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daisies-and-domming · 2 years

Text

Control (NSFW)

Summary: Barbatos believes in the unwavering, whether it’s his loyalty or his belief that he is in control. GN!MC shows him otherwise.

Warnings: smut, dom!reader, name-calling, Barb has a vent (and two cocks), CBT, masochism (Barbatos), a little bit of edging, swearing

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

This is technically my first smut fic but I posted the Belphie one first because this one is vile. Like shit's nasty, buckle up y'all. I’m OBSESSED with the whole cast of obey me, so expect more of these in the future, oopsie ;P Obey Me requests are always welcome!

– – –

“Your tea, my lord.”

As Barbatos bows to Lord Diavolo, you watch with interest, thoughts clearly elsewhere. About how maybe you could bend him over like that. Or even possibly-

“I’ll be just outside the door if you need me, my lord.”

This snaps you out of your thoughts. You were at a private meeting with the Lord of the Devildom itself, for Diavolo's sake! You shake yourself out of your stupor and give Barbatos a polite smile, watching him (or rather, his ass) as he walks out of the room, the door shutting softly behind him. Turning your attention to Diavolo, you realize he’s been staring. You hope he hasn’t been watching for long enough to follow your eyes.

“Are you and Barbatos together?”

Clearly you hadn’t evaded his gaze. Panicking, a simple, “Pardon?” is all you can stutter out.

“Are you and Barbatos together?” he asks again, unfazed by your reddening cheeks. He even had the audacity to look a little amused, that son of a bitch.

You and Barbatos had agreed to let the brothers connect the dots themselves. However, you hadn’t discussed the inevitability of the Devildom’s ruler finding out. “Uhm…”

“It seems my suspicions were right!” he says, a large grin spreading across his face. “Congratulations!”

“Uh, thank you, my lord,” you respond, unclear on the point of this little meeting you were having. “Is that why you called me here…?”

He looks at you, a little stunned, but quickly snaps back into his typical self. “Of course not! This is about student council work. Lucifer is one stubborn man, but even he can’t carry all the work himself. You’ve seen how his other brothers are, so would you mind-”

“Picking up some of his work?” you finish, smiling gently when he nods. “I’m one hundred percent willing, that poor man needed a break, like, a century ago.”

Diavolo sends you another smile, noticeably relaxing a bit, “Your help is really appreciated MC! I’ll have Barbatos drop by with the documents later.” He shoots you a wink and you fluster, still not used to Diavolo’s casualty about your relationship with Barbatos. You should probably warn him that the brothers have no idea whatsoever, but he’s already calling Barbatos back to show you out. You thank Dia for his hospitality, bow once for good measure, and follow Barbatos out, resisting the urge to grab his ass in front of the literal king of the Devildom.

After the door shuts, you melt into Barbatos, letting yourself bask in his comfort.

“Is everything alright, darling?”

God, he’s too sweet sometimes. “Of course Barb! It’s not like I just had a private meeting with the Lord of the Devildom or something.”

He snorts softly, wrapping a gentle arm around you. “What did he want to discuss?”

“Luci, that poor soul, is overworking himself again,” you say, feeling him nod against you. “I’m picking up some of his workloads so he can have some more downtime.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“I try my best,” you murmur, snuggling further into him as you finally begin to make your way through the castle corridors. “And Luci deserves some help, he’s already got those brothers of his to handle.”

Barbatos smiles gently down at you, and you decide not to mention the fact that Dia knows about your relationship. It’s a conversation for another time, you decide, letting Barbatos lead you towards the door. As you approach the exit, he slows down, reluctant to let you go.

“Must you be leaving so soon?”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but I’d rather not overstay my welcome,” you say, kissing him softly on the cheek. “And Dia said he would send you to the HoL with Lucy’s work overflow, so we’ll see each other soon!”

Before you can get fully out the door, Barbatos pulls you back, breathlessly kissing you. “Then I will see you later, darling.”

The door closes behind him and you are left standing, flushed, outside the castle. Slapping your cheeks, you make your way back to the HoL, praying that none of the brothers notice your physical (or emotional) state. Damn your sexy butler boyfriend, he would be the death of you.

– – –

Impatiently scrolling through your Devilgram feed, you once again check the clock. 8:30 pm. While it wasn’t necessarily late, it seemed strange that Lord Diavolo hadn’t sent Barbatos out yet. Maybe he won’t be coming today…

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, causing you to spring to your feet. You bolt over to the door, flinging it open with fervor, grinning when you spot your stunning boyfriend. He smiles back and, after a cursory glance to make sure no one else was in the hallway, he steps into your room. The door closes behind him, the gentle click of the lock signaling that tonight might be just as fun as you’d hoped. He hands you a stack of papers that you haphazardly place on your desk, pulling him into a fierce kiss.

He pulls back, panting. “You should probably go over those papers-”

“When do you have to be back?” you say, staring up at him. “Do I have enough time to ruin you?”

“The young lord gave me the rest of the night off,” he says, his grin turning feral. “And I believe that I will be doing the ruining, darling.”

That just wouldn’t do. With a smirk, you spin him around and push him onto the bed, enjoying the sputtering you get back. Straddling his hips, you dive down to press a passionate kiss to his lips, all teeth and tongue. Your one hand cups his cheek while the other begins to pull his outfit apart, nearly ripping the buttons out in the process. Breaking for air, he gives you a watery smile, moving your hand out of the way and pulling the rest of his top off. You run a soft hand up and down his chest before twisting his nipple harshly, reveling in the moan your action tears out of him. Moving down, you focus your whole attention on his chest, until Barb’s nipples are puffy and his pecs are littered with marks. He paws at your shirt and you comply, already beginning to feel a taste of impatience. You roll your eyes at him but clearly aren’t objecting to getting this train moving, opting to remove the rest of your clothes while you could. He eyes you hungrily, reaching out to you in an attempt to pull you back on top of him again.

“Hands off, pretty boy,” you say, smacking his hand away. “You’ll only touch me with my permission, do you understand?”

He nods, and you shake your head in faux disappointment. “Words, baby.”

“Yes! Yes, I understand, darling, please touch me, please please please-”

You lightly smack his vent, still hidden under a few layers of clothing. Barbatos jolts, a wet patch forming at the front of his pants. You grin wide, sadistic, and land another well-placed smack on his clothed sex. You go on like this a few more times, enjoying the way his head lolled back and his pretty green eyes crossed every time you landed a hit.

“You like this, huh, pretty boy?” He nods desperately, bucking up into empty air. “Beg me, and maybe I’ll consider smacking your little vent while it’s bare. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He writhes underneath you, already falling apart. “Darling please, please smack my vent again, I’ve been good, please darling!”

“You could do better than that. Try again.”

He absolutely wails, debauched. “Please, please, I’m begging you, need you to smack my dirty little vent again, wan’ it to hurt, wan’ you to show me my place-”

You yank his pants down in one swoop and hit him, hard, smiling when his cocks begin to peek out of his vent. “Such a desperate little pain slut, aren’t you?”

“YES, yes, I’m your little slut,” he cries. “Wan’ you to hurt me more, please, wanna be your good boy.”

“What happened to that cocky behavior, hm? Thought you were going to ruin me,” you say, frowning down at him. “I’m waiting, pretty baby.”

“M’sorry darling, I didn’ mean it, didn’ mean to lie,” he all but sobs, crocodile tears streaming down his face as you land another smack, making sure to tease his cocks on your way back. “‘M just your little bitch boy, just your toy-”

You grab his cocks, giving them a tug. He squeezes his eyes shut, back arching and a low moan rolling off his tongue. You grin, feral, loving the way he squirmed in your grasp, eyes begging for more. He jerks his hips up and you pout, letting go of his cocks. He lets out a screaming sob, frustration evident on his tear-streaked face.

“What happened to my good boy, huh?” you murmur, a sadistic grin imprinting itself on your face.

“‘m sorry!!” he yelps, eyes wide and staring right up at you. “I can do better darling, I promise, please let me show you-”

“Shut up,” is the only warning he gets before you hover your sex over his face. “If you can’t even beg me properly, then you might as well do something with that dirty mouth of yours, huh, slut?”

He whines but doesn’t object, licking and sucking at your sex with such reverence that you can’t help but buck into him, letting out an involuntary whimper. Damn your boyfriend and his talented mouth.

He groans at your little noises, sending a jolt up your spine. You grab his hair harshly, reminding him who was in control.

“That’s it, baby,” you moan out, gritting your teeth. “Just like that, want to make me cum, don’t you, pretty boy? Keep going, yes, that’s it-”

Your orgasm hits like a train, your mouth opening in a silent scream as Barbatos works you through it, mouthing at you until you’re sensitive and very much overstimulated. Yanking his hair back, you feel yourself clench at the fucked out look on his face. Eyes unfocused, he blearily looks at you, a dopey grin spread across his face. You grip his hair a little harder, loving the pitchy moan that leaves his throat.

“Look at you,” you coo, moving your weary legs so that you're straddling his thighs once again. “Such a pretty little painslut, hm? Just so wet for me, can’t get off without me pushing you around.”

He nods, almost frantic, pleading for your touch, “Please darling, ‘ve been so good, such a good boy for you, please, please, touch me, touch me, I need it, need you so bad-”

He’s cut off by your hand finding one of his cocks, pulling hard. He screams, his vent spurting out copious amounts of precum. Jolting into your touch, you shove two fingers into his vent without warning, reveling in the way his back arches and his body shakes, holding back his impending orgasm.

“Aw, does my pretty little whore wanna cum?”

“Please, please, please, can’ hold much longer, need to cum, wanna cum for you-”

He sobs as you slow your pace, pulling your fingers out of his vent but leaving your other hand on his cock. You rear back your free hand and smack his other cock, grinning as he sputters and cries. Landing another well-timed smack on his cock, your other hand begins to tug at him at ungodly speeds.

“You gonna cum, pretty baby?” His head bobs, no words but ‘please’ and ‘MC’ left in his vocabulary. “That’s it, let go for me, you can do it, sweetheart.”

He wails, both cocks jumping as you land one final smack. He explodes all over himself, coating his chest and your hands a sticky white. He can’t stop thanking you, and you stroke his hair, letting him come down from his orgasm. Sliding off his thighs, you sit next to him on the bed, smiling softly as he snuggles into your lap. You pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings to him. As he comes back down, you wiggle your way out of his hold, softening at his whine.

“I just need to clean us up, okay pretty boy?” you say, pulling open the bottom drawer on your nightstand. “Look, see? Just need to wipe us down and then we can cuddle, okay lovely?”

He nods, reluctant, and lets you wipe him down. He watches intently the whole time, clearly beginning to drift. Once you finish with him, you haphazardly wipe yourself off, knowing Barbatos isn’t going to let you go long enough for you to shower. Throwing the soiled wipes vaguely in the direction of the trash can, you help Barbatos under the blankets and slide in next to him, pulling him to your chest.

“Good night, love.”

All you get is a snore in return.

Word Count: 2143

#barbatos obey me #barbatos x reader #barbatos smut #sub!barbatos #dom!reader #smut #obey me smut #sub obey me #obey me swd #barb has vents bc i said so :D

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years

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Jungkook: 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘 (1)

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or alternatively: Jungkook has no idea what to do with you.

Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, mute!reader, Angst, Fluff, Slight humor, Crime and violence, mentions of kidnapping, graphic description of adult content (violence, smut, Jungkooks questionable interrogation tactics) strangers to lovers

Additional chapter warnings: Mentions of captivity, violence (guns, murder)

Chapter Length: mid

Next ->

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It's quick and simple, the way each and everyone is dealt with. It's almost boring to Jimin and the rest how easily they brush through security and whoever might be dumb enough to go against them- but they had it coming.

No one threatens or steals from them, and gets away with it.

"just take what you can and get out. We've made enough of a mess." Jungkook says in a bored manner, while Taehyung steps over the leader, who's unmoving, head flat on the table where he'd shot him point blank range. It's when he searches around for secrets or hiding spots that a door opens- but what he finds behind it, makes him stop in his tracks.

There's a hybrid, feline, sitting on a bed.

You've got no fear in your eyes nor body language whatsoever, simply just curiosity as you watch him walk closer, carefully putting his gun away to avoid scaring you. "Now who're you, hm?" Taehyung wonders, noticing by the chain attached to your ankle that you're not a threat whatsoever to him- and also because you remind him of a hybrid he knew years back when he was younger, shot in the streets simply for playing too loudly.

It was the reason he became what he was these days.

"let's get that off of you." he says, getting up to walk out the hidden and small room, opening drawers and moving books with growing anger.

"what's wrong?" Jimin asks, as Taehyung shakes his head.

"dude's got a hybrid in there. I honestly don't wanna know." he informs the slightly older man, who seems just as upset now. "there we go. I'll get her out, you inform Jungkook." he says, before walking back towards you, undoing the shackle around your ankle, cringing at the raw skin beneath. "Okay, first things first, do you understand me?" he asks carefully, making himself appear as friendly as he can. You nod, tail curling and uncurling as you hardly move at all apart from that. "perfect. I'm gonna carry you out, but you'll have to do something for me, okay?" he asks, and you nod, posture becoming seriously as you visibly expect your order now. "you'll keep your head down, and do not look around you, okay?" he requests, and you nod yet again.

You're a quiet one- that's for sure.

At the headquarters, Jungkook patiently waits for feedback from the mission, when Jimin comes into the office, putting some documents down. "everything done?" he wonders, half-eaten dinner left unfinished in front of him.

"smooth sailing as always." Jimin says, shrugging. "so, what're we gonna do with all his stuff?" he wonders, and Jungkook nods.

"sell the drugs under our name, the rest- I don't care really, there's nothing I would consider worth keeping honestly." he shrugs, yawning.

"And the hybrid?" he asks, making the younger one furrow his brows in confusion.

"the what now?" he asks, and Jimin slaps his forehead.

"ah yeah fuck, forgot. Bastard had a hybrid chained in a hidden room at his office. Some fucked up shit, even for my standards." he says. "Taehyung's got her right now. What should we do with her?" he asks again, and jungkook scratches his head.

"I don't know, shoot it?" he wonders, making Jimin's eyes widen. "I don't know! Bring her here, I'll figure something out I guess." he throws his hands up, before sitting down in his office chair, defeated.

But when Taehyung brings you in, shoving you a little into the room before closing the door, he can't help but feel bad for suggesting to just get rid of you quick and easy.

He sighs, noticing the way your eyes focus on his leftover food on the table. You've clearly been there against your will, if the shaggy clothing and visible marks from what he assumes was a metal chain of some sorts around your ankle were any signa to go by. "You want it?" he asks, pointing to the food- but you don't answer, eyes insteas now focusing on him.

He's never been one to shy away from eye contact- but something about you makes him uneasy.

"I can wait." he leans back in his chair, motioning to invite you closer, and this time you actually do- standing right in front of the table, patiently waiting. He can see how your legs tremble a little in an effort to keep you upright- fuck, you look like shit. Pale, fur on your ears and tail dull abd without any of the shine he's come to see from other hybrids he's met before, and yet you're still trying hard to not let anything show. You're still as a statue, like a doll, unmoving and only dancing how he instructs you to.

It makes him sick when he realizes that that's probably been drilled into you by that fat fucker. Well- at least that guy had a bullet in his head now.

"you can talk, you know? The dude's dead." he informs you, and you swallow visibly, first sign of actual nervousness. "so I'm gonna ask again; do you want it?" he asks you, but you don't say anything, drowning the room yet again in minutes of silence as you do nothing but stare at the by now almost cold steak.

"Do you fucking want it or not?" Jungkook asks, by now becoming frustrated with your lack of words.

You've been silent forever now- and he's by now starting to believe that you can in fact stay quiet forever, against what he'd thought at first. But you're not without reaction though- suddenly tearing up presumably because of the way he'd raised his voice, as the first drops drip down your chin, making the criminal panic a little as he becomes frantic at the sight of your distress. "No no fuck- Don't cry, here-" he starts cutting up a piece of the rest of his steak before holding the fork in front of your lips, at loss about what else he should be doing. Can you even eat regular food? Do you have specific needs or allergies?

He's never had a hybrid before, he doesn't know this shit!

But to his surprise, you simply sniffle, before tearfully accepting the food- finally giving him somewhat of an answer as to if you'd like his leftovers or not, making him sigh as he shakes his head, while your posture changes, mouth open as you await another piece. One he cuts up for you without even thinking much about it, while clicking his tongue.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you.? " he wonders to himself, continuing to feed you, almost even chuckling when you seem to become impatient as he cuts up the meat.

You're almost kind of cute.

Licking your lips after everything's eaten, he can spot the way you sneakily hold onto the edge of the table for support, cat tail by now almost limp behind you. "Go lay down on the couch there." he instructs, and just like he expected, you instantly do as you're told, careful not to put your dirtied bare feet onto the fabric of the sofa, making him click his tongue as he walks up to you, a bit clumsily handling your feet properly onto the couch, before throwing a blanket from the side over you.

One which you take with glistening eyes again, but this time, it's not out of fear.

Because your hand dares to reach out for his shirt, keeping him from leaving as he'd turned around to do so. And when he catches your gaze, he notices that he can hear something quite distinctive, something only someone like you would be able to do.

You purr.

So yeah- Maybe he'll keep you around.

You are kind of cute.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #Enemy au

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who-is-page · 2 years

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I keep seeing the whole "staff is pedophilic and transphobic" stuff floating around, but every Google document I've read on it only showcases fandom drama and argues why so-and-so fandom/ship that a staff member was a part of or reblogged is terrible/evil/bad/etc., rather than showing anything demonstrable of actual IRL pedophilic actions and transphobic attitudes. While I think we can all agree that the author of HP is awful, I don't think someone shipping characters from the books actually counts as them being transphobic or a TERF in any way. And note, I'm saying that as a trans person; I'm not interested in petty flamewars and faux fandom activism. Someone being a part of one fandom over another does not really change my life in any observable way, and I'm a little sick of people implying it does or using it as a cudgel to bash other people and accuse them of things that might not be true. I need real, actual transphobic rhetoric and not just ... Draco and Hermione ship art ... to believe that someone is actively, maliciously against trans people. In the same way, avoiding Harry Potter like the plague does not actually make you a perfect little angel of gender activism who's actively working towards trans rights and equality. Sorry, but not sorry! No one in either scenario is doing jack shit! Go to a fucking protest, donate actual money or goods to a trans person in need, and support trans-owned projects and businesses if you want to claim you've done actionable change, because I'm sick of arm chair activists who don't actually do shit but then act as though their word and online harassment campaigns are single-handedly saving lives everywhere. You're not helping anyone.

The way staff handled target harassment of one of their members was probably overly-harsh, but I was also on this hellsite when Tumblr ruined one woman's entire career in ecology because of baseless accusations of zoophilia(iirc), so I'm also not exactly sympathetic to the deleted after witnessing what that stuff can do to someone's career. Something something fuck around and find out. I'm especially not super sympathetic given now my dash is just fucking covered in "if you have ever liked [long list of seemingly fucking random fandoms and fictional ships] you're an evil, no-good person in your core who probably wants to vandalize buildings and kidnap children!!!! But we all already knew that because we're the Elect good pure beans who have never touched those Evil Fandoms isn't that right followers :)" type commentaries because of it.

This is just a personal rant, but as an out trans person who was openly queer and homeless for five years, who's actually affected by and faces real-life transphobia pretty fucking regularly, this drives me nuts. It's fucking fandom wank and it has literally zero moral judgement values whatsoever attached to it by virtue of its existence. People are just using it as an excuse to sit on their ass and claim they've 'helped fight against transphobia,' when in reality they're too terrified to step away from their computers and work to tackle the actual physical injustices trans people regularly have to wrestle with. Unfortunately, some of us--like me!--don't get the option to just hide behind a screen and pretend that if only we could eradicate all Harry Potter fans from the universe, we could magically rid the world of transphobes.

#personal #rant #vent

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the-hype-dragon · 11 months

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a few weird takeaways:

Crowder could not be assed to be at the IVF treatments his wife was undergoing

nor could he be assed to be at their birth (already knew this one - he was having surgery at the same time as the birth of his children; this strikes me as odd since the procedure could have been scheduled for later, but he just HAD to have it around the same time, so he'd be absolutely no help with two newborns- kinda sus)

he claims he wasn't at the birth of his kids because of COVID-19 restrictions but this is stupid imo. hospitals were letting men be there for the birth of their children lmao. he could have been there at the very least but instead she got to give birth to twins without her husband there to support her or share the moment. A+ spouse right there. he is totally not full of shit lmao

somebody left women's clothing at his house with a note saying they (the clothing-giver) were "a very big fan" of Crowder (lmaoooo)

somebody mailed him a sweet potato???

he apparently punches holes in walls when he's mad, which does not surprise me at all

his legal team claims Hillary was the one doxxing their kids and the family but do note that Hillary Crowder has NO social media presence whatsoever

he has FOUR lawyers on his legal team... I am sorry are we still going to pretend this man doesn't want to intimidate his ex-wife or that he's not a vindictive asshole lmao

he moved out of the home he shared with Hillary before the kids were born

he is still blaming everyone but himself for harming his reputation lmao

he claims he never said he "picked wrong" in regards to Hillary but he was forced to admit ok yeah he did in fact say that... in the video where everyone first heard that he was getting divorced, the most famous documented part of this nonsense lmao

he wants full custody of the kids, the very same kids he could not be assed to be at the conception or birth of, mind you

"When Hilary expressed safety concerns for both herself and the children, Steven responded that the kids can just stay with him instead." - yes this is something a well-adjusted non-psychopath would say lmao

you know that expression "digging yourself deeper..." well no one would even be aware of any of this shit if he hadn't gotten into it with the Daily Wire. I've seen people try to say this is just Crowder being gotten rid of as he's too popular with online rightoids or that his wife is just doing this to get a big divorce payout and she was a ho the whole time they were married (the only proof being that they are getting divorced, lol)

the thing is tho, Crowder's volatile temper is well-documented, and he is notoriously petty. even when I was still very right-leaning and watched Louder with Crowder, the guy was always making digs at people and he would even hunt Twitter assholes down IRL to challenge them to fights. if Crowder wants to know who has sabotaged him he should look in the mirror lmao

I hope Hillary retains primary custody of the twins

#crowderposting

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bailaconox · 11 months

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i recognize my bias as someone who grew up alongside tech, but DEAR FUCKING GOD WHY IS LEGAL TECH ABSOLUTELY ANCIENT????????????? PCLaw is so antiquated ... don't get me started on Primafact ... and both companies having garbage socials and shit websites with little to no help or support or documentation for their products ... like a tech company in 2023 should NOT have a nonexistent online presence????

(ok the rant got too long the rest is under the cut ❤️‍🩹)

PF babe you are not keeping up with the times and now i have to suffer every moment i am at work because our office won't upgrade a single piece of HORRIFICALLY OUTDATED AND INEFFICIENT software/hardware/general business workflow practices 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 i lost 11 years of my life today because i found out the (broken) copitrak we have is based on WINDOWS CE FOR FUCKS SAKE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 and our stupid IT is in LITERALLY ONE DAY OF THE WEEK and our MPS doesnt manage a goddamn fucking thing OH MY GOD PLEASE THIS IS AN IT NIGHTMARE?????????? AND MY LOWLY COPYROOM ASSISTANT ASS IS THE ONLY ONE THAT CARES OR PERHAPS EVEN KNOWS MOST OF THIS????????

the lack of communication and efficiency is stressing me out so bad 😭💔 god i wish i had literally any power whatsoever to change things but i don't even really have a boss to bring this to ?? also our IT guy is never in and is condescending as SHIT so talking to him is absolutely pointless... like i WANT to help and i WANT to change things for the better but i have no one overseeing anything i do so im often forgotten and ignored and GOD DAMN I AM SO UNDERUTILIZED PLEASE JESUS CHRIST LET ME HELP YOU FOOLS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#personal #it took tumblr literally forever but the app finally has a readmore button 😭🙏 BEST UPDATE EVER #anyway its been a struggle at work. i love working at the most inefficient company in the universe!!!!#but back to my initial point uh PCLaw and PF are so sketch and also. if i may say this. ABSOLUTE FLOPS?#like when i can only find 10 mentions for pclaw and LITERALLY NO ONE mentioning primafact.. your web presence is nonexistent babes #how are you a software company and you dont even know how to keep up with The Internet and Technology.....

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mikeo56 · 1 year

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FEMA Needs One More Form…Just One More

FEMA has decided that I am obligated to convince a hotel employee to provide verification of my stay at their hotel, to FEMA. If I can’t do so, then FEMA will not provide financial assistance to myself and Linda. I have tried to convince the manager of Red Roof Plus to show me the courtesy of assisting me but he will not even talk to me. I made the request of him after I rented a room and spent over $8K.

Months ago, I was told by a FEMA representative that FEMA would not assist financially as long as we were in a hotel. Later, FEMA changed this stance to FEMA would indeed help but I must upload invoices and FEMA would call the hotels to verify our stay. Now, recently, again a FEMA representative has given me another update on a new rule: I must now convince a Red Roof Inn and a Red Roof Plus manger to serve as an additional step in FEMA’s verification process and that the hotel manager must show dates, invoices and write a statement on a company letter head and sign it to the effect that I rented by the week.

I was not given this information before I rented, only after months in hotels and bills that accrued to about $8K. The hotel management is under no obligation of any kind, legal or otherwise, to assist me with this verification, and they did refuse to do so.

I wish FEMA had explained clearly and exactly what they wanted from me at the outset. I would have then asked the hotel manager about verification before renting from him. I would have subsequently felt a great confidence in moving forward rather than faltering and finding nothing as Linda and I have done.

During this disaster, I have spoken to many FEMA representatives. Some are helpful, some are not, some are knowledgeable and some not so much. There is contradiction between them. Asking a hotel manager to sign a document that involves me receiving money causes me some concern. A lot of people charge fees for such acts or they wonder why one party doesn’t trust the other and needs the help of a stranger.

FEMA is wavering on awarding us financial assistance and has done so for a while. I don’t think FEMA doubts the veracity of the records I have provided but I believe a casual observer definitely would suspect the otherwise just by FEMA’s inconsistent behavior. Too, I feel that FEMA’s interest in us is solely pretense. They have never had any inclination whatsoever to help us: too many changes in what’s required and too much of a delay: it’s just taken an excessive amount of time. Linda literally has almost died twice. If I avoid homelessness, it will not be because FEMA helped.

So, I feel the only action available to me now is to follow through and get the documents from Red Roof Inn and Red Roof Plus verifying what I sent FEMA is true and accurate. And the only way I can do that, since the manager refuses to assist me is to sue Red Roof Inn and Red Roof Plus and by that process obtain records subpoenaed by the court.

Can I sue? Certainly, I can sue. Both hotels are old, filthy, dilapidated, electrical and plumbing beginning to fail, wood framed floors warping causing the disabled persons’ walkers to roll off on their own, smokers allowed to smoke in violation of the property insurance, prostitutes allowed to walk the halls evenings by management and desk clerks encouraged to over price rooms by the manager.

Can one sue the Red Roof Inn?

Only if shit stinks.

M H O’Neal

PO Box 65

Riverview, FL

#FEMA

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kenzie-dipshit0518 · 2 years

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This may end badly as its an opinion in a public place, but i’m going to say it because everybody needs to be heard.

I hate all politicians. Any, all, anything that has to do with politics I hate, as so many fights within my family and friends have sparked because of the subject(s).

The Supreme Court really, really, really fucked up. 5 out of 9 fuckers decided to take away womens reproductive rights. Fuck them. Well don’t because thats kinda nasty and ew. Point is, they fucked up. How many times did we tell ourselves and others that we shouldn’t repeat history? Too many. Guess what were doing?

I blame the left, I blame the right, I blame the middle. I blame the fact that teens my age have no fucking idea what happened in history, I blame our education that doesn’t cover enough whatsoever, from the Trail of Tears to the horrors of ALL slavery (everybody was a slave at some point honestly, it wasn’t JUST the african peoples), to WW2. We don’t know what happened in our countries history because its been so edited and erased, like everything on the media, that we see one post and think ‘ope must be true.’

Now, the Supreme court and those ASSHOLES we call our heroes and saviors that are better known as politicians are trying their damndest to withold our rights, our freedom of speech, body, and mind. Our constitutional rights that nearly don’t exist anymore because of the fact that apparently, politicians think the documents our forefathers made were casually erasable. They were written and signed in INK for a reason.

Moral is, stop erasing our rights, stop ruining our bodies, teach us about the factual history of America, let us help oursleves and others by having the choice of whether or not to have a kid, and we won’t pull shit like the ‘Storming’ of the Capital again.

I turned off reblogs because I do not need, want, or care about trolls that think they know everything about my personal opinion. Get over yourself, stop being so self centered, and listen.

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imlimitlesss · 2 years

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MAKE LAWS FOR YOURSELF. Stop the overthinking. Inspired by @kristheassumtionqueen

:༅｡♡｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Bro, if you struggle a little with overthinking in the beginning I highly suggest you make rules for yourself, laws as god, about what you are nervous is contradicting. Ofc there is no such thing as this, however writing everything down as an official document of laws and signing it, has seriously helped me. And it’s fun! You can choose your colors and decorate however you want. First I started off with an intro that looks a little something like this,

As the god, the creator of my reality, everything written on this page becomes true in an instant. They forever remain the truth until only I, say otherwise. These laws take effect immediately, in every dimension and in every reality, in all of the multiverse as soon as my e signature is written on the page, and this is because I am in full control. Absolutely nothing can take away the power of this document and of my laws, even typos because I know that I am on the pedestal here. New rules may be added at any time and still have the same effects as previous laws.

Great! So you have your intro, now time for the rules. What is limiting you? NAH NAH, No more hun, get that out. YOU ARE LIMITLESS, here are some of my laws as an example. (I know it may seem silly and obvious but like I said, writing really helps, it’s like a placebo that it sets it in stone, even though I know I am the power that does that.) Here are some examples of laws that were created to get rid of the overthinking.

A deadline is a deadline, it does not matter how close or far the deadline is because, I am the manipulator of time anyways. What I want must be mine either before or after the deadline. (I just love how this rhymes too LOL)

Negative thoughts, unhelpful thoughts, intrusive thoughts, overthinking, resistance, limiting beliefs, have no power. Only I choose what I give power to, nothing can diminish my manifestations, that is not possible.

Even though there are some rules on this document that are similar, that is totally ok. There is no such thing as laws contradicting or canceling each other out. That is a limiting belief and as I have already stated, limiting beliefs do not hold any power whatsoever. They rarely occur anyways.

Pressure from anyone does not affect my manifestations and what I want. Even pressure from myself may only aid or maintain the manifestation.

YAY! You’ve created your own set of laws. That is that, nothing can change them, (unless you choose differently at some point ofc) Some of them may seem silly and obvious but who gives a shit when you’re out there living your dream life right?! Now, all that is left to do is sign! Get your favorite color, or font, if it’s electronic, and write your signature!!!! You can come up with a cute catchy line or just sign your name! This is what mine was…

On the only pedestal is where I ______ and only I, ______ remain.

After this you are no longer allowed to limit yourself, and you don’t even have to worry about it because you just ELIMINATED those unhelpful thoughts, they are powerless now. So go have fun, get what you want.

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mcmansionhell · 3 years

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Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

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#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

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catzula · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found

250 followers! Thank you! I couldn’t edit this, it’s pretty late where I live, but I think it turned out pretty well and I'llprobably edit it in the morning, so, ugh, enjoy!

btw I just realized this is my 25th post and it’s funny since it’s also 250 followers thank you post hehe also a last minute edit of oh shit I had a taglist and like ily aah first time tagging someone @astroninaaa

Bakugou x fem!cat quirk!reader

warnings: kissing, cursing, it’s 7.6k- I swear I tried to keep it short but I couldn’t, being very annoying to each other- I don’t know tbh

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers au

***

It wasn’t a secret that you and your neighbor didn’t like each other, but what many people didn’t know was how deep this dislike was. You were in a war, fighting each other openly or secretly, but always finding a way to irritate each other to the most.

You groaned when you heard loud thuds coming from the apartment right next to you, waking you from your one of many daily naps. Trying to go back to sleep, you closed your eyes and snuggled even deeper to the blanket fort you have made, but had to open them once again when you heard a louder thud followed with a string of curses, and guessed that he probably had tossed into another furniture. Really, how long does it take for one to get used to the placement of their furniture?

Pressing the pillow you were hugging to your ear to cancel out the noise, you took a deep, irritated breath, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep again. You could hear his every move, whether it was because of your heightened hearing abilities, or because he was generally a loud person, you weren’t sure. When you finally heard him settling down on the couch, you hoped to sleep, groaned with frustration when he turned the tv on, and like always, on the loudest setting.

”Oh my god!” You screamed into your pillow, sitting up from your sleeping position. Everything was much better before he had moved to the place right next to you. When you didn’t work on your college assignments, you usually slept when you were home, so you wished for silence, and you had no problems with that whatsoever until he moved to the apartment next to you.

Though you weren’t the only one unhappy because of their neighbor. Bakugou, too lost countless hours of sleep because of the cats whining and screaming every night, since it was really common of your quirk for the cats to feel and want to be closer to you. It was like every cat in the damn neighborhood was pulled to you, and they all seemed to be very agitated since they just never shut up. Bakugou needed his sleep -so did you, but it seemed he wasn’t aware of that… or simply didn’t care- and it affected his life enormously when he couldn’t get his sleep, as it had been affecting him the past few weeks.

He had bought a cat repellant for that, a device that released a sound only cats could hear, to prevent the cats from lurking around the building, not even thinking of its effect on you. After only an hour of using the device, he heard a very aggressive knock on his door, only to find his downstairs neighbor glaring at him. Her hair disheveled and ruffled like a cat’s fur would be when it was angry, purple bags under her eyes, and her face pale, looking like she came to his door straight from a war.

He also noticed how one of your socks were missing, and the odd scene of one clothed and one bare foot made him want to laugh. He didn’t know it was because of the many cats that liked to steal your stuff since they thought of your scent relaxing.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you, but it still took a moment for him to recognize you. His gaze wandered on the tail wagging behind you and the pair of cat ears on your head, grimacing when he caught himself thinking about how cute you looked.

”What do you want?” He asked with a glare as intense as yours, but you gritted your teeth and kept glaring without answering his question. He could see your cat ears twitching with the now increased sound since you were closer to the source. ”What- what the fuck is that?”

”What is what?” Bakugou raised his shapely brows, though he was well aware of the reason you were here. Your eyes roaming in the room, trying to find where this goddamn noise was coming from, you looked so irritated that he felt his lips twitching to a smile at the sight.

Without waiting for him to invite you in -not that he would do that- you entered his house, walking to the table that stood in the middle of the room. Your ears were twitching constantly with irritation, your tail not moving anymore.

”Hey, what the fuck are you doing, just walking in my damn appartement?!” He shouted, holding and pulling you back from your elbow, but you easily pulled yourself free from his grip with the adrenaline flowing in your veins. And Bakugou was a smart man, one look you sent his way told him to stay away from you.

The room was unexpectedly tidy, especially for a guy as impatient and angry as him, and the caramel scent you always sensed whenever you saw him now even stronger. A small, black device on the table caught your eye, noticing it was that that caused you to go insane.

”This! What the fuck is this? ” You took it to your hands and brought it closer to your eyes to examine it closer, though the ongoing noise making you shriek with discomfort.

”Is this a cat repellant?!” You blurted out, now even angrier. Quickly putting the device back to its place, he noticed the pure disgust on your face. You turned back to face him, meeting his blood-red eyes that were twinkling with amusement. Seeing him enjoying this made your blood boil, you physically had to hold yourself back from jumping on him and ripping that stupidly good looking smile off of his face.

”You bastard,” you choked out when he didn’t answer, ”you bought a cat repellant?!” Pressing every button on the device, you desperately tried to stop the sound. ”Of course I did.” He answered, the amused look in his eyes now gone with your insult. ”Your cats wouldn’t let me sleep! They’re so fucking annoying.”

”Is that so? ” You asked, taking a deep breath of relief when you finally closed that shitty device off. ”Am I supposed to buy a Bakugou repellant, then? Since you’re so fucking annoying, too. ” You shot back, and you had to admit, it wasn’t nearly as clever as you wanted it to be, but it still worked since Bakugou was seemingly fuming.

”You little- You have the audacity to come into my house, force yourself in, and talk to me like this? You really are as dumb as you look.”

Your eyes narrowed, hands itching to throw a punch right across his handsome face. When you stood silent he sighed with annoyance. ”Get out already! I don’t have time for this shit.” He pulled you towards the exit, but you still had much to say. Apparently, Bakugou knew what you were thinking since when you didn’t exit the room, he simply took the device and turned it on.

Hearing the sound so suddenly made you choke on your words for a second or so, making you want to carve your ears out. ”You- you-” You tried to talk, but he couldn’t care less.

”I said get out.” He ordered, and you did, though not because you were afraid of him, but because the sound was unbearable. Storming out of the room, you promised yourself to annoy him as much as he did you.

This day was the beginning of the war between you two (though you never once heard that noise again after that day, and you were secretly grateful… not that you would admit to that).

You made the cats jump on him when they saw him, get in his apartment, and shed as much as they could whenever they had the chance, making them steal his socks and small trinkets just to piss him off, so in return, he became the loudest neighbor ever. Using the tv in the loudest setting, playing that goddamn drum set every now and then -hitting hit like his life depended on it-, training on the punching bag he hung on the wall that was joint with your wall, you could swear he bought the loudest vacuum cleaner available, and he always played that horrible horrible music that was almost as bad as the cat repellant.

Your cats left furballs in his balcony, he sprayed lemon juice to your balcony, somehow knowing the citrus smell always made you gag and gave you the worst headaches. It went on and on, and it was just getting tiresome at this point, but neither of you was willing to back off.

Stretching your muscles that were stiff from sitting in one place for a long time, you couldn’t help the cat-like moan coming out of your lips, remembering you had another assignment that was due a week from today, though knowing yourself, you would either do it today or the last day. Deciding it was better to at least start it today, you stood up, going towards the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat, though the sudden lack of noise coming from next door making your ears perk up with curiosity.

You listened to him a bit, trying to guess why he was so quiet all of a sudden, but shrugged to yourself and took a snack out of your cupboard. You were going to the balcony to work on the assignment when you heard the water running, explaining the sudden lack of noise.

Since the marble ground in the balcony always made your feet feel cold, you looked for your socks, and you could swear you left them right on the counter, though it wasn’t much of a shock not to find them there. The cats loved to steal or move stuff that belonged to you, and a small part in you felt a little better since Bakugou was going through the same thing.

Since you and Bakugou shared a balcony and both enjoyed being outdoors, it was hard to escape each other, and crossing paths out there always led to the worst arguments. So you were glad to have some quiet time you could spend alone here.

You sat down, sipping on your coffee as you tried to find a comfortable position. As you opened a new word document, you bit your lip, thinking of a strong sentence to start the essay. It was always the hardest to write the first few sentences, you thought. You made a motion to tie your hair, only to find your hair tie missing, too.

Diving deep in your thoughts, writing and erasing the different versions of the same sentence, you hadn’t realized Bakugou was done with his shower, nor had you noticed him and another familiar face coming out, joining you in the balcony.

“Oh, hey Y/N-chan!” You heard someone call out to you, the sound making you let out a small shriek of surprise. It was Kirishima, one of the rare people who visited Bakugou often. His red hair was as spiky as ever, and it always made you wonder how he styled his hair to get that spiky style. Kirishima’s hair always had that hair-gel smell to it, unlike Bakugou’s caramel and mint-scented ones, indicating Kirishima’s hair was not naturally spiky.

“Hey, hey- It’s just me!” He told you when he heard your shriek and noticed how you tucked your tail anxiously between your legs. It took you a few seconds for your nerves to calm down and accept that he wasn’t a threat. “Oh, I’m sorry Kiri-kun. I wasn’t paying attention.” You said with an apologetic smile, noticing how Bakugou winced as you called his friend Kiri-Kun.

Bakugou had a pair of shorts and a shirt on, the black shirt clinging to his frame that caused your ears to twitch in embarrassment of your thoughts.

His ashy hair was still a bit damp, though it was obvious he blow-dried them. You didn’t expect less from the control-freak, though, you could do without that mind-fuzzing caramel scent of his.

“Oh, were you working on something?” Kirishima smiled sweetly as he glanced on your computer screen. “Yeah,” you answered with a pout that meant it’s-not-going-well, making his smile wider. “It’s not important, though.” You closed the screen since you weren’t actually doing anything other than looking at the blank word document.

“Oi, shitty hair!” Bakugou called out when you kept talking with his friend, both of you ignoring him in his part of the balcony. “Come here.”

“Aww, missed me already?” Kirishima teased, causing Bakugou to growl with annoyance. “If you don’t come here right now-” He stopped mid-sentence when he heard you sigh. The crimson gaze quickly turning to you, the annoyed look on his face left its place to straight on angry.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Can you at least try to be a little more quiet? You’re hurting my ears.” You answered with a mocking look, though what you said wasn’t exactly the truth. Disturbing, maybe, but not quite hurtful.

“Can you try to be a little less annoying? You’re hurting my nerves.” Kirishima pouted when Bakugou shot back at your unnecessary attempt to fight with him. “Now- Bakubro, that’s not something you say to a lady.”

Bakugou looked like he had a lot to say, but surprisingly, he chose to stay quiet. Instead, he sat in his place with a grumpy pout on his face and arms crossed on his chest, the sight caused an odd, tingly feeling to spread in your chest. “Will you come here already?” He finally asked when Kirishima kept making small talk with you.

“Eh,” Kirishima sent him a toothy grin as he scratched the back of his neck, “why don’t you just come here?”

“Haah?!” Bakugou blurted, making your ears to hurt for real this time. “I’m not sitting with her!”

“And I’m not sitting with him!” You answered though the blunt response of not being wanted did hurt just the little bit. Denying this feeling, you glared at his crimson eyes, the ones that were challenging you to do so. It took at least 30 seconds before Kirishima interrupted the silent war going between you and Bakugou, finally allowing you to blink or look away. “Oh, quit being a baby, you two.” Kirishima muttered, rolling his eyes. “Both of you are adults enough to sit together for an hour or two without killing each other.”

When Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked away, Kirishima pestered him. “Right, Bakugou?” It was a secret challenge, you were sure. If you started an argument, you would lose. And God knew, you would rather die than lose to him.

So without protesting you sat back in your place, followed by Kirishima, who was grinning mischievously. Bakugou was the last to sit down, displeasure and annoyance evident on his face. You took a long sip of your now cold coffee, sending a teasing smile to Bakugou in the process, earning an annoyed “tch” from him. You noticed he did this quite often.

“So,” Kirishima said cheerfully to at least diffuse some of this heavy tension in the air. “How are you, Y/N-chan?”

You shrugged. “Not much, I guess. I’m a little bored at home, and it sucks that I can’t even sleep because of a certain someone.” You didn’t hold back from sending one more look at the blonde’s way.

“Serves you right,” Bakugou growled, his eyes narrowed into slits, “since I can’t sleep either.” You noticed Kirishima snickering as he rolled his eyes with irritation.

“Must be something in the air.” He joked, an attempt to stop the fight before it started, but neither of you was paying attention to him.

“Oh, really? You can’t sleep, and that’s my fault?” You asked quirking a brow up and scoffed when he nodded curtly. “I’m not the irrationally loud one around here, am I?”

“No, your cats are the irrationally angry ones.” Bakugou answered, weaving his hand through his now dry and messy hair, a way of showing his frustration. Your eyes followed his hand, gulping when you noticed your mind started to wonder how it would feel like under your touch.

Noticing how one small act diffused your anger and fuzzied your mind almost instantly, you felt even angrier than before. “Oh, yeah.” You exclaimed. “That should explain why you bought a fucking cat repellant!” His teeth gritting with annoyance, he was going to answer if it wasn’t for Kirishima whose eyes widened with genuine shock.

“You did what?!”

“You heard it! I was losing my mind because of him.” You muttered under your breath, remembering that god awful sound, shivering because of the memory.

“Then make your cats shut up!”

“For the love of God, they’re not my cats! I can’t do anything to stop them from wanting to be closer to me.” Well, that was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that. It was just that the cat’s presence calmed you, making you feel a little less lonely.

“Beats me.” Bakugou answered, though didn’t hold back a ‘You either make them shut up, or else’ look. This only made you angrier, you could feel your hands itching to punch him in his smug face.

Both of them were well aware of how your tail was perking and ruffling behind you, indicating just how irritated and angry you were. “You’re just so god damn annoying, I can’t even-”

“Guys, guys.” Kirishima stopped you by holding your arm when you sprinted on your legs, either to jump on him or run inside, you weren’t sure either. “You did tell me you were going to sit like an adult and not fight, right?”

“He started it!” You felt like a child, but it was okay since he was acting like one too.

“Me?!” He growled, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt the odd urge to gulp. Taking a deep breath, you sat back down when Kirishima looked at you with a brow quirked up.

“Can you play some music?” You asked for a change of topic. When Bakugou reached for his phone, you grimaced, remembering the things he often listened to. He saw the sour expression on your face and rolled his eyes.

“Now what?”

“I didn’t say anything!” You protested though you kept making a face, you sighed when he looked at you demandingly. “It’s just that… your music taste is kinda lame.”

“What?!” He blurted out, looking genuinely shocked, which amused you just a little bit. Kirishima was roaring with laughter, obviously not expecting that either. “My music taste is the best in the fucking world!” He grunted, his cheeks slightly tinged pink.

“Not to me.” You shrugged, which caused a grumpy expression to find its place on his face. “Then you just have bad taste in music.” He reached for his phone one more time, not breaking eye contact once as he opened a song. You expected that loud music he always seemed to enjoy but were surprised when you heard a soft acoustic guitar instead.

“Oh, I love this song.” Kirishima muttered as he closed his eyes and went along with the song, causing Bakugou to send you a knowing smirk that just screamed ‘See? Even he likes it’ And you couldn’t deny it was… good.

“Well, it’s not that bad, I guess.” You admitted hesitantly, forgetting how bad you were at lying, thanks to your feline parts. This only made Bakugou’s smirk even wider, almost turning it to a genuine smile that made him look even more handsome than he already was, and you felt like smiling back at him. Kirishima stood up, mumbling about getting coffee as he went inside, but neither of you paid attention. “I didn’t think you listened to these kind of music, too.”

“That’s on you for being prejudiced.” He mumbled, and you furrowed your brows. “Prejudiced? If there’s anyone prejudiced here, it’s you!” You protested at the accusation, making him lean even closer to you, so close that you could almost feel the heat radiating from him.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He told you with a low voice that sent goosebumps down your spine. You could feel your breath hitching in your chest, your heart beating like it was trying to scare him away. “I might not know you personally, but I know what type of a person you are.”

“Oh, really?” He quirked his brow, interested. “Do tell me. What kind of a person am I?” He looked like he was just teasing you, but you could see how serious he was under his cynical mask. “Well,” you started your sentence without thinking, “you are a selfish, self-centered, egoistic man who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself.” You exclaimed as you thought about all those times you were awoken from your sleep, that god awful day you almost lost your mind, and the times you had the worst headache because of the citrusy smell he kept spraying on your balcony.

“You want everyone to do anything you say without question, expect them to do everything your way and the way you want it to be, not even thinking about how it would effect them!”

He stood silent at your sudden exclaim, and you didn’t miss how his upper lip curled in a threatening manner. His ruby eyes burning with anger, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful they looked.

A few seconds of silence past, making you wonder if you went too far, and just as you were about to apologize, you noticed his eyes softening just a little bit, a small smirk finding it’s way on his soft-looking lips. “You know, you may be right in all those.” He muttered his voice so low that made your tail stay still with- excitement? His smirk grew wider when he looked at your still tail and perked up ears, and you knew he was well aware of your feelings.

“But,” He started to talk, once again leaning closer, so close that his porcelain skin just millimeters away from your face. “how are you any different, than me?”

Now, that was the last thing you expected him to say.

And it was the only thing that could leave you speechless like this. Your mouth slightly agape, you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, rapidly trying to find an answer to turn this all around.

But instead, you had to admit defeat.

You sighed as you stood up, taking your laptop and your half-full coffee mug off the table. “Touché.” You told him with a small smile, and you saw him smiling, too.

***

Standing up, you opened your balcony door to have some fresh air and take a break from the essay you just weren’t able to perfect. You had finally managed to finish writing, but editing was just as hard. Rubbing your temples, you stretched your muscles, bored from doing the same thing for the past few hours or so.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, your thoughts had been drifting to the handsome man living right next to you almost constantly. You couldn’t help but replay the conversation you had that day when Kirishima had visited him, and even if you didn’t want to admit, your opinion of him had been changing this past week or so.

Throughout the past one or two weeks, you noticed how these balcony conversations started to happen every day, sometimes even twice a day. You somehow managed to cross paths every single day -you didn’t want to admit, but it wasn’t exactly wrong that your balcony visits were getting frequent at this point, in hope to… catch a glimpse or have a conversation- what you didn’t know was that it was the same with him, too.

He found himself looking your way whenever he was out, sitting in his side of the balcony. Or when he was watching tv or anything, his eyes always looked at your side to find a glimpse of you, going out with two mugs of coffee in his hand when he saw you, your laptop open in front of you, your tail wagging and ears twitching whenever they caught a sound. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you sitting there, typing something with a displeased look and furrowed brows.

And even though you concealed it immediately, he always caught the bright smile that sat on your lips whenever you spotted him with an extra mug of coffee in his hands.

“Oh, hey.” You muttered when you saw him coming out of his apartment, trying to wear his slippers without spilling the coffee (one of his socks was missing, and you found this to be hilarious). The mixture of his caramel scent and the coffee smell caused you to short circuit for a few seconds.

Pressing your lips together, you tried to suppress your smile, but you were half sure your tail gave your emotions away. “Working hard.” He grunted, and you nodded, this time unable to conceal the smile hanging on your lips.

You shrugged, closing your laptop, fully aware there was no way you could focus on your work when he was sitting right across you -especially looking this good, did he do something with his hair? How did he look this good this early in the morning?-

“How’s Kirishima?” You asked when the silence ensued. His brows twitched with the question, but he grunted. “Good, I guess. He’s working hard.”

“Oh, and here I am, thinking that it was because of me boring him to death that he wasn’t visiting anymore.” You joked, finally able to get a responsive smile back form him. “That, too.” He answered.

He watched as you sipped the coffee he brought -oddly, it was just the way you liked your coffee- and smirked when a relaxed smile appeared on your face with the familiar taste.

“This is… really good. Thanks.” You mumbled, feeling how your cheeks were starting to heat up. You were about to ask something unimportant just for the sake of talking when he suddenly leaned in, his face so close to yours that you didn’t even notice his hand above you, touching your hair with a softness you didn’t expect from him.

You couldn’t even question what he was doing as his hand straddled your hair, his ruby eyes slightly narrowed and looking at you, his tongue sliding on his soft-looking lips, focused. His caramel scent now so strong, you held your breath, or maybe it was because of the excitement that caused you to do so.

It wasn’t something he had planned to do either, more like a pure instinct that caused him to lean closer to you and try to take that stray leaf that was stuck in your hair.

Your eyes wandered over his flawless face, and just as you did so, his eyes lowered to yours, only to find them looking at him, wide open. The way you looked at him was so sweet, so innocent, and so unlike the anger he thought he would see, it caught him off-guard, his hand slipping and grazing your cat-ears, instead.

His thumb caressing your velvety ears, it was a natural reaction of your body, to close your eyes and lean into his touch, and a deep purr escaped your lips, making you both look at each other with widened eyes.

A few seconds of silence past as you prayed to god or whatever force there was, that he didn’t hear the sound that just came from you. But your hopes died when he looked at you like you grew a second head.

“Did you-” He stammered, causing the heat on your cheeks to worsen, “Did you just purr?”

“I didn’t purr- sh-shut up!” You exclaimed, but he wasn’t over it yet, apparently.

“No- no, did you really just-” His hand that was still on your head moved slightly, and even though you were expecting it this time, you couldn’t conceal how your body flinched and how your tail moved with the feeling of his hand on your ears. The smirk that was growing on his lips didn’t help either.

“Can you- can you stop that?” You whispered, and he chuckled. “What, this?” He asked, moving his thumb ever so slightly, just to be able to see that expression on your face, one more time. The way you closed your eyes with an animalistic instinct, your ears twitching under his touch, and it felt so right-

“Y-yes, stop that please.”

He pulled back, sipping his coffee with a smug grin on his lips. “Didn’t know my neighbour was so sensitive.” He muttered into his mug, not helping your situation the slightest bit.

“Of course my ears are sensitive!” You protested, trying to shake the embarrassment away. “I am a cat after all.”

He hummed, agreeing to what you said, but somehow it felt even worse when he agreed to you.

***

“Oh my fucking god!” You screamed at the annoyingly loud music coming from the other side of the wall. Standing up, you walked to the joint wall, feeling even more frustrated when you felt your concentration fading. Just a few seconds ago you were on fire, working on the essay like it was the last thing you were going to do, and now, it was gone forever.

You looked at the small USB drive that stood on your desk, the one that held every document that was supposed to be on your laptop.

Since your laptop was quite old, it didn’t have enough space to hold many things, so until you had enough money to buy a new one, you came up with this solution, though, it wasn’t very practical.

“Bakugou!” You hit the wall with all your might, trying to get his attention. “For the love of god, can you please shut the fuck up?”

You knew he could hear you since his grunts and snickers were audible to your ears, but he didn’t seem to care, he turned the volume up, instead. Gritting your teeth with annoyance, you started kicking the wall.

“Ba-”

thump

“Ku”

thump

“Gou!”

thump

“I’m trying to-” Your voice was muffled by the guitar solo. “I’m worki-” You tried to scream when you finally heard the guitar solo coming to an end, but your words once again faded when the drums started to play, this time even louder than before.

“Bakugou, I’m working here!” You screamed, knowing it wouldn’t reach him. Huffing with annoyance, you ran your fingers through your hair to look somewhat decent and got out to the balcony. You didn’t notice how you left the USB on the counter, or that you left the balcony door open when you ran outside.

***

Bakugou grinned when he heard a soft knock on his balcony door. He was well aware of who it was, and he ignored how fast his heart suddenly started to beat when he heard the knocks.

What he couldn’t ignore was, however, that it wasn’t him being stupidly stubborn when he played that loud music. He knew you were working, and a tiny voice his mind told him that if he played it loud enough, he might get the chance to see you.

Bakugou gave the punching bag one or two last punches before he turned to the door and opened it for you, a smug grin that you were now used to see -and somehow even started to like- on his face. You looked thoroughly annoyed, though he was well-aware of how your tail swayed behind you with excitement and playfulness.

You had pajama’s on, a little too light for the chilly night. Bakugou grunted in a disapproving manner, though he did skid aside, a way of telling you to get in already. As you took the silent invitation, both of you were thinking of the same night, when you had barged in his house for buying a cat repellent. He couldn’t help but smile at the odd memory.

“What’s your problem?” He asked in fake annoyance.

“You’re being too loud!” You protested though the smile on your lips and the sparkle in your eyes gave your act away. “I can’t work because of you.”

“Must be because I’m a smug bastard who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” He teased, the words 'but then again, so are you’ unspoken, but very much told. You rolled your eyes at the attempt to get you flustered. “And I’m here to tell the smug bastard to be quiet for a few fucking hours so I can work, 'kay?” You told him with a challenging look as you made your way back out to the balcony.

“Whatever the princess says.” He answered cynically, but his smile was genuine for once.

“Goodnight, Bakugou.” You finally gave in and smiled back brightly, and he felt this odd tingle in his chest, which had been happening quite frequently lately.

“Goodnight, princess.” The nickname was meant to be cynical and mocking, though somehow it felt endearing, instead.

With a smile on your lips, you turned back to your apartment, the lack of noise from the apartment next to you a pleasant surprise, making your smile even wider.

Your smile faded when you looked at the USB that was on the counter. Or more like, lack thereof. You were sure you had left it right there, and then you had just-

Oh, shit.

You could smell the cats that were here a few seconds before you, and there was no mistake, it was them who took it along with a few other stuff. Groaning and cursing, you started to walk around the house, frantically searching for the little USB drive, looking under the tables and cupboards, under the fridge, over the fridge, under the curtains…

Running your hands through your hair, you got out of your apartment, not even aware of how cold the night was. If it wasn’t in your apartment, you knew only one other place they could hide your stuff in. The garbage.

Groaning and cursing, you arrived at the big, smelly green thing that was almost a second house to the stray cats. The cats felt your presence before they even saw you, running away for their lives since they could feel how furious you were.

“Where is it?!” You asked them before they could get away, but they ignored your question and ran, leaving you alone in this miserable place. No matter how in contact you were with your feline side, you could never understand how cats could feel at ease in the garbage.

Biting your lip in hesitation -is it really that important? Can’t I just rewrite the 200 files in there?- you rolled your sleeves up, disgust boiling in the pit of your stomach. You finally managed to get one foot in there, the smell and the feeling altogether making your eyes water with disgust, and you were well aware, the second you let your guard down, you would throw up.

What took the most courage was to put your hands in there and actually move the trash. You could only thank God that not everything was out in the open, and most was in big black trash bags, but some were ripped open and scattered, thank the cats.

Even if it was the most disgusting thing ever, you did get used to the sickening smell and the feeling of sitting on top of the trash. Whenever a cat got close to you to apologize, you threw whatever was in your hand at them -along with a string of curses-, making them realize you were pissed.

Bakugou was smiling when he closed the door after you. He tried to stop smiling and be annoyed with you, but how could he when you looked at him like that? He remembered how you purred that day when he had touched your soft ears, the memory only making his cheeks red and his grin wider.

He was going to go on with his workout when he heard a noise coming from outside. He frowned when he realized it was once again the cats scattering and playing with the garbage. He was going to ignore it, but he groaned in annoyance when he heard a loud glass breaking sound. They were particularly messy today.

Wearing the sweatshirt that was on his chair, he went downstairs to at least scare them away, but as he got closer to the source of the sound, he also noticed someone talking to themselves, grumbling and mumbling under their breath, and he noticed it was you in the garbage, and not cats.

His eyes widening when he got sure it was you -he could recognize your voice, especially when complaining- cursing and searching the trash.

You noticed his presence, your hands coming up as if to say I’m not guilty, and you looked at him with horror. “Wh- what are you doing here?!” You stammered when he kept looking at you with disgust and confusion.

“I should be the one asking that.” He answered, “What the fuck are you doing in there?!”

“I- I’m-” How were you even supposed to answer that? “I’m searching for something.” You finally admitted, tears swelling in your eyes, and this time, not because of the smell. “The cats stole my- and now I’m- I gotta-” It was especially hard to talk as you tried to hold back your tears, you realized, not even able to make a full sentence.

“What?” He asked, rightfully confused.

“I- I left my USB on the counter- and now it’s gone! I had my assignments and everything in there and now I can’t find it.” You finally managed to answer, you could feel a tear sliding down your cheek and you couldn’t even wipe your tear since your hand was dirty.

“For fucks sake, how did you even-” He stopped talking when he heard your sniff. “Wait- are you crying?”

“No!” You answered, biting your lip. “It just smells really bad in here, the heightened smelling abilities and shit, you know.” You lied, not very good, though.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah- right.” Expecting him to turn around and go his not disturbingly bad smelling home, but he got a little closer to you, instead.

“Scoot over.” He told you after inspecting the garbage with his ruby eyes, looking very- very uncomfortable.

“What?” You asked as you dropped the trash that was currently in your hands. “You heard me.” Bakugou muttered. “Scoot over, I’m coming in.”

“You’re going to help me?!” He scoffed when he heard the disbelief in your voice, and you couldn’t suppress the odd feeling of relief washing over you. It wasn’t having someone next to you to help, but it was having him near you.

He held the cold metal, pulling himself up and joining you in your misery. “Thank you, Bakugou.” You muttered as he settled to the place next to you, a sour expression on his face, caused by the disgusting feeling and smell.

“Whatever, let’s just find the shitty thing and get out of here already.” He grunted, and you smiled.

***

Drying your hair with a towel, you were finally able to get rid of that awful smell. Bakugou was already clean and dry, sipping something out of his mug. You were surprised to see him sitting out in the balcony, despite the cold weather and the late hour.

“Hey,” you muttered, running the towel through your hair one more time. You heard him grunt in response, not raising his head from the steaming substance -it was coffee, you realized, and you noticed there was one mug right where you usually sat, too- and sat across him.

“Is the shitty thing still working?” He asked, breaking the silence. He scoffed when you nodded. You were about to thank him for the 100th time when he leaned a bit closer to you, his eyes narrowing and lips curling in a frown in displeasure.

“Didn’t you dry your hair after taking a shower?” His hand touched your hair. Not giving you the time to answer, he stood up and sat next to you, instead. “You dumbass, it’s fucking cold.”

Shaking his sweatshirt off of him, he pulled it over your head, dressing you with it, even though it was a little too big for you. He closed the hood and hid your cat ears and damp hair under it, his scent all your mind could process for a second or so.

His thumb touched your cheek softly as he closed the hood, Bakugou noticed how you leaned into his touch or drew a sharp breath as he traced a soft line with his touch.

Suddenly, his presence was overwhelmingly strong, your bodies so close and his face near yours, your mind only occupied with him and him only. His gaze dropped to your lips as you took one more sharp breath, ruby eyes darkening as you rolled your lip in your mouth anxiously.

“I-” You started to talk, but stopped when you noticed you had nothing to say. Maybe you should thank him again, you thought, and as you were about to do so, his thumb that was on your cheek pressed in, in a warning manner.

“I swear to god, if you thank me one more fucking time-”

“What?” You asked, not realizing you were getting closer to him, so close that you could feel his soft breath on your face. “What will you do if I thank you one more fucking time?”

He saw the challenging smile that was forming on your soft-looking lips, swallowing the excitement that was rising in his chest. “I will- silence you.” Bakugou answered, also smiling.

“Well then, thank you Ba- mmph!-” Bakugou was a man of his word, after all, so he did what he said. His lips closing in on yours, for the first time in your life, you weren’t mad at someone for not letting you finish your sentence.

***

Your head right on his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat, the sound oddly comforting. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, holding and not letting you an inch away from him, the other softly stroking your hair and your ears, smiling at the feeling of you purring right on top of his chest.

It felt so nice to be so close to him, your hand in his ash-blond hair, running your fingers through them. You moved in your place a little, snuggling into him, making him grunt in annoyance. “Stop moving, shitty woman.”

You smiled, moving even more just to annoy him even further. He was going to say something when a loud cat scream caused both of you to shut up. You could feel him gritting his teeth, his irritation evident, and you weren’t making it better by laughing at him.

“You know, this is all your fault-” He protested, but was once again interrupted by the cats. “For fucks sake- can’t you silence them, at least for one night?”

“Okay, okay. Just this one night.” You always liked hearing the cats, they made you feel lonely, but tonight, you didn’t need them to make you feel better.

You opened the window, leaning a bit as you glanced at the blonde that was watching you with much interest, sending a small smile his way as you opened your mouth and shouted. “Shut up!”

Bakugou didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, but he definitely didn’t expect that. “Is that it?” He asked in disbelief as you settled back on top of his chest, his arms wrapping you immediately.

“Yup,” You nodded, a cheeky smile on your face. He shook his head side to side, though he was laughing as he did so.

“I would’ve done that sooner if I knew,oes d it work on you, too?.” He muttered in your hair and laughed when you punched him. Pulling back slightly, he made you look at his face. “So it doesn’t work.” He grinned when you rolled your eyes. “But, still, that was fucking hot.” Bakugou muttered, leaning in to kiss you one more time.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mha x y/n #mha x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou scenarios

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ah-ga-seven · 3 years

Text

Till’ The End Of Summer - Chapter 10

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other; even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 6.8K

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of death, alcohol consumption and depression.

6 weeks had passed since the funeral and Yeonjun has been completely immersed in Choi Enterprises. With the help of other higher-ups and meeting after meeting, he had become quite the little businessman. The major stockholders seemed to love everything about him. They loved his youthful point of view, his energy, and his potential. The way he carried himself and charmed the people around him made them fall for him, just like everyone did at college. It was Yeonjun’s superpower. It’s like he was born with suave, but he never imagined using that charm against middle-aged men in clean-cut suits.

To his disappointment, he still wasn’t a single step closer in figuring out why his dad didn’t trust his mother with the company. He had been trying his best to keep up with past business affairs, making sure to listen in and attend meetings whenever he could but it was to no avail.

Everything seemed normal and boring, though he managed to stick around and keep up, it’s not like he enjoyed the job. However, it did distract him from the grief he didn’t allow himself to feel.

It was 11 PM and Yeonjun was seated at his fathers’ old desk. Scanning through document after document about the company he once had no knowledge of. It’s like his dad took every company secret to his grave. There was nothing fishy to be found and Yeonjun was getting tired of trying to prove a point that apparently didn’t even exist.

A soft knock on the door broke his trance, as he looked up, he saw his mother in the doorway, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Yeonjun, you’ve been in here all day for the past week. What are you looking for?”

“Nothing,” he says, averting his attention back on the pile of papers in front of him, trying to organize the mess he made before leaving his dad's former home office.

He rubbed his temples, forgetting the presence of his mother until she closed the door behind her, and sat on the opposite side of the desk to face him.

“You look like your father,” she says crossing her arms.

Yeonjun glanced up and cocked his eyebrow. “…That’s the last thing I want.”

“Exactly.”

He sighed, slouching in the large desk chair, parting his lips to speak but at that moment his phone lit up with a call request from you.

He looked at his phone, muting the sound as he took a mental note to call you back before he put it in his pocket.

His mother sighed at the sight. The last thing she wanted from all of this was Yeonjun neglecting the life he had built with his friends. She wanted him to finish school, make dumb decisions, party, and fall in love before he had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders if he did decide to join the company later on.

“What…?” Yeonjun says as he catches his mom staring at him with sad eyes.

“I just…wish you would go back to school.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you ignoring that girl.”

“That girl has a name.”

“Really? Cause it seems like you’re forgetting all about her,” she savagely states pointing to his phone.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes in irritation and scoffed. “I feel like I outgrew the need for being a college boy. I don’t need school.”

Well, that was a straight lie. He wanted to go back, but he didn’t know how to return to his ‘normal life.’ The fact of the matter is that Yeonjun has always been running from his father. He ran away across the country to go to college so he could build a new life and forget about everything, but now that his dad is out of the picture; he didn’t have to run anymore.

For the first time in his life, he could make decisions purely based on his own will without being haunted by the shadow of the mighty Daniel Choi, which made him rethink all of the choices he has made up until now.

Does he return to school and still run from his life back home by pretending the multi-billion company he’s inheriting doesn’t exist?

Or does he stay here and run from you, his best friends and the life he had built for himself as a distraction from what awaits him when he graduates?

Either way, he was still a runaway. Running on a track with no finish line in sight and he was tired, emotionally and physically.

“Yeonjun. The semester only just started, you could still go back and catch up with the few weeks you’ve missed out on. I can contact a few people I know and help you get back on track. It’s your call,” she tells him in an almost pleading tone.

“I feel like there’s too much-unfinished business,” he replies nervously biting the inside of his cheek.

“The only unfinished business you should be worrying about is the relationship with your friends. How can you turn your back on them so easily after everything they’ve put themselves through to stand by you?”

Her words rubbed salt into his already existing wounds. She’s right, and he knows it. But it was almost as if Yeonjun felt ashamed to return to his friends. He hasn’t come one step closer to solving his emotional scars. He wanted to return to them and you as a changed person. Someone who grew from tragedy.

He wanted to be the same carefree Yeonjun that he used to be, the Yeonjun that people admired and looked up to, but genuinely this time.

“I just…don’t know right now.”

“Let me know when you do.” His mother says coldly, running out of patience with him as she got up, leaving him alone in the massive home office.

He threw his head back in defeat. Closing his eyes to think; something he’s been doing a lot of lately.

He wanted to come out of this stronger, and he had hoped that staying here would help him do so but the frustration of not finding out what he wanted to only made matters worse.

He couldn’t move forward with all of this weighing him down. He owed it to himself and to you to be better because that’s how much he loved you. However, he wasn’t getting better at all. In fact, he wasn’t able to shake off his sadness and anxiety the way he used to, which meant it was getting more difficult to hide it from you as well.

So instead of hiding his pain from you, he hid from you altogether because it didn’t take a genius to notice that Yeonjun was depressed.

Keeping in contact with Yeonjun became harder and harder as soon as school started. Talking every night before bed turned into short texts throughout the day that he forgot to reply to.

Ever since you, Mia, and the boys left his house, you wanted to give him space because he seemed so busy, but when you did talk to him, he was the same Yeonjun for all you knew.

He put in so much effort during summer to make sure you knew how much he cared.

He would tell you he loved you every night before he ended the phone call.

He would send you flowers every week with notes attached to them so you would feel energized and doted on, and he would also send you hoodies with remnants of his cologne on it so you wouldn’t forget his scent when you missed him.

Yeonjun really tried the best he could for you. He even called Mia from time to time to check up on how you were doing so he could get an honest reply other than your usual “I’m fines.”

You were always putting on a brave face for him, just like he was with you. And it made him realize just how similar you two were in that aspect.

Mia told him that you were doing okay, that even though you missed him, you were focused on yourself and hanging out with friends per usual. Mia also told Yeonjun that you are coping with it all due to the fact that you thought he’d return before the end of summer, which made him feel guiltier than ever; especially when he didn’t return at all.

The night he casually told you he’d be staying at home longer than planned over text, you panicked. It’s like your nightmare was coming true and there was nothing you could do about it since it seemed like Yeonjun had already made up his mind. Also, the fact that he didn’t give you a time frame on when he would be returning, only made it worse.

As school started, Mia started feeling guilty about being in the know, and didn’t know how to be around you or Soobin without feeling trapped. Yeonjun felt bad for getting her involved. He knew it had to stop sooner than later, and that he would have to make a decision soon, but then again. He was ashamed of being unchanged and maybe even worse than before.

You hated that the connection between you two started to sever, but you had no clue that Yeonjun might have been doing it on purpose.

The thoughtful and loving Yeonjun you used to talk to had been missing for the past weeks and given the fact that he declined your phone call after 7 days of no real contact whatsoever, made you doubt his self-proclaimed love for you.

The dumbest shit started to swirl into your mind. Was he getting tired of you already? Did he find some new hot office worker lady to replace you with? Or did he realize that a relationship is the last thing he needs right now?

You felt horrible for feeling insecure. You wanted to be more understanding and give him time to heal but you missed him, and you wanted to be there for him, but he didn’t let you.

You were more than fed up with the endless overthinking while hoping for a call or text from Yeonjun, but you also knew that the next time you two talked; should be on his own initiative, and not yours.

“One. More. Shot,” you yell over the loud music at the bar while you beam at Soobin, holding the shots of tequila in front of his face.

“Y/n. Do you want me dead?” he asks you wide-eyed as he leans on the bar, taking the shot from your trembling fingers anyway.

“No, where’s the fun in that,” you pout as you cheers with him, downing it without a chaser.

Both of you put down the shot glasses on the bar simultaneously with a loud thud. You quickly grab a piece of lemon to suck on to subside the bitterness on your taste buds and make a face as you do so.

Soobin shakes his head aggressively at the burning sensation, his cheeks flopping around in response as he pinches his eyes closed to recompose himself while you laugh at his antics.

“Fuck,” he growls, looking at you a little googly-eyed. “I’m fucked up.”

“I can see that,” you snort, ordering the next round of shots.

You were mad at yourself for calling Yeonjun again tonight without response and you were sure to wipe your memory with liquor so you wouldn’t have to feel the shame lingering in your brain.

It has been entirely too long since you spent time with Soobin alone and you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss having him around all the time. When he told you earlier this week that Mia and him had been going through a rough patch due to vagueness and silence from her side, you didn’t hesitate to invite him to drown your sorrows away because you were both going through the exact same thing.

Mia had been a little distant since school started, but it was nothing out of the ordinary to you since you all had different majors. But if Soobin is saying that she’s been distant to him too, then maybe you should talk to her about it. You take a mental note as you listen to him vent, hoping that she would open up to you if you asked.

Your evening started off slowly by talking about the whole situation with Yeonjun. Even though Soobin had been there for you throughout the remaining weeks of summer break, the past week was different. You felt a shift in your relationship with Yeonjun and it almost felt like you weren’t part of his world anymore. He told you over text that he wouldn’t be returning in time for the start of the semester, and though you’ve tried calling him; you hadn’t seen his face or heard his voice since.

He would text you in the dead of night that he was sorry, and that he was just busy, promising to call you the day after but he never did. During the rest of the summer, you did your best to distract yourself from missing him. Even though he wasn’t around; he made quite the effort to show you that he was thinking of you, so in some way, it just felt like he was on vacation or something. In the back of your head, you had this lingering fear that he’d fall in love with living the life he was supposed to have if he had a good relationship with his parents and with his dad being gone, he could finally get a taste of what that life would be like.

When he spoke to you about the company he actually spoke enthusiastically, it’s like he enjoyed being Choi Yeonjun a little more than he enjoyed being just Yeonjun and it was incredibly selfish of you to say, but you wished he didn’t.

After talking over your issues, you had both decided you’ve done enough moping. Soobin started talking about funny things that have been happening during basketball practice and somehow it made you two reminisce about your childhoods when he would challenge you to basketball games. He’d never let you win with his towering height and you felt yourself relaxing in your seat as you laughed the night away.

Drunk was an understatement of your current state, it was nearly 2 AM already and the both of you stumbled out of the bar together. You were latching onto his arm to steady yourself and to your surprise, Soobin was still strong enough to keep you and himself up as you were standing on the sidewalk to hail a taxi.

“Remind me to never drink with you again,” he says as waves his hand in hopes to be noticed by a taxi driver.

You giggle and roll your eyes, and just as you were about to say something, your phone starts to vibrate.

You mindlessly pull it out of your pocket, and with blurry vision, you see Yeonjun’s name on your display. You let go of Soobin’s arm and turn around, giggling to yourself as you pick up.

“HelloooOooo, look who it is. Mister important businessman. Mister Choi himself. How can I help you,” you slur your words as you ramble incoherently.

“Y/n?” Yeonjun sat on the couch in the formal living room, immediately alerted with the sound of your drunken state.

“That’s meeee” you snicker, leaning your unstable figure on a lamppost.

“Are you drunk?” he asks for confirmation as he sat up.

“Oh jeez, what a genius. Hey, by the way. If I want to talk to you do I need to make an appointment with your secretary, or do you take personal calls as well?”

The liquid courage was coursing through your veins at rapid speed as your heart started thumping in your chest. You had no idea why you were being such a bitch, but the alcohol revealed the emotion you so desperately tried to hide from him for leaving you: Anger.

“Are you alone? Where are you?” Yeonjun completely ignored your drunken banter, knowing that your frustration is completely justified. He honestly thought you’d snap at him a lot sooner than this, without the alcohol involved.

“I’m with Binnie.” you sigh as you look back at him.

“Good, so you’re safe.” Yeonjun assumes out loud.

He started pacing in his living room, hating the fact that he wasn’t there to make sure you were okay, but knowing you were with Soobin eased his mind a little.

“Oh, fuck no, he’s doing worse than me,” you say cocking an eyebrow as you see Soobin still waving his arms around like an idiot as he was trying to hail a cab.

“Make sure you get home safe okay?” He says as he bites his lip nervously.

“What do you care.”

“What do you mean, Of course I care.” His eyes were getting sad. He felt horrible for making you feel as though you didn’t matter when in reality, the thought of you alone was the reason he was able to get out of bed every morning.

You scoff. “Yeah, right. Okay.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around, averting your attention completely. Drunk you could only focus on one thing at a time and you completely forgot that you were on the phone with Yeonjun.

You blink a couple of times before you put your phone in your pocket with Yeonjun still on the line, just now realizing who’s standing in front of you.

“JOHNNY!?” you exclaim loudly and maybe a little too excited.

Yeonjun froze in place, increasing the volume on his phone so he could hear.

“Long time no see!” Johnny says as he wraps you up in a tight hug. The shuffling of your clothing against the mic of the phone was enough for Yeonjun to start clenching his jaw in anger.

He listened to the distant banter of you giggling, talking about this and that before Soobin called you over after he finally managed to get you two a cab.

“I’ll text you,” Johnny yells after you, which made Yeonjun scoff. “Like hell you will,” he says under his breath.

He waited until he heard the doors to the car close, just to make sure before he ended the call.

If a simple hello from a random guy already bothered him this much, how would he ever be able to leave you be on the other side of the country?

He groaned loudly, angrily throwing his phone to the couch, but he missed the safe landing, knocking over an expensive vase which shattered in an instant as it made contact with the tile floor.

“Shit,” he exclaimed before crouching down to pick up his phone, rummaging through the shattered pieces of glass carefully.

Lita emerged from the halls, alerted by the loud noise. “Yeonjun! Don’t touch that. We have vacuums for that!” She practically yells at him.

He felt like a dear caught in headlights as he let go of the broken pieces of valuable glass and waited for Lita to return.

She cleaned up the mess so quickly that he couldn’t offer to help. She didn't even ask questions, and just stayed silent as she did her thing. He followed her to the kitchen like a lost puppy and sat down at the breakfast bar as he watches her discard her gloves in the sink.

She sighed, turning around to face him.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to tell you something and you can’t get mad,” Lita breathes as she sits down in the chair next to him.

He looked up at her, giving her a slight yet confused smile. “Okay...”

“Go back to college, and get counseling,” she says seriously.

He cocked his brow at her bluntness, as it is not something that Lita has ever done before.

“Counselling as in therapy?” he asks wide-eyed.

“Don’t you think it would help?” She questions carefully, fixing a piece of his grown-out hair on the back of his neck.

“Why do you think I should go back?” he questions in genuine curiosity.

Lita is someone who watches from the sidelines. She observes but rarely speaks out. The fact that his mother wasn’t here to interfere was a good reason for speaking up, and so she did.

“Because, the only time I’ve seen you genuinely happy since you’ve been here, is when you saw your friends at the door the day they arrived. Oh, and that girl, you should have seen yourself when you laid eyes on that girl.”

Yeonjun chuckled at her observation. “So it was that obvious huh?”

“Yes. Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Stop thinking you need to fix your flaws on your own and seek help. Professional help.”

She was right, though therapy was never something Yeonjun considered it didn’t sound too outrageous to him.

He didn’t feel comfortable with letting a stranger pick his brain, so maybe talking to a school counselor or teacher that he already knew and trusted would help.

He wanted nothing more than the hollowness in his soul to be replaced by the light he once had inside of him.

He wanted to feel something other than sadness, but when he was trying to think of his last genuinely happy moment; he thought of you and the night you snuck into his room in the middle of the night.

He blinked a few times, giving things a good thought.

“Your mother would understand too Yeonjun, the company can wait,” she adds as she strokes his hair again lovingly.

He nodded, getting up from the barstool as he gave Lita a shy smile.

“I know it’s late…but would you help me pack? I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

It was a rash decision, but a decision like this had to be made on a whim; cause if he would let himself overthink about it. It would take another week for him to come to one.

Lita’s eyes lit up, smiling at him brightly. “Only if you promise you will consider the counseling part as well.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

You walk into your living room in your loungewear, your hair still wet from the shower you just took, and see Soobin still sound asleep on the couch. His mouth was slightly hanging open and he was snoring ever so lightly. You chuckled at the sight, crouching down before him as you shake his shoulder softly in an attempt to wake him up.

Soobin, being the light sleeper that he is, immediately arose from his sleep. He looked at you a little puzzled, immediately pressing his bunny-like lips together as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before he made eye contact with you again.

“Oh…oh…hell no,” he mutters as he feels the nauseating pain in his head as a side effect from his hangover. “Why is it so bright in here?” He huffs as he turns around, burying his face in the pillow he slept on.

You chuckle, smacking his back. “Get up.”

He groans turning back around to face you. “How did we even get home?”

“I don’t know, but the important part is that we did,” you say making your way to your kitchen.

He chuckled, reaching for his phone as he expected missed calls or texts from his girlfriend, but Mia didn’t contact him at all last night.

He frowned. “I don’t know what’s going on with her. She was fine until school started.”

You immediately knew who Soobin was talking about, and you purse your lips together; looking at him as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

“Maybe she’s just stressed about the workload,” you try, but he shakes his head in response.

“I don’t know, every time I try to talk to her about it, she changes the subject.”

Soobin got up from your couch, waddling to your kitchen to steal the coffee you just poured for yourself.

As he took a sip, you glare at him. “That’s mine.”

“Shut up, you owe me this much for killing at least half my brain cells last night.”

“Can’t kill what you don’t have,” you argue, taking back your coffee while he glares at you this time.

“Now go shower. You can wear some of Yeonjun’s clothes.”

“He left clothes here?” Soobin asked raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, he never got to use them though.” You sigh, looking at the by now wilted roses in the vase on your kitchen counter and suddenly your eyes widen in realization.

The phone call.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, leaving your kitchen, running around to find your phone.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You raise your voice in annoyance scattering your apartment to find your jacket.

“What…are you doing?” Soobin asks as he takes another sip of your coffee, his eyes darting around your living room to follow your panicky figure.

You find your jacket and retrieve your phone from its pocket. You quickly open it, seeing Yeonjun’s name in the ‘Recent’ callers list at the exact same time you left the bar.

“He called me last night. It just came back to me. Shit. I was a total inconsiderate asshole.”

Soobin’s eyes widened and he walked up to you, grabbing you by your shoulders, making you look at him. “Calm. Down. What did you say?”

“Something along the lines of him not caring about me and asking him if I need an appointment with his secretary to get to him, Also. I’m not sure if he heard Johnny’s voice but we all know how he feels about him” you pout.

Soobin pursed his lips, trying to suppress a laugh but he couldn’t as his nostrils flared, bursting into loud laughter.

Your distressed state vanished, and you chuckled lightly, slapping his chest. “That’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is. Look, don’t worry. I’m sure he laughed just as loud as I did,” he says patting your hair in assurance before he envelops you into a hug to calm you down.

“You think?” you say nuzzling your face in his chest.

“Yeah, I’ll call him if you want, don’t worry about it too much okay?”

You nod and he let go of you, giving you a sweet smile. “Now, while I wash up, please make me breakfast. I’m starving.”

You scoff, pushing him off of you. “Fine.”

“That’s the last of it.” Lita says as she handed the driver Yeonjun’s last piece of luggage. He closed the trunk of the car that would take Yeonjun to the airport and got into the drivers’ seat without a word.

His mother gave him a small smile. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“Actually…Lita imo changed my mind,” he says giving his housekeeper a warm smile before he averted his attention back to his mother.

“Please, pick up when I call you. Okay?” She says as she put a hand on his shoulder. He just chuckled, pulling her in for a hug that she didn’t expect.

“I will,” he says breathing in her scent, a scent that started to feel like home. Despite their differences, they did become closer. And hopefully, their future would be filled with more of these moments.

His mothers’ eyes got glassy as he let go of her, but he didn’t notice as he wrapped Lita into his arms as well. Hugging her goodbye without saying much.

“I’ll see you two soon, okay?” He says winking to them before he got into the car.

He gave them a smile, waving to them from the car as he drove off and when they were completely out of sight, his smile faltered.

Saying goodbye wasn’t hard for him, it was going back that made the stress inside of him run wild.

He didn’t know how to face you knowing that he has to tell you that he wasn’t even planning to come back before Mia’s guilt would eat her alive.

Hell, given the conversation you had with him last night on the phone, he wasn’t even sure if you’d run back into his arms at all.

He closed his eyes hoping that you would understand, but he also knew that the probability was small that the truth would be accepted without turmoil. He opened his eyes slowly, staring out of the window, wishing that his return to college would bring more good than bad.

“Soobin, you’re taking too long!” you yell out for him as you assemble a sunny-side-up egg on top of the avocado toast you just made for the two of you.

“I can’t find Yeonjun hyungs shirts!” He yelled back to you.

You sigh, pausing your movements. “It’s on the top shelve.”

Just as you were going to resume your actions, your doorbell startled you.

You frown, walking up to your front door, and open it, completely and utterly shocked when you see them at your doorstep.

“Mom? Dad?” Your eyes widen in shock, and then you remembered. They planned to visit you this weekend and you completely forgot about it.

“There’s my girl!” your dad exclaims as he wraps you into a tight hug.

Oh my god, how could you forget...

Your mom hugged you next, and your dad walks in, inspecting your living space.

“Wow, something smells good in here.”

You dumbfoundedly follow your parents inside of your living room, and right before you could open your mouth to speak, a wet haired and shirtless Soobin emerges from your bedroom, towel drying his hair.

“Y/n, I can’t find the sh-shirts.” Soobin paused, frozen in place as he made eye contact with your parents.

He quickly wrapped the towel he used to dry his hair over his chest as his cheeks colored a bright red.

“Soobin!?” your mom exclaims as her eyes dart from you to him.

Your dad’s eyes narrow at Soobin and he sighed. “I knew it.”

“No! No. Absolutely not. That’s not what this is,” you say as you stand between your parents and Soobin.

“Then, what is this?” Your dad asks rubbing his forehead.

“Soobin, sweetie; didn’t you have a girlfriend?” Your mother asks as she crosses her arms.

“Y-yes, I do.” Soobin stutters nervously.

“Well son, that doesn’t make this look any better does it.” Your father retorts.

“No. We just went to have drinks last night, he crashed on the couch. That’s it.”

“Yes, besides, we’re both in relationships and we’re like family. It’s nothing like that I promise.” Soobin says with a bright smile before realization hit him.

You turn to him, fire-spewing from your pupils. Your parents had no idea Yeonjun even existed, and now Soobin basically outed him as your boyfriend.

“Both in relationships? Y/n what is he talking about?” your mom asks wide-eyed.

“I-uh…I’m…” you stutter before you turn to Soobin. “Please, dude. Get dressed. Top shelf, on the right,” you say through your teeth, shooing him away.

He mouthed an inaudible ‘I’m sorry’ to you before he disappeared into your room to find the shirt once again.

Your dad sat down on your couch, patiently waiting for you to start talking and you sighed, trying to not so subtly change the subject.

“So…how was the trip…” you ask as you lean against your kitchen counter.

“This boyfriend of yours? What’s his name?”

“He’s…not really my boyfriend…yet…I don’t know where we stand.”

“Ok…well as long as he treats you right.” Your mom says, making your dad nod in response.

Soobin emerged from your room again, fully clothed this time and you immediately relaxed in his presence. He took a seat across from your dad as your mother stood beside you.

“So, what’s his name? And, where is he?” Your dad start interrogating you as he crossed his legs. His tone was overbearingly protective which made Soobin chuckle as you roll your eyes.

“His name is Yeonjun…and he’s not in town right now,” you state vaguely which made Soobin jump in.

“Unfortunately, his father passed away and he’s been dealing with that before he returns to school,” he adds, and you thank him with a sad smile which he reciprocated with an assuring nod.

“Oh no, that’s horrible.” Your mom says.

“Yeah, too bad, I’d love to meet him before we left tonight.” Your dad huffs.

“Don’t count on it,” you sigh.

It was 3 PM and Yeonjun finally arrived at the apartment complex. He silently thanked his mother for insisting he should take a flight instead of driving for six hours because the last time he did, he was exhausted for several days.

Yeonjun turned the key to the apartment, sighing loudly as he twisted the doorknob. The familiar feeling of anxiety rippling through his veins. Making him freeze before he built up the courage to open the door.

He took off his shoes before rolling his suitcase into the living room, and as he glanced up, he was surprised to see a frozen Taehyun, Beomgyu and Hueningkai on the couch, looking at him as if they just saw a dead man walking.

Taehyun was the first to get up. “HYUNG!” he grinned from ear to ear. Jumping up from the couch to fly into Yeonjuns arms, followed by Beomgyu and Hueningkai who enveloped him into a tight hug as well.

Yeonjun’s lips curled up into a smile, genuinely this time. God, he missed them. So much.

“Oh my god, we missed you so much.” Hueningkai yelps as he clings onto the older ones’ waist.

Yeonjun chuckled, feeling a huge weight lifted off his shoulders as he patted Hyuka’s head. Completely overwhelmed with how happy they were to see him, and he had to admit; the feeling was completely mutual.

“How are you feeling?” Beomgyu asks as he took a hold of Yeonjun's shoulders, looking at him intently with his big eyes. “Anxious to be back.” Yeonjun answers honestly. “I don’t know, I’m not the same person I was before I left, you know.”

The boys nodded in response. “Well, we’re here for you regardless. Take all the time you need.” Beomgyu says with a sweet smile, and Yeonjun sighs in relief.

“Thanks guys.”

“Yeah, but don’t take too much time. The team is completely out of balance without you, our next tournament is in two weeks so it would be nice to have you back y’know.” Taehyun remarks which earned him a painful elbow in his ribs from Hueningkai. “Why would you burden him with that now,” he hisses, which made Yeonjun laugh out loud.

“It’s ok, I’ll still do charity work.” Yeonjun says cockily which made the guys laugh in response as he winked at them.

“Ahh, jup. He’s back.” Taehyun says rolling his eyes.

“I’ll take this to your room.” Hueningkai volunteers as he grabs a hold of his suitcase, rolling it to Yeonjun’s bedroom before he could say anything.

“So…where’s Soobin? He was out with y/n last night, right?” Yeonjun carefully asks, sitting down on the armrest of the couch.

“Oh, yeah. He didn’t come home. I think he crashed at her place.” Taehyun says absentmindedly as he poured Yeonjun a glass of water.

Yeonjun raised his brows, nodding understandingly. He wasn’t thrilled that Soobin slept over at your place, but he also knew he had nothing to worry about.

The constant tinging feeling of jealousy was just a result of his own insecurity and he knew he couldn’t blame you for any of it. Especially since Soobin is like a brother to you.

“Did you talk to y/n yet?” Beomgyu asks crossing his arms over his chest.

“More or less. She doesn’t know I’m back.” Yeonjun says, nervously biting his cheek.

“Oh really! She’ll be so happy to see you.” Taehyun exclaims, handing Yeonjun the glass of water he just poured for him.

“Yeah…” Yeonjun says taking a sip of his water. “So happy…”

Mia was seated behind her desk, completely immersed in her study material before the loud vibrations of her phone on the wooden desk snapped her back to reality.

She sighed seeing Yeonjun’s name on the caller ID, so she picked up. Ironically so, he was the only one she didn’t have to hide secrets from. Meaning that she could pick up with an eased mind.

“Hey,” she says as she answered the phone, moving the device to her left ear.

“Hey, how are you?” Yeonjun asks, staring at the ceiling as he laid on his bed.

“Uhm…ok? I guess.”

“I’m back at school,” he says getting straight to the point.

Mia’s eyes widened in shock as she gulped. “What? Really?”

“Yes. And I’m so sorry about making you lie to Soobin, y/n and the guys. But I want to make it right. I’ll tell them everything. I’ll tell them it’s my fault for getting you involved, but I need to clear my conscience before I can move forward you know.” He sighs, waiting for Mia to respond but she stayed silent.

“The last few weeks were hard Yeonjun.” Her voice cracked when she finally spoke up, and that familiar feeling of self-loathing took over Yeonjun’s senses again.

“I’m sorry. Let me make this right,” he says closing his eyes, hoping for a positive response.

“Let’s go to y/n place together Ok? I think Soobin is still with her since he didn’t come home yet.”

Mia sighed, rubbing her forehead nervously. “Ok...do I meet you there?”

“No, I’ll pick you up. Don’t worry. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

You spent the day with your parents and Soobin around town for most of the day. Your mom wanted to cook all of you a feast, so you spent the day shopping for ingredients, and the four of you even had lunch together.

It felt like old times, and you desperately needed it. You were so wrapped up in schoolwork, Yeonjun, and everything that happened over the summer that you didn’t even realize how much you missed your parents.

You came back home around 5 and you were helping your mom prepare dinner as Soobin and your dad talked about the trip your parents made in Europe.

“Mom, this is way too much food.”

“It’s okay, Soobin can take it home with him to feed those other boys.”

You chuckled, your mom never knew how to portion her cooking right and it got the two of you talking about the time she cooked four whole turkeys for Christmas a few years ago for your and Soobin’s family alone.

The ringing of your doorbell snaps you out of your conversation, and you ask Soobin to get the door as you were expecting a package one of these days.

Soobin nodded at your request, getting up from the couch while he made his way to your front door.

Since your kitchen is directly across from your hallway, your gaze followed him while you peeled some potatoes, curious to see if your assumption was right.

Soobin opened the door with a dramatic swing, his friendly smile faltering as he sees Yeonjun in the doorway with his girlfriend. “Y-yeonjun hyung? Mia? What are you two doing here?”

You swore your eyes were playing tricks with you. That the alcohol from last night came back to you in forms of hallucinations and unexplainable mirages but when his eyes locked with yours, you knew it was really him.

You stand frozen on your feet, dropping the half-peeled potato in the sink as you start blinking to recompose yourself, suddenly realizing that your parents were in the room; having equally confused facial expressions to match those of you and Soobin.

“Yeonjun?” your dad asks. “The Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun’s eyes left yours, completely shocked to see your parents in your apartment. Well fuck. This is not what he had planned at all.

Soobin’s eyes were boring into Mia’s, completely and utterly confused as to what she was doing here, and with Yeonjun at that.

He gave you a look and you shrugged, still too dazed with the fact that Yeonjun was standing in your doorway; so much so that you hadn’t even noticed Mia standing next to him.

Your mom's eyes lit up, seeing the two of them. “Oh, this is just perfect,” she exclaims.

“Now you can all stay for dinner!”

Chapter 11

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onebizarrekai · 3 years

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I think that lucia di lammermoor is one of my new favorite operas not just because of the mad scene but because the opera makes no sense whatsoever

there are literally so many plot holes in the libretto. there are so many unexplained facets of the narrative, unresolved arcs, dialogues that mandate copious creative liberties, things that only happen off-stage, and some unsolvable problems that can only be fixed by cutting things or directing things a certain way. there’s so much nonsense it’s actually hilarious. if you read the source story of the bride of lammermoor the opera diverts quite a bit, but the bride of lammermoor is actually even worse, so let’s put that to the side.

let’s just start from the beginning of the opera, paraphrasing as much as possible. lucia’s evil brother, enrico, is the first lead to greet the stage, minutes after his goony normano. normano tells enrico the tale of how enrico’s archenemy, edgardo, saved the life of lucia, and he reluctantly admits that they are now in love with each other and are secretly meeting up all the time. enrico flips his shit and sings about how he’s going to kill edgardo or whatever. bide the bent (aka raimondo, but schirmir really said bide the bent, whatever the hell that means) exists and does priest stuff because he’s a priest. by the way, there’s this whole thing about how the ashton family (aka lucia and enrico) are protestant and edgardo is catholic and that’s why they hate each other and that’s why there’s a priest.

anyway they all leave, and then lucia and alice enter. lucia is, naturally, waiting for her illegal boyfriend: edgardo. she is very scared because enrico is a piece of shit and wants to kill her boyfriend. alice is like “yo man this is a bad idea” and lucia is like “where’s edgardo” but lucia is also perturbed by something else. she has a ghost story to tell about this nondescript fountain and tells alice about the girl who was killed by her lover at this fountain, and then suddenly goes like “by the way the ghost of the dead woman appeared to me” and like wow ok lucia. after singing about all of the water turning to blood in her hallucination, she proceeds to completely change moods and sing about how much she loves edgardo because she is crazy. after all of this, edgardo finally arrives and tells lucia about how he actually has to go to france to do ambassador stuff and disappear for an indefinite period of time. he says that they should finally tell enrico about their relationship. lucia completely shuts him down, and then edgardo cries about how enrico has killed his family and how she’s the only light of his life. they end up deciding to keep their relationship a secret anyway and then vow to marry each other.

act 2, enrico has ordered normano to forge a break-up letter from edgardo to send it to lucia. normano shows up to give it to enrico, enrico summons lucia into wherever he is to tell her that he needs to marry her off to some other guy in order to save their family. lucia is like “but I’m marrying someone else” and enrico is like “oh yeah? read this” and gives her the letter, and lucia naturally breaks down because it’s a big lie about how edgardo has found someone else in france. she cries about it until this big fanfare plays to welcome her new husband, arturo. at this point lucia is singing about nothing except how much death would benefit her right now. enrico leaves after being an asshole for a few more minutes, and then in comes bide the bent to lecture lucia about the invalidity of her previous marital vows. she leaves to change into a wedding gown.

enter arturo, this random loser that enrico wants lucia to marry. his lines are so cliché that he’s probably reading them off a sheet of paper (which is exactly how we staged the production I am currently doing). somehow arturo knows about lucia’s affair with edgardo because those two were actually horrible at being secretive, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to marry a hottie. enrico tells arturo about how lucia’s mother died and that’s why she’s crying about the wedding. lo and behold, lucia enters and she is crying. they hold the wedding right then and there under the Authority™ of bide the bent, enrico forces lucia to sign the wedding documents, and then everyone is like “wait who’s at the door?” and then EDGARDO BREAKS IN and he’s like “EDGAAAAAARDO” and they sing a whole sextet that borders a confusion ensemble except it’s a bel canto tragedy.

edgardo is like “yeah man! it’s my right to be here since I’m engaged to lucia!” and enrico is like “PSH” and bide the bent comes up like “sorry she just signed this Other Marriage Contract” and shows it to edgardo and edgardo is like WHAT and he comes up to lucia like BRUH YOU DONE THIS?? and lucia doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point, she’s just like “yes?? but” and then edgardo takes off his ring and hers and then throws a temper tantrum before he gets kicked out.

behold the wolf’s craig duet, the most stupid and pointless thing in this opera considering what happens later. enrico barges into edgardo’s house and they sing about how they’re going to kill each other and duel at the graveyard. that’s it. there’s probably sexual tension.

after that, there’s a wedding party, except with a Horrifying Twist. lucia goes upstairs with arturo and fucking kills him. having lost her mind, she comes out covered in blood and sings for like twenty minutes in a very impressive manor. she collapses on the floor at the very end.

there’s a random recit right afterwards where enrico, bide the bent and normano briefly talk about lucia losing her mind. while enrico is crying about lucia, bide the bent literally blames normano of all people, who did exactly nothing, for every bad thing that happened to lucia.

the final scene begins at the graveyard. now, I know what you’re thinking. edgardo and enrico promised to duel each other here, right? right! so where the hell is enrico? I dunno, not here. edgardo is here, and he’s crying and stuff about his dead father. he’s very sad and probably wants to perish. a chorus shows up mourning something. edgardo asks about it and no one wants to tell him. bide the bent appears in all his priestliness and tells edgardo that lucia is now in heaven. how did she die? beats me. she died of insanity or something. edgardo has lost the final thing in his life that matters to him, so he decides to “go see her” and stabs himself.

the opera ends.

welcome to lucia di lammermoor. now, some of these plot holes are resolvable through directing. for example, lucia’s insanity is inexplicable in the libretto. nobody is just sad about their boyfriend and commits murder–granted, her first aria had her singing about a ghost and a fountain of blood. why’s she like this, though? she’s probably not ok. so like, some people explain this by making enrico way way worse than just a big liar. in the production that I’m doing, enrico is being depicted as sexually abusive towards lucia, and like, yeah that helps do some explaining. but you know what it doesn’t help? the parts of the opera that normally get cut, like the stupidass wolf’s craig duet that exists for no reason and usually gets cut because it makes no sense. also, the scene right after the mad scene where bide the bent comically blames normano for everything even though it is clearly enrico’s fault and enrico is randomly mourning lucia even though he was horrible to her for the whole opera. unfortunately, when you have companies like the met, which do full operas with no cuts, you get the whole, nonsensical story in its full glory, not to mention the met tends to shy away from taking creative liberties with the directing.

so like, why do I say this opera is a new favorite? well, aside from it being fun to sing, since I’m doing it for the first time, it’s absolutely hilarious to consider who the real mastermind here is, since for some reason, the librettist seems to think that it’s normano. you have to make up so much subtext in this story in order to even make it begin to make sense, so how far can you take it? how much nonsense can you create?

easy mode is assuming the mastermind is enrico. he’s a horrible person. obviously bide the bent accuses normano because he’s trying to divert the blame from enrico, who may or may not kill him if he says the truth. however, enrico does not go to the graveyard to kill edgardo and tie off loose ends (which I personally think he should have). enrico just kind of disappears, honestly, in spite of being the main bad guy.

bide the bent is another viable option. he blames normano to divert attention from himself. he plays the role of the peacemaker between edgardo and enrico during the sextet, but it’s all a sham. the reason bide the bent appears in the final graveyard scene is because he’s the true villain here. he simply took advantage of everyone around him in order to make sure everything went according to plan. enrico’s bs towards lucia, lucia’s insanity, edgardo’s depression, normano loyalty, the whole deal. he wishes to rise in power… perhaps the reason enrico does not show up in the final scene is because bide the bent has already disposed of him.

what if it was edgardo? what if he and lucia devised a plan to create an opening that would allow them to run away? what if arturo was in on it? lucia pretends to murder arturo, pretends to go insane, and the plan was to finally flee with edgardo… but then they were INTERCEPTED. their plan was ruined. lucia was disposed of by the enemy off-stage and it was too late. they claim she died of insanity, but she was killed by normano under enrico’s orders, or whoever else is the designated evil one here.

in the met, for some reason, they decide to have lucia’s ghost come in during the final scene and silently “coerce” edgardo into ending his life, which sounds cool, but it was ridiculous. I just remember the blood bag being in the wrong place so he had to stab himself in the kidney and lucia actually pushed the prop knife in like she wasn’t literally a ghost. there was also a ghost during lucia’s first aria that totally upstaged her. this opens up many stupid doors for directing such as arturo’s ghost returning as well if need be. anyone’s ghost could be there. ghosts canonically exist at the met. arturo could be fortnite dancing during the mad scene.

behold, a terrible take. edgardo is having a secret affair after all, but he’s having an affair with enrico. enrico is enraged when he discovers edgardo’s relationship with his sister because he thought that THEY had a thing. he vengefully tries to break them up by marrying lucia off to arturo. enrico and edgardo sing the wolf’s craig duet as a not-tragic breakup song.

honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this goddamn cast was sleeping with each other. the possibilities are endless

during the staging period of the show, we all came up with so many stupid and hilarious ideas that we could stage an entire comedy version of this opera. maybe one day it could happen. maybe…

anyway it’s like midnight and I’m doing my cast’s performance of this opera in two days, and I just drove home a while ago from performance 1 today talking with my family about all of these stupid possibilities, so it’s all on my mind. at least the mad scene is fun to sing

#random stuff #me? going on a comical tangent about opera? more likely than you think #there's a lot of content warnings for stuff here but that's to be expected of opera #honestly I'll lose my mind for real if I have to do this show at face value #enrico isn't evil enough in just the libretto alone #see operas usually have pretty simple stories #and plot holes #but LUCIA #lucia is something else

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