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sugar-petals · 2 years

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boyfriend!KAI HAVERTZ: d u a l i t y (m.)

↳ ⎡ a chaotic headcanon all about kai’s sweet and sexy sides. 🌿

# word count. 7.9k

☼ genre. established relationship au, fluff/humor, smut

WARNINGS. ⚠️ hurt and comfort, x fem!reader, mature themes + explicit language (minors dni), romance mixed with thirst & possessiveness lite, oral sex: both receiving, pretty boy/prince kink (oof), sub!kai if you squint, brief mentions of alcohol and online harassment, body shaming

♡ 【ＮＯＴＥ】› every now & then i emerge from my cave to write for the sports fandom. i usually create football intro posts, today it’s plot and banter ✍️ featuring guess who: the supermodel incarnate. a handsome mf too fascinating not to create a detailed universe about (yep, sit back and snack a pretzel). since this football season couldn’t be any more stressful - holy hell 💀🤕 - here comes the soft!kai wholesomeness, some juicy nsfw distraction while we’re at it, and a big portion of unhinged crack. in that sense, hope this has something entertaining for everyone. enjoy!

read on AO3

being constantly head over heels for each other is your couple energy. my goodness me, the reaction of your friends is absolutely tell-tale. they’re either going ‚aww… never seen anything like this‘ or ‚oh my god just get a room, ye freakin’ lovebirds!‘. it’s always either-or, which is where the dual nature of the whole relationship already shows. it radiates the ultimate comfort, but also… hell yeah, electrifies. that just can’t get boring. the topic of having two sides of a coin is pretty much the red ribbon of kai and you being together, and there’s a lot to say about it.

kai is a model boyfriend in every meaning of the word. a textbook cuddly romeo slash elven king /and/ an actual model stunner (geez, all that body — he’s just a masterpiece). oh, lucky you. but, even if you’re always glued to one another, you are also decisively independent people by the sheer force of irony. this goes down at the flick of a switch to suit your individual needs. kai is always in the know. you figured out in mere weeks just how to respect each other’s me zone. you’re the type to run around attached at the hip with a couple scarf at the christmas market, but also stray apart for your own business all the time when needed. makes for a nice balance. no pressure, but also no sense of feeling desolate.

if you crave your alone time, your tall ass babe — who’s really good at picking up on those things — is suddenly busy with training, paperwork, or dozing off for days like he’s now sleeping beauty. cute, pretty, gorgeous, lovely, showstopping, never done before. that way, you can live out your hermit fantasy the way you want. going feral in nature, driving your bike around anywhere, or wrapping yourself into a blanket burrito to just live online for days and days. he won’t bother you. kai himself is the type to seek retreat for healing time with his animals, you’re similar in that regard. his social media is switched off for a day or two, the phone’s for emergencies: just for him to return back home with some hay in his hair, ready to be obsessed with each other all over again.

from the outside, this might seem like an on-and-off process to a perfect stranger, but it isn’t. you really yearn for one another in the distance, and never really part for longer than a week. if possible, with a schedule of that scale. the separation being involuntary… is a different thing. repeated away matchdays without you attending the stadium are hell for needy kai who’s gonna be in a terrible unkissed mood walking and talking and looking like he morphed into some kind of lovesick robot with the exterior of kai lukas havertz. the poor lil’ babycakes honestly, he doesn’t deserve that. his teammates are always gonna hear one sentence. i miss my girlfriend, i feel so bad. it’s common knowledge that he’s perfectly capable of being a productive citizen, but the no-gf days just put his brain into a blender. you do your best being patient and send pics of you nestled into his jerseys, or random memes to bridge the time. it helps for an hour, but not a whole weekend. when germans are feeling all alone, they turn into tragic broken 18th-century poets that ran out of ink. it’s the great havertzian existential crisis, oh boy.

this shit’s gonna eat him up from the inside. you have to be with each other in person. other people around him will also start to feel the longing as if it’s their own. kai is definitely wiping away some tears when he’s switching off the light by himself in a random hotel room. dizzy from jetlag and his body hurt, he then so painfully realizes again and again how it’s precious time lost with you. if he’s not already on video call, your woeful honey boy looks through his camera roll three times a day just to see you smile or prank him for breakfast, announcing you will stan fc cologne. every picture you drop on socials is a holy grail. without his gf brainrot, kai simply cannot function. truth is, he feels incomplete when there’s no ongoing comments to sincerely tell him he’s so sweet and pretty an obnoxious amount of times a day. at least ten times. sixty is your record. forty to go. you know the drill. records exist to be broken.

and don’t think you’re the only one, showering him with compliments like that. kai is always the first to interact — even when he’s on pitch getting axed by yet another witless defender, your man carries his phone in the other hand retweeting your latest one-liners. he often types out a whole emotional paragraph but deletes it before hitting send. kai’s gonna say it to you the next time you’ll sleep with each other (which is always under the category ‚very soon‘, so don’t worry). instead, his messages are to the point. he knows heart emojis you didn’t even know existed. this man is a walking notification squad, he’s whipped, he hypes you up, he needs you, he’s fanboying 24/7, he will do anything for his queen. if you asked him to volley kick none other than break-iano phone-naldo into the rings of neptune to forever keep him floating there for the sake of mankind, he will do it. and yes, he smiles and coos at his screen so unapologetically like he’s reading fluff on ao3. post some pics cuddling the dogs? he’s blowing up your devices with likes and excited yelling in two seconds.

and meanwhile, in your world: everyone in your social environment is gonna be bombarded with the ‚i miss my idiot so much, why is he not here‘ faces of yours on the regular. even if you don’t say it out loud, everybody knows. it’s incredibly obvious to all your friends that the lack of your favorite cuddle bug’s presence has left one giant spiritual void. at home, you turn into a cryptid couch potato for days on end, cry-masturbating to some arguably stunning kai nudes (somebody hang ’em in the louvre already) or having sad phone calls at 3AM when it really becomes too unbearable. if it weren’t for the dogs, that house would be too big and too empty. almost spooky, in fact. imagine then the splendid nights when kai returns.

this is gonna be a firework of emotion and rolling around in the sheets. unless the more heated phone calls are concerned, you bet your season ticket that kai has not touched himself otherwise. even under the shower it goes, this doesn’t work man, i just can’t. let’s be real and honest: he’s all wired to you. his dick is like, „not sorry! closed hours until further notice :3“ whenever it doesn’t sense the aura of the queen. he couldn’t get it up with ten blue pills an hour. havertz junior is fast asleep downstairs. kai solely wants his one and only couch potato cryptid and no one else. man, is he in love. the prince of habsburg will really do anything for his goddess. he’ll sell his leg hair. only the scent of your skin makes him flustered and safe, and lord knows kai will always ask to steal a hoodie before going on a journey. he once made the whole chelsea bus yearn for love when he wrapped the sleeves around his upper body in his deep sleep while talking to the sweater. he also mumbled something hot which we’re not gonna recite here. play sucker for you by the jonas brothers: that’s exactly the theme.

yeah, let’s talk about some more uplifting bits as well, all in good humor. when it comes down to it, one of the best parts of the famous kai duality is that he is both a consummate living glam boy toy straight out of a 2010’s haircut magazine, but also a 100% trophy boyfriend kinda type. all built into one person, shoutout to his parents. they really created something. taking the trophy part literal here: give it up for the big game player, he has a few. regardless, and goddamn, doesn’t he kinda qualify as a glittering trophy himself? because he’s bedazzled with wonderfulness and the whole world wants to win his heart, badum-tss.

you’re very proud of him always. he has you dishing out the cutesy forehead kisses for real. theoretically. his forehead is way up high there, and the bean already has back problems from bending to tie his shoe laces (his dogs decide to help him out frequently). not to mention from carrying the entire ‚only romantic guy in a 1000 mile radius‘ agenda on his back. so, kissing his knees is also okay. easy to reach. they need some TLC from all the running and bruises, win-win scenario. and who said knees aren’t attractive. you’re gonna be out there routinely flirting with your baby in his DMs like oh hello, setting another standard there my westphalian prince, god of all leg and foot, your revealed ankles would have truly caused a scandal in the victorian age tabloids. like come on, we have to dig up the truth: every proper wag has a full-fledged leg and foot fetish. legs are literally 90% of her man’s job. do you think she won’t notice? and even if you did not once think about shit like sexy blue football shoes and a perfectly fitted pair of socks before: your boyfriend’s body changed your mind.

nice leggies aren’t even the tip of the iceberg with kai. boy can just stand there and it tells anyone that 1) your flirting game is A+ and truly unhinged, otherwise you’d not be able to bring him along now, 2) your taste is maybe a tiny bit bizarre but most definitely amazing, and 3) the viscount of vampire castle aachen is quite clearly yours. he’s clinging to you all the time anyways. moth to the flame, white dog hair to black fabric sweater. people on the street are gonna assume he is in mortal danger because kai is the type to hold onto you for dear life just as a habit. he walks while hugging you. he sits while hugging you. not even the most oblivious person will be confused as to who he belongs with, and who he came with. oh well. i’ll say it. literally came with. you know exactly what i mean. this is one hell of a physical relationship.

anyway. more on that later, basics first. talk about clothes again: you always have matching couple shirts. eyecatching, fashionable ones. you were the one picking them out: because of your faultless sense of detecting things that look super exquisite, as evidenced by your choice of sexy partner. you seriously got a feel for it, though. i’m not kidding. anyone can tell from a fucking mile away: these people color coordinated the living shit out of their fashion game, it’s them against the world. kai’s instagram is plastered in ‚#dressed by gf‘ captions, january to december and back again. the unspoken rule remains: there’s no person more taken than this man.

you do style the fuck outta him. he is your canvas. a mannequin. a statue. the male kate moss in flesh. all-black paris fashion week coats or a sweet peach-colored hoodie, he can do both. his duality extends to everything. you can put some square glossy sunglasses on him, a zip-up jumpsuit, he can rock a fancy umbrella, golden watches, high maintenance felt jackets, sophisticated chelsea boots (ah, perfect) with pointed toes, or straight up cheeky see-through detail blouses like he’s sir lewis hamilton doing a track walk on his home circuit, ready to take pole position. kai looks so good and fucking stylish.

[important editorial note: let us be perfectly distinguished and not cause a shitstorm. subject sir lewis is still the superior power dresser and undisputed sports world fashion king. we live in a democracy, and this is a football post, but nobody can contest this objective fact. he showed up at the met gala dressed as a fancy groom with an entirely transparent bridal lace gown layered underneath. he accepted his GQ award in a sexy grey bdsm harness (omg, can kai please start wearing things like that). he wears a different color every day of the year, no exceptions. he goes the extra mile for custom tailoring. he gives us something to look at. he is a spectacle. he has the best ponytail in formula 1 history. he even makes his own fashion and it’s all vegan. plus, in this dead boring day and age, lewis seems to be the only person left on the planet who knows what a proper pattern is and is not afraid to use it. do i need to go on? i rest my case. i solemnly swear i did not intend to overshadow the sparkling beauty of sir lewis by praising the venerable subject kai lukas havertz in the same breath.]

you encourage kai to take risks with his outfit and dress gentlemanly, or experimentally, not just in athleisure. kai can go pretty polished. he’s interested in how you select an outfit and goes right along (adding his favorite perfume, kai is the best-smelling person in history). you don’t have to guess: he bodies these looks so hard, serge gnabry was left shaken. the fashion chef himself. and let me tell you. the lovechild of anna wintour and the weeknd is truly the judgiest mf to ever walk the german national team ever since toni ‚beast mode‘ kroos retired, so his approval truly means something. serge likes all of kai’s fashion insta posts like it’s his morning newspaper. as if he wasn’t famous enough, kai attracts some major clout for how he is your haute couture muse, and turns even more heads than he usually does. everybody wants to sneak a peak. kai can deliver some major en-vogue moments because he has the combination of build and attitude, and the gorgeousness of the face simply cannot be hidden. facts.

kai has no problem that you’re a wee bit possessive at times, the „that’s my lovely man right here“ style. it’s charming to him. loyalty and a clear sense of belonging are super important in kai’s little private world, always, always, always. you’re never gonna give up on him, and so will he. don’t even think about him abandoning you for an arbitrary influencer from california beach so-and-so. remember, his favorite words are my girlfriend. he drops that a hundred times a day in any conversation. anyone from the outside would be hard-pressed to ignore his devotion. and you? will bust anyone’s ass if they tried to harass him and steal kai from you. when your prince gets fouled, the spirit of manager tuchel enters your body, making you run onto the field to book the player yourself. pardon, that was a joke. it’s the spirit of manager /kepa/ that enters you.

kai needs a strong hand to begin with, but a gentle one, which is another paradox about him. your resident vampire prince without caring physical affection is like cherry pie without the cherries, timo werner without the speed, jorginho without penalties, and lukaku without inter. listen, this man is touchy touchy. he needs his curly hair stroked and his tiny waist hugged all the time, he needs someone to fend for him, stick up for him, and warn him not to hit his head when the door frame is low. when you’re not home to smooch his marks and sore spots, he feels terribly isolated. but he also doesn’t want to be patronized, or be a manchild to you. you doubt the latter is achievable, but you’re not gonna aggressively direct his life, that’s not gonna happen. your philosophy is, gotta observe the person how they treat beloved animals and close acquaintances, and that’s how they wanna be treated. it’s obvious as fuck by how kai goes about handling his interest in donkeys or dogs.

one day he is shy and unsure, needing nothing short of your protection; your five minute embraces and kisses and tender words, your advice and your strength and your guidance. the other day, he’s confident and enduring, that goes for anything. he will shoulder all of your troubles, he will rebuke the haters, he is wise, he stands tall and sexy. this aspect of his duality is the most insane. how kai can go from let-me-stand-behind-you pupper to silky radiant wonderboy with the hands on his hips pose. kai’s duality in terms of esteem is pretty interesting and keeps the two of you on your toes, that’s for sure. a lot of people can’t handle someone who is both so seemingly vulnerable yet glamorously poised, but you chose kai and you own that shit.

he has an unbreakable calm (with a mind as empty as mendy’s goal), but is also batshit crazy. your camera roll is proof how there’s no limit to king kai’s facial expressions, nor is there a limit to how far he can stick out his tongue. lord have mercy when his weird ass meme-ing mimicry turns sexual and picks up on what you did together last night. he has one um unique o-face rendition he’s pulling to make you laugh, but don’t tell anyone. meanwhile, the chill he has in front of the goal translates to everyday conversations as if nothing happened. his sexual side is strictly bedroom and strictly texting. other people won’t catch him saying something explicit to you or about you in interviews or locker rooms.

kai is very ardent, stubborn, bitchy, and cranky when it comes to moral and ethical issues. it’s always clear to you he already made up his mind and stands up for what is right. this dude got a major backbone (literally. his spine is just so fucking long, oh christ). and on the other hand: kai is the most unbothered babycakes on the planet. when the situation calls for it, he looks like he doesn’t give a fuck, and he talks like he doesn’t give a fuck, he says that he doesn’t give one either, but ironically, he often does. he can’t pretend, he can’t lie to you, you see right through anyway. but the unbothered part is still true to some degree. sometimes, he always asks you to decide the most random stuff for him because he has no stance. he’s either 100% decided (e.g. on the fact that dogs deserve the world) or a floating blob with no preference at all (die or das nutella. classic german grammar debate. he shrugged it off as unsolvable.). it’s hilarious how his mentality works.

a trouble-rousing part of his duality has to do with age. after all, kai is still very, very, very young, a duckling fresh out of the pond — but seems a whopping decade older than being actually 22, especially when combined with his on-pitch mannerism or a nice black suit. people make fun of you because your boyfriend is so extremely skinny and taut in the face, or has the type of heavy glance that’s easily dubbed as uninterested, haughty, or weak. that he comes across as ‚completely spent‘ or ‚comes around looking fucked up‘ is something that gets thrown your way pretty often. you know he’s not built like leon ‚the rock‘ goretzka or glows with beaming joy like n’golo kante’s soft cutie cheeks. that’s obvious. he’s just born that way, his way, duh. but the whole critique still doesn’t sit right with you, especially since the jab is aimed at you as a couple, so the insult is double. attacking your boyfriend’s appearance is a no-go. that gives you fury.

you like that kai has a mature look to him. being a babyface heartthrob wouldn’t really suit him, let’s be realistic. his look is unique. actually, you didn’t even think too much about that until people brought it up. a face like that, why not, though? and why is it up for debate? in your eyes, kai is just kai. your cuddly boyfriend with the nice curls. he doesn’t have to look like a disney breakout star, or be ‚easy on the eye‘, or be an SLB (sweet liddol bean) at the beginning of his journey. if people want something like that, they should look elsewhere and consider the living SLB embodiment that is none other than jamal musiala. stan jamal, people.

kai’s no longer a teenage dream either, he’s of frickin’ age. he still needs a bit of bubble wrap, mostly to protect him from stumbling over his own legs, but not a fuckton of it. and, vice versa: that he’s not endless decades older than you is something you consider a pro to begin with, not a vicious con. what’s wrong with a man not being settled in life, you don’t even know what the standard is supposed to be. césar azpilicueta? and he’s a godly stupendous unmatched ideal 99% of the population can’t even remotely reach! loser or winner, you want kai.

everyone is in their own phase, all generations need one another. you enjoy that kai is young and new to the wide world out there. you don’t shame him for not being perfectly experienced, or super bossed up like he runs everything. it’s what is nice and endearing about him. he’s edgy and sexy and he learns from mistakes, looks up to others, works hard on himself, is on eye level (unless it comes to knowledge about donkeys, but you give that one to him). and, the elephant in the room when it comes to long-term relationships — him being very young means, hello: a lot more years to spend together! best believe your boyfriend’s not going anywhere anytime soon. kai hates relationship instability. he’s already made up his mind to go the distance. is his name manuel neuer? because he’s a keeper.

his age also softens any power imbalances, and: he’s in the best possible hormonal phase to be in love with making out. kai's really affectionate. what’s not to like. his age is an all-around advantage. you can come up with 29 more reasons on the fly. but also, how old he is doesn’t have to be a topic day in and day out. in your couple time, you haven’t talked about it at length more than once or twice. it’s not an earth-shattering fact to you, and everybody ages every day anyway, time flies. baby kiki (that’s how his mom calls him, you learned) will be adult kai havertz in a blink of his handsome eye anyway.

if people think he’s just a useless gay gen z bitchboy or a james charles football copy with acne, it’s on them: and you can enjoy the very fact that you’re dating a dashing cutie for yourself at the end of the day, and he dates you. that’s what it’s all about. you like him with the scarring and not just without, you think it’s sweet how he’s popular with guys wherever he goes, and that he has a structured face a camera broadcasting him to a world audience would love… is absolutely a compliment. oh honey you got all of this, and all that stellar body, too. 190 centimeters of good boy, 6’3 of sex god. who wins.

you get super defensive firing out arguments to protect kai regardless. admittedly, and that’s a guilty pleasure, you have slayed many a twitter troll like you're thiago silva’s wife. if you see some vitriol blowing up in the fandom and it crosses your feed, you’re suddenly the danny devito meme that goes so anyway i started blasting 😏💥. last week you got into an ugly tweet fight about kai's physique and began ranting that how he won’t gain weight or superhero level muscle is neither his fault nor his obligation, and if his face is exhausted, well, who’s working hard! and, while we’re at it, guess who stays up extra time at night to make his girlfriend very loved and happy? taking both his job and his relationship seriously, you know, like a great person.

you just kept dragging people left and right all day like, just get out, the uninterested look is a damn sexy bedroom gaze, by the way, learn to differentiate. kai just knows how to be seductive all the time, got a problem with that? also, no, he’s not a plastic prince, that bone structure is very real and not some wobbling derma filler shit, you tested, officially, with kisses, that’s a real fucking jaw. the brows are naturally this way, too, kai slays, he looks just fine, thank you very much. you can feel not attracted to him, but that’s no excuse to critiquing his health from your limited standpoint.

and hey, maybe, coincidentally, you know, he’s not like uh ‚radiant‘ or whatever because you sitting on his face all the time blocks out the sun with all those essential vitamin d nutrients so that’s on you. let it be known to the plebeians that the royal viscount of aachen prefers to live in the shadow. so there’s that. the raving mob of king kai fangirls and fanboys agreed and hit retweet, the haters ran for the hills after you dropped your tirade, news outlets just loved the fodder, kai felt very assured and honored, and you were moving on. no time for body-shaming. you think he’s as handsome as it gets, and not „despite xyz“, but „because xyz“. and anyone who tries to devalue his red hot appearance needs to mind their own messy biz. in a perfect world, kai would be flamed for his strange t-rex arm posing and wild rolling eyes in other people’s instagram videos, and yet he gets shit like that! this is just draining.

alas, you concede one thing. at one point, you had to admit that kai is a questionable dancer. jorginho will beat him in any tiktok battle on god, and rüdiger will shake his hip literally once and obliterate kai in five seconds. at the same time, kai is gifted with levels of foot- and leg-related skills that most other human beings can and will never even fathom. add even more hand-eye-foot coordination since he’s playing the piano… he’s gaming… he’s into formula 1 simulation… he has a lot of sex with you to practice getting really great at it… there i said it, the list goes on. he’s a physical wunderkind but also the world’s worst twerker.

last week he uploaded a recent ass parade on reels. people took to the comments writing stuff like, nothing jiggles here omg, you think your ass is austria but it’s actually the netherlands. kai replied c’mon, i’m working on it! he hates the gym but honey boy will go and try to conjure a 3D booty. tell mason to go join him and kai will stay motivated, as well as have a frame of reference. on the other hand: as i said. you like kai the way he is. everything is already in place how it should be. no improvement necessary. he couldn’t walk around flaunting a massive eden dumptruck without looking a little weird and unbalanced, could he. the only person who can pull off those #insane (hint, hint) legs and a great behind at that height is who? leroy sané. he gets a free pass. leroy’s ass and figure are top-notch. he is the moment. but we digress. the old rule remains, kai looks pretty head to toe. his name is fine. mighty fine.

more duality in the house of havertz… we’re getting more nsfw here. surprise surprise, you love to be very sexually active with him. he’s too hot not to be. the release is amazing, the couple time perfect. you are beyond infatuated with this man’s vibes and body, there’s no way you’re not fucking him back and forth all day every day, from deep and loving to wild and passionate because he is just sizzling and stunning and delicious. and when i say wild, i mean wild. kai is gonna forget in which direction the opposing goal stands after you fucked him brainless shortly before kickoff. you’re gonna scream from the edge of your stadium seat, oh god, my prince, please run the other way, your name is not mats hummels!

and then, oh wonder. kai is the most monk-like person in the world. hell, the pope himself. pater havertz innocentius XXIX (= the 29th). someone who’d rather be a farmer, a fisherman, a shepherd. no thoughts of sex in sight sometimes. his pronounced softie side cannot be underestimated. remember: even if the sky is falling down, even when n’golo kante ever stopped smiling (a truly apocalyptical scenario, not even the gods above could save us), even when tumblr wouldn’t know who mason mount was anymore, the day that thomas tuchel became an incompetent manager: kai would remain the last romantic. much like his chiseled bone structure: this is set in stone and marble.

touchy-feely is the word. hugs before fucks. smoochie before coochie. petting before sweating. no dreamy physical contact and a lot of laughter for kai is an absolute libido killer, if not the ultimate deal-breaker, the #1 reason to nag, his princely pet peeve. he needs something to smile about, and he needs comfort. both for the soul and body. you embrace him a lot, cheer him up, and make sure he feels very warm. kai gets cold so easily, it’s ridiculous. heated blankets all the way, baby. the DFB socks stay on during sex. heating bill off the charts. kai wants to have sex not to go from feeling unwell to elated, but he wants everything to feel nice throughout. it’s an extra effort to make sure the atmosphere is perfect, but your boyfriend needs his safe haven like that.

on top of that, he simply cannot have a good romp if he’s worried and preoccupied. kai lukas havertz turns into a sexless creature whenever he’s got a lot on his mind. the stress just kills his boner, and a person who would dismiss him emotionally? wouldn’t even get in the proximity of his pants. he loves you because you get his feelings and opinions most importantly. kai would not go to bed with someone who gave him real weird vibes, even if it was just all carnal, no strings attached. like picture someone who would mistreat animals in front of his eyes. oh my god. or someone who didn’t think about the environment, or tried to be pushy taking advantage when he was feeling messed up. kai is often level-headed, he tries his best thinking positively, but he has his ups and downs, too. he’s your hero for overcoming them. it would suck ass if someone was manipulating that for their own benefits. kai knows he’s someone who has something to offer, so he has to give it very carefully. if you think about it, he has a lot to lose, and it would be easy to break his heart. his sarcasm can only shield him so far. i know this sounds like a lot but yes, kai needs to be touched with velvet gloves; his feelings have to be protected from being played with.

if he were single at this point in time, he would go as far as being drunk and allowing someone to grind up on his lap, but… as soon as he’d trail to a backroom with them and a moment of sobriety would hit, kai’s mood would be ruined if they were not having a working conversation. if he asked them what they would like him to do and got an ‚umm… whatever you want!‘ in reply, he’d feel frustrated. maybe it has something to do with how he’s used to having managers and mentors all his life, since day one. he isn’t wired to say, „that’s how it’s done, deal with it“. to a certain extent, kai needs a partner who tells him what to do. that turns him on. all else is just the cruel underchallenging of a pretty bottom (perfect title for his autobiography so far, would be a million seller).

monk havertz innocentius also descends from his cloister when the weather is too sunny to be ignored. leaving the house and fooling around outdoors together is really important to him. he’s a dog person, remember. if the rain stops in england, the sex can wait. he’s gonna take his less expensive football with him, the one you can kick into some river or a pit of mud from hell. you drive to a hidden place without paparazzi and have endless fun practicing super long passes on a random meadow, somewhere out there. that’s his next best-kept secret: because he can pick up your wonky crosses and strangely angled shots, kai is perfectly prepared to outsmart and anticipate even the most difficult rival teams. like. kai can run after any mile high shot you’re giving him, and even throws himself into said river to retrieve the ball (sexy. he’s hotter than daniel craig crawling back on land with that shirt sopping wet).

mind you: even if it’s tempting, you’re not mad that kai is arguably a hundred times better than you. who cares. you allow each other to shine in your own ways. there are plenty of things and situations where kai needs your input. for instance, when it comes to telling an actual, well-crafted dad joke. his are still a little lame, he admits to it. in any case, i know, this bullet point escalates into a drag-em-all buffet like it’s atleti’s defense. what i wanted to say is that sure, kai is easy to envy, but also easy to cheer on. he doesn’t roast you for looking like the harry maguire to his kevin de bruyne, but works with what you have, and it’s just outdoors football for fun anyways. you’re not a professional player, he has to be the one downsizing his skill here.

talk about envy. you might be playing outside a lot, but you also play… inside. all your friends wish they had their own personal habsburgian heir to go down on them like it’s a won world cup final. everybody wants a kai clone. oh yes. the sexual duality extends to oral in particular. admit you’ve noticed this about him already, you perv. he has a thing for that. one hundred percent. this guy is so possessed by the holy spirit of saliva, blink twice and he’s scoring with a header two times a night. we know that’s kai’s specialty. that’s why everybody wants a piece of your bf, bestie, haven’t you noticed. his rowdy daring tongue knows no time-out.

like. it begs to see the light of day all the time. why is it always hanging out right in everyone’s face, oh my god. it’s naughty, i told you he’s havertz thee stallion. but to your knowledge, that’s his intricate courtship ritual. the more he sticks it out: the more he’s down bad. hold on to your labia because santa kai is coming to town, ready to bestow you with the gift of being a slobbery maniac at cunnilingus. everybody knows that kai is not a coward. and anyone can guess he’s really unusally messy. and even if he was all neat and virginal in the beginning. that the royal ruler of havertia is in the vicinity of crazy people that radiate „i give so much head, it made me nuts“ energy — and i mean the likes of kepa, and out-of-control specimen going by supposedly biblical names such as joshua — literally does not help. one day, kai is gonna feel inspired and lose his mind completely as well.

someone’s gonna go all out between those lovely legs of yours. not an ounce of hesitation from the very start. he’s konfident with a k like kai. he literally knows he’s not gonna embarrass himself. zero performance anxiety, let’s-a-fucking go. this face is an expensive sex toy, and this man is a pussy worshipping machine. at full throttle. how much more can he scream at the top of his lungs that he wants to please and spoil you so fucking badly. his eye contact is going to drive you up the wall, the feel of his nose, the curls between your fingers. oh, have mercy. the curls. the curls! the waves at the shore of the habsburgian empire. he wants you to grip and tug at them, how else are they so long and grabbable. thanks, you’re dripping wet by that thought alone when he’s not home on saturdays.

and that’s only the beginning. he pulls out every ace from up those long ass sleeves he got. kai is gonna wind his whole face around to get fucking covered in you. you know what i’m talking about. he really does that. jesus christ my sire, please don’t get an eye infection. he really knows no bounds to his debauchery. the man who routinely wants to be held carefully in your arms for the entirety of a bus ride is really gonna suck and nip and dip at your clit until you’re screaming out loud. oh, kai. you relentless bitch. but as beyoncé sang. it feels so good to be alive.

a toast to this oral aficionado. this is truly the hardest-working mouth at cobham and we all know it doesn’t mean talkativeness, kai is just impossibly eager to feel you writhe and cum on his tongue between matchdays. yep, i said it. he is that type. he can’t imagine life without giving head. he would just give up, retire himself into a remote barn in the west german countryside, and dry some straw for donkeys to chew on until he’s old and grey. no head, no fun. even if kai’s a little tired, he won’t let that shit stop him. he’s firmly convinced you always deserve your treat, and he’s gonna carpe diem with the limited time you have together. definitely an orgasm chaser here, louder harder stronger, that’s not for everyone. but he’s always aiming high because he wants to make you blissful, and knowing his lil’ weirdo brain inside out: you date him exactly because he works that way. what counts is, you’re moaning and you’re ascending and you’re getting noisy as hell, saint joshua would be so proud of you.

in comes the uno reverse card! you almost forgot this post is about duality, did ya. kai is also one hell of a bj enthusiast like no other. there’s no denying. he’s no less capable on the receiving end: and yes, he considers it hard work. pun intended. boy can keep it hard for minutes and minutes and minutes. the rest is up to you. do whatever you want on and with and to that dick. he does not care. whatever outlandish kinky things you’ve read about in this or that pseudo-scientific article, he’s there to satisfy your greed. come on, i told you he’s a boy toy bottom. kai has huge standards for his own methods, but here? even being completely off with your skills doesn’t faze him. extraterrestrial sounds, bad technique, awkward speed, fuck it. kai says who cares, the fact that it’s resembling a blowjob is enough. if it’s your lips, your throat, your tongue, your chin, your spit, going all over him — he’s in habsburg heaven. his arms are limp on the bed as are his legs, a starfish par excellence. prince kai havertz is actually /pillow/ prince kai. it’s kinda cute, but also hot how he surrenders.

just do your thing how you see fit. he’s dying. crumbling. suffering. disintegrating. corroding to igneous dust. people think that supposedly, kai’s inner spirit already left his body anyway, but this is actually where it happens. he’s very sensitive to having someone really suck him off, especially after a shower when he feels nice and warm and comfortable. and, just so you know, like a true german: he will nitpick with the terminology (ah yes, the return of bitchy kai): „a blowjob is not a deepthroat session is not a facefuck!“ mh, very true, king, very true. these are all different disciplines. you can show him you know which one is which. nuance scores the goal, as does strawberry flavored lube. eureka, what a nice invention, makes the ample buffet even tastier. he’s all groomed and shaved, imagine the glide.

by the way. you will find firsthand factual evidence that he can work his hips for 45 minutes times straight. like not just bucking. really all-out moving like a serpent because this man is a desperate grunting hoe for you. he’s terribly, terribly slutty, like… look at him. your honor, he is thirstier than thomas müller after a match of carrying the entire national team on his back. they’re paying the prince a lot of money so he is able to muster that stamina on the pitch, so you can hold it against him (well — playfully of course). no problem: kai likes a challenge. a good facefuck that lasts a halftime? let’s plot out some stable positions and take it slow. his arms are long enough to reach your clit, he’s gonna have you soaked on either end. he has figured out the right amount of being all inside of you rested across your tongue, or pulled out in the right moments so you can toy around with all the length he’s giving, and kiss it, and lick it good, and tell him exactly how he should move. duh, he’s gonna be like say no more, let me do it for ya.

kai havertz 29 should be kai havertz 69, i’m serious. for a madman sucker of this scope, eating you out while feeling your lips on his tip? he’ll never be the same. 45 minutes, jot that down. to be entirely truthful, yes, he’ll look like you murdered him in cold blood afterwards because he really puts his heart into the flow. but it’ll be worth it. even if that’s going to surprise you, he’s gonna cry his eyes out because it was so unbelievable, and needs some major personal attention, you know, ASMR time. kai and aftercare are inseparable.

and on your part? perfectly happy. you never had to chug this much water in preparation, you never tasted that much prime dick all your life, your lips have never felt stimulated like that, and you haven’t heard a guy moan and gyrate his soul out like this. you’ll never catch yourself mumbling „mh, mh, so good“ like that elsewhere. if you can mumble at all, that is. no time for talk, you want to be busy with your mouth in a different way. that dick is so hard and pretty and flushed and basically „hi, working hours open again!“ because hey. he loves you so much.

all tension will have left your either bodies and you can sleep tight like angels after cleaning up. second shower for kai? even better, he’s snug and warm again. but don’t you think it has to be a marathon every time, okay. here goes the duality all over. if you want ten minutes of intensity and rush, kai will sweetly oblige and ask, „so what’s on the menu, then?“. tongue in cheek, ever the pleaser, ever the teaser. i told you way before, you’re so lucky. quickies are not his top-most specialty, usually because he is the deep and steady type, and calm as you like. it’s you who’s going a little rougher sometimes for good measure, and he’s down for that. kai likes upbeat and energetic people. he won’t accuse you for losing your nerve, he knows he looks like a hottie. but he can catch up with you, i promise, five minutes and he’s giving you a whole damn bucket load to do whatever you want with: gotcha. the german punctuality of it all. with a schedule like that, kai has to learn being organized.

cum play is only the next conclusion to arrive at. the nasty brat is gonna slurp it all off your fingers. the duality of him means he’s not just a romancer but also, kai’s dirty, you can swap it around on your tongues and enjoy the amazing texture. this man has the most controlled diet in the world, baby. of course he tastes astoundingly good. and kai doesn’t have a major gag reflex, bless his horny soul, so you can shove your fingers in his mouth as far as you please. he’s just gonna glare you down and stick his tongue out like it’s nothing. he knows the shit he can take. pity there’s no endless supply of his cum, so he has to practice recovering quickly every round. but we know he’s the prince of recovery, so don’t worry too much about it.

if you really want to know the details. kai has one long veiny dick for the taking, grower not a shower. he has a tendency to cum in waves at once, six to seven slow twitches, with a silky — hah, got ya, this one you won’t ever forget — clean texture. you quickly discovered his favorite way of cumming. that would be you gripping hard above the base, sort of around the middle actually, and working with the upper third, without the lips fully closing so it makes a satisfying wet noise. he doesn’t need you going balls deep. the stimulation and teasing and lip friction are enough. so, among the big three, he likes plain blowjobs the very most, with enough spit and handwork involved. brace yourself, the moans will be heavenly soft and desperate. yeah, he’s extra, and he’s vocal. unless we’re talking safe word system, of course. not many words. they’re not needed. he’s an athlete, he feels it all in his skin and bones, and his kisses will always tell you what you need to know.

the afterglow is exactly as you’d expect. after a ton of shampoo and water went down the drain, you are the classic two-big-towels-wrapped-around-us couple on the living room couch. drying off, the dogs will still stay in the different part of the house, and you will lay there humming and murmuring in silence for a while just to cuddle it all out. but they will join for bedtime when you’re both tucked into each other's serge gnabry-signed stylish PJs. now’s the time to cling and smooch for like half an hour plus. after he’s done making some silly faces, kai keeps talking and talking, staying pressed firmly against you with his eyes closed. then you keep talking and talking, until you’re both drifting off into the twilight zone. it’s just a nice and protected atmosphere. the dogs are curled up on the duvets, and so are you underneath. sleeping beauty kai is back.

you went crazy in the sheets, and now you’re right there glued together. as the germans love to say: same procedure as every year. well, every week, in this case. when you look at him doze off next to you, kai’s so cute, like the senior puppy in this bed. like, a comically elongated pupper, 6’3 is one hell of a doggo if you think about it, but since he’s in a fetal pretzel position now, it sort of counts. it’s easy to snooze that way when you spoon him, and there’s nothing left to be desired. oh, he’s the bestest boy, you can attest. and you do realize. kai is an amazing boyfriend in more ways than just being really soft on the one hand, and super sexy on the other. it’s the whole package deal we’re talking about. it’s the truth, your tall loving prince just has a lot of good things to offer.

ao3 crosspost

››››› ♥ multifandom masterlist ♥

【 final note.】my contribution to mending the chelsea heartbreak, i hope you liked this wild ass ride and enjoyed your snack. excuse any editing/spelling mistakes or related grammar issues, i happen to be german myself 🇩🇪 thank you for reading, i’m sure i’ll post some more football stuff during world cup season, in the meantime leave a comment/tag or so 👋 - caro

#kai havertz #kai havertz x reader #germany nt #chelsea fc #kai havertz headcanon #kai havertz x y/n #football imagine #kai havertz fluff #kai havertz smut #kai havertz memes #football #cfc #german national team #kai havertz fanfic #kai havertz imagine #chelsea imagine #chelsea memes #long post #hope the tags work so the kai squad will find this

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bbysamu · 3 years

Text

None of Your Concern - How Long? Series Finale

✎ Featuring: IWAIZUMI Hajime x you ; OIKAWA Toru x you

✎ song: none of your concern by Jhene Aiko

✎ Genre: fluff ; slight angst

Part I | Part II

Masterlist

Falling in love with Oikawa Toru was like a freight train hitting you. The two of you were playing Mario Kart while waiting for Iwaizumi. You had beaten him for the third time in a row. He’s always been sort of a sore loser and you turned around excited to see his outburst. You were surprised to see him looking at you softly.

“What? No angry tears this time?” You teased.

“You’re the only one I’ll ever let beat me and be happy about it” Oikawa replied.

You looked at him, head cocked to the side. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

“Be my girlfriend?”

You kissed him in response.

Yes, falling in love with Oikawa Toru was like being hit by a freight train, dangerous, passionate, and accelerated.

Words spread like wildfire. By the end of the weekend, everyone at school knew what had happened between you and Oikawa. The school’s perfect couple was no more.

♫ I been hearing things And seeing things And so it seems you're moving on from me ♫

The healing process was hard, but easier than you thought, probably because the Seijoh team refused to let you spend a single moment alone. Every waking moment at school you were accompanied by at least one of the boys, although most of the time it was just Iwaizumi.

You see Oikawa around campus. His brown hair still perfectly tousled, his eyes twinkling like always. Such a different sight than the boy crying in your room.

You see them around campus, unable to keep their hands off each other.

It was expected, the twinge of pain in your heart. Sometimes you wonder if you’d made the right decision. He sounded so sincere, maybe you should’ve forgiven him.

The Seijoh team knew Oikawa’s “perfect” appearance was all for show. They’ve caught him staring off into nothing. They’ve heard the sniffles and the tears. They’ve seen the wistful stares he throws your way when you continue to visit the team.

Most of all, they’ve seen the slight annoyance in his expression whenever Mai talks to him, blink and you’d miss it.

No one really talks to Oikawa anymore outside of practices and games.

Sometimes at night, Oikawa wakes up in pain as he remembers you. He stares up at the ceiling, his new lover’s arms around his waist, heart filled with regret as he lost not only you, but Iwaizumi as well.

Sometimes at night, Oikawa closes his eyes, wishing he could turn back time.

♫You been hearing things and seeing things And so it seems I'm moving on my own The audacity to question me Like you ain't leave me out here on my own♫

Oikawa could see you healing. Your smiles more genuine, your laughters loud again.

A month ago, Oikawa finally broke things off with Mai, who got more possessive after they became official.

For the first time since they started hooking up, it finally dawned on him the consequences of his action. Now he’s determined to win you back.

It was hard to reach you, after you had blocked his number and every single social media platform.

It was hard to talk to you alone when Iwaizumi was always around you.

So seeing you alone right now had Oikawa’s heart pounding in his chest.

He could see the startle in your eyes when he appeared in front of you.

“Hey Y/N, can we talk? please?”

He was surprised to see you smile and felt encouraged.

“ Can we restart? I was an idiot, I’m still an idiot. But can you give me another chance... please?” His chocolate-y eyes were pleading with you.

Before you had a chance to answer, your phone rang. Looking down at the display, you excused yourself to answer the call.

“Yes? I literally told you. Okay, Toru said he wanted to talk to me. Don’t worry, I'll meet you at the usual place. Okay baby, I love you too”.

Oikawa felt his heart sink, but he couldn’t resist asking.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

You looked at him and he realizes the way you smile at him was no longer the same.

“Yeah. That was Iwa.” He doesn’t miss the way your eyes twinkled at Iwaizumi’s name.

“I’m sorry Toru but we’ve had our chance right? I’ll see you around”.

He watches you go, waiting to see if you’ll turn around. When you don’t, Oikawa knows that he’s lost you forever.

Falling in love with Iwaizumi Hajime was as natural as breathing.

After what Oikawa had done to you, you never thought you’d be able to find love again.

But Hajime was there for you every single day. Patiently stroking your hair as you cried on his shoulder. Always making sure you were drinking enough water, eating enough food.

One afternoon the both of you sat cross-legged on the floor of your room playing “exploding kittens”

“Come on (Y/N), I know you have a deter. Just give it to me”.

“No I don’t” you said, glancing down at your deter card.

Iwa saw that little eye movement and swiftly picked the card out of your hand.

“No fair!” You cried out.

Hajime stuck his tongue out at you, pleased that he now has four deter cards in his hands.

You smiled at his childlike behavior and suddenly realize how for the past few months, the boy sitting in front of you has consumed all your thoughts.

Your heart pounding in your ear, you said, “hey Iwa, I have another deter card that I can give to you.”

He looked at you in surprise, “what the, how do you have so many?”

“I'll give it to you if you kiss me”.

Iwaizumi stared at you, before moving next to you.

“I thought you’d never ask” he said before kissing you so much passion that you realized he must’ve loved you after all this time.

So yes, falling in love with Iwaizumi Hajime was as natural as breathing. It’s easy, not forced and once you have it, you can never live without his love.

“I promise I’ll never hurt you.” He whispered.

And you believe him.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi x y/n #Iwaizumi Hajime #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa angst #iwaizumi fluff

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homoose · 4 years

Text

Winning is a Habit

Hi y’all! Okay sooooooooo this is my first time writing fic??????? Like omg please be nice lmao. I don’t have a beta reader, so if you catch any mistakes pls lmk! I saw this challenge and the world is total garbage, so why not write our own realities????? Ok here goes!!!!!!!!!! Written for @veraiconcos fic challenge

Summary: The BAU gets called to investigate two high-profile murders in a college town, only to find that they are part of a much bigger, more complicated picture. No real pairings, although you could make it happen if you want lol ;) This is an idea I’ve seen floating around the fandom for a little while now, and I really wanted to see it fleshed out. Set around season 4 or 5.

Category: some angst, sort of fluff? I wouldn’t say it necessarily qualifies as an AU, but it’s outside of canon.

Warnings/Includes: some brief descriptions of violence/CM type stuff; mentions of rape (no details)

Word count: 6.1k

———

“Stillwater, Oklahoma,” JJ said, navigating the map off screen and pulling up the crime scene photos. “Two college seniors— Tyler Allen and Leon Williams, star football players for Oklahoma State University— both found dead the day before the playoff qualifier.”

“Do we know the cause of death?” Spencer asked, thumbing through the case file.

“The ME report concluded that both boys died of acute alcohol poisoning,” JJ informed them.

Emily looked up from the file. “And the locals don’t think this could just be a case of college kids having a little too much fun?”

“Before a major playoff game? I doubt it.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Especially considering OSU’s having a record-breaking season. I’d guess the coach had players on a pretty strict lockdown.” He raised his hands and joined them in a steeple over his chest. “Showing up to a game hung-over— particularly one as important as this— would be a major conduct issue.”

“That, and there was a pretty specific message left on both victims,” JJ added, arms crossed and eyebrows lifting into her hairline.

“On them?” Rossi questioned.

JJ motioned with her hand back to the screen. Six sets of eyes moved over the photo; the words “U LOSE” scrawled in ink across the foreheads of the two men.

“Resorting to murder to win a football game?” Emily asked, eyes narrowed.

“And why use the forensic countermeasure of staged alcohol poisoning, only to backtrack and assert it as a murder?” Spencer pondered, pursing his lips.

“Whatever the reason, we’ve got two dead college students and a definite signature. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told them, closing his case file.

⧭⧭⧭

“No sign of forced entry.” Derek walked through the entry hallway and into the living space. “Doesn’t look like there was any struggle, either.”

Rossi thumbed through the mail on the kitchen counter and peered around the small space. “Everything you’d expect in a boys’ college dorm room: dishes in the sink, generic decor, general mess. Nothing that stands out.”

“Agents, thank you so much for coming.” A tall man in a dark suit stepped across the threshold of the apartment. He stuck out his hand for Rossi to shake. “Steven Barrett, Dean of Students.”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. This is SSA Derek Morgan.” Derek nodded from his place in the living room.

“I apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. We’re dealing with a grieving campus,” Barrett said, running a hand over his face. “I’m actually on my way to speak to the Board, but I wanted to check in with you before. I’m not sure I can be of much help, but I can try to answer any questions you might have.”

“These boys were seniors, but they still lived on campus. Is that typical?” Rossi asked, gesturing around the apartment.

“Uh, yes, it is for student athletes,” Barrett confirmed with a nod. “OSU teams have demanding, sometimes grueling practice schedules. Being on campus simplifies things, allows students to get to classes and practices, as well as utilize the dining halls.”

“Does this building have security cameras?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. All of our buildings do. I’ll let Campus PD know you’ll need access to the footage.” Barrett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it and punched the button to answer the call. “Yes. Yes, I—I’m finishing up with the FBI now. I understand. I’m on my way.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. “I’m sorry to leave you, gentlemen. Our top priority right now is supporting our students and community through this tragedy. Part of that healing process is finding out who did this to Tyler and Leon. So anything else you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

Derek shook his head. “I’m glad I don’t have to do that job right about now.”

Rossi gave another glance around the nondescript apartment and sighed. “Call Garcia and ask her if she’s found any other cases that could be related. And let’s hope there’s something useful on that security footage.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Based on lividity and rigor mortis, I was able to put the time of death between 8:00 and 10:00pm on Wednesday evening. The blood alcohol content for both boys was over five times the legal limit. I’ve never seen anything like it,” the medical examiner mused.

Emily looked over the bodies, her arms crossed. “Dr. Saraj, about how much would they have to drink for the level to be that high?”

“When drinking, the level of alcohol in our blood reaches a peak before it drops off after the last drink ingested,” Spencer supplied. “In a typical night of drinking, spread over the course of several hours, the average man can have 8-12 drinks without ever reaching lethal levels. But considering each victim weighed around 230 pounds, they’d have had to ingest approximately 180 ounces of beer or 18.75 ounces of liquor to reach a lethal blood alcohol content.”

Dr. Saraj glanced at Spencer before adding, “Look, this is a college town. Kids drink. But... to have had this much alcohol still detectable in their system post-mortem indicates that these boys drank at least the equivalent of a 30 rack, by themselves, in less than an hour.” She flipped up the first page of the report in her hands, eyes scanning the second. “And the toxicology screen also found trace amounts of ketamine.”

Spencer bent over the examining table and adjusted the wrist of one of the boys with a gloved hand. “Doctor, are these ligature marks?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Saraj agreed, nodding. “They’re relatively faint, so I almost missed them. But I found similar marks on both boys on the wrists and ankles.”

“So,” Emily said, gesturing with her hands, “the unsub doses them with ketamine to gain control, ties them up, forces them to drink lethal amounts of alcohol, and then— what?” She looked to Spencer. “Waits for them to pass out before removing the restraints and leaving the message?”

Spencer examined the marker scrawls. “Were you able to determine what the message was written with and if it was left pre- or post-mortem?”

“My guess would be it was written with some type of permanent marker, but I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Saraj said. “We’re analyzing the residue now, and I can send the report your way as soon as I have it. As for when it was written, I couldn't tell you.” She shook her head. “The one simple mercy is that these boys would have been out cold for a while before they died.”

⧭⧭⧭

“I’m so sorry. I know how difficult this is. Anything that you can tell us will be helpful in finding the person who did this,” JJ encouraged softly. “Anyone that Tyler might have had an argument with recently or who he mentioned having problems with?”

“No, no. He was—he was just your typical boy,” Mrs. Allen sniffled. “Playing football and hanging out with his friends,” she said, voice hitching. “Oh my god.” She dropped her head into her hands.

“He didn’t have time to have problems,” Mr. Allen asserted. “He spent all his free time on the field. Coach had them out there for two-a-days until classes started. He’s the quarterback. He was leading that team to the first national title since 1945.” He stood to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “Some lunatic murdered my boy and you’re sitting around talking to us while they’re out there, walking free.”

“Sir, I promise you that we have some of the best agents in the country working on your son’s case,” JJ assured. “But in order to help them do their job, we need to know as much as we can about who Tyler was.”

Across the bullpen, Hotch sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Williams. “Leon was a good boy. Football was his life. He loved being a part of this team. It was the season of a lifetime,” Mr. Williams said.

“We taught him better than to be drinking and carrying on,” Mrs. Williams added.

“Can you think of anything or anyone he might have mentioned recently that was out of the ordinary? Anything that was bothering him or causing him distress?” Hotch questioned.

“He was feeling pressure about the season, but he’s been handling that kind of thing since he was twelve years old.” Mr. Williams shared an almost indiscernible look with his wife. “He got into—into the same kinds of trouble any college kid gets in. Nothing that could have gotten him murdered.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Yeah, baby girl, what d’ya got for me?” Derek held the phone out so that Rossi could listen in as they waited in the OSU security office.

“Well, my handsome knight, I wish I could tell you more but so far, I’m coming up empty with similar cases,” Penelope sighed. “Nothing that matches our alcohol poisoning M.O. or the signature. I just expanded the search to surrounding states, and I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Anything on our two victims?” Rossi asked.

“Now that’s where it gets interesting,” Penelope mused, tapping the fluffy end of her pen into the palm of her hand. “There’s nothing. Zilch, nada.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “And that’s interesting because...?”

“Come on, sir,” Penelope scoffed. “Two young, athletic, good-looking college football stars and there’s nothing at all? Nothing scandalous on social media. No run-ins with campus PD. Not even a write up from an RA.”

Derek tilted his head in thought. “Hotch and JJ said their conversations with the parents told a similar story.”

“Okay, but no one is this squeaky clean, particularly not at a Big 12 college. Everyone has some dirt,” Penelope insisted. “I haven’t found it yet, but there’s gotta be something out there. When I have it, you’ll know it!”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Derek drawled.

“Over and out!” Penelope jabbed the button to end the call.

The OSU officer waved them over with his hand. “I’ve got it queued up to 6:24pm. You can see the boys here,” he pointed on the screen at the two victims, “entering the north entrance of the dining hall.”

Derek leaned toward the monitor. “So they leave practice, come through the dining hall for dinner. When do they leave?”

The footage sped up on the screen, then stopped. “Here. 7:01.”

“Rossi, you seeing this?” Derek slid his eyes over.

Rossi nodded. “Is there any way to enhance these frames?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Not on this system. Honestly, the camera quality isn’t great. I’ve been trying to get them to invest in an upgraded OS, but you know—budget woes. Your analyst might be able to do more.”

“It’s not going to matter.” Derek sighed and straightened up. “She’s careful of her angles.”

“I couldn’t find them on any grounds cameras, but they pop back up entering the dorm. Here, at 7:12.”

“All three of them,” Rossi noted. He looked at Derek. “And like you said, she’s discreet.”

“They all go upstairs to the apartment,” the officer continued, “but only the girl leaves. At 8:43.”

⧭⧭⧭

“We have a witness from the cafeteria that confirms that the boys ate with a dark-haired young woman in a red coat,” Hotch said, arms crossed. “But other than those two details, the witness couldn’t recall anything else and said they’d never seen her before.”

“So we’ve got the two victims entering their apartment with an unknown woman. They’re upstairs for an hour and a half before she leaves,” Emily recounted.

Derek stood with his hands on his hips. “And in that time, she manages to dose and gain control of two boys that are more than double her size and funnel a lethal amount of alcohol into them. Now the question is why?”

As the team converged around the conference room table, a uniformed officer entered into the doorway. “Agent Jareau? There’s a possible witness—says she might have some new information.”

JJ nodded to the team and moved to the doorway. A petite young woman stood in the center of the bullpen, wringing her hands. When her eyes landed on JJ, she let her arms fall to her side. As JJ approached, she motioned with her hand for the girl to sit at the closest desk. “Hi, I’m Jennifer. I heard you wanted to speak to someone about this case. Can I have your name?”

The girl nodded. “Um, I’m Cassie. I saw the announcement you made. About the woman in the red coat. I heard you say that she had brown hair. Is that true?”

JJ cocked her head slightly. “Yeah, the witness and security footage we have shows a woman with dark hair walking with Tyler and Leon. Why do you ask?”

Cassie’s eyes darted around the bullpen, and she drew her arms tightly over her chest. “I just— um—well, I—”

“Would it help if we moved somewhere a little quieter?” JJ suggested. When Cassie nodded and stood, JJ placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and directed her toward an empty interview room. Cassie sat in the chair farthest from the door, and JJ sat opposite her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me about the woman? Or is it something else that’s on your mind?”

Cassie let out a long breath. “When I heard that they were dead, I— I was relieved. That sounds awful, but it’s true.”

JJ tread lightly over her next question. “You felt relieved. Why was that?”

Cassie looked directly at JJ. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder everywhere I go for the last seven months. I won’t have to do that anymore.”

“Can you tell me more about what you mean?”

Cassie took a breath and closed her eyes for a long second, before opening them and continuing. “There was a huge party in the spring. I mean, there were, like, hundreds of people there.” Cassie’s eyes went wide. “I never go to parties like that. But it was the end of the year, and my friend—well, I went with my friend. She got invited.”

“Were Tyler and Leon at this party?” JJ asked.

“Everybody was. I mean, everybody who’s somebody at OSU was there. We saw them right away. The whole team was there, but people treated those two like kings.” Cassie looked down at her hands. “We were drinking... a lot. At some point, Laney and I got separated. I tried calling her phone a bunch of times, but the party was really loud. I—I didn’t want to leave without her, but I was getting really messed up. I had a guy friend from one of my classes walk me home.” She swiped at her eye with the back of her hand. “Laney didn’t get back until the morning. Her clothes were all torn up, her hair had... blood in it, and she—she had a bruise under her eye.” She looked up at JJ, eyes shining with tears. “They raped her. I left her behind, and they raped her,” she whispered.

JJ reached across the table for Cassie’s hand. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. What happened to Laney was not your fault, or hers. Do you understand me?” JJ paused before continuing. Cassie looked down. “Do you know if she reported it?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m the one who went with her to the infirmary. They did a kit and confirmed it. When we went to Campus PD, they did nothing. Said Laney was wasted, and there was no one that could back up her story.”

JJ squeezed her hand. “So there was no official report filed?”

Cassie laughed coldly. “Oh, they wrote a report. I think if we ask them to, they have to. But they wouldn’t name Tyler or Leon in it. Said they didn’t want to ‘give legs to any gossip.’”

JJ’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “Where’s Laney now?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie shook her head. “She didn’t come back to OSU this fall. I haven’t really talked to her since—” She looked at JJ. “I can’t get the image of her out of my head. How she looked when she came through the door that morning. What they did to her… I’m not sorry that they’re dead.” Her eyes were shining with rage. “People knew what happened… and no one did anything. And those two were still the kings of campus.”

⧭⧭⧭

The team absorbed the new information quietly. “So Garcia was right. They did have something to hide.” Derek’s phone buzzed. “Speaking of. Hey mama, you’re on speaker.”

“I hope you’re all sitting down,” Penelope warned. “I expanded the parameters of my original VICAP search to include the surrounding states. No hits on suspicious deaths by alcohol poisoning. However, the U LOSE signature? Seven hits across Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas.”

“So our unsub’s been traveling across the South—” Emily started.

“Oh, I’m not done,” Penelope continued. “Just to double check, I expanded the search area to the continental US. Our unsub has been busy. Over 30 murders with this signature, all across the country, dating back to March 2007. All different M.O.s: gunshot, stabbing, strangulation, you name it. But all with U LOSE scrawled across their forehead in—get this—liquid eyeliner.”

“Anything tying the victims together, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“All men, mostly white, but all across different ages, occupations, and marital statuses. At first glance, there’s no real connection,” Penelope answered.

“What about on second glance?” Hotch prompted.

“Way ahead of you, sir. I did a little digging.” Penelope shrugged. “Okay, a lot of digging—most of it legal. Every single one of these victims had at least one sexual assault allegation. Some are official police reports, some are HR complaints, some are sealed court records. But in every case, the victim’s cause of death is directly related to the details of the assault records. Women that were held at knifepoint, their attacker was stabbed to death. If they were choked, he was strangled. If they were held at gunpoint, he died of a gunshot wound. Et cetera, et cetera.” Penelope twirled her pen. “The differing M.O.s combined with the fact that the unsub kept crossing state lines kept local PDs and field offices from making the connection.”

“Garcia, can you search OSU PD records for an incident report?” JJ asked.

Garcia tapped rapidly across her keyboard. “Absolutely, sugar, when would it have been filed?”

“It would’ve been this year, sometime at the end of April or beginning of May,” JJ answered. “The victim would be named as Laney Collins.”

After a few moments, Garcia peered through her green cat-eye glasses at the report. “Mmm, I’ve got one incident report, filed on May 7th. And woof, this report is not much to go on. The responding officer wrote a whopping three sentences. According to him, Laney was incapacitated and thus was not a credible witness.” Garcia twirled her pen. “The alleged attackers, who are not named, denied Laney’s account of what happened. Because there were no other witnesses, Officer Thorough deemed that no further action was necessary.” She jabbed her pen in the direction of the screen. “And this, my friends, is why women don’t bother reporting.”

“Good work, Garcia,” said Hotch.

“There’s one more interesting detail from the report,” Garcia continued. “The dean of students signed off on it.”

“So Barrett knew about this the whole time,” Derek fumed.

“And again, people wonder why women don’t report,” Garcia repeated, ending the call.

“So our unsub is seeking justice for women she believes have been failed by the system. We’re looking for a vigilante, carrying out revenge killings,” Rossi concluded.

Derek nodded. “And she’s organized and efficient; she finished with Tyler and Leon in less than two hours.”

“She’s smart and she blends in, doesn’t draw too much attention to herself,” JJ added.

“She’s meticulous and has at least some knowledge of forensic countermeasures, considering there’s no physical evidence tying her to any of the scenes,” Spencer remarked.

“And she knew enough to keep her face off the security footage,” Emily finished.

“Rossi, Emily, and I will stay here and deliver the profile,” Hotch directed. “JJ, I’d like you to speak to the families again, see if they knew about the rape. Reid, Morgan, talk to Barrett and see what else he might be trying to keep quiet.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Makes you wonder just how many people knew what happened,” Derek considered, closing the car door.

“It’s estimated that twenty percent of student victims of sexual assault report it to their university, but less than one percent of assailants receive any type of disciplinary action,” Spencer cited, making his way toward the sidewalk.

Derek shook his head. “And so the victims don’t see the point in reporting it. Your attacker gets to walk around like nothing even happened. Cassie told JJ that she felt like she had a target on her back once they reported Laney’s assault.”

As they walked up the blacktop driveway to the entrance of Barrett’s home, Spencer slowed his steps as he noticed the front door. “Morgan.” He nodded at the door, slightly ajar.

Derek drew his gun and moved ahead of Spencer. He pushed the door slowly open and called out, “Mr. Barrett?” In the foyer were the remnants of a broken vase and a small trail of blood. “Call Hotch, let him know we’ve got trouble here.”

Derek and Spencer worked to quietly clear the rooms, one by one. Derek stopped at the bottom of the stairs and motioned to Spencer. As they started up the stairs, a woman’s voice called out, “Shut up! You had nothing to say before. So now, you’re just going to listen.”

Derek reached the top of the stairs and started down the hallway. He reached the open door where a woman stood, her back to the door. Behind her, Derek could see Barrett, sitting on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on his head. His hands were raised in front of his chest, palms facing out. Derek stopped, his gun trained on the woman, and murmured, “Laney?”

The woman pivoted her body, her short blonde hair whipping around. Derek saw tears in her eyes and a revolver in her hand. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Laney, my name is Derek. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk. I need you to put the gun down.”

“No!” Laney screamed. “You don’t know what he’s done.” She shook the gun in Barrett’s direction, and Barrett closed his eyes.

Derek spoke softly. “I do, Laney. I do know. I know what happened to you. I know that he kept Tyler and Leon’s names off the report. I know that he didn’t help you when you needed it most. I know that he let them get away with--”

“Rape. He let them get away with rape. Because he cares more about reputation and football than what happens to women on his campus. They ruined my life.” Laney turned away from Derek and put both hands on the gun. “They ruined my life, and you did nothing. And then they walked around campus like they were invincible, because you taught them they were.”

Derek moved further into the room, into Laney’s eyesight. Spencer moved into the doorway, covering Derek. “Laney, look at me. I’m putting my gun away.” Derek held his hands up and then moved to holster his gun. “Doing this won’t make the pain go away.”

“How many others? How many other women did he do this to?” Laney let out a painful sob. “If I don’t stop him, it never ends.”

“Listen to me.” Derek took a step closer to her. “Killing him won’t change what happened, Laney. It won’t. Believe me. I know how you feel.”

“People love to say that when they’re trying to shut you up. How could you possibly know how I feel?” Laney spit out.

“Someone hurt me, just like they hurt you. And nobody was there to help me. No one was there to listen.” Laney froze, eyes shifting to meet Derek’s. “I wanted to hurt him, Laney. Wanted to make him feel the same pain I felt. I wanted him to suffer.” He moved another step closer. “I know that those men hurt you, and I know that he let them get away with it. And I am so, so sorry. But you’re stronger than anyone knows, Laney. You are the only person who has the power to help others who didn’t get justice. I have a friend who’s spent her whole life helping survivors, and I know she’d love to talk with you.” He took another step. “You are the only person who can stop it from happening to someone else. You can make sure he’s held accountable for what he’s done. But if you pull that trigger, you can never go back,” Derek warned.

Laney looked at Derek, his hand outstretched, wordlessly asking her to give him the gun. She looked at Barrett, crying and silently begging her to show him the mercy she never got. “I wish I’d been the one to kill them,” she whispered.

The gun dropped out of her hand as Derek stepped forward to catch her. He kicked the gun into the doorway, and Spencer recovered it. “I’ve got you,” Derek said, helping Laney out of the room. “Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Spencer moved to lift Barrett off the ground and helped him into a chair by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer caught a flash of red below the window. He stumbled over Barrett, nose almost pressed to the glass as he stared out. The woman froze, eyes locked on Spencer’s. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at her, bewildered. By the time his brain caught up, she had already disappeared from view.

Spencer turned and raced down the stairs, clinging to the railing as he nearly missed a step. He burst out the front door into the driveway, sprinting around the side of the house. He heard Derek call his name, saw the other SUVs pulling up, but he kept running. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the backyard, and then spun in a full circle, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter.

Hotch approached from the side of the house, gun drawn. “Reid! Are you all right?”

Spencer took a last look, scanned from east to west. “Yeah, yeah. I just—I thought I saw—I thought I saw something.” He shook his head. “Barrett’s inside. He’s got a head laceration, but he’ll be fine.”

Hotch lowered his gun and nodded. “And Laney’s not our unsub. So we’re back to the beginning.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Strauss is asking us to head back to Quantico.” Hotch pocketed his phone and looked at the team. “We’ll move the cases to our watch list and flag the signature for hits in VICAP. From what we know about the unsub’s behavior, we know she’s no longer in the area.” He gestured to the evidence board. “Our best course of action is to keep the profile in our periphery for now. We can do that from the BAU. It’s late. Go to the hotel, get some rest. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m absolutely starving.” Emily slipped into her jacket and headed for the door. “Anybody want to hit up that 24 hour diner?”

Derek and JJ quickly agreed, following Emily from the conference room. JJ turned back, eyeing Spencer. “You coming, Spence?”

“I’m just really tired.” His voice lilted up, almost a question. “Next time, though.”

JJ gave him a look but didn’t press him. “Have a good night, Spence.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gathered up the case files, not quite ready to put them away.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer’s eyelids felt heavy as he walked through the lobby of the hotel. He really was tired. He blamed the exhaustion for what he thought he saw through the window at Barrett’s. His fatigued mind was seeing things that weren’t there. He practically floated into the elevator and up to his room. Sliding the room key through the slot, the door beeped open and Spencer stepped inside. He flicked on the light and dropped his bag on the floor, loosening his tie as he walked toward one of the sling back chairs sat by the window. He paused just before he reached the chair, his gaze lingering over something on the desk. A note hastily scrawled on hotel stationary.

623.

Spencer lifted the note with two careful fingers. “623?” He turned it over, looking for the rest of the message, but the paper was blank other than the number. He lowered the note, and his eyes landed on a small plastic card where the paper had rested on the table. Not just a card. A room key.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer stared at the door of the room. Room 623. He turned his head and slowly looked up and then down the hallway. He took a breath and raised his hand to the door. He knocked in the familiar rhythm: five knocks, pause, two knocks. He pressed his ear close to the door, listening for any movement inside. When he heard nothing, he knocked again; the same pattern, but a little louder. He listened again. Nothing. Spencer felt a bead of sweat creep down the nape of his neck. He thought about turning around, about walking back down the two flights of stairs to his room and getting into bed.

Instead, he pulled the keycard from his pocket. As he lifted the card with one hand, he used his other to raise the strap on his holster. He held his breath as he swiped the card through the slot and heard the beep of the lock. Drawing his gun from the holster, Spencer slowly turned the handle of the door.

The room was mostly dark. Only the yellow glow of one of the bedside lamps illuminated the space. Spencer stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Again, his mind said to turn around. Yet his feet carried him further into the room. He could see now that the sling backs were facing toward the window. There were two glasses from the mini bar on the table between them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” a familiar voice mused.

Spencer startled and then swallowed audibly, a cartoon character realizing he’s in serious trouble. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You can put the gun away,” she continued. “Really. Come sit down, Reid.”

Hearing her say his name sucked all the air out of his lungs. He closed the remaining distance between them, staring dumbly at her perched in the armchair. She gave him a small smile, warm despite the nervous energy in the air. “Hey, Reid.”

“Elle.” Spencer sunk into the chair across from her. “I—I thought I was seeing things. Earlier. At Barrett’s.”

She studied him quietly. “This hair is a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” Spencer blushed, smoothing down the hair at the nape of his neck. He quickly dropped his hand. “It was you then.”

“What was me?” Elle asked innocuously.

“You were at Steven Barrett’s house today. In the yard.” Spencer folded his hands to keep from wringing them. “You were wearing a red coat.”

Elle lifted one of the glasses to her lips, taking a sip of the clear liquor, ice cubes rattling. She swallowed and gestured to the other glass. “Have a drink.”

“I, um, I don’t drink anymore.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “A lot has happened since… the last time I saw you.” Spencer smoothed his hands down the tops of his thighs. “You were there today. Elle, did you—are you…” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask.

Elle ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. She was quiet for a long time. Spencer fidgeted in his seat, but stayed quiet, waiting. Elle set the glass down.

“Do you remember that night in Dayton? In the hotel room?” Spencer looked at her pointedly. Elle let out a laugh. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m talking to; of course you remember.” Their eyes met. Spencer felt she was looking right through him. “You told me that I’d won. That because Garner was dead, and I was alive, I won.”

“Elle—” Spencer started.

“You asked, Reid. This is my answer.” She screwed the cap off the bottle of gin. Pouring the remainder of the bottle into her glass, she continued, “It took time, but I started to feel safe in my own home again. I could close my eyes without seeing his face. I could take a shower without bringing my gun.” She downed the rest of her glass. “When I killed Lee, I gave that same freedom back to the women he’d raped. They could exist in the world knowing that he would never hurt them, ever again.” She smiled ruefully. “And it felt… good. It felt right. And after years of having watched people be destroyed by monsters… I don’t know. It was just something I had to do. To bring that freedom and that safety back to other women who had been hurt and broken and alone. To destroy their monsters.” Elle looked at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But the answer to your question is yes.”

Spencer took a breath and asked, “Why’d you put the key in my room? You could have just… disappeared.”

Elle shook her head. “I chose this. I knew what I was doing and what it would mean. Most of the time, I’m fine, great even. Because being able to give these women justice is the greatest gift. But with this work, you can’t really keep anybody close. No holidays or birthdays. No dates or girls nights.” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen. What the boy genius would do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer admitted.

“Well, that’s a first.” Elle smiled, but Spencer could see apprehension in the rigidness of her shoulders, in the slight bouncing of her leg.

“I should probably arrest you,” he considered.

Her leg stopped. “You probably should.”

Spencer looked down at his hands. He ran his fingers up to the crook of his elbow, ghosting over the scars there. His mind raced from memory to memory: Elle on the train car; Tobias Hankle standing over him; Elle in the hospital bed; the needle in his arm; Elle in the hotel in Dayton; the click of an empty chamber.

“Elle, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you that you’d won.” She was motionless, staring at him. He continued, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what it was like. To be consumed and overcome by a memory.” Now it was Spencer’s eyes that shone with tears. “I didn’t know that the trauma could… fester in your brain like an infection that you can’t get rid of. I don’t know if winning is even possible after something like that.” He rubbed his hand under his eye and cleared his throat. “It was an awful thing to say. And I’m sorry.”

Elle tipped her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “All’s forgiven.”

Spencer reached out and gently grabbed Elle’s hand. “I’ve been so tired recently. I thought I saw something through the window at Steven Barrett’s house. But when I did a perimeter check, I didn’t find anything.” Elle dropped her head back down and turned to look at him. “We’re headed back to Quantico in the morning. We’ll, um, be keeping tabs on VICAP hits on the signature.” Spencer gave her hand one soft squeeze before standing. He let a small, bittersweet smile move over his face.

He made it to the door before he heard her voice again.

“If I asked you to stay, would you say yes?”

Spencer swiveled back to look at her, the door just barely open. Elle’s arms were crossed over her chest. Her eyes were dark and wide and full of storms. “Just for a little while longer?”

Spencer turned and moved his eyes up the length of the doorway, considering. He heard Elle let out a breath. His own breath stuttered. He closed the door softly. He put his hands in his pockets and turned back to her. “I’ve got a little while.”

#vicficwriterchallenge #criminal minds #tw rape #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #elle greenaway #homoose writes

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huearmy · 4 years

Text

Life is Beautiful - I

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is "Life is too short to... Insert something and anything here". During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut (very soft, ok?)...

Words: 7509.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter II Chapter III .

After some centuries of not living, all vampires go through a kind of midlife crisis in which everything loses its grace and eternity becomes endless boredom. Nothing new happens, humans are born, sometimes they are relevant to world history, they become vampire food or they die dull. Vampires do not need to sleep or use the bathroom, nor to feed more than once a month, so the days are long, and often lonely, which leads many of them to stand still without moving, looking at nothing until their thirst quits, forcing them to go after a pulsating neck. Many go through this phase as serial killers, with killing as their only source of pleasure, others prefer to hibernate in some dark place or tomb, because false death is more interesting than false life. Some never get past the phase.

Jimin is not like that. With almost a thousand years of existence he is totally in love with life. Every day when the sun rises and the sunlight forces him to stay indoors so as not to burst into flames, he spends his hours with a smile on his face, engaging in small banal hobbies, such as gardening or online courses at distance - after almost a decade of doing this, Jimin already has fifty-two certificates in different areas, and he is pretty pride of it. When night comes and he can go out and see the world it’s even more interesting, because humans ’nightlife isn’t as hectic as daytime, so those who live in those dark hours are different. There are those who do wrong things and commit crimes, those who have double lives or who keep secrets, there are people working to protect and save, like doctors and police, there are night guards and twenty-four hours convenience store attendants, groups of friends who spend the night partying until dawn, and those who feel lonely in their empty apartments unable to sleep... And this is the part that he likes the most: people.

He likes to meet random people in the empty metro, buy a drink for a girl who doesn't take her eyes off him and then dance with her, strike up a conversation with a homeless man under a marquee because he knows the guy must be lonely. Watching and learning about other lives keeps him alive, more than the blood he needs to drink.

He likes to get temporary jobs to have some human experience. He has worked in pizzerias, both in the kitchen - he was not very good, so he was put in the dishwasher - both in deliveries, and at a gas station, as a hotel receptionist... But now it looks like he found a job he wants to stay in, so much that it has been a year and he has not yet resigned. Perhaps Jimin has found his calling.

"It's okay... You are not alone, I'm here and I'll stay until you feel good again." He said with his sweet, angelical voice. "Can you get away from the sharp objects? Please?"

The voice on the other end of the line sounded like just a choked whisper, before the answer came, fast, heavy breathing filled the air.

"No... I can't..." The female sobbed.

"Can you tell me why?" Jimin's voice was calm. "I... my legs are numb... I can't... stand up." Her breathing was erratic and desperate.

"Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He used his most reassuring voice possible.

"No!" She started to cry even harder. "I don't want no one... to see me... like this." Jimin bite the inside of his cheek, thinking, maybe she just wasn't able to get up because of the anxiety attack, but she also didn't say she wasn't hurt.

Regardless of the case, he needed to make the girl trust him in order to help her.

"What is your name?" He smiled, hopping she would listen to it in his voice. "... Ana" She whispered. "Nice to meet you, Ana. Do you remember my name? I told you at the beginning of the call."

One moment of silence.

"Jimin." She said with little certainty.

"Exactly, good job. Hi, Ana." "Hi, Jimin." Despite the crying voice, she was no longer sobbing.

"Ana, can you recall the last thing you did that made you feel safe? Secure?" A sigh reached Jimin's ears. As he waited for an answer his hands moved over a sheet of paper, he was drawing a beautiful face of a girl with crayons, without paying much attention, but getting a beautiful result.

"No." She said at last.

"I know you can, Ana. No need to rush. Breath." She thought some more, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Almost a full minute passed, the two of them silent on the call. Jimin did not press for an answer.

"I was watching Friends... with my cat." "Your cat?" Jimin smiled more spontaneously now, noticing in her voice an oscillation of affection when saying the word cat. "Talk more about your cat."

"His name is Sushi, he's fat, full of himself, and loving. He likes children, food and sleeping. I recently bought him a cute collar, it looks like a pink bow tie." She almost laughed.

"Wow...He is a lucky cat." Suddenly she started to cry again, sobbing so hard that Jimin hardly understood what she was saying.

"He ran away and hasn't come back yet... He's never been away from home so long... He's all I have, there's no one else... I don't want to live... alone." "Is it just you and Sushi?" Jimin spoke more forcefully for her to hear over the sobs.

"Yes." She choked. "I can't get up... It hurts so much. I'm so-sorry..."

"Ana, do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He tried again. Silence.

"Yes." "So I will stay with you until they come to help you. You are not alone."

Jimin was a vampire in love with live, eager to live each day as if it were the most precious gift, so working in the Center of Valuing Life and Preventing Suicide was perfect. He considers himself an expert in convincing anyone that life is beautiful when he has the opportunity to say everything he thinks about. And not letting people feel alone is one of his favorite hobbies.

After all, eternity can be quite lonely, he knows how it is.

________________________________________________________________

That call is over. Jimin was searching for missing cat posts on social media. In the silent office room it was just him and three other people working, each at their separated personal table. Perhaps due to the nature of the work, or due to the late hours of the night, nobody spoke loudly or made a lot of noise when doing things, even when talking to each other, everything is always very restrained, calm.

Jimin's eyes followed the clock hands on the wall above the door. It was almost one in the morning, actually, to be exact, twelve minutes to go, so in two minutes, you would punctually enter that door with your heavy backpack full of books, of someone who just left college on the other side of the city, and after stopping at a twenty-four hours fast food to get a well-deserved burger spent an hour on a subway trip. He could already hear your footsteps down the hall, the characteristic sound of the rubber on the soles of your boots and your bunch of keys stuck in the handle of your backpack tinkling. He heard you putting your stuff in your closet and hanging your coat on the rack in the next room, and a smile formed on Jimin's face. When the hand on the clock struck ten to one and you opened the door trying not to make any noise so as not to disturb anyone's call, Jimin pretended not to notice you entering, not taking his eyes off the computer screen full of images of cute cats. You straightened up and held firmly the pair of coffee cups in your hands till the knots turned white, looking straight at him - in fact, from the moment you walked through the door you were already expecting to see Jimin sitting at his table, as always, and since then you haven't looked away. Walking in light steps - that he could hear by the way - to him who had his back to you, you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach, happy he wasn't in a call right now.

"Jimin?" You called softly, close to his ear, but not that close. Yet. Jimin contained a smile and turned around as if you had taken him by surprise. "Hey, Y/N, didn't see you there". As usual, his direct look made your heart race and you gave a nervous laugh before getting along with his flirty tone. "I bought you coffee." You handed him one of the cups. "To take the night shift a little better."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

You are the other reason Jimin didn't quit this job yet. A few weeks ago, when he was working long enough to decide to leave and go for the next adventure, you started working at the night shift, and right away you caught Jimin's attention, even though at first you didn't talk with him that much - in fact you only talked to the women on the team, and avoided the men. More than once he found himself paying attention to your emergency calls, how you talk, being positive without being suffocating for those in pain ... how you love life. After a while you started doing the same thing, a little less easily, since you don't have a vampire audition, but it was enough for you to acquire a platonic crush on Jimin, which resulted in you opening up, and you two start talking here and there. Now almost whenever you have time or money left over - college life is poor life - you bring him coffee. Jimin doesn't actually drink coffee at all, and he doesn't feel sleepy either, but he thinks it's cute that you worry for him. You see each other three to four times a week, depending on the schedule of work, and he is always eager to see you. Flirting is exciting, and he hasn't done that in a while... Like two centuries, and how it was done back there was quite different. Other times indeed.

"Did you lose your cat?" You asked, confused.

"Oh, no, I didn't." He closed the page with the photo of a white and gray cat wearing a pink bow tie.. "One friend of mine lost her cat, Sushi." "Poor thing. I hope she finds Sushi soon..." You slightly pouted.

"Me too. I'll help her." Jimin said, and the butterflies in your stomach thought it was beautiful.

Something on his desk caught your attention, a colorful draw of said cat made with crayon. Before Jimin could stop you - he was distracted by hearing your heart beat faster because of him - you picked up the stack of papers to get a closer look.

"And you drew him! How beautiful... I didn't know you were so talented." "Thank you. My friend who taught me, he is much better than me..." Jimin simply answered.

You moved on to the next sheet, where another sketch of the cat in different colors made your eyes shine. "So he must be awesome. Look at this!" Jimin was happy to be praised by you, the pink of your cheeks when speaking was a beautiful sign for him, but then he remembered what was the next drawing in your hands, and before you could see it, he cleared his throat and took them back, keeping them in the drawer. It was a drawing of a girl's pretty face. Your face. "They are not quite ready yet..." He pretended modesty.

"Oh, sorry. If you need help, just tell me. I can hang up posters or something. About finding the lost cat, I mean." You volunteered, and then looked around. "I better get to work before someone scolds me."

You went to your desk, across his, and your eyes met a few more times before as you sat down and turned on your computer. Jimin's phone rang and he forced himself to look away from your face, someone else needed him now. "Good night, my name is Jimin and you called the Life Valuation Center. Can I help?" He spoke, his voice welcome and full of affection. ________________________________________________________________

Jimin's shift ends before yours, just before three in the morning he puts things away and leaves the table ready for the person who will use the next shift, but he won't leave, even if everyone thinks so. Instead he goes to the roof to look at the stars and wait for you to leave - not that you know he is waiting for you. He was listening to a random playlist on spotify, stretching his body to the beat just because it feels good, thinking about nothing specific, just existing and feeling good about it.

The night breeze brought his scent to him, looking down from the parapet, he could see you leaving the building, with your scarf well wrapped around your neck, covering half of your face to protect you from the cold air. He doesn't understand you... It's beautiful that you want to help people who are going through a difficult time, and you've commented before that the night shift matches your other schedules, and that you like to stay up at night. However, he thinks you should consider it's not worth it. It's so late and empty when you go home, it's dangerous for a human woman, and as much as he knows that you have a pocketknife in your pocket, Jimin thinks it's silly of you. Usually he wouldn't think much about it, but it's you, and he is fond of you, he can't just do nothing about it. So even if you don't know it, he accompanies you home every night to make sure you are safe. He is only satisfied and goes home when he hears you enter your room. Sometimes he stays a little longer, sitting on the emergency stairs outside your building, listening to you walking up and down in your room, doing whatever, instead of going to sleep soon.

That's kind of creepy. He knows. But he is a vampire, he is already creepy in essence. But of course he would never watch you sleep, for exemple, this is a stalker limit that he does not intend to cross.

"Okay." He sighed as he heard you getting into bed. "I have one hour and a half before the sun rises... Let's find that cat." __________________________________________

You were awake for a couple of hours already, currently packing your books at the end of a lecture, really needing sugar to feel prepared before the last class of the day, and excited that instead of going to the study group you are a part of, you will take an experimental dance class and it's your day off, which means that instead of staying up until dawn working, you can stay up until dawn studying, and maybe sleep a little earlier. Life is too short to not take all the free trial classes available just because your schedule is already full and totally demanding. Anyways you are dead tired, wishing your body doesn't need to sleep... Since you started to work on the Life Valuation Center all your sleeping schedule went down the drain. At first your plan was to work the night shift only at the beginning, and then change your hours, but for some reason you always liked to stay up all night, also the movement of calls in this period is bigger and more specific, which helps in your internship report, and of course, in the day shift there is no Jimin... You've settled in, and now after months of this crazy, fickle routine, your body is feeling the side effects.

"Three of this rainbow donuts please." You asked at the college cafe. One because you want, two because one is not enough, three because you are greedy. Life is too short not to overeat your current favorite sugar source. You sigh to yourself, taking a seat along your friends. Your mantra for life is life is too short to...insert anything here, experimenting and doing things that you never imagined before and that your mother probably wouldn't approve a hundred percent is what moves you. Basically nothing scares you, since childhood you were courageous and fearless. You subject yourself to almost anything, within the measures of what is safe, to have good stories to tell. The world is too big to be content with just having good grades to graduate and have a good job. What you want is much more... so much more that you don't even know what... But it’s not just because you don’t know yet that you’ll stand still without going after it to find out.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you gonna do on the weekend?" Your friend, Becca, asked comfortably within her girlfriend's embrace. As usual, whenever you see the two of them together being all lovey dovey, you feel a twinge of pride in your heart, because you were responsible for them to start dating in the first place. Although your romantic life is not very interesting, without serious or successful relationships, you are a great cupid.

"For the very first time in months... I don't know. I didn't plan anything, maybe something will show up, if not I'm just going to sleep. Why?" You smiled your happy smile of eating what you like.

"Pool party. You need to get a tan, you look like a vampire with that pale, tired face of yours."

You laughed because it's true, since you started changing the day for the night, your skin has acquired a not healthy tone that you are not used to. You've been missing the sun a little.

"First of all, I'm too cute to be a vampire. Second, yeah I'll think about it, I have a new bikini I haven't worn yet that makes my breasts look stunning." One of your friends that was sitting by your side put his arm over your shoulder. "I changed my mind, I'm going to this party." He loudly said. The girls in the group didn't laugh at all. "Shut up, Mike." You playfully pushed him. ________________________________________________________________

This was the second night that Jimin was looking for the cat, Sushi. It was not difficult to find out the address of it’s owner, since he had to activate an ambulance for her, and with that he started looking for the animal in her neighborhood. Passing through the empty streets at night after his work shift, he could see the girl's tracks leaving "missing" posters with a picture of a kitten wearing a pink bow tie, on lampposts and bus stops. At first Jimin thought it was going to be easy, with his keen vampire senses, but all he found were stray cats that weren't Sushi. The second night of searching was already ending, the sun was rising, threatening to make him explode into ashes if he didn't come home soon, and no clue as to where to look the next night he had.

Before getting into the car and driving home, Jimin took one last look at the slightly open curtains in the girl's room, Ana, just to make sure she was okay. She had been discharged from the hospital that afternoon and was now sleeping on the couch, probably medicated. Jimin didn't want to leave her alone, but he couldn't just walk into her apartment and offer help, for now all he could do was find a way to find the cat. ________________________________________________________________ Jimin lives in an old pretty house in the wealthiest part of the city, it isn't a mansion, but it is big and expensive enough to impress anyone who sees it, privileges of centuries of saved money. It's a cliché, but vampires dress in designer clothes, ride luxury cars and live in expensive mansions, houses, apartments, and Jimin is no exception.

From one of the main rooms, behind a heavy curtain, hidden in the gloom, was another vampire, watching the street with intent, expressionless eyes. When Jimin's car turned the corner and up the wide street lined with huge trees, the vampire got uneasy, his beautiful restless hands worrying the hem of his sleeves. He was anxious and angry, if his heart was still beating it would be racing. The garage door opened and the car entered, disappearing from view, in the next second the vampire was no longer in the room but in front of the door leading to the garage, waiting in the empty, dark hall. The knob turned the door slightly opened, Jimin with his head down did not seem to notice the presence of the other before being attacked.

"AH!" Jimin screamed as long arms embraced his neck. If it wasn't for the wall behind him he would have fallen, yet he had no escape, with a body much larger than his overpowering him. "Taehyungie!"

"You are late! Is the second day in a row you get home after sunrise! Are you trying to die?" Taehyung said, and didn't let Jimin go just yet. "It's okay. I was careful, I just had to do a few things before I came home. Look, there's not even smoke coming out of me." Jimin ran his hands over Tae's back, making him relax. The other stepped back a little, taking his face in his big hands.

"You could have sent a message. I asked you to let me know if you were going to be late again, Jiminie..." Tae pouted, still distressed. "And why do your clothes smell like garbage? Take it off."

Even feeling deprived of affection, Taehyung walked away looking disgusted, covering his nose with two fingers. Jimin obeyed, taking off his sneakers, jacket and jeans, following Taehyung through the corridor to the laundry room, where he put everything in a basket to wash later, and also exchanged the shirt for a clean one too. "I went into some alleys today, looking for a cat. That's why." Jimin explained, feeling much more comfortable in not smelling bad.

"And where's it? I don't think Tannie will like to share the house with a cat..." "Where is what?" Jimin was confused. Tae crossed his arms.

"The cat?"

"Oh no!" Jimin laughed, reaching for Tae to take him by the shoulders. "I wasn't looking for a cat to bring home, as much as I would love one as a pet... It's the cat of a girl I met, and is very sad to have lost it..."

"I got it..." Taehyung mumbled.

Jimin was just helping someone. Again. And Taehyung couldn't say exactly why it bothers him so much every time, but it does, he feels distressed, almost as if the world around him collapsed, and it makes him think he's being overdramatic. Live an eternity when you can't even put your feelings out in moments of frustration. Damn, it is conflicting... If vampires could cry, he would. But never that he would let Jimin discover that he feels that way.

It was Jimin's turn to take Tae's face in his little hands.

"You are so skinny. When was the last time you fed?" Taehyung didn't answer.

"You don't even remember, right?" Jimin's eyes went worried. "Did you see that I brought some O- packs for you? I left it in the fridge."

"No, I didn't." A shy smile spread across Tae's face. O- is his favorite blood type, but because it is a not so common type, and humans need transplantation, it's not always that Jimin brings it to him, usually opting for his second favorite flavor or other one available.

Jimin has been trying to cheer his friend up with little treats. It has been a difficult phase, in which he thinks Tae is going through the vampiric midlife crisis. He hasn't been out of the house for almost two decades and does nothing without a little external motivation, even the simplest things like eating. So Jimin tries to bring the best blood types to fill the fridge, signed all available streaming platforms, updates Taehyung's video game consoles as soon as a new model comes out, tries to get him interested in new hobbies - which never works but he doesn't give up - and he even adopted a puppy so that Tae would never be alone.

"Come." Jimin pulled him by the hand to their modern practically untouched kitchen, opened the fridge and picked two packs of blood, the dark liquid shining at the cold light. “In my room or yours?"

"Yours."

The two of them got to Jimin's room, followed by the sound of four paws scraping the polished wooden floor, Yeontan chasing them closely. Jimin pulled the covers off the clean bed, on which he rarely lies down, so they could get more comfortable. Tae laid on his back, against the pile of smooth pillows, carefully opening a packet of blood to not spill a single drop, and put a stainless steel straw in the opening. Jimin turned on the TV, put the dog in the bed, and cuddled Tae's side, with his head on his chest.

"What show have you been watching?" Jimin asked.

"None. I've been looking for something interesting in this shit for days and I can't find anything." Tae took a sip of his blood with a pout.

Jimin chuckled. "I'm choosing then."

A moment of silence followed, in which the only sound was of Tae drinking the rest of his first pack, and then opening another one.

"I think I need to shower..." Jimin commented.

Taehyung's arm that was around Jimin tightened. "Not now. Later." Jimin laughed, thinking it was cute. An idea crossed his mind, another small treat.

"Do you want to bath with me instead?" He looked up to Tae.

Tae hold tightened even more.

"Not now. Later. Now we cuddle."

As if agreeing, Yeontan climbed over the two vampires, finding a comfortable place to lie down and join the cuddle pile.

"Ok."

________________________________________________________________

Tonight you didn't have time to talk to Jimin when you arrived at work, he was on a call, and it seemed really serious. You didn't have the money to buy extra coffee even for yourself, so you hadn't an excuse to pass quietly by his desk to leave a post-it written "Hi :)". In those circumstances, you went straight to your desk to work, to do your best to be a good listener.

To your surprise, making your heart melt and your breath hold at the bottom of the throat, you saw at the top of your computer screen a post-it with a "Hi, sweetheart." written on it, and another one with a "Look in the fridge.". After working with him for that time, regularly doing some paperwork like filling out documentation and such things, you could say for sure that this was Jimin's handwriting, besides, only he calls you sweetheart.

You checked the clock on the wall with an eager look and a silly smile. As you always arrive ten minutes early, there was time to go to the break room quickly, and look inside the fridge before starting to work. And so you did. The break room was nothing more than a small table with a few chairs, a small couch, a sink, an old coffee machine, a microwave and the refrigerator, all in a tight space lit by white lights that leave the place a little impersonal. None of your co-workers were there, as usual. You crossed the small room to the fridge and opened it trying not to make a noise, more out of habit than necessity.

The interior was very empty, with some forgotten lunchboxes, but that didn't interest you. Your goal was right in the middle. A big cup of iced coffee, from a franchise that you don't usually buy from because you find it a little too expensive for your student budget, with your name written on a post-it on top of it.

"Y/N, I wanted to be me treating you today. Hope you like it."

That coffee was as cold as Jimin's fingertips when touching yours, but it warmed your heart. Sometimes you question yourself if it's healthy how head over heels you are for this guy, for so little.

Back at your desk, now with your iced coffee, you wrote a post-it and pasted it on the back of your computer screen, where Jimin could see it. "Thanks :)" Then you started to work. Other people needed you now. ________________________________________________________________ On your fifteen minutes break time, you were leaving the restroom, passing a moisturizing hand cream - because you swear that the soap in this place dries out your skin, and god forbid you from harsh hands -, the sound of the break room's door opening made you lift your eyes from the floor. It was Jimin. He don't take breaks, it's not like he needs it, he doesn't get tired, but he didn't get the chance to talk to you today yet, so as soon he saw you stretching in your chair, indicating that you would soon get up to go to the bathroom - yes, he learned your routine and mannerisms - he discreetly left the room to meet you by coincidence in the hall afterwards.

"Hi, Y/N. Did you like the coffee?" He charmly smiled at you, he was eager to ask it to you, to find out if he made the right choice of flavor, or if he made a bad mistake and you hated it - he couldn't help thinking about that possibility. Anyway, he was looking forward to your approval.

The truth is that you were so stunned by his caring that it didn't matter what the flavor was.

"Actually, yes. I love vanilla flavored things. It's basic but it makes me happy." You fixed your hair, pulling it behind your ears. Jimin could tell by your smile and your heated face that you aren't lying.

"Nice. I wanted to make you happy." He approached you, more than is suitable for the work environment, and it made you nervous, and of course he noticed. But it was okay, if someone came close he would hear and walk away before they could see you, too bad he couldn't tell you that.

"Mission completed successfully." You said, without looking away from his eyes - no matter how much part of you shouted at you to do it, your heart felt like it was going to explode. Well, your heart has a limit, so you changed the subject. "Did your friend find her cat?" Sadness took over Jimin's eyes.

"Unfortunately not. I've been looking for him for two days and nothing, I swear I think I've looked in every street, alley and trash can. I don't want to think like that, but I think Sushi is no longer with us." He sighed, clearly frustrated. You had the impulse to rub his forearms to comfort him, it was the very first time you really touched him. "If he is a cat that wasn't accustomed to getting out, and didn't know how to walk on the street, it is possible that something bad happened... But! He's a cat, if he used to go out often, he might have some other house, other owners, and that's why he hasn't come back yet." You optimistically said.

A smile spread in Jimin's face.

"That makes sense! She told me something like 'He's never been away from home for so long', there's hope then. And you also gave me an idea. Thank you, Y/N." He pulled you into a hug, and you thought you could die.

"You welcome." You said against his chest, deciding not to waste the opportunity to return the hug. ________________________________________________________________ The day was perfect for a vampire walk in the daytime. Cloudy and rainy. No deadly sunbeams and an excuse to use an umbrella without calling attention to it. After the tip you gave, Jimin looked in the right place after accompanying you home that night, and in less than an hour he was outside the window of two children's rooms, in a ground floor apartment, looking inside, and sleeping between the feet of one of the children was the cat, he wasn't with his bow tie but there was no mistake, Jimin was sure. Even without being able to enter - vampiric rules, you only can get in somebody's house if invited, or else you explode as if you were under sunlight - Jimin could smell cat all over the house, and the windows all had anti-escape screens, which indicated that it was a family of cat people.

Jimin would need to come back to pick the cat during the day, knock on the front door and politely ask. That's why heavy weather is perfect. With a dark couture coat, covering all from his neck to the back of his hands, to his knees, a design hat and sunglasses, and last but nos least, a big umbrella, he approached the lower middle class apartment complex. Without hesitation he raised his hand and knocked. Some seconds passed by, sound of kids running inside and a voice of a famale scolding them muffled by the closed door, and then a little girl, maybe six-year-old, appeared in Jimin's field of vision, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen after all.

"Hello." Jimin smiled. "Are your parents home?"

She smiled at him, but shook her head negatively.

"Jo, who is it?" An older girl opened the door wider and faced Jimin with a frown that fell apart when she saw his smile. Great, a teenager, he thought. "What do you want?"

"Sorry to bother, I really wanted to talk to an adult, but..." Jimin lifted his phone, the screen showing Sushi's missed post. "I saw my friend's cat on your window."

The older girl narrowed her eyes as she looked at the photo, but before she could answer, the little girl she called Jo before ran away.

"No!" She screamed, disappearing inside the apartment, and then slamming a door somewhere.

"Sorry for that, please wait a minute." The teenager closed the door on his face, and he could hear her shouting and scolding the girl little inside. He was starting to lose his patience. Jimin doesn't like to be ignored at all. Should he knock again and use his mind control powers to get the cat? He was pondering the idea when the door opened again, the two girls were still loudly arguing inside, and this time it was a small boy who must be the middle sibling in front of him.

"Hi, grandma said to tell you to come in." He mumbled.

"So you are letting me get in your house?" Jimin asked with a satisfied grin.

"Yeah... follow me." The boy was avoiding eye contact, being shy. Jimin thought he was adorable.

Jimin followed the boy to a tiny living room, where an old woman was sitting in front of the TV. The girls were now silent, but clearly wanting to argue some more, and the small one was with Sushi in her arms. Jimin sighed, he likes children, a lot, even though he doesn't live with many, but he likes them even more when they're not having a tantrum.

"Hello. Please, take a seat." The old lady pointed to the old couch. The vampire obliged, and almost immediately a fat orange cat jumped into his lap. In this small room alone he could see three more of them. "So, why do you want to steal one of my babies?" Steal? Jimin was slightly offended, he already explained himself, but the chaotic situation created a misunderstanding. "I'm not here to steal nothing, ma'am." He showed his cellphone again. "One of your cats is Sushi, my friend's cat."

"That's not his name!" The little girl shouted tapping a foot on the floor in anger. Jimin just raised his eyebrows at her, making her swallow hard. But he is in control of the situation, so Jimin smiled to remain pleasant.

"Of course it is. Just watch, little one." He reached out to call the cat. "Come here, Sushi." Even though the cat didn't know Jimin to trust him - and these people don't need to know that - cats are creatures of the night, strongly attached to magic and protection in the dark hours, and in the hierarchy of the night they obeyed vampires. The only things that cats respect more than vampires are witches and their own owners whom they protect. As Jimin expected, Sushi jumped off the girl's tight hold and went over to him.

"Good boy. Ana is missing you like hell." Jimin scratched behind his ears. Before someone else could say anything, he proceeded. "When he got lost he was using a pink bow tie." The old lady was still with Jimin cellphone in her hand, and he could see she was convinced he know the cat, but wasn't intending on letting him leave with him yet.

"I'm seeing it in the post, but there was no tie when we got him." She replied. "You just didn't see it, ma'am." Jimin was tired of this conversation, it was being a lot less nice than he imagined on his way there. When he looked to the little girl to talk to her, his eyes were intense and powerful, and his voice was full of authority. "Go get the tie where you hid it, little one."

Mesmerized by Jimin's power, the girl didn't even blink or say anything as she obeyed, turned around and ran to one of the rooms. Jimin doesn't use hypnosis very often but he has fun every time. She got back with it and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He removed the effect and the little girl blinked a few times before understanding what happened.

The old lady was clearly angry with the girl, but it wasn't Jimin's business. "Well I think that's all. We are going now." Jimin got up from the couch.

"Wait!" The teenager snapped. "Jo lied about the bow to keep the cat, and that's bad, but she already loves him! You can't just take him away!"

Jimin was almost on the door.

"Of course I can. Besides, it's not because what she did is bad, young lady. It's because my friend loves him, actually this cat is Ana's family. No one should live alone, right?"

"Right!" The old lady got up too. "I'll get you to the door, tell our friend we are sorry."

"I will. Thank you." ________________________________________________________________

"You found the cat!" Tae sniffed the back of Jimin's neck. "Where is it?"

Jimin was putting the clothes he was using to wash, to remove the smell of cat and the places he passed by. And to get comfortable, as is his habit when he gets home, he just stayed in his underwear and t-shirt.

"I already gave him back to his owner." In the next second Jimin was dropping himself on the leather couch.

"And how was it? Did she thank you with tears in her eyes?" Tae leaned over the back of the sofa with his chin in his hands.

Jimin chuckled, Taehyung's thirst for drama is funny, and he's always been like that. And at least that doesn't seem to have changed...

"Well... She cried a lot when she found him in the window. She looked really happy!" Jimin sang. He was really happy too. He helped someone to find their smile again, even if it is a little bit, it made him really proud of himself, a warm feeling in his chest telling him it was the right thing to do, and that he should do it again if he gets the opportunity. Taehyung's expression changed, suddenly he was disinterested.

"You didn't even talk to her? Just left the cat there for her to find?"

"Well, yeah." Jimin threw his hair back. "I couldn't risk she recognizing my voice and thinking I was stalking her. Scaring her was not the goal, Tae, quite the contrary..."

Taehyung stared at him in silence for what felt a whole minute - maybe it really was, vampires perceive time differently. "You are not a secret superhero, Jimin. You are a vampire." Said that he got back to his room.

Jimin doesn't understand. These outbursts and mood swings leave him confused. And it's not like he hasn't already tried to talk. This... This he doesn't recognize in Taehyung. It hurt his feelings and at same time he feels it is partially his faut. "I can be both if I want to!" He exclaimed.

No answer. To find somebody who would be happy for him and understand the euphoria he felt for saving a little bit that girl he went through his contact list. A lot of vampire names - a lot is maybe an exaggeration, since he doesn't have many friends at all - who wouldn't be rude, but wouldn't understand, and also some former human colleagues from past jobs with whom he hasn't spoken in a long time and maybe should erase the number... And you. Of course you are the obvious choice. You had sympathy for the case from the beginning, even offered to help. And if it weren't for you he wouldn't have succeeded...

Jimin: hey sweetheart Jimin: I found sushi! Jimin: thanks to you btw He sent the messages, hoping it wouldn't be strange. It wasn't the first time you two texted before, but it was just an exchange of memes and silly flirt... without compromise talk. And what he wanted this time was different. You took too long to answer, and he wondered if you were in class and if he was bothering you. He wanted everything but to mess it up with you right now. Maybe he should've checked your class schedule for the week to make sure he texted you when he was sure you were free. But he was so eager to talk to someone... with you. He gave up waiting and went after doing something productive. Crochet dolls. He was doing a mini Taehyung, with red eyes and little cute fangs - an apology for later, neither of them like fighting with each other, even if you can't call that earlier thing a fight- when his cell phone started to crazily vibrate and beep.

You: OMG! You: thts amazing! You: sorry i didn't aswr before You: I was taking a nap hehe You: anyways You: i'm so happy u found him You: [image.jpg] You: ur friend must be even happier :) You: what do u mean thanx to me? You: sorry i spammed u :( Jimin can't handle you. You are too cute. You literally sent him a photo of you with an enormous smile, cheering, to show him your reaction. And you were with your hair all messed and the puffy face of someone who just woke up. Precious. Jimin: no problem, sweetheart Jimin: you said to look in other owners' houses. basically. I found him with a old cat lady with three grandchildren Jimin: you are looking cute btw You: OwO You: i'm looking like shit Jimin You: BUT thats awesome You: if it was me id be crying til my eyes fall You weren't even there with him, in person, and you were putting a smile on his face. How dare you say you look like shit when you have those perfect cute cheeks? So alive...

Jimin: EXACTLY. that's why I wanted to find him so much. Jimin: and because you helped me, I want to reward you Jimin: i know you don't work today. me neither. do you want to go out for coffee in a nice place? You took too long to answer again, and that's because your heart is exploding and knees trembling while you stare at your cell phone screen, standing midway in your kitchen. You: u dont need to. i did nothing. This time Jimin took too long to answer. He was making a decision. To be more straightforward. More honest. Until now he was dictating a slow pace for your flirting, because for him romance is like that. But what if he tries to speed things up a bit? Or if he lets you command? How would things be?

Jimin: Y/N, respect my excuse to ask you out.

He knew what your answer would be. Even so, he felt anxious, hearing a non-existent heartbeat in his ear, while the three dots indicated that you were typing.

You: ok. what time do you come to pick me?

Tag List: @angrygardenerr @depressed-dude20 @milktaetae95 @tangledsparkles @wlalsrkfla @minikolima @wrecklesseuphoria

If you want me to add you to the list let me know, and please let comments :)

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (2/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice. At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

"Hey! Are you alive?"

Levi's body was on fire. Another type of pain, added to the list that only grew longer and longer the more mornings he woke up to.

It was new. In the grand scheme of things though, it was routine. When Levi woke up, the pain was already fading into a distant memory. He knew it could be easily soothed with a Tylenol and a few more minutes in bed. He had to press his face harder into the pillow, focusing on the feeling of cloth and cotton on his face to get a grip on his reality. He wanted to hear that voice again but at the same time he wanted to escape that pain.

That voice was familiar. Levi was sure when he showed up for training she would be there, and he could listen to her again. He ended up adding salt to the wounds though as he remembered the last few things he had said to her the night before.

It could have been from the stress of the whole ordeal or the embarrassment of having blurted out a bunch of nonsense.

Who the hell are we escaping from? Levi had scrambled for an answer then. What came out were a string of words he wished he had never said.

“Nothing.”

“Hey, I’ve spent a lot of time talking, I wanna learn something about you too.”

“My life is none of your business.”

She had kept quiet soon after. As Levi recalled how she had offered to take him home, he only buried his face further into the pillow. A part of him thought that maybe if he deprived himself of oxygen enough, he could forget the conversation between them.

“How far is your house from here? I’ll take you home. It’s my fault you got injured anyway.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure you’ll get home safe?”

“Why do you care? We just met. I couldn’t care less either if you got home safe or not.”

We just met. Obviously I wouldn’t care too much about her. His meager justification did nothing to placate the guilt that had taken over him, leaving him unable to move.

He remembered the face she had made before he turned away and limped home. He had thought to himself then that maybe she just wore her heart on her sleeve. Most people probably would have thought the same thing as they saw the way she bit her lip and looked away. She could have been about to cry. Levi could not help but think though that she wouldn’t. Her mental resilience is stronger than that. Levi just knew.

Either way, Levi still regretted his actions that night. He spent the next few minutes in bed gathering himself up mentally for his morning training. As he pushed himself into a sitting position and planted his feet on the floor next to his bed, he felt his knees protest at the weight. At that moment, the dull pain on his palms also made themselves known.

Of course it wouldn’t heal. How long has it been 12 hours? When injured, most of his teammates could easily skip training with little to no consequences, as long as they sent a text. Most of his teammates still showed up anyway to watch. Feeling a little guilty for having skipped training just yesterday, Levi decided to show up anyway.

It was a force of habit more than anything for Levi to throw his jacket and shorts on, grab his gym bag and hurry to the track as soon as he saw the first signs of the sun about to rise. In fact, he only realized how completely useless it was to be thirty minutes early when he was already sitting alone in the empty clubroom, entertaining himself by looking for patterns in the stains and discolored blots on the ceiling.

He considered going back to the dorm and just informing his coach on his recent injury. He had already exited the clubroom when he decided otherwise.

The track stretched out in front of him, illuminated by the dim light from the sunrise. The morning was notably cooler and Levi remembered that summer was ending soon, if it hadn’t ended yet. The days would only get colder and classes were starting next week. How long would he be able to enjoy a morning walk without having to wear an extra layer or without considering how he could fit in a shower before his next class?

Levi ignored resistance of the stitches on his knees and the stinging pain of sweat and bandages rubbing against his palms, allowing himself a slow jog around the oval. He promised himself instead to sit out the rest of the training. His coach would probably stop him anyway when he sees the state of Levi’s hands and knees.

“Levi!”

It turned out Levi was right. Time had gone faster as Levi focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the cool wind that brushed past him and the scenery that blurred past him. Also, his coach had stopped him as soon as he arrived.

“What happened to you?” Greg gave Levi a onceover before shaking his head.

“I fell while jumping on the hurdles.”

“Get that checked. I’m not allowing you to join training until you see a doctor.”

Levi looked down to see blood seeping from the white of the bandages. His stitches split open. He could barely give his coach a nod, too disappointed by being forced out of training, a little angry at Hange for indirectly causing that energy, too conflicted by his own feelings. He grabbed his phone which he had left on the table next to the track and walked away from the track.

He had to grab the gym bag he left in the club room. He made sure to take the long way back, the scenic route with more trees than people. Having just been told off by his coach, having been barred from training, Levi felt like he was taking a walk of shame and he preferred not to run into anyone else.

He checked his phone. It was six in the morning. The university clinic opened at eight. He could kill those two hours quickly in the empty clubroom while everyone was training. By the time they finished morning training, he would be on his way to the clinic.

He had plans of just lying on the bench for the next two hours, exhausting all the content in all of his social media timelines and maybe getting into some other Wikipedia or article black hole. On his way to the clubroom, he set his alarm for 7:45 that morning.

As he arrived in the clubroom though, he found himself occupied by something else.

Everyone in the club always put their stuff away in the cubbyholes to the side. There was more than enough space for everyone. Yet somehow, even with three cubby holes open, someone had decided to leave their bag half open on the floor with what looked like half its contents spilling out.

Levi gathered what had spilled out. He had the option of just dropping it into the bag leaving the problem of organizing it to the owner. His fastidiousness took over though and Levi found himself spreading out the contents of the bag and putting it into the bag in a way that would have made it take the least space in the cubby.

“Sorry. I forgot my phone in my bag.”

Levi heard footsteps and voices just outside the clubroom and it was only then was he become aware of the fact that he had invaded someone’s privacy. He hurriedly pushed the contents of the bag into the nearest cubbyhole.

His hands though were not at their strongest, still sore from the accident last night. It was at the moment the door opened did the bag fall again on the floor, its contents spilling out, more haphazardly and messily than he had found it.

He looked up at the door to see Hange and behind her, another student.

"Levi…" Hange’s mouth was turned up in a smile but her eyes were expressing otherwise.

Levi wondered what he looked like crouched down next to her bag, with its contents spread out all over the room. From the way Hange was staring at him, he guessed he could have even looked like a criminal. "I made a rule here. All bags go in the cubbyhole," Levi tried to keep an authoritative tone as he said it, maybe it could make up for the compromising position they had found him in, somehow.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry." Hange rushed beside him, carelessly gathering things into one bundle.

Levi noticed she kept herself a polite distance from him, purposefully pushing her bag into one of the cubbyholes farther away from where her bag had fallen.

"Just don't mess up the clubroom again."

Levi lay back on the bench as soon as the door closed behind him and propped his phone on his face. He could not even bring himself to even turn it on and lazily scroll through some timeline. As he listened to the footsteps get further away, Levi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The rush of incomprehensible emotions had left him cold as he lost one of the few opportunities he did have to talk to her.

Why? Why couldn't I chase after her?

A part of him wanted to run after her, apologize then maybe thank her for last night.

A part of him was also just as pissed off with the chain of events. He was injured. He couldn't train. The club room was a mess. Hange had something to do with all of it.

His four years living in his own tiny island with only training and studies keeping him company had left him unable to process the strong emotions that came with human interaction.

Why does she make me so angry?

He was aware that he was abrasive and sometimes too frank. It had never bothered him then. He had always believed that it was also the other party's responsibility to handle their emotions well. Hange had handled it better than many other people in similar positions yet...

Why do I care that it hurt her? How the hell did I say something so offensive so wrong? In fact despite his inability to express a lot of feelings, Levi did care enough about people to check on injured teammates and help grandmas cross the street.

He turned his phone on, deciding to occupy himself with Twitter for the next two hours. Watching people fight online was oddly calming.

A Tale of Two Slaves

By the time Levi made it to the university clinic, the bandages on his knees were bloody. The red buds had bloomed into adult flowers. Underneath, the stitches had to be redone, and Levi was prescribed antibiotics to prevent infection.

One of the nurses offered to go out of campus to buy it for him. Levi hid under the covers of one of the vacant beds in the nurse's office while waiting. The clinic was empty save for one nurse and one doctor with not many students living on campus just yet.

Levi found himself going through his timeline first, then articles on dreams.

By the time the doctor had checked on him, to ask him if he had plans to at least take a late lunch, Levi was in a black hole with 50 tabs open. They weren't about dreams or were they from random links he had found on his timeline.

They were all about Hange Zoe, pages worth of articles with pictures of her at varying ages. The awards varied, some were in the form of certificates, others as trophies. The girl behind them all was the same chestnut haired girl with that same overenthusiastic glint in her eyes.

Kid whiz Hange Zoe bags gold in the city wide

Governor congratulates the representative to the national Science symposium.

7 year old genius has big plans for the future.

Hange Zoe talks about future plans. "I want to test the physical limitations of the human body."

I wanna see how far we can throw, how fast we can run, how high we can jump, how high we can fly.

"Fucking stupid. Humans can't fly." Levi muttered to himself. He sat up in bed and checked the time at the corner of his phone.

3:00pm.

Afternoon training would generally start at five. He had time for a late lunch. Or dinner.

Nothing in the university was open though and the raw stitches on his knees continued to ache. Levi found himself staying in the club room two hours before training was to start, having Mcdonalds delivered instead at the doorway of the clubroom.

A few times he had heard footsteps by the door, he stood up the first two times, just to check who it had been. The clubrooms were lined up near the athletics area. All the sports teams hung around that area, he should not have been too surprised to realize that none of the foot traffic in that hour were from anyone in his team. In fact, he should not have expected that any of them would have been Hange.

Why the hell am I looking for her anyway?

Levi shifted to his side. The bench did not give him much room to roll completely and Levi found himself having to grasp at the sides to stay on the bench and avoid falling painfully on the ground and further aggravating his stitches.

With his two hands occupied, it became a choice. Either his knees or his phone was to take the impact of the ground beneath him. He chose to sacrifice his phone.

As Levi reached out to grab his phone from under the bench a few seconds later, he came across a small trinket on the floor. It was a ring was covered with purple cloth, the middle of the ring covered with some sort of web. The borders were lined with feathers, soft to his touch. Levi wondered whether the feathers were real or not.

Levi sat back on the bench and brought the keychain closer to his eyes. It turned out the ring was not covered in cloth. It was covered in threads so pressed closely to each other, from afar it had looked like one surface. He carefully traced the dark green strings that were interwoven so tightly around the purple cloth, no pattern was the same, no hole was of the same size or shape. It could have been homemade.

Who the hell left this here? Levi took a picture with his phone and sent it to the team chat.

Lost and Found.

Most had denied owning it. For a while Levi suspected that they could have been scared he would get mad. He knew he had a reputation when it came to cleaning and clutter. He was considering adding that he wasn’t angry eventually deciding against it. Would they believe him anyway?

One of the med students probs.

So it’s Hange’s? It was an excuse to message her at least. Before Levi could even process what he did, he had searched Hange’s name on Facebook.

No account. He would have at least expected to find a profile with one or two mutual friends. They went to the same school after all. He checked the school supergroup to find that no one there was named Hange Zoe.

So she doesn’t have an account?

He looked through other groups built for their team. He looked for a medical students group, looking one by one at the profiles for a familiar face. One of the profiles had the face of the blond man who was behind Hange when they had found him that morning.

Levi had a habit of forgetting faces. The awkwardness and the embarrassment he had gone through had only made that memory more vivid in his mind. That vividness at least was the reason why he had found a lead to Hange.

Moblit Berner.

He clicked add friend and sent a picture of the keychain through chat.

Found this in the clubroom. Might be one of your friends?

It’s Hange’s.

Probably fell when her stuff got scattered on the floor.

Okay, will give it to you when you get here.

As Levi soon found out, the students were all out of campus and had no plans to visit training that afternoon at all. The main reason why they had showed up in the morning instead.

Levi scolded himself for not even bothering to learn their schedule. Maybe it could have alleviated his disappointment even a bit. Seeing no reason to be there in the clubroom anymore. Levi dropped a message in the chat, mentioning something about injuries and rest.

He wasn’t lying. His stitches were fresh. His palms hurt. More importantly. He was recovering from a painful bout of disappointment.

We’ll be there tomorrow morning though.

Ok see you there.

Levi had plans of making it up to his coach the next morning by being extra early anyway.

A Tale of Two Slaves

I wonder what types of titans we'll get to meet today...

It was a beautiful morning. Or possibly, it was just a relatively beautiful morning when compared to all the others where Levi had to lie in bed for an hour or so just to forget the pain and the shock of dreams he could not even remember to function.

That morning he had awoken with a burst of energy and a motivation that followed suit.

I wanna talk to Hange.

The only stopping him then was the awareness of how stupid and rash it would be to make friends just because he had such a vivid dream about them.

Section Leader Hange Zoe.

Special Squad Captain Levi .

They worked too closely in his dreams. She was constantly happy, constantly annoying. She was comfortable. She had made him feel excited, calm, annoyed, an incomprehensible and tumultuous storm of emotions. The dreams were too lifelike, realistic and vivid to have just been dreams.

Was she the reason for the painful mornings? Was she the reason Levi found himself so particularly confused around her? So abrasive? So conflicted?

Levi quickly changed into his clothes, grabbed his gym bag and rushed to the track. He did not bother to check his phone for the time anyway. The sun was rising and Moblit had said the night before. They’ll be there.

He used the walk to the track to process further the emotions that had been running through him since he remembered the dreams.

His name was Levi Ackerman. He was a soldier. They fought these giant zombie creatures. Hange managed another team but they were stationed close and that was how they had gotten close in the first place.

It felt like some sort of roleplay Levi could just easily put into words and post online. He wondered if that’s what it felt like to be a writer. Do stories come to writers and artists in dreams just like that? Levi had considered writing it all out, completely disowning that thought after he remembered he was shitty with words.

He probably would never channel those emotions into words or to art. Regardless, the determination to make sense of it was unwavering. Despite his awareness of the amount of stress he had caused her the past few days, the nagging self consciousness of having exposed that many facets of personality to someone, Levi was sure he wanted to talk to her. It was too strong. She must have felt it too. Maybe that’s why she was too friendly? Too touchy?

As Levi soon found out, she was touchy with a lot of other people. If Levi had checked his phone that morning, he would have seen that training was starting soon. With autumn coming, the nights were long and the sun was rising later.

Hange was there, by the side of the track, her arms around Elijah, one of his other teammates and fellow seniors. From where he stood, Levi could not tell if she was joking or not, but he could not help but note, he had never been the object of that playful smile she gave Moblit who stood next to her with a clipboard in hand.

“Hey Four Eyes.” Levi did not need to muster up any courage to approach her. The irritation he felt at seeing her arm around someone else, that playful smile directed at Moblit provoked him enough.

Hange’s face quickly fell as she made eye contact with him. Levi’s stomach followed suit, suddenly painfully aware of the shit he had put her through the past few days.

“Oh yeah, Levi found your dream catcher in the clubroom.”

The keychain! Levi had completely forgotten to bring it with him.

“Sorry about leaving it there. I shouldn’t have been too careless.” Hange’s smile was careful and rehearsed, a far cry from the one she gave Moblit only a while ago.

“I don’t have it with me now though since I had to rush here.” Levi was sure the excuse was understandable. A lot of his teammates were already warming up in the middle of track. “I could bring it later this afternoon?”

“Actually, we probably won’t be going back here for a while. We gotta prepare with classes starting soon and we got all the information we need anyway.” Moblit explained. “So we’re gonna invite some athletes out for an interview then work closely with them.”

“About the keychain...” Yes, the keychain. I need to meet Hange again and give it to her.

“You can give it to Elijah here.” Hange suggested. “Or maybe...Moblit? If you’re okay working with him.”

Why Moblit? My teammate, Elijah? “Wait why?” Levi’s mind was racing with questions. The shock and confusion had left him a little disconnected from his surroundings. He almost did not notice the way Hange had pulled him to the side of the track. Suddenly, it was just the two of them, on the corner, out of earshot from everyone else.

“This is probably the last time we’re gonna meet so I’ll be honest with you.” Hange took a deep breath. “I really wanted to work with you for my thesis but yeah I guess… with what happened the past few days I kinda realize maybe we just aren’t compatible and we might just end up driving each other crazy.” Hange added a small laugh to that cold and rehearsed smile she was giving him. It only added salt to the wounds she was already opening up with her speech. “And I guess I should have noticed this before but you really don’t like me do you? I’m sorry if I couldn’t give the best first impression.”

No… I really like you. You gave a great first impression. Like always, even when Levi had wanted to say it, the words had gotten lost somewhere in its journey from mind to mouth.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange

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xxmackenziexx · 3 years

Text

Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: Bucky is kinda of a creep in this chapter, and he makes a notable revelation. Reader and Steve get some game time in and we also get to learn a bit about a traumatic event that happened to the reader and some more background information.

Warnings: mentions of a car crash that resulted in mild injury, voyeurism(?), mild sexual content, jealousy, video game violence

Word Count: 3,162

A/N: I'm not 100% in love with certain parts of this chapter and I think it's because there are some parts that may seem random and don't make sense but it'll be explained and discussed more later on. Also, are the POV changes of the same things okay? I try not to get too descriptive with both but there are certain things that happen that need to be addressed by both of them, I think. Is it weird? Too much? Not enough? Please let me know!!!

As you blindly began the process of stripping your clothes and getting into the shower you couldn't get those images of Bucky out of your mind. It was mind-blowing how much you enjoyed it all, that whole interaction just replaying in your mind, over and over again. ‘Baby doll.’ God, how did such a simple phrase turn you on so much? Well, that was easy to figure out, it's because he said them, looking like that. Why? It was so frustrating, he was so frustrating. It's not like you could just ask him out like you would literally any other person, he was different. He was your friend before anything else. And you just could not risk it. Knowing you had no other option, you were determined to simply ignore your insane attraction and the way you felt about Bucky. Plain and simple. Maybe it would go away if you didn't acknowledge it. Yeah....that's a good idea.

Getting out of the shower, you dried your hair quickly then put on your boy shorts and a tank top, doing your best to pretend that everything with Bucky was just gonna go back to normal. It had to. Walking back into your room you decided to text Steve and see if he'd be up for a few rounds of Warzone or something. You needed something to distract you, so you plopped down on your belly near the foot of your bed, idly swinging your feet above your backside as you used your elbows to prop yourself up. Scrolling through your contacts you found Steve's name and typed a quick message. *Hey Steve, you up?* You decided to scroll through various social media pages before your phone buzzed with a response. *hey y/n! Yea I'm up, what's up?* *Was just wondering if you wanted to play something. I said I'd text you. Lol.* *oh yea...I forgot about that. Lol.* *Obviously. Lol. So you gettin' on or no?* *yeah, lemme log on really quick* *Okay, doing the same* You got up from your bed, hit with a sudden wave of grogginess, and yawned and stretched, your arms raising above your head before you went over to the computer to get everything set up to play with Steve. Putting on your headset and placing yourself in your gaming chair, you shivered when the backside of your upper thigh hit the cold leather, opting to pull your knees to your chest in between your arms as they reached out to the mouse and keyboard. Now comfortable, you opened up the game launcher, seeing Steve was already online and added him to your party, and turned the microphone on your headset on before saying hello to Steve. "Hey man, you ready to pay for my new favorite gun?" You laughed as you scrolled through the available bundles for purchase, looking for a specific weapon that recently came out. "A deal's a deal y/n, I'd be honored to." He huffed amused. You hummed in response as you searched for what you wanted when your phone buzzed. You picked it up off the desk and saw a snap chat notification from Bucky and with a sigh, you opened it. All around him was dark, but his face and upper body was exposed in the dim light from his screen, his face was in a forced pout with the caption *I can't sleep:(* And despite your previous wishes to ignore the way your body responded to the sight of him, it betrayed you. You immediately felt your pulse pick up speed and noted that the grainy quality of the photo did nothing to deter from the quality of the subject...and his pecs...and abs...and his puffy pink lips... Snapping back into reality you held your phone above you, getting an angle that showed you sitting in your chair and that you were obviously playing Warzone with the caption *Sorry boutcha. Lol. Wanna play with me and Steve?* Making some small talk with Steve while the purchase went through the various avenues needed you got another notification and opened it. Bucky was sneering, his lip curled up in obvious disgust. No caption needed for that one you thought to yourself. You replied with turning your chair to display the new weapon Steve bought you with your hand held out like one of those ladies on a TV game show presenting a prize, an exaggerated smile on your face and your eyebrows raised high. No caption.

You and Steve were done getting your loadouts the way you wanted them, both of you asking questions and making suggestions along the way, now ready to begin playing. You hadn’t gotten a reply from Bucky so you tried not to think about him, and after a while, it was easy to become engrossed in the game. You and Steve worked well together, both of you made sure to call out any enemies in the vicinity and give each other cover when needed. There was now only one other squad of duos and if you and Steve could take them out, you’d win. With the circle getting smaller and smaller, you found yourself unable to precisely locate the last two players. The circle was located on a hill with rock formations jutting out precariously, you and Steve were currently hiding behind trees, hating the fact that the other two players had the high ground.

“Hey, you good on armor? I got nothing on the heartbeat sensor so we’re gonna have to chance it going up the hill.” You asked Steve, explaining what you hoped was a foolproof plan to secure your combined victory.

“Hold on,” He said as he filled up his armor and checked the ammo on his weapons, “Alright, think this is as good as it's gonna get. Ready?” He asked.

“Ready.” You replied before the two of you slowly and quietly parted ways, branching off on either side of where you assumed the enemy team to be. Steve positioned himself a distance away, crouched next to a tree so he could observe and assist when needed without drawing notice to his position. You were just underneath a rock ledge and quickly threw a grenade overhead to scatter the enemy, moving quickly up the hill and positioned yourself in a way to give Steve a clean shot if needed. You heard footsteps and barely saw a figure running behind a small bush, you took aim and opened fire, downing your enemy then delivering the finishing move.

“Downed one of 'em.” You told Steve, just as shots rang out and you got hit. You quickly tried to find cover before you yourself got downed. Crawling to Steve so he could revive you. “I’m hit, I’m hit! I couldn’t see him.”

“Get your ass over here y/n.” Steve admonished, still scanning the area for the final person between you and victory. He healed you and you used your last two armor plates, not quite at full defenses. You both got the notification a grenade was in your vicinity before you scattered just in time to miss the damage. As Steve went right and you went left you saw the final player behind a large rock, taking aim at Steve. You quickly pinged his location, telling Steve he was right there, but not quick enough before he delivered a series of fatal shots at Steve. You took your chance and took aim, earning you and Steve your victory.

“YES!!” You roared, jolting from your seat with your hands up in the air before you did a little victory jig while Steve laughed and congratulated you.

“I am the best ever. Bow before me.” You said more to yourself than anyone else. Steve only laughed before you finally sat back down, beaming with pride. Neither of you starting another game, electing to instead just talk a bit, not about anything in particular. He asked about when your truck was gonna be out of the shop and you told him what the garage told you, hopefully, Monday. He asked about your photography business. “It’s doing well, I got commissioned by the school board again to do the homecoming photos so that’ll be fun, I’ve got some neat ideas for the photo station that line up with the theme they’re choosing. I’ve had to reschedule a few photoshoots since my truck was dinged up so bad by that damn drunk driver, but I’m just glad their insurance covered the full cost of repairs because my truck was perfect. I had just gotten it done up the way I wanted it.” You chucked as you recalled all the additions you had done to your truck when your phone buzzed again. It was another photo of Bucky looking sad with the caption *I’m sad* and you typed a quick message instead of taking a photo and asked why he was sad.

“Well, I’m happy for you y/n. I'm glad that asshole had to pay for what he did, it’s crazy you didn’t get hurt more than you did in that accident. I saw the damage to your truck and I was sure you were gonna be in the hospital for a few weeks. We were all worried for you. Who is that drunk that early in the damn morning anyway?” He said as he remembered the story going around the school and seeing the pictures you sent to Bucky when he showed Steve.

“Yeah…my truck took most of the hit thankfully.” You said softly, being transported back to the moment it happened. You were at a red light, on your way to school, your light turned green and you pressed off the brake when a smaller truck t boned you, hitting you directly on the driver's door at a speed the police report said was roughly 40-50 miles per hour. You remember the way your body was violently thrown to the side and you could vividly recall the sound of breaking glass, tires screeching and the hiss of the engine as it was damaged. You could smell the smoke and the burnt rubber. Everything happened so fast it took you a second to realize that you had been in an accident, you didn’t know it at the time but you had a concussion, some scrapes here and there and some sprains to your neck and back and you were gonna be sore for quite a while. The offending driver wasn’t so lucky, he was hurt pretty bad but he would live. You spent about two days in the hospital and had to take it easy for a while afterward. The doctors and the police all said you were lucky to be alive, that they’d seen the exact same accident where there were no survivors. It was a bit daunting.

Your phone buzzed, bringing you out of your reverie. It was Bucky again. He was curled up in his bed on his side, one arm angled under head like a pillow. *just miss you* the caption read.

“So with you taking pictures and everything at homecoming are you not gonna have time to dance or anything ?” Steve asked hesitantly, your mind coming back to the present.

You shrugged even though you knew he couldn’t see, force of habit. “I dunno, I wasn’t really planning on going with anyone. I usually don’t.”

He was still slouched on the couch, his imagination going back and forth between her in the shower and other various compromising positions, enjoying the way his briefs became tighter and tighter when she finally came back from her shower. And his breath halted when he had a perfect view of what she was wearing, sitting up slowly as if in a trance.

Her hair was still wet as it fell from her shoulders and landed on her chest, she was wearing a black tank top that she often used when they worked out together, it was tight and he quite enjoyed the way it clung to her stomach, ending shortly below her belly button and how it left nothing to the imagination about the shape and size of her breasts.

Her legs laid bare before him as she was in a pair of boy shorts that resembled boxers but were barely more than a regular pair of underwear. The waistband sitting nicely on her hip bones, not quite meeting the hem of her tank, left a sliver of skin on her lower belly he longed to run his hand over. When she laid on her bed, her back was to him, so he dared to get up from his spot and get a better look as she swung her legs back and forth, the way her shorts rode up a bit gave him a tantalizing glimpse of her thighs and how the muscles there behaved with the action of her legs. Her tank top had now ridden up and he could see the skin of her lower back, just above where the slopes of her cheeks began. He was mesmerized. He had seen her wear that shirt often enough but he had a whole new appreciation for it now. Her fingers were tapping the screen in front of her and he idly wondered what she was doing before he had to practically run back to the couch when she got up. And then she stretched. And dear lord he almost came just at the sight. Her arms reached up high, and she was on her tippy toes, her shirt rode up even more and he fought the urge to roll his eyes in pleasure, not wanting to miss the display before him. He wished more than anything he could feel her soft skin as his hands roamed her body, feeling the way she would tremble at his touch.

Now finished stretching she made her way to the computer, jumping a little as she sat down and repositioned herself. He chuckled at her, knowing the seat was probably cold and he envied the black leather. He saw that she was getting ready to play Warzone and remembered that she had made plans with Steve and he scoffed at the notion. Seeing she was scrolling through the weapons he decided to see if he could fluster her a bit as he opened the app with a yellow background. He snapped a photo, making sure to not give away his position in his room but giving enough away he knew she would enjoy the view, pouting his lips as enticingly as he could.

He saw her reaction to the image and he grinned proudly, knowing he had succeeded, seeing her pose and send a picture in response. Seeing the way her breasts were pressed up against her knees he licked his lip before taking it between his teeth. God, she was sexy. He sat there looking over the photo as he grabbed himself through his pajama pants briefly before the image timed out and he finally noticed her question. He basked in the feeling in his briefs for a small second before he replied. He decided to just show his distaste for joining instead of voicing it. He watched as she angled her chair in a way that displayed her monitor and her face and his phone buzzed, seeing the actual photo he smiled, she was showing him her new gun that Steve bought as a result of that fated bet, the one that kind of changed everything.

He was lost in thought at how much things had changed in such a small amount of time since then and he felt conflicted for the first time about what exactly he was doing. He was being a bit of a creep…right? With a sigh, he realized he needed to stop, realized he was invading her privacy and it wasn’t right, he felt bad. He took one last glance at the window and saw her take out a player before the screen quickly indicated her and Steve won 1st place. He smiled when he could hear and see her reaction. She shot up out of her chair and raised her arms in victory, then began lightly running in place with her arms bent by her sides before she spread her legs with a jump and began swinging her hips in a circle as she did the same with her arms out in front of her. He laughed out loud at how dorky and sexy she could be at the same time. This, this right here is why he loved her. It was confounding and blew him away, but he loved it. He loved her.

He saw they hadn’t started another game and wondered why before he noticed she was talking animatedly about something…with Steve. He didn’t like the feelings he was feeling right now, he had no right to be jealous or angry but that’s the position he found himself in. With a huff he went to his bed and sent her another photo, this time genuinely pouting and being sad. Much to his dismay, she just sent a quick message instead of a photo. He rolled to the side and answered honestly with a photo and caption, he did miss her. He wanted her to be in his bed, laying next to him on her side and with his arm wrapped around her middle, her back to his chest. And then he realized he could technically have that, or a version of that. So, he sent another quick photo asking her if she wanted to come over and watch a movie with him since they were both up. They’d done it before, both of their parents knew it wasn’t all that strange to find them in each other’s beds in the morning or find them empty, whenever they did sneak over to each other’s room at night, they always left a note for their parents. His phone buzzed with a response in the affirmative and his heart soared. He quickly got out of bed and closed his curtains, not wanting her to know what he had done earlier before he walked downstairs to meet her at the door. He sat on the porch steps waiting for her, realizing she had to log off the computer as he was stealing her away from Steve and she also had to leave a note for her mom. Hearing her front door open and her keys jingle as she locked it, he looked in her direction and watched her walk towards him, still in the outfit from earlier. He smiled at her as she reached him and stood up.

“Hey, doll.” He said as he lifted his arm to take her into a side hug, wrapping his arm around the back of her neck and pulling her to his bare chest, and kissing the top of her head.

“Hey, Buck.” She responded quietly, smiling softly as she pulled away from him to open the door and start up the stairs.

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#a/u bucky x reader #teenager bucky x teenager reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #reader #slow burn #friends to lovers

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satorisa · 3 years

Text

Something Old - Chapter 15: Wonderwall

Rating: T

Summary: After living in Tokyo for the past six years, she decides to head back to Azumano to escape the big city. However, she now has to face everything that she tried to flee from all those years ago. How exactly will she fare when the pages of a long forgotten book start turning once more?

Alternate links for reading available in my description!

Decided to rename the first part of the Lift the Veil Series as Something Old! Hope ya’ll don’t mind too much!

And with that, this is the end of the first arc of Lift the Veil! The retrospective can be found here.

Happy early Valentine’s Day, everyone!

Chapter 15 – Wonderwall

All the roads that lead you there were winding. And all the lights that light the way are blinding. There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how.

…

7 PM: dining table at the Harada mansion.

My mother refused to let me help her clean up, allowing her to escape to the kitchen, strategically placing herself for prime eavesdropping out of harm’s way. My father took his usual seat at the head of the table, pouring scotch from a crystal decanter into a glass. And Riku, the instigator of this unusual dinner, was at work.

The decanter clinked as my dad set it down on the wooden table. The ice crackled as it swirled in its amber bath. From the kitchen, the running faucet roared.

I gulped.

“Would you like some?” he offered.

“No thanks.”

I squirmed under my father’s scrutiny. A heavy silence settled between us. Then my mother began to hum from the kitchen.

What did they gain by creating this unsettling atmosphere?

The doorbell rang, and I heard a familiar voice greet my mother. They exchanged pleasantries: him apologizing for not being able to make it to dinner, her reassuring him that it was no issue, before directing him to the dining room.

Hiwatari entered like a blue-haired harbinger of death. The content expression on his face disappeared once he saw me, and he slipped into a seat equally as far from both me and my father.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” Hiwatari apologized.

“That’s alright; this was a last minute invitation, and we understand that you’re busy,” my father coldly responded.

Hiwatari fidgeted in his seat. The silence between us was choking. From the kitchen, the faucet sounded like a roaring waterfall.

This was the plunge. And Hiwatari took it.

“Harada-san, why did you really invite me here?” Hiwatari asked.

The awkwardness he possessed moments ago gave way to an adamant expression. His voice boomed, steadfast, knowing that one sliver of weakness would spell defeat.

My father wasn’t a businessman extraordinaire for nothing.

Hiwatari’s instigation cracked my father’s steely gaze. Composure succumbed to unbridled rage.

“Was this entertaining for you?”

Confusion settled on Hiwatari’s face. “Sir, what—”

“How could you come into our lives like that after everything you did to my daughter?” His voice modulated. “Do you enjoy seeing us in pain?”

“Harada-san, please—”

“You took advantage of my daughter’s feelings and broke her heart. And you had the gall to walk into our lives after what you did, helping Riku through everything, taking advantage of our kindness, and worming your way into our family.” The fire in his voice was gone. “What are you intentions with my daughter? With us, Satoshi?”

Absolute silence. The water stopped running. I could hear my heartbeat thumping. Hiwatari opened his mouth. My breath hitched.

“…I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think there’s anything I can do to atone for that. The intentions I have with your daughter are purely platonic now, believe me, but I understand if that is not enough of a consolation.”

My father stood up, glass in hand. “Please, excuse me.”

He left the room. Hiwatari and I got up, chasing after him. We stopped in the kitchen when he went out to the patio. My father threw the drink down. The crystal shattered upon impact, its contents splaying out on the concrete, and he began to scream. I was about to go out, frenzied emotions unable to process my father’s distress, when someone grabbed my arm and stopped me.

It was my mother.

“Don’t.”

“But, Mom, he—”

“Leave him.”

She turned to Hiwatari who stood there, eyes wide, face paler than a sheet, and fists so balled up that his knuckles were white.

Oh god.

“Satoshi,” she whispered. “Satoshi.”

He couldn’t hear her. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, and he jumped.

“He’ll be alright. You should leave for now.”

“But—”

“We’ll be fine,” she reassured, patting his back. “Just go. Kazama’s waiting for you, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but—”

“Please.”

Her firm tone surprised us. Hiwatari nodded before turning to me.

“Are you coming with me?”

“No. I think I’ll stay here for a bit before I head home.”

“Alright. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too. Have a safe walk.”

He left the kitchen. Only when I heard the front door open and close did I look at my mother.

“Riku told us,” she explained, looking out towards the patio. I followed her gaze to see my father just blankly staring at the mess he made. He looked like a zombie.

“I…had a feeling.”

“…we really wanted to kill Satoshi when we found out,” she began as if speaking to no one in particular. “How hurt was my daughter for her to think the only solution to her problem was to run off to Tokyo and cut off contact with us for six years?

“I couldn’t even be happy about you going to Todai because I spent so much time worrying about you.” She laughed. “How many hours did I—did we—spend stalking your social media just to know that you were alive? And then Riku happened and—” She took a deep breath. “—it turns out the same person who helped one of my daughter’s heal was the same one who broke my other daughter to the point that she pushed us all away.”

“Mom…”

“It took me a while to see why you felt so alone. Satoshi was Riku’s friend. And how could you have trusted your parents with this if we didn’t really raise you for most of your childhood? Even though we have every right to be upset, in a way, some of this was our responsibility. You attached yourself to people who gave you the love we didn’t.”

My mother was still focused on my unresponsive father. I averted my gaze onto my faint reflection in the window. I bit my lip.

“At first, we were nice to Satoshi because he helped so much with Riku. But, at some point, he became your surrogate. To make up for the mistakes we made with you, we treated him like he was our own son.” She laughed. “I was sure your father would do something, but I think he realized just how important Satoshi is to us and just how important we are to him.”

My mother started to rub my back reassuringly. “We’re sorry for everything, but give us some time to process this, alright?”

She grabbed a bag and washcloth before heading outside to clean up the mess. My mother crouched down and wordlessly began to pick up the shards of crystal. My father bent down to help her and—

My mother started to cry. Her small frame shrank with each wail, and my father pulled her into an embrace as if he were clinging onto dear life.

It took everything in me to not break down. I moved my legs that started to feel like gelatin out of the kitchen, and I left the house by shutting the front door, gingerly, behind me.

…

I called in sick for work the next morning.

When I woke up, my body felt heavy. I couldn’t move, so I spent the morning starving in bed while watching dramas on my phone.

Around lunchtime, my phone rang. It was Takeshi.

I picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Boss, are ya doin’ alright?”

“Not really, but I’m still alive. Miraculously.”

“Better than dead, I s’pose.”

“Did Hiwatari-san come in?”

“Nope. He called in saying he was sick, too. Is there a bug going around?”

“If by bug you mean the blood-thirsty Riku who finally told my parents, then yeah.”

“…oh god.”

“Mhm.”

“Well, um, I can’t really do much for ya right now, but feel better, alright? I hope that everything works itself out for ya.”

“That’s alright. Thanks for checking up on me; I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Boss.” I clearly saw the toothy grin on his face in my mind. “I can’t be there for ya today, but lemme know if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do. Thanks again.”

We hung up. My stomach grumbled, and a pang of drowsiness washed over me.

I decided to have an afternoon nap.

…

I woke up to someone knocking at my door.

Thinking it was a solicitor, I stretched a bit before getting comfortable again. Another round of knocking ensued.

I trudged over to shoo them away, but I saw Ritsuko through the peephole. She had two bags in her hand.

“What are you doing here?” I mumbled after opening the door.

“Wow. Not even a ‘hello’ or ‘what is that’ from you?” she asked as she slipped off her shoes.

“…sorry.”

“I’m kidding.” She flashed me a smile. “Your annoying coworker told me to come by if I could. I figured something must’ve happened if he was concerned enough to reach me.”

“Riku told my parents.”

“…yeah. That warrants shitty takeout.”

She headed into the kitchen, scrounging around for plates and utensils while I lied down on the couch, watching her navigate my kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got all this,” Ritsuko explained as she started emptying out the food containers. “And don’t force yourself to try to finish this is one sitting; this would probably feed a family of eight.”

“So half of it is fair game?”

She laughed. “Sure, Risa. If you insist.”

After plating everything, she started placing the food on my coffee table. I sat up, reveling in this tiny feast, as my stomach rumbled in anticipation. Ritsuko handed me a plate and chopsticks before she sat down next to me and turned on the TV.

We dug in.

“How bad was it?” she asked.

“Not as explosive as I thought it’d be. Emotionally? It feels like someone stabbed my heart with a thousand needles.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Honestly, as much as I want to, I don’t think I can find the words for it right now.”

Ritsuko rubbed my shoulder reassuringly. “Take all the time you need, Risa.”

“Thanks.”

Orchestral music swelled from my TV. We barely talked while watching whatever we had on and, when we finished our food, I helped Ritsuko clean up and put away all the leftovers.

And then I heard another knock on my door.

Looking through the peephole, I saw Hiwatari standing outside, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with himself. I opened the door.

“Why are you here, Hiwatari-san?” I asked.

“I heard from Takeshi that you didn’t go to work today, so I was wondering if you wanted to grab some food close by.”

“Thanks for the thought, but I just ate.”

“Hey, Hiwatari!” Ritsuko called from the kitchen.

“Oh, hello, Fukuda.” He then turned back to me. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company over.”

“No worries. Do you want to come inside and eat? Ritsuko brought way too much food.”

“Each bite’s gonna cost you one hundred yen,” Ritsuko joked.

“I’m sure that’s far too expensive for the quality of food you brought over,” he quipped as he let himself in.

“Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge,” I told him.

While he piled food onto his plate, Ritsuko and I talked on the sofa, catching up with each other’s lives. She just finished talking about her business ventures when Hiwatari sat down next to me.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your time together,” he apologized.

“No worries, Hiwatari,” Ritsuko said. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

“You’re not with Kazama-san?” I asked.

“He has dinner with the Niwas.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ritsuko chirped.

“If I want my brain to turn into mush, then yes, it sounds like a ball.”

“Maybe that might be what you need during these trying times.”

“Absolute not, Fukuda.”

She guffawed.

We just chatted while Hiwatari ate. And, when he finished, I dug out a board game for us to play. After one round, in which Ritsuko royally creamed us, she had to leave. I gave her a hug before she left.

Once the door closed, it was only me and Hiwatari.

“Want to grab dessert at Mizuame de Noisette?” he asked. “My treat.”

“I’m down.”

…

After I freshened up, we headed to my favorite café. The scene of food and warm drinks brought a smile to my face, and I couldn’t contain my giddiness when our order finally came out.

“I figured this would cheer you up, but I didn’t think it’d turn you into this.”

“Shut up, Hiwatari-san,” I pouted. “But thanks for this. Truly.”

He ordered an herbal tea (chamomile from what I could smell) and sipped it with a gentle smile on his face. “You’re welcome.”

Hiwatari joked that I looked like a hamster once I began to indulge, but he quickly relented and began to people-watch, giving me some privacy to enjoy my dessert. When I got to my last bite, I offered it to him out of courtesy, expecting him to refuse, but he ate the last forkful and nodded.

“Hm. Not bad.”

“Right? Their matcha mille crepe cake isn’t too sweet, so I figured you might like it.”

“I do. I’ll probably order it the next time I’m here.”

I tidied our table and took our dirty dishes to the bussing station. When I returned, Hiwatari had his gaze focused outside.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes still trained on the night’s scenery.

“Yeah” I answered, holding my warm drink in my hands. “Are you?”

“I’m about as okay as I’m going to be right now.”

“And that’s all anyone can ask for.”

He nodded before briefly looking at me. Blue eyes met mine before he lowered his gaze to his cup. A wry smile appeared on his face.

“…do you think it’s terrible that I wish they’d been violent? Punched me out? Cursed me out? Screamed bloody murder at me?”

“A little bit, yeah, but I get where you’re coming from.”

He smirked. “Glad to know I’m not going crazy.”

“You’re already just as crazy as me,” I said. “I mean, as much as I hate admitting it, I used to wish that you did hit me. Maybe it would’ve made it easier for my brain to process how toxic everything was.”

“Harada-san…”

“Sorry.” I forced a laugh. “That’s kind of a low blow, isn’t it?”

Hiwatari shook his head. “You really know how to kick a man when he’s down, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry!”

“…why does it feel like every life lesson you’ve learned is from that situation?”

“Well, it is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me.”

“Harada-san, please spare me from my misery and just kill me now.”

“Nah. I think you deserve to simmer in that pain a little bit.”

“Good god, Harada-san.”

…

“Hey, Boss! Welcome back!” Takeshi greeted with lunch in hand. “How’re you feeling?”

“Well, I managed to get out of bed, so that’s a start,” I answered, gratefully accepting the bento. “Is Hiwatari-san still off?”

“Yeah. Formally cited emergency family reasons, but we both know that’s a lie.”

“Lucky bastard. I wish I could take the rest of the week off.”

“What’s stoppin’ ya?”

“Well,” I began, snapping off the lid of my container, “the broadcast isn’t going to run itself, there’s a lot I need to review since clearly people don’t know how to do their work, and I certainly don’t want to get caught up in yet another round of rumors again because I so happened to be off around the same time that Hiwatari-san is off.”

Takeshi whistled. “That’s, uh, a lot.”

“Yup.”

My phone began to ring. I expected it to be Riku since I had sent her a message saying we should talk, but I saw Hiwatari’s caller ID. He just saw me yesterday. What did he want from me?

“Well, speak of the devil.”

“What? Your demonic sister?”

“Nope. It’s Hiwatari-san. Excuse me.”

I picked up, trying to avoid Takeshi’s curious gaze in my peripheries. The static of the line gave way to the familiar hubbub of a restaurant. I could even hear Kazama ordering in the background.

“Hello?” I began.

“Harada-san, have you gotten in touch with your parents since that evening?”

“Nope. Why ask?”

“I messaged them, and they still haven’t replied back.”

I tried to stifle my laughter by covering my mouth with my hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re probably ignoring you.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m not,” I said. “They told me to give them some space before I left, so that’s what they’re doing: keeping their space.”

“…why the hell are you Haradas so finicky?”

“Can’t help it. We love being a pain in the ass for everyone.”

I could see him shaking his head. “Well, thank you for your time, Harada-san. Enjoy your lunch.”

“You, too!”

I hung up and ignored the excitement on Takeshi’s face when I noticed the new message on my phone. Riku answered my text, saying that she was free tomorrow evening. I quickly typed out my reply before returning to my lunch, focusing on my growling stomach instead of the pressure of Takeshi’s curiosity.

…

I hadn’t eaten all day.

Takeshi said I shouldn’t worry about my missing appetite, proposing that I was anxious because of the call I had scheduled with Riku. He did drop by my cubicle later that afternoon with a cupcake in hand from a nearby café, saying to save it for my triumphant encounter with the beast.

And when I finally got home, I sat on my sofa, unmoving, while staring at my reflection on the blank TV screen. This conversation wouldn’t spell the end of the world, but it certainly felt like it could. Riku and I had never fought like this.

Ever.

Who knew that being unable to talk to her casually would hurt so much?

So, when my ringtone echoed through my silent apartment, my stomach fell to the ground, my heartbeat quickened, and I picked up.

“Hello?”

“…hi.”

She sighed. “Oh, thank god. I thought you were going to scream at me.”

“I mean, if you want me to, I could.”

“Please don’t. You’ll blow out my eardrums.”

Silence filled our call. Even a joke couldn’t lighten the mood.

“So, are you here to bitch at me again about my terrible life decisions?” I asked.

“No—oh god, no,” she said. “Risa, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m calling bullshit.”

She laughed. “Okay, yeah, I do know. It’s just…a lot.”

“I know. Why else are we having this call?” I could imagine her smiling, and I felt the grin threatening to erupt on my face. “And you’re my sister. I can take ‘a lot’ for and from you.”

“But—”

“Nu-uh. Spill. You’ve got all evening to do so.”

“Well,” she began, “when Daisuke told me, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe it. Satoshi, your best guy friend, guy you were practically in love with, was the one who hurt you. I was livid.

“And he told Daisuke about it. Satoshi, master of secrecy, shared this secret, while you, unable to keep a secret to save your life, couldn’t even bring yourself to tell me. I was hurt. Like, did you really not trust me enough?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Risa. I probably would’ve reacted the same way even if you had told me earlier, so don’t worry about it,” she said. “Honestly, I’m still in shock about the whole thing. Why would you put yourself through so much shit just to have him back in your life? After everything he put you through, it just didn’t make any sense.”

“Well, there’s just some things that you just…deal with,” I answered. “If Hiwatari-san and I didn’t get along, it’d be hell for everyone.”

“It’s alright to be a little selfish, yanno.”

“I know, but I wanted—needed—to get through this. For me,” I said. “I didn’t want it to control my life anymore. I was tired of it.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

I had a feeling she was referring to what happened to her after I left, but I couldn’t ask. If she wanted to tell me about it, she would. And this conversation wasn’t exactly the best time to bring it up, anyway.

“You know, Risa, I can’t imagine how you felt when you were in Tokyo.”

“What do you mean?”

“You literally decided to start over; I mean, you refused to contact us for years. How could you do that?”

I shrugged. “I just had to.”

And then Riku started to cry, softly, until those sniffles turned into heaving sobs. Each whimper cut through my heart, but I bit my lip to stop myself from joining her.

“Risa, I’m so sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“No, Riku, it’s fine. I—”

“I should’ve been there for you,” she sniffled. “Instead of leaving it to Satoshi. I should’ve known that something was wrong but I—” She continued to cry.

“Riku…”

“I just…didn’t know what to do and I—and I couldn’t contain it so—so I told our parents and—oh god. Oh god, I told our—”

“Riku, please—”

“What have I done?”

I nearly messaged Daisuke to go and comfort her, but I couldn’t. I let her cry, while holding in my own tears, waiting for her to calm down. And, when she finally did (it took someone ringing the doorbell on her end to calm her down), she just laughed.

“Why are we like this?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“We literally have to raze the whole world before we’re content.”

“It’s our stubborn Harada blood. Even Grandma’s still got it.”

“Yes, yes she does.”

I smiled at the levity in her voice.

“Well,” she said, “ as much as I’d like to continue this conversation, I’m exhausted. Do you want to grab dessert tomorrow to actually catch up?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow then! Good night!”

“Night!”

I stared at the phone in my hand like it was something completely foreign. Its bright screen singed my eyes.

And, possessed, I sent Hiwatari a text that I had just talked to Riku and aired everything out. He called me seconds afterward. The screen with his caller ID illuminated my living room while my cheery ringtone echoed between my walls.

Why was he calling me?

I sent him to voice mail. A message popped up, in all caps, telling me to pick up. What was the urgency?

My phone rang again, and I sighed before answering.

“Hello? Is everything—”

“Are you alright?” he asked. What was that loud noise on his end?

“Yeah, I’m alri—”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me? What the—”

“Stop trying to be strong! Stop acting like your life is put together, you stubborn idiot!” I blinked, trying to hold back my tears. “Your sister tried to ruin your life! Your rocky relationship with your parents finally reached its peak! It’s okay to break down!”

“Not, it’s not!” I screamed back, trying to pace my breathing. The lump in my throat only worsened. “Life isn’t going to stop just because I need to! I need to keep going or—”

“Or what?” I heard a car honk on his end. “Harada-san, you don’t have to keep pushing yourself like this! You’ve done enough! You can slow down and relax now!”

“No, I can’t! I need to—”

“Stop acting like you’re still alone! Stop trying to carry all of your burdens by yourself, dammit!” I heard another car honk at him. He screamed an apology. “All of us are here for you, so start letting us in! Not because of the circumstances but because you want to! It’s okay to cry on someone else’s shoulder!”

“Absolutely not! I don’t—”

A loud knock on my door startled me. I got up and looked through the peephole to see Hiwatari, face flushed and slightly winded.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, panicked.

“Harada-san, just open the door.”

“No.”

“Risa, please.”

I unlocked the door. Hiwatari hung up and slipped his phone into his back pocket before running his hand through his hair. Several strands stayed upright.

Something inside of me broke.

I hurled myself at him, digging my face into his chest as I cried my guts out. I heard him close the door before he returned my embrace, rubbing my back to comfort me.

He didn’t say anything. His chin rested atop my head, and we stayed like that until I finally let go. My tears had dried out by that point, and there was a face-sized stain on Hiwatari’s sweater. My make-up rubbed off, too.

I pointed at it, and he looked down and laughed.

“There goes my favorite sweater.”

“You needed to get rid of it anyway.”

He shook his head with a smile as he leaned back against my front door. “Sounds like someone’s feeling better.”

I shot him a toothy grin before standing up. “Anyways, we should probably treat those stains before they set.”

“I thought you wanted it gone?”

“Sure, I do, but that’s not my sweater is it?”

He laughed. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

My stomach growled. And, in that moment, I just remembered that I hadn’t eaten yet. Hiwatari stared at me in concern.

“You haven’t eaten all day, have you?” he asked.

“…yeah.”

He sighed. “Harada-san, I swear…”

“Look, I wasn’t hungry today, okay? And I’ll get myself food, later, I promise, so just sit tight while I find something for you to change into.”

I retreated into my room and dug through my dresser. A lot of the casual tops I wore in college were at least two sizes too big, and I eventually found the biggest Todai sweatshirt I owned tucked away in the back of one of my drawers.

When I came out, Hiwatari was in my kitchen, arms akimbo in front of my stove. He was so focused on the pot in front of him that he didn’t notice me. And, when he did, he jumped.

“Oh god. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” I handed him the shirt. “Try this on and lemme know if it fits.”

He unfolded it and smirked. “Your style really hasn’t changed at all if you’ve still got over-sized clothes like this.”

“You are in no position to be calling me out like this right now.”

“Touché.” He gestured over to the instant ramen packets he managed to dig up. “Make sure you put them in if the water starts boiling.”

“I know,” I pouted.

Hiwatari disappeared into my room to change. He came out moments later; the shirt was a perfect fit.

“Nice swag, Todai grad,” I joked as he handed me his clothes.

He huffed in response while I started to treat the stain on his sweater. After tossing it into the washing machine, I plopped down onto the couch. Hiwatari joined me moments later with the noodles, and he handed me a bowl before we dug in.

“So, uh, what now?” I asked, blowing on my food.

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

I groaned in response.

“Movie?” he suggested.

“Nah. Let’s watch a documentary.”

Hiwatari went along with it sans his usual snark. I expected him to say something about how unfitting it was, but he wordlessly put something on while we ate.

When my washing machine beeped, signaling that his shirt had also finished drying, he took it out before heading back into my room to change. He came back out with the grey sweater on, my sweatshirt neatly folded in his hands, and he handed it to me.

“Thank you again.”

“No problem.”

“Well, I’m going to head out now,” he said. “Um…I honestly didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Really? ‘Cause I don’t know how I couldn’t have cried from that.”

Hiwatari chortled. A small smile graced his face. “Yeah. I suppose I should’ve held back a bit.”

“You think?”

We awkwardly stood by my front door, unsure of what to do with ourselves.

“You know,” I began, “I think I needed that. So, um, thanks. For talking some sense into me.”

“That’s just what friend do, Harada-san.”

I beamed. “Please, drop the ‘san.’ God. Who am I? My dad?”

Hiwatari blinked before he laughed, mirth radiating from his expression. “Alrighty then, Harada. Whatever you say.”

“Thank you, Hiwatari.”

He pulled me into a hug. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Mhm.”

Hiwatari let go with a gentle smile, and I opened the door for him. “Good night, Harada.”

“Good night, Hiwatari.”

…

Riku and I met up at Mizuame de Noisette. We chatted while enjoying the view and entertaining a bottle of Moscato between us. She had a danish in front of her; I had a strawberry shortcake in front of me, and we laughed while she recounted her Zurich trip.

While sharing the details of Daisuke’s embarrassing proposal, our phones rang.

It was a message from our mother.

“She says she’s planning a dinner,” Riku said.

“Does it say anything about disowning us if we don’t go?”

“Yup.”

I sighed. “The crazy lady is back.”

“Do you think Satoshi’s going to be there?”

“Absolutely.” I raised my eyebrow. “Why does that matter to you?”

“Risa, please let me sock him!”

“Um, shouldn’t I be the one socking him in this situation?”

“Yes, but you’re never going to do it.”

“I don’t see why I would need to, but why should you?”

Riku shot me a look that I had just lost my mind. She made a grand gesture meant to signify, well, everything.

“Okay, yes, I get it, but why are you asking me for my permission?”

“I felt like I needed to.”

“I do not like what you’re trying to imply here.”

“Risa, please, I’m begging you—”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, okay, I don’t care what you do, just leave me out of it, alright?”

“Thank you!” Riku sang.

She cracked her knuckles.

It was nice knowing you, Hiwatari.

…

7 PM: Harada mansion.

My parents opened the door. They pulled me into a hug, and we stood there at the entrance of the foyer like a horde of penguins braving the winter. Both Riku and Hiwatari were running late, the former still working her shift while the latter was held back, working overtime on an important case. Honestly, I just wanted them to get here ASAP so I could see them duke it out.

I bet one thousand yen that Riku would obliterate him.

Daisuke arrived shortly after me, greeting our (?) parents before giving me a hug. We then sat down in the living room.

“Are you excited for later?” Daisuke asked.

“Of course! Who do you think is gonna win?”

“Riku. Hands down,” he replied with no hesitation. “Satoshi stands no chance.”

We laughed.

“Is your family coming?” I asked.

“Of course.” Daisuke rolled his eyes. “My mom found out, so she’s planned a stern lecture for him later. My dad found out about what my mom’s doing, so he’s tagging along to make sure she doesn’t get carried away. Grandpa claims he’s coming for the show, but you know he’s just waiting for just the right moment to deliver his own blow. And then Argentine and Towa overheard them talking about it at the table, so they insisted that ‘Satoshi-sama’ needed a lesson on how a gentleman should treat a lady.”

“Would you like some popcorn for tonight’s festivities?”

“Yes, please!”

The doorbell rang, again, and I opened the door to see the Niwa family in all their chaotic glory. Emiko greeted me with kisses before skipping off the kitchen. Her uncontainable, middle-aged energy collided with my mom’s uncontainable, middle-aged energy, and they were so loud that you could probably hear them at the station on the other side of town.

Grandpa Daiki gave me a knowing smile before joining Daisuke in the living room. My dad came by, drinks in hand that his guests accepted, before he sat with them and they began chatting away.

And Kosuke stood there, smiling that kind smile that I came to hate in Vienna.

“How does it feel like to be on the other side of everything?” he asked.

I blinked. Kosuke laughed.

“Well,” I answered, “I wish I didn’t have to go through it, but it feels great. Like a weight’s been lifted.”

He nodded, content with my answer, before joining the group in the living room. Argentine and Towa bounced up to me, pulling me into a tight group hug before letting go, concern pooling in their eyes.

“Are you alright?” Argentine asked.

“Mhm.”

Towa huffed. “I can’t believe Satoshi-sama did that! How rude!”

“Well—”

“Honestly, Risa-sama, he doesn’t deserve your apologies,” Argentine continued.

“The only thing he deserves is a good wallop!” Towa chirped.

The doorbell rang. And, lo and behold, it was the man of the hour. Argentine and Towa, bubbly moments ago, turned silent. The atmosphere that began to sour muted Hiwatari’s greeting, and I escaped to the kitchen to grab some popcorn and watch the first pickings from a distance. Daisuke joined me.

We watched the shenanigans unfold beautifully. Towa and Argentine eventually turned into their animal forms; the former perched on Hiwatari’s head while the latter crawled under his clothes, lecturing him about manners.

“Well, they’re going at it.”

Daisuke and I broke free from our fit of laughter to see Riku. She held a goblet of red wine while looking at the scene with a smirk.

“But this is only the beginning.”

…

My sides were sore from all the laughing. The whole evening turned into a roasting session exclusively for Satoshi. And Towa recorded the whole thing.

After everyone calmed down, the Niwas had to leave but promised to return soon to actually catch up with my family. Everyone aahed at the quick kiss Daisuke gave Riku and then the Niwas were gone.

Riku and I began to tidy up while my parents went outside to talk to Hiwatari. I kept glancing at them through the window, monitoring the situation in case—

Riku smacked me in the face with a wet dish rag.

“Ever heard of the concept of privacy?”

“Yes, but—”

“Nu-uh. Not hearing it!” Riku exclaimed before shooing me out of the kitchen. “Just give them some time, alright?”

“What about cleaning up?”

“I can manage myself.” Her face lit up. “Oh, you should totally check out what Mom did with your room!”

Following Riku’s suggestion, I headed upstairs to see the renovation. Gone were the dollhouse-pink walls and the wooly white carpet. In their stead were light gray walls, sporting a slight hue of blue, and wooden floors waxed to reflection. My mom replaced the furniture I used in my childhood with sleek, modern pieces; she transformed the space into one of those aesthetic rooms found in an interior design magazine.

Out with the old, in with new.

I sat down on the faux fur rug, reminiscent of the room’s original flooring and looked up at the ceiling.

It was still the same view.

Someone knocked on the door. I looked over to see Hiwatari leaning against the threshold.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs helping Riku clean?”

“Nope. She kicked me out,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs helping out like a good guest?”

“They kicked me out, too.”

“Ah.” I patted the empty space next to me on the rug. “Welcome to the Reject’s Club.”

Hiwatari sat down next to me. He leaned back, stretching his arms behind him as he put his weight on his hands, straightening his legs out before him. I curled into a fetal position, resting my chin on my knees.

“How was your evening?” I asked him.

He groaned, and the strange funk that surrounded him dissipated. “Awful. I’m emotionally wounded, and I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to recover.”

I giggled. “Stop being such a baby about it.”

Hiwatari pouted, and I snorted. He laughed at me, his grin so wide that I was sure it hurt, eyes so upturned in joy that I wondered how he could still see, that I felt my expression match his. We eventually calmed down, sighing in content.

He looked at the balcony. I followed his gaze. There was nothing there. Only our faint reflections on the sliding door were staring back at us.

“How was your talk with my parents?” I asked him.

Hiwatari hummed in response. I didn’t expect him to answer. But I also didn’t expect the words that followed.

“Did you ever think this would happen?” he gently asked.

“Never. I thought this would stay locked up in the back of mind for the rest of my life.” I looked over at him. He had a wistful look in his eye. “Did you?”

“No. I had resigned myself to thinking that I would never see you again.”

“And yet, here we are, sitting on the floor of my room, chilling out as if none of that ever happened.”

“Wack.”

I laughed at his uncharacteristic response. He just smirked.

Proud bastard.

“Honestly, I still can’t believe that this is happening,” he admitted. “And I didn’t realize just how much I missed this until now.”

I felt a pang in my heart as all the times I spent with Hiwatari flashed through my mind. Memories that were once bittersweet became nostalgic; I could finally look back on them with fondness instead of pain.

Perhaps, eventually, there will come a day when I could comfortably share this intimate feeling with Hiwatari, but today was not that day. This conversation was becoming far too cheesy for me to stomach, and I couldn’t hold in my sarcastic streak anymore.

Sorry to ruin this, Hiwatari.

“Aw. Look at you getting all emotional!”

Hiwatari balked. “Harada, I’m being genuine here. Did you really have to insert your sarcasm now?”

“I’m sorry, but this whole thing’s just so corny!”

“Oh my god, this girl.”

Maybe it didn’t seem like much: Hiwatari and I bantering in what used to be my room. But, to me, this meant the world. Somehow, despite everything that happened, we were able to fall into step again.

And, with that seemingly menial evening, I was finally able to flip the pages of my life again.

—ARC 1 END—

#satorisa #dnangel #satoshi hiwatari #risa harada #d.n.angel #dn angel #my fanfiction #my writing #lift the veil

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cake-writes · 4 years

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Breathe (Lecture 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Mixed Delivery (Social Media & Written Parts), Eventual 18+

Summary: Bucky takes a history class at his local university in hopes of catching up on the last few decades, on everything he’s missed whilst under Hydra’s control – but he winds up learning a lot more than what’s on the syllabus. He learns how to heal.

Written for @the-omni-princess’s 1k writing challenge!

(Formerly Hope & Happiness; I decided that I needed a better title!)

TAG LIST: OPEN

💛 This fic is interactive. Here’s how it works! 💛

So I took the time to find an actual university course to complement this story because I’m just that invested, you guys. (I’m also a huge history nerd, lmao.) The syllabus and lectures are real, and any content relating to these in my story is straight from the source.

Lectures are recorded and available for a listen! Most written chapters will correspond to a lecture; I’ll list which one at the top of the chapter if you want to learn along with Bucky. Each one is about 40-50 minutes long and in English. Click here to access them!

This is definitely optional, though, so please don’t feel pressured to listen, but if you’re a history nerd like me then you may want to take a look!

Wednesday, August 24

Lecture 1: Introductory Lecture

Although Bucky had been on campus a couple of times before now – first to apply, and then to meet with an advisor as all new students were required to do – he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sheer size of it. Universities these days were massive: cities within a city, buildings upon restaurants upon shops and all he wanted to do was learn.

That was all he’d ever wanted to do, really. Learn about himself. Learn what made the world tick. Learn all the things he didn’t know. He’d always excelled in school, and once upon a time he’d started to save money in order to attend university. Didn’t know what he’d study – just knew that he wanted a degree in order to support the family he thought he’d have one day.

Ambitions for the future.

Then came the draft. Because hadn’t yet been able to save enough, he’d been shipped out to the European Theater – sent to hell, not to college.

Ambitions for the past.

Two years spent in cold, wintery foxholes gave him an opportunity to think, but all he could think about was the stench of death surrounding him, surrounding his unit, surrounding every waking moment of his life at war. Not his death, of course, but it may as well have been.

Bucky learned to hone in on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the rush of adrenaline in his veins, the sensation of his boots in mud and snow. He learned to focus. He learned to survive.

And all the while, he lived with the very real possibility that he wouldn’t make it through – and, well, he didn’t. Not really. Some parts of him never made it back; what little remained became the property of Hydra. Mind corrupted, soul shattered, will broken into sharp, jagged shards of glass.

Fragile. Breakable. Erased, but still alive.

Bucky may have survived, but he’d never really been right since – never really been whole. Physically and mentally, with too many pieces of himself missing or damaged, one constant stayed the same: a desire to learn. He’d gotten through the war and Hydra’s harsh training because that quality was a part of him – one of the only parts that made it through.

Battle-worn and weary from surviving – not living, not really – Bucky finally had the opportunity to take a step back from the battlefield to just… exist. To live. To breathe. In taking a leave of absence, he embarked upon another journey: to rediscover the man he used to be.

It would be difficult task, he knew. The twenty-first century was far cry from the 1940s, a far cry from home, and the sheer size of the college campus only served to remind him of that. In fact, he was only able to recognize that he was still in New York because this school happened to be the very same one he’d once planned to attend so long ago. Staten Island University. Right across the bridge from his present-day apartment in Brooklyn, not to mention his old family home.

Home.

But this unfamiliar new century was his home, now, so he sought to learn what he’d missed over all the decades he’d lost to Hydra. In the process, maybe he’d learn about himself, learn what made the world tick, learn all the things he didn’t know.

What better place could there be to do that than at a university?

Bucky soon found out that his education would be paid for by the United States government for his service in the military. Ironic that the very barrier which forced him into war was the same thing being gifted to him now. The GI Bill. A reward for his patriotism. A thank you for his sacrifice.

Flowery words for a bribe meant to keep him silent. Call him jaded.

Worse still, if Bucky thought tuition was expensive back then, he didn’t know what to call it today. He’d been rendered speechless when he found out what a single class would cost, but rest assured, Uncle Sam would pay for it so that he didn’t have to.

Physically, it only cost him an arm but mentally, it cost him so much more.

U.S. Society and Politics Since 1945. Mondays and Wednesdays at two o’clock. Three credit hours, whatever that meant. He signed up for the class after his first meeting with an advisor – thought that it might do him good to put his past behind him and learn.

Bucky arrived about twenty minutes before the class was due to start, all nerves and first day jitters – absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it, so he tried to put it out of his mind and selected a seat in the very back row in hopes of not being noticed.

Counting seats proved to be a good distraction. Three hundred seats. Would there really be that many students? Save for a handful of his new classmates scattered about, the too-large lecture hall seemed like it would never fill. Sure enough, however, it eventually started to – not all three hundred seats, but close enough.

It wasn’t until then that Bucky realized he might have been woefully unprepared. Just about everyone else had laptops sat out front of them, and while he could use one – clunkily – he still preferred something more a little more tangible. All he’d brought along was the required textbook, a notebook, and two pens, one of which he’d been rolling in between a gloved thumb and forefinger for the last few minutes.

That was a nervous tic of his, one he’d picked up in the army, except today it was a pen instead of a cigarette and he sure could have used a pack of Lucky Strikes right now. A cigarette would have done wonders to take the edge off, but he didn’t smoke, not anymore. Frustrated, he dropped the pen back down onto his desk and slumped down in his chair.

Had school always been this nerve-wracking? He couldn’t remember.

A snort drew his attention, and Bucky glanced to his left to find you sitting a few seats down in the same back row, watching him in amusement.

It caught him off-guard.

“Is this your first class?”

A innocent question, unprompted – untainted.

While Bucky knew that there would be some socializing required, especially in the discussion section of the class, never in his wildest dreams did he think that anyone would be willing to strike up a conversation with him. He had half a mind to say ‘no’ and ignore you as long as possible, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. He opened up.

“How could you tell?”

You shrugged. “You’re fidgeting, for one. But mostly because you don’t have a bag.”

Why would he need a bag? He was only taking one class.

At his doubtful look, you spoke again, voice light and airy, “Don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

Well, that was foreboding. Then again, you seemed like you would know. You looked slightly older than most of the other students who were likely fresh out of high school, and you appeared to be all sorts of prepared, what with a leather laptop bag on the chair to your right and some brightly-coloured notebooks, binders, and a few thick textbooks all strewn about the desk in front of you.

A laptop bag, but no laptop. Strange.

Bucky wasn’t really sure why he wanted to know, but he nodded to your books and asked anyway, “What else are you taking?”

“Mostly upper-level psychology classes. I’m in my final year. What about you?”

“This is my only class,” he admitted, and to him, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. He was only taking the one class with no particular goal in mind, but here you were, taking at least four other classes judging by the number of textbooks on your desk.

You had a goal.

He didn’t.

You didn’t ask why, though; instead, you offered him your name, along with a bright smile.

“Bucky,” he found himself telling you way too easily.

“Well, Bucky, it’s nice to meet you.” You paused, then, before you made an offhanded comment of, “I think it’s really good to have a friend in class, you know? Mostly so you can steal their notes when you skip.”

A joke, perhaps, but Bucky took it literally. That may have been the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “I’m not gonna— Who pays thousands of dollars in tuition and then decides not to come?”

Your brows rose in surprise for a moment or two, but then you laughed at his stick-in-the-mud response. “Oh no, you’re one of those. What a goody two-shoes!”

Don’t worry, you’d said. You’ll learn.

But the mischievous sparkle in your eyes let him know that you were just teasing, and what’s more, he actually didn’t mind. No, he kind of liked it, having some normal human interaction for once – not whatever the hell he’d grown used to at the compound. Between blood-spattered banter in the field and too-dark humour used as a coping mechanism, his interactions there were anything but normal.

Bucky also liked that you had no idea how wrong your sentiment was; not that he’d never admit it. This was the first time in a long, long while that he’d been treated like a regular person – not enhanced, not a science experiment, not an Avenger – and he had no intention of shattering the illusion anytime soon.

“I’m not giving you my notes, either,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Super goody two-shoes. My mistake.”

When he opened his mouth to respond to your sassy one-liner, however, the professor’s voice sounded from the front of the lecture hall. You gave him a final wink before you turned to face the front, purple pen already poised and ready to go.

Good afternoon! Can you hear me in the nosebleeds? Yes? With me? Okay…

Forty-five minutes passed in a blink, and most of the students quickly started to pack up their belongings – but not you. No, you stayed in your seat and continued scribbling away at something in your notes, seemingly having zero plans to leave anytime soon. Bucky couldn’t help but be curious as to why you weren’t packing up, but it wasn’t any of his business and he didn’t ask.

Armed with a new syllabus and a daunting list of required readings for the week, he pulled himself to his feet and collected his own belongings; only managed to push the chair back in and take about two steps toward the door before he heard your voice again.

“Hey, Bucky, wait.”

He turned around to see you still reading through one of your textbooks, not even looking in his direction, but in your outstretched hand was a bright pink sticky note.

What?

“Come on,” still focused on your reading, you waved the post-it, pink paper flapping in the makeshift breeze but staying stuck to your finger anyway, “Take it. Here.”

Hesitantly, Bucky stepped closer and accepted the proffered note. Upon it, he found that you’d hastily scrawled your name and phone number, along with what he assumed was meant to be a smiley face. The drawing was god-awful, and a welcome distraction from the way his heart had immediately leapt into his throat because a woman had just given him her phone number.

Her phone number.

“Th— Thanks?” he stammered, unsure.

Now, he certainly wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but this—

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” you interrupted his train of thought, finally pulling your eyes away from the textbook to look up at him.

Gorgeous, glimmering, big doe eyes focused right on him, now, and seeing you up close like this, a fleeting thought crossed his mind about how attractive you were. He blamed it on the fact that you’d just given him your number, and now his brain only wanted to overthink what he’d interpreted as the first sign of potential interest from the opposite sex in – well, far too long.

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that at all, and he wasn’t particularly interested to pursue such a thing, either. At least not right now. He still needed to get his head on straight; still needed to figure out his own problems before he took on someone else’s.

Even if you were a pretty little thing he might have taken dancing, once.

Then you added, “If you have any questions, just shoot me a text, okay? I remember how lost I was when I first started, especially because I’m a,” you did some air-quotes, then, “‘mature-aged’ student.” Another snort, one much less ladylike than before. “Mature-aged. I’m not that old!”

So it was a friendly offer. Nothing more. Not like the implications in the 40s – and Bucky thought, then, that if you were considered to be ‘mature-aged,’ he didn’t want to find out how he’d stack up.

“Thanks,” he said again, this time a little less unsurely. “I appreciate it.”

Another one of your bright smiles brought a sense of calm over him, a feeling that carried over even when you poked fun at him again, “Then I guess I’ll see you next week, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Yeah,” he responded, feeling the corners of his lips turn up just a little at your goodnatured teasing. “See you next week.”

And when he left the lecture hall, fluorescent pink post-it stuck to the inside of his notebook, Bucky’s footsteps felt just a little lighter than before – and so did his heart.

Part Two

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #breathe

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realelizajayne · 3 years

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June 5, 2021 Chapter 41.28

It started off as a semi-normal day. I say semi-normal because I honestly wasn’t prepared for the sh#t show I created in my mind. I should have followed the “red flags” 🚩and stayed home. But I am generally someone who runs🏃‍♀️ straight towards them like a bull uncontrollably drawn to the movement of the cape as the matador whips it around. Most people think it’s the color red the bull is drawn to. However,🐂 bulls are actually color blind so they will charge at any color. What they are actually irritated by is the movement of the matador’s cape as he whips it around. Just like us humans it wouldn’t matter what the “flag” color is if we are not in the right state of mind at the time. Godspeed ahead we too like the bull will charge ahead at the matador not f#cking prepared for the consequence both good or bad. 😆

To be fair I was having a fairly rough morning to begin with but I won’t dive into that in this chapter 🙄 I most likely will need to save that for one of my books.📚 That will be a self-help book I can take my own advice on. 🤣 I have faced a lot of “triggers” over the past 2.5 years since my Dad has passed away 😭💔 and all have been difficult. Losing my Dad, my best friend, it was as if just overnight my life had changed. My routine is different…. just everything. Nothing can ever be the same, I can’t even describe how the wave 🌊 of emotions can come and go in a splint second both happy and sad. That’s just how grief is, it can f#cking hit you out of nowhere. What I didn’t think about was being at a wedding. 👰 I mean don’t get me wrong, what a beautiful celebration 🍾 it was, and I was happy to be included to be part of it. It is always so nice to see a couple in love making a commitment and celebrating it with family and friends. The ceremony itself if you pay close attention and even though we were outside in what felt like 100 degree temperature I paid close attention. I didn’t mind the heat too much. I love the summer. Anyway if you pay close attention as I did, it is a good reminder of why two crazy love birds 🐦 even get married and what love and commitment really means. It’s not all one-sided but certainly some days it feels that way depending on your circumstance. I know I’ve been there.😩

The wedding continues and then….well I think you can probably guess where I am going with this. Yep you guessed it, the Father ❤️ Daughter dance. I was not prepared for the flood of emotions 😭💔 that entered so quickly. It was as if I couldn’t breathe. LITERALLY. I mean F#CKING LITERALLY !?!!?! I was trying to hold back my tears. The song playing “Butterfly Kisses”. I thought to myself I don’t even like this song. What the f#ck is wrong with you ? Get your sh#t together !! Get a f#cking grip ! As I tried to manage the flood of emotions, and not begin to hysterically ugly crying in front of a bunch of people, mostly who I didn’t know 😅. I couldn’t even think, I said I’ve gotta get out of here. I felt like I was in a panic, I have never felt this way before in my life. It was like I was trapped in an elevator and it had no f#cking air on the brink of breaking off from its remaining cable. As I searched for a door to get outside the first one looked like an emergency 🆘 exit so I walked to the next one. I was sure I created a scene 😩 I finally made my way outside a breath of fresh air, and I could breathe. 100 degrees outside and humid and I could breathe more than I could in the A/C if that makes any sense to you great you can explain that sh#t to me. As I sat there collecting my thoughts 💭 I realized I’m still grieving. I felt crazy, I began thinking… What the f#ck is wrong with me😤 ? Why am I freaking out😣 ? Why am I not okay🤯 ? Why am I still sad 🥺? I let out a big sign as the tears continued to fall down my face, good thing this 🤣tomboy doesn’t wear makeup 💄I said to myself you know this sh#t you're a therapist you teach it all the time. Why are you losing your sh#t !??? We can know a lot of sh#t it’s really a matter of applying it. Picking up those 🛠tools from the tool box 🧰 and using them. A lot of people get the impression that a therapist doesn’t have issues. Well jokes on them WE ARE HUMAN TOO 😎 I am double whammed with my social media presence some think the same because of that, I never have financial issues, or grieves with people or life. HAHAHAHAHA well first of all that’s not realistic no matter who you are 🤡 but thanks for glamorizing my life 🥰

Well anyway I took a few deep breaths and realized I am that f#cking bull sitting here color blind to my 🤦🏼‍♀️ surroundings and charging at the matador for waving his cape. I began to challenge what I was thinking. Why was I being so hard on myself ? Why wasn’t it okay to be 😢 sad, who said that and why the f#ck do I care what they think ?!? NOTHING was wrong with me. I’m still healing and truth be told this will be most likely for the rest of my life. I’m going to be triggered by the matador when he waved his cape. There’s nothing wrong with allowing myself to feel, and cry. 😭I’M F#CKING GRIEVING😭 !!?!?? I had a real loss in my life that I will not get back. I am still figuring out how to live my life without the physical presence of my Dad. I’m allowed to be sad, angry and I am allowed to cry. All those things are perfectly normal. Maybe that’s not everyone’s reaction to grief and certainly it’s not been my reaction to every loss I’ve had prior but it is mine this time and it is okay. I should not have to feel bad for missing my Dad and wanting to remember him or for feeling disappointed that at Chapter 41.28 I am not married and if that day ever comes🙄 he won’t be there to walk me down the aisle or dance with me. The problem is as a society we force people to bottle them up ⬆️ because it makes “us” uncomfortable. Well too f#cking bad 😜 That’s where boundaries come into play 👊🏼 I can not heal if I am not allowed to feel and if I allow myself to be afraid of storming out of a wedding because someone is going to snicker or make comments (which no one did btw) or any other scenario that may happen in the future. The truth is I don’t owe anyone an explanation for needing to take care of myself in my healing process whether it’s grief you are going through or something else as long as it’s healthy, neither do you !?! No one will understand this journey 🚀but me so who better to know what road is to be traveled. Honestly I have no f#cking clue what direction I’m headed sh#t most days I don’t even know what road I’m on, I’m winging it. I do have goals, dreams and I aspire to grow and become a better person which is what I work towards daily 👉🏼 Personal Growth, so I can be a better version of the me that I was yesterday and to make my Daddy (and my Mama) proud ❤️ I believe that’s how we sort all that sh#t out by trial and error. Follow me on my journey, and if your traveling too maybe we can grow together 🤝 Eliza Jayne

#photography #wedding #dealing with grief #grief journal #griefandloss #griefcounseling #griefsucks #what is grief if not love persevering #writer #author #authencity #model #actorslife #daughter #father #father and daughter #photooftheday #portraiture

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crimsonbluemoon · 4 years

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For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.>

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.”

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.”

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him.

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on.

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country.

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again.

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries.

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times.

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.”

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image.

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug.

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest.

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would.

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan.

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could.

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact.

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around.

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy.

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!”

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.”

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear.

“So worth it.”

#hubcat99 #Ohmtoonz #Ohmwrecker #Cartoonz #Sultry boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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analogparalysis1978 · 4 years

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i need to create more space for myself. i’ve been moving too fast, my anxiety has been bad. when it gets too much, i can get really dissociated and detached while also having a huge sense of fear building inside me, thinking the worst could happen at any moment... i realized how wound up i had become today and i forced myself to actually deal with untangling that and i think i somewhat succeeded, i feel much calmer and more grounded. made myself a good breakfast, played my guitar, wrote, meditated and did yoga, read my tarot and reflected on the cards and now i am cooking dinner. i get so caught up in the past and the future and other people, the news, social media, everything and all the noise that is constantly happening, everything i have no control over. i become so afraid of actually settling into my body because of that fear. it wasn’t until i sat down to breathe that i allowed myself to lean into my fear and work through it. i am so afraid of feeling my anxiety, that i detach, dissociate, avoid myself and avoid the silence but really it just keeps me up and running at night so there is no way of escaping it. i may not be able to do all of these things to ground myself every day but i do want to figure out a routine, whether its in the morning or at night to actually sit with myself instead of checking the news and social media first thing, constantly checking my phone and keeping up with my texts and emails. i can’t live that way anymore. i need room to exist in my own head so i can trust myself and create things. i can’t create if i am so disconnected and dissociated.

i always “fail” to establish these routines because in the end there’s a part of me that wants me to feel bad. like i’ll judge myself for meditating or reading my tarot, i won’t play because i’ll judge what i am playing when i should just play whenever and not judge it so i actually improve. i’ll put off eating and i’ll put off taking a bath, won’t write for weeks, stay up late nights thinking of every mistake. i torture myself mentally basically. but i am learning to be forgiving, because i see how much easier and fluid every action becomes, when i am stuck hating myself it becomes very hard to make any decision and act. i really just need to breathe and not imprison myself so much. i need to create a solid core instead of always looking outside of myself or at other people and making that void inside me grow and more because i am not nourishing my soul. i guess this explains my desire to be alone so much. i feel like i can become so nourished and balanced and restored on my own, but i exchange energies with people and it just drains me and i feel like i am back to square one. i think i just want to be alone a lot more so i can have this healing space that i’ve created. but there’s such a stigma to being alone that i am just told it’s unhealthy and that i am isolating. but there’s a huge difference between isolating to your detriment and being alone to process things and heal. i don’t think people really get that. but i just need a lot of time to reflect and recharge, i want to accept and own this about myself even more.

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h3l10tr0p3 · 5 years

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SPIRIT ANIMAL AU (Part 11 : The fluff, The Crack and the extra)

Previously-

Deku's Spirit Animal is a Fennec Fox, whose voice can only be heard by Katsuki (because, reasons), while Deku himself appears to be in a coma.

Extending on the imformation on Spirit Animals from my prev post

("Kacchan! Love me!")

me from the back, sniffing into a hanky: JUST LOVE HIM ALREADY!

The Extra:

While the class was out together, running errands, Izuku and Katsuki get involved in an incident where a child, 4 years old(Person A) develops their quirk smack in the middle of a crowd and it is making people faint. Neither of the m remember the incident but bystanders say that Izuku tried to save Katsuki.

Person A then falls into Quirk Pyrexia (like Eri's fever) and then into a coma. But the effects of the quirk stay. The people who fainted woke up and found a Spirit Animal attached to them

But Deku is in a coma too, and there is this green-haired Fennec-Fox scampering about instead.

Person B, older sibling of Person A who has a similar (but not exactly the same) quirk explains how their own quirk works. And mentions that a lot of people had been affected at once by person A's quirk. So there are a lot of spirit animals going around now in Mustafu.

Class A gets pretty hyped and wants their own spirit animals. They all ask Person B for one of their own. Being mobbed by the eagre class, Person B agrees.

Everyone gets one. Except Katsuki who doesn't want anything to do with the critters; Shouto who couldn't be bothered to get one and Mineta whose Spirit Animal turns out to be a Madagascar Hissing Cockroach and Person B refuses to let that abomination exist. (gtfo mineta)

Gradually the class starts to learn more about Spirit Animals in general and themselves with the help of their Spirit Animals (since they are a reflection of their emotional psyche)

E.g.- Spirit animals' voice can be heard by only the person (the Master) who provides them with some of their own life-force. Normally the amount depends on the size of the animal, but since most are small it is as easy as breathing - life span is not reduced because of it in anyway.

Spirit Animals are born from some basic things like- a person's strongest and most definitive memories, their emotional psyche, their quirk (not necessary though) and their Master's life energy. Basically an SA is the soul of the person in animal form - but they only have a subset of the memories of their human counterpart.

Normally a person from whom an SA is born is also the Master. In Katsuki and Izuku's case there are a lot of problems because Izuku interfered in the process. Now Izuku is in a coma while Katsuki is stuck with the mutterings of a fox inside his head.

the further the SA is from the Master- the more energy it consumes from both. it's a balancing act. The SA might get sick from being too far for too long, but the effect of distance on Masters is however, negligible.

Another way an SA gets sick is when the Bond is one-sided, where the Master (knowingly or unknowingly) refuses to provide for their SA.

In both cases the SA might 'die'

Any sickness or injury of the SA, if treated in due time, can be healed just by prolonged skin contact with their Master.

Ways SA can die- When the quirk fades, when they get very sick, when another SA kills it

In the last method - the Master enters a coma when their SA dies. Because murder is an unnatural warp in the fabric of humanity and psyche- so it impacts the Master too. No one knows if such a coma is treatable or not.

SA can talk to each other, but not other Masters.

SA have special abilities unlike quirks. They are small spiritual-ly abilities, like: Fortune telling, star-reading, dream-walking, mood-reading, etc. Almost every SA has an ability. The occurrence are same as quirked:quirkless ratios.

The PREFACE:

Katsuki avoids F!Deku after he finds out that Katsuki can hear him. But Deku tries to be persistent. Katsuki, naturally gets mad and tells Deku to get lost because he is 'irritating, too loud, too jumpy and disgusting'

This breaks F!Deku's heart, because he doesnt have the memory of Katsuki literally hating him in middle school. Depressed, he starts to keep away, talk less, run less, appear fewer times in front of Katsuki.

At first Katsuki finds peace in the silence, but it starts to worry him. Soon he figures out that Deku is getting sick because of him, as other SA inform through their Masters.

THE FLUFF and CRACK!

after that Katsuki (apparently) grudgingly takes care of Deku. He needs good food? Fine! A bath? Fine! Warmth?! FINE! SKIN CONTACT? FINNEEEE! he is gonna take care of it so damn good that everyone else drops dead at his SA-grooming skills!! (goddamnit, Katsuki,you fucking idiot...)

Cue the most ridiculous phase the Heights Alliance has ever seen-

Katsuki bringing Deku to school in his bag. During classes, Deku naps on the table or in the desk- with his tail curled around Katsuki's left wrist or being left whisking over his hand.

Katsuki in Practical Classes: With Deku wrapped around his neck, inside the neck brace. Winter costume? Inside his turtle-neck. (Imagine Deku's fox head popping out of that collar on being called. oh my heart...that visual...)

Also the visual- Deku nuzzling the underside of Katsuki's jaw if he gets mad, to distract him. Cause that lil fucker actually (begrudgingly) likes the soft fur

Katsuki cooking? Deku's waiting on his shoulder patiently and taste-tests Katsuki's cooking when he gives him a gravy-dipped finger

Katsuki eventually agrees to use Deku's plans during Mock Battles and they make a sick team. Other students say it's unfair to have an extra member on Bakugou. But Katsuki's sly ass reasons that he keeps Deku just because he'll get sick again. (And it's true, cause Deku can still mutter plans in his head from a distance)

Katsuki hosing down Deku's fur like that shit's contaminated. And Deku regretting every second of his canid existence.

Katsuki complaining about Deku's long-ass nails cause they scratch the bejesus out of him. Deku tells him that his Kacchan can clip off those nails if he wants, but Katsuki doesn't reply, instead gives Deku a sour look. Next day he pawns off those Soft Nail Caps from Aizawa (or Shinsou. Maybe Black and orange ones or green ones?)

Sleeping - Deku normally curls up in a ball and sleeps on Katsuki's tummy. But since Katsuki is a turbulent sleeper (more about this later) this gets difficult. So instead he sleeps while nuzzling the curve of Katsuki's neck or makes a nest in his spiky hair.

("G'nite, Kacchan")

The girls of class A open a social media account with all the SA and Deku, the cutest fox in the world, as their focus. Katsuki has to pry off the fox from their hands too often to be comfortable about it.

Katsuki's morning rituals? Deku's riding on his head while he goes down to the communal bathrooms. Eijirou swallows toothpaste and Denki shits himself when they see him like that.

Deku needs to sun-bathe in the chilly weather. So, Katsuki takes him out of cafeteria in lunch time, his friends join too.

Deku gets really popular with Gen Ed and Class B as days go by and when the others try to cuddle him or coo at him, Katsuki twitches with irritation.

Monoma tries to harass Katsuki one day in the cafeteria, so Deku and the other SA literally wage an SA war on him. All the SA of Class A are nibbling and stealing Monoma's food, leaving a mess over his things and making life hell for him. Denki, Hanta, Mina and Eijirou sign up too. Katsuki, unwittingly, earns the title of 'The Savage Snowhite' from Class B due to their efforts.

Once, while lying on his tummy, Deku figures out that Katsuki is really ticklish there and tickles him incessantly till Katsuki is laughing. When Deku suddenly stops tickling and just sits back doing nothing, Katsuki asks suspciously why he stopped, what's he planning. Deku just says that he doesn't remember ever seeing Kacchan laugh, so he wants to remember this properly. cue feels.

Somewhere down the line Katsuki starts to FINALLY fucking acknowledge that he likes to be around the nerd fox, maybe even loves the Deku trapped inside this form. But the real Deku lies asleep in the infirmary. And oh, the Angst ensues as he starts wondering if this is permanent.

Meanwhile SA are being murdered, people are falling into coma, and something has infilrated the UA campus. One of the Class A student's SA was killed very recently. Because the SA was born from Person B's quirk and not Person A, they recover soon after and inform the teachers that they saw an SA Arctic Wolf attack them.

Cue Villain music- dun dun dun!

Here is PART 1 if you are interested in some Fennec Fox Facts!

(Next up! PART 3: THE ANGST, THE DRAMA! -please look forward it!)

#bnha #deku #mha #bakudeku #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x izuku #bnha katsuki #bnha midoriya #midoriya izuku #bnha spirit animal au #spirit animal #fennec fox #fox!deku #fluff #humour #fanfic idea #crack #so so much fluff!

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sowhatgguk · 5 years

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protect my heart - myg

REQUESTED: #25 w/ yoongi - “why don’t you understand?”

it’s been sitting in the drafts for a while, but since school has started and work isn’t as hectic, i decided to post this before i forgot. i have one more request, it’s coming soon! send in more through my ask :)

WARNING: um idk i don’t think it’s that angsty but if you’re very emotional this can be kinda sad? yoongi!bf, heartbreak, mentions of cheating and sad stuff i guess

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You stare at the message, wondering if there was something wrong. But you figured it was due to stress, so you ignored that feeling. Making Yoongi angry wasn’t something you planned to do.

You’d head to the restaurant and pick a few of his favourite things. Just to make sure he eats and sleep well at the studio. And then you’d head home. As much as yoongi hated being bothered, you knew you had to take care of his health. Sometimes, he doesn’t know his limits.

You spend time around the house watching television, checking social media and then taking a shower to get ready. you make sure to put a mask on your face before heading outside. No one would suspect you, everyone wore them in this cold weather.

But as you approach bighit’s company building, your cellphone seems to weigh heavy in your pocket. You push aside your thoughts, you were here to take care of your boyfriend and not annoy him.

You knock lightly on his studio door, the bag of food feeling heavy. You place your ear to the door, not hearing a thing. Maybe he’s sleeping? You think to yourself not before slowly opening the door.

What you see hurts your heart. Yoongi is sleeping on the couch cuddling a girl. You don’t even know her, or understand why she would be in his studio that close anyways. Maybe she replaced you.

You quietly place the food on a small table, being careful not to make a mess with his equipment everywhere. You spot a small piece of paper and pen. You write a small note to yoongi.

Hey, I noticed you fell asleep and I didn’t want to bother you and your friend. I got your favourites, make sure to warm them up. I wanted to make sure you’re eating well and sleeping well. I’m glad. Please don’t stress yourself, and take care of yourself yoongs. Because I won’t be able to do that anymore. I love you.

Y/N

in the midst of your shuffling, the noise caused yoongi to stir. You met his horrified gaze once he realized his position. He carefully tried to get up, but you gave him a sad smile.

Goodbye Min Yoongi.

You place the pen down onto the table and quietly closed the door. You walk to the elevator when you hear his footsteps. So you decide to take the emergency exit stairs 5 flights down.

You’re biting your lip, fighting your tears as you bolt down the stairs. Not bothering to be quiet, you pushed the exit door with all the energy you have and book it to your car. You lock the door, trying to breathe.

You rub your face with your hands, not caring if your makeup was ruined. The space between you and him get evidently smaller, and your lungs constrict. A panic attack.

You laugh bitterly. Getting all riled up because of a man. You promised yourself that you would never let a man affect you like this. But you never thought that man would be min yoongi.

Your hands shakily reach to press the START button to rev the engine. You see yoongi burst out the back door, frantically looking for you. He spots you crying in your car but before he can run to you, your car is leaving the parking lot. Leaving him behind.

You force yourself to turn up the radio to drown out his yelling. You refuse to be foolish. Perhaps you did have some dignity; call it pride. You had enough of people manipulating you, using you as if you were there for pure convenience.

But deep inside you knew, you would let min yoongi hurt you again anyways.

“Fuck.” Yoongi curses as he makes his way back into the building and walking into his studio. By the time he opens the door, he sees that the girl is gone, just like you. He decides to open the bag of food you got him, refusing to let your hard work go to waste. Even if he did lose you.

Your note is like a warning sign for him. But he reads it. And his heart crumbles in pain. Suddenly, the thought of eating food didn’t seem appealing anymore. He falls back onto the couch crumpling the piece of paper in his hands. And for the first time in a long time, he cries.

He lets out harsh sobs as he blindly reaches for his cellphone. He reads the texts you sent him and his grip tightens.

He wants to call you, and tell you it was a misunderstanding. He wants you back. That he needs you and loves you.

But one of his downfalls is confrontation. So he doesn’t. He leaves you alone. Leaving him to swallow his pain by working on his new track and drinking liquors til he passes out.

He doesn’t remember how long he’s been in the studio. But his body can feel it. So when somebody opens the door, he winces at the intrusion of light.

“oppa! You need to leave the studio, it reeks. Gah! Did something die in here?”

He merely turns to face another of the producers. She’s scrunching her nose at the sight of him.

He turns back to his computer, adding a few touches here and there. He hears her sigh and the door closes.

Within minutes, she comes back with namjoon, seokjin and a bottle of febreze. He gives her a confused look as Namjoon and Seokjin practically manhandle him out of the studio.

“Oh my Lord this is fucking nasty, get him out.” She says with a pained look as she sprays the whole studio.

“Hey! My equipment! I haven’t finished the track! Let me back-“ he yells as she slams the door in his face.

It’s quiet. He knows what he looks like. A pathetic mess.

“Yoongi-ssi.” Seokjin calls him, but he doesn’t meet the elder’s gaze.

“Hyung, what happened? You never work yourself this hard. You should go home.” Namjoon softly suggests as he shakes his head.

“Home? The studio is my home. Not like I can go back to the dorms.”

“What do you mean the studio is your home? What about y/n?” Seokjin inquires and at the sound of your name, he loses it.

“I cannot go back to her. I lost her hyung, don’t you get it? She fucking hates me because I broke her heart.”

“What exactly did you do wrong?” Seokjin softly asks as yoongi felt his heart constrict.

“She brought me food a few days ago. I was working on the new track. I fell asleep on the couch.”

“She got mad at you because you were sleeping?” Namjoon says confused meeting seokjin’s look.

“Yeah, she found me sleeping on the couch… with another girl.”

There was a dead silence in the room, but all Yoongi could hear was his own heart beat pounding.

“Who is the girl, Min Yoongi?” Seokjin has a subtle glint of anger in his voice as he muttered

“intern. She was bringing me coffee and we were talking about stuff and she told me to take a break. So I lied on the couch but in my sleepy mode I pulled her onto me.”

“Well she’s fired.” Namjoon sighs to himself, rolling his shoulders back to alleviate the back pain.

“She shouldn’t be engaging in things like that with coworkers let alone idols. But the question is; why did you let her?”

Maybe because I was missing you. So I could take love from anyone who offered. So why couldn’t I take it from you?

“I-i don’t know. But I have to fix it.”

“She just slept on top you, right? You didn’t sleep with her… right?”

Namjoon looks afraid to ask, probably because he was the closest friend you had in bight aside from the maknae line.

“I didn’t… but I almost.” Yoongi whispers as he hear seokjin mutter curses under his breath.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you Min Yoongi. You lost the best thing in your life because of your carelessness. Your inability to accept people into your life. So why are you upset when you keep pushing her away? You need to set fucking boundaries when entering and being in a relationship. So you either chuck your pride and make it up to Y/N or you fuck off and leave her alone. Either way you still need to apologize to her.”

Yoongi bites his inner cheek as he processes the information. He had to apologize to you, but how? Surely it’s too late, a week has already passed.

Namjoon softly nudges yoongi which shakes him out of his reverie.

“It’s better late than never, hyung. Go to her.”

For the first time in a long time, yoongi left the studio and left the building.

It’s been a week since you’ve seen Yoongi. You just assumed that things were over, since he hasn’t made an effort to contact you. His silence and lack of response just shows you that she means a lot to him.

You sigh looking at the empty tub of coffee flavoured ice-cream. Maybe you’ve sulked for a bit now, but it’s time to stop. There were things to be done, eventually.

There’s a knock on your door. You furrow your brows in confusion. You weren’t expecting anyone, did you order something online?

You open the door without looking at who it was. It was yoongi, drenched, looking like he came back from the dead a week later.

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” You say with arms crossed. You could let him inside, but part of you wants him to suffer. Also, if you were to let him inside, you would be vulnerable. And knowing your emotional state, you wouldn’t be rational and probably just take him back without batting an eye.

“I’m so fucking late and I’m sorry. I- I just need to talk to you, please Y/N. I-“

fine. I should probably let him in before Mrs. Kim 5 doors down starts to become nosy.

“Whatever, just don’t make the floor too wet.” You say opening the door wider, watching him carefully place his shoes and hanging his coat.

He follows you to the bedroom and you give him a towel to dry up in the bathroom. While he does that, you pull a pair of his clothes that he left behind and give it to him. He smiles back in gratitude but it turns out to be a grimace.

You go to the kitchen to make some tea. As you’re pouring the tea in the two mugs, you spot yoongi walk out with bare fare and a towel on his shoulders. Your heart beats at the sight of him, so maybe you’re not healing as fast as you wanted.

He sits at the chairs you’ve planted near the countertop. You both quietly drink, allowing the background noise of rain to fill the room.

After a while, he speaks.

“I don’t know how many times I will apologize to express myself, but I know none of them will make things better. You might not even forgive me, and that’s something I have to live with.”

You decide to look at anywhere but him. Maybe if you saw the emotion in his eyes, it would become more surreal.

“- but I can’t ask to be back in your life regardless if I don’t give you an explanation. And I know I don’t deserve to be in your life after this. Not as a boyfriend or even a friend.

But basically i was distancing myself from you, because I was stressed, I didn’t want it to affect our relationship but-“

He lets out a bitter laugh, looking into his cup.

“-Turns out I did more than that, didn’t I? And what you saw was basically this intern I’ve been teaching her the ropes at bight. She told me to take a break, since I was working for too long. So when I lied on the couch, I reached out for her hand and she fell on top of me.

I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because she reminded me of you. That I enjoyed someone taking care of me no matter who it was. But that was it, I didn’t sleep with her. But, I mean I could have. I don’t know what I was thinking.

But I understand why that would make you feel betrayed. I’m so sorry Y/N… I pushed you away when you were trying to just offer me your heart.”

“Yoongi.” You call out as he wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

“You really broke my heart. Not just seeing you with her but the fact that you went to anyone but me.”

“But I’m here! I’m saying sorry and that I still love you. Why don’t you understand?”

“What do you mean I don’t understand? I did more than understand, I never bothered or smothered you. I gave you space. I allowed you to be by yourself and a space to talk things through. If anything, you don’t understand. You don’t value our relationship or me, min yoongi. Who goes to say later you won’t do something worse?”

Yoongi looks helpless, but you avert your gaze. You walk to put your glass in the sink. And when you turn around, he’s on the floor. Kneeling at your feet. On reflex, you bend down to his level offering a hand.

“You don’t need to kneel, yoongi. Save yourself the embarrassment. Get up.”

He shook his head, frame trembling with each word he spoke. “I can’t lose you, i refuse to let you go. I know you won’t forgive me, because of all the shit i’ve done but please don’t leave me. I can’t, you can’t make me please.”

You stare at his pathetic frame for a while, memorizing his features. sure, he didn’t sleep with her. but not to say it wasn’t his fault. who am i to be angry with her when he pulled her on top? but do all people deserve second chances? won’t i be regarded as weak and naive?

“I can’t make you leave. I can’t make you stop loving me. But I can protect my heart, which is something you failed to do. I’m sorry, Min Yoongi. I would say to give me time, but i don’t know how long that will be. And you’re a busy man, with a life filled with success you won’t have time for me.”

Yoongi looks at you with bloodshot eyes and nods. He turns to leave as you follow him to the door shakily. Before he steps outside, he turns to face you. His lip starts to quiver, and your heart breaks.

“can i ask a favour from you? just one more time?” he meekly asks as you nod.

he slowly reaches for your arms, and you let him touch you. you want to feel his embrace, but it feels different this time. and when he gets closer, you close the gap. a farewell kiss.

and ever since that shared moment, you don’t see min yoongi ever again.

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rimurutempest-bounced · 5 years

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questions for neurodivergent folks ( from @shitborderlinesdo )

post here!

if ur autistic:

1. do you stim?

yes, sometimes! i’ve suppressed a lot of it over time but i still do some subtly.

if so, what are yr favourite stims?

touching/tapping the tips of my fingers together, stroking soft patches of skin(esp backs of my hands, wrists, or parts of my thighs, hips, ankles), cracking knuckles, stretching fingers/feet/arms/legs rly far, rapid blinking(though i also have a tic involving blinking which is similar, but involuntary), bubble wrap,flicking light switches/door lock mechanisms, bouncing on toes, toewalking, chewing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(esp pens/pen caps and similar textures), biting, mouthing/lipping things, clacking my teeth lightly, whistling, leg jiggle sometimes, jumping, skipping, hopping, and a few other rly specific things (like involving swimming, or being on something and hanging so im upside down and stuff)

2. happy stims? chewing, biting, skin stroking, finger tapping, skipping, hopping, jumping 3. negative stims? snapping fingers, “hiccuping” (it’s a little giggle/hiccup type thing i do, but idk what to call it), teeth clacking, leg jiggle, exposing too long to extreme cold temps, hitting head against things 4. favourite textures? idk how to explain the soft-smooth i like; silk usually looks like it should feel like this, but it doesn't. also when people talk about “plush velvet” the texture that comes to mind is good, like a really nice stuffed animal or a cavalier king charles spaniel with super soft fur, but real velvet feels bad lol. also just most fur in general, esp rabbit, cat, certain dogs. some wing or chest feathers on birds like doves. milk weed fluff. soft, squishy, fuzzy caterpillars(not the bristly guard hair ones. more like forest tent caterpillars), moon jellies, soft leather/suede, really smooth grey granite, polished shiny pink granite, lambs ear/mullein 5. least favourite textures? some types of linen are VERY BAD but idk what they are, they’re like stiff and scratchy and feel super cold? gummy bears, ew. really hard chocolate in cold ice cream, a lot of faux furs, like so many, most (sheep)wool, scallops, often times chinchilla fur feels bad, most velvet, esp crushed velvet, potato sacks, a lot of plastic bags/thin plastic film 6. what's a pet peeve of urs involving a specific sound? squeaky plastic is the worst, esp from plastic wrap. teeth grinding/bruxing is bad, hearing people having sex in another room/apt, heavy footsteps/stomping, esp when fast like running, door slamming, when people slam their hands on a table because they just thought of something, the sound quality of like...having water in your ears/popped ear drums, where everything feels muffled and almost whispery/far away, but also REALLY LOUD AND CLOSE... 7. a specific sound that makes you Really Happy? al snoring softly like a cat, my cat snoring, cats purring, crackling fires, wind whistling, waves lapping, thunder rumbling, THUNDER CRACKING, wood creaking in a strong wind, that soft snuffling of cat/dog noses, the sound of rodents digging in bedding or eating millet, angel caller bells(bola, fairy callers, whatever you call them) 8. when were you diagnosed (self or professionally)? about 6 years ago what has changed with the diagnosis? i dont hate myself for as much of my behaviours/thinking/speech patterns. im slowly trying to let myself let go of “survival mode” NT behaviours i was forced to learn 9. are there any behaviours you have that, prior to diagnosis, didnt make much sense, but now they do? too many to list lmao 10. what kind of representation would you like to see of autistic ppl in media? girls, trans folks, autistics of colour, just less cis white boy perfect example savants. autistics with “atypical” autistic symptoms. autistics with ugly meltdowns and other unpleasant symptoms. autistics who are messy eaters, who can’t dress themselves, who struggle with everyday tasks and self care. autistics with “useless” special interests that cant be reworked to make them more productive genius types. LOUD autistics.

if ur mentally ill:

11.when were you diagnosed (self or professional)?

6 yrs old or younger

12. what is your diagnosis/are your diagnoses?

BPD, (various types of)depression, DPD/social anxiety(when i’m alone)/agoraphobia, panic disorder NOS, mood disorder NOS, DID, ADD/ADHD-PI, ASD, gender dysphoria at one point, conduct disorder or whatever it was called. IED. all i can think of. all diagnosed professionally over the years, though ASD is not on any official records because i asked it to be left off to avoid that specific abuse/stigma.

13. is the community youve found with other mentally ill ppl helpful?

mostly no. but in some ways, yes. i appreciate having more access to info, hearing relatable stories, common symptoms/experiences that help me understand things better, etc. close friends with illnesses/disorders are nice, but mostly i know them for other reasons outside of diagnoses.

14. do you find it challenging to tell ppl yr mentally ill?

absolutely

15. what are the most effective coping mechanisms youve found?

im not sure. i just...cope? somehow? not always effectively, but idk.

16. have you ever been to therapy?

if yes, what helped and what didnt help?

i hate group therapy. in individual therapy, i like having my husband sit in on the sessions for support. therapist NEEDS to prompt me and ask active and specific questions. setting clear goals with clear steps helps. a lot of more “creative” methods actually are super unhelpful for me.

17. do "find your happy place" exercises help you or no?

sort of? i don’t try them much. usually they make me sadder that im not there.

18. what are some of the most Tiresome Cliches ppl tell you to deal with yr mental illness (i.e., "just do yoga!")?

“everyone gets depressed”, “yoga”, “fresh air, sunlight, and exercise!”, “essential oils”, “meditation”, “_______ diet/supplement”, “mind over matter”, “lose some weight” (THIS DOES NOT MEAN NONE OF THESE CAN BE HELPFUL AND I DO WANT TO DO SOME OF THESE THINGS, BUT STATING THE OBVIOUS ABOUT THIS SHIT AND BEING CONDESCENDING IS SO FUCKING ANNOYING)

19. what books / movies have really helped u?

none in this regard

20. what kind of representation would u like to see of mentally ill ppl in media?

idk. better. sympathetic without condescentding, infantilising, or demonising. sympathetic recovery stories, showing a happy ending, but not some “theyre cured” BS

if ur chronically ill:

21. when were you diagnosed (self or professionally)?

asthma - like 4 yrs old, tendonitis - like 13 yrs old, unspecified pain/inflammation - 2019 professionally (like 2011 ish on my own, but really it started when i was ~13), nocturnal epilepsy - not done with diagnosis process/testing as of july 2019, a few chronic infections that don’t affect me any more were diagnosed when i was a kid, idk

22. do you find the support system with other similarly affected ppl to be helpful?

i’ve not been involved much, tried it out, really

23. what do you struggle w most on a daily basis?

pain/inflammation/stiffness in joints, back, neck, shoulders, feet

24. what helps you most?

i wanna say sleep, but it actually makes everything worse so, new diet(anti inflammation), making goals/plans, spirituality, going to healing places like the woods or by the sea or mountains, massage, soft comforting petting from my husband

25. what do you want to tell able-bodied and neurotypical ppl in regards to chronic illness?

it’s not the same. yeah maybe “everyone has back pain”, but my pain and your pain are different; they happen for different reasons and they affect us in different ways. if everyone is in pain we should do something to make life easier for everyone, not dismiss people who are suffering.

26. how do u keep your strength on a daily basis? i dont

27. if yr family supportive?

mostly yeah?

if not, who do you find the most strength and support in, outside of yourself?

my husband, regardless

28. what kind of representation would you like to see of chronically ill ppl in media?

show me people who find creative, easy, free/cheap ways to be comfortable/improve symptoms. do not fucking cure them to make them happy. let them be happy and comfortable by finding new ways to do things, no by erasing their obstacles.

if u have bpd:

29. when were u diagnosed (self or professionally)?

2014, i think? though it was suggested by a therapist in like 2008 or 2009

30. do you think the support system in the community is helpful?

31. what are some of the ways you keep yrself grounded and remind yrself to Take a Step Back when bad feelings get in the way of rational thinking?

remind myself other people have autonomy, think about how i would feel if someone reacted to things i was doing the way my brain wants to impulsively react to them, talk talk talk, find something else to do as distraction

32. coping skills?

idfk what they are, they’re just there. usually.

33. how do u keep yrself in check when impulsive mood swings come around?

uh, mostly i covered this in 31. gotta reset focus on something else, find distraction that produces different emotions until mood passes

34. what skills do you use to remind yourself that you are loved?

husband. doesnt always work, but mostly.

35. who has been the most supportive of u?

husband.

36. how has your diagnosis changed the way you view yrself and yr interactions w other ppl?

more mindful of others feelings and needs, esp my mum with BPD

37. what kind of representation would you like to see of ppl w bpd in media?

not fucking abusive/manipulative or miserable. let us struggle but have great supports and practice effective coping skills so we can build stronger relationship bonds and enjoy socializing and/or things that are personally important

all ppl:

38. how do you deal w ableism that comes at you from all directions?

laugh about it with my friends i guess?

39. who in your life is the most supportive of u and yr recovery?

husband

40. who are some people on tumblr who have really helped u in yr journey?

well, i met cieran here. alice has been a good influence. there’s a few of you for sure, though maybe not all specifically for these sorts of things.

41. best coping skills?

i dont know

42. most irritating Ableist Cliches ppl use to tell u yr not good enough?

infantilizing me(comparing me to a child), mocking my productivity/commercial success, “daddy issues”, trying to gaslight me into thinking i’ve been abusive because we disagree on something/i pointed out something they dont like

43. best most supportive thing anyone's said to you?

“i want to be like you when i grow up”

44. songs for Happy Times?

counting stars, gooey, just about anything by MIKA, most “meme” songs

45. songs for Not-Happy Times?

a lot of hozier, bastille, of monsters and men, rage against the machine, flobots

46. non-triggering movies that discuss mental illness?

im not sure, i know there are some i love that i could list, but none are coming to mind. not a movie but: moomin and most ghibli media, esp kiki’s delivery service.

#long post #mental health #actuallyautistic #chronic illness #borderline personality disorder #about me #idk #shitborderlinesdo

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