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chainofclovers · 3 years

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Ted Lasso 2x9 thoughts

It’s no secret that I absolutely adore Coach Beard; he’s one of my favorite characters on the show, and he’s so well-written and well-acted that somehow I tend to be both perfectly satisfied with the details we see and truly curious to understand more about the way he thinks, what’s really happening re: his professional and personal devotion to Ted, where he comes from and where he’s going. I don’t need to know his name beyond the name he wants to be called, but I want to know why we don’t have any other names for him. And I don’t need him to be a bigger focal point of every episode, but I very much needed this episode’s world-exploding reminder that every single character on this show has a rich inner life, full of joys and troubles.

“Beard After Hours” is like a movie, but one that scatters its climaxes and puts off its resolutions...because it’s not a movie. It’s episode nine of a twelve-episode season of TV. When the episode ended, I felt this almost frantic “But he needed to break up with Jane for good before the end of the episode!” feeling. I was so pulled in by the idea of being able to tell an entire story in one night, of going on an odyssey alongside a complicated hero, that watching Beard and Jane find each other in that club felt as intense as the fact that we don’t know if Ted responded to Rebecca’s voicemail and we don’t know what’s going to happen with Rebecca and Sam and we don’t know who isn’t getting married and who is having a funeral in 2x10 (I mean, I have my strong suspicions, but still!) and we don’t know if Richmond will be promoted back to the Premier League. And on and on. I didn’t mind feeling desperate for the story to resolve even though I understood after thinking about it for ten seconds that of course it couldn’t resolve yet. Or ever. Or yet.

I’m a big fan of the TL episode recaps/reviews Linda Holmes writes for NPR, and I have to quote something from this week’s directly because it so perfectly explains my feelings:

The power of the scene where Beard dances in the club isn't that it's a beautiful romantic climax. It's that it's an explanation of why he cannot seem to extricate himself from this bad relationship. What makes the worst relationships so dangerous is that they have elements that feel good that are very hard to get elsewhere. Beard knows that; he tells it to God. What's concerning isn't that Jane makes the world seem more interesting; what's concerning is she's the only thing that does. That doesn't take away from the joy of the dancing; it just tells you that even happiness is complicated.

I love Holmes’ perspective here so much, because it articulates something I was struggling to figure out: how it can feel so legitimate, like such a (temporary but nonetheless powerful) relief, for Beard to find Jane in that club and to have this moment of euphoria as his night nears an end. How it is possible to experience that relief on behalf of a character while fervently wishing it could end differently, because it’s so clear from the abusive text messages and the toxic calls and the manipulative interactions that Jane is terrible to him and they’re terrible for each other. But Beard knows this. He knows it when he hugs Higgins in the parking lot after Higgins is honest with him in a way Ted and Rebecca and Keeley have not learned how to be, and he knows it when part of his prayer includes the clear articulation that Jane isn’t the cure for what “ails me.” He’s inching closer to greater self-knowledge just as Ted is.

And the two big resolutions that really, really needed to happen did. I didn’t know I needed Paul, Baz, and Jeremy to get to wrap up their own night out on the pitch at Nelson Road, but I did. It brought actual tears to my eyes. And the other resolution was Beard showing up with the other coaches’ coffees for their meeting to watch the game film. As interesting as it would have been to see what Ted would have done if Beard hadn’t shown up, I’m so, so glad that he did. He’s got a messed-up face and some truly epic pants on, but otherwise this is just Beard showing up for work, showing up for his friends. It was incredible to realize that Beard and Ted haven’t been exaggerating when they’ve referred to his sex-and-drug proclivities in the past. The night documented in 2x9 might have been particularly scary and violent and euphoric and awful and meaningful, but this type of all-night adventure isn’t a foreign concept for this guy. In all the other episodes of this show, when we see Beard we’re seeing someone who might have been out all night, who might have spent the hours the sun was down desperately pushing himself closer to whatever edges he could find.

I don’t really want to touch upon all the allusions in this episode. They are abundant, they are well-documented, and also I haven’t even seen the movie After Hours. I enjoyed this episode for its allusive qualities and I enjoyed this episode for what it was and I feel like I have to be at peace with the fact that I’m never going to pick up on every single reference on this show and that is okay.

So, yeah, if this entry on my tumblr dot com blog seems remarkably devoid of references and allusions, it’s not because I’m not into it but because I find it too overwhelming to actually write about.

Very into the Misplaced and Discovered box at the Crown and Anchor. (That’s what Mae wrote on the Lost and Found box at the pub, right? Whatever it is, it’s so funny.)

Beard hallucinating Thierry Henry and Gary Lineker was truly upsetting and a great indicator not only of how broken things are between the Richmond coaching staff right now but also how deep Beard’s self-loathing might go. If you’d asked me before Thursday if I thought Beard loathed himself, I would say no. That deepening of knowledge alone makes 2x9 worth it.

James Tartt and his friends in the alley. Such a nightmare. I go back and forth on how much of the night was real, and part of me has decided all of it is, short of the images of Henry and Lineker. (And even that is real to the extent that it was a way of articulating what was in Beard’s head.) But watching Beard in physical danger brought on by the same abuser who had him so upset in the first place. It was a lot.

I’m so excited that Paul and Jeremy and Baz got some spotlight this episode. It was so wonderful to see them out of the pub. I love that they ended up telling the Oxford snots who they really were. They got to see Beard going to bat for them and smoothing over the situation socially, and that actually made it more possible for them to end up being truthful about themselves. Because they have nothing to be ashamed of, and they deserved the magic of that night. (And for it to end on Nelson Road. Every feeling. Oof.)

I feel like I barely have anything to say about the trouser-mending lady or the many places Beard goes or his key-dropping or the nightmarish feeling of wanting to be home and being unable to be home. It all happened and we all watched it and again, it was a lot. But I do feel incredibly moved and fascinated by the fact that Beard very obviously still hasn’t been home when he brings in the coffee. He’s had to sleep at the club for Jane- and key-related reasons in the past, and this time it’s not that he’s slept there but it still feels like a kind of homecoming he was robbed of for the entire night. Ted and Roy and Nate are there. He’s gotten their coffee orders correct. Ted is growing and evolving (he wants to learn from what’s happened, he’s insisting upon it even when the others resist) but he’s done a really perfect (almost romantic in its loveliness) thing by presumably spending his evening following a breakdown of his own speeding up the game film to 10x speed and adding Benny Hill. Ted is not OK and Beard is not OK and Nate is not OK and Roy is pretty OK but could very easily be not OK because he’s just joined a coaching staff with a whole lot of not OK. But they all showed up.

I am very into the realism of the lights being off in the club other than the coaches’ office (@talldecafcappuccino pointed this out!), and the way we’re seeing their desks from a different angle because this episode is unfocused on Ted. It really added to the mindset of being hungover and exhausted and unable to go home or even to know exactly what home should be; even this warm, familiar place feels off even as it’s a relief to be back there.

I am excited to return to our regularly scheduled programming with the full cast of characters, but I really adored this episode for what it taught us about Beard and what it illuminated about the humor, pain, and complexity of each person who inhabits this universe. Beard may not be loud about his long-standing beliefs or about the things he’s learned, but there’s a lot happening in there and I appreciated getting to spend 43 minutes with him and (in the case of the ticket he scrawls on a piece of paper so the pub guys can get into Nelson Road) the moments he sets in motion.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #ted lasso 2x9 #meta by me #a lesbian watches ted lasso #coach beard

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akajulester · 3 years

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further thoughts on Higurashi Gou/Sotsu (spoilers for Higurashi and Umineko ep3)

warning: long rant incoming haha

I think my two biggest problems with these seasons is how they focused way more on the supernatural/magic elements of the When They Cry franchise and less on the original Higurashi’s emphasis on natural explanations, and how the characters were completely devoid of the life they had in the original.

I’ve only just started getting into Umineko and I understand it also leaves a lot of room for a non-magical explanation, but you can’t deny it focuses way more on magic than Higurashi ever did.

The thing I found most interesting when I first watched Higurashi was how the mystery had a very human and realistic explanation. While a mystical divine curse is cool, the whole plot being the result of a human character taking advantage of a fictional parasite and medicine to essentially create the mystical divine curse is far more compelling - the audience is allowed to piece together the mystery along with the characters and isn’t shut down by “a wizard did it.”

And that isn’t to say Higurashi is completely devoid of magic or the divine. Hanyuu is some kind of mystical deity who gave Rika a supernatural power (looping) and is able to manifest in the real world and directly affect the course of events (such as making Takano miss her shot). Higurashi is just a perfect blend of supernatural and more realistic storytelling.

Gou and Sotsu, on the other hand, went much harder on the supernatural/magic aspect seen in Umineko. Not only is it a worse magic vs human mystery than Umineko, it’s just completely different from what Higurashi is at its core. The complex, interweaving mystery that at first seems unsolvable but later makes sense was replaced with a much simpler “whodunnit” where the answers were obvious, especially after Satoko was revealed to be the second looper. The introduction of straight-up magic and powerful witch entities dumbs down the story, in a sense.

To be fair, Gou and Sotsu do have a human explanation as well, specifically in the vein of the human explanations seen in Umineko. Just as Eva-Beatrice in Episode 3 can be interpreted as a personification of Eva going crazy and murdering her family, Rika and Satoko’s big magical-girl fight could be interpreted as a metaphor for their fight. However, this rings a little hollow when the last episode essentially says “nah, they definitely turned into Bernkastel and Lambdadelta.” It feels like there’s almost no room for a true human explanation.

The other thing I found most compelling about Higurashi is the characters, more specifically how they interacted with each other and felt like very real people. I want to read the sound novels at some point mainly because I’ve heard the anime didn’t fully do the characters justice by cutting out small but important moments. Mion and Shion especially were amazing, their dynamic as twins was probably one of the best I’ve ever seen in storytelling. Also, the main message of Higurashi is literally about the power of friendship, and it portrays it in such an amazing way you forget the sentiment is a bit cheesy.

And yet, Gou/Sotsu ignored every single character who wasn’t Rika or Satoko (except maybe Hanyuu and Eua). While I can understand the decision to focus on them since the only point of the show was apparently to set up Bernkastel and Lambdadelta, it actually makes them feel more hollow and lifeless, to me at least.

Keiichi’s lack of presence was especially baffling in this regard. He was arguably the main reason Rika was able to break out of the loops at all, as he helped inspire her with the idea a miracle could happen if their entire group of friends worked together. And with Satoko, he became her big brother figure! The fact that Gou/Sotsu not only push their relationship off to the wayside but also have Satoko get Keiichi murdered in horrifically brutal ways AND purposely inject him with Hinamizawa Syndrome without any shred of remorse or guilt is disgusting. Are you seriously telling me Satoko had a massive internal struggle over taking advantage of Teppei (y’know, the guy who abused her and her brother and severely traumatized them), but felt absolutely nothing over torturing Keiichi, the boy who she knows has fought to save her from said abusive uncle in multiple worlds and would literally kill for her??? Wtf???

The same thing goes for the almost non-existence of Shion in Gou/Sotsu. Shion also has a very strong relationship with Satoko (except for the worlds where she goes crazy and brutally murders her lmao) and has ALSO threatened to kill that abusive uncle for hurting Satoko, something Satoko would know full well after watching all of Rika’s loops. It’s reasonable Satoko would have more ambiguous feelings about Shion (since, again, Shion has killed her in Watanagashi arcs), but I find it bizarre she would be this willing to brutally murder, torture, and directly cause events leading others to murder/torture her surrogate big sister and surrogate big brother.

The whole story in general is baffling when you consider Satoko’s character. Are we seriously supposed to believe her drifting apart from a close friend is somehow more traumatic to her than the isolation and exclusion she experienced from her entire town and the literal abuse she went through from her aunt and uncle? You can’t even really use the “oh the town didn’t actually want to persecute her family tho” argument because that doesn’t negate Satoko’s experience of living through it. It’s especially dumb when you consider Gou/Sotsu somehow make Satoko’s argument “I don’t wanna study waaahhhhh” as if it makes any sense when you know these characters.

Don’t even get me started on how nobody even reacts to Satoko’s bullshit. The original Higurashi had characters sometimes remember past arcs/worlds, and Gou explicitly stated Satoko’s loops meant characters would remember even more. And yet, all that happens is Takano and Teppei reforming. What??? I expected the ending to involve Keiichi, Rena, Mion, and Shion realizing what Satoko had done to them and getting rightfully angry with Rika over what Satoko did to all of them. The show should’ve ended with the group cutting her off for being so fucking awful to them. Jfc...

In the end, I think Gou was fine and Tatariakashi-hen in Sotsu was cool, but this show just felt so empty compared to the original Higurashi and Umineko. Both stories are focused on the CHARACTERS, and while there are main characters in both who get more focus than the rest of the cast, every single character’s interactions with each other are vital to what makes their stories compelling. Dropping all of that to hone in on 2 specific characters actually robs even those characters of their depth and vividness.

#higurashi #higurashi sotsu #sotsu #higurashi no naku koro ni #umineko #umineko no naku koro ni #anime #Julie being a weeb #rant #higurashi spoilers #umineko spoilers #spoilers #warning: long post #ugh

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write-orflight · 4 years

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Galileo: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 2.1K

Warnings: None right now. but will eventually be smut.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull her back down to earth.

A.N: I made the reader jewish (or from a jewish family really) for reasons I don’t even know. Message to be added to the taglist! Much love, Cia

Chapter 1: Venus

Spencer never really “understood” women but he thought in the passing years he got at least, a better understanding.

He still, however, didn’t understand you or your clear adverse feelings for him. Spencer immediately thought to do what he did in most situations when he didn’t understand people. He profiled them.

He watched you from across the room, seated in a barstool height chair so you could look into the telescope, legs crossed as you scribbled into a notepad placed on your right thigh. No ring or any form of jewelry, Which most likely meant no significant other. Your work space was clear devoid of any pictures or sentimentals except for one small photo of you and Victim #4, clearly at a bar of some sort. He looks completely in his element while you look slightly uncomfortable. You’re both smiling brightly though he’s looking straight at the camera while you’re slightly looking up at him. That, how none of his desk or items were cleared, and how you seemed to move around his stuff like you were used to the routine of it all told Spencer what he needed to know.

“Were you dating your coworker?” Spencer asked. You stopped in your track on your way to one of the chalkboards you set up for equations. Dr. Cliff often told you it was so outdated but you preferred to do things right yourself not let a computer decide for you. You leveled a heated look to Spencer.

“Excuse me?”

“Your partner, Jonathan Brewer.” Spencer pointed out. “You didn’t say in your initial interview that you were dating. If that was the case, that’s something we need to know. It could help find his kille--”

“We. Weren’t. Dating.” You say, angrily. Spencer almost flinches at the pure venom that is seeping out of your voice. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, by the way. Everything I already told your agents was the truth. He was my best friend, My only friend, and now he’s dead. Please do not distract me from my work with idiotic questions again.” You turn away from him, going back to your math.

How dare he pretend to know anything about you and Jon. What a fucking pretentious asshole. Accusing you of sleeping with Jonathan, not that you didn’t want to… or didn’t at least think about it. You never got to tell Jonathan how you really felt about him, how he had the unfiltered ability to make the room feel lighter like you were in the zero gravity chamber, or how every shoulder press, hand on your back as he passed by, bright smiles from across the room while he did the math and you tracked Gaia would feel like lightning down your nervous system.

You never got to tell him you were in love with him.

And now you never will.

You knew you were only angry at Spencer because he was able to clock you on what never occurred to Jonathan the year you’d known him in an hour of knowing you but in the end it was none of his business and he had absolutely no right.

Thankfully, he had learned silence was a virtue and didn’t say anything the rest of the night, opting to read some of the books you had around. You stretched as you stood from your desk grabbing your bags to head out the door. Spencer also notices this and follows suit.

“What’re you doing?” You ask as he’s following you out the door.

“I’m your protective custody which means, I’m with you always, not just at work.” He says, awkwardly. “Did Dr. Clifton not explain?”

“No, he did not...” You trail off. “Fine, come on.” You say going to your car, Spencer automatically climbs into the passenger seat and you drive home in silence.

When you arrive at your apartment, the cat greets you with beady eyes from the top of his cat tower.

“You know some people’s cats greet them at the door.” You say, approaching the tower to pet him, he purrs and pushes his head into your palm. You turn back to Spencer who is standing awkwardly by the door. “The sofa folds out if you want to take that, I guess I’ll bring you a blanket and pillow.” Spencer watches as you disappear from the room to give him the items you just said. “Don’t be confused if Alfonso is next to you when you wake up, the couch is his spot.”

“Alfonso?”

You gester to the cat. “Context clues, might help you out someday.” You say sarcastically. “I’m going to shower.” You brush past him on the way to what seemed to be your only sanctuary away from the doctor.

Spencer takes this time to survey your apartment, making sure there’s no way for someone to break in without his knowledge. He pulls out the sofa bed and almost like clockwork, the small cat moved from his tower onto the corner of the couch and slept. Spencer also looked around the apartment like he would with any victim, though you weren’t one yet, he still had to figure out why you’re specifically being targeted. But he couldn’t get a gage of who you are because there was nothing that said who you were in this house. Living room was obviously designed by an interior designer, the kitchen was neat only things on the counter were a coffee maker, kettle and a stand mixer. Different plants lined your balcony along with a small telescope. The only thing he could get a reading on was that you lived here, you had a cat, and that maybe you baked.

“Mom, I’m fine.” Spencer hears, he turns toward the bathroom to see you exiting in a pair of pajama shorts and a large Georgetown University sweater. He knew you didn’t go there but Victim #4 did, he could only assume it was his sweater. “Obviously I’m not in danger, we’re talking on the phone.” He watches you pause and roll your eyes. “No mom, this isn’t an elaborate hostage call. I told you to stop watching true crime before bed.” Spencer tries not to listen to the conversation, he really does. But it’s been a while since he’s been able to have a normal conversation like this with his mom. So of course that made him a tad jealous.

“Mom it’s almost 7am. I should really sleep…. for the last time, mom, I have to work at night my job is to watch planets…. You’re right I’m probably not going to find a husband this way, but I also don’t want one…. I do not need a yenta, Ma! Now I really have to go, give my best to dad.” You say, hanging up. Spencer watches you groan in frustration.

“God, can you believe that woman! I love her to death but I don’t need a fucking matchmaker, there’s a serial killer after me for god’s sake! Dating should be her last concern—“ You cut off realizing you’re ranting to a man who’s just met you and that you also despise. “You don’t give a shit about this.” You say, Spencer just tilts his head at you. You roll your eyes. “Goodnight.” You say, closing your bedroom door quickly.

Some things stayed the same though because as soon as you hit your pillow, you were deeply asleep.

———————————————-

Spencer wakes up in the late afternoon to the cat sprinting across his body. He opens his eyes a little to see you placing food and water in a bowl. You pet him briefly before letting him eat and then you sit at the dining table with a hot mug in your hand.

“You made coffee?” Spencer asked, groggily.

“Yes.” You say, obviously.

“The pot is empty…”

“I didn’t say I made some for you.” You looked at him. “I’m sure, they taught you how to use a coffee maker in the academy.”

With that you turn away from him, back to the book you were reading. Spencer rolls his eyes but makes the coffee anyway, he knew if the entire day was going to be like this he’d need it.

“You know, this would probably be easier if you would stop fighting me at every turn. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. There's no point in arguing constantly.”

“No, what would make it easier is if you caught the serial killer, so I could have my apartment back.” You say, rolling your eyes.

Spencer just throws his arms up. He tried, he’s officially giving up trying to find common ground with this she-devil. He grabs his phone and steps into the hall for a second.

“Oracle of Quantico, speak and be heard.” He hears Penelope say over the line. He sighs in relief at the tone of his friend.

“Garcia, do you know if the others have found anything on this case yet?” He says.

“No dice, my friend. Far as I know they’re still doing victimology. You know I would call you if we found anything out. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just… trying to gage how long this’ll be.”

“Jesus Spencer, it’s been one day. It can’t be that bad.”

“It can, Garcia, this woman….she hates me. And I don’t know why.”

“Well what did you do?”

“Nothing! I didn—”

“Spencer…” Penelope said in an almost scolding tone.

“I may have… accused her of dating Victim #4.”

“Jonathan Brewer, her coworker. Why would you do that?”

Spencer tells her of the things he’s found in her office as well as her sweater this morning and Garcia cuts him off.

“Ok, I’ve heard enough.” Garcia says. “Spencer, I may not be a profiler but I understand women, especially smart, nerdy women. So you told me she has a picture of them on her desk and that she still hasn’t cleared his desk?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see any pictures of her on his desk?”

“No.”

“And you already know from when we went to his apartment, there were no photos of her there either.” Penelope says, like it’s kinda obvious. “So combine that with the sweater and everything else what do you get?”

“She was in love with him....” Spencer says, confused why it took him this long to get it. “And it wasn’t reciprocated…”

“Points to Ravenclaw.” Penelope says. “Now you’re already a constant reminder that she’s lost someone, so bringing it up every second and accusing her of lying probably isn’t helping. She probably isn’t even angry at you, she’s just grieving, let her do that.”

“You’re right, Garcia.” He sighs.

“I always am. Adieu.” She says hanging up. Spencer re-enters the apartment and sees you sitting in a chair next to the window reading, he notes that you are dressed for work. You were wearing a knee length black pencil skirt with a mint green blouse. All tied together with your floor length lab coat that held your badge. Your hair was tied in a high bun and round rimmed glasses adorned your face. Spencer hated to say it but he wasn’t blind, you were breath-taking.

“I’m leaving in 45 minutes, if you want to put on something less… firetruck-y.” Spencer looked down and he was still wearing his Pajama pants that had a pattern of fire trucks on them.

Well, she was breath-taking until she opened her mouth.

Spencer just sighed and went to change.

The two of you drove to the office in silence, the only sound being classical music playing through her speakers. You put the car in park and you start to get out when you feel a hand circle your wrist you pull your arm back and look at the man in disgust.

“Wait before you get out.” Spencer says looking you in the eye. “I wanted to apologize for making accusations about your relationship with Jonathan. It was not my place to do that.”

“It wasn’t.” You say.

“I know. I’m sorry… we’re going to be with each other constantly until we find his killer so I don’t want to fight everyday. Friends?” He says offering his hand for her to shake. Spencer didn’t like shaking hands but if it would show her he was serious he’d do it.

“I appreciate the apology but we’re only working together briefly, there’s no reason for us to be friends. Colleagues.” She agrees, looking at his hand but not shaking it. Just choosing to get out of the car without another word.

God, you were not going to make this easy. Spencer knew that for a fact.

#spencer reid x reader smut #spencer x reader smut #bau x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader

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florencwrites · 3 years

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ECHOES, PAGE NINE 〚dreamwastaken〛

Sam allows Dream to write a singular message, one that he so desperately seeks. A visitor comes to cheer her up, he never fails to. series homepage

The walls of the portal room had been smoldering and sizzling ever since it was built, however, even though the prison itself was built from the same stone they were not one and the same ore.

You see, the portal room had been built from stone extracted from the deepest of caves, lukewarm water with scorching magma. They had been melted and merged until they ultimately would form the blistering mineral they were now.

The prison itself needed more stone than the measly chamber, obviously. So, to cut costs, the prison itself was built from surface lava, a stream that had appeared in splotches across a field somewhere close to the mountain ranges. The water they had used was icey, freshly molten away from the very peaks of the extreme hills. This made it easier to not only mine but also place, gather, and lean against for prolonged periods of time.

Which is exactly what was happening for hours on end, within the tepid confines.

Dream had never felt more useless, bored, simply.. Blasé. Spiritless, indifferent. He could keep mustering up words, carving them down into his singular chest with the blunt pen he had received from the warden. He had been given a full chest of books, and when he grew excited for new reading material; he quickly learned for them to be empty. Devoid of a singular word. All of them.

Sam had rolled the unsharpened pen over the netherite hedge with a level of disinterest even he was quite jealous of. He had shot up from the corner of his cell where he had been bathing his feet in a built-in pond of sorts. His wet feet splattered against the tiles, sliding away from where they were set down in the slightest. "Is she still there?"

"Sam!" He knew not to lean on the bricks themselves, having learned the amount of voltage on them the hard way many a time before. "Sam! Is she still there?"

The man had already stepped back onto the platform that would take him back through the drowning lava. "I'm not doing any of this for you, I need you to know that."

He finally turned back to face Dream, adding, "Write her something."

"Anything?"

"A goodbye, Dream."

She, however, had been oblivious to her friend's unwavering protectiveness. She had not a clue that the letters her lover wrote had been disbanded piece by piece, only because they didn't convey the message Sam so desperately desired.

There was not a doubt in his mind that their parting would ultimately be best for her and her mental well-being. Dream, however, was a stubborn man. He was not someone who got intimidated easily, he was patient and there would always be that one thing Sam could never account for, nor change; Dream's love was set in stone.

It was carved in the walls of every cave he had explored, it was etched into his skin with runny ink. He was feverish with love, whether it was the matching prints they had gotten together that had gotten infected after all, or whether it was simply his unfaltering affection for her.

They had taken away everything, his freedom, his friends, his mask, even his bright eyes had been dulled by their hands; but they would never take her away.

Sam spent his days in the library, hours upon hours spent exploring the aisles and scrutinizing seemingly endlessly long pieces of text in the hopes of finding a way to break the spell he had on her. His every waking moment was brought to by the windowsill, surrounded by towering piles of ancient books.

And, was his mind not occupied by the swirling letters, his eyes would always trail around the waterline in search of her. Not much of a search it was, though, she would always be sat exactly where he reckoned her to be.

He let his eyes wander over the permanent sorrow etched into her face, the trail of grass floating on the waves. "What I'd give to take your place."

She knew there were little men who were as persistent as her, who could drown themselves in their wit for as long as she had. Her tears had dried, deciding to spare themselves for when she truly needed them. Her shoulders were raw with the aches they had had to endure for the longest time, the uncontrollable shaking they would endure for the entirety of every night.

She never really slept anymore, sleeping meant to see him in the worst state imaginable. However, that wasn't the worst thing. The nightmares she could handle. Seeing him all bloodied and tortured, some days he would seem content, happy. Those hurted more.

The worst thing about the nightmares was that whenever she awoke from one of them, for a split second her mind would reassure her, "It's just a dream."

A blade to the heart, constricted airways every morning when she inevitably had to come to the realization that it was not just a dream. The nightmare becomes reality, the hunter becomes the hunted.

"Hey." A scratchy voice sounded from a few feet behind her. "Still sad, huh?"

She rapidly crawled to her knees, pulling her feet from the water that had started to wilt her skin. "You fucker."

She embraced him as he, too, fell to his knees. "You absolute prick."

A smile on her face, bright enough to light up the entirety of the realm. He, almost instinctively, returned her beam, his eyes squinting with the force of it. He'd missed her. "I'm a minor, you can't swear in my presence."

"Please, just shut your mouth for one goddamn second." She giggled in his shoulder, oh, how she missed the times he had been a little boy. The days where she could pick him up with a small huff, throw him on the back of her saddle and return him to his father after another one of his little escapades. How Phil would always thank her with the most genuine eyes, telling her that he wished he could promise that it wouldn't happen again, but how it probably would again tomorrow.

"You're mean to me, I'm gonna tell Philza you said that." He pulled from her embrace, deciding to sit criss-cross from her in the grass, letting the blades tickle his exposed ankles. He truly needed new jeans. "I reckon you missed me more than I did you."

"I'm sure I did, Tommy."

57 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 14)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 6039 Warnings: fluff, light angst, mentions of cheating

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Major cringe warning everyone.. I can’t wait for your reactions! 😂 A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 13 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Bucky pulls off his headphones, pressing a finger to the keyboard to stop the music he’s reviewing, taking a moment to pinch between his brows. He gets up to stretch his legs, grabbing the empty beer bottle along with him for the short walk to the kitchen. He tosses it in the garbage with the rest.

He doesn’t like drinking this much but lately he hasn’t been feeling great. His music has been stagnant, devoid of life and energy. Thinking about it only makes him feel worse, a painful reminder that deadlines are coming up and what little he’s created is absolute shit.

The knob squeaks as he turns the faucet, letting the water turn to liquid ice before he runs his hands through them, splashing it up against his face. He hears the hiss of the pipes next door and his heart sinks.

It’s Y/N’s shower. He looks towards the wall wondering if she’s alone, quickly shaking the thoughts out of his mind. He shouldn’t care if she’s alone or not. She’s in a relationship and it shouldn’t matter.

Bucky tried really hard to not think about her. He promised himself he would get out there and find someone and well, it hasn’t exactly worked out. In the last three weeks he’s been on a dozen dates. Most of the girls could barely hold a conversation, while the others were less exciting than watching paint dry.

He fucked a few of them even though he said he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the point of these dates but Bucky needed the distraction. It was hard hanging out with everyone, it didn’t matter if Y/N was there with Billy or if they were not; Bucky wasn’t sure what was worse.

Over the last few days he has been messaging someone new who’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping him entertained. Bobbi, she works at a gym Uptown. She’s worked extremely hard for her body and flaunts it in most of her photos and sure, Bucky would love to hit it but there’s something more that keeps him drawn in.

She’s so direct, talking to him as if they had known each other for years. He loves checking his phone to see her latest message, a smile already stretching across his face when he sees a long text about something that happened at the gym. Apparently a lot of characters workout there and she has an endless list of horror stories she couldn’t wait to share with him.

They planned a date for the end of the week and Bucky was very excited to finally meet her. It was promising, the idea that he could be happy with someone just like… just like everyone else.

You hug yourself a little tighter as you walk down the block, feeling the cool breeze move right through you. Billy seems to be in his own world, his head gazing down to his phone as it had been through most of dinner. You didn’t voice your annoyance though because it would only make things worse.

Billy’s been in a bad mood ever since the Feds came knocking at ANVIL’s door. A few former employees were recently involved in a string of armed robberies and Billy was questioned about it. Word got out and he lost a big account as a result.

Obviously the situation is upsetting but it’s not just that, Billy’s been distant lately. You’ve been spending a lot of time together but maybe that’s the problem, the honeymoon period might be over. You know it’s a normal part of any relationship but the idea that things could change so drastically doesn’t make you feel great.

“Hey watch where you’re going,” an unfamiliar voice barked.

Your head turned quickly to find Billy getting in the face of the stranger he apparently bumped into.

“What did you say to me?” Billy’s dark eyes sharpened like a bird of prey closing in on its target. His nostrils flared as he snarled, staring down the other man until he backed away with his tail between his legs. Billy looked him up and down, a smug smile creeping across his face in silent victory.

A heavy arm fell around your shoulders as Billy pulled you closer to him when he began walking away.

“What the hell was that?” you asked after a long beat of silence.

He faced you with the same incredulity he gave the man before. “That was people knowing better than to get in my way.”

Your stomach churned with unease and that silent alarm inside you was going off. You needed to get away from Billy, for tonight at least. By the time you got to the front of your building you figured out an excuse you hoped would work.

“Hey so, I promised Elena I would head in early tomorrow. Paperwork’s been piling up and medical records have been on our case about it. So, can we raincheck this?” You smiled, using your best doe eyes to seem sincere about it.

Billy stared you down, looking for the slightest crack in your expression. It was something he had always done, reading people, checking for lies. You know it’s a product of his upbringing, with so many broken promises made by a faulty system.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s fine,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember I got us Knicks tickets.”

You nodded in agreement, gasping slightly when he caught you off guard by his kiss. It was the last thing on your mind but you gave in, opening your mouth to his forceful tongue. Anything to keep up appearances, for tonight.

Billy watched you enter the building and you waved back at him right before you disappeared for the hallway, finally able to take a breath. On the way up to your floor you wondered if you should talk to Wanda about what happened. It was kind of late though and even though she would want to hear everything about it you didn’t want to disturb her.

As you approached your door you looked towards Bucky’s. Maybe he could give some advice from the male perspective. Then again you didn’t want to bother him either. Bucky’s also been pretty distant lately and you’ve barely seen him in the past month. Maybe everything’s changed, your relationship, your friendships. Change is supposed to be good but this felt all wrong.

You couldn’t find a comfortable spot on your bed, tossing and turning, kicking off the covers, pulling them back up again. Nothing seemed right. There was too much on your mind and you couldn’t relax.

“Shut up brain, just shut up!” you begged out loud, grabbing your phone to find something to distract yourself.

Scrolling through your playlists you tried to find one that wouldn’t give you the urge to stay up and sing along, and then you stopped on the perfect one. It was Bucky’s playlist, Greatest Cinema Scores. Grabbing your headphones you laid your head back on the pillow as John Williams carried you to dreamland.

You groan, rolling over to one side. It’s still dark out. You don’t want to look at your phone but you give in anyway. Two in the morning. At least you still had a few more hours of sleep. Your stomach spasms forcing you to get up, hurrying your paces to the bathroom because the weird rumbling has you convinced you might not make it in time.

It’s five past two in the morning when all hell breaks loose. Hell translating to everything you’ve eaten this evening coming up and out of you from both ends. It’s not pretty. Tears are streaming down your face as you puke into the garbage can you’re rapidly filling, trying to catch your breath in between painful heaves. The other end isn’t much better, hot liquid expelling itself from your body; stomach cramps, body spasms all doing their part to add to the mess.

Ten minutes pass by the time it’s safe to leave the bathroom. Your throat burns with the remnants of vomit, your ass is on fire and you curl back into bed, brushing aside the tears from the corner of your eyes. Your reprieve is short lived as your stomach grumbles again and you rush across your apartment, giving yourself over to the porcelain throne.

More comes out of you than you’ve taken in and you wonder about the science of it all. When will it stop? Dinner was simple, a glass of wine, a small house salad, chicken parm and some vegetables that come out whole as you peer into the soupy garbage held out in front of you. A whiff of the stench makes you gag again setting off another round of vomiting.

Everything hurts. Tears burn hot against your skin as you cry alone, half naked and in need of a shower at this point to clean yourself up. Elvis died on the toilet, is that how you’re gonna go too? It seems entirely possible at this point.

By the time the sun begins to peak out through the large buildings you’ve exhausted your body of all its worth. You’re shaking as you change into clean pajamas, crawling back into bed, barely having the strength to raise your phone to your ear as you leave a message for Elena, telling her you won’t be able to make it in today.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, not when you’re still getting out of bed every hour to get rid of every part of your insides. Isn’t it out of you already? You think back to dinner and the slightly pink chicken you thought at the time was your imagination or bad lighting. Dammit.

You text Billy, telling him you have food poisoning, hoping his seafood and linguine didn’t leave him in the same position you were currently in. After the hundredth trip to the bathroom you opened up your fridge looking for something. You squirm as you look at the orange juice, however tempting it is the acid would probably burn through you. Your mouth waters looking at the forbidden food, aka anything that isn’t a plain cracker. Do you have any of those? Nope. How is it possible you don’t have a single thing you could possibly eat?

The trek across your apartment and back to your bed seems like it went on for miles and now you shake with chills, wrapping yourself up in the blanket as you text Wanda begging for her to come over with Gatorade, ginger ale and crackers.

You whimper out loud as you feel your stomach gurgling, it wants another round versus the toilet where you’re going to lose. By the time you come out again you’re sweating, shaking on weak legs as you cry yourself to sleep.

In another hour you’ve woken up, thankful for the returned text that she would come by before heading to work. After your latest round in the bathroom you trudge to the front door unlocking it, and move to your couch where you plop face down. You text Wanda, telling her the door is open, and try to shut your eyes until the inevitable happens. Because you know it’s going to happen again. For some reason you’ve been cursed and there’s nothing you can do about it but suffer.

You aren’t sure of how much time has passed but you hear your door opening, bags rustling in hand and the tiniest smile spreads across your face.

“Wandaaa, my butthole hurts,” you whined, lifting your head up off the couch slightly to groan even more. “It’s like a volcano that’s erupting hot brown lava. There’s so much of it Wan. It won’t stop. My ass is vomiting shit.”

“Wow Y/N, that’s quite a visual.”

Oh no. Panic surges through you when you realize that was not Wanda’s voice. A weak arm pushes you up from the couch where you turn around to find Bucky somehow looking at you in the eye after he heard your very blunt confession.

You’re stunned into silence, not knowing what to say because you had just said far too much than you ever wanted to. Suddenly you feel nauseous again but for a different reason.

Bucky shifted one of the bags he was holding into his other hand so he could send a small wave in your direction, trying not to burst out laughing as he said, “Hey neighbor.”

“B-Bucky, what are you doing here?” you asked, sinking back down onto the couch because you couldn’t support yourself anymore.

“Wanda texted me, said she wasn’t able to get these to you before work.” He set the bags down, walking closer to you and crouching down by the couch. “Are you okay?”

Your head shook a little before you answered. “No. I think I’m dying. I’m puking up my organs.”

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” he chuckled.

“My intestines, definitely my stomach… maybe a kidney or two.”

He cracked a beautiful smile that somehow made you feel better just by looking at it. Bucky reached the back of his hand out to feel your forehead. You were a little warm but you didn’t feel feverish.

“Well I’m here now and I brought all the good stuff you need. Will you let me help you?”

Tears filled your eyes as you replied, and Bucky smiled again. He emptied the bags in your kitchen, taking out a bottle of ginger ale, Gatorade, crackers and some instant white rice.

“How about a little ginger ale to settle your stomach, yeah?”

Bucky brought over a glass that was less than half filled. Sitting next to you, he helped you sit up and you waited for the room to stop spinning before you took a few small sips as he told you to. Your hand was shaking and Bucky took the glass from you before you spilled it.

You didn’t think a few sips of ginger ale would be a magical cure but you wished it would. You felt so shitty… which seemed fitting, but it really wasn’t funny. You leaned against Bucky, closing your eyes as you sighed in frustration. It was comforting to feel his arm around you, and hear his whispers that everything would be okay.

“Are you nauseous? Do you need to…”

“I just don’t feel good,” you cried against him.

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, wishing there was something more he could do for you. When Wanda texted him he had shot right up, threw on clothes and raced to the store. He wished you had asked him, that you were as close as you used to be but he understands why you might not have wanted him to know.

The briefest thought about Billy crosses his mind. Did you tell him? Was he going to come in and take care of you? Would you shove Bucky aside if he did? But Billy isn’t here, and Billy isn’t important. Right now this is about you and doing whatever he can to help.

“Hey doll, do you want to try and eat something?”

You barely process the nickname as you think about how your stomach is feeling. It’s still too early to try and eat so instead you ask for some Gatorade, hoping that might make you feel a little better.

Bucky brings it back, along with a wet washcloth he places on your neck, feeling your skin prickle at his touch as he moves aside the collar of your shirt. It’s a nice relief for the short while it lasts. You head back to the bathroom again but at least you didn’t vomit this time. You’re thankful since you’re really not sure you have the strength to even handle throwing up anymore.

Back on the couch you lay your head down on Bucky’s thigh, curling your body into a fetal position as he lays a throw blanket over you. You don’t realize when you’ve fallen asleep but you wake up at some time later to find the sky is lit in a golden glow of the afternoon sun. Bucky assists you with sitting up, helping you quell the dizziness with more sips of Gatorade and ginger ale.

You feel brave enough to eat, hoping that one single cracker will not send you back on the hell ride through your digestive tract. Bucky can’t help but smile as you nibble on the cracker slowly like a hamster.

“What did you eat that got you sick?” he wondered.

“New Italian place on 23rd and 8th. Bad chicken. I mean, I thought it was good at the time but I don’t think I’ll be going back again.”

“Good to know. I’m gonna cancel my plans tonight,” he said, digging his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah, definitely go somewhere else.”

“No, I’m cancelling the whole date.”

Your head spun as you turned it too fast to face Bucky. “You have a date tonight?”

His head shook before he began speaking. “Nope, not anymore. I want to stay here and take care of you.” You began to protest but Bucky insisted. “Y/N, I really want to do this. Please, let me help you.”

The fluttering in your stomach made you wonder if you needed to rush to the bathroom again but it didn’t feel the same as before. Instead you smiled softly, thankful to have Bucky’s kindness. It was nice to know someone wanted to take care of you.

In the moment you scanned the table for your phone, remembering the text you sent out this morning. Billy still hadn’t replied. Maybe he’s sick too or maybe… well you don’t have the energy to think otherwise at the moment.

Your mouth is watering, craving anything and everything that you can’t have. Even the drinks have to be sipped slowly otherwise you’ll set your stomach off again. It’s so unfair. Why is this happening? And why is every commercial food related?

“Bucky, can you change the channel?” you begged.

He switched it to a show about animals, that’s fine, that’s… not fine. The TV shows a raccoon eating delicious red grapes and you feel the tears begin to flood your eyes. You huff against Bucky’s leg, not bothering to change the channel because there was no point. You couldn’t eat and you probably never will again. Was that being dramatic? Maybe, but right now you’re not in the mood to think sensibly.

“I feel bad askin’ but is it okay if I order food? I know you can’t have any and I really don’t want to make this worse for ya.”

Bucky is staring at you with big blue eyes, hoping his small request isn’t too much of an offence at the moment. You almost wanted to say no but you couldn’t, it’s not Bucky’s fault you ate bad chicken.

“Pizza? Really?” you whined after he placed his order.

His eyes grew big with panic and he was about to call back and cancel his order before you stopped him.

“No, no. I’m sorry Bucky. It doesn’t matter what you eat, I’m gonna want everything so enjoy yourself.”

You pouted, grabbing the throw blanket to pull it over your shoulder as you adjusted your position of resting on his leg, shutting your eyes until he got up to answer the door when the pizza arrived.

“That smells really good,” you said, frowning as Bucky opened the box.

He was hesitant to take a bite, feeling guilty as you looked at him. “Can I make you anything? Think you could handle some rice?”

Your head shook and you took out another single cracker, chewing on it slowly as Bucky sat down beside you with a few slices.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. And when you’re up for it let’s get pizza. We still haven’t kept our promise.” Bucky’s mouth dropped open in response to your confused face. “Our pizza quest! Remember? Eat our way through the city to find the best pizza!”

“Oh yeah!” You smiled for the first time, bright and beaming across your face and Bucky was happy he was able to bring that out in you. “We definitely have to do that.”

The night continued with Bucky putting on Galaxy Quest for you both to watch. Halfway through the movie you went back to the bathroom, missing a call from Billy. Bucky couldn’t help but look over as your phone buzzed, seeing a picture of you and Billy smiling together.

A moment later a text came through and he knew he shouldn’t read it but he couldn’t help himself. Bucky looked towards the bathroom to check that you weren’t about to come out before he grabbed your phone, reading Billy’s text.

Billy: Wtf Y/N where are you? Did you remember the basketball game?

Bucky placed your phone back on the coffee table, remembering to unclench his jaw as your bathroom door opened. What an asshole. He didn’t even ask how you were.

“Your phone rang,” Bucky reluctantly said as you sat down again.

He watched as you read the text, typing back furiously. Another buzz and you were responding to Billy again, your face getting angrier the longer the back and forth messaging went on.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” you said, tossing your phone on the table. “Let’s put the movie on.”

You got comfortable against Bucky, ignoring the buzz of your phone. The texts didn’t stop coming in and you tried your best to ignore it and pay attention to the movie but Bucky could clearly see you were upset.

“You can answer that if you need to.”

“I really don’t want to. Billy’s so concerned about wasting money on tickets, not once has he even mentioned the fact that I’m sick. Did he not get my messages?”

Bucky bit his tongue, not wanting to say something he might end up regretting, especially if this isn’t the end of you and Billy like he hoped. Why would he hope that? He’s dating now. Or at least he thought he was.

He cancelled his date with Bobbi tonight without hesitation, just so he could take care of you. She seemed cool about it, asking if he was free tomorrow and Bucky agreed to another date but the longer you stay curled up beside him the less interest he has in wanting to see anyone.

The warmth of your body against his lulled Bucky into a deep sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable, slumped on the couch in a mostly sitting position but he didn’t want to move, not when you had fallen asleep before him. You were exhausted from everything you went through so your sleep was more important to him than the cramp that developed in his neck overnight.

You woke up, slowly opening your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them as you realized you weren’t in your bed but on the couch resting your head against Bucky. You watched the rise and fall of his stomach through the soft sweater he wore, the one that most certainly left tiny marks on your cheek from leaning against it.

Looking up at Bucky you smiled at the way his head was tilted to the side, eyes shut peacefully as small puffs of breath left his mouth. You thought about everything Bucky had done for you, what was supposed to be a simple task of dropping off ginger ale and crackers turned into his whole day being rearranged just to take care of you.

You wanted to do something nice for him in return, it’s something you’ll have to think about when your head’s not as light as it feels. Slowly you begin to sit up, taking a few sips of Gatorade from the bottle that was left on the table. You feel… better but still not great.

It’s daring but you aim to eat two crackers, hoping it won’t set off your stomach. It was grumbling with hunger but you knew better than to give in with actual food even though you were craving pancakes.

After sitting up for a while you didn’t think you felt dizzy anymore so you got up slowly. You felt the weakness in your legs as they carried you across the room but at least your trip to the bathroom was normal. A regular pee was a lot better than everything else that came out of you yesterday.

“G’morning,” Bucky said mid-yawn as you opened the door, seeing his sweater rise up to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach as he stretched his arms out.

“Morning Bucky.” You smiled as you made your way beside him again, reaching your arm across his stomach as you settled back against him, nuzzling your head on his chest.

Bucky loved this but absolutely hated that he needed to use the bathroom and therefore ruin the way you cuddled up against him. “I’m sorry doll. I’ll be quick,” he said, rushing up off the couch.

Doll. You liked that nickname. It was a little on the old fashioned side but it was endearing. Billy called you babe which was fine and all but it definitely didn’t have the same effect as doll. The thought of Billy made you roll your eyes. You would have to speak to him today but you really didn’t want to.

“Alright, where were we?”

Bucky’s voice rang out as he opened the door, walking back towards the couch. He moved his neck from side to side to crack it before he sat down again, letting you cozy up to him.

“How’re you feelin’ today?”

“Better. I think I might try some rice later.”

“Just let me know and I’ll make it.” There was no hesitation in his offer, just pure tenderness in wanting you to get better.

The morning was spent cuddling on the couch until Bucky’s stomach began grumbling worse than yours. He got up to make himself something while you insisted you weren’t ready for anything more than crackers and ginger ale yet.

“I’m gonna take your garbage out and head home for a quick shower. You think you’ll be okay? I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks Bucky.”

He was thankful you didn’t tell him not to come back. You seemed much better than yesterday and you probably didn’t need him but Bucky really didn’t want to leave. Sure he had work to do but this was more important. He wouldn’t have been able to get you off his mind anyway so he might as well be useful.

During Bucky’s absence you debated talking to Billy, knowing it would probably end up in a fight but you didn’t have the strength to do that yet. Besides, you hadn’t done anything wrong so there is no need for you to be chasing him down.

With the little energy you had you decided to freshen up. While splashing your face with some water you noticed the broken blood vessels in your eyes, the result of straining so much to throw up. Fun stuff.

It was a bit of a struggle to get undressed and changed into new pajamas and you had to lay down in your bed before the room stopped spinning. Thankfully Bucky had come back and was able to help you.

He handed the glass of Gatorade to you, rubbing slow circles of comfort on your back that seemed so natural for him.

“You need to eat something Y/N. Think you’re up for some rice now?” he asked softly, gazing at you with concern as he awaited your answer. You gave a simple nod and Bucky leapt up to get it started.

The burn of tears rushed to your eyes as you thought about Bucky. He was so eager to make sure you were okay, taking out your garbage that was filled with various bags full of vomit without hesitation, spending every minute of his weekend just to take care of you. He even cancelled a date.

Something inside your stomach twisted at the thought of Bucky actually dating someone. It’s not like him sleeping with someone was a surprise to you but apparently in the last month you’ve drifted apart from him, unaware he had started to date people instead of just sleeping with them. You’re not so sure why this makes you feel so… well, you’re not really sure how you feel about it but you know you feel something.

None of this should matter though. You have been dating someone for two months. Someone you thought you loved but this past weekend has taught you a lot about Billy. Not only has his change in demeanor put you off but the fact that he hasn’t shown any concern for you over this weekend really makes you want to end your relationship.

Bucky happily brought over a small bowl of white rice. There wasn’t much in there to begin with but you could only manage a few teaspoons before you had to stop. The worst part of it all is that you were so hungry but you really couldn’t eat much, and certainly couldn’t chance upsetting your stomach anymore no matter how badly you wanted to shovel the rice down your mouth.

The afternoon was spent on your couch again, cuddled up against Bucky as you continued to watch movies. His arm was around your shoulder and occasionally you felt his hand rub up and down over the curve of your arm. You smiled against him, letting yourself enjoy however long you could have Bucky like this.

In the back of your mind you thought about him dating again. Whoever he ends up with would be the luckiest girl ever, to have someone as kind and caring as Bucky take care of them as he has been with you. You chew on your bottom lip remembering the shared kiss on New Year’s Eve. Yeah, it was safe to say you would be completely jealous of any girl that ends up with him.

While attempting to have a little more rice you watched Bucky respond to his phone that had gone off a few times. It was hard not to glance over at him, imagining what pretty girl he was probably talking to.

What you didn’t know was Bucky was talking to a girl, Bobbi, cancelling the plans they had rescheduled for today. He didn’t bother to reschedule again and Bucky knew it was stupid not to but somehow the weekend he’s spent on your couch made him lose all enthusiasm for dating someone. Logic tried to reason with him, remind him that you were in a relationship but it was hard to deny the way he felt about you, how he’s been feeling for a long time now.

Bucky can’t stop staring at you, watching as you finish up the rice from earlier. He’s hated seeing you in pain but being able to help you this weekend has been such an honor.

As the sun set you realized you were not at all prepared to go back to work tomorrow. You probably could use another day off but since you weren’t throwing up anymore you wanted to at least give it a shot. Besides, Tony had been relying on you a lot recently with the logistics of getting The September Foundation prepared and you didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

“I need to take a shower.” As you stood up you felt a little dizzy and Bucky had his arms around you just in case. After a moment of a few deep breaths you felt a little better. “I’m okay,” you assured him.

Bucky didn’t quite believe that so he poured more Gatorade and handed you the glass.

“I’m not leaving you.” Bucky wiped his hand down his face realizing how forceful that sounded. “I mean, I won’t leave until you get out okay? I don’t want you to slip and fall or anything.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case but now I feel like I’ve jinxed myself,” you joked. Having Bucky hear your vivid description of shitting was bad enough, you really didn’t want him to find you passed out in the shower.

Bucky lowered the volume of the TV to barely above mute, wanting to listen out for anything out of the ordinary. He heard the shower turn on and a minute later the curtain pulling as you stepped in.

A text from Sam pulled his attention away from listening and he opened the message, his jaw clenched as he scanned the photo attached. It was Billy, with his arm around another girl. She was short with dark hair pulled into a bun, dressed professionally and Bucky questioned if he was jumping the gun at thinking the worst. Maybe she worked with Billy or maybe it was his sister.

The next text that came through proved his theories wrong. Sam captioned the picture of Billy kissing the girl with “Asshole.”

Bucky: I’m with Y/N now. She’s been sick all wknd I don’t think she knows about this.

Sam: Do you want to tell her or should I have Wanda come by? She’s ready to rip his head off.

Bucky: So am I Bucky: Fuck. Bucky: idk maybe Wanda should talk to her?

There was nothing Bucky wanted more than to tell you what an asshole Billy was but he didn’t want to be accused of using it to his advantage in any way. Bucky would be there with everyone else to support you through this but as a friend only. You deserved better than Billy no matter who you ended up with.

“Bucky!”

The sound of your voice in distress makes him pop up from the couch. He runs to the door, fear coursing through his veins as he hopes you’re okay. Inside the steamy bathroom he finds your head poking out through the shower curtain, the rest of it pulled close to your body not to reveal yourself.

“I forgot to grab a towel,” you said, smiling. “They’re over there.” A bare arm slick with water points behind him and he grabs a towel from a shelf. “Thanks,” you said, taking it from him, watching as he nods awkwardly before shutting the door.

Bucky’s cheeks are flushed from the brief humidity and the sight of seeing you in the shower. Well, not that he saw anything but just the idea of it has his heart racing.

Ten minutes later and you were out of the bathroom, changed into new pajamas, these ones covered with a cute cactus print, brushing through your still wet hair.

Silence filled the room as you finished your post shower routine of putting on a variety of moisturizers and facial sprays and Bucky felt like he had overstayed his welcome. You were winding down even though it was still early, and truthfully he had a weekend’s worth of work to catch up on.

“So there’s more rice on the counter, plus an unopened bottle of ginger ale too, and if you need anything else you know where I live.” He chuckled uncomfortably at his bad joke. “Really though if you need me please call me okay? I’ll come running.”

He didn’t mean to sound so desperate but it was true.

“Thank you so much for everything Bucky.” You threw your arms around him for a hug, melting deeper into him as he wrapped his arms around your body.

Neither of you realized the other didn’t want to let go but you made the move to reluctantly pull apart. Bucky had spent his whole weekend doting on you, you didn’t want to force him to stay any longer.

Bucky smiled as he gazed upon you, the way your eyes shifted down before staring back up at him. He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to your forehead and a surge of electricity went racing through you. His kiss lingered and the longer he made contact with your skin the more you wanted to press your lips to his.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, walking away slowly towards the door.

Your heart was caught in your throat as you locked it behind him, letting out a deep, longing sigh, and the realization that you might have feelings for Bucky.

PART 15

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #billy russo x reader

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jouretnuit-nightandday · 3 years

Note

New York au is so 🥺🥺 any thoughts on how leatin tells the other girls they got together??

Hello Anon! Thanks for your message <3

I’m spending way too much time thinking about this new york au but it IS fun, and that’s what writing fics is all about, ultimately.

So the thing is, the island never happened in new york au. Which means the girls don’t all know each other, because I can’t really think of a satisfactory explanation as to why Dot, Shelby, Martha and Toni would move to NYC after high school. At least not yet! BUT you know who’s already in NYC? Nora and Rachel. So here: have Leah and Nora, the morning after the infamous party.

When Leah opens the door to her dorm room at 7AM, bleary-eyed, hair disheveled, still in her dress from the night before, Nora is already up and sitting at her desk, drinking coffee, wearing the kind of loose, colorful, comfy clothes she favors for studying.

“Morning, Leah,” she says without raising her head from the textbook she’s reading. Leah closes the door behind her, quietly, and hangs her purse on the hook. The blinds are open, and early sunlight is pouring through their window, minuscule particles of dust dancing in the light,

“Hey,” Leah says. Her voice is hoarse, and that makes Nora turn her head towards her at last, lips twitching into one of her half-smiles, knowing but devoid of judgment.

“How was your night?”

“Oh, hm, y’know, fine,” Leah says, eloquently. She clears her throat, and leans her back against the closed door, facing her roommate. Nora swivels her chair around, looks her up and down.

“You should carry a stake next time” she says, very seriously.

Leah, befuddled, and way too sleep-deprived for Nora’s cryptic shit, only blinks tiredly. “A what?”

“You know, for vampires.”

“I don’t follow.”

Nora grins, and touches her own neck. “You’re covered in hickeys, Leah.”

“Fuck off,” Leah mumbles, but she feels herself blush, cheeks and neck burning, and Nora chuckles. Since the battle to keep her dignity intact is already clearly lost, Leah chucks off her shoes by the door, and lets herself fall gracelessly onto her bed, face first. “Nora, my legs are so sore,” she whines into her pillow.

“So you had a really good time, is what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Hm hm.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

Leah rolls onto her back, and yawns. “A couple hours.” She turns her head aside, so she can send Nora a pitiful look. “Can I have some of your coffee?”

“I’ll trade you caffeine for information,” Nora replies, ruthlessly.

“You drive a hard bargain, but fine,” Leah says, rubbing her eyes. She sits up against her pillow as Nora rolls her chair closer to the bed to hand her the cup.

“Please,” Nora says, with a little shake of the head, “I know you’re dying to tell me.”

Which is not untrue. Leah has been dying to talk to someone, anyone, ever since she left Fatin’s dorm room, a good thirty minutes ago. Part of her can’t quite believe any of it actually happened. Another part of her wants to relive every second of the night, every moment that led to her waking up, naked, in Fatin’s bed, with an equally naked Fatin pressed against her back, and the taste of Fatin still on her lips. And a third part of her is absolutely terrified, unsure of what will happen next. Because here’s the thing: about six months ago, Fatin and her agreed to move in together for the summer, instead of going back to the Bay. And now, it’s April, and they’ve already signed the lease for a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, and she just fucked Fatin Jadmani.

So, yes, she wants to tell Nora about it. She needs to talk to a friend, period. But also, she’s glad it’s Nora, specifically, because ever since she’s met her, in freshman year, Nora has proven herself to be both a great listener, and someone whose opinion Leah should trust.

So Leah swallows a mouthful of coffee - hot, dark, wonderfully invigorating - and, cradling the cup in her hands, she says, “I had sex with Fatin.”

“Oh,” Nora says. Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Leah says. “She invited me to this party, and then we… it just happened. It felt right.” She takes another sip of coffee, and sighs. “Fuck. Nora, what did I do?”

“Well, you haven’t shared any details yet, but I can make a few educated guesses, involving various body parts...”

“I’m serious! Fatin is a friend - one of my best friends - and this -- fuck, what if this ruins us? We’re supposed to be living together in less than a month! I don’t even know what she wants, or how she feels about it. She had an early rehearsal this morning, so I had to leave before we could talk. What if it’s super awkward between us, now? What if she doesn’t want to see me, and we have to avoid each other all summer? What if --”

“Leah,” Nora cuts her off, firm but gentle. “Take a breath.”

She does, and then she drinks a bit more coffee, and lets the warmth of it calm her down. “What if she regrets it?” she asks, quietly.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” Leah says. She meets Nora’s eyes. “Not at all. It was great.”

“So you want it to happen again?”

“Yeah,” she admits. She drops her eyes to the cup, and swallows. “Nora, I think I’m.. I have…”

“You want more than sex,” Nora states, calmly. She’s smiling when Leah looks up in surprise. “You’ve had a little bit of a crush on her for a while, now.” She shrugs. “I’m very perceptive, I’ve been told. By you, among others.”

“Pretty sure I used the word annoying, but okay,” Leah grumbles.

Nora, in retaliation, steals back her cup of coffee, unmoved by Leah’s sad little whimper at the loss of hot beverage. She shifts in her chair, both feet on the seat, knees bent. “You should probably tell her how you feel.”

“I know.”

“In fact, I think you should probably text her, right now, and ask if you can see her after rehearsal, because you two should talk.”

Leah flops back onto the bed, and closes her eyes. “I don’t know, Nora. Isn’t it, like, too much, or whatever? I don’t wanna seem too desperate. Or too clingy. Or any of those other things people think about girls who text immediately after sex.”

“That’s dumb, and a terrible excuse,” Nora retorts, serenely. “And you know it. Text her.”

Leah opens one eye for the single purpose of glaring at Nora. “Okay, who died and made you the expert in like, handling the delicate and potentially very bad consequences of fucking your friend and soon-to-be roommate?”

“No one. But I do have significantly more experience than you in the romance department. No offense,” Nora adds, with, honestly, just a smidge of offense. “I have, after all, had a boyfriend for more than two years now.”

Leah, defeated, sits up. “Can I at least take a shower before I have to be humiliatingly vulnerable over texts?”

“Shower, then text, then you should probably take a nap. And try not to snore too much, I’m working on my physics paper, and I have to focus.”

“I don’t snore!” Leah says, indignant, as she grabs a towel from her side of the dorm room.

“Hmmm.”

Rolling her eyes, Leah heads for the showers, but not before dropping a grateful kiss on Nora’s cheek.

#Anonymous #the wilds #leatin #nyau #fic #yes i'm tagging these ficlets nyau from now on

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king-finnigan · 4 years

Note

Could I request some cold calculating bamf Jaskier, like using poisons etc :O Thank you

CW: slight mentions of animal cruelty and domestic abuse. also straight-up murder.

Geralt doesn’t notice at first. It’s only when Eskel points out, one winter at Kaer Morhen, that the Count of Ironwick recently died in his sleep, apparently, that he starts to think that maybe something’s up.

It’s because he’d recently passed through Ironwick, before he headed to Kaer Morhen. Hell, he’d even taken a contract from the count himself, and the man had seemed in perfectly good health. Sure, Geralt can’t say he mourns the count’s death - the man was an absolute bastard, making his citizens pay way more taxes than was considered reasonable, only to spend it on concubines and golden trinkets - but it is suspicious.

But he decides it’s none of his business. It never is - he’s a Witcher, after all, and Witchers aren’t supposed to interfere with human politics. If he was, he would’ve run a sword through the bastard himself, but that is neither here nor there.

So he brushes it off.

---

The Alderman of Salthold dies a few days after Geralt’s passed through town. His cause of death is a topic of heavy discussion in the surrounding towns, for the next few weeks - which is how Geralt found out in the first place. Apparently, the man had tripped over a rug in his room, and had fallen from his fifth-story window.

A suspicious death altogether. When Geralt asks Jaskier what he thinks, the bard merely shrugs. “Don’t really care,” he says while he continues scribbling in his notebook. Got what he deserved either way.” His face darkens, and Geralt frowns. “I’m sure the horses in his stables are happy to have him gone.”

The shadow disappears from Jaskier’s face, and he smiles up at Geralt, changing the subject.

---

The Baroness of Crowside falls ill on the second day Geralt and Jaskier spend at her court. She seemed in pretty poor health when they arrived, but nothing to warrant her sudden and untimely death, a few days later. Sure, he’s glad to know that her heirs will at least pay Geralt for ridding the town of a pack of Barghests - because clearly the Baroness wasn’t planning on paying him or any of her servants - but it sure is... suspicious.

---

He starts to notice this pattern more and more often, after that. People meeting their untimely death after it is revealed to Geralt and Jaskier that they’re horrible people who do horrible things. He finds out after a few months that it’s not just nobles this is happening to; he just knew about those because they’re public figures, so their death is more noticable.

No, this is happening nearly every time they pass through a town and see someone hurting others or hurting animals, or something of the like. The farmer that malnourished his cows is found a few days later trampled by the very herd he starved; no one mentions the fact that his throat was cut. The healer in town who was using his position of power to take advantage of people dies in an explosion in his laboratory, even though he was highly-skilled and very experienced. The smith who beat his family gets crushed under the spare anvil he’d suspended from the ceiling, even though the metal chains were strong and brand new.

Suspicious death after suspicious death, in nearly a quarter the towns they pass through, only days after they left, sometimes even while they’re there, still.

It’s embarrassing that he doesn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together until he wakes up in the middle of the night in their modest campsite, and finds Jaskier gone.

He looks around, frowning, straining his ears to listen for any sound of the bard. The worry grows when he doesn’t hear a heartbeat, footsteps, or soft humming. Which means that Jaskier isn’t nearby.

Geralt gets up, gathering his swords, and he walks around the clearing. Finally, he smells lavender and sandalwood, to the south - heading back towards the town they left earlier that day.

He frowns again, quickly following the trail.

Why the hell would Jaskier go back to the town they were in just now? Why would he do that in the middle of the night? And without warning Geralt? What could possibly be so important? Maybe he’s under a curse of sorts, something that’s forcing him to go back. But that can’t be the case - Geralt doesn’t smell the familiar ozone scent of magic anywhere, and his medallion stays completely still against his chest.

Eventually, he reaches the town, right in time to see Jaskier scaling down a wall. Ah, so it’s just another one of his conquests. But... usually he doesn’t hesitate to just tell Geralt about the fact that he’s meeting someone, he’s never been so secretive about it. Not only that, but the window he climbed out of is completely dark and devoid of any sign of life - as is the rest of the house.

And, most importantly, this is the Alderman’s house. Geralt remembers it clearly because he’d been there earlier that day with a Drowner head to prove that he’d done his job. Even then, the Alderman had only paid him a quarter of what he’d promised Geralt, and had insulted Witchers straight to his face.

He remembers the outraged look Jaskier’d had, he remembers the bard asking him why he wouldn’t do anything about it - you’re ten times stronger than him, for goodness’ sake!

And then he remembers the suspicious deaths that seem to follow them wherever they go.

He narrows his eyes, the realization battling in his head with the image of sweet, kind Jaskier, with his sparkling, blue eyes and his easy smile.

But Geralt had seen that smile turn into a sneer, those blue eyes turn icy, whenever someone had insulted either of them, whenever Jaskier saw someone who couldn’t defend themselves get hurt, whenever they stumbled upon an injustice and Geralt had told him that he couldn’t do anything about it because he’s a Witcher, and Witchers aren’t supposed to take sides.

When Jaskier reaches the edge of the woods, Geralt steps out of the shadows. The bard doesn’t even visibly startle when the Witcher suddenly appears in front of him, though his heartbeat speeds up for a moment or two, before calming down again.

“Ah, Geralt! I was just taking a lovely evening stroll.” He taps the side of his head, smiling at Geralt conspiratorially. “Insomnia, you see.” His heart picks up again, and if Geralt hadn’t already known Jaskier was lying, he surely would’ve, now. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

It’s then that he notices a bitter twang under the familiar scent of lavender and sandalwood, and he inhales deeply. Poison.

Jaskier starts to fidget a bit under his unrelenting gaze, and smiles nervously. “Everything alright, Geralt?”

He scoffs, but nods. “Yes, I’m fine. But the Alderman isn’t, is he, Jaskier?”

Jaskier’s heartbeat picks up again, and Geralt can smell the unmistakable scent of guilt and anxiety emanating off the bard. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Geralt.”

Geralt crosses the distance between them, grabbing Jaskier by the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. “I’m sure you do, bard.”

Jaskier laughs nervously, hands in the air in surrender. “Geralt, I really don’t-” He pales when Geralt’s hand disappears into the bard’s pocket, reappearing with a small, empty vial. He uncorks it with his thumb, holding it to his nose. He inhales deeply, his suspicions confirmed, and throws it over his shoulder.

“I know poison when I smell it, Jaskier. The Alderman is dead, isn’t he?”

Jaskier’s fearful face falls, his expression hardening into something that sends a shiver down Geralt’s spine - a pleasant one, though, surprisingly. “Look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t deserve it, Geralt.”

“You can’t just kill someone for simply not paying us.”

Jaskier scoffs, rolls his eyes, his hands lowering from where they’d been hovering next to his face. “Oh, please, of course I can. And I have. And I would do it again.”

Geralt studies his face for a few seconds longer, and Jaskier stares right back at him. “How many?”

Jaskier raises his eyes to the sky, lips moving slightly as his fingers twitch, counting under his breath. He frowns, looks back at Geralt. “Just the ones that didn’t pay us, or the others too?”

Geralt blinks. “The... the others, too.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes, continues counting for a few seconds. “Do accidents count too?”

Geralt huffs in disbelief, looking to the side. “Sweet Melitele, Jaskier.” It doesn’t shock him as much as it should’ve - he feels like this is something he’s known deep down for a long time - but it doesn’t horrify him either, this knowledge that Jaskier has just been killing people left and right. If anything, it makes something hot and heavy settle in his gut.

“I don’t know how many, exactly, but I think... about forty to fifty people.”

“Good gods,” Geralt mutters, his breath catching in his throat.

He can almost imagine it, Jaskier with a poison vial in his hand, standing over an unsuspecting victim; with that cold look in his eyes as he pushes someone through a window; with blood spilling over his hands as he cuts a man’s throat.

“Can... can you fight? With weapons?”

Jaskier frowns, seemingly confused, but indulges him. “Yes, actually. Sword, dagger, crossbow, you name it. Perks of growing up royal, I guess.”

His heart’s hammering in his throat, mouth suddenly dry. “Tell...” He swallows thickly. “Tell me not to kiss you. Tell me not to take you back to our camp and show you exactly what you do to me. Tell me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, his pupils growing ever larger, swallowing up the blue of his eyes nearly completely. “I can’t. I won’t. If you want to claim me, then claim me, Witcher.”

He pulls Jaskier closer, crashing their lips together in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, yet somehow absolutely perfect. He bends down a bit to grab at the back of Jaskier’s thighs. The bard gets the message and jumps up, wrapping his long legs around Geralt’s waist.

Geralt turns around and breaks the kiss, sucking red marks into the side of Jaskier’s neck as he starts walking back to camp, basking in the soft whimpering sounds Jaskier lets out.

Behind him, in the Alderman’s house, a woman screams.

#Anonymous #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cold bastard jaskier #cw murder #started writing it #had a breakdown #bon appetit #jk i actually liked writing this #but this is the only prompt im doing tonight cause i'm tired and i'm stressed because i'm starting my internship tomorrow #so #sorry #squish answers #drabble #kinda fucked up but like #good fucked up??#idk

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grubbyduck · 3 years

Text

quite funny, quite scary

Just finishes Donna Tartt’s The Secret History - read it in a fever over the last 14 hours because I am desperately avoiding having to write my essay this week on Morte D’Arthur. I really enjoyed this book - obviously the plot, structure and references are impressively clever, but what struck me most was the way that Tartt absolutely nailed a type of student that I come across a lot at university. I go to Cambridge, and while the circles I hang out with are mostly artistic, chaotic and passionate about current affairs, that type of student that is focused on in The Secret History abounds.

Let me tell you about that type.

In essence, they are children dressed up like grown-ups. I call them Blushing Babies in Suits; they have this quite intimidating conviction in their own superiority. And the fact that most of us think they are the worst only adds to this - they love the idea that ‘most people don’t get it’, they love being whispered about - they especially love the rumours about the terrible things they do when they are drunk. I am talking specifically about the Pitt club (a gentleman’s club that basically is a corrupt, disgusting cult for the ultra rich and social climbers that spawns a great deal of our country’s leaders), but this also pertains to the (overwhelmingly male) demographic of students who are bewitched by prestige, who think that knowing more makes them a better person - the kind of person who is ‘up in arms’ about the waning of precious Cambridge traditions that are exclusionary and elitist.

They can be intoxicating - they can make you feel very important if you happen to say something they find interesting, or bother to present yourself as ‘not like the others’. I do not find it difficult to understand why freshers get caught up in these circles of people who talk casually about Dante with a self-satisfied curl of the lip in cafes; it feels, sometimes, like the reason we are here studying so hard. They want to know how much you’ve read, if you’ve read what they’ve read, what critics you like etc... they want to glorify drinking copious amounts of expensive alcohol under the guise of being Serious Thinkers, and laugh unkindly about people who drink and go dancing with their friends. They think they have life figured out because they have mastered how to manufacture a glint in the eye.

When I searched The Secret History up on Tumblr, I found mostly posts talking wistfully about how they want to be like the students that the book follows. They romanticise them, they talk about this ‘dark academic’ aesthetic. Well... I found that pretty funny, because it just shows how radically these people have (in my opinion) misread the text. Either that, or they are just worryingly attracted to deeply problematic dynamics.

Donna Tartt is not romanticising elitism in academia, or drinking ‘intellectually’, or losing touch with the world to shut yourself off in obscure, inaccessible academia. Quite the opposite: this is a story about a ‘normal’ boy (not extortionately wealthy, not particularly enamoured with any one academic concern) who is seduced into this elitist group of people who utterly isolate themselves and gradually, nightmarishly lose touch with their empathy, boundaries and morals. What starts as a group of clever young people lounging in the sun and drinking wine at a country house becomes suicidal young people devolving into paranoid, alcoholic and abusive relationships. They idolise Julian, they idolise each other, and most dangerously, the idolise themselves - and ultimately, this is why this group of people in particular (despite that fact that many others at the college live a drug-heavy lifestyle) are believably primed to wind up involved in murder. Henry, the most academically obsessed of all of them, is the instigator of the worst crimes in the book. This ain’t an accident, folks! Donna knows what she’s doing!

This book had lines that made me laugh out loud, because they so beautifully conveyed the self-importance of these students that makes it egoically possible for them to interfere with life and death, and possible for them to shrug off brutally killing a man in their narcissistic academic exercise. This is not... romantic? This is a clear message about the dangers of academic elitism. Richard spends most of the book compulsively lying about his own wealth in order to feel welcome - the teacher that they all idolise explicitly doesn’t allow students into his tiny class unless he believes them to be wealthy. That manufactured ‘glint in the eye’ that I was talking about is his entire facade - a man who has mastered seeming charismatic and ‘warm’, but only enables tragedy, and at his core is self-serving and devoid of empathy. It’s deeply, deeply sad.

Trust aesthetes on Tumblr to find this a ‘mood’. Funny, but scary!

#Donna tartt #the secret history #secret history #here’s the truth of the matter folks #academia #No bartholemew #you don’t want a bacchaenal #Shut up #Thomas Malory here i come #elitism #Fuck me i am so behind #does Anyone want to tell me what Malory’s moral attitude to Lancelot is??#fuck if i know

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jungcity · 4 years

Note

can I request an idol au with jaehyun and the reader is also an idol and they get time to spend together but there’s angst and then ends with soft smut/fluff?? Haha if it’s too specific, feel free to write whatever way you think is best! Hope you’re doing better hun ❤️

“And one, two, three— one— okay stop!”

All the movements halted as your leader raised her hand. The music stopped, heavy breathings filled the whole practice room.

“Y/N, you aren’t in sync with us.” She sounds exasperated now. You bowed and told her you were sorry for the incompetence. It’s been hours yet you still could not get your mind to focus on the practice.

“Let’s take a break first, shall we?”

The members scattered to different corners of the room; some drank water, some checked their phone. The only person that was left in the middle was you. You stared at your reflection on the mirror in front, then you sighed.

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips yet again when you saw that there wasn’t any message sent to you by Jaehyun. You have been waiting for hours on end for his call, but to no avail. Gripping the phone tighter with your hand, you slumped on the shiny floors of the practice room.

“Y/N,” Your leader greeted before sitting beside you. She regarded you with careful eyes, biting her lips as if afraid to say what’s on her mind. “This is about Jaehyun, right?” she whispered, cautious by the staffs around you.

You nodded and ran a hand through your hair while biting your lower lip, “Yup.”

She sighed before putting her hand on your shoulder, “It’s their Inkigayo stage, right?” By that, you gave her a curt nod. “You know how promotion weeks are, I bet he’s busy.” Her words were quieter than a whisper, but you heard her absolutely fine.

“Their stage ended an hour ago,” you muttered. This is the first time Jaehyun hadn’t sent you any text after their stage. When you first started dating him, it was a simple promise that you both would understand each other’s schedules— given that the korean pop industry could be so hectic, especially when it’s comeback season. But you could not help but anticipate his texts despite promoting, because he never misses calling or messaging you after each stage. Not until now.

“But he’s one of the MC, right?” she added.

“Inkigayo has already ended,” you added. If they’re doing any v-live right now, you would know.

“I’m sure he’s going to contact you soon. Have a little patience, Y/N. Our own comeback is fast approaching, you wouldn’t want to disappoint our fans, right?” You know she only meant to remind you of the upcoming work, but you could not help but feel embarrassed by your unprofessional emotions.

So you turned off your phone and kept it in the deepest part of your bag. The members were slowly grouping themselves in the middle, ready to dance again. Your leader held her hand out to you, then you took it with a half smile. There’s time for Jaehyun, but right now, you have to focus.

The practice ended five hours later, the choreographer was extra harsh today, given that your comeback is in one week and there’s a tiny bit of polishing you still needs to do. He adviced all of you to practice in your dorms, which elicited a silent groan from you. Ever since the preparations for the comeback started, you could only sleep for three hours maximum; going home at twelve, practicing until three a.m. in your dorm, and waking up at seven a.m. to pratice again. Yet you could not even doze off in the van, nor eat whatever you like, for the fear that you might oversleep and overeat, which could mean two dreadful things; the wrath of your manager, and the wrath of your manager. Again.

Thankfully for today, your chereographer dismissed you earlier. So that you could get enough rest, he said.

Korean pop industry criticizes every hairsbreadth of a move you make, and they don’t miss whenever you gain weight. Hell’s about to go down to your group once that happens. And you could not let that happen. So even if you feel like you might collapse any time soon, you still dance to the music that has been on repeat on the loud speakers of the practice room for weeks.

It’s not like you are tired of it— this has been your life since you were in eight grade, you’ve worked hard to get where you are today. And you badly wanted to be a musician ever since you could count, you’re not going to let it go. No matter how tiring it must be.

You slumped on your seat near the window of the van which would take you to your dorm. The air conditioning cooling your pores, relaxing your body a little bit. It’s been hours, surely, Jaehyun would’ve send you a text already. So you fished for your phone, cursing yourself for having a hard time finding it in your bag. With your heart jumping inside your chest, you press the power button. The logo displayed on the screen. You have no idea why but the van seemed to suffocate you as you wait for the home screen to show up.

Nothing.

You blew out a breath, the conversations being exchanged inside the vehicle seems to be far away from you. Voices are muffled as you stare into your notification panel, empty. What are you doing, Jung Jaehyun?

With a thud, you rested your forehead on the window, the blur of the highway flashing in your eyes. Then you decided to text Jaehyun. You could not wait any longer. But as you clicked the logo of the messaging app, your phone displayed a lone notification. It’s from Naver.

NCT’s JAEHYUN AND April’s NAEUN SPOTTED IN A COFFEE SHOP TOGETHER

You clicked on the article as fast as your body would allow you. Your forefinger made a silent thump on the screen by how agitated you are. Naeun is Jaehyun’s co-mc together with Minhyuk. Apparently, the article would just berate you and your already boiling blood, but you clicked the notification still.

Pictures accompanied the articles. They were shot in an awkward angle, but you could totally see Jaehyun— smiling— while he sat across from Naeun. It was posted a few minutes just after your practice. A proof that he did not bother to text or call you to inform you of his whereabouts.

“Are you okay?” Your leader asked, placing her hand on your shoulder again.

You feel like combusting in your seat, but you took a deep breath and flashed her your sweetest smile. “Of course.” Then you shifted so your body could shield your phone away from the members.

[Where are you?] You sent with shaking fingers.

Maybe you’re just overreacting. Yes, you probably are. But it’s just a normal feeling, right? Specially when your boyfriend did not even send you any message since the start of the day. One message is all you’re asking. One message. But still, no reply.

You wanted to throw your phone away, if not for the fact that you just bought it and it pairs with Jaehyun’s. So you gave him one last chance. Last chance to reply before you wreck havoc in his life. Last chance until you reached the dorm.

The members has gone straight to their room to get a little bit of rest before a tiring day, yet again, in a few hours. You shut your door silently, which took up a lot of patience to do, by the way. The bed seems so inviting, you literally jump onto it and lay your phone beside you. As you close your eyes, the vibration of your phone tingled on your finger.

[i’m finally at the dorm, love. how about you?]

[Where have u been?]

[inkigayo, love. why?]

Petty as it might sound, you sent him the link of the article you’ve read awhile ago. The messaged displayed ‘read’, but it took him minutes to reply.

[sorry, baby. i’d read the whole thing. what about it?]

With that, you stood up. Really stood up. And began pacing the small space of your room with bulging veins in your temple.

[Wow. You are unbelievable Jung Jaehyun. Really. The headline did not even bother you? Where have you been the whole day? I’ve been waiting for your texts for hours! My God!]

Sweat formed in your forehead, your thumb aching by how aggressive you typed in the words.

[yes it did not bother me. because i wasn’t doing anything wrong.]

[I have no words. Go and date Naeun instead.]

You sent a silent sorry for Naeun in your mind. She does not deserve this, she probably does not even know that you and Jaehyun are dating. This is all Jaehyun’s fault.

[i’m not having any of your tantrums and dramas tonight, y/n. gn.]

What? And with that, you’ve finally reached your end. You threw away the phone. It bounced on your mattress. The sides of your eyes started to sear, Jaehyun never spoke to you that way. And he does not say good night without you seeing each other’s faces. If the time would allow it, you would even sneak out every other night to meet. But it’s impossible now that he’s in the middle of promotion.

You snatched a pair of pajamas in your drawer and decided to shower instead. There is no point curling in your bed and waiting for Jaehyun to say sorry. After a cold shower, you walked straight to your room, declining the offer of your leader for you to eat.

A single message from Jaehyun was on your screen when you opened your phone. It was a media message. You clicked on it. And shame washed over you as you took in the image. It was Jaehyun, Naeun, and… Minhyuk. In the same coffee shop displayed on the article. Before you could type in a reply, Jaehyun sent you a message.

[we’re with minhyuk earlier. i guessed the sasaeng forgot to include him.]

The text was devoid of any emotions, but you could still hear Jaehyun’s impassive voice in your head. Without another thought, you replied to his message.

[I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t thinking rationally earlier. It’s just that—]

Before you could finish the message, Jaehyun’s caller ID flashed on your screen. You slid the green button.

“Baby?” was his greeting.

“I told you not to call me that through phone calls.” You bit your lips. In one of Haechan’s video, Jaehyun accidentally called him ‘baby’. According to him, he thought you were calling by that time since it’s two a.m. already. Thankfully, Haechan called him back with the same endearment, so there wasn’t any rumor that has bubbled from it. After that incident, you told him not to call you baby as a greeting. A single ‘hello’ would do.

But here he is, insisting.

“Can’t help it, my love. I’m outside, by the way.”

You literally fell from your bed. Jaehyun. Outside. Did you shower too long that you lost track of time? You grabbed your curtains, eyes peeking through the window. Even if Jaehyun covered his face with a full-on mask, you would identify him. He was standing near one of the light posts, head turned towards your window. As usual, he’s clad in his all-black clothes. His hear obscured by a cap, with only his eyes peeking through his mask.

“Are you insane? What if someone followed you?!” You hissed.

“Then be ready for some dating articles tomorrow,” he simply declared. The mere thought of your relationship spreading through the whole of South Korea and the world gives you enough creeps to last a lifetime. Jaehyun’s career is on its peak, so do yours. It’s not yet time.

“Jaehyun, go home. Let’s not wait for your sasaengs to find out and sell the photos to Dispatch,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry if I sounded selfish with that, baby. I just…” He paused, “When it comes to you, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Your breath hitched. There were tears trying to fall down your cheeks when he said the words. Jaehyun was a man of few words. But every time he speaks, he always knew the right thing to say.

“Wait for me,” you breathed and cut off the line. The whole dorm was silent when you departed your room, one light coming from the television in the living room. Wona must be watching her favorite movies again.

You tiptoed to the backdoor, and silenty departed the vicinity of your dorm. Jaehyun remained on his position near the light posts, his foot kicking pebbles on the ground. Your stomach somersaulted by the sight of him. After weeks of not seeing each other because of your schedules, he is here now. You could nearly jumped from happiness. However, despite your elevated feelings, you remained calmed and texted him.

[On your right.]

His phone lit, then he looked at it. Then around him. His sight halted when he saw you. You signaled him with your hand, heart thudding that someone might find you. That would be the end of both of your careers. As Jaehyun jogged the distance between you, you frantically looked around to check if anyone’s spying around. Luckily, there isn’t one.

Jaehyun stood in front of you, his scent wafting your nose with an ache of familiarity. You almost jumped to hug him. But you were stopped when he pulled down his mask and attempted to kiss you.

“Jaehyun!” You warned, eyes widening. The dimpled-boy only chuckled at you. “Let’s get inside before somebody sees us!”

Before opening the back door, you sent a silent prayer that all of your members are comfortably sleeping on their matresses already. Not that they don’t know about you and Jaehyun, but they’d surely kill you if ever they see you sneaking him inside your dorm.

The dorm was the same when you entered, with Wona still watching television. You pressed your finger on your lips as you turned to face Jaehyun, your one hand holding his wrist. He nodded at you before he roamed his eyes around the kitchen.

You tugged his wrist up to your bedroom. And only when you locked the door did you let out the breath you’ve been holding for minutes. Jaehyun sat on your bed, examining your room with curiosity.

“This is my first time seeing your room,” he said, mischief displayed in his irises. You pretended to clean your things to keep your mind off the thought that you’re alone with Jaehyun, in your room.

“Where did you buy this turntable?” He stood up, walked towards your turntable and ran his finger on it.

“In a shop. Where else?”

“Tell me which shop so I could buy the same design as yours.”

You ignored his words, “This is dangerous, Jaehyun. What you did is insane.” You crossed your arms.

He sauntered up to you and wrapped his hands on your waist, “Come on, baby. You wouldn’t have let me visit if I told you. I’ve been planning this for weeks.” He mumbled, pressing his lips on your hair.

“Still. You should have informed me. What if someone saw you leaving your dorm? For Pete’s sake, you’re a member of NCT.” He held the back of your head and gently pressed your face on his chest.

“Baby, stop worrying for a minute.” He then pulled away and cupped your cheeks, “I miss you.” Then he pressed his lips to yours. You stopped yourself from grabbing his hair and deepening the kiss, even though that’s all you wanted to do the moment he stood face to face with you.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t had the chance to text you today. It was a hectic day, baby.” He explained against your lips. Then he started to kiss your cheek, jaw, down to your neck. “Please don’t be jealous. Naeun invited me and Minhyuk for a coffee and that’s it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Jaehyun sucked on your neck then. It took your knees a lot of willpower not to buckle. “That’s my mistake. I thought you were still busy practicing and I didn’t wanna disturb you. Your comeback’s in one week, baby. I don’t wanna be a nuisance.”

“You were never a nuisance, you know that.”

“I know. And you, too. But I hope you understand my reasons, though.” He kissed your collarbone, his fingers pulling the collar of your shirt down. “I love you.” He whispered against your skin, his breath hot. Then he looked at your eyes, “I love you. Forgive me, baby.”

Jung Jaehyun. All the girls swoons at the sight of him ever since he was in high school. Who in their right minds would decline this boy?

So you grabbed his cheeks, “I forgive you.”

His grin transformed his face in an instant. From something adorable, to something… hungry. He kissed your lips with enough ferocity as to bruise the skin.

Then he whispered, in his most raspy voice, “What are you waiting for? Spread those legs for me now, baby. I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m so, so hungry.”

#requested #anon #jung jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x you #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun au #jaehyun scenarios

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charlthotte · 3 years

Text

Breaking Through The Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 10

Arising on the Saturday morning, the atmosphere rang out with the sounds of the late morning. I never really awoke at such a late time, but at that moment my body and mind were in a rather large need of energy, as I had been worrying about our match - which on that day, was less than ninety-six hours away. I must had slept for at least ten hours, a far contrast to the miniscule amount of sleep I usually got.

After making my way to the dining table, my dad greeted me with a warm and welcoming smile, my mother nowhere to be seen. Once again, it wasn't surprising, just disheartening. "Good morning, (Y/N)." He declared, sipping on his mug of coffee.

"Morning, Dad." I said unenthusiastically.

"What's the matter? You never wake up this late." He looked me in the eyes, genuine concern laced in his face.

"I guess I'm just a bit nervous about going to Tokyo." I suspired, hanging my head in my hands.

"(Y/N)... You'll be completely fine - you're only spending one night there." He reached out and patted me on the head, something he had been doing since I was a toddler.

"I guess so... Thanks, Dad."

Soon after that, my dad started droning on about how he'd been getting a large influx of customers in the last few days, he seemed so excited that his business was finally going somewhere. It was quite a nice sight seeing him in such a purely happy mood. Quite quickly, I grew uninterested in his chattering, so when the opportunity struck, I sneaked away from the dining table and rapidly trundled up the stairs towards my room. I didn't really feel like making an effort with my outfit so I just threw on the first items of clothing I could find. They weren't exactly the most fashionable combination, but at that moment in time - I wasn't in the right frame of mind to care. I studied for a while, rerunning over the topics that I wasn't one-hundred percent confident in.

Once the clock hit half-past three, I decided to end up my studying portion of the day. My throat was rather dry at that point, so the most logical thing to do was to head downstairs for a glass of water, so I did just that. However, when I opened my bedroom door - a little piece of paper fluttered down from it. It had obviously been written by my dad, my eyes flicked across the paper; smiling at the little message he had left for me.

'I've just left for work a little early, but I didn't want to disturb you. See you later. P.S. Have a good time with Aone today. :)'

As always, he had left a small smiley face at the end of his message - it was kind of a signature for him. But of course, he had to mention Aone, just like he did in nearly every conversation we had. He seemed quite supportive of our friendship, but just sometimes, his supportiveness was a little too over zealous.

Since I had nothing else to do, I turned the television on with a swift flick of the remote, however - there didn't seem to be any programs that interested me. Most of them were generic, run of the mill shows - most of which had been previously aired. I continued channel surfing until I came across a history documentary about Isabella, the 'she-wolf' of France. History was always rather interesting to me - as every little thing in the past had lead to the exact circumstances of the present day. I always imagined that if one thing in the past had gone down a different path, everything as we knew it today could have been completely different.

It only took a few minutes for me to become fully engrossed in the television, I couldn't notice or become distracted by seemingly anything. I barely even took notice of the ringing of my doorbell, possibly it rang around three separate times before I snapped out of my trance. Immediately, I sprang towards the doorway, almost rushing the twist the keys in the lock - somehow dropping them in the process. I was even close to slamming the door open, trying to greet the visitor as quickly as possible. I knew who the visitors would be, after all - they did come here everyday, my walks with Aone and Shiro were definitely the highlights of my week.

But today, there was only one visitor waiting for me to open the door. Only Aone stood there, his face almost wiped over with the slightest hint of melancholy. I almost crouched down expecting one of Shiro's ecstatic greetings - but all that was next to Aone was a void, completely devoid of Shiro's presence.

"I'm sorry for taking so long, but where's Shiro?" I asked, almost out of breath from my quick dash to open the door.

Aone's eyes almost seemed to prick with the flash of hurt, staying completely silent for nearly a minute - his body tensed up the the point that he looked as if he could snap in half. Every single hair on his head stood on end - perfectly vertical. Something was very blatantly wrong. Right before she whispered, his body shivered - presumably from the cold, but probably from what he was feeling. "...The …Vet..."

My heart skipped a beat upon hearing that, "Oh, Aone... I'm so sorry. Come inside and I'll make you some tea." He quickly obliged himself to my command, dragging his feet behind him, his head hanging low. Almost seeming like an empty vessel as he slumped down into the sofa, letting his entire mass sink into the cushions - he barely moved after that, almost as if he had been petrified.

As I stirred his tea, my hands were almost quivering. The sheer amount of nerves that were tweaking inside of me were indescribable, even though the dog wasn't even my own. Even while I handed the beverage over to him, the liquid swirled around in the mug - threatening to crash over the sides of its confinements. As he took the tea from my hands, the mug began shaking even more. I could see in his eyes just how terrified he was, my mind urged to know the full story. However, I couldn't dare question Aone about him, I was terrified of putting him under more stress - his expression was already pained to a point where it genuinely hurt me.

For what felt like an eternity, I stood inert - at a loss with what to do with myself. Without even giving it a thought, I plummeted down beside Aone, my hands grasping onto his shoulders - the same way he'd comfort me, our eyes deadbolted onto each other.

Giving his shoulders tiny little squeezes, I endeavoured to solace him with my voice, "Aone, I'm confident that Shiro will be absolutely fine, he can get over anything."

Silence was returned to me, he didn't speak nor make any gesture to reply.

"Shiro wouldn't want you to feel like this, he'd want you to feel happy no matter what."

Silence.

"I'm sure you'll be fine - it won't be long until you can see him again - all happy and healthy."

Silence.

"Aone... I'm here if you need anything..."

Everything was silent once again, the air stagnant and melancholy... Until Aone just let his head fall, fall onto my shoulder - feeling tiny little wet patches drop from where his eyes rested. The tiniest sound escaped from his mouth, the most heart breaking sob I had I ever listened to. I just knew that he was trying to conceal the noise, but all to no avail. Almost immediately, my arms wrapped themselves around his broad back, drawing little circles into the cotton of his shirt.

Straight after that, he unmasked all of his pain - tears began cascading from his eyes - the sound of his sobs rising in a rapid crescendo. His whole stoic persona has crashed onto the ground and shattered into millions of pieces, now he was the embodiment of a child whimpering in my arms. The vibrations of his lamentation shook my body to the same rhythm as him. Almost in an instant he wrapped his arms around me, as if he was searching for a way to curtail his pain, he was close to crushing me with his strength - but that wasn’t a problem at that moment in time.

My whole body froze, making me as solid as a diamond. But also flushed with an immense flash of heat, my interior temperature surpassing that of molten lava, wiping the slate of my brain clean. Almost as if I had short circuited right on the spot - the whole world passed us by, leaving me like a stone statue - as if Medusa had just stared at me straight into my eyes.

What seemed like hours flew by, with Aone still a crumpled heap in my arms. His whole weeping session must have exhausted him, gradually his tears grew close to a halt - calming down - if you could describe it as that. It took me a while to realise that he'd fallen asleep with his head still on my shoulder. Yet, his arms still remained wrapped around me, not an inch of strength was lost from his awoken state.

I couldn't move. I knew that if he woke up; he'd snap straight back into his lamentation. Even though I wasn't situated in a comfortable position at all, not once did I shift from that placement.

Several programs ran across the television, with each one passing, the sky grew slightly darker. Not once did Aone stir. As he slept, he almost seemed peaceful. No longer were tears streaming from his eyes, no longer was his breathing at an erratic pace. Once or twice, he even nuzzled his face further into my shoulder - his head almost resting in the crook of my neck, just like a baby. Little by little, signs of being in a dreamlike state exerted themselves from him - he began twitching, along with the movements of his dreams. One twitch in particular was rather violent, jerking him awake. Almost as if he had just been thrust out of the grasps of a nightmare.

He suddenly lurched upright, his eyes wide and worried. They almost had an element of shock in them, as if he was somehow confused about his current situation, after that he quickly shot up to stand on his feet - his flushed with an intense reddish hue. Almost immediately, he edged away from the sofa.

"What's the matter?" I inquired.

Rather than answering my question, he dodged straight around it - only to reply with something completely unrelated... "I'm sorry..." He darted his eyes away from me, trying to find some other object to focus on.

"Hey..." I sighed, moving myself into his line of sight, "There's nothing to be sorry about, you're just worried about Shiro."

Once again, he shifted his eyes away from me - folding his arms over his chest, as if to try and comfort himself. Hearing Shiro's name must have let a painful pang ricochet through him. Obviously uncomfortable, he swivelled around - trying to escape my company.

"Aone... You're not going anywhere without me going with you. You shouldn't be left alone right now." I attempted to keep up with him, eventually making it to the doorway before he could escape. I couldn't let him leave by himself.

He almost pouted as I blocked his exit, along with huffing out like an annoyed child. We stood in silence again, both of us unsure of what to do next, and after what felt like an age - Aone nodded - giving in to me. But after that, the atmosphere grew awkward with the stagnant silence. Desperately, I tried to break it. "...So... Would now be a good time for us to go see him?" I didn't mention Shiro's name in trepidation of upsetting Aone.

Aone stuttered, "I-I think s-so." His words were broken, mimicking the state of his mind. Without saying a word, I acknowledged his statement, grabbing my shoes and jacket - readying myself for the outside world, Aone too.

Somehow I could sense both of our anxiousness, I tried to ameliorate my mental state by taking a deep, deep breath. And with that, we stepped over the threshold to the outside world - ready for any news that could be thrown upon us. But even though we were ready... It didn't mean that the news couldn't break us.

#aone #aone takanobu #aone x reader #aone takanobu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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