!," Lihito suddenly exclaims, his expression now determined as he turns to the bartender "Pour one more, and it's on me. My brother here needs to wet his throat."

"What- no, wait, Rihito!," Okubo blinks, taken aback "You’re not telling me to drink with you, right? I have a date in less than two hours, remember?"

"How could I forget? You've only talked about it so far! It's precisely because of this crap that I'm doing this," Rihito points to him again. “How do you expect this to work if you're tense, nervous and with a constipated face all the time? Miss Uta will think something's wrong. Maybe she'll even think that she's the problem. You don't want that, do you?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, that's it then. Shut your trap and drink it down!"

The bartender fills a shot glass and makes it slide across the counter, stopping right in front of Okubo. He stares at it uncertainly, his mouth tightening into a line of discomfort.

"I don't know, Rihito... if the cops pull me over, and if they see that I've been drinking, even just a little..."

"Take a train then. We are close to a station. We'll take care of your car."

“But… what if she notices I've been drinking? What if she smells it on me, I don't know. She might get upset, think that I'm a inconsiderate jerk..."

“Dude, I just want you to have a little sip. I'm not telling you to get completely shitfaced," Lihito shakes his head, pushing the glass towards him "Alcohol is one hell of a disinhibitor. A few sips are enough. You'll quickly forget about your fretting. You'll be relaxed and won't screw everything up. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

Okubo looks at him sideways again, hesitantly, before once more staring at the glass and the dark, translucent liquid inside. Drinking before such an important appointment was something so stupid to do... and yet, he couldn't think of any other way to lessen the jitters that gnawed at his insides. He takes a deep breath, picks up the shot glass and drinks in one gulp, his eyes squeezed shut as the liquid burns down his throat. He slams his glass down on the counter, grunting and shaking his head a little, as Lihito cheers.

"Hell yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about! Pour another one, pal!"

“Damn, this shit's strong,” Okubo takes a deep breath, and Rihito laughs, shoulders shaking.

"Yeah, man, that's the good stuff and you'll owe me for it, haha. But it's helping, right? I know it is!"

“Yeah… a little bit,” he admits, smirking. Alcohol always left him feeling light and buoyant, and after all that gnawing anxiety, those feelings were more than welcome "But I guess just one won't do, hehe."

“You got that right. ‘Come on, here comes the second shot!," Rihito claps his hands when the bartender slides a second glass across the counter towards Okubo. He doesn't hesitate this time, grabbing the glass and again drinking it whole, growling loudly as Lihito spurred him on with a whistle that made the entire bar jump.

"Hell yeah, you dried that glass out like a pro! It even made me want to drink some more with you, hahaha!"

Okubo laughs again, louder this time. Heck, stoping by the bar before going to meet Tomori wasn't a bad idea at all. Rihito was really helping. He was feeling so much more peaceful, uninhibited...

"Well then, let’s keep goin! I think I'll order another one."

"Dude, are you sure?"

"Yeah, relax. I'm a responsible adult, ain’t I?" Okubo smiles, raising a thumb. "I know my limits, so I'll know when to stop too."

"Ahaha, if you say so! Okay then, let's have just a few more before your date. Or before Himuro and Kaneda arrive to scold us, hehehe!," Rihito slaps his shoulder again, both laughing like idiots.

That might be a little irresponsible, but if it was helping him relax, what was the problem? He'd go meet Tomori feeling carefree and flipping the bird to the bistro and all the unpleasant memories that would come with it. And besides, they weren't going to drink much more. What could go wrong?

...

Sunday, present time

Okubo woke up with the sun hitting him in the eyes with the gentleness of a right hook, his head ringing like a church bell.

Hangover. That goddamned hangover, one of his oldest enemies, was coming back to haunt him once more. He was in his apartment, he knew because he could recognize the sheets, the pillow and the position of the window, whose curtains were left open. He just couldn't remember how he got back there, because the painful throbbing in his temples wouldn't allow it.

Soon his stomach wakes up too, and just like his head, it seem to be in a bad mood. He groans, hugging his stomach with one arm while hiding his eyes from the sun's rays with the other. That's what he got for drinking too much without eating anything between breaks... he hadn't even had a chance to taste that baked cheese he'd seen on Tomori's table...

... Tomori!

He sits up with an abruptness that sent the entire room spinning, his eyes wide, an icy sense of horror washing over him as if someone had dumped a bucket of water over his bed.

The memories of last night hit him with the force of a train wreck. Him, driving through the streets while ignoring traffic lights and crosswalks, in that assurance of his immortality that every drunk possessed. Him, arriving at the bistro, acting like a complete idiot with no sense of his surroundings. Him, hugging Tomori suddenly and making her uncomfortable. He, nearly picking a fight with another customer. Him, offering money to a waitress to encourage her to break her workplace rules. And Tomori, stunned, confused, mortified, and furious, so furious, furious as when she'd tried to defend herself from pursuers with the shards of a glass bottle, glaring at him like she'd glared at those kids…

No! No, no, he might be be remembering it wrong! It must have been some some trick that his mind affected by the hangover was playing on him, because it was not possible that the images that were playing in it were not the result of some nightmare!

He searches, groping, eyes still complaining about the light entering the room, until he finds his cell phone, on one of the dressers next to the huge bed. He unlocks it, groaning when the bright screen hurts his eyes, and quickly searches through his contacts. There were several messages in his friend's chat group, but the last one in Tomori's contact was sent by herself, the night before, before he arrived at the bistro. And holy shit, she hadn't blocked him! He starts typing frantically.

Okubo_Naoya:

miss uta

it's me

I don't even know what to say about yesterday

only that I'm really REALLY sorry

Please, please forgive me, I don’t know what I was thinking!

I know that what I did has no excuse, I take the blame

but please, please let me explain myself

can I stop by the bakery today?

I'll wait for your shift to end if you need to, I swear I won’t get in the way

but please talk to me, I'm begging you

He gets off the bed, intending to get dressed… only then the room spins like a merry-go-round again, pain stabbing through his head like a knife, bitter bile rising in his throat. He had no choice but to drop the phone on the bed and run to the bathroom, where he emptied a stomach that wasn't even full.

He rinses his mouth and brushes his teeth as he stares at himself in the mirror. Hell, he looked awful, and considering he'd never been a particularly good-looking guy, that was saying a lot. He was unhealthily pale, with dark circles under his eyes, which were puffy, and with stubble covering the lower half of his face... he couldn't show up at the bakery looking like that! He didn't want to give Tomori an even worse impression than she had yesterday. He takes a quick shower and shaves, which proves to be a good idea, because it is in the closed space of the bathroom that he smells the stench of alcohol that permeated him.

He returns to the room with just a towel around his waist, immediately grabbing his phone, but there's no response from Tomori. She hadn't even visualized his messages. He feels his stomach lurch again with despair and remorse, and to try to ease the feeling, he clicks on his friends' group chat, full of unread messages, since last night.

GiantKiller:

how is he rihito?

have you guys arrived at his place?

Mr_Iron_Fingers:

yep

we just got out the elevator

you had to see the receptionist's face when I came in carrying him

Gigolo:

I still don't know how you're more sober than him

you'd also had a lot to drink, hadn't you?

Mr_Iron_Finger:

way less than him bro

I told him to cut it out after a while but he didn't listen

but what about his car? 

is it going to stay there in front of the bar?

Gigolo:

there’s no other place for it to stay

kaneda and I don’t drive and you can’t drive while drunk

I talked to the cleaning staff and they'll keep an eye on the SUV

Mr_Iron_Fingers:

alright then

man I don't know what to do

he's a wreck ffs

I've never seen him like this before

it's scaring the shit outta me

GiantKiller:

is he sick?

give him some water, he’ll need it

and if he don’t get better, call an ambulance

he may need to take saline 

Mr_Iron_Fingers:

dude if it was just that I'd know what to do

but he's a wreck in a sissy way, y'know?

he won't stop blabbing about what a horrible mf he is, he nearly cried at some point

man he must've make an ass outta himself at that bistro

that chick was fuckin PISSED

Gigolo:

of course she was

you dumbasses messed up BIG TIME

what the fuck were you thinking to make him drink before a date??

Mr_Iron_Fingers:

I jus wanted to help him relax ffs!

we’re going to drink only a little, but we got carried away 

GiantKiller:

that's the problem, you guys never knew how to drink responsibly

of course things would end this way!

but forget it, now is not the time to lecture you

give him water, take off his clothes, make him lie down and give him some pills, one for his head and one for his stomach

because tomorrow he will wake up with a hell of a hangover 

Mr_Iron_Fingers:

ok I can do 90% of that

but do I really need to take off his clothes?

don’t wanna get another dude naked fuckin hell

Gigolo:

cut that shit out

what matters now is helping okubo

it's not time to worry if seeing a drunk naked dude will make you question your fuckin sexuality

Mr_Iron_Fingers:

alright, alright, got it

dammit

I feel awful

if I knew that it’d end like this, I wouldn’t have made him drink 

Okubo could no longer bear to read the messages that followed those. It was too much humiliation for a hungover motherfucker to bear. He puts a hand over his face, snarling, his head throbbing painfully again. Not only had he embarrassed and hurt the only girl who's been nice enough to let him get close, he's had to be looked after by his friends like a four-year-old in need of a babysitter... he quickly types a reply, just to reassure the three of them.

EggHead:

I just woke up

thanks for yesterday guys

I fucked up really bas yesterday

if it weren't for you guys I don't even know how I would've got back to my place

I'm going to the bakery to solve this mess

yeah the hangover is killing me but I can’t wait

I have to talk to miss uta, apologize to her

talk to you guys later

He puts the phone aside while getting dressed. He hears several sounds of notifications, and when he finishes getting ready, he picks up the phone again, hoping that one of them was from Tomori. But no, they were all from the group chat. He takes a deep, unhappy breath before stuffing his cell phone into his pocket and running towards the entrance to his apartment. He didn't have the SUV at the time, so he'd have to catch the train. The bakery closed early on Sundays, and if he didn't hurry, he wouldn't be able to get to it in time.

And in his rush to leave, he hadn't noticed that there was a glass of water on the kitchen counter, on top of what looked like a sheet of paper torn in half, two small pills lined up beside it.

* * *

Even with the bakery always closing early on Sundays, the day had been slow to pass for Tomori.

She had expected the day before to arrive at work buzzing with happiness and satisfaction, full of amazing things to tell Kanami and Hiro and steamy details she could share with Akane over the phone. But she had arrived unhappy, in a bad mood, with horrible memories of the fiasco that that date had been.

Every time she remembered Okubo's awful behavior, she felt like either crying or breaking something. She'd probably do both at the same time if she let herself go. But no, she was a professional cook and needed to learn to separate her obligations from her personal life. So she'd worked with a concentration that was borderline manic, and yet she'd made amateurish mistakes, like overdoing the coloring for the royal icing or letting an entire batch of cookies burn. And obviously, it wouldn't go unnoticed by her boss and friend.

"Seriously, Tomori…," Kanami says to the sous-chef, when she pulls her aside at the back of the bakery "What happened? You sure as hell wouldn't look like that after a date with someone. Nobody would be, if it was good. Spit it out."

The head baker crosses her muscular arms, looking at her friend with those acidic eyes. When she sensed that something didn't smell right, Kanami was sure to be the first to feel it, and she was almost always right about that. Well, in this case, there was no way to hide it.

Tomori swallows hard, averting her eyes as she bites down on his bottom lip. Her biggest fear was that she would burst into tears as soon as she started to tell Kanami about her experience.

"I… I don't want to talk about that, Kanny..." 

"We're almost closing, we're in the locker room, at the back of the bakery, and we can go out for something good after that. I just want to know what happened. Seriously, Tomoh, I'm worried about you. All of us are."

"Yes!," Hiro's voice could be heard from the locker room door "I even asked about baldie but you made such an angry face at me that I felt the poison in my mouth as if I had kissed you. Start talking!"

"Hirooooo…," The baker rolls her eyes "Wasn't this supposed to be a private conversation between women?"

"Gender doesn't matter when it comes to friends who understand each other at such a level, Kanny!"

"It matters when it comes to a fuckin' locker room! Get away from the door!," she looks at Tomori, one hand holding the other arm "Sorry, Tomori, but it's true, we are heartbroken to see you, Heavy Bakery's ray of sunshine, so unhappy..."

Tomori sniffs, biting her mouth a little. In that very difficult moment, feeling loved and appreciated like that made a huge difference. She now, more than ever, wanted to lay her head on Kanami's shoulder and turn on the waterworks. She sniffles, looking away and covering her mouth with one hand, her eyes blurring with tears.

"Kanny... Hiro…," She manages to stammer, her voice a bit muffled "I- I don't even know how to tell you… it was so awful, so ridiculous…!"

“What did he do?," Kanami's eyes opened a little, one lower eyelid trembling when she asked in a harsh voice "If he hurt you, I swear to fucking god…!"

"No! He- he didn't do anything to me!," She hurries to explain through a sob "Not physically, at least… he… uugh… he arrived almost an hour late for our date at the bistro… and he was completely drunk!," She hides her face in her hands, mortified.

"What?!," Hiro and Kanami exclaim at the same time.

"Like... completely shitfaced? Seriously?!," Hiro screeches at the door, still not entering "I swear to fucking god, there isn't a single intelligent muscle-head in this world!"

"I can't believe it..." Kanami shakes her head, a hand over her mouth, looking indignant "You must've been so embarrassed, Tomoh…"

"I- I almost died of embarrassment.…," Tomori whimpers, trying to wipe away hetr tears with the back of her hands “He came driving drunk. Driving drunk, my God in heaven! He could have run over someone, hit another car or a pole, I don't know! Then he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire bistro, and then he tried to pick a fight with another customer and... and then he even tried to bribe the waitress when she told him to leave! I just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear off the face of the Earth..."

Kanami puts her hand on her friend's shoulder, pulling her closer and letting her cry. She lets out a sigh. 

"Hiro…"

"What?," he answers from the door

"For today you're an honorary woman. Come in, this is serious business. But bring some water and tissues, please."

"Leave it to me!," he runs off to comply with the request.

"Sit down, Tomori," she sits down with her friend on the bench "Cry as much as you want, you need it."

She simply nods, letting herself collapse onto Kanami's shoulder, her own shoulders shaking every now and then with sobs. She had been holding back that flood since returning home the night before. Crying under the covers in the solitude of her bedroom didn't have the same liberating effect as crying in the arms of one of her best friends. It was like lifting a giant weight off her chest, or washing and treating an infected wound. It burned, it hurt, but it was part of the healing process.

"I… I should have left right then and there," She finally manages to say, her voice breaking "I should have left him there, shouldn't have bothered… but I couldn't, Kanny. He was going to take that fucking car and drive off again, he could cause an accident, kill someone... or kill himself. I took him to the bar where his friends were. I hate how I still worried, cared about him... I wish I was more like you in times like this..."

"No," Kanami cuts her off immediatelly "I would've done the same, Tomori. I wouldn't let an idiot like that go around causing more trouble than he already has. You did the right thing and nipped it in the bud. Don't beat yourself up about it, you've done absolutely nothing wrong."

"Yes, honey," Hiro arrives with the water, his face solem "And honestly, it's better this way, Tomori," He hands the water and a handkerchief  to her "Better get rid of it at once. For him to do some shit like that... it's a good thing you didn't even touch him. You've already realized that he sucks, no matter how famous and competent at his job he is."

She knew they were right, and yet, hearing those words hurt. She accepts the water and the handkerchief, muttering a “thank you” before tipping the glass to her mouth, sipping slowly, eyes closed. She leaves the glass beside her on the bench, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down, still holding Kanami's hand.

"Yeah ...but- but you know what the worst part of all this is? He- He cried," She murmurs, her head down "He cried in the car, saying he'd screwed up, that he was a piece of shit… and he sounded so sorry that for a second I almost wanted to forgive him… but I couldn’t. What he did was unjustified. I can't understand, guys...," She shakes her head, another tear running down her cheek "Why did he do that? He was the one who had suggested that date. He looked as excited as I was. He's been so sweet and attentive to me ever since we started talking... and now I can't stop wondering if he was just pretending so he could make me vulnerable, easy to manipulate... simply because he knew that I was a fan of his..."

"I don't know," Kanami sighs "I have no idea what's going on in his head. But I'm sure at the very least he knows he screwed up. I hope this serves as a lesson for him too. If not, and he messes with you again, my fists will beat the lesson into him."

"Well… Kanami…," Hiro smiles weakly "I don't know if you noticed, but the guy is almost seven feet tall…"

“I'm not afraid of him. If he's champion of whatever there is, if he's the devil himself, I don't care. Nobody messes with my family and friends."

"Well said," Paikon says, from the locker room door "And… look, Tomori, I know I warned you, but… damn, ruining a measly innocent date was one hell of a stupid move. I didn't have faith in him from the get go, but wow, he exceeded my expectations."

"Wow, Paikon, even you?"

"What? You're all gathered in the locker room and I'm a curious little pest, hehehe..."

Tomori can't resist, letting out a choked laugh, wiping her eyes again, a happy little warmth igniting amidst the icy sadness in her chest.

"Heh… thanks, guys… it's too good to know that I can count on you like this…," She then turns to the janitor "And yes, Paikon, you warned me… I should've listened to you. I really don't know anything about him. I mean... I already knew that he had a bit of a complicated history involving drinking, petty crimes and a womanizing way, but... but I didn't think any of that would affect me because I just wanted to have fun... uugh, damn it, I wore a cute outfit, Akane made magic with my hair, I put on my best perfume and even endured that Brazilian wax shit, only to end the night alone and crying my eyes off...!"

Kanami and Hiro hissed understandingly, and Paikon pouted.

"Okaaaay… I think I deserved that for being to nosy," the janitor turns around "I'll attend to the remaining customers.

"There's a customer left? – Kanami raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that tall, seaweed-headed guy…"

"Oooh…," Kanami makes a face, her cheeks blushing "That botomless pit. Alright."

"You mean your bottomless pit, right…?"

"I'm not the focus this time, Hiro...," She stares at the cashier with anger and embarrassment.

Paikon laughs and leaves. Kanami turns to Tomori.

"Anyway… holy crap, Tomoh… No wonder you're so bummed…"

"Yeah… that’s- that’s kinda ridiculous, you know…," Tomori blows her nose on the handkerchief that Hiro had brought. "I should've a little more sense and not idolize famous fighters like that… putting them on pedestals ... the fall was too high and it hurts. It'll continue to hurt for a while longer. Shit, I really looked up to that idiot! Now all I can think about is that I don't want to see him again anytime soon. Not on television and not in front of me..."

"Hnm…," Kanami thinks a little, seeming to make up her mind "I think that going out with friends and having some meat will make you feel better, what do you think? If Akane is free, then the four of us can go together. What do you say?

"Yes, Tomoh! Then you'll forget that shit while on a nice afternoon with people who really care about you!," Hiro smiles "Hey, can we have some grilled meat? I'm  in the mood for some juicy beef..."

"Fine be me. Come on, Tomoh, let's get things ready for us to go."

"Yeah… I think that's exactly what I need…," Tomori sighs after nodding, accepting when Kanami extends a hand to help her get up "Juicy, well-smoked meat… and a little of booze. I'll call Akane too, I want to hear her cursing when she finds out that all her work on me was wasted, hahaha..."

"Oh my, that girl is going to talk her mouth off," Hiro smiles, leaving the locker room with the girls "Even more than she usually does, ahhahahaa."

"I would do the same… let's curse this man out more than a sailor would!"

Tomori didn't exactly know if she wanted to curse Okubo herself, but she certainly wouldn't stop her friends from doing it. The laughs it would elicit might help her feel better. And if not, they would at least help her forget about her bad mood until she returned to the hole of loneliness she called home...

"Oh, you sonuvabitch," She hears Paikon's voice suddenly, all the way back from the counter, making the three of them start a little. "You still got the balls to show your face around here again, eh, you bastard?"

"Hey, what did he do?," They hear Ohma's voice too, sounding confused. He was still thetre, aparently.

"Huh?," Tomori blinks, confused as well "Who is Paikon talking to…?"

"Look, gramps, I don't want any trouble, okay?," A voice interrupts her from the counter, sounding tired and anguished. "I just want to talk to Miss Uta, please. I swear I won't bother you anymore after this..."

Tomori gets pale, her stomach plummeting as if she's inside a falling elevator. "Mr. Okubo? W-What is he doing here?!," She shrinks all over. Shit, shit, hearing his voice was making the pain come back, the wound opening up again...!

Kanami looks at her friend, frowning. 

"You don't want to talk to him, do you?," She asks, and when Tomori vehemently shakes her head, the baker pats her on the shoulder "Alright. Stay here," she flexes her hands and snaps her fingers. "Hiro…"

"Yes ma'am," he turns to Tomori and whispers, "C'mon, honey, let's get our things and get out by the backdoor, quickly."

"O-Okay..." Tomori nods again, looking at Kanami, not knowing what to do. She sure as hell didn't want to see him at the moment! But she knew her friend too well, she knew what she intended to do… and she didn't know how to feel about it "Kanny… he's- he's a professional martial artist with decades under his belt. You're incredibly strong, but he's got a lot more experience and… please, you don't have to pick a fight because of me. Just tell him to get lost, say you're going to call the cops if he doesn't leave, I don't know..."

"Just go, Tomori," she dismisses it with one hand "We'll meet later on our way out, okay? Let me know when you find a good place and I'll go there."

And she went to the counter at the front of the bakery. Paikon was there, holding a broom, preventing the man from getting closer. Ohma watched the situation completely puzzled, but didn't move to intervene. Good.

"You... You already know what happened, right? Shit...," She sees Okubo scratching his scalp. His face was awful, looking exhausted and even a little sick. Surely the main cause of that was the hangover, but she wondered if there was some remorse worsening his condition "Seriously, gramps, you can hate me as much as you want. I deserve it. I messed up really bad, I was one hell of an idiot. But I swear I want to fix this," He bows a little awkwardly. "Please let me speak with Miss Uta! I want to apologize and explain myself!"

"She doesn't want to talk to you, sir," Kanami says, putting a bit of venom in the last word, crossing her arms in an intimidating way "And after what you did, none of us do."

Ohma raises an eyebrow, still quiet, still listening and still confused.

Okubo actually takes a step back, tense, his broad shoulders stiffening.

"Miss Kanami,… I- I swear I can explain myself, if you let me," He assures, clasping his hands as if pleading "I'm not trying to make any excuses, because what I did has no justification, but- but there was a reason for what happened. It was an accident, I didn't plan any of that, I swear! I... I have a little drinking problem, it was an oversight on my part, but it won't happen again! If- if she gives me another chance-"

"No, Okubo. You don't have to explain anything, or even get a chance to. Your face has already told me enough," She goes out of the counter through the small door, and walks down the corridor towards him "A face that I'm honestly sick of looking at…"

She is prevented from moving forward by Ohma, who takes her by the arm.

"Hey, hey," He mutters "Seriously, I don't know what he did, but I won't let you hit him like that. He's still my friend, Kanami."

Okubo had become even more tense, but he took a deep breath when Ohma stopped the bakery owner's advance

"Thanks, Ohma… but honestly, I… I deserve it…," He makes a devastated expression, shoulders slumping "I was a piece of shit, I know… I'm just asking for a chance to prove that I'm not shitty all the time, that I can be better than this. I...," He gives Kanami a weak smile "If I buy something from the bakery, will you cut me some slack? Haha… ooh, shit, I shouldn't have said that…," He realizes with a groan.

Kanami's eyes widened in a homicidal fury, and Okubo saw the moment when Ohma's shoulders tensed, no doubt sensing something, looking alarmed as he held her.

"Let me go! He made Tomori cry," she growls at him "Nobody messes with my family and gets away with it!"

Ohma looks at Okubo and frowns

"Okay, all yours," and he lets go of the baker's arm, which shoots like a train towards the tallest fighter.

"WHAT?!," Okubo screeches, his eyes widening, but in the next instant, Kanami had already shortened the distance between them. He stares, dumbfounded, in the half second it took for the baker to draw back her arm, fist clenched tightly... and he did nothing to stop the violent collision that followed. A heavy blow to the chin which made his hangover-ravaged head ring again as if his brain had been let loose in there. He could almost feel it rattle inside his skull, pain exploding through that entire hemisphere and making him yelp.

If he had been a smaller and far less resilient man, he would have fallen flat on his back. But being who he was, he only bumped into a couple of tables, managing to grab one just in time to keep from collapsing, disoriented by the impact and the pain. Heaving, his lower lip cut and bleeding, he looks up at Kanami in shock.

"And there's more where that came from, you pompous fuck!," she advances with hard steps towards him, her acid eyes burning "I don't know what came into your empty head to do such a shitty. She was completely into you, you fucker!," She holds his shirt collar, staring at him "And what do you do? You arrive at the fucking date completely shitfaced like the manchild you are!," She lets him go with brusqueness, and he falls off the table where he was propping himself up. Kanami gets up, still looking at him in disgust "I swear, I'm not ripping your face off right now only because you didn't attack or harass her. Just for that…," she claps her hands "I'll let you leave in one piece. But don't come back."

She takes a step away, making room for him to leave.

Kanami was used to the idiots she was forced to beat up trying to argue with her, fight back or use the police card to try to intimidate her. A part of her even expected him to choose one of these options. But what that giant who was almost seven feet tall and that certainly weighed more than 220 pounds did was to lower his head, swallow hard and get up with some difficulty, again having to use the table for support. He looks up slowly at her, his pose meek, submissive. And she thought she'd never seen such a defeated expression on the face of a fighter who held the title of champion of an entire fight promotion.

"… I'm sorry," He says in a low voice, slowly turning towards the door. "I'm sorry…," And he leaves without saying anything else, the sharp sound of the bell above the door accompanying him.

Kanami almost, almost felt bad about it, but she pushed the thought away with a growl and a shake of her hands to relax her tense muscles.

“Nice punch,” Ohma comments as she approaches.

"Hnmf… thanks," She sighs, letting her hair loos "I didn't feel good about that though.”

" 'Course you didn't," Ohma crosses his arms. "He let you punch him. Where's the fun in that?"

"I know…," She snorts, grunting low "And that pisses me off even more. That bastard underestimated me," She looked at him "Welp... we're about to close. Do you want anything else…?"

"A milkshake."

* * *

The way back to his apartment had seemed extremely short. Okubo barely remembered arriving at the station, taking the train, sitting on a bench, swaying with every bump with a dead expression on his face. His actions since leaving the bakery had been automatic, robotic; a machine operating with total indifference. Only the pains in his head and jaw still reminded him that he was made of flesh and blood.

When he got off the train, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, the sound of notifications reaching his ears. He picked up the device, the wisp of hope he insisted on keeping alive dying out when he saw that none of the messages he had received were from Tomori. Some were from his trainer, wanting to schedule a routine check-up for him before his next fight, and others were from his manager, talking about a meeting where they would discuss possible sponsorship from a company that specializes in “fit” food. Most of them, though, were from his friends' group chat.

He didn't even need to open it to know they were asking for him, perhaps wanting to dissuade him from going to the bakery. Well, it was too late for that now, wasn't it?

"I should ask about my car... I should go get it... I should..."

He didn't even have the willpower left to mentally complete that sentence. He wonders if being beaten in a fight, with no hope of a rematch, felt like that. He hadn't felt that way when he was defeated by Kanoh Agito during the Annihilation Tournament, so he couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was broken, dejected, and more than ever he wanted his bed, his television, his PS4, or who knows, maybe a little booze to forget-

"No! I don't want to see booze in front of me anytime soon, for fuck's sake!”

The sudden anger at himself and his own imbecility, which had cost him the affection of the nicest girl he'd met in years, made the pain in his head and jaw intensify as he flexed the muscles in his face. But he preferred that to feeling empty again.

Soon the towering facade of the apartment complex where he lived came into view, and that only made his body feel heavier, yearning for his bed. He wouldn't even look the doorman in the face as he walked past the gatehouse, nor the receptionist. He wouldn't answer any questions they asked (especially about the ugly bruise that must've been forming on his jaw) and he would tell Rihito, Himuro, and Kaneda to leave because he wanted to be left alone...

... Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda?

"Okubo! Holy shit, thank god you're back!"

It is then that his eyes register the SUV, his SUV, parked in front of the complex. It hadn't been hard to recognize it, considering it was the only blue car in sight. And also because of his three friends, standing beside the vehicle and frantically waving at his across the avenue. Yeah, subtlety was never one of their strong suits.

"Guys? W-What are you doing here?," He asks, confused, as he approaches, crossing the avenue and barely paying attention to the traffic around him. Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda scream when a silver Nissan has to brake hard to avoid running his over, while Okubo only felt his stomach give a brief somersault in fright.

"Are you crazy? Do you want to die in the middle of the avenue, you dumbass?!," The driver yells angrily, but all Okubo does is mutter a 'sorry, pal' while he continued to walk towards his friends, who were now stunned.

"Hell, he's worse than a zombie...," Rihito comments, while Himuro shakes his head, a little pale after the scare.

"It's a remake of Dawn of the Dead, but with braindead gorillas instead of normal people. Watch where you're going, Okubo, you fuckwit! You almost traumatized us for the rest of our lives with the dumbest death in history!"

“Seriously, man, we learn to look both ways before crossing a street in middle school! And...," Kaneda then widens his eyes when Okubo gets close enough to them "My god, what happened to your face? Did someone punch you or something?!"

“Oh…” Okubo touches the sore area of ​​his jaw with his fingertips before looking up at his friends. And suddenly, he feels that crushing sadness returning, compressing his chest like an anvil, exhaustion making his body feel it was made of lead "I'm such a piece of shit, guys... I fucked up absolutely everything... I deserved much more than just the punch Miss Kanami gave me..."

"Oooh..." The three of them seemed to understand, wincing their shoulders and grinding their teeth while making pained, sympathetic expressions. Rihito, asks, worried, "So... auntie and the bakery staff already know about what happened? That girl spilled the beans fast as hell, huh."

"Rihito…," Kaneda hisses in a reproachful tone while Himuro, shaking his head, says, placing a hand on Okubo's shoulder:

"This is not the place to talk about that. Let's go to your apartment, the hangover left you a mess."

Okubo just nods, not even trying to argue. He'd wanted to be alone at first, confined to the depressive bubble his apartment was likely to become in the next few days. But now that he was with his friends, he felt an overwhelming need to loosen his tongue and vent. He felt he needed it, otherwise that weight would crush him from the inside.

He manages to pull his car into the compound and into its designated spot, and then the four of them go up to his apartment in tense silence. None of them could take their eyes off the darkening bruise on Okubo's chin for more than a few seconds, and they couldn't stop wondering if things would have been different if they'd accompanied him to the bakery.

"So…," Kaneda is the first to speak, while Okubo unlocks the apartment door, after the four of them have left the elevator "Did you go to the bakery right after sending that message earlier?"

"Yeah… I couldn’t wait any longer than that," Okubo admits, opening space for his friends to enter first, closing the door behind him after passing through it. "The bakery closes early on Sundays, so…"

"Have you tried texting her before?," Himuro asks without pretense, staring at him with a frown, and Okubo becomes even more aware of the silent phone in his pocket. He nods, massaging his sore jaw.

"I have. But she didn't answer. She didn't even visualize them..."

"Fuck... she didn't even ask how you 'were feeling after yesterday? You could've gotten alcohol poisoning and been admitted to the hospital, as far as she knew...," Lihito comments, to which Kaneda shakes his head at him.

"It was not her obligation to worry about it, considering everything she went through yesterday. No offense, Okubo, but..."

"I know, Kaneda. I don't blame her for not caring. Or for wanting to keep her distance...," Okubo rubs his eyes as he sits down on the biggest sofa in the room "I just wish I could have spoken to her directly, explained myself, apologized... but her boss didn't even let me see her. Even the fuckin' janitor was pissed at me and wanted to shoo me away with a broom. They treated me like a criminal, you know...?"

"Dude, sorry if I'm being to honest, but you drove under the influence. You're technically a criminal," Himuro arches an eyebrow, to which Rihito snorts with a roll of his eyes.

"He didn't cause an accident or hit anyone, did he? So who cares?," He shrugs "Everyone likes to think they're so above reproach and to pretend they've never done a single questionable shit in their life... you're not a horrible person for making a mistake."

"Yeah, but not being a horrible person doesn't make you exempt from suffering the consequences of those mistakes. Seriously, what were you thinking?," Kaneda asks while Himuro and he sit at opposite ends of the coffee table in the living room, gesticulating in frustration "You knew you'd have a date in a few hours. How could you think getting drunk was a good idea?"

"I didn't, damn it! I... I was just getting really nervous, anxious and I couldn't think of anything else to help me relax... I never planned for that to happen, it just got out of my control!," He gestures too, then moans and goes back to holding his head in his hands "And this fuckin' headache that doesn't go away...!"

"Huh? You didn't see the pills I left on the kitchen counter?," Lihito asks, frowning, while Himuro's eyes widen a little when he understands something.

"Wait a minute, you didn't stop by the kitchen today? Have you not eaten anything since you woke up?"

"Dude, I… I didn't even think about it," Okubo hides his face in his left hand, his eyes closed, his voice tired, sounding almost dead "I just… I just kept remembering yesterday, the stupid things I did, the... the look on her face as she looked at me... as if I was a threath like the idiots that chased her that day. It took my appetite away, bro. I think it still hasn't hit me. How... how could I screw this up?!"

He runs his fingers hard over his scalp, elbows resting on his knees. The other three look at each other, just as lost. What did you say to a friend who had screwed up and lost any chances he might have had with a woman? None of them had ever been through that kind of situation, or knew someone who had.

"Shit…," Himuro grunts, imitating Okubo and running his fingers through his hair "If I had arrived a little earlier for my shift, I wouldn't have even let you have that first glass."

“I would have stoped you too. But I still haven't been able to understand what happened, Okubo," Kaneda leans a little over the coffee table "Why were you so nervous? Miss Uta was as excited as you were about the date. Last night could've ended so well. Why did you start to think otherwise?"

“Because life's coincidences love to fuck with me, with my plans and with my traumas”, he says in thoughts, but again, he finds himself unable to verbalize them. If  he already had a trauma involving that stupid bistro before, now his case was therapy worthy. He just shakes his head again.

“I don't know, I' just…I was just afraid I'd do something stupid that would make her see that I wasn't everything she thought I was."

“And in the end that's exactly what happened. fucking hell, Okubo...," Himuro lets out a heavy sigh "Now that whole bakery must be demanding your carcass so they can hang it on the facade as an example of what happens to those who mess with them."

"The owner said that the only reason she didn't do that right there was because I didn't harass Miss Uta or anything like that. But she told me never to show up there either..."

"What? Are we forbidden to show up at that sugar shack again?!," Lihito screeches, astonished, and Himuro shouts:

"Damn it, would it kill you to stop using that stupid nickname?!"

"Calm the fuck down! I was the only one who was banned from showing up there, she didn't say anything about you guys," Okubo grunts, throwing his head back and leaning the back of his neck on the back of the sofa "But that could actually be a good thing..."

"Sure it is! We're sorry for you, man, but none of us want to go without the kick-ass food that place offers," Rihito says, Himuro and Kaneda nodding in agreement, and the three of them have to quickly dodge when Okubo throws cushions at them, growling angrily.

"First comes your stomachs, and then comes the solidarity with your peers, right, you disloyal fuckers?! But anyway, that's not what I'm talking about," He leans on the couch, now speaking in a more urgent tone "I can't show up there anymore, but you can! You can try talking to Miss Uta for me!"

That causes a brief awkward silence, with Rihito scratching the back of his head, Himuro looking to the side as if he wasan't part of that cinversation and Kaneda saying, in the gentlest tone he could muster:

"Look, Okubo, we understand how you feel, but I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Please, guys! I swear I'll never ask you for anything else!," He begs, putting his hands together as if in prayer "Just tell her I want to talk with her and apologize in person!"

"Dude, didn't the bruise on your chin and the gash in your mouth teach you anything? If we try to convince Miss Uta to come near you, we'll probably be thrown out of the bakery the same way you were," Himuro explains "Not to mention that it'll only make you look like a coward in her eyes."

"But how am I going to talk to her otherwise, if she doesn't respond to my texts and if I can't even go back to the bakery?!," He gets up a bit to take his phone out of his pocket, sounding a bit desperate "At least you can try to send her a message, then! I-I have her number here still-"

"Okay, Okubo, that's enough! Can you even hear yourself?," Kaneda interrupts him, now a little impatient "Are you really going to give us her number without her consent? Do you want her to be even more mad at you? That way, you will not only get a reputation as an alcoholic, but as a stalker too!"

Okubo wanted to throw the phone in one of their faces, so be damned if the screen was going to get even more cracked! What made him the most angry was that their arguments were irrefutable, only making him feel even more helpless, with no hope of solving everything and winning Tomori back... without even knowing if she really wanted to be won back. Without knowing if she wanted to forgive him or even see him again…

“You can be sure I'll be fine, because it's safer to go home alone than with a drunk jerk!"

And he drops the phone onto the coffee table, putting his hand back to his face with a sound that eerily reminds them of a sob. Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda exchange worried looks before Rihito approaches, slowly reaching out and touching his friend's shoulder.

"C'mon, man, don't be like that... it ended up not working out this time, but it might work with the next one. I doubt that girl is the only female fan you have in all of Japan, as absurd as that sounds, hahaha!"

"No, bro, I don't want anything to do with anymore fans…," Okubo stammers in a muffled voice, without looking up "Even if I run into a girl like that, I'll keep thinking about Miss Uta and that'll fuck me up all over again..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Okubo, cut that shit out!," Rihito throws his arms up in frustration, raising his voice and startling the other three "Are you really going to cry over a chick that you only wanted to bang? Get a fucking grip, there's a lot of fish in the sea!"

That makes Okubo look up. But from anguished, his expression had changed to dangerous.

"Huh?! What are you-"

"Weren’t you saying until last week that you were playing the part of the solicitous and friendly idol because that made her more interested in you? Well, it ended up not working out with this one, but it might very well work out with the next ones. Come on, man, just hold your head high and move on, there's no use crying over a girl like that. Let's just go out and have some booze, then you can forget all about that and-"

"Booze? Are you fucking serious? Did you forget that it was precisely because I got drunk that I got dumped by the only girl who reciprocated my interest in her?!," Okubo yells indignantly, jumping up to face Rihito, to which Himuro and Kaneda do the same, suddenly alarmed.

"Hey, calm down, you two-"

"No, I haven't forgotten, but honestly, why the fuck do you care so much?," Rihito growls back, clenching his fists "You were just going to bang her, you said so yourself! You're making a mountain out of a molehill over something that wasn't even that deep-"

"It's too easy for you to say that, damn it! For you, women are disposable like napkins, aren't they?," Okubo interrupts him again, pointing accusingly, and Himuro and Kaneda widen their eyes, quickly approaching the other two, who were now yelling with their faces inches away from each other.

"Stop it, you two!"

"Stay out of this! And you better watch your tone, Chrome Dome Head, even more so with someone who up until now has only helped you, fixed your messes for you and tried to rid you of those neurotic thoughts you were having!," Rihito points at him, almost poking his nose. Okubo's face turns red with anger.

"You helped me?! Yesterday you did everything but help me! Drinking our asses off was your idea, and you still insisted when I hesitated the first time! To be honest, my date going horribly was partially your fault!"

"My fault? Did I, by any chance, pointed a gun at your head and forced you to drink, you fucking idiot?!," Lihito was almost shouting now, equally furious "All I wanted was to help you forget that nervousness, you ungrateful bastard! I was trying to be a good friend, but you don't appreciate it, ‘cause ever since that girl came along you've done nothing but crawl at her feet like a fucking simp! Is she more important to you than your friends who've been by your side through all kinds of hardships?!"

"Holy shit, calm down! Are you listening to yourselves?," Himuro exclaims, wide-eyed, while Kaneda said hurriedly:

"Stop it, you'll end up saying things you don't mean and regretting it later! Just calm down and talk it out like two adults-"

"Stay out of this, you two! And stop projecting your insecurities onto me, you asshole! What's with all that resentment towards her, huh?," Okubo grabs the collar of Lihito's shirt, snorting like a bull "Is this all saltiness because she refused to give you her number on our first visit to the bakery? Then you decided to get even by ruining my date too?!"

There is a small collective gasp as Himuro and Kaneda hold their breaths in unison and turn to Okubo, shocked. Lihito had turned pale, also staring at him in disbelief. And even Okubo himself couldn't believe what had just come out of his mouth. He swallows hard, his stomach plummeting and burning with instant regret.

“Ri- Rihito, I… I didn’t mean it like that…!”

"Fuck you, you piece of shit!," Rihito roars, furious, before pouncing at him with a raised fist. They both fell onto the coffee table, the loud sound of wood giving and splintering filling the entire room, followed by Himuro and Kaneda's screams.

"Okubo, Rihito, no!"

One thing that could be said about fighters like them was that when they fought out of sheer rage, their fights tended to last no more than a minute. In the end, Himuro and Kaneda managed to pull them away from each other, but not before some punches and kicks were exchanged, as well as more hurtful words.

"That was the last time I tried to help you, you asshole! The last one, you hear me?!," Lihito shouted angrily, blood coming out of his mouth and nose, while Kaneda was mounted on his back, panting while keeping his arms restrained "You don't deserve it after putting a girl you barely know above your friends! What the fuck happened to 'bros before hoes', huh?!"

"Stop talking like that, dammit! It's precisely because of this that you're still single!,” Okubo replies in the same tone, on his knees while Himuro trapped him in an armbar, the cut on his lip having opened even more and starting bleeding again "And you'll always be, if you don't quit your bullshit!"

"Go to hell, you-"

"Enough! Cut that shit out!," Himuro interrupts them, shouting even louder than them to be heard "You guys crossed the line, dammit! You're both to blame for what happened! Can’t you see that? There's no point in pointing at each other and not looking yourselves in the fucking mirror while doing so!"

Okubo and Rihito just stare at each other, panting, the words simply refusing to come out of their mouths. Kaneda, panting too and looking unhappy, just shakes his head.

“My god… forget it. Just... forget about it. You're not going to be able to settle down now, with your heads hot like that," He lets go of Rihito slowly when he sees that he had already lost any will to continue fighting "Just… let's just leave, okay? Okubo needs some time alone. And you too, Rihito. At this point, nothing good will come of the four of us remaining under the same roof."

Himuro takes a deep breath, letting go of Okubo as well, who lands on all fours on the remains of his coffee table. He stares at the ground, wide-eyed, panting hard, before looking up. Rihito was looking down at him too, his green eyes still filled with anger and hurt. He looks away with a snarl, clenching his fists.

"... Fine. Whatever. Fuck this shit," And he marches out of the apartment, leaving the door open on the way out.

Okubo watches him go, unresponsive, his chest heavy as if he's swallowed a few pounds of lead. Himuro puts a hand on his sweaty face, taking a few deep breaths through his nose before nodding, eyes closed.

"Yeah… it's better this way," And he walks towards the open door, without turning around "See if you can eat and drink something non-alcoholic, Okubo. We'll talk later," And leaves the apartment too. Kaneda follows suit as he slowly turns his head, his expression crumbling a little. He sighs and runs a hand through his straight black hair.

“I…I don't know if saying something like that is going to make any difference at this point. But...," He turns to Okubo, shrugging a little "It was Rihito who insisted on us staying even after we brought your car. He wanted to make sure you were fine, if you weren't going to need us for something... but I think that, for now, won't be necessary," He tries to smile more kindly "Take the pills that are on the kitchen counter, okay? And send us a message if you need anything. See you another time, Okubo..."

And Kaneda also leaves the apartment, closing the door behind him. Okubo stayed on the floor for a while longer, listening to his footsteps moving away in the corridor. And just like his walk from the bakery, he got up and walked around the living room of his apartment like a zombie, feeling cold, disconnected from everything.

He had gotten into a fight with one of his best friends over a woman. A bad, serious fight, and he didn't know if their friendship could recover from such a blow. Fuck, what else could he lose in that string of hellish days until he had nothing of value left?

He drags himself into the kitchen, finding the glass of water and the two pills exactly where they've been left them that morning. He took one at a time in automatic, nonchalant gestures, unable to even care if it would help with the pain or not. And it is when he's placing the now empty glass on the counter that he finally notices the torn half of the sheet of paper, where the glass had been resting. He immediately recognizes Rihito's handwriting.

Hey man. We already know that you're going to wake up feeling like shit because of the hangover, so I separated these two pills here. The white one is for your head and the orange one is for your stomach. See if you can eat something too. We want our egghead getting better so he can be properly beaten in our next sparring session.

You'll get through this, alright? We'll be here to help. Repairing a broken ego is something I'm good at!

Rihito

And when he finished reading, Okubo could only wish he had never found that note. Because now, in addition to the pain and nausea, he also felt an uncontrollable urge to crawl inside his bathtub and cry his eyes out.

It would have been better to get through that shitty time with friends. But now, all that awaited him was the silence of that cold, empty apartment. Maybe getting drunk again wasn't such a bad idea after all...

NEXT CHAPTER

#Kengan Ashura #Kengan Omega #kenganverse #fanfiction #Okubo Naoya #Naoya Okubo #okubo x oc #kengan oc #Rihito #Himuro Ryo #Kaneda Suekichi #Tokita Ohma #cookies'n cream #the heavy bakery series

[turkeysandwich]

One Bed

Ian Duncan x Original Male Character

Read here on ao3

Chapter 1/?

——————————————————————————

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, a single shared dorm!?” Alex shouted the second he was sure no one could hear him from the comfort of his car, he had just gotten done with the twice-monthly teacher meeting with the dean.

Apparently the school had been having a shortage of dorms, which aligned terribly with Alex not being able to find a proper apartment in Greendale's county. So of fucking course he had to endure yet another one of the cheap rug pulls of Greendale, Just two and a half more years of this hell, then I’ll be at SCAD, I can do this. He thought to himself, it had always been his dream to be a teacher at the one school he wanted to go to, but never could.

Years before he ever was ever considering being a teacher, he had attended Greendale along with his brother, graduating with a bachelor and going through teaching prep a small while later.

A few years of being a commission artist, and doing random freelance jobs, briefly moving back down to texas for a few years. After doing fuck all for that time, Greendale had contacted Alex asking him to come back and teach art three for a few years, which as he was told, would look great on a resume.

And this was how Alexander N. Luna ended up in an old pickup truck gripping his phone so hard that he was sure it would crumble in his hand at any moment. Dean Pelton had been taking his sweet time delivering the email that told the teachers their new dormitory and teacher that would be rooming with them.

Alex simply took a deep breath before he turned the key and turned on the pick up, supposedly they had two days before they moved into the new dorm. Might as well just pack it all up now and get that off their hands, he figured he would just get his dinner from some random store he found while scouting the area. Mexican sounded good to him, therefore, he pulled out his teacher assigned parking space, and started on a path to the nearest restaurant he could find that served good tacos.

Alex seemingly never broke the habit of announcing when he got home, even when it was to no one. He figured he should get started packing, and that started with taking down all his wall art and putting them into the cardboard boxes that he moved in with half a year ago. He started carefully taking down the band posters that scattered his walls, even his newest DOOM poster came off easy, next came off his two flags, one pan and the other trans.

He then packed up his computer before falling into his rickety bed, he picked up his phone and went straight to email, he crossed his fingers and looked in his inbox, he opened the newest one he saw.

Hello Mr.Luna, Thank you for complying with this newest change, you will be sharing dormitory #323 with Prof. Ian Duncan, have a great day, and remember to be fully moved into your dorm by Monday!

Alex had heard of Ian before, never actually meeting him; he was infamous for something he called the Duncan principle, apparently he had been a student at Greendale about the same time as Alex.

Alex woke up late that saturday, figuring it was his last full day in his old dorm he got up, made himself breakfast and went right back to packing up all his things, he thought his roots were getting worse and worse so he took a trip to the nearest Sally beauty to pick up bleach and a new color of hair dye, intending to use it some time next week.

Yet again he grabbed a monster and mustered up the energy to pack more and put all his things in boxes, figuring he would leave some food for the new students moving into the dorm. He checked the clock; it read six-thirty so he made himself dinner, he looked in his fridge, pasta for one seemed obtainable.

He woke up that Sunday surrounded by boxes and a suitcase. He got up, made himself tea and got to putting everything in his car. He drove a few miles to the dorm complex over, and took a deep breath, hopefully his new roommate wasn’t loud or annoying.

Alex groaned as he picked up a box, trying to crack the problematic places on his back, he carried the box up to room #323, he climbed the stairs and tried his very best to not fall down the stairs. He looked around the hallway and tried to find the dorm number, he saw a few teachers he recognized all equally annoyed.

He spotted his dorm and checked his phone, looks like he might be running fashionably late. He saw someone leaning against the wall and nervously checking a wrist watch. Almost the second he saw Alex his mood brightened and he waved him over.

“Hello there! Alexander Luna, right!?” He said in a shockingly British accent, shooting a hand out to shake, taken aback by the accent Alex stopped in place.

“Ian Duncan, you can call me Alex by the way?” Alex shook his hand, being let into the dorm by the taller man, he looked around the exceedingly small, one-room dorm, and immediately noticed something that stood out to him.

“Oh my God…”

“What?”

“One. Bed.”

The layout of the dorm went like so; a compact kitchen to the left, shifting into carpet the floor was covered by a single loveseat in front of a tv stand that already had one as supplied by Ian, to the side of the seat was a single bed that was in a corner, mirroring a window, a door to a small bathroom sat opposite to the bed.

“Yeah…” Ian cringed, who had already taken a look through the dorm. “I would offer you to sleep on the floor or the couch, but all we have is a loveseat and no floor space.”

“Just don’t do anything too gay.” Alex gave a pitiful laugh and put a box on the table, seeing Ian had already majorly moved in. “I get up pretty late, you take the outer side, I’ll take the one next to the window.”

“Yeah, sure.” He said, a blush rising across his face. “I guess I should help you move in huh?”

“It would be much appreciated.” Alex smiled, letting a slight Texas drawl seep through his words. “Please and thank you.”

Alex walked out the room, Ian treading quick behind him.

“So you're southern huh?” He asked, looking at the boxes sprawled across the bed of Alex’s truck.

“Yes I am, grew up on a longhorn ranch in Texas.” Alex answered, sliding two boxes towards himself and two more to Ian. “I can get these two, you're too scrawny to carry these.”

“Hey!” Ian sounded offended but the tone quickly wore off. “You’re probably right but that still hurts, I can carry shit.”

The two continued their strange banter bringing in the boxes that cluttered the bed of Alex’s truck, maybe Ian had been purposely stalling his time by grabbing less boxes each time.

“So that's the last box, you got anything left in your truck?” Alex shut the door to their dorm.

“Just a few things but you're going to have to promise to not make fun of my car.” Ian sighed, signaling Alex to follow him

The two walked down to Ian’s car, Alex following Ian quickly, Alex had been trying to crack Ian, question after question along the lines of what car do you have? When the pair arrived at the car, Alex really had a sight to behold.

“Well… that is certainly… a car?” Alex giggled. “Do you even have a trunk?”

“No, I had to make two trips.” He admitted, opening the door and grabbing one of the milk crates full of books, mugs and random trinkets he couldn't place.

The two yet again went about their day, both moving into the tiny apartment best they could, Alex had put up almost all his wall art, he hadn't known Ian for long enough just to put up his flags.

“I’ll cook you clean?” Alex offered, both men had grown hungry.

“Sure.” Ian said. “I’m a great housewife.” Making Alex giggle.

The two cooked, ate, and cleaned together, trying to prepare themselves for the awkward night ahead. When the time eventually rolled around, it was Alex who first crashed into bed, falling asleep almost immediately. Ian needed to get done with the grades he had been putting off, but when he eventually crawled into bed with an already sleeping Alex, he couldn't help but get butterflies. If only he could reach over and touch him.

#community #ian duncan #ian duncan x reader #Ian Duncan x self insert #Alex Luna #self insert

[julessworldd]

Tatum pt 3

My new oc has been on my mind lately and so has her Dr best friends. @slashscowboyboots was kind enough to let me smash our universes together 💕 warnings: alcohol, being drunk, angst, cussing, loneliness, panic attacks, psych meds. Implied mental illness from parent(bipolar disorder)

It was Saturday night in LA, I was working at the bar as always. College was back in session, a girl was getting married so Bach party. At least the tips will be good. I was wiping the bar down as I seen a blonde girl looking me at. I smiled, “Hi you ready to order?” “Hi, um yeah I think” “Can I see your ID, love?”, I asked making sure she was overage and maybe nervous. 22. “First time?”, I asked. She nodded. “Here let me make you something, on the house”, I grinned. “No you don’t have to. Okay she’s already making it”. She sounded so shy and out of place, quiet thing. She smiled as I handed her the drink. “That’s good! What is it?” “Yay! It’s mijto. You remind me of rum”

I had went on my smoke break and as I can back I noticed Izzy’s girlfriend and Duff’s fiancé. Wonder if my boys are here? Y/n spotted me and smiled. “Hi ladies. How are we doing?” I smiled. “Tatum! Tay!”, Susan yelped and giggled. “How is she this fucked up already?”, I asked Y/n. “Apparently she “pre gamed” before I got to her”, Y/n smiled. “And Paul let her in, I’m gonna kill him. She’s getting a soda and what can I get you love?”, I sighed. “What does Izzy get?” “Whatever gets him shitfaced the fastest. Slash and him get shots of Jack, whiskey sour”, i deadpanned. “I’ll just get a vodka soda”, she giggled.

“Where are the boys anyways?”, I asked. “Izzy is working on a song. Duff’s sister is in town with her kids, I think that’s what Sus said”, Y/n spited her drink. “Oh yeah. Joan is here”, I smiled. Joan and I were close, she taught me about being a girl and what all comes with it. “Tatum, my drink taste funny”, Susan whined. “It’s a new liquor, I think Kendall Jenner made it”, I grinned. Y/n shook her head. “Oh”, Susan played with the straw.

Then next time I saw Susan, she had no idea about the Jenner liquor. “You told her Kendall Jenner made a new liquor that tasted like coke?”, Izzy snorted. “She was lit already and I’m not losing my liquor license over her. I don’t care if she’s my best friend’s fiancé”, I snorted back. Izzy had invited me to have lunch with him in the Dungeon. “Y/n told me you were working on a new song”, I tore a piece of my chicken quesadilla off. “Yeah. It’s shit right now”

“Tatum are you free tonight?”, Susan asked on the phone. “Sure. What’s up?”, i asked. “Girls night at mine. It’s gonna be Y/n, Kayli and my sister, Veronica”, Susan said. I hate girls night, but she’s soon to be Duff’s wife. The shit I do for big bird.

Y/n, Susan, Veronica were all laughing about being a teenager growing up together. I felt so out of place, my chest started tightening, I was clutching the target cup that had Jack and coke. I got up and walked to the balcony. “Tatum”, Kayli said.

“Hey what’s wrong?”, kayli shut the door behind her. “I’m fine. Go back inside”, I forced myself to get it out. My chest was heavy. “Sorry about Ronnie, she can be a little draining”, Kayli sat beside me. I giggled. “Believe me, she’s the typical older sister. She was kinda mean to Sus growing up, but Susan loves her to death. I don’t get the sibling bond, I’m an old child”, Kayli rambled. “It’s something but I love my siblings. I’m the middle child”, I giggled. “I know you’re not really used to us but thank you. Thank you for dealing with us, Duff probably made you come”, Kayli gave a small smile.

“No, he didn’t. I decided to come, I need more friends that don’t think bleaching ABC is still funny after the 68th time. I appreciate you for calming me down, I was about to call Duff”, I smiled. “No problem. You seem really nice but I’m not great at making new friends. Y/n and Susan are my only friends really”, Kayli laid her head my shoulder. “I get that. When duff started being in the band, I kinda became friends with them”, I smiled. It got quiet for a bit, we could hear the other girls inside. The door slid open, “Tatum? You okay?”, Susan said. Kayli patted my shoulder and left. “Yeah, sorry I got overwhelmed”. “Sorry about Ronnie, don’t say she’s not the reason you’re out here. It happened to Duff too”, Susan plopped down. “I’m emphatic. It don’t help with my panic attacks”, I sighed. “Needed me to call D?”, she asked. “Nah, I’m fine now. Thanks thou”, I smiled. “He would kill me if something happened to you. That time you came into the ER for your gallbladder, he about had an aneurysm. He over heard the intern talk about how hot you were. I told him it couldn’t be you.”, Susan replied. I smiled, “I don’t remember Duff coming to see me. Izzy did. I woke up and saw him looking at my chart, he deadpanned me, “Told you to lay off drinking, dummy” I giggled. “Izzy something” I nodded.

I was sitting in Duff’s office, waiting for him to finish the charts and emails. He had a few drawings that his nieces and nephews made me, mug that had the Ramones and another that had best unc ever. I spotted a picture frame, I looked familiar to me. I stood up, going to it. “Yes I still have that”, Duff said without looking from his charts. It was us after the senior night for football. I had my black and red uniform on, hair teased with the bow. Duff had his iconic black skinny jeans, god save the queen shirt with a flannel and leather jacket. And those god forsaken cowboy boots, I tripped over a 1000 times at our sunset blvd apartment.

I sat back down, opening my phone to Instagram. Scrolling through my profile, memories started flood back. “Tatum, what’s eating at you?”, Duff asked. “Nothing, just on my phone”, I said. I heard him get up and he sat in front of me at his desk. He was looking at me, finding something wrote on my face that stuck out. Suddenly, he snatched my phone and put in his back pocket. “Hey! Give me my phone back, you don’t pay the goddamn bill”, I stood up. He stood there, not flinching.

I smacked his ribs, “I’m not fucking around, Duff. There’s nothing wrong so just hand the phone over okay?” He smirked. “Quit being a dick, Duff. You know what keep the phone, I can get another one”, I huffed siting down. He looked at me, “What? Jesus Christ Michael. What is it that you’re dying to tell me?”, I threw my head back. “Have you been taking your meds? And don’t lie, I’ve called the pharmacy”, Duff said standing to his full height. “You know you could go to prison for HIPPA violation”, I spat back.

“Funny, you put me on your hippa paperwork. Tatum answer my question”, Duff said calmly. “Yes, I have. Why you think I’m not? I’m like my mother now?”, I spat again. “I didn’t say that. Just that you’re acting different is all”, Duff said. I forced my tears to not come out, it was getting hard. “Didn’t know missing my best friend was a crime. And made you think I was becoming like Monica” Duff’s scowl softened, “Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I know the hospital keeps me here a lot more but you’re still my girl” “Not just the hospital, Michael. Just fucking forget it”, I turned to go to the door. His hand grabbed my wrist, “I didn’t realize how my engagement to Susan was affecting you” “It’s other stuff than that, Duff. I’m happy for you and Susan.” I sighed.

“Everyone is moving on in life and I’m still in one place. Izzy asked me to go ring shopping for Y/n, hell even Axl is in a stable relationship. My sister is almost done with college, she was 10 the other day what the fuck? It’s silly, forget I said anything”, I sat in the floor like a 2year old. Duff sat down next to me, pulling me into his lap, “People move in different paces, somethings come faster to others. Tatum, just because Izzy and I are planning on getting married doesn’t mean we’re leaving you. You’re my favorite girl, have been for 21 years. You’ll find someone who loves you much as I do. If you ever feel like this again, call me, keep calling me until I answer or come here. I’m not leaving you I promise.” Duff kissed my head.

“I love you, D. You’re the best”, I pulled him into a hug. “I love you too, dope. Even if you’re the throne in my side.” “If you ever tell anyone I got emotional in here, I’ll kill you”, I pulled away, snatching my phone out of his white coat. “Yeah yeah, get your bony ass off of me”, Duff playfully pushed me into the floor. “Please my ass bony, never. Yours all day, worm ass”, I pulled him up.

Susan wanted me to come dress shopping with her and the girls. The store owner gave us champagne as we waited for Susan to come out. “She called him McSteamy”, I giggled. “Yup. When Y/n got moved to the basement”, Kayli snorted back. “Does he know? I’m so calling him that now”, I took a spit of my drink. Susan walked out in this beautiful dress, it had a sweetheart line, long train and puffy in the waist. The assistant put a vail on her, Y/n and kayli were crying. “Believe me, Duff will love this one. You look so beautiful, sis”, I got up and hugged her. “You think?” She asked with tears in her eyes. “I know so, Izzy will be punching him to get him back to reality at the wedding”, I giggled. “Thank you Tatum”

“Oh Izzy, she was so beautiful. Can’t wait for D to see her”, I smiled. “You’ll be with Y/n right?”, Izzy asked. “Only if she invites me. I think she puts up with me because her best friend is my best friend’s fiancé”, I said. “What?” “I mean she’s nice and I like her but I feel like she don’t really like me”, I said, looking at an oval diamond. “Tat, she does. I promise” “Iz, we have a past. You can still tell something is in the air, I’m not interested in fucking you again. We bicker but not like you and Axl”, I sighed. Izzy just stared at me, biting his lip. “She knows about us in college, Tatum” “I knew it! She would kill you if she knew I was here. Hell even me!”, I groaned. Izzy rolled his eyes. “Tatum Lee, calm down. She knows but knows there’s nothing there anymore. That was 7 years ago when we were a thing” “Oh”, I blushed and moved to the other side of the store.

“Why did you bring me?” I asked as we walked out of Starbucks. “Susan would show her the ring in a heartbeat. Kayli constantly looks at my ass, I mean she don’t even hide it.”, Izzy groaned. “Kay’s eyes are working great then. You do have a nice ass”, I grinned. “Down girl”, Izzy playfully grabbed my side. “Izzy!”, I yelped. Izzy grinned, opening the door for me. We were at a red light, “I just want you to know that, I’m still gonna here for you”, Izzy randomly said. “Thanks Iz, the same to you”, i drank my chai latte. It’s like we knew that Duff had mentioned to him, maybe another reason why he brought me along.

Conveniently, Landslide by fleet wood Mac came on. Universe has a funny way of things at times, it fit perfectly to how I’m feeling. I would get my person like my boys had themselves, it’s gonna be okay. Izzy patted my knee and smiled. Well, I've been afraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm getting older too

Oh! I'm getting older too

I smiled back. It was okay

#izzy stradlin x reader #Tatum oc #duff mckagan fic

[kimium]

Hey friend! For the writing ask: 1, 7, 8, and 25!

(From this ask HERE)

Thanks for the ask, @m34gs! I am excited to talk about my fics for 2022! I hope you enjoy my answers, friend!!!

1.What's something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out? Would you do it again?

Recently I've been writing snippets, experimenting with ideas that don't quite have a full story, but want to try writing anyways. In my first series of Warming Up (in Snippets) Chapter Ten, The Blue Bottle I experimented and wrote in present tense.

I think it turned out well. I liked the tone and narration Shouichi provided. Somehow, writing in present tense makes me feel more involved in the action as the narrator. I'd absolutely try writing in present tense again!

7. What fic meant the most to you to write?

There are two answers here and I hope no one minds me cheating a little.

The first fic that meant the most for me was my Serial Killer AU SDR2 fic Working Relationship. This fic was a soft redo of an older fic Steal Your Tongue. Any time I revisit ideas I feel a sense of nostalgia in my heart. I remember writing Steal Your Tongue. I remember where I was when I wrote it. To revisit the idea feels like I'm paying homage to an idea. It's a little silly, but in a way it allowed me to see how far I've come as a fanfiction writer.

The second fic that meant the most to me was my first Twisted Wonderland fic, The Small Things that Don't Align. It is always scary to write and post for a new fandom. What are the fans like? What sort of fics do people write about the fandom? Will my ideas stand out? Those thoughts always plague me despite years of writing fanfiction. Of course, I enjoy writing the fic, but my enjoyment is only a percentage of the reason why I write fanfiction. Posting it is a huge part too and I always want that to go over well!

8. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

Without a doubt the fic that made me the happiest was my second Twisted Wonderland fic, Comfortable Bed(s). I was so excited to write that fic I wrote majority of it one Saturday afternoon/evening. All the while I was internally Panicking because here I was in my second Twisted Wonderland fic and I was writing Every Main Dorm Member. Still, the sheer joy of writing all the scenarios and ordering which dorm went next was such a delight. I'm very happy with the fic!

25. What's something you want to write in 2023?

In 2023 I want to write:

-More Twisted Wonderland. Yeah, I'm deep into the fandom now and I really enjoy writing for it. In particular I hope to write a Vil/Rook fic, but I always enjoy writing Yuu ft. The dorms.

-A Bleach fic. I've been a fan of Bleach since the first episode dropped all those years ago. I actually attempted to write a Bleach fic in 2015-2016, but I never posted what I wrote. However, now with TYBW arc animated, I might find the right Bleach fic idea.

-A multi-chaptered FE Fates fic. Honestly, the last time was in 2021 with Searching (and Falling) Through Dimensions. I have to do something else. Not sure what yet, but I'd like to try another long term project.

-Speaking of FE Fates, I want to write more Anankos/Trio fics. I want to do this because I'm deep in this silly ship and I need to drag more people down with me.

-Another post SDR2 multi chaptered fic. Listen. The last time I took a deep dive into the cast's psyches over multiple chapters was in 2016. I have different ideas and interpretations. I have a better grasp of the characters. I think 2023 might be the year I write this multi-chaptered fic.

-Lastly, maybe, just maybe if I get permission I can write at least one (1) idea from the vast list of Bar AU ideas. Because we call the AU "our AU" but I've done nothing except bounce ideas and add to that secret USB drive.

#personal #replies #2022 fics #feel free to ask more if you want!

[ghostofasecretary]

weird day. Monday. 12.5.22. yes.

stuff i did today!

- wore an outfit from the List Of Outfits That Would Be Cool i made yesterday

- lost phone. went on a stupid quest to get phone again and got rewarded with an outfit compliment and my phone. am v glad i have phone

- [work bs static noises]

- made list of possible gifts to get work gift exchange person

- got news of my grandma's dx. not great!

- cooked dinner and my dad and i enjoyed it

- on Saturday i told my stylist my part was in a different place than it actually is (fatal error) so to fix it a little i cut some of my hair with kitchen shears (a centimeter too short) but also did not cut enough of it (fix later)

- called friends and played cards and vibed, that was great

- bought new glasses because apparently i need new glasses every like 4-6 months now

- was too Exhausted to call other people or send the texts i was meaning to send (sorry frondos) (maybe i can fix one of these problems later)

- watched the new episode of Bleach! really enjoying TYBW so far even though i do not remember enjoying reading the manga that much

- hugged my parents

- watered my plants

that's a nice list of things. or, y'know, there are at least two terrible things on it but i mostly did stuff!

i'm in that, like, "everything is horrible because One Big Thing is horrible but also there are other awful things in the background too" spot where any small thing is devastating? like i almost cried about losing my phone this morning and i was SO mad about it and then about all the other bullshit. and then the news was just--haha ok. ok. well. gonna uhhh kneel with my head on my bed like a Victorian protagonist, i guess! feeling overwhelmed and lifeless!

i want the things in my life to stop being in my life. and to welcome other better things into my life. and to have a fucking break.

the current level of anxiety and bad shit is horrid but it's not going to immediately kill me or fuck up my work life. i want better things for myself than this, but my current goal is to make it to February, see if sticking around was worth it and if not screech a lot, and then either way jump shit to a hopefully better situation. and also i'll keep an eye out for nicer ships that i might be able to jump to for, like, January. i can make it till the holidays. i can make it through December.

oh jesus fuck i'm getting hives on my feet now??? rude

anyways. um. i can also quit at any time and take a holiday because of the lifestyle choices i'm making and the privileges i have, so that's an option to remember. it would not be easy or long-term smart but it is a real option if i need to snap. and maybe the more pressing of the two bullshit issues will resolve soon and i will be less stressed and have a little more time for living and soul-nourishing study and stuff like that. we'll see. did i mention today was weird? today was weird. but hey, i did it! go me

there isn't really a nice conclusion to this ramble i just need to get my thoughts down somewhere and public felt better than private for whatever reason, so, here you go

#done log #timekeeping #first season out of college #ghost speaks #cancer cw #tired #tired tired tired

[humanransome-note]

Notable Interviews of Note (Me)

so michael's (the same michael's mentioned here) is having a job/event/thing on saturday... im thinking about going... but i also don't want to/hope i don't get the job... im still trying to grapple with the fact that i might never find work fulfilling, or at least not on the first go. It's a shoot off of my perfectionist streak born from being a "gifted child", something i've never completely dealt with...

anyway, here's what happened every time i got contacted by an employer.... AKA why I hate job hunting

Target

called me at like 11:30 at night on a wednesday asking if they could do a phone interview, I say no, because it is almost midnight. im in my jammies, all my paperwork and such is put away, im considering some me time... i am not in a professional head space. I tell them while I am not available now, im good tomorrow. they say sure we'll call you around noon. Great.

tomorrow happens, i give them until one... nothing. call them myself... nothing. wait around on the same timeline friday... nothing. call them again... nothing.

Hamilton/DEH merch (got this one, but it's inconsistent and then COVID happened, haven't worked with them since)

the woman took me saying "my mother used to have a hoarding problem, I'm cleaning." as me saying she had recently passed... which is a fair assumption, but she hadn't. The embarrassment the interviewer obviously felt when I made that clarification I feel, in part, is how I got that job.

Barnes & Noble

said it was part time book seller. get there and they tack on "also, maybe, more often then not, the starbucks cafe." now, this feels a bit illegal, and might be, but I was there, I wore my khakis and button up, i'd try at least.

get there, it's a group interview, im nervous, thus im sweating, and it's in the break room with other employees coming and going. one even obviously and flagrantly hyping one of the other applicants.

she got that job, and i had a nervous cry in the bathroom

Press N' Grind (overpriced Cafe, disappointing I know)

had the job for three days, boss fired me, without saying anything indicative of him actually firing me like "this isn't working out" or "we have to let you go" so i spend about ten days waiting for a schedule update, and when i finally go in to ask wtf is up, he clarifies, gives me like $275 and i have a good walk/cry in the rain.

Turns out he was also having some legal issues with an old business partner regarding royalties and IP, maybe that had smth to do with it. (my mom's a nosy bitch and so am I)

Michael's

Guy says he'll email me some things, and I'm thinking cool, I've got the job! get home, no email. next morning, no email. next evening, no email. I call everyday for a week, even go in three times, the guy who interviewed me is never there.

like a month later, i've cut my losses, my mother has stopped pestering me because all of my attempts have failed. she needs poster board for an office presentation and i'm a crafty bitch, so we go to michael's.

now, sm ppl have said that what I did was a bad move. i disagree but whatever.

out of the corner of my eye, guess who I see?

so from the far end of the isle, in my jammies, (freshly bleach stained due to a laundry accident) and a set of slides, I summon from the depth's of my chest:

"What's up,

Phillip?"

he stops, he stares, he blanches a bit.

"Been trying to reach you, never got that email you were supposed to send me."

he stumbles over some half said mostly implied excuse that summed up to "Im not the usual hiring manager, and when they came back they vetoed my decision."

"woulda been nice to know that a month ago."

"yeah..."

"yeah."

he gets called to the register and I swear he moved faster then he did before.

I have not gotten a call back from a job since.

#wurds

[guessknee]

about me !

aka me nerding out about things i like

Video Games !

the aesthetics, soundtracks, art, landscapes, everything about video games i love. i love playing jrpgs, visual novels and rhythm games. i love watching streams of all types of games though!

currently into watching apex legends, league of legends, valorant, csgo (on occasion), breath of the wild, and some older jrpgs.

i have a goal of beating one major game a month! i love playing games but i often buy too many at once and then play one while forgetting about the others. i dont know if anyone else has that problem so i made a system (gonna get really nerdy for a second) where i track video game releases im interested in for each of my consoles and i pick one game from each month to play and hopefully beat and one game to buy a collectors edition for (if available).

recently completed games

dec-feb

god of war ragnarok

crisis core reunion

one piece odyssey (almost complete 80% of the way done)

games im excited to play soon

the persona ports (jan release)

fire emblem engage (jan release)

octopath traveler 2 (feb release) - collectors edition preorder!

theatrhythm final bar (feb release)

kirbys return to dreamland (feb release)

story of seasons (jan release)

mobile games im playing

twisted wonderland

ensemble stars

genshin impact (on and off)

consoles i own (i have a weird thing with clue consoles and handhelds - i never realized i always bought blue ones till a about a year ago maybe its because i loved sonic as a kid...)

ps5

ps4

ps2

switch (animal crossing)

psp (light blue)

ps vita (light blue/white)

wii (i never use it)

ds

2ds (blue)

dsi (light blue)

Anime / Manga !

i love anime and manga. ive grown up with it ever since i was around 5. i would stay up on saturday nights till 7 am when inuyasha would start playing on adult swim. if i was ever too tired i would record the episode on our dvr and would watch it after getting home from kindergarten. crazy age to watch inuyasha but i always found it so cool.

also grew up on naruto. i am such a naruto nerd i have rewatched the og and shippuden so many times i can tell people which episode events happened, i can sing the openings in order, i can name most characters, etc. the naruto brainrot is bad. same thing with bleach and dragonball z. the new bleach has me so hyped i loved watching every episode made me want to rewatch the main series but i have no time so i just watch small clips here and there.

i love just about every genre of anime tbh. sports animes (baki, hajime no ippo, kengan asura, one outs, eyeshield 21, etc). idol animes (idolish 7, tsukiuta, tsukipro, etc). shounen, mystery, shoujo, literally everything. i have to be in a certain mood to watch mech animes but whenever one comes out that catches my eye i put all my energy into watching it. i think the only genre i dont enjoy much is isekai, i used to like them but new ones come out too often i cant keep up.

currently watching

one piece (caught up)

blue lock

buddy daddies

monster

vinland saga s2

trigun stampede

yowapeda limit break

tokyo revengers s2

Cars !

my day to day guilty pleasure is cars. i love cars. they are cool, go fast, go stutututu, whine, be loud, have cool lights, i love everything about a good car.

i have a brz! bought it myself and it is my pride adn joy. it is one of my favorite cars and when i bought it in november i literally cried. I drive manual and its so fun to me! i want to learn how to drift but im a bit nervous because i dont want to accidentally mess up anything in my car.

Reading !

i love books i love reading. i love fiction, sci-fi, philosophy, nonfiction, fanfiction, everything. I was never into books like harry potter and anything with too many magical elements in them but always loved horror and more mystery thriller books.

i have been dying to buy more physical books to add to my mini library in my room but theres a few books on my backlog i need to complete before i do that.

i also have a slowly growing manga collection that i desperately need to add to.

i read all day all night on my phone but the feeling of flipping real pages is so satisfying and having the weight of a book in my bag is just so nice.

Music !

not to toot my own horn but my spotify wrapped minutes is always 140k+. i listen to music all day everyday. while doing homework, reading, driving, working, in class (pay attention dont be like me), watching stuff it doesnt matter. i have a terrible habit of getting bored of something very easily so i always multitask and need 20 things happening at the same time so music is amazing at keeping me focused.

i love 'underground archive', rnb, krnb, jpop, citypop, lofi, rap, edm, literally a whole lot of stuff. i dont like pop that much ive grown to realize same with country, i can listen to it but only if someone else wants to.

thats it! literally my whole being in a post.

#guessknee #about me <3

[recurring-polynya]

*CLAPPING AND CHEERING WHENEVER I SEE BYAKUYA'S SQUAD 6 MEMOS AGAIN* Honestly an early favourite when I was getting into Bleach. Anyways for the deleted scene stuff my vote is for Hold On, Hold On. Academy squad...

I hope someone from Squad Six saves every memo Byakuya ever writes, like, in a binder somewhere. For posterity.

Ahem! So, in the first draft of Hold On, Hold On, when Renji hit the depression stage, Kira convinced him to stay in bed. I didn't like it though, and I eventually decided that a) it was too sappy and b) it was out-of-character for Renji to allow himself that level of self-indulgence, and I rewrote it. I absolutely stand by the final version as superior. Regardless, there are certainly some charming bits in this version, so here it is. This is actually, like, 3 deleted scenes, but they go together so you can have them all. (If the first few paragraphs are familiar, it's because they're the same as in the final story, but I wanted to keep the lead-in)

🛏️ 📖 🌧️

Renji relentlessly fills binders for two days. It’s actually kind of fun for Izuru to be able to supply information on various protocols and etiquette. For once, Renji is actually interested in things he knows about. But Izuru hopes this doesn’t turn out to be permanent. There’s a certain anxious mania to School Supply Renji that he finds exhausting. This may also be due to the fact that School Supply Renji doesn’t sleep any better than Denial Renji or Angry Renji.

But Saturday morning, things have changed once again. 

The day dawns bright and beautiful and Izuru hopes maybe they can spar outside or walk down into the city proper, instead of cutting articles out of magazines in the library again. 

Renji is lying in bed with his blanket over his face and his feet sticking out the bottom.

Izuru hopes against hope that he’s asleep. “Hey, Abarai?” he whispers.

A muffled “yuh?” emerges from the blanket.

“You ready to go down to breakfast?”

Izuru has lived with Renji for nine months now. Renji has never once not been ready for breakfast.

There is a long pause. “I don’t feel like it.”

A dark, familiar feeling knots in Izuru’s stomach. He tries not to jump to conclusions. Maybe Abarai has made himself sick with his mania and poor sleep. “You don’t feel like eating or you don’t feel like getting out of bed?”

Another pause. “Neither, really.” Renji sticks the tip of his nose out from under the blanket. “I'm never going to see her again, am I?"

No, it was his first suspicion after all. Izuru knows how to deal with this. It hurts his heart, both because he’s embarrassed by how familiar these feelings are, and also because Renji is strong and cheerful and spits in the face of life’s adversities, and depression is not for him, it’s for people like Izuru. But that’s how it is in this bitch of an afterlife, so Izuru’s going to Do Friendship and help Renji get through this. 

Izuru keeps his voice very calm and reasonable. "I think you will see her again. It won't be the same, and it might not be for a while, but I am sure you will see her again, especially if you work at it the way I know you're going to."

"It seems like so much work. It seems impossible."

"You just have to take it one step at a time. The first step is doing well at school, and you'll have that covered if you stop yelling at teachers and trying to show off in kidou. And it's Saturday, so if you want to just stay in bed for a while, you can. You don't need to work on it every minute of every day."

"I feel like I'm too sad to get up. I hate this. Why am I like this?"

Izuru pulls his desk chair over next to Renji's bed and sits down. "A sad thing is happening to you right now. You haven't really just let yourself be sad about it. It's okay to do that." 

"I'm being ridiculous. I would never do this back home." 

Izuru has never once heard Renji refer to Inuzuri as "home" before.

"Yeah, well, you're not there anymore, so go ahead and be ridiculous. I've spent a few days in bed myself because I was sad, sometimes it's what you need."

More of Renji's face pokes out from under the blanket. "Really?"

Izuru regards him very seriously. "Yes. And some of it was for good reason, like when my parents died, and sometimes it was for no reason. There are some people who just get sad sometimes and I'm one of them. And since I am the voice of experience here, this is what we're going to do today: You do what you want. If you want to stay in bed, stay in bed. If you want to go outside, go outside. At some point, I'll make you eat something, but it doesn't have to be right now. If there is anything you think will make you feel better, go for it. If there's anything I can do to make you feel better, say the word. You want to tell Rukia stories, I'll listen. You want me to go get you some food, just tell me what you want. You wanna borrow my blanket so you can make yourself a big blanket nest, it's yours. If you'd rather have Momo or Hisagi or someone else, I'll go get them for you. If you want to be alone, that's okay, but I will check on you from time to time. Deal?"

Renji nods. "Hey, Izuru?"

"Yeah?"

"I can really borrow your blanket?"

Izuru snorts, and goes to get it. He tosses it over Renji's feet, and then, realizing that his is much softer than Renji's own, reorganizes so the nicer one is on the bottom. "That one was easy."

"Once, in Rukongai, I got sick with a fever and I got the chills real bad. Everyone put their blanket on me and…" he trails off.

Izuru pats the mass of blankets. "I told you. Anything."

---

In a twist that surprises no one, Renji is bad at being depressed. The problem is that he is bored, but he still doesn't feel like doing anything.

"Do you want to get out of the room?"

"No, I want to stay here."

"Do you want to lift your weights?"

"No, I don't want to move."

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

"I don't even want to think about anything. That's the problem, actually. I keep thinking things I don't want to think about."

"You want to read a book?"

Renji wrinkles his nose. He's got blankets wrapped around his head, and if he weren't so sad, he would look really adorable. "Like homework?"

"No, like, for fun. I read a lot when I get depressed, it helps distract my mind."

Renji still looks perplexed. "But what do you read that's fun? I guess our history book is kinda interesting."

It dawns on Izuru suddenly. Renji has mentioned before that paper is rare out in Inuzuri, and that his schoolbooks are the first books he's ever owned. Every time Izuru thinks he has a handle on the awful dump Renji grew up in, he learns some new horrible detail, large or small that makes things seem even worse. "I've heard you tell stories before, " Izuru says slowly. "Not stories about yourself, but about made-up people or events? Stories you tell over and over?" He'd always found this performative storytelling sort of odd, but Renji seemed to enjoy it. He recalls Rukia telling stories once or twice, as well. She had seemed like an entirely different person.

"Yeah, sure," Renji agrees. "Like you would tell at a campfire, or when you're snowed in." 

"We have books like that, here in civilization."

Renji looks confused. "But wouldn't the story just be the same every time?"

Izuru shrugs. "That is a limit of the medium, I suppose." He doesn't keep too many novels at school, but he does have a few. He immediately rejects all that have even the vaguest romantic subplot. Here's one that's almost entirely descriptions of the protagonist hacking his way through the War Beneath the Earth, described in loving detail. Izuru can't even remember if it has any female characters. He can remember that Momo hates it. "Here. Give this a try."

Renji looks deeply skeptical, but he sits up, rearranging his blanket cocoon, and accepts the book.

Izuru has been working on homework, but if Renji can take a day, so can he. He picks up the novel he hasn't touched in a week, and settles on his own bed, mirroring Renji.

Just two nerds, reading in their room, on a Saturday morning. This is nice.

---

The sky has clouded over but good, and fat raindrops are smacking against the window. So much for this morning's beautiful sunshine.

Izuru is engrossed in his book when there's a sharp rap at the window. He and Renji look up simultaneously to see Momo's rain-streaked face smushed against the glass. Both boys scramble to their feet to let her in.

"What are you doing, sneaking in here in the middle of the day?" Izuru exclaims.

"It's awful out there and about to get nastier," Momo explains. "No one's going to catch me. I brought supplies." She opens up the bag she's managed to haul up her two-story climb. "First of all, Izuru told me what he gave you to read, and it's unacceptable, so I went to the library for you." She unloads a pile of books into Renji's arms. He looks stricken. "Does that mean I have to stop reading mine? Because I really like it. It might be my favorite book."

Momo gives Izuru a dirty look, then turns back to Renji. "You may do whatever makes you happy," she offers generously. "Then, when you read my books, you will appreciate them more." 

Izuru rolls his eyes.

"Next, have you been eating?"

"Stop being his mom," Izuru scolds. "And he ate the onigiri I brought him at lunchtime."

"Never had a mom," Renji ponders. "Momo can be my mom if she wants. You can be my dad, if it makes you feel better."

Their faces are both bright red. "Let's just stick with what we've got, okay?" Izuru suggests.

"Anyway, I was worried you hadn't eaten anything, so I went down to town and got you these." Momo presses a slightly greasy paper bag into his hands.  

An overwhelmed, emotional look has come into Renji's eyes. "Is it taiyaki?"

"It is taiyaki," she confirms. "Eat it or not, it won't hurt my feelings." She clears her throat. "I have one more thing for you. If you don't want it--"

"I get it, already! You two are being so nice I'm gonna puke!" 

Momo pulls a lumpy grey mass from her bag and thrusts it at Renji.

Very slowly, almost reverently, he puts his taiyaki bag down on his desk and accepts it.

Izuru doesn't get it. It looks like a standard issue dorm blanket, just like the one Renji uses. 

Renji's fingers tighten in the scratchy wool. "How did you…?"

"It technically belongs with the room although I hear people make off with them all the time. I asked her roommate if I could swap it out with mine. I use one from home, so--"

Oh. Oh.

Renji cuts off her babbling with a rib-snapping hug. "Thank you, Momo," he whispers, his voice thick.

#1500 follower deleted scenes fest #me: this is so sappy and gross #also me: tearing up like 3 times at my own stupid writing