#— super high school level sad boy. ( crack ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stellarboystyles · 4 years

Text

serendipity

ahhhh she’s finally done!! now i can rest my weary soul. thank you to my lover @bfharry for putting this lovely event together, and i’m sorry this late, i’m a mess.

7k pining, fluff and smut

friends to lovers college au // trigger warning - mentions of illness, family death and childhood trauma, mentions of alcohol use.

She was reaching as high as she could, desperately trying to get to the book on the shelf that was much too high for her to reach. She turns to Harry, who’s smirking down at her with crossed arms.

“Need a lift, sprout?”

She gives him a look of eloquence. “Please.”

She giggles as he dips down, wrapping his arms around her legs and lifting her up. Now, she’s happily at eye level with the desired shelf.

Her fingers skimming over the spines of all the hardbacks sitting comfortably on the wood surface. E...F...G...H...

“Found it!”

Once her eyes lock on the title, she pulls the book out as fast as she could.

“Okay, let me down.”

“Sure? Don’t like the view from up there? Know you’re not used to it-”

“No, now let me down before I bruise you like the peach that you are.”

“Ouch.” he snickered, setting you back down onto the ground beneath. “S’harsh.”

“Deserved it.” she teased before he sticks out his tongue in a playful response.

“What d’ya need the book for?”

“It’s for that analysis we have to do for poetry class.”

He blinks at her once, eyes widening slightly. “What analysis?”

She giggles at his expression. “You didn’t read your emails, did you?”

“Fuck!” he exclaims, voice slightly above a whisper, but it was enough to agitate the other students in the library who are trying to either study or get their own work done.

“Shhh!”

“Sorry, sorry.” he apologizes to the people around them before Y/N puts a hand on his bicep and he leans into her to hear her whispering words.

“You just have to pick a poetry book, analyze it, make a conclusion, all that stuff.”

“So it’s like an essay?”

“Kind of.” she follows Harry as he starts to examine the shelves for a book himself. “You know how Greene is, he’s super chill. He wants it to be more of a review, what you think of the book and the author.”

“So, like a review.”

She blinks at him. “That’s what I just said.”

“M’tired, gimme a break.” he sighs. “He never challenges us in that class.”

“I guess not.” she shrugs. “Easy grade, right?”

“Sounds like it.” he gives a casual nod. “When’s it due?”

“Tuesday.”

“Sweet.” he nods, eyes skimmed across the shelves before landing on a cornflower blue hardback. Harry chose books by their cover a lot. Not metaphorically, just literally.

“Ready?”

He nods again. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Once they’d both gotten their book signed out, they started down the path across the patch of grass, making their way to their next class that they had together.

“So you really didn’t check your phone all weekend?”

He shakes his head. “No, my phone was off ‘cos Gem was visiting over the weekend, remember?” he taps on the side of her head with one finger. “Helloooo, earth to Y/N, you were there.”

“Quit it!” she scolds, swatting his hand away. “Yeah, I think I remember her. She’s the least annoying Styles’ sibling, right?”

Harry unexpectedly clutches his chest, wincing in pain. “Ouch, ow!”

Panic rushed through her, the first thing popping into her mind was that he was having an asthma attack. “Haz, are you okay?” she drops her bag onto the ground so that she can help him. “You’re scaring me, do you need your inhaler?”

He leans over, eyes squeezed closed. One hand is resting on his knee, the other still grasping at his sternum.

“My ego...it hurts.”

As soon as the words registered, anger washed over her, jaw rippling before punching him in the bicep.

“You’re such a little shit.”

“Oi, tha’ hurt!” he laughs, which makes her even more angry, whisking her bag off the ground and walking away from him as quickly as possible.

He lets out a lighthearted sigh before starting to jog up to her. “C’mon, wait up.”

“Go away.” she grumbles, quickening the pace of her steps towards the building that their next class was in. Her hand was less than a foot away from reaching the door, about to push it open but she was no match for his longer legs as he jogged to catch up with her.

“Hey, hey.” he manages to get her hand in his grasp. She turns around in his grip, eyes fiery with vex.

“What.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” he frowns, moving so that he’s holding both of her hands in his as he stood in front of her. “Please? M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the brick wall behind her. “Yes you did.”

“Let me make it up to you?” he offers, resting his palm on the rough surface above her head.

“Whatever you want.”

The pounding heartbeat in her ears is deafening, but the prank that he’d just pulled wasn’t quickly forgotten.

“I’ll let you know when I think of something.” Pushing herself off the wall, she turns and pushes the door open to the classroom, leaving a sad Harry behind. He trudged along behind her, silently moping before sitting next to her. Not even a minute after they sat down, Harry was leaning over to her, trying to get her attention.

“Y/N, please.” he whines, laying his head on her shoulder. “M’sorry.”

The butterflies in her stomach were crumbling her resolve, and she lays her cheek on top of his curls. “It’s okay.” he can hear the smile in her quiet voice. He peers up at her, an endearing smile beaming back at her.

“Not mad at me anymore?” he clarifies, voice filled with hope.

“How long have we been best friends?” she laughs. “Y’know I can never stay mad at you.”

“We were babies, don’t you remember?” he snickers. “Like, actual babies.”

Neither of them really remember.

Harry and Y/N’s parents had been neighbors and friends for years before either of them were born, and when Harry was almost two, they’d given birth to a beautiful baby girl.

“Harry, look.” Anne coos to her son as he sits on her lap. “See the baby?”

He stops playing with his teddy, toddling over to the sound of his mummy’s voice and he’s so fascinated, probably because he’s never seen a real baby before.

“I hold her?”

The new mum says “of course” before she gives her baby to Anne, now holding her in Harry’s lap.

“I pet?”

He carefully lifts a chubby hand, places it on her tummy and pats gently at the pale lavender onesie.

“My sweet boy.” Anne kisses the top of his head, smoothing out his blonde bangs.

Harry leans down and pushes a soft kiss onto her cheek, and it’s safe to say both mums melt at the sight.

“They’ll be best friends for sure.”

He looks up at the baby’s mum. “She seepin’?”

She nods with a smile. “Yeah, she's sleepin’.”

He gives her another kiss on her cheek before speaking again, this time in a hushed voice.

“Night Night, baby.”

“Our mums are never gonna let us forget that day.” he groans, twisting open the cap of the drink in his hands.

“Or that you had a crush on me.”

He nearly chokes on his juice, making her split into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe I did.” he admits, leaning his elbows onto the desk. “So what?”

“You definitely did, remember when you kissed me?”

His cheeks heat up at her teasing, arms crossing on top of the desk before laying his head down in embarrassment. He cracks one eye open at her laughing. “y/nnnn.”

When Harry was five and Y/N was four, he asked if he could kiss her, at school.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world.” Harry tells her as his fingers draw in the dirt.

“That’s what my mummy and daddy tells me!” she cheers, and he may only be five years old but he knows that no other girl on the playground would happily sit in the dirt with him like she would. Her cheeks are resting against her hands and Harry thinks that they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen.

“Can we kiss now?”

She thinks for a moment before speaking.

“You can’t tell your mummy, because she might tell my mummy and we’ll be in trouble.”

“Won’t tell anyone, not even Niall.”

Her eyes go wide with a gasp. Niall was his best friend, he must really mean business.

“Really?”

“Promise.” he holds out his pinky for her to squeeze.

Unfortunately for them, while Y/N was over next door at Harry’s for a playdate Anne caught them kissing in the back garden and they were both forced into the friend zone. Y/N was super sad, and Harry didn’t like that one bit, so he tried to make her feel better.

“Don’t cry, someday when we’re grown ups we can kiss and hold hands anytime we want! We can be best friends ‘til then, okay?”

“The start of an epic friendship.” he reminisces, flashing her a wink.

“Good times and bad.” she nods, and the mood drifts to sad silence.

“We’ve really been there through everything, huh?” he acknowledges, meeting her gaze.

When Harry was twelve and Y/N was eleven, Harry’s dad left. Left his family with nothing and Harry was devastated.

“How could he? This isn’t fair to any of you.”

Y/N was standing in Anne’s kitchen listening to her painstakingly tell her what had just happened. He’d left while Anne was working and Gemma and Harry were at school, leaving the remainder of the family devastated.

“I know darling, but we’ll get through this. I’m worried about Harry, he ran off. He was so upset. Do you know where he could be?”

“I’ll find him.”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Her mind and legs worked together to pedal faster than she ever had before through the park behind their street. As soon as she crosses the bridge she sees him. He’s sitting under their favorite oak tree, knees dew up to his chest.

“Harry!”

She throws her bike down and sprints to him, falling next to him.

He looks up, releases the grip on his hair and reaches out, grasping her hands and she quickly pulls him into a hug and she’d never held anyone so tight in her entire life. Her own hot tears started to fall from her face at the sound of his heartbreaking cries and she doesn’t know how long they stayed there like that, slowly moving her fingers through his curls as she held him. He let out a whimper when she forced his face out of her neck, cradling his cheeks in her hands. He looked so defeated and she had to use every ounce of strength in her body not to sit there and cuddle him against this tree all night. His mum and sister needed him, and he needed them. Her fingers brushed across his wet cheeks and he leaned into her touch as she repeated the action.

“I’m so sorry, Haz.” another sob escapes him at her words. “You don’t have to talk about it. You can cry, scream and yell, whatever you want...but we gotta get home., it’s getting dark.”

“Don’t wanna go back there.” he shakes his head and tightens his hold on your shirt.

“H, your mum and sister need you, and you need them.”

“I need you.”

Y/N’s heart flutters and she’s not sure why, but she’s sure Harry can feel it because he’s still fisting her shirt.

“I’ll stay the night at yours, my mum won’t care.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’ll get over it.”

Understandably, of course her father wasn’t too fond of the idea of his daughter sleeping over at her best friend’s house, because he was a boy. But she reassured her dad countless times that “boys were gross” so he begrudgingly allowed it.

They’d cuddled countless times, that night was no different. She held him, stroking his hair some more as they talked. The mood is lightened after awhile. Even though the healing process hasn’t even really begun yet. Harry was gonna be okay, because he had Y/N.

“Gemma gets so jealous because she can’t have boys in her room.” he jokes, making her giggle.

“She’s also fifteen and has a boyfriend.” she reasons. “We’re just best friends.”

“True.”

Comfortable silence engulfed Harry’s room for a few moments, the vibe was mellow from each other’s presence before Y/N spoke again.

“It’s gonna be okay.” her voice was barely above a whisper, brushing the stray hairs away from his forehead.

“You don’t know that.” he whispers, peering up at her. The moonlight shining through the window is enough to illuminate their faces while they talk.

“Yeah I do.” she argues softly. “It’s bad right now, but it’ll be okay someday. Promise.”

When Y/N was seventeen, her world came crashing down.

“Harry, can you come down please?”

He quickly put down his phone, shoving it into his pocket when he heard the urgency in his mum’s voice coming from downstairs. Ever since his dad left he’d grown closer to his mum and sister, more protective.

He rushes downstairs, finding her in the kitchen.

“Mum? What's wrong?”

“I need you to go next door and check on Y/N, alright?”

His face fills with confusion and fear but Anne doesn’t give him any time to respond.

“I just got off the phone with Rachelle, she and Will had gone out to dinner and he started to have some terrible pain. They’re at the hospital now, they did some tests…they found something and they think it might be cancer.”

Harry’s face falls.

“Oh God, Mum—”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“Does she know? She had to work after school today, does she know?”

“Her mum said she was going to call her once she’d gotten home from work.”

“She gets off at eight thirty,” he pulls out his phone and sees that it’s nine fifteen. “She should be home by now.” He briskly walks over to the window that faces Y/N’s house.

“Her car’s there.” he reveals. “M’goin’ over there. I’ll be back.”

She agrees and without another word Harry’s at her front door.

Locked.

“Shit, shit, shit.” he mutters to himself before remembering the spare key under the flower pot by the door. Once it’s retrieved, his trembling hands fumble with the piece of metal before successfully unlocking the door and pushing it open. As soon as he’s inside, he hears muffled crying from upstairs and it’s all he needs to hear before he’s rushing upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom. Normally he would never just walk in her room uninvited, but when he saw the white wooden door decorated with silver stars all over, he wasn’t going to stop until he got to her. As soon as he pushes her bedroom door open, the sight alone is enough to make him cry. He watches her yank her desk chair out, screaming as she throws it as hard as she could across the floor.

“Y/N!”

He rushes to her, pulling her in the most protective hug he’s ever given. Her arms retreated to frightfully gripping the front of his shirt, knees buckling. They ended up crumpled on the floor, backs against the wall as he held her. Her gut wrenching cries were hushed by Harry’s embrace.

“Hey, hey—shhh. M’here, look at me, okay? Deep breaths, breathe with me, okay?”

“I can’t, it’s too much. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.” her cries made his heart ache, all he wanted to do was make it better, but he just couldn’t.

Needless to say, they’ve been there for each other through everything. Y/N’s dad passed away later that year, leaving everyone devastated. Harry waited a year to go to college to be there for Y/N and her mum.

“Are you excited for NYU?”

She tried to sound happy for him, but her voice was laced with sadness. His back was facing her so she couldn’t see his face as he glanced at the sunset out her window.

“M’not going.” he admits, voice small and her jaw goes slack.

“What? What d’you mean you’re not going?”

“Can’t leave you two here like this.” he turns around and tears are brimming his waterline. “Already talked it over with mum, and the bakery’s not really willin’ t’let me go yet.”

“Harry.” she warns.

“Hey,” it’s alright.” he pulls her into a protective hug. “We’ll get everything sorted out, okay? It’ll be nice to take a year off from school anyway.”

His lighthearted tone isn’t enough to soothe her anxiety. “You don’t have to put your life on hold for me.”

“I’m not.” he promises. “We’ve been there for each other through everything, yeah?” he pulls away slightly, giving her a warm smile. “That doesn’t just stop because we aren’t kids anymore.”

“We make a good team.”

Her words warm his heart and he turns to her, nodding with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, we do, don’t we?”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Her.

Admire her.

Tell her how the crinkles in her eyes are like crescent moons, glowing when she smiles.

Watch how she giggles at your jokes that aren’t funny, and how coy she gets when you’re sweet with her.

She couldn’t help but get lost in books like this. Somehow they managed to capture everything she’s ever been through, and everything she’s struggling with now. It was torture, really, being in love with her best friend, seeing him everyday, hiding her feelings from him in fear of their friendship being ruined forever. She couldn’t even fathom if that horror were to become her reality, she surely wouldn’t survive the heartbreak.

Touch her.

Tell her that the stretch marks that paint her skin are magnificent, and that her body is just one dazzling part of who she is.

Snuggle her with tender touches and soft fingertips, love on every curve of her body.

She found herself daydreaming at times like this—the midday sun beaming down on her through the window of the library as she sat in one of the lounge chairs, reading one of her favorite poetry books. She would think about how Harry would touch her if she were his. How he would caress her skin, what his lips could do, where his hands would go.

Adore her.

Cherish her.

Her reading was quickly interrupted, her vision obstructed by a pair of hands covering her eyes followed by a familiar voice.

“Guess who.”

“Uh...Bigfoot?”

“Heeeey.” he protests, moving to sit in the lounge chair next to hers. “S’mean.”

She giggles at his pouting, squeezing one of his cheeks. “Poor baby.”

“Ouch.” he brought his hand up to his face to rub the sore skin. “Like beatin’ up on me, do yeh?”

“Just a little.” she winks.

“Yeah, yeah.” he playfully rolls his eyes before turning his attention to the book in his best friend’s hands. “Whatcha readin’?”

Her heartbeat quickened as she realised that she had been caught, swiftly shutting the book and tucking it into her bag. “Nothing.”

“Nooo, lemme see!”

He didn’t give her another chance to respond, knowing her all too well. She shied away from his words, cheeks splashing with pink.

“C’mon, pleeease?” he frowns, nudging her arm with his elbow. He notices her apprehension, not wanting to push her.

“S’just me.”

His voice is softer, giving her a fluttering feeling as he leans in closer. “Y’trust me, right?”

The close proximity made her heart thump in her chest. She gives him a slight nod before quietly replying. “Yeah.”

He gently bites down on his lower lip, his eyes flickering from her eyes, down to her lips.

Were they going to kiss?

“Why won’t you tell me what you were readin’?” he quirks with a small smile, tilting his head slightly. You can see the wheels turning. “S’it naughty?”

“No!” she gives him a look, as if to say stooooop, Haz.

He chuckles at her nervousness, patiently waiting as she keeps fumbling over her words, avoiding his captivating eyes. “No...no, no, it’s a...it’s just a book.”

“Obviously.” he blinks. “What kind of book.”

“Just poetry.” she mumbles, hoping he would drop the subject quickly.

“S’it for your poetry analysis thing? What kind of—”

“Harryyyyy.” she whines, hiding her face in her hands.

“M’not doin’ anything! Can’t I be interested in what you’re readin’?” he defends, resting his cheek in his hand, elbow leaning on the arm of the chair.

“M’only teasing.” he swipes his fingers across her heated cheeks as he speaks softly to her. “You’re bein’ so shy.”

It’s so adorable, he thinks to himself.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.” he reassures. “M’starving. Did you still wanna go to lunch?”

She perked up at his question, the book in her bag eventually forgotten, just as she wished. “Please, I’m so hungry.”

“Can we get—”

“Chinese?” his face lights up. “Please please please?”

“We had that last weekend.”

“So? S’the best food ever, and since when do you turn down chinese food?” he rests his head on the table. “I’ll help you with French Lit.”

“Compelling argument, I didn’t know you were taking a debate class.”

“So funny.” he rolls his eyes. “C’mon, please?”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

“I love chow mein so much.”

Y/N’s words barely register in his ears, let alone his brain as he admired the sight of her, eyes closed in bliss as she slurps another noodle.

She’s just so fucking cute.

“I love you so much.”

“What?”

He’s sure his heart had just dropped into his stomach and his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud!

“Didn’t say anything.” he mumbles, mentally cursing himself after feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks. He avoids her gaze as he shoves another spoonful of hot and sour soup into his mouth.

“So how’s your story for creative writing going?” she wonders, twirling some noodles with her fork, because no, she didn’t know how to use chopsticks, and yes, Harry never missed an opportunity to tease her about it.

“Awful.” he pouts, to which she mirrors his expression.

“You stuck?”

“Very.” he groans. “Just can’t seem to get the words out, y’know?”

“I’ve been there.” she nods. “Do you want some help?”

“Please.” he begged, giving her puppy eyes. “S’due next friday, been workin’ on it every night and still can’t get a single word out.”

“I think you just need to take a break, babes.” she offers. “Let’s have a sleepover this weekend and I’ll help you.”

He gives a sigh of relief, making her laugh. “You’re a gem. What would I do without you?”

“Your life would definitely be less exciting.” she notes, taking another bite.

He was silent for a moment, probably thinking of a comeba—

“At least I know how to use chopsticks.”

“You won’t teach me!” she pouts at his teasing. “Quit being mean.”

“Want me to teach you?” he perks, peering up at her.

“Yes.” she lets out a breathless giggle while nodding.

He playfully huffs, slightly rolling his eyes as he moves to sit behind her on her bed.

“Okay, so you hold them like this…”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Friday, October 12

Dear Diary,

I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him. I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend? Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his. How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much. Sometimes I feel like I should just tell him, bite the bullet, rip off the band aid and hope to God that our friendship isn’t ruined forever. In a perfect world,

Y/N drops her pen at the vibration of her phone.

Harry is calling…

“Hello?”

“We’ve known each other for how long and you still answer with hello?”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Are you having a bad day or are you just making fun of me for shits and giggles?”

“Lil bit of both, yeah?” she can hear the cheekiness in his voice. “We still havin’ a sleepover this weekend? Might have to do it at yours, Niall’s havin’ a party and I doubt we’ll get anything done.”

She could hear the sheepish tone in his voice. “Oh no, if you wanna be at the party we can totally reschedule.” she offers.

Harry scrunches up his nose. “Need to get this paper done, m’never gonna finish it with all the noise.” he’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Besides, I’d rather spend the weekend with you.”

She feels her heart flutter at his admission, cheeks tingling with heat.

“ Okay...can you bring some snacks?”

There were no two humans on earth that loved fruit more than Harry and Y/N. so around fifteen minutes later, when Harry showed up to Y/N’s door with two smoothies, she melted like sugar.

“Berry for you.” he hands you the icy purple smoothie in his left hand. “Strawberry banana for me.”

“Awh, thank you!” she gently pinches one of his cheeks. “You’re so sweet.”

“Oi, worse than my mum, aren’t you?” he rubs at the newly pink cheek.

“No.” she defends. “C’mon, I’ll help you with your story so you don’t drag it out all weekend.”

“I resent that.” he mutters, sitting beside her on her bed as he flips open his laptop.

“Do you have an idea of what you wanna write?”

“I have a little bit finished, now, about five thousand words. Wanna have a look?”

Y/N reads it over and it’s nothing short of a masterpiece so far. How can he be so pretty and talented at the same time?

“This is beautiful,” she gapes, turning to look up at him. “This is so good, H.”

“Oh, stop.” He sheepishly brushes off her praise. “Don’t think it’s bad so far, just need to come up with a conflict.”

“Just figure out what breaks your characters, what makes them the most vulnerable, what would completely crush them?”

“Losing each other.”

“More specific?” she tries, staring at the screen in front of her. “It’ll help with the details.”

“Rory’s afraid to tell Daisy that he’s in love with her.” he says. “He’s afraid that, if she finds out, it’ll ruin their friendship.”

Y/N’s lungs felt empty, like all the air had been sucked out by Harry’s words.

“Okay, um,” she gulps, trying to collect her thoughts. “So...write about that, and see where the story takes you.”

Three hours later

“Can we take a break?” he groans, laying back on the pillows of her bed. “M’starving.”

“Me too.” she pouts, fiddling with her hands. “Whatcha hungry for?”

“Mmm,” Harry thinks for a few moments before speaking up. “A veggie grill just opened up downtown, we should go there!”

“You’re making me crave nachos.”

“You always crave nachos.”

“Why do you always have to call me out?” she whines, giving him a bashful glance.

“S’fun, innit?” he smirks, nudging her shoulder with his bicep.

“No.” she giggles, lying down next to him. “I’m gonna go get a shower then we can go.”

“Okay.”

An endearing smile adorned his face as she snuggled slightly into the soft pillows. Her eyes leisurely blink at him, falling closed after a few seconds.

“Sleepy?”

“Mhm.”

“Thought you wanted a shower?” he hummed. Although, he wouldn’t mind staying here all night. “You can stay here, I’ll go pick up some food.”

“No, it’s okay.” she yawns, pushing herself up off the bed. “I’ll be quick.”

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

Harry gets bored easily, although his best friends room was much more lovely than his. He thinks his room is pretty basic; but Y/N’s room was much more charming. The walls were painted a pale ivory, decorated with fairy lights above her bed, which was dressed with a crisp white comforter and matching pillows. The knitted plum blanket that Harry had gotten her ages ago for Christmas was at the end of her bed. He vividly remembers when he had given it to her.

Her eyes were sparkling with joy as she pulled the blanket out of the box.

“Your mum helped me make it.” he mentions with a sheepish smile. “She was so patient, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

“It’s beautiful.” she beams, pulling it close to her heart before looking up at him as they sat on the floor of Harry’s living room. “I love it.”

He gives her a soft smile, but he feels melancholic energy surrounding him. He keeps telling himself that he didn’t have a reason to be sad, because they weren’t together...but all he wanted was for her to be his. She was so cute, beanie snug on her head under the glow of the Christmas tree.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

To which she nods. “Of course.”

“Do you think,” his lips are pressed together in thought for a moment. “Do you think that fate is real?”

“Like kismet?” she cocks her head with a smile and he nods, breaking into a laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, like kismet.”

“I think,” she takes a moment, fumbling with her hands before looking up at him. “Yeah, I think it’s real.”

Ten thousand words. Harry has to write ten thousand words by next Friday and he doesn’t have a single word typed out. Creative writing was supposed to be fun, and he had to write a romance fiction piece? Harry didn’t exactly thrive when it came to love. In fact, his love life was bone dry, to put it lightly. Other girls were...boring, compared to Y/N. Harry was charming and romantic and sweet and loving—but he didn’t want some random girl, he wanted Y/N to be his girl. Pining over her was his full time job, always has been.

He walks over to her desk, admiring the pictures that graced the wall just above. One of the photos that catches his eye is Y/N, probably about three or four, and her dad is reading her a bedtime story, her mum most likely being the one taking the photo. Sorrow washes over him, because it never gets easier, does it?

His eyes float to a few photos of Harry and Y/N laying next to each other on their friend Jess’s parents house on the terrace. It was the first time they’d ever gotten drunk and they were trashed. The first photo is them attempting to sit up for a picture.

“You guys are so drunk.”

“M’not drunk.” Harry glances at Millie and Jess, who were behind the camera. “M’Harry! Who’s drunk?”

Harry’s rebuttal left both of them bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Haz, Jess wants a picture of us, pleeeeaaaase?”

Harry holds himself up by leaning back with one hand on the ground, the other arm slung around Y/N’s shoulder. He then turns to nuzzle his nose into her hair.

“Y’so pretty.” he murmurs drunkenly into her ear.

“Shut up, you’re drunk.”

“M’not, m’serious.”

The last one from that night was them cuddling on the sofa at the end of their night, Harry’s face nuzzled into her shoulder as they slept soundly well into the afternoon.

His fingertips brushed across his favorite photo of them. They were working together at the bakery, and Harry had just traced his flour dipped fingertips in a line across Y/N’s cheek before she retaliated by sweeping some icing across the bridge of his nose. He grins from ear to ear at the memory.

“Hey Y/N, guess what?”

She turned around to face him when he abruptly drew a line with his flour dipped fingertips across her cheek.

Her jaw went slack at his bold action before icing was swiped across the bridge of his nose.

“Now we’re even.” that is, until she flicks some of the remaining blue icing from her fingers onto his face.

“Aw, c’mon!” he wipes his face with his apron before narrowing his eyes. “Really?”

“You started it.” she pointed out and Harry gave her a shrug.

“I am so gonna get you back the next time we bake at my house.”

His eyes fall down to her desk, and he promises he didn’t mean to see it. It was his name, in her handwriting, written in purple gel pen inside an open book. Was it a journal?

Friday, October 12

Dear Diary,

Shit.

He looked away for a moment, lip caught between his teeth. Should he read it? No, but he couldn’t help himself.

I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep trying to finish this story for my creative writing class but I keep getting distracted...all I can think about is him.

Him? Who’s she talking about? Does she like someone? The empty feeling in his chest isn’t a good feeling by any means.

I can’t help it, he’s all I ever think about. How am I supposed to write a romance fiction piece when all I can think about is how I’m in love with my best friend?

All the color drains from Harry’s face.

“Is she talking about me?” he murmurs.

Harry is charming and sweet and funny and genuine, any girl would be lucky to be his.

His heart flutters at the mention of his name, aching at the next line.

How did I get myself into this mess? Harry would never like me like that, ever. My heart hurts if I think about it too much.

He felt like he was going to cry. How could this girl not know how much of a sucker he is for her? His heart thumped inside his chest and he could feel the heat radiating off his flushed cheeks.

Okay, don’t panic. Just calm down, don’t freak out.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what he had just read whilst trying to decide what to do. Does he just tell her? Show her the page? No, she’ll be so angry that he read her diary, who does that?

In that moment, he chooses to do the only thing that makes sense.

He listens to his heart.

* 。˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。 * 。 • ˚ ˛ 。* 。• ° 。* 。 • ˚

She’d just hopped out of the shower when she heard a knock on her bathroom door.

“Hey, s’just me.” Harry’s voice clarifies through the wood. “Already ordered some food, m’gonna go and pick it up, I’ll be back.”

“I can go with you if you want-”

“No, s’okay! Be back in fifteen.”

And he’s gone.

After exiting her bathroom, she changes into some comfy clothes before deciding to read something from her book collection until Harry gets back. WHen she turns to go over to her bookshelves, she sees it.

A familiar lavender book, her diary, was lying open on her desk, and her heart sinks. Had he read what she’d written earlier? That must be why he was in such a hurry to leave! She probably scared him off. Y/N’s heart was racing as she stepped closer and realised that the page the diary was open to wasn’t written in her handwriting.

It was Harry’s handwriting.

Hi lovie, it’s Harry.

I was too nervous to tell you this to your face, so I’m gonna write out my feelings.

You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I absolutely adore everything about you.

I love how you talk in your sleep, and yes, you do talk in your sleep. I know how much you love to snuggle when you’re sleepy or sad or you just want a cuddle...and how you still sleep with a night light on like when we were small. You always tell me it’s so you can see in case you need to get up and have a wee in the middle of the night, but I know it’s because you’re still scared of the dark.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was she dreaming?

I love how you crinkle your nose when you laugh, and how your smile glows like moonlight and how you play with your hands when you don’t know what to say. I love your love for books, and how much better your taste in music is than me. I love how you love to snuggle, especially when you’re...inebriated.

She giggles silently to herself, because he was so right. Not that he was any better.

I could go on forever, but I don’t wanna get caught writing this.

I am so in love with you, Y/N.

Love, H. x

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. Her heart was warm, but she was so nervous. What does this mean for them? How will this affect their friendship? Hundreds of questions run through her brain until she hears a knock on the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” she whispers. “Okay, just... be chill, please be chill.”

Trying to calm herself down in a matter of seconds was pointless. Walking over to the door, she took a deep breath in before opening the door.

“Hi.” he blinks at her, letting out a light laugh before setting down the two paper bags in his hands. “M’back. They didn’t have the-”

“I read it.”

He avoids her gaze and he feels frozen by her words, digging his vans into the carpet.

“Harry.” she breathes. “Say something.”

His eyes flicker to meet hers, taking a step forward.

“I...I love you.”

Y/N feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest, like she just came for air after being kept under water for too long.

“If this makes things weird, I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, but I love you to pieces and I-”

“I love you too.”

His smile is pure joy before he takes her hand in his, pulling her closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?” he begs, almost breathless. “Please.”

She nods, and he cradles her cheeks in his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

His lips were so soft, moving with hers like they were made for each other.

Harry was sitting on the edge of her bed, her thighs straddling his hips and she sat across his lap. Her hands were in his hair, the fluttery tendrils twirled around her fingers. His hands are settled on her waist, slowly moving to her thighs.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs the serious question against her lips and she nods quickly. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” he breathes. “M’just checkin’.”

“It’s okay.” she laughs breathlessly against his lips. “Everything's okay.”

Reluctantly, he pulls back slightly to look at her, searching for any sort of doubt, but there was none.

“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

His voice is cautious. “M’not goin’ anywhere, ever. Don’t have to rush anything.”

“Just go with the flow, H.” she murmurs, sliding her hands up his clothed biceps.

“Sorry, who are you?” he raises his eyebrows, a baffled expression on his face. “Since when do you ever go with the flow?”

“A lot of things have changed today.” she confesses, hands resting on his shoulders. “Why not?”

They’d always felt so safe with each other, so now was no different.

They both dived back into the kiss. Harry’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip, testing the waters before lips and tongue worked together to deepen the kiss.

“Wanna ride my thigh?” he wonders, mumbling against her lips. “Don’t have to if-”

“Yeah. yes.” she gulps, moving to slide her shorts down while he shuffles out of his jeans. Once they were both without pants, they didn’t waste anymore time.

“C’mere, darlin’.” he flicked his fingers, encouraging her back onto his lap.

“Just feel my touch.”

The tone of his voice was unbelievably hot, raspy and low as their lips continuously brushed. His hands grip her hips, guiding her movements.

“Feel good?” he suckles on her bottom lip, drawing a whimper past her lips. She’s rocking against his bare thigh, coarse hair stimulating her even closer to the edge.

“Feels so good, Harry.”

Her moans are nothing short of melodic, chasing her orgasm through the lace. He pushes her t-shirt up, kisses are decorated down her neck until his mouth is on one of her breasts. She tilts her head back at the suckling sensation with another moan, and it’s so fucking intoxicating to Harry. His tongue flicks her nipple a few more times before lifting his head.

“Like that?” he hums, moving to cup her breasts. She nods and his thumbs start to tweak her nipples and she arches her back at the feeling.

“Harry.” she whimpers, gripping the material of his shirt in her fists. “Please.”

“Whatcha need, tell me darlin’.”

“M’gonna come, m’gonna come.”

He gives a thick moan, hands moving to hold her backside. “Know you are. C’mon angel, you can let go.”

His sweet words coax her through her orgasm as she’s coming down, and she feels like she’s floating.

“Did you like that?”

“Mhm.” she nods, her eyes fluttering closed as Harry’s hand brushes some baby hairs off her forehead. “Wanna keep going.”

“Jeez, at least let me take you out to dinner first.”

#boyfriendathon #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut

844 notes · View notes

mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeknnubu/

I think I can send links but- I just saw this Pre K teacher tiktok & now all I can think of is a future AU where Steve takes like maybe a younger cousin or maybe a friends kid to school (or even his own kid??) and he walks in on fucking bad boy Billy Hargrove, still rocking his leather jacket and combat boots, seated on the carpet doing this with a bunch of Pre K kids as their teacher. Just this big mean badass dude sitting with a bunch of kids, being the best, most sweet teacher in the world

Bonus points for him having a battle jacket of some sort that he lets them add too and play with the dulled down spikes and studs on. And he has a class where the kids all make a patch one big patch for him to add to his jacket because he loves them so much

AND even more points if he just says his whole nice personality is “fake and for work only because it was the first job he got” but It’s actually real, and he really just likes being with the kids all day because their fun & they unconditionally love him, especially on his bad days where he’s sad & less motivated. I just crave soft emotional stuff 😔

steve, for as kind a fellow as he is, really should have thought twice about offering to take his nephew to pre-k every day.

jill, his older sister, had to be at work by 6 every morning during the week and had no means to take her son, patrick, to school every day.

and steve offered because what else was there to do? he worked two jobs that both started later in the day and jill offered to give him gas money to do it, so why not?

plus, patrick really was a sweetheart, he was just an energetic kid. steve preferred older kids. the younger ones tested his patience too much.

but imagine his surprise when he walks into the building, going to patrick’s classroom, turning into the doorway to see billy hargrove, same as he was when they were in high school, sitting on a colorful, patterned rug, animatedly talking to children.

“biwwy!” patrick yelled as he ran from steve’s side to his... teacher... and hugged him super tight.

“hey, patrick, my buddy!”

steve felt like this may be a dream. there is no way that billy hargrove, mullet and all, was patrick’s pre-k teacher.

billy looked to the door, where steve was still standing, and offered a smile. patrick looked to where billy was looking, excitedly telling him about how his super fun uncle was driving him to school now.

billy was engaging with the kids. he talked along with them and was able to balance all the kids at once. he looked happy, steve realized.

steve left a few moments later, making sure patrick was ok and staring at billy for a while longer.

it’s not until the day before winter break that billy and steve actually interact again.

the class is having a holiday party and parents are encouraged to come and bring food, drink, or just general supervision.

steve had made tons of cookies, enjoying his fattening hobby of baking, and they were all decorated with fun santa’s or snowflakes or christmas trees.

he was even told to make a few blank cookies and bring spare icing for kids to decorate during their party stations.

when steve got to the classroom closer to the afternoon, it was still nap time for the 15 kids in the class, all curled up on small cots and bundled in blankets.

when he came in, billy was sitting at a table near the door, organizing strings by color and had stacks of paper and boxes of markers organized the same way.

“hargrove,” steve greeted, “i made cookies, didn’t know if there were any allergies, so they’re pretty plain, no chocolate or anything. and i didn’t decorate a few, like you asked,”

“thanks,” billy didn’t look up to him, still hunched over the table detangling strings. “‘can set ‘em over there,” billy vaguely gestured.

steve went to set them on a table with a fun, winter themed cover over it.

he came back to sit by billy at the craft table because he didn’t know what else to do. plus, he didn’t want to wake any sleeping children.

“so, why are you a pre-k teacher?” steve asked.

“getting straight to the point, huh?”

“well, you look like that,” steve gestured to his embellished leather jacket, the mullet, the tight jeans (not as tight anymore, he did have to get up and down off the floor), and the hefty black boots that could probably crush a kid’s tiny fingers. “and i haven’t heard about you going through a brain reset or something, so what’s up?”

“it’s the only thing i could find,” billy grunted, not liking this conversation.

“don’t teachers have to go to college like everyone else? and have to have like a specific thing that says they’re qualified to be a teacher? seems like an awful lot of work for this to be the only thing you could find,”

“well, i can boss four year olds around all day, who wouldn’t like that job?” billy countered.

steve went to respond when there was a creak heard from behind him. one of the kids, a young girl with a wild head of hair, was walking over to billy with her blanket still wrapped over her shoulders.

“hey, jeanie, what’s wrong, doll?” billy asked, drawing his eyes away from the tangled string, which he didn’t do when talking to steve. he was giving the girl— jeanie— his full attention.

“i woke up,” jeanie said as she made her way closer to billy, “i got nightmares,”

billy’s face turned sympathetic as he put his arms out for jeanie, allowing her to crawl into his lap and rest her head on his chest while he wrapped her tight in his arms.

“wanna tell me what it was about?” billy asked, but only got a shake of her head in return, “that’s ok, you can sleep for another 10 minutes, doll. you’re safe,”

she was cuddled up in his arms, poking at the dull spikes on his shoulders and the silver buttons around the jacket. she looked utterly peaceful as she started to doze off again.

billy was so gentle with the little girl, adjusting her in his arms, making sure she was stable in his lap, before moving one arm back to the string, as if doing it one armed would be easier than before.

“i can do it,” steve offered in a hushed tone, “the string. i can untangle it for you,”

billy slid the string ball over to steve’s side of the table and let him take a crack at it while he started rubbing jeanie’s back.

steve had managed to get the string ball undone in the 10 minutes of nap time they had left. the boys didn’t talk through those 10 minutes, but steve would sneak glances over at billy often.

billy, for someone who tried to run a group of kids over once upon a time, was really great with younger kids. he was able to keep jeanie asleep, even when he moved an arm or straightened his back, something steve couldn’t do with patrick.

another parent showed up right when nap time was going to end, carrying bags of board games and such.

two more parents showed after the kids had woken up, and soon the party was in full swing. the kids were having a delightful time, half of them covered in glitter and icing, but nothing a good bath won’t fix.

billy was thriving in the chaos of four year olds, making sure they were following directions but still having fun, keeping the morale up and excitement high.

the parents seemed to love him, from what steve heard. one parent, wendy, even said that she didn’t like billy to begin with, thought he would be irresponsible and mean, but her kid loves him.

billy, for as much of a big guy as he was, didn’t seem to tower over kids menacingly when standing at full height. and it didn’t seem taunting when he would crouch down. he was on their level, in many ways.

once parents started taking kids home at the end of the day, billy, steve, and patrick were left to help clean up, though patrick was knocked out on the multicolored rug, he’d used up a lot of energy that afternoon.

“so, what do you want me to do?” steve asked, watching billy sweep the floors.

“you can leave if you want, i’ve got it. plus, pat seems to be knocked out, huh?”

“he’s already sleeping, and i feel really bad leaving you to clean everything.”

billy sighed, looking around at the disaster that was his room, “could you start wiping down tables? clorox and paper towels are in the far right cabinet, second shelf,”

they got to work and the whole classroom was clean within the hour. billy was throwing his bag over his shoulder and steve was carrying patrick in his arms as they walked out to their cars.

“do you mind opening my door?” steve asked after many attempts to get patrick adjusted in his arms to move and open the back door.

billy moved over to open the back door of steve’s car before walking back over to his car, the same car he’d been driving since high school.

i guess people really never change, steve thought.

once he got patrick settled into his car seat and got the car running to warm it up before he drove home, steve stood and talked to billy for a few minutes. just casual conversation, a thanks from billy for steve’s help.

“would you, maybe, wanna go get a drink or something some time?” steve asked, awkward as ever.

the rest was history, steve and billy would see each other for a date every weekend and they’d wave to the other in the mornings and afternoons.

they had a similar situation when the spring party came, steve bringing decorated and undecorated cookies for the kids and showing up during their nap time.

but steve had something in his bag that he wouldn’t let billy see.

through the party, steve would bring the mystery item to each kid, making extra sure that billy never saw it.

even at their date that weekend, billy couldn’t get it out of steve to find out what it was.

at the very end of the year, they have another party (and steve does not remember his pre-k days, but he doesn’t think they had this many parties).

billy has been weird the past week, finally realizing that he’s not gonna see these kids often, if at all, anymore. he’d grown very attached.

but, in true billy manner, he refused to let anyone know he was upset about a bunch of toddlers.

that’s where steve’s secret came in handy.

you see, on that day of the spring party, steve had gotten a piece of paper and has each kid sign it in a different color. he’d brought it to a small shop and they’d been able to transfer it onto a patch, one for billy’s jacket.

it was scaled down to be the size of an index card, but all the names were still legible.

when they’d given it to billy at the end of the day, before kids went home, billy almost cried.

he loved the kids so much and loved the connection and impact they have had on him without him knowing. he’s gonna miss rocking jeanie to sleep three times a week because she can never stay asleep alone.

he’s gonna miss the chaos that this group of children, specifically, brought. they made his day great, even if he was feeling especially shitty.

they helped him feel good about himself. kids don’t lie, that’s for sure, and billy created such a strong bond with them that all their thanks and love will be forever ingrained onto his heart.

#stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #teacher billy #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove

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script-nef · 4 years

Text

I come for the interaction and the food | Miya Osamu

Category: crack, fluff

2k words; pseudo-reddit thread of Onigiri Miya

The owner of Onigiri Miya

Yo dudes. So my friend was raving about the onigiri shop for ages, and she was so damn relentless that I gave in. And I like onigiri in the first place, especially negitoro, so I went (is this TMI?). Anyway I was like???? So damn shook when I went in because the owner is like???? Damn??? He's so hot and I am simping for him, and the female population in the shop was as well like hearts were flying out of their eyes. I'm going to go there every day and ugh I know it’s cheesy and cliché but I hope he notices me or something like that DON’T JUDGE I’M LONELY OKAY??

Comments [Anon]: I KNOW RIGHT LIKE EVERYONE IS IN LOVE WITH HIM AND HIS ONIGIRI UGH FOOD FOR THE EYES AS WELL AS THE STOMACH

[Anon]: Y’all are simping for a real person and I just have to say: LMAO ME TOO UGH HE’S JUST REALLY HOT AND PATIENT AND HIS VOICE IS SO NICE

[Anon]: YASSS HE REALLY IS AND HE ALWAYS COMES UP WITH NEW MENUS AND LETS SOME OF US TRY SAMPLES BUT IT’S ALWAYS. AMAZING. HE’S AN ONIGIRI GOD, I TELL YOU.

→ Continue thread

[Anon]: Um, OP? I don't know how to tell you this but… He has a girlfriend… like a really cute girlfriend who he’s been dating for years now.

[Anon]: Say what?

[Anon]: Hey what. What. I didn’t know this. I’ve been visiting his shop for like 3 months and I didn’t know this. What.

[OP]: Oh. Great. My romance has died even before it started. ;^;

[Anon]: Well you can join us obsessing over their relationship! She visits a lot and they’re cute all the damn time so frequent customers made a small online group to share episodes.

→ Continue thread

I just saw Hime and wow, damn

So I went to OM today—because wow it’s so delicious please open a second shop MyaSamu—and my eyes were blessed because WHO DID I SEE?? YEP, IT WAS HIME.

Like y’all know how he calls her Hime as a nickname, which is so [censored] cute, and SHE LIVES UP TO THE NAME. There’s like, a graceful aura around her and it’s sort of blinding? As soon as you see her, it’s like “Ah, yep. That’s her. No one else can be called Hime other than her.”

AND SHE GOT SO FLUSTERED WHEN I CALLED HER HIME BY ACCIDENT!! It just literally slipped out because I’m a [censored] idiot like that and she turned so red! And started hitting MyaSamu out of embarrassment! But her hits didn’t even look that painful and he was smiling so happily. My eyes were blessed that day.

Comments [Anon]: Oh my god you’re so lucky, I want to see him smile… I mean, he does, but apparently he smiles differently when he’s with Hime and I know that if I see that, my day will instantly become better.

[Anon]: Oh dude, you are not wrong. He somehow becomes more radiant. Just. How?

[Anon]: Imagine being that cute and beautiful together. What a power couple.

[Anon]: You know what happened once? I was really down while I was eating there because I got a bad grade, and she came over to talk to me!! Because apparently I looked way too sad and she was worried about me! UGH I’M FALLING FOR YOU HOW ARE YOU THIS KIND?! ARE YOU AN ACTUAL ANGEL?

[Anon]: This just confirmed, Hime was never human. She is the epitome of angelic grace here to save us and MyaSamu is so blessed for being with her.

Y’all are weird as [censored], why do you do this [censored]

Why are you guys obsessing over real people like that? I would be creeped out if I knew anyone does this, you guys are invading their privacy. Get a life and stop being so damn disturbing.

Comments [Anon]: ??? He knows about this. He literally checks up on this site a couple of times per week. He explicitly said to many customers “Thanks for liking me and my girlfriend so much. You guys are funny.” The [censored] are you on?

[Anon]: I asked Hime once before and she said it’s fine as well unless we’re stalking them or some [censored] like that. And we don’t. We’re just exchanging stories on our interactions with them inside the shop and how cute they are. He said it actually helps with his revenues and sales.

[Anon]: Literally. They’re just really cute. Like you look at them and boom, you have diabetes, no exceptions.

[Anon]: I think he said like half of his new customers came after seeing this thread, so back off

Ignore that person, GUESS WHO I SAW

Y’all might be thinking Hime, and yes, I did see her as well. BUT I ALSO SAW ATSUMU! He was hanging with Hime and teasing her so much. Then MyaSamu got annoyed and they nearly brawled there lmao perfect representation of siblings.

Hime tried to stop them and when they kept on fighting, she slapped them both on the back and shouted for them to cool it. MyaSamu I guessed since they’re going out, but she tamed Atsumu. Atsumu. My heart thumped because she was so awesome. Like, you’re cool, kind, sweet, amazingly pretty and on top of that, badass as well? Lady, you should be designated as a national treasure.

Comments [Anon]: Bruh. I live super close to OM. I go there practically every week. I’ve filled out the coupon like, 5 times. I’ve never met Hime once. AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT YOU SAW HIME AS WELL AS ATSUMU???? WHY HAVE THE GODS FORSAKEN ME??

[Anon]: How cool was she? I can’t imagine Atsumu folding to anyone that’s not his parents.

[Anon]: I feel like he would be rude to his own parents tho lol

[Anon]: True true

[OP]: She was like, the epitome of cool. Based on the sound of the slap I would have been rolling on the floor while crying in pain but they kind of seem used to it or something? She just glowered at them and they immediately shut up. I wonder if she was like that when they started dating as well.

[Anon]: I find it funny that everyone is focusing on Hime while Miya Atsumu, division 1 volleyball player and one of the members of Japan’s national team, is right there.

[Anon]: Atsumu pales in comparison to Hime. This is a fact.

[Samu]: True

[Anon]: ??? The [censored]? Are my eyes working? Is that… actually Osamu? As in like, the Osamu that we’re talking about? Like the owner of OM?

[Samu]: Yes

[Anon]: Okay then bye I’m never coming here ever again. Goodbye y’all and watch me die haha [censored]

Friend of Samu and “Hime”

I can’t really believe this actually exists but it’s really funny and kinda cringey to see everyone fawn over Osamu and “Hime” like this. I've been their friend since high school and let me give you a fact: “Hime”’s nickname during her time in school was Janus like the two faced God. Because she’s really nice all the time but once she gets angry, it’s over for everyone. Everyone.

So what do y’all do here, just share stories?

Comments [Anon]: Holy [censored] what. What. CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT THEM?? WHAT WERE THEY LIKE IN SCHOOL? WERE THEY STILL CUTE AND SWEET LIKE THE BEST BRAND OF CHOCOLATE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD????

[Anon]: YEAH LIKE WHITE CHOCOLATE

[Anon]: I’m sorry, but if you think white “chocolate” is good then please keep that [censored] to yourself because that [censored] embarrassing.

[Anon]: White chocolate is good!

[Anon]: You’re an embarrassment to humankind.

→ Continue thread

[Anon]: As the person on the above thread has said, could you share little stories of how they were like in school? If they’re fine with it?

[OP]: Hmm… well I’ll ask first.

I got the permission

Hm, I don’t really know what to say about their relationship though. I was friends with them for a long while but it wasn’t really surprising when they started dating. Osamu’s liked her for years. I heard they were childhood friends and were stuck at the hip with Atsumu as well, but she was closer to Osamu. Though that’s kind of a given, what with Atsumu’s [censored] personality.

She was one of the school council members and really popular as well. Always eager to help people, has a smile on her face and a complete disaster. She’s so damn clumsy and uncoordinated that I once saw her trip on air. On air. How. She’s terrible at cooking as well, like apocalyptic level. She somehow managed to burn rice in home economics class even with three other people keeping an eye on her. It was actually pretty impressive.

Anyway, Osamu was absolutely smitten with her and everyone with eyes or common sense could see it. Except for… you guessed it, her. He would literally be tripping over himself to help her and we were all like “boy, please be more subtle you are killing us”. Especially Atsumu since he had to deal with that even at home because they’re neighbours. I once took a photo of him making the most disgusted and annoyed face, but it got deleted when I changed my phone. An international loss.

Where was I going with this? Oh right, how they went out. I gotta go to sleep so I’ll post that later.

Comments [Anon]: ???? YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE US HANGING LIKE THAT??? HOW ARE YOU SO CRUEL THIS ISN’T FAIR I CAN’T GO TO SLEEP BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

[Anon]: EXCUSE ME ARE YOU SKILLED IN TORTURE BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY DYING YOU CAN’T JUST BOUNCE AFTER TELLING US THAT. COME BACK!!!!

[Anon]: Dudes I have a good idea. Let’s spam them with comments.

[Anon]: Oh ho, smart, smart.

[Anon]: Dude

Damn you guys are persistent

Chill, I need my sleep as well.

Alright, this was a while ago so some facts might be inaccurate. Also she forbade anyone from commenting on it during school. It’s fine now though, and thankfully I was sitting next to them when it happened.

So Osamu always brings bentos and makes hers as well. He used to make them for Atsumu as well (unwillingly but had to since he complained about it so much) but stopped after like, the second time because they got into a fight. I think the reason was that Atsumu was whining too much about how he doesn’t like some of the side-dishes and Osamu snapped. That was a fun day.

We were eating in the classroom and enjoying our lunch when she blurted out something like “Osamu, you’re so good at cooking! You’d be a great chef. Your wife would want to let you cook for the entire time you’re together!” Which was fine because everyone knows he’s good at cooking. I think that’s what you guys call a gap moe or something, I dunno.

And Osamu just stared at her. You know what moment when you just feel something bad is going to happen? Like that chill in your back? Yeah, it was that. I sensed that from Osamu. Atsumu probably got it as well because our eyes locked and the red alarm of “STOP HIM” flashed in front of both our eyes.

But before we could interrupt, Osamu just smiled and said “I can cook for you like that if you want.” And I [censored] you not, everyone went quiet. We were staring at him like “??? Did you just propose before even asking her out on a date?” And her face, oh god I didn’t know her face could be that red or that her eyes could be so big. She was literally frozen while trying to eat like the rest of us watching them.

When she stayed frozen, it was like there was an error message saying “[Name].exe has stopped working. What the [censored] did you do.” above her head. Osamu eventually moved and dragged her out of the classroom. And they didn’t come back until the bell rang for the next class.

I don’t know what happened during the talk, but I guess he finally confessed because they were holding hands when they came back.

Anyway, yeah. That’s the story of how they went out. I have to sleep again so bye.

Comments [Anon]: WHAT THE [censored]

#osamu x reader #osamu imagine #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu!! one shot #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#osamu #miya osamu #SNS format #crack #fluff #female reader

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ohtobeaspettyasleah · 3 years

Note

what’s going on Lorelei?? She has to tell to Gray what’s happening, right? 🤔

Huge trigger warnings: everything to deal with abusive relationships, physical violence.

Lisa Dolan had always tried to teach her three children to help those who needed help. “People who need your help will always appear when they need you the most, in turn— they show up exactly when you need them.” Grayson could remember his mum saying one morning when he didn’t want to help his friend Tom pump up his new bike tires.

Grayson watched as Lorelei held her handbag in her lap. Keeping her oxygen tank upright the way it was supposed to be. His head hurt. Who was this girl, better question? Who was this girl and what happened to her.

“You can uh, park in the parking garage.” Lorelei sighed as Grayson slowly to a stop. “Codes 33399” Grayson smirked. Of course it was.

“You sure?”

“You sure you’re not gonna fire me?” Lorelei asked as she turned to Grayson, he’d told her he’d get her home safe. Grayson felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility, considering it was technically something he said that sent Lorelei spiralling.

“Depends, do I have a reason to?” One hand on the wheel, Grayson parked his Porsche. “Needing help doesn’t technically full under reasons for instant dismissal—“

“How about false pretences—“

“Lor—“

“Look, you don’t know me from a bar of soap okay. I messed up, I knew it was wrong and I went along with it anyway and now, now I don’t know what to do.” Lorelei sighed as she undid her seatbelt. It wasn’t a sad sigh for Grayson’s sympathy— moreso a frustrated sigh. “I just—Yiu should call Adele.”

“Hang on, wa-wait a second alright just chill.” Grayson unclipped his seatbelt before jumping up out of his seat to follow Lorelei towards the elevator. Grabbing her bag for her without hesitation. Still heavy as fuck. “You can’t not tell me what’s going on Lor— I’m confused here. Just, just uh tell me what’s going on and we’ll go from there.” Lorelei looked at Grayson as the doors opened, she stepped inside and tilted her head with a soft smile to say come on then. Like a brown eyed Labrador— Grayson followed. Standing next to Lori and the elevator rose.

“You really wanna know what’s going on?”

“You don’t get to know my bank account details without at least having a little transparency Lore.”

“You call me Lor Why?” Grayson felt the word vomit rising in his throat. He held it back, not wanting to make the slightly awkward slightly bizarre situation he found himself in worse.

“I’ll call your Lorelei, or Lori, if you want me to.”

“I like Lor—nobody’s ever called me Lor.” Butterflies flew in Grayson’s stomach, the same ones he thought had turned grey and cold. Covered in dust bunnies from their dormant state. They flew, colourful and bright as he smiled. Nodding back a grin. “Your like Gray?”

“I’ve been called much worse, believe me—“

“You don’t seem like the type that could be much worse.”

“Well, it’s a two way street Lorelei like you said, you don’t know me from a bar of soap.” Grayson listened when Lorelei spoke. Something she wasn’t used to— she barely listened to herself.

“When did I say that?”

“In the car.” The elevator dinged. Lorelei let Grayson lead her out. Still holding her bag. “Which ones yours?” Referring to the doors that all looked the same in the cream coloured hallway.

“333, 33 level three.” Lori stoped as she pulled out her keys. Grayson felt like he was choking. There’s too many signs he thought.

Lorelei’s apartment was clean, sure it was lived in but it was clean in it’s natural state. A few dishes in the sink, half melted candles on the mantelpiece, some Chinese takeaway containers on the dinning table Grayson could only assume was either a later dinner or early breakfast. He looked around, a picture of Lorelei and Adele catching his eye. The seemingly haunting picture of two girls, one of which he thought he knew, one he didn’t know at all—smiling at him next to a card. The get well soon on the front didn’t match the vibe of the two girls who embraced each other so lovingly.

“You want a cup of tea? I have black or herbal.” Lorelei asked as she boiled herself some water. Not looking at Grayson when she asked. He looked giant in her home. Intimidating.

“Uh black with like half a sugar is fine, you and Adele look really happy here.”

“Don’t—“

“Lor—“

“She put me in to this you know, and this isn’t like me at all! To just throw someone under the bus but it’s true. She forced me out here and set me up in this job so I would bail and run back to the shit I know.” Grayson listened which had Lorelei panicking. “Say something Grayson.”

“Tell me what’s going on, for real, everything. A friend of Adele’s she cares about this much is a friend of mine.” He sat at her kitchen bench. Hunched slightly and waiting for his tea to flavour. Dumping the tea bag in and out of the mug of sugar spiked water. Lorelei did the same.

“Three months ago I had open heart surgery.” Lorelei sighed as she leaned against the counter. Arms crossed softly over her chest. Hiding scares she was ashamed off. “Not because of some underlying heart condition or some unforeseen tragic health issue—my uh, fiancé, well— ex fiancé now.” Lori sipped her tea, she could feel it all the way down my throat. “You want the full story right?”

“Lay it out for me.” Grayson didn’t mean for it to sound like he was pleading with him to come clean. He just wanted answers so he wasn’t so confused.

“I had this bike, loved it—Jacob, he was, well is, bandedos, brothers in arms so to speak.” Grayson looked even more confused. Lori giggled to herself. Sweet boy. “He’s in this gang so to speak, a bunch of thugs who ride bikes and deal crack.”

“Oh—right.” Grayson felt like a child.

“He’s also Adele’s step brother.” Grayson’s eyes bugged wide. “Three months ago he ran me off the road after a fight we had, I called it quits, he didn’t like it, said if He couldn’t have me no one could and came after me.”

“Shit Lori I—“ Grayson was speechless.

“I remember being trapped, that it was hot, only after I woke up in the hospital like three weeks later was u told that my bike had pinned me down and caught on fire. Got some pretty messed scares in my legs. Shorts? We don’t know her.” Grayson didn’t means to laugh at Lorelei’s high spirit and humour why telling such a heartaching stroy. “Anyway, he wasn’t done, Jacob has always had an authority problem. If he wanted me dead it was gonna be from his hands not a burning bike, so what does he do?” Lori paused for another sip. “I was a Jane doe in the system for six weeks, that’s how badly he beat me. My lungs just stop working sometimes? Doctors said It’s like they deflate for too long, especially when I get panicked. Hence the on call oxygen you saw.”

“Adele took two weeks off to see family in Sam Francisco—“

“Her bedside manor could use a little improvement.”

“Lorelei this is super intense. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Adele mentioned she knew these guys who were just total lights in anyone’s life. That if I moved to L.A, got away from Jacob, got away from it all, she’d set me up. Safe. I’d be safe for once in my life since freshman year of high school.”

“Adele didn’t go to collage did she?” Grayson asked as Lorelei’s shook her head.

“She’s back in San Fran, should be back this week sometime. She want me gone as soon as possible so she’s uh— tying up loose ends for me, I skipped out on my job and my rent and a few other things so she’s just— being a good friend.” It was the tears that got Grayson the most. The small ones. Lorelei held them back.

“There’s a lot more, but uh—in summary, I’m pretty fucked. Adele thought you and Ethan would be good for me, like you were for her, I’m sorry to just unload all this on you.”

“Don’t be, I wanna help.”

“Grayson—“

“You’re not fired either, but we can’t tell Ethan. Not yet anyway.” Lorelei felt ashamed, but greatful. “He’ll flip.”

“Understandable, I’m kinda confused why you aren’t like, storming out in undeniable anger from being lied to.”

“You needed a support system, Adele knew that, I trust her judgment and—“ Grayson paused as he stood, waking around to close the gap that had been driving him crazy. Lorelei’s eyes followed Grayson. Darting from his lips to his eyes. “I trust you.”

“Not so sure you should.”

“Give me a reason not to?”

“I could be lying about this entire thing.” Lorelei whispered. It echoed it Grayson’s ears. Sent him into a frenzy. He could see the scare sticking out of her shirt— diagonal leading down her chest. He knew.

“You aren’t Lor—you aren’t.” Lorelei was silent. She didn’t mean to play the game. But it’s all she knew. Her guard was down around Grayson Dolan and it hurt. She watched through hooded eyes as Grayson leaned in the ghost her lips before softly and ever so gently pressing his to hers. Before feeling a shove at his chest:

“What the hell was that?”

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #g.dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan series #my friend lorelei

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renaerys · 3 years

Text

PPG One-Shot: Mall Santa (Boomer/Mike and Brick/Blossom)

Summary: To earn a little extra cash over the holidays, Brick, Mike, and Boomer agree to help out their buddy Todd at a Mall Santa gig. Shenanigans ensue.

This one is for @snailbutters, @genovah, and @hanaokm. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Enjoy some Boomike, Blossick, and Capri Sus on me.

[Cross-posted to AO3]

xxx

There were a lot of things Todd needed: a haircut, for one. His black hair was getting too long for gel and it was really pushing the boundary between greaser sexy and sad trash hobo. Money, for another. But like any other 21-year-old townie with a high school education and two restaurant jobs, he always needed money.

A new best friend, for yet another.

“I’m not your best friend,” Brick snapped as he tied a black tie around his neck. He needed to leave in ten minutes if he was going to be early for his dinner meeting with Oliver Morbucks.

Todd put a hand over his heart like it might fall out of the wound Brick’s words had stabbed there. “Dude, of course you are. I’m totally sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea.”

Brick grimaced so hard he was sure he’d end up constipated. “No, you idiot. I know you think I’m your best friend. You’ve never shut up about it, even after we graduated high school. I’m pretty sure the whole fucking Peninsula knows it the way you go around shouting it when you’re blasted.”

Todd looked like he’d just received news that his favorite nana wasn’t dying of cancer after all. “Oh, cool. For a second there I thought I really hurt your feelings. You know you’re kinda sensitive, right?”

Oh god.

“What do you want, Todd? I have a really important meeting and I’m not missing it for your bullshit.”

Brick checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror in his one-bedroom apartment in downtown Townsville. It was a shitty hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but Brick was used to squalor. His break was coming, he could feel it. If tonight’s meeting went over well, he’d have a more steady revenue stream and, more importantly, the connections and clout the Morbucks name brought to open doors. All the long days at Red’s Auto Shop saving and scraping by would finally pay off, and just in time for Blossom to graduate from college. It was perfectly planned, meticulously manipulated, all down to this last pivotal dinner.

“Cool, no big deal! I just need to know if you’re free this weekend.”

“Free to do what?” Brick indulged him, because Todd was one of the few people on this planet who wasn’t 100% intimidated by his very presence.

“To help me with this Mall Santa gig I got. Harry Pitt was supposed to be my number two elf, but he ate some bad prawns and they had to, like, airlift him to Citiesville General.”

Brick stopped everything he was doing and glared at his second-to-best friend, which was a key fact because second was not the same as first. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I know, right?” Todd knew his way around Brick’s embarrassingly small bathroom, opened up the hair wax, and fixed Brick’s styling job. “Dude always had a weak stomach, you remember. But you don’t fuck with bad prawns. I mean, obviously.”

Brick swatted Todd’s hands away and checked his reflection. It was definitely an improvement. “Not that; the Mall Santa thing, obviously!”

“Oh, yeah. So you’ll help me out?”

“Fuck no.”

“Aw, Briiiiiiick,” Todd whined.

Brick grabbed his dinner jacket from the closet barely big enough to fit a small, starving child. Todd, who had latched onto Brick in the seventh grade like a goddamned barnacle and never let go no matter how hard Brick tried to push him away, followed. “Not if you paid me.”

“You’ll get paid! It’s $20 an hour!”

Brick hesitated over the threshold. “That’s higher than minimum wage.” It was higher than his hourly rate at the garage too.

“Seasonal gigs, man. That’s how you win.”

“It’s seriously fucking not.”

Todd, one of three people in the universe who actually cared about Brick on a personal level even though he wasn’t obligated by blood, made his blue eyes big and wide in a way that reminded Brick of Puss-n-Boots from Shrek, Todd’s favorite movie. “C’mon, bruh. Do your bestie a solid? Just this once? I really need the money and they won’t let me keep the gig without two elves to fill in. So please? Pleeeeeeease?”

And Brick, former scourge of Townsville, a Super with the power to literally raze the planet if it so much as tickled his fancy, and the dictionary definition of the boy every father dreads his perfect, pretty little girl falling for against her better judgment, cracked like an egg.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groused. “Just text me the time and place and get out of my face already.”

Todd punched the air with both fists. “Yes!! Oh, hell yes! I love you so much, dude.”

“Blow me.” Brick checked his watch. Shit, now he was merely on time.

“I’d consider it an honor,” Todd said, probably literally serious.

xxx

Boomer rolled glitter on his cheeks and around the edges of his dark blue eyes with the help of a compact as he huddled behind the North Pole set on the first floor of the Townsville Mall. When he was satisfied that he sparkled like the tinsel-festooned Christmas trees in Santa’s twelve-by-fifteen-foot “forest” themselves, he discreetly re-emerged just as the latest child slid off Santa’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, Dan!” bellowed a red and white-clad Todd behind an enormous, curly beard. “Remember to brush your teeth!”

The little boy ran back to his parents, who were having a word with the photographer about purchasing a picture of their son on Santa’s lap. Before Boomer could follow them, Brick was quick to cut him off.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded. Sour as an un-sugared plum in his festive, candy-striped elf costume, Brick may have absolutely intimidated the seven-year-olds waiting in line with their parents for a turn on Santa’s lap, but Boomer only allowed him a bemused smile.

“Why, I was making toys for the good little boys and girls who came to visit us here at the North Pole,” Boomer said in a raised voice. He looped his arm through his brother’s and let his power surge with enough force to turn Brick around and face the crowd that was definitely within hearing range. “Isn’t that right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick pushed back with inhuman force, but Boomer held his ground with a smile as bright as the glitter on his cheeks as a little girl in overalls trotted forward.

She giggled. “I like your hat.”

“Thank you!” Boomer gushed, and he tipped his pom-pom-topped cap. “And what’s your name?”

The little girl giggled again. “My name’s Alynn.”

“Well, Alynn, why don’t you step right up and take a seat on Santa’s lap? I’m sure he has a great present for a cool girl like you. Right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick glared medieval torture at him, and he managed a smile that showed too many teeth to be anything other than life-threatening. “Of course, Elf Buller.”

Boomer’s smile tightened.

“Ho ho ho! Come on over, Santa doesn’t bite,” Todd said.

“What a psychotic reassurance,” Brick said soft enough for only the Super brothers to hear.

“Hey, Brick?” Boomer said, just as softly. “Cheer the fuck up.” He gave his brother a bone-crushing squeeze around the arm and broke from him. Brick could be a sourpuss when he wanted to be (all the time), but he wouldn’t mess up Todd’s Mall Santa gig when he’d bothered to show up and actually put in the effort at all. Complain as he might about Todd’s exuberance, Brick had always come through for his best friend since the seventh grade.

Boomer, on the other hand, had been very happy to accept Todd’s offer to work the two weeks leading up to Christmas. The hours were reasonable, the pay was good, and Boomer loved children. It was easy money in between local shows he and his garage band had booked over the holidays.

Plus, the photographer had a nice rack.

“Okay, Santa, Alynn. Look over here and say ‘jingle bells’!” A flash went off, and Mike Believe stood to his full height behind the tripod he’d set up for the day’s pictures. Even in reindeer antlers and a bright, red-painted nose, Mike filled out every fold of his brown Rudolph outfit almost to the point of popping a button. His broad chest puffed out when he put his strong hands on his hips and grinned brightly like he wouldn’t pick anywhere else to be right now.

Their eyes met, and Boomer flushed and smiled like a fool.

When Mike winked back at him coyly, his heart leaped into his throat. Mike had gotten home from college just two days ago, but the three weeks he had off for Winter Break would surely fly by like they did every year, and Boomer was determined to spend every moment together.

A tug on Boomer’s green tunic drew his attention. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?” the little girl asked.

Boomer beamed and scooped her up onto his hip. “Of course you can. Hey, Mike? Can you take one of us, please?”

“You bet! Get in close, now.” Mike readied his camera.

“Oh, wait a sec. Why don’t you take this too?” Boomer removed his festive hat and put it on Alynn’s head. It was big on her, but she laughed happily.

They posed for the picture, and Boomer hugged her cheek to cheek.

“Thanks!” The little girl tried to give him his hat back, but he pressed it to her chest.

“You keep it. Merry Christmas. Remember to be good, okay?”

Alynn’s father was waiting with a hand for her to take when she ran back to him, yammering about how she’d met Santa and his super cool elf friend, and Boomer watched them go.

“You know you’ll have to pay for that hat,” Brick said.

Boomer sighed and ran a hand through his cornflower hair. “You know I look better without it.”

Brick frowned deeply. “Uh-huh.”

“If you keep frowning, your face will stick like that.”

“Moron.”

He always had to have the last word. Brick went to stack the empty boxes wrapped in bright, shiny paper, which was probably more productive than blowing up the entire display. Boomer left him to it. It was time for their mid-morning break, anyway.

Todd got up to stretch. “Man, who knew sitting could be so tiring, huh? Whack.” His phone buzzed, and he grinned when he saw the caller ID.

Boomer, however, had eyes only for Mike as the latter turned off his camera and put a sheet over the tripod to protect it. “Working hard, I see.”

When Mike smiled, his dark eyes crinkled in the corners. He had a face made for smiling. “Oh, you know. Just helping out some friends.”

Like Brick, Todd had asked Mike to help out behind the camera for this gig. Mike didn’t exactly need the extra cash given his lacrosse scholarship that covered his college expenses, but the three of them had been as thick as thieves all through high school no matter what Brick said when he was annoyed. No way was Mike going to bail on the chance to help out a bro.

“This is cute,” Mike said, running a thumb over Boomer’s sparkly cheek.

“If only I could convince Brick to wear some,” Boomer said, lacing his fingers in Mike’s as they shuffled to the side of the exhibit behind a blinking Christmas tree for a bit of privacy.

Mike chuckled. “That’ll take a Christmas miracle. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about Brick right now.”

Their kiss was soft and mostly chaste, considering the venue, but Boomer didn’t mind at all. He rose up on his toes to lean into his boyfriend’s superior height and smiled into their kiss. Even in the middle of the Townsville Mall with shoppers mere yards away, for a few seconds Boomer got lost in the fantasy of the forest and the snow drifts, bright lights and magic that came around only once a year and had always touched his heart in a way nothing else quite could.

“Babe! You got here quick!” Todd’s excitement and a small commotion around Santa’s throne drew the lovers’ attention, and Boomer reluctantly broke the kiss. His Super hearing quickly picked up on what was going on.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

Boomer smiled wryly. “That Christmas miracle you wished for. Come on.” He took Mike’s larger hand in his and pulled him back toward the front of the display, where Todd had scooped up a very small, very fashionable Asian woman in his arms.

“Oh my god, don’t do shits in front of the innocent children, Toddy.” Hana patted her high bun and smoothed out her oversized black jacket once Todd released her.

“Hey, I just missed you is all,” Todd said with a genuine smile like he had really, truly missed his girlfriend since this morning when they had last seen each other.

“You guys are too cute,” said Bubbles with a giggle. As usual, she was adorable in blonde twin tails and a holiday-appropriate sweater dress. Shopping bags hung from both her arms, also as usual.

“Right?” Hana said, her deadpan façade melting completely as she beamed at her closest friend.

“No contest.” Bubbles set down her small nation of shopping bags. “Oh! Hi, Boomer!” She dashed to hug him in a flash of blue, and he caught her easily. “Oh my gosh, I love your glitter. You look like a supermodel!”

Boomer laughed and hugged her back. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I really owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Oh, but you definitely need some touching up. Here, let me just…”

Mike had wandered over to Todd and Hana. “Hey, Hana. Are you staying for the holiday?”

Hana shrugged. “Yeah, my art show isn’t until after New Year’s. You know, I’m always looking for more models.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Mike laughed. “I’m honored, but I’m really nothing special, honestly. You might try Butch.”

Todd guffawed. “Oh man, Butch is, like, one of her top models! She painted him for what, six weeks last summer, babe?”

“Seven,” Hana said, dead serious.

Mike smiled nervously. “That’s a lot of inspiration.”

“He is very inspiring,” Hana said, deader and more serious.

“That dude is goals,” Todd said, totally unironically.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Mike said.

“Aaaaand done.” Bubbles stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Honestly? You’re the most beautiful elf the North Pole ever employed.”

Boomer snickered. “Don’t tell Brick that.”

“Don’t tell me what, now?” Brick emerged from his useless empty box stacking task, glitter-less and severely lacking in Christmas cheer.

Bubbles gasped, right on cue. “Brick! Where is your glitter? Get over here.”

Brick made a weird face. “What are you talk—hey!”

Bubbles all but accosted him with the glitter pen. Hana cheered and applauded, and Todd joined in because he liked to cheer and applaud in general.

“What are you—get off!” Brick shoved Bubbles hard, but a flash of pink caught her before she could crash into anything.

Blossom peered around her totally unfazed sister, a tray of lattes in one hand and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Brick,” she said.

Brick swallowed. “Blossom.”

She looked nice in leggings and a sweater dress that matched Bubbles’ style, except where Bubbles’ was white, Blossom’s was a scarlet that rivaled the shade of Brick’s eyes.

“I brought you guys coffee,” Blossom said, her eyes trained on Brick even as she held out the tray.

Mike took the tray before it could become collateral damage in whatever was going on between the two of them.

“Here you go.” Mike offered one to Boomer, who gratefully accepted it.

“Thanks!”

“I thought you weren’t getting home until tomorrow,” Brick said, as if he and Blossom were the only two people there.

“Change of plans,” Blossom said. “Problem?”

Brick seemed to remember what he was wearing and snatched his elf hat from his head. He bunched it up between his hands like that would hide his imagined shame. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, clearly. But it wasn’t Boomer’s place to intrude. He would have been extremely happy for it to end there, but sadly Blossom, like his brother, had a flair for the dramatic and an affinity for the center of attention.

She sauntered up to him and smeared the bit of glitter Bubbles had managed to draw on his cheek before he’d shoved her off. “Good,” she said, half an invitation and half a challenge.

Brick didn’t bend easily. Boomer knew his brother as well as he knew himself, and he knew Brick didn’t relent, never gave in unless he was well and truly beaten, which was rare. But he slackened now, lips parting and eyes falling. Even though his arms stayed stubbornly at his sides and he didn’t do something as scandalous as hold his girlfriend’s hand in public, he melted under her touch and attention.

“All right! Bloss, you’re back early! This is massive, like, supernova massive,” Todd said. “Hey, I know! Let’s throw a party at mine tonight! Brick said you weren’t coming back for another couple of days, so this is like a cool early Christmas present to all of us.”

Bubbles gasped. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s all go to Todd’s tonight, just like we used to. I’m calling Robin right now.”

“We can make it a real Christmas party,” Blossom said. Somehow, she’d gotten ahold of Bubbles’ glitter pen and now smeared a generous amount on Brick’s cheeks until he gleamed without suffering a nuclear meltdown. A Christmas miracle, indeed.

“You’ll wear the Santa suit,” Hana said. Demanded.

“Ho ho ho! You got it, babe.”

“That thing’s a rental,” Brick said. “And it’s, like, 75 degrees outside.”

“If he gets too hot, I’ll hose him down,” Hana said.

Brick smartly decided not to press her on that one.

“I like your elf costume, Brick,” Blossom teased. Maybe.

“I’m burning it as soon as I get paid,” Brick said.

“I thought it was a rental like Todd’s?”

He hesitated, trapped by his own logic, and she laughed softly and kissed the side of his mouth. Brick froze and played it off like it didn’t affect him, but his eyes were drawn to Blossom’s lips for the next six whole minutes. Boomer really didn’t get why he had to make everything so damn complicated.

“Hey, hombres, our break is up and I see a super cute kid waiting to sit on the softest lap in Townsville,” Todd said, sinking back onto his candy cane throne and patting his lap.

Brick visibly cringed.

“It could be worse,” Mike whispered to Brick. “At least this time we get to keep our shirts on.”

Boomer smiled at the memory of Todd’s last seasonal gig he’d roped Brick and Mike into over the summer. The shirtless carwash had admittedly been one of his more rewarding part-time jobs, and Boomer had the photo evidence to cherish the memory extremely fondly.

Blossom and Hana retreated behind Mike while Bubbles finished up her phone call with Robin and Brick admitted the next child on set.

“Welcome to the North Pole,” he said with all the cheer of an old tire. Nonetheless, his cheeks dazzled. “What’s your name, kid?”

She looked up at him but didn’t say anything. Boomer noticed her shyness and decided he better intervene.

“Hey there,” he said, taking a knee so he could be on her eye-level. “Merry Christmas.”

That alarmed her even more, and she hugged Brick’s leg.

“What the—” Brick put his hands up like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Great.”

The girl’s parents were busy talking to Mike about the picture packages and didn’t seem to notice what was going on.

“Uh,” Boomer said, ready to flag them down before the little girl got scared or started to cry. They’d been lucky this morning with only one child throwing a temper tantrum out of the tens they’d seen.

“All right, kid. I hope you have a good grip.” Brick floated off the ground with the little girl clinging to his leg and flew over to Todd’s throne.

Boomer was so flabbergasted by his brother’s gross disregard for this child’s safety in front of her parents that he was momentarily stunned where he kneeled. It was over in about two and a half seconds, with her parents none the wiser and the little girl still in one piece, miraculously. Brick peeled her off him and dropped her on Todd’s lap.

“Name,” Brick demanded. And then, reluctantly: “…To check you off the Nice List.”

The little girl looked up at him with wide-eyed wonderment, or maybe fear. “Morana.”

“Morana. Super. Tell Todd—I mean, Santa—what you want. And smile for the camera.”

Todd didn’t miss a beat and wrapped his arms loosely around her to hold her safely in place. “Morana, that’s a pretty name. Wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?”

Morana pointed at Brick. “That one.”

Brick turned as red as his messy man bun. Todd wheezed.

“Oh, yeah? Well, that one’s taken, but I bet I can get you a picture together. How ‘bout it?” Todd asked.

Boomer was up and moving in a blue flash. “That can be arranged.” He shoved his brother with a healthy burst of Super strength, and Brick all but fell on his knee next to Todd’s throne. Boomer waved back at Mike for the picture.

“Big smile now!” Mike said cheerfully, and snapped the picture.

“What the hell is up with these kids?” Brick asked when Morana skipped back to her parents and started chattering at them in a language Boomer didn’t recognize but assumed must be all good things from the way she grinned from ear to ear. “They get bolder every year.”

“Or you’re just getting softer,” Boomer teased.

“Yeah, right.”

Blossom laughed at something Hana said on a nearby bench, drawing both their eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” Boomer said.

xxx

Todd’s party was a nostalgic and long-overdue affair later that evening. Unlike Boomer, who had to make do in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of Citiesville where the rent was more manageable and his commute didn’t matter when flying anywhere took only minutes, Todd lived in a big house he took care of for his often absent, globe-trotting parents. Blossom, Bubbles, and Robin had taken the initiative and strung up Christmas lights, while Boomer created and managed the playlist for the night. They had a good crowd with old friends from high school and new ones from work and college gathered for no excuse other than to have a good time.

Butch, Buttercup, Mike, and Todd had set up beer pong in the basement, where most of the festivities were taking place. As usual, the shit talking and macho bravado had soared to ludicrous heights.

“Come on, BC,” Todd goaded. “Money shot, right here.” He fluffed his Santa beard, the ends of which were damp with beer. Buttercup had one cup left to hit.

“I’m about to straight-up tea bag you with this ping pong ball, Todd, I swear to god.” Buttercup tried to focus on her aim after too many beers and the distraction of Todd’s stupid Santa beard.

“Do it, fucking do it,” Butch said, bobbing on the balls of his feet and slightly manic with the competition and holiday cheer, probably.

“I’m gonna fucking do it!”

“I don’t think you can fucking do it,” Mike said.

“Ohhhhh!” Butch hollered when Buttercup lost her temper and threw the ball too hard. It bounced off Todd’s beard and fell on the floor, leaving the last cup untouched.

“Mike, you cheater!” Buttercup shouted.

Mike burst out laughing.

“All riiiiight, the Toddster’s final shot. You filming, babe?” Todd asked.

Hana, across the table from Boomer, had her phone out and poised. “Kick their asses, Toddy.”

“Yeah, bring it on, Toddy,” Butch jeered.

“Oh, it’s about to be brought.”

“Oh god, please, you peaked in high school,” Buttercup said.

“Hey, he plateaued,” Mike said. “There’s a difference.”

“Just take the damn shot!”

Todd shot, hit the rim of the solo cup, and missed. Buttercup and Butch threw up their hands and whooped. They were still in the game, and the stakes were even higher now.

Boomer squeezed Mike’s arm in a silent excuse and went to change the music…only to find Brick and Blossom making out in the hallway like it was their last night on Earth.

The music was fine, he decided. No need to interrupt Brick and Blossom trying to fuse with the wall and face his brother’s cock blocked wrath. Discreetly, Boomer snapped a picture on his phone and texted it to Bubbles.

[Boomer: Shooketh]

Bubbles’ reply was lightning fast.

[Bubbles: More like shattered!!]

[Bubbles: Better get out of there before they catch you lol 💀]

After another hour (and Brick and Blossom’s reemergence from the wall in one piece with not a hair out of place because god forbid), Boomer and Mike decided to head out early. They went back to Boomer’s apartment, where a very excited Pomeranian welcomed them home.

“Hi, Pumpkin!” Mike brightened like the sun and scooped up his favorite girl, left in Boomer’s care while he was away at college. “Who’s ready for a walk?”

They walked Pumpkin and let her tire herself out running around the suburban neighborhood where it was too late at night for any cars to be out. A half hour later, they were curled up on the loveseat with Pumpkin snoozing in her fuzzy bed at their feet and an old black-and-white Christmas movie playing on low volume on the television.

“Hey,” Boomer said, lifting his head from Mike’s chest to look at him properly.

Mike set aside the hot chocolate he’d been drinking and pulled Boomer up by his waist. “Hey, you. What is it?”

Boomer smiled. It was silly, really. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” Mike returned his smile and leaned closer. He smelled like soap, a hint of chocolate, and something else that made Boomer want to bury his face in his neck.

“Just happy,” Boomer said.

“Really? I can’t tell.”

Boomer sat up a little higher. The neck of Mike’s old lacrosse jersey he wore dipped down his shoulder, too big on him and softer than a cloud. He pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of Mike’s jaw. “How about now?”

“Hm, nope, I don’t think I quite got that.”

Boomer threaded his fingers though Mike’s short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling coquettish, he gave his ear a nip. “How about now?”

Mike shifted on the couch and pulled Boomer’s bent legs onto his lap. His voice was as warm as the hot chocolate he’d been drinking. “I think I’m starting to get a vague understanding.”

Boomer laughed and painted a trail of kisses along Mike’s jaw, up his chin. He pressed a strong hand to his chest and put a little power behind it. Centimeters apart, he could taste the lingering heat of the hot chocolate on Mike’s breath. “And now?”

Mike’s eyes drooped and darkened. His hands slipped around Boomer’s waist, under the jersey, a silent entreaty. “I think you can do a little better than that, Angel.”

The secret nickname broke Boomer’s resolve, and he kissed his boyfriend full on the mouth with all the confidence and shamelessness he couldn’t give him that morning at the mall surrounded by children and their parents. Mike’s shirt soon found its way to the floor along with Boomer’s borrowed jersey. The loveseat was too short to accommodate Mike’s height comfortably, and after a few moments Boomer held him close and flew them to the bed in a flash.

“I’ll never get over how hot that is,” Mike said, breathless.

Boomer blushed, unable to help it. He was careful with his strength around Mike, but sometimes the X bonded to his bones pushed him to the raw, carnal boundaries of humanity. Mike’s hand on his cheek drew him out of those spiraling thoughts.

“I mean it,” Mike said. “I love that part of you. And I trust you completely.”

Words did not come easily, nor did they seem appropriate in that moment. Boomer bent to kiss Mike again and pull him as close as he could get. Wrapped up in the warm sheets and each other, Boomer’s silly little thought that he had never been happier grew and swelled to heights he never could have imagined before Mike. They lay there together, lazy and sleepy, as the credits of their forgotten holiday movie played on the television.

“One more semester,” Mike said, “and then I graduate.”

“I can’t believe you’re almost a college graduate,” Boomer said. “It feels like you left ages ago.”

“Four years is a long time, but it’s not forever. And you should get ready.”

Boomer looked up at him. “Ready for what?”

“To move, of course.”

“Move?”

“Hey, I love how cozy your apartment is, but I’m pretty sure Pumpkin would appreciate her own room once we’re living together full time.”

Boomer sat up properly. “You… You want to move in together? With me?”

“Of course! The only question is, where do you want to go?”

Boomer covered his mouth. Of course he had thought about getting a place with Mike, but that always seemed like the distant future. What if they didn’t stay together? What if the long distance was too hard? What if Mike met someone else at college? Brick didn’t talk about it much, but after a few too many drinks one night the year Blossom and Mike both left for college, he’d confessed how afraid he was that he would lose her forever. How can the old be exciting and fun compared to the amazing, new adventures she would be having?

But from the way Boomer had caught them all but absorbing each other at Todd’s tonight, Blossom seemed perfectly happy to keep him. And Mike…

“You’re serious,” Boomer said.

“I’ve never been more serious.” Mike took his hand and kissed his knuckles carefully. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

Boomer could have cried. He almost did. Life was hard, even for a Super like him. With endless bills to pay and the occasional monster to dispose of, sometimes he felt like he was being pulled in too many directions without anyone there to help pick up the slack. But this… This was his.

“Me too,” Boomer said. “And I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s together.”

“Well, cool. In that case, if you’re not opposed to it, was thinking farther north, like Metroville. There are some great photography jobs there that I want to apply for, and the music scene is bigger than it is here—”

“Yes! A hundred percent yes, let’s do it. When do we leave?”

Mike laughed. “June 1st, as soon as they hand me my diploma.”

Six months. It had a date now. Unthinking, Boomer threw his arms around Mike’s broad shoulders and hugged him tight. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“It’s a date.”

Incidentally, they did not get much sleep the rest of that night.

xxx

I told myself I wasn’t going to do a ton of fluff, but damnit all, Boomike is SUPER CUTE and I couldn’t help myself. Let them have the happy ending they deserve. Thanks for reading!

#PowerPuff Girls #powerpuff girls fanfiction #powerpuff girls fanfic #Blossick #PPG Reds #Boomike #Capri Sus #Todd x Hana #Brick #Boomer #Blossom #Todd #Mike Believe #february fic prompts

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thefudge · 4 years

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Do you have any Romanian (language or just content-wise) media recs? Particularly novels and poetry but really any must-sees/must-reads are welcome!

uuuu!

my brain is too fried right now to do any kind of exhaustive list so i’m gonna rec a few things that i know you could get your hands on/available in translation:

for two thousand years, by mihail sebastian - really heartbreaking yet also lucid, adventurous and darkly humorous memoir of a Jewish writer in his youth at the height of nazism in romania (there’s even a Penguin classic of it)

diary of a short-sighted adolescent by mircea eliade - a funny and bittersweet bildungsroman about a bookish teenager who wants to read everything now and be the cleverest person alive while also struggling with being super lazy and unmotivated because he’s young and restless, it’s very #relatable. but it’s also fascinating to read this in opposition with “for two thousand years” because eliade entertained legionnaire nazi sympathies at one point. (also, you should check out his novellas too, especially the fantastic ones)

anything you can find in translation by gabriela adamesteanu - just lovely, delicate prose about growing up, being an adult, inhabiting your body and your feelings in an oppressive world

the hatchet by mihail sadoveanu (apparently, there is a translation) - a lot of people give this novel flak, mostly because we had to read it in high school, but it’s a great and deceptively simple little novel that says a lot more about people than it cares to admit. the action takes you through several villages in the East-Carpathians, where a peasant woman goes in search of her missing husband. it’s a fascinating mixture of crime and folklore and mythology.

any novella by costache negruzzi, but especially “alexandru lapusneanu”, another classic we had to read in school and which gets a lot of flak. it’s so bonkers and #quality-trash. let’s just say there’s a scene where the power-hungry voievod/prince lapusneanu enacts a red-wedding situation and builds a pyramid of freshly severed heads to impress his lady wife *swoon*

the forest of the hanged by liviu rebreanu - i know people argue this isn’t his best novel, but it’s got the most heart. it’s the story of a soldier/philosopher in WW1 who falls in love with people again. that’s it. he falls in love with people, and the war and everything in between doesn’t matter anymore. or it matters only as it pertains to people, and people alone.

gallants of the old court by mateiu caragiale - a bizarre gem of early 20th century Romanian nightlife, a wonderful, orgiastic fugue, feverish and infuriating. it’s mostly about rich men and social-climbers getting into existential trouble, but also into real trouble. normally, because the action takes place right before WW1, this would signify the end of an era. but we don’t really have a beginning or end. we are part-balkan, part-french imitators, part-whatever-sticks. nothing moves us, and everything does. and that’s why it’s a sort of love/hate letter to romanians

in terms of poetry, some personal faves: nichita stanescu, ana blandiana, monica pillat, marin sorescu, a.e. baconsky, lucian blaga, emil brumaru, nora iuga, marta petreu, nina cassian. and yes, mihai eminescu, our national poet, though i’m often in two minds about him.

poetry in translation is really hit and miss because of the “untranslatable”, so here’s two lines from a poem by nina cassian, because i want to show you what i mean:

De când m-ai părăsit mă fac tot mai frumoasă ca hoitul luminând în întuneric.

this roughly and poetically translates to:

Since you left me I’ve grown more beautiful

like the corpse lighting the dark

and this is sort of lovely on its own, but you’d need to know and hear and taste the word “hoit” in romanian to really feel the abjectness, because “hoit” is a smelly, ugly yet also alluring, already decomposing version of “cadavru” aka cadaver/corpse. also “ mă fac tot mai frumoasă” cannot be accurately summed up in “i’ve grown more beautiful”. a literal translation would be “I make myself more beautiful”. in romanian, this is obviously idiomatic and not literal. and yet, these strange self-reflexive valences make these lines strong and eerie, as if the speaker were authoring her beauty, shaping it out of clay and darkness and “hoit”, like a butterfly cracking the corpse’s shell to get out, but also retaining some of its mesmerizing stench. why did i pause to do a close-reading of romanian poetry??? anyway, you catch my drift

in terms of movies, a recent one i really loved was sierranevada by cristi puiu, which is a neurotic family drama that drains you but also lifts you up

and yeah, the hype is real, 4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days by cristi mungiu really is that good (about two young women trying to get an illegal abortion in communist romania. it won the palme d’or for very legit reasons. it breaks you in small ways. the very last shot of the film you’ll carry with you forever). i also liked graduation by cristi mungiu, where a young overachieving girl is about to graduate high school and go on to study abroad, until a terrible event unmoors both her and her family. the movie turns almost hallucinatory at one point, filled with ambiguity and a kind of sleep-walking quality

tales from the golden age by cristi mungiu (him again!) is also fantastic for anyone who wants to get a taste of communist romania and the sad-funny absurdities of everyday life. this movie is split in 2 parts and the format is that of an anthology, almost like watching several short films at once. and there is one film in the anthology that always turns me inside out, and it’s really silly, it’s this bonnie and clyde type story about this girl and boy who meet at a party and devise an ingenious get-rich scam and just run around a few neighborhoods trying to put it into practice and it’s...the sweetest, most incomplete thing. there is such a strange, lovely connection there that never gets realized, and there is a MOMENT between them where he helps her step down from this ledge and he holds her briefly to him and i remember being in the cinema and thinking THIS, this is THE MOMENT where i felt these people were real. it was such an honest, lovely moment. like the equivalent of this song. ANYWAY, why am i rambling so much??? this ask was supposed to be SHORT.

aferim! by radu jude is also a really neat movie and provides a look into the historical romanian/rroma relationship and why it’s so messed up, yet also so organic

the death of mr. lazarescu by cristi puiu is also a great little film about a man who gets sick and goes to the hospital. and...dies, as you can tell from the title. on the surface, he dies because of institutional ineptness and a broken healthcare system. at a deeper level, he dies because we no longer know how to help people. various hospital staff in the film do try to help him and fail for various stupid or quietly heartbreaking reasons. it’s a movie about being physically unable to care. there’s indifference, sure, but also this great exhaustion of the human spirit. but the movie is also darkly funny. might not be a great pandemic watch, but then again it might be exactly what you need

there are soooo many other classics in terms of books (morometii by marin preda, for instance, about a patriarch in a small village in the South who slowly realizes the world he used to live in doesn’t have room for him anymore, and maybe it never had) but i’m gonna end on a quote from ion creanga, one of the most cryptic classics of romanian lit:

“Şi eu eram vesel ca vremea cea mai bună şi şturlubatic şi copilăros ca vântul în tulburea sa”

my translation: “and I was cheerful like the best weather and frolicsome and childish like the wind in its cloudiness”

and again, the words in romanian and their particular sound and bite (”şturlubatic”, “tulburea”) immediately take me elsewhere. creanga writes about childhood, but it’s never really childhood. he writes as an adult who, in my opinion, was never really a child, but a weird, small god of the land. i mean the word “tulburea” can mean both “turmoil” and “muddiness”. the wind can be anguished, but also just a little cloudy, just a little hazy, shrinking its agony, howling it in the child. it’s eerie and gorgeous. so, that’s what he does: creanga writes about children as if they were wind-like spirits. he writes stories about devils and the peasants who trick them and school books filled with spit and flies, and warm eggs stolen from nests and fairy-tales of a world that is buried somewhere inside us, but not too deep, things hidden under our clothes or nails or even in our hair. and it’s all so physical and convoluted, just like his prose. and i don’t think anyone will ever make sense of him and that’s what makes him so discombobulatingly great.

anyway, this was supposed to be...like, really short! and not gassy! i’m sorry. i love waxing about all this gay stuff. i’m so gay about it.

realistically tho, the nearest thing you’ll find in your local bookshop is probably books by famous ‘theater of the absurd’ playwright, eugen ionesco, or novels in translation by contemporary author mircea cartarescu. both are pretty good, so go for it! (if you want to start small, i’d recommend REM by mircea cartarescu, because it’s so trippy and meta and captures that summer holiday eeriness so well. it goes well with this romanian song sung in english)

okay byeeeee

#romanian lit #recs #romanian literature #reference #my thoughts #romanian cinema #i hope no actual romanians come across this list and eviscerate me haha #im sorry this is such....MUCH

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im-the-punk-who · 3 years

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Hey, I was wondering if you have a book rec

Okay so in full disclosure, I have a really hard time reading books. My brain sometime around six years ago just decided that wasn't its style anymore, so I don't read a TON. A lot of these aren’t going to be recent releases. However, here are a bunch of books I would absolutely recommend checking out! I tried to include a variety of genres but I have uh.....five bookshelves in my apartment so if you're looking for more of a certain genre let me know!

Theatre:

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett

These are my two favorite plays - they're both absurdist, humorous, and have some fun things to say. They’re both by old white guys but like....I love both Tom Stoppard and Samuel Beckett DEEPLY and they have all of my love and respect.

Non-Fiction/Educational:

Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria by Beverly Daniel Tatum - this is considered a 'classic' on the psychology of racism, and was particularly helpful for me as a white person in arming myself against 'reverse racism' thoughts and in dissembling my own prejudices. This is mostly a rec for other white folks, but Tatum also addresses 'having the courage to sit at the black table' as a way of claiming your own identity outside of the stereotypes the dominant society expects of you.

Daring Greatly by Brene Brown - Okay listen I just really REALLY love Brene Brown, she is a therapist most famous for her TED talk about Vulnerability and this is just...listen I really like to read this book when I am sad and feel like shit because it makes me feel strong. I reread this book at least once a year.

Imagined Communities by Benendict Anderson - This is an absolutely fascinating read on the rise of nationalism. It’s a bit dry and wordy, but the ideas and use of history as propaganda, spinning the story of a nation to pit it against or on the same side as other nations, and the ways in which these tactics shaped cultural history is just!!!! Amazing.

Gay New York by George Chauncey - This is just one of the most informative and interesting reads of queer history in New York that I’ve ever come across. It’s one of the ‘must reads’ of queer history and has so many interesting tidbits that I have to recommend it. It’s a bit old(published in 1994) but I still find it relevant and interesting to read.

Personal Fiction/Autobiographical Fiction

White Girls by Hilton Als - I went to a reading of this book when it first came out. It was so much fun and so eye-opening for me as a baby queer in NYC that I bought the book there. I wanna be really clear that Als does not pull punches and a lot of people don’t quite like it, but I love Als’ style of writing. The stories and essays in this book are amazing and funny and heartbreaking and informative of queer experience - particularly black queer experience - that I always feel like...honored? to experience through writing? This is one of those ‘you’re gonna suffer but you’re gonna be happy about it’ reads - it can be hard to face because of how very hard the pills are to swallow but like....gosh I just love this book and it’s interesting and hilarious and great.

Confessions of an Economic Hitman by John Perkins - this is my tin hat favorite. It hits....ugh. This is one of those books that came out and like every government agency freaked the fuck out over it. It’s an interesting look into the quote-unquote dark underbelly of capitalism; how and why countries manipulate each other through economic policies. Super interesting read with a nice style of prose.

The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest to become the Smartest Person in the World by A.J. Jacobs Okay so full disclosure I have not finished reading this, but I’m far enough through to rec it. This book chronicles the author’s attempt to read the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica from front to back, and it is just as kooky and hilarious as it sounds. I am very incredibly and deeply offended this author stole both my schtick and my initials, thereby preventing me from doing this exact thing. I read through the phone book in its entirety when I was three. I had it in me. Anyway, this is basically the author just listing weird interesting facts he’s read about and connecting them to his daily life, but it’s a fun read, and you learn a lot of totally useless facts, which is absolutely my jam.

When Skatboards Will Be Free by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh - HI I LOVE THIS BOOK. I’ve read it maybe three times over. It’s so fun and interesting. You may notice that a lot of the books I rec are very absurdist in their humor, and this is no exception. This book is full of the dry wit and just weird goddamn shit you could only expect from the child of a revolution that never came. You want to read a book about someone who Went Through Shit? Read this book. It’s funny and heartbreaking and just. AHHHH. Seriously I cannot recommend this enough.

Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosch - FIGHT ME ON THIS. I love this book.....so much. Yes it’s technically a comic book but the stories are so INTERESTING and hilarious and full of exactly the dry absurdist humor I eat the fuck up. Also! Allie Brosch recently released a sequel of sorts called Solutions and Other Problems that I recommend without even reading it.

Poetry

Pansy by Andrea Gibson - IF YOU ARE NOT READING THE POETRY OF ANDREA GIBSON WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. I cried seven times reading this book. There are only like 14 poems. Please please read this to break your own queer heart :)

Bloodsport by Yves Olade - This is a tiny book full of absolutely devastating poetry. Most of it has to do with the grief of relationships, but like....gosh I love all of Olade’s stuff. (Also!! This is available as a pay-what-you-wish pdf!!)

Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón - This book focuses a lot on the author’s experiences of loss, and knowing that loss is going to happen. I’m completely devastated every time I read this.

Science Fiction/Fantasy

The Bartimeaus Sequence by Jonathan Stroud - So what if I am a dumb millennial I love this series. It’s another dry and deadpan humor, with weird additions and Stroud’s use of footnotes to absolutely crack me the fuck up means I gotta rec this. I just gotta. Four(I think?) books following the deeply unlikeable Nathaniel and his Djinn Bartimaeus, who just wants to eat humans and have a deeply enjoyable enemies to lovers plotline with his arch rival.

The Magic's Price Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey - Okay I know I’ve recced this before. I will rec it again. This was the very first series I ever read that featured a gay protagonist and I was. Devastated? Reformed? I latched onto Vanyel Ashkevron and I am never letting this depressed emo boy go. Try me, I bite. Seriously, this book was released in the 80s and yet it is still relevant, I still cry - god i LOVE this series SO MUCH. And, MERCEDES LACKEY actually invented unbury your gays, sorry I make the rule on that one. :) Also there are magic talking horses??????? Seriously please read this series I love it so much.

Fire Bringer & The Sight by David Clement-Davies - This is another series that was absolutely formative in my baby lexicon. These are books about magical animals and their inner societal workings and both books address the ideas of good, evil, darkness, compassion and good will, and destiny. I am obsessed with these books, they are some of the most interesting of the genre I’ve read, and so incredibly intricately written. LOVE these books.

Vampire Earth Series by E. E. Knight - The Witcher before it was cool. Sort of but like...there are schools of Cat, Bear, etc and it has COOL VAMPIRES I LOVE THSI SERIES. Basically, earth has been taken over by a race of alien ‘Vampires’ and follows a human involved in the resistance. The writing in this series is...wow. It’s so intricate and interesting and involved. I own the whole series because I love it so much, including the after-series hardback novels. I’m so messy and I love it.

Kindred by Octavia Butler - You know how people are like ‘YOU SHOULD READ OCTAVIA BUTLER!!’ ? You should absolutely do that. This novel is mindblowing and interesting and the pace and narrative are so so so interesting. Heartbreaking, god, horrific. Butler is an amazing writer and this novel, while my personal favorite, is not by any means the only of her books I would recommend. STORIES. STORIES!!!!!!!

Fiction

The Ballad of Barnabas Pierkiel: A Novel by Magdalena Zyzak - This book is so fucking good. It’s imaginative, funny, intelligent....it’s honestly one of the best fiction novels I’ve ever read. Again, dry, absurdist humor, this book sort of reminds me of Terry Pratchett’s style of writing.

The Call of the Wild by Jack London - This is a classic, a true classic. The social commentary of this book is so so good, London’s style flows and, personally, as a dog and animal expert, the anthropomorphisation of Buck and his fellow animals is just so well done. I love this book, it’s quite an easy read, and I reread it at least once a year.

Rolling the R's by R. Zamora Linmark - Okay. Okay okay!!!!!! I gotta take a deep breath about this one. This book is. Yuh. This is a bit younger leaning than the other fictions, focusing almost entirely on high school level characters, however the experiences and commentary is just so so good. Focusing on a diverse group of characters growing up in Hawaii in the 1970′s, this book addresses the intersectionalities of gender, sexuality, race, immigration, education, and how we define who we are. I’m obsessed.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles - A heartbreaking novel about war, innocence, adolescence, and how we hide from our truths. It’s...so good, this book hurts me a LOT okay. The prose is phenomenal, the story is poignant, and it feels like I’m ripping my own heart out with a fishhook every time I finish it.

The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan - This is one of those books I half recommend because it’s so good, and half because of the deep wealth of knowledge it presents the reader. The author’s use of her own culture is just....goddddddddd. Intricate and interesting and so delicately included in the narrative that you can feel the love the author has for it. It’s a long read and it took me almost a month to get through reading every day, but god. It’s so soft and amazingly written I both wanted to read it all at once and take my time with it. This is another one that deals with the duality of humanity and how we connect with one another. Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!

P.S. Your Cat Is Dead by James Kirkwood Jr. - I love this book I love this book I LOVE THIS BOOK. It’s fucking hilarious, entertaining, I literally laughed out loud at every single chapter. Hilarious and poignant and surprisingly deep, this book literally follows the journey of a man in which literally everything that could go wrong does. It’s fucking hilarious.

I hope that helped and gave you some new books!!! <3

#long post #book recs #milo writes

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tofallinlovewithshadows · 3 years

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Liveblog — St. Paul, Roy Wilkins Auditorium, 1999

Thank you to @theelliottsmiths for the recommendation!

Ah, is this the infamous drunk show? I suppose we’ll find out

WARNING: It’s a lot of me thirsting after Till. But I gotta be me, right?

Spiel mit mir

God, I love “Spiel mit mir” a little more every time I hear it.

The burning drum opening is the level of extra I have come to expect in my relatively short relationship with Rammstein.

Why do I love pigeon-toed Till so much? Such a masculine man, such child-like behavior—oh, there he is sucking his thumb again.

Watching Schneider drum is a sight to behold. That is all.

Tier

Aww, I always feel so proud of Till when he interacts with the audience. As someone who got a C in her public speaking class in college, I empathize with the stage fright.

I see you bobbing your head there, Oli.

Is Reesh wearing that coat or is the coat wearing him? Hard to tell.

Oh, Flake, when you dance, you remind me of one of those toy birds whose only function is to dip their heads in the water.

Intermission as I watch the Bachelor. Trust me, I’d rather be liveblogging this concert, but I’m in a group chat with my friends and it’s a complicated situation lol

Bestrafe mich

Okay, but that “OHHH” at the beginning did something to me.

I’m fairly vanilla, but there’s something about Till whipping himself?? I felt it for the first time when I watched the Rosenrot video and making of??

Fuck, his body. So nice. So foine. I love Chumby Till, but Ripped Till is gorgeous as well.

Sorry to be so thirsty...

Weisses Fleisch

The sparkler shoes. I would cause mass destruction if I ever dared wear those.

FLEISCH FLEISCH FLEISCH

Honestly, being at a Rammstein concert would be a hell of a way to find out you have epilepsy.

Schneider’s hips and Flake’s legs. That is all.

Sehnsucht

Yet another song that I enjoy the more I hear it.

Till standing still onstage always makes me feel like he’s mid-panic attack and I just

Is it the lighting/quality of the video or is Oli (supposed to look like he’s) covered in blood?

Not complaining, but why do Paul and Oli swap places onstage? Is this song more bass-heavy than I’ve ever noticed?

I love this bridge with the clapping; it makes me happy for reasons I cannot articulate.

Fuck, he just wrecked that microphone.

Asche zu Asche

It makes me happy when Richard and Paul stand in the middle of the stage and riff :’)

I can’t say this is one of my favorite songs, but I appreciate its energy.

FLAKE IS BREAKING IT DOWN AT THE KEYBOARD FUCK I LOVE HIM WHAT A CHARACTER

Yeeees, spotlight on Oli. So underrated. I see you, Lars.

Why was I surprised to see the mic-stands on fire??? There has never been anything to lead me to believe that something like that wouldn’t happen?

Ooh, the slow-down of the drums. I am a fan.

Seemann

Okay, this is one of my favorites. I absolutely love the softer side of Rammstein. Also, way before I even knew what the lyrics meant, this song made me want to cry. And I rarely cry over music. I did two years of German in high school and I vaguely knew what the line “mit Tränen im Gesicht” and it just

It me

It me mit Tränen im Gesicht

Okay, I feel like some people are not fans of the Slow Hammer, but I am a fan of Till’s back, and it highlights it, so I’ll take all the Slow Hammer I can get.

“HELLOOOO”

God, this song is fucking beautiful.

Was not expecting the🎵La-la-lalaaa🎵 but I am here for it.

Stripped (intro)

Let me see Till stripped

So sad this was cut short, it’s one of my favorites.

Someone’s string broke, correct? A shame.

Du riechst so gut

Another one of my controversial “not favorites” I’M SORRY

I keep thinking Flake and Schneider have 16-pack abs, but it’s just their outfits.

Why does this sound so off to me? Is it because they’re shit-faced or am I just tired after watching the Bachelor? There is no reason that show needs to be TWO HOURS LONG, but I digress.

Flake’s doing his toy-bird dance again lol how does one have so little rhythm, yet is such a compelling dancer?

Oh no, fucked-up guitar. Can’t blame the Bachelor on that one.

And the spotlight shines on Richard’s torso. As it should. Fuck, he has a lovely chest.

Du hast

Okay. I know. “It’S oVeRrAtEd AnD oVeRpLaYeD.” But I could not give less of a fuck???

It’s overplayed because it’s fucking catchy? And it’s a lot of people’s gateway into Rammstein, and I think people should let people enjoy it.

Anyway

I love when Till laughs :’)

The reverberating phone cracks me up and I’m not sure why?

Till spitting up that water like a fucking whale and its blowhole.

Lol what is Oli doing? Whatever he wants? I love it. And I love him.

Bück dich

Don’t be mad at me, but I like the Woo-Machine part better than the actual song

Woo-w-woo, indeed

Oh, there’s Flake on the leash.

Are Flake’s legs even real?

Oli’s over there looking like he just climbed out of some radioactive waste and is going to be a comic book villain.

Okay, yes, simulated anal sex, but Till’s little wiggle to distribute the “semen” was adorable.

Aaaand Oli’s getting a drink. Gotta stay hydrated??

Engel (cut)

I absolutely love Engel. It’s one of my “let me listen to this on-repeat for ????” songs

Sad that it’s a bit chopped up :’(

Till directing the fire always entertains me.

YES SPARKLER DRUMSTICKS

I fucking LOVE how extra these boys are. Like, I know it’s because they know a lot of their fanbase doesn’t speak German and it’s for entertainment purposes. Honestly, I feel, as an American who only speaks English, the music can stand on its own. But the spectacle is still MUCH appreciated.

I’m not sure if that last bit made any sense, but we’re running with it.

I love Flake’s extended outtro. (Is that a word? And is it the right one? I’m running on fumes at this point.)

Rammstein

This song gives me so much nostalgia, but I honestly don’t remember the first time I heard it?? I just remember knowing it.

Watching Till stand there in that coat with his arms out makes mine HURT.

The way the coat lit up made me happy in a way I cannot explain.

Yes bb show it OFF

Those drums. Simple, but effective.

In my limited experience, I feel like this a song that Till is pretty hit-or-miss on live. I think this is a hit. But what do I know?

This is the first time I’ve ever noticed/paid attention to the harmonies on this song.

Aww, Paul and Richard are doing the riff thing again, I just love it.

OLI and the giant stomps. God, I love him. And I just realized he’s wearing short-shorts???

Also, not hating Paul’s hair?

Laichzeit

Loving Paul and Schneider’s head-banging.

Also, Till looks zoned out? Drunk?? Panicked???

🎵AUUUGENNNN🎵

This is usually one I skip over when I’m listening on my phone, but I’m super digging Flake’s contribution tonight.

Till ululating was not something I thought I would ever hear??

Yes, Flake, earning that spotlight.

This auditorium must reek of sweat and fuel at this point.

But mostly sweat.

Ssssssllllloooowwwww eeeeeennnnddd

Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen?

Ah, one of many songs where they chant their own name.

I’m trying REAL HARD not to say that Till can set my bed on fire whenever he wants.

I love this song, but the Doom noises just

Richard, I adore you, but I am not a fan of the bell-bottoms. I know it was a different time. But please.

Till’s ruffled hair is...lovely.

Is this the show they played before that elevator clip?

Aww, the sparklers. I don’t think it’s supposed to be as cute as I find it??

Paul is adorable.

Fuck yeeees, I love when the flamethrowers get brought out.

Especially when used so phallically. I see you, Till.

“We love you. Thank you.” I LOVE YOU TOO AND YOU’RE WELCOME.

Well, it happened. I have no regrets and if you made it this far, then I hope you have none either.

#rammstein #liveblog #1999 #till lindemann #richard kruspe #paul landers #christoph schneider #flake lorenz #oliver riedel #baby rammstein #I feel like I need to apologize?#love me

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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i love you and i like you

Based on @stars-my-darling's adorable post:

“When Mac starts talking he will sometimes just randomly tell Amy that he loves her, usually at the end of an unrelated sentence. They later realise that he learnt to do this because Jake is always randomly telling Amy that he loves her and Mac is copying him." aka. 5 times toddler Mac Santiago-Peralta tells his mommy he loves her

Also includes prompt #101 from the 101 fluffy prompts-list: "…They just grow up so fast."

Read on ao3

Every like and reblog is appreciated <3

Amy Santiago has so far had a lifetime’s worth of great jobs, which, she knows, isn’t that hard when you love work and everything it implies. Everything from assisting her middle school’s librarian to that brief job at a small uptown museum her degree got her to being a respected sergeant in the NYPD. She’s loved every single job but, she’s now come to realise, nothing vill ever beat her most recent employment: Motherhood. With a capital M, yes.

Mac throws her and Jake’s worlds over like the tiny miracle of a storm he is and they’ve never looked back since. It’s brand new, it’s exciting, it’s scary, and though they’re not exactly religious, he’s the answer to their prayers. Parenthood turns out to be nothing like what they’d expected, like nothing they’d ever tried before and looking past some of the rough days, which are inevitable, it’s actually even better. They get to shape and watch a human grow; a human of which they’re both the genesis and they couldn’t be any more proud - both of each other but also their son.

Everything Mac does and achieves is a moment to remember, and they take nothing for granted: every new sound, even simple gurgles, every new movement, even the flick of a tiny finger? They beam, look at each other with wide, joyous eyes and celebrate their newborn addition to their little family. They hold on to everything they can, while they can although, they swear, every other day they’ll be lying in bed with him while he sleeps or watch him begin to explore their apartment on his own and they’ll take turns breaking the comfortable silence with what they’re both thinking:

“They just grow up so fast.”

Even if he’s merely grown a tenth of an inch since the last time they brought it up.

This fact aside, before they know it, their before so very tiny and helpless son can sit without assistance, sooner than later starts crawling and before they seem to have the time to catch up with the ladder he suddenly knows how to say “mama” and “dada” - and the day Mac takes his first steps, Amy filming on her phone while Jake is squatting to entice his son? Both parents guiltlessly shed a tiny tear rewatching the video that night after their little one, who suddenly seems so big, is put to bed.

With the walking comes the talking. Mac, like his dad, is an entertainer and seizes every chance he gets to chat with his parents, and anyone else who’ll listen for that matter, and hopefully make them laugh. Amy quickly sees through the fact that her son’s mannerism is definitely inspired by her husband’s, and Amy’s heart swells at every glimt of it: everything from Mac’s tiny ‘big dramatic movements’ to him attempting to crack small jokes (that sometimes are actually super funny but also mostly make people laugh because his delivery is beyond precious). Despite the fact that his personality is absolutely a solid blend of both parents, Jake’s genes definitely conquer everything else, and Amy doesn’t mind one bit. Although she could do without the short, Peralta-inspired attention span, which can be both very cute but also slightly maddening when you’ve told your barely 3-year old toddler 6 times to finish their meal meanwhile he’s to preoccupied by his father cleaning up the water said toddler spilled just seconds ago.

All in all, Mac is a copy of Jake, and in more ways that one Amy is grateful. Especially when the little boy starts getting a grasp of the word ‘love’ and what it actually means though his parents have showered him with it since before he was born. Jake and Amy will tell Mac ‘I love you’ on the daily and, besides this, his parents themselves aren’t exactly shy of telling each other, especially Jake who often tends to do it out of nowhere or any kind of context which the boy must’ve picked up on at some point.

It starts off quite naturally: the first time he says it.

One night after getting him washed down and put into his favorite firetruck-print pyjamas (the parents couldn’t deny him it even though they were far from thrilled), Amy’s sitting with Mac in his new so-called ‘big boy-bed’. Feeling her son’s curly-haired head nestled into her chest, one hand grabbing onto the fabric of her shirt while the other holds onto his best buddy Leo the Lion, Amy reads out loud from one of the many books she’s managed to accumulate for her son. Obviously worn out from the day Mac, as being almost 3 is very exhausting, stays silent and listens carefully to the sound of his mother’s voice, dutifully paying attention to the book’s colourful drawings and even sometimes pointing at them whenever Amy reaches a part of the story that’s been illustrated.

“Then the little puppy ran through the big big field and the big big forest to get back home-“

“Shee, Mommy,” Mac interrupts her with a lisp caused by the pacifier hanging from one corner of his mouth and points to the drawing of the running dog with his index finger. “Doggy runth!”

“Yeah, I see, baby,” she smiles before pecking the top of his head. Normally she’d ask him to remove his pacifier when he speaks. Her and Jake slowly trying to make the object something Mac knows he can use to relax rather than constantly needs, but when it’s this late and right before bedtime Amy can’t be bothered to reprimand him. For now she’s just proud of her tiny, smart guy. “Where is he running?” She pulls back to look at him, encouraging him to explain further.

“He’sh going home!” he smiles proudly to a point where his pacifier almost falls out, just barely clinging on for dear life.

“That’s right. He’s running home to his family - good job,” she chuckles sending him one last smile before skimming her wristwatch quickly realising bedtime is just minutes away. It’s not that they’re following a strict schedule that depends on every single minute and second of the day: something she’s actually glad Jake’s and his more laid-back lifestyle has transferred to their parenting-style. Although Mac, his parents have come to find out, will reach a point during the evening where it’ll be too late and he becomes overtired and impossible. Therefor 8 PM is the ultimate limit (on weekdays, that is) and Amy sees it quickly approaching so she quickly finishes up their story and shuts the book closed.

“That’s it for today, Mr. Mac. Time to visit dreamland,” simply not able to resist the feel and smell of her son’s newly washed curls, she places another kiss to the top of his head before climbing out of the small bed and hears him reply with a yawn which tells her that she’s probably timed bedtime perfectly. To the great delight of the now also tired mother (a high rank full-time job and a toddler will do that to you) she’s once more proved right when Mac gets under the covers without a trace of fight.

“Roshie?” he looks up at his mother with worried eyes as he hugs Leo the Lion a bit tighter. Those stupid beautiful brown eyes he’s inherited from Jake.

“Oh,” Amy kneels down to the bed’s side and starts running her hand all over the duvet, mattress and bed-frame. “Where’s Rosie, bud?”

Rosie aka. the pink unicorn he’d gotten from auntie Roro back when he was still a tiny baby (though he’d always be Amy’s tiny baby) was missing and they both knew very well that there would be no sleeping without it. Suddenly her hand comes across a bump, to her relief revealing the stuffed animal once she lifts up the duvet.

“Yay, mommy!” her son smiles as if she’s cracked the mystery of the century and Amy can’t help but feel just a bit proud - anything she does that makes her boy happy will do that to her.

“There you go,” she smiles and places the unicorn in his arms right next to Leo the Lion. “All good, Mr. Mac?”

He nods profoundly, eyes suddenly clearly tired and droopy, which earns him a warm smile from his mother before she leans in and kisses his forehead tenderly, all at once running her hand fingers his curls as to get her one last fix for the day. Incredible how your child can become somehow addicting.

“Sleep well. I love you,” she pulls back to take him in, the declaration of love hanging in the air for a few seconds before, taking Amy by surprise, her son answers her.

“I wuv you.”

She knows ‘love’ is an abstract feeling that a toddler can’t really comprehend and isolate as an emotion, which is probably also why Mac’s never said it back before, and although she’s told him a million times before and has never awaited or needed an answer, him saying it back definitely throws her off in the most magical, proud, emotional way in a long time. She’s constantly proud of the little things he does on the daily, slowly becoming a tiny actual human with opinions and a personality, but this is a whole new level.

“Thank you for saying that,” she can feel tears forming in her eyes and throat, but doesn’t want to confuse the small child who’s just begun to understand ‘love’, and therefor doesn’t also need to be explained that crying can also be a sign of happiness. That is an oxymoron that will surely just confuse him when, currently, crying is Mac’s way of expressing and understanding sadness and anger.

“That was very sweet of you and I love you so so much too, baby,” she manages to say it one last time, without breaking, before getting up to turn on his tiny night light and leave. “Me and daddy will be just down the hall watching TV, okay?”

A slight movement from beneath the duvet lets her know he’s heard her before she allows herself to half-close the door and walk back to where Jake is cleaning up after dinner. There she is finally able to let out a few soft cries as she lets her husband in on the small, incredible moment she’s just had with their son. Of course, it instantly makes Jake feel like crying with joy too. Their baby is surely the best.

From there on it’s just one big mess of declarations, at the most random moments and Amy is very amused but also even more enamoured.

One night Jake is away on a stakeout which leaves Amy is home alone with Mac, and to the toddlers immense joy this means he’s allowed to sleep with his mom in her and dad’s enormous bed. Jake has told him to keep mommy safe while he’s gone and of course takes this task very seriously. It’s 3 AM, they’re both fast asleep when suddenly Amy is awoken by what seems to be quite some new weight on top of her chest.

“Mommy,” promptly breaks the silence slowly bringing Amy back to consciousness.

It takes her a second to collect herself but she instinctually reaches out to figure out exactly where her son is in the dark. It’s quickly clear that he’s stretched out stomach down across her chest. “Yes, baby?” she mumbles tiredly eyes still closed hoping that her son is just being restless and will go back to sleep.

“I need pee.”

“Oh.”

This, with a power that almost no other request from her son holds, immediately dawns upon and takes over her body pushing her to sit up. Mac is pretty much fully potty trained but only day-wise. During the night he still uses a diaper, and they’ve only just recently started easing him into the night-potty by telling him it’s an option. The boy showing initiative himself is an absolutely great start and even more importantly an opportunity she won’t let slip by.

“You wanna go use the potty?” she looks at him to make sure and he immediately nods. “Okay, lets go then.”

And so they scurry out of bed and make their way across the hall to the bathroom, hand in hand in the darkness, where once the light is turned on Mac’s potty awaits him.

With a bit of help from mommy, he pulls down his pyjamas pants and diaper before getting settled on the potty. There’s no hiding the fact that they’re both very tired, especially Mac whose head hangs a bit, almost asleep while giving in to his body’s need for relief while Amy sits dutifully on the floor besides him.

“Good job telling me, Mac,” she praises, smiling tiredly but the little boy is too tired to even react.

They stay like this for a while, in silence, Amy not wanting to interrupt a probably concentrated Mac, when suddenly he, to her surprise, is the one to break the silence.

“I’m peeing and I love you, mommy,” he mumbles tiredly almost fully asleep right there on the potty, messy curls hanging in whatever which way gravity will allow.

Then, as if she’d never been tired, asleep, woken up and feeling exhausted, Amy’s body rises to a much higher level of awareness. Warmth, one that completely makes her forget about the bathroom floor’s cold tiles, spreads throughout her entire being and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was currently trying to pee, Amy would’ve pulled him into the tightest hug right there. But she doesn’t, of course, and instead settles for a gleaming smile.

“Mommy loves you too, honey,” He’s her very own bedhead, she thinks to herself lovingly running a hand through his hair. “And I’m so proud of you for waking me up to go potty.”

It’s very faint, too tired to put much effort into it but there’s definitely a small smile growing on her son’s face, When he falls asleep on top of her chest a bit later after he’s done and has been put into a clean diaper, just to be safe, the smile is still there, Amy can tell even in the dark.

Another occasion, it’s safe to say, happens when Amy leasts expects it. They’re running on ‘tantrum from hell: hour who-even-knows-anymore’, this time triggered by the banal fact that, no, Mac wasn’t allowed to play with the big knife Jake had been using to cut vegetables for their dinner.

Everyone has their bad days, the parents are well aware, but this one of Mac’s was particularly bad. All day, from the minute he woke up and went straight to the living room instead of joining his parents in their bad, he’d been extra fussy thereby not feeling content with whichever way his parents tried to fix his mood. They’d been understandable and gone easy on him all day, hopelessly trying to please him while also not just giving in to his unreasonable demands. It appeared that this was very a fine line to walk, and so far it sure hadn’t offered them the intended results. Both parents were exhausted and Mac screaming was far, so very far, from their ideal way of spending the evening in.

Both Jake and Amy have tried experimented with different tactics, some that are known to work. Picking him up to soothe him; ask him if he’s hurting somewhere; offering him to choose one of his daily snacks like a glass of milk, yoghurt or a fruit; suggesting that they play a game… But the little boy wants nothing. Nothing but that huge, sharp kitchen knife.

“Look, you can cry all you want, but daddy is not going to give you the knife. It’s dangerous, Mac,” Amy’s voice is definitely stern but nonetheless still calm well aware of the fact that screaming as well won’t get her anywhere. Besides that she also considers herself a structured, punctual but nonetheless also a cool mom: nevertheless enough is enough. She’s really had it by now, hands resting defensively on her hips as she feels a head ache creeping up on her meanwhile her 3 year old, who’s now lying face down on the kitchen floor, lets out yet another scream.

“Listen to mom, bud,” Jake intervenes the best he can without interrupting his wife’s operation. “She’s super right, you know? The knife is very very sharp and in your small hands it can easily slip and hurt you. We don’t want that.”

Another scream is how he’s thanked for the explanation and Jake, even though he loves his son unconditionally, has to roll his eyes and sigh. Logic is not relevant when you’re working with a toddler, he has learned but nonetheless gives it a try every time they’re back in the arena - only to be disappointed.

They try not to be the kind of parents that scold or punish their kid unless it’s necessary and they but alas this is not one of them. Amy has had it and shares a look of confirmation with her husband before proceeding - she needs him to back her up on this.

“Okay, McClane Santiago-Peralta,” Amy says strictly. Full name? This is the point of no return, Jake knows.

“If you’re going to continue to behave like this then that’s up to you, but that also means it’s time for time-out, because daddy and I don’t know how to help you, when you keep screaming like that.”

God, she hates this side of parenthood and this shade of herself, though she knows it necessary.

“Knife!” Mac cries out rolling onto his back and hitting the floor with the palms of his tiny hands in protest of now both the knife and the time-out.

“I’m not going to keep discussing this with you,” she makes up her mind, picks up her son which results in him screaming/crying even louder while also putting up a fight by wiggling his entire body in his mother’s hold. “If you’re not going to go by yourself, like the big boy I know you usually are, then I’ll have to carry you there.”

And so Amy, knowing that the most important thing right now is that she sticks to her pledges, starts walking out of the kitchen and down the hall towards her son’s room. The wiggling continues, the crying doesn’t come to quit and he even adds kicking into the air as she carries him to the mess of it all. He really doesn’t want to go, even less have his mommy take him there since it’ll mean that he’s really pushed her to the limit.

Then suddenly the next wail he lets out suddenly sends the situation down a completely different path.

“I just want the knife and I- I wuv you, mommy!” her son screams loudly through his cry, face all red and scrunched up as if he was cursing her which by nature results in Amy freezing on the spot, left to wonder what the hell had prompted that outburst.

That one was new, she thinks, and how the hell do you handle this exact situation right? On one hand his previous acts, and the fact that he’s still hysterical, means that he deserves to be sent to his room; on the other hand he just screamed, bloody murder, that he loves her… Parenthood was indeed so confusing sometimes.

A sigh leaves her body.

“I love you too, Mac,” she figures he deserves, and always will deserve, to hear it back - no matter how frustrating and crazy the situation might be.

“And daddy does too, but it’s really hard for us to help you when you scream and cry like that, baby,” she gives explaining the consequences of his tantrum one last shot, and, to her surprise, the boy actually stills in her arms and buries his face into her chest. The cries die out before transitioning to small sniffles and alas Amy sees the opportunity to, perhaps, talk some sense into her son.

“We’d much rather have you use your words, tell mommy and daddy what’s actually wrong, rather than having you scream and cry like this. Do you understand?”

There’s silence but Amy can feel Mac’s tiny head slide up and down in nod against his chest, and relief, although it might still just be a false sense of safety, floods her entire body.

“So, what is actually wrong? Why are you sad?”

“I-“ Mac sniffles trying to mould his thoughts. “I just wanted help daddy make food.”

Of course, she thinks internally rolling her eyes.

“I see,” she nods. “And you can help daddy cook, but next time you’ll have to say it like that. Use your words, okay?”

He nods again before lovingly grasping onto a strand of his mother’s hair.

“Good,” she pecks the top of his head. “Now,” she cranes her neck to look down at her son’s face where it’s half buried into her tear-stained shirt. “Do you want to be in your room by yourself for a bit to calm down, or do you want to come help me and daddy clean the kitchen and set the table?”

“I wan’ help,” he mumbles obviously lacking energy after spending it all throwing the tantrum, but if he wants to be with them and redeem himself then Amy won’t be the one to stop him. It took a while, but Amy always tries to remember that he’s still very little meaning that it’s inevitable that some social skills aren’t fully developed. So whenever he can come to his senses, with his parents guidance or not, Amy will of course be the first one to endorse it.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she walks back towards the kitchen with Mac resting silently in her arms.

A third memory that pops into Amy’s mind upon trying to remember the many random moment’s where her son has shared his love for her out loud and of the blue (Peralta-stylez), is one time (of the many) they went grocery shopping together. They’d been wandering around the big grocery store, her and Mac, targeting the cereal aisle, hand in hand with a basket in Amy’s free hand.

“Okay, since you and daddy ate the last of the Fruit Loops this morning we need to get some cereal. You think you can help me with that?” she looks down at her son who’s already looking up to meet her eyes. Mac’s enchanting glimmering eyes instantly light up at the thought of responsibility, a trait he’s definitely inherited from her, and prompts an eager nod. Before she can even say or explain further, which he probably doesn’t actually need her to, he’s let go of her hand.

“More Fwuit Loops!” he exclaims happily as his tiny legs take him ahead, down the aisle, to reach the mosaic of colourful cereal-boxes.

“Sure, if that’s what you want, babe, but maybe…” she walks towards him, "we could try something else for once?” she tries to not be too strict about her son’s eating habits, especially when she knows Fruit Loops is usually the only straight up sugary stuff he eats daily, but also, she has to admit, secretly wishes she could perhaps trick him and Jake to eat something just a bit less… candy-like.

“What?” he stops and looks at her with a frown. “Something else?”

“Yeah,” she catches up with him and looks as the many options before him. “Like… bran-flakes, maybe? They look yummy, right?”

Either Amy is a really bad actor or her son simply too smart, but nonetheless Mac looks more than quite unimpressed when his mom pulls a boring, brown box out from the shelf to showcase it

“I donno want brain-flakes ew, mommy” and the face Mac makes, a face of utter disgust, would be way more solid proof than a paternity test if one was needed - he is definitely, without a single doubt, Jake Peralta’s son - and she definitely can’t help but chuckle at the similarity he constantly carries with him.

The tiny human’s hand starts dancing across all the different packages, probably gathering himself a good dose of various germs that in the moment Amy can’t make herself care about, and every now and then he’ll stop to study a cereal that’s caught his child-brain and eyes’ attention.

“There are so many to choose from, huh babe?” she encourages but keeping her distance as to be supportive of him doing something on his own, independent like a big boy.

First he stops in front of the Cheerios, which Amy can totally be content with, but alas he quickly, to Amy’s chagrin, puts them back in their spot. Then come the Frosted Flakes with their blue box and cute tiger cartoon (the perfect child-trap) which, if possible, are even worse than Fruit Loops. Amy unconsciously frowns at the thought of having to rip the box of cereal from her son’s grip when he in a few seconds won’t let go and instead grab the Bran Flakes. But to Amy’s great relief Mac’s finger continue their trip down past the tiger-trap, mindlessly mumbling small nothings to himself that she can’t quite make out. Then, all at once seeming way more determined than with previous ones, Mac throws himself at a bright and colourful box.

“These!” he exclaims jumping up and down on the spot with the held over his head in victory.

As soon as she gets a closer look, having gently grabbed the box from her son, it dawns on Amy that Jake Peralta being the father of her child isn’t exclusively beneficial. Not when their child is asking for Sour Patch Kids morning cereal and Amy knows it’s because he’s inspired by his dad as Jake will gladly share his candy with his son whenever he happens to have some.

“Oh, baby… “ Amy tries to keep up a neutral face as to not reveal how she dreads to get something that’s somehow even worse than the king of artificial ingredients, Fruit Loops, and sultan of sugar, Frosted Flakes, combined. “You sure you don’t just wanna get the Fruit Loops then? I don’t think you’ll like Sour Patch Kids.”

“Yes I do! I eat them with daddy all the time!”

Of course.

Her son is completely oblivious to her dread and shines proudly thinking he’s pleased his mom by finding something new (which it is - Amy can’t deny that) to have for breakfast. And Amy’s mom-heart can’t get herself to contradict her son’s persuasion of the fact that he’s accomplished the mission she set up for him. No way. Not when his face flows with pride like it does now.

“Okay,” she surrenders with a forsaken smile. “We can get these, but they’re very sugary so only for weekend mornings, got it?” she puts her hand forward as to shake on the deal.

Either it’s the handshake that takes his mind off of it, or her 3-year old actually somehow understands nutritional values, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate to meet her hand with his own, agreeing with her proposed deal. Immediately after she hands him back the box, it’s a mystery to Amy how such a simple thing can make her son that happy, he beams with excitement and basically hugs the box of sugary sweetness. Amy has to chuckle and then he’s off again to do his own little thing, prancing down the remains of the aisle chanting a made-up song, Amy guesses, to himself.

“Cereal. Breakfast. I love cereal. I love breakfast. I love mommy and mommy loves cereal and me and daddy and breakfast. Cereal, cereal, cereal!”

And to her, and Jake’s, sheer luck Amy manages to snap a short video of it for them to enjoy and fuss about for years.

That same night, Friday, they’re all lounging on the couch watching a movie. Tangled as per Mr. Mac’s demand because “Flynn Eugene whatever is really cool and the pretty princess hits him with a pan and the horse and green little thing are super fun too.”

So, needing no further arguments, they watch Tangled and snack on Sour Patch Kids (the candy, not the cereal) that Jake had bought on his way home from work after Amy had texted him about their adventure at the grocery store, attaching the video of their son singing.

Although, after a long day, by the time the lanterns in the movie light up the dark sky while Rapunzel and Flynn sing to each other, Mac is half, almost completely, passed out with his head in Amy’s lap and legs stretched across his father’s. Mommy stroking your face and playing with your curls turns out to be very soothing and sleep-inducing. Jake can also, if asked to testify, agree with this fact. Guess there’s something special about Peralta-curls Amy simply can’t resist.

“Ames, I think he’s asleep,” Jake whispers discreetly throwing his wife a knowing smile when he notices his son’s current state.

She, having not noticed being too busy watching the movie, looks down and sees, indeed, a sweet angel face with shut eyes and pouty lips that indicated that her son is, if not entirely, on the verge of being asleep. Nevertheless, every 30 seconds or so, his eyes will flutter just a bit, like tiny butterfly wings, as if he’s fighting to see the end of the movie - a movie he’s seen 134 times already.

“You want to go to bed, Mac?” she coos leaning down to peck his temple.

“Nu-uh,” he fights off the urge to say yes, Amy can tell.

“You sure?” she tries again.

He nods heavily in her lap, shuffling a bit in an attempt to get comfortable enough to, Amy knows, fall asleep. But he can’t seem to find the right spot, is surely overtired too and both parents can tell it’s a matter of minutes before he’ll give in to either fall asleep on the couch or demand to be put to bed.

And they’re right.

“Mommy,” he mumbles in the most exhausted and soft soft voice that makes Amy’s heart flutter time after time. “I love you but I wanna sleep - in my bed.”

Those three words, especially coming from Mac, will never seize to send a tiny jolt of joy and dopamine through her entire being. She chuckles softly stroking his back.

“That’s okay, baby. We’ve had a long day. Let's get you to bed.”

“Okay, I love you mommy. And daddy. Love,” he passes out before he can finish the sentence and won’t even notice his father carrying him to bed while Amy gazes after them with loving eyes.

Even three years in, four if you count the pregnancy, she can’t believe this sweet, beautiful and smart boy is hers. A bundle of love that is half her and half the man she loves the most (next to Mac himself, of course). Parenthood is an irregular graph with ups and down, but they have so much love that it’ll make up for the bad days and hard cases. In the very end the most important thing is that he, Mac Santiago-Peralta with his brown curly hair, tiny nose and deep brown eyes, is here and he’s theirs. Not only is he theirs but he is his own and he loves them, his parents, so much, every day. Plus, he’s so good at actually expressing it that Amy can’t help but feel like they’re definitely doing something right. She’s proud to know her son is surrounded by so much love that it has planted a seed that everyday blooms within him, making him spill over and spread his care and love to other people.

So, yes, Amy Santiago is 100% sure: she is definitely the luckiest, most loved mom in the entire universe. Mac Santiago-Peralta will always make sure of this.

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loveau · 4 years

Text

reverse-idol!jisung

request: hii are u still doing the reverse idol series? if you are could i request a jisung one? 🥺🥺 if you arent anymore,then its okay thank you!💗💗💗

others: doyoung (part 2) | jaehyun (part 2) | jaemin (part 2) | haechan (part 2) | renjun

you absolutely love your trainee work

yes, it’s absolutely vigorous and so time consuming and mentally draining and you’re not sure you can even get up the next day your body’s so sore

but you love it!

the only thing that never seems to tire is your voice

you can go on for hours just singing, humming, even rapping

you can also talk someone’s ear off if you really wanted

but your main focus is to continue singing that sweet melody and hitting those high notes

you do it quite frequently

whether it’s at home in the kitchen or shower, in the practice room during choreo, or even in the halls at school

most people love to hear your voice, you have a real talent after all!

you also love to showcase it!

and jisung? he hates it

to be fair, waking up at 6 and having to hear loud singing everyday isn’t exactly ideal

especially when you can’t really help whether or not you get to hear it

but it seems almost unavoidable whenever he steps foot on campus

he's tried it all

waking up even earlier to see if he'd beat you to school and get a couple extra minutes if quiet

or even coming to school right on the dot with a huge risk of being late so he could prolong his peacefulness

he's tried different routes, different entrances to the building, he's even sat in the wrong class on purpose to see if by chance your voice wouldn't carry

of course you somehow would bump into him on the way or be joking around with your friends in the other classes

it wasn't that he didn't like your singing, in fact he would say that it's really good

perhaps one of the best voices he's ever heard

but it's so constant and you keep singing those sappy, cheerful pop songs and it's so loud and he doesn't know what else to do?????

he often complains that he seems to be the only one not enamored with your voice like the others

don't get me wrong they too don't feel the need to listen to it 24/7, but your openness and friendliness to them makes it so nice!

a nice personality with that charming voice, a deadly duo

and jisung doesn't want to be falling for any of that

he tolerates your friendliness in class just fine and is responsive when you wave to him on the journey to school

he just wishes that he could play his own music loud enough to get that heavenly falsetto out of his mind

or wishing that he didn't have to hear the melody drifting in and out of the halls

he thought he'd never see the end of it

until one day he finds that you're nowhere to be heard

he's not used to this

the sudden quietness it seems

the regular conversation, laughter, and yelling from pranks if still there

but there's no cheerful melody of some girl group song or the hardcore raps of a boy group accompanying them

it's also strange that nobody seems to notice

he's looking around, waiting for those silly lyrics about unconditional love or unrequited crushes

he's waiting for it.............

but it never comes

jisung doesn't realize that he's looking lost until his friends are like

"hey bro are u okay?"

and he snaps out of it like "uhhhhh....... yeah? i'm fine"

"arrrrrrre you sure?" jisung realizes he's still looking for you and straining his ears that all of a sudden he's frustrated by the noise level preventing him from hearing well

he leaves his friends saying he's going to go to the bathroom, he isn't feeling well

and he's so distracted that he completely ignores how his friends are teasing him that he has to take a dump

jisung doesn't know how long he's been roaming the halls for you, or doesn't even know how long he's been running down them

it isn't until he hears a long note that he feels the strong wave of recognition hit him

he wants to say annoyance at hearing your voice again is there, but he's surprised that it's more relief..............

he's also surprised to feel that he's rather concerned

after all, it doesn't sound like your typical singing even though he knows it's you

he's heard your voice plenty of times to recognize it at first but........ why does it sound so different?

jisung listens more to pinpoint where you are and as he continues hearing this song he realizes

he's heard this song before

on one of those music shows that his mom listens to, because she's a sucker for those love ballads

and while you're singing one of those, jisung thinks you aren't singing about having your heartbroken by a past lover like the lyrics say

there's so much raw emotion and it's so different than those innocent pop songs you prefer

he eventually finds you outside by the sports field, standing tall and your voice carrying out very clearly

he'd come to realize the power in your voice if he was able to hear you from inside the school building

you finally finish that song you were singing and that's when jisung finally reaches where you are

he actually can't explain why he walked up to you

before, his goal was merely........ to find you???

not because he missed you or anything

but he also was just..... curious? as to what happened and where you went and more importantly why were you singing so sadly?

unsure of what else to do now that you've ended your song jisung only claps and you're sort of startled when you hear them

but you take the applause easily, already used to the attention you get for your loud singing

"it was good." like always, but he thinks he'd have to swallow some of his pride to say

he'd be too stubborn to have to throw out his annoyances now

"hi, jisung! normally you aren't out here, what's up?"

although he's awkward about interacting with you besides being classmates..... he's never had much more than that other than complaining about your singing going on for so long or the songs you get stuck in his head because he can't not listen

except this time.... he feels more determined and compelled to figure out why the song choice and emotion was so strong

as well as why you seemed to put up that act........

your happy self was accompanied by your happy voice....

so it was obvious you were hiding

"normally you aren't out here either... i just wanted to check up on you"

there's curiosity in those eyes and jisung isn't backing down now

you can see that he's curious but all of a sudden you find that you can't speak

it was as if his very presence made you break down all the walls you had built up so you could stay strong....

especially not when he continues with

"you don't sound the same when you're sad. although it's good... it's different"

and you're smiling but it's very pained and you can't even bring yourself to hum a note like you want to

you thought that like before, you could just sing it all away and instead everyone can focus on your talent!!

not on your flaws or shortcomings, especially as a rising trainee

"i was gonna have a solo song for our debut album"

jisung doesn't really know what to say

he feels bad for how he would think about your constant singing all of a sudden

it was as if the sadness in your eyes, especially your voice, was too much to bear

you hum this time, but it's a flat note and your tone is almost gravelly the next time you speak

jisung's heart stops when he sees how watery your eyes are

"they told me my voice wasn't good enough alone, so they took it out of the album... i have to work a lot harder if they want to incorporate it in the future"

at this jisung is astonished....

liKE?? HUH?!?!?!?! EXCUSE ME????

one of the BEST talents in the GENERATION......... and the company decides to give that up????

his shock melds into anger once he sees the mopey pout on your face

he tries to keep his tone level so he doesn't push you or overstep

"...... how long have you known?"

you hum again and it's calmer, more in thought

"a month or two..."

and jisung can only think.... wow...... you held it together for so long and now???? :(((((

this poor baby feels so bad about judging you before because you never quieted down

but now he can't help but miss your cheerful singing

sure it's only been a day and he just heard one of the most emotion ladden, heartwrenching ballad covers of the century but......

it's just not...... you

while you continue to sulk in thought, you're brought back into reality by hearing a cluster of off-key notes

you look bewildered to find a somewhat red in the face jisung mumble-singing and avoiding your gaze

it's cute, really, to see him trying not to mess up but he is doing so a lot

you can't help but laugh a little when his voice cracks and jisung sputters

"w-what?!!?!? it's not like i'm used to singing!!! ........ in front of an audience anyways...."

you're laughing even more at his face now pouting much like you were before

"no!!! no, it was fine. it was good. for a bit.... you messed up some of the notes"

jisung blushes a little and he really wants to crawl under a rock to hide forever

but............... the happy smile on your face is back and it makes jisung feel so proud of himself

he did that!

he! did! that!

he made you smile!!!!!

you bet that makes him feel so accomplished after seeing you so down before

you know because of your comment and amused laugh, jisung would be less likely to sing again unprompted

but you start humming a note, trying to find a key similar to his voice from what you remembered

"here" you start, and his attention is now solely on you like a student awaiting the teacher "i want you to try to copy the note i hum"

he nods and after a couple of tries and him swallowing down embarrassment when his voice cracks again, he gets it

"okay, now sing the note without me. i'm going to harmonize with you!!"

and the two of you successfully sing a note together and jisung is kind of amazed at how easily you could adapt to his voice

just kidding he's super amazed, but he'd never tell you that

the rest of the lunch is spent harmonizing random songs and notes together while you sway side to side and jisung tries not to blush under your radiating smile

he feels so happy hearing your happy singing again, even if his voice mixed in the bunch makes it sound clunky

but you have a way of making it sound pretty okay!!

and suddenly you’re teasing him saying he should be getting ready to debut with a voice like his

jisung doesn’t even mind that his voice keeps cracking anymore

jisung would happily continue to voice crack if it meant his voice would make you sing again

little did he know that he'd be doing this a lot more even when you aren't sad

he'd be doing this to cheer you up, because you roped him into a duet, or just because he wants to be around you and being around you makes him want to sing out

after all, he can't stand your voice... but he hates it even more when you sound sad

#elli writes #nct #nct dream #jisung #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #jisung x reader #jisung fluff #jisung imagines #jisung scenarios #fluff #neutral pronouns #reverse idol au

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butterbeeryuta · 4 years

Note

Assign your moots as NCT units and types of AU 💕✨

I AM SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER DEAR. i’ve been so so busy, and i still am quite busy until tomorrow, but after that i shouldn’t have an issue w anything. ANYWAYS, let’s get on to it ✨✨✨

SO let’s begin with units shall we.

for @ncteaxhoe i think she will fit in best with 127. i say this because she gives off this mature and knowledgeable vibe, and she is also super chill? 127 boys are chaotic ik that with my whole left boob, but there are times where they can be chill and be a whole ass academic, and that’s my indian bby girl everyone.

for grace aka @ta3ilmoon, my right boob (yes you will now be known as my right boob), i think she fits in with nct u. grace can go from dreamies-level stupidity, to intellectual level 127 if ya’ll get what i mean. i’m not saying that dream are dumb and 127 are fucking scholars, both of them are high on weed and we know that. it’s just that grace is honestly so flexible in terms of discussion topics, and probably why i think she can earn a spot in nct u.

hMMmMMM for isa ( @neolights) probably nct u? i shall now nickname you as my drug dealer cause i fucking can. anyways, my bby drug dealer here has such a variety in her writing, which is probably why i think she will fit well with nct u. she writes sm au’s, timestamps, written fics (nutella stranger is so damn good ya’ll, you all should read it) and etc. like my drug dealer is goddamn versatile. hence why, you belong in nct u dear.

@lavellanfriendliness i just feel like you radiate 127 energy idk why skdjskjs. you have that ‘grown-up’ sorta vibe, but you also can be quite a crackhead sometimes skdjsdkj and if that ain’t a perfect way to describe nct 127, then idk what is.

for @liz-loves-nutella i also get nct 127 vibes from you. i say this because you radiate grown-up energy, and also cause your vibe and messaging style just flows well w the 127 boys if that makes any sense at all. it prob doesn’t, but it does in my peanut-sized brain.

for my freshly picked Cucumber aka @lelenoir, 100% without a doubt nct dream. she just has this refreshing bby cutie energy, but this bitch can also go wild, and that just screams nct dream to me ksdjskdj. so yes, you belong to the dreamies my girl.

NOW AU TYPESSSSS, okay gotta work my sexc brain for this hehehehehe.

my indian bby girl @ncteaxhoe will be in a college!au where her neighbour, or ig the dorm room beside hers, is way too fucking loud and y/n just cannot handle it anymore and sees college boi!taeyong playing his fucking animal crossing wayYYyYYYY too loudly and it’s just a beginning of a cute enemies-to-lovers au. she deserves a romantic comedy film ya’ll 🥺🥺

for me right boob @ta3ilmoon she will be in a fluffy and angsty teacher!au where she is the homeroom teacher of single dad!jaehyun’s daughter, and y/n plays with the daughter all the time in recess and shit since nobody wants to play w her cause daughter Youjung has no mommy, and it gets to a point where bby girl invites teacher over and omg woW i can make this into a fic KSDJSKDJSK. anyways, it’ll be a cute and sad and emo au, and gracey fits well in this cause her heart is too big for this world.

my personal drug dealer @neolights will be in a fluffy crack fantasy!au where like witch reader, or ig isa, has been asked to make a potion for the king’s son to increase his self-esteem. but witch isa was drunk that day, and ended up turning prince!jisung into a cocky ass bastard, and she gotta babysit him and relearn his manners as she tries her best to not smack the fuck outta him. it’ll be a best friends only au, and it’ll just be fun and cute.

hmmMMMm i’m honestly not so sure w @lavellanfriendliness uHHHH HA HA. alright so prob a cracky and fluffy doctor!au and you get a new nurse in your ward, wong yukhei, and you’re basically gotta save his ass all the damn time from screwing up. you end up growing fond of yukhei, despite his clumsiness, and well you two naTurALly fall in love. i know nothing about being a doctor except for my 2 years of biology and 4 years of chem, but yes, this is the au.

ok lol so i remember you talking abt obsessing abt gong cha, so ofc, customer! @liz-loves-nutella orders from gong cha employee!xiaojun and he just badly fucks up your order. u wanted a black milk tea with tapioca? no ma’am you’re getting a taro milk tea with nata de coco cause boy wasn’t listening. anyways, you didn’t bother with it,,,, until you saw him in your own handmade toy store looking for toys for his girlfriend (for now), and you ended up giving him his own medicine. it’s another enemies-to-lovers fluffy angsty au and idk, just seems like a great cute au for you to star in hehe.

okAYYY for my fresh ass cucumber @lelenoir i have decided that you will be in a fluffy crack elite school!au with the one and only, rich bitch!jungwoo. so you work for the school’s newspaper club, and u have been assigned to interview one of the running candidates for head boy, kim jungwoo. and funny thing is, you two have history. and by that, you ran into him once, fell, and accidentally pulled his pants down in grade 5. it was embarrassing times bby. so yeah, he really tried to be a pain and not give in to your interview, and you were equally as salty and competitive, so you decided to run as head boy, even if ur a girl cause fuck gender. heads up tho, both of u lost.

OKAYYYY i think i’m done hehe. my brain is dead tho. i’m really sorry if there are any spelling and/or grammatical errors.

#nct #moots #wayv #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #hehe this was fun #tiring #but fun #i think imma go sleep now tho hehe

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

Planning Pains

Whoooo boy. Gonna have to slap a big ol’ trigger warning on this one.

Summary: You attempt to start planning your upcoming wedding with Piotr --and run into a major emotional wall instead.

Rating: T for adult language, past child abuse, mentions of abuse, trauma from said abuse, and just a lot of anger, angst, and emotional pain.

Set after ‘Questions and Answers’ and before ‘The Literal Crack Fic.’

Also

TRIGGER WARNING: If you’ve got any hang ups on your ability to be loved or be in a relationship (which I absolutely understand and am not judging anyone for because I went through the same stuff as a teenager), this may not be the fic for you! This fic deals extensively with being led to believe that you (as the character of the Reader, not you irl obvs) weren’t worthy of being loved and the trauma that extended from that, and even if you haven’t suffered the abuse and gaslighting that I’ve detailed for the CHC, it’s heavy.

Obviously, y’all are fully capable of making your own grown-ass decisions, but I wanted to put it out there. Just in case.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @starman-thorsus-canos-jock

(Want to be added to the taglist? Send me a DM! Seriously, DM me, I don’t trust Tumblr’s ask box system or reblog notification system to catch everything lol.)

You should be able to do this. You’re smart. You’re capable. You help herd around a bunch of malcontent mutant teenagers and take down various groups of mutant criminals or groups planning to enact crimes against mutants –and the former is arguably more dangerous than either of the latter. You can make pancakes without burning down the kitchen –and have an edible product by the end of it (though the overall “pancake” appearance is largely questionable)!

You can fucking fly, for fuck’s sake. Know how many people can do that? A significantly small number, and they need planes or fancy equipment to do it, the chumps.

(Alright, that last point may be a little moot due to your mutation set, but still.)

Point stands: you are a confident, competent, capable adult, who is capable of accomplishing many different things with varying but usually large amounts of success.

So, why is it you can’t plan your own wedding?

You’re staring down at one of the tables in the library; you’d opted to set up in there for the sake of space, so you could spread everything out and get a good look at all of it, but now you’re thinking that was a mistake because the sheer amount of everything only makes it that much clearer that you don’t know what you’re doing.

Venues. Catering options. Invitations. Cake. Flowers. Wedding dress. Bridesmaids dresses. More cake. Music. Groom’s suit and groomsmen’s suits. Cake again. Rings, vows, honeymoon reservations, wedding party details, finding a minister, finding a house, or maybe an apartment, legal name changes—

It’s all too much. Even something simple, like picking what flowers you like, is impossible because…

Because you never even thought someone would want to marry you. For nearly your entire life, you were told that you were a monster, whole-heartedly undesirable, and because of that you never even dreamed about what a wedding for you might look like. Not even once.

And, as a result, you’ve got absolutely nothing in mind for what you might even want.

And it’s making you furious.

Because you should’ve been able to dream about your wedding –or even if in some alternate timeline, you never wanted one, you shouldn’t have been so beaten down that you couldn’t even fathom someone finding you desirable, let alone worthy of committing to.

You’re shaking in your seat, hands trembling as rage courses through you. The longer you stare at everything in front of you, the more helpless you feel, and the angrier you get.

Fuck your parents. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them fuck them fuck themfuckthemfuckthem—

“Hey, Y/N.” Russell grabs your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

You realize that you’re basically angry-sobbing in your seat, glaring at all the wedding planning materials while you tremble all over.

Yukio materializes on your other side and hugs you gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t!” Russell protests. “She’s crying over a picture of shoes!”

“A lot of women do that.”

“Should we get Piotr?” Ellie asks, ever the voice of reason.

You nod, largely beyond words at this point as you try to wipe off your face and reign yourself in a little now that there are people in the room with you.

Ellie and Yukio head off to track down your fiancé, but Russell stays behind, sitting next to you and gently holding your hand while you –unsuccessfully—try to calm down.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “It’s gonna be okay. Colossus’ll be here soon.”

You nod, trying to soothe him more than you are yourself at this point, because –honestly—you’re just so angry. It’s like a wound you never realized you had is now ripping open, deeper and deeper, tearing through you until you can’t breathe and all you can do is bleed and rage—

How dare they.

Betrayal. Pure and simple. Betrayed by your parents, betrayed by the town you grew up in, betrayed by the members of the church you were dragged to every Sunday and Wednesday…

Week after week, a community of adults bore witness –to the anti-mutant sermons you were forced to listen to, to the times were the kids in the middle school and high school youth groups would bully you even though you were barely out of first grade yet, to the growing fear with which you reacted to your parents, to the times where you were dragged back to your home by men toting rifles after you’d tried to run away, to the bruises that covered your arms from your father’s abuse, to the bags under your eyes from constantly being afraid and upset, to how you retreated further and further inside yourself as your parents bore down harder and harder on you…

And they did nothing. No one, not once, ever looked at you and decided that you deserved protecting because you were just a kid and couldn’t control your genetic make-up.

How fucking dare they.

You didn’t deserve to hate yourself, you didn’t deserve to feel worthless, you didn’t deserve to believe that you were so unlovable that you’re completely lost at sea in the face of planning your own fucking wedding—

And then Piotr’s kneeling next to you and drawing you into his arms. He’s in his uniform and armored up –he must’ve been overseeing training sessions, and now you feel bad for having inadvertently interrupted him.

“Tische, myshka.” He gently lifts you into his arms, then says something to Ellie before carrying you out of the library.

You wind your arms around his neck and bury your face in the shoulder piece of his uniform. You’re still shaking, borderline hyperventilating as you try to cope with the sheer level of wrath coursing through you. How dare they, how fucking dare they; I was a kid!

And then you’re in the bedroom you share with Piotr.

You’re vaguely aware that the teens have followed you and that they’re setting the wedding stuff on the desks, and then they’re leaving and closing the door behind them—

And then it’s just you and Piotr.

“What’s wrong, myshka?” Piotr murmurs. He armors down before sitting on the bed, carefully settling you in his lap so he can nestle you in his arms. “What has you upset?”

What you want to say is that you’re upset and enraged over the mistreatment you suffered as a child, and that it still extends so far into your life that you’re finding yourself unable to help plan your own wedding because you literally have zero ideas on what you want due to being abused for so long.

What comes out, however…

“I hate them,” you seethe as you sit back. “I hate them so fucking much. I was just a kid, I didn’t fucking deserve to be their punching bag—”

Fortunately, Piotr knows you well enough –and the tragic story of your upbringing—that he can decipher from your rambling that you’re upset about your family. He frowns, sad and concerned, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I am so sorry, moya dusha.”

“I didn’t deserve it,” you insist, almost frantically, as tears sting your eyes. “I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t fucking deserve it—”

“Konecho net. Never.” He draws you back into his arms, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back and generally doing whatever he can to soothe you. “You never deserved how they treated you. You never could, and you never will.”

You sob brokenly against your fiancé’s chest. “I can’t even plan my own wedding, Piotr! I don’t even know what I want it to look like!”

And then it all comes pouring out –the panic you’d felt in the library, how it’d morphed into fury as you realized what was causing your utter lack of ideas for your upcoming wedding, how the teens had found you in there, borderline hyperventilating as you’d stared at all the wedding stuff.

Piotr, for his part, just holds you and kisses the top of your head over and over again. “I am so sorry, moya lyubov’. Had I known you would have felt this kind of distress, I would have not left you to work on our wedding details alone.”

“But aren’t most brides supposed to plan the wedding?” you ask as you sniff inelegantly.

“I do not think ‘supposed to’ is right word. I think most brides wind up planning weddings because they have more aesthetic preferences,” Piotr explains. “However, I think it might be better if we work together for most of it. If only so you do not have to deal with your pain alone.”

“But you’ve got job stuff to do,” you whine. “And X-Men stuff, and teacher stuff, and this is gonna take a lot of time—”

“And you are my fiancée and love of my life and future wife and we will find way to make this work,” he insists as he presses his lips against your forehead. “Your well-being is more important than easy schedule.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I just don’t want you to wind up hating me by all the end of this.”

Piotr just holds you tighter and kisses your temple. “Impossible.”

It’s not going to be easy. Even the thought of trying to work on wedding stuff makes your stomach churn with anxiety and unreleased rage.

Nothing in life comes easy, though. And with Piotr by your side –and your friends and newfound family—you know you’ll get through it just fine.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #so much angst #tw: abuse #tw: trauma #tw: gaslighting #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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