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#the third one belongs to the neighbour but at this point she's more of a coomunity cat
madphantom · 1 year
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Anyway the year is coming to its end and it was probably the most bewildering year of my life so here's a summary of some of the more random events
The year began with finally being able to reach my best friend who had ghosted me a few weeks prior, asking why she left and getting told I was too boring for her.
Desperate for human interaction I went to a lecture on feminism in a bar, started talking to the organizers because I had never attended events they'd hosted before, traded numbers and now we're best friends and I'm part of their organization and we're planning weekend trips together.
Also I got an issue of a feminist magazine at said lecture and was amazed by it, and recently I wrote an article for it myself after the girl running it personally requested it.
I graduated school with an average of 2.3 which is insanely good, considering I didn't study the slightest bit for my finals and didn't do my homework in three years.
I went to a graduation party, met a guy I seemingly grooved with and we ended up drinking an entire bottle of white wine and making out on the town square as the entire crowd cheered for us. That evening we went to a club together, started dancing and talking and then I found out he was transphobic and ended the relationship the next day.
I saw MCR live and I was in the third row and Mikey Way winked at me, and that's like one of my biggest flexes now.
I went to pride in our neighbouring town. Then I went to pride in our town a few weeks later and made out with a very attractive trans guy and a very pretty lesbian, both of which I lost touch with. Luke, if you're out there and you're single again, I'm still available.
I went to a fun fair with a guy I'd briefly met at pride and all his friends which I'd never seen before and at some point that evening I was driven to my hometown in the back of a black van with tinted windows belonging to a guy I didn't know and basically just hoped I wouldn't get murdered later.
I went to an antifascist summer camp for three days, got a crash course in krav maga and tried to defend the camp with a rock when I thought we were being attacked (it was fine, they were just fireworks in the valley)
I went on a cross country train trip with a guy that I later found out was a serial rapist, and miraculously nothing happened to me.
I went to the first party in my life that lasted all night, a very hot band member with immaculate eyeliner danced with me and bought me a drink and at some point in the morning like four of us were sitting in an empty bar eating breakfast, drinking Berliner Luft and watching the sunrise.
I held my first ever self written speech at a protest.
I started bartending at a communist bar, which has the worst reputation in the entire city and is known and feared as Incredibly Shady™
I enrolled in university and started studying film and media.
I got wasted and randomly decided it would be fun to be a board member of the university film club so I texted the current board leader that I volunteer and now I'm a board member of the university film club despite being in my first semester and completely inexperienced.
I got drugged at the Christmas market.
I confessed a crush on someone, got rejected and miraculously we stayed friends instead of never speaking to each other again.
I spontaneously performed a vent poem about my crush as a punk song at a jam and now I'm being offered to be the frontman of a band by multiple people.
I became Tumblr famous with a Goncharov movie and my follower count rose from 1200 to over 6000 within a month.
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alittlebitgoofy · 2 years
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BESTIE
for the prompts, could i get some daya being protective over bosco at a club?
absolutely! i got a bit excited and finished this one to lengthen it out a bit past the 15 min mark, set it in the neighbour au but a bit after they first hook up, tw for use of the d slur
“If you so much as look at her again I’ll break your arm,” Daya growled, staring down at the pathetic man in front of her, Bosco stood behind her with a grimace. As much as they appreciated her jumping to their defense, her rage was slightly worrying. She could see the bouncers eyeing them up. Hopefully, this wouldn’t end in them getting kicked up.
“What are you going to do? I’m not scared of some whore. ” Bosco saw Daya beginning to shake slightly, she was about to blow up in this guy's face and honestly, they felt no sympathy
The guy punctuated his response with a shove, that was enough for Daya to snap, throwing a punch and knocking him onto the floor, not stopping and swiftly delivering a kick straight to his groin (word?) that made him let out a scream of pain.
Bosco slowly came behind her, whispering to her softly to not provoke her further. Daya whipped around at the sound of Bosco’s voice, letting them take her hands and pull her into a quick kiss to calm her fiery temper.
“Fucking dykes!” Daya whipped back around at the remark, grabbing the guy and slamming him up against the bar, she could feel eyes on her but couldn’t give less of a shit. Someone like this had to be taught a lesson and she was seeing red.
“Say that to my fucking face!”
“You heard me, disgusting fucking dy-” Daya cut him off with another swift hit to the jaw. In the blink of an eye, she was being pulled off, the guy held by a bouncer as she felt herself being restrained by another. Bosco shouted something, though her heart was racing too fast to make it out.
“Daya, you fucking idiot.” She muttered, grabbing the taller woman's hand and practically dragging her out of the bar at the behest of the bouncers. “I can’t take you anywhere.” They continued, smirking as Daya huffed in response. “He was insulting you was I supposed to just let it happen?” Bosco rolled her eyes, stopping in their tracks to cup her face and press a kiss to her cheek. “No, I appreciate it. Maybe don’t get kicked out of bars though, this is the third time that’s happened.” Bosco shook their head recalling the previous occurrences. It happened the same every time, someone would look at them for too long or make a move and Daya would be there in an instant protective as all hell. The one time one of them actually touched her, Daya had broken his arm at the very least and possibly his nose by the time she was dragged out. It was a miracle she didn’t get arrested. “The real problem is drunk guys keep making a move on you.”
“I’m just too hot, can’t expect people to not look at this ass.” Daya moved closed, clutching Bosco by the waist and hovering, her face barely an inch apart from theirs. “That ass is mine,” She growled, grabbing their ass, Bosco just smirked, raising an eyebrow as Daya pulled her in for another, more passionate kiss.
At that point, Bosco knew she wasn’t going to be able to go out tomorrow without getting a lot of stares. Daya was going to make it clear who they belonged to and they were content to let her, something about angry Daya was too hot to say no to.
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adozentothedawn · 3 years
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So, turns out my cousin is an evil traitor. He adopted a kitten and didn’t tell me. How dare he. Well, now he’ll have to live with me spamming him until I get appropriate compensation, namely pictures. I want to see the new kitten. 👀 And you can bet that at the next opportunity I’ll come haunt him to pet it. A kitten! I’m so excited!
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infernal-fire · 3 years
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five types of love.
what to expect: smut, swearing, friends w/ benefits arrangement, mention of Imposter syndrome, fluff, angst, heartbreak, overstimulation, implied creampie, rough sex
a/n: a little warning; you will be choosing your ending - there is a happy one and a sad one. a huge shoutout to @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ and @angrybirdcr​ for talking to me about the fic and offering such amazing advice! and @tuiccim​ was so damn lovely, even offered to beta this (though all mistakes are my own).
summary: you once heard that there were eight types of love. you only knew of five; the five that caused you to fall for one, blue-eyed menace.
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Ludus: uncommitted, casual love that can attribute to a flirtatious and fun conquest. Not to be mistaken for Eros.
“I think we’re forgetting the reason why the mission failed in the first place. If the older fellow took a suggestion once in a-”
“-Tony, you know damn well that there were civilians in there.”
Steve and Tony glared at each other from across the briefing room. The tension in the room was exorbitant, but then again, it had been that way since Bucky joined the team. 
“This is exactly why we need the new girl. You super-soldiers and billionaires are getting tangled up in each others’ asses and forgetting about what it’s like for the normal people,” Rhodey sighed.
“The last thing we need is another trainee fucking up orders,” Tony snorted and began messing with his tech. The projector flipped through random screens, FRIDAY most likely filtering out the irrelevant news. 
“If you have a problem, maybe you should say it to his face,” Steve seethed, now standing up to match Tony’s stance. Usually, this type of jab at Bucky wouldn’t rile him up, but the super-soldier was at his wit’s end following the events of the latest mission.
Beside him, Bucky lightly tugged on his friend’s hand, signalling him to disengage.
“You’re with them?” Tony incredulously questioned Rhodey. 
“I’m with the idea of calming this room down.”
“Besides, she’s already been prepped for her first mission,” Natasha piped up. “We’re supposed to have a sit-down in 5 minutes... that is, if you boys can get your shit together.”
The room broke out into a chorus of muttering and everyone settled in their seats again. Captain strode to the front of the room and pulled up his game plan, fiddling with the map FRIDAY was projecting. 
You, on the other hand, could not decide how to act in front of the Avengers: Laidback? They wouldn’t take you seriously. Know-it-all? No, that was Stark’s play. Timid Tiffany? If you wanted to seem secretly conceited? Sure. That would work for now.
When Vision floated out to bring you in, you didn’t even flinch at the unforeseen phasing. Impressed at your lack of a reaction, Vision faltered before ever-so-courteously introducing himself. 
Could this sentient being laugh of his own volition? You gave him your name and dramatically curtsied to test your theory; he could laugh, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it was not at all robotic. 
You felt the room intently eye you as you ambled to your seat beside one, blue-eyed menace. You half-expected the team to introduce themselves, but who were you kidding - anyone could hear the argument from three corridors away. There was no point in pretending like they wanted you here, but that wouldn’t deter you.
You glanced at your neighbour, met with the pleasant face of the one and only. James Buchanan Barnes was known to be a handsome devil, but the reputation of the Winter Soldier often precedes him; that, unfortunately, does not stop you from eyeing him. 
When he caught your stare, you scolded yourself. You’re such a creep. 
When he smirked at your ogling, you praised yourself. Oh, hello there. 
This is gonna be fun.
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Eros: sexual, passionate love that is fueled by lust.
It didn’t happen after the first mission; he had the decency to wait until the fourth mission to knock on your door. 
You had been putting away the last of your belongings, finally adjusting to the grandiose living conditions the Avengers Tower provided.
As soon as you unlocked your knob, the door flung open; Bucky's stare was partially inhibited by his hooded eyes. He hadn’t always looked at you like that. 
Like what?
With unadulterated craving. 
That day, he strode in like he owned the place. You didn’t expect the shove that caused you to land on your bed with an oomph. Bucky wasted no time, climbing onto your form, straddling you. By the time you understood what was happening, a single finger was pressed into your lips.
“Either tell me you don’t want this right fucking now,” he leaned in, close to your face, “or shut the fuck up and let me use you.”
You whimpered in response.
“Not good enough.”
“Use me.”
That’s all the affirmation he needed. 
You pushed off the bed to try and meet his lips but he firmly pinned you down by your shoulders. Bucky reached into your panties and circled your clit without hesitation. It only took some swivelling, his intense gaze and the unexpected plunge of his fingers in your channel to make you see stars. Bucky had made you come before kissing you.
When he finally slotted his lips against yours, it was nothing short of all-consuming; you hadn’t even realized the absence of clothes on your body. Had it been ten minutes? Or thirty? It was hard to tell when you were being ravaged by another.
He made you come twice more: once with his fingers’ repeated dipping and pressing into the soft, spongy part of your cunt. The second time was with the talented sucking and flicking of his tongue. Technically, it was the third time.
None of your past partners had been this steadfast in their duty to pleasure you. You were already putty in his hands, ready to be moulded according to his needs. Part of you was ready to tap out, unable to fathom the likelihood of coming over his cock again, but the better half of you needed it.
In your orgasmic haze, you failed to notice that his clothes were being discarded - if you did, it would have given you the opportunity to gawk at the body that you so desperately wanted to see shirtless. When you finally registered his naked person, your hand involuntarily traced the connection between the metal arm and flesh. He threw his head back and groaned before kissing you again. 
He pulled off, just enough to get a good look. 
“Look at you, all fucked out. I didn’t even put my cock in.”
He pumped his shaft with fervour before pushing the blunt head against your slit. You winced at his attempt to put it in.
“Made you cum three times and you’re still too fucking tight,” he muttered and ran his length up and down your folds. Once he had accumulated enough slick he tried again, this time, successful.
You moaned as he slowly sunk in and buried his cock to its absolute limit. If the walls of your pussy had a voice, it would be absolutely hoarse. You also realized that he only bestowed the three orgasms in hopes of reprieving the pain of the stretch. Without the preparation, he might have torn you in half.
When he began moving, the only thing that was slow or soft about him was his lips against your skin. The thrusts were punishing; if it wasn’t obvious that he was angry before, this made it clear as day.
You screamed and moaned, alternating between keening and arching your back; the pleas did nothing to falter his furious pace. The smacking of your skin was only heightened by the slick that your cunt produced in attempts to accommodate his length. Every time he pulled out, his balls were connected to your sex with a string of come.
If someone told you that you could come five times within forty minutes, you would have face painted and dressed them up like a clown.
Now you laid in bed, being used like a rag doll, begging Bucky to stop you from coming a sixth time that session. It was usually the dirty talk that got you off, but he hadn’t said anything aside from the occasional ‘shut up’ or ‘shhh’. His movements alone had you convulsing around his length.
His thrusts didn’t get sloppy. Rather, they increased in force, as his cock sought space beyond your cervix. You tried to scream, but all that came out was more broken tears and cries. At last, he let out a pornographic moan as his load flooded your insides. Sure, you had let past boyfriends come in you, but you never actually felt the liquid shoot up inside you, until today.
Following the pop sound that his cock made as it pulled out, you whined again. You could feel your heartbeat throb down there. 
He flipped you onto your stomach and smacked your ass, laughing at the way you sobbed in pain before disappearing from your room altogether. 
He was gone as fast as he showed up. 
And he ruined everyone else for you.
In all fairness... you asked for it.
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Philia: the deep, virtuous love that is formed in a good friendship. Lovers share a strong bond when Eros and Philia feed into each other.
What started as a release from the frustrations that accrue on the battlefield turned into a deep connection that neither of you had anticipated. Sex had only been used as a tool in the act of psychological detachment until that day. 
It was a failed date of some sort: either you had been stood up or the guy was a total moron. You could wrack your brain for the memory, but in any matter, it was all irrelevant now. 
You were upset, not just at your lack of a love life, but at the imposter syndrome that had weaselled its way into your liveliness. Feeling like you weren’t enough was catching up to your daily life and even Bucky had noticed the hesitation during your post-mission escapades. 
Before you knew it, your hand was knocking on Bucky’s door at the ripe hour of 1 AM. 
You heard the muffled thumps of his footsteps and considered booking it out of there, but before you made up your mind, the door opened.  As you had predicted, Bucky was wide-awake. 
“What?” 
You had wanted to sass him for his tone but decided against it since you were the one who interrupted his 1 AM activities. You shook your head from the clouds and mumbled incoherently, starting to walk away. The coldness of his metal arm abruptly gripped your wrist.
“Are you okay?”
You hated that question. You could be doing so good, holding in the burden of a horrible week, but the moment someone asks you that question, the dam would disintegrate into dust, only to be washed away by the inevitable waterworks. 
The sob you let out didn’t loosen his hold. He let you cry and watched as you tried to wipe away the unrelenting tears, still refusing to close the gap between your bodies. Finally, you shuffled into his arms where he bear-hugged you, cupping the back of your neck and holding it to the junction of his neck. 
"You smell nice,” you sniffled. 
He lightly chuckled before dragging you into his room and seating you on the bed. He ordered you to stay there and rummaged around his cupboard before pulling out a bottle with red liquid sloshing around. 
“You keep that in your room?” you snickered, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, before blanching at your state. Hell, he had seen you naked, how you look right now is the least of your concerns. 
“In case of emergencies,” he winked. “This seems like a real emergency.”
A fresh wave of tears pooled in your waterline as you peered at your hands that were picking at each other. 
“I don’t have wine glasses, so we can just chug.”
Bucky stuck out the bottle and you grasped it firmly before gulping one-fourth of it. That’s all the coaxing it took to get you to spill. 
You don’t even remember what you talked about, but before either of you realized, 3 AM blinked on the digital clock that hung above the bed frame. You were almost asleep, now resting on Bucky’s lap while he occasionally hummed or offered his two cents. Right before you drifted off, the super-soldier lifted you, placing you under a cover. He climbed in from the other side, one hand cupping your face, the other snaking around your waist.
“Thanks, Buck.”
“It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay,” he whispered.
Your eyes drooped but swiftly opened as Bucky leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. His lips barely touched yours, grazing their presence, but you moved, tenderly catching them. He returned the movement, the delicacy of his actions reflected in the softness of his eyes. 
You pulled away and the two of you wordlessly bore into each other’s eyes. At last, you succumbed to the fatigue, as did he; both of you resting in the others’ possession. 
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Mania: an unhealthy, obsessive love that plagues the mind.
It was the third time Bucky didn’t show up at your door after a mission. Three missions, each of them ending in something that would have indubitably pissed him off - after all, they were HYDRA bases. That’s when you first suspected it.
The second was when you noted his intentional avoidance of your presence. Whether it be the kitchen, the gym or the hallways, the stealthy ex-assassin didn’t have trouble actively dodging you. Initially, you chalked it up to wanting space or simply taking a break.
Then you heard it.
Why was it that your gut told you to go right then? All this time you had been biding, yet it was at this precise moment that your hunch asked you to speak to him. It could’ve been the duration of the month that it took you to prepare yourself, but it had to be now. You raised your hand, prepping to knock on the door, but stopped.
Your hand froze mid-air. The elegant laugh of another girl sounded behind the door. It was faint, the noise slightly suppressed by the wall between you. 
It could be anyone. 
But it wasn’t. Your intuition, the one that told you to come here right now, was wise enough to know that this wasn’t just anyone. It was her. 
You cupped your mouth to stop the sob that threatened to liberate itself from the confines of your constricted airway. You fell forward, onto your knees, as if to pray to the gods to not let it happen. But it already did.  You let go of your mouth, gasping for air from holding your breath all this time. 
Shoulders sagged and spine bent, you stalked back to your room like a zombie. Face devoid of all emotion, you fell onto the corner of your bed and crumpled into a ball.  For twelve hours, you laid there. Sometimes sleeping, other times letting the tears leak out of the corners of your eyes. Memories of his fingers weaving through your own, the pleasures that chilled you to the bone. Most of all, the way you held his head to your chest as he whimpered about the nightmares that invaded his nights. It felt like those things happened to someone else. Nothing more than a distant memory.
Your heart clenched, tugging on the heartstring that you once thought was connected to him.
-
It was as if he knew you stood outside his door that day. There was an unspoken agreement to never speak of it. Yes, yes, don’t ever speak of it. The dam that you built so carefully will come crashing down.  He stopped avoiding you, but you wished he didn’t; it was crueller to be reminded, easier to pretend he didn’t exist. 
Be honest with yourself.
You didn’t pretend like he didn’t exist. 
In fact, the first thought after waking up? Bucky. Last thought before going to sleep? My Buck. Every time he wasn’t around? James Buchanan Barnes.
Please, don’t act like every waking moment isn’t spent loving him. Because deep down, you know what’s true.
He never did introduce the mystery girl to anyone at the Tower, but you knew his disappearance after missions could be credited to her. Did he take out his anger on her as he did to you? Or were you nothing more than a toy?
Guilt was one of the few emotions you could make out from the rare occasions you caught his stare. Longing was there too, but you couldn’t be sure that you weren’t projecting.  Months went by, waiting for thoughts of him to abandon your disturbed mind. The time never came.
As promised, he ruined anyone else for you. 
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Pragma: the type of love that endures all shortcomings. Committed relationships that stay in love have an element of significant Pragma to them.
a happy ending.
That relationship may have ended but it didn’t mean he would come back to you.
He did come back. But he wasn’t yours.  Bucky made that clear when two more relationships ensued the last. Each time, the buffer period between them was filled by you. 
His back-up plan. That’s what you had been reduced to. 
After the third time he brought a new girl, you’d think you would be used to it, maybe even uncaring. Unfortunately, the opposite would always prevail.
Steve caught your fist and tutted, commenting on the bad form. You stopped, shook your shoulders and began hopping on the balls of your feet again.  Jab, jab. Swing.  At first, you’d imagine the faces of those girls. Nowadays, it was easier to envision the pads Steve held as his best friend’s face. 
“Bucky’s girl broke up with him.”
“Oh,” you made out, focus slightly wavering. 
“You know what happened?”
“Are you asking me ‘cause you wanna know or because you already know?”
“I already know,” he sighed, lowering the hand pads. 
He exhaled your name, shaking his and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “When are you two gonna stop playing around?”
“I really don’t understand, Steve.”
“You know why she broke up with him?” You blinked, tongue poking the inside of your cheek in anticipation of an answer. 
“He moaned your name during sex.” 
“God, that’s so corny,” you huffed, now beginning to make your way out of the boxing ring. 
“So what, you’re gonna do nothing? Keep letting him use you?” Steve jogged to catch up to you.
“No,” you faced him, “I’m not letting him use me as a fallback anymore. I’m putting an end to it.” 
Steve pursed his lips and shot you and exasperated look before shaking his head.  “Don’t let something good go to waste.”
It used to be something good.
You wondered if you could hold up the promise you had just declared to Steve; in the past, you failed every time he showed up at your door. Bucky knew exactly how to play into your emotions, how to say the right things every time. And just like that, the next morning you’d end up in his arms. That stops today.
Determined, you practically punched the button to go up on the elevator and impatiently tapped your foot. As the doors slid closed, you took one look at yourself and turned away, fighting the urge to fix your appearance for him. The doors opened again and you check the floor number, ready to step out, but stopped at the sound of your name.  His ex. You almost ran off, unwilling to put up with an angry ex, but she called on you again. You sheepishly stood there, as if you were the one who did something wrong, until she stepped in and pressed the button to go to the lobby.
The silence stretched on, much like your patience. Does she even know who you are?
“We were both fooling ourselves.”
You turn to check if she was speaking to you. Her stare was unwavering and she maintained eye contact that almost made you squirm.
“We both love different people.” She smiled, an obvious melancholy tainting her face. You stood there, absolutely clueless as to how you should respond.
“It’s too late for me, but it’s not for the two of you. Just... don’t let him go. He’s one of the good ones.”
You turned again, now looking down at the ground. Even if she expected you to say something back, it was impossible, at this point. Your mind was in shambles, everything she said contradicting the choice you made five minutes ago. 
After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened and she stepped out. She turned one last time and nodded as if you knew what to do now. 
Bucky’s door was unlocked. You called out his name, barely above a whisper and sauntered with hesitation lining your every step.  Nothing. Empty. He wasn’t there. 
It was a sign. You almost ignored the advice his ex gave, ready to walk into his room and end things. Your shoulder slumped as if your bore the weight of the world on them as you slunk back to your room. Now it would take another outburst or another month to prepare yourself to talk to him again.
As the days went by, you barely saw him around. It reminded you of the times he intentionally ignored you, except this time, you weren’t sure it was intentional. When you did see him, it was clear that he wasn’t doing good; his beard was unkept and scraggly, the bags under his eyes heavier than any trauma he carried. You pretended as though you didn’t notice and went about your routine. 
1 AM
A knock sounded at your door. You knew who it was, how could you not, but hoped it wasn’t him anyway. The encounter would most likely end with tears or sex and you didn’t favour either outcome. 
You waited a minute. Maybe he would leave if he assumed you were asleep. The knock sounded again.
You cracked the door open.  Whatever you were expecting, surely, it wasn’t this. Eyes red and puffy, it was clear he had been crying and most definitely not sleeping. 
He held up a wine bottle, and chuckled pathetically at himself. 
“Maybe this is bad idea,” he sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his left arm. 
It didn’t feel right to say anything. Rather, you opened the door wider and beckoned for him to step in.
“Emergency?” you asked with a little smile. God, you were so close to crying and he hasn’t even said anything.
“Oh yeah. Big emergency.”
He sat on your bed and felt the sheets, trying to remember the feeling of it on his knees. The days he would buck into you while you clutched them like a vice. The soldier pursed his lips and watched as you settled beside him.
“You don’t have to talk... if you don’t want to,” you said. Your voice cracked and you almost smacked yourself for being so weak around him. 
“But I do. I should talk. I have so much to say... Can I explain?” He turned to face you, reaching out for your hands, holding them in his own. You didn’t say anything, opting to return his request with a pleading look in your eyes. He knew what the look meant: just don’t break my heart. Again. He took a deep breath in acknowledgement, trying to form the words that would help you understand. 
“I can’t believe I hurt you. I swear, I didn’t know I was doing it, at first.” You mustered your best unbelieving look, almost scoffing for good measure. “No, really,” he hastily added. 
A few tears streamed down your face and you frantically tried to wipe them. Bucky took one look at you before he began breaking down, tears slipping down his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry... I just- I don’t understand? I thought things were good?” you questioned. You had given up on trying to wipe your tears, as did he.
“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. And by the time I realized, we were so far in. Then I found a distraction... and I really thought I was over you,” he paused, wondering if he should continue or not. You showed no sign of speaking up, so he went on.
“I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I was so convinced that you wouldn’t blink twice but then... but, I-... I heard you at the door that day. I wanted to kick her out and hold you, but I-...”
“But you what? You what, Bucky?”
“I thought it was too late for us. I thought I ruined everything.”
“Then why are you here now?”
“Don’t be mad,” he murmured, retracting his hands and fiddling with his fingers.
“I don’t think anyone can ever replace what we had. Maybe... still have? Because you’re it for me. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that. I was on the brink of losing myself.” He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a new wave of tears. He mumbled your name weakly, croaking out a please at the end.
You curled in on yourself and fell into his arms, hoping that was enough of a answer.
“I can’t promise you that everything will be back to normal by tomorrow morning... but with some time, I can learn to trust you again.”
Above you, Bucky hurriedly nodded. At the state he’s in right now, you suspected that you could ask him to sell his soul and he would agree.
“And if you ever break my heart again-,” 
“-I would die before that happens,” he finished for you, kissing the top of your head for good measure.
“I love you,” you whimpered, “so fucking much.” 
“I love you too. I really love you too,” he affirmed and encased you with his arms again.
Though there had been some rough patches on the road to happiness, with Bucky by your side, you felt as though you could make it through anything; for that, is the power of pragmatic love.
an unfortunate ending.
The tears that would’ve been shed during the ceremony have dried on your pillowcase about five hours ago. Now, you sat beside the team, waiting for her to walk down the aisle. 
Bucky looked nervous, as if he were reconsidering his life decisions. The little devil on your shoulder was holding onto every little thing he did: the wrinkle of his forehead, his repeated tugging on the suit and his flustered glancing around. Oh lord, and when he accidentally locked eyes with you? You may have bitten your lip and looked away in contempt but the shoulder-devil was as persistent as ever.
He secretly still wants you.
Shut up.
He wants to call it off.
Get a life.
At last, the lucky girl stood at the end of the winding path and you couldn’t help but sneak a look at the groom. His tension and nervousness crumbled at the sight of her; it was difficult not to feel happy that he had found the one that made him feel this way. 
It may have been him for you, but that notion was long forgotten, a nuisance of memory at most. Your love for him, regardless of the storms it has endured, is no longer respected or wanted by either party.
If he loves her, why does he come to you when things get bad?
You shook your head at that, having no answer for the nature of his secret infidelity. It was nothing more than taking out his frustrations on you - much like the old days.
Your reminiscing was cut short when a voice asked everyone to rise for the bride. You stood and straightened out your outfit, flicking off the little white petal that clung to your maroon dress. A hand grasped your own, and you turned to see Steve smile reassuringly. You squeeze his hand in appreciation and turned your attention to the white-clad figure walking down the aisle.
And that’s all you remember. You wish you could recall the rest of the wedding. You really do. Too preoccupied with what was going to happen after the event, you disassociated from the ordeal altogether. No matter how hard you grilled yourself, nothing would come to mind - dissociative amnesia only occurs as a protective coping mechanism during traumatic events; was that what Bucky’s wedding was to you?
What type of question is that?
For once, you agreed with the little red beast that sat on your shoulder. Long ago, the first time you saw someone else Bucky’s arms, the devil pierced the pitchfork right through the angel’s heart. These days, it was all you could think of. 
After the bride and groom exchanged ‘I do’s’, you willed yourself to stay a while longer. Your only companion, Steve, slow danced with you in silence, knowing that whatever he says would be of no consolation. Bucky did have half a mind to ask you for a dance, but he saw you leave. You didn’t think anyone did. He waited for you to turn and look at him one last time, but you never did. It’s okay, he thought. I didn’t deserve her anyway.
No one saw you after that.
On your bed, Steve found a single note that didn’t explain anything more than what he already knew. If anything, it simply affirmed that you were gone for good. Your things packed up, no trace of a person ever having lived there. Even if he pulled some strings, it would take years to find you again. 
After all, you had already been lost for quite some time.
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hey folks. i know this seems a little desperate-sounding but i would really appreciate reblogs and would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on the story. what was you favourite part? which part made you feel some way? i really love knowing these things. love each and every single one of you.
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slightlysugawara · 3 years
Text
Pretty Boy Killed The Crawlies for Me ⇢ sugawara koushi
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synopsis. the neighbour's son is a pro at finishing off the creepy crawlies, and also at making your heart race.
this piece is a part of @ichigomis collab, Nice to meet you.
pairing. Sugawara Koushi x fem!reader
genre. fluff, just fluff. the reader is very very clumsy, is afraid of bugs- call it projection but the difference is that she has suga and i don't :(
warnings. mentions of bugs, the reader is afraid of them
word count. 2.8k
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For the starters, there were two things you have despised all your life.
First, changes. You hated them. They were spontaneous, often too surprising and mostly awful. You could blink and there would be a major shift in your whole damn life, and you would have to adhere to it-- despite the difficulties. You never had the best coping mechanism, and that didn;t help you in the slightest. Changes only made things volatile, it messed up the regular rhythm of life- at least to you, they did.
The second one, supposedly something you despise more than the first one-- were insects. Every kind of them. Cockroaches, spiders and every other sort of bug you didn’t even know. You liked to call them the creepy crawlies, simple and disgusting. These small, hideous and annoying little beasts absolutely disgusted you. And you had sworn they were your biggest enemies since the first day of kindergarten- the day you got stung by a bee and also saw a petty little roach gliding about in the nursery with its horrific wings.
And as they say, good luck, indeed, is a sham. While writing your page long destiny for the third year of high school, God had decided to put the two things you hated the most in a blender, mix some extra misfortune evenly. And voila! You were now sitting on the cold floor of your new apartment hall, back pressed against the door-- breathing hitched in your throat, looking around every ten seconds just to make sure no one was around to see your sorry self.
It had been less than a week since you’d moved to this town, and you already missed the city you grew up in.
The move happened pretty fast. The past week had been a blur. The only things you did remember was hastily throwing your belongings into the navy blue suitcase you’d been using for ages and stuffing your red backpack with the smallest reminders of your life there, the once fully furnished but now a completely vacant duplex greeting you the next morning, and the people you grew up together and called friends hugging you one last time before a two hour long ride to a new prefecture.
School is out, and you had just finished the second year of high school- and the move happened. Of course, the darned move, something you had seen coming for a long time- your parents weren’t the best when it came to keeping their voices low when arguing. But it still hurts.
You missed your friends, the school, that would be out for a while now. A normal Tuesday morning, and you’d already be alone at home- speeding through breakfast as your friends restlessly rang the bell of their cycles outside your house. A normal Tuesday morning, and you’d have the whole day ahead to spend with your friends.
It was a town you were born and spent almost all your life in. There were so many memories you had collected like seashells on a beach. You were never the best person to cope with changes too quickly, you hated it. Changes make things volatile- was one thing that you’d realised too early into your life.
And to prove the point, here you were. Intentionally locked out of your messy apartment, too scared to even walk out and face the army of bugs that held it hostage.
The side effects of the move, as you learned from your own experience with this one were the following- messy places, huge cardboard boxes taking up half of the space you are going to live in, a huge influx of insects and heightened chances of getting a heart attack due to any of the aforementioned situations.
You act brave for once, and open the door- just to close it with a loud thud as soon as you see the leader, the greatest mutant of the army, a huge itsy bitsy fucking spider. Your scream resonates through the place, and probably even reached some of the neighbour’s places as well.
Phone now pinched to your ear, you dial your mother’s number. If those bugs had the piss and ink coloured leader, you had a ferocious birthgiver. Not the most reliable person, but the ferocity was what you needed right now.
The call was received right away and you hear an all too familiar (annoyed and bland, might I add) “hello”. Her tone screamed “what now?”, “what again?” and a slight “is it a bug again?”.
“Mum,” you breathe. “Trust me….”
“There’s an army of bugs inside,” the dear birthgiver laughs.
You scream in affirmation. “Help me.”
“No.”
“Then this is how I die,” you breathe violently into the receiver, enough to partially damage your poor business executive mother’s hearing. “This is it. It was nice being your only offspring, even when you were petty enough not to let me go to the arcades or buy a new phone, mother. Oh how much I wish I could use incognito when googling the how to murder and assasinate theories, I swear I was just trying to have a Bond moment!”
Amongst all the chattering around you heard your mum let out a pretty loud snort. “They’re just insects, not grenades, hon.”
“But trust me they will explode. I know they will.” Your voice was octaves high, clutching onto your phone for dear life. You hopelessly twist the doorknob with your elbow, and the door opens with a click. Almost immediately, you trip on a broomstick. The one you had thrown away and ran to your room as soon as the rally of insects started appearing.
You inhale sharply. ‘Listen, mother. You. will. Come. And. Save. your. Only. daughter. From this mess. We have a problem and an army of rabbid crawlies at home”
“You have a problem. I have two clients with resting bitch faces. And some grocery shopping to be done.”
“Priorities, I see.” You deadpan with all your might, flicking your broom to drive off a tight knit group of mean crickets.
The brush end knocks onto the nearest cardboard box, sending the ceramic utensils crashing to the floor. In the blink of an eye, you jerk across into the hallway again- and stub your toe in the process. A numbing pain takes over your body, but you still make sure to scan the empty passageway again.
No one.
Perfect.
And you finally let out a scream. And on the other line, your mother laughs.
“Why don’t you knock on the Sugawaras’ door? Miss mother told me her kids get back home by noon these days. I’m sure any of them would be more than willing to help. He is a kind person after all.”
At the mention of the certain pretty boy, your heart threatens to jump out of your dry throat.
You hadn’t met the said male yet, but did have the lucky (or chance) of being subjected to your parents’ continuous praise. Both of your parents had been quite vocal about their liking towards the family living right across the hall, their main object of affection and praise being their oldest son. You had heard about him from Suki, a friend you had managed to make from the daily errands, as well.
Fluffy hair, adorable smile and the gentleness exuding from his whole presence- he sounded too perfect to be true. Not to forget his position as a vice captain for the school’s volleyball team just added to his long list of braggable qualities.
He was surprisingly always there to help. From the late night grocery pick-up to some nice one-of-a-kind strolling with the lovely older women from the small apartment building, he went an extra mile for everyone. In whatever way, even if he deem it as much, he still made an effort- which ultimately led your mother to place her utmost trust on the boy in just days of relocating.
In that case, of course he would be more than willing to help out the neighbour’s damsel-in-fucking-distress of a daughter. But you couldn’t just meet him like this.
And by this, you didn’t only mean distressed and white like a chalk. You also meant daay two without showering, hair good enough to pass as a bird shelter. You couldn’t meet a handsome boy like that.
“I can’t-” you argue.
Your beloved birthgiver blows you a kiss from the other side. “You can and I have to go now. Meeting coming up in two minutes.”
“Don’t you dare-”
But the line goes dead. Your own mother had just betrayed you.
The hallway falls silent. Sighing, you slide the phone into your pocket and clutch onto the broomstick as if it were a sword from heavens.
“Let’s make a deal,” you stare at the mutants.
The leader of chaos stares back at you with its piss yellow eyes (disclaimer: it might have been your imagination but you heard it laugh). It crawled further, and you stumbled back a few steps.
You timidly walk in, holding onto the broom for dear life.
“You!” you raise it at the monstrosity, challenging it and it’s small kingdom of spideys and non-spideys alike. The moment of glory was rather short-lived as you saw a huge cockroach flying past you almost the same time around the critter charged a few steps.
This time, you don’t remember to look around or outside. Well, you don’t have the time.
You just scream. At the top of your lungs. Oh, and you jump. Backwards in that case, without a clue of what lay behind you.
But you cannot lose. You were brave. These lowly beasts couldn’t suppress you.
You stand straight, chest and chin high. “My mother will know about this.” more carefully than the last time, you flick the broomstick- and flinch as soon as a cockroach runs across the living area. “And she will wipe off you kin-”
“What’s going on?”
You let out a shriek. There was someone at the door. There was a fucking homo sapien at your doorsteps, witnessing your one man shit show with an opera of insects.
Oh lord, how long had he been standing there?
You whip around, jumping back a few more steps and accidentally bump against the shoe rack. The momentum leaves you tripping on your own feet and stumble sideways. The stranger was quick on his feet as he caught you before things could get anymore embarrassing for you.
His eyes glinted in amusement, a concerned smile playing on his lips. “Slow down there, princess sofia.” he lightly teases.
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out as you stare at him- all dazed and a little bit embarrassed. Breath hitched, you find him smiling at you as he gently held your arm, his breath fanning your face.
The first initial reaction was gasping. Because man; did he look breathtaking. Your saviour wasn’t a knight in shining armor- he was a beauty clad in black jacket and gym pants.
“You okay?” he asks and all the rational thoughts finally hit you like a truck and you jerk out of his hold.
“Sugawara.” the boy smiles nervously, his free hand scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Sugawara Koushi? From the apartment across the hall?”
“Oh, Hi. Hello,” The familiar surname rang in your ears, eyes widening in surprise. Your reaction earns a questioning stare from him. you blink dumbly and the silver haired boy chuckles. Sugawara removes his hand off your wrist.
He looks around, tucking his hands inside his pockets. The house was messier tha how your parents had left it. The army of insects was still wreaking havoc upon the place, treating it like it was their own territory.
“Our house has been held hostage by an army of crawlies and critters,” you inform him of the emergency, using the boy as a shield- all ready to sacrifice him if needed. Your hope in humanity and a no-insect home had been restored- and there was no way you were letting go of this boy now.
A cockroach brushes past your feet and your developed spidey sense causes your body to react before you think. And yet again, you find yourself hanging onto the boy’s sleeves as he saves you from yet another fall.
“Well miss,” he informs, his tone as gentle as his arm encircling your waist. “I think they are more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“Well sir,” you deadpan. “I don’t fucking think so.”
He laughs again, louder and clearer this time. And surprisingly you feel the tension ease in. You relax in his hold, indulging in his scent that smelled something mixed with sweat and his cologne, the rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing.
You felt like a creep, but that didn’t matter as of now.
“So do you need some help?” he asks. “I mean with the crawlies.”
Your response was a loud “yes”. This apartment needed to be freed from the grips of the notorious bugs.
You step out of his arms and let him take the broomstick. “Alright, I've dealt with people crazier than this.” he murmurs to himself.
And earns a glare from you.
“Could you please kill them off?” you beg before flinching again as he murders a crawlie in one go.
“The price?’ he jokes, imitating one of your iconic broom gestures without fail.
“Anything, trust me. Anything!”
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You didn’t know how long it took, but the war was something worth watching. You didn’t know if it was his smooth utilisation of his athletic abilities or how he held the broom, it was fun. And very quick. The leader of doom, the big itsy bitsy had been discarded already- and you could finally breathe in peace.
“So?” you hear him laugh as he cleans up the mess you had caused.
“The army has been defeated.” You happily state- eyeing his movements closely from the couch.
The pretty boy throws his head back, and you feel the sound of his laughs cause a shift in your stomach. He was cute. And brave.
He walks over to where you were sitting. And the next thing you know is the spot next to you dipping as he sat down, huffing a little. He smiles, and you could swear the whole room lit up.
“That-” you start, smiling like an idiot. “Was impressive. Thank you.”
The silver haired boy grins. “Sure, couldn’t see a pretty girl like that.”
Your heart does a backflip inside your chest. Not only was he an insect killer extraordinaire, but a charmer as well. And it had hardly been Minutes? Hours? You didn't know- but he already felt like an irreplaceable part of your life. His laughs, his presence itself was like a summer breeze, soothing and refreshing. You take a moment to study his profile, his long eyelashes, how his lip is curved upwards into an adorable smile.
“W-welcome-” you stutter, your train of thoughts now crashing against the junctions.
Sugawara lets out a sigh, still smiling. “Are you happy?”
You stutter out a small yes and Suga wanted to clutch at his heart for the sheer amount of cuteness.
“But I'm not.'' he closes his eyes, leaning back against the couch for comfort. Your head shoots up in his direction- mind running a thousand miles per hour.
You had met one beautiful boy after you didn’t even know how long-- and even offended him in one go.
But thankfully, Koushi’s words refrained you from ripping off your own hair.
“Someone promised me they’d do anything if their house was free from the grip of what we know as the creepy crawlies.”
You gasp at that. So it was about the payback all along. A sigh you didn’t even know you were holding in escapes your mouth and you break into a wide smile.
“So what do you want, Mr. refreshing?” Your nickname takes him by surprise. But it isn;t too long until he too, cracks into a toothy grin.
He draws closer, his breath fanning your face again. You wrinkle your eyes in confusion, resulting in his smile to widen more. Suga shakes his head in amusement at that, taking your phone that lay on the table and pressing his number.
“Movie night?” he smiles, eyes glued to the screen. “We can set a date.”
You flush a little more, “A d-date?”
“You don’t think I go all the way killing tarantulas and crawlies for everyone?”
“Y-you don’t?”
Sugawara bursts into laughter, and you do too. Although you were never the biggest fan of changes, you didn’t feel as reluctant or scared anymore. Not when you had him.
Smiling, you take your phone from his hand- your hand brushing against his in the process. He returns the gesture in tenfold- you couldn't wait for the future to unfold.
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© slightlysugawara 2021. all rights reserved.
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qitwrites · 3 years
Text
breaking ground
Fandom: boku no hero academia 
Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou / Bakugou Katsuki 
(AO3) 
The thing about your best friend/roommate/long-time crush/probably the love of your life being in a coma is that it sucks. Like, a lot.
‘Kats, if you don’t wake up, I will hide a dirty sock somewhere in your room. Somewhere you’ll never find it. And you’ll just have to live with that.’
The machines beep in the back, like a ghastly metronome.
‘I will move your desk 3 inches to the left.’
The soft rise and fall of the blonde’s chest is uniform, lungs contracting and expanding and contracting over and over.
‘I will literally stop watering the orchid Kats, I swear to god.’
Bakugou’s hands are by his side, nails longer than he’d ever keep. Kirishima makes a mental note to trim and file them later.
‘Ok, that’s going too far. I’d never kill Lucy, at least not on purpose.’
Bakugou continues to breathe with the help of a machine too complicated for Kirishima to understand, and the redhead just wants his best friend back. Because it’s been 16 days of Bakugou being fed and kept alive by a machine, it’s been 16 days since he heard his voice, saw his feral smile, looked into his bright, bright, bright eyes. And Kirishima is so ready for this nightmare to be over.
‘Come on Kats,’ Kirishima mumbles, laying his head down on the hospital bed and gently lacing his fingers with Bakugou’s, ‘you gotta wake up man. Our kitchen misses you. Our plants miss you. The neighbour’s cat misses you. Your mom misses you. I- fuck, I miss you.’
The machines continue to beep, his chest rises and falls uniformly, and Kirishima really just wants his best friend back.
    The Bakusquad (the official immortalized name of the gang) lets Kirishima stay in the hospital in 3 days bursts, following which they bodily throw him out. For fresh air and some sunlight, they say, like he’s a dying plant.
‘You need to shower in your own home,’ Kaminari grumbles, stuffing his dirty clothes in a bag.
Sero pulls a beanie over his head. ‘And also water the plants in the balcony.’
Ashido stuffs his wallet into his pant pocket and slips his phone into his hand. ‘Also, don’t forget to dust the bookshelves! And leave some fresh water for Queens.’ She pulls him down for a soft kiss on the cheek.
Jirou pulls the phone from his hand, fiddles with it for a moment before slipping it back into his palm. She places a pair of wireless Beats headphones over his beanie, and he hears the first notes of a piano piece, calm and really lovely.
‘Playlist is on there,’ Jirou says, pointing at his hand.
And so Kirishima goes home, the home he shares with Bakugou, and he waters their plants, and dusts the bookshelves, and does some laundry and cooks easy fried rice the blonde had drilled into his brain.
He doesn’t look at Bakugou’s room door, doesn’t venture inside, doesn’t touch his space. He sticks to the common areas and his own room, and he keeps it clean and tidy, the way Bakugou likes it.
He’ll get to the blonde’s room eventually, just not yet.
    Red Riot and Ground Zero are a hero pair. What this means is that they work individually when they want, and they pair up for bigger, more difficult missions.
And what a pair they make.
Riot is a wall, a shield, an unbreakable defence, always the last man standing. And Ground Zero is an explosion, a burst of light, an offence so quick and forceful the villains never stand a chance. They’re one of the best pairs out there, and they’ve done some amazing work.
It's almost stupidly ironic that Bakugou gets hurt during one of their paired missions.
The case involved several strong villains that attacked schools, and between rescue and evacuation and dealing with villains, Red Riot and Ground Zero had their hands full. Riot was mostly with the civilians and Ground Zero was keeping the damage to a minimum, but before Kirishima could go to Bakugou’s side and assist him, the damage had been done.
Because the last villain Bakugou had to deal with had decided to implode, killing himself and taking Bakugou out with him.
The damage had been immense.
Several concussions and broken ribs, bruises and internal bleeding that could only be controlled with a mix of surgeries and healing quirks. And finally, a waiting game. Bakugou had to wake up, his body had to heal itself and decide when and if he was going to wake up again.
And so Kirishima waits with him, silently supporting him from the side, ever patient, brimming with love.
    25 days after the attack, Kirishima finally walks into Bakugou’s room.
The air smells faintly like sugar, like his quirk. The walls are bare but for the few polaroids Kirishima tacks on the wall above his desk. The laptop and file folders are sitting atop his table, a thin layer of dust coating them, and the only messy thing is his unmade bed.
Kirishima crawls under his sheets, breaths in his scent, and for the first time since Bakugou had decided to be an ass and slip into a coma, the redhead cries. Giant sobs that seem to come from his core, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, snot dripping out his nose.
Kirishima cries with the force of a thousand suns, and falls asleep right there, twisted in Bakugou’s sheets, in his unmade bed, in the middle of a room covered in a thin, fine layer of dust, smelling only slightly like burnt, warm sugar.
    A month after the attack, Kirishima finally cleans Bakugou’s room.
Mina had made a good point. ‘If you don’t clean his room, it’s like you’re saying he’s not coming back so there’s no point. So, clean his room Eijirou.’
He appreciates that they don’t offer to do it. It’s usually impossible to keep them out of their apartment, impossible to keep them from getting belligerently drunk and playing monopoly on the living room floor while blasting 2000’s hits and throwing pieces of pepperoni at each other. Impossible to not love them.
But right now, the apartment is off-limits, and they seem to understand this. And respect it. And they understand that he needs a push here, a nudge there, and a gentle shove here to get his ass moving, to do the things he’s scared of doing, the things that just need to be done anyway
Kirishima loves them, so so much.
And so, he cleans. He dusts everything, puts Bakugou’s sheets in the wash and hangs his comforter out to dry. He fluffs up the All Might plushie and makes the bed, vacuums the floor, and puts his folded laundry back where it belongs in the closet.
He finds the box when he’s reorganizing Bakugou’s hero gear drawer. It’s a black box, smooth to the touch, no bigger than Kirishima’s palm, with just 2 words printed on top.
Death Box.
Its existence isn’t shocking to Kirishima. After all, he has one of his own, tucked neatly under his hanging jackets, pushed to the very back.
A Death Box is a pro-hero thing. It’s no secret that the life of a hero is riddled with danger and that one bad day could be the end. Every pro knows this. And most pro-heroes have a Death Box.
The contents of the box vary from person to person. Some leave behind letters addressed to friends and family. Others leave wills and assets and final testaments. Some leave behind cryptic messages or dramatic last words.
Kirishima never wondered about Bakugou’s box, and Bakugou had never asked about his own. But today, 31 days after the attack, 31 days of no Bakugou, 31 days of waking up with an ache in his chest because Kirishima’s heart is literally breaking, he finds himself gently pulling the box out and sitting on Bakugou’s bed, turning it over in his hands.
It’s really simple- no patterns or designs or anything. It's black as midnight, the lettering orange. Kirishima gently pops the box open and inside lays a single pen-drive. Nothing else.
Kirishima stares at it for a long, long time. He almost puts the box back in the drawer with the pen drive safely nestled inside, he almost forgets what he ever saw, he almost acts like he’s fine.
But he’s not fine. He’s so far from fine he can’t even spell the word. And he misses his friend with a pain so sharp he feels it in his bones. So Kirishima picks the pen drive up and takes it to the laptop. He switches the system on, plugs the drive in and waits for the program to load up.
Surprisingly, it isn’t password protected. He skims over the contents briefly. There’s a folder named Will and Final Testaments that he ignores completely. There’s another folder named Personal Project that he also leaves alone. The third folder is titled for everyone, and Kirishima clicks on that.
The folder is filled with video files of varying lengths. Each video is named after a specific person, and Kirishima smiles when he sees one for Bakugou’s mom, his dad, each of the Bakusquad, one for All Might, and one for Midoriya. The Deku video is easily bigger than all the others, all except one.
Because the one titled Shitty Hair is close to 45 minutes long.
Kirishima inhales shakily, and for once, he hesitates. Because once he watches this, he knows Bakugou will well and truly kill him. These videos, this content, it’s meant to be consumed after he dies. Not when he’s in a coma, not when he’s alive and fighting for his life. Not when he’s doing his best to come back.
But here’s the thing- Kirishima isn’t watching this because he thinks Bakugou’s as good as gone. He doesn’t believe that one bit. No, Kirishima is watching this because he misses Bakugou so much, so much that his insides feel like they're shredding up into little bits and pieces, and Kirishima just wants to hear him bark out his ugly laugh, he wants to see his eyes dance with mirth, he wants to watch Bakugou dump too much chilli into the curry and wrap himself into a blanket burrito on their couch in the dead of winter, cursing the weather viciously. He never thought he’d miss the way someone said fuck so much in his life, yet here he is.
So Kirishima inhales shakily, breathes out in a whoosh and hits play.
    2 years ago
Bakugou had put off recording Kirishima’s message for years.
The one to his parents was simple enough. Dad, thank you for being some kinda balance in the house, and for loving me ridiculously unconditionally. Hag, ma, we’ve always had our own issues and we love so violently, but I do love you. I always have. Thank you for making me the devil spawn I am, couldn’t have been so great if it weren’t for you.
The Bakusquad (ugh, what a dumb name) had a video each. They weren’t super long, but he loved them all, more than they’d ever know when he’s alive, and he thought they deserved to know if he ever died before getting around to drunkenly confessing it or something.
Sero, your stupid fucking jokes have made some shitty days so much better.
Jirou, you’re insanely strong and you’ve had my back on more occasions than I can count.
Mina, my girl, you’re the OG. Thank you for never giving up on me, for always pushing me to be part of the gang, for becoming my friend.
Kaminari, you’re always gonna be hella fucking stupid, but you’re my stupid friend, one of my closest buddies, and it was a pleasure knowing you.
He might actually die if they find this when he's alive, but that’s the whole point of Death Box- it's to say the things you can't when you're alive or to remind people of the things you felt after you’re gone.
Midoriya’s had been hard. Midoriya’s had been really hard.
Unpacking so many emotions, talking about the past, UA, the present; it made his blood boil but also made him immeasurably sad. After their first year, Midoriya and he had grown close. They still found it difficult to communicate like normal human beings, but they always had each other’s backs, no matter where or what. And even as pro-heroes, they worked together wonderfully, competed for #1 fiercely, pushed each other to incredible heights, and picked each other up after terrible missions.
Deku, I know so much of our past is water under the bridge for you, and that’s been great for us because it lets us have a sort of friendship. But I haven’t forgotten. I will never forgive myself and all I could do is be better.
For all the fucked up shit that we’ve been through, for how much I still get angry when I see you and how much I want to be better than you all the time, you are the brother I never had, the comrade that never left, the friend that I’ve never deserved.
Izuku, thank you. I’m sorry.
Admitting to most of these things isn’t difficultly because it’s all true. And honesty has always come easily to Bakugou. As an adult hero, he’s learned things about himself, his own feelings, his own version of love for the people around him. And he can’t bring himself to say those exact words to Izuku, but he hopes his actions (Bentos pressed into Midoriya’s hands after long patrols, sharing beers on rooftops, patching each other up after shitty missions) are message enough.
But Kirishima? How is he supposed to find the words to tell Kirishima how he feels? How much the redhead means to him? Where does he even begin?
Bakugou huffs and slaps himself on both cheeks. Kirishima is out for the day, taking Mina shopping at the mall and catching a movie with the gang, a plan Bakugou had gotten himself out of just so he could sit here, in the apartment he shares with the only person he has ever had the good fortune of being in love with, to record a final message. What a happy thought.
Bakugou thinks Fuck it, takes a seat in front of the camera, ruffles his hair, and hits record.
‘Hey Shitty Hair.’
    Hey Shitty Hair.
There are handprints on Bakugou’s face. His hair is a ruffled mess, his bed is unmade behind him, and his face looks almost nervous.
Kirishima doesn’t think about any of that.
Because seeing Bakugou on-screen with his red eyes boring into Kirishima, and hearing his voice, rough and loud and well-worn feels like the first breath of fresh air the redhead has gulped down in a month. It feels like a well-placed punch to the gut, and Kirishima almost bowls over, overwhelmed beyond comprehension.
He misses him so much.
Fuck, making this video is fucking hard, I’m not even sure where to start. Also, you better not be crying like a baby Ei, I sweat to God, I might be dead, but you still need to go out there and kick ass cause someone needs to take care of all those shitty villains.
Kirishima makes an aborted sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, because this is his best friend in the entire universe, the man he knows better than he knows himself. This is his person.
Anyway, I made a bunch of other videos for all the other losers, but yours has been the biggest pain in my ass. I guess the closer you are to someone, the harder it is right?
First off, I need to say thank you. For like, so much shit. Thank you for taking those first few steps in our friendship. For constantly pestering me and inserting yourself into my life. For training with me, including me in all kinds of stupid activities, and getting me into the gang. My time at UA would never have been so fun, so memorable, so amazing without you. You made it great, despite all the shit that went wrong.
The blonde sucks in a deep breath and his eyes pierce straight through Kirishima, peering right into his soul.
We don’t talk about Kamino because there’s never been the words. Ei, I was so scared. Fuck, I was so scared I couldn’t stop shaking. And then there you were, flying above me, hand outstretched and yelling at the top of your goddamn lungs ‘Come!’ And that’s it. I knew I’d be ok. I knew I’d be just fine.
And yeah, I mean, the pros were there and maybe we could’ve figured something else out and maybe things would’ve worked out a different way. But you guys coming for me, YOU reaching out to me? It was the first time I felt like I had friends. I had comrades. I had people. Of course, my emotionally stunted ass refused to accept these feelings, but they took root then. And continued to grow.
Bakugou sighs deeply and sits back in his chair. He looks at the ceiling and continues.
I’m not sure I know what love is. As a feeling, I don’t know how to categorize when I’m feeling love and when I’m not. At least, I didn’t for the longest time.
Bakugou looks back at the camera, and Kirishima’s vision is starting to blur dangerously.
I know I love my parents, but it feels different than the love I feel for the idiot brigade. It’s different from what I feel for Izuku. And it sure as hell feels different from the love I feel for you.
Bakugou sighs again, and his face breaks into the softest smile Kirishima has ever seen and everything hurts.
A few years ago, I think weeks after we’d moved into this place, we were making breakfast and you looked me dead in the eye and said ‘I think the morning glories are trying to kill me.’ And I laughed out loud and you looked so proud of yourself and I thought, ‘Shit, Ei is such an idiot.’ That’s when it hit me.
Bakugou’s smile grows fonder.
I don’t call people by their names even in my head Ei. You were Shitty Hair for most of our first year at UA. Then you became Kirishima, and then somehow it became Kiri, and then Eijirou and then Ei. Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody else, is the same. Not a single fucking person.
The first time I called you Ei in my head, that’s when I realized I was in love with you.
Kirishima hits pause immediately. He closes the window, safely ejects the pen drive, puts it back in the box and returns it to its spot. He shuts the laptop down, walks out of Bakugou’s room and sits on the couch in the living area, the same one they’ve passed out on countless times, the same one they bought together with their first paychecks, the same one that’s stained with coffee rings and spaghetti sauce and pepperoni grease.
He picks his phone up on autopilot and dials a familiar number.
‘Kiri?’ Mina sounds like a hot cup of coffee on a chilly Tuesday morning.
‘Please come home.’
He hears some rustling and yelling in the background before Mina says, ‘Stay right there, we’ll be over as soon as Midoriya gets here ok?’
Kirishima hums out an affirmative and hangs up. It’s time they come home.
    67 days after the fight, Kirishima gets a call.
‘He’s awake.’
Red Riot is back on the streets, patrolling during the day, staying with Bakugou in the hospital at night and barely keeping his shit together. But it’s ok, it kinda works. Works well enough that he can do his job and do it well, and his friends are always there, picking up his pieces, keeping him sane.
Before Kirishima can say anything, Midoriya continues, ‘Chargebolt is almost at your location to relieve you, so go.’
He takes off running. His lungs burn and he can barely see where he’s going but he’s made this walk so many times he can do it in his sleep. He runs as fast as his legs can take him and makes them go faster.
Kirishima bursts into the hospital and takes the stairs 3 at a time. He finally gets to Bakugou’s floor and sprints to the door, and he can barely pull in enough air. He’s lightheaded, his heart is palpitating, and his vision is blurry but he slides the door open anyway.
Carmine eyes snap over to his and time just comes to a complete standstill. There are no doctors, no nurses. There’s no Bakugou Mitsuki, no beeping machines that breathe for him, no beeping machines that feed him, no white sterile walls and ugly hospital gowns. There is only Bakugou Katsuki, his bright, bright, bright eyes and a hand outstretched at Kirishima.
‘Ei-‘
And that’s it. One moment he’s standing in the doorway, the next he has Bakugou gathered in his arms, and he’s so warm and alive and it’s absolutely everything.
‘Kats,’ Kirishima mumbles. ‘Kats.’
‘Ei, if you start crying, I will smack the shit out of you.’
Kirishima’s laugh is watery. He pulls away and cups Bakugou’s face, smooshing his cheeks a little.
‘Kats, for once, shut the fuck up and let me feel my feelings. Do you have any idea how much the plants missed you?’
Bakugou’s mouth twists in a grimace but his eyes soften till they’re just liquid ruby and Kirishima falls a little more in love.
‘Just the plants?’
‘Shut the fuck up Kats.’ And Kirishima hugs him again, presses Bakugou’s face firmly into the crook of his neck. The blonde’s arms tighten around his middle, and the world feels whole again.
    A week after they return from the hospital, Bakugou finds a white envelope in the morning glories, the very same ones that Kirishima had insisted were trying to kill him.
To Kats it says in Kirishima’s untidy scrawl. Bakugou puts the watering can down and picks the letter up gently, opening it with trembling hands.
Dear Katsuki,
My Death Box has a bunch of letters in them. I wrote one for mom, one for mama, one for all our friends, I wrote letters to all of them.
Yours was the hardest because even after writing and rewriting it 5 times, it was always the same- all I can write to you is a love letter.
Bakugou doesn’t read the rest, just snaps his head up and looks around wildly.
‘EIJIROU, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YO-‘
‘I love you Kats.’ Kirishima is right there, standing by the balcony door, eyes wide and hopeful. He’s wearing sweatpants low on his hips, and in each hand, he holds a mug of steaming hot chocolate spiked with chilli. Mexican cocoa. Bakugou’s favourite.
He puts the mugs down on the balcony ledge. ‘I’ve loved you for so long, I don���t remember what it’s like to not be in love with you.’
‘Eijirou-‘
‘I love you.’ Kirishima steps forward and frames Bakugou’s face with his warm, calloused hands, and smiles big. ‘What about you?’
Bakugou scoffs. ‘What do you think, Shitty Hair?’
‘Gotta hear you say it, Kats.’  
‘You’re a pain in my ass.’
‘I know.’
‘You’re so annoying.’
‘I agree.’
‘Your hair still sucks.’
‘Your nose twitches when you lie.’
‘And I love you so much anyway.’ Bakugou finishes and places his hands over Kirishima’s and squeezes.
‘Don’t start crying Ei.’
‘Let me feel my feelings, Kats.’
‘I’m not kissing you if you’re covered in fucking snot.’
Kirishima laughs at that, pulling Bakugou close. ‘Your nose still twitches when you lie.’
Bakugou doesn’t deign that with a response, just smirks his trademark smirk, looks at Kirishima with those bright, bright, bright eyes and kisses him stupid.
‘Again,’ Kirishima mumbles.
Bakugou does just that.
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azaleablueme · 3 years
Text
Inexplicably Fond
There was something inexplicably soul-stirring about her touch- no matter how innocent, no matter how fleeting. Romione one-shot Genre: Romance Era: Books HBP Words: 2232 FFN  AO3 ..... There was something inexplicably soul-stirring about her touch- no matter how innocent, no matter how fleeting. Ron knew it always of course - the first realisation had been back in their third year when she had flown into his arms after months of not talking to each other. But it hit him more powerfully now - after having almost lost his life, after a disastrous chance at romance that was only fueled by the need to prove his worth. Lavender had only broken up with him a couple of days ago. Although he was relieved, the guilt of having dragged her into the mess still weighed heavy on his heart. Especially because while Lavender seemed genuinely miserable, he was at peace having returned where he truly belonged. The soft sounds of their shoes clicking on the stone floor brought him to his present and he looked around. The moon was bright in the sky tonight, flickering in and out of view as clouds floated across the pre-spring sky. The moonbeams filtered in through the small windows high up in the ceiling, lighting up the otherwise eerily dark corridor. He wasn’t quite sure why they were patrolling this part of the castle tonight; the Astronomy Tower and the neighbouring corridors were usually taken up by the Ravenclaw prefects on Tuesdays. But he was not going to question her choice of path or ask why they had deviated away from the usual route. He had sorely missed spending this alone-time with her all these months, and just having her close, walking beside him in the quiet of the night, in comfortable silence brought him more peace than anything ever had. There was something different about Hermione tonight. She didn’t seem to be her normal self - she mostly ignored the common classrooms where the rule-breaking students lurked, skipped the two tapestries that were famous for hiding couples. She didn’t even take out points from the two third-years who were busy scribbling rude words in the History of Magic classroom. And now she had guided them to a place which was definitely not chalked out for their rounds.
He was just about to ask when there was the softest touch of her finger on his. He almost forgot to breathe and sucked in a breath. It was surely a coincidence. And then there it was again - just a graze of skin over his finger, the touch lingering just long enough to tell him that it was intentional.
Despite the quiet or perhaps because of it, he was suddenly inexplicably aware of every little sound, that of their perfectly in-sync footsteps, the faint rustling of the forest outside, the gasp that escaped his lips, the soft sound of her whimper… He stopped on his track and so did she.
Tentatively and praying with all his might that he was doing the right thing, he stretched his fingers just a little and as expected, they came in contact with hers. The tip of his index finger traced hers, once, twice.
In the six years of their friendship, they had shared many hugs. Held hands, bumped knees, teased each other playfully. But this was different.
Hyper aware of the faint sound of their breathing, and the feel of her soft skin against his rough fingers, he sought her out a little more, his fingers now touching the tips of hers, silently asking permission, begging to let him hold her hand. He could barely see anything, and yet he had never been so aware, so in the moment. 
Her fingers curled just the smidge and her small hand was suddenly encased in his - and despite the innocence of the act, he knew this was something new in their relationship. The pad of his thumb traced her wrist and she sucked in a breath. 
He slowly turned to his left towards her, not being able to make out much in the darkness as the moon hid behind a cloud but she took a couple of steps back - and he was only beginning to question if she wanted him to let go when there was that sound again - a soft whimper as if she was trying to cut down her sobs. Pain tore through him like never before. What had he done this time to make her cry that way? He would have asked but then she suddenly tugged him a little by the arm and caught him off-guard; he just about stopped himself from crashing onto her by placing his free palm against the stone wall behind her. 
Her finger traced over his in the smallest of touches, he still couldn’t see her face as she hung her head and this time when she whimpered again, he let go of all inhibitions and cupped her face with his free hand. Sure enough, there was moisture beneath her eyes. He swiped away the tear with his thumb before putting the smallest amount of pressure on her to lift her face and meet his eyes.
“Hurt you again, haven’t I?” he asked in the softest of whispers. There was no one who could overhear them, not even a portrait but somehow it was important that only she heard his words.
She nodded her head in negative, her hair swinging mesmerisingly and sniffed and wrapped her fingers around his wrist while he swiped the pad of his thumb tenderly over her cheek. 
This was beyond what best friends did. He had a girlfriend for a fair few months - he hadn’t shared a tender moment like this even once.  “Are you still mad at me?”  She denied yet again. “Are you scared?” She met his eyes, and in the momentary moonlight, he could see her tear-rimmed eyes. She mouthed a small ‘no’ this time.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He swiped his tongue slowly over his bottom lip before he found his voice.
“Did you… miss me?”
There was a small pause before she nodded once and suddenly he could feel moisture trickle down her cheek. The moonlight broke through the gap in the clouds again. As it filtered in through the neatly arranged windows, it cast long beams that fell on the wall in a stripe-like pattern through the length of the corridor, lighting up her features just enough for him to see. He let go of her other hand to cup her face with both hands and her fingers gripped him at his wrists as she closed her eyes, and bit her lower lip in an attempt to cut off another sob, while her body shook at the attempt.
“Why didn’t you …” he managed helplessly. He hunched to balance their height differences and realised she had lost a fair bit of weight too. She felt smaller than before.  Pressing his forehead to hers he exhaled wistfully before he moved away just a smidge to watch her. He took in her face, drinking in her features, swiping a lock aside and tucking it behind her ear and sniffed a little himself. Watching her in pain was excruciating - it felt as if his heart would rip out of his chest. “What can I do to make it better?” he asked when he had finally found his voice. “Tell me?” he begged. 
“Dunno,” she replied miserably as she let go of his wrists and grabbed the lapels of his robes and looked away, sniffing softly. 
“Will you believe me if I say I missed you too?” he asked and felt like the admission lifted a weight off his chest.
She looked up at him, searching his eyes. He wanted to tell her it scared him to bits to think how much he missed her in the past few months, how much he longed to have her back. But it was hard to put in words. There was no other explanation for it - no lie that he could fool himself with anymore. 
He was in love with her. 
Perhaps for years now without even realising it himself. And to think he was the one who had made her so miserable… His fingers continued to caress her face.
“I would walk here all alone, you know?” she admitted slowly, as she let out a small, bitter chuckle. “No one came here, no one got to know if I cried.”
Ron cursed himself under his breath. He took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, swaying on the spot, torn between pulling her into his arms and letting her go because he couldn’t possibly deserve her. “Why don’t you hate me?” he asked.
“How could I?” she answered quietly, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second before looking away, her fingers tracing over the Gryffindor logo on his chest. “I’ve loved- ” she broke off abruptly. Ron couldn’t breathe. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to himself, while the other continued to cup her face, the soft curls at the back of her head tickling his fingers. 
“Hermione?” he called softly, once he had managed to gather his wits.
“Hmm?” 
“Will you let me kiss you?”  
Her eyes snapped up at him as she let out the smallest of gasps and then her cheeks flooded with colour. He was utterly thankful that the moon had not flitted back behind the clouds. 
She nodded just once. And with his heart thudding madly as if he was doing this the very first time, he touched her lips gently to hers, before moving away to look at her face. She was clutching his robes at the chest, eyes closed and breath coming in gasps. Relieved, he inched closer again, and pressed his lips on hers, his eyes fluttering shut as he placed the smallest and most innocent of kisses and then just revelled at the sensation by lingering in that position for a few more minutes. He could feel her heavy breathing, flushing cheeks and slightly shivering form. If he could he'd slow down time to hold on to these moments.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing a curl away.
She swiped her tongue out and wet her lip before nodding a smidge. “Mmm-hmm” she added weakly.
He pressed his lips to her again, this time carefully pulling her lower lip between his, sucking on it. She paused for a few heartbeats and mimicked his action as if learning from him - and just like always, learning well. He let go soon because somehow these fleeting kisses were way more mind-bogglingly intense than anything he had done so far. Hermione‘s fingers had found his lapels again and were clenching it in her fists. He pulled away because his heart was thundering in his chest, begging him to slow down. 
“I -”
His wristwatch beeped at that instant, shattering the quiet, signalling it was past 11 O’clock and time to return back to their dormitory. 
Hermione opened her eyes slowly, face crimson. “I-we we should head back…” she suggested haltingly, and he let go of her unwillingly.
The walk back to the Gryffindor tower was quiet, not because there was nothing to say - quite the contrary in fact.  Ron had to use all the self-restraint he possessed to ensure he didn't pull her behind a tapestry.  It was imperative that he took it slow, that he proved himself to her first. Proved that he deserved her love. They met the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefects on their way, and the portrait of the Fat Lady was in view at the far end when he stopped on his tracks. Hermione turned at him, curiously. In the light of the torches that shone in their brackets, he could see her so much more clearly now, but he longed for those precious few minutes he had left behind. 
He walked over to the tapestry that hid a passage to the third floor and looked at her. 
She glanced between him and the gaping hole in the wall before silently walking inside. He followed suit, the heavy drapes falling back in place and hiding them from view. 
“Lumos” he muttered and stuffed his wand in his pocket, the light from it lit the passage in a dim glow. He inched closer to her encasing her between the wall at the back and him in front. Gathering all the Gryffindor courage he possessed he took her right hand in his, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. 
“Take your time,” he said at last. “I need to earn my way back to you -” he cut off her protest by placing his fingers of his other hand on her lips, momentarily losing track of what he was planning to say, swiping his thumb over them before gulping thickly and pulling his hand away. “ - I really do.” He took her free hand in his, watched their entwined fingers as he continued. “I know you’ve been thinking about this all this while,” he chuckled before the melancholy hit his words, “You’ve been wondering how to fit this- us- with Harry and the Horcruxes and everything else. I -I just want you to know that I’ll wait. And I am okay with whatever you decide.”
“You mean it?” she asked. “Mmm-hmm.” 
She placed her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around the small of her back, sighing deeply.  
He'd wait but he wouldn't stop loving her no matter what she decided, he promised himself.
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dannys-phantoms · 3 years
Text
Doorways
DannyMay 2021 Day 5: Doorway
Read also on AO3
Sam and Tucker are directed to a special place in the ghost zone, and told to look around. They would never have guessed the things they see.
AKA Danny gets a lair
(Everlasting Trio)
To say that Danny got detentions often would be an understatement. Normally it was something that he could have probably avoided, like by actually doing his homework or not playing on his phone in class, but this time it was different. He’d fallen asleep on his desk – again – because he’d stayed up all night chasing Johnny 13 and his shadow all over Amity Park until all three of them were too tired to continue. And then, of course, when he was finally getting ready to tuck himself into bed, his ghost sense had gone off again. It’s a wonder that kid ever got any sleep.
Lancer had taken one look at him drooling on the desk and that was it, Danny Fenton would be staying late. It made sense, really, because he had an obligation to teach a certain syllabus, and it was obvious that Danny needed something a little more... fine tuned. Even so, Sam and Tucker both were in agreement that it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.
They loved hanging out together even just as a duo, of course. They did it all the time. Three was never a crowd with them, but two was nice as well. When there’s only two, they’d never have to vie for attention, or wonder if they’re somehow third wheeling in their three-way love story.  The reason they were missing Danny was for something else entirely. It was probably something to do with the eight-foot wolfman that had appeared in the middle of Tucker’s room.
He’d just been showing off his latest PDA (she’s called Norah, in case you were wondering) and Sam had been sufficiently engaged (enjoying seeing him happy more than she was actually following the conversation) when three jagged gashes had opened up between them, green and shimmering in the air and tempting a glimpse into the ghost zone. Then, the rift expanded and the creature swung through, landing heavily on his paws.
“Hi, Wulf,” said Sam, hesitantly.
He put a paw on Sam’s shoulder, and Tucker tensed as though he was ready for a fight. They were all friendly enough, of course, but it’s difficult not to be wary with those claws so close to someone’s face.
“Saluton, amikoj,” Wulf greeted, before pushing both of them through the portal he’d just made. “Vi volos ĉirkaŭrigardi antaŭ ol li revenos!”
They landed hard, and before they could look up to ask what exactly he meant, the portal was closed again. If only they’d put more effort into their Esperanto.
It was a wonder they weren’t both sinking through the floor, humans that they were, but Tucker decided not to dwell on it. There were unquestionably going to be weirder things going on here than that.
The hallway itself looked perfectly normal. Green, of course, but normal. They’d been deposited near the top of a set of stairs, and ahead of them were a series of wooden doorways. Under their splayed fingers was soft carpet.
It wasn’t a house they recognised but it quite easily could have belonged to a neighbour, or a schoolmate. It looked so laughably ordinary that they weren’t quite sure what to do with themselves.
The door closest to them creaked back on its hinges, opening a fraction to let a gust of warm wind through. It wavered for a few seconds before gliding almost to a close again.
Sam got to her feet with a sigh and offered a hand to Tucker. After she’d pulled him to his feet, neither of them let go.
The doorway was wooden and grained, looking more like her own kitchen door than one to a ghost realm. She squeezed Tucker’s hand and pushed it open.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, not really, but she knew it wasn’t this. Despite not having been for years, she still recognised the streets of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, deep in the throes of the Mothman Festival.
Nobody knew how much she’d treasured her memories of this place. Nobody except her boyfriends, that is. Even her own parents didn’t know that she dreamed of it almost every night.
It wasn’t a perfect replica of the place. It was as if the architect had merely been told about it, rather than having seen it themselves. Nevertheless, it was enough to have her mouth hanging open. There were pairs of red eyes everywhere, staring at her from every shop front, every costume, every street decoration and even from the foods in the signature Mothman pizza stores and bakeries. The live band was playing eerie music and, when she really stopped to look, she could have sworn that something was watching her from the trees.
If Sam could have chosen a heaven, a place to let her soul spend an eternity, she would have chosen here.
Tucker blinked owlishly behind his glasses. “Sam,” he said, in awe. “Is this...?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “It is”.
The music was pulsing around her, lulling her into a dance. Arms and legs and wings spun from every side as the crowd moved towards the bronze cryptid statue in the centre of the square. She’d not smiled like this for years. It was as if she was delirious. Someone offered her a Mothman lollipop, and she took it without hesitation.
Tucker took it from her gently as she began to wrestle with the wrapper. “It’s too dangerous. We still don’t know what’s going on. This could all be a trap.” He winced apologetically and, even though she tried to argue, she knew he was right.
She steeled herself and took his hand, marching back into the green hallway and pulling the door shut behind her. As soon as the latch clicked, it was silent again.
“Come on, let’s keep going.” Her voice was shaky.
Behind the next door was a meadow lined with trees. Here, it was the middle of spring. The pollen tickled both of their noses, and they quickly retreated before the hayfever could truly set in.
On the other side of the hall was a bright red door. Tucker reached for the handle, but Sam held him back.
“Red means danger, smartypants.”
“Awe, you do care,” he replied jovially. Then, he quirked an eyebrow and sent her the finger guns. “Red also means love.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help her lips quirking in a smile. “I’m being serious, Tuck.”
“As am I.”
He reached forward to open the door, and then immediately stepped back again as he got a wave of vertigo.
They were at the top of a huge drop slide, which was the same shiny red as a circus big top. There were a queue of ghost children lining up, but they all stepped aside, beckoning Tucker to go first.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Sorry, Sammy,” he replied, “but this is just too awesome.”
He sat down on the side and then launched his body forwards, sending it into the oxymoronic state of controlled freefall that left him feeling as light as a bird. It was as though all of his worries were flying from the top of his head. He felt a laugh bubble free and crossed his arms over his chest, equal parts Egyptian mummy and child at a water park.
The drop gradually began to round off, until he slowed down and crashed into a ball pit at the bottom. He’d been falling for what felt like forever.
Sam slid to a stop next to him. “Never, and I mean never, do that to me again.”
Her hair was mussed and her breathing was heavy. He declined to point out that she’d followed after him, even though she’d thought it unsafe. It left a warm fluttering feeling in his belly.  
“I won’t.” He smiled.
The ballpit took off, zooming high into the air until they were at the top of the dropslide again. The sudden motion would normally have made them queasy, or at the least lightheaded, but it didn’t. One second they were at the bottom and the next they were at the top. It was more like the space had moved around them.
Tucker looked longingly at the slide, wanting to go again, but Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him back through the door. It would do no good to linger too long in one place.
The door right at the end of the hallway was glowing around the edges, as though there were nothing but lamps on the other side. Sam made a move towards it. What could this one be? A beachside paradise, perhaps? The light room of a photography studio?
She was inches away from the doorknob when she heard a familiar whoosh. A ghost portal. From the look on Tucker’s face, he’d heard it too.
They looked towards the stairway behind them as it was illuminated in a green glow, gone as quickly as it had arrived. Then, there were whisper-quiet footsteps.
They were both rooted in place. Every instinct suggested they should run, but where to? You can’t hide from a ghost in it’s own lair.
Soon though, a shock of white hair appeared over the banister, then a pair of slouched shoulders clothed all in black.
“Danny?” Tucker said incredulously.
The ghost whipped around, immediately at high alert with an ectoblast ready to go. He only fractionally calmed down when he saw who was there.
“Shit, Tucker? Sam? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Sam said dryly.
“I’m not ready for you guys to be here yet. I was waiting for the right time... have you been following me?”
“What?” Tucker said. “Danny, no, of course not. Wulf brought us here. Said something about looking around before ‘he’ comes back.”
Danny slumped, hand on his forehead. “Dammit, Wulf. That’s the last time I trust him with a secret. How much did you see?”
“Not enough for it to make sense,” Sam said, arms crossed. “Where the hell are we?”
Danny sighed, then looked her in the eye. He looked defeated. “Its my lair. Its not done yet, not by a long shot, which is why I didn’t want to show you –”
“Wait, what? I thought only full ghosts could have a lair.” Tucker’s brow creased.
Danny let out a hollow laugh. “Who knows what halfas can do, really? It’s not like there’s enough of us to study. This place is half ghost, like me, so I can touch stuff and walk about , no matter that mode I’m in. I’m guessing you can too. It helps, because it means I don’t fall through the bed.”
“The bed?”
“Yeah, it’s just through there.”
He looked between them to the glowing door, which he pushed open with one finger.
They were standing on the edge of open space. A million stars twinkled around them, piercing the blackness like twinkling diamonds on a velvet curtain. A red carpet rolled out in front of them, connecting the hallway to a larger rug, also floating. Below it was a deep chasm, the void never ending.
Danny floated down the carpet, which was rippling in an invisible breeze, and the others followed. It was surprisingly solid.
The rug at the end was covered with bean bags and blankets, and the biggest bed any of them had ever seen, big enough to fit ten people easily. Danny threw himself on top of the plush quilt.
“This is... I didn’t want you to see it, because I didn’t know what you’d think. I didn’t want to scare you off.”
Tucker laughed. “You’re a ghost. If we were going to get scared off, I think it would have happened already.”
“I guess,” Danny smiled sadly. “But... If you’d known my lair was adapting to the wants of all three of us, you could’ve thought maybe it was getting too weird.”
“Are you kidding me? This place is awesome!” Sam flopped down onto the bed next to him.
“I was thinking of asking you to stay here with me. Not all the time, obviously.”
“That would be cool,” Tucker said, trying to hide how excited the prospect made him.
“Think about it, Tuck,” Danny groaned. “You guys don’t belong here. You’re humans.”
“Okay, so maybe it needs a kitchen and a bathroom fitting, but other than that it’s pretty sound.”
“One of those doors opens into a Tomahawk Steakhouse,” Danny smiled.
Sam put her hand in his supportively. “We love you. We’d follow you to the ends of the Earth and beyond, you know that.”
Tucker sat down next to his partners and took Danny’s other hand.
Danny made a mental note to send a ‘thank you’ postcard to Wulf when he next saw him.
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Nozomi Yu is Onatah's adoptive mother. Belonging to a rich family of Chantan origin settled in Lion’s Arch, Nozomi was the third of six children and the only one to be blessed by Lyssa, the dual-faced goddess of beauty. Unfortunately for her parents, she was as beautiful as she was rebellious and terribly disobedient. Any excuse was good to run away from home in search of fun and adventure, always ending up in some kind of trouble. At a certain point her father, exasperated by her behavior, decided to marry her off to a wealthy merchant who was much older than her. Displeased by his decision, she decided to escape once and for all, ending up in Divinity's Reach, and worked for years as a mercenary and occasionally as a bartender in the Salma District. One day, she received an assassination contract from a noble woman who wanted to eliminate a young baron belonging to a rival family, named Lawrence Lur. She didn't like the job, but she would do anything to earn a few more gold. When the time came to kill him, however, she found herself in front of a person who was fighting for the rights of the refugees from the Centaur war, as well as being a genuinely good man. After making sure the noble wouldn’t bother him anymore, she began to date him. Thanks to him, she regained her status and eventually they got married. In a winter’s day of 1307 AE, Andrew, a well-known innkeeper and their neighbour, knocked on their door with a small girl on the brink of starvation, saying that he found her passed out in the streets. The couple, who were unable to have children of their own, decided to raise her as their own child. In 1315 AE, Lawrence died of an illness, and since then Nozomi took care of Onatah all by herself, teaching her everything she knew, including basic elemental magic. Nozomi is the polar opposite of her daughter: sometimes Onatah gets really embaressed of her mother's impetuous and unrestrained temper..but she loves her the way she is.
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ssamie · 3 years
Text
two. sea of strangers
oikawa tooru x fem langa!reader
(hq x sk8 the infinity)
warnings: spelling mistakes, swearing, 2k+ words, u have langa’s blue hair sorry
gen masterlist.            “snow” masterlist.
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"its really hitting me now!" reki exclaimed as he dramatically draped his arms around her frame "you're really leaving?!" he exclaimed as he eyed her countless luggage with distaste. 
"yes reki.. im sorry" she said as she held him tightly by the waist, keeping him upright as he slouches against her torso 
"man, you're really embarrassing" miya muttered out with a sniffle as he attempted to poke fun at reki. "crying and all.." he muttered as, he too, tried to contain his tears. 
"you're one to talk! you're gonna go all red if you hold your tears in!" reki exclaimed as he ruffled miya's hair through his hoodie 
miya grumbled but finally succumbed and fully latched himself onto her back, clinging desperately as he hides his face into her hair "if you leave you're gonna be demoted from heroine to slime" he meekly threatened as he weakly punches her shoulder 
"hm, then we won't be on the same level anymore.." she muttered back as she placed her hand on his head to comfort him 
"exactly.. so you shouldn't leave." miya huffed out 
"sorry miya.. but i have to" she frowned and met eyes with her mom, who simply gave her a reassuring smile in return. 
"there's really nothing we can do but hope for a safe trip" cherry chimed in as he plucked miya and reki off of her "it will be quite a loss but, she won't be gone forever" he said. 
"yeah, but behave out there, rookie" joe mused as he slung his muscular arm around her, making her stagger a bit "dont want ya getting into accidents and shit" joe laughed as he ruffled her hair with a soft smile 
"yeah, we'll visit you after you've settled" shadow said as he jogged over to them, just having finished helping nanako carry her bags 
"hey.." he whispered to joe as he nodded towards reki. joe immediately understood and pushed her towards the redhead. "well go on then, have one last hug with your dearest best friend" joe mused "maybe a kiss as well" 
y/n huffed as she covered her warm cheeks and sheepishly walked towards reki. "um.." she mumbled out, suddenly finding the words get caught up in her throat. "the plane boards in five minutes.." she said 
"i know" reki replied with a sad smile. "what should we do for those remaining minutes? i really don't know anymore" he chuckled 
"um.. what about.." she trailed off as her hands hesitantly met his. "..this?" 
reki blinked and immediately followed along. a smile slowly crept up on his lips as they do their signature handshake. she gulped as the heat on her face worsened by the second. by the time their hands would meet to make an infinity sign, she was fully ready to drop it and leave. 
though unexpectedly, reki pulled her to his chest and squeezed her tight, holding her by her waist with one arm, while the other reaches out to caress her hair. 
"bye, y/n." reki whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ears, making her already flustered state worsen. 
"i'll make sure to see you again. don't find a new partner while you're gone, alright?" he whispered 
though his tone was laced with slight doubt and desperation. she held her hand over her beating chest and nodded. 
"i'll never find someone like you, reki." she said with a tone of sincerity. "let alone someone better." she whispered with a love filled smile. 
reki smiled back and fully engulfed her in a bear hug, swaying their bodies back and forth as he dug his face into her neck 
she gulped and slyly covered her cheeks with her hands. she was most certainly in the verge of overheating from too much joy that had her heart pounding and her palms sweating. 
"oi, oi! don't leave us out!" joe chimed in with a laugh as he slung his arms around them both. "yeah, stop hogging her you slime!" miya hissed at reki as he greedily wrapped his arms around her waist
"hey, i'm the best friend! you're the slime in the situation!" reki hissed back 
soon enough, y/n was getting suffocated under five men who thought it was a great idea to stack themselves on top of her. "can't.. breathe.." she squeaked out as she tried to gasp for air
nanako watched their exchange with a smile of amusement. though they had to move along as to not miss the flight. "y/n, its time to go" nanako said with a smile as she grabbed her daughters hand. she waved at the boys one last time and walked away, with y/n beside her. 
"BYE Y/N, REMEBER OUR PROMISE!" 
"BYE REKI! I WILL!" 
"stop screaming at the airport!" cherry smacked reki's head with a scolding glare 
"ouch! sorry, geez!" 
"ah, the air here in miyagi is very different, huh?" nanako hummed as she looked around the empty streets surrounded by trees and bushes
"i guess so." y/n replied with a nod as she walked past her mother and entered the empty home.
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the huge truck filled with their furniture and belongings was parked by their new home, with the men carrying them inside. nanako frowned and followed her inside. y/n simply walked quietly to her new room which was situated upstairs. 
as she arrived, she scanned the room, eyeing the bed on the corner and an empty closet on the other side. "hm." she hummed as she further inspected the place 
nanako watched in anticipation as dread and nervousness filled her nerves. "d-do you like it, sweetie?" she asked, her voice lightly shaking. 
"its okay." y/n replied as she dropped her bags on the floor. 
nanako sighed in relief and patted her on the back. "the movers are gonna help me fix this place up, so why don't you look around the neighbourhood for a bit?" she suggested 
"i might get lost" y/n said. nanako shook her head and handed her her skateboard "no you won't, it's a pretty small town!" she said "and if you do get lost, just call me or ask around, okay?" nanako mused as she urged the girl downstairs and out the door 
"but mom-" y/n couldn't finish, seeing as nanako had slammed the door and was waving her goodbye through the windows
"bye~ have fun~" nanako mused as she waved 
y/n looked back at her with a deadpanned expression and sighed. she got on her board and skated along the smooth concrete, looking past the fairly big houses and few cars driving by. 
"hey hey iwa-chan~ i came to pick you up for practice like the good best friend that i am!" a distant voice cooed out
"shut up shittykawa, it's seven am. you're giving me a headache." another voice, this time more gruff and annoyed, said. 
y/n hummed in curiosity and looked ahead of her. they were quite far, but their loud arguing could be heard a block away, so she didn't have that much trouble. "a ball?" she muttered to herself as she looked at the ball tucked in between the brunette's arms
"weird.." she mumbled before speeding up, not wanting them to see or interact with her in the slightest. 
"hm? are there new neighbours?" the brunette asked. "obviously dumbass. they moved in just a while ago i think." the other replied 
"ooh~ i wonder if there's a cute girl that-" oikawa cut himself off as he felt a gush of wind fly past him
he curiosly turned around, but was only met with a quick dash of something blue. "what is it?" iwaizumi asked him, confused as to why his friend suddenly stopped in his tracks for apparently no reason at all. 
"did you see that, iwa-chan?" oikawa asked him as he pointed to the next block, trying to show him the person, but all that was visible was them turning the corner and disappearing from their sight. 
"there's nothing there." iwaizumi said with an unamused glare "are you messing with me, shittykawa? it's so early in the morning please give me a break" he sighed 
"no i'm serious! there was someone there! i saw something blue!" oikawa defended with a shriek 
"shut up.." iwaizumi grumbled in exasperation 
suddenly, oikawa gasped and excitedly hit his arm. "do you think it could be aliens?" he whispered with narrowed eyes, while iwaizumi simply stared back at him in distaste. 
"shut up!" 
"school already?" she asked with a look of dread as she listened to her mother talk about her schedule as they sit on the dining table. 
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"but its hard to make friends.." y/n grumbled out with a grunt 
"yes, sweetie! we have to get you settled in as soon as possible so you'll be more comfortable" nanako explained "plus you can make friends with kids there so you won't be alone all the time, don't you want that?" she asked 
"you and reki became friends pretty quickly, didn't you?" nanako mused "so i'm sure you'll be fine!" 
"reki.." she mumbled out as she stared down at her food with a sad frown, a gloomy aura suddenly surrounding her as she silently sulks. 
"ah crap, maybe i shouldn't have mentioned him" nanako muttered to herself, starting to sweat bullets as she tried to rack her brain for what to do. "a-ahm well!" nanako cleared her throat and shot y/n a shaky grin. "you're a very pretty girl! im sure people will be the first ones to approach you!" she said 
"so you won't really have to do any of the work" nanako reassured her "they're normally very interested in transferees especially since you're foreign." 
"okay then.." she muttered out, though she was still unsure. "im gonna clean up now" she said as she stood up from her seat and made her way to the bathroom 
"sure, but wake up early tomorrow okay? i'll help you get ready!" nanako called out, only to receive a faint 'okay!' in response. 
once she heard the bathroom door close and the water start running, she let out a huge breath of relief and slouched back on her chair. "AGH! i accidentally made her sad!" nanako exclaimed as she pulled don her hair in distress 
"should i call reki? her friends? what do i do?!" she shrieked out. she then looked over to the photo of her husband and sulked 
"help me oliver!!" 
"okay, hasegawa y/n-san, you're in third year class 6" the assistant told her with a kind smile "its on the third floor and the room by the stairway. it should be easy enough to find." he said "unless you want me to guide you?" 
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"no, i think im okay." she declined with a quick bow "thank you though." 
"come in!" a voice called out from inside 
she kept her face straight and as she followed the directions, up until she reached the classroom she was assigned. "3-6" she read the sign. she then knocked on the door and waited patiently for the teacher to let her enter. 
she followed and slid the door open, closing it behind her and walking to the front of the class, all while keeping her eyes trained on the floor. 
"is she american?" "dang, she's pretty!" "i hope she sits with me.." "what's with her hair?" "as long as she doesn't steal oikawa-senpai, im fine with her" 
she could hear all of their murmurs, though she simply chose to ignore it, not wanting to interact with them as much as possible. she gripped the strap of her bag and raised her head to face them, keeping the monotonous expression as she side eyed the teacher for permission to speak. 
he then nodded and urged her to go. "mind telling us about yourself?" he asked 
"my name is hasegawa y/n." she said, keeping her eyes straight ahead and briefly scanning a few students 
oikawa and iwaizumi looked up and watched her in curiosity. they were seated at the very back, watching her every move. iwaizumi wasn't super interested, only a bit curious about their foreign transferee. although oikawa is overflowing with both interest and curiosity. not only was he happy to have a cute girl as a new classmate, but he was quite sure he had seen her from somewhere before. 
"..." the class was silent as they waited for her to say more, though was only met with nothing. 
"that's it?" the teacher asked, slyly urging her to say more 
y/n looked over to him and back at the class. "i came from canada and moved to okinawa to here.." she said 
"... anything else?" the teacher swetadropped. she then furrowed her brows and asked, "why? is it bad?" 
"no, you're good." the teacher responded as he waved his hand dismissively. 
oikawa chuckled in amusement, making iwaizumi look over to him with a raised brow. "what?" iwaizumi asked 
"nothing, she's just funny" oikawa replied with a grin 
"alright, you can sit in between rika and iwaizumi, seeing as it's the only vacant seat left." the teacher said 
y/n nodded and scanned the room, looking for the people he had mentioned. she merely blinked as a girl with long black hair, which she assumed was rika, excitedly waved at her. 
"hasegawa-chan! come sit with me!" rika exclaimed with a smile. y/n followed and squeezed through the rays of desks, sighing once she sat down on her assigned desk. 
"..." she gulped and nervously pulled out a book and turned her head down, feeling multiple eyes bore through her. 
but by far, the most eerie and intense stare she had received was from rika, who was not so discreetly peering at her over her book, watching with sparkling eyes as she stared. 
"hi-" y/n couldn't even finish her sentence as rika excitedly perked up and shook her hands. "hi! I'm orimoto rika! you can call me rika though" she whisper shouted with a grin 
y/n blinked in surprise and gave her a wobbly grin, "hi, rika-san.." she muttered "um, you can call me y/n if you want.." 
"okay, y/n-chan!" she replied with a gleeful grin "hey, wanna join me for lunch later? it must suck to eat lunch without anyone. you can join me and-" 
the teacher abruptly cleared his throat and shot rika a pointed look. "orimoto-san, i know you're excited but please save the talking for later" he said. "right! sorry sensei!" rika laughed sheepishly as she retreated back to her desk 
y/n side eyed her one last time before looking back down at her desk, bringing out a pencil and messily sketching on the paper 
"hey" the boy beside her whispered 
she glanced at him and blinked in confusion. "im iwaizumi, nice to meet you." he said with a curt nod of acknowledgement
she didn't immediately respond but quietly inspected him "nice to meet you.. iwaizumi-san" she said. she smiled to herself as iwaizumi nodded once again and simply went back to minding his business. 
iwaizumi was chill. nice. 
she had mentally agreed with herself that she did in fact like iwaizumi. he was very different from reki's overall 'vibe' but it was comforting in a way. 
now.. the boy beside him.. she still wasn't sure if she should just ignore his overwhelming presence or give him a fake smile to satisfy him. 
"yahoo~ y/n-chan~" oikawa cooed with a flirty wave "hey~ im oikawa tooru" he introduced with a smile as he leaned over iwaizumi's desk to get closer to her and wave once again 
"..." she side eyed him and quietly nodded, opting not to respond as she slouched down to hide her face behind the book she was doodling on
beside her rika spluttered and watched with wide eyes as the girl blatantly ignored the oikawa tooru, himself. it seems not only rika had seen the interaction, or the lack of it, more so. 
the girls near her either gasped in genuine surprise or sighed in relief, having found that the new girl was in fact not a threat. 
iwaizumi, however, was simply snickering and trying to contain his laughter as oikawa stares blankly at her with his face as pale as a ghost. 
it seems everyone was enjoying themselves. she sighed and simply rested her head on her desk, wanting nothing more than for class to be over. 
"hey, eat with me later, okay y/n-chan?" rika said with a smile 
y/n looked up at her and simply nodded, blowing the stray strands of hair away from her face as she stares at the ticking clock on their wall. "i wonder what reki's doing.." she mumbled to herself 
she sighed and sat up straight, keeping her eyes on the teacher who was mindlessly continuing his lecture. 
under her breath she mumbled, 
"i wanna go home." 
i added a random 'oc' but i used rika from jjk's name lol. there's gonna be two more i think, but they're not that important lol, just some filler characters ig 
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sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes :<
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astrognossienne · 3 years
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scandalous beauty: athalia ponsell lindsley - an analysis
“Not that St. Augustine citizens went around killing people they didn’t like. But Athalia was not on a level playing field. Nobody liked her, so there was not a big hue and cry when she was killed.” - Sally Boyles, a neighbour of Lindsley’s
For someone so brash, loud, and ballsy, her life, especially her early life, was quite a mystery. Just like her controversial death. On January 23, 1974, former model, dancer, political activist and television personality Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was murdered with a machete by an unknown assailant on the front steps of her home in St. Augustine, Florida. Her murder is notorious more than four decades after it occurred. The only eyewitness said a man attacked Lindsley with a machete in broad daylight on the front steps of her white mansion. Gossip swirled that neighbour Frances Bemis knew who killed Lindsley and would notify authorities. Bemis was later murdered on her nightly walk. Police arrested only one suspect for Lindsley's murder, which remains unsolved to this day. For someone who was a Leo, I don't think Athalia was a very happy person. I think she tried to bring others down, with her based on her ill-concealed dissatisfaction with the way things were. Unfortunately for her, her demise happened in a town that didn’t care for her.
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Athalia Ponsell Lindsley, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Libra moon (the moon is speculative). She was born Mary Anne “Athalia” Fetter in Toledo, Ohio in 1917. Her parents were both wealthy New Yorkers; her father was a utilities magnate and her mother a socialite. Shortly after her birth, she and her family moved to Isle of Pines (now known as Isla de la Juventud), Cuba where she was raised until the age of 12. By the time the parents moved to Jacksonville, Florida and enrolled her in parochial school, she was winning beauty contests and pursuing an acting career. After high school, she moved to New York City, where it didn’t take her long to be employed as a fashion model for the celebrated fashion designer John Robert Powers, which helped her land work in some Broadway musicals and as a hostess on a TV game show. By 1949, she was the hottest model in NYC. She was just as hot off the runway as well; the list of Ponsell’s sexual conquests was long, including the likes of actor Tyrone Power and Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. She was reported to have been married three times, one of  them to a man named Ponsell, but there is no information on him or her other two spouses. She had a scrapbook of all the celebrities and people she was acquainted. But success had quickly gone to the young model’s head, and by 1954, she’d burned all her bridges at her modeling agency, and her reputation as “the bitch of New York” was well-earned and kept her from earning any more work in the entertainment industry.
Out of work, over the hill, and her looks fading, Ponsell quit her 20-years of modeling and entertainment work and retired to a white stucco mansion in St. Augustine in 1972. By that time, the 55-year-old washed-up model became embittered. From the moment she arrived in St.Augustine, she did her best to position herself at the top of the city’s high society. But the sides of that pyramid were very steep, and to the city’s old-school cultural hardliners, she was an outsider, and an obnoxious one, at that. St. Augustine is known for being a rather cliquish town, and unless you have Spanish, Menorcan, or WASP roots, any newcomer is looked at as an outsider. She was known as a pain in the ass, criticizing everything she thought was wrong with the town and its citizens. Naturally the upper crust didn’t take too well to her. She may have annoyed them, but she did catch the eye of another important person, Mayor James Lindsley, a St. Augustine native who went by the nickname “Jinx”. Jinx was known around the city for his ability to work hard and drink even harder. He was of the generation where if he was wronged, or if there was a problem, he settled his differences with his fists. Despite his passionate love affairs with ass kicking and Jack Daniels, Athalia was drawn to Jinx’s good standing with St. Augustine’s old guard, Jinx was attracted to her still-good looks and fiery personality. The two courted hard and fast, and just a few months after they met, they married.
Their marriage was rocky from the start, providing the town with juicy gossip. In fact, just 3 months into the marriage, the two separated. They wound up living in separate homes, fighting back and forth about possessions and property. She may have treated her husband and the town like dirt, but she was very moved by animals and took in a lot of strays and accumulated a coterie of animals. This didn’t endear herself to the neighbours, and they complained of dogs barking and other noises coming from her makeshift “animal shelter”. One neighbour in particular that took exception to Athalia and her animals was a hot-headed county manager called Alan Stanford. Stanford lived next door to her on Marine Street, and the two clashed from day one. Stanford filed several noise complaints against Athalia and her pets, resulting in her arrest. In revenge, she made Stanford’s life as county manager a living hell. She became a fixture at City Hall, attending every county meeting she could and accuse Stanford of all sorts of improprieties, from the mismanagement of county funds to stealing equipment from the road department. Some of these accusations weren’t entirely unfounded, but it got to the point where her presence was dreaded. She was after his job and wanted him fired. Stanford, in turn, threatened her life. December of 1973, she found out that Stanford lacked the civil engineering degree required for all county managers, and went to the state to report him.
On January 23, 1974 she attended her last city hall meeting, armed with petitions of several citizens calling for Stanford to resign. She exposed the fact that Stanford forged documents and padded his experience and qualifications as county manager. Later that day, to celebrate, she met her estranged husband Jinx for lunch. The day went surprisingly well, going shopping in Jacksonville and running errands. At approximately 5:30 pm, they both went home to their respective houses. As Athalia walked her pet blue jay around in her front yard, an intruder emerged from her back yard, armed with a machete. Moments later, the police department received a call about a murder. The police arrived to the provided address and found Athalia sprawled across the front steps of her porch, nearly decapitated and hacked to death with a machete in broad daylight.
The scene was chaotic, with neighbours trampling all over the grass trying to get a look, contaminating evidence. In their great police work, the cops never thought to rope off the crime scene. When her husband Jinx was notified of his wife’s murder, he took his time getting to her house, making a pit stop to his attorney’s office along the way. A few hours later, the cops find a machete in his pickup truck. But an open-and-shut case this was not. In February of 1974, the rumour was that Jinx killed her in a drunken rage. Even though Jinx had a violent temper and smacked his wife around, in the eyes of local investigators, he was “unarrestable”; they had no real evidence against the mayor and he even passed a lie-detector test. A tip from one of Athalia’s neighbours came in: it seems the neighbour’s 19 year-old son claimed to have witnessed her old nemesis Alan Stanford kill her. There was a trail of blood that led from Athalia’s front porch directly into Allen Stanford’s back yard. More than a few weren’t concerned with Athalia being killed because she was such a bitch that they feel that she deserved what she got.
In March of 1974, there was a blood-stained machete, a watch, and blood-soaked trousers found in a bag in a swamp; the blood on the clothes matched Athalia’s, and the clothes belonged to Stanford. On February 22, 1974, Alan Stanford was arrested and charged with murder. On January 1975, the murder trial commenced. The prosecution had a strong case and a guilty verdict seemed almost certain. Just before closing arguments, Stanford’s defense team called the 19-year old witness to the stand. Despite previously identifying Stanford as the killer, the young man was now unsure of the identity, having never actually seen the assailant’s face. On the day following the killing, a young nurse rode her bicycle as she always did. The police stopped her and questioned her about the murder. The nurse picked out a third suspect, deputy sheriff Dewey Lee, as the killer, further muddling the waters. The jury found Alan Stanford not guilty, despite the mountain of evidence against him. Local authorities were so upset by the verdict that they refused to re-open the case. Even though Stanford was acquitted of the murder, Athalia wound up getting the last laugh in the end, they local county board voted 4 to 1 to fire Stanford due to his lying about his credentials. He wound up leaving town shortly afterward. Today, St. Augustine is different; most who lived on Marine Street during the 1960s and 1970s have either moved away or passed away. Athalia’s house, now a historical landmark, still stands today, a grim reminder of how local resentment can go too far.
the murder of frances bemis
Frances Bemis was a socialite and neighbour of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley who happened to be a close friend of hers. Shortly after Lindsley’s murder, Frances started gathering information in order to write a book about the murder, claiming that she had information on what really happened. On November 3, 1974, she went for an evening walk and disappeared. Her body was found near her house, her skull crushed by a cement block. Her murder has never been solved.
This was the next analysis that I planned to do after the Robert Mitchum one, so I decided to just get this one out of the way.
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Stats
birthdate: July 25, 1917*
*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.
major planets:
Sun: Leo
Moon: Libra
Rising: unknown
Mercury: Leo
Venus: Leo
Mars: Gemini
Midheaven: unknown
Jupiter: Gemini
Saturn: Leo
Uranus: Aquarius
Neptune: Leo
Pluto: Cancer
Overall personality snapshot: She had a prestigious, compelling presence, even when she was just clowning around, and a natural ability to command both respect and affection from her friends and colleagues. In the nicest possible way she assumed the position of the leader because she had a strong independent streak and believed in her lofty, worthy ideals, but she also gravitated towards collaboration and an impartial examination of the facts. She could be bossy and yet her bossiness was so diplomatic that it was convincing, even impressive. Although she wanted esteem and tended to identify with honourable goals and people, she could work alongside others she respected and she really wanted the best for everyone. She had style, and she instinctively knew that ‘manners maketh man’ and that, if for some reason they didn’t, they went a long way in making life worth living. When she came into her own, she developed a strongly aesthetic approach to life and are naturally creative. She needed a very positive, active medium through which to express herself, such as drama, teaching or running her own business.
Anything to do with beauty and harmony interested her, such as decorating, design and painting. Her interest in social equality took her into politics or the law. She had a strong sense of herself and stubbornly followed her own personal code of ethics, yet she also enjoyed being part of a group that had a common purpose or bond. She cherished ideals of liberty and equality, but if there were some distasteful tasks to perform she moved very smoothly into the role of delegating – well, she thought, someone has to give the orders around here or we would have no harmony at all. Although she seemed to enjoy an easy, breezy approach to life, there was quite a serious side to her personality, and she could be surprisingly controversial and provocative. She was willing to stand up and be counted, and perhaps make it look easy. She had a natural appreciation and enjoyment of the good things of life; she assumed that they should be hers by birthright. And through cunning charm, calculated boldness, and intelligent maneuver she managed to have plenty.
She was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. She believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although she could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. She had a high opinion of her mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. She was a mentally restless person, both versatile and broad-minded. She experienced personal growth through analysis and using her intellect, although the collection and communication of facts may have been an end within itself. She was a reliable and loyal person. Her will and sense of honour were strong and she was a great organizer. On the downside, her self-assuredness could become dogmatism and imperiousness. Conservatism may have affected her creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. She often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all her forms of expression. She could also take herself so seriously, that people think that she was older than her years.
She belonged to a generation that could be unpredictable in that it liked to instigate change simply for the sake of shaking things up and providing stimulation. Humanitarian ideals became extremely important, as well as the belief in absolute freedom for every individual. She came up with radical new ideas which she stubbornly followed. As a member of this generation, she may have felt deep spiritual convictions, although she may not have seen herself as religious in the traditional sense of the word. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. Members of this generation loved the theater and the cinema, in fact, any sort of creative self-expression. They also believed in the rights of any individual to express themselves. This generation was both idealistic and romantic, selfish and individualistic. Lindsley embodied all of these Leo Neptunian ideals. Also, as a member of the Leo Neptune generation, she experienced and fully embraced changes in sexual mores and attitudes, changing the way people approach the whole issue of romantic relationships. Changes were also experienced in the relationships between parents and children, with the ties becoming looser. She was part of a generation known for its devastating social upheavals concerning home and family. The whole general pattern of family life experiences enormous changes and upheavals; as a Cancer Plutonian, this aspect is highlighted with Lindsley’s father dying relatively young and her having to care for her mother until she died.
Love/sex life: There is never any question as to the ground rules of her erotic universe: what best served her ego, best served her libido. She had a marvelous capacity for enjoying sex but her pride and self-possession always came first. Some people might have found the egotism of this position offensive but many others hardly noticed. After all, a lover as lively, generous and exciting as she had good reason to be proud. There was always a distinctively theatrical quality about her love making. She wanted sex to be a big event, full of drama and intellectual significance. This grandiose approach to sex can certainly be entertaining but it often made her romantic moments seem less than spontaneous. More importantly, real life sex rarely met her cinematic standards. This is one reason why she often found the idea of love much more appealing than its physical manifestations.The sex in her head was never common or clumsy, and she could always count on great reviews.
minor asteroids and points:
North Node: Capricorn
Lilith: Virgo
Her North Node in Capricorn dictated that she needed to develop the more caring and compassionate side to her personality and try to place less emphasis on the materialistic aspects of her life. Her Lilith in Virgo ensured that she exhibited a Madonna-whore complex; she made her way through the world with her sensational wits and she had no time for constricting judgments. She confronted the grittier facts of life, especially sex. She was good at sex but not as a form of sappy emotional expression.
elemental dominance:
fire
air
She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was be bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves. She was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and she liked to stir things up. She was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. She was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. She carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, she lived in her head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at her best, she helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives.
modality dominance:
fixed
She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.
planet dominants:
Sun
Mars
Pluto
She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life. She was aggressive, individualistic and had a high sexual drive. She believed in action and took action. Her survival instinct was strong. She wanted to take herself to the limit—and then surpass that limit, which she often did. She ultimately refused to compromise her integrity by following another’s agenda. She likely didn’t compare herself to other people and didn’t want to dominate or be dominated. She simply wanted to be free to follow her own path, whatever it was. She brought about complete and profound transformations in her life, good or bad (and it was often bad). She felt the need to let go of what was familiar to her and accept new and different ways of being and doing things. There were areas in her life where she had to accept regeneration, which involved the destruction of the old and the creation of the new.
sign dominants:
Leo
Gemini
Cancer
She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At her best, she was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that will expand their communities. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form.
Read more about her under the cut.
Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a former model, Broadway performer, actress, dancer and television personality who died in a savage late-afternoon attack at her home on Jan. 23, 1974. Wife of the once mayor of St. Augustine, James "Jinx" Lindsley, who died a few years after her death. Mrs. Athalia Lindsley was very active politically.
She also took in many animals, such as dogs, cats and even two goats. At the time of her murder, she was outside trying to rehabilitate one of her rescue birds, a blue jay named Clementine which had an injured wing. She had rescued the little bird from neighborhood cats.
Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a very devoted daughter who took care of her mother full time until her mother passed away.
She was 58 years old when her life was brutally cut short.
A neighbor and local politician was the only person ever arrested and tried for her murder, after a very dramatic trial, a jury found the defendant not guilty, and he was acquitted
(x)
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tsaritsa · 3 years
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BEYOND THE WIDOW’S WEEDS: AN INTERVIEW
by Violet Whittaker for PRIMA Magazine (photographs supplied by Riza Mustang)
“I don’t like to hear that I was poised, or maintained a good appearance for the cameras. I am not a movie actress.” On the fifth anniversary of Führer Mustang’s assassination, Violet Whittaker sits down with his widow, Riza Mustang, and listens to her open up about her husband, the horrifying moments leading up to his death, and what the country meant to him.
CENTRAL EVENING TIMES MUSTANG SHOT DEAD Gunned Down During Campaigning In Eastern District
FÜHRER PRESIDENT MUSTANG was assassinated today. The President was shot as he gave a speech at the recently completed Amestris-Xing Railroad Hub. The Governor of East District was also badly wounded, as well as a number of diplomats representing the Empire of Xing. The President died at 3.07pm. After a burst of gunfire that cut down the President, he was rushed to Eastern General Hospital, where emergency blood transfusions were given. He was 47, and was in the final stages of an incredibly popular re-election campaign that likely would have seen him take on a third fifth-year term. He is survived by his wife, Riza Mustang, who was also in attendance today. Preliminary reports suggest she was also injured, but these are unconfirmed as of printing.
On December 3rd, 1932, four days after becoming the country’s most famous widow, Riza Mustang slipped on a mourning veil. The delicate shroud reached beyond her waist, and it moved lightly in the cool winter wind as she followed her husband’s coffin in the cortege that travelled from the official residency of the Führer President to the Philip Andersen Military Cemetery. The veil was sheer enough to reveal her pale, drawn face – though not completely. The widow of Roy Mustang, just as much as she was during his tenure, ensured she was both visible and protected from the public eye.
“I don’t like to hear that I was poised, or maintained a good appearance for the cameras,” she says now, five years later, on a similar, windy December 3rd.  “I am not a movie actress. I never have been.”
Although largely withdrawn from the public eye since his assassination, Riza Mustang has not been resting on her laurels. She is heavily invested in projects that focus on economic development in deprived areas of Amestris, as well as increasing the capacity and reach of educational programs for young women. Those who she works with on a daily basis agree with the assessment that Riza Mustang is a hard worker; albeit one who shies away from taking credit, preferring to uplift others over herself.  
“People always tell me that he would be proud of me, for the work that I do.” A strained kind of smile graces her face. “There’s no doubt that he would be. It’s just quite funny how people assume to have known my husband better than myself.”
Whether she intended to or not, Riza Mustang’s actions and presentation of herself to the public in the minutes, hours, and days after her husband’s assassination is embedded in the cultural zeitgeist of Amestris, arguably just as much as her husband’s impact on the country. Her quick thinking, reflexes, and experience as the Führer’s primary bodyguard, ensured that the assassin had only moments at best to flee the scene – something they were unable to achieve. Lucas Alexander, a 23-year-old university student with ties to Aerugean intelligence, was apprehended only 11 minutes after the first shot rang out. As Riza was performing CPR on her husband, she was also instructing his service team about the trajectory of the bullets, spray pattern, and likely points of origin. While there have been many enduring images of the two during Mustang’s tenure as leader of the nation, none will ever surpass the visceral impact of her covered in blood, attempting to revive her husband and simultaneously protect him from further harm. The country was torn in two at the violent exhibition in the evening newspapers, but sources close to Riza claimed the embargo on those photos was dropped deliberately at her command. She was quoted as saying “I want them to see what they did.”
I don’t ask Riza who ‘they’ are – widely understood to be the loudest of Mustang’s political detractors, whose divisive rhetoric was thought to directly embolden the attack in the first place. I don’t ask her whether the quote is true or not, or whether she regrets not being officially assigned as her husband’s primary bodyguard for that day.
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Instead, Riza explains her frustration that such a large proportion of the attention surrounding her husband’s assassination was rooted in her actions and image, rather than what she believes to be more important. “It was like people wanted to forget the fact that these attitudes – particularly around the projects being implemented in the East – were not coming out of a vacuum. My husband was famously vocal in his defence of all Amestrian’s, regardless of race or creed. To see his name and legacy become entwined with a political circus that serves to undermine his achievements rather than honour them is disgraceful. It should not have mattered that I tried to save his life on that stage. It should not have mattered that I looked ‘the part’ as I watched them bury him in the earth. Roy was the sum of his parts; not mine.”
Although she had come to expect – and anticipate – attempts on her husband’s life, not only for what he personally represented, but for what his station represented as well, Riza agrees that Amestris has a fraught relationship with its leaders. “I don’t think it’s lost on many people that we’ve lost two of the last four leaders by successful assassinations. Roy wanted to address the crevasses in this country that we collectively have gotten very good at ignoring. Establishing the railroad formally with Xing was a decade’s worth of bilateral work, proving not only to our neighbours – but to ourselves as well – that we could forge bonds with one another, rather than break them.”
Her disaffected outlook is perhaps why she has pulled back from the public eye – not that, she admits, she ever enjoyed being there in the first place.
“I don’t have the patience for politics – for people,” she hedges, over a cup of earl grey. “I remember some of our critics complaining about how closed off we were here –” she gestures around us, in the small homestead on the outskirts of Central that the Mustang’s called their home for the entirety of his presidency, the home that she still resides in, five years on, “– saying we needed to be more accessible to the people – namely, my husband needed to be accessible, needed to be available for everyone at any given moment.” Riza laughs bitterly at that, fiddling with her rings, clearly deciding whether or she wants to continue down this train of thought. “He joined the military when he was eighteen. His move into politics immediately followed his retirement as a General. My husband has always belonged to this country, and to her people.”
“On the whole,” she begins after a lengthy pause, “We were happy to play that role. The power and prestige that comes with this kind of position – you have to acknowledge it, make some sacrifices. You have to give to receive in turn.”
“I don’t want his legacy to be reduced to a few, violent moments,” she continues. “But unfortunately, it will remain that way until this country comes to grips with its history in its entirety. We need to see what we’ve sacrificed willingly, and what we’ve taken in return.”
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Text
Mermay - Dilliam - An Introduction
Happy Mermay!
William discovers that Mark’s girlfriend is hiding a secret known as ‘Damien’. He’d never guess the truth.
Word Count: 2,807 (I got a little carried away, and this wasn’t even what I intended to write!)
-
Even if William had known Mark and Celine for two years, he always felt like he was on the outside of the group.
(Aside from feeling like the third wheel as Mark and Celine had been in a steady relationship since Mark first introduced his childhood friend to his girlfriend)
Mark, Celine, and her family seemed to have a secret. Whenever they would chat, there would be mention of "Damien" in passing. But when William tried to ask for context, he was never given it. Mark and Celine would conveniently slide the topic elsewhere to avoid answering the question, while he was in no position to ask her parents. All William could gather was that Damien travelled but occasionally returned to the family home. Was he a businessman, forever on the roam? Was he a soldier like William? Was he family or a friend? After several years of being left in the dark, he had accepted that he'd never learn the truth.
In January, he had been sent overseas with the military as part of a peacekeeping mission. Even if there were opportunities for video calls, the three decided to write letters to give William something to do while on duty and to make the time go by a little faster. The young Colonel realised something interesting - by Celine's fourth letter, she had mentioned Damien. He guessed that the vagabond must have returned while the soldier was overseas. He noted in his next letter that he was surprised Celine willingly mentioned this mysterious figure (William? Bitter? Of course not!). As though adding to the mystery, the letter he received in reply was a curious one:
"I'm sorry I couldn't explain it before. Damien is my brother, but he's very shy. He doesn't like others knowing about him without being told first. I have told him about you and he's rather interested in what you're doing."
William was FLOORED. He'd known Celine for two FULL years and there had never been mention of a sibling?? He didn't remember a family photo with unfamiliar faces. Deciding it was a better argument to have when he was home, he instead crammed two letters into the one envelope - one for Celine, one for Damien. If the brother was secretive, it might be best to prove that William was a trustworthy friend. Friendly, short letters would be a good way to start.
--
For the next two months, the letters became a great distraction from his duties. Mark was asking William for advice on how to propose. Celine was updating William on the house she and Mark had bought, including sending photos of the ocean just at their doorstep. Damien, while proving that he was a secretive individual, wrote short letters about himself. The mysterious brother kept to himself, and it got William wondering about how shy Damien was. It was endearing, in a way. William accepted that he was wrong to take the news so harshly at first. Celine was merely doing right by her brother. 
It wasn't long after William sent his letters in response that his squad was ambushed. The attackers were defeated, but not without William having his leg broken in the process, among other things. He was sent to a local hospital before it was decided that getting him home would be more beneficial. Any letters that arrived at the base for William were instead returned to sender, as the soldier was being transferred too frequently while being treated to determine where he would be at a given moment.
-
It was June by the time William arrived home. Not even a medical boot and a crutch could dampen his spirits. Mark's hug of relief nearly knocked them both down, but Celine joining the hug successfully toppled them over William's rucksack as they erupted into laughs. The couple gave William the grand tour of their new home. It was as charming and elegant as Mark would like, while secluded from frequent public activity as Celine desired. Not only that, the house was near a cliff edge, which allowed a beautiful view of the ocean. William took in this view as he sat in the living room with a glass of water.
"Will?" Celine's voice stirred him from his daze. "I know you've done a lot of walking to get here and you're likely tired but… Would you like to meet Damien today?"
"Would I like to what?" William repeated blankly, a dumbfounded expression on his face.
"Your idea of sending him letters worked a treat. He asked me every day if there was a new letter for him. He's very curious about you."
"From what you told me, I thought he would have been gone by now." William's observation had Celine shaking her head.
"He waited to see you. I think learning about your injuries worried him." Celine's gaze lifted briefly to the water before she added, "He'll understand if he needs to wait until tomorrow -"
"No, no. I'll admit I've been curious to meet him as well. All this time you've had a brother and no one could tell me. What time will he arrive?"
"Actually, he's already here. Come on. I'll show you. There's one more part of the house you haven't seen."
-
William was fully expecting there to be a secret basement. Instead, he was led out to the back garden. It was small and neat, complete with a small wall to give some semblance of shelter. It looked like it belonged to a farmland cottage, especially given the gate at the bottom. Celine unlocked it and went first. William could see a path that led down to the ocean. The steps were man-made and weren't too steep. It would be a slow walk down but he could manage it in the medical boot.
"Damien is my twin brother," Celine began as she guided William down the steps, "and nearly everyone who knows my family doesn't know he exists. You and Mark are the only one of my friends who know and, well, you'll understand soon."
At the bottom of the steps was a seating area protected by some large rocks that created a safe area to swim in without worry of sudden tides whisking you out to sea. William hobbled over to one of the large rocks so he could sit down, gather his energy and curse the boot. Celine followed, climbing onto a neighbouring large rock.
"Damien? Are you here? I have my friend William, the Colonel!"
Ripples began to spread through the still water. William watched with wide-eyed curiosity when he caught movement below the surface. He had been watching the water while coming down the stairs, and there weren't any items or clothing strewn about. Before he could ask Celine, a head popped out of the water in front of him.
It was a man, or what looked like one. His smooth skin was as white as porcelain and shimmered in the sunlight. There were tiny bubble-like markings that William swore looked like scales. His hair was as dark as Celine's, but with a blue tint with the right light. It appeared to hold its shape by being stylised into smaller 'chunks' to form larger strands of hair. The ears were finned and had a pale blue along the edges. His face, despite not looking fully human, reminded William of both Celine and her father. The eyes were a different shape to the rest of the family - presumably more rounded and large to help with hunting - but the 'nose' and mouth were a perfect match. Even the eye colour was the same as Celine's.
"Damien, I take it?" William thought it absurd, but his hunch to ask immediately proved to be a good thing. The head ducked back under the water. Celine gave a knowing smirk and stepped back. In a flash, a large blur pounced for the rocks and climbed up with surprising agility, revealing what was actually a merman in full display. From head to tail, the skin kept that white tone, unlike what William would have seen in movies. There were fin-like protrusions emerging from his collar bones and his upper arms, which went from that pale blue on the edges to a dark purple at the base, almost like a sunset. This coloration was also on the frills that went down his stomach and on either side of his tail, before all three trailed off at differing points to allow the splendour of the large tail tip. William did remember Celine having posters of betta fish in her room when they met, was this why?
"The Colonel, yes? Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you! Celine has told me so much about you! I'm so sorry I wasn't able to meet you sooner." Damien had snatched up William's left hand with both his webbed ones and shook eagerly, until he caught himself and quickly pulled back. "I'm so sorry. It's not often I get to meet new people." As quickly as he had sprung forward, Damien pulled back as his sister sat down beside him, ears flattened in embarrassment. The twins had such a likeness once the obvious differences were put aside.
"Don't apologise. I've been looking forward to meeting you too. I can't believe no one told me before I left. I'm offended!" William put a hand on his chest and dramatically sighed, only to erupt into cackles when Celine reached over and slapped his arm.
-
The three sat on the rocks for the afternoon. Celine and Damien took the time to explain to William about their genetics. Their father's grandfather was a merman who had decided to leave the life of the water behind and marry their great-grandmother. The merfolk genes became a passive trait. Their descendants had natural aquatic talents but all were completely human. Their mother, however, had magic in her bloodline, and this strengthened the recessive merfolk gene. When she was expecting twins, one was a regular human pregnancy, while the other was cocooned in water. In that regard, Damien was a miracle that he survived and had a healthy childhood...
"- but it meant no one outside a small circle knew I existed," Damien sighed. "Celine was able to go to school, make friends, while I was taught by our grandparents, as well as Celine who showed me what she learned in school. Because I'm not human-passing like movies show, I couldn't use a wheelchair and a blanket like I wanted." Not only that, there wasn't a large community of mythical creatures that they knew of. "But don't take this to be me lamenting my fate. I've had a wonderful life and have made connections with many merfolk communities around the world who welcomed me in while I am studying."
"Studying?" William looked confused, but Celine took the moment to wrap her arm around Damien's shoulder.
"You are looking at one of the top merfolk experts on culture and tradition, as well as a general fish expert. Speaking of," she patted Damien on the shoulder as she rose to her feet, "I should go back up and help Mark. We're having dinner down here." With that, she hopped off the rocks and began the ascent back up the house. Damien and William watched her go, before the soldier turned back around.
"So, an expert, eh? I happen to be rather unintelligent compared to your sister and Mark, so I'm afraid you'll have to tell me everything." He rested his elbow on his good leg, and propped his chin on his hand as he grinned at the merman. Damien's eyes darted aside and his ears flattened in embarrassment.
"Well, I wouldn't call myself an 'expert'," Damien admitted quietly, "but actually… I'd rather hear about you. I really enjoyed receiving your letters while you were away. Is that why you wear those clothes?" 
"Oh these?" Whoops. William had forgotten to change when he arrived. He barely had a moment to drop his bags to the guest room. "This is my military uniform. It's commonplace to wear it when you're on duty, even if you're simply being sent home. It's not the normal battle uniform, not anymore. That's just regular camouflage. This is an everyday uniform that shows off any badges you have earned and -" William stopped as he felt his hat being plucked off his head. He hadn't noticed Damien crawl over until it was too late. Instead of snatching it back, he ruffled his hair so that it lost the 'hat hair' look.
"How can you wear this? I've never seen anything like it!" Damien, after a brief examination, decided to try it on. The strange shape of the hat meant that it kept falling forward on him, no matter what he did to try and keep it in place. Instead of helping, William simply laughed at the merman's misfortune.
-
When William eventually agreed to help Damien wear the hat in a way that wouldn't fall off, he began to share stories of his early days in the army. Damien was enthralled, asking questions in a bid to learn more. It was no wonder that both were startled by the arrival of Mark and Celine with lanterns and all the necessities for a feast by the sea. Damien returned to the water while the humans set up, only to resurface when they were ready. His skin needed to be rehydrated for what he knew would be a long evening ahead.
Food, drink and merriment were had that night. Damien had hoisted himself onto the bench so he could fully join in. William honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night in the company of his dear friends. Perhaps not having to worry about a secret made it a lot easier to converse. For the first time in a long time, William didn't feel like an outsider amongst his own friends; but he didn't dwell on it much. Instead, he gave witty commentary during Mark's dramatic retelling of events the pair went through as youths.
At some point, Celine had fetched blankets from a sturdy, weathered box hidden amongst the box and wrapped one around herself and Damien. The twins nestled together as time passed, and Damien was content to enjoy being in the company of Celine and all her closest friends at last. 
The low flickering of the lanterns was the cue for the humans to return indoors. With William staying for a few days, Damien was content to let them go without feeling too sorry for himself. There would be plenty of time to chat. He sat on the rocks as he watched Mark help William back up the steps. Even from a distance, he could hear William barking something about how "this means nothing and I'm still stronger than you" and "I swear to God I'll push you down the stairs if you keep laughing at me Mark". 
"He's a good man, that Colonel." Damien jumped when Celine spoke. When did she move to sit beside him?! "When Mark introduced me, I was worried that his loud voice and brashness meant bad things, but he's been such a good, loyal friend over the last few years. I hope that he wasn't too 'much' for you today."
"N-no, no. I… he's exactly like you said he'd be." His eyes were on the two men as they disappeared out of view. "He's not angry that he didn't know about me, is he?"
"Nah." Celine leaned back, enjoying the light sea breeze. "He knew we were hiding something. I think he's happy to know he can be trusted. And he'll be stuck here for at least a day or two while Mark and I are working thanks to that broken foot. I'd bet he'll make it his mission to come down here alone just to show he can."
"I'd like that. He has a lot of stories to tell… Would it be weird if I ask him to keep talking?"
"Not as weird as it is that you've caught some sort of feelings for him. Did you get bitten by a love-bug, brother dearest?"
"Shut up, darling sister," Damien quickly nudged her, only to receive a counter-shove in response. "Just… don't tell him, alright? I know better than to interrupt a human marriage like that." He'd content himself with the company of the man who had captured his attention from the first letter. Celine slid off the rock and stretched. She glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smirk, gesturing to her left hand, which Damien knew was the hand with her engagement ring.
"His ring is on the other hand, Damien. It's a birthday present from his father. Goodnight, brother~" And off she went, gleefully ignoring her brother's confused questions.
"What do you mean he doesn't have a partner??"
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what-the--curtains · 3 years
Text
Not a Piece of Art
Part 2/5 - The Dinner Party
(Javier Peña x f!reader)
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Summary: You’re invited to the targets house for dinner, will they see through your act? Or can you keep your hatred hidden for long enough to get the information you need?
Authors note: Thank you for all the lovely comments and likes and reblogs💕❤️! I’ve been feeling kinda bleh recently so I apologize for it taking so long and I’m also sorry if it’s crap but I’m pretty happy with the story line (also there’s gonna be a follow up to this series for sure). Anyways hope y’all are keeping well and thank you for reading!!
Warnings: THIS STORY WILL BE 18+ starting next chapter (minors DNI) . For now it’s just swearing and allusions to abusive relationships
Word count: 5.7k
Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial
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You watch the moving trucks hired by the DEA to facilitate your luxurious, but imaginary lifestyle roll up the driveway one after the other. Each truck opened to reveal piece after piece of expensive furniture better suited to the silver screen than your real life adding to the dysphoria you'd been feeling over the past few days. You were now living and enjoying someone else's life, a fact that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Though the anxiety you were feeling was likely due to the very real threat of being murdered, and not the lavish home decor you were now in possession of. If there was one thing to be thankful for it was your close proximity to the water, you’d been landlocked for too long. Peace washes over you as you watch the water break against the cliff face. You turn towards the target's house gazing up to the balcony on the third floor. The doors are swung open and a woman in white stands with her arms outstretched on the railing, standing like a queen overseeing her kingdom. You were being watched. You lift your hand up to block out the sun, hoping to get a better look at her, but she's gone by the time you do.
Noticing the overwhelmed look plastered on your face as the trucks arrived Javier decided he would take on directing the movers. Only calling for your help when furniture needed to be placed, as interior design was admittedly not in his wheelhouse.
“You know where that goes?” Javi asks the movers, lighting up a cigarette and placing it between his lips. The movers nod as they lug the enormous mattress inside. He turns scanning the landscape to locate your whereabouts, you'd been all over the place this morning. Whether you were playing into the spacey artist trope or the pressure was finally getting to you he wasn’t really sure. Either way he wanted to make this transition as easy as possible for you, and considering you weren't a field agent it was also his responsibility to keep you safe. He spots you near the walkway that leads down to the ocean, a gentle breeze blows in from the beachfront causing the linen dress wrapped around you to part just above your thigh. There's a relaxed smile etched on your face, resulting in a calm that Javi had never witnessed emanating from you before.
An arm snakes around your waist and you lean into it for a moment before remembering who it belonged to causing your body to instinctively retract. You push back off his chest and watch as Peña shakes his head in quiet frustration before turning back towards the moving trucks. You chew your lip, you knew you had to do better at acting the part you’d been ordered to play. If you didn’t this mission would be over before it even started. Memorizing your alias was easy enough as was adopting the british accent, but acting in love with Peña. That was where it all fell apart, but if there was one thing you knew for sure it was that you did your best work under pressure. You swallow hard as the last few trucks slip away down the driveway. The notion of being left alone with Peña for the first time was an anxiety not even the ocean could sooth. With a deep breath you will your legs to move towards your new home which is currently looking more like a cell. You walk by Peña who snuffs out his cigarette in the dirt before following you inside.
“Why would two people ever need a house this big?” he asks, closing the door behind you, his voice bouncing off the marble walls.
“So they never have to see each other.” you offer, running your hand along the granite countertops.
“That felt targeted,” he says, watching your hands movement intently.
“It wasn’t, at least not intentionally. You notice how this whole back wall is glass? Weird design choice” you remark, trying to open up a civil dialogue with him.
“Probably built it so they can keep tabs on the neighbours” he offers coming up behind you, standing a little too close for comfort.
“Why build a house across from yours if you're trying to be undetected?” you ask, turning around nearly colliding with his chest, huffing at the inconvenience before maneuvering around him.
“If you were a federal agent and a big empty house was available for a stake out would you take it or would you go for the rocky beach or bug infested forest? Keep your enemies close, they expect the feds to show up here, so they make it easy to monitor” he explains, in a surprisingly uncondescending way.
“Hadn’t thought about that” you admit.
“Don’t teach you everything in those fancy buildings with ivory towers” he chuckles, as he sits down on one of the couches.
“Never claimed that they did” you retort “did they bring any food in?” you ask, moving towards the fridge.
“Not sure, figured the kitchen was your domain, can you bring me a beer” Javi says, the subtle misogyny fueling the rage simmering inside you.
“I’m sorry what exactly did your last servant die of?” You snap back.
“What? We’re supposed to keep up appearances” he responds calmly from the couch, feet crossed on the coffee table that cost more than your yearly rent.
“And what exactly is my appearance supposed to be? The domesticated housewife who brings you beer, cooks you dinner and sucks you off?” you respond, rage finally boiling over.
“Well I hadn't asked for that last one yet but...”
“Unbelievable! You can cook for yourself Peña. I'm not your wife and im definitely not your fucking mother”
“You certainly nag like her. Seriously a beer, it's not asking much” he demands.
“You know...” you say opening the fridge and pulling out a beer walking it over to him “I don't know if you’ve heard...” you continue, nudging his feet off the table with your calves as you place the beer down “of these amazing things...” you say, kneeling down, parting his legs and rising up between them, making eyes at him as you slowly run your hands up his thighs. “Called legs!” you state slapping your palms down on his thighs smiling as the growing smirk on his face quickly disappears “You should try using them sometime” you finish standing back up, grabbing the beer from the table and heading back into the kitchen to cook yourself, and only yourself, dinner. You'd managed to stay out of each other's hair for the rest of the evening, but another blowout ensued when it came to figuring out your sleeping situation.
“C'mon you don't have to be such a...” Javi exclaims calmly
“Such a what Peña?” you ask watching him bite his tongue “No please finish that sentence. I’d love to hear what thought provoking and truly innovative ideas you have about me.” You retort
“Just get in the bed” he pleads, lifting up the sheets and motioning his hand towards it.
“With you? I'd rather be shot” you state.
“Keep acting like this and your wish may just get granted sweetheart” he says through gritted teeth, the petulant show you were putting on wearing thin.
“Newsflash Peña! They can’t see us in here, so I think I'll take my chances on the couch” you assumed it was far enough away from the windows to keep you from prying eyes.
“Your fucking funeral” he shouts down the hall, watching you storm off with an armful of sleepwear you'd brought from home. The sleepwear was not flattering nor did it fit into the rich aesthetic you were currently upholding, but at this point, you didn't care. You'd chosen the oversized band shirt and basketball shorts because they hid your body away from prying eyes. Not that Peña would be looking, you hardly qualified as his type. You flop down on the couch rolling your eyes at the beer bottles he’d left there, likely for you to clean up. Irritated you fall asleep, cursing the couch for being inexplicably the most uncomfortable thing you'd ever had the misfortune of sitting on.
Your woken as the doorbell sounds throughout the house startling you so badly that you fall off the couch with a loud thud. “Shit!” you curse realizing it was likely the target. As quick as you can, you strip off your pyjamas and throw on the robe you had snatched in a hurry last night, only just realizing it was practically sheer. You yawn as you open the door to a beautiful woman who you immediately recognize as the target's wife, Helena. Presumably the same woman who you had seen on the balcony yesterday. She looked every bit a billionaire's wife with her hair neatly styled, 6 inch heels and perfect makeup while you, well you currently looked, and smelt, like you’d slept in a sewer.
“Hi im Helena, we saw you move in yesterday, we live next door.”
“We?” you ask squinting into the early morning light as another yawn escapes your lips
“Me and my husband” She says looking past you towards the couch where you had slept. Shit. Peña was not going to let you live that one down. Speaking of the devil, he appears from the bedroom in an open robe, and very thin linen pants, a look that made you realize why so many women were easily charmed by him.
“Cara mia, who's at the door?” he asks, eyes darting to the obviously slept in couch before settling on the beautiful woman standing before him. A woman who'd have his full attention if it wasn't for the transparent robe clumsily wrapped around your body.
“Our new neighbor” you say, refraining from using a cutesy nickname afraid you'd choke on it.
“Forgive my wife, she hasn’t been sleeping well” he says, coming over and wrapping himself around you, kissing the top of your head, before resting his chin on it.
“I find I sleep best when next to my husband” she responds offering Javi a megawatt smile which he returns.
“Maybe if your husband doesn't snore like an elephant” you respond sleepily with a soft laugh. You were surprised how well the british accent rolled off your tongue despite the early hour.
“Mine does as well, shakes the whole house! The things we put up with when we are truly in love are amazing” shes says, reigniting your anxiety “We want you to come for dinner, we've hired a chef” she continues.
“We’d love to, always good to know the neighbours, we like to make sure we're keeping good company” Javi reponds.
“Excellent, lets say, 7:30, be on time, my husband doesn't like to be kept waiting.” The second the door shuts you wiggle out from his grasp and make your way over to the kitchen pouring yourself, and only yourself, some coffee, still tired from the piss poor sleep you'd gotten last night. At least this time it wasn’t because you had to listen to someone having rigourous sex through the walls.
Javier follows close behind snatching the cup from your hands and taking a sip, knowing full well it wasn’t meant for him. He watches your eyes bulge slightly and your jaw tightens before you storm off into the bedroom to change out of the see through robe, much to his dismay.
“We need to go over the plan for tonight,” he says from the kitchen.
“Alright what is it?” you ask emerging in one of the many luxurious outfits provided to you.
“We’ll scout it out, find the room where they keep the paintings nd take the samples you need.”
“Ya” you say “and how exactly am I supposed to sneak in test tubes filled with liquid that traces drugs. ” you ask
“Bring a purse? I don't know. You're the genius you figure it out” he shrugs.
“I could wear a long skirt and strap them to my legs?”
“No they'll know you're hiding something,” he says, shooting down your idea.
“Purse it is then” you respond. “If they come back positive then what?”
“We can figure that out later, but i'll drop hints that the money I've made has been done in less than legal ways, and mention your outstanding knack for counterfeiting. Oh and wear something short tonight” he says “More to see means less to hide” he offers when he sees you glaring at him. “ and no scowling at me while we're in there, unless you really want to blow it” he laughs, your hatred for him almost comical at this point.
“What am I supposed to do when you're being insufferable then” you dig, with a wide fake smile.
“Save them up for later, besides it won't be me in there with you, it'll be my character, who you don’t hate.”
7:00pm
You change into a burgundy dress with an open back that falls well above your mid thigh, its length hardly covering you. You make a note not to bend over throughout the night, as you sling on the high heels that cost more than all your shoes combined. You grab the swabs and plastic bags needed to keep them sterile and stuff them into your purse before slipping on your wedding ring, and exiting into the kitchen.
“Alright, how do I look?” you ask, reopening the purse and re organizing the material inside it. When you finally look up you’re taken aback. Peña's usual attire of tight jeans and button up t shirt’s had been replaced by a stunning velvet pastel coloured jacket worn over top, a partially unbuttoned silk dress shirt and black dress pants. He cleaned up well, very well.
Your prolonged look doesn't go unnoticed by Javi, nor does the way your eyes quickly dart back down to your purse when he meets your gaze. He refrains from making a snarky comment knowing it would only piss you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do before infiltrating a highly dangerous situation.
“Perfect, hermosa” he says, he wasn’t lying about it either. He knew you weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but god if you didn't look perfect tonight. Pretending to be in love with you would be easy enough for him, he hoped you’d be able to maintain the act as well. He watches as you move gracefully around him in heels that were working exceptionally well at emphasizing your... assets. He averts his eyes when you reach up for a bottle of wine knowing that more than you’d want him to see would be out.
“You know I can speak Spanish, right?” you say, a small smile creeping on your lips before quickly disappearing back into the cold facade you were determined to keep up against him.
“Well, I do now” he laughs, slightly embarrassed he got caught out complimenting you sincerely. He slides on his wedding band and escorts you out the door.
“God how do people walk in these for more than 15 mintues” you mutter, your feet already killing you. You almost regretted pushing Peñas arm away when he’d offered it to you earlier. Approaching the house you feel his hand wrap around your waist and you lean into him in an attempt to take some pressure off your feet. He rings the doorbell, lowering his hand as he hears the heels approaching from down the hall. Lifting up the hem of your dress he begins rubbing small circles over your thigh with his thumb. Any other time and you'd have broken his hand without a second though, but it fell well within the contract you’d had him sign detailing exactly where and when he was allowed to touch you.
“Welcome” Helena says as she opens the door in an equally revealing dress. She leads you through the enormous entrance way and into the main foyer, gazing up you see balconies on each level overlooking the large ballroom area. Your amazement at the house was cut short as you turned to see Peña who was currently only paying attention to Helena's fine architecture. If your eye rolls wouldn't give your true feeling for eachother away, his ogling certainly might. You elbow him harshly in ribs causing his hand to inadvertently dig deeper into your skin. His grip releases as Helena's husband enters into the room grabbing her and kissing her deeply for just long enough that both you and Javier feel uncomfortable.
“Welcome” he booms after separating from Helena, grasping Javis hand in his. You can see the veins in his arm bulge, as he clamps down on Peñas hand in a bizarre play for dominance.
“Here” you say offering him the wine, causing him to release his grip “Your home is as stunning as your wife” you smile as he looks down at the bottle reading its label.
“This one’s from a good year! Neither of our wives were even born then, lucky for us” he laughs, winking at you “We’ll have it with dinner.” he continues, pulling Javi into his side and walking him towards the bar.
Helena smiles at you and raises her eyebrows, rolling her eyes at her husband's behaviour. “Come now, alcohol will get us through the night” she states, leading you down the hallway. You knew her suspicions were high, and it wasn't lost on you that she’d likely shared her feelings with her husband, but she was being remarkably kind, which only added to your concern.
“Drink? What’s your poison, Carino?” Carlos demands of you. He was larger than life in both stature and personality, charming but in a terrifying way.
“I do believe he's talking to you love” you joke, smiling up at Javi earning a laugh from Helena.
“Whiskey, neat.” he says, you couldn't tell if Carlos was amused or upset by your disobedience, but the way Peña was currently pulling you discreetly out of Carlos’ reach made you think it was the latter.
“I usually don't ask twice, but for someone so beautiful and so clever, I'll make the exception. Though just his once” Javis grip around you relaxes and you flash Carlos a smile.
“Gin and tonic, if you don't mind”
“Any preference” he asks.
“Dealers choice”, you say, offering him back the control which seems to cut the tension and it's not long before he’s once again laughing with Javi.
“We're glad to have neighbours again '' Carlos says “especially ones who seem so agreeable.” His approval doesn’t relax you. Approval wasn’t trust and you’re well aware that this was just as much an interrogation as it was a dinner party. Carlos takes a seat in one of the upholstered armchairs gesturing for Javi to join him. Helena nods her head towards the couch and you follow her lead. Your eyes are quickly pulled off her when Peña yanks you down onto his lap.
“Darling!” you exclaim thanking the lord you didn't use his real name by mistake. “I could have spilled this very expensive drink all over this very expensive chair, I'm so sorry! I'd say he's not usually like this but...”
“I understand his need to have a beautiful woman in his arms as often as possible, it's why I'm on my fourth wife!” he boasts.
“I'm hoping i'll stick.” Helenea says, holding her drink up as she gazes lovingly over to Carlos, though something behind her eyes told another story. Perhaps you weren't the only one harbouring a secret hatred. “I'm hoping you’ll both stick as well. Neighbours can be problematic, nosy even, our last ones were before they...moved” Helena says from the couch
“Hard to imagine someone tiring from living in the house. It's beautiful, did you build it?” you ask
“Paid for it, but Helena designed it the whole thing, she's very gifted.” Carlos brags.
“I'd have to agree with that,” Javi says, smiling at her which she returns, a flirtation playing on both their faces. Javis hands may be on you but his eyes were on her and if you were picking up on it Carlos certainly had as well. You jump slightly when the server enters the room to inform the group that dinner was ready.
Javi pulls out a chair for you and you sit down placing your hand on his as he takes his seat next to you. The meal was the best you ever had, five delicious courses each one more decadent than the last.
“You don’t take her out to many five star restaurants? It seems as if she's never eaten such a meal!” Carlos excalims. Evidently you were doing a piss poor job at hiding your delight.
“I'm still getting used to the lifestyle if i’m honest. Though I imagine a meal such as this is still rare, even at the most expensive restaurants” you say before Javi can respond for you, the recovery impressing him slightly.
“You should have seen what she was eating before I met her, back when she was a starving artist” Javi says, as you bring a hand up to rub along the velvet jacket covering his broad shoulders.
“The billionaire and the starving artist, now I must know. How did you come to find each other?” Helena asks.
“My art dealer went to New York and brought back one of her paintings, it came with a photo and after seeing it I knew I had to have her, if she’d take me”
“And how did an old man like him convince a sweet young thing like you to marry him?” Carlos asks.
“No convincing needed, not when he sent thousands of my favourite flowers to my studio before showing up at the door himself. Any man willing to put that much time and money towards meeting me deserves a date. At least in my books and he’s continued to prove himself to me ever since.” You gaze up at him lovingly, so convincing that for a moment even he forgets you hate his guts.
“What are they? Her favorite flowers?” Helena probes, earning a grunt from Carlos presumably displeased with his wifes intrusiveness.
“Sunflowers. They're hard to find in New York, especially in the winter, I had to ship them from California.” Your gaze of faux adoration turns quickly to genuine surprise. How had he known what your favourite flowers were? It wasn't outlined in your character profile and you'd certainly never told him.
“I’ve seen the piece, its beautiful, your wifes very talented,”
“You should see her school portfolio, copies of works that were almost exact replicas of the originals. She possesses the talent of a hundred artists before her”
“You flatter me. Copying is a technique used to learn, but it's no measure of true artistry or creativity” you laugh. “When did you see my work, were you in New York?”
“Oh no I'm an art dealer myself, but I have people go to places for me. Your work was passed over my desk a few weeks ago.” Carlos explains.
“Perhaps I could paint you something then I would finally have a truly unbiased critic” You watch as Carlos slowly nods his head, contemplating your offer.
‘You’ll have to see our art collection, we have pieces here from all over the world” Helena says,
“How long have you been in the business?’ you ask, taking Carlos as a man who liked to show off
“longer than you've been alive” he says winking at you.
“Well I can only imagine what pieces you must have , you've proven to have exquisite taste, in all areas of life.” you smile eyes briefly darting to Helena.
“Helena show her the gallery would you, I wish to speak with my friend here in private”
“Will you be joining us later?” Helena asks, causing him to grunts out a yes before pulling Javi into another room to talk about god knows what. She leads you up to the second floor, each step you take causing a sharp pain to shoot down your foot’s arch.
“You get used to the heels, small price to pay for the lifestyle. Walking around in them in the house for a while helps.” she explains.
“Thank you” you say. “Somedays I dont think I'll ever really acclimatize to the lifestyle.” She leads you into a large room, greek style pillars run through the middle while art from around the world lines the walls. If the pieces were real this room was worth millions.
“How does your family feel about you living here? It must be hard them being so far away in England”
“I uhm...I... don’t have any.” You can feel her eyes boring into you assessing the answer you just gave her. “They passed, when I was 19” you continue turning to meet her gaze.
“I'm so sorry. To lose them so young must have been devastating, but I don't need to tell you that, do I” she says, shaking her head. You nod swallowing hard gazing back to the paintings. “Lucky he found you I suppose, and such a handsome man at that. Many billionaires are.... not.”
“Lucky for us both then” you say, moving along the wall “these painting are beautiful, I envy you being surrounded by such formidable pieces, and only a walk away”
“Yes'' she says, as if she doesn't care. She's watching you intently, trying to suss out where your loyalties lied, your lack of descriptive fondness for your husband suddenly seemed like a poor choice on your part. Before she can ask another question you hear Carlos yell out for her, the noise startling you both, so much so that her hand clamps down on your wrist.
“Duty calls” she says, composing herself and relaxing her grip on you.
“Should I come with you?” you ask, playing into the deer in headlights trope which seemed to have an effect on Helena.
“No, he asked for just me. I don't like to disobey him, he's not a kind man when not listened to.”
“Are you safe here” you ask.
“As long as I don’t cause trouble I should be.” she affirms.
“Well, you're welcome at ours, at any time. If anything happens, even if it doesn't you can stay with us. Heavens knows we have the room.” you say sincerely, the concern coming from you, not your character. Helana nods offering you a soft smile squeezing your hand before leaving the room.
“See how obedient she is, how compliant, she's perfect, don’t you think!” Carlos says
“Hard to argue with that,” Javi responds, giving her a once over.
“And beautiful yes, c'mon you are married not dead” he prompts when Javi doesn't respond immediately
“Very much so” he says, smiling at Helena before turning to Carlos who was intent on showing off his wife in the most demeaning way possible.
“Was there something you needed love?” Helena asked. She was used to her husbands showing her off to other men, but she was growing tired of it. She was involved in her husband's work, primarily in the organization making sure everything ran smoothly, she knew if it didn't she would inevitably be to blame. She valued her life, so she learnt fast, adapted like a pro. Four years later and her husband hadn’t offed her yet. She was a mastermind in a career she had been inadvertently forced into, but a mastermind nonetheless. To her husband she was nothing more than a trophy, but better to be that than a punching bag.
“A word in private” he says, gesturing to her with a come hither motion.
“Your wifes in the art room, up the stair, down the hall to the left, take the drink with you, we won't be a moment” He says, his eyes telling Javi to vacate the room. He lets out a grumble as he closes the door behind him. He shakes his head, swirling the whiskey as he walks towards the gallery. He’d fumbled tonight by not making it clear that he only had eyes for his wife, a hard task considering Helena, who he realized too late was likely meant to see if his gaze could be easily swayed. Which it had. All thoughts about any other woman cease to exist when he walks into the gallery and sees you bent over swabbing a painting. Something about watching you in your element had always been mesmerizing to him. It’s why he was always dropping off files for you, the task could easily be outsourced, but he enjoyed watching you maneuver with ease around the various machines.
“You should be more careful querida,” he says, chuckling as you jump back.
“Watch the door, would you? I've got two more to do” he leans back against the frame, one eye on the door, one eye on you watching as you meticulously swab the remaining paintings. “All good, you don’t think they keep cameras in here?” you ask, closing up your purse.
“No. Cameras are easy to hack.” he says nonchalantly, as he comes over to you stopping at your side looking up at the painting, suddenly understanding people's fascination with art. You grab the drink from his hand and take a sip placing it back down on the empty pedestal propping yourself up along with it when you hear footsteps approaching.
“Come here” you demand, and he does, eyes suddenly darker than before. He stops a few inches in front of you. “Closer” you beckon, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him into you. You drape your arms around his shoulder extending your neck allowing his mouth to graze lightly over the skin just in time for Helena and Carlos to witness it. You push him off you in pretend shock.
“Please, don’t stop on our account” Carlos laughs
“I'm sorry, god these pieces must be worth thousands and here I am sitting on one” you say hoping the act wasn’t too transparent.
“Don’t apologize, a work of art belongs on a pedestal” Carlos says, the complementing causing Javis jaw to noticeably clench. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for, maybe they would buy this relationship after all.
“We should probably be going, once she starts it's hard to get her to stop,” Javi says.
“So that’s how she trapped you” the husband responds, the entire exchange causing you to cringe internally. You hop down off the stool as Javi finishes the whiskey offering the glass to Helena who takes it before leading you towards the front door.
“We must do this again soon,” she says settling into Carlos’ arm
“Perhaps at ours next time?” You offer
“A generous offer, but we prefer to entertain.” He says
“Then I look forward to seeing you soon, especially if another meal like that is in store” As you exit the mansion Javi makes sure his hand is visibly running over your body, but you slap it away the second you can.
“Ouch” he says, shaking out the hand, the rings on your fingers leaving a particular sting on his skin.
“Suck it up” you respond, having had enough of him for the night.
“Cut the shit, your attitude problem is going to get us killed” he whispers through gritted teeth.
“I don’t have an attitude problem. I just have a problem with you” You say, turning to face him and prodding a finger into his chest “ and don’t act like you ogling his wife was helping our case either. Ya I slipped up tonight, but so did you, so shoulder some of the blame you’re throwing my way.”
“Jealousy’s a nice colour on you” he laughs, knowing how riled up it would get you.
“Ha!” you fake laugh “ because it's jealousy and not the fact that your inability to keep it in your pants is going to get me killed.” You exclaim as you enter the kitchen grabbing down a glass and chugging some water before going into the art room where you were storing the testing kits.
You? Jealous? Of what exactly. What did he think he had to offer that would make you want or need to be the subject of his attention. Attention he gave to anything that walked or batted its eyelashes at him. Jesus he was insufferable, you hated that he had this notion that your anger was based on jealousy and not multiple interactions where he'd failed to impress you. Even if you had come off as jealous it was all a part of the act. He had been acting jealous throughout the night, did he think you weren't competent enough to do the same? You had three degrees for fucks sake, you deserve some credit. “Fucking asshole” you mutter, the manifestation of the words helping you to calm down enough to dip the q tips in the liquid, sure enough, they came back positive the paintings had been near drugs, you’d tell Peña about that later. You see the light on in the bedroom as you exit the “art room” and you head towards it determined to get one last punch in before going to bed.
Javier had just settled into the enormous bed he had the luxury of having all to himself, moments away from flicking the light switch when he notices your figure in the door frame.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks
“I think he's abusive, the husband you were getting along with so nicely” you spit out, the venom intended to question his character in a hurtful way, but it doesn't seem to phase him.
“It's the job to get friendly with the monsters, doesn't mean I like them” he reasons
“I told her she could come here if anything happened, so we’ll have to hide this stuff a bit better” you remark, turning your failed attempt to get one last dig in, into a valid reason for starting up a conversation.
“Guess you'll have to stop sleeping on the couch then” he smirks. Check mate. Your eyes bore into the bed you had just talked yourself into sharing with Javier Peña.
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h4nsoluvr · 3 years
Text
mark tuan ↠ gamer boy
neighbours au! 
word count: 1815
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so you had just moved into a new apartment 
it’s a totally new city to you, so to say that you were excited was an understatement
the building complex was kinda old but for the location the price was a total bargain
anyways the past three days you had spent unpacking all of your belongings into your new home
luck had unfortunately not been on your side, the moving helpers you had hired cancelled on you last minute which left you to do all the heavy-duty stuff on your own
therefore on the third day of unpacking you were completely exhausted, realising all you energy had ran out for the day you decided to order takeaway for dinner and have a shower
having just finished your shower, you chuck on your fluffiest socks and pyjamas, hopping into bed whilst playing a podcast through your headphones
just as you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep you hear a voice
“WHAT THE HECK?!”
sighing you pull the duvet up over your head, turning to the other side as you try to fall asleep
however five minutes later
“GO TO THE LEFT, HE’S TO THE LEFT! BAMBAM YOU’RE SUCH A-”
“right, that is it.” you mutter to yourself
groaning you abruptly lug yourself out of bed, not even bothering to change as you exit your apartment, storming down the hallway to next door in the direction you heard the noise
you can hear the same voice from inside when you knock aggressively on the door
suddenly there’s silence
a moment later you hear the unlock of the door, in front of you standing is a tall, brown haired boy dressed in sweatpants
“hey...” he says in a soft spoken voice, gently brushing the hair away from his eyes
for a moment you practically malfunctioned at the realisation that you were standing in front of this incredibly attractive guy in your mickey mouse socks and matching pyjama’s
“um...hi,” you eventually manage to say, “do you have a younger brother or something living with you? i just moved in next door and i can’t sleep with all the shouting.”
“err, my bad that was me.” your handsome neighbour admits, awkwardly scratching the back of his head
“oh really? sorry i just assumed- well you don’t seem like the type be loud and yelling.”
“well you’d be surprised.” he replied, his hand immediately afterwards going to cover his mouth upon realising the innuendo, “oh my god, i really didn’t mean it like that.”
the mysterious neighbour relaxed when he noticed you snickering at what he had said
“i’m mark by the way.” he greets, extending his hand for you to shake
the moment you touch his hand you feel as though your stomach is doing backflips, “y/n”
“so you just moved in huh?” mark asks as he leans against the door frame
you nod, “yeah literally just the other day, i’m still moving stuff at the moment.”
“oh really, do you need some help tomorrow?” mark offers
you open your mouth to turn down his generous offer, when you remember how you have no friends in the area and you still have loads to unpack
also a cute guy helping you carry heavy stuff would be a plus
“you know what, i would love that actually” you say as mark gives a grin in response
and again with the fuzzy feeling inside of you
“awesome, well i won’t keep you up any longer than i already have. again really sorry about earlier the walls are really think here so i’ll try to keep it down”
“honestly it’s fine mark, think of you helping me as payback. goodnight” you give him a small wave as you walk back down the corridor to your apartment door, fumbling for you keys when you hear mark call out to you again
“goodnight y/n, liking the pyjamas by the way!”
and just like that you and mark clicked instantly clicked and became friends
on the day that he helped you unpack you learnt a lot about him, like how he was an avid gamer (hence the yelling from his apartment) 
you even began to hang out at his place with a few of his other friends, like bambam and yugyeom
those two were both little shits but it was amusing to watch the way they’d make fun of their older friend
mostly you’d all hang out and watch tv together
“hm i don’t like her” you’d say, pointing to a character on the tv show you were watching as you chuck a piece of popcorn into you mouth. “what, how can you not like her?!” yugyeom gasps, “she’s kind of hot too.” bambam chimes in as yugyeom rolls his eyes. you just shrug in response
“well i agree with y/n. there’s something off about her i just know it.” mark says as he lifts up his hand to high five you
and to your dismay your little crush on mark developed into a much bigger one, you found that the more you got to know him the more you liked him
you didn’t really enjoy the feelings you had for them as you never thought he would reciprocate them to instead you chose to suppress them as much as you could
but little did you know mark felt just as strongly as you as you did about him
“come on bam, do me this favour man!” mark pleads, trying to persuade bambam with puppy dog eyes. “you know that won’t work on me.” bambam chuckles
“well how else am i supposed to tell her i like her?” mark groans in an exasperated tone
mark had come up with a plan, but he knew he had to be slightly intoxicated in order to have the courage to ask you out
but for his plan to work he needed an opportunity, hence him begging bambam to throw a party
eventually (after a lot of annoyance from mark), bambam agrees, bc how could he say no to party?
maybe also because he had noticed the way you would sneak glances at mark when he wasn’t looking
after receiving the invite from bambam you couldn’t wait to have some fun and let you hair down as work had been kind of hectic for you recently
so when saturday came around you made a conscious effort to dress up for the occasion, before leaving you look at yourself in the mirror and low-key check yourself out
and damn you clean up pretty well
you arrived at the party an hour or so late (as bambam had previously told you that’s the only right way to rock up to a party), but as soon as you entered the party was already pretty packed
“hey! y/n!” you heard yugyeom call out to you over the volume of the music, scanning the crowd until you spot yugyeom waving you over
“see that you’ve taken a page out of bam’s book by turning up late.” yugyeom laughs,  “i got this for you” he continues, handing you one of the cups in his hands. you take a sip before shrugging and downing the whole drink
bc fuck it why not? you were there to have fun
“jeez, y/n does not play around does she?” bambam joins you two, slinging an arm over your shoulder and greeting you. before you can ask bambam nods over in the direction of the drinks table
you follow his gaze over to mark, chatting to a girl and nodding along to whatever it was she was saying 
and suddenly you felt a pang of jealousy in your chest, that you quickly tried to shrug off by suggesting shots for you and the two guys you were standing with
and of course you didn’t have to tell yugyeom and bambam twice
couple of shots later (probably more than you would like to admit), and you were dancing to the beat of the music when you felt a tap on the shoulder
“hey you.” mark says, giving you a small wave. you couldn’t help but think how hot he looked as he sipped on his drink, with a pink flush across his cheeks
“hey, there gamer boy” you reply in his ear, instantly cringing at the nickname you just used
gamer boy really y/n???? you told yourself
mark just giggles in response, “i would ask you how you’re doing but i think i already know the answer. you look good tonight though.” he acknowledges with a smile as you can feel a blush creeping up your face, “thanks.” you reply, attempting to keep a cool tone
“do you want to head out for some fresh air? i don’t know if you’ve been on bam’s balcony before but the view is pretty cool.” you rapidly respond with a yes. once you do mark grabs your wrist, leading you through the party
you kind of wished he was holding your hand instead wait what-
as soon as you made it outside you saw that mark was right, it was a pretty nice view that it almost made you breathless and the cold air almost sobered you up completely. despite it being the early hours of the morning now the city below was still illuminated and full of life
mark takes one last gulp of his drink as his eyes wander to you next to him, staring at the view in awe
“i’m really glad that i was being all noisy and loud that night you know.” mark states, breaking the silence and you give him a questioning look. “although i mean if i knew such a pretty girl would be stood at my doorstep i would’ve probably dressed a bit nicer to answer the door.”
you choke on your drink as he says this, trying to cover it up by clearing your throat, “you think i am pretty?” you ask. “yeah...” he nods, awkwardly trying to avoid your gaze
“well, i think you’re pretty too.” you say, as a shy smile crosses mark’s lips. “you know, i made bam throw this part so i could have the opportunity to kiss you. can i?” he says
instead of responding you lean into the kiss and mark mirrors you, your lips connecting as you meet in the middle, immediately melting in his touch as one of his hands reaches to cup your face
on the inside your brain was going into overdrive as you couldn’t believe this was finally happening
suddenly there is a banging on the window but you are too distracted engulfed in mark’s embrace
“ew, bam! mark and y/n are kissing!” you can hear yugyeom exclaim as bambam tries to hush him, cheering you guys on, “wait you knew about this?!” yugyeom yells as bambam tries to push him away, patting him on the back “come on yugyeom, let’s leave the lovebirds alone.”
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