#when you lease expect it preview
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Gosh I need to edit this more before I actually start posting but I'm just so excited so here's a preview of my wangxian OUAT au, featuring wwx as emma, lwj as regina, and ayuan as henry (though are veering far away from both canon in both cases so no need to be familiar with the show to enjoy)
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The doorbell rings.
He blinks once, then twice. Wei Wuxian isn’t normally one to get visitors, especially at this time of night. He tries to remember if there’s a no-candle policy in his lease his landlord might nag him about when the doorbell rings again.
He scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the door, already preparing an apology for something he probably didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to do and another apology in case he did know. He opens the door and sees….nothing.
Until he hears a quiet cough and looks down to see a little boy.
At first, he thinks maybe he’s a trick-or-treater who got a bit lost, but Wei Wuxian’s building is secured with a key and callbox entry. Plus, although he’s been wandering streets alone since forever, he’s pretty sure a kid this young would have a chaperone with him. He looks behind the kid and doesn’t see anyone else there.
But instead of asking something sensible like where his chaperone may be or even if the kid’s lost, he blurts, “How did you get in?”
The boy tilts his head and replies, “The front door. It wasn’t locked, I just walked in.”
So much for secured entry. But that doesn’t really answer why there is a human child at his door at nearly midnight. There’s definitely a law somewhere that says that’s illegal, probably.
The kid, who can’t be more than ten years old and really should have learned about stranger danger by now, beams up at him, as if technical breaking and entering is something to be proud of. Which, okay, maybe Wei Wuxian is kind of impressed by that.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” the boy asks, his smile so sweet and unassuming that before Wei Wuxian even realizes it, he’s turned to the side and let the boy in.
The kid is wearing a blue puffy coat and carrying a white backpack that has homemade floppy ears made of felt that make it look like a bunny. They bounce up and down as the boy walks inside and slips his shoes off. Wei Wuxian very maturely resists the urge to tug on those floppy bunny ears, though only just.
Shoes off, his socks patterned with fluffy white clouds, the boy turns back around to look up at Wei Wuxian. His entire face beams up at him as if he were a sunflower facing the sun, which wow what an ego-boost. He’s got dimples, little baby dimples that are very cute and look very pinchable but that doesn’t matter because there is a baby in his house! And okay he’s at least ten years old but regardless why is there a whole entire child in his apartment? What is one supposed to do when some random kid shows up at their doorstep and invites themselves in?
“Oh shit uh, wait not shit,” Wei Wuxian stammers. “Shit, sorry. Um. A drink, you want a drink?”
Ask the random child if they want something to drink, apparently. Perfect.
The kid nods, still giving him that doe-eyed look. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have much by way of child-friendly beverage options, but he wasn’t exactly expecting something like this tonight. He settles on milk that looks like it hasn't gone too bad yet. Besides, expired milk builds immunity and character in children, that's how it works, right? He pours a glass for the kid, making sure to give him the cleanest one even though there’s a tiny crack on the surface.
He guides the kid over to the coffee table and hands him the milk. The kid takes the glass and sinks onto the deflated beanbag while Wei Wuxian perches on the edge of the couch. He grabs a can of beer from the six-pack still on the floor beside the table and takes a sip. Wait, is that allowed? Can he drink alcohol in front of children?
The kid doesn’t seem to care. He takes a tentative sip of his milk and makes a very polite face that fails to mask his disgust, before putting the glass down on the table next to the forgotten cupcake. Fair, it’s nice to see him asserting boundaries and all that.
"Okay," Wei Wuxian says, amused despite the situation. "Who are you and why are you in my house at—" he checks his phone for the time"—five minutes to midnight on a Friday night?"
The kid doesn't answer right away. His eyes are still focused on the cupcake, but in a way he probably thinks is sneaky. Wei Wuxian tilts his head to get a better look and sure enough, there’s a furrow between his eyebrows like the kid is trying really hard to ask a difficult question. After a minute, it becomes clear he hasn’t worked out a nice enough way to ask, but it’s a good thing Wei Wuxian knows enough about being a hungry child to recognize one.
He nudges the cupcake over to him and says, "Help yourself." Immediately, the kid grabs the cupcake with all the care in the world, like it’s a priceless artifact and promptly devours it. Wei Wuxian can’t help but smile as he eats. Suddenly the cheap cupcake feels like an excellent choice.
When the kid finishes licking the last bits of frosting and crumbs off his fingers, he sits politely with his hands in his lap and looks longingly toward the kitchen. He’s still too nice to ask forthright, but Wei Wuxian knows better and he isn't a monster.
Wei Wuxian gets up and opens one of the cabinets to look for something that’s probably child-appropriate, pulling out a bag of his least spicy chips. Chips are made of potatoes which are vegetables which means it’s probably not that bad for kids. Either way, the kid takes the bag gratefully and eats the chips with relish, even though they’re definitely way too spicy for someone his age.
“Alright, alright. You’ve been fed. Now tell me, who are you?” he asks again, though he can’t stop the tiniest bit of fondness from creeping into his tone. It’s just that everything this kid does is so cute! He can’t help himself!
The kid stops eating and tries to speak, but what comes out instead are the quietest little coughs Wei Wuxian’s ever heard. He’s been eating these spicy snacks and slowly turning as red as they are, but he’s so polite he hasn’t said a thing about them.
All at once, Wei Wuxian realizes he likes this kid, despite knowing practically nothing about him. It’s strange. He hates the kids the customers at his job will bring sometimes, especially when their parents just let them loose like it's a daycare and not a coffee shop. Wei Wuxian isn’t mean or anything, it’s just that wrangling kids is way above his pay grade. He didn’t even get along with other kids when he was a kid. All the other foster kids stood clear of him pretty much as soon as the social worker told his foster parents he was known for being “emotionally dysregulated” and labeling him a problem child.
But this kid is different from all the others, even though Wei Wuxian can’t quite put his finger on what’s so special about him. He seems like the kind of kid who would politely ask for steamed oat milk and say thank you, then ask his parents to let him give Wei Wuxian the tip. When he finishes, he’d probably throw his trash out without anyone asking and call goodbye to him one last time before he leaves. Even just imagining it makes Wei Wuxian feel wistful for something he’s never really wanted before.
It doesn’t help that this kid’s got what must be the fluffiest hair he's ever seen, and those dimples! It takes all of Wei Wuxian’s self-control to keep himself from pinching those chubby cheeks.
He doesn’t quite succeed and leans forward anyway to ruffle the kid's hair. "Ask for water, you silly,” he says, already standing and heading back to the kitchen.
When he hands him the glass, the kid just looks up at Wei Wuxian with his big, bright brown eyes filled with wonder. He’s looking at Wei Wuxian like he has the answer to everything. Wei Wuxian doesn't, but it's nice to feel like someone thinks he knows what he's doing.
The kid drinks half the glass before clearing his throat and finally answering Wei Wuxian’s question. “I’m Sizhui, but you can call me A-Yuan. Or even Little Radish, if you want! You called me that before.” He says it all in one breath, practically vibrating with energy by the end.
Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of taking a sip of his beer. He’s not sure why he would ever call anyone a radish, and he’s pretty sure he’s never met this kid before. Does A-Yuan have mistaken him for someone else? Could this kid have some weird memory loss, except one where he gains fake memories instead of losing them? It’s definitely not the strangest thing about this whole situation.
Like all problems Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to deal with, he decides to ignore that for now and asks, “Okay, A-Yuan then, why are you here?”
“Because,” A-Yuan starts, leaning forward and looking at Wei Wuxian with all the seriousness someone pre-puberty could possibly possess. “I need your help.”
“…Okay…” Wei Wuxian replies. The world must truly be fucked if someone is coming to him for help. He hasn’t had a vegetable in a week, unless pizza actually does count. “What do you need help with?”
He’s expecting the kid to say something normal like “my homework” or “getting to the train station”, you know, normal things a kid would ask a stranger to help him with.
He’s not expecting A-Yuan to respond gravely, “To save the world and everyone we love.”
Wei Wuxian blinks, speechless. A-Yuan doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to speak as he lifts his backpack onto his lap and rummages through its contents. “My family’s in trouble, our family. Everyone we know is, and you’re the only one who can fix it. Look here, see, I’ve got this book, it’s all written here. There’s a curse that’s affecting everyone and we need to break it.”
He plops the book down on the coffee table. It’s not at all what Wei Wuxian expects. It’s hand-bound, with a simple red fabric cover that’s blank except for the title that’s written in Chinese calligraphy. It’s written entirely in Chinese, in fact, completely by hand with the same impeccable calligraphy. Inside are what appear to be a bunch of stories or folktales. There are beautiful gongbi illustrations on every other page, inked in bright colors with an incredible level of detail.
Wei Wuxian can’t help but be impressed. The book is something he would expect to see at a museum or in a period drama, not on his coffee table with its chipped surface and water stains.
A-Yuan flips to a picture of a man with long hair dressed in black and red robes. He’s playing a flute as shadows dance and twist around his frame. Then tendrils lift high into the sky and block out the sun. He’s standing on a pile of human bones, to really sell the whole villain energy this guy’s got.
A-Yuan points at the guy. “That’s you, you see?”
Wei Wuxian does not see, he’s pretty sure he would have noticed if his body was covered in shadows. Also, he would need way more conditioner for that length of hair.
The kid continues, interpreting Wei Wuxian’s stunned silence as something else entirely. “You’re the only one who can help them, who can save us all.” A-Yuan thrusts the scroll out to Wei Wuxian, who’s too floored to do much more than take it from him. “So, I’m here to bring you back.”
Wei Wuxian has to admit, the guy in the picture does look pretty badass. But it’s still just a drawing, and there’s little to suggest this looks anything like him at all.
He glances up. A-Yuan smile is so bright and excited that Wei Wuxian wishes he could feel his excitement too. The guy in the picture does look super cool, like someone he’d want to dress up as when he was A-Yuan’s age.
But all he feels is concern and confusion. Before, he was actually starting to enjoy spending time with this kid, but something is wrong, though it’s not what A-Yuan thinks. There’s a random kid in his apartment late at night, making up stories. And whether he likes it or not, Wei Wuxian is the adult here. He has to remember that.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he says, and the smile slowly drops from A-Yuan’s face and Wei Wuxian feels like the absolute worst person on the planet for doing that to him. “But I don’t know what this is, or who you are. I want to help, you’ve just gotta give me some actual answers. Where are your parents? Do they know where you are?”
A-Yuan looks down and mumbles, “I was so sure you’d remember if you saw this, if you held it.” He tightens the hands on his knees into fists and looks up at him with a startling conviction. “But that doesn’t matter. I know it, I know who you are. You’re Wei Wuxian. This is you. And you’re the only person who can save us.”
Wei Wuxian rubs his temples and contemplates chugging the remainder of his beer. He holds it in his hand, wishing he’d gotten another pack. “Look, I don’t know how you know my name, maybe you saw it on some mail outside or something, but—"
"You're my dad!” A-Yuan hastily interrupts. “That’s why, that’s how I know!"
Wei Wuxian drops the can. There's a splash of something spilling all over the carpet and he should probably make sure it’s not too bad. He's too busy trying to figure out how he could have a ten-year-old at twenty-five when he was definitely still a virgin at fifteen.
The initial shock slips away, leaving him only more confused. He raises an eyebrow at A-Yuan, willing him to explain.
"Not my real dad," A-Yuan says, rolling his eyes like somehow Wei Wuxian is the one claiming something impossible. "But you're my dad in every way that counts."
Wei Wuxian wishes he hadn't dropped his drink. He'd really like to take a sip of it now. And several more, maybe the rest of the cans, too.
This day needs to end. He should have stayed home and drank his way to oblivion, so he’d have been too far gone to answer the door in the first place.
TBC
#i need to remind myself it's okay if no one reads this#i have very little presence in this fandom#but im so excited for this au#mdzs#wangxian#mdzs fanfiction#mo dao zu shi#the untamed#wei wuxian#a-yuan#wen yuan#bushy writing#i need to throw this in the void and then not think about this post ever again sgfsdfjs#this first chapter is 10k words by the way which tells me its only going to get worse#apparently my idea of short preview is 2000 words oops#also i only did a cursery read through and brief error check so if there's something glaringly bad please tell me#im hoping to have the first chapter up sometime in the next week if you want to follow me on ao3!#okay now im gonna go melt away#how obvious is it that i haven't shared my writing with anyone else in over a year
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Summary: It has been five long years since Thanos snapped half of all existence into dust along with half of Bucky's heart. He runs to the life of an assassin as the Winter Soldier once again until he is caught against his wishes in Madripoor. "There is a chance," Steve told him with tears in his eves. "We're going back. To fix everything." They could all go back to the past. But Bucky had a different plan in mind. And it didn't have anything to do with any infinity stones but everything to do with the reason he'd been running. He was going to fix the biggest mistake he'd ever made.
WRITTEN BY: @if-you-onlyknew & @katiekinswrites
Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC
Rating: M (Mature) & E (Explicit)
PART 2/3 in the: Maggie/Bucky What If (AU) Series - READ PART ONE HERE
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER PREVIEW:
“Mags?” Frank called out when she opened the front door, stepping inside the small apartment.
“It’s me,” she said, walking further inside to find him cooking in the kitchen.
“I made food,” he said as Maggie stepped into the small kitchen, looking over his shoulder to see what he was cooking.
“Smells good,” she said, moving to the fridge to pull out a beer. Maggie walked over to Frank, taking off the cap before she handed it to him.
He took the beer, looking at her oddly. “Did something happen?” Frank asked, knowing something was off with Maggie.
“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I just, can’t I just give you a beer?”
Frank raised his brows in amusement. “What’s going on, Mags?”
Maggie inhaled deeply. “I signed a lease on an apartment today,” she confessed. There was no use in drawing this out.
Frank's expression was unreadable. “Where?”
“Just a block away from Metro-General,” she told him. “You know that condo complex?” He nodded, they passed it every time they walked to her work.
Frank continued to nod, looking away from Maggie. “When are you moving in?”
“Probably by the end of the week,” she said, frowning. Maggie knew that Frank was not happy with this news. “My mom and dad are shipping my stuff from my apartment in Philly and they should be here in a few days.”
He was still nodding.
Maggie sighed, “Frank.”
“I didn’t expect you to live here forever,” he said, still not looking at her. “Especially once Bucky showed up.” She frowned at his words. “I figured it was only a matter of time before you wanted your own space and me out of your hair.”
His words hurt. “Frank,” she said his name again.
“It ain’t a big deal. The job has been over for a while.”
Job? “That’s what this was to you?” She asked, clearly hurt. “Just a job?”
“Your brother needed a babysitter.” He shrugged.
His words were like a physical blow to her chest.
“You’re an ass.”
TAGLIST: @ocappreciationtag • @marvelocsdaily • @marveloccommunity • @fyeahsuperverseocs • @jvstjewels • @arrthurpendragon • @darkwolf76 • @cas-verse • @eddie-munscns • @txlktomerooster • @darylandbethfanforever9 • @eddysocs • @cjand10
#oc: maggie hastings#fic: i’ll crawl home to her#sophia bush#sebastian stan#bucky barnes#ocappreciation#chapter update#bucky barnes fic#what if au fic#bucky barnes/ofc#mcu oc#marvel oc
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Never Let Me Go Ep 7 Live Blogging
Watching this during the break between my lectures. Also I finished watching Strangers From Hell yesterday and I'm still kinda in that mindset, so hopefully this will keep my attention
Just kidding, Part 2 has no subs + they're pillowfighting on the bed in part 1, so I feel awkward watching it in public. Will watch after I get home - now to reblog Strangers From Hell gifsets instead heh
Episode 7: Good Fortune
Part 1
oof pillow fight in bed, can't watch this in uni esp from where I'm sitting
ah fuck i knew someone was gonna see them looming over in bed. at least Palm's mom didn't make it a bib deal
David's gonna proposeeeee
Palm orchestrating a romantic moment with the dirty cheeks - it's giving me War from YinWar flashbacks
damn not Phum also being like hmm you're a good guy, huh but apparently you blamed Nueng for initiating the kiss - he and the viewers have some stuff in common ig
the endless school fighting when it comes to Phum
damn Ben reflecting on his shortcomings that he denied his involvement because he was a coward and selfish; not as brave as Nueng, which he was impressed by. Interesting self-examination because honestly they're pretty rare in BLs
Ben and Chopper convo - I hope Chopper's not the one who released the photos please - I wonder how much Ben knows about
Nueng's really caught up on the fact that Palm brought him to this romantic ass beach that: the server's boyfriend took her on a date, is perfect for proposing, Palm thinks is romantic.
aww proposal
it's good for Nueng and Palm to get to see these happy gay adults in love and thriving
Part 2
oh good there's eng subs now
i'm gonna lose my fucking head it's gonna start rolling palm is giving nueng a foot massage/wash like their power dynamics already goes so hard but this is actually about to send me to an early grave
Palm has been sooo smiley this episode and probably also last episode since getting here
100 baht per day from 500 baht/hour expectations lmfao
plsss quitting after half a day is killing me. things i should've done at my last internship
Nueng straight up asking Palm if he's included in the people Palm loves. ahh them shouting "Please keep Khun Nueng safe" and "{lease keep Palm safe" and "Please keep us safe"
rip both of them getting bad predictions
the reason Palm's father and he owe this family is because they paid for Palm's surgery and "Gave them new lives" but is this new life just for their benefit? no sir you can't lose your life for them.
so true you tell him Nueng that nobody's the owner of his life (did Maggie previously say this too?)
Part 3
so Tanya's still alive as expected, but in critical condition
so did Chopper's father kind of admit that he called the hit on Tanya? or is he somehow a red herring cuz we're getting hints too early?
lmfao they're getting married a day after proposal
So it wasn't chopper who released the photos but Phum paid Palm's basketball friend to do it?
Palm's mom taking a chance again at this gay wedding to ask Palm what's between him and Nueng - "Are you having an interclass romance between a boss and his servant?"
Palm's mom reads him so hard "I can see it from Chiang Mai!" and then asking him if they've kissed
oh now she's talking about why she left his dad and Palm
interesting that she brought up her husband stifling her with his love, wonder if Palm will take something from@that
girl why's Palm smiling like that, does this dumbass already love Nueng?
Part 4
everybody loves this part, i'll watch it at one watch through maybe? it's taking me 3 hours to watch this ep cuz I'm distracted
ahh boyfriends while on the island, I'm assuming we're gonna get some more sadness when they get off the island
kiss ahh
ah fuck palm's father arrested
Got spoiled on before watching:
just a few moments from preview of last ep and a few screenshots on twitter but nothing much
just kidding i went to check the on-air thread for which pars have subs and apparently they're boyfriends in part 4 and have a good kiss
Overall Thoughts:
Thankfully we got to see more of what's going on with people outside of Nueng and Palm's bubble and it's all going to shit while Nueng and Palm are being cute and giggly lol
Thoroughly enjoyed the ep, and stood against my mild obsession with Strangers From Hell.
Fave Scene:
The kiss scene probably? Or is it the pillow fight? Or maybe Palm washing Nueng's feet
Posts I made
None
Most viewers that I saw per part during the premiere:
1: 17k || idk after that and also there may have been missing subs for at least part 2
12 hours later
14 hours later actually
Part 1: 641k || 2: 538k || 3: 423k || 4: 462k
Avg: 516k
Views Tracking (just because I’m curious):
6 days later bc last time was a day late
Ep 1 - 1: 2.074M (+103k) || Avg: 1.322M (+61k) || Max Part: 1
Ep 2 - 1: 1.328k (+56k) || Avg: 1.066M (+49k) || Max Part: 1
Ep 3 - 1: 1.133M (+53k) || Avg: 985k (+50k) || Max Part: 1
Ep 4 - 1: 1.365M (+64k) || Avg: 1.056M (+58k) || Max Part: 1
Ep 5 - 1: 1.175M (+102k) || Avg: 1.024M || Max Part: 1 (also part 3 with kiss has 1.143M)
Ep 6 - 1: 1.219M || Avg: 953k || Max Part: 1
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Rolling hills
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Preview: When You Least Expect It, Part 12
Jensen x Musician!Reader
Catch up on the Series Here!
Hiatus is almost over! Working on the full chapter but thought I would post this preview. I’ve missed these two a lot and I am excited to get back into this fic!
So, as a thank you for your patience with me, have this little preview below the cut. Tagging the usual list for this. Happy Reading!
Jensen felt the warmth of the sun touch his skin before his eyes opened. He was dreaming and didn’t want it to end, despite how he knew it would feel to stretch and let his body wake up. The images were fading from his mind’s eye, and he could feel the disappointment begin to set in. The dream was too good to let slip away.
He dreamt he was laying in bed with Y/N. They had spent the night making love, talking in whispers and finding ways to make the other feel inexplicably wanted and loved. It was everything he’d needed from her since he first kissed her on New Year’s Eve.
Movement on the bed beside him was the last step in getting him to open his eyes, and when he finally looked to his right, she was there. It wasn’t just a dream after all. Her hair was free of its usual messy bun and was splayed across her pillow. Jensen rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow, then leaned forward leaving a soft kiss on her bare shoulder that peeked out from the sheets. Her skin still smelled like suntan lotion and coconut, and he kissed her again.
Jensen slipped his hand beneath the sheets and along the length of her body. Flashes from the night before passed through his mind, and he continued kissing the back of her neck as his fingers explored the lines of her body. His arm slowly wrapped around her stomach and gently pulled her back against him. Y/N was beginning to stir. She elongated her neck and hummed as his lips trailed soft, wanting kisses to her ear.
“Morning,” he rumbled against her ear, just as his hand glided up her abdomen towards her breasts.
“Morning,” she breathed and let herself gently fall back into him.
“Sleep well?”
“No,” she giggled and rolled over, so she could see his face. “I don’t believe much sleep happened.”
“Regrets?” he asked softly, brushing away the hair from her face so he could fully appreciate her (y/c) eyes.
“Only that I waited so long.” She withdrew her gaze and cast them down the small bit of space between them. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I don’t know what I was so scared of.”
“Hey,” he rasped, gently taking her chin and directing her eyes back to his. “Don’t do that. We’re together now, right? That’s what matters. Not how long it took to get here, just that we got here.”
“Are we? Together, I mean?”
“It’s what I want. There’s no one else for me, Y/N.” Jensen was nervous, and even she could hear the barely there quiver in his voice when he spoke her name.
Y/N propped herself up and leaned over, hovering above him now, her hair falling down and tickling his cheeks. “You sure you’re up for that? I can be a handful.”
“Good thing I got two hands,” he teased, the crinkles around his eyes deep and the peek-a-boo dimples formed at either side of his wide smile.
Y/N rolled her eyes and hung her head to his chest. “I hate you,” she laughed and kissed him there. “So much.”
“I guess then, it’s also a good thing that you love me, too. Or I’d be in trouble.”
“Nope, I take it back,” she said, trying to be serious and pulling away from him. “I take it all back. You’re insufferable, Jensen. What was I thinking?”
Jensen grabbed her and turned quickly, making Y/N land on her back as he straddled her legs, pinning her down and dove his mouth to her neck. In less than a second, he was lavishing her neck with attention as her body began to slowly move beneath him.
“See, you don’t play fair, either,” she mewed, rolling her neck to the side so he could have more of her.
“Never said I did,” he mumbled lowly. “Now what were you saying about taking it back…” his voice was muffled in the crook of her neck, and he felt himself growing hard again at simply the thought of being with her.
From somewhere in the tangle of clothes on the floor, a cell phone began ringing. Jensen growled and picked his head up from her neck.
“Dammit.” He rolled off her and got up from the bed to locate the intrusion.
Y/N sat up and watched as he moved around the room, completely naked. “I could get used to this view, ya know.”
He stopped looking for a moment and stared at her with that familiar deadpan gaze. “Seriously? Am I just a good time to you?”
“And then some…” she wiggled her eyebrows and winked playfully, breaking his expression and making him laugh. “Screw the phone, come back to bed.”
“I will. But I know this is Jared. I gotta--” he found his shorts from the night before and retrieved the phone from the pocket. “Hey,” he said swiping up to answer the call. “What’s up?”
“Dude, what the hell? Where did you disappear too?”
“Oh.. yeah. Sorry. Something came up and, uhhh…” Jensen stammered, unsure of how to proceed with telling his best friend he finally got to spend the night with the woman he loved while she was right there in the room.
“Something? Sex? Was it sex, Jensen?” Jared asked, and Jensen could hear the underlying tone of playful accusation.
“Maybe.”
“I kinda figured,” Jared laughed. “No way you’d leave before the pig roast was ready unless Y/N was involved. You left a ton of shit behind on the boat and took off with one of the rentals. You must have been seriously distracted.”
“Dude,” Jensen chuckled and turned away from her to walk towards the bathroom. “You have no idea.”
“Alright Romeo, I don’t need details. Anyway… get your shit together and be ready in two hours. I’m swinging by to grab you so we can head to the airport. I had the valet company bring your truck back and take the rental with them. Just remember to bring the spare keys so I can drop them off, ok?”
“Yeah, sure. No problem… Wait. Two hours? I thought we didn’t go back ‘til later?”
“Change of plans, brother. Maybe if you didn’t have your head buried elsewhere you would have seen the five text messages I sent you about it this morning.”
“I hate you,” Jensen groaned and pulled the phone away to see all his missed notifications. “Fine, two hours. I’ll be ready.”
“Good. And, please shower. I don’t want to sit on a six-hour trip to Vancouver while you smell like sex.”
“Goodbye, Jared.” Jensen hung up the phone and tossed it back on the floor with the rest of the clothes.
“Jared busting your chops?” she asked as Jensen crawled back into bed.
“When isn’t he?” He laid back down and Y/N immediately laid beside him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. Jensen wrapped an arm around her and drew her closer. “I do have to get ready to go soon though. And while the last thing I want to do is spoil this morning… we gotta talk about you staying here. Y/N, please, reconsider--”
“I’ll stay,” she said softly, then turned her face up to his. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time. I was so scared of staying because we hadn’t slept together. Then I panicked and worried about what it would mean if we did…”
“Thank God,” he chuckled softly, running his free hand over his face and sighing deeply. “I didn’t want to fight, but I was prepared to come out swingin’ if it meant you’d agree to just stay here.”
“Here is good. I’ll stay until the festival and then we can figure out what comes next. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” he said and left a loving kiss on her head. “One more question and then I promise, I’ll let it go.”
“Oh boy… what?”
“What are the chances you changed your mind about San Diego, too?”
It was Y/N’s turn to sigh. “Jay… I can’t. In fact, I have to meet with Robbie at some point today or tomorrow about the publicity performance at the brewery this week. I think it's Thursday, which is your first day out there, right? I have to be at the brewery. Rob and Bri are singing. I am filming, mingling, promoting…”
“You work too much.”
“Look who’s talking…”
They held each other’s gaze stubbornly for a moment and Jensen finally relented. “Okay, okay. You made your point. But, I reserve the right to whisk you away at some point and you can’t say no. Deal?”
“I’ll take that deal,” she said and pushed herself up on the bed, to full sitting position.
“Whoa, no, wait. Where are you going?”
“To shower. Then I’ll go make you breakfast so you can shower and be ready for Jared.”
“First off, shower together, it conserves water. Secondly, you’re gonna cook? For me? Can you cook?”
“Yes, I can cook. Pretty damn well, actually. Also, not showering with you, because we’ll never get out of there and you have to leave soon.”
“We could forget the breakfast, and just go shower. Huh? Right? Way better plan,” Jensen said, trying to pull her back to lay down.
“Easy, Hollywood,” she purred and let him draw her back in. “I promise you, we will have our chance to make up for all the nights we weren’t together.”
“Swear?” he asked, a touch of some distant concern twinkled in his eyes, but she dismissed it.
Nodding softly, she leaned in and kissed him delicately on the lips. “Scout’s honor.”
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#jensen ackles rpf#jensen ackles x reader insert#jensen ackles x reader#jensen ackles x you#jensen ackles x y/n#when you lease expect it preview
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Sunflower Vol 1
Thank you so much to all my editors and collaborators who made this happen. This story would not have been what it is without @real-work-of-art. Especially big thank you to @sweetcreatureinthedark @shelblikesbands @fromyourstrulyh
Author: @helladirections
Pairing: Harry x Y/N
Status: Part 1 of 5
Word Count: 5.6K
SUNFLOWER VOLS 1-5 | MASTERLIST | PATREON
Preview
Harry furrowed his brows. “Yeah, that famous Y/N smile. It’s so bright and you carry yourself so tall - confident,” he corrected himself again. “You’re like... like a sunflower,” he concluded, taking another drink to punctuate his point.
Read below or on AO3 or Wattpad
Exhausted. Y/N was, simply put, exhausted.
Over the past two years, she had graduated college, gone on to live in three states, and worked four different jobs - all within what she thought was her dream career field. She was able to sign her own apartment lease, pay her own living expenses, and even have her own health insurance. Her friends and family were always telling her how proud they were, how excited they were that she was finally getting everything that she had always worked so hard for.
But somewhere in that time, things started to fall apart. Instead of actually using her degree, she was scheduling meetings and getting lunch for a horrible boss who spoke down to her. Instead of making change in the world, she was making changes to file names. Instead of going out with friends, she was going home to spend the evenings alone. It’s not that she expected to be doing anything too big right away, but the way things were going, it was likely she would be stuck on lunch duty for at least a few more years, and that’s just not something Y/N wanted for her life.
So she ended up back in her hometown – the one place she promised herself she would never land again. And in some sense, she still hadn’t landed there. Y/N had been back for some time already and nobody even knew. If the world didn’t know, then it wasn’t necessarily happening. If this was merely a pit stop before something bigger and better, then this temporary situation wasn’t even worth reporting on. It wasn’t a failure; it couldn’t be a failure. It was just a speed bump that she would gloss over in interviews until she had become so successful that this time period didn’t even matter anymore...she hoped.
It was a Monday night and exactly three weeks to the day since she had moved back home. Frustrated with no response from job applications, Y/N decided her emotional and physical exhaustion warranted a visit to the neighborhood bar. She needed to get out of the house and feel a little less trapped, even just for a few hours. Her hair was a bit of a mess and her eyes were clearly sunken with fatigue, but she gathered her things and headed out anyway.
Y/N had visited the bar a handful of times in years past, back when drinking alcohol legally was still new and exciting. It was small and cozy, tables made from dark wood and covered in a thin layer of typical bar stickiness. She figured it was the kind of place that college kids would visit during winter break or the small number of young professionals in town could go to blow off some steam after work. Essentially, it was the perfect place to be invisible and drink cheap alcohol.
The place was mostly empty on the random Monday night. A handful of people sat at tables, most quietly chatting and sharing snacks. Just one person was sitting up at the bar itself. The lights were dim enough that it was difficult to make out individual faces but bright enough to see to the other side of the room. The wooden counter was freshly wiped down with a rag, and the stools rested on legs that weren’t entirely even. It was comfortable and quiet, and Y/N felt like she could finally breathe for a moment.
“I’ll take whatever cider you have on ta-” Y/N didn’t finish her sentence before looking up and seeing a familiar face in front of her.
His rich brown hair had grown a bit longer, shoulders a bit broader, and there was a dusting of stubble around his chin - but there was no mistaking the boy in front of her. She could recognize those deep green eyes anywhere.
“Sorry ma’am, I’m going to have to see your ID.” Harry gave her one of his signature smirks, dimples just barely coming through.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Hi Harry. You know we’re the same age, you knob.”
He gave a bit of a chuckle before turning to fill up her glass from the tap. The sight in front of her was nothing new. Y/N had seen Harry handing out beer plenty of times, but only when it wasn’t legal yet, only when it made him just dangerous enough to get the attention of the pretty girls at school. And up until now, Y/N had always refused. This time he wore a white collared shirt with the first two buttons open revealing what looked to be a tattoo. It wasn’t so dangerous anymore, but Y/N couldn’t quite shake that familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach - the same one she got when he offered her drinks in high school.
“Didn’t know you were back in town,” he mused, as he slid the drink in front of her.
“I didn’t know you were in town either,” she countered. “I thought you were planning to transfer.”
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “You know Tom was in here the other day. Tom V, from seventh grade English class?”
Y/N gave a nod as she took a healthy gulp of her drink.
“Said he was just around for a short visit - something about moving up north to do HR for a biomedical company.”
“Oh yeah? Haven’t heard from him in ages.” It was true. Y/N had cut out most of her friends and acquaintances from home when she went to college. For the select few that she did stay in touch with, they would go months without speaking. It was ok because they would always pick up right where they left off, as if nothing had passed. Harry was someone she would reach out to when she was visiting family for holidays or birthdays or vacation - but not anything in between. The first few times they were both home from college at the same time they had met up for lunch, but since graduation, he had begun to fade out of her mind.
For a moment, he didn’t respond. His eyes searched hers, as if looking for a deeper response, but she offered up nothing except another sip of her drink.
“I haven’t heard from you in ages, either.”
She paused, mid-sip, and put her drink back on the counter before waiting a beat to look back up at him.
“You uh... you’re not alone in that,” she finally admitted. “Didn’t really tell anyone I was back.” Her words hung there in the air for a moment, neither completely sure how to follow up. “Have you been back in town long?”
For the first time probably ever in a social situation, she actually saw him falter a bit. “Never really left, actually,” he admitted with a sigh. He pulled a bar rag out of his pocket and started to wipe off his work area, just to give himself something to do, some way to distract.
“Didn’t have the best test scores and all that so I was at community college. Planned on transferring, thought maybe my music would take me somewhere, But...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish, not sure if he’s really trying to convince her or himself that he had dreams and goals. “But I got stuck. Eventually landed here - owner lets me live in the loft upstairs and take a few nights on the stage in exchange for some work. ‘S not the worst gig I’ve had.”
He offers up a small, forced smile paired with wrinkles on his forehead.
Y/N was unphased. “You’ve always been so talented, I’m not surprised,” she admitted. “Won some talent shows back in the day, didn’t ya?”
He chuckles, feeling his cheeks warm slightly at the reminder. “Yeah, back in my prime... eleven years old.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Y/N realized how long she and Harry had truly known each other. Try as she might, she couldn’t actually remember when they first met. He had been a fixture in her life - the background of many memories and the focal point of others. They shared classes, worked on assignments, and for a short time were in the same lunch group. He lived at the other end of the school zone, but was best friends with her neighbor around the corner so he just seemed to always be around. The first time Y/N had been offered alcohol in high school, it was from him - though she declined his offer multiple times. He joined lunchtime clubs at random (a founding member of Taco club and also welcomed into Robotics club for a short stint). Harry was everywhere. He was a constant.
Before she had a chance to take the conversation any further, they were interrupted by her phone’s loud vibration. She took a look and rolled her eyes, putting her phone back into her purse and moving to take a big drink of her cider.
“Sorry, that’s my parents. Want me to pick up some bread at the store,” she chuckled. He gave her a sympathetic look as she dug through her purse. But when she pulled out her wallet, he stopped her.
“This one’s on me,” he told her. “Makes up for all those times you told me no for a drink in high school.”
“That’s because we were eighteen, Harry. It was illegal,” she teased.
He just responded with one of his signature smirks and found a new way to busy his hands so she literally couldn’t give him her card.
“Fine, but I owe you.”
He shook his head. “Y’don’t owe me anything,” he insisted. “But,” he paused a moment, clearly thinking something through. She recognized that look on his face and knew it often meant trouble. “If you really want to do something for me, come back tomorrow. It’s a show night and the audience has been a little bare lately. Could use the company so ‘m not just singing to myself.”
. . .
Tuesday nights were show nights. That meant Harry had Niall taking his shifts behind the bar and the freedom to do as he pleased during the day - usually time spent preparing new songs for that evening's performance. Although Harry supposed “performance” might be a strong word. Not really performing if no one is watching, and more often than not the few straggling customers hardly paid him any attention and definitely didn’t qualify as a true audience.
Harry wasn’t entirely sure why he had asked Y/N to come back that evening. Couldn't remember the last time he asked an old school friend to watch him. Although to be fair, any old school friends he ran into were typically in town for short visits and didn’t have the time in between seeing family and friends to spend a few hours in the neighborhood bar acting as the lone audience member.
But he did ask her to come back, and, for some reason, he was nervous. Really nervous. Y/N had heard him play and sing dozens of times before: talent shows, eighth grade graduation, senior showcase; but this felt different. All those times he was just a kid doing something for fun. He would play his favorite song from the radio or something he overheard older kids talking about, even if he needed to use overly simplified chords and sing way out of his range. Now he was taking this seriously, he was trying to go somewhere with his music. Harry hoped that eventually, after enough practice, his music could be the thing to finally get him out of this town. He chose his songs more strategically, looked for things that would show off his range. Often picked obscure artists so the audience couldn't compare his voice directly to the original. About once a month he forced himself to play an original song just to get in the practice.
So he spent most of the morning and afternoon holed up in the loft practicing the same songs over and over ad nauseam. He made sure to play his best set of songs so he would be less likely to make any noticeable mistakes on stage - not that he had made one in ages. He took a nice long shower, complete with a new pomegranate scented body scrub and lotion. Typically he would go downstairs just a few minutes before he was allowed to start playing wearing whatever he had been lounging around in that day, but this time he spent some time looking through this wardrobe and picking out the perfect jacket to make him look like some kind of professional.
Desperately, Harry was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t trying to impress Y/N. It didn’t make sense why he would anyway. But he had to resign himself to the reality that he was anxious about seeing her or, more accurately, about her seeing him.
Back in school, he remembered her bright smile always on her face. It was a comforting aspect to his every day routine. When the teacher was yelling? Y/N found something to giggle about. When the donut club ran out of donuts? Y/N smiled while giving each of her friends a piece of her cookie. She was kind to a fault, overly apologetic, and always polite. She made the room brighter wherever she went, and Harry realized now that he never told her how much he appreciated it. Even last night she had a smile on her face - albeit a more subdued one. So with that in mind, he chose a pale yellow suit. Figured it would brighten the room if she didn’t show up, but also make her smile extra wide if she did.
He made his way downstairs with an extra spring in his step, getting eyed heavily by Niall when he walked out from the staircase behind the bar and towards the stage at the front of the room. Guitar in hand, he took a seat on the stool in front of the microphone which he always insisted be set out for him even though his voice could easily be heard at a normal level. In his yellow outfit, clearly overdressed compared to the patrons and other staff, Harry took a breath before searching around for Y/N.
She hadn’t shown yet. It was only 2 minutes past the hour, so she easily could still be on her way, but he felt his stomach fall as he tried to accept that she likely wasn’t going to show. Without any kind of introduction he hooked up his guitar to the small amp and started to play his first song.
He knew he was playing well, but he also knew he wasn’t playing his best. Which made no logical sense seeing as he had spent most of the day practicing and was super confident before walking downstairs.
It was about halfway through the song when that changed. And as much as Harry didn’t want to admit it, it was clear that the reason he stepped up his game was that he spotted Y/N walk through the door. She was hesitant when the door first opened, phone in hand and looking around before finding Harry sitting and playing up front. She gave him one of those signature smiles that he loved, lighting up the room for him more than she could ever know.
She stood tall with her spine straight as she made her way to the bar, ordering a drink from Niall and taking a moment to chat before finding her place at a table right in front of Harry. He made a note to himself to make sure that Niall wouldn’t charge her for anything tonight - Harry would foot the bill if need be.
He kept playing. He felt like he never wanted to stop playing if she was going to be sitting there looking at him like she was. Never once did she frown, not for a moment did her confidence waiver (a rarity for a girl who had a tendency to try and make herself small back in school). She sat in her seat swaying to his music, munching on some chips and sipping her drink. Harry loved every second of it.
Y/N wasn’t sure what it was that made her actually come back tonight. When he asked her last night, she had shrugged and said “maybe,” not really thinking anything of it. But she had also been cooped up all day in her room at her parents house applying for more of the same jobs she had been going at for months now, and she knew that she needed the break.
And he was good. Like, really good. Better than she remembered, and she remembered him being good.
Closing out his set, Harry sang an original song - something he tried to force himself to do on occasion so he would get used to singing his own lyrics in front of strangers. But oddly enough, it wasn’t the strangers that made him nervous this time. It was Y/N. She knew him, she saw deeper into him than the middle-aged drunk man at the bar or the group of three 30-somethings at the booth in the back. At the very last second, he changed the song from one about his last breakup to one a bit more upbeat, irrelevant lyrics that he just thought sounded good together.
“Thanks for lending me your ears tonight,” he spoke into the microphone after his final song faded out. “My name is Harry Styles and I’m here every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday evening. Thanks and goodnight.”
No sooner had Harry taken off his guitar strap than did Y/N come bouncing up to him, smiling wide. It was contagious and he couldn’t help but mirror her as she gave him a quick hug.
“You were so good! Like I knew you were good, but you were so amazing.” He soaked up her words, loving the praise. Typically he would get half hearted claps from two or three people when he finished a set, but he was so enamored with Y/N’s words.
“Thank you,” he gave her a chuckle. “Didn’t play anything new tonight but I think it went alright.” Harry shrugged, looking around the room and trying to gauge reactions of the other patrons. They were all back in their conversations or had their faces in their phones, so he figured he was safe to make his exit.
He took a look at his watch before turning back to Y/N, “Hey it’s still pretty early, why don’t you come upstairs with me for a bit? Could use some company away from this bar.”
A little hesitant, Y/N faltered and checked her phone. He was right - it was barely 8:00 PM and she didn't want to go back home quite yet. But being alone with Harry had never gone the way she hoped in the past.
“Up to your room?”
He raised one eyebrow. “I mean it’s a loft so yeah just one big room. Come on you can bring your drink up with you,” he motioned towards her glass, still half full.
“Alright, but I’m just going to have the one,” she decided.
Y/N followed Harry towards the back of the bar and behind the counter, stopping when he made sure Niall didn’t charge her for the drink before leading her up the stairs in the back and through his door. Behind him on the stairs, she found herself staring at the way his ass curved perfectly against the seams of his pants. When they got back to level ground she did her best to keep her eyes away from him.
“It’s not much, but it does the trick,” he called back to her as he walked to the other side of the room.
She could get a good look around while he put away his guitar, allowing her to continue to avoid eye contact. They were close to the roof with the ceiling peaking not far above them. Familiar scented candles and wooden support beams made the room feel cozy and warm. At one end was a small kitchen, a TV, and about half of a sectional sofa. At the other, a large cozy looking bed rested up against a window, night time stars visible in the distance. The corner near Harry’s bed was filled with books - surprising to Y/N as she remembered him not being particularly interested in English class at any point in school. Up on the wall was a collection of pictures and Y/N couldn’t help but snoop a little bit.
Some of the photos contained recognizable faces - friends they shared in school as well as friends of his that wouldn’t have stepped within 6 feet of Y/N. Most of the images seemed pretty old, coated with dust and a bit faded. Much of the scenery was familiar - their high school parking lot, the Starbucks downtown, the central park a few towns over with a large meadow.
The room was quiet and Y/N didn’t notice Harry had finished putting his guitar away and was looking back at her, watching her take in the space.
“There’s one of you up there, if you look hard enough.” The sudden noise made Y/N jump a bit and Harry couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh. He walked towards her and pointed to a photo towards the top of the wall. “From prom, senior year,” he explained. He shook his head to himself, realizing how stupid it was to explain. Obviously she remembered going to prom and taking those silly photos. Harry had been there with a date, his girlfriend at the time. Y/N had gone alone with a group of friends, and spent most of her time taking silly pictures with old friends rather than dancing.
This photo in question was one of her favorites too - it featured a small group of her friends from classes, mostly blurry as they were laughing at something someone had said. She couldn't remember anymore what the joke might’ve been, but she remembered the moment fondly with a warmth in her heart.
“My mom made me wear heels that night,” she remarked. “Haven’t touched them since.”
Harry first responded with a noncommittal hum. “You always manage to hold yourself up tall anyway,” he told her.
Y/N turned to him, looking a bit confused.
“Confident, you’re always so confident. Don’t need to be any taller, I mean.”
She nodded, understanding as she turned her attention to the shelves of books below the pictures. Some were clearly old text books and required reading, but the shelves also contained books by Charles Bukowski, Haruki Murakami, and Joan Didion. An interesting mixture. Y/N let her fingertips graze along some of the books’ spines. Most were fairly worn, appearing that he had read the books through many times. At the end of the shelf was a stack of leather bound journals, but when her fingers reached those he jumped.
“Those are personal,” he gave as his only explanation.
Y/N gave a nod, removing her hand from the stack. “Do you write a lot?”
He walked back towards his couch, nodding with his head so Y/N would follow. “Quite a bit, I’d say. Mostly lyrics, ideas for songs. Take a seat, lemme change my shirt and I’ll grab some snacks,” he told her, wandering past her towards the kitchen.
Y/N let her eyes wander around the room, partially still looking for clues about his life, but mostly to keep herself from staring at his honey golden skin and broad shoulders. She was unsuccessful in that endeavour, as she couldn’t help but peak over towards Harry standing near his closet shirtless. It was impossible not to get sucked into thoughts of how soft his skin must be, how strong his muscles must feel now that he’s filled out a bit more. But it was the tattoos littered across his chest and arms that truly caught her off guard. She shouldn’t be surprised, he had always been rather impulsive and just the tiniest bit dangerous.
“Tattoos?” she remarked simply.
Harry held his left arm out towards her, turning it a bit and admiring the black ink. “Yeah, got one and then I just couldn’t stop, I suppose.” He gave a little chuckle before throwing a basic white t-shirt on over his head. In addition to his open arms, Y/N could see the ink on his chest through his shirt if she looked hard enough. Not that she did. Not that she meant to.
“So how long have you been living here?” she asked, desperate to change the subject away from his body.
“Hm... ‘bout a year and a half, I’d say? Finished up school and spent a few months looking for a place before finding this one. It’s been a pretty nice gig.” He walked back over, a bowl of chips in one hand and a beer in the other.
Y/N thanked him for the chips with a smile, grabbing a few and putting her drink down on the coffee table. “Oh, you graduated? What did you end up studying?”
Harry could feel warmth in his cheeks at her question. He thought by now - almost two years since he should’ve graduated - he would've gotten more used to answering the question. “Nah, I didn’t finish. Took some music classes, writing classes, English classes obviously. Thought about transferring but it never panned out. I like to learn and all, but you remember - school just isn’t exactly my thing, not like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah, weren’t you like, straight A’s? Good SATs and all that?”
She couldn't help but laugh. “Not quite. Got some B’s, didn’t go to an Ivy or anything.”
“But you went. You got out of this town and you studied and you graduated,” he countered.
And she knew Harry was right. She had gotten out of their hometown - a place notorious for holding people hostage and keeping them there. She had countless memories while still in high school of hearing from many of her friends’ older siblings and parents. Stories of waking up one morning realizing they weren't really chasing any kind of dreams. They got caught up in something local and accidentally built a life there until there was no logistical way they could actually leave. Maybe they and their high school sweetheart had a baby, or they got a good paying job out of high school so they took it out of fear that another opportunity would never come about.
“I did,” she relented with a sigh. “But I’m back.... I’m back.”
They sat for some time catching up and revealing how they landed where they were. Both had big dreams in high school, even in their college years. She wanted to move across the country and make a difference. He wanted to play music and was hoping for a record deal in the near future. Neither of them had given up their dreams so much as they simply hit a roadblock, and now here they were, feeling unsuccessful and trapped with no clear way out.
“Honestly Harry, you’re so talented. Music is definitely going to be your ticket out. I know it. Get an agent and a record deal in no time and never look back,” she told him, like a promise.
Harry shrugged. “Maybe. But you made it to the city once, you’ll get out again too,” he assured her, taking a sip of his beer. “You’re smart, and strong, and you always figure something out. And if none of that helps, just flash them that smile and they’ll be putty in your hands.”
“My smile?” she laughed, a bit caught off guard.
Harry furrowed his brows. “Yeah, that famous Y/N smile. It’s so bright and you carry yourself so tall - confident,” he corrected himself again. “You’re like... like a sunflower,” he concluded, taking another drink to punctuate his point.
“A sunflower....” Y/N seemed to be thinking it over. She had never particularly loved flowers, but sunflowers were objectively nice.
“Yeah, “ Harry continued. “They make everyone around them smile back, even when they don't want to. They might struggle from time to time in different seasons, but they always grow back, every year. You’re the same.”
Y/N could only respond with a small hum. There were definitely worse things to be directly compared to. Sunflowers weren’t so bad.
“My ‘famous smile’ though? I had braces for like four years,” she reminded him.
He cracked a bit of a smirk. “Yeah, looked right cute on you though. Remember you used to brush your teeth at lunch.”
“That was a secret!” She put her hand on her heart, in mock offense (and chose to completely ignore the fact that he had called her “cute” in any context).
“How was it a secret? You had a tooth brush in your backpack and always smelled minty in History class.”
. . .
They sat on the small couch, in relative silence as their movie faded out to black. The bowl of chips was empty and both Harry and Y/N had indulged in a second beer.
“I bet you’re fun drunk,” Harry let out suddenly. “Never would take a beer from me, bet that’s ‘cuz you go a bit too crazy” he teased with a quirk in his lip.
“That’s because it was illegal! We were like, 16 Harry.”
Of course, she was such a good girl, at least back in the day. “Always the rule follower.”
She rolled her eyes. “For your information, yes, I am a very fun drunk person. Go to bars and dance and everything... and then I get really sleepy and cling to anyone willing to cuddle me,” Y/N admitted.
Harry couldn't lie, he liked the sound of that. He couldn’t help but picture her downstairs, drunk and dancing on a Friday or Saturday night, smile bright and laugh contagious, having fun for a few hours before coming upstairs and cuddling in his cozy bed for the night.
He also knew Y/N well, and he knew that she only divulged real information when it was a way to hide something else. She was the queen of giving others a false sense of knowing her. She would complain openly about her period but never fully explained when she would stay home sick for more than a week at a time. She would reveal the crazy story of her first kiss, unprompted, but refuse to share with anyone at all who she had a crush on. Or maybe, as he had theorized once when they were around 15, she only told others who she liked because it was actually him. Queen of contradictions, she was.
Looking back up at her, Harry noticed the exhaustion in Y/N’s eyes, making him feel softer than usual. Whatever was going on in his head, this was new. He had known Y/N for ages and had never thought about dancing together or cuddling or stroking his fingers through her hair...
As if on cue, Y/N let out a yawn. “Should probably get going, been up late the last few nights applying for jobs,” she admitted.
That was no surprise. She had always been high achieving in and out of school. Always a hard worker. He remembered her often complaining after getting a test back that her true downfall was staying up too late studying the night before and not getting enough rest to let the information really sink in. She contained a power and a confidence in her work and herself which he often envied. Whatever she was applying for, he was completely sure she would get it.
Harry watched as she grabbed her purse and coat, and he picked up her now empty glass from downstairs. “Come on, I’ll walk ya down.”
He let her lead the way, eyes focused on the way her hair fell softly on her shoulders, not able to control the thoughts swirling around his head. He should've asked her to stay the night. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, sure, but they’d known each other almost their entire lives. It wouldn't have been that strange. Would she share the bed with him or insist on taking the couch? She’s always overly polite and concerned for others. She would look so good in his t-shirt and sweats. She must be a soft and pliable cuddler, probably had the cutest bedhead in the mornings.
Shaking the thoughts away, he placed the empty glass in the sink behind the bar and signalled to Niall that it was there.
“Hey, ‘m not your personal dishwasher, Styles,” he called back.
Y/N’s smile grew brighter at their banter, and Harry didn’t want to look away.
He held his hands in his pockets in order to keep himself from guiding her with one on her back or around her shoulder. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but he needed to control himself. They reached the front door and Harry made Y/N promise to text him when she got home. They hadn’t texted in ages, but he confirmed that she still had his number before he hugged her goodbye and watched her walk to her car and take off.
He hummed to himself as he went back inside, walking back behind the bar and up the stairs again. Sunflower, he thought to himself. My sunflower.
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Title: Take Me Now, I’m In Too Far
Rating: M (for sexual content)
Disclaimer
Playlist
Art Credit: @inknigella (used with permission)
Day’s Notes: I have recently updated this fic on Patreon. It is one of three fics of mine exclusive to Patreon, but here’s a chance to read Part 1 of my “exes as roommates” AU. This fic is dear to me in almost the same way Kingdom For Two is. The fic started as a simple Roommates AU, but then was molded into something else when I decided to add the fact that they were exes. I wanted to write about two people that love each other a lot but growing up and becoming “real” adults made things difficulty.
If you would like to give this fic a chance and enjoy Part 1, you can find Part 2 & Part 3 on Patreon. Here is a link to the tag for this fic. I have opened up the $1 tier permanently for access to exclusive fics and early access to publicly posted fics, but I have other tiers with different perks. One of the perks for certain tiers are PDFs that contain exclusive art that will only be found in full on my Patreon (or in some cases Cj’s Patreon). The above banner was created with a preview of one of the many works Ink has provided to help bring my work to life.
I hope you all enjoy the first part of this fic and consider becoming one of my patrons 😊
Part One
She was going to kill Karin. And her stupid boyfriend. She was going to kill Karin and her boyfriend and then take back the armchair she let them have as a moving-in-together gift.
Sakura wasn’t that surprised when Karin told her she was moving out. She had been spending so much time at Suigetsu’s apartment, it was as if she had already moved out months ago. It was only a matter of time before the two of them would officially move in together.
Karin had been considerate and had found her a new roommate before she gave her the news. And although Sakura wasn’t too keen on the idea of living with a stranger—a man at that—she was willing to put up with it for her friend’s happiness.
At least for a few months while she looked for a new place if possible.
Unfortunately for Sakura, she couldn’t set a day to actually meet her new roommate before he was set to move in. Their schedules conflicted most days so Karin went ahead and took care of all of the necessary paperwork and was present when he moved in. With how things had begun, Sakura assumed she wouldn’t meet her new roommate until her day off.
She hadn’t expected to run into him as she was leaving for work at the bakery at three in the morning and he was coming home smelling of booze.
She definitely didn’t expect to see her ex-boyfriend holding a key to her apartment.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sasuke muttered, running a hand through his messy, jet black hair.
“You’re my new roommate?” Sakura scoffed, wringing her hands in the scarf she was attempting to put on on her way out. “How did you not know that I was Karin’s roommate?”
Sasuke looked at her impassively for a moment, as if mulling over what he wanted to say before pushing past her and saying, “I’m going to bed.”
“What? We’re not even going to talk about this?”
“If we start now, you’re going to be late for work,” he called back to her without turning around. “Can’t have that can we?”
Sakura scoffed but couldn’t retort. He was right. If she missed her bus she was going to have to wait for the next one and it would cause her to be late.
She wanted nothing more than to bang on his bedroom door and demand that he come out and speak with her. How could he just go to sleep!?
“We’re talking when I get back!” She shouted, grabbing the front door. Sakura waited but there was no response. She growled in frustration and slammed the door behind her on her way out.
.
.
“Have you been taking your anger out on dough again?” Ino commented dryly between page flips of a cake catalogue, pointing out cute designs to the toddler sitting on her lap and cooing.
Sakura rubbed her temple with the heel of her palm and sighed. It was one in the afternoon and she had spent the day busy working on custom orders. At the moment she was sitting through a consultation with her childhood friend who needed to order a birthday cake for her son, Inojin. She had tried to throw herself into baking and packaging orders but now that there was a slow down where it was only her and two of the shop clerks, her mind was free to think about how her ex was now living with her.
“You know how Karin moved out and found me a roommate?”
“Uh-huh, it was kind of unexpected. Isn’t it a little early though? They’ve only been dating for━”
“Sasuke is the roommate she found me.”
“Holy━sorry, honey.” Ino interrupted herself and covered her son’s ears. “Holy shit!”
“I wanted to call her and chew her out but in her defense, she doesn’t know he’s my ex-boyfriend.” Sakura slumped in her seat, took a fork and dug into one of the cake slices she brought out for tasting. “When I did get a chance to talk to her earlier, she said that apparently Suigetsu is best buddies with him and Kiba. Kiba and Sasuke were rooming with their friend Shino but the lease was coming to an end and Shino was moving away for a teaching job and Kiba decided to move in with his fiancée. So━”
“So Sasuke needed a new place quick and conveniently Suigetsu knew a place close enough to his workplace and with someone that desperately needed a new roommate.”
Sakura tossed the fork over her shoulder in defeat and dropped her head into her hands. Ino reached over and patted her arm in a comforting manner.
“I give you guys two weeks.”
“Two weeks for what?” Sakura lifted her head up to narrow her eyes at Ino. “Before we kill each other?”
Ino covered Inojin’s ears one more time and said, “Two weeks before you’re fucking.”
“Ino!” Sakura sat up, looking affronted, hand clutching the front of her apron.
“You guys used to go at it like rabbits,” Ino gave her a sly smile, “and it’s not like you guys broke up because you grew to hate each other.”
“That was years ago, Ino.” Sakura rolled her eyes and pushed the cake slices closer to Inojin. He immediately sank his fingers into the cake and ate from his hands. “He’s probably moved on anyway.”
“It was the stupidest break up.”
“I know it was, but we were so busy and our schedules never aligned. It was frustrating.” Sakura sighed and stared off into space. “It’s been four years…”
Ino took out some wet wipes and cleaned Inojin’s chubby fingers. “So what are you going to do?”
Sakura shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Ino looked at her incredulously. “You’re just going to live with him and not do a thing about it.”
“I didn’t even notice he was there for three days already.” Sakura shrugged again. “And our schedules never sync up. I really don’t think it will be an issue.”
“Unless he brings someone home,” Ino said the words slowly so Sakura couldn’t miss what she was telling her.
“He’s not as insensitive as that.” Sakura crossed her arms in front of her chest. The action was to get as close to hugging herself without actually doing it.
The truth was that the Sasuke she knew wasn’t insensitive. But she didn’t know this Sasuke; a Sasuke that was twenty-five instead of the twenty year old she knew and loved.
.
.
The new apartment was a lot closer to the tattoo parlor he worked at than his old place. It was one of the things that sold him on it when Suigetsu mentioned that Karin was moving in with him and leaving her old roomie without. That and the washer and dryer included in the apartment which meant no more paying at a laundromat or to use the communal laundry center.
Sasuke wasn’t too keen on sharing a space with a woman he didn’t know but Karin insisted that his roommate was clean and quiet and that with her work schedule he wouldn’t be running into her except on Sundays when her bakery was closed.
Bakery.
That was the first sign that had him want to put the pen down and walk away. Because baking is what she wanted to do for a living. But what were the odds that Karin was talking about her? There were tons of bakeries in the city and Sakura didn’t own one the last time he checked.
But that was five years ago when she was nineteen and too young. She was still pretty young to be a business owner but with Sakura’s tenacity there was a highly likely chance that she would have her own shop. And wasn’t that one of the reasons she had been saving every penny she could when she started working?
Shaking his head of all of those thoughts, he had signed the documents that would transfer him as the new leasee replacing Karin.
It wasn’t until he was moving in that Sasuke found out who exactly Karin’s roommate had been.
Suigetsu and he were bringing in boxes while Karin gave him a tour of the apartment when he saw the photos on the wall. Anyone could dye their hair pink but what were the odds that another pink haired woman around Karin’s age would have gone to Catholic school for high school and wore the same uniform that Sakura used to prance around in.
“Sakura is pretty sentimental so she has photos all over the apartment,” he distantly heard Karin explain as he examined all of the photos that were lined up in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Come check out the bathroom. It’s pretty big ‘cause the washer and dryer are set up in there. There’s a door to block out that area from the toilet and shower cabin for some privacy. It’s frosted glass but you can’t really see what’s going on on the other side.”
Karin hadn’t been friends with Sakura when the two of them had been dating so he couldn’t fault her for not knowing but Suigetsu did know that Sakura was his ex.
An ex he was still kind of hung up on.
Which is why after work he headed to the bar with Kiba and Tamaki, Kiba’s fiancée. They were supposed to celebrate him finding a new place but after Kiba asked why Suigetsu wasn’t there, Sasuke explained that he was banned from their usual bar for a few weeks because he let him move in with his ex without warning him.
If he was lucky he would never have to run into Sakura while he was living there. Because wasn’t that the cause of their breakup before? With her busy culinary school schedule and apprenticeship and then his work at the parlor running into late at night, they barely saw each other.
So stumbling in slightly drunk and a little high at three in the morning, Sasuke didn’t expect to see her on the other side of the apartment door in the middle of bundling up for the November cold.
Sakura still looked like she did at nineteen but different at the same time. Her face had lost most of the roundness of youth, but her figure was no longer as slim. She was still on the thin side, but unlike Karin who was all sharp edges and harsh angles, Sakura had filled out either with age or from eating one too many of her own cupcakes.
Sasuke ran a hand through his hair before tucking the arm it was attached to behind his head. He was finding it difficult to stay asleep which was all he had planned on doing before work for the day. Sakura had said something about talking later and he had been dreading having to have the conversation. He vaguely recalled saying something snarky about her running late for work. No doubt she would be upset over that.
The conversation was going to happen. But considering he would be gone before she came home from work, who knew when it would actually take place.
If he was lucky, she would wait until they were home and not find him at work like she used to.
.
.
When Sasuke first met Sakura she was wearing all of the cliche warning signs.
He was busy sketching when she strolled into the shop. Sasuke was supposed to be manning the reception desk and was likely to get bitched at by his cousin’s best friend for not paying attention.
“Hey,” greeted a cheerful voice.
Looking up from his sketchbook, Sasuke blinked in confusion at what he was seeing. Before him stood two teenage girls wearing the dark green tartan patterned pleated skirt and white button down shirt of a school uniform. The blonde one had a sweater wrapped around her waist but the slightly shorter girl with rose gold hair had a cream colored school cardigan with the school crest emblazoned on the left side of her chest.
“Our Lady of Sorrows is seven blocks,” Sasuke pointed out the door, “that way.”
“We have an appointment.” The blonde girl blew a bubble with her gum and popped it. “The school day also ended like an hour ago, dude.”
Raising an eyebrow, he flipped through the appointment book and asked, “names?”
“Ino Yamanaka and Sakura Haruno,” the girl with the pink hair answered, pointing at the girl that matched the names she gave. “We have an appointment with my cousin Sasori.”
Looking down the schedule log there it was. The new piercer did have an appointment with an Ino and a Sakura.
“Aren’t piercings prohibited at catholic schools?” Sasuke asked, eyeing the uniforms.
“Yeah, but you can’t get caught if you get them where the nuns can’t see them.” The pink haired girl winked at him, green eyes sparkling mischievously.
“What kind of piercings are you getting then?” He asked, taking out the waiver forms.
“Belly button for Ino.” The blonde girl raised her hand and took her form and filled out the form.
He turned to Sakura and waited for her answer. Her lips turned upwards at the corners in a coy smile.
“Hips.”
Even now, if Sasuke closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory of Sakura swiveling her hips as he thrust up into her, he could see the jewelry twinkling at him as she dipped her hips.
A lot of years had gone by since that first encounter and Sasuke was no longer the shop slave he was during his apprenticeship and Sakura was no longer that rebellious catholic school girl.
It didn’t stop him from wondering if her dermals were still in place or if after all those years her skin rejected the piercings and they had to be removed.
“What’s up with you, kid?” He felt someone ruffle his hair and he swatted at the air. The only one that had the courage to do so was Konan, one of their piercers.
“Nothing,” he replied, sanitizing the tattoo bed before his next client showed up.
“His ex girlfriend found out he lives with her,” Kiba cackled from his work station. Sasuke took his discarded gloves and threw them across the room until they hit him with a smack. “Ow!”
“Why would that be a surprise?” Konan asked. Sasuke made himself busy taking needles to the autoclave to avoid responding.
“She works baker’s hours,” Sasuke heard Kiba responding for him. “They have opposing schedules so Sui’s girlfriend took care of everything.”
“Good luck with that.” Konan went to the reception counter to check the appointment book. She had already moved on from the conversation.
I’m going to need more than luck, Sasuke grumbled inwardly.
.
.
Sakura drummed her fingers against her mug, nails clinking against the ceramic. She knew Sasuke wouldn’t get home until late so she called the co-owner of her bakery and asked her to oversee the baking of the everyday goods the following morning.
While Sakura mostly ran the show in the kitchen—Hinata being too soft and gentle to command the staff—she was mostly the cake artist and worked on custom orders. It was a lot more relaxed than the job she had as a pastry chef for the high end hotel in the city, but it still demanded a lot of her time.
She could spend hours of her day just to work on a cake that would still take her three days to make all of the components for it.
It wasn’t until one in the morning that the front door creaked open, keys jingling as they were pulled out of the lock.
“You stayed up.” Sasuke toed his boots off and lined them up next to hers. The leather work boots were of a popular brand so they hadn’t alarmed Sakura despite them being part of Sasuke’s signature look.
Sakura stood up from his seat at the couch and wrapped her oversized cardigan tighter around her body. She hugged herself, feeling exposed in her pajamas. “I said we had to talk.”
“There’s not much to talk about.” Sasuke tossed his keys on the kitchen island. Sakura grabbed them and placed them on a wall hook next to her own set of keys. “I need a place to live, you need a roommate. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” Sakura asked, voice soft and slow, urging him to re-examine their situation. When he continued to stare at her impassively, Sakura scoffed.
“I didn’t know you were Karin’s roommate until I was moving in.”
“I know.” Sakura ran a hand through her hair, pushing her bangs back. Sasuke wasn’t a liar. At least the Sasuke she knew wasn’t a liar. “I know.”
“So is this the end of the discussion?” Sasuke’s eyes drifted from her to the hallway behind her. It was late and all he wanted was to get to bed. “I don’t really see any problem with us living together. You didn’t even notice that I was here for three days.”
The problem is that I never got over you. “Alright, if there’s no problem then let’s go over the rules.”
“Rules?” Sasuke gave her a blank look.
“Yes, rules. Karin and I had them and now so will we.”
“Okay.” Sasuke crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the island. “What are your rules?”
“Rule number one: no fucking on the couch.”
Sasuke’s eyes went wide and he choked on an inhale. “That’s a rule you guys had or is that one you made for me?”
“That was an actual rule we had.” Sakura shivered in disgust. “Suigetsu has a very pale ass.”
“Yeah, everyone’s seen more of Sui than they’ve ever wanted to.”
“Rule number two: toilet seat needs to be put back down after use.”
“Okay, that’s definitely one you made up for me.” Sasuke stood you straighter and looked her up and down. “Do I get to make rules too?”
“I will consider them.”
“Alright.” Sasuke was silent for a moment as he pondered. “No obnoxious noises such as vacuuming when you know the other is sleeping.”
“That’s reasonable.” Sakura sat down on one of the bar stools at the island and took out her notepad. She took out a pen and wrote down a few lines. “I do my laundry twice a week━Wednesdays and Sundays, usually around noon. Having a schedule kind of helps out ‘cause the laundry room is in the bathroom.”
They went back and forth writing down rules and going over each other’s work schedule. Sakura tapped the pen on the table and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to step on any toes or be misunderstood but she needed to bring up an uncomfortable topic.
“No overnight guests.” Sasuke raised an eyebrow and in a rush to recover Sakura blurted out, “for either of us! At least not without a heads up. I don’t want to be walking around in my underwear and there’s a stranger in my home.”
“Why would you be walking around in your━?”
“I sleep like that sometimes!” Sakura snapped, cheeks heating up. “I wake up to use the bathroom or get water and I’m too drowsy to consider pants.”
“Why do you sleep in your underwear if you get cold easily?” Sasuke’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“I come home too tired to change so I just sleep in my underwear.” Sakura stomped her foot. Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “Don’t judge me!”
“Just remember that I live here now and will see your ass if you decide that pants are too much,” Sasuke yawned, “effort. I’m going to bed now.”
Sakura watched him head to his room with a frown on her face. It wasn’t until she heard the lock on his door click that she let out an exhausted sigh.
Does he have to look cute when he’s sleepy?
.
.
“Is this too much for a three year old’s birthday?” Sakura sat back and looked thoughtfully at her sketch with her chin resting on her fist.
Hinata shrugged as she continued to pipe buttercream flowers. “I mean it’s more for Ino, isn't it?”
“God,” Sakura rolled her eyes, “it really is. I’m sure Inojin would be happy with a dinosaur on a cake instead of a dinosaur made out of cake.”
Hinata giggled softly as she continued to make a bouquet out of cupcakes. She was working on cupcakes for a bridal shower. Sakura had helped her with the structure to make it appear that it was suspended in the air and now all she had to do was decorate it.
When Sakura had met Hinata, the young woman wasn’t the best baker. It was an issue of confidence and being unsure if it was the best decision she had made. Upon discovering that Hinata had a few years to become a successful baker or get married to a man her father chose, Sakura took her under her wing and when they were ready they used Hinata’s trust fund to secure a location.
At that point Sakura already had a reputation for her cake sculptures so they lucked out.
Just because Sakura couldn’t be with the person she loved, it didn’t mean she was going to watch someone give up on their dream and marry someone they were forced to.
“So how has Tinder been working out for you?” Sakura drawled as she took out the ingredients she was going to need.
“I prefer Bumble, actually,” Hinata mumbled, face flushing pink. “You know it’s weird describing myself as pleasantly plump. Usually I would just say fat or chubby.”
“But you are pleasantly plump,” Sakura teased her. “And good call on Bumble. Message any guys?”
“I might have,” Hinata muttered under her breath, face turning a dark shade of red.
“Oh, you dirty slut.”
“We only met for coffee!” Hinata insisted over Sakura’s laughter. Sakura waved her hand at her and tried to reign in her laughter. It was quiet in the kitchen until Hinata said, “I wouldn’t have minded though. He has such pretty blue eyes.”
Sakura only stopped laughing when Hinata threw buttercream at her face.
The assistants walked in from the front of the shop to find Sakura covered in pink and purple frosting, armed with a piping bag full of green frosting, and Hinata shielding her cupcake sculpture.
.
.
Sakura was exhausted by the time she got home. It was one of those rare days where she didn’t get home until late. There was so much math and engineering into creating cake sculptures and trial and error.
She slumped against her apartment door and groaned. She had just unlocked the door but had no energy to push it open.
“You’re almost there, don’t pass out now.” Turning slightly, Sakura mumbled incoherently at the sight of Sasuke holding a take out bag. “Jesus Christ, you’re dead on your feet.”
“Carry me,” Sakura grumbled.
Sighing to himself, Sasuke handed her the bag of takeout and crouched down, scooping her legs up and cradling her. “How the fuck did Karin deal with you? She’s twiggy.”
“Suigetsu was usually around or she’d drag me across the floor.” Sakura opened the bag of food and examined the contents as Sasuke set her down on the couch. “Anything I’d like in here?”
“I thought you would be sleeping, but I have some stuff you could tolerate.” He grabbed two plates and brought them to the coffee table and began to serve her some of his food. “Do you ever take a break?”
“I have a day off tomorrow technically.”
“But you’re going to go to work.” Sasuke shook his head, unruly hair swaying around his face. “Typical.”
And with that Sakura lost all desire to eat despite not having had anything to eat all day except for some bread and tastings.
“Hey, where are you? It’s getting weird just sitting here. I can order right now if you’re nearby.”
“Oh, shoot! Sasuke I’m sorry but I’m still at work.”
“Wasn't today your day off?”
So what if she was a “workaholic?” If she were a man no one would see anything wrong with how much she worked.
She knew that eventually she was going to be faced with reminders of what a shitty girlfriend she had been, but she had hoped that she would be alone as she looked back on all of the mistakes she had made.
Sasuke had forgiven her for the first missed date but once he had been stood up a second, third, fourth, fifth time he stopped making any plans for them.
“I gotta take this coat off,” Sakura mumbled, fumbling with the buttons. Sasuke reached over and helped her get free of her coat and then hung it up on the hooks by the door. If he was going to be this nice for the duration of the time they lived together, the shittier she was going to feel.
“Karin said you owned a bakery. When did that happen?” He handed her a plate full of food, much more food than Sakura would have served herself, but one look from Sasuke had her clamming up and taking the set of chopsticks he placed flat across her palm.
“A few years ago…” Sakura swallowed a bite of dumpling. “It was kind of an accident.”
Sasuke raised an eyebrow and paused in his chewing. Sakura laughed through her nose and explained to him how she had met Hinata.
She had been working at the same high end hotel she had done her apprenticeship when Hinata had been hired on the spot. The tiny, plump woman was quiet and stuttered when speaking to her coworkers because no one wanted her there.
Hinata had been hired because of her last name—the hotel being owned by the Hyūga family—with no references nor any culinary school training which was required to work at the Michelin star hotel restaurant. Due to the fact they were around the same age and because she was the newest hire, Sakura was tasked with watching over the woman. No one else would take up the responsibility thinking that Hinata would hold them back.
Sakura just couldn’t leave Hinata alone. She reminded her so much of herself when she was younger. She helped to train her during her off time and guided her through the French techniques that Sakura had been trained in.
The desire to learn and the drive was there, hidden under the fear of failure.
Sakura moved on to work at a custom cake shop where she could use more of her artistic abilities. Eventually the owner was ready to retire and was willing to sell the store to her.
She wanted to own her shop one day. It was part of her goals but brick and mortar shops were expensive. If it weren’t for Hinata’s trust fund she would never have been able to afford the shop. The two of them had kept in touch and when Sakura found out that Hinata was on her way to quitting being a pastry chef, they made plans to go into business together.
Sasuke listened to her story, never interjecting but nodding at certain intervals and slight facial shifts showing that Sakura still had his attention.
“So what have you been up to?” Sakura asked, digging through the leftover noodles in one of the cartons.
“I still work at the same shop. I moved out a few years ago. Funnily enough it was my mom that was on my case not my dad.”
“Really?” Sakura was genuinely shocked.
When she had last seen Fugaku he wasn’t the biggest supporter of Sasuke’s chosen profession. He had paid for him to go to art school, not to waste his talent working at a tattoo parlor. His mother, Mikoto, was the one that had always been his personal cheerleader.
“I think it was all of the new ink,” Sasuke gestured to his sleeve covered arms, “that really did it for my mom. She always made faces at them and commented about what kind of girl I thought I would be attracting with them.”
I always liked your tattoos. Sakura shrugged and stuffed noodles into her mouth to keep from commenting out loud.
When Sakura was just freshly eighteen and finishing her final year of high school, Sasuke was the exact kind of guy her grandmother had wanted her to stay away from. She had left money behind in her will for Sakura to attend the same school she and Sakura’s mother, Mebuki, had attended.
Our Lady of Sorrows was a Catholic private school that Sakura’s parents wouldn’t have been able to afford without the money her grandmother had left behind. She had probably hoped that Sakura would go to private school, be abstinent, go to college and then medical school and then eventually marry a doctor.
It was too bad that Sakura preferred to be in the kitchen with her father a lot more than she cared for her school. If they had let her stay in public school there may have been a better chance of her focusing on her studies and eventually going to medical school like her grandma had wanted her to. Sakura had been miserable at Our Lady of Sorrows, her only solace being Ino and baking.
And Sasuke.
Sasuke had been the kind of cliché salvation a teenage girl fantasized about. And she still couldn’t believe that at one point in their lives, she had been his.
.
.
Ino cut off the boy that usually sat at the desk in front of Sakura and slid into the seat, a manic look in her eyes. “Guess what?”
“I’m not playing this game,” Sakura laughed, completely ignoring the boy that was frowning at Ino.
“Well, fine. Be boring.” Ino huffed, blowing her bangs up and letting them flop back on her face. “But anyway so I was talking to your cousin Sasori━”
“Ino, he’s way too old for you and he’s gay. And you have a boyfriend.”
“That’s not why I was talking to your cousin, Billboard Brow.” Ino flicked Sakura’s forehead. “But anywho. So I went to visit your cousin at that parlor he’s working at now ‘cause I wanna get those piercings you wanted for your birthday━no arguments. They’re on me. We’re going after school.”
“That’s awfully generous of you.” Sakura pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at her. “Is Sasori giving you a discount?”
Ino scoffed. “I wish! That miser,” she grumbled. Ino shook her hair out and then smiled slyly at her. “But that’s not even the best part.”
Sakura rolled her eyes. Ino was really milking the big surprise. She was too impatient for this and the homeroom teacher would show up soon.
“Remember that mega hottie from the public school at the student showcase down at The Factory Art Center?”
Sakura groaned, dropping her head onto her planner. How could she forget? She was just lucky that he hadn’t seen her run straight into a wall because she had been so distracted. The only good thing that came about that was that Ino met her boyfriend Sai that day. And that the boy hadn’t noticed her accident.
It had been a student showcase for the senior students in the schools in the city and Sakura and Ino attended for extra credit. Sakura had been mindlessly looking at all of the pieces until a tall boy wearing all black with messy hair had caught her eye. She had barely heard Ino call out “Dibs!” before she ran into one of the pillars because she wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking.
Ino had given up chase and did her best friend duties by checking up on Sakura. Luckily for her, a different dark haired boy had seen the whole thing and had come over to help out and Ino got her older boyfriend anyway.
“That was almost a whole year ago. Why must you remind me that I embarrassed myself in front of like, seven different senior classes.”
“Mega hottie works at the parlor your cousin does. He’s an apprentice-slash-shop slave.”
That, Sakura hadn’t expected. She had seen his work and expected him to go off to art school and then maybe come back to The Factory Art Center to be a resident artist or for him to even switch tracks and work at Glass & Iron━he did have some lampwork and some welding work as part of his showcase.
“So what?” Sakura swallowed. The grin on Ino’s face was foreboding.
“So,” Ino reached over and played with the ends of Sakura’s long pink hair, “someone is going to take her cute butt down there and finally meet him.”
.
.
“Sakura.”
Sakura blinked at the hand that waved in front of her face. Sasuke looked down at her with concern. She looked just about ready to pass out in her noodles.
“Are you okay? You should probably get to bed.” He would just have to clean up everything on his own. And if she tried to go to work on her day off, he’d call the tiny red terror━Karin or Sakura’s cousin, Sasori━to force her to rest for once.
Sakura rubbed her eye with the back of her little fist and murmured, “I should. Thank you for the food.”
She was so small and tired, Sasuke just wanted to scoop her up and bundle her up in her blankets. But then he remembered that she would be going to her own room and he would be going to his and there were four years between now and when he was hers.
Did she still curl herself inward like a cat when she slept? Bury herself under three blankets that weighed almost as much she did?
He could help her to her room and find out. She was dead on her feet and would probably need him to keep from stumbling and running into a wall. It would be so easy to just curl his arm around her waist, pull her closer to his sturdier frame.
It would be easy, oh so easy. And that’s why Sasuke left her to her own devices.
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Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Five
A/N: If you didn't see my post yesterday, I decide to break this chapter into 2 chapters. The preview for this chapter is included in the next chapter.
Words: 3.7k
Warning(s): Explicit language, mentions of drug abuse
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I blink my eyes open to see Izzy standing over me, my brows furrowing at the sight of him, confusion filing into my mind.
“Izzy.” I croak out, closing my eyes again for a moment.
“Viv.” He replies.
"What're you doing here?" I groan, tiredly.
"A girl I hooked up with last night lives in this neighborhood." He tells me. "Karen let me in."
“Of course she did.” I mumble, sitting up with another groan, and he sits on the floor next to me, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it.
“So, like, what happened?” He asks me, looking around at the shithole mess I made last night and I lick my cracked lips, feeling the tightness of dried, mascara coated tears that have glued to my face, and let out an exhausted breath.
“You ever walk into your house and wonder ‘exactly how many surfaces did my husband and his mistress possibly have sex on’?”
“Nope.” He replies, blowing out smoke, and I glance at him.
“Well, that’s what happened.” I reply, sighing. “I thought I was doing good, Izzy. I really thought we were getting better. And we weren’t. It was all bullshit.”
“Trust me, Viv, I’ve fucking been there.” He mumbles.
“I gave her a key to my house.” I repeat what I told him earlier and he looks at me for a moment, looking as if he doesn’t quite know what to say. “I might as well have just handed him over to her and said, ‘he’s yours, have at it’.” I add, letting out a chuckle, although it’s not funny. “I’m not like her. I act nothing like her. I haven’t accomplished as much as she has. I’m not established like she is. I look nothing like her--”
“--She’s a ten but the drugs make her a five. And her being batshit crazy knocks her down to a solid two...on a good day. You’re a ten. Your niceness adds two points, your patience adds two more points, and your crazy is hot, which adds five more points. So technically you’re a seventeen. Don’t compare yourself to a fucking crack addict when there’s barely anything left of her to compare to.” He orders sternly, and I push a strand of hair behind my ear. “And the only thing she can say she’s got on you, is screwing your husband, and she brags about it because strung out Nikki Sixx is obviously a prize.” He sarcastically states and I smile a little. “He didn’t cheat because you weren’t enough, Viv. He cheated because he’s fucking stupid and the drugs just add to it. I assure you, if you were ugly or something, none of us would wanna fuck you. But we do.”
“Gee, thanks, Izzy.” I flatly say, furrowing my brows slightly, and he nudges me with his elbow.
“You’re a seventeen.” He reassures me, smiling.
“See, this is what I would’ve appreciated hearing the other night.” I inform him.
“I was an ass the other night.” He admits. “I’m sorry for yelling at you...and there’s nothing wrong with you not picking up on our hints that something was wrong. You just see the best in people sometimes when they’re fucking shitty, is all.”
“Trust me I’ve learned my lesson.” I scoff.
“No, don’t let this bullshit ruin a good thing. You can still see the good in people and try to be positive about them, just use a little discernment from now on.” He shrugs and I wipe my eyes as he takes another drag of his cigarette.
“Did we just have a moment, Izzy?” I ask, and he furrows his brows and looks at me.
“No.”
“I think we did.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“I think we did. I think we just got a little closer in our friendship.”
“Nope, I don’t think so.”
“We did.”
“We didn’t.”
“I love you and I’m glad we’re friends.”
He just looks at me, trying not to smile, before getting a serious look on his face.
“It’ll be okay, Viv.” He assures me, genuinely, and I nod.
“I know it will be, I’m just kinda scared to go through the hell I’m gonna need to go through in order to get to the ‘it’s okay now’ part.”
“I know you are.” He tells me, exhaling more smoke. “I know you are.”
That’s the thing about Izzy: a raging jackass when he wants to be, and quiet for the most part, but when he gets serious about something, it’s genuine and hard to ever forget.
Once Izzy decides to go home, I’m staring at the letter from Playboy, eyeing the number left at the bottom of the page for their project manager.
“Just call and see what they say.” I tell myself, taking a deep breath, my palms starting to sweat.
I dial the number and it rings a few times before someone picks up.
“Playboy Enterprises, this is Erika.”
I convince myself to calm down and ease the nerves bunching in my stomach before I reply.
“Y-Yes, this is Vivian Sixx. I got a letter from you guys?”
“Yes, they’ve been hoping you would call. Give me a moment and I’ll transfer your call to our PM.” She tells me.
“Okay, thank you.”
I wait for a moment as the line cuts out, before it cuts back in again.
“Mrs. Sixx?” Another woman’s voice greets me.
“Yes?”
“This is Danielle Wyther, I’m the one that sent you the letter.” She explains.
“Oh.”
“I take it you’ve made your decision.” She says next and I let out a little sigh, hesitantly giving an answer.
“I’m not comfortable doing full nudity--I mean, I don’t have an issue being nude but, like, I want the important parts covered.” I’m saying before I can stop myself, and I furrow my brows and mouth “what the fuck” to myself for being so blunt.
“...We didn’t expect anything different from you, Vivian, no worries.” She tells me and I let out a relieved breath. “We’ve already prepared for more tasteful photos.”
She goes on to tell me when I need to meet with her to sign my contract of payment and a temporary NDA ensuring I won’t let it out to the public I’m posing until they decide to announce it themselves, and then we go over when I need to come to Chicago to shoot.
Once a date is set to meet, and for the photoshoot itself, we hang up and I turn around to see Karen holding a cup of coffee, wearing her bedroom shoes due to the glass on the floor that I need to clean up.
“You didn’t hear that.” I tell her.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She replies, obviously knowing what I’m talking about, but clearly not in a hurry to tell Nikki about it.
She just raises her brows and takes a sip of her coffee, minding her own business.
After breakfast, I try to clean up the best I can, not even necessarily wanting to go to my room to grab a change of clothes and shower once I'm done, but I do.
I'll just leave our room a shitshow for him since we're coming back for a five day break in like a week anyway.
I shower and change clothes, grabbing my car keys.
"Where are you going?" Karen asks me.
"To see Sharise and Sky, and then I’m going out with the guys before I get home.” I tell her.
“Alright, be careful.”
“I will.”
I knew Karen wouldn’t say a thing to Nikki about Playboy, and she honestly never said a thing to me about it...but I could tell she didn’t necessarily agree with my decision, because nobody really agreed with it, they tolerated it.
In all honesty they all thought I had lost my mind, finally, because I was Vivian. Goody-goody, Christianly, worst-thing-ever-done-was-marry-someone-my-mother-didn’t-approve-of, Saint Vivian.
“Yes, I’m sure about it, Sharise.” I tell her, Skylar sticking a unicorn sticker to my face, making me smile at her as Sharise raises her brows at me.
“But you’ll be n-a-k-e-d.” She spells out so Skylar won’t catch on. “A-s-s and b-o-o-b-s out. For everyone to see.”
“Not really, everything’s gonna be covered.”
“Barely.”
“But still covered, nonetheless.” I argue.
“Do you want me to go with you?” She asks next.
“I wanna go!” Skylar says, looking at her mom, not even knowing where exactly we’re going, but wanting to tag along.
“No, I’ll probably have Duff or Steven go with me.” She tell her and she raises her brows.
“Oh...Duff...okay…”
“What?” I ask, furrowing my brows a little and she holds back a tight-lipped smile, shaking her head and shrugging.
“Nothing, Viv. Nothing at all. It’s just...you know…”
“...What exactly do I know?” I question.
“You know what you know.” She says back, matter-of-fact, and I think a moment before scoffing out.
“Oh, puh-lease, Sharise.” I hold back a bark of laughter.
“You know where I’m getting that idea, too.” She states and I shake my head.
“You are crazy.”
“Am I? You’ve just recently been hurt, you’re vulnerable, you’re confused, he’s available and attractive, and a complete gentleman--”
“--Which is exactly why nothing is happening because he’s not going to take advantage of me right now.” I tell her.
“Right now?” She widens her eyes and I sigh. “Ah, so you admit something’s cooking, it’s just not being served at the table at the moment.”
“It’s being poured down the drain because he’s got his own thing and I’ve got mine and neither of us are like that with each other.”
“He broke up with his ‘thing’ earlier this year and yours was just caught with a crack pipe in one hand, a needle in the other, and another woman’s mouth on his d-i-c-k, which sounds like a justified divorce to me.” She says to me, picking Sky up, and I let out a breath...because she’s right.
“Look, just think before you jump into the deep end. Just because there’s room for you to land, doesn’t mean there aren’t sharks waiting for you to dive in.” She warns me and I just nod slowly, rubbing my lips together.
I stay at Sharise’s for a couple more hours, before I’m meeting Duff at the Whisky because they’re playing a show tonight.
“Thank you.” I say as a girl in the crowded room moves for me to squeeze by her to get backstage with the guys once the show is over.
I crack open the door, seeing Axl in his assless chaps, his hair going all kinds of directions in it’s teased glory, and he smiles widely at me.
“Hey, Viv.” He greets me, and I step in to see everybody else in the room: Slash, Izzy, Stevie, Duff, and...no, no, that’s impossible.
I furrow my brows, my heart stopping in my chest.
“D-Dad?” I ask.
He’s just as shell shocked as I am, until his face is lighting up, tears coming to his eyes, as he nervously steps to me.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask next, realizing I’m about to cry.
I haven’t seen him in four years. We’ve written to each other every once in a while just to check up, but I haven’t seen him or heard his voice in four years.
“I’ve been coming down this part of town the past few nights when I heard you were back home.” He explains to me.
“Why?”
He doesn’t have to answer this, I know why. He heard his daughter’s husband possibly cheated on with her, and the mistress announced it on national television.
“Well, I couldn't really comfort you through a stupid letter.” He says and a tear rolls down my cheek.
“Aww, Dad." My voice cracks and he gives me a big hug.
"And I'll fly to wherever he is and give him a piece of my mind, just say 'when' and I'll give him a real reason to go crawling to another woman." He states and I laugh, pulling away to wipe my eyes, getting a good, up close look at my dad.
His hair is already starting to grey, despite only being forty-one, and his brown eyes haven't lost any of their spark that's been in them even since I could remember.
He wipes my tears, giving me a reassuring smile.
"I'm okay, Dad." I tell him, sniffling, looking around at the guys before looking back up at him. "How do you even know them?"
Apparently, several months prior, my dad happened to be in the same convenience store as Steven, who he saw was trying to smuggle a bag of Cheetos up his shirt because he couldn’t afford to buy them so my dad gave him a few hundred bucks and when he told Steven his name Stevie remembered my maiden name was “Kinston” and asked my dad if he knew me. It went from there and resulted in my dad checking in on them from time to time, but none of them ever told me because they weren’t ever really sure how I felt about my dad.
After the guys get changed, we’re heading to get some food at the Rainbow with my dad tagging along.
“After she watched the Wizard of Oz with her aunt, she’d pretend she was the Good Witch of the South and used to get out of her little bubble baths and run through the house, calling herself the ‘Bubble Fairy’, with her mom chasing after her.” My dad tells the guys and I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing he wouldn’t have told the story of the notorious “Bubble Fairy.”
“Dad, they didn’t need to know that.” I say to him, seeing Duff and Slash trying to hide their laughter.
“Oh, it’s not that bad, Viv, you were a toddler.” My dad insists. “It was precious.”
“Yeah, maybe you should recreate it and let us see if it’s just as precious.” Izzy says to aggravate me.
“Hey, watch it.” My dad scolds him and I smile smugly at Izzy.
“Yeah, watch it." I echo and Izzy narrows his eyes at me.
"Whatever you say, Bubble Fairy." He says to me and I'm kicking at him under the table, before I'm looking at my dad again, taking a sip of Pepsi.
"Change of subject, why didn't you just come by the house?" I ask my dad.
"I didn't know if you would've wanted me to, if you were still trying to handle everything." He adds. "I was going to when I heard you had a health scare, but I didn't want to overstep any boundaries."
"Dad, I wouldn't have minded." I assure him, shaking my head a little.
"Well, how much longer are you going to be in town?" He asks.
"Um, I'm flying out tomorrow for about a week, but we're supposed to be coming back home for a break." I explain.
"'We're'? He's coming back home with you…is he staying with you?" He questions and I blink a couple times.
"Well, y-yeah, we're still married, dad, so we're gonna be staying in the same house." I explain. "Especially since his manager thinks it's best if we play it off to the public and the media that the situation was a misunderstanding."
"How the hell does one 'misunderstand' being engaged to a married man?" He asks, and the guys raise their brows.
"Well--"
"--I'd rip his manager a new one and tell him to use it to let out all the extra shit he's full of."
My eyes widen, and I'm shocked, because I've never heard my dad this angry.
"Dad, it's okay. After the tour if we want to file for divorce, we will."
"When is the tour over?"
"Next spring."
"Vivian, do you have any idea how long divorce takes to be finalized?" He asks and I rub my lips together. "If you genuinely want to get divorced, I suggest filing now so you can almost be done with it by the time the tour ends."
"We've tried. She won't listen." Axl states, lighting a cigarette and I glare at him.
"I'm weighing my options, dad." I say.
"And what's he doing?" He asks next.
"Shooting heroin and screwing groupies." Axl interjects again.
"Axl." I snap.
"Dude, c'mon." Duff lightly says, not amused with his suggestion.
"What?" Axl looks at us. "Coming from a dude, infidelity is like cockroaches. For every one you know about, there's a hundred more you don't know about."
"Dude!" Stevie scolds him, looking at him like he's lost his mind.
"So we're just gonna pretend there's no chance that Vanity isn't the first chick Nikki's been with in the six years they've been together?" Axl keeps going.
"I'm going to the bathroom." I mumble, getting out of the booth, trying not to think about the possibility of Nikki cheating with multiple other girls, but knowing it isn't too far-fetched to consider it.
After a couple minutes of wiping tears in the bathroom stall, I hear the door open, and wait to hear the clicking of heels on the tile floor, but instead hear heavy footsteps.
“Viv?” Duff asks and I let out a relieved sigh, sniffling.
“I’m fine.” I say to him, despite it not sounding convincing in the slightest.
“No, you’re not.” He tells me and I roll my eyes, opening the stall, looking up at him.
“I am.”
“There’s no fucking cameras around, you know that right?” He raises his brows and I exhale softly, throwing my wet, snotty tissue in the garbage can, stepping to the mirror to fix my face the best I can.
“I’ve thought of the possibility of him having others.” I admit, wiping the running mascara from my face as he leans against the stall’s fixture and looks at me in the mirror. “I’ve thought about it, and it’s one of my worst fucking fears is hearing this whole time there’s been girls left and right that’s he’s managed to sneak past me. I don’t like it, but I have thought about it. I’m not oblivious to that possibility.”
“I know you aren’t.” He nods.
“But he’s all I’ve known.” I tell him, taking a deep breath. “He’s all I’ve known and he’s all I’ve got and if I look for any more trouble, I’m gonna find it, and I’d rather not repeat this cycle of feeling like the biggest fucking idiot, so if we can just skip the conversation altogether I’d be really appreciative of it.” I state, turning to face him.
“Got it.” He promises. “And Axl doesn’t mean anything by it, Viv, alright? He just misses the mark when it comes to communication.” He shrugs.
“I suppose.” I sigh out. “I’m sorry, you’re probably tired of me crying.”
“I wish you wouldn’t cry because I don’t like to see it, but I think you have every reason to, right now. I’m just happy you’re not completely losing your shit like I expected you to.” He explains and I raise my brows.
“Define ‘losing your shit’.”
He looks at me with raised brows.
“What did you do?” He asks me, amused.
“It’s not really what I’ve done...more so what I’m going to do.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“...Playboy sent me a letter, offering $40,000 for a cover shoot and interview, and some pictures to go along with it.” I watch as his eyes widen, and he gets an uneasy look on his face.
“Viv, you aren’t, like, the Playboy type, though.” He points out, worriedly.
“Well, no, I’m not, and I know that and they know that, so when I called just decided to do ‘tasteful’ nude shots.”
“‘Tasteful’ by Vivian standards, or ‘tasteful’ by pornographic magazine standards?”
“Vivian standards. Naked, but none of the good stuff is showing.” I state.
“Oh, okay.” He laughs out, nervously. “Are you...sure about it?”
“Well, at first I did it for the money because if Nikki leaves me, I’m not gonna have a penny to my name--”
“--Vivian, if you need money and somewhere to stay if things go to shit, you can just ask me or one of the guys.” He offers, looking like the thought of me posing nude just for money, doesn’t sit right with him because he knows I wouldn’t do it unless I felt I had no other choice.
“You didn’t let me finish.” I tell him, smiling. “But then they said it’d be tasteful and I wouldn’t have to show everything, and now it sounds kinda fun.”
“And what does Nikki think of it?” He asks me an important question and I go to speak, but stop myself, exhaling.
“What Nikki doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Is all I can come up with.
“Uh, I think Nikki will know when he sees his wife on the cover of Playboy.” He argues.
“It’s not like I’m gonna be posed on the front with my tits and pussy out, spread eagle for the world to ogle at my anatomy.” I counter and he squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head a little.
“I didn’t need to picture you like that, Viv.” He says and I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“Oops, sorry.” I say, rubbing my lips together. “Hey, there is something I need to ask you, though.”
“Yeah?” He replies, looking at me.
“Tomorrow I’m going to their office here in town to sign the paperwork and stuff, and then I’m going to Chicago for the photoshoot, because conveniently enough, Motley Crue will be in Chicago for a few days, and I was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”
He laughs like it’s absurd.
“You are crazy.” He says, in disbelief. “You are crazy.”
“Duff--”
“--If he finds out I was there with you, Viv, I just--you are crazy.”
“So, you’re not gonna go with me?” I ask him, scared he’s going to say “no” to avoid pissing Nikki off.
But he completely surprises me when he says:
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
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Wasteland, Baby, Chapter 1 (Crygi, Nicky x Jaida) - Metaluna
A/N: Hey, everyone! Here’s chapter two. Just to self plug, I made a tumblr for my writing, and you can find me on ao3 as metaluna.
chapter summary: Crystal confides her insecurities about the end of the world with a friend. Gigi and her friends make their own plans, and meet a bubbly blonde along the way
After shutting off the TV and downing her glass of wine, Gigi turned off her tablet. Even though she totally didn’t believe it, because there’s no way the world was ending, she went to the fridge and grabbed an entire bottle. After taking off the cork, she went to pour it into a glass before electing to drink straight from the bottle.
When she returned to the couch, she turned the TV onto the Real Housewives of Some City. Gigi was too numb to pay attention or care which city. She wasn’t sure why, because none of it was real. None of the catty fights were holding her attention. She was just staring at the TV mindlessly chugging wine.
Right as she finished the bottle, she heard a knock on the door. Gigi managed to stumble her way to the door.
“Oh my god, what are you guys doing here?” Gigi slurred.
Standing at the door were her two best friends, Jaida and Nicky.
Nicky raised an eyebrow. “Having fun tonight?”
“Shut up.”
Jaida and Nicky both took one of Gigi’s arms and led her to the couch.
“Did you guys hear the world is ending?” she laughed. “Alexa, play It’s the End of the World as we Know it!”
“Chile, what are you doing?” Jaida questioned, genuinely concerned. She knew her friend enjoyed a glass of wine, but rarely did she get drunk. Gigi was too much of a control freak to ever willingly lose control.
The night that Jaida befriended Gigi was the only night she’d ever seen her drunk. It was at an after party for GG Designs’ first fashion show. Jaida was one of the models who walked in the show. That night, Jaida went into the bathroom to fix an eyelash when she saw a skinny blonde girl fumbling around looking like she was about to be sick. Jaida realized that the skinny blonde girl was the one who gave her a job.
Right as she put her hand on the door to leave Gigi lost her liquor narrowly avoiding Jaida’s Louboutins. She was genuinely concerned at how such a small person could hold so much vomit. Jaida spent the rest of that night holding back Gigi’s hair while she continued to throw up.
Ever since, they were best friends. The bond of a sober girl and a drunk girl in the bathroom knows no bounds.
“The world is ending! Who cares?”
“Gigi,” Nicky began. Her tone harsh. “We don’t know that. We don’t know what any of this is.”
Gigi dramatically took the remote from the couch and flipped until she found a news station.
“—fallout shelters are going to be available. The starting rate will be 10,000 dollars per person. They are available to reserve online.”
“Fallout shelters? Goddamn.” Nicky adjusted herself in her chair. “This has got to be pretty serious.”
“Who knows? It’s not like I pay attention to the news!”
“Gigi shut up,” Jaida lightly swatted her friend’s warms. “Is this something that we should look into?”
Jaida and Nicky discussed the pros and cons. Gigi chimed in occasionally, not adding anything of any value, other than that she was willing to pay for all of it. The three decided that their best option was to stay safe in a shelter just in case. There was one not far from them in LA. Check in was the next day.
—
Jaida and Nicky made it back to their studio apartment. They tucked a very wine drunk Gigi in on the couch. They knew their friend well enough that once she was sober, she would be in a better headspace. Before they left, they packed a bag for her.
Now, they had to the same for themselves.
Nicky sighed. “How are we supposed to pack up our whole lives? How do we even know this is going to happen?”
Jaida kissed her girlfriend’s forehead. “I know, baby. I hope it’s nothing. I really do. But just in case we need to be ready.”
Nicky looked at Jaida while she was packing. She loved her girlfriend so much. The models had Gigi to thank for their relationship. Gigi met Nicky a few months after she’d met Jaida. They met at a fitting Nicky had for an upcoming shoot for GG Designs.
After they talked, Gigi realized that she and Jaida would be a good match. After a month of protesting from both sides, they finally agreed to meet. The chemistry was instantaneous, and they started dating a couple of weeks later.
Once they finished packing, they sat on the couch together. Jaida rested her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. They sat and said nothing. Both of them were trying to take in their surroundings. Neither of them wanted to forget what a single inch of that tiny apartment looked like.
A month into dating, Nicky’s lease ended, and Jaida couldn’t stand living with her roommates for another minute. The two of them became a stereotype and moved in together. There were so many memories in that apartment. The first meal they cooked together. The first time Jaida said she loved Nicky. The time they almost set their kitchen on fire. The walls were lined with memories that were about to be left behind.
Nicky and Jaida sat together for as long as they could.
Nicky nudged Jaida. “Babe, we have to go eventually.”
Jaida felt a tear run down her face. “Okay.”
“I know that this is home. I thought France was home. Home is when we are together.” She wiped Jaida’s tear. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
With one last look, the couple left their apartment for the last time.
Gigi didn’t know what to expect with the fallout shelter. It was beyond anything she would have imagined. The whole area was surrounded by a large barb wired fence. There were armed guards at each of the doors. The exterior looked like an army barracks. She could only imagine what the inside looked like.
They walked up to a scary looking man who was checking people in at the gates.
“Name?”
“It should be three for Georgiana Goode?”
“Go ahead. Here’s a map. I marked your room. It’s a four person bedroom. You will have a random roommate who is also female. There’s an itinerary as well. Do not miss orientation tonight.”
The shelter was bigger than Gigi thought it would be. There were four different buildings, and each building had 25 rooms. Each building had a community bathroom, a common area, a gym, and a dining hall. Their room was next to the dining hall. The bedroom was very cramped. Gigi’s dorm in college felt like it had more space. There were two bunk beds. The furniture looked like what would be at a cheap roadside motel, a stark contrast to Gigi’s chic home. She tried her hardest to hide her disgust for the place.
“I knew it was not going to be much but wow,” Nicky said, testing the cheap mattress.
“I mean…” Jaida trailed off looking at the furniture.
Both Nicky and Jaida came from a comfortable life. Their life was not as extravagant as Gigi’s, they lived in a one bedroom studio apartment, but they were used to a nicely furnished and decorated space. None of them were used to a cramped space primarily decorated with beige and army green.
Gigi sighed, sitting on a bed. “I can’t do this. This is a nightmare.”
“G. Calm down. It’s not great but we’re going to have to deal. Jaida and I aren’t happy either, but we’ll get through it together.”
Before Gigi could reply, the door opened. A bubbly looking blonde came through the door struggling to lug two large purple suitcases.
“Oh my god hi! I’m Jan. I really have no idea what’s going on. Oh my gosh, you guys are so pretty how are you?
”
Gigi blinked and didn’t say anything.
“Excuse Miss Gigi here, she doesn’t know how to act.” Jaida gave Gigi side eye. “I’m Jaida. Nice to meet you.”
“My name’s Nicky.”
“Oh wow, are you from France? That’s so cool! I went to France when I was sixteen and it was really cool. What brought you to LA?”
“I moved over here to model.”
“A model? That’s awesome! Are you all models?”
“Nicky and I are,” Jaida explained. “Miss Gigi over here is a designer.”
“Wait. Wait a minute. Are you Gigi Goode? Like GG Designs?” Jan’s expression is stunned.
“Uh, yeah, I am.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m such a huge fan. I wore one of your dresses to the opening of a show I was in back when I was in New York a few months ago. The purple A-line? It was gorgeous. Wow this is an honor!”
“Thank you so much.” Gigi’s mood instantly improved. She loved all forms of attention, especially when she was being praised about something that she worked so hard on. People thought that Gigi was conceited, when in all actuality she was proud of her work. She’d worked so hard that she felt as though she deserved to be the way that she was.
“So Jan,” Jaida began. “What’s your story?”
“Okay. Well. I’m an actress and singer. I actually got my break being an understudy for Jenna in Waitress on Broadway. After that, I opened a Go-Go’s jukebox musical. It didn’t last long. We barely made it out of previews. That wasn’t great. Then, I moved out to LA for the out of town tryout of a revival of Anything Goes. I’m actually playing Reno. It’s so much fun! Well, uh, it was fun… before the president decided he’s going to end the world.” Jan laughed nervously.
The four girls continued becoming acquainted. Gigi, Jaida, and Nicky all liked Jan, even if she was a little over enthusiastic. Jan liked just about anyone who would talk to her, so a fast friendship was forming. They talked for so long, they lost track of time and almost forgot to go to the orientation.
The dining hall looked like what prisons looked like in movies. There were steel tables that looked cold. The linoleum was impeccably clean. The entire shelter was, even the tiny living spaces. The space was already packed. All the tables were full, so the girls elected to stand against the wall in the back.
An extremely intimidating woman who started speaking. Gigi realized that it was the woman who made the report on the news.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Michelle Visage. You all have been selected, or have paid, to survive the looming threat of nuclear war. This shelter has enough supplies for a year. You must now all say goodbye to your lives. After this meeting, the shelter is going to be sealed. No entering or leaving. If that is not something you can commit to for a full year, please let one of the guards in the back of the room know. By now you should have gotten your rooms and roommate assignments. If you have conflicts with your roommates, settle it like adults. We aren’t here to solve your roommate qualms. Meals are at 7, 12, and 6 and last one hour. Don’t be late. There is a common room that will have the news as up to date as possible. Other than that, you are free to roam about the shelter. I know that it’s not going to be easy. It doesn’t feel like home, and it won’t. But it’s the best we have. Welcome.”
On the way back to their room, Michelle’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Now beginning lockdown procedures.”
There was a loud buzzing that filled the air. It was loud enough that Jan covered her ears. Gigi’s ears began to ring. There were loud slams as the lead walls came over the shelter. Even though the shelter looked the same as it did on the inside, Gigi felt a wave of claustrophobia envelop her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.
“Well,” she began. “I guess if the world’s ending I’m glad I’m with all of you.”
—
Crystal was angry at herself. She had no reason to be so stressed. This was something she was waiting the majority of her life for. Almost any situation that could happen, she was ready for. But yet, a part of her had always hoped that she had been preparing for something that would never happened. She didn’t want the world to end.
Her mind wandered, thinking of what could have been. There were so many scenarios that played in her mind. What if she would have went to the art school that offered her scholarships? What if she decided to move to Chicago with Jackie? What if she didn’t let her aunt have control over her life? None of it mattered. It was all going to end, and she hadn’t even lived her life. She knew nothing beyond her town.
The pit of her stomach felt like it had dropped to her feet. It is a feeling that she had felt many times throughout her life. She felt it right after the accident that killed her parents. She felt it when she had to tell the psychologist about the accident. The time that she felt it the most were the nights that her aunt drank too much and lashed out. The very first time she took solace in the basement is when she first moved.
The basement was her sanctuary. It is where she felt the safest, which is a feeling she longed for, ever since the accident. Ever since the day her parents died, she didn’t feel safe. But, when she spent time alone in the basement, she felt safe, if only for a moment. When she was younger, she and Jackie played in the basement. It is also where she worked on her art projects. When she was fifteen, she asked her aunt if she could paint the walls of the basement. For once, her aunt was agreeable, and let her.
As she stood in the basement, she admired her paintings. Painting the walls is what made her fall in love with painting. When she was first sent to live with her aunt, Crystal was mandated to see a child psychologist. The psychologist recommended that she draw how she felt. Ever since, she turned to painting as an emotional outlet. It was the one thing that she felt that she was good at.
In the corner of the basement, there was a makeshift bed Crystal made out of pillows. There were many times where Crystal fell asleep in the basement. Even though she now slept in the bed, she couldn’t bring herself to disassemble the pillows.
At some point, she’d fallen asleep. Around 2 A.M., she woke up from an incoming FaceTime. It was her best friend, her only friend, really, Jackie. Jackie had been around since Crystal first moved to Missouri. They became friends because they were both outcasts. Jackie’s mom was extremely strict, and didn’t let Jackie do a lot of the things that everyone else got to do. Because Jackie had no friends, she introduced herself to the new girl back in the seventh grade. They became friends and never looked back.
“Hi, babe,” Crystal said groggily.
Jackie’s eyes were red and puffy. “This is fucked.”
“Do you think this is actually going to happen?”
Because she studied political science with a concentration in foreign affairs, if anyone were to understand, it would be Jackie. Jackie wasn’t much of a crier, so the fact that Jackie looked so stressed, Crystal already knew the answer.
“Yeah. Yeah I do. I feel like this was going to happen eventually. I just happened after we were dead. The relations between us and North Korea have just went downhill ever since the president was elected. Unfortunately, because the way the president has completely managed to the checks and balances that we learned about in grade school, as much as the senate and house have tried, they can’t do much.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
After a silence, Crystal said, “So what are your plans about… all of this?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to my mother in six years, and my dad died two years ago. I don’t really have anyone to be honest.”
“Do you want to come here? I think that I can do this. My aunt has been prepping me for this for the past ten years. But, like, what if it’s not enough? What if I’ve been waiting for this to happen all for nothing? I’m so afraid that I’m not ready for this.”
“Hey. Hey. Listen. If anyone can survive this, it’s you. I know that you don’t really like to talk about what she’s all taught you, but I know it’s a lot. And yes, I’d love to come over. It’s like a three hour drive, so it shouldn’t take too long. I think that traffic is going to probably be pretty bad because everyone is panicking. If I leave in about an hour I should be able to make the drive in probably four with traffic.”
“I don’t want the world to end. I always thought I turned into her, but I don’t think I did. She was sitting and waiting every day for this. I always hoped that it wasn’t going to happen. I wasted my whole life on this. I haven’t even left this damn town. There’s so much stuff in life that I’ve never gotten to do. Shit, Jackie, I’ve never even been kissed.”
“Crystal. Stop. You’re spiraling. You aren’t her. Even if you are know so much about all of this and could single handedly survive this, you never lost yourself. You’re still such a kind soul. You’re funny and put others before yourself constantly. You didn’t leave town just to take care of your aunt, and she was terrible to you.”
“Thanks, it’s the anxiety.”
“I mean it. Seriously. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
“Anyway, I better pack. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Crystal was so thankful for Jackie. She was the only one who could talk her out of spiraling. Somehow, Jackie always knew what to say. Even though she was an only child, she always thought that her friendship with Jackie is what it would be like to have a sister.
After managing to fall back asleep, Crystal was jolted awake by a knock at the door. She had barely managed to open the door before Jackie nearly tackled her to the ground with a hug. They hadn’t seen each other in about a year.
“It’s so good to see you.” Jackie’s voice was muffled, as her face was pressed into Crystal’s shoulder.
“You too.”
“So.”
“So?”
“So what all do we need to do to… get ready?”
“Honestly?” Crystal started to absentmindedly play with her hair. “I have everything done. I check all the supplies about every month, and I just did it a couple weeks ago. The artillery is loaded, there’s enough food and supplies for a year. I also have a lot of honey. Honey is good because it’s something that is hard to come by, and can be bartered for. It also doesn’t really ever go bad. Oh. Do you know how to shoot?”
Jackie had no idea how she was so calm about all of this. Crystal was talking about the end of the world and playing with her hair, talking about guns? She knew that her friend was well versed in this, but she had no idea how nonchalant she was about it. It was like a switch was flipped. The normally anxious girl had never looked so self-assured.
“Uh, no. I’ve never shot a gun.”
“Would you be willing to learn?”
Guns made Jackie nervous. Going to her town’s Memorial Day celebration made her nervous because the gunshots made her scream. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay. Cool. So I think all we have to do is teach you how to shoot. Don’t really it’s really easy. I’ve been doing it for like ten years. Also; would you be willing to learn how to use a Kearny meter?” Crystal saw how confused Jackie looked. “Oh, it’s just a radiation meter. It’s made out of a coffee can. Super easy, I promise.”
“I barely have any idea what you’re talking about, but I’m glad I’m spending the end of the world with a doomsday prepper.”
#rpdr fanfiction#crygi#jaida x nicky#crystal methyd#gigi goode#jaida essence hall#nicky doll#jan sport#jackie cox#slow burn#lesbian au#wasteland baby#metaluna#submission#s12
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In A Bind (Mista/F!Reader)
I said I’d feed my beanie babies!! Help yourselves to a little snack, my dear friends and readers!!!!! :’)
Warning: A preview/very premature draft to scene 1 for my upcoming college!au fic based on this post. Boy that was a mouthful. Modern/College AU, characters are adapted for normie lives (so slight exaggerations can be expected), etc.
Summary: Mista needs to find new digs and fast—luckily for him, he’s found your ad on a bulletin board on campus!
Alternatively: Meet your nightmare roommate, Fratboy!Mista.
Word count: 578 (so far)
Several months of living at the frat house on campus taught Guido Mista that 1) he didn’t like sharing a bathroom with six other guys, 2) that bringing people over for the night was almost impossible, and 3) he’d rather starve than pick at the food that ‘David’ cooked for dinner every night. His only option then was to move out as soon as the next semester picked up, and when he broke the news to the other guys, he made sure to pout as much as possible and pack his things as quickly as he could. Parting with your brothers isn’t the most heartrending experience a guy could experience, but Mista was sure a couple of them sniffled as soon as he shuffled out of theinto Narancia’s car.
That was three weeks ago.
In the time that had passed since then, Mista made the decision to crash at Narancia’s studio apartment with the promise of moving out when the right place came up. Narancia had one bed in the corner of his space and a sofa bed set in front of his immaculate gaming setup. At first the arrangement seemed perfect—Narancia and Mista played co-ops, watched newer releases on Netflix and even ordered takeout. But after the first week, Narancia became all too aware of Mista’s awful habits.
They weren’t completely unbearable, no—not if you didn’t mind dirty dishes piling up in the sink, smelly laundry lying all over the floor or losing hours of sleep because of Mista’s sleep-talking. There were worse roommates to deal with and that wasn’t any real secret to Narancia.
Regardless, Mista was surprised to have been given a very unexpected stern talking from Narancia in the library one day, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through his coffee that he realized that Narancia was giving him two more weeks to find a place.
“You’re kicking me out? But–”
“It’s not you, Mista,” Narancia chittered. “It’s—”
“Whatever, I get it.”
“Awesome! I actually can help you find some places if—ow!”
And it was entirely in Mista’s luck that he found the perfect apartment just a few days later, so he made sure to sprint over to Narancia as soon as he found it—the perfect ad.
“You sure about this?” asked Narancia, turning the flyer over and reading it a second time.
“Giorno said this guy doesn’t sound so bad.” Mista shrugged and pointed at a line of text. “Look—it says he doesn’t mind cooking, bakes occasionally, super clean—”
“It’s not like you’re going to stay at the apartment all day though,” Narancia pointed out. “And c’mon, this sounds way too good to be true. If they say they like cleaning, they’re probably slobs who’ll say anything just to get another person to sign the lease and help with rent. Oldest trick in the book.” Not that Narancia knew that by experience, of course. Ahem.
“Or maybe I found the perfect roommate who’s going to help me land more dates. This guy’s definitely gay. Probably has a couple of cute friends too.”
Narancia’s face dropped. “God, you’re such a pig. And this is probably a bad idea, so don’t drag me into it. There’s gotta be someone else you can room with.”
“Do you really want me to keep sleeping on your couch until I find new digs?”
Mista grinned when Narancia pulled out his phone and began texting the number. “I’ll do you a favor and set a meeting for you and this guy.”
-----
A/N: This is definitely going to go through a bunch of changes before I upload it to ao3, but I told myself to get to work on this and this is part of what I cranked out a few days ago. You haven’t even seen the worst of Fratboy!Mista yet, so be prepared!!!!!! >:)
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Chemical Reactions - Epilogue
Series Summary: Being a teacher at Central City Academy doesn’t leave much time for a personal life. You didn’t really notice or care…that is until the day the new substitute science teacher, Barry Allen makes an appearance.
SERIES MASTERLIST
Part 29 Summary: You and Barry are happy together. finally.
Pairing: Barry Allen x Reader, Substitute Teacher!Barry Allen x Teacher!Reader
Word Count: 1200ish
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has stuck through me with this series! I feel like this is a beautiful and adorable epilogue. Also this is probably my first ever epilogue I've ever written since I take so long to finish my stories. I hope ya'll like it and thank you so much for your support!! Please let me know what you think!
Please let me know what you guys think of the story! Send me asks!
Mobile Masterlist
This was posted earlier on my Patreon! Wanna get previews, early access and make requests? Become a Patron! Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!)
———————
*pretend it’s you and not Iris in this gif*
The gossip spread like wildfire, burning away all the lies and secrets until they no longer weighed upon your shoulders.
No more hushed conversations between class. No more avoiding eye contact and sharing hidden smiles.
No more rendezvous and coordinated exits. You maintained appropriate interactions in the workplace. The need for each other was no longer an unreachable itch; you just had to wait until the school day was over.
For the next two weeks, you and Barry stayed the night at each other’s apartments and came into work together. You were practically living out of overnight bags and sharing all personal space and it was perfect.
Dr. Stein posted for Barry’s position practically the next day after disclosing your relationship. You couldn���t hold it against him. Other than the memo and job posting he sent out to faculty, there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings.
“You will hold your electives for the semester, working part time. After that, your contract is terminated. Is that acceptable?” Dr. Stein had asked Barry in a private meeting.
“That’s perfect, sir. Thank you for your leniency. I know breaking school policies is not tolerated. I deserve a lot worse.”
“Like I said, Mr. Allen. I’d rather lose one teacher than two. And pardon me for saying but I can’t afford to lose a teacher like Miss Y/L/N. I’m just glad we were able to find a solution.”
Barry told you about the semi-compliment that night as he was pulling a dish of lasagna out of the oven at his apartment. It was a reassuring comment to hear secondhand. You’re tempted to watch Barry carefully, attempting to detect any sign of resentment on his face. But there was nothing but that handsome smile and a flirty eyebrow as he set down the food and stripped himself of the oven mit. It makes you giggle.
“CSI Barry Allen is a good look on you,” you comment, taking in the sight of Barry in a sweater and jeans. It’s not a new outfit but there’s an air of swagger surrounding him. He’s doing what he studied and what he enjoys. No day is the same and he’s getting to work with Joe.
“You should see my badge,” he says with a smirk.
“Do you have handcuffs?”
“Yeah! Oh wait, you mean CCPD-issued handcuffs? Nah.” He leans over the counter and pecks you on the lips. “Now let’s eat.”
After dinner, the two of you curl up on the couch with open beers within reach and your legs intertwined. You rest your head on Barry’s chest and nearly doze off listening to his even breathing and steady heartbeat, his arm wrapped around you and fingers stroking your hair.
“Hmmm,” you hum contentedly, snuggling deeper into his chest.
In the last year, your life has been totally transformed.
Central City Academy used to mean everything to you, and it still did. But you had committed so much of yourself to your work and your students that life had been passing you by. Not anymore.
A year ago, a handsome scientist had tied his ankle to yours in a three-legged race and you had fallen--hard. You never could have expected a schoolyard crush to turn into something like this, a romance with all the ups and downs.
You couldn’t be happier.
You sigh and reach for Barry’s hand, intertwining your fingers.
“Hey, you okay?” Barry asks you, kissing the top of your head.
“Yeah, absolutely,” you say, looking up at him with a smile, “I’m perfect.” Barry kisses you on the nose.
“Yes, you are.” It’s Barry’s turn to sigh now. “Actually there’s one thing that’s not working out.”
“What?” you sit up, leaving his arms and frowning. You can’t begin to imagine what he’s talking about.
“I mean…” he looks so...agonized. “It’s the...it's our clothes, and the bags. They just...they get so wrinkled…”
“Where are you going with this? You gonna ask me to iron your clothes?”
“What? No,” he laughs, “I don’t even own an iron,” he scoffs and you snort. “No, the overnight bags aren’t working anymore. What if...what if we moved in...together?” Your smile is gone, your gaze scrutinizing his expressions.
“Are you--are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Barry scoots off the couch and kneels on the floor between your knees. “Think about it. We’re spending every night together, your lease is almost up and yeah, CCPD pays a little better than teaching, but I could sure use a roommate.”
“Oh my god, you’re terrible. You’re just saying all of this because it’s practical.”
“I mean...yes...it is. But then there’s one other good reason for us to move in together.”
“And what’s that?”
“I love you. I love you so much. I can’t get enough of you. And once the semester is over, I won’t get to see you at work every day. I need my fix. I need you.” You’re staring at Barry pour his soul out and you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone this much. “Whaddaya say, baby?”
You get off the couch to kneel alongside him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Absolutely! Let’s do it!”
--
It doesn’t take too long to find a new apartment. When move in day comes around, Barry’s bedroom furniture is the first thing in the bedroom. Before the sheets are even on the bed, Barry is laying you down on the mattress, burying his face in your neck.
“Barry!” you squeal.
“I will have you in every room, woman,” he playfully growls. You run your fingers through his hair, messing it up.
“Okay, okay, of course. No argument there. But first…” Barry lets you push him to the side so that you can get up. “I want to start unpacking. Can I have this top drawer on your dresser?” You walk up to the tall piece of furniture. With its deep drawers, you want at least one drawer for your vast collection of undergarments and pajamas. Barry shouldn’t have an issue with that. You start to pull the drawer open, but suddenly Barry is at your side, pushing the drawer shut.
“No! Not that one. It’s my sock drawer,” he tries to explain himself. “I--um--I need this top drawer.”
“Why?” you frown, utterly confused.
“Because.”
“Do you have naughty magazines in there?” Rather than emptying the drawers, Barry had moved the furniture with the clothing and any other contents inside.
“Maybe…” He’s clearly lying but you don’t want to let on that you know. “But! You can have the entire right side of the closet though! Oh, and the bottom drawer.”
“Oookay…” you squint at him, trying to read his mind. You disappear into the walk-in closet and don’t come out for a few minutes.
It’s just enough time for Barry to reach into the drawer. He pulls out a small, red box and shoves it into his pocket.
It’s not the right time. He needs the right occasion and the perfect plan.
Until then...he just needs to find a new hiding place for his mother’s ring.
THE END
------
tags: @autoblocked @book-loving--anime-chick @abbessolute @karazoiel @overlyobsethed @therealcap @whoopxd @bookworm4ever99 @geeksareunique @pottxrwolff @frankie2902 @fabinapercabeth4179 @yessoftball-lover06 @blckthrns @barry-writes @ravenhaviland @clockblobber @melaninspice11 @softdudebro @parkerschurros @stuttering-psychopath @woaahkelsey @montytheravenclaw @sanya-gryff @smutfornerds @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @percyjackson886 @mcheung0314
#barry allen#barry allen x reader#the flash#my writing#barry allen fluff#barry allen au#barry allen imagine#barry allen fanfic#the flash imagine#dc#dc fanfic#grant gustin
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Chapter 24 Preview
Hola! Here’s a preview for chapter 24. I’m still working on the last bit of the chapter and expanding some areas. Hopefully I’ll have it done by tomorrow (or maybe even tonight but remember, take what I say with a grain of salt, I’m an optimist but my optimism often makes me a liar).
Also, it looks like I lost my italicized formatting pasting it over and I don’t feel like fixing it because I’m writing lmao so I apologize for that
- - -
“You know, I thought you would eventually move to Tokyo…” A squealing sound rang out as packaging tape was pulled off of its roll. “Come be around everyone else. Musutafu’s closer but…”
You looked up from the dishes you had been carefully stacking and wrapping in towels.
“Exactly -- Musutafu is a bit closer to Tokyo,” you said, catching Yume’s eye as she reached for a marker. “I’m excited. It’ll be nice to get out of Kamino. New job. New city. A clean slate.”
“You had a new job and Tokyo could have been a new city--”
“This will be good for me,” you continued airily, once again interjecting before she could work herself into another tangent deriding your judgment. You’d been working on dodging them all day. “You’ll see. My gut is telling me this is the right decision.”
Catching on that you were purposely cutting her off, Yume grumbled under her breath and you did your best to ignore it, assuming she was still a bit bitter over your departure from your relatively short stint at Odaiba Research.
When you had finally broken down and given her the news a handful of days back, that you had decided to leave your position, she reacted pretty much how you expected -- angrily. Disappointedly. It was obvious the feelings she had weren’t derived from someplace dark or hurtful, she just thought you were making a dumb decision.
Maybe you were.
But ultimately it was your decision to make.
She had spent a good portion of your dinner that night trying to reason with you, to goad you into reconsidering: How could you leave Odaiba!? Working there was a dream for many a scientist. To be given such an amazing opportunity and just toss aside so easily…
Not only that, Yume had gone to bat for you -- she talked you up, talked your skillset up. How would your departure reflect on her?
Eventually, you revealed your ‘good’ news -- that you had already accepted a position elsewhere and had already given notice to Doctor Kravitz and the team that you were leaving as soon as possible.
It was done.
You were just telling her as a courtesy.
For about of week after that less-than-friendly dinner, you ignored one another other, each stewing over the actions of the other. You were far too impulsive. She was far too close-minded.
Yume broke first, though, texting you.
Then, she took you out for ice cream.
Moving, however, hadn’t been a thought-out decision. You received notice that the lease for your lab space was coming up for renewal, with a slight increase in the rent price. It had been months since you had been there, having lost all desire to invent and having no commissions to work on.
It was the idealist in you that ultimately convinced you to, finally, give up your lab. Nothing was quite the same after your almost-brush with death over a… disagreement regarding the quality of your work. Although you always knew death and/or injury was a possibility while working with villains, it wasn’t until you were actually burned that it clicked in your mind that yes, you could actually die. It was a very real peril. Your, ‘come on, what are the odds?’ reasoning could no longer be used as the odds were, apparently, pretty good.
Luck had gotten you out of that situation with your life and that ace in the hole could no longer be played.
It was a long time coming, anyway, you had reasoned. The past several months had been alluding to the fact. You had turned down commissions, you no longer felt any desire to cash in on under the table money.
You wanted a normal life void of any secrets or skeletons.
It was funny how appealing being another cog in the machine had suddenly become.
Quite suddenly after reaching the decision of shutting down shop, that same vein of thought also goaded you into moving altogether. Don’t just close the lab -- break the lease on your apartment early. Get out of Kamino. Start over. You would lose your deposit and have to pay a fee, sure, but you would also be free.
After Power Loader promised that, yes, you still had a job and he wasn’t going renegade on the offer, you found a nice little rental house in Musutafu in a neighborhood geared toward families. All things considered, you were making more money at Power Loader’s lab as you had only been an apprentice at Odaiba (though, had you been brought on fulltime as was always teased, you would have made bank… and you didn’t quite want to think about that).
It seemed like a good, responsible decision.
You didn’t have a lot of time -- once you signed the lease on your new humble abode, and you broke the lease on your Kamino apartment, you only had two weeks to pack up years worth of junk and move, which made you regret your decisions immensely as moving was the absolute worst.
Then, entirely all too soon, two weeks was up.
You had been working down to the wire -- the last day you were allowed in your apartment was the day the movers showed up to lug all your boxes and furniture away. Before you went to go hand your keys over to the building manager for good, you stood in the living room surveying the skeletal remains of your home.
The apartment in all its mediocrity -- blemishes to the drywall, the bubbling paint along the creases of the ceiling, the creaky doors, the drafty windows -- was your home. Half-hearted fantasies about moving somewhere nicer had come true but you hadn’t been prepared for the strange lament that had settled in your heart during your goodbye.
It was an apartment.
You ignored the whispers of recollections moving around the empty room. Of scarfing down take-out on the floor with Yume when you first moved in and had almost no furniture. Of burning curtains and scorch marks on the floor thanks to misfired inventions prior to signing for your lab space. Of sleepovers and illnesses and late-night visitors and movie nights and broken furntiure and broken doors and--
It was the comforting presence of your apartment that you were sad to see go. You were a hermit crab exchanging a shell -- leaving felt weird only because you weren’t used to the new place. But you would be. It’ll be just as much of a home.
You sighed when the door clicked behind you for the last time, staring at the front door.
It felt like the end of an era.
You were moving into your silver age.
- - -
“So… last time we talked you had just moved into your new apartment. Tell me about that, how do you like it so far?”
You shifted slightly on the couch so you could sit on your hands, eyes flickering between your knees and the large-eyed man in front of you.
“It’s good,” you said with an uncomfortable grin, trying to convince yourself to not be so… closed up. It was what, your third session with your shrink? You had decided to sign up for therapy by your own volition, you had been the one to schedule the sessions, so why were you so… guarded when it came to talking with him? You were basically throwing money away if you weren’t going to use the time.
“You’ve got to give me a little more than just good,” he said, knowing eyes peering from behind even-larger glasses.
“It’s nice,” you tried again. “Leagues better than my old apartment but it’s still a little drafty. One of my neighbors has a little boy and he told me the other day that my house is haunted.”
“Oh!” Your therapist’s eyes crinkled with humor while you rolled yours.
“Wasn’t thrilled about that conversation.”
“But otherwise, your neighbors, you get along with them?”
“More or less. I live on the corner and I’ve only said hello to the family next to me in passing. There’s a pretty big fence separating our houses.”
“And the job is treating you well?” At that question, you cracked an actual smile. “Well, that’s a good reaction. Your whole aura completely changed.” He sat back, glancing up to the ceiling, rubbing his tongue across the roof of his mouth. “Tastes… like apple juice? Reassuring. So you’re comfortable there?”
“I think so,” you said, the smile still there. “It’s only been, what, a month? But I really like it there. It’s very… calm.”
“Calm?”
“Calm.”
“And you like the calm?”
“I think I do, yeah.”
“You think you do?”
“Well…” you shifted your jaw. “I don’t think I’m good under pressure. I used to think I was but… I don’t think I am. But I kept throwing myself into situations and jobs where there was a lot of pressure on my shoulders. This is a good change of pace.”
“I like what you just said there,” your shrink said, wagging a finger at you. “That bit of self-reflection at the end. Expand on that.”
You chuckled awkwardly, freeing a hand to rub at your knee.
“Sour. Tart,” the therapist observed, frowning, tongue clicking. “Lemons. Why the change? What makes you uncomfortable? The subject or talking about yourself?”
“A little bit of both. I guess I’m a little disappointed in myself for giving up and… accepting defeat?”
“Defeat?” He shook his head. “Don’t think of this as a win and lose situation. Life’s not a fight. Instead, look at it as playing on your strengths and weaknesses. You weren’t happy but now you are.”
“For now--” you ventured to say, earning a snort of disgust from the man sitting across from you.
“Don’t assume everything is fleeting. Accept and appreciate now. You’re happy now. You live in a house in a nice neighborhood.” He raised his thumb. “You have a job that mentally stimulates you and brings you joy.” He raised his pointer finger. “You’re in a good headspace -- your aura was bright when you walked in. Nothing was bogging you down.” His middle finger joined the others. “Name something else that’s been giving you joy?”
“My friends threw me a house warming party last weekend?”
“Friends are taking time to celebrate your achievements,” he said with a nod, lifting another finger in the air. “You know what, let’s go for five. Give me one more positive. Did you start up your kung fu lessons again?”
“Kung fu?” You blinked. “Oh, Krav Maga. No… uh, not yet.”
He frowned at you -- last session, you had admitted to your short ‘personal betterment’ stint with Krav Maga lessons after a situation with a villain. When you refused to elaborate on the villain portion of your story (you weren’t about to cop to any… misdeeds you may have done in the past), he instead started pushing you on why you had dropped Krav Maga -- why did you eventually just stop? Why don’t you start up again?
He was adamant you develop some sort of hobby.
“I started knitting again?” you offered a half-truth. You had purchased yarn online the day prior but hadn’t made anything. In fact, your knitting supplies were still packed away in one of the boxes you had yet to go through.
The large-eyed man openly smacked his lips, unamused.
“Overripe,” he said.
You sighed.
“Okay -- I’m going to. I bought yarn, I just have to unpack it.”
“I’d prefer if you did something physical though,” he grumbled. “Yoga? Running? Tai Chi? Something to get you moving. It’s not just about taking care of the mind, the body is just as important too. And exercise will help balance your mind.”
You drew your mouth into a tight line.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine.”
“I’m gonna ask about it next session. Now, give me one more positive…”
“One more…” You really had to think, which your therapist noted. “One more…”
Nothing came to you. When it became clear you were tapped out of ideas, he jotted something down.
“Fine, I’ll accept four today. But next time we meet, I want you to come with five positives of the week ready to go, alright?”
“Alright.”
He regarded the topmost section of the notebook, where notes from your last meeting were written neatly.
Metal. Salted Earth.
A taste that sometimes lingered in the back of his throat during the answers and stories you shared with him. It had exploded across his tongue when you had danced around the specifics of your villain altercation but otherwise, it had been muted.
He wanted to know what it meant.
But, he decided not to ask about what, or who, the taste represented. Your relationship was not as… forthright as it would probably need to be. You weren’t comfortable enough with him yet.
“Okay,” he said, breathing in deeply through his nose, tapping his pencil on his knee. “Why don’t we talk about something outside of work. What have you done in Mustafa is new to you -- have you explored the city?”
“Well…” You scratched at your nose. “My boss took me and his… assistant out to dinner the other day. That was a hoot.”
“Bubblegum!” Your therapist said, lighting up. “You had a good time! Tell me a little about that!
- - -
The train ride home wasn’t crowded. At your station, you swung into a nearby corner store to pick up a couple bananas -- you were craving them now thanks to your therapist’s ‘overripe’ comment.
Banana bread would be divine right now.
The store didn’t have any bananas or bananas bread, so you grabbed a couple of banana milk, hoping it would be enough to sate you.
It was… nice how unhurried and relaxed you felt as you walked home that afternoon. It was your day off and there was no dread hanging over you about missed calls and avalanching emails. The lingering anxiety in your gut had abated a few weeks back -- you felt lighter.
The little neighbor boy who told you that your house was haunted was out on the street when you rounded the corner, sliding a red car back and forth against the asphalt in front of your house. He stopped his playing as your approached, standing up.
“Hello miss,” he greeted solemnly.
“Hello, little Sato,” you said, stopping and giving him the same respectful greeting. “I like your car.”
“Thank you, my baa-baa gave it to me.”
You nodded, giving the boy a brief smile before turning toward your house, prepared to leave him to his playing.
“You had visitors come to your door but you weren’t home,” Sato said, following you. You quirked a brow at him.
“Hm? Really?”
Visitors? Was it people from the rental company?
“Policemen!”
You stopped turning the key in the lock of your front door.
You glanced back down at the boy.
“Policemen?” you repeated and Sato’s face lit up -- he eagerly nodded his head.
“I told them you weren’t home. Well, first they asked me if I knew your name and I told them I did. Then I told them you weren’t home. And then my dad came out and they asked him about you too!”
“Your dad…” You swallowed, heart squeezing. “They asked your dad some questions?” You forced a smile. “DId you happen to hear… what kind of questions?”
“They asked if you made things and my dad said you worked with the hero Power Loader!” For added effect, he punched the air beside him, body twisting and following after his arm.
“Did they ask him anything else?”
Sato stopped his full-body punching, choosing to purse his lips as he stared up at you. You stared back, unease traveling across your body.
Come on, think kid.
“When you moved in,” he said, squinting his eyes. “My dad said you were nice. I told them about the ghost, in case they were here for that. Oh! If you have a lot of visitors. If it seems like you invent in your house. Dad said he didn’t think so.”
Shit.
Shit.
“Sato!”
A female voice drifted from up the street and the boy’s head whipped in the direction of his house.
“Sorry miss, I gotta go get my lunch.”
“No, no, no, it’s fine Sato.” You waved the boy off. He walked a few steps before stopping and grinning. “Oh, they also said they’re coming back, miss. So don’t worry!”
Only when you were safely inside your entryway did you allow yourself to openly panic.
You knew their visit had to be related to your under-the-table work. Someone must have been arrested and blabbed about where they had gotten their gear. And the police had found you! Though, it’s not like you were living off the grid -- you probably weren’t hard to track down.
Shit.
What were you going to do?
You dropped your plastic bag of banana milk on your kitchen counter, pacing around the room, hands combing through your hair.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
You were going to go to jail.
Undoubtedly, you were going to lose your license.
You had just moved. You had a new job. You were going to lose all of that.
You were fucked. You were royally fucked.
Who could it have been, though? Who could have been arrested? You pulled out your phone, staring at the darkened screen as your jittery brain tried to piece together cohesive thoughts. Your fingers were shaking.
If you knew who it was, who had gotten arrested, you could work on an alibi. At the very least drum up a reason why you didn’t know them.
But no familiar names came up on the hero news sites. Could it have been someone small time?
Eventually, you paced your way out to your living room.
Fate had marked you. If villains weren’t going to get you, the law was going to get you.
And you were trying to be good!
Desperately, you were trying!
That wasn’t going to matter though. You needed… a lawyer, right? In crime TV shows, bad guys always want their lawyer present and requesting one usually stumped the police. Okay, a lawyer. What kind of lawyer? What were the charges you were facing?
In your panic, a naive idea came to mind.
You knew someone who could help.
With the weight of the world back on your shoulders, shamelessly you found his number and called him.
He could help you out of this. You knew he could.
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GGPR #17 Previews have been released! Let’s get to it:
these comics are full of firsts for the PR franchise, such as this - an actual birth! so pr babies do not just pop into existence, borne from nothing. good to know
- okay mrs. rita’s mom you seem like a nice lady but uhhhh what did you expect when you fucked this guy
his name is literally MASTER VILE
- zordon is dr. manhattan, confirmed
- her rattle looks like her wand........My Heart
so couple of interesting things to point out here
way back in GGPR issue #3 we had a little preview of rita’s home life, where it sounded like she was living with her father and brother
based on this
a) if this older brother is meant to be Rito, that means he might not be her direct brother (though if that’s the case why does his name so closely resemble Rita’s......)
b) either she’s going to voluntarily leave her mom and go to her dad, or her dad’s gonna steal her away and raise her as evil
c) PLEASE let it be the former bc if RITA REPULSA isn’t voluntarily evil than i’m gonna throw hands. b lease i was hurt enough with ranger slayer
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The Addition Condominium – More Than The Sum Of Its Parts
In August, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong popped an issue that’s been slowly simmering on the threshold of the national consciousness right into the wide open, when he addressed the running down of public housing’s 99-year leaseholds, during this year’s National Day Rally.[1]
Long story short, heated discussions on the topic of housings asset values have revolved around the idea that as a property gets closer towards the end of its term, the harder it is to sell it off at a good price. The end game has the property value plummeting to zero as the term runs out. This, according to commentators, means that HDB buyers are effectively renting their properties from the government, rather than owners.
Notwithstanding how this view of property ownership came about, the Government has taken the stand that HDB owners do in fact own their properties. Ergo, they have the rights to renovate, sell, bequeath and collect rent on the properties, just like owners of 99-year leasehold private properties do.
But, in case you weren’t paying attention: only for 99 years.
But what the Government has left unsaid is that unlike HDB property owners, private property leasehold owners can sell their properties in collective en-blocs, to private property developers who wish to redevelop that particular land parcel. Hence private leasehold owners have the opportunity to cash out for much bigger sums than their property values might suggest; HDB property owners, however, can’t as the land belongs to the government.
Freehold Property : I Want To Break Free!
Freehold property owners on the other hand, have no restrictions whatsoever. Arguing about the benefits of freehold property versus leasehold is like bringing a gun to a knife fight, then tying leasehold’s knife hand behind its back, and then putting a blindfold over leasehold’s eyes while spraying aerosol cream on its head.
There’s simply no contest – because a freehold lease is in perpetuity[2], there is no expiration date, and the value of the property can simply continue to rise (or fall) along with the land value.
Of course, freehold property owners already know this, but you might want to wipe that smug smirk off your face (you know who you are) – the Government still reserves the rights to acquire the land your property is built on for public purposes: for example, building new transport infrastructure, etc.
That said, freehold is the way to go if you really want something you can pass on to your descendants. This is the only option for if you are looking for property investments that doesn’t freefall to zero upon the end of the leasehold tenure – as there aren’t any.
The Solution Is In The Addition
With the advantages of freehold in mind, the arrival of The Addition on the property market should be of much interest to anyone looking for investment grade property – one might argue that the high cost of acquiring a freehold is offset by future capital gains.
The Addition is a 26 unit freehold development condominium located in between Toa Payoh MRT and Potong Pasir MRT as the crow flies. The 21 Meyappa Chettiar Road address (District 13) is right at the city’s fringe, with direct access to the Pan Island Expressway and Kranji Expressway, and and bringing easy commuting to any part of the island. Units in the 8 story single apartment block are said to come with branded appliances and smart home systems.
The Developer
The developer, Oxley Holdings, is Singapore’s largest developer in terms of residential landbank[3]. It holds a presence across 12 geographical markets, in Singapore, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Cyprus, Cambodia, Malaysia, Indonesia, China, Myanmar, Australia, Japan and Vietnam. Inclusive of The Addition, the developer has 36 projects in Singapore alone.
Not bad for a company that only started out as a property developer in 2010.[4]
The speed of Oxley Holding’s ascent has been recognised: in 2017, Oxley Holdings’ executive chairman and CEO Ching Chiat Kwong, who propelled Oxley from a local developer to an international developer with a presence in 11 countries in the span of less than five years, was honoured as the Singapore Real Estate Personality of the Year by the editors of Property Report magazine.
The Neighbourhood
The Meyappa Chettiar Road address (District 13) is right at the city’s fringe, with direct access to the Pan Island Expressway and Kranji Expressway, bringing easy commuting to any part of the island. Shopping malls nearby include NEX, The Venue Shoppes, The Poiz Centre and Heartland Mall Kovan.
Poised in between Toa Payoh, Potong Pasir and nearby Geylang Bahru gives you plenty of schools and eateries within 5 minutes walking or driving distance, along with access to Kallang Park Connector for a spot of outdoor exercise every now and then.
The Competition
Freehold properties are rare. Freehold properties located on the fringe of the city are even more rare. If you are looking for freehold in this district, the only project worth considering is The Poiz Residences, which is 99% sold with only 7 units left at time of writing.
There are also no new freehold properties being planned for this district, so demand for The Addition is expected to run high, even with market cooling measures in place.
Table 1: Recent & Coming New Launches in D13
TenureTOP YearAverage PSFRental Yield*
R Maison
Freehold201611722.6
E Maison
Freehold201612893.1
Sky Green
Freehold201611483.7
Sennett Residence
99 years20161,5373.1
The Poiz Residences
Freehold2019
1,347
NA
The Woodleigh Residences
99 years2022NANA
The Tre Ver
99 years2022NANA
Park Colonial
99 years2022
1,756
NA
The Addition
Freehold2023NANA
* Based on transactions in the last 12 months, excluding projects with 3 or fewer transactions (https://www.squarefoot.com.sg/market-watch/rental-yield)
Can you afford it?
Well if you have to ask…. We’ll tell you! Sign up for a TRUNew account and our onsite mortgage calculator will help you figure out what you can afford.
We will also keep you up to date on The Addition’s launch details, access to VVIP previews via a personalised news feed, plus the following unique benefits:
Be The First To Know
Sign up for a TRUNew account to stay up to date on The Addition’s preview and launch details. You’ll get exclusive access to VVIP previews, plus our platform’s unique benefits:
Get first hand news of its launch with a TRUNew account. Our personalised information feed will keep you to date on The Addition’ launch details, access to VVIP previews, plus our platform’s unique benefits:
The widest listing of units direct from developers (from new launches to sale-of-balance units). We have 239 listings to-date, versus 167 from Propertyguru
First-to-market information for all project launches
In-depth information that your agents may not have told you (via this blog itself)
Customised, print-friendly reports for every project you are interested in
The ability to shortlist, save, and share detailed inter-project and inter-unit comparisons for all your needs
Free Truuue concierge services all throughout your property buying experience, from viewing to post-sales; via the Truuue Ops Team
Personalised information feed for each stage of your purchase (viewing, balloting, unit selection, S&P, post-sales, tenant sourcing)
Appointment reminders for any listed project
Our Compare tool is also handy for helping you see what else you can be buying in this city centre district.
Sign up now, it’s easy and it’s free!
The widest listing of units direct from developers (from new launches to sale-of-balance units). We have 239 listings to-date, versus 167 from Propertyguru
First-to-market information for all project launches
In-depth information that your agents may not have told you (via this blog itself)
Customised, print-friendly reports for every project you are interested in
The ability to shortlist, save, and share detailed inter-project and inter-unit comparisons for all your needs
Free Truuue concierge services all throughout your property buying experience, from viewing to post-sales; via the Truuue Ops Team
Personalised information feed for each stage of your purchase (viewing, balloting, unit selection, S&P, post-sales, tenant sourcing)
Appointment reminders for any listed project
Our Compare tool is also handy for helping you see what else you can be buying in this city centre district.
Sign up now, it’s easy and it’s free!
[1] https://www.businesstimes.com.sg/government-economy/national-day-rally-pm-lee-explains-99-year-leases-of-public-and-private-housing
[2] https://singaporelegaladvice.com/law-articles/types-of-property-and-home-ownership-in-singapore/
[3] https://sg.news.yahoo.com/oxley-shares-drop-imposition-cooling-022822249.html
[4] https://www.propertyguru.com.sg/property-management-news/2017/11/165354/from-policeman-to-property-developer
https://new.truuue.com/p/the-addition?utm_source=Truuue%20Blog&utm_campaign=The%20Addition%20Article
https://new.truuue.com/compare/?utm_source=Truuue%20Blog&utm_campaign=The%20Addition%20Article#?cp=2805,2527,&cs=16988,12079,
https://new.truuue.com/developer/oxley-holdings?utm_source=Truuue%20Blog&utm_campaign=The%20Addition%20Article
Original content available at https://blog.truuue.com/
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Preview of my Next Story
I was struggling with some of my other stories, so I made this one as more of a palate cleanser
The Walmart Predicament
Jesse’s life is a bit of a mess, Jesse has insomnia, Jesse gets bored, Jesse is certain the centaur at the Shell gas station is going to light him on fire one day.
Ty is a Walmart greeter who is always there at 1am and kind of looks like a K-pop star that should be on the front of knock-off Twilight novels.
Vampires were all supposed to be killed off around 1901 with the Vampire hunters doing their damn job, but Jesse has a very shaky theory that one just happened to make it. And works at Walmart.
Based on that one tumblr post, urban fantasy where vampires are the fantasy part.
Preview:
Part 1: You Can’t Live with your ex-Girlfriend in a One Bedroom apartment
Jesse was looking at a Pokemon figurine, a very blue, very smooth pokemon figurine. According to the confusingly labeled rack this thing was either supposed to be 14.99 or 4.99. One was a little more reasonable than the other.
On one hand, the little plastic toy of a mudkip was probably going to be made of a much better plastic if it was actually $14.99. On the other hand, all he had in his pocket was a crumpled ten dollar bill and his debit card with Schrodinger's amount of money on it.
He refused to check so it was like bank account was empty and full at the same time, ooh, science. He told himself it was science and he wasn’t waffling on buying a toy from the kid's aisle.
Jesse had no idea how long he had been standing in aisle nine, it could have anywhere between 5 minutes and fifteen minutes. But he blinked and it felt a lot more like an hour.
He leisurely looks down at his blank watch and then back up toward the end of the aisle. He wondered the Home Decor section earlier looking for someone to ask but then reverted to the ‘wait and ambush’ method in aisle 9 instead.
He waited.
Walmart had been nominated for the number one customer service store in the US for five years in a row. Jesse had no idea why.
He waited for at least twenty minutes hoping an employee would pop up and tell him if his pokemon figurine was 4.99 or 14.99. But it looked like he had been left to the wolves.
Alone in the world to try and navigate Walmart at 4 in the morning. Or five in the morning. His watch was also broken and Jesse liked to keep his phone battery at a simmering 4%.
It gave his brother anxiety to look at but Jesse liked an excuse on why he didn’t answer texts. He had enough to think about already without 22 questions from his coworkers on what kind of hot sauce he preferred (Cholula).
Jesse looked back to the mysteriously priced toy and then back to the end of the aisle. Walmart had won the number one customer service award for the United States for five years in a row.
Ricky said it was because everyone had very low expectations for the place so whenever an employee so much as smiled at them they just thought ‘banger, best place in the states.’ Jesse took that as a life motto: keep expectations low and blow ‘em away with minimal effort.
He was working on the minimal effort part after coming off a nine-day bend of only 3-4 hours of sleep a night. Per night.
He had been in the aisle for anywhere between thirty minutes and an hour thirteen minutes, he glances down at his blank watch again. Finally, he puts the toy down and goes shuffling back toward the front of the store.
If he said he remembered why he drove over here in the first place, he’d be lying.
He’s contemplating the fact that one of his socks is gray while the other is dark purple when he hears a sharp voice off to his left. “Good morning, ma’am. Let me know if you need anything.”
Jesse’s head swivels around like a partially-broken merry-go-round, moving at half speed. He recognized that voice, like a silver chime in the wind against a very blurry morning mist, Jesse blinks.
He stays perfectly still for a moment, a young man in a blue vest and styled dyed blonde hair stands by the door. His hands were neatly held behind his back and his shoes were a shiny black material that reflected the light.
Jesse’s mouth opens slowly, his eyes go wide, he knew this greeter. Ty, blonde, shiny-black shoes Ty.
Jesse freezes in place and fixates on a single glowing sunbeam that peaks just through the door. It was happening. His eyes dart to the greeter, and then back to the sunbeam.
It had to be somewhere around five o’clock in the morning now, his eyes go back to the sunbeam, and then once more toward the greeter.
Ty, the young man with dyed blonde tips and a pleased smile on his face steps delicately out of the way of a sunbeam as it snakes up toward his shoe. He takes several steps away from it.
Jesse’s mouth was completely open now, he takes out his phone to take a picture but then he remembers his battery is dead.
He looks back up, Jesse is pretty sure the door-greeter at the Walmart is a vampire.
-----------------------
Jesse sat slumped on the couch with his neck craned at just the right angle for it be almost comfortable. The couch itself slumped underneath him like it wished to be a lumpy mattress in its next life and the floor stayed perfectly still. Which was a good thing.
He couldn’t say the same thing about his vision, but the blurry smudge people in the corner of the room were probably friendly. The TV was on but he couldn’t repeat the plot of it if he wanted to, a girl around the age of 17 sat in front of it munching on croutons out of the bag.
Jesse was lucky he heard his phone ring as he was reaching into his pocket, his instincts let him just press the little green button before checking the caller ID.
“‘Ello.” He says as the smudge people in the corner of the room begin to dance emphatically.
“Jesse?” He hears a high-pitched voice call out, “this is the third time I’ve called.”
Jesse shrugged as if the other person could see him, “the TV was loud.”
He just hears a heavy sigh on the other side, “It’s Tom.”
Jesse lowers himself down in the chair, ”I know hey.”
”I’ve called because-”
“I renewed the lease, yeah.”
The voice sounded tired, “That’s what I thought.”
“For like, just another month.”
“Jesse,” his brother says on the other side of the line in a slow voice, “you can’t live in a one bedroom apartment with your ex-girlfriend.”
Jesse just hums, “perhaps?”
The girl near the TV turns around, “What’s he saying?”
Jesse blinks up slowly, “he doesn’t want me to live with Yumi anymore.”
“Tell him to push off,” she crunched a crouton between her teeth, “she’s the only one that vacuums.”
Jesse frowns, “hey, I do the laundry. We are both contributing.”
“Will you do my laundry?” His niece bats her long lasses and Jesse makes a face.
“No.”
“Then your argument is invalid, next.”
“Jeez,” the voice on the other side of the line says, “this is what I’m talking about. You can’t live in a one bedroom apartment with your ex-girlfriend and still do her laundry.”
“We’re friends. And she doesn’t like touching detergent.”
“It’s weird! And,” Tommy, his brother, continues, “weren’t you getting more hours at the Shake Shack anyway? You know. To find a new place.”
“What’s he saying now?” Chaudhry asks as she turns around in place.
Jesse holds the phone away from his ear, “he thinks I should get a new place or Yumi needs to leave.”
Chaudhry rolls her eyes, “he’s gay now Tom,” she says in a loud voice, “not mean. You should learn something from it.”
“More hours!” Tommy continues, “at the Shake Shack!”
Jesse tilts his head back, “they’re actually cutting them. But I figure, hey less time there, ya know?”
He hears a loud groan, “I can’t pay everyone’s phone bill forever.”
“Thanks for that Tom-Tom by the way,” Chaudhry had crawled over and was sitting by his knee.
“Please,” it was almost begging, “at least tell me you’ve gotten some sleep this week. Or gone to the group.”
Jesse opens his mouth, he closes his mouth again. “Do you think Walmart hires vampires?”
He heard a small muffled cry, “can someone put Yumi on the phone actually? I can consider switching to being her brother.”
“She’s buying more paper plates since she hates doing the dishes,” Chaudhry props her chin up as she speaks. “And touching dish soap.”
“Well, nevermind them.” Tommy sighs. “Right, sleep. Yes? No?”
Jesse frowns, “I tried.” He studies the smudges in the corner of his eye, “but the vampire thing was kinda bugging me, you know? He’s really pale, well-dressed, asian, like a K-pop star or something since his hair is all, you know. Buttery.”
“Buttery?”
“Yellow.” Chaudhry contributes.
“Yes, yellow,” he says with a jab of his finger, “that one. And he’s only there at night.”
“He just works nights then Jesse, actually, okay, yes, yes, I’m coming over, stay right there.”
“Wait,” Jesse says it too late, “you don’t need to-”
Click.
And that was the end of that.
Chaudhry takes out another crouton and munches it between her teeth, “I would like to hear about the vampire.”
“He’s a door greeter,” Jesse says slowly as he blinks, “and he couldn’t tell me how much this Pokemon figurine was.”
His brother was still coming over to the apartment.
--------------------------
Jesse had one older brother and one older sister, his sister was ten years older than him and already had two kids which put her in a league of her own. A superman if you will, but Tommy, Tommy was only one year older than him.
And that meant something.
He also didn’t want him to live in a tiny apartment with his girlfriend that broke up with him two months ago, but some things can’t be helped. Like sleeping, that was hard to help.
Or do, or stop thinking about sometimes. Sleep, sleep, sleep, that’s all that came across his mind, like a seashore he could never reach but kept paddling towards. It was an uphill battle.
Jesse was having one of those nights, Chaudhry had gone home to her moms after Tommy began chewing Jesse out and now he once again, staring up at his ceiling. Tracing imaginary lines in it with his eyes and taking deep even breaths.
He wished he could invite Yumi back onto the bed, having someone else there usually helped. But the bed had never really been big enough for the both of them, and even she drew the line somewhere.
Her distant snores helped, but Jesse felt his consciousness start to tighten around him like a boa constrictor. Did he remember to lock the front door? Did he need a new lock?
What kind of idiot didn’t check their doors now, or have a spare lock.
Jesse sat bolt upright in bed, he blinks. He needed to go to Walmart.
#preview#writing#urban fantasy#I write m/m now and then to mix things up#coming soon to my tumblr near you!
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