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cherryonigiri · 4 years

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when and where (oikawa tooru) - part one

Summary: Tooru can’t seem to understand you loneliness, and you can’t understand his desire to sacrifice anything to be by your side again. In which the words ‘opposites attract’ are both your beginning and end. (Inspired by the song/lyrics of Undone by Haley Reinhart)

word count: 1.8k

“Stars fade away, they just crash into space, disappear from my life, like you and I.”

“Tooru,” you whisper. The numbers ‘5:00′ glare back at you in red, reminding you of the sleep that continues to evade you, despite feeling utterly exhausted. Your phone is glowing against the pitch black, the blue light acting as a substitute for the moon, which hides behind wispy clouds. “I miss you.” There is an ache that starts in the back of your throat, winding its way down to your chest where it stays, pushing, prodding, pounding against your sternum. Thankfully your voice doesn’t crack, but the tears are still there, trailing down your cheeks. You’ve steeled your resolve, but your heart is still drowning in the loss that is yet to come.

“I know darling,” he laughs. “I miss you too.” Another light-hearted chuckle. You can hear him shuffling through his bag. Seconds later, after the tap of shoes on tile, keys jingle and you hear the thump of the door shutting. It’s almost evening in Brazil (you know because you’ve long since memorized how many hours are between Sendai and Rio). The sun is probably setting on the beach Tooru just returned from, in complete opposition to the flickering stars keeping watch over your sleepless figure.

That’s how it is between the two of you. Day and night. Tooru was more than happy to revel in his overwhelming brightness - embracing his role as the best setter in the prefecture and his popularity amongst his fans. He always had that smirk, the one that was always plastered on his face that screamed confidence in who he was.

On the other hand, you clung to your shyness - you’d never liked large crowds to begin with, and you were happy with the small, close-knit, group of friends you’d made. You weren’t closed off, but new things were met with caution. Tentative touches and long gazes to determine whether an unfamiliar addition would disturb the peaceful familiarity you’d woven.

The words ‘opposites attract’ made you snort, but you couldn’t deny that you’d been drawn to Tooru’s effervescent energy. (A year after you’d started dating Tooru had admitted he’d found a quiet refuge in his relationship with you.) In the beginning, Tooru had coaxed you out of your shell. Never forcefully, and always done with an observant eye. He ignored his team’s teasing, only inviting you to watch them practice after introducing you to each member individually outside of the university gymnasium. He’d rush you home in a heartbeat the minute you looked overwhelmed or uncomfortable. Like two planets, gravity had drawn you together, pushing you closer and closer with every orbit.

Now it’s different. Gravity is chasing after you, bringing your heart catastrophically close to disaster before flinging it into the distance. Your whispered ‘I miss you’ wasn’t an attempt to impart a fleeting bit of affection, or to reassure Tooru that your heart still beat for him every second of the day (which it did). No, it was meant to hide an unspoken plea that was begging him to return, to once again indulge in hour long phone calls late into the evening; to be present. Of course, you weren’t expecting him to pick up on that. After all, you’d dedicated your time alone to perfecting the art of not letting anyone know of your unravelling.

It started slowly—long video chats in the evening became less frequent, replaced by a dwindling number of rushed phone calls on the train to work. Short texts, snuck between sets and during water breaks, became the norm, erasing your habit of sending each other paragraphs about your days. You knew he felt guilty for missing the small snippets of time that he could spend with you. At the core of his being, Tooru is a caring person: he would run himself ragged and work himself to the bone for someone he loved. It was a double-edged sword; working harder and dedicating more time to accelerate his progress so he could return to you faster meant he was inevitably drifting away.

“Tooru, I can’t do this anymore.” You wince as you throw your plan out of the window, foregoing any kind of verbal cue that would let him know that this was serious. That you were talking about more than having a mundanely horrible day at work.

“Love, what happened today? Was today a bad day? I thought work was going better…” Your boyfriend trails off as you remain silent.

“This. Us. I think,” you gulp down the sob that threatens to erupt from your throat. “I think we should break up.” You have to force out those two words, break up, because saying them out loud makes it real. Makes this whole conversation real. Grounds it reality, in the realization that this is really happening, that your heartbreak is rushing towards you much faster than you ever wanted.

You expect him to protest. To at least exclaim loudly and object to the separation. Maybe a part of you wants him to plead, to experience the same hollow loneliness of missing him. To tell you that, yes, I am suffering just as much, and feeling just as broken as you are. Maybe you are desperate, hoping that he’ll convince you that the exuberance he expresses over the phone is one of his carefully constructed facades.

“Can I at least know why?” You catch the slight uptick of his voice, the crack that he tries to hide from you.

And that’s when your heart truly shatters.

Because, by asking that question, he reveals that somewhere between his last night in your apartment and today, at five in the morning, the two of you stopped inhabiting the same realm of separation. In a way, Tooru had confirmed what you’d started fearing with every passing day: that he was stronger than you’d ever be. That he could bear the weight of being separated by continents and oceans while you were crumbling. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t endure the pile of missed calls followed by rushed texts of apology. You can’t stand that the only time you can talk to him is on crowded subways where the ever present bustle of other commuters intrudes on your conversations. God, now that you think about it, when was the last time you’d talked to Tooru for more than five minutes?

“We barely talk anymore Tooru,” you begin, hunching over as both the tears and words begin to flow freely. “I—”

“But you know why y/n!” he responds. He’s pacing, the thumps of his feet echoing through the receiver. He lets out a sigh and you know he’s running his hand through his hair. It’s one of his habits that you have memorized. It’s painful how easy it is for you to imagine Tooru; all his little gestures and mannerisms etched deeply and intimately into your memory.

“Yes, I know why,” you hiss. “But the fact that you never told me outright? That hurt Tooru.” It still does. It’s his strange blend of selflessness and ambition that has led you here. You thought you’d be sad, that this conversation would leave you with a heavy heart. Instead, a small spark of anger lodges itself in your chest.

“How was I supposed to?” He retorts. “It’s not like I can ask you to give up your time with me. I’m trying my best to get back to you sooner!” But how can he say that when he’s already left you behind? Instead of extinguishing your anger, he only fans the flames, truly setting you alight.

“Did you ever think to ask me? Did it ever occur to you that I would rather have waited for longer if that meant you could actually have time for us?” Your rage is dangerous and all-consuming, centering you within the bitterness of the isolation that Tooru had forced upon you.

Silence. And then,

“Y/n…” The way Tooru says your name nearly breaks your resolve. “Please, just wait a little longer. I’ll figure something out, I can train more so I can come back in less than a year. I’m just asking you to be patient.” No, no, no. What he’s offering is worse. You want him to make more space for your relationship, not less. In his quest to hasten his return, he’d turned to a method that consumed the time you occupied in his day. Slowly but surely, the space you’d taken up was sacrificed, leaving you with nothing but those five minutes on the train ride to work.

“That’s not what I want!” You shout. Why is his solution to make things worse?

“Then what do you want?” He screams back, his thinly veiled irritation blooming into confused anger. “You’re lonely, so I’m trying my fucking best to go back to you as soon as possible. “Why…” he pauses, as if he’ll regret his words, before plowing on, “can’t you just accept that?”

Suddenly, all the air is knocked out of your lungs with a whoosh. You barely have time to realize you’d stood up in the midst of your argument before you’re sagging against your bed frame, wilting until you’re sitting on the floor.

You’ve given up, because Tooru’s stubbornness has manifested itself as an irremovable wedge between the two of you. Blinded by his belief that all you desire and yearn for is his physical presence, he can’t even begin to see that all you want is to be given a semblance of space within his life. To have a few hours of his voice, rather than the fleeting promise of reuniting sooner. To accompany him, rather than wait for him at the end of his journey. He is unwilling to bear witness to the different kind of loneliness you suffer; unwilling to peer into the parallel, yet utterly different, dimension of suffering that branches from his own longing for you.

“Tooru…” I’m being selfish, “This isn’t working. Just let us go,” whatever we are now, before it gets worse. You’re not sure if he can hear the shaky inhale of your lungs as you try to steady your voice.

“I can’t,” he sobs. “Why can’t you see I’m doing this for you?”

Because you can only see me as the finish line, not as someone who runs beside you. Because somehow, you can only worry about the me you see in the future, not the person who is speaking to you now. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice still wavering despite your best efforts.

‘No, please, y/n—”

One last reassurance. “Thank you for everything.” I love you.

“Y/n wait, please, don’t do this.” His pleas are tearing you apart. “I can take a break, fly back—”

You refuse to be the reason he halts his momentum. “Goodbye, Tooru.” A broken whisper.

Equal and opposite, two stars crash into each other violently. Flickering in and out, they vie for the chance to exist as they clash against each other, emitting white sparks.

A press of a red button.

Both of them are gone.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #aoba johsai #seijoh

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the-lincyclopedia · 3 years

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First Story Lines

Thanks for the tag, @khashanakalashtar!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 5-20 stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag others!

I’m going from less recent to more recent, because I was too far in to switch when I realized that maybe it would have been better to go the other way.

"The best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting," says Dex at last, sounding utterly wrung out. (“The Best Thing About Tonight’s That We’re Not Fighting”)

Holster’s known Ransom for under two months, so he can’t say for sure, but it seems like something’s wrong. (“Holster Gives Good Hugs”)

Will had planned it all out. (“too long i’ve been afraid (of losing love i guess i have lost)”)

Shitty hears yelling from the Reading Room during the first kegster of the year and texts Lardo to ask her to come babysit the tub so he can abandon the tub juice to go investigate. (“Intersections”)

Jack and Shitty talk about it, is the thing. (“Brightly, Enthusiastically, Giddily”)

“Jack. Jack!” Kent exclaims, rushing out onto the deck of the Zimmermanns’ lake place. (“Better”)

Back when Jack and Kent were in each other’s lives, they were really in each other’s lives. (“Reused Usernames and Revealing Playlists”)

Holster is kissing his way down Ransom’s stomach when Ransom goes entirely rigid for a few seconds and then scoots backward on the bed, away from Holster’s mouth. (“You Deserve Everything”)

The only good thing about Simon’s Words is that they’re low on his hip, in a spot he doesn’t have to display to the public on a regular basis. (“Not a Disaster”)

Jack doesn’t do this sober. (“One of These Nights Jack Needs to Get Some Sleep”)

When Jack gets out of rehab, moves home to live with his parents for the first time in years, and starts going to therapy just twice a week rather than every day, his therapist suggests he take up a hobby and start making his identity about something other than hockey. (“put your emptiness to melody (your awful heart to song)”)

When Larissa arrives at Samwell, as soon as her parents leave after helping her move in, she finds the art building on her campus map and walks there. (“you don’t have to sing it right (but who could call you wrong)”)

Even over the Christmas music, Baz could hear the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching the counter. (“Sounds Like a Date”)

Baz has been dreading the group project ever since he got the syllabus on the first day of his Economic History class, and that dread has only mounted as the semester has worn on. (“Checking You Out”)

It’s midway through the semester and Simon is fully confident that taking Intro to Psych with Baz as a way to take care of a gen ed requirement was the right decision. (“Is This More Than You Bargained For Yet”)

Jack spends the summer before his junior year interning at a history museum in Boston and living at the house his parents bought for him and his friends. (“who could ask to be unbroken (or be brave again)”)

After a particularly brutal morning practice in late September, Ford calls her boys to attention in the locker room and gets groans in response. (“The Monologue Competition”)

Jack’s talking to Ransom about the relative merits of the fast food options in Canada versus the US, Lardo is telling Shitty and Holster about her plans for her junior art show, and Bittle is on his phone, probably tweeting. (“as we walked, we were talking (i didn’t say half the things i wanted to)”)

I hug you and then I make a retreat/And sneak away while you talk on and on/I cry and I’ve got "Halo" on repeat/I don’t know how to stay when you are gone (“Iambic Pentameter, Please”)

Knock. Knock. (“Are We in the Clear Yet?”)

It’s hard to pick a favorite because I feel like my writing tends to be pretty utilitarian rather than lyrical, and I prefer lyricism when it comes to stuff I want to read. In terms of patterns . . . I guess more often than not I’m trying to set the scene, and I don’t do a whole lot of really sudden in media res.

I tag @doggernaut, @ivecarvedawoodenheart, @shitty-check-please-aus, @birlcholtz, @cricketnationrise, and anyone else who wants to play!

#tag game #my writing #mine

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merlivystories · 4 years

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not over, never over (trixya)

Just a short fic about one particular friendship that overcomes the struggles of addiction created with help of my humble imagination and inspired by Trixie & Katya. Enjoy! xx

Trixie’s life has been pretty much the same for the past few months. He would go on tour, do shows, perform his music on stage, make instagram posts and tweet from time to time, receiving nothing but waves of admiration and love from the fans. His life has been the same, except for one piece missing. It felt like he had one piece of a puzzle gone and it’s absence spoiled the ability to fully enjoy the process since he wasn’t able to see the whole picture anymore. That would cause him to forget words to his own songs, cry in almost every dressing room in every city on the tour, constantly make spelling mistakes or leave out words on social media. The craving was slowly ruining him from the inside, sucking out his energy, keeping his mood down and his heart aching. That missing piece was, of course, one particular russian high-class whore - Katya, also known as his madly insane but utterly amazing best friend - Brian McCook. Or as Trixie was quite sure of lately, his former best friend.

No one ever said being close to Katya was a piece of cake, it was, actually, the opposite of that most of the times. The man was unstable, had an addictive personality and an endless amount of terrifying stories from his past he just had to share with Trixie. He could be loud one minute and then suddenly quiet the next one, he hardly ever allowed himself to talk about his real feelings, trying to disguise truth as jokes. But Trixie couldn’t help but loved him. They were naturally drawn to each other, sharing the same sense of humor and feeling comfortable while spending time together. Trixie often wondered if Katya could see all the things he loved him for, he was sure though, Katys was aware of all the things he loved him despite of. Their friendship was Trixie’s greatest strength and biggest weakness at the same time. People around them would say they were joined at the hip, and that has been absolutely true for a few years post season 7 of Drag Race. It was almost perfect, till it wasn’t anymore.

The first time Trixie learned about Katya’s multiplе addictions was when the two of them were working together with Pearl and Fame on one of the earliest episodes of RPDR. Trixie saw something small and round falling out of his pocket when he was pulling the jeans on. Katya followed his glance and hurried to pick it up, but Trixie knew for sure what that thing was. Sobriety chip. His mother’s boyfriend had a lot of those.

- Alcohol? Drugs? - He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask, if the two of them were close enough to share real stuff, but he did anyways.

- Both, actually. It’s been a year and a half. I’m better now. - Katya smiled at him weakly, shoving the chip back inside.

- You know you can talk to me if you feel like it. Anytime, I’m there for you. - Trixie said in a serious tone. He caught Katya’s wandering gaze, trying his best to let the older queen know he wasn’t kidding, not this time. Katya just grabbed his palm and squeezed it in response. He knew and he appreciated that.

Afterwards they got closer and Trixie spent hours of his life listening to stories about Katya’s addictive past. He would listen to them over the phone, in a cafe while eating eggs with a salad on the side, while applying his makeup before the gig and in a dark alley filled with cigarette smoke he could barely stand after a gig, also in hotel rooms, on WOW Presents set, on buses and on airplanes. Simply put: he would listen to those stories everywhere. But he never got tired of it. On the contrary, Trixie was completely fascinated. Katya managed to make it all sound amusing, he has always been amazing at turning tragedy into comedy. However, from time to time Trixie looked at Katya’s face for a little too long and wondered how he’s still alive and breathing. This is what should be called the eighth wonder of the world. At first, right after the both of them just started working together post Drag Race, Trixie would catch himself being worried about Katya’s well-being and wondering whether he could take all the pressure without breaking down. But it has been a few years and Katya always rose up to every occasion, ready and totally able to entertain. And just as Trixie was about to let it go and finally breath out, everything exploded right in his face.

To be honest, it wasn’t that horrible. The older queen has seemed erratic and distant for a couple of weeks. Trixie tried to talk about it but got nothing more than irritated «I’m fine-fine, stop huffing around me, Tracy!» out of him. One day Katya just didn’t show up on the set of their «Trixie & Katya» tv-show and didn’t pick up his phone (Trixie called like fifty times, all in vain). On his way to the hotel where Katya was staying, he texted that he was going to come see him. And finally got a reply: «Don’t you dare coming over. I quit. I don’t want to see you ever again.» Trixie came over anyway, he has never been much of a listener. Katya was gone, checked out of his room a few hours ago. But he left a note on the reception: just a small piece of paper. It said «to Brian F» on one side and «Trixya is over!» on the other side. Well, maybe it was horrible.It definitely hurt like hell. Trixie felt confused, betrayed, disappointed and mad. As soon as he managed to pull himself together, he called Patricia, searching for any reasonable explanation: she told him Brian was using again, she said he came home a total mess, she apologized over and over, promised it was all going to get better after rehab and begged not to call quits on her son. Trixie had no intentions to do so. Katya wasn’t the enemy here, his addiction, on the other hand, was.

Since that moment the younger queen stepped back from the situation, put it all on pause. Their relationships, their dreams and his feelings as well. Katya stopped returning his calls for good. Trixie blamed it on addiction. Katya unfollowed him on every social media he could. Trixie blamed it on addiction. Katya’s first text to him after a long silence was about how much he hated him on the first episode of All Stars 3. Trixie blamed it on addiction. He heard rumors about Katya talking shit about their friendship behind his back. Trixie blamed it on addiction. Never blaming any of it on Katya. He kept shoving his feelings into the farthest, darkest corner of his soul the way Katya shoved that sobriety chip into the pocked of his jeans. Mostly, he could get by days just fine: not to take spelling mistakes, forgotten lyrics on stage and tearing up in dressing rooms into account. But not a single night was spent without missing his best friend, not being able to dial his number and just babble about his life, going on and on about the troubles, feeling “the weight of existing” being lifted off his shoulders slowly. He reminded himself constantly that the whole situation was way worse for Katya, that he is the one who should be strong and patient, that all of it (all of them) was going to be back one day. Could he say the last one for sure? Not at all. Making attempts at predicting things that depended on him only partially seemed stupid, but he simply couldn’t deny himself that whatsoever fleeting tranquility.

It’s been more than half of the year and Trixie’s heart started to heal. He knew no one could ever replace Katya, people don’t really get so lucky in life as to meet soulmates every few years. Nothing depended on him anyway, it was all about Katya fighting his demons and probably winning. Deep down Trixie knew he was going to be alright as long as his friend got to feel better. Thought it wasn’t easy to pretend like it didn’t bother him at all that his next show was in Boston, in a theater just an hour away from McCook’s family house. Nothing else mattered as long as he had the chance to put all his worries aside and do what he loved doing the most: dressing up and putting on makeup, creating a full country-Barbie fantasy and singing his own songs from the stage. How lucky he was to only spot two painfully familiar piercing blue eyes staring at him from the audience right before closing the show? Extremely lucky. Trixie didn’t trust his vision at first, but the truth was - Katya, out of drag, sitting in the audience, wearing skinny black jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, showing his arms all covered in newly done tattoos. Their eyes met and the younger queen felt himself being on the verge of heart-attack. Katya got up from his place, pointing backstage with a silent question in his eyes. Trixie nodded almost invisibly and rushed from the stage.

Just a couple of minutes after getting into his dressing room, Trixie heard knocking on the door. His heard was racing so fast it could totally fall out of his chest any second now. He turned the knob with a shaking hand, pulled it and there was Katya standing on the other side with a paper bag in his also shaking hand, visibly sweating and looking extremely uncomfortable.

- Can I come in, please? - Katya asked in a low voice. Trixie stepped to the back of the room, letting him in. - I brought you brownies. I figured you would be hungry after the show. - Trixie suppressed a smile. Mixed feelings were tearing him apart from the inside. It wasn’t right to be in that much pain and so relieved at the same time. Katya seemed normal, he seemed himself. But this fact didn’t erase all those months spent in darkness and total abandonment, without his best friend. He took the bag and thanked the older man. Katya came close to a mirror, looking at the younger queen standing behind him through it. Then there was silence, usually comfortable between the two of them, but this time it seemed unbearable. Trixie couldn’t help but wondered if things would ever be the same again, if the damage this falling out caused their friendship was irreversible or not.

- I like your tattoos. - Trixie finally spoke up, carefully trying to defuse the situation. He caught Katya’s eyes in the reflection. The older queen was smiling.

- Thank you, Tracy. - Katya replied softly and turned around, facing Trixie and leaning on the dressing table with his legs crossed. - I’m glad you let me in here today. I would be even more glad if you agreed to hear me out. Can you grant me some of your time? - Trixie had never even once in his life heard Katya speaking in such way: calmly, steadily and confidently.

- Sure, I’m all years. - The younger queen nodded. He sat on the little white leather coach in the corner of the room and streached out his lean legs. He was still in drag and his feet were killing him from jumping around the stage in high-heals for the past couple of hours. Katya probably noticed the glimpse of discomfort on his face.

- Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have let you get out of drag first. So fucking inconsiderate of me. We can meet in the alley behind the theater in 30. Is that okay with you? - He looked genuinely worried and Trixie was secretly relieved to postpone this conversation, even for half an hour. Definitely wasn’t going to be an easy one.

- That would be great, thanks. - It came out a little cold. He didn’t aspire to sound this way, but it did. Katya retired immediately, leaving Trixie alone with his thoughts.

It exactly 28 minutes Trixie in his boy-clothes went out the back door and found himself in a pretty dark alley. Katya was standing under the only streetlight in sight, looking down intently and tracing lines with his right feet.

- Hey. - Trixie called out and the older guy lifted his head, smiling.

- How are you never late? - He asked, staring at the watch on his hand. Katya was that type of an “old person” that barely ever had his phone around, but this simple black-strap watch was literally glued to his wrist all the time he was out of drag.

- The same way you are always late! No logical way to explain this. - Katya wheezle-laughed and it hit Trixie how much he missed the sound of that awful, stupid, infectious and painfully familiar laughter.

- Well, I guess you can hear me out now. - Katya said quietly, not a trace of a smile on his face, when the younger queen came closer. Trixie nodded, feeling the heartbeat fastening. Come what may, he thought. - I came to talk to you today because I’ve been told I was ready. To be honest, it doesn’t feel like “ready” to me. - Katya shook his head and took a deep breath. He was staring at the ground intensively while Trixie was dying to look him in the eyes. - However, I believe I will never feel ready enough for this. I’m not good at sincere and emotional conversations, you know that better than anyone, Tracy. - Trixie could feel tears coming up, oh, how much he hated being this vulnerable in front of Katya in that moment. - I came to apologize, - the older man finally found a courage to look up and their eyes met, - there are not enough words in the world to express how sorry I am for hurting you, for ruining what we’ve had. I understand it’s bold of me to just show up out of the blue and expect you to forgive me instantaneously. - His voice was shaking and Trixie noticed the way he digged his nails into his own hip. - If I’m being completely honest, I can’t even promise you not to go nuts ever again. Most of the times I can control it, but sometimes those voices in my head get too loud and I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore. Though I can ensure you, as long as I am myself, I will always consider you my best friend. So I kind of came here to ask you for something I knew I didn’t deserve at the first place. For you to be a part of my life again. - At that point, Trixie was dead-ass ugly crying, his cheeks all wet from tears and his nose running. The older man was crying, too. The way he somehow always managed to look beautiful when he cried happened to be an unsolved mystery. - I can’t promise you perfection, I won’t promise that. But I for sure will try my best to be a better person, a better friend to you, if you let me. - Katya reached out and stroked Trixie’s shoulder just once, obviously doubting whether it was a good idea to do so. - Also, nothing drag-related. I’m aware you can’t rely on me career-wise and with a lot of done work and money on stake, there’s no reason you should trust me again. I wrote it myself: Trixya is over. - He went silent and froze like a convict who has said his final words, waiting for the verdict of the judge. Trixie was overwhelmed with the emotions, struggling to speak back. So instead he grabbed the older man’s arm and pulled him into the embrace. Katya wrapped his both arms around the younger queen lightly, not quite sure about what exactly was going on.

- I don’t need perfection, - Trixie finally whispered, - I just need you. - Katya breathed out loudly into his shoulder, feeling relaxed and excited at the same time. - Also, - Trixie pulled back a little so he could see the older guy’s face, still holding his forearms in his hands, - Trixya is not over. We both know, it is never over. - Katya only smiled and nodded, not even trying to figure out anymore how he got so fucking lucky to call the guy in front of him a friend.

#RuPaul's Drag Race #trixya #trixya fanfiction #yekaterina petrovna zamolodchikova #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #brian firkus #brian mccook #olya merlivy fics

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dazed--xx · 4 years

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Bulletproof Love

Request: Can I have a Jimin imagine where you think he’s cheating cause you have a lot of trust issues which leads to a fight. Thank you❤️

Member: Trainee!Jimin x Reader

Genre: ANGST, Smut, Fluff if you squint

Word Count: 3,346

Trigger Warning: SMOKING CIGARETTES AND WEED

A/N: So the title is this song by Pierce the veil its better to listen to it while you read you’ll understand the lyrics in between the story better, im just a little emo kid honestly lol. ANYWAY FIRST JIMIN FIC. HOPE THE PERSON THAT REQUESTED THIS ENJOYS IT LITERALLY HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN

I breathe you in with smoke in the backyard lights

“Y/N-ah?!” Sunny shouts from the other side of the inferno, drink in her left hand, the blunt in the other extended toward me. The smoke fills my lungs, the need to cough builds as I inhale. The sliding door behind me opening, as 3 loud voices boom “SUNNY!”. My eyes drifting to the bonfire in front of me, my social anxiety creeping up as I take another hit of the blunt. One of the 3 figures setting themselves down on the left side of me. My hand reaches out to pass the vice, eyes glued to the ground. “Oh...umm..I-I... don't” a soft anxious voice speaks, my eyes traveling from the fire to the male next to me.

A soft smile appears on my face as his stunned eyes widen. “N-not that there's anything wrong with.....I mean I just don’t... I'm not like judging or whatever....I mean um-” “You don’t smoke I get it not a big deal can you hand it to the person next to you please” I ask softly. He nods, “I'm Jimin” “Y/N” We used to laugh until we choked into the wasted nights (Wasted nights)

My excitement built as I got ready to go with Sunny to her new boyfriend's party. Jimin always seemed to find his way at every party I went to after Sunny’s. My crush growing rapidly as each encounter left me in a whirlwind of emotions. “Come on Y/N!” Sunny shouts from my living room. “Relax bitch” I laugh as I enter the living room. “Let’s go Tae is probably waiting for us at Jimin’s” She snaps. “W-we’re going to Jimin’s...?” I mumble. Sunny smiles a radiance I only wish I could hope for.

“I didn’t tell you? I'm sorry I thought I did” She smirks I shake my head. “Y/N you need to tell him how you feel or just move on” “I know but it's not easy man, I’m not like you” I mumble. “Girl, I know I confessed to Tae over a year ago, remember?” I shake my head Sunny sighs. “Y/N remember I was like utterly heartbroken because that kid that worked with me rejected me” the memory rushing to my mind like a tidal wave. Taehyung was the jerk coworker that slept with her and put her into a major depression. She quit her job and reinvented everything in her life. After Tae rejected her, she started smoking, my habit becoming hers.

“I extended the invitation to him to show him I was over him you know? I went back to the café a day before the party and I didn’t even think he would be there Jungkook told me they all quit a while back. So, I figured why not and they were there so I just invited him, I wasn’t expecting him to actually show up but he did. When Jimin came and sat next to you he pulled me away. He told me that he missed me and our times together, that he hates how I smoke and that I don’t hold myself the way I used to and then he cried like hard core sobbed because and I quote ‘ he made a mistake and he’s been madly in love with me since before we even hooked up the first time’ “ Sunny explains.

“Girl let me tell you I was shook honestly and I don’t know how it happened but one thing leads to another and we hooked up in the shed while everyone was sitting at the bonfire. After that Tae had to go and I figured damn he just used me again man, but I woke up in the morning with the cutest good morning text from him telling me that he's happy I'm his again and we just haven't left each other's side” I nod “Yeah, but you actually had the balls to confess. Both of you did really, I don’t have that. I can't tell him how I feel because I'm not sure how I feel.” “Y/N don’t play yourself, cause your ass definitely knows how you feel” She says jokingly “Let’s go” I grab my jacket and rush out the door.

Pulling up the music blaring loud, cars sprawled around the street and yard. Taehyung standing outside, Jimin next to him a smile on his lips. Sunny’s tiny frame running and wrapping herself around Taehyung. Jimin noticing my slowly approaching figure a friendly smile appears on his face. “You came,” he pulls me into a hug “thank god! I could not survive this without you” he pouts. “Why would you think I wouldn’t come?” I question. “Sunny told me big crowds weren't really your thing” dread filled my stomach “I-is there a lot of people h-here?” Jimin nods slowly “But don’t worry you will be with me all night and since it's my party I can clear any room you need okay” He pulls my face into his hands as he speaks and looks in my eyes. I nod slowly “It's fine honestly I'll be okay you don’t have to do that” “EHEM as cute as all this flirting is, I need a drink where shall I go Jiminie?” Sunny cuts me off. “OH! Yeah um lets go inside huh” Jimin says still looking at me his hands returning to his side as a blush creeps onto his face.

The party is packed, my anxiety driving me outside away from the cluster fuck of people. Sunny disappearing soon after we entered the house. Pulling a cigarette out of my pack standing against the side of the house. Its dark, the shadow of the home covering me as I inhale, the nicotine relaxing. Staring at the stars as I lean back. “I thought I'd find you out here” Jimin’s voice breaks through the silence. I hold up the cigarette “Don’t want to smoke in the house.” Jimin nods “Thanks but you could have its cold out here” I shrug “I like the cold....” my eyes drift to the ground “It was too crowded wasn’t it?” He asks curtly. I nod slowly “but it's fine I'll be fine I'm used to dealing with crowds like this I know how to make myself feel comfortable” “By sneaking off and being alone?” He asks laughing. I nod giggling “yeah” “I guess that’s the best way to deal with a crowd” He says jokingly.

My body shifts as I ash the cigarette flicking it far from the house. Reaching for my pack to pull my blunt out, Jimin's hand is around my wrist. My eyes trail up to his face “Let’s go inside huh?” I shake my head “I like it out here.... just us” His hand releases me, moving up to my chin “Just us huh?” a blush creeps onto my face “I-I mean-” “you're cute when you're flustered” He says softly. “I'm not flustered I just...wait did you just call me cute?” I state quickly. He nods laughing “Duh I think your cute, no offense but I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t...” “Oh...I do too, think you're cute I mean” “I know” He says bluntly I stare at him dumbfounded “Y/N I'm not the type to beat around the bush, I like you and I know you like me and I'm gonna kiss you now” He states pressing his lips to mine. My body in shock from the sudden confession, I slowly respond to his kiss. My arms snake around his neck, his hands on my waist pulling my body against his.

His lips trail down to my neck, sucking. My panties growing wet, he presses me against the wall. “Hmmm you're so damn beautiful.” He whispers in my ear. His member growing hard against my thigh. His right-hand snakes down and lifts my leg around his waist. “Jump” He whispers between pecks against my neck. Following his instructions my legs are wrapped around his waist as he presses his lips against mine. Grinding his member into my core, my panties soaked through my jeans. I softly push on his shoulders. He pulls away as my hand reaches for the zipper of his jeans my lips attacking his neck. Soon both of our pants are off, my legs back around his waist his member buried in my core. He thrusts harshly losing himself in my core “Fuck I've imagined this so many fucking times but it's never been this fucking good god” He moans “it's all yours baby” His lips back on mine at my statement.

It was the best time of my life, but now I sleep alone

Jimin and I have been together for 6 months now and it's been perfect.

*Ping*

Jimin’s phone goes off again, as he beams at the screen. His hands removing themselves from my hair as he replies to the stranger on the other side of his phone. “Baby girl unfortunately I have to put this on hold I gotta go to practice.” He states sadly. Confused I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time “At 12:23 AM? That’s a weird time to set a practice....” I state. Jimin’s face contorts “Excuse me?!? Are you saying I’m lying?” I sit up “What?! No.... I was just saying it was odd. That’s all” He nods clearly irked by my former statement. “Call me when you get done with practice babe, maybe I'll bring you breakfast or something” I smile at him as he stands from my couch preparing to exit. A soft grunt from his mouth as he pulls his jacket on making his way toward the door “Don’t bother....”. My figure following behind him, like a puppy desperate to keep its owner home. “I love you” I call out as the door slams.

The second he’s out the door my tears consume me as the thoughts take over. Who was that he was texting? Why did he flip out like that? Is he having regrets? I trudge back to my bedroom and lay in bed cocooning myself in the comforter crying myself to sleep, alone.

So darling, don't, don't wake me up, cause my thrill is gone (Say I'm wrong) In the sunset turning red behind the smoke Forever and alone

The sun beaming on my eyes as I check my phone. 12:23 pm no new messages from Jimin. The day goes by extraordinarily slow as I wait for Jimin to return to the apartment. The thoughts of another woman consuming me as the hours pass, soon its night and I am falling asleep alone again.

You've gone and sewn me to this bed, the taste of you and me (You and me) Will never leave my lips again under the blinding rain (Blinding rain) I wanna hold your hand so tight I'm gonna break my wrist (Break my wrist) And when the vultures sing tonight, I'm gonna join right in

I'll sing along, oh 'Cause I don't know any other song I'll sing along But I'm barely hanging on No, I'm barely hanging on By the time you're hearing this I'll already be gone And now there's nothing to do but scream at the drunken moon

*ONE WEEK LATER*

The party I stumble into drunk with Sunny is extremely crowded, her form fitting dress hugging my body. The pregame at my apartment a little excessive, knowing it was Taehyung’s party. Leading my way to the kitchen for a drink, taking me away from Sunny and Taehyung. A crowd of people doing shots, excitedly handing me one. Consuming the unknown shot, I reach for a beer. My drunk form stumbling into the living room, Jimin’s frame in front of me. A smile on his face, drink in his hand. A mysterious woman walking up to him, placing herself at his side. They have a small conversation before she takes his hand and leads him out back.

Running toward the exit, I head home. Once I'm down the street my body collapses as the sobs take over. HE’S CHEATING ON ME, so blatantly, so publicly, he doesn’t care. I open my apartment door dragging myself to my room plugging my phone in bringing it back to life as messages come through on my phone. I click on the messages from Jimin.....

I leave the conversation without responding as I read Sunny’s messages

Throwing my phone down, lying in bed falling asleep. Waking up in the sun beaming on my face, a sharp pain shoots through my head. Getting out of bed to close the curtains I throw myself back in my comforter. Checking my phone 2:19 pm, Damn slept all day. I text Sunny

I go to Jimin’s messages in my phone...

A knock on the door pulls me out of the bed, Jimin’s disheveled frame worried and slumped at my door frame as he wraps his arms around me. “Fuck I needed to see you baby” He whispers. His lips pressing against mine, hunger in them. Lifting me wrapping his arms around my waist, my legs around his.

Our sweaty naked bodies connecting “Fuck! Take it, yes baby girl take that cock” His hand pinning my waist to my bed, his thrusts sloppy. My walls clenching tightly pleasure building within my core as Jimin attacks my sweet spot. “Shit you're so wet for me baby girl I'm gonna cum, where do you want me to cum?” He moans out, his lips attacking my neck marking me as his own. “Cum inside me” His movements halt, His eyes connecting with mine “Are you sure?” I nod quickly. A smile forms on Jimin’s face “beg for it...” the need for him to move builds. I clench tightly around him “No fair baby you're so tight as it is” He pouts, my arms snaking around his neck pulling his lips onto mine as he begins finding a steady rhythm inside me.

Soon we are wrapped up in my comforter, bodies cuddled together; limbs tangled.

*PING, PING, PING*

A series of messages go through his phone. Jimin jumps out of my bed rushing to find his phone. “SHIT! I GOTTA GO” He states checking the contents of the mysterious message. “Aww I thought we could watch a movie....” I pout. He halts his dressing, facing me “I’m sorry, I gotta go I didn’t realize what time it was I’m late for a meeting I wouldn’t have been able to stay I just wanted to be with you until I had to go to the meeting. I missed you.” I nod slowly at his words. “Come back after if you want” He smiles “I'll try..” He says as he heads out the door. “I love you!” I shout as he runs out the door. A meeting???? Did he really just sleep with me and then leave?? WAS I OKAY WITH IT?????!!?!?!

This isn't fair! (No!) Don't you try to blame this on me (Ohhh) My love for you was bulletproof but you're the one who shot me And God damn it, I can barely say your name So I'll try to write and fill the pen with blood from the sink Woah oh, oh oh But don't just say it, you should sing my name Pretend that it's a song 'cause forever it's yours And we can sing this on the way home

I haven’t heard from Jimin in 2 weeks, my messages unanswered. My low point at its lowest, I haven’t left my apartment other than for work in a week. Scrolling through Instagram I see a picture on Taehyung’s page. Him, Jungkook, Jimin, and that mystery girl I saw Jimin sneak off with at that party. Jimin’s arm wrapped around her waist. Her chest pressed against him. Jealousy creeping up inside of me as I text Jimin a number of times again.

A few hours pass and still no words from Jimin, my mind racing as my heartbreaks staring at the photo over and over again. Jimin’s snapchat story updating all day with videos of her, him and Jungkook. Laughter filling in-between them. The last video posted 5 minutes ago, alarming as the mystery woman has obviously stolen his phone captioning the video she recorded as “Surprise Cutie” Her beautiful face glowing as she shows around the practice room. Jungkook and Jimin’s figures dancing in the background as the music comes to an end. The bombshell runs over to Jimin complimenting him on his dance moves.

Jimin’s smile brightens as he thanks her, her frame lifting as she presses her lips against Jimin’s. Exiting out of his story as my heart cracks in my chest. How could he do this? He doesn’t even care... he knows I'm on his snapchat......I can’t do this. My tears taking over my form as I curl into my bed losing myself in the heartbreak. Sobbing I go to view the story and it is gone. A message goes through my phone...

I'll sing along (Oh) 'Cause I don't know any other song (Oh oh) I'll sing along But I'm barely hanging on No, I'm barely hanging on By the time you're hearing this I'll already be gone And now there's nothing to do but tear my voice apart Nothing to do And scream at the drunken moon

Opening the door Jimin's crying figure standing there, his body shaking as the tears stream down his face. “Baby” He sighs rushing to wrap his arms around my frame. He drops to his knees at the lack of affection returned, his tears soaking into the fabric of my shirt. “Please, don’t leave me” He looks up at me begging. “Please, okay? I'll do anything.” I roll my eyes grabbing a cigarette out of my pack as the stress builds. Walking toward my couch displacing myself from the events about to happen. “Look at me, please just look at me” Jimin’s voice says shaky. “You said you want to explain. Explain and then leave please” I say looking him in the eye. “Her name is Hye-Jin she’s another trainee, Me and the boys are debuting soon. So, she is a background dancer for our first stage. She became friends with everyone pretty quickly, but me and her started talking about everything. Nothing flirty just stupid stuff. Then today happens and she kisses me out of nowhere and I freak out on her because I've told her about you about us. She knows how I feel about you; she posted the video to spite me so you’d leave. Please I don’t love her I don’t want her” He explains slowly. Reaching for my hands as the last of his words come out of his mouth “I can't lose you, okay? I can't lose us. You're everything to me please tell me I'm not going to”

“Jimin” I sigh “I think you should go; I understand but I really need time....” His head faces the ground as the sobs take over his body “please baby please I can't walk out that door don’t make me, not knowing you're not going to call me later to tell me goodnight. I can't leave knowing the second I walk out that door you're going to break down just like I am so please don’t make me.” His hands caress my face forcing me to look in his eyes. “Please, I love you and I can't leave knowing this isn't what we need, TIME isn't what we need. Please, don’t do this” He leans forward brushing his lips against mine softly. “Jimin, please go” I whisper, his frame retreating from me as he walks toward the door. He nods slowly “I'm not letting you go I don’t care okay? I'm going to give you time but please know I'm not giving up on you I'm going to wait for you I love you and I won't lose you, not like this” and he's gone....

our bulletproof love shot down with one Bullet.

#jimin angst #jimin smut #park jimin #BTS jimin #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #jimin fluff #jimin angst texts

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namjoonsyoongi · 4 years

Text

blurred lines | namgi

summary: what’s a few blowjobs between friends?

rating: M

word count: 4610

genre/tags: friends to lovers, friends with benefits, university au, comedy, crack, fluff, angst

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663031

Namjoon and Yoongi have known eachother for as long as they could spell their own names, but that wasn't enough to keep Namjoon from wanting to slap his friend upside the head sometimes.

What did keep him from doing so were the little things. The song Yoongi wrote him for his seventeenth birthday, a last minute rap that lasted all of fifty seconds written on a crumbled sheet of lined paper; A song that Namjoon wouldn’t be able to remember even if someone put a gun to his head and told him to recite it. The way that he could read his mind on any given day and act accordingly, and how they’d have a conversation with one another through brief glances and raised eyebrows alone.

Yet he still managed to discover a way to be utterly infuriating.

The other night, the all too allusive Min Yoongi, cat-eyed and full of indifference, crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. Have you ever watched the flicking tongue of a snake as it slithered toward a mouse, and then looked away before it could swallow the mouse whole? That's what Yoongi was to Namjoon on nights like these, intruding into the covers and tangling himself in Namjoon's longer limbs.

Namjoon wouldn't have any issue with a few nighttime cuddles, Yoongi's was just one of the many affectionate boys in their group of friends, and wasn't anywhere near the worst of it. Jimin could be more attached to him than his own skin, and Taehyung was like a puppy in the way he needed constant verbal and physical affirmation to make sure they were, in fact, best friends forever.

Yoongi's not like that, not most of the time. He came with a purpose.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Yoongi was simply laying by Namjoon's side at this point, before rolling over into him. "I'm just annoyed with this project. I texted my lab partner, Seungwan, and she’s more lost than I am. I'm never gonna finish this dumb fucking -- stupid fucking -- fuck this project. I'm getting pissed just thinking about it."

"You should have never took engineering."

He really shouldn't have, but Namjoon knew why he did. He'd spent enough time at his house growing up to know of the expectations his parents had for him, as did every parent. Namjoon had almost fallen into the same trap, on track for medical school until one day, with the lyrics of Epik High's Fly on loop in his head, something stirred in him to stand up and say no. Namjoon spent his first year as a music major estranged from his parents, while Yoongi spent it as the epitome of the perfect son, and unhappy.

Namjoon spoke again. "On the brightside, only one more year."

"Shut up, please."

That was not the first night, where everything was different. Where those lines between friendship and lover blurred, for just an hour, sometimes two.

Yoongi, rather than sulk and complain, opted to release a kiss onto Namjoon's neck - and then another.

"Mm."

He keeps going, further and further, and Namjoon never tries to stop him, even when he knows he should. He palms the bulge in Yoongi's track pants, which seems to be exactly what he wants, and gets to work, going for just long enough until the warmth was enough to burn away any remaining irritation.

Namjoon never went all the way with Yoongi, but it would probably be pretty nice.

Yoongi's lips had that sweet taste of rum the first time, and it calmed the bitter flames of the vodka present in Namjoon's throat. He couldn't say for sure who made the first move, but he could perfectly recall the pleasant fuzz that clouded his senses, and the way Yoongi moaned as if no one could hear them, as if Jin wasn't in the next room over.

When Namjoon awoke, the faint memory of Yoongi's weight in his mattress was all that remained. Any semblance of permanency floated into the air like dust, he greeted a smirking all-knowing Jin the next morning and went to class none the wiser. A dream, he chalked the whole thing up to, just a weird dream.

"Can I be honest?"

"Go off."

"I'm starting to think Yoongi isn't exactly straight."

Silence.

Like a choir, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung burst into loud, screeching laughter, accompanied with celebratory hand clapping and Hoseok throwing himself into Namjoon's lap because he can't keep his balance with the sheer humor of it all.

"-And you just realized this!?"

Namjoon swallowed something stuck in his throat.

It's during a brief period of peace with Yoongi, who's laying sprawled against Namjoon's chest, when he asks about it. Namjoon had meant to approach such a subject with the utmost eloquence and thoughtfulness - You can trust me with anything you know, sometimes I feel like you tell the others things you won't tell me. I never would have judged you if you told me you like more than just girls. Do you even know how much respect and appreciation I have for you? That I'll always have for you?

But what came out of Namjoon's mouth is, "Do you give all of us blowjobs?"

Yoongi didn't answer immediately. Namjoon lifted his neck, but all he could see was the black waves of hair on the top of his head, leaning against his chest. The air in the room fogged with the added tension, and Namjoon could only guess what Yoongi's face looked like.

He said nothing. Nothing . He shuffled out of the covers and away from him, leaving the room with the mundane click of the door closing behind him.

That was something Namjoon had always known about Yoongi, his silence was louder than anything, he never had to yell.

"Fool me once? Shame on me. Fool me twice? Shame on you. Suck my dick a third time and 'no homo' is officially off limits." Jin yelped into laughter at his own joke before Namjoon could even process the words.

This was why Namjoon came to Jin for absolutely nothing.

"You're not funny."

"You're gay," Jin said, practically basking in the glare he's earned from Namjoon. "-No excuses, you sucked his dick."

Namjoon rose from his seat. "Don't tell the others."

"Why not? The rest of us admitted we were at least a little gay freshman year, we've been waiting for your coming out for years - years!"

So you knew about Yoongi too? Namjoon wanted to ask. There was something humiliating about the fact people who Yoongi had known for three years knew more than the one who knew him for fifteen; An anchor of shame dropped silently into his empty gut.

"Not about that," Namjoon said instead, digging into the fridge for a can of beer. "About me and Yoongi, what we've been...you know."

"Oh no, I won't. That'd scar Jungkook and you know it, that's like when you find out that your mom and dad have sex for the first time."

He tossed the can of beer in his hand, not caring enough to see where it landed, if it smacked against the handsome face that was the older's pride, or broke something along the way.

"...I don't."

Namjoon detached from him, and Yoongi groaned once the cold air met his wet length. "Wh-What?"

"I don't give the others blow jobs, you're an asshole for saying that."

"I know, I'm sorry. Really." Namjoon, about to dip his head back under the covers, stopped to continue his thought. "Also, It's really hard to have a conversation with you while your dick is in my mouth." He moved to go under for a second time, and halted again. "Also, neither do I."

"Neither do you what?

"Give the others blowjobs."

"Good."

Shards of glass could cut you so easily, a sharp end that sinks deep into your skin, yet you don't immediately feel it when it does. That was the thing about them, he and Yoongi; Their bond was like glass, clear and delicate, it could break at one wrong move, with the simplest of words that hit the other in just the right place.

With someone as clumsy as he was, who has broken more than enough glass made objects, a connection like that was futile. Or that's what he thought, cause no matter how bad the fall, no matter how worse the cut, they somehow put themselves back together as if it had never been touched.

"Joon, your cup!"

Snapped forcefully from his reverie, the weight that had been steady in his hand slipped out before he could save it. The jarring sound of shattering glass cut out the white noise that had been playing as a soundtrack to his own thoughts.

He cursed, watching the reflective shards twinkle menacingly on the tiled floor. "Shit."

"You know, sometimes me and Jimin talk about getting a plastic set just for you." Jungkook jokes, it wasn't anything new to him.

"Let me guess! Namjoon bumped into something again." Jimin calls out, turning around the corner to be met with the new mess decorating the floor of his kitchen.

"He spaced out, I think."

"The last time you did this shit, I was stepping on tiny - like I swear microscopic pieces of glass that we couldn't clean up."

Jimin ushers Namjoon out with mumbled reassurances that everything was fine and the two of them would clean it up. Today was one of their regular get-togethers, but it'd be the last one before they'd return home for the holidays. Jimin thought it appropriate to replace their soft drinks with alcohol, alcohol which Namjoon had just spilled half a glass of onto the ground, along with the cup.

In the living room, sat the rest of them, gathered close around Jungkook's flat screen. Namjoon could hear the muted yet very present sound of crunching as Jin and Taehyung shared a bag of chips. Hoseok lounged in a recliner, leaning back and huddling into his blanket, mindlessly flicking through Netflix.

With midterms having marched to and fro and subsequently ruined their lives, Yoongi had been a bumbling mess of yawns and naps for the past month. All both Jin and Namjoon had seen of their roommate was him fast asleep on their couch and drooling on his study notes, and glimpses of him going to and from the school before locking himself in his room.

He wasn't here, Namjoon's shoulders slumped.

"Where's Yoongi?"

"Canceled," Hoseok muttered with a deep-set pout, not looking away from the screen.

"Since when?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Hobi's still pissed." Jin chimes in, the bag rustling as he picked it up and held it out to Namjoon.

Namjoon took a handful of chips, and watched as Hoseok’s pout only deepened, a rare darkness in his eyes that only appeared when you had truly committed the worst of his friendship sins. "I wouldn't be if it weren't for this being our last night here, or if he weren't ditching for Seungwan. I would never...we would never!"

The room lapses back into a silence, as if they imagine Namjoon can understand every word and name that had just left their mouths.

"Seungwan?"

Despite everything, Yoongi was always the one to initiate things. Even when he wore his favourite black skinny jeans, and Namjoon's eyes became glued to the gentle curves of his thighs and the belt that hugged his waist. Even when, just like that snake, he wanted nothing more to devour him whole - he didn't, he waited for him.

It felt strange to take what he knew wasn't truly his.

Then came those past two months, where Yoongi tiptoed around Namjoon, as if coming any closer would break him. Namjoon thought it all in his head, Yoongi was busy, he was an engineering major, he just had to focus. Namjoon thought he was the one who could always make him focus, rejuvenate him, perhaps he was wrong. He was fine with that.

In reality, however, there was Seungwan. Pretty girl Seungwan, with her delicate face and cherry coloured lips. Slim and yet plump just where it mattered.

Jin's words hit so cold that icicles could have formed from his lips. "Seungwan and Yoongi have been dating for the past 2 months."

Why didn't you tell me sooner? Namjoon wanted to yell back at him. Why didn't any of you tell me sooner? Why didn't Yoongi tell me sooner? His heart raged against his ribcage, it wanted to scream and shout too, it wanted to run away from the man child it was stuck in, and who idiotically decided to fall in love with his best friend. The best friend he didn't know was gay until he found his way into Namjoon's sheets, the best friend who never spoke about their moments of passion in the day, the best friend who couldn't care less.

"I'm gonna go get another drink," he said instead.

And so he moved on, moved forward. Swallowed the feelings and let them dissolve somewhere in his gut. The next time he'd see Yoongi, with Seungwan hanging off his arm, he'd smile graciously and greet the both of them. Observing Yoongi as he'd mask on a disinterested demeanor when he did something thoughtful for her. He'd welcome Seungwan like the morning sun, he'd laugh at the jokes she'd quip about all the little ticks Yoongi had that Namjoon was long accustomed to and support her when she’d eventually come to him with questions like “what type of food would Yoongi want me to get?”, “Do you think Yoongi would like this as a gift?”. He'd listen attentively to every word, as if she wasn't just echoing the thoughts and feelings that had planted into his very being like a weed, sprouting once again every time he thought he’d picked it out.

Or at least that's what he would have liked to say happened, and that's what would have happened, had it not been for the long road trip he was stuck on the morning after Namjoon found out about her.

A blanket of mist settles across their driveway like smoke. The overnight storm pelted away the flames of his intoxication, but the subsequent hangover pounded just as relentlessly.

By the car, a phantom stood, posture hunched. Yoongi looked like he was sinking into a black hole with his oversized winter coat, it was almost endearing.

Cute. Adorable actually.

Yoongi smirked. "Wow, who hit you with a bus?"

You.

The grey scarf flew from his pocket as he wrapped it around his neck and up his face, until all but his swollen eyes showed. "Let's just get this over with," He uttered, voice muffled.

It wasn't a ritual more than it was convenient for Yoongi to drive him back home for the holidays. Their houses were five minute walks between each other respectively, and Namjoon, with his immense lack of grace and poise, has never dared touch a steering wheel in his life. Yoongi liked to say he was his personal uber, then again he also liked to complain about how annoying that was.

On the passenger's side, his eyes catch a rip edged into the cushion with the tiniest of threads holding it together - How is this piece of shit car still alive, honestly? There he sits down stiffly, another place he has essentially spent the past several years making a home of, and the two set off.

The nausea was already striking, and not just from the hangover. Something boiled unwelcome in his chest, and ran all the way down to his abdomen.

Apparently he isn't doing a good job of hiding it, cause Yoongi speaks up and says, "Don't throw up in here."

"I won't. " He snaps back.

Fuck.

He used to think he was better than this, better at setting emotion aside in favour of the overall peace that'd remain instead. Lips zipped shut meant tranquility, and Namjoon valued that; Especially with him, he who he hates more than anything right now.

How...how? How did he fall for this badly acted charade, of course Yoongi never wanted him - like that - if he did, he would have said so.

Stop. Shut up. It isn't that serious.

His jaw locks.

But it really is.

Namjoon's an atheist, but for the first time in years he prays.

He prays that this ride will proceed in silence, because if not, the emotions he didn't have enough time to bury will overflow and drown whatever was left of he and Yoongi's relationship.

Fortunately, the prayer is answered, though sparingly. Identical looking streets pass by wordlessly, with Yoongi twisting and turning through roads and towns that Namjoon can't recognize. His eyes are too exhausted to focus on anything, not that there was anything worth looking at; Every building becomes a blur of mild colours, and the sky is as gray and dull as watching cement dry.

"We're close," Yoongi says.

Namjoon hums, along with the engine as the car slows down, going up a soft incline into a gas station.

The driver's side door opens, Yoongi huddling into his coat as a gust whistles into the vehicle. "I'll be right back."

Don't come back. Just leave me in here to shrivel up and die.

When Yoongi returns, rushing into his seat before shutting the door and ramming the engine again, he says nothing. But Namjoon can hear him, his indifference, a quality which he once admired.

He'd cut his tongue out if it meant he'd keep his mouth shut, but all he can do is sink his teeth into his bottom lip, deeper and deeper as the car pulls out.

"...Yoongi?"

"Yeah?"

Don't say it.

"What am I to you?"

The engine whines, filling the emptiness of the car.

"My best friend."

The nonchalance cuts Namjoon to the bone, until his lungs are clinging for life. His labour breathes repeatedly stab through the silence, and all he can do is stare, unanswered questions overflowing in his skull.

They've never talked about - them, what they were and what they did. Any conversations that went past platonic stayed in Namjoon's room and Namjoon's room only. Which is why now even implications of their deeper relationship felt forbidden, his lips clipped shut when the vaguest of words pass his mind.

But Namjoon doesn't have to be the one to say it.

Yoongi laughs, scratching his ear. "Maybe a best friend with benefits?"

The sharp edges of his eyes go a deeper shade of red, the hurt settling into the crevices. Acknowledgment, shouldn't that satisfy him?

"Still?" Namjoon asks, his voice barely a whisper.

The pink that dusts over Yoongi's cheek is rare. The sight nearly makes Namjoon's heart swell, until he's hit with the thought that Seungwan is on the older man's mind.

"I mean..." Yoongi clears his throat. "Yeah...if you still want-"

"And what about Seungwan?"

His brows furrow, almost offended. "What about her?"

The response boils in Namjoon's ear, like an off key note.

"Can't you be straightforward with me? Like you usually are?" Namjoon says.

"I am."

A snap cuts out his next thought.

They return their attention to the windshield, and watch as the wipers twist unnaturally before flying off the car into the highway, making a couple vengeful scratches across the windows along the way. All that's left of them is two little useless black nubs, which twitch as they try to operate without their second half.

"Aw, shit!" Yoongi curses, a veil of white particles smudging onto the windshield. The flight of snow has accelerated, rushing to the ground and with nothing to push the snow off their windshield, their view of the road is being eclipsed in white at an alarming rate. "I've gotta pullover."

The gravel hisses as Yoongi's car pulls over into the side of the road, coming to a full stop and leaning into his seat with a groan. "The wind must have been too harsh, they completely snapped off. I'm gonna have to call my parents to pick us up, we can't drive like this."

"Are we just leaving the car?"

"We'll lock it and probably get like - I don't know - someone to pick it up. That's gonna cost a shit load."

Namjoon expects the older of the two to pick up his phone and call his parents, but he doesn't and favours sulking back in his seat, hands rubbing his eyes and grumbling to himself. The stare catches onto his peach lips, and the way he's nibbling on his bottom lip.

"Yoongi..."

"Hm?"

"You looked stressed."

"Do I?" He remarks sarcastically, a grin pulling his lips.

Thoughts of Seungwan sink into the very corner of his head as he stares at his companion, someone who he truly has loved so dearly for as long as he could remember. He just wants to pretend he’s his, and hold him so tight that the mere thought of him ever leaving can’t cross Namjoon’s mind.

I just want to be with you, even if it’s only for a second.

"Do you want me to help?" Is all he says.

There's a pause, one that sucks all the air out of him. Yoongi almost laughs, a giddy smile on his face. But slowly, agonizingly, Yoongi's hands tumble down his face until they settle onto his neck. His eyelashes hover, and Namjoon follows them until they finally open and take in the eager and desperate man right in front of him. Yoongi's eyes, so deep and dark, swirling with a curious lust that the other is sinking into.

He doesn't speak, he nods earnestly, as if it was the question he’d been waiting to be asked all day, He leans into Namjoon's space, until their gazes tangle together. His lips, slightly chapped, barely brush over his, testing him.

Namjoon says yes; His large hands envelope his thin wrists, and pulls him forward so that their lips connect. Starting from the soft plump surface, the fuzzy feeling that alcohol can never recreate the same way runs into his veins, and he feels his heart already urging him forward with the strong and abrupt ache that develops.

He goes further, deepening the kiss as Yoongi's arms find their place around Namjoon's neck.

He doesn't know how long the kissing last until he manages to groan out a husky "c'mere," between the mess they're becoming. He breaks the kiss, waiting for Yoongi to come to him as the smaller tries his best to crawl onto Namjoon's lap in the cramped car. It's in that quiet moment that Namjoon realizes both of their coats are already off and probably somewhere in the backseat, lost to the heat of the moment.

He can already feel the growing bulge in the Yoongi's jeans, and the man impatiently moves to pull down his own zipper before Namjoon halts the action.

"Let me." He demands, voice husky and out of breath. His fingertips barely graze the metal, and stay there, playing with the sharp criss cross that leads up to the metal tab and enjoys the way the other fusses. Yoongi's head scurries into Namjoon's neck, biting in some kind of retaliation.

"Yoongi..."

"Godammit, what!" He exclaims, huffing warm breaths onto his neck.

"I want to go all the way - well, I wanna fuck you, I guess is the proper way to put it."

He feels the way Yoongi tenses up, and thrives in the flustered tremble that sticks to his voice.

"Y-Yeah. Then...Okay."

Finally, he pulls the zippers down, and helps Yoongi to raise himself up and pull it down to his ankles. Namjoon's hands strokes the newly exposed skin of his thighs, pale and covered in goosebumps.

Yoongi's hands in the meanwhile, begin to fiddle with the leather belt looped around Namjoon's own jeans. His eyes glazed with steam, like fresh mocha. Namjoon, for a first, lets him have his way as he loosens the pants and fights to pull them down.

"-And one more thing..." Namjoon whispers, leaving a kiss on the shell of his ear.

"What?"

"I love you. You know that right?"

"I love you, too." He says, adding the last part after a hesitant pause. “As more than...best friends. A lot more, actually.”

Namjoon smirks, lips trailing down the length of his neck.

"...Then prove it."

"Do you think it worked?" Jimin's voice flutters into the air; His chin is on the young Jungkook's shoulder, watching as his nimble hands maneuver a paint brush across the canvas, lips tight in concentration as he adds a strike of black.

Snowflakes dance gracefully across the glass window to their side, the ice that had once tangled into the earth leaving a mild frost in its wake. Nothing but whispers of the raging winter night was left.

"Of course it did. It was my idea." Seokjin declares, hands on his hips as he views the large gallery in Jungkook's workroom. He's bullied the youngest more than a few times about having a useless major, but his collection of artwork never ceased to amaze him. Maybe he won't be a beggar on the streets once he graduates afterall.

"What if they hate each other after this?" Hoseok says, a pout weighing down his face, a real one this time.

Seokin's broad shoulders shrug. "Then you'll have to live with the guilt, couldn't have done it without your A plus acting. Can't wait to see you at the Oscars next year."

A furious slap from Hoseok lands right on his upper arm, and Seokjin cries out as if he's just been stabbed, doe eyes wide and flickering with false innocence.

Taehyung grins, linking arms with Hoseok. "Don't worry about it too much, Hoseokie. Namjoon and Yoongi aren’t stupid, it won't be that long until he figures out Seungwan and Yoongi were never dating."

Is that so...Because they also spent the last year certain that no one but Seokjin knew about their frequent late night rendezvous, something Seokjin quickly learned was quite the opposite.

"Can someone remind me why Jin said they were again?" Jungkook chimes in.

"Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder, Kookie." Seokjin claims, the eldest always seemed to have wisdom to pass on, even if such words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. "Or I guess, more possessive."

"Why can't people just say they love someone when they love someone, it's not that difficult." That was easy for him to say. Jungkook's one and only crush throughout his first years of college was currently leaning over him and giggling softly into his ear, arms hugging his center.

Whenever he recounted he and Jimin's personal love story, it was a few short sentences, and went something along the lines of "met him at orientation and I thought he was cute. Became friends, then I told him I wanted him and we've been going strong ever since." No one in the room could even imagine a world in which Jungkook's desire could be rejected, or not returned back tenfold, let alone by lovestruck Park Jimin.

The pause in conversation lasts too long, and Jimin pipes up. "They're probably fucking in the car as we speak."

The room bursts into a series of gasps, boos, and broken laughter. The ringing that follows is barely audible, but Seokjin feels the phone buzz in his back pocket. He hushes the rowdy group, before picking up the call without much as a second thought.

“Hello~?”

There's a shuffling of clothes on the other side, but Yoongi's exasperated voice eventually comes onto the line.

“Each and every one of you are so fucking dead to me.”

#namgi #fanfiction #myfanfiction #kpop #bts #namgi fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #namjoon bts #yoongi bts #namjoon #yoongi #rpf

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spongeekat · 6 years

Text

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/7 Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types , Deadpool - All Media Types , Marvel Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Mary Jane Watson, Eleanor Camacho Additional Tags: Spideypool Big Bang 2018 , Prompt Fill , Peter Parker Needs a Hug , Deadpool has a daughter , Hurt/Comfort , Peter has anxiety , Anxiety Attacks , Secret Identity , Identity Reveal , Peter chasing Wade Summary:

"Look, I’m just a Deadpool. I know I’m not Dr. Phil. But I couldn’t just let you make some bad decision and let the world lose one more hot piece of ass. Anyways, I live in the area and saw you standing on the ledge, and I thought I could maybe talk you down. Dying hurts, in case you were wondering. It’s not worth it.” Dying...hurts? Talk him down? Bad decision?

Oh.

“Oh.” Everything suddenly connected and the gears started turning in Peter’s brain. “No, wait, I wasn’t…” He didn’t quite know how to explain he wasn’t there to do that without completely explaining why he was up there in the first place. Any resolve he may have had earlier about revealing his superpowered persona had melted away, his plans going awry within seconds. "

Or Peter is madly in love with Wade, and plans to meet him on top of his apartment building to reveal his identity. Wade thinks Peter is standing on the ledge ready to jump, and takes it upon himself to make sure he gets home safe and finds a reason to live again.

read on ao3

Part 1 Here

Here is part 3! I missed a week due to home issues, but the rest of the fic should update normally! Next chapter will be much longer as well.

And huuUUUUGE thank you for putting up with my lateness @alurkerofnote :D

Day 3 - Tuesday

Peter’s hand rubbed against the zipper track beginning above the curve of his spine, fingertips again coming up empty. His arms dropped uselessly against his side, groaning to audibly show his disappointment.

His zipper was there somewhere. He heard it dinging against the metal teeth up the length of his back, and if he kept feeling for it he would find it.

Peter yawned, tears peeking out from the corners of his eyes, as his fingers continued to prod in the small of his back. He was completely and utterly exhausted. The night previous perusing the city had been brimming with robberies, car jackings, and muggings, as if the slight increase in temperature prompted every convict to crawl out of their hiding spots to wreak havoc. He’d clawed himself into his bed sometime around 5 AM, caught 2 hours of sleep, and was out the door sprinting to class by 7:00. He was looking for any reason not to go on patrol, even if it was as minor as an unlocatable zipper, to at least give him a chance to rest for a few seconds.

His gloves eventually brushed the pull tab, and he deflated. Guess he had to finish suiting up. He tugged the zipper up to his neck and fiddled with the spandex momentarily, pulling it snug in all the right places.

That was, until a knock on his window pane had the tired boy jumping 5 feet in the air and throwing himself backwards into a defensive position on his furthest wall. His toes firmly drug to a stop on the wallpaper, one arm shooting out with his fingers ready to tap his web-shooters if need be. There was a muted scuffling behind the glass, though his curtains were drawn so he couldn’t see who was there. It didn’t take long to figure out, however.

“Petey, Petey, Petey, Petee-eee-ey~” The intruder was caroling his name to the tune of Jolene, repeating his knuckle raps obnoxiously to the beat of the song. “I’m begging of you please just let me in.”

“Wade?” Peter snapped as realization sunk in to his chest. It took seconds to calm his adrenaline-ridden heartbeat, more relieved that he wasn’t about to face a criminal than he was mad Wade had nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. He peeled himself silently off the wall, taking short, but annoyed, steps to stand behind the curtains without drawing them. “What the hell, dude? You scared the pants off of me. Why are you on my fire escape? And singing Dolly Parton?”

Wade hummed the rest of the verse to himself, presumably out of parodying song lyrics, before he started to whisper-yell. “Ignoring the fact I should totally make fun of you for what you said, I’m here to check up on you! I said I was going to keep those sweet cheeks safe. Can I come in?”

“Into my bedroom?” Peter asked, weakly, swallowing the suggestive- but intrusive- thoughts that the question entailed. “Um, I’m kinda...preoccupied.”

“Ooooooh?”

“Not like that!” Peter groaned, smacking a hand to blanket the reddening of his cheeks. God, he had to change, and fast. He tore the zipper undone he had put in so much effort to find, shoving the suit off his shoulders and hips. “Give me a second!” He kicked the rest of fabric off and lodged it under his bed, using a pillow for extra cover to be safe. His web shooters clattered into the lockable drawer on his desk, the cartridges following them. Shutting the drawer so hard it shuddered, he located the first clothing options in sight; a pair of fluffy pajama pants and an Einstein shirt 2 sizes too big (which was totally a gag gift from MJ months ago that he’d never put away), which he shimmied into. Confident that he had probably concealed every Spidey related item in his panic, he drew open the curtains and flashed Wade an unimpressed look. And there he was, in his full-suited glory, hanging upside down on the rail of Peter’s fire escape as if it was a playset.

“I have a few questions.” Peter said as he pushed the glass open, the screen absent due to years of him climbing out for his nightly routine. Wade didn’t seem to notice- or at least didn’t comment on the lack of one- looking ecstatic that he even answered. “First...why didn’t you call to check up on me? Or use the front door?” He gestured vaguely towards the direction of the living room to accentuate his point.

“You barely texted me today.” Wade answered, curling so he was sitting on top of the bar and facing Peter. The sit-up made his muscles bulge in the leather covering his thighs and abdomen and Peter inhaled carefully to maintain a level expression. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t lonely. Also, I missed you.”

“Good to know.” Peter rolled his eyes, watching Wade drop to hang upside-down childishly. “Just come in. You’re gonna break the rails.”

“Me? Getting on the VIP list to Peter’s bedroom? I feel like I got a golden ticket! Move aside, Willy Wonka!” Wade dropped himself to his hands, flipped ungracefully on his feet, and followed Peter’s lead to let him crawl inside the apartment. His muddy boots hit the carpet and he managed to pull his entire body inside the small opening. He paused upon straightening up, giving his bedroom the same scrutinizing examination he had to the living room his first time visiting. “Never mind. I wanna go outside again. You’re messy, and that’s something coming from me.”

Peter stared at him silently. The mercenary shrugged and half-lept to fall on top of his mattress. “Kidding. It’s cute. It fits you.”

Peter did his best to ignore the creaking noise of his bed, making his way to his office chair to sit across the room. “I appreciate the housecall, but is that the only reason you came? I actually was kinda in the middle of something.”

“I’m hurt. I brought home-cooked meals and you already wanna kick me out?” Wade gasped in faux-pain, pulling off his pink Hello Kitty backpack. He drew out a grocery bag filled with containers, setting it beside the foot of the bed.

Peter was taken aback, a slightly stunned expression passing over his face. His outward appearance hardly changed, yet his stomach churned nervously at the thoughtful gesture. “You cook?”

“Nah, they’re frozen, but I make a mean pancake in case you’re ever interested. It’s the thought that counts though, right?”

“Thanks.” Peter rubbed his forearm, finding anywhere else to look to avoid staring at Wade.

“Soooo, what’s a kid like you busy doing tonight?” Wade asked as he stretched out across his comforter, propping his feet up on his mattress. “Playing games? Watching porn? Still wallowing about that ex-girlfriend that’s pregnant with someone else’s money-burner?”

“What? No, there’s no ex-girlfriend, dude, I already said that.” Peter muttered, struggling not to let his vision wander to his Spidey suit shoved beneath Wade’s sitting place. “I have a lot of homework I have to catch up on.”

“Boooo-oring.” Wade kicked a few of his pillows aside, rolling onto his side as his bed squeaked again. Peter desperately needed that noise to stop if he was going to guard his sanity.

“Okay, well, this was a great visit and all, but you can text me next time you wanna play therapist, okay?” Peter pushed himself to his feet, walking over to offer his hand to Wade to help him up. He stood there a moment with no reaction, Wade seemingly refusing to accept it, instead sitting up on his own.

“Do you seriously want me to go?” Wade asked, a weird tone ebbing into his voice. Was he confused? Disappointed? Peter wasn’t .

“I-I mean, yeah, I already said I was busy.” He was trying to not sound as annoyed as he felt, but his throat was taut with irritation. It wasn’t quite with Wade, though, because he was trying to be nice. Mostly he was upset with himself; with his inability to execute with his plans that had landed him in a difficult situation he couldn’t imagine resolving without either or both of them ending up hurt; with his emotions that were so intense they were painful, only made worse by the fact Wade was acting so generous to him outside of his superhero identity; and with the fact Wade knew his name, his family situation, and where he lived. Yet he still wasn’t able to bring himself to say that simple sentence.

I’m Spider-Man.

He’d been ready to lay it all out on the line two days ago, albeit with hesitancy, but somehow he had convinced himself that Wade might actually start to reciprocate his feelings if he knew the man behind the mask. His gaze trailed to the plastic bag still resting on the mattress. He had gone out of his way to care for him multiple times. He might be a fun project for Wade to pass the time, but Peter didn’t think he would go this far for some kid he found fun to mess with.

Peter’s eyelids screwed shut, his mind piecing together a way to confront the issue. He could ask him why he was hanging around, and hopefully conversation would naturally circulate back to Sunday night. “H-Hey, Dea-”

“I’ll get out of your hair.” Peter suddenly felt the air change and Wade was towering him, his much larger frame barely an inch from his chest. He had to turn his head up at a steep angle to look at him. There wasn’t the usual humor in his words, and his body language was a lot more tense. Terrific. An upset Wade was never fun. He always had to dig to even get a hint of what was bothering him.

“What?” Peter blinked, watching as Wade shimmied passed him to grab his pack and sling it on his shoulder.

“You said you had stuff to do. I can tell when I’m a problem, Petey-Sweetie. Glad to see you didn’t off yourself today. Good job on that.” Wade shoved the window he had come in open, poking a leg out so that it connected with the grate of the fire escape. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Peter chewed on his lower lip, his confession filed away in a queue of things to tell Wade in the future. He gave a short nod, guilt immediately radiating in the pit of his abdomen. “Thanks...for this all. Sorry to cut this so short. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“You better. I’ll be waiting.” Wade dropped his pack out the sill, waiting for it to clang against the metal, then ducked his body out of the small cavity. He grabbed his bag, moved to grip onto the ladder leading down into the darkness, then craned his neck to shout one last thing. “You should get a window screen. You’ll get spiders or ants in your room if you leave it open like this.”

Peter suppressed a spurt of ironic laughter, settling for an amused half-smile instead. “I’ll remember that. Goodnight, Deadpool.”

His weight made the ladder rattle and bang on the poles obnoxiously, probably annoying every other neighbor underneath him, until the sound disappeared and Wade had run off. Once Peter wasn’t able hear his boots scraping the asphalt he pulled his curtains shut, finally feeling able to breathe.

He bent to grab the meal containers, to put them in the freezer before he left for his patrol. It was quite the stock of food, enough to stop him from starving for the rest of the week that Aunt May was absent, and his stomach growled in appreciation.

Maybe he’d see Wade on patrol as Spider-Man, and they’d converse with the comfortable familiarity that had developed naturally between them through years. Wade would make some flirtatious joke, along with one about the spider being his hero that had the strength punch him into another timeline, and they’d team up and be on their way. Peter would be able to feel like his strong, normal self. They’d be friends and superheroes, and not a weak kid and his supposed guardian angel. No lies hanging heavily between them.

He’d muse on Wade’s kindness, that he didn’t deserve, later. For now, he pulled his spidey suit out and started dragging it up his legs. He had a city to protect, people to save, and his angst would have to be put on reserve for another day.

#spideypool #spiderman #deadpool #fanfiction #my fanfic #spideypool big bang 2018 #spideypoolfanfic #fanfic

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dragonofyang · 6 years

Text

Some ramblings under the cut because my mind is swirling with words once more lol

So I discovered recently that Love Never Dies is the sequel to my most favorite musical of all time Phantom of the Opera, and I went to see it last week and I was utterly blown away. But the problem is that it’s making one of the things that frustrates me most about myself resurface. I’m a very passionate and easily-impassioned person. Get me in the right mood on the right subject and I can rant and rave and cry delights and horrors over a single subject, and yet I can barely muster the passion to argue in an academic setting even if it’s a subject I’m well-versed in. I am easy to drag into fandoms if I meet somebody passionate about it, I am forming a fandom for a book my friend isn’t even done writing yet because they are passionate for it. They light up when they talk about it and because of that I want nothing more than to build the fandom for it myself and share its glories with the world. My goal for that book as a fan is to be able to cosplay the main character as he appears in their art and in the book, and to show people the magic of the world they’re writing and the characters they’re bringing to life. I’m either 100 or 0 and there’s hardly a true in-between, and I’ve met plenty of people capable of it but what is it to be effectively “in like” with something rather than “in love”? What is it to not be bowled over in beauty or disgust by a work of art? My emotions run wild and I see so much of my creative energy in the Phantom, but I also see myself in Christine because I desire nothing more than to have a taste of that wild beauty that runs through somebody’s mind and informs their own work, to meet somebody so capable of passion and creation that it’s a sublime wonder comparable to the spires of a mountain range cutting the sky or the interior of a gilt church, shimmering in rainbows of sunlit glass. The lyrics of “Beauty Underneath” sum up how it feels perfectly for me to be swallowed by a new passion, right down to the feverish tempo that makes my heart race at the thought of being able to just make something new, unfettered by fear or anxiety, to let my imagination run wild and beg of my hands to create what resides in my mind’s eye.

The problem with being so easily-impassioned, especially by music, is that it’s ultimately addictive and I know it’s not good for me to get swept up in something when I have other obligations like school. On the one hand I should’ve known better than to watch Love Never Dies right before classes started up again because POTO has this incredible ability to flip that switch on and tape it there so I can’t shut down the part of my mind/attention that begs to be let loose. On the other hand, I’ve gotten to make some truly amazing things so far by riding that level of creative mania. I wrote like 80k words for a fanfiction I’ve since abandoned (grew out of it and lost general steam because I was dissatisfied with it), I’ve made entire cosplays using nothing but the manic energy provided by the music, and back when I played violin nothing could stop me if I got into the mood. It’s a positive feedback loop unlike any other in my life and as much as I love it, I hate the timing of such bursts and drives. I just started my semester, my final semester I might add, and so distractions are detrimental. I didn’t even move my sewing machine up to my apartment so I wouldn’t have the temptation to procrastinate on school via cosplay.

I feel like I’m starving.

I can’t talk with my parents about it, especially in terms of my latest hobbies. They don’t understand the allure of cosplay beyond a potential money-making business, nor do they understand convention culture. They think going in costume to a Ren Faire is weird, I can’t debate character development or plots with them or tell them about the cool things that English does when it’s not being a fucking trainwreck of a language. Don’t get me wrong, they indulge me and finance my cosplays a lot and listen if it’s clear I’m not gonna stop talking about something, but their eyes glaze over and they don’t pay much, if any, attention to anything after the first 10 seconds. To them, my love of dragons is strange and a remnant of my childhood, my anger at poor character development is a silly response, they don’t see the potential in a dress like I do. They don’t see the beauty in language the way I do, or at least to the extent I do, anyway. They don’t have the need for the beauty underneath, if you will. That all sounds edgy af, I know, but I feel like we’re talking in two different languages, which technically we are in terms of vernacular and subculture, but when I see no visible effort to respond what else am I supposed to think other than they have no care to understand my passions? It’s frustrating, and tbh I’m always a little afraid of going too far into the mania, both for myself and for my friends who’ve seen me get like this before. They understand better and I love them all the more for it, but at the same time I don’t want to frighten them with walls of text waxing poetic about my love for things or make them feel they don’t have a place to contribute or respond because I can’t get my mind to shut up long enough to listen to them. It’s also not healthy averaging 4 hours of sleep in the morning before working like a madwoman at a sewing machine. It’s a flaw that I’m steadily improving upon, and I think making costumes for my friends has helped a lot, because yes I have this crystal-clear image of what I want and think looks lovely, but my comfort and fashion senses are not what will be wearing the finished garment. So it forces me to quiet the part of me that insists it must be done one way so that I can listen to my friends and understand what they want and feel comfortable in. It’s good practice, but it’s hard. It’s gotten easier since I first started forcing myself to slow down and take a breath, but it’s still a struggle.

I’ve added Phantom and Christine to my future cosplay list, because ever since I was young the aesthetic of the Phantom has always appealed to my sense of the dramatic and Gerard Butler’s portrayal of him in the 2004 movie gave me such an appreciation for him as a character and design inspiration. If I could wear suits like that all the time I’d be happy tbh, there’s nothing better than a well-made tuxedo. I’ve drawn an elf dress that’s floated in my mind for months now. I’ve designed 12 garments based on the zodiac. By the time I graduate I’ll probably have walls covered in future outfits or projects I want to undertake. But the problem is that as much as I want nothing more than to drop everything and sew late into the night, only stopping because I fell asleep at my machine or remember to eat for once, I know better and won’t. The problem is that because of my overwhelming desire to make something, not having something to make is making me feel like I’m starving. Listening to music quells the desire somewhat, but it’s very hit and miss for me what kinds of songs will soothe my mind and what ones will inflame me into an even greater need.

Writing this has actually helped a lot because I can actually look and see my thoughts, rather than have the words bouncing around in my head like fucking rubber balls bouncing down a California street. I might yearn for human closeness, that emotional bond that so many have and that I once had but lost, I’m starting to wonder if anything short of raw and unadulterated passion for something will ever be satisfying to me. Romance is more appealing than the concept of sex, but only just, especially when I’m hit with bouts like this. I don’t know why. I see myself in Christine, but I have to wonder if in a way I’m the Phantom seeking an opera house of my own in which to craft masterpieces.

I just need to make something, something grand and beautiful that stimulates my mind and hands and grants me satisfaction to see completed. I want this kind of creative mania to come to me when I’m not burdened by school or work, or at least come at a time when I have more time and space to devote to such extracurriculars. Maybe I should take something strange like a glass-blowing class, take up the violin again, learn piano, get a singing tutor and practice singing again. I don’t know what it’ll take to calm the thunderous nature of my mind when I’m hit with passions like this, I never do. I just need to be able to rein it in enough that I can focus on classwork and hopefully direct some of that passion into my schooling. I’ve done it before, but like sudoku puzzles the answers are always different. I mean this in the best of ways but sometimes I wonder how my friends put up with my nonsense, because I get hit with often wildly-conflicting or rapidly-changing passions. I love them for it, though, and when my moods become truly terrible they’re always there to ground me and put some sense into me, because it’s so hard to come back into myself when I’m angry or excited.

#dragon's ramblings #feel free to reblog or comment i just needed to get my thoughts out somewhere #in which a musical makes me question myself

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jos-corner-of-the-world · 7 years

Text

Overwatch - Wonho (14)

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6 -- Part 7 -- Part 8 -- Part 9 --- Part 10 -- Part 11 -- Part 12 -- Part 13

You guys had been practicing off and on all week. Only one other time did you all get together, the rest was played online. With everyone having their own thing going on it made the most sense to do it that way.

Two days before the event, things got weird.

You went up to Starship, as you told Wonho you would. You had only seen each other once in that 5 days and he wanted to have lunch together today.

The lady at the front desk, who's name you learned was Mina, waved at you kindly and let you make your own way up.

You stood outside the elevators unsure where to go. You looked around, but didn't see anyone or hear any music that could lead you to him.

You sat on the set of chairs down the hall a little and pulled out your phone.

You called once, sending it straight to voicemail.

You called again thinking it hadn't gone through, and when he answered he was short with you.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Oh hey” you said confused. “I'm here”

“Where?” he asked.

“Outside the practice room like we talked about yesterday afternoon... for lunch?” did he not remember?

“Oh, right. The guys are in the last room to the right. I had to run to the dorm quick to get some of the sheet music we left here. I’ll be back there shortly.” and then he hung up the phone.

Well, that wasn’t weird at all you thought to yourself.

You walked to the end of the hallway and knocked on the door Wonho had told you they would be in.

Changkyun stuck his head through the door. When he saw it was you, he smiled softly, letting you in.

“Hey, Wonho’s not here right now. Jooheon asked him to go to the dorm to get some music that was left there.”

“Yeah, I just talked to him. I was supposed to meet him for lunch” you said.

“Oh, that’s weird. We have schedules today so we agreed to eat later on. He must have forgot.” Jooheon said, coming up to stand with you two.

“Oh, yeah. He must have.” you said, distracted.

You sat talking idly with the guys for a little bit when a tired looking Wonho walked in the door.

“You look beat.” you said, going to the door to meet him.

“I am. Here’s the sheet music we need.” He said, bypassing you and heading straight for Jooheon.

“Can you talk for a minute? The guys said you were busy so we’ll have to cancel lunch.” you asked his back since he walked right by you.

“Yeah, guys can I have five minutes?” he asked.

“Sure, we’ll start up again as soon as you’re back.” Shownu agreed.

Wonho walked to the door he had just entered, and you followed behind him, feeling lost.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“You could have told me you were busy today, I didn’t mean to intrude.” you said.

“It’s my fault, I forgot.”

He was confusing you more by the second. He was really aloof and cold with you and his stance showed it. He was leaned up against the wall, looking anywhere but at you.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked bluntly.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Well...you’re acting like a dickhead right now and I don’t understand it” you said, not feeling like beating around the bush at all.

“I’m not acting like a dickhead. I forgot I was busy. I have a job ya know?” he said.

“I understand that. You’re busy, but you’re the one who made lunch plans today, not me. I have a job too and I moved it around to come here today.” you said, slowly losing your cool.

“Yeah, but I have a real job. I don’t get to sit behind a computer playing video games all day.” he said, laughing without emotion.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You’re going to sit here and belittle me based on my career? That’s the kind of person you are going to be right now?” you asked, surprised by the turn of the conversation.

“It’s not like it’s not the truth. You have it easy. You get to sit behind your computer all day and just relax. Meanwhile, I spend most of my time utterly exhausted.”

“I can’t believe you right now. It is a pretty good gig I have, but it’s not always sunshine and fucking rainbows. I have to travel a lot too and be away from home. When it comes to my practice, yeah its less grueling, but it doesn’t mean it’s any more fun. I sit at home, alone, for most of my time. Do you think that’s always fun for me? Oh, and let’s add on all the dickhead guys that come into my chat and just ask to see my boobs, or make sexists jokes and just harass me. I thought you liked that you were dating someone who was a competitive gamer. Now I see my job is beneath you.” you finished, surprised you were yelling at him right now.

You saw the practice room door open slightly, Kihyun poking his head out.

“Sorry to disturb you guys, I’ll be going now.” you said to Kihyun, who just stared at you.

“Y/n, wait.” Wonho said, voice changing from the uncaring one a moment ago.

“No, fuck you Wonho. You knew when you met me what I did for a living, and you thought it was awesome. Now I really see how it is. Don’t bother coming over tonight. I’ll text the guys and tell them we’ve decided to just practice online instead of my house.” you said walking away.

“Please, I’m sorry, don’t go like this.” Wonho said. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but it didn’t sway you.

“Call me when you’re not busy. You need some time to think things through.” you said.

“No I don’t. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Then I’m the one that needs some time.” you said, turning your back on him. You ignored his pleas for you to wait. Luckily he didn’t follow you. Your anger level had reached it’s peak and you didn’t want to get into anymore with him.

What a fucking dickhead! I know out jobs are two totally different things but for him to act like that?! Is he serious right now?!

You were furious as you drove back home. You knew there had to be a reason that he was acting that way, but that didn’t excuse what he said. Even out of anger, many people say what they’re thinking but wouldn’t say out of the heat of the moment.

Since you’d already delayed your stream until 2 you walked into your living room, turning on your stereo. It was early enough in the day that you could blare your music and your neighbors wouldn’t care.

You turned on one of your feel good albums, Riot by Paramore.

One of your best ways to let go of anger was completely clear your mind. If you held onto the emotions too long, they would manifest and spiral out of control. You didn’t want to hold onto those feelings when it came to Wonho.

You paced around your house as you listened to the album, singing along with it. It was working on effectively clearing your mind of negative thoughts.

You were near the end of the album, dancing around your living room singing the lyrics to Fences. You thought you saw something out of the corner of your eye, but figuring it was Banks, you continued on your song.

“Yeah yeah well you’re just a mess, you do all this big talking so now let’s see you walk it….let’s see you walk it” you sang as you continued to dance around. Just as you finished the line, you saw Banks come down the stairs. Your brain then registered that someone was standing in your kitchen.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” you asked, noting that it was Kihyun that stood at the counter, just staring at you. You went to the stereo and turned it off, ears ringing from the high volume for so long.

“I knocked on the door for like five minutes. The door was unlocked so I just came in.” he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I mean, okay, but again what are you doing here?” you asked.

“Just checking up on you is all. Pretty shitty fight you guys had a bit ago.” he said.

“Did Wonho send you here?” you asked, apprehensive of what was happening right now.

“Nope. Said I had an errand to run.”

“So...how did you know where I live?” you asked.

“Oh, Yoongi told me.” he said

“And Yoongi knows how?” you asked, still confused.

“Jungkook told him.”

“Jesus, what are you guys? The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants? Just sharing information and shit?” you asked.

“I don’t know what that means, but we’ll just say yes for sake of argument.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“So what’s up? You here to apologize for Wonho?” you asked, walking towards the fridge.

“Nope.” he said, taking the water you offered him.

“Okay, I’m out of ideas, what are you doing here then?”

“Just checking up on you. I overheard the fight and the shit he said, wanted to make sure you were alright.” Kihyun shrugged.

“That’s...oddly sweet.”

“I’m not completely dense. I could tell your feelings were hurt and you ran outta there faster than I could catch up. So, here I am.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you. Gotta tell you, was not expecting it to be you. I mean, I didn’t expect anyone to show up, but if anyone asked me who would, I would not have said you.” you said seriously.

“I know, I’d probably be dead last huh?” he asked.

“Actually, no. You’d be fifth. It’d go Jooheon, Shownu, Changkyun, Wonho, you, Hyungwon, and then Minhyuk.”

You weren’t sure why, but Kihyun began laughing loudly.

“Those two last? They’re not that bad.” Kihyun defended.

“Oh I know that. They’re nice guys, but I’m pretty sure I scare them.” you said, laughing though you were serious.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Poor Minhyuk was practically cowered in the corner when he heard you screaming at Wonho earlier. Poor boy didn’t know what to think”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I should have thought of my surroundings a little better, but I let my emotions get the best of me and didn’t handle it well.”

“I don’t blame you. I know how it feels to have emotions take you over. In hindsight it wasn’t the smartest idea, but in the moment it happened. Shit like that happens sometimes, not much you can do about it. Sorry, but I gotta go. You good?” he asked, looking at his phone quickly.

“I’m good.” you smiled at him, internally laughing at the change of topic.

And as fast as Kihyun came in, he was gone again.

Your stream got over with just about ten minutes left before you were meeting up on discord with the guys. It was a fun stream, but every once in awhile, Wonho’s voice floated into your brain, causing you to withdraw a little bit.

You opened discord and were immediately met with Jungkook’s screaming voice.

“Y/n!!!! I’m mad at you.” he said as soon as he saw your name pop up.

“What did I do?” you asked.

“You canceled on us.”

“Uh, no I didn’t. We’re practicing aren’t we?” you asked him.

“Yeah, but we were supposed to meet at your house, but you changed your mind.” Oh, now it made sense.

“Kookie, you can come over some other time and finish your Millennium Falcon lego set.” you said, spinning in your chair.

“Wow, you really are a savage.” Mark said, surprising you since you didn’t know he had come on.

“You made me sounds like a nerd, or a child.” Jungkook shot back.

“I mean…”

“Don’t finish that sentence!” Jungkook said suddenly.

You heard laughter from Mark and Taehyung.

“What’s so funny guys?” you heard Wonho ask, just joining the group.

“Your girlfriend is being a savage. This time it’s aimed towards Kooks so you’re good.” Taehyung said.

“Picking on the maknae?” Wonho asked, voice not betraying how he was feeling.

“Got nothing better to do.” you said casually. You realized after you said it that Wonho could think you were making a dig at him, but you weren’t.

You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad thing, but you were able to communicate effectively in group settings, even when you didn’t feel up for it. There were times when group members got into it at times, but you guys had to let it go to be a good team when it came time for gameplay. You’d learn to manage your emotions during the game, and then let them out after. You’d just have to have the same stance when it came to this group.

But this was different.

This was Wonho. And as much as you wanted to deny it, his opinion really mattered to you, and his words had hurt you.

“Since everyone is here, should we get started?” you asked.

Part 15

#wonho #shin hoseok #monsta x #mx #kihyun #changkyun #jooheon #minhyuk #shownu #hyungwon #scenario #fic #request #wonho fic #wonho request #overwatch fic #joy-bangtan

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rayreeanne · 7 years

Text

Far Longer Than Forever

Summary: Lucy Heartfilia is about to do some light cleaning with an open window. When she starts singing a song from her childhood, a new neighbor joins the duet to sing the male part. To say the least, she’s surprised and embarrassed. So what happens when they meet later in public? (Hiro Mashima owns Fairy Tail. Nest owns The Swan Princess.)

You can also read on…

AO3

FFnet

Wattpad

Far Longer Than Forever: One-Shot

Lucy Heartfilia can’t complain much about life. She’s living in a townhome with one of her besties. The space is more than enough for the duo. Currently, the twenty-one-year-old is staring down the family room before she vacuums it. While doing that, she’s pulling back her long, golden hair into low twintails. Her bangs are left as is, no hair band holding them back. They fall down above her brown eyes. As for the rest of her, she’s wearing a pink cami that hugs her torso and outlines her larger-than-average chest. The fair skin of her legs is highlighted by the black running shorts she has on.

“All right, it’s time to get started!” Lucy says to no one in particular. She walks through the room to reach the other side. Opening one of the three windows, she lets in the sound of rain. It’s all gray sky and wet outside, but she doesn’t necessarily loathe this weather. It’s a great time for her to curl up with a good book to read or work on her current story. However, for the time being, she’ll be cleaning.

Back toward the windows, Lucy looks at the room before her. It isn’t terribly bad, but it does need tidied up. Running the vacuum will be good. Before that, picking up things here and there will be good as well. Cracking down, she starts humming the short instrumental part of a song before singing the lyrics out loud.

If I could break this spell

I’d run to him today

And somehow I know he’s on his way to me

Derek, you and I were meant to be

Far longer than forever

I’ll hold you in my heart

It’s almost like you’re here with me

Although we’re far apart

Much to Lucy’s surprise, a male sings the part for Derek. His voice is coming from the open window, as if the window to his place is open as well. He has a really wonderful singing voice.

Far longer than forever

As constant as a star

I close my eyes and I am where you are

Lucy picks up where Odette sings, straightening out some pillows.

Sure as the dawn brings the sunrise

We’ve an unshakeable bond

The guy continues.

Destined to last for a lifetime and beyond

Far longer than forever

Lucy twirls around with a blanket even though no one can see her.

Far longer than forever

The guy keeps going.

I swear that I’ll be true

Lucy does Odette’s next part.

I swear that I’ll be true

The guy starts the next line.

I’ve made an-

Lucy joins in.

-Everlasting vow to find a way to you

Far longer than forever

Like no love ever known

Then just Lucy sings.

And with your love

They both do the next part together.

I’ll never be alone

Lucy continues, walking closer to the windows.

Far longer than forever

The guy sings Derek’s next part.

Much stronger than forever

Lucy sings the last line.

And with your love, I’ll never be alone

The song comes to an end.

Reality is still settling over Lucy. She just sang her favorite childhood song. A duet. With a total stranger. Who just so happened to know the lyrics as well.

The stranger clears his throat. He’s by the set of windows to his townhome. “You have a pretty voice.”

“Thank you,” she responds, surprised that her voice didn’t crack. “So do you.”

“What are the odds of you knowing that song, huh?”

“It’s from my favorite movie growing up. I even learned how to play it on the piano.”

“Oh, that’s neat.”

“But what about you? What are the odds of you knowing it?”

“My little sister loved that movie. She watched it all the time. Like, all the time. Wendy made me watch it with her since she wanted a movie buddy.”

Lucy smiles. She did the same thing. Although, she watched it with her favorite doll, Gonzales. “When the movie ended, I’d always rewind the tape and watch it again.”

“Wow, back in day when VCR tapes were a thing.”

“At least I own it on DVD now. Along with the second and third ones.”

“Those aren’t bad, but the first one is the best.”

“I think so, too.”

A silence falls over the two. Suddenly, the stranger gasps. “Oh, shit! Is that the time? I’m gonna be late!”

Lucy holds back a laugh. She finds the change in topic amusing. “I’m sorry that our spontaneous duet is making you run behind.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry! I’m not. It was kinda fun.”

“I enjoyed it, too.”

“I’ll catch you later, Odette!”

She can’t stop the smile from forming on her face. “Goodbye, Derek!”

After that, she hears a window shut. Knowing the conversation is over, Lucy shuts her own window and locks it. Then she steps back and promptly curls up on the wooden floor, tucking her knees into her body

Did that all really just happen? Why does her face feel so warm? And why is her heart fluttering so much? Lucy gasps. Is she crushing on this guy that she just met? Heck, she doesn’t even know what he looks like! Not that looks matter. She mentally screams which turns into a real one through closed lips.

The front entrance of the apartment swings open without warning. Lucy’s roommate has just arrived.

Cana Alberona has wavy dark chocolate brown locks that frame her face and a lovely shade of indigo eyes. Her figure is similar to Lucy’s curvaceous one, but her skin has more of a tan than hers. She is the older and taller one of the two, and they get along like sisters.

The two make eye contact. For obvious reasons, one is hopelessly embarrassed while the other is utterly confused. “Uh, what’s going on… ?” Cana questions. “I mean, this isn’t the strangest thing I’ve caught you doing. But it’s pretty damn strange.”

“I just had a moment,” Lucy squeaks.

Cana finally closes the door behind her. “Do you need another moment?”

“Proba”-her voice cracks-“bly.”

“Okay. I’m just gonna… go upstairs. Scream again if you need me.”

Voice not working any more, Lucy nods.

x-X-x

With some free time on her hands, Lucy is at Magnolia Fashion Place, which is more commonly known as Magnolia Mall. It’s highly popular and attracts many people with the indoor and outdoor shops and restaurants it has. Since the rain stopped, she’s outside in the cemented area. All of the seating with chairs is taken, but the stone structure with three-sixty carved in seating is available. Lucy sits down and looks at the screen of her phone. “Come on, Levy.”

She’s waiting to hear back from her friend before going into Vermillion, the nation’s largest and most popular retail bookseller. The moment Lucy steps inside, she’ll be oblivious to her phone since she’ll be focusing on looking at books. She texted Levy if she needed a book from Vermillion, but she hasn’t texted back just yet.

The moment she hears someone humming a familiar tune, the world seems to slow down for a moment. It’s coming from the other side of the stone structure. “Is that “Far Longer Than Forever” you’re humming?” she blurts without thinking.

The humming stops. “Yeah,” a male chuckles.

Her heart skips a beat. “Are you… my Derek from earlier?” she asks.

Gasping, the guy stands up and rushes to Lucy. He manages to trip over his own two feet, taking a knee in front of her. He looks up at her while she looks down at him, taking each other in for the first time.

Probably around her age, his pink spiky hair is haphazardly placed and a cowlick makes his bangs stick up in front. A dark green makes up his eyes. With tan skin, he has a broad chest and fit build. The plain black tee fits him perfectly. It’s paired with jeans and black Converse.

“Odette?” he rushes out.

Blinking in surprise, Lucy treads lightly. “Are you really Derek from earlier?”

“Our apartments. Open windows. That song. You and me.” Then he starts smiling. “I’m Natsu. I moved in with a buddy of mine a few days ago.”

“Lucy.” When her phone goes off because of a text message from Levy, she ignores it. “My name is Lucy.”

Now he’s grinning from ear to ear. “Hi there, Lucy.”

“Hi there yourself, Natsu.”

“Or should I call you Odette?”

“That can be between us.” Then she pats the empty spot next to her with her right hand. “Do you want to join me?”

“I’ve got some time on my hands,” he says, easing himself up to be with her.

“So…”

“Sooo?”

Lucy doesn’t want things to be awkward between them, but she isn’t sure what to say. “Now what?”

“I mean, I’m still riding my happy high from meeting you.”

“What are the odds, right?”

“Exactly!” Then he laughs to himself. “I think this is better than me knocking on your door and asking for you.”

She smiles a bit. “Can you imagine if my roomie got the door and not me?”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“She might have thought you were crazy if you had asked her if she was the one you sang the song with.” After all, Lucy never did tell Cana about the moment she had with their neighbor. She hasn’t told anyone about what happened.

Natsu cracks up. “Nothing like getting to know your crazy neighbor.”

“Who’s to say you’re the crazy neighbor?” she jokes.

Holding a hand over his heart, he gasps lightly. “Should I be concerned?”

She shrugs. “I think I’m pretty harmless.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty,” he finds himself saying. Pink tints his cheeks when his brain registered what he said. “Um, I mean, what I meant to say–”

Her laughter accidentally interrupts him. “That was smooth.”

Natsu doesn’t miss a beat to cover up his embarrassment. “That’s why they call me The Smooth.”

“That’s smooth of them to do so.”

“I think so, too.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two. Thinking of something to say, Lucy looks up. Her eyes grow wide with surprise. “Wow…” she breathes.

Looking up as well, Natsu and her stare at the summer sky. It’s all pink. Every bit of it. The view is certainly beautiful. “This totally makes up for the rain we’ve had all day,” he comments.

She silently nods in agreement, not looking away from the pink. However, when she does look away, she looks at something else that’s pink. “It’s just like your hair,” she comments.

He runs a hand through it, mussing it up. “The sky clearly is trying to mimic me, but flattery will get in nowhere.”

Lucy laughs a little bit.

“Hey, do you wanna get coffee or something?”

She perks up. “When?”

“Right now. Um, if you’re free.”

“I’m in.”

When Natsu stands up, he holds out his left hand to help her up. She takes it and stands before he reluctantly lets go. Truth be told, Lucy doesn’t mind if they held hands for a bit longer. “So where are we going?”

“Wherever you want.”

“I like Blue Pegasus.” It’s a popular coffeehouse and bakery franchise. “There are a few locations here. If we go straight into the mall, one spot will be right there on the left.”

“Then let’s go there!”

x-X-x

As of now, Lucy and Natsu are in front of their townhomes. To be precise, they’re in front of her front door. It’s completely dark out since they spent the remainder of evening together. “I guess it’s not too much for you to walk me home,” she teases.

He cracks a grin. “It’s not totally outta my way or anything.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out his cell phone, unlocking the pass code. “Do you wanna swap numbers? You know, in case you need a buddy to go to Blue Pegasus with.”

Lucy takes his phone and goes under his contacts to make a new one. “And if you need a buddy, you can text me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“But text me so I have your number,” she says, hanging back his phone.

“I’ll do that when I get inside. Promise.” Stepping back, Natsu dramatically sweeps out his arms before bowing. “Until next time, Luce.”

She smiles at the new nickname. “Goodbye, Natsu.” Stepping backward into her townhome, she waves goodbye before closing the door. Then she leans her back against it, sighing in contentment.

“How was the mall?” Cana asks from where she is on the couch. She doesn’t look away from the television.

She only thinks about Natsu. “It was overdue.” She smiles when her phone goes off because of a text from an unknown number. “For longer than forever overdue.”

x-X-x

A/N Part 1: Guess who’s still around?? :D I’ve just been busy with life. Planning my wedding for June 2018. Working my studio job. Proofing some books as a secondary job. And with what free time I do have, that goes toward writing my personal works (Elvina is still be edited, and making the cover design is next on my list). And if I’m not writing, I’m with family and friends. So I guess we’ll see when I get around to the next NaLu work XD

A/N Part 2: Anyway, this work was clearly inspired by one of my fave movies growing up! I listen to the soundtrack even now :D And it’s always fun having Lucy be embarrassed :P And that pink sky is something that happened here in Ohio not too long ago! I thought it was super pretty and would fit nicely with this work!

#rayreeanne writes #ft au #fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #humor #fluff #flirting #feels #the swan princess #song #far longer than forever #odette and derek #one-shot #songfic

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midnightiscoming-kasabian · 7 years

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Kasabian interview: Serge Pizzorno talks For Crying Out Loud, festival headliners and Noel Fielding's Bake Off debut

02/05/17

To want to make a record, Kasabian’s Serge Pizzorno has to have a good reason.

"I get pretty obsessed," he says. "The idea of just servicing the machine isn't very inspiring."

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So while he didn’t have any explicit plans to start writing a follow-up to the band’s record 48:13, the guitarist and songwriter found himself setting a challenge of sorts - to pen the music for something new in just six weeks (material for its predecessor took one year to complete) - doing “9-5” shifts rather than writing late at night.

This resulted in material for the band’s sixth record For Crying Out Loud, which sees them return to the sound that made so many fans fall in love with them: a disco-infused, joyous indie-rock roar that kicks off with album opener and absolute belter of a second single: ‘Ill Ray’.

"There was a lot of experimentation on that record [48:13], and I wanted to take all that out of it," Pizzorno says. "So I could only use the guitar and the piano. It was weird, because I’ve got a nice collection of old gear - but I wasn’t allowed to do any of that.

"I wanted to try and write a great guitar album,” he continues. “I was interested in Berry Gordy’s approach, Motown and that 70s period where guitar music… the songs were really strong and the melodies were really strong… but there’s also this amazing disco-funk thing on it. I thought it’d be nice for my brain to go ‘it’s done in six weeks’. In that period I wrote 10 songs - I wrote more than that but they didn’t work - and I decided I wouldn’t have anything on there that didn’t fit."

Compared to artists who contradict themselves by saying they understand how audiences have 'shorter attention spans'… only to wheel out 20-track monsters: Pizzorno says that he’s “cut away all the fat” from the record until they were left with a 10-track album.

"I wanted to go with that approach, that old-school way of going ‘first eight bars, everything has to draw you in’. I cut away all the fat, all the layers,” he says.

"Then I went on holiday for a while, and then I came back to it and wrote ‘Ill Ray’ and ‘Acid House’. And I feel like going back now, I’ve… executed the plan. Sometimes you get these ideas and end up doing something completely different. And obviously that’s great too. But this time I did what I said I wanted to do."

On ‘Acid House’ there’s a definite Ramones/Buzzcocks feel, that roots itself in a great melody then brings on that distortion that Pizzorno says "adds another element".

"We did really basic recording - some of it took place in a big studio but the whole thing was all done on instinct, really quickly, and it felt right to make this kind of album,” he said. “Because there’s not been a lot of guitar albums made in a long while."

In an interview with Q Magazine Pizzorno claimed that Kasabian were back to "save guitar music from the abyss” - a rather grand statement that seemed to have been made purely to serve as NME headline fodder.

"That was very tongue-in-cheek, pure joking," he says with a sheepish grin. "It’s context. I assume people read it… they probably don’t actually… but if you knew me you’d know it was standard."

While he may have been poking fun at his own band, he is utterly sincere when it comes to the lack of new talent making it onto the radio.

"I just feel that we have a platform, we headline festivals and our tunes get played, and at the moment it sounds so weird - one of them came on the radio on the way to this interview, sandwiched in-between bleeps and clicks. And there’s something beautiful about that - and if we can get that through, hopefully people will go 'we should have more of that'.

"The bands don’t get a shot and that’s really unfair," he adds. "It [guitar music] needs a platform… the reason why certain things get big is because people decide that it’s allowed to. So if we stop playing a certain kind of music it’s gonna disappear.

"If Ed Sheeran had come out 10 years ago things probably would have been very different. Slaves, Cabbage, there’s some cool stuff getting out. I just wish it got more of a push."

While his mop of dark hair, penchant for black clothing and the slight stoop of a man aware that he's taller than most - like a rock and roll raven - would fool you into thinking otherwise, Pizzorno is like the antithesis to Tom Meighan’s outlandish, swaggering frontman, and the pair seem so different to one another that you wouldn’t actually think they belong to the same band.

"We do occupy different universes - he’s the sun, I’m the moon," Pizzorno smiles fondly. "A sense of humour is what’s kept everything ticking over… we make each other laugh a lot."

Making this record helped Meighan handle a difficult 2016, after a close friend passed away and he split from his long-term partner, with whom he has a child - in that same Q interview the frontman revealed: "In every way, 2016 was great for Serge, great for Leicester City, s*** for me."

"I wanted to make a really uplifting, feel good album. And it’s family business, you know?” Pizzorno says now. "So making a record, getting into the studio, I think it helped Tom. It was nice for him to get lost in that - especially making the tunes that were super upbeat."

Somewhat unbelievably Pizzorno says he doesn’t get recognised when he’s out with one of his best friends, comedian Noel Fielding - "even more so now. They think I’m his brother, probably".

He reckons Fielding - who stars in the band’s video for 'You’re In Love With A Psycho' - will do a great job as one of the new hosts on The Great British Bake Off when it re-launches on Channel 4.

"He’s so warm, he’s such a warm soul. And he’s really clever," he says. "Whatever people are expecting I don’t think they have any idea… he’s gonna be so good at it. Him and Sandi [Toksvig] is a great combo as well, she’s wonderful. I don’t think it’s too dissimilar to what was going on before."

Pizzorno’s love of comedy is present in pretty much every Kasabian record, but most obviously so on this one - quirky surrealism crops up in first single ‘You’re In Love With A Psycho’ on lyrics like: "The doctors say I’m crazy, that I’m eight miles thick/I’m like the taste of macaroni on a seafood stick."

"The story of that song is a man or a woman who has visions of being the prodigal son, thinking he’s friends with Axel Foley… having an argument outside an off-licence and reciting Bukowski to win back the person they love," he says.

"We all have those moments in relationships… or we know a friend who has, where you look at each other and go: 'That was a bit strong... I only forgot to put the bins out'. I’ve had a few texts off mates asking: 'Is that me?'"

How does he answer?

"I say 'no!'" Pizzorno says laughing. "It’s nobody. It’s all of us."

In August Kasabian will headline Reading & Leeds festivals for a second time, having started out as the first band to perform - "literally the first band in the tent" - after the release of their self-titled debut in 2004.

You can guarantee that they’ll put on a good show, but alongside fellow headliners Muse and Eminem, it makes for a disappointingly predictable top three.

"If I could reel off 10 bands that could headline and do a good job then I would, but I don’t think I can," Pizzorno says. "It’s far from easy. You have to stay relevant for that long, and that’s what the trick is. Most bands can put out a nice couple of albums, then everyone disappears."

Ahead of For Crying Out Loud’s release, Kasabian have been touring around much smaller venues to what they’re used to, flexing their muscles a bit and testing the new songs for the first time.

"That’s the optimum place to see any band, 2,000 seaters," he says. "That’s the ultimate live music experience. No matter where you are in the room you’re not that far away.

"It’s nice to do that. And it’s the hardcore fans that’ve stayed with you, even if you’ve gone… offtrack. You know they’re there."

www.independent.co.uk

#kasabian #interviews #the independent 02.05.17 #interviews 2017

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