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angelguk · 3 years

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what happens in this section is entirely a result of what guys voted please do not! come for my head in my inbox im begging. very sad in general like Angst with a capital A with a sprinkle of despair and pain. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams. roughly 2k.

(titled — out of line)

You thought Lucas would help, the warmth of his body a distraction from your aching heart, but he didn’t. Not the way you needed him to. He was sweet enough, made you giggle endlessly before finding his place between your thighs. But even with his tongue on your clit, your (now usually sober) mind still lingered on Jeongguk, his memory a stain on your soul. It didn’t help when you spotted him with a girl hanging off his arm, her bright eyes stuck on his face, soaking him in like the earth does the sun. You didn’t know her name – Chayoung took the liberty of whispering it to you after your biology lab. She was Hyeri, a sophomore with a delicate laugh and graceful disposition. That vile vindictive black thing that now inhabited your chest swelled, brain already comparing the differences between you and her. Your clumsiness suddenly felt like a curse, even though Jeongguk had countlessly said he loved you for it (or did he say that just to ease your worries?). Insecurities spring forth like weeds and you don’t have the capacity to keep the careful garden of your heart tended.

They take over slowly, your eyes stinging whenever you see them huddled together in the quad. Bitter tears blinked back, your blinkered senses overlooking how Jeongguk’s quiet gaze followed your figure whenever you turned your back to him, even with Yoona yapping at his ears.

Perhaps the despondency that clung to your bones is what led you here, face planted in the musky scent of Namjoon’s sheets, your heart throbbing funny.

“Can you even breathe?” He questions. The timbre of his voice washes over you, familiar and somewhat reassuring. You twist upright to face him, eyes squeezing tight when the bright fluorescent lights in his room assaults your vision.

“I was hoping my heart would give up if I held it in long enough.”

Namjoon stills, brown eyes flitting over you. He coughs like he’s working through various sets of words before he decides what’s most suitable. “And then what? I get framed for murder when they find your body here?”

You laugh, and it hurts. “Maybe. My body is very portable though, did you consider first burying me in the backyard?”

“Rookie mistake,” Namjoon returns. He rises to fetch the mugs of tea sitting idle on a stool he’d dragged from the corner of his room. “The sniffer dogs would fly straight to that location. Also, I’d have to dig a hole big enough to fit your head in.”

“And why would the dogs find me immediately?” You say, shuffling upright, palms ready to receive the tepid heat that will seep through the ceramic the moment the cup settles in your hand.

“Your perfume,” Namjoon says. He hands you the mug, heat fulfilling its chosen purpose, the scent of gentle jasmine wafting to your nose.

You pout then, glancing at him. “My perfume?”

“It’s distinct. Violet, right? Maybe vanilla too?” Namjoon says it easily, sinking beside you, utterly unaware of the ticking in your brain. Your gaze falters then, shifting to his broad shoulder and thick biceps. The ivy shirt he’s got on barely contains all that muscle in, fabric stretched thin.

You take a sip of your tea, and despite the period Namjoon gave it to cool it still scalds your tongue.

“Why do you know what fragrance I wear?” It comes out accusatory, but Namjoon handles it well, laughing low.

“You’ve had the same one since high-school, I think. And I remember you telling me.”

The fingers around your cup squeeze tight, your brain unlocking a moment you’d forgotten in the wake of brighter ones. A quiet afternoon at the back of your high-school, Namjoon towering over you, his nose trailing the hollow of your neck, a stray comment about how you smelled good washing over you. It was followed by a flustered younger version of you deflecting, heart pounding wild when Namjoon drew back to look at you as you rattled off the different sillages that made up your favourite perfume. He’d laughed, low like did just now, before calling you cute and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Oh,” you finally murmur. “I remember now.”

You were actually going to change it after your break-up with him, but then Jeongguk had mentioned how much he’d liked it and the bottle had stayed.

Namjoon hums, his gaze slow as it shifts around the room. It’s a space that screams of him, light wood tones and plants breaking from the pristine white walls. Space carved for nature, a grounding sensation living within these four walls – something that seems to live inside of Namjoon too.

“How are you?” He suddenly asks, turning slowly to measure your features.

You blink hard, only realising then that you’d been staring at his face for a second too long. “F-fine. I’m okay. Just busy, y’know. Finals coming up, planning events; the usual.”

“I know,” Namjoon says with a ginger smile. “But that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? With Jeongguk and everything.”

“Oh.” You can’t answer that, his unexpected brazenness shocking your system. The smile on his lips fades, a solemnness in the brown of his eyes. His next words are earnest, and they settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t just come here to chat for no reason. We can talk about Jeongguk, that’s okay.”

“N-no, we don’t need it. We’re over. It’s been two months already. We’re seeing other people and I don’t really want to discuss one of my exes with another one. And maybe I did just come to see you,” you tack on an empty laugh at the end, hoping Namjoon doesn’t read right through you.

But he does. Like a part of you hoped he would.

“I’m your friend, you know. We had something but nothing like what you and Jeongguk have. Two months isn’t going to make a lifetime disappear. It’s okay if you still feel bad.”

That’s what cracks you, a well-aimed hammer knocking your walls right down. You bite your lip hard, fingertips pinching the ceramic in your grasp, and swallow the tears looming in your throat with a choked laugh.

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I feel a little like shit but I’m working on it. And Lucas is a great guy–”

“But he’s not Jeongguk.” The sentence feels heavy as if it carries the weight of many hearts on it. But it’s also a line you were thinking about earlier, even with Lucas pressed against you.

“That’s not what I would say–”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” Namjoon cuts. Maybe there’s a peephole in your head that only Namjoon has access to. “And that’s fine. It sucks for Lucas, though. But you shouldn’t feel bad for thinking that way. Especially when you know how special Jeongguk is to you.”

Special. The word is bright, glimmering like Jeongguk’s eyes do.

“I-I just–it just–I don’t know.” The tears you’d attempted to seal inside burst, slipping down your cheeks quiet. Namjoon pry's the mug from your hand, replaces its warmth with his own, and for a split second things feel bearable.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, a calloused palm on your damp cheek, his steadiness clearing away the gloomy skies in your head. But he doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t whisper that it’ll be okay. He just tugs you closer, rests your splinting head on his wide chest, and soaks up the tears on your face with his shirt. Like the earth does for the pouring heavens.

You eventually hiccup the despair down, finding the words to explain to Namjoon what you were feeling in between the moments where breathing didn’t feel like a race. He takes the news of Jeongguk kissing somebody days after your break-up with wide eyes, his eyebrows drawing together. And then comes the second girl, you don’t even know her name but it still cleaves something out of you. And finally, Hyeri. Her name is a lament.

“And it sucks because he looks happy with her and I still want him to be happy because I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

Namjoon cocks his head then, his wide palm sliding down your back. “You think Jeongguk looks happy?”

“Yes?” But it’s a question, your upward gaze on his face imploring.

Namjoon shakes his head instead. You don’t hear it, the following words a deep muffled murmur, “Both of you are idiots.” But you see the twinkle in his eyes and it makes your back straighten.

You want to pester but Namjoon pulls you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him, before a question can register on your tongue. His arms are huge, like sturdy branches defying the blistering gales of your heart. He lets you cry for a little longer, listening intently to the continuing spew of words from your lips, until the storm quiets into a breeze.

“Okay?” Namjoon asks.

You stick your head further into his chest, breathe him in deep. “Okay.”

When he shifts away your skin freezes, but then you realise he’s reaching for a blanket. He swathes it around you fondly, pulling you in for a swift hug before falling out of your reach once more.

“Now, I think we both need a moment to process that.” He’s talking about but you’re not listening, your eyes on his face, gaze gently trailing the curve of his lips. “I also think we need food before we start unpacking the mess you’re in–”

You swallow the sentence with your lips, salt singeing the corners of your mouth. But your movements are not reciprocated, Namjoon’s mouth is still under yours. The soft hand on your neck guiding you away is what pulls you back, right out of that strange dark desperate ocean that held you.

“Y/N–”

“Sorry, shit–shit, I shouldn’t have done that.” But there’s no use now, you can’t take it back. Namjoon is looking at you with those eyes, the ones that feel like pity. His sympathy suddenly makes you feel sick, and you wish the ceiling would give away and shatter your head. “I should go.”

He tries to stop you, firm but gentle with his words and hands. But you’re a wild storm again and nothing can stop you from snatching your butterfly tote bag from the floor of his room and fleeing. The black thing that had been subdued for a moment reemergence with vengeance the second you hit the sidewalks, vision reeling. How could you do that? To Namjoon? To the stable friendship you'd created? But he felt too warm, too caring, too much of everything that you longing for and that Lucas could never give you.

Just a reminder of the swimmer's name as you skidding to a halt, the thump in your chest vicious. Maybe Jeongguk was right. Constantly painting yourself the victim while actively hurting the ones around you. Maybe you should have never let him kiss you again on that rooftop. Maybe you should have never tried to love him.

—

It’s silent in your head when you get back to your apartment. Sieun is home, finally back from her trip to her boyfriend’s parents place, so you’re not surprised to hear the soft hum of laughter filtering through the house. You don’t expect to find Chayoung there though.

They’re huddling in the kitchen, drifting out cheery greetings when you trudge it, only to fall silent when you mumble back a hollow response. A gentle song floating from the radio fills the empty space, three bodies navigating something tense.

“Were you with Lucas?” Sieun eventually pokes. She’s not a big fan of him. She’s not a big fan of the current break-up between you and Jeongguk either. She’s going to hate you for what you’re about to tell her.

“No,” you mumble. There are twenty notifications flashing across your phone screen, all from Namjoon. You feel sick, and you might cry again.

“Well? What’s with the long face?” Chayoung adds.

You take a deep breath, gripping the marble counter tight before twisting around. Better to rip it off all at once right? And there’s no way you could hold this inside of you, not when there is barely any room for your broken heart.

“I kissed Namjoon.”

“WHAT?” Sieun’s jaw slams into the ground and Chayoung freezes beside her, like her joints have suddenly been welded together. They stare at you for long you might have grown a second head during it. And then the questions come, a torrent erupting. You blank for a second, and then the guilt crawls up your spine. It may only be thirteen past five in the afternoon but you definitely need a drink.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #i said this was gonna tomorrow but my brain said tonight so here we are #nobody ask me how we're gonna come back from this #this is ur fault!!#bts angst #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic

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wienerbarnes · 3 years

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Secret’s Out

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,796

Warnings: not much, brief slight angst i guess

A/N: back on my cheek to cheek bullshit 😌 after this one, im going to be posting some oneshots that date back to some of reader’s background and times before bucky! which im excited for :D enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

Another mission, another briefing. You get the alert the morning of, the last minute meeting blaring in your room as you make yourself breakfast. You sigh and turn the stove off, accepting that you won’t have time to finish cooking and make it to the conference room in the next five minutes. You take the time instead to get dressed in what you normally wear to briefings and take your coffee to go.

When you arrive, there’s no one in the room, no one besides Sam and Bucky. Was the meeting for nine and not eight? Are you freakishly early? Could you have actually stayed and eaten your eggs and toast?

“Do you know what this is about? Because he won’t tell me.” Bucky huffs at you playfully, not actually angry, but still annoyed at the fact that Sam refused to tell him anything that’s going on until you got here.

You shake your head to tell him you don’t and slowly make your way over to the seat next to Bucky as Sam’s voice booms in the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., lock the door.” A distant click is heard as your bottom meets the chair and Bucky’s face becomes more and more confused.

Sam is silent for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out what words to say and how to start.

“I found a video of you.” He says.

“... What?” You whisper in disbelief.

“I was looking into your background. Specifically your HYDRA background. And I found a video that needs explanation.” As if on cue, a video is displayed behind Sam.

You are seen sitting at a small table, a small blender to the right of you. You look dangerously thin, hair greasy and matted, dark circles under your eyes. You have a crazy look in them, a look Bucky hasn’t seen since the first time he saw you in prison. This isn’t prison though, he very quickly realizes. Besides your body growing rigid next to him, he just knows that this is a HYDRA facility.

You’re humming obnoxiously loud in the video as a large man - presumably a Hydra scientist - steps into frame. He wears a light blue button down shirt tucked into slacks underneath a lab coat. The tune of Singin’ in the Rain is all that’s heard for the first few seconds of the video as you stare up at the man, watching him as he checks the blender.

“Shut up.” He finally snaps at you, growing annoyed with your loud humming.

“I’m singing in the rain! Just singing in the rain! What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again!” You yell out, screaming out the lyrics in tune before a loud crack sounds, as the man in the lab coat slaps you hard across the face.

Bucky flinches next to you and you barely remember what this video was. You’re more consumed by the fact that Sam was doing some kind of background check on you for some reason and the fact that there’s a video at all. I didn’t know they recorded me.

You seem to hold back a smile at the man, as though he told some amazing joke and you’re trying not to laugh, despite having been backhanded across the cheek.

“Turn on the blender.” The man commands.

“That’s a very nice shirt you’re wearing.” You compliment.

He ignores you as he waits for you to turn on the blender. Bucky looks closely at it, but the button is on the side closest to the handler. He takes a wild guess that they don’t expect you to just reach around and switch it on with your finger.

You suddenly remember what this video is. And you realize why Sam is so angry. This isn’t good at all.

“It’s a nice shade of blue. A calming shade of blue. Like a sky blue.”

“Shut up. Turn on the blender.”

“No, no, not a sky blue. More like a… cerulean.”

“So what, you like my shirt. Turn. The. Blender. On. Now!” He commands, voice raising as his patience wears thin.

“Cerulean… blue. A nice shade… of cerulean… blue…” You drift off.

That’s when Bucky sees it. A small label on the blender, Cerulean. Before his thoughts can spiral too deeply into the name of the blender, it's a loud whirring sound in the video, making him flinch once more.

Nobody touched the blender, it seemed to have powered on by itself and a wide smile grows on your face, the same one he saw in the other video he’s seen of you, when you escaped the Hydra facility. You giggle girlishly as the man leans forward and shoves his hand into the powered blender, blood splattering out of it immediately, spraying across your face and your smiling teeth and tainting the blue of his shirt and lab coat.

Four men crowd you, holding you by the head, by the neck, by the shoulders, gripping your chin even though you barely moved through the duration video and the shot switches to black before powering off completely.

Bucky finally peels his eyes away from where the video was playing to look at you, and you look terrified.

“Sam,” You try to start.

“Mind. Control.” He says.

“Sam -” You try again.

“You hid mind control from us!” He yells.

“I can explain! “You better, and I’m only giving you thirty seconds to do so.” He snaps.

“It - It was fight or flight! I don’t even know how I did that! I barely remember that video at all! I’ve only ever been able to do that one other time! Sam - Sam -” You stutter, “They injected me with all kinds of shit, kept me awake for days on end, fed me, starved me; they did anything to manipulate my body in order to manifest powers. You have to - to - to believe me, I don't know how I did that -”

You’re getting hysterical. You can not fuck this up. You can’t be on your own again. You can’t be living in fear all the time anymore, you can’t go back to that. You can’t be away from Bucky, you can’t lose Bucky, can’t lose Bucky.

“Sam, that’s enough.” Bucky finally speaks up.

“Buck, I know she’s your little girlfriend, but -”

“Sam, do you hear yourself right now?! Look at her!” You’re on the verge of hyperventilating and overall losing it.

Bucky doesn’t pay Sam attention long enough to hear anything he’s going to say before ducking down to where you hold your head in your hands.

“Can’t… can’t be alone again… no, no, no,… can’t” You mumble to yourself.

Sam takes a deep breath, calming himself in order to assess the situation before him, “Hey. Hey!” He snaps, catching your attention and making you look up, tears in your eyes.

“I may be angry at you for keeping this from me… but you’re not going anywhere. Do I wish you would’ve told me so I wouldn’t be surprised by some ominous video this morning? Yes. But we’ll figure it out. We’re a team and I’m not abandoning you. So stop the crying so we can deal with this. Because you need to tell me everything.” Sam tells you with seriousness in his voice, the Captain coming out.

You take a deep breath and wipe your tears, preparing to tell them everything you can remember.

…

You’re exhausted. You cried. A lot. Trying to sift through thousands of memories you spent so long trying to repress because you never wanted to remember them; you never thought you’d need to.

You tell Bucky that don’t feel like being around anyone the rest of the day, and you’re glad he accepts that, letting you have your alone time and leaving you with a promise for breakfast the following morning.

Meanwhile, Bucky calls up an old friend, someone he hasn’t talked to in years. But it’s the only person he can think of that might be able to help you get a hold of your powers.

He sits on his couch in his apartment, phone against his ear as the line rings, before an accented voice finally answers.

“Hello?”

“... Hey.”

“... Bucky? Is that you?”

“Yeah. It’s me. How soon can you be in New York? From wherever you are? I need some help.”

Morning comes too soon for you, though.

“Agent 51?”

“Oh… my god. What do you want?” You groan, loving F.R.I.D.A.Y., but hating her voice so early in the morning, with only seven minutes to spare before your alarm was supposed to go off anyway.

“Your training has been canceled this morning by Captain Wilson. Instead, he has requested that you meet him in Conference Room B.”

“Ugh, at what time?”

“As soon as possible, Agent.”

“Holy shit,” You sigh, accepting that you won’t be able to sleep anymore, “Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” You hope that Bucky somehow knows your training is canceled and brings you breakfast in the conference room anyway as promised yesterday.

Making your way to the conference room with your coffee in hand for the second time in the span of two days - which you hope doesn’t become a routine - you might add, you make sure to rub a hand across your head, smoothing down any hairs sticking straight up at weird angles now that the hair is growing back. It’s only maybe an inch or two long, but not long enough to do anything to it and not short enough to ignore.

Entering the conference room, you see Sam, Bucky and some… woman, her back turned towards you. You close the door timidly behind you and Bucky turns around to greet you, styrofoam box in hand and the smell of bacon and toast hits your nostrils. Knew it.

“Brought you breakfast, baby.” He tells you with a smile, walking up to you to plant a soft kiss on your lips in Good morning.

“Ugh, ew.” Sam spews. The woman giggles at his reaction and you’re brought back to the stranger in the room.

“Who are you?” You ask, not really wanting to beat around the bush considering that Bucky just kissed you in front of somebody you don’t know, something he’s never done before.

The woman turns around and you take in her features. High cheekbones and big green eyes, she’s very beautiful but very… young. Like, really young. Younger than you, for sure, but not a teenager either. She wears what seems to be casual clothes, her nails painted dark with rings crowding her fingers. Her most striking physical detail, though, are the long waves of bright orangey-red hair, flowing across her shoulders.

She smiles at you sweetly, and you feel calm as she introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Wanda.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #AHHHHH im so excited for this #new character: unlocked

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koko-bopp · 4 years

Text

Exposé

min yoongi x jeon jungkook x male!reader

word count – 4K

genre – Angst, fluff

warning(s) – argument scene, mentions of homophobia and racism,

synopsis – An incident happened where your boyfriends had had an interview on national television, and one of them publicized your relationship with then. You're the manager of Bangtan, so your concern fell on your job, your relationship, and your life, but also what it meant for the jobs, lives and relationship of your boyfriends.

A/N – for @thatcucumberwhore :))

"Are you guys fucking kidding me?"

Jungkook accidently jumped at the tone of your voice, though Yoongi seemed less surprised. You'd come in practically throwing down the door of you and your boyfriends' apartment, and that being said, you weren't surprised that Jungkook jolted at the noise, it was unlike you.

"Hyung, er–" Jungkook tried his best to speak up, but was cut off quite quickly.

"I'll get to you later," You snapped, and your attention was fixed on Yoongi. He stayed silent, which is a habit that seems to occur whenever he was nervous, but you were fuming, barely thinking about what your boyfriends' might be thinking. "What the fuck, Yoongi. What the actual fuck, you can't just announce shit without–"

"I did," Yoongi argued, standing up from the couch, looking up at you in anger, "And frankly, so did Jungkook, and you knew damn fucking well it was gonna happen anyway."

"You didn't fucking consult me, Yoongi," You grinded your teeth down, doing your best not to react irrationally, "You can't just make decisions because you feel like it, that fucking stunt could've cost us our job!"

Yoongi had no trouble talking back, "Well, it didn't."

Jungkook went in the middle of you two, clearly anxious and panicking, not knowing how to properly resolve the argument. "Guys, please can we just–"

"No," You snapped, slapping away Jungkook's hand before glaring at him. Honestly, you were so insulted by Yoongi's recklessness, and especially because you're the manager of Bangtan, you had no idea what this meant for your career, but not only yours, Yoongi's and Jungkook's too, "You do understand that our boyfriend just outed us on live television, right? South Korean. Television. Where marital relationships like ours aren't recognised by law."

Yoongi grapped your wrist, forcing you to look at him, "How long were you expecting us to keep this a secret?"

"As long as it kept us safe," You spat.

"Even if it was taking a toll on our mental health?" Yoongi said, almost too calmly, "Not everyone can keep themselves sane enough when it comes to this shit, [Y/N]."

You frowned and just stared at Yoongi.

"Mind you, your job is to look after us as well," Yoongi added.

"That requires you to fucking talk to me, Suga," The anger became evident, especially for Jungkook, because you only call Yoongi by his stage name in a professional setting, never outside of it, "Not snake around and leave things up to you."

You ripped Yoongi's grip on your wrist, taking one last glance at Jungkook before getting your jacket from the hanger.

Clearly, staying in the apartment wouldn't do your anger any good, leaving before the water begins to tip was probably the best option. You didn't look at your boyfriends', just spoke, "I'm staying at Jin's. Don't call me."

✨

"You might as well change your Facebook status to 'complicated', and start feeding my cat, bro," Jin said from the kitchen, "You've been living on my couch for four days. Four days. I don't see why you can't just talk to them."

"I don't know..." You huffed, "Bro I deleted all my social media, and I haven't even opened the television for the last few days...I've yet to cop it from PD, though. God knows what he's thinking."

"Yeah, and no offence, you and your whole, 'Im gonna pretend I'm not bothered by acting so overly professional in the workplace with my boyfriends' isn't proof that you're unbothered. It's proof that this is effecting you," Jin walked into the living room, who beers in hand as he did. He tried handing you one, though you rejected the offer, wanting to remain sober while you're still upset.

Your bestfriend, after your boyfriends, is the eldest member of Bangtan. Partly because you two are the same age, you being just a bit older than Jin, but despite that, you two understood each other well. Also, another reason that your relationship with him is so good is because it's the best entertainment to be around Kim Seokjin, the sarcasm is inevitable.

"Look, I get what Yoongs was thinking, but I also get they you may not have been ready, but I also think you just shouldn't give a shit about what people have to say about you," Jin placed his input, sitting down on the couch near you, throwing a leg over the other, taking a swift sip of the beer. "And that's coming from singer that racists and homophobes hate, those fucks on twitter are the worst."

You laughed at his reasoning, your eyes fixed on the loose string on the knee of your jeans. They're ripped jeans, they're supposed to be there, but it bothered you. "I'm still mad that they didn't ask me about it first.."

"No, that's fair. You feel lied to, I get that," Jin responded, "But, people make mistakes."

You scoffed, "Not like this, I don't put people's lives on the line," You shook your head, running your thumb on the bottom of your lip for a second, "This is Seoul, it's super hard to get a job, it's worse if you're not straight, even worse if you're not pale."

"Yeah," Jin agreed, "But in your case. What radical fan is gonna let Jungkook and Yoongi leave– no– get kicked out of BTS? You know how fucking mad people would be? ARMY would literally boycott BigHit. But let's say it's you who needs to leave, those two would quit their jobs in a fucking heartbeat, people would still be mad at BigHit, and more accepting companies would do anything to have those two in their company."

You smirked in amusement. It sounded true, those two are the biases of a lot of fans, people would pissed.

"And to add onto that," Jin continued, "Bangtan would be mad. You think any of us would put our jobs over our bestfriends' happiness? No fucking way. We're wanted eveywhere, it would take an email and two phone calls to get us a job somewhere else."

You smiled at that, but you remained silent, it was always nice talking to Jin. He was always honest. You lifted your head up to look at your best friend, a little hesitant to give a response, "Do you... Do you think I should..."

"You still got it?"

"Both of them. Always."

"Yeah. They still love you, I wasn't gonna tell you, but I'm pretty sure Yoongi was crying about it."

You stood up from your seat immediately, throwing a pillow at Jin, "You bafoon! You didn't think to fucking tell me?!"

"Ow! I still have a beer!" Jin defended in a protective, half-ninja pose to protect himself from more pillows, stretch his hand to keep his beer alive and unspilt on his leather couch. "Just remember that they need to apologize too, it's not all your fault. Go and see your mans'."

You didn't waste another moment. You throw your jacket over your shoulder and quickly grabbed the keys to your car, slipping on your shoes and racing to get into your car.

The apartment, thankfully, wasn't far, and you know the city of Seoul like the back of your hand so getting there wasn't an issue, it was more about emotionally preparing yourself.

It wasn't as if you thought about what you were gonna say, but hearing that one of your boyfriends who are always so strong broke down crying wasn't a 'think-first-act-later' moment. Jungkook, god, and Jungkook, you'd yet to figure out how he's been handling everything, but you know for Yoongi's sake, he'd try to be staying as strong for him as possible.

You'd gotten three texts from Jungkook in the last four days. One apology, a sticker, and an 'i love you', but your stubborn trait got the best of you. Now having a silent moment, you wish you'd responded.

"Hyung..?"

You didn't know what to say, but you were standing at the door of your apartment with Jungkook in front of you.

You could tell he was hoping for this, he just didn't know when.

He threw his arms around your shoulders, catching you off guard, but as soon as you'd regained your senses, you returned the embrace just as tight as he'd given it. He had his face buried into your shoulder, one hand in your hair trying to remember the feel he thought he'd forgotten, "I thought you were leaving us..." He whispered, holding back a sob.

"Jungkook, I'm so so sorry, I overreacted. I was being a jerk and–" You spewed, but was interrupted when your boyfriend shook his head.

"No, no– I'm sorry too, I thought we were doing the right thing and–" He accidently sniffled, a tear falling down his cheek, "–Ah, fuck... Jagi, I'm just so glad you're back."

You kissed Jungkook's cheek from where he was, bringing your hand up to cradle his head lovingly.

You'd do anything for Jungkook, hes your boyfriend and you love him so much.

You continued to embrace Jungkook, before speaking in a small whisper, "... Kookie, baby... Is Yoongs okay?"

Jungkook pulled away from the embrace slightly, but your hands were still on his waist. The younger wipes the tear stain on his cheek first, "He's had better days... A lot of better days."

"How bad?"

"Remember when Namjoon-hyung and him fought that one time?"

"Oh no."

"Yeah.. But this time it's more heartbreak than anger. I think you'll be fine."

You kissed Jungkook one more time, smiling at hin before hesitantly letting go to head towards Yoongi's room.

You made it three quarters of the way there, then saw the 'go away' mat in front of his door with the cat flipping the finger. It made you chuckle, knowing that then Yoongi had bought it despite the fact that nobody is allowed to walk into the house without socks.

Yoongi does things because something tells him it's the right thing to do. He doesn't act then think, he'll probably think for years and the finally act.

"Jagi..." You knocked gently on your boyfriend's door, "Yoon. It's me... Please open–"

Your request was filled before it was finished, the door swang open to reveal a rather teary Min Yoongi, and your heart didn't handle it well. But you probably didn't notice it well enough, because he threw his arms around your neck almost immediately after. He begun sobbing into your collar with his hands gripping the back of your shirt like you'd run away if he let go. He spoke through tears, "[Y/N], I'm so sorry, I didn't think about how you'd feel and," He sobbed, "But please, p-please don't leave again. I thought–"

"Shhh, baby, breathe for me," You said softly, kissing his forehead as a way to comfort him, before pulling away to look at your boyfriend, holding both of his hands in yours, "Yoongs, it's okay, I'm sorry too, and I know this is something we can work around because I love both of you so so much."

You motioned for Jungkook to come too, watching him walk over then holding his hands too.

It took only a second to exhale, but it seemed too long, "I love you two more than anything in this world. You're more important to me than my job, than my pet–"

Jungkook gasped, "Don't say that! Fluff is a beautiful pet!"

You laughed, and Yoongi didn't stop himself from giggling, but you continued, "Regardless, you two are the best thing that's ever happened to me, that I get to see your faces in the morning is a blessing enough." Jungkook was getting teary and Yoongi was holding back tears as much as he could, but you continued, "You're my heaven on earth. I want to be able to spend the rest of my life with you too."

You for down on one knee, Jungkook's eyes going wide and Yoongi's jaw unhinged to its full capacity. You pulled out the velvet box containing two identical rings, opening it carefully to reveal them.

"Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook. Will you steal my last name?"

436 notes · View notes

likelightningafterthethunder · 3 years

Text

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter One: Damned Smile

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Fic navigation to read the fic on tumblr

Even years later, that damn smile haunted his dreams.

There was absolutely no reason for him to still think about the event. Everything had been taken care of when it had happened― injuries were treated, authorities alerted, information secured, and a press conference to tie it all up in a big red bow. There were no loose ends, no surprise second coming, no physical reminders of what happened lingering in his daily life. Katsuki would have labeled it as done, dealt with, and no longer relevant, shoving it aside in his memory so he could focus on actual important shit.

Except his mind had different plans.

When he was lucky, he could completely forget about the event for months. Other times, his dreams would be filled with nothing but that damn smile, taunting him with its silence. He could usually predict when the dreams would come― the anniversary of the event for example― but other times, it seemed like anything could trigger the memory. He once saw a bright yellow balloon and for the rest of the day, every time he closed his eyes he saw that damned smile, never wavering despite the curses and insults Katsuki spewed.

He wanted to forget it. He wanted so desperately to forget it. For the image to erase itself from his mind, for it to take the feelings away with it. He could deal with the anger, he could always deal with the anger, but when his memory reminded him of the wave of hurt and betrayal that nearly blinded him…

When his alarm jolted him from his sleep and freed him from the smile, he couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. He woke up drenched in a cold sweat, sheets singed and smoking lightly as he unclenched his hands, and Katsuki was, for once, very relieved that not all of his sweat was explosive. He slapped the singes a few times to ensure that all of the embers were put out before heading for the bathroom, cursing under his breath as he flinched at his own reflection in the mirror.

There was nothing particularly wrong with his appearance, if you didn’t count the dark circles under his eyes from a fitful night’s sleep or his clammy skin, but after being plagued by the smile, Katsuki could barely look at himself. His reaction to the smile made him feel weak, like he couldn’t handle himself and that there was something wrong with him. It was just a smile after all. There was no reason for him to react to it like a nightmare, no reason for him to lose sleep over it or to feel overwhelmed by emotions at the thought of it.

Yet when he saw the smile and saw how the corners of his mouth were tugged a bit too tight, how his eyes were open a bit too wide, how the only shine in his eyes were the reflections of light on tears that refused to fall…

Katsuki cursed.

The icy cold shower did little to help distract him from the memory, nor did his morning run nor the steaming shower he took after. He wasn’t supposed to head into the agency today, so he didn’t have any planned beatdowns for today, and yes he probably shouldn’t be hoping for it, but part of him hoped for a sudden emergency villain so he could distract himself by focusing on beating some villain’s ass into next week.

A few hours later when his phone refused to stop buzzing, Katsuki wondered if throwing his phone across the room until it stopped would be close enough to beating villain ass to work. He reluctantly decided that talking to people so they’d leave him alone was probably less hassle to deal with than having to replace his phone and distribute his new number (even if it would give him an excuse to ghost some of these damn extras).

A few individual texts and a group text were the cause of the buzzing. As the group text’s new message count continued to rise, he figured it would be easier to respond to the individual texts first. Just in case he changed his mind about destroying the phone.

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): Hello Bakugou, this is a reminder about the upcoming Class A reunion. As the head of the reunion committee, it is my duty to ensure an accurate headcount for the event, and I have yet to receive your response about your attendance. Please ensure to respond via the following link by this Friday at 11:59PM. [Class A 10 Year Reunion RSVP]

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): In case you missed the previous messages regarding the reunion, the event is March 28th starting at 7PM at the Shinjuku Hotel in Musutafu. If you need to rent a room for the night or the weekend, please alert the Shinjuku Hotel staff that you are part of the Class A reunion party by next Wednesday for an event discount.

Katsuki frowned. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the possibility of being surrounded by all of his former classmates and even less at the idea of being socially obligated to spend the entire evening with them. At least when he met up with his friends elsewhere, he could always claim needing to leave early so he could make the last train or that work needed him to come in early the next day.

He closed out of the conversation, figuring he still had a few more days to decide if he really wanted to deal with his classmates for an entire evening.

Midoriya: Hey Katsugou! I was wondering if you’re going to go to the reunion? Tenya said the deadline to RSVP is coming soon and we haven’t heard from you, so I just thought I’d check in!

Katsuki: The fuck is Katsugou?

Midoriya: Oh sorry!! Typo!!

Midoriya: Anyway, are you coming?

Katsuki closed out of the conversation and moved on to the next one.

Shitty Hair: Katsuki! Are you coming to the reunion or not dude????

Katsuki: Fuck off.

Shitty Hair: Aww dude that’s no way to talk to your best friend, you know you love me!!

Katsuki: I’m blocking you.

He did not, in fact, block him. But he did close out of Eijirou’s texts.

Save for the newest text sent directly from Eijirou, all that was left was the backlog of texts in the group text. It had kept going off while he was reading the other conversations, so Katsuki figured it meant that everyone was either off for the day or on their lunch break.

Raccoon Eyes: guys!!!!! the reunion is COMING UPPPPPP!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: i cant wait to s

Raccoon Eyes: ee all of u guys again!!

Tape Face: lmao you saw us last week

Raccoon Eyes: yes

Raccoon Eyes: an eteRNITY ago

Raccoon Eyes: and like

Raccoon Eyes: kats left early so we didnt have everyone

Raccoon Eyes: so it doesnt count

Shitty Hair: Yeah Katsuki don’t leave early next time!!

Raccoon Eyes: we just have to hold him hostage next time

Raccoon Eyes: or like

Raccoon Eyes: AMBUSH him

Tape Face: i can always tape him up

Raccoon Eyes: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

Raccoon Eyes: tape him to the wall

Raccoon Eyes: and then like

Raccoon Eyes: steal his wallet

Raccoon Eyes: cant get on transit w no moneys

Raccoon Eyes: ei and han hold him down

Raccoon Eyes: i run to hide his wallet where he cant fi

Raccoon Eyes: nd it

Raccoon Eyes: probs keeps kats tapped to the wall all night

Raccoon Eyes: free up his arms so he can have a drink????

Tape Face: explosion palms dude

Raccoon Eyes: oh u right

Raccoon Eyes: he can just have a cup w like

Raccoon Eyes: a REALLY REALLY long straw

Raccoon Eyes: make sure u tape him up w his hands behind his back

Tape Face: you got it

Shitty Hair: He’s in this chat guys he’s going to see the plan

Raccoon Eyes: whatevs we can still totally blindside him

Raccoon Eyes: ANYWAYS

Raccoon Eyes: ure all going right?????

Tape Face: ya I rsvpd a while back

Shitty Hair: Yep!! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!

Raccoon Eyes: what about u kats

Raccoon Eyes: kats???

Raccoon Eyes: KAAAAAAAAAAAAATS

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: a

Shitty Hair: I’ll text him separately

Raccoon Eyes: t

Tape Face: he probably has this muted lmao

Raccoon Eyes: s

Raccoon Eyes: !!!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: how dare u ignore us

Raccoon Eyes: after everything weve done for u!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: thought we were ur ride or die hoes

Raccoon Eyes: dont tell me ur not going!!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: im so offended

Raccoon Eyes: how could u do this to us kats

Shitty Hair: Maybe he’s at work today?

Raccoon Eyes: boo

Raccoon Eyes: how dare he prioritize wo

Raccoon Eyes: rk over us

Raccoon Eyes: his best friends

Raccoon Eyes: the suns of his life

Raccoon Eyes: the bit of happiness in the cold

Raccoon Eyes: cold

Tape Face: coooooooooold

Raccoon Eyes: COOOOOOOOLD

Raccoon Eyes: thing he calls a heart

Shitty Hair: Lmao

Tape Face: its got a bit of warmth

Tape Face: most of it is his temper

Raccoon Eyes: boom boom POW

Raccoon Eyes: well while we wait for kats

Raccoon Eyes: help me pick some photos for the slideshow!!

Tape Face: are you doing only UA pics or some stuff since then

Tape Face: somehow iida managed to not specify lmao

Shitty Hair: The info email was like ten pages, how did he miss it

Tape Face: idk

Raccoon Eyes: ive got plenty for both!!

Raccoon Eyes: momo said pref UA pics but some new stuff is good too

Raccoon Eyes: show how far weve come n all that

Tape Face: oh cool let me get some opinions then too

Shitty Hair: Anyone have any pics of the camping trip from second year?

Raccoon Eyes: before or after todoroki and kats’ fight turned it into a icy hot springs

Shitty Hair: Both lmao but probably before it went to hell

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: ofc ive got us chillin in the springs

Raccoon Eyes: well most of us

Raccoon Eyes: kats u never get in the water w us :C

Raccoon Eyes: lets go to the beach next time!!

Tape Face: hed prob boil the water w you in it if you dragged him in lmao

Tape Face: spicy acid time

Raccoon Eyes: id like to see him TRY

Shitty Hair: Don’t tempt him lmao

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: i got like a shit ton more

Raccoon Eyes: should i send some of THE FIGHT

Shitty Hair: Maybe not

Tape Face: yes

Tape Face: well

Tape Face: depends on how many pissed off katsuki pics youre putting in lmao

Raccoon Eyes: OH

Raccoon Eyes: OHHHH

Raccoon Eyes: OHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tape Face: ?

Raccoon Eyes: dude

Raccoon Eyes: do u have the POMERANIAN pic

Tape Face: o shit

Tape Face: image.png

Shitty Hair: I still think Katsuki should’ve taken that pup home

Shitty Hair: They’re matching!

Tape Face: image.png

Tape Face: i also have this one

Tape Face: when she tried to bite his nose off lmao

Raccoon Eyes: kats couldve named her king explosion murder

Raccoon Eyes: or just murder

Raccoon Eyes: p sure she wouldve tried to murder kats at least o

Raccoon Eyes: nce

Tape Face: lmao she basically tried when he found her

Shitty Hair: Maybe it’s for the best that he didn’t keep the pup

Tape Face: look what i found

Tape Face: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: AWWWW YES

Raccoon Eyes: LOOK AT USSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: we look FABBBB

Shitty Hair: Is that from the dance?

Tape Face: ye

Raccoon Eyes: guys what if we recreate that pic at the reunion

Raccoon Eyes: the fits?

Raccoon Eyes: immaculate

Raccoon Eyes: the pose?

Raccoon Eyes: perfection

Tape Face: hotel?

Tape Face: trivago

Shitty Hair: I’m down for recreating some pics!

Raccoon Eyes: yessssss

Raccoon Eyes: u have no choice either kats u gotta do it

Raccoon Eyes: wherever u are

Shitty Hair: Oh he replied!!

Raccoon Eyes: SWEET

Raccoon Eyes: what he say

Shitty Hair: He said fuck off

Tape Face: as expected

Shitty Hair: Lmao he threatened to block me again

Tape Face: thought he said he was blocking you last week

Shitty Hair: Yea exactly

Raccoon Eyes: HOW RUDE

Raccoon Eyes: as punishment for not paying attention to us

Raccoon Eyes: im gonna send this

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Tape Face: LMAO whend you make that

Shitty Hair: Is that Katsuki with a cat face and ears

Shitty Hair: Dude I don’t know if he’s going to kill you for that or for the pink hair first lmao

Raccoon Eyes: lmao made it just now

Raccoon Eyes: well MAYBE if he ANSWERED us

Katsuki: Delete it.

Tape Face: O SHIT

Tape Face: you summoned him

Raccoon Eyes: NO I WILL NOT

Katsuki: Delete it Raccoon Eyes or else I’m coming for you.

Tape Face: are you coming for the left shoes and shittin in them

Raccoon Eyes: NOOOOOOO not my shoes!!!!!!!!

Tape Face: its just the left shoes tho

Raccoon Eyes: BUT THATS MY FAVE SIDE

Katsuki: What the fuck are you two going on about?

Raccoon Eyes: DONT COME FOR M

Raccoon Eyes: Y LEFT SHOES KATS IM SORRY

Katsuki: I’m not coming for your fucking left shoes. Or any of your shoes.

Katsuki: I will be coming for you if you don’t delete that picture, though.

Raccoon Eyes: FORGIVENESS

Raccoon Eyes: I BEG

Raccoon Eyes: PLSSSSS

Katsuki: Delete the picture.

Raccoon Eyes: ugh fiiiiiiiiiine

Raccoon Eyes: its deleted

Raccoon Eyes: i wont send it to momo for the slide show

Katsuki: Good.

Raccoon Eyes: IF U COME TO THE REUNION

Katsuki: Fuck off.

Shitty Hair: C’mon Katsuki!! It’ll be fun!!

Tape Face: ya it wouldnt do if we didnt have our exploding star

Raccoon Eyes: ill send momo WORSE if u dont come

Raccoon Eyes: nd u wont know WHAT til AFTER

Raccoon Eyes: so PLSSSSSSSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: PRETTY PLSSSSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: PLS COME TO THE REUNION

Raccoon Eyes: ill spam u a lot worse if u dont show us proof of rsvp

Raccoon Eyes: pls kaaaaaaaaats

Raccoon Eyes: kaaaaaaaaats

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: a

Katsuki: Ugh fucking fine, I’ll do the RSVP now then.

Raccoon Eyes: t

Raccoon Eyes: YAY

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): Good afternoon, Bakugou! I just wanted to confirm with you that I have received your RSVP for the Class A reunion. As a reminder, if you need to rent a room for the night or the weekend, please alert the Shinjuku Hotel staff that you are part of the Class A reunion party by next Wednesday for an event discount.

Katsuki: image.png

Katsuki: Four Eyes is watching the RSVP form like a fucking hawk apparently.

Raccoon Eyes: YAAAAAY URE RSVPD!!!

Shitty Hair: You know him, always dedicated to his work

Tape Face: sweet

Raccoon Eyes: are u guys getting rooms

Tape Face: yea musutafus too far for a round trip

Tape Face: esp since itll prob end late

Shitty Hair: I got one for the weekend!

Tape Face: wbu mina

Raccoon Eyes: booked a room already!!

Raccoon Eyes: kaaaaats wbu

Raccoon Eyes: u should

Raccoon Eyes: we could have a brunch or lunch or s/t thats just us

Raccoon Eyes: plsssssss kats

Katsuki: I’ll think about it.

Tape Face: better than a no lmao

Shitty Hair: If they run out of space or if you decide last second, you can room with me dude

Raccoon Eyes: awww why not a yes

Katsuki: I haven’t asked the other Four Eyes for the time off yet.

Tape Face: is this four eyes no4 or no15

Raccoon Eyes: four eyes no69

Raccoon Eyes: no wait

Raccoon Eyes: no420

Tape Face: haha blaze it

Raccoon Eyes: BLAZE IT

Shitty Hair: It’s number 7

Katsuki: Fuck you, I don’t have that many Four Eyes saved in my phone.

Shitty Hair: I’d be surprised if you had 420 contacts period dude

Raccoon Eyes: would b hilarious tho

Katsuki: Yes, it’s Four Eyes number 7.

Shitty Hair: I was right!!

Katsuki: Why would I ask any of the other Four Eyes for time off? They’re not my fucking bosses.

Tape Face: dunno

Raccoon Eyes: idk maybe ure secretly dating one a

Raccoon Eyes: nd have to confirm that its ok

Raccoon Eyes: ARE U SECRETLY DATING A FOUR EYES

Raccoon Eyes: U HAVE TO TELL US IF U ARE

Raccoon Eyes: URE LEGALLY OBLIGATED

Tape Face: o shit

Tape Face: scandalous

Katsuki: Shut the fuck up, I’m not dating anyone, secret or not.

Raccoon Eyes: thats what they all say

Katsuki: Whatever. I’m not dating anyone.

Raccoon Eyes: kats n four eyes no420 sittin in a tree

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: i

Raccoon Eyes: s

Raccoon Eyes: i

Katsuki: I’ll blow up all of your left shoes when you’re not home.

Raccoon Eyes: n

Raccoon Eyes: NO

Raccoon Eyes: IM STOPPING DONT DO IT

Shitty Hair: Hey what do you guys think of this photo

Shitty Hair: image.png

Tape Face: dude yes

Raccoon Eyes: AWWWW OUR FIRST BILLBOARDS AS PROS

Katsuki: Do we really need to send them pictures? It’s not like we fucking forgot this stuff already.

Tape Face: you can be a killjoy if you want lmao

Tape Face: im sure mina will send more than enough to cover for you

Raccoon Eyes: U BETCHA

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Tape Face: lmao why do you have a pic of katsuki throwing ei

Shitty Hair: I still can’t believe you did that bro

Shitty Hair: WITHOUT WARNING TOO

Katsuki: I gave you plenty of fucking warning.

Shitty Hair: Saying “I’m throwing you” AS YOU’RE THROWING ME is NOT PLENTY OF WARNING DUDE

Raccoon Eyes: im always ready to document golden moments

Katsuki: Shut the fuck up. We won the training exercise so what’s it fucking matter?

Shitty Hair: YOU THREW ME!!

Katsuki: Tape Face caught you before you could get hurt.

Shitty Hair: YOU /THREW/ ME!!!!!!

Tape Face: barely caught

Katsuki: Whatever.

Raccoon Eyes: im still impressed by how eASY u made that look

Katsuki: What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Raccoon Eyes: o look conveniently timed distraction photo spam

Katsuki sighed as he continued the conversation, commenting here and there on the photos his friends sent for judgement. In retrospect, he probably should have tried to talk to Shion first, since there was a chance she would have denied the time off for the reunion. Although, knowing her, she would have accepted just to force Katsuki into socializing. He opened up a new text message, figuring that if Shion did decide to deny the time off, he would at least have a screenshot to send to his friends explaining the sudden change in plans.

Katsuki: I need March 28th and 29th off.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Do my eyes deceive me? The great Katsuki Bakugou, asking for time off?

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): I’m amazed! Usually I have to ask you to take the day off!

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Nay, not ask, but force!

Katsuki: Are you going to give it to me or not?

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Depends! What do you need the time off for?

Katsuki: Class reunion.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Oh those are fun!

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Fill out the proper time off paperwork and have it on my desk by Monday. I’ll approve the time off.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Just keep your phone on you in case we need you to come in for an emergency, but I’ll try not to ruin your reunion with work.

Katsuki: Thanks.

Well, so much for an easy way out.

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose when he noticed that his phone had already accumulated another thirty texts in the past few minutes, no doubt primarily from Mina. He scrolled through the backlog, sending a few mostly empty threats when he saw photos he did not want projected for the entire class to see, freezing when his gaze met a pair of familiar amber eyes.

Shit.

In his scramble to close out of the photo, to escape the genuine smile that somehow was more haunting than the one in his dreams, he left the group text completely. He briefly thanked his past self; he’d impulse or rage quit the group text plenty of times before that this wasn’t unusual behavior. If he was lucky, his friends wouldn’t have noticed the timing of his departure and would assume he was just fed up with the notifications or the conversation.

Shitty Hair: You okay, Katsuki?

A weak laugh escaped Katsuki’s lips as he read the newest notification. Of course Eijirou noticed.

Katsuki: I’m fine.

Shitty Hair: Okay

Shitty Hair: We don’t have to talk about it

Shitty Hair: But if you want to, I’m here dude

Shitty Hair: I’ll tell the others that you left so your phone would shut up and not to add you back yet

Katsuki: Thanks. Really.

Shitty Hair: No problem dude

Katsuki put his phone down, silently praying for the smile to leave him alone.

When he finally laid down for bed that night, he repeated the short prayer, for a peaceful night’s rest free of the smile, of the hurt, of the pain, of the guilt.

But as always, the smile came.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #kaminari denki #bakukami #kamibaku #katsuki bakugou #denki kaminari #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #story #from the creator

8 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

bloodhorse

this was supposed to be a short fic,, i was wrong

the Jockey’s name is Sorrel!

also im sorry if i got the Netherworld wrong. i don’t quite know how it works but i am Trying.

using the concept where the Dead can feel the pain of how they died!

Word count: 6071

TW: Blood, death, implied child abuse

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

Sorrel was eight when she first watched The Lion King, maybe nine. She couldn’t quite remember. But what she could remember was the horror of Mufasa’s death. Her jaw had dropped as the big, fluffy kitty was stepped on by all the weird-looking deer, and she screamed in reaction, floundering over to her smartly-dressed parents in tears to blubber about what she had just witnessed. They had, as they always had with anything she did, looked bothered by her presence around them, and her father tiredly explained what was going on to her, but even then she still couldn’t really understand. She just knew that it was scary and sad.

But watching someone get trampled and actually being trampled were two entirely different things.

Despite her best efforts to forget, Sorrel remembered That Day clearly. She was sitting in the jockey room, in a far corner, away from all of the other jockeys. She had already dressed out and was patiently waiting for her race of the day. She was clad in black riding boots, white pants, and a checkered ruby red and white jacket that she knew was going to be covered in dust and dirt by the end of the race. Her safety helmet, goggles, and crop were beside her on the bench she was sitting on. She already had her long brown hair done in a braid and then a tight bun so she could tuck it safely out of eyesight when the time came to race.

At first glances, she almost looked like she knew what she was doing.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. She did know what she was doing, she had been training, but the anxiety of racing was getting to her, as it always did. For example, she had woken up that morning mid-panic attack before her eyes even fully opened.

And she knew for a fact that jockeys that knew what they were doing wouldn’t have that happen to them.

It didn’t help that everyone else in the room was a man, meaning she was not only the youngest, but also the only girl. Now she really had to prove herself worthy of being equal to her male counterparts.

Hoping to distract herself from her festering anxiety, Sorrel had looked up to watch the big TV up on the far wall, where the hosts of the racing channel talked about the odds and favorites of the next race today. All That Jazz was the favorite going into the race, with another horse by the name of Knock Your Socks Off right after.

Names Sorrel didn’t recognize at all continued to pop up on the screen, until, finally…

All That Jazz

Knock Your Socks Off

Fly Me To The Moon

Too Close For Comfort

Killer Whale

When Lightning Strikes

Donut Tell Daddy

Rookie’s Gambling Chance

Dime-a-Dozen

Blazing Berry

“Would you look at that,” A biting voice cackled from the side. “Little girl actually made it in the top five.”

Sorrel whipped her head around to glare at the owner of the voice- a young man about nineteen with enough gel in his hair to start a fire. Sorrel did her best to just ignore him, busying herself with her boots instead, making sure they were fastened properly.

Harassment in the jockey room wasn’t uncommon for Sorrel- in fact, it was weird if she didn’t get picked on at least once. Her young age didn’t deter the men, either. If anything, it made them even more manic in their persecution of her. More…handsy.

Sorrel swallowed thickly and tried not to think about the Other Times. When nobody could see the handprints because of the dirt slathered up and down her sides. When she was accused of trying to slander her opponents because she “couldn’t handle losing.”

“Are you ignoring me?” The young man said. He sidled more into view, and Sorrel could see that his uniform was yellow and white. She turned her head away more, saying nothing.

She was sure the man was about to spew out even more misogyny when someone came into the room to tell the jockeys it was time for them to saddle up. The man, quick to straighten himself up, headed out for the place where all the horses were being held at the end of the walk. Sorrel glared at the back of his helmeted head, considering using her whip on him, finally standing up for herself, but couldn’t find the courage to do so.

Maybe if she had, she would have been disqualified, and then none of this would have happened in the first place.

They all heard loud voices of the fans as they made their way to the paddocks. As the horses and trainers lined up came into view, each jockey moved towards their respective mount. There, amid the rising dust, Sorrel saw her stallion shifting anxiously on his haunches, looking all around as the sounds grew louder and louder. Her trainer was doing his best to calm the colt.

Her horse was well named. After SeaWorld’s most famous orca, Tilikum, aka Killer Whale while on the track, was a massive beast with sleek roan fur and an ebony black head, legs, mane, and tail, as if he had crawled out of the very shadows themselves. His eyes were pitch dark and wild, and he never seemed to stop moving. He was an aloof, ill-tempered, cranky young colt, and nobody ever seemed to have any idea how his caretaker became the most shy, anxious, and socially awkward girl to possibly ever exist.

That girl was Sorrel.

She and Tilikum just had a connection! She had raised him herself, despite how agitated he always was, and never gave up on him no matter how many times he bit her, bucked her, scratched her, or knocked her down. He was her best friend! Not that the bar was very high, she didn’t have very many friends to begin with, but still! They were a dynamic duo!

“Come on, Sorrel,” Her trainer said impatiently. “Up you go. You have a race to win. We gotta pull in cash somehow.”

Sorrel nodded, put on her helmet and goggles, then grabbed the saddle and clambered onto Tilikum’s muscular back, which took a few tries because of how big he was and how much muscle she lacked. Surprised, the horse stumbled a little, pawing at the dirt with a front hoof. Then, he settled. Somewhat. He didn’t seem happy.

Tilikum hesitated. He shuffled back and forth. Under Sorrel’s thighs, his muscles tensed, and, for a moment, Sorrel feared he was going to throw her off (he had done that before. before a race like this. she had yet to get over that one). Then, he craned his head around, looking for something. Sorrel laughed softly and gave it to him- a sugar cube.

A watching jockey wrinkled his nose a little at this. Another bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“He shouldn’t be so fidgety when you get onto him,” Said the first jockey. He was sitting maturely on the back of his dark bay thoroughbred, probably thinking he knew everything about racing. “And you shouldn’t have to tempt him into listening to you with treats… Is he not trained?”

“He is trained!” Sorrel snapped, causing Tilikum to stir in agitation at the tone of her voice. She quieted herself, hunching her shoulders in, and muttered an apology to her mount. “Tilikum’s just…he has a temper. That’s all.”

The jockey quirked an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything else. Sorrel looked away.

“Remember,” Her trainer spoke back up. “Let him make his own pace coming out of the gate. Don’t push him until the very end. And don’t listen to those PETA pussies. It’s okay to use your whip. It’s there for a reason. If he isn’t listening to you, give him a good lashing.”

Sorrel didn’t like the sound of that at all. As someone who had been subjected to the other end of a switch (she lived in the country, after all, it was bound to happen eventually), she knew how badly it could hurt and she didn’t want Tilikum to have to feel that. But still, she nodded, not wanting to anger her trainer. He already always looked frustrated with her as is.

“Good luck,” The trainer called after her as the horses were led out onto the track by escorts. “Don’t disappoint us this time.”

Passing that threshold, Sorrel realized she and her horse were no longer Sorrel and Tilikum.

They were Sorrel and Killer Whale.

Cheers erupted from the stands as the ten horses in the race were walked out onto the field. Sorrel had told herself to keep her eyes forward, to stay focused, but she found herself looking all around the track stadium to try and find the only people she wanted to see. It was hard to discern the mass of people, but she hoped they were here this time.

The escorts led the horses up to the starting gate as the announcer spoke loudly to the crowd, introducing the racers. One by one, each horse was walked into the stalls in order. Tilikum-- no, Killer Whale had no problem getting into his designated spot, number six, but once the door shut behind him loudly with a clank and squeal, that was when he began to act up.

Killer Whale began nervously neighing and backing up against the gate. Tilikum was starting to slip out of his race facade, which really wasn’t something Sorrel wanted to happen. Not during a race. Not again.

“Shh, shh,” Sorrel whispered, leaning down to speak into her horse’s ear. “It’s okay. It’s--” She cut herself off with a yelp as the chestnut stallion to her left rammed against the metal grating separating the two of them, startling Killer Whale further.

The clamor was starting to get to Sorrel, too. The stall was so small and it was so noisy from all the rattling iron and horse cries. She felt like she was suffocating and, without realizing it, she found herself becoming shortened of breath. All the dust was choking her. The smell of metal and horses burned in her nostrils.

Don’t freak out, don’t freak out…

“Holy shit, kid, are you alright?” The man to her left, the one with the chestnut stallion who hit into her grate (he apologized, at least) asked.

“She’s fine,” Said the young man to Sorrel’s right- the same young man who had harassed her in the jockey room. “Let her work herself up. Maybe then she’ll realize this isn’t for her.” He laughed cruelly.

His taunting words registered in Sorrel’s ringing ears and she grit her teeth, stamping down her panic attack. It just kept bubbling to the surface, so she finally gave up on calming herself and rather turned to her horse.

“Come on, boy,” She whispered, almost hissed through her clenched teeth as her anger mounted. “Calm down. It’s okay. I’m with you.”

Just when she thought she had Killer Whale settled, an ear piercing ringing sounded from above and the gates flew open.

The horses jetted from their stalls, and Killer Whale took off.

The sound of the hoofbeats was hypnotizing. And it only got more and more hypnotic the closer and closer Sorrel and Killer Whale inched towards the competition.

Sorrel leaned forward, keeping her balance with ease, her legs an iron band around Killer Whale’s girth. She could feel the powerful muscles bunching and releasing, the heat and sweat leaching through her pants, searing her skin.

The herd of professionals was galloping, yet Killer Whale ran just as fast. He twisted to the right, to the left, his body never straight. Sorrel felt like she was riding a wild, plunging river, a torrent that tossed her, battered her, until she hardly knew where she was.

It was incredible.

The first horse they passed was a deep red color, then a chocolate brown one, then one the shade of bloody mud.

“Easy, Tilly, easy,” Sorrel said to her horse. “You’re doing great, buddy. Steady on.”

Killer Whale snorted and urged himself forward without his rider’s command. Almost sensing his need to speed up, Sorrel obliged and finally lifted herself fully off of the saddle, leaning forward and adjusting her weight so it would be at the front. Practically standing up on this sprinting beast’s back made a strong sense of vertigo wash over her, and she thought she might fall off, but Killer Whale’s increasing speed brushed away her worries.

Sorrel’s grip may have been tight on the reins, but Killer Whale was controlling himself. He weaved through two horses almost perfectly, despite them never training with moving obstacles, only the occasional stock-still ones. He knew to angle to the right to avoid getting his legs tangled up in an opponent’s and banked a hard left at the next turn that was so sharp it cut off the rider in front of him.

They both crossed the finish line for the third time, starting the final lap. Sorrel was still shouting in glee when, suddenly, something slammed into Killer Whale’s side on the last leg of the race, ramming him right against the wall where one side of the stands were situated above. Sorrel yelped as her shoulder and side were grated painfully against the metal as her horse was pushed further against the structure. She turned to see the man from the jockey room glaring at her from his raging red horse, Knock Your Socks Off.

“You’ll learn one way or another, little girl!” The man spat, “This isn’t for you!”

Sorrel grunted and she heard Killer Whale screech a furious neigh. He whipped his head to the side, baring his teeth and rotating his ears back. His anger was a cold, deep, dark thing that Sorrel knew about well. He once kicked down a barn door just because he was pet in an area he didn’t want to be pet in. That being said, Sorrel has taken a lot of time to learn his mannerisms and techniques to calm the beast.

Now was not one of the times to use those.

“You don’t belong here!” The man hissed.

Sorrel grit her teeth, feeling the scrapes already tearing open on her shoulder thanks to the wall. Even over the sound of hoofbeats and horses, she could still hear her trainer’s words ringing in her ears.

“It’s okay to use your whip. It’s there for a reason.”

Sorry, buddy, Sorrel thought before yanking on the reins to get away from the man and unholstering her crop. The sound of it cracking against Killer Whale’s side echoed in her head.

That was her biggest mistake.

Killer Whale screeched. He sped up with a burst of speed, then began to have a fit.

Sorrel helplessly cried for her steed to calm down, but her yelling only seemed to spur his frenzy further. He whipped his head back and forth, turned in every direction, reared and bucked until, finally, Sorrel came loose from his back and was flung to the dirt.

Sorrel lay dazed on the ground for several long seconds. She was winded, confused, and very disorientated. She struggled to breathe as several other cries of horses sounded around her. They must have gotten spooked by Killer Whale’s tantrum.

And then, a hoof came crashing down onto her stomach.

Now, Sorrel had felt pain before, that in itself wasn’t anything new. Once, when she was ten, she had gotten stung by a hornet while at a birthday party for her younger cousin. At the time, she thought that was the worst pain anyone could ever go through. But now, five years later, with 1100 pounds of pure muscle pressing into her abdominal cavity, she would have much preferred the hornet.

Sorrel couldn’t scream. She couldn’t even wheeze as the horse that had stepped on her charged onwards, the edge of its hoof catching on her uniform and flesh and taking some of it with it. Another hoof came down on her, then another, then another, then another, until it felt like she was caught in a hurricane that had raindrops made of thick keratin. She tried to curl in on herself, tried to protect her organs, but they hooves kept coming and she couldn’t move and she was so fucking scared.

Through the dust and black spots that began to appear all along her vision, she saw Killer Whale, and his eyes were stark white and full of rage.

Pure rage.

She could see it now. That wasn’t Killer Whale looking back at her. It wasn’t even Tilikum. It was a horse she forced into racing because she wanted them to be a duo. And he hated her with every inch of his being.

I’m sorry, dear friend.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the horses are up for the fifth race here at Hartford Stadium. Once again, Maxwell Gingham and the incredible All That Jazz bring up the front in a crowd favorite.

And they’re off!

With the gate up, Blazing Berry and Knock Your Socks Off tie for the front, but All That Jazz is not far behind. Donut Tell Daddy right there. Too Close For Comfort a length off the pace. Killer Whale is in front of When Lightning Strikes, but All That Jazz trails the leader by only three lengths. Blazing Berry leads by a head. Dime-a-Dozen hangs tight with jockey Richard Bride aboard. Rookie’s Gambling Chance is challenging the rest of the pack.

Into the next turn, Blazing Berry still controlling the pace, with All That Jazz close behind. Knock Your Socks Off content with third place at this point. Fly Me To The Moon falling off a bit. Donut Tell Daddy and Too Close For Comfort are in good position in the second group. Killer Whale mounting a challenge, but it could be too much. He’s making a bold move on the outside and looking for a way in around the bend-- Look out! Killer Whale’s rider goes down! Jockeys do their best to avoid a pile-up! All the horses go through, but the rider… Oh dear-- oh god! Stop the cameras! Stop! Someone get help down there! I don’t think she’s--”

Sorrel had not been looking forward to dying. Not one bit. There were still so many things she wanted to do. She was supposed to become the world’s best jockey, become famous, finally be loved by her parents… She wasn’t supposed to die, not this soon, not this early.

But she could safely say that she was looking forward to not being in pain anymore. Death, at least, would provide respite from the awful way she went out. She would no longer feel the crunching of her bones, the tearing of her flesh, the ripping of her organs, the spilling of her own blood, the pounding of the hooves of her enraged horse who wanted nothing more than to pummel her into the dirt. It would finally all be gone and she would be at peace.

But she wasn’t. Because when her eyes opened and she found herself lying on the track, sprawled in mud that was mixed with her own blood, she was met with the unbearable agony of invisible hooves smashing her organs and had to roll over to vomit blood all over the dirt.

For a long time, Sorrel cried until it felt like she couldn’t breathe- and then she realized she wasn’t breathing. Not really. But she could still feel pain and her lungs felt like they were being ripped right out of her chest, her rib cage crumpling inwards to pierce her heart and diaphragm. She gurgled on her blood.

It was dark. The track was dead. She was dead. The only people around were a few stragglers who must have worked at the stadium. She tried to get up to run to them, but she couldn’t stand up. When she looked down, she saw that her right femur was sticking out of her thigh. She threw up again, then settled for crawling.

“Help me,” Sorrel begged, dragging herself to a group of three people speaking in hushed whispers. “Please, please help me-- it hurts-- I want my mom--”

But her pleading went unnoticed. It wasn’t until her hand phased right through one of the men that she truly realized what had happened.

Sorrel curled into a ball again, weeping even more. The pain grew unbearable. She thought death was supposed to be peaceful.

The group left, eventually. The moon rose high in the sky. Its glow caught on something lying listlessly in the dirt of the track. Sorrel crawled over to it.

The Handbook For The Recently Deceased. That was what it said, and reading it made Sorrel feel even more sick. She forced herself to not throw up this time, though she could feel the blood slowly filling her lungs like a thick red tar.

Sorrel accidentally stained the dusty pages when she flipped through the book. Her gloves were coated in a fine layer of dust and blood. Her uniform was the same way, she realized, slathered in the muck of her own fluids and dirt from the track. Hoofprints trodded up and down her chest, stomach, and legs, marks to remember what had happened, though she was sure the trauma would never leave her brain, even after death. Her helmet was cracked down the middle, but still firmly strapped to her skull. It did its job, it seemed, because her head hurt the least amount out of every spot on her throbbing body.

She read through the book with cloudy eyes. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. She wanted to lay down and never wake up. She wanted the pain to go away. She wanted her mom.

Eventually, she managed to find a passage with directions to some place called the “Netherworld,” and she was in little room to question anything at that point, so she followed what it said.

She didn’t have any chalk to draw a door, so she had to settle for her own blood. She hobbled to one of the stadium walls, which took forever because her small intestines came out at one point and made her have a screaming fit for five minutes straight before she was able to stuff them back into her abdominal cavity and continue her journey. When she finally got there, she slicked her already-filthy hands with the blood from her many, MANY wounds (god, those horses did a number on her, didn’t they?) and sloppily drew a red door on the wall. She added a doorknob, which ended up being too large because she had slammed her hand down in the reaction to the pain of her small intestines trying to slither their way out of her again, then knocked three times while hugging her stomach with one arm, trying to keep her organs in where they belonged. Slowly, the door opened up to her and she was bathed in green light.

It did little to comfort her.

The myriad of dead people through the doorway did even less.

Sorrel spit blood, then let her guts fall out as she sank to her knees.

She was so tired.

It was official: Sorrel hated being dead. And it wasn’t simply because she was dead, no, she could have dealt with that if the afterlife was cool like it was in Coco or something, but this-- this fucking sucked.

She was lonely. Even though the Netherworld was built like a regular society- a society that glowed green and sheltered walking corpses, but a society nonetheless- there were no people for her. Nobody ever wanted to talk to her, no matter how hard she tried. And even though she was only a “few dead days old,” she was already thinking about giving up because how the hell were you supposed to make friends in hell? Surely that was what this place was. That was what she got for being born into a family that was above middle-class.

It was also just so confusing. Why was she in debt? Why did she need a job when she was fifteen and, you know, DEAD? Why was there an economic system in the underworld? What was all this paperwork for? WHO WAS BEETLEJUICE???

She couldn’t wrap her head around any of it. And that was saying a lot because her head was the only thing apart of her that was completely intact after The Accident.

She tried to get help, tried to ask questions, but everyone else looked at her in amusement or disdain whenever she did. It was the same way whenever she expressed any form of pain or didn’t understand something or let her organs fall out on accident. It was like they were expecting her to instantly know everything there was to know about being dead and if she didn’t, she was beneath them and wasn’t worth their time.

Funny. Her parents were the same way.

And then, there was the pain. It always came back to the pain.

Some days, she could deal with it, really. Some days it was only a dull pounding in her stomach or soreness in her chest. Some days it was only her legs, other days her shoulders, and other other days her sternum.

But some days, it was all over. And she couldn’t handle it.

This was how Those Days usually went: Her stomach began to throb and ache an hour after waking up. Joints and muscles started swelling two hours in. At three hours they’d go numb and heavy, forcing her to strain her body just to keep moving. Four hours in, feeling would return in the form of deep, slicing pain that lingered long into the day. After that, her bones would begin splintering, her organs would try to shove their way out of her, and her lungs start to hemorrhage.

The pressure and pain her death put on her very being was constant. Oh how she wanted to be rid of this deep-seeded agony that was not only tearing her body apart, but her second “life”, too.

The way the shock from each throb made her fingers start to go numb if she had a grip on just about anything for too long, and she didn’t even know if she would be able to speak when she opened her mouth. The way her spine, heavily trampled and damaged from the hooves, knotted up until it felt wooden. The way her guts sloshed in her stomach like soup on some days, leaking viscous fluid that wasn’t really blood out of any opening they could find, forcing her to hug her middle or be shamed with them spilling out of her already-soiled uniform. The way her limbs screamed when she flew with an agony that seemed to echo in her more than her joints at some point. The way she would lie in the bed of her lonely Netherworld apartment and try not to shriek along with every muscle in her body, the way her body didn’t even seem to belong to her anymore.

She ached when she was lying down.

She ached when she was standing.

She ached when she was doing her job.

She ached on days she did nothing and she ached on the day that Breather in black came by with her father.

She ached because she ached.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she sometimes found herself making a litany of her pain. A whisper of suffering that she tried to focus on so she wasn’t focused on the actual feeling. Anything but the feeling.

But if that wasn’t bad enough…

The fact that she had to constantly deal with what felt like physical torture day to day wasn’t enough of a burden for one person. She had also been burdened with being an eyesore and a disappointment, though that wasn’t really new. She could feel the scorn and disgust the other dead felt when they saw her. Sometimes, that was worse than the pain itself.

It was just discomfort. All the time. Even things like getting up in the “mornings” (she still had no idea how time worked down here) and sleeping couldn’t be taken for granted. There was nothing good about her body.

It rocked to a rhythm that felt like it was being conducted by her very soul, but it did nothing to ease the fire in her veins.

She wished it was fire. That was what she had thought it was, at first. A little while ago.

Fire burned, but not in the same way. Fire was detached, impersonal. It didn’t care what got in the way. It burned and charred and devoured everything in minutes and went on its way, leaving the scorched corpses in its wake. Fire was powerful and murderous but it wasn’t torturous- the man who had gone up in flames because he smoked in bed proved that to her because he seemed to be doing just fine. Sulfur on the other hand…well, falling into a burning pool of that stuff was a different beast entirely.

Sulfur clung in a way that fire did not. It wrapped its monstrous hands around you, drawing you in closer, exposing more of you to its touch until it framed each piece of you intimately, until it was every much a part of you as your skin was.

Fire would leave. Sulfur stayed.

It stayed even after your death. It made you burn until you lost yourself, until there was nothing left except the fiery red afterglow and the screams inside of your head. It branded you, so that you and the whole fucking Netherworld knew that you were being burned. Being roasted alive. Being cauterized, like an open wound. You were something that was wrong, something bad, something that needed to be fixed or punished.

Mama has the switch. Can she get me down here?

Sorrel would have much preferred fire.

The sulfur had burned her consciousness away, seared her eyes until all she saw was black spots. Filled her lungs until her chest felt like it was an open furnace. Blistered through her stomach and chest and legs and arms and back until they became a sick rendition of what they were supposed to be, like one big fucking cosmic joke. Sorrel was so sick of being the fucking punchline.

But, in the end, it didn’t really matter much one way or another because she suffered in silence. She strained herself to keep her body functioning so none of the other dead would get annoyed with her. She forced herself to go to work because she was a people-pleaser at heart and didn’t want to disappoint anyone. She tortured herself just to keep people who didn’t even care about her content, but there was nothing she could do about it. Not anymore. She was in too deep to do anything now.

This week had been especially brutal. The bruises stamped up and down the front of her body seemed to be at war with the cuts from the hooves, determined to see what could make her hurt more. Her lungs were bleeding extra today, too, and she kept accidentally spitting blood into people’s faces when she talked to them. She ended up spraying the wrong person, a woman with pale blue skin and deep purple brittle fingers and icicles hanging from her frosted hair (hypothermia, Sorrel guessed), because she was shoved backwards with enough force to send her careening into a desk in the office she had been bustling through. The edge of the table stabbed into her lower back, making her entire body tense up. When she tried to sidle to the side, a bloody apology dripping from her lips, her right femur suddenly snapped beneath her weight and she crumpled to the ground. Despite her training herself to not react to any pain she was in, she couldn’t bite back a scream this time.

There was a reason why broken femurs were so severe.

The hypothermic woman leered down at her squirming figure as if she were a worm she found nibbling on her corpse. “You’re a disgrace to the dead.” She spat.

Sorrel gurgled on her blood in response, digging her fingernails into the gash in her thigh where the bone was trying to inch its way out to freedom.

The hypothermic woman sneered in disgust. A cloud of freezing fog puffed out of her nostrils as if she were a terrifying ice dragon. Shaking her head in contempt, she wiped her face, then walked away, leaving Sorrel to reset her femur on her own.

Sorrel looked at the fallen stack of paperwork she had dropped in dismay. Juno wasn’t going to be happy with this one.

All things considered, Miss Argentina was quite lucky. Compared to the rest of the Dead, she had a rather simple, easy-to-deal-with death. Not to say that slashing open her own wrists with a razor blade wasn’t painful, but “living” with it in the Netherworld was like living with carpal tunnel syndrome- it was manageable.

Certainly more manageable than whatever the hell was going on with the horse girl in one of the offices.

Miss Argentina knew a lot of people. One of the perks of working in maintenance, she supposed. So she had seen this specific Dead before, quite a few times, actually, the most notable being when the goth Breather and her father stupidly decided to come down for a visit, but she never got around to talk to the child.

Until now, of course.

When the “work day” finally ended and Miss Argentina was leaving for her apartment, she heard it. The whimpering. It reminded her of something a sick puppy would make or maybe a kitten with an upset stomach. Whatever it was, it was distressing, but also very intriguing, so she followed it deeper into the building. Stepping into one of the offices that was rank with blood, she found where those papers she had been looking for were.

Slightly sticking out from behind a table, Miss Argentina saw the little jockey sprawled on the floor, a fresh staining of blood seeping into her already-bloodied horse racing uniform. She was twisted into an awkward position, similar to how the corpses in those crime shows she used to watch when she was alive would be in- face-down with her arms tucked into her and her legs folded inward and knees pointing sharply to the side. Inching closer, fuelled by morbid curiosity, Miss Argentina realized why she was in such an arrangement.

The femur was sticking out of her right thigh.

Miss Argentina couldn’t help grimace. When she was alive, she had a friend who broke his femur during a sports accident. He had to go to physical therapy to simply learn how to walk again. Death and the supernatural body, at the very least, saved this child from that, but the pain she had to have been in… No wonder she was lying on the floor.

Miss Argentina had heard about what happened to this little one. Trampled to death by horses. And she would admit that she got a laugh out of it at first, because what kind of death was that? But it quickly became less amusing when she saw the state the girl was in when she first showed up two weeks ago.

Hoofprints stomped all along the front of her body, uniform ripped and bloody, cuts and bruises all over, crunching bones when she moved and spilling organs that constantly tried to escape her abdominal cavity like restless snakes and gushing blood from her mouth. What made it worse was how little she was. A young jockey that died in the middle of a race. She couldn’t imagine what that had been like for her.

The jockey didn’t stir when she stepped towards her, and Miss Argentina rationalized that she must have fallen asleep. Or blacked out, which seemed way more likely because that exposed bone looked worse and worse the closer and closer she got.

She knelt down to the jockey and gently shook her shoulder.

“Honey?” Miss Argentina called out. “Wake up.”

The jockey gasped, sharply drawing in a useless breath of air, which quickly thickened with blood and came back out red. Miss Argentina grimaced and wondered if she should pat the girl’s back to help her get the gunk out of her throat (you were supposed to do that, right? or was it just a myth? she never thought to test it when she was alive), but thought against it when she saw the hoofprints on her back. She grimaced again. Did this child have any spot on her body that hadn’t been beaten mercilessly by horses?

The jockey eventually stopped leaking from her mouth and looked up at her dazedly, blood dripping from her chin in a dark waterfall of red. She squinted at her, then turned her head to the accumulating puddle beneath her head.

“Sorry about the floor,” She croaked, and her voice was hoarse, but high and youthful.

“It’s alright,” Miss Argentina assured her. “Are you okay?”

The jockey blinked at her slowly, as if confused as to why she was checking up on her. Miss Argentina could understand why, though. There was a reason she had told Lydia that everyone was alone in the Netherworld- nobody liked meddling in the affairs or business of others.

And yet, here she was.

“Yes…” The jockey said slowly, sounding unsure. She tried to sit up, but froze when she moved her legs and looked back at them nervously. She bit her lip when she saw the state of her femur, but didn’t say anything.

“Are you sure?” Miss Argentina asked.

“Yes,” The jockey said again, this time less unsure, but much meeker. She ducked her head to avoid Miss Argentina’s worried gaze and the rim of her helmet fell into her eyes.

Miss Argentina frowned. She watched as the jockey twisted around and managed to sit up, bracing herself against the table she had been laying beside. She pushed her femur back into her thigh with a horrible grinding-crunching sound and was very clearly struggling not to scream.

“Sorry,” The jockey whispered after a moment. Her hands were still resting on her thigh, and her gloves (Miss Argentina thought they may have been white at some point) were soaking up a new layer of filth as blood drooled agaisnt them.

“What for?” Miss Argentina tilted her head. “You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetheart. I promise you that.”

“Y-yeah, but--” The jockey sounded anxious, like she was afraid of being yelled at for simply expressing discomfort. “The Dead-- I don’t wanna be weak, but-- it hurts. Everything hurts. And I--” She caught herself. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Miss Argentina frowned. She reached out and lifted the jockey’s head with one hand. Using the other, she pushed her helmet back and saw that her eyes were a brilliant shade of hazel. There were tears gathering inside of them. The jockey stared up at her in shock, then leaned into her touch like a kitten seeking warmth from its mother.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Miss Argentina murmured to her. “It’s okay. You aren’t going to get in trouble for hurting. Everyone else are just uptight a--” She looked the jockey over, taking in how young she really was. “Jerks.”

That got a giggle out of the jockey, which quickly became wet with blood. She covered her mouth and swallowed, then pulled her hand away. Miss Argentina couldn’t imagine having to deal with a chronic bloody mouth.

“Okay,” The jockey whispered. She sniffled. “Sorry. I mean-- I apologize a lot. Sorry. Oh--”

Miss Argentina laughed. She felt endearment grow in her heart for this ragged, bloody child.

“It’s quite alright, honey,” Miss Argentina told her. She stood up and extended a hand down to the jockey. “Do you have anywhere to be?”

The jockey took her hand and was pulled to her feet. She staggered for a moment, then steadied herself, wincing slightly. “No, ma’am.”

Miss Argentina raised an eyebrow. “‘Ma’am’?” She echoed. “That’s new for me.”

The jockey blushed shyly. “Sorry. Raised to be well-manered and all…”

“No, no,” Miss Argentina was quick to assure her when she began to get nervous. “You’re a very sweet girl. It’s a nice change of pace from everything else. But you don’t have to be so formal with me.”

The jockey gave a light laugh. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am. I was, like, bred to be the perfect, polite daughter.” She said. “But, ahh-- no. No, I don’t have anywhere to be. Usually I just sit in my bed after work and try to turn out the sound of screeching horses in my head.”

Miss Argentina blinked worriedly. “Why don’t you tag along with me? You look like you could use some good company.”

The jockey perked up. “Really?”

Miss Argentina smiled at her warmly. “Really.”

It could be a start to make the pain go away.

#i just. i love her so much #baby girl #beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fic #the jockey #miss argentina #lydia deetz #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: abuse #bloodhorse

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uwuinator · 3 years

Text

okay some of the members on the dsmp are just so,,, surreal to me still

like quackity? yeah he's been on the dsmp for almost a full year now but i still can't get over that fact that

he's IN it, you know?

i used to be so active in his community when he was a toontown streamer, i used to watch him when he STARTED YOUTUBE, and we used to genuinely be friends! i was literally a mod in his twitch chat!!!! so it's just,, insane to see that he's been able to make it this far and do what he's able to. hell, he even WON MCC TODAY! he's so much happier with his content now that it's truly insane. and i'm so glad for him for it.

i have a friend who edits for someone really close to michaelmcchill!

i literally have a friend who STILL TALKS TO CHARLIE SLIMECICLE BECAUSE THEY WERE COLLEGE BUDDIES! HE'S LITERALLY A MOD IN THE CHAT!

it's incredible to see these things, and i don't think i'll ever be able to get over it.

(it's gonna get ✨extra vent-y✨ in here under the cut so read only if u want to im extra emotional today)

i just can't help but feel jealous and envious, because it's something i've always wanted to do and i've worked decently hard for it with no fruit to bear for it, and i've always struggled with the feelings of validation. i've always had a desire to be famous for something, whether it be myself or something i create, so seeing my friends get an easy pass, despite me being happy as all hell for them, i can't help but feel a pit in my stomach that's just burning jealousy. and i feel awful for it. like, "i'm trying my hardest out here and not getting rewarded at all, and yet someone else does something small and they get the praise? but it's my friend! i should feel happy for them! why am i feeling so bad about it?!" it's so much worse for me too though because i've always struggled with the feeling of being invisible and never feeling like i'm really there even though i am, and every time someone gets praised for something i've also done beforehand it just,,, hurts you know?? like i want to be seen for something for once! i have ideas and i'm here! and yet, nobody even hears it. or sees it. unless someone else says it. i have to make people see it myself, and i feel bad for it. like, i know i should be promoting myself, but i feel guilty for doing so and i can't shake the awful feeling, because even though i really need to, i can't bring myself to it... but even then whenever i do it just feels like it's ignored and nobody cares. and it only makes me feel worse. i'm happy where i am right now, but i can't find my way out of the low points, and yes, i have a better time now then i did a few years ago, but i can't shake my feelings of self doubt and dehumanizing myself every time i want to feel happy about something related to it. i just want to make content people are happy with, but i can't find the right people, or anything. i never feel supported even though i know i have people there for me. i always feel like i'm alone whenever i'm with a group of people. hell, that one stream where c!ranboo was like "i'm not a person anyone would pick over someone else" hit me SO HARD that it still shakes me to this day. i honestly struggle with those feelings so much, like, i'm in a huge group of friends, but i don't think anyone would pick me over someone else. everyone else has someone they like more, who they've talked with more, who they see as a bigger person in their life. i'm just there to provide entertainment. i always feel like a side character in my own story. i'm the stage crew in a play of my own life. i'm filming a movie of my decisions instead of being the star. and it gets so much worse when one thing gets attention and i feel like "oh its my time! i'm finally growing! i can finally do something! i can finally be someone people look up to!" and then when the next day comes and i'm ready to go, i'm just left there. because it was a simple one-time thing. and i shouldn't feel that much validation from it. but i do. and i don't know how to stop that. i find myself sitting there without a smile, and without a happy spot for a good few days. i feel like i failed and people hate me because i was doing something. i always feel like my ideas are shit because they flop due to no reason at all. i try and do something cool that i think will catch attention, but it doesn't work. and when i see all these people i know and follow get praised for the exact same thing i can't help but feel ill with my own feelings from it. i shouldn't be, but i am, and its getting to be a lot on my own mental health.

like jesus christ i shouldn't even be venting on this post yet here the fuck i am spewing whatever comes out of my mouth like a madman

sorry about that

i'll leave you guys alone now, enjoy the post without the vent

#tw vent

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

moonlight tears (blurb) - part two | p.p.

a/n: for this part (thank u spideybparker for the idea and working with me on this) i'm integrating an au in which you don't see color at its full capacity until you're truly happy. i'm very sorry if this throws off the continuity coming from the last part, but 1) we literally just brainstormed the idea for this part and 2) i felt as though going back and changing the first part would get rid of the authenticity of this book (those of you who've been reading for a while now that i'm all about keeping things real in terms of the writing process and making mistakes!)

summary: part two to moonlight tears! y/n begins to get her color back and peter parker is the sweetest boy in the world

warnings: a bit angsty, a bit fluffy tho too, also i literally wrote over a thousand words but i'm still calling it a blurb cause the first part was a blurb lol. also kinda sloppy writing IM SORRY

+ + +

it was coming back.

maybe it was something about the way you could count on peter being there with you every night, holding you tightly until life's obligations forced him to let go. or maybe, it was the way he'd surprise you with your favorite things, dropping off candy and ice cream and sweatshirts and anything you could think of, filling these items with bundles of his love.

all you knew was, it was peter.

the boy slips in through your window, the sight one that was engraved into the back of your brain from the countless times he snuck in. he pulls off his mask, the same way he always did, shaking out his hair, the same way he always did; everything was the same, every night.

you blink for a second.

tonight wasn't the same.

peter makes a face at your expression, setting his mask on the desk and furrowing his brows. "is there something on my f-"

"holy shit," you whisper, crawling out of your bed and practically stumbling over to him, hands falling onto his shoulders and dragging down his chest, eyes glued to the material of his suit.

"y/n?"

"it's red and blue," you mutter.

the air catches in peter's throat. he croaks. "you can- hold on, you can see it?"

"just a tiny bit."

tears well up in the boy's eyes, as well as yours, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. peter had longed for you to regain your color for so long, a deep ache in his heart at the mere thought of your pain. it wasn't your fault, it was the chemicals in your brain that put this burden on you. despite his lack of depression, peter didn't have his full color. he knew he wouldn't unless you did. a sigh falls from your lips and you close your eyes, nestling against the boy.

it was a step. a small one, but a step nonetheless.

that small twinge, just a mere tint of color, was all the fuel peter needed to almost entirely dedicate himself to you. as much as he hated himself for it, the endless nights holding you with no improvement were beginning to make him feel useless, hopeless.

but now that you saw just a bit of color? pure motivation.

peter was your sun; you revolved around him. he was your person. as much as you hated yourself for being dependent, peter parker made you smile when no one else could. the boy began spewing out ideas and activities to make you happy, even going as far as forcing you to do things you didn't want to, all because he knew it would help in the long run.

alongside the treats and materialistic items, he'd help with your schoolwork, take you on adventures, and, of course, give countless hugs and forehead kisses.

"come on," he whines, pulling at your arm.

"peter," you fight, trying to get your arm back and dive deeper into the covers. "i don't want to."

"and i don't care."

ouch.

what happened to the gentle whateveryouwanttodoi'lldotheworldisyours peter parker?

"it's almost midnight," you mutter, sounds muffled by the covers. go away.

"best time of day!" he chirps. "or, night, whatever- just get up."

"i can't."

right.

there'd be days where that light twinge of color wouldn't be there. they hurt. it was two steps forward, one step back, and to you, a kick in the gut. that's when it'd be worst. energy drained even more than usual, no motivation to do anything whatsoever, despite the taunting love from peter parker.

"guess i'll be carrying you then," peter shrugs, kneeling on the bed and scooping you up in his arms.

"peter," you halfheartedly protest, scrunching your eyes tightly. put me back put me back put me back.

his heart cracks a little at your voice, the limpness of your body and tiredness of your voice daring him to just lay you back in bed and hold you like all the times before. the boy shakes his head as he climbs out onto the fire escape, carefully guiding you through the window with him. you feel numb as he carries you up the stairs.

"open your eyes."

"pete."

"y/n, just do it," he sighs. his broken tone catches you off guard.

you'd been so stuck in your own mind to fully realize how hard peter was trying to help you. it wasn't entirely your fault; you were struggling enough, and having perspective with other people was difficult as hell when you were already fighting with your own head. still, you didn't cut yourself any slack, immediately feeling horrible.

peter did everything in his power to make you feel better, yet here you lay. a dead weight in his arms as he tries to make you smile.

so you open your eyes.

blankets, pillows, and fairy lights lay out on the corner of the rooftop, with a perfect view of the city's lights. a box of pizza and large bottle of your favorite drink lay on the blanket.

a breath falls from your lips and you gently slide out of the boy's arms, walking over to get a better view of the set up.

"like it?"

you turn and practically fall into peter's hold, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck. "thank you."

remembering these moments was what kept you holding on. a lot of the time you weren't living for yourself; you were living for peter.

and that was okay.

but slowly, gradually, color began gaining more vibrancy. the green of the plants in central park, how the leaves changed to bright hues of red and orange as it turned autumn. the deep chocolate color of peter's eyes, the pink of his lips, the redness of his cheeks every time you'd pull back from a hug.

holding on got easier. it was easier to push away your harmful thoughts, to get up in the morning, to get ready and not feel the urge to shove everything away. to not want to bury yourself beneath the warm covers of your bed.

peter gave his heart and a half to you, and you were finally able to give it in return.

as your color came back, peter started wearing more vibrant things. he felt stupid, often donned in pink or yellow, but he didn't care. it was you, and he wanted your life to be as bright as possible in order to make up for lost time.

the sound of him knocking at your door makes your jump from your bed, excited to tell him the news. you couldn't wipe the smile from your face even if you tried. you swing open the door, words itching to leave your lungs, but they're pushed away by a gasp.

"it's so bright!"

peter is silent, mouth fallen slightly agape with wonder and bewilderment. just a few days ago you'd had a setback, and as far as he'd known, it hadn't gotten better.

"gosh, i haven't been able to see neon pink in forever," you breathe.

the boy blinks, gulping as his shirt becomes far more noticeable to him. he looks down, squinting at how it suddenly seems a bit brighter than it did this morning.

"peter?"

his lips tasted the way color felt.

that was the only way you could describe them in order to give justice to the way he wrapped his hand around your neck and pulled you to him, resting his lips on yours oh-so-lovingly, his lips saying the words he was to afraid to speak. i love you more than anything.

you pull apart from him, gasping slightly, taking a step back and putting a hand to your head.

"shit," he breathes, "did i overstep?"

"no, not at all, it's just, uh, sensory overload," you laugh.

your laugh sounded the way color felt.

+ + +

kinda cringe ending MY BAD

HABHSJDSAKJDF that kiss paragraph i literally. just got in a trance and did that thing where you're just like FUCK IT WRITE and i read it back and i was like.... holy Shit what did i just....

ALSO::::::::::: idk if i portrayed the whole getting better part accurately. i've been at that point but i just. do not remember????? so idk I TRIED

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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avenger-hawk · 4 years

Note

OH SHIT im so sorry, you shouldnt have repsonded and just say that you could get flagged. I wpuld have understood. Im sorry!😫 Ikr, damn, why is it so hard for them to accept that people are different. And just wanting to elaborate upon a dark theme does not automatically make one a sadist or any other controversial terms they pull out of their asses. Yeh lol, i feel like their unjustified hatred is a byproduct of guilty pleasure or jealousy or envy blah blah.

(2) They misunderstand little things and then overexaggerate to make everything you say seem ‘controversial’, ‘contradicting’, or ‘plain stupidity’. On my other fandom, I have had anons come bully my friend VERY harshly and it was horrible. Like excuse me, check your privilege man. Since when can you start judging others online without knowing them all the while hiding behind an anonymous profile? It is disgusting, childish, offensive, deplorable, immature to send hate and bully people.(3)Bullying can have serious repurcussions and when they grow up and mature, they will realise how lucky they were that the situation did not take an irreversible turn. My friend had serious suicidal thoughts because of this bullshit.Ikr?What the fuck, they try to police people, they try to fight for s.jus, they fight for their ‘own established’ rights but that shit’s all meaningless in the end. You are not changing the world, you are just trying to bring down others to feel good abt yourself. Lmao fuck this lousy ask system, i cant talk a lot and thats the only way i talk lol. Why communicate with 1 word when you can add 10 more 😂. But damn im so happy you remember haha

Lol Anon it’s like that kind of ‘if someone hates you for no reason give that motherf*cker a reason’ meme, if some hypocrite idiot hates my blog for no reason now they have one reason xD

I remember nice things♥ And I understand you, when I want to say something I can’t do it with only a few words, I have to use more. tw is not my thing basically lol.

Ikr? This hate they have for dark/controversial themes is so strong that it seems…too much…as if it’s something they know intimately, despite the shame and vehemence they express their hate for them (even more so I’d say)…as if they’re projecting it on those who explore those themes freely because they have themselves for those sinful and wrooooong thoughts. Lol it’s an old trope, the puritan priest or similar figure, going after everyone who leads a ‘sinful’ life but then the story reveals that they are those with the most immoral desire.

On top of this hypocrisy and self loathing they lack basic means to understand texts, since they misunderstand subtleties, irony and sometimes even basic text. They are ignorant but they think they are knowledgeable because they read on some random blog something sounding woke, and like Stephen Hawking said “the greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance; it is the illusion of knowledge”…they spew second hand wrong notions on everyone they stumble on and more, cause they actively seek different blogs and perspectives only to shit on them. Sometimes with bullying techniques even, like it happened to your friend, for whom I’m very sorry and angry, because I hate how these idiots defend FICTIONAL characters from REAL people’s THOUGHTS and OPINIONS, making real people suffer for it. Not realizing that the fictional character won’t cry or have suicidal thoughts after the discussion is over, because maybe they were feeling like shit already and they used fandom stuff to distract themselves from real stuff. And some do it on anon even, which is such a shitty coward move.

And like you said. they try to police people, they try to fight for s.jus, but that shit’s all meaningless in the end. You are not changing the world, you are just trying to bring down others to feel good abt yourself—–>exactly! there is nothing useful, nothing ‘just’ in fighting for fictional characters’ social justice. It’s fictional ffs, and as much as I love fictional stuff, no one’s gonna be saved and no one’s gonna give them a prize if they defend their characters’ whatever rights.

Like, you wanna fight genocide? you wanna fight ‘erasure’? you wanna support the oppressed? then look for real ones, there’s plenty out there, the world is a shitty place.

But. Ooops, it would mean to go out of the house and protest or meet real people, and plot twist: edgy sjw teen has social anxiety, maybe they’re au/tistic spectrum or they have adhd or some other mental condition. Or they’re ‘out of spoons’. Or so they say. Because they took an online test or smth. Because they think it’s cool to label themselves with something that real people with real problems, those conditions included, fight with everyday. But hey isn’t it cool to police people and when they talk back to brag with their whatever condition or gender identity and shield themselves behind it? Because then, the person will have retreat otherwise they’ll be labeled as their-thing-phobic. Fuck it.

And I’m saying this freely because I am sure that 99% of those I see here happily labeling themselves with some condition are fake. Just like their immaculate moral values lol.

Also speaking of hypocrisy how convenient to expect to be respected because they CLAIM to have a condition or to be a part of an oppressed minority, but to not respect others. You want respect for the minority they represent/the condition the have? Well first of all they should respect others. But that’s hard huh, because they can’t live without shitting on others.

Have a good day Anon!

#Anonymous #replies &co #fanon and fandom stuff

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arxaris · 5 years

Note

11 krbk?

things got out of hand here as usual what really even is a drabble ya know? (sorry this took so long)

11. things you said when you were drunk

Bakugou Katsuki had been in love with Kirishima Eijirou for… well, he wasn’t exactly sure at this point, but it sure felt like he’d loved that annoying asshole for too fucking long. Especially right now, at two in goddamn morning, as he groped around for his glasses and pushed himself out of bed with a sigh, all for him. Apparently he was a weak, weak man, because all it took were a few cute drunk texts from his crush, and he was all-too-happily abandoning his sleep and his early morning training regimen. He grabbed his beanie, pulled a hoodie over his head, and slipped on his shoes before walking out of his apartment.

As he walked, he fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. It opened directly to his conversation with Kirishima. He reread their messages for the fourth time since their conversation had started twenty minutes ago.

Kirishima (1:59): bakugoooou

Kirishima (1:59): r u up ?????

Kirishima (2:00): ba

Kirishima (2:00): ku

Kirishima (2:00): gi

Kirishima (2:00): fuck

Kirishima (2:01): go*****

Katsuki (2:02): what the FUCK kirishima

Kirishima (2:02): KATUSKIIIII :D

Katsuki (2:03): that… is not even close to being spelled correctly

Kirishima (2:04): sry :(

Kirishima (2:04): im drubk

Katsuki (2:05): no shit dumbass

Kirishima (2:06): I wanna go go home

Kirishima (2:06): can u come get md

Katsuki (2:07): ??? you know I don’t have a fucking car idiot. walk home

Kirishima (2:08): no!!! not wht i mean

Kirishima (2:08): i mean like

Kirishima (2:09): can u come walk with me ??

Kirishima (2:10): nd stay w/ me at my place???

Kirishima (2:10): i just

Kirishima (2:11): rly wanna see u?

Kirishima (2:11): rly miss u

Katsuki (2:14): we saw each other yesterday moron

Katsuki (2:16): …send me your location

Kirishima (2:16): YAY :D

Katsuki blushed as he finished scrolling. Yeah, he was definitely weak. Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in front of the bar in which Kirishima and their idiot friends were drinking. Not thirty seconds after he texted Kirishima he had arrived, he was interrupted from scrolling on his phone by a pair of strong arms wrapping him in a tight hug and lifting him from the ground. “KATSUKI!” Kirishima exclaimed excitedly as he squeezed him.

“Get the fuck off me, Hair for Brains!” Katsuki wheezed, setting off a few explosions in his palms for good measure. He was careful not to hit Kirishima though, as he wasn’t sure he had the proper reflexes to harden quickly enough right now. He reeked of alcohol. Kirishima complied and put him down, but he was still smiling ear-to-ear at him.

“Wow, you look so cute in your glasses! And this thing,” he said, reaching a hand out towards Katsuki’s beanie. Katsuki smacked it away, flushing red.

“Idiot, stop spewing nonsense and let’s fuckin’ go,” he grumbled. Kirishima was unfazed, as usual.

“I missed you sooo much,” he said, swinging an arm around Katsuki as they set off in the direction of Kirishima’s apartment. Katsuki blushed deeper, even though he told himself none of it meant anything. Kirishima was just a flirt, especially when he’d been drinking.

“How drunk are you, dumbass?” He asked warily.

“Well, Mina made me take a shot for the road, so I’d say drunk and getting drunker!” Kirishima replied happily. Katsuki rolled his eyes and snorted softly.

“She made you, huh?” He asked, amused. Kirishima beamed and nodded his head, a bit too enthusiastically. Katsuki sighed.

“Let’s get you home, fuckin’ idiot,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly.

“Katsukiiii,” Kirishima whined at the insult. “I’m your idiot though, right?” Katsuki blushed furiously, but made sure his voice was measured when he replied.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima pouted, but didn’t remove his arm from its place around Katsuki’s shoulders. Katsuki let his own arm snake around Kirishima’s waist. For support. Because he was drunk. Fuck off.

They eventually made it back to Kirishima’s place, the walk having taken longer than it should’ve because of their refusal to let go of each other. Once there, Katsuki gathered up pajamas for Kirishima and sent him to the bathroom to change. He set about collecting headache pills and two large glasses of water, then he returned to Kirishima’s bedroom to wait for him. When Kirishima finished changing and came back, Katsuki thrust one of the glasses at him.

“Drink this, Shitty Hair, and you won’t feel as bad tomorrow morning. The other one is for when you wake up,” he said. Then he narrowed his eyes. “What happened to the shirt I gave you?”

Kirishima, shirtless, giggled at this, as if the question was funny. “I don’t wear shirts to bed, Katsuki.”

Katsuki blushed lightly. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Do you need me to tuck you in, too?” He mocked, though it was without any real heat. “If not, I’ll be on the couch.”

He started towards the door, but Kirishima didn’t move out of the way to let him pass. When Katsuki looked up at him, his face looked crestfallen.

“You’re leaving?” He asked, sounding hurt. Katsuki’s brows shot up in question.

“I just fucking told you I’ll be on the couch moron, how thick can you get?” He replied testily.

Kirishima’s bottom lip jut out slightly. “But… I want you in here. With me,” he whined.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at his statement.

“You’re just going to sleep, fuckhead, there’s no point in me staying in here with you.”

Kirishima took a second to process his words, and then he was rolling his eyes back at Katsuki.

“And you say I’m the dumb one,” he said, sounding exasperated even as his words slurred slightly from the alcohol. Katsuki’s brows raised impossibly higher.

“Excuse me, Hair for Brains? What’d you just fucking say to me?” He asked.

“Katsuki, we both know I’m not afraid of your angry voice,” Kirishima said with a snort. “But, dude, come on, I’m obviously asking because I want to sleep with you!”

Katsuki was pretty sure he felt his brows go so high this time that they physically left his body.

“Um, what?” He blurted.

He could practically hear Kirishima replaying his own words in his head, his processing slow from drinking. He knew the moment it clicked though, because Kirishima suddenly turned beet red, flushing much deeper than he could blame on the alcohol.

“Oh my god, not like that!” He cried, burying his face in his hands. His next words were mumbled into them, presumably just for himself. However, Drunk Kirishima’s volume control wasn’t superb, and Katsuki heard them clearly against the silence of his room. “Okay, well, maybe like a little like that but that’s so not what I meant, oh my god.”

“What’d you mean then?” Katsuki croaked, disbelieving.

Kirishima looked mortified, as if he couldn’t believe he’d willingly backed himself into this corner.

“You know, it was nothing - nope - I think you’re right, the couch is good - you know what I’ll even take it okay so goodni-“

Katsuki cut him off with a hand over his blabbering mouth. His mind was going a mile a minute, replaying a million scenes with Kirishima that he’d written off as casual and friendly. The thought that they might’ve actually meant something more was almost too good to be true.

“You got a fucking crush on me or something, Shitty Hair?” He asked bluntly. When Kirishima’s eyes grew wide and he started to shake his head no, Katsuki glared at him. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Kirishima stopped shaking his head.

“Well?” Katsuki demanded, hand still clasped over his mouth. He hoped Kirishima couldn’t feel his rapid pulse in his wrist. Kirishima’s slightly bloodshot eyes looked worried, but he nodded his head anyway.

Katsuki’s heart, which had been beating furiously since Kirishima had announced his desire to fucking sleep with him, felt like it was going to explode from happiness. He couldn’t fight down a small smile as he removed his hand. Kirishima liked him back.

“Well fuck, Eiji, that was all you ever had to say. Get the fuck in bed,” he said, turning and plopping himself down on Kirishima’s mattress.

Kirishima’s eyes were so wide Katsuki was a little worried they might fall out. “You… you like me too?” He asked, as if he didn’t believe him.

Katsuki huffed, averting his eyes as he blushed. “I left my bed at two in the goddamn morning to walk your ass home from the bar. What do you think? Now get the fuck over here and spoon me, you big idiot.”

Despite his insults, the smile that stretched across Kirishima’s face was blinding. He was all too happy to indulge him.

***

The next morning, Kirishima had the worst hangover Katsuki had ever seen him with. Luckily for him, he also had a cute blonde boyfriend now who maybe didn’t absolutely hate taking care of him.

#kiribaku #kiribaku fic #kiribaku drabble #ask game #bnha #bnha drabble #ask arx #my writing #wow the mobile app absolutely butchered this formatting ok but its fixed now

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hanabiira · 4 years

Text

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Bunny AGE: 26 CONTACT: IM & Discord

CHARACTER(S): OCs, and technically Kensei but I have neglected him as of late.

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR: None that I’ve actually written yet but I have an Avatar LOK AU for Miki.

MY LANGUAGE(S): English, no other languages I can fluently write in. I can read hiragana and katakana and very basic elementary kanji.

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sports / Music / Science / Fight / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc.

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS (for OOC questions only) / PERSONALS (for OOC questions only) / ANONS. (for OOC/IC questions)

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?: YES (please do!) / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: crack / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK.

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?: YES / NO.

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. / DEPENDS ON MOOD AND INSPIRATION, AND IF I’M BUSY I

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS (if I know the fandom) / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: Tumblr IM or if you know me, discord. Once you have my discord there’s no reason to IM me really. I’m more likely to notice a message from discord than tumblr since I have discord on my phone and laptop.

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER: I mean, if we’re actively plotting something I at least expect some back and forth?? But if it’s just general spewing of shit about stuff our characters might do I don’t necessarily expect it to become a thread or anything. Sometimes I just like to scream and think about stuff with other people lmao.I don’t even really expect plotting all the time, unless you have a really good idea then I’m all for it!! totally!! I love a good plotted thread but I am also cool just going with the punches.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?: If the person doesn’t seem into it I’ll probably just drop it? I’m not going to pressure anyone into any sort of rp they’re not vibing with, it’s fine.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?: I love that this meme assumes I plot a lot lmfao. Uhh...I find it quite difficult to come up with a lot of different active scenarios or stories but I do frequently like to discuss what ifs between my characters and whoever I’m talking to and that often can evolve into an idea for a thread which I am all for taking places. I wouldn’t necessarily call it plotting because it doesn’t always have to turn into something, but its just fun little banter about our characters and their reactions. If I am trying to buckle down and plot I will do my best to contribute to whatever we’re trying to plan?

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: I won’t be mad, just be like ‘hey can we drop this?’ and I’ll be like “cool”. I get that sometimes you just can’t find the words to reply to something and that’s ok. But just let me know so I’m not sitting there waiting for a reply I’m never going to get.

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: Either an natural ending of the thread or I just....can’t think of any juice to keep it going and get stuck behind a wall. I am MORE than happy to start something fresh and new when threads are ended or dropped!

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: I think a lot of misunderstanding stems from a lack of communication. Do I talk OOC with ALL the people I rp with? No, but If I have concerns or questions about a thread or something we’re doing I am 100% going to talk to them about it to make sure nothing gets misconstrued. I get people get anxious but like...if you have the balls to write a character on the internet with a stranger you can send them an IM if you have a questions/concerns. None of us are mind readers, so don’t leave your partner in the dark about your thoughts and feelings. Obviously if they are writing with you they don’t hate you. 90% of us don’t bite and are just lame nerds behind a computer screen, so....

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: I mean, I’m not going to LOVE hearing something negative but if its a valid point or concern I’m absolutely going to listen to it and try to rectify it? Problem is a lot of people thinly spew hate or baseless negativity and then thinly veil it as “criticism” that stems their personal feelings about a character than it really is anything constructive, which is a no go for me. Will I 100% always agree with how everyone else plays their characters? No, but if its not hurting anyone and they’re having fun I’m not going to say anything to them. I 100% welcome constructive criticism or tough questions! It’s one way to improve.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: My goal is really just to have fun and enjoy myself. The longer I am here the less I am worried about doing big deep threads or having amazing fancy graphics for that RPC clout. I’m here to have fun with my friends and play my OC that I love. Again, I don’t profess myself to be much of a writer so I’m not technically here to really further and deepen my writing skills. That sounds bad, I don’t mean to say I am adverse to improvement and I am always looking for ways or feedback that could make my storytelling better, but it is not my main goal or reason for why I rp, if that makes sense. Telling a narrative has always been something that’s been difficult for me (I HATED having to write stories in school and avoided creative writing like the plague) but I really welcome ways that could help me be better, because it hasn’t always been something natural to me.

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS: I YEARN for a good thread with a Shunsui about Miki taking over the 8th division and how she changes it since his time there. She really worries about still holding onto his legacy while also making a name for herself and differentiating herself from him and how he ran things and would really want his feedback and approval. I would also really love if there were some characters that really took an interest in the kinds of stuff she does with the things she grows in her garden and greenhouse. It is more than just “ooh, look at the pretty flowers” and it is not really something I’ve gotten to explore despite my time here.

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE: Anything gross. Rape/noncon/underage/furry or weird extreme fetish shit. I 100% do not vibe with racism, transphobia, homophobia, etc. I do not mind some darker themes but I don’t really have any interest on writing any threads where Miki is deeply deeply hurt or tortured or anything like that, which kind of falls under the gore category. Will I write her injured and do I welcome some kinds of sparring/fighting threads? Yes. But I won’t subject her to gross violence and having the shit being beat out of her. Miki is not infallible but I don’t want to write it.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: Starters that are too open ended, start with a general with a question and/or little scenario building. You know like the “why are you here”, “what are you doing”, “who are you” sorts of starters. They’re boring and I will most likely run out of ways to keep going with them. Set a scene for me and I will have a much easier time!

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?: That’s a good question...Miki tends to like friendly people (obviously) but also gets a kick out of interacting with cold or difficult to talk to characters (think Soi fon, Kensei, Byakuya etc) because she sees it as something of a challenge. She wants to see if she can befriend them. I also like characters that have an interesting theme or shitck .

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?: Characters that are not really in her age group (think the karakura kids). I have the most difficult time thinking about how they might even interact in a way that is not on the most superficial level. Also characters that I can’t realistically see her meeting or running into.

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I am pretty easy to reach OOC, and once I’m in I’m in. I love talking about our characters interactions and will spam you with asks and shit if that’s what you want. I will talk all day about our characters if you let me. I will send you stupid memes. Even if I am not posting on tumblr I’m easily reached through discord. And Idk my oc is good??? maybe???

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I would say I’m inconsistent? I know its covid times right now but I do work a full time job that takes a lot of my time and energy usually and I absolutely can’t write when I’m mentally exhausted. It won’t happen. So there may be times where you just won’t see any posting from me and it may take a long time for me to answer a thread or ask. As much as I also don’t like to label myself this way...I guess I technically do suffer from chronic pain (I have a hip malformation), and sitting is one of the things that really can exacerbate my hip and back pain meaning sometimes I just can’t tolerate sitting at my desk for very long or even sitting up in my bed which really prevents me from writing sometimes even when I want to. I wish mobile draft writing was better lol

DO YOU RP SMUT?: YES / NO/ DEPENDS.

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: Too much smut is boring, obviously, and I’m not really a fan of smut really just for the sake of smut and threads like that tend to die for me. And I also don’t rp smut with just anyone, there has to be an established relationship between the characters. But if it flows with the story and it makes sense for the scenario then yeah, I’m down for a good smut thread.

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?: I’m pretty vanilla and I didn’t really give Miki anything that’s really nonstandard. I’m not going to shame anyone for what they’re into or their characters but there’s just kinks I couldn’t convincing write, would be ooc, or I just would be too embarrassed. So far I have not run into anything weird though.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?: YES / NO

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES?? / NO. Though I mean ship not in a strictly romantic ship sense. I value all ships as in friendships and other relationships, mentor mentee, etc. and it really helps drive story for both characters I think. Miki CRAVES FRIENDSHIPS!! SHE WANTS TO BE YOUR FRIEND!! LET HER!! Even negative relationships have value.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF (ooc stuff).

ARE YOU: Multi-ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — Multiverse / Singleverse.

- WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?:

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - As long as its discussed before hand or is easily implied (say like, an 8th lieutenant).

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: Miki is unique, I’d like to think. She is a blend of soft and gentle, but also stubborn, opinionated and desperate to prove that she shouldn’t be messed with. I basically wanted a character that just seemed like a living and breathing springtime breeze. I’m not saying necessarily that some of the tropes she holds are entirely unique to the series, but I think its the blend of all her aspects that make her different compared to other canon characters. Plus if you love that plant and flower aesthetique™ you have come to the right place. Plus she takes it further than just an aesthetic or a surface level “I like flowers” aspect of her personality. It runs so deep and she is so passionate about it in so many different ways.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?: Again, ones that I can’t find much of a commonality with so those who are not her age or are strictly human. Though it is not impossible to interact with humans, I prefer to develop her story within the scene of the Seireitei. Also characters that are super volatile and aggressive.

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?: Peace, accomplishment, happiness mostly. Miki wants to be recognized for her hard work as well as desires to form positive relationships with others. She wants the Gotei to feel less disjointed.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?: The way they talk, their facial expressions, their eyes.

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?: Kindness, determination, drive, sense of humor.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?: Plants, flowers, flower arranging, gardening, poisonous plants and their potential affects and uses, tea, shitty jokes, food, general day to day gossip, handsome men (lol), books, kido and other shinigami arts, human world stuff.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?: Math, long convoluted talks about history, people who talk too much about themselves.

- DID THEY EVER GO THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?: The thousand year bloodwar. The death of a romantic partner. The death of her mother.

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?: It’s really hard to imagine a scenario where Miki would immediately go in for the kill zero questions asked with no context. Probably only if it’s someone known to be a threat, has done things that are terrible, and is likely to continue being a threat to others or is actively killing/about to kill someone else.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?: Birds. Hypocrites. Super self important people.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: Just roll up on her. She’s easily found in her barracks.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: uuuuuh she bean.

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by: @bazzardburner technically but for quincy miki which I will also tweak and post there.

#(.:✿:. Bunny Mumbles; ooc )

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the-sanders-sides · 5 years

Text

inidan american (desi) logan

a sequel to this post because people asked for more and i decided that they shall receive (and also i love writing these)

fair warning, logans a bitter kid, and this isnt as positive and happy as romans post. ive experienced two different ways of being desi, one where i lived in fully asian and indian community and didnt even think id ever feel alone, and another where i moved to a place where i havent met another desi in like 7 years of living here in a 3 hour driving radius. in romans post i played into my first experience and how at home i felt. in the second experience, the one im in right now, i am much more bitter about who i am and not really knowing anyone who gets it anymore. so i play into that A LOT in this. so keep that in mind. (and he will get happier in a future part. m planning on making this into a series)

ok so first off. his name is logan sanders. people (mostly other indians) dont believe him when he tells them. he tells them they dont know indian history. they say they do. he tells them that the british fucked around (quite literally) in india for four centuries so of course english names would stick with that precise wording

sometimes when he’s annoyed enough and doesnt want to explain this for the millionth he defends himself with this russel peters skit (watch it, it’s hilarious) because it describes his family. to a T.

he grew up in a community with not very many asians, and knew no indians outside his family so he felt a sort of disconnect to his culture

while his grandparents and parents would teach him about indian culture, he felt so distant from it since he knew no one outside his family who was indian, and since he didnt have any siblings or any nearby cousins to hang around with

he had visited india once but he was too young to remember it properly or too remember his cousins

the closest mandir was an hour away so that also limited the amount of indian kids/people he knew

he barely knew hindi because everyone in his family spoke english, especially in public

he felt guilty over the disconnect he felt and would always try to bridge it but would never accomplish this because it he kept losing passion since he rarely saw other people like him in the real world and in the media and he didnt see the point of trying

this all changed in eight grade when he moved next door to the Kumar family in a north indian street of some south asian blocks in an asian community

when his family first moved, the Kumar family invited the Sanders over to welcome them

it turns out the Kumar’s had a son who was the same age as logan

“hi logan! im rohan kumar! but i like going by roman instead of rohan!”

this introduction pissed logan off

he was seething because why would this kid who got to have an indian first AND last name change his name to an english one! why didnt he see the value of his name!

he knew right away that such a difference meant they could never be friends

“im logan sanders, but thats all youll get to know about me because i see no use associating myself with someone as... well, ignorant, as you”

roman decides to whip out one of the swears his cousins taught him and whisper shouts “who are you calling ignorant, bhenchod?”

it became clear to him that this was new turf, and people on this new turf must be speaking hindi. and that he was the ignorant one if he couldnt talk in hindi. he made a vow to learn it as fast as he could to make sure this roman kid wasnt better than him

but, logan grits his teeth and says “you, and i know it must be true because you were too dumb to understand me the first time”

this evidently struck a sore spot in roman because he didnt fight back but just stalked away. logan smiled slightly, happy to have won that argument

logan asks his grandpa to teach him hindi and his grandpa gets super excited

they start lessons immediately and despite barely hearing it growing up, it’s as if his brain was made for this because he picks the language up amazingly fast and in a months time, while not able to speak back yet, he can understand most casual conversation

his first diwali in basically little india is the most magical thing ever

diwali at his old home was very quiet because there wasnt anyone around to celebrate with

everyone is so happy in this new home however. everyone is dressed up and all the houses are lit up and there are diyas everywhere and he doesnt want to admit it but the kumar’s have the best rangoli on the street and it’s because of roman and he knows roman did it because sometimes he’d stare out of his bedroom window while doing homework and have a perfect view of roman delicately working on it for two weeks

(the kumar’s front porch had been covered with tarp waiting for diwali to make sure romans precious rangoli wasnt stepped on or ruined. when it’s finally let up, everywhere where there could be art, there is. it’s insane how good at colors roman is, logan thinks)

diwali morning:

he fights his parents because he doesnt want to miss school for diwali because americans dont have a day off for it. his parents set the clocks in the house ahead to make him think he overslept so he would skip school. (logan didnt know that his parents had submitted an excused absence form for religious reasons and that the school was very understanding. he thought it would be like his old school where he wouldnteven bother trying since he wasnt christain and the school was lkinda discriminatory)

they spend the morning in mandir and it’s nice. for once he doesnt feel different from his peers because he goes to mandir and not church or synagogue. he feels at home.

diwali afternoon:

the afternoon is spent with frantic cleaning and cooking and digging around for the diya’s that were still in boxes, packed away from when they moved

logan offered to find them all to continue with a diya science experiment he started two years prior. his theory was that the diya’s were multiplying and there were more each year despite no one buying anymore

this held true, because even though he could only find half of their diya collection, it was somehow more than the entire diya collection of two years prior.

diwali evening:

theres a big potluck and everyone in the neighborhood is out talking to each other, looking at the decorations at everyones houses, eating samosas, and playing with sparklers.

logan feels content

he makes a new resolve to learn more about hinduism. if this is what ti was supposed to be, then he never wanted to be away from hinduism.

he looked at the metaphors and symbolism in everything and finally understood what his dad meant he told logan that hinduism is just science written in poetry and that string theory is written in the ancient texts

middle school in this new town is so much better than middle school in his old home. why?

a. doesnt get bullied for being a nerd

b. doesnt get called gay slurs

c. the classes are harder

d. much less racism

e. all of the above

soon enough, logans asking his grandpa to teach him how to cook Indian food

Logan spends the day burning dosas and making lopsided rotis

(eventually he gets the hang of it, and a he'll be cooking food for an infuriating Indian boy ;) ;) psst it's roman)

Speaking of boys

Coming out isn't an option for logan

He knows that his parents arent really religious enough to really look into hinduism and see that no, gays are not bad

But they are traditional and conservative enough to be homophobic

not homophobic as in spewing hate with the westboro baptist church at a pride parade

But homophobic as in "the gays are fine as long as they don't do it in front of me" kinda thing

So Logan stays quiet

the closet kinda sucks but i mean what can he do

it’s safer inside, and he as illogical as wishing is, he wishes that people would use their brains and realize there’s nothing wrong with gay

anyway

in school logan makes his first desi friend, who was dubbed as anxiety years ago and cant seem to get rid of the nickname and now has a whole complex about his name so logan doesnt know his name

logan and anxiety meet in the school library: logan studying and anxiety hiding

people dont like anxiety

especially non-indian kids

surprise surprise it’s an old buddy called racism, but anxiety’s story is for another time

(but even though no one really likes anxiety, whenever racist shit goes down, it has to go through roman)

so logan and anxiety become fast friends

and they make fun of roman (a+ bonding)

logan claims that roman is a hypocrite for changing his name to an english one while being so immersed in indian culture

anxiety doesnt dispute this, but says he has a past with roman

a past that involved getting stuck with the name anxiety

again, another story for another time

one day, when logan and anxiety are eating lunch they see roman destroy some homophobes who throw around the word f*g and keep calling caitlyn jenner, bruce jenner

logans chest surges

he’s all like “what?? emotions?? pride at roman?? is he better than me for being so open and standing up for what he believes in??”

gay panic basically

but logan masked it well and pushed it away

the next day roman comes to school with a pride patch on his jean jacket

logan feels like he cant breathe

logan is supremely jealous of roman.

he can be gay in peace

he can pretend not to be indian in a way that benefits him

and he’s not affected by stereotypes in the same way?? like what does this kid not have

and by stereotypes i mean

roman is the complete opposite of all indian and desi stereotypes: loud, flamboyant, theatrical

logan’s personality is exactly how the stereotypes are. he’s nerdy and likes science and math and it seems like he cant escape the stereotypes. they follow him. and he feels guilty that he likes science and math and is nerdy.

as illogical as it is, he wishes he was different from how he is

but logan later learns that there are more than just his perspective on being desi and that every desi kid growing up faces challenges about it that are different than his, causing them to experience being desi differently

and logan will accept that, in another story at another time

for now, he’s just bitter. and as illogical as it is, he wishes the world was better

and now, i shall tag some people who asked to be tagged and some other desi’s who loved this because i feel like you guys might appreciate this too. also i love u. desi famders squad up.

@sssixeyedrunt @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @caterpiller-tea @xxxbladeangelxxx @snufflesthegrim227 @cloudchaser7 @thelowlysatsuma

#logan sanders #logince #virgil sanders #roman sanders #desi #desi headcanons #sanders sides #mine #please love this #r #l #v

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lunalopierce · 5 years

Text

LA LA BABY| Chaotic Four

WHO:Iris, @oliver-puckerman, @gioharper, @stephaniepills WHAT: The four friends find themselves finally in California where some... things, happen on the first day Feelings emerge, lollipops are taken away, and someone makes another damn sex joke

STEPHANIE:

The plane ride went smoothly, none of any of the four teens luggage had gotten misplaced, and they didn't need to wait too long for the Ubber to head to her apartment. It wasn't anything super fancy but it was the teens home away from home, and it helped that after that one ubber trip they'd be able to use the car her mom left there for her.

As they pulled up to the building, and got all their stuff out, she pushed through her bag to find her house keys. "You guys all know once we drop this stuff off, we need to go food shopping, cause I don't think i have any food here." She said truthfully, pushing her hair behind her ear looking between the group. "And with it being the four of us, it's probably better for a cosco run and not a target run"

OLIVER:

If there was one thing Oliver hated more than anything, it was being on a plane for long periods of time. He had always had a fear that the one time he actually flew anywhere would be the time the plane would malfunction and go down. He knew it was a fear that was likely never to happen, but he couldn't control how far his imagination would take him. Happy when the aircraft finally touched down in LA, Oliver could finally relax a bit more and really let his vacation start. Going down to pick up his bags, the young man laughed with his friends as they made their way through the airport.

Before he knew it the four of them had finally reached Steph's apartment. It had felt like a lifetime has gone by since the last time any of them had come to visit her, but it still gave the feeling of a long lost home. "Yeah, I really wouldn't trust any food that may have been left here before you moved back home. Though are you sure? Since I'm sure majority of the time we might be eating out. What with sightseeing and Disney. Are we even going to be here often enough to cook ourselves dinner?"

GIO

The trip to LA was uneventful - he'd flown to and fro New York a couple of times when he went to Columbia, but he wasn't able to get any sleep the night before their flight. Though he won't be admitting it out loud any time soon, he was excited. So, he spent the four-hour flight time dozing off. A groggy Gio wasn't really pleasant company, but by the time they'd arrived at Stephanie's LA home, he was up and fully awake.

"Costco's much better," Gio agreed as he plopped his bags on the carpet - he never frequented LA, he never really found amusement parks fun and entertaining, but he'd take every opportunity to go out with his friends before they inevitably part ways. "We should do a bit grocery shopping, y'know - for domesticity, or when Oliver's stomach starts grumbling in the middle of the night," he grinned. Despite his suggestion, however, he sat down on the couch, slumping lazily against the seat.

IRIS

This was the first time she was going on a trip without her family. Sure had gone to summer camps since she was in elementary school and some of those included sleepaway camps; but those were only a few towns over and not a few states. And surely not more than a few days. This trip meant everything to her. Being the youngest in the group she was scared that when everyone went off to college they’d all lose time for her-- so this was the best way to gather whatever time they had left before that happened. A trip away from drama and a trip away from their parents so they could just be kids and have fun and not worry about anything or anyone.

Once in Steph’s apartment she dropped her bags along with everyone else's before dropping herself to the floor. Instantly she made herself comfortable, swinging around to lay on the floor, throwing her legs up to rest on the other side of the couch. “Costco is best, we definitely need at least munching food when we’re not eating out or when we want to grab something on the way out. Also drinks.” She nodded, looking up at everyone. “Oh, also, Costco has those taste testing sample people out.”

STEPHANIE

Stephanie rolled her eyes instantly at Oliver, but laughed "I am not door dashing every night when we're here Oli. And Iris is right free samples for days at Cosco." She put her bag ontop of her suitcase before walking into the kitchen, trying to see what she had left in the cabinets before heading home after her show was unfortunately canceled. Pulling her phone out of her back pocket she started making a list. "Does anyone have any special request that are must for the next week and a half or are we just gonna be four seventeen and eighteen year olds braving cosco without a list? "

OLIVER:

Rolling his eyes at how his friends picked on him, Oliver followed Stephanie into the kitchen, pulling open cabinets as he went. "I think we should plan a few nights out. I have an idea of what I'm going to make you for our date, but I don't have to write that down. Maybe a few pizzas we can bake, stuff Gio and I can barbecue, chips and soda. Other than that im not sure what all we'll want." Finally leaning against the counter, Oliver slung an arm around her shoulders as he watched her write down the things he mentioned.

GIO:

If Gio had bothered looking back, he would've noticed the dynamic between Stephanie and Oliver changing slightly. "We need to make a grocery list, I think," Gio shrugged, playfully resting his feet across Iris' legs. "It'll be a damn disaster, otherwise. Unless you want to spend half of the day at Costco." Frankly, he wouldn't mind. Costco was magical.

IRIS:

“We’d up buying crap we aren’t going to eat if you don’t make a list.” Iris threw in, knowing the four of them would run around grabbing whatever they wanted and end up spending hundreds of dollars. She sent a glare towards Gio, kicking her legs to annoy him but ultimately didn’t care. She was too comfortable to move. “Oh oh oh! Add candy to that. Specifically lollipops.” She said, reaching into her shorts pocket and yes, pulling out a lollipop, unwrapping it and popping it in her mouth.

STEPHANIE:

As everyone talked, Stephanie was quickly typing the list into her phone, leaning back on the counter, a small smile crossing her lips when Oliver draped his arm over her. "You're saying as if being at costco all day wouldn't be a good time Gio" She said with an eye roll, and typed in Lolipops to the list.

OLIVER:

"Iris..I think it might be time we had an intervention about your addiction to lollopops. It's not healthy for someone of your size to consume that much sugar in a day." As he smirked in Iris' general direction, he couldn't help but give Steph a knowing smile as he nodded towards the pair. He couldn't take how adorable they seemed as they flirted with each other. "Do you guys want me to make us french toast before we leave tomorrow?"

GIO:

"I'll help you," Gio offered, his head lolling back to the edge of the couch to grin at Oliver, "And the Iris and Steph can cook dinner!" It seemed like a fair idea. "I'm kinda craving mac and cheese for dinner tonight. And, hm, a bunch of drinks," he added. "And no lollipops for Iris, nobody wants you to start jumping all over the place 'cause of all the sugar you're consuming."

IRIS:

Iris pulled the lollipop out with a pop, a pout adorning her face. “That’s rude. I have the perfect amount of sugar intake. Just because I’m tinier than all of you and it effects me more, doesn’t mean I have a problem. I can stop whenever I want to.” She shrugged, turning to Gio and pointing the lollipop at him. “You touch this, and you die.” She muttered towards him, a grin still adorning her face. Before calling out to the other two. “Yeah, we can make chicken or something in return.” She shrugged, popping the lollipop back in her mouth.

STEPHANIE:

Stephanie put an x2 next to the lolipops, knowing that just the fact it would piss off the both the boys. "Leave hear alone, we're all gonna end up on a sugar high either now or at disney so y'all need to calm yourself." She pushed up off the counter and walked out to the living room, and looking between the two on the couch. "Do you two wanna stay here and just send myself and oliver to get the stuff?"

OLIVER:

Watching as Stephanie wrote down two bags of suckers for his smaller blonde friend, Oliver made a mental note to be sure to take them out of the cart while she wasn't looking. He knew she meant well, but it really wasn't healthy for Iris to have a sucker in her mouth 24/7. "I'll leave her alone the day the two of them finally get together. Then Gio can take over for the both of us, and control his girlfriend. Maybe he can give her something else to suck on." He mentioned as he wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

GIO:

Gio let out an undignified squawk at Oliver's sexual innuendo, "Jesus Christ," he choked out, not really knowing whether to laugh or cry. If it had been somebody else, he would've went with it, no doubt, but it was Iris. Iris was different. Gio could feel the heat in his cheeks rising, and he attempted to will it away by sitting up and reaching down to pry the lollipop from Iris' mouth, "Get that shit off, or else Oliver will start spewing weirder shit!"

IRIS:

She was ready to die. Right then and there, bury her under the sofa, say nice things about her, she wanted to die. Sure, everyone was used to Oliver’s weird perversion to make sexual jokes but this one just felt different. Any moment now her life could fall apart with a few simple words and she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. She sat up, legs falling to the floor as she peered over at Oliver. “You’re a jackass.” She said, gasping in protest as she felt the candy leave her mouth. “Hey! Give that back! I don’t care what he says, he can go suck a dick for all I care.” She protested, climbing onto the couch and reaching over him to grab at her lollipop.

STEPHANIE:

Stephanie's eyes just widened at Oliver's comment. Yeah she had heard them before but it was never that extreme or about the elephant in the room. She pushed her hair behind her ear just watching everything. "Kay I'll let you two fight over the lolipop and.." she grabbed her bag as she spoke "you two can deal with what just happened with Oliver not having a filter some times." She debated on grabbing Oliver's hand but didn't and just hoped he was gonna follow her.

OLIVER:

You would think his friends didn't know he had no filter when it came to this subject. One thing that had yet to change in his growing up was the fact that he used his inexperience in sex as a way to make light of a situation. Truth be told, and he would rather die than let Iris and Gio know, but their threesome had actually been his first time. Maybe it was his defense mechanism, but he did feel bad about what he said when he saw the look on Iris face. "I'm sorry ris. That was uncalled for." Watching as Stephanie left out the front door, Oliver silently followed as he pulled the door closed behind him.

GIO:

Gio grunted in annoyance, stretching his arm upwards, far away from Iris' reach. "What the hell, get off me," he complained, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating wildly against his chest - Stephanie and Oliver were off somewhere doing god knows what, and they were alone. The asshole part of him thought how hilarious popping the lollipop into his mouth would be (and see the look of infuriation and shock on Iris' face), so he did, a shit-eating grin on his face. "'S mine now."

IRIS:

Iris just glared back at Oliver before putting her focus back on the task at hand. If there was one thing she took seriously, it was her lollipops; she didn’t eat many different kinds of candy, and lollipops were always her go to whenever she wanted something sweet. She shook her head, still trying to reach the lollipop, not hearing the door close behind them. “Dude what the fuck.” She exclaimed, reaching forward and grabbing hold of the stick, mimicking his movements moments prior. “You do know that has my salvia all over it?” Iris questioned, giving it tug , not caring she was all but hovering over him.

STEPHANIE:

Stephanie looked behind her when the door closed seeing Oliver, a small smile crossed her face. "So how long do you think it's gonna both of them to realize that we're going to the store without them?" She asked grabbing her keys out of the zippered part of bag, and started to walk down the stairs to wear the car was parked.

OLIVER:

Patting his pockets to make sure he didn't forget his phone in the kitchen, Oliver glanced over at the redhead. "I doubt they will even notice. I mean did you see them? How can they not see that they are 100% in love with each other." Making his way over to her car, Oliver waited until he heard the beep of her car unlocking before he ran ahead so he was able to open the car door for her. "How long are we going to leave them here? Like are we just going to Costco? Or are we going other places as well"

GIO:

"Don't care," Gio managed to hiss out, the lollipop still wrenched between his teeth - he wasn't going to lose, it was childish, even for him, but the prideful part of him remained stubborn. "We've done worse," he grinned up at her, eyebrows raising up challengingly. Where did the audacity come from? He didn't know. Probably their compromising position - which, he didn't mind at all.

IRIS:

Iris rolled her eyes, still determined to get the lollipop; even though it was more so to mess with him and win over him than the lollipop itself. Even out of school, she was still competitive as ever against Gio. No matter how embarrassed she might be at the fact that she was all but straddling him at this point. “Yes, yes. I know. I even know that that was a one time thing and as much fun as it was, not looking to do that again with Oli.” She shrugged, leaving his name out of it. She might try to put on a front with him, but she couldn’t lie to herself.

STEPHANIE:

Stephanie let out a soft laugh. "They are blind if they can see it." She murmured watching him walk in front of her biting the side of her lip. "You know i can get my own door." She teased going over and leaned on the car looking at him. "I feel like we should just stick with Costco, but we can probably stretch it until they call us and ask where the hell we went" she shrug a little bit.

OLIVER:

Oliver agreed wholeheartedly. He wasn't sure as to why they hadn't just gotten it over with, but if there was anywhere in the world that could spark up a romance, it was Disneyland. "trust me, I know you don't need me to take care of you, but just let me be a gentleman." Oliver complained as he placed a hand on her waist before closing the space between the two. "Do you have a problem with that?" He asked with a slight smirk gracing his face. "Well I do have our date planned out, but if we did that today, we wouldn't be back until late tonight."

GIO:

Unfortunately, Gio caught the hint. With Oli?" He asked, pulling the lollipop out and waving it in front of Iris with a teasing smile on his face. Now that the both of them had considerably calmed down, Gio was all-too aware of Iris on his lap, but he made no move to push her away. "Here's your damn lollipop," he passed the candy back to her, "Happy?"

IRIS:

Iris had two choices, to try and correct herself, or just go with it. And considering the compromising position they were in, the fact that she really didn’t care all that much about the candy, and the statement their blonde friend had made earlier, she had a feeling playing it off wouldn’t get past him. “Yes, with Oli.” She grinned, taking the lollipop back from him and popping it in her mouth, halting her fight against him. “Considerably so, yes I am.” She said, pulling the lollipop out. “Though, it’s seemed to have lost it’s flavor.”

STEPHANIE:

Stephanie could feel her cheeks growing redder as Oliver's hands rested on her waist. Why was the smallest thing making her feel like they where kinda perfect in a way. "Fine, i can't say no to that." the redhead whispered rolling her lips between her teeth seeing the smirk play on his face. "No, but we should save that date for a full day in LA."

OLIVER:

Watching as she softly chewed on her lip, Oliver felt a sense of pride that he had this sort of reaction on her. "We should really get going, Steph. It's already going to take us a while before we actually make it back here." Nodding in agreement, Oliver waited for her to get in the car before closing it behind her.

GIO:

Iris' smile was infectious, and Gio found himself returning it with the same calibre. "Just with Oli?" He asked, with a joking lilt to his voice, although there was a little hesitance (hopefulness?) behind his question. The mere fact that Iris still hasn't made any move to get off his lap was saying a lot. Maybe. "How unfortunate." He licked his lips, "Can't relate, though, my mouth still tastes like strawberry."

IRIS:

“I said what I said.” She shrugged again, twirling the stick between her fingers. She had one every single day, she knew the workings of candy; Iris knew the lollipop didn’t actually lose flavor, she wasn’t stupid, she just wanted to see what his reaction was. A simple test to gauge what her next choice would be. If she was being honest with herself, she was getting tired of the back and forth between them and needed to know if the feelings truly were one sided. She bit her lip, eyes flickering towards his. “Is that so.” She muttered, before mustering up all the Lopez-Pierce courage she could, surging forward and planting her lips on his.

STEPHANIE:

"Fine fine fine." Stephanie muttered getting into the car. She watched him walk around the car to get in himself. She opened google maps and typed into it Costco and set her phone down in the cup holder smiling when he got into the car. "Ready?"

OLIVER:

Pulling the seatbelt across him, Oliver only nodded as a signal that he was ready. "So can I ask you something?" Oliver paused as he tried to think of the best way possible to ask this without him seeming like he wasn't happy. "What made you say yes to a date? I thought.." trailing off as he gathered his thoughts, it took him a moment before he actually finished his sentence. "I thought you didn't have feelings for me like that."

GIO:

Gio freezes - the gears in his brain had stopped for a nanosecond. He certainly hadn't seen this coming; yes, sure, he'd dropped a lot of not-so-subtle hints and openly flirtatious to Iris, but he didn't expect her to... Return it. The moment their lips had touched, and the moment Gio gathered his shit together and kissed her back, the heavy tension in the air had snapped like a rubber band. Gio cupped her cheeks as he deepened the kiss, pulling her flush against him. Oliver and Steph had fucked off somewhere, but were they to suddenly walk in and catch them making out, they would have a lot of explaining to do.

IRIS:

Part of Iris was afraid she just made a huge mistake. Her whole family may be full of confidence but when it came to iris half the time it was pure ‘fuck it all’ mindframe. She knew there was something between the two of them, but she wasn’t sure if the extent of it was just something she made up in her mind. All this was flying through her mind in the seconds before he kissed back, and in that moment a rush of butterflies went right to Iris’ head without mercy. The lollipop fell from her hands, instinctively letting go to bury her fingers in his hair, really not wanting this moment to end.

STEPHANIE:

Once he was buckled, Stephanie started the car backing out of the spot, and started to drive out of the parking lot and getting on the road. She was about to turn up the radio but stopped as he asked that question. “A date. not datING” She said peering over at him hoping that didn’t come off as she wasn’t excited and ready for it, but talking about the date made her heart race. “I’m an actress, i am good at showing emotion when I wanna” she whispered, looking back at the road as she started to change lanes, letting out a small breath. “Like if it wasn’t for the stupid gossip blog, i probably would have just kept pushing my feelings i’ve had aside cause I didn’t want to get between you and your music, or if we /had/ dated before, and i was out here and you saw pictures of me with other guys i wouldn’t want you to think that i was cheating on you. Cause honestly last thing i would do is that to someone I really care about.” The redhead took a few turns as she was talking, and soon they where at Costco. “So, don’t hate me for not telling you.”

OLIVER:

Rolling his eyes slightly, Oliver corrected himself "Yes, date but you know what I mean. I know this is us testing out the waters together, but I still wanted to know." If trying to break out in the music industry had taught him anything, it was the fact that tabloids would do anything to get a story--even if they have to make it up in order to do so. "I would still trust you if you told me nothing was going on. You've given me no reason not to trust you. It would be the same thing with me out on the road all of the time. Once we have this album finished, the band and I are planning on going on a small tour. Nothing major..just a few small venues, but you would have to deal with the idea of girls potentially being all over me. I just just hope that if we do end up giving this a real shot, that you would trust me." As the pair pulled into the local Costco, Oliver helped in the task of finding a spot. "I don't hate you. I mean its not like I ever made my feelings known." Looking down one of the lanes, Oliver finally pointed" I see a spot down there."

GIO:

Gio eventually had to (reluctantly) break the kiss for air. He wrapped his arms around Iris' waist, grinning up at her. "Well," he sucked in a breath, hoping to the gods that he didn't look as nervous as he felt. "That was nice," he said lamely. Way better than their little fling with Oliver. "We should, like, totally do it again."

IRIS:

It was only when he pulled away did Iris realize how on fire her lungs were, that there was this thing called air they needed. “Yeah, really nice.” She responded, not helping the laugh that escaped her, leaning forward once more, pressing a firm kiss to his lips before pulling back again. Her hands fell away from his neck to only let her head fall into them, another laugh escaping from her as everything that just happened in the last few minutes flew through her mind. “I can’t believe I just did that.” She muttered, thanking every god imaginable that not only did he obviously felt the same, but that their friends weren’t around for it.

STEPHANIE:

Stephanie shrugged a little bit. "Well.. you know now." She said softly as she hit the blinker on her car, pulling into the spot. "I'd trust you too, Oli." She turned off her car grabbing her bag and looked over at him. "And you're acting as if I wouldn't end up being a groupie following you guys around" she teased, tossing her keys into her bag getting out of the car, waiting for him. "Look, whatever happens between us, our friendship always comes first, deal?"

OLIVER:

The fact that she had always been supportive of his dream really meant the world to him. He wouldn't know what to do if his friends didn't support him, and the fact that the girl he wanted to try and make something with, seemed to always be his biggest fan. "You should know that no matter what, I'll always have VIP passes sitting at the box office for you." Nodding his head as he got out of the car, Oliver could only smile as he made his way over to her side. Wrapping an arm around her as they walked into the store. "Nothing is going to come between us and our friendship, Sunshine. I won't let anything happen."

GIO:

Gio lets out a soft snort, one hand flying up to stroke Iris' hair; as amazing as kissing Iris felt, there was an unanswered question hovering in the air, and Gio certainly wasn't going to waste the rest of his summer away being a complete coward. No, he was moving to New York for fuck's sake. "I can't believe you just did that," Gio teased, leaning against her. "So," he started, licking his lips. "Did - uh, did that kiss mean anything, or...?"l

IRIS:

Iris lifted her head solely for the purpose of slapping Gio across the chest. “Don’t forget Gio, you’re the one who reciprocated.” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “No, it meant absolutely nothing. I just made up an excuse to kiss you for the hell of it.” She joked, sticking her tongue out at him, a sign she was messing with him. But as quick as she joked, she quickly got serious. “It did. It really did. And yeah you’re going to college in a few months, but doesn’t mean we can’t try, right? I mean, if you’re up for it. Because I am. I mean who knows, if you can deal with dating someone still in high school, we could totally make long distance work.” She said, quickly realizing she was rambling.

#//AYEEEE FINALLLLYYYYY HARPIERCE IS IN #*para

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