#he was just sitting next to the bus stop at the closed up cafe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

love-bitesx · 11 months

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HI MIAAA just have... Hobie brainrot... About little details in every day life like 😭😭 him nonchalantly pulling u by the waist so he's on the side of the street facing the road, him towering you in the bus or underground, blocking you from the big mass of bodies or any possible creeps (had my share when bus is too crowded 😭), or giving you the window seat because ita your favorite and that way he can block u from the aisle and protect u like with the street thing 🥹🥹 letting you fall asleep in his shoulder or hugging his arm. Sitting always in the chair facing the door when u go to a cafe or a pub, so he can watch out for any possible threats that could come in and be ready for them, so u can rest assured and enjoy ur time. Letting you play with his rings when you're bored or anxious, holding you tight when you hide a bit behind him if you're too shy when he first introduces you to his friends, his hand giving u a reassuring squeeze. !!! EXCHANGING BATTLE JACKETS <<333333 maybe yours fits him a little shorter but its so cute... Such a bonding act.... Making patches or diy badges for each other's jackets too!!! Painting each other nails and kissing the knuckles for every nail painted 😭❤️❤️ i could go on and on. I LOVE HIM!!!!

VIVI I SCREECHED INTO MY MATTRESS WHEN I READ THIS OH MY LORD ABOVE

i’d like to elaborate, if you don’t mind—

his brain was so wired to protect you that half the things he did weren’t even consciously (cupping his hand around corner of tables or cupboards so you don’t hurt yourself/hit your head, steering you to the other side of the pavement, away from the road, etc.). of course, you knew having spider-man as a boyfriend, you’d be safer than most, but when the mask comes off and it’s just your hobie, dark eyes lidded, watching you through his lashes as he towers you at the packed bus stop, cuffed arm pressed above your head, you knew nothing bad could ever touch you.

something about him mindlessly towering you on the tube just. wow. it’d be packed, rush hour hitting and he swore he could’ve just swung you both to your location, but you refused. swinging made you nauseous, and the tube wasn’t all that bad. if you chose to sit down, his ringed hand would be glued to your thigh, not to be a flirt, but to ease your anxiety, know that you’re safe and that he was there. if it’s too busy, he’d let you play with each steel band, secretly calmed by the sensation.

standing up, however, he’d hold onto the railing on the roof, free hand on your hip to bring you flush against him, grip tightening at every bump and screech of the crooked underground carriages. you know it isn’t his intention to tease you, but the way his body moved around yours at every turn, his cologne and natural scent inescapable with how close he held you, and the incredibly nonchalant intimacy of it all. something about the smirk that sat on his pierced lips, however, made you believe that his intentions aren’t always mindless. anytime you questioned him about it, he’d brush off your accusations, simply saying;

“too many creeps around ‘ere, darlin’. gotta keep you safe.”

he trusts you with every part of him and more, but his trust for other people was non-existent at best. so, at the pub, he always liked to be able to feel you (within reason (or without, actually, he wasn’t fussy)). whether it’s simply your knees pressed together, or you playing with his hands from across the table, arm snaked around your waist or shoulders as you sat next to him. he’d like to keep you away from the door, sandwiched between himself and his mates.

although he insists his intentions are strictly safety-related, he’d be lying through his teeth if he said that the visible rush of blood to your cheeks and falter in your voice as his hand slides across the skin of your thigh under the table, wasn’t an added bonus. the smug prick.

he’d share everything with you, if it’s possible. clothes? yours. no question. jewellery? yours. badges, patches, safety pins with beaded designs? yours within a heartbeat. hell, you even had a collection of guitar picks on your bedroom dresser that he’d been dying to give you after special shows. you had no use for it, but the giddy smile he wore on his face as he kissed it between his lips and offered it to you, who are you to refuse that?

speaking of gifts; if he wasn’t the one and only spider-man (well, of his dimension) then his criminal record would be miles long, purely because of the sheer amount of stuff he steals for you. he’s like a cat. anytime he leaves you for the day, he’ll crawl back through your window with pockets full of tiny trinkets he’d robbed throughout the day. anything he sees that even remotely makes him think of you and he’s slyly sneaking it into his back pocket – and trust me, it’s a lot.

all in all, he’d go to insane lengths to keep you safe, and if he’s able to keep a smile on your face – and a blush on your cheeks – whilst he does it? then he’s a very happy man. loves you more than he could ever say, and hopes these little measures let you know that.

i’m violently in love with this man, i actually need to be sedated

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Treat You 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, mentions of abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You stumble out into the hallway, nearly colliding with the dingy and peeling paint on the wall. The door slams with the force of your frantic exit, nails bending painfully as you let go of the brass knob. Your heart pulses in your ears as another crash bangs from inside the apartment and your father's tirade blazes on.

You untangle your bag, the only thing you could snatch as you stepped halfway into your shoes. The doorknob twists again and you quickly flee down the hall, your father yanking at the door as it jams. You quickly veer down the staircase and only stop at the top of the next flight to pull your shoes on all the way.

You catch your breath at the front door, aware of how Mrs. Davis’ door snaps shut when you pass. You continue outside without a destination in mind. You could hide out at the library again, no one notices you there. It is a bit far to walk.

You sling the crochet bag over your head so it hangs against your hip. You reach inside and find your change purse. You don't have much after the electric bill. Two bucks, it's three to get the bus.

You huff and tuck your hand back in your bag. Your feet carry you as you wind down the street. The apathetic rush of traffic makes you feel invisible. You don't mind that, it's more dangerous to be seen.

There's nothing remarkable about you. You're taller than most girls but that's more worthy of ridicule than admiration. You wear second-hand clothing, some of it your dad's handmedowns, and hunch until your spine hurts. An elephant trying to play fawn.

You chew your lip and stop by the vintage shop. Not the Goodwill but the expensive place with the designer houndstooth and Louis Vuitton logos. In another world…

Across the street, a night club stands desolate and eerie in the daylight. A few times you passed during opening and it was rowdy and flashing. Just on your way to the bus station to spend a couple hours on a bench.

On the next street, a cafe. The place that closed then opened only weeks later. New ownership but everything else the same. The prices aren't as steep as the Starbucks kiosk near the station.

You ponder it, stopping outside as you see a woman behind the counter. You're a bit relieved it's not the usual barista. That guy with reddish hair and warm brown eyes. He likes to talk, too bad you don't.

You enter and approach the till. The woman greets you brightly, her eyes look tired, and she points out to the specials. Nope, you can only afford a tea.

You pay for the green tea and way for her to pour the hot water. As you tap your fingers on the counter, another figure appears from behind the espresso machine. It's that guy. Dang.

“Hey, done break, your turn,” he chirps, quieting as he sees you standing there. He smiles, “oh, hi, you been helped?”

You nod and look down. The woman places the cup of steaming water in front of you. You thank her and take it, turning to claim the seat in the corner.

You sit and settle in with your bag in your lap. You don't have much to do so you stare out the window. Pedestrians pass by, with purpose, some even happily.

The cafe is quiet. There's a couple nesr the opposite wall, on a date, maybe. The ambiance holds even as people come in, ordering and leaving with their drinks.

You blow on your tea and sip. You tug the string of the bag and dip it up and down. Your dad will tire himself out soon. Maybe two hours. You can't make one tea last that long.

You put your arm on the table and curl your shoulders. You trace a finger on the tabletop. You usually keep a book in your bag but you took it out to read last night.

You frown. It shouldn't be like this but that's just how it is. You don't have much of a choice. Your dad is your family, your only family, all you have.

You wiggle your nose and swallow back your self-pity. No use crying. Especially here.

“Hi,” the voice frightens you as the barista approaches with a cinnamon bun on a plate, “uh, I'm Peter, remember? Saw you last week?”

You blink. You press your palms to the cup and feel the heat threaten to blister. He's short, his shoulders broad, and his posture straight.

“Er, you want a cinnamon bun?”

“I… no, I don't have the money,” you rasp and sip your tea.

“On the house,” he insists, “really, there was a mix up this morning and we made a batch too many.”

“That's nice but… no thank you.”

You know what it is to accept favours. They always come back to debts. You lower your head again.

“You don't like sweets? We have quiche–”

You shake your head. He hovers, waiting. You turn to watch out the window again. You wince as the plate clinks onto the table. He leaves the bun there and goes back behind the counter. You ignore it.

Maybe you won't come here anymore.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #au #the club #drabble #series #treat you #spider-man #mcu #marvel

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luceracastro · 2 months

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Teacher’s Pet

Part 3

Esteban Kukurickza x reader

Summary: After a few months of starting your literature course you seem to find it harder with time to ignore your professor, little did you know you were driving him crazy as well.

Warnings: nothing much, some knee/thigh touching but it’s all innocent (or that’s what Esteban says🤭)

Masterlist

You felt dead and you didn’t know if dead was even a sufficient word to describe how you really felt in that moment, your head was spinning and pounding, your arms and legs were sore to even move and your back pain was unbearable

Your eyes were swollen and sleepy from the lack of sleep you had been getting as of late and the sun peeking through the crack of the curtain was no help either “carajo” you groaned rolling your body over to your night stand

Now you knew you would take up on Esteban’s offer for the after school hours lecture after putting it off for weeks, you had grabbed you phone opening the email app and you had started a new email, you had reread it and made sure it was professional enough

You had the sent him the email and as soon as you put your phone down you were out like a light.

The next morning you looked over your phone, the day before you had taken the day to take some pain killers, drink tea, sleep and relax yourself which was very much needed but now you sent Esteban a email confirming you could meet up today

He had pitched in the idea to work at a secluded coffee shop where no one really went just so you both could work privately and with no suspicions from students or nosey professors

You had to get yourself together, you smelled like coffee and your hair was a tossed mess so you hopped in the shower, you did your hair, makeup and got dressed. You gathered your stuff and left your small flat locking the door and walking downstairs, you took the bus, it was easier and there was no way in hell you would ever walk

No you didn’t have a car, your dad did try to buy you one but it would just add on to expense and you didn’t really go anywhere except school and a small market right down the street at times the library but the bus was an easy fix for all of that, you had looked through your phone until the bus came to a stop and you stepped off finding the coffee shop down a little ally

After searching up about it, it was supposedly a underground calm little coffee shop with good coffee and treats, you had entered and looked around and there he was sat down looking through his computer and you stood there for a minute looking at him, you then walked over and he looked up a soft smile appearing on his lips as he saw you “hola linda, como te sientes?” He asked and you nodded a soft sigh escaping your lips “bien, mejor, gracias por preguntar” you said

“Si como no, ven sientate aqui” he patted the spot beside him and you nodded sitting beside him, this was the first time you ever were dangerously close to him, your knee touched his and you could feel his breathing against your skin which gave you chills

The lecture was based off of theoretical framework and through the lecture he was attentive in explaining everything and making sure you understood and you both worked on some exercises together which you did great on, your insight on the lecture made him sure that you understood it

Such a smart girl, he thought “quieres ordenar algo?” He asked and you nodded “ahorita nomas ordeno un cafe” you said as you looked over something on your notes “si quieres yo te lo ordeno” he said and you shook your head “no por favor ya no quiero molestarte” you smiled “no es ninguin molestia, tu nunca vas a ser un molestia para mi” he said and you smiled a soft chuckle escaping your lips

“Bueno esta bien, gracias” you thanked him “no hay problema nena” he had gotten up and you looked down working on the last few exercises making sure your work was double checked, “ten linda” you looked up and grabbed a hold of the medium sized coffee cup “gracias” you the realized he paid for your drink, “ten para la cafe” you handed him a five dollar bill since the coffee was only 3$ you saw it on the small menu stuck to the table

He shook his head “no nena esta bien” he wouldn’t accept your money and you gave him a look “por favor, ten” you tried to give him the money and he took it to put it back inside your bag and you gave him a frustrated face which made him chuckle and you couldn’t help but smile “Esteban ten” you tried to give him the money again as you playfully whined

“No, no voy acceptar tu dinero” he shook his head and you rolled your eyes “ahora me siento mal” you said and he shook his head “no nena por que?” You gave him a look “nomas es un cafe de 3$ linda” and you chuckled “ahora tienes que dejar que yo hago algo para ti” you said and he nodded

“Bueno, vamos a comer” he said and you tilted your head, your eyes slightly widening “yo se que no has comido se te ve” he said and you sighed a small smile on your lips “entonces quieres ir a comer?” You asked and he nodded “y que quieres comer?” You asked “te gustan las hamburguesas?” He asked and you nodded “Si” he picked up both of your things

“Bueno vamos nena” he said and you stood up “ahorita?” You asked and he nodded “si, se nota que no has comido, vamos” he didn’t give you room to protest as he already made his way out of the coffee shop and all you could do was follow him

He had been kind to open the car door for you making sure you were inside completely before closing the door, you sighed watching as he went around the car and entered the drivers side “bueno, vamos”

The car ride was calming with some of the night wind seeping through the car windows which were slightly rolled down, the radio which was turned down but loud enough for background noise, “eres muy calladita” he said chuckling a little as you smiled shaking your head

“Bueno la verdad no se que es algo apropiado que puedo hablar de con mi professor” you said looking over at him only to see that his eyes were already focused on you, “lo que sea?” He said shrugging with that same damn dreamy smile on his lips “y si digo algo malo? Mejor no” you giggled “bueno miralo asi, yo te doy la libertad de hablar me como si yo fuera cualquero, ahorita no me tienes que ver como tu profe, vale?”

You looked at him as he looked at you, the moment felt intimate in a way and you could only nod “Vale” you said in a whisper almost “bueno nena, dime” you thought for a moment, what could you even tell him? Your life wasn’t too eventful besides work and school “la verdad es que yo no tengo una vida tan emocionante” you laughed

“Bueno no hay que tener una vida llena de cosas asi, te digo algo, yo casi ni sali de mi cuarto cuando era joven” he said and you chuckled “tenias que haber salido” you said not believing a word he said “no, me la pasaba haciendo tareas, escribiendo, o viendo peliculas” he said and you raised a brown”y que no tenias amigos or una novia?” He nodded “si, si tuve pero nomas hablabamos en la escuela despues de eso era como que si no nos conocieramos” he said

“De verdad?” He then nodded “y tu no tienes tus amigas?” He asked “bueno si pero siempre estoy haciendo mis tareas o trabajando que ya no salgo tanto como antes” you admitted “y novio no tienes?” You looked at him then back at the road shaking your head “no, o sea tuve pero quebramos despues de que el se fue de España” you said

“Y estas bien?” He asked and you nodded “si, si poco a poco” you sighed and felt chills at the feeling of a rough hand resting on your knee, you looked down and saw his hand just on your knee and you watched as it slowly slipped up to sit on your thigh and you looked over at him, he was normal about with a smug smile on his lips while you panicked on the inside

“Bueno aqui estoy por lo que sea” you nodded “gracias” he didn’t move his hand, it’s still there and you weren’t complaining. You both pulled up in front of a small food truck with two fold up tables set up and what not, you were distracted looking at the food truck to even notice Esteban rounding the car to open your door “gracias” you smiled at him as he nodded, you both stared at the menu which made your head hurt, you didn’t know what you wanted

“Ya sabes lo que quieres?” He asked and you looked at him “si, lo que tu ordenes” you said and he chuckled “segura?” He asked and you nodded “bueno” he had ordered for the two of you then led you to sit down, it was getting cold again and you forgot to bring a jacket only having a long sleeved top to protect you

“Tienes frio” it wasn’t a question more like a statement “no estoy bien” you said but the subtle sound of your teeth clattering and your shaking body were a dead giveaway, “mentirosa” he chuckled shrugging off his jacket and holding it for you to slip it on “Y tu?” You asked “yo voy a estar bien nena, ten” he slipped the jacket on to you and sat back down “como sabias que querias ser maestro?” You asked him “Siempre queria ser, aunque no lo crees o no se nota siempre supe que iba ser maestro” he said

“Y tu nena que quieres hacer?” He asked and you thought if you should even tell him or not “autora” you said sipping on the soda he had bought you both “eso si es algo bueno, maravilloso” he said “y yo se que lo vas a lograr, veo los papeles y los trabajos que haces y yo se que vas a ser la mejor autora” he said and it made your heart genuinely happy that he thought that highly of you

“De verdad crees eso?” You asked with a wide smile on your lips “Si como no?” He smiled “eres una buena escritora” he said “gracias, me siento muy feliz a saber que tu piensas eso” he chuckled “nena todos en el colegio sabemos que vamos a ver tu nombre en los libros mas populares en el futuro” he just knew what to say

“Aye ya me vas hacer llorar” you laughed “no no nena” he smiled placing a hand over yours, for a moment your eyes met and it was just you two for a while until the booming voice of the man working the food truck yelled your order and he stood up going to get the food then he came back and sat down, the burgers looked great

“Prueba la” you smiled holding the burger and took a bite, he watched you carefully waiting for what you have to say about the burger “esta buenisimo” you laughed and he smiled “eso esperaba” he said and you laughed as he did too before taking a bite of his burger “de verdad esta hamburguesa es la mas buena que yo habia probado”

“Que bueno nena, sabia que te iba encantar” he said popping a fry into his mouth “y entonces como eras de nene?” You wanted to know more about Esteban, what was he like? What did he enjoy? “Un niño muy differente” he said

“Y como era ese nene differente?” You asked smiling taking another bite of the burger “un niño que se la pasaba afuera jugando fútbol o en casa viendo peliculas” he said making you smile “y como se veìa ese nene?” You asked and he sighed taking out his phone with a little smile as he swiped continuously on his phone

He showed you his phone screen he looked to be a little boy in the picture but he looked like the sweetest boy ever,“aye que lindo” you giggled “hermoso de verdad” you said and he chuckled “gracias nena gracias” he then let you hold his phone as you fawned over the picture “y aver, tu como eras de nena?” He asked and you sighed “una niña que hacia libros con papel y crayolas y le encantaba las caricaturas” you said and he smiled

“Que niña linda entonces” you shook your head smiling, while eating you both continued talking about childhood and more or so his and his teen years which you doubted he had, sometimes you found it hard to believe he once was young

Once you both had finished Esteban was nice to pick up your trash as well as his to throw it out, “nomas pago y nos vamos” and you shook your head giving him some money for you meal “mi parte” you said and he shook his head “perdon nena pero no” you gave him a look “Esteban por favor” you insisted yet he made no move to get the money from your hand

“No” he said once more and you slightly frowned “por favor” he sighed getting the money but what you didn’t see was him tucking it in his pocket and paying for both your meals himself, he thanked the woman then went to get you “vamos” he said and he helped hold your bag, you walked in front of him not seeing him tuck the money you gave him back inside your bag

“Ten linda” he gave you your bag and you thanked him as he carefully closed the door for you, he had driven you home the tiredness was getting to you and you could tell he was tired too by the sound of his yawn and his sleepy eyes

Stopping in front of your apartment building which he seemed to remember you sighed “gracias, por todo de verdad” you smiled at him and he smiled too “no es nada querida, lo que sea para mi alumna favorita” he said and you chuckled nodding “bueno, gracias otra vez, tenga buen noche y con cuidado por favor” you said getting your stuff and opening the door

“Si claro, gracias nena buenas noches” he said smiling and you smiled once more before closing the door and again he didn’t leave until you fully entered the building and after that he drove off, you entered your apartment smiling like an idiot as you put your stuff down and kicked off your shoes and you noticed you still had his jacket on and you took it off and looked at the dark brownish jacket it was warm and it smelled like him even from afar

You grinned about to walk over to your room to get ready for bed but something poking out of your bag caught your eye, the money you gave Esteban to pay for your food and you sighed a smile on your lips, how did you know it was your money? The folding on the bills “carajo” you chuckled putting the money in your bag and then going to your room.

Esteban entered his apartment and kicked off his shoes putting his things down on his table, he heard meows and purrs as he felt fluff rub against his legs “hola hermosa” he cooed as he scratched his cat’s side, the black cat had purred as her tail swirled “vamos lunita” he called her over making his way to his bedroom

Luna, he named the cat which he got three years prior, he fell in love with the little cat he would occasionally feed and he noticed she lacked a collar and had no where to go so instinctively he picked her up and took her to the vet doing everything he could to take her home and have her healthy.

The next morning you had woken up early to be able to stop by a coffee shop and get a big black coffee with a muffin, you weren’t going to let Esteban off that easily, you just had to do something for him, you entered class and it was empty except you saw Esteban sitting down at his desk going over some papers “buenos dias” you said making him look up his once serious expression turned into a smile “Buenos Dias nena” you smiled putting the coffee cup and paper bag holding the muffin down

“Ya se que no usaste el dinero que te di ayer” you gave him a look with a small smile and he leaned back a smug smile on his lips as he shrugged “por eso te traigo esto y te lo vas a comer y tomar” you pointed at him and he nodded “bueno bueno nena me lo como” he gave you a smile “gracias” he took out the muffin and took a bite “esta muy bueno, ten” he ripped it in half keeping the half he bit

“Pero si lo traje para ti” you said and he gave you a look “ya se que no comiste todavia ten” you took the bread playfully rolling your eyes and taking a bite “gracias por esto nena, de verdad te lo agradezco” he said and you nodded “si de nada” you smiled down at him.

As students began to come in you moved to your seat and sat down, the last thing you needed were rumors that would get both you and Esteban in trouble.

A/n: So sorry for taking so long to update my loves!!!! I swear I didn’t want to take this long but school was kicking me in the ass lol, but I do hope you all enjoy the read and this fic<3 and if you’d like to be tagged let me know!

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but not mandatory just enjoy the story my loves 🫶🏼

Taglist: @madame-fear @theoslove @catiwinky

#lsdln cast #esteban kukuriczka #fanfic #enzo vogrincic #matias recalt #francisco romero #esteban kukuriczka x reader

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ghosttotheparty · 7 months

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a mess of holy things 8 also on ao3 // prev. // next cw: mentions/brief descriptions of childhood neglect & physical punishment

There are sheets of paper littered around Steve’s entire room. Across his desk, filling his trash can, spread over his bed, each page filled with scribbled notes, his handwriting worse and worse as the words make their way to the last lines. The pen is smudged on most of the pages, the side of his hand stained with ink.

He’s been studying for hours today, and yesterday, and the day before, writing and rewriting rough draft after rough draft for his essays, revising and revising and revising, and he’s bored out of his mind.

There are three textbooks on his desks, all of them open to different topics, marked with pencil and more smudged pen ink.

His head hurts. His hands are sore from writing, from gripping his pencils and pens so tightly. He finds himself nibbling on the cross around his neck, the chain draping from his mouth, his teeth bumping over the ridges of Jesus’s body. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t be biting it, being a family heirloom, being something holy, but his fingertips haven’t bled in a while. He hasn’t tasted any blood.

He’s got the curtains open today, letting the morning sunlight in.

The phone rings as he’s letting his head fall back, stretching his neck and closing his eyes to rest them, fingers still gripping his own tightly. He startles at the sound, and he drops his pen, reaching for the phone.

“Hello, this is Steve.”

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Hi,” Steve says, voice softening. “How’re you?”

“Uh, I’m good,” Eddie says, but he sounds unsure. Hesitant. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Steve says, lifting his head, eyes watching the tree outside his window.

“Nothing, just…” Eddie pauses, clearing his throat. “Uhm. I have to— to tell you something.”

Steve blinks.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “What is it?”

“I…” Eddie is quiet for a moment. “I’d— I’d rather tell you, uhm, in person.”

“Okay,” Steve says again. “Should I— Do you want me to go to your place?”

He’s quiet again.

“…You know that cafe near mine? With the teacup sign outside?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you meet me there?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Okay,” Eddie says softly, almost whispering.

“…Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a light laugh. “I’m okay, I just… I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Okay,” Steve says, furrowing his brows a little bit. “I’m gonna go catch the next bus.”

“Okay.”

There’s traffic on the way into town, and Steve watches the cars all pull to a stop from where he’s sitting at the back of the bus, chewing his thumbnail. His knee bounces up and down anxiously, and he does his best to ignore the way his stomach is twisting, flipping over with nerves.

Eddie sounded so off on the phone. Off in a way Steve’s never heard him before. His voice was short, almost breathy with every Uhm… and too-long pause. It sounded like he was keeping his voice steady, like it wanted to shake and waver and he wouldn’t let it.

It’s drizzling when Steve finally gets off the bus, thanking the driver quickly, and he squints even though the sun isn’t that bright anymore. He avoids stepping in the puddles on the sidewalk as he makes his way to the cafe, swerving around pedestrians that are walking too slowly.

His jacket is spotted with rain when he finally gets to the cafe, and his hand gets wet when he pushes his hair back, out of his face. It’s warm in the cafe, and the stark difference hits him the second he steps inside, exhaling with relief. He takes off his jacket as he scans the cafe, spotting Eddie on the other side of it, sitting by himself at a small table, holding a mug, looking at it. His hair is down, falling over his shoulders, over the soft knit of his black sweater.

“Hi,” Steve says as he sets his jacket over the back of the other chair. Eddie looks up at him, smiling a little bit, but it’s tight, strained, forced. “What’s going on?”

“Uh.” Eddie takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he watches Steve sit. Steve moves closer to the table, leaning over it to look at Eddie intently. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve says again, raising his eyebrows, smiling hesitantly. “You okay?”

“I’m okay, I just…”

He fidgets with the handle of his mug, flicking his thumbnail over it, making a quiet tapping sound that sounds kind of like the rain hitting the roof. He swallows, looking away, his cheeks rosy.

“Eddie,” Steve says softly, his stomach twisting. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lets out a weak, humorless scoff, dropping his head and then shaking it.

“Sorry,” he says to his lap, holding his mug tightly.

“You don’t have to be,” Steve says gently, twisting his fingers together to stop himself from reaching out and taking Eddie’s hands. “Just… You’re worrying me, I…”

“You don’t…” Eddie shakes his head. “You don’t have to be worried, it’s just, uhm… Okay.” He takes another heavy breath, sliding his tongue over his lips as he looks away again. “Uhm. I didn’t… I didn’t want to say anything, but it’s… It’s getting too hard to just ignore, I guess.”

“Did I do something?” Steve asks, his throat tightening as nausea threatens his stomach.

“No,” Eddie says quickly, shaking his head. “No, you— you didn’t do anything, Steve, I…”

Steve.

Not Stevie. Not sweetheart.

Steve feels like he might cry.

“What is it?” he asks weakly.

“I, uhm…” Eddie lifts a hand and rubs his cheek. Looks away. Looks back at him. “I have feelings. For you.”

Steve blinks.

“Like…” Eddie pauses, looking at him, stammering for a moment. “Like— Romantic feelings.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly. Eddie looks away again, his cheeks red, and he rubs his own forehead before he pushes his hair back behind his shoulder.

“I— I know it’s just me, so I can just—”

“You like me?” Steve says weakly, and he knows he sounds like a child, like his friends in high school sounded when they gossiped about their classmates.

Eddie is quiet, looking at him, and his eyes look glassy. He swallows, nodding a little.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly.

“...Why?”

Eddie stares for a moment, and then he scoffs, smiling softly, his eyes shining brightly at Steve even though he still looks so… helpless.

“You have no idea how amazing you are,” he says quietly.

Steve’s cheeks flush with warmth, and he blinks again.

“You…” Eddie pauses, shifting in his seat, looking away, down at his coffee. “You’re brilliant. And you’re funny, and you’re creative, and you’re so… so fucking nice. Like…” He exhales, looking up at Steve again. “You’re, like, the kindest person I’ve ever met. Even though your parents are shitheads, and they— they raised you to be like them, you’ve only ever been kind to me, and I…” His voice shakes a little bit, and he cuts himself off, looking away and blinking his eyes repeatedly.

Steve’s throat tightens.

“I miss you when you’re not around,” Eddie continues after a moment, looking down again, his voice soft. “I… I like your voice. I like listening to you talk, even if you’re just complaining about your classes. And I like how you sit on the sofa like you’re trying to hide from something, like you— you make yourself as small as you can and it’s fucking adorable, and I like how you bite your pens when you think really hard, and how you scrunch your nose up when you laugh, and…”

He exhales sharply, blinking at Steve, and he looks like he’s going to cry again.

“And you’re so beautiful, Steve,” he whispers.

Steve’s eyes sting.

No one’s ever called him beautiful before. It’s never even seemed possible. But Eddie is looking at him like he’s the sun or something, like it hurts to look at him.

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie says softly, weakly. “You’ve got these eyes that could— could make flowers bloom, and your smile’s like the fuckin’ sun, and you…” He exhales shakily, eyes flicking back and forth between Steve’s. His voice trembles when he speaks again. “You understand me. In ways that no one else ever has.”

Steve’s lip quivers.

Eddie looks away. Clears his throat.

“Sorry.” He takes another breath. “Uhm. I know it’s just me. So. If you wanna just… pretend I never said anything, that’s… I understand. Or if you… If you just don’t wanna see me, that’s— that’s fine.”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Okay, uhm.” Eddie looks away, rubbing his nose and sniffling, twisting his mouth. “I’m gonna go.”

Steve’s vision blurs as he watches him stand, and Eddie’s name is stuck in his throat, but it can’t make its way out. His hands are shaking just the slightest bit, still clutching at each other under the table, and he has no idea what he feels right now, what name belongs to the feeling that’s tangled in his chest, in his stomach, but he wants to let it out.

But he can’t.

He doesn’t know how.

He watches Eddie go, silent.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there.

Staring at the table, Eddie’s words on repeat in his head.

I have feelings. For you. Like… Romantic feelings.

Steve’s never thought of himself as someone worthy of romantic feelings.

He heard rumors a few times that there were girls that liked him, but it’s never mattered. They never told him, never asked him out or anything. Not that he would have gone out with them if they had. He was raised with the belief that marriage is the only option, that everything is saved for the one.

He picks absently at one of his nails, his eyes trained on the mug Eddie left on the table. It’s almost empty.

He hadn’t meant to ask why. He knows it’s a stupid question.

He’d meant to ask how Eddie knows he likes Steve.

Which also might be a stupid question.

He doesn’t know.

But his friends never really went into detail about how they knew they had crushes. They only ever went into detail about their crushes, about their hair, their waists, their lipgloss. It was always She’s so hot. And other things Steve just pretended he didn’t hear.

And that was all he thought romance was.

His parents have never been in love. He knows that.

He’s never seen romance in movies or on television, he’s never read about it in books.

He remembers one of his friends in junior year gushing about his girlfriend, leaning back against the bleacher behind him with his eyes closed. Guys, I think I’m in love with her.

They’d all laughed. Teased him. Poked at his face and ruffled his hair.

But Steve couldn’t stop thinking about how blissful he’d seemed, and it was so wildly different from his idea of what romance was (which was what his parents had, which…) that Steve daydreamed about it. Liking someone so much it made him smile just thinking about it.

He still thought it was still… Well. Physical.

But…

I have feelings. For you. Like… Romantic feelings.

Steve’s never heard anything talk about him the way Eddie talked about him. He’s never been called beautiful, or gorgeous, or creative, or brilliant, or funny, or amazing.

And Eddie said it all so sweetly.

Like it was all real. About Steve.

And Steve believed him.

The taste of blood blossoms on Steve's tongue, and he blinks. His eyes focus, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth, huffing as he watches blood rise to the surface of his skin around his fingernail. There’s a napkin on the table next to the mug, and he reaches for it, wraps it around his finger tightly, squeezes. Watches the blood seep through the paper.

His heart hurts.

It’s never felt like this before.

His whole chest aches, like there’s an absence, like something is missing.

His fingers find the cross around his neck, twisting it and twirling it, blinking tears back as his eyes burn.

You have no idea how amazing you are.

Steve’s stomach twists, and he leans over, lets his forehead press to the cold wood of the table in front of him. His shoulders shake as he suppresses a sob, hides it from the rest of the cafe, from the eyes around him.

He doesn’t think Eddie has any idea how amazing he is.

How smart, and gentle, and sweet he is. How kind. How safe.

Steve’s hands are trembling as he grips the end of his sweater tightly. He wishes, instinctively, habitually, that he was wearing one of Eddie’s hoodies, and the thought drags through him, pulls at his muscles until they all ache.

And he misses him.

He misses him in a way he never thought was possible. He misses him so much it hurts. And he’s stuck here. Sitting at a table by himself because he can’t have Eddie’s arms around him, which is all he really wants. Eddie to hold him. To comb his hair back the way he does, to call him sweetheart.

Steve presses a hand over his chest, rubbing over his heart so hard the sweater he’s wearing slides over, scratching and folding.

His parents would kill him.

He’s thought that countless times in his life. Every time he’s missed a prayer, every time he’s skipped grace. Every time he’s gotten a bad grade, forgotten an assignment or a chore, every time his awful friends have said something blasphemous or sinful.

They’ve never killed him.

They’ve locked him in the cupboard under the stairs, in the dark. He had to start bending over in it when he was twelve, when his limbs started stretching overnight. He’s always hated it there. But they insisted it gave him space to think, with nothing to look at, nothing to touch, nothing to do. He’d curl up into a ball, the broomstick and mop handles pressing into his back, head ducked, eyes closed, to pretend the dark was just his eyelids and shadows, to pretend it wasn’t surrounding him completely.

They’ve confiscated his things, his favorite shirts, his comfortable shoes. They’ve sent him to bed without dinner, to school without breakfast. They’ve kicked him out for the night. He didn’t have a key for the front door until he got older, and when it was locked he was left on the front porch, shivering until the sun came up again.

They’ve smacked the backs of his hands with switches, with rulers, until his knuckles were bruised purple and blue. They’ve dragged him by his ear and by his hair where they want him.

For misbehaving. For forgetting.

But for this, Steve doesn’t even know what they’d do. If they’d lock him in the broom closet for a full day, if they’d withhold all three meals. If they would beat sense into him, if they’d force him to his knees in prayer until it hurts to straighten his legs. If they would cry. If they would be angry. If they would call him names. If they would kick him out for good instead of for the night.

He feels sick.

So he stands, his chair scraping back over the floor loudly, and he goes outside, pulling his jacket on. The air is cold, rushing over him as he opens the door and steps out, and his eyes burn, tears finally falling down his cheeks, leaving cold tracks in their path.

He sits on a bench facing the street. There’s melting snow on the curb, grey with soot and dirt, and the road is wet from rain. It’s still raining, but it’s so light Steve barely notices it, wiping tears away from his skin as mist is dropped on him from the sky.

He likes Eddie.

He supposes it should have been obvious sooner, but he would have had no way of knowing. Of realizing.

He wishes knowing could make something settle inside him. He wishes it could calm the storm inside his chest, that it could soothe him the way Eddie’s hands do, but it doesn’t.

He also wishes knowing Eddie likes him back, that it’s reciprocated, could make him feel better. It doesn’t.

Because what is he supposed to do?

He wants to go to Eddie. To hug him until nothing hurts anymore.

He tastes blood again. He almost lets out a weak whine, like a child, and he presses his finger to the side of his leg, watching blood stain the denim of his jeans. He raises his shoulder to wipe his cheek on his jacket. The zipper scrapes his face a little bit.

His parents used to talk about queers.

They didn’t talk about it often, but enough for Steve to know where they stand in regards to it. They taught Steve about it when he was old enough to know what sex was, when he was old enough for them to tell him his body will change, that it will tempt him, that he must not give in. They talked for far too long that night, describing God’s loving design, telling Steve that intimacy is for a married man and wife. That he mustn’t give into covetous desires.

Steve still remembers the verses they gave him that day, the ones they had him highlight in his bible in orange.

1 Peter 2:11 Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.

Matthew 15:19-20 For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person.

Ephesians 5:3 But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people.

And of course:

Leviticus 18:22 You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.

Though Steve supposes that, in a way, he’s already disobeyed that particular verse. He’s laid in Eddie’s arms, let Eddie hold him tenderly the way he’s supposed to hold his wife. He’s twisted their fingers together, traced the art on his skin, played with his hair. Gazed at him. Whispered to him.

Longed for him.

Steve’s skin feels like it’s on backwards. Like it’s inside out.

The rain starts coming down harder, and the world turns a blurry shade of gray. Raindrops get caught in his hair and in his eyelashes, and as people hurry past him, rushing to canopies and doorways to escape the clouds, none of them can tell that he’s crying.

He doesn’t know how he finds himself here.

Soaked in rain, starting to shiver, under God’s eye.

This church is bigger than the one his parents attend; there are rows of pews, more options for where to sit, more stones lining the floor that click quietly against the bottoms of his shoes with every step he takes. The sounds echo in the church, and it sounds for a moment like he’s completely alone, surrounded by stone walls and glass saints.

But there are a few others here, kneeling, praying, whispering to God. Steve’s eyes linger on a woman wearing a pale blue veil over her hair, kneeling at a pew with a rosary clasped between her hands. As Steve passes by her, he hears her voice, so soft he almost mistakes it for the rain hitting the roof.

He slides into an empty pew. Looks forward to the altar. There are candles flickering, sending golden light across the front of the church, making it all gleam even though it’s dark and cold and gray outside, and Steve’s eyes raise to find Jesus above it all, arms outstretched, pinned to an ornate cross. His hair is a little bit curly. It makes Steve think of Eddie.

Jesus blurs in Steve’s vision as his eyes fill with tears again, and for a moment, he feels filthy. Like he needs to leave his flesh and bones out in the rain, like he needs to bath in holy water. Like that will fix him.

He slides off the pew, falls to his knees, just like when he placed his head on Eddie’s lap and felt himself melt into the floor. But he doesn’t feel fingers running through his hair, and he doesn’t hear a quiet voice murmur sweetheart to him.

He hears the rain outside, pouring from the sky, and he hears the soles of someone’s shoes clicking against the floor. He hears someone whispering a prayer. He hears the kneeler beneath him creak under his weight.

He bows his head, rests his clasped hands on the pew in front of him. Squeezes his eyes shut when they start to sting even more, ducking his head as though to hide.

And he talks to God.

He prays silently, facing the floor, letting his tears fall to the old embroidered cushion beneath his knees. He doesn’t see the tears seep between the seams, bleeding into the threads to stay.

He remembers what it used to be like when he prayed. His head would empty except for the words he whispered to God, and in those brief moments, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything except the next word. He just spoke, and let himself drift, let himself find the peace in it, in knowing someone was listening even if he couldn’t see Him. He used to pray in the cupboard under the stairs a lot; there wasn’t anything else to do except cry, and he got tired of that, so he would find himself talking to God, telling him how tired he was of the dark, how scared he was in the enclosed space. And God listened until his parents finally opened the door again.

It was easier to pray then. Easier to find the words. Easier to feel a response.

Steve doesn’t feel anything now.

He doesn’t even really know what his prayer is for, really. He supposes he’s asking for guidance, for instruction, for something, but his prayers turn to pleas, and then he’s just begging under his breath, tears streaming down his cheeks. Please, please, please, please, please….

God doesn’t answer.

When he finally stops crying, he lets his forehead rest on his clasped hands. His hair is still wet, cold on his fingers, and the chill of his wet jacket is finally starting to reach him, but he can’t stand the idea of going back to his dorm room. Somehow that seems even more lonely than sitting here.

He sits heavily in the pew, looking back up at Jesus, and he kind of wants to hold a grudge now. How dare He hang there, within earshot? How dare He not say anything?

Steve wipes his face with his hand, sniffling. He feels like such a child. Crying in church.

“Hello.”

Steve startles, blinking and looking up.

He kind of wants to cower when his eyes meet the priest, when they find the white tab in his collar, but the priest is smiling kindly, softly.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, nodding to the space beside Steve in the pew, and Steve hesitates before shaking his head silently. The priest smiles and sits next to him. He’s quiet, looking ahead like he’s admiring the crucifix.

Steve looks at him. He’s an older man, around Steve’s father’s age, but the years show on his face instead of the way he carries himself. He doesn’t seem as tired as Richard does, or as angry, and Steve wonders what the difference between them is; they both have God, but only one seems to reap the benefits.

“What’s bothering you?” the priest asks after a few quiet moments.

And Steve can’t just say it.

That he has a crush on his best friend, on his only friend, that he has a crush on a man.

So he’s quiet instead, looking at his own hands. He’s bleeding again. He hides it with the sleeve of his jacket. Somehow it feels sinful to bleed in church. His blood isn’t holy like Jesus’s.

The priest waits for him. Unprompting and patient.

Steve’s voice is rough when he finally speaks.

“...I don’t find peace in prayer anymore.”

The priest hums, nodding, and Steve glances at him. He feels like he’s going to be in trouble, like he’s going to be pushed into the cupboard under the stairs until he can pray properly. But he doesn’t sound angry when he speaks again.

“Where do you find peace?”

Steve’s throat tightens.

He’s so tired. Exhausted.

He rolls the question over in his mind, searching and searching and searching for the place that would make his heartbeat slow, that would make his mind quiet, and his eyes burn as he sees the letters on Eddie’s fingers, as he sees the leaves and blossoms wrapped around his arm, as he sees the bat resting over his throat. Steve closes his eyes, stifling a weak sob, remembering the way he knelt by Eddie’s bed, the way it didn’t actually bother him that he couldn’t finish that prayer.

“Home,” he says finally, his voice soft and weak, and the priest looks at him. He looks sort of sad, sympathetic. Kind.

Steve’s father has never looked at him like this.

“Why don’t you go there?” he asks gently, almost whispering.

Steve looks away. Stained glass isn’t as beautiful when it’s dark out.

“Shouldn’t you be… telling me to pray harder, or something?” he says dryly. “Telling me to go to God?”

The priest laughs lightly.

“Maybe,” he says, shrugging in a way that seems almost childish. “But…” He sobers, hesitates. Looks at Steve again like he’s considering something. “You deserve peace,” he says softly. “Even if it’s not with God.”

Steve blinks.

The priest seems to notice it, the blankness, and he keeps talking, looking back up at the crucifix, his voice too casual for what he’s telling Steve, for what he’s making him feel.

“It’s okay to find peace elsewhere. And if you decide to try again, to come back…” He looks at Steve, but his face blurs. “God will still be here. He isn’t going anywhere.”

Steve’s hands are shaking, and he tightens his fingers around each other, squeezing so tightly it hurts his knuckles. He looks up at the priest after a few moments.

“Go home,” the priest says softly.

Steve nods.

The priest gives him another kind smile, and then he leaves him alone. Steve hears his shoes click on the floor as he walks away, back down the center aisle. Steve inhales deeply, slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

Steve’s jacket is soaked. His hair is dripping, and he’s cold, and he’s shaking, and the rose on the door is blurring in his vision as he knocks.

Please.

He tastes blood as he waits, biting the skin next to his nail. The stairwell is so quiet he can hear his own breathing, uneven and choppy and on the verge of panicked.

Please. Please.

He chokes on his own breath. His hands are trembling so hard his finger pulls away from his teeth.

The door swings open.

Steve’s chin quivers, and he drops his hand.

Eddie’s hair is tied back in a ponytail, loose curls falling around his face and his neck, and the collar of his shirt is stretched out, draping loosely over his collarbones. His eyes are shining, his cheeks and nose rosy, and Steve can tell he’s been crying. He wonders if Eddie can tell that he’s been crying, too.

“Hi,” Eddie breathes.

Steve’s whole body aches. It feels like it’s been months, years, since he’s seen Eddie, even though he saw him just this morning.

Eddie’s hands are bare, ringless, still holding the door open. Steve can’t tear his eyes away from him, and he’s never felt more desperate in his life, even though he doesn’t know what it is that he’s dying for.

The quiet stretches on. Steve’s eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s trying to use telepathy, like just looking at Eddie can make him know.

Until Steve finds his voice.

“It’s not just you.”

Eddie blinks.

“…What?”

“You said— You said you know it’s just you, but it— it’s not.” Steve’s voice wavers, and he blinks tears back. “Me too.”

And Steve can see the words sink in. Eddie’s expression shifts, relaxes. His eyes widen. His lips part.

“…Oh.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

#eheheheheheheheh #love u all #kissing ur foreheads #mwah #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

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broflovskisbitch · 11 months

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barista!reader x matt and trey pt 1

-matt is probably the one to find the cafe first

-he was probably taking a break from writing and took a walk to find something to do when he found the cafe you work at

-probably just orders a drip coffee the first time and sits in the cafe to drink

-immediately regrets it though because he sees the latte art you make on the other drinks

-probably pouts cause he didn't get a cute little foam heart ☹️

-he likes watching you interact with your coworkers and overhearing your banter

-smiles to himself when he hears you laughing with your coworkers

-he goes back a couple more times, enjoying the brief conversations you two have at the counter or by the machine while you make drinks

-you draw little doodles on his cup or just a quick 'have a good day :)'

-trey starts bugging him about where he's going cause it's to the point where matt stops in almost everyday and sometimes he doesn't even gets a drink, he just likes saying hi :)

-he hesitates cause he likes having you to himself but relents, cause he knows trey will adore you

-the next morning they go to the cafe with their laptops cause you bet your ass they're gonna stay and write

-you perk up when you see Matt and chirp out a 'good morning matt!'

-he blushes. like a loser.

-trey absolutely talks your ear off about how 'oh, matt just CANT stop talking about this place' and 'he has SO many pictures of your latte art on his phone' with a huge shit eating grin

-you feel your face grow hot, flattered cause you've got a crush on matt Big Time

-you periodically check in on them while they're writing cause you're curious and they ask your input on jokes and pacing in the script

-honestly they probably spend the whole day writing in the cafe until you tell them you're closing, or if you don't close they'll offer to walk you to your car or bus stop

ik it's pretty matt x reader heavy in this one but I'll try to make these more trey x reader x matt in other parts

also sorry these are short :,) I just wanted to give yall something

#today #i give you hcs #tomorrow? who knows #matt stone x reader #trey parker x reader #these are pretty mid but its all i think about when the cafe i work at is dead lmao #my writing

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nixytea · 2 years

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dear bus noona | n.rk

pairing: non-idol! nishimura riki x noona! reader

genre: romance, fluff, letter, bus crush (i know cafe crush is kind of a genre but what about bus seatmates?)

inspired by: my bus rides lol

summary: in which ni-ki writes a letter to the noona who’s on his bus every day :)

wc: 646

warnings: older crush(?), mentions of crying, cat canvas bags, sad books (???i liked it so im not sure if it needs a warning)

dear bus noona:

the first time i met you, you stole took my seat. my favourite seat!!! the window seat. and because you were sleeping, your head blocked my view so i nearly missed my stop >:(( next time sit on the outside okay? but you looked kinda cute when you were asleep…

then i started seeing you on the same bus. every single day. IN THE SAME SEAT. i caught a glimpse of your id while you were putting away your bus pass. that’s how i know you’re a noona. clever, aren’t i? :> but anyway. at least you weren’t asleep the second time. you know noona, you should sleep more, instead of relying on the horrible-smelling coffee you carry around all the time. sometimes you stare at the trees passing by, and i guess it relaxes you because after 5 minutes on the bus you look less tense than when you first get on.

last week, you started carrying a really ugly canvas bag. noona, i love cats too but please stop carrying that bag around the poor kitten’s face is misshapen. the manufacturer of your bag doesn’t do cats justice. seriously, the cat face print looks more like a pig than a cat. return it if you bought it, unless you got it as a gift, which in that case please never bring that out in public again. it’s an eyesore.

the other day, you had a new keychain on your bag zipper, with cha eunwoo’s face on it. does noona find him handsome? are you really a cha eunwoo fangirl? i’m even more good-looking than him what’s your favourite kdrama then? i’ve watched a few of the really popular ones but i don’t really know what else to watch. can noona give me some suggestions? so long as they don’t have cha eunwoo in them.

noona, you looked so funny on the bus last wednesday, crying while reading that english book that i can’t remembering the name of. (was it swing sideways? i don’t know.) i’m sorry for laughing at you. but if i hadn’t laughed you wouldn’t have yelled at me for teasing you! so you should thank me for laughing, ok? don’t be mad at me…i just thought it was cute that you could be so worked up about books. even though i’m not close to noona, just watching you has already told me so much about what you’re like. our chat was really fun, and you’re really fun too.

ahhh, noona, sometimes you’re so cute when i see you. your fashion sense makes me wonder if i’m older or you are. you’re so weird, noona! you’re such an odd person, and i can’t help but want to be friends with you. so dear bus noona, talk to me more ok?

with love,

the kid on the bus who squished your crocheting project by accident ♡

riki sighed, head tilting backwards as he leaned back into his chair. the white light from his desk lamp illuminated his ghostly complexion, and he realised he’d been up far too late for a kid who still had school the next day. twirling his favourite pen absentmindedly, riki reread his letter one more time, before humming in satisfaction when he found no more areas to be corrected. in went the fancy parchment paper, and all that was left on riki’s desk was a lavender-scented manila envelope held in place by a piece of twine. (he’d borrowed konon’s perfume, and he’d make sure sola took that secret to the grave.)

unbeknownst to riki, there was a small smile gracing his lips as he went to bed that night. he needed the sleep, after all tomorrow was going to be a big day. with the flip of a switch, the room was plunged into darkness, but the tiny flame of hope in riki’s heart glowed brighter than anything.

a/n: so…here we are. i just think ni-ki’s adorable. i’m not even older than the beloved maknae so why am i writing about being his noona T-T but anyway! this is my first time writing fluff in a long while so im very rusty but it’s my soft hours so enjoy it while it lasts

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cariantha · 1 year

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Doppelganger

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1K Summary: Sawyer meets her doppelganger.

A/N1: This fic was inspired by an ask from @jerzwriter. Ethan and Sawyer are on a much-needed vacation at a posh resort. Sawyer says she forgot something in the room and she'll be right back. Ethan heads to the buffet, the bar… someplace… and he sees "Sawyer." He swears she was wearing something different 5 min before, but then again, he may have had one too many mimosas. He walks up and puts his hand on her hip, and whispers something racy in her ear, and "she" turns around and all but smacks him. Now he realizes it's not her… but it's her… she says, "I don't know who Sawyer is, but my name is Hannah!" That's when Sawyer enters the room and meets her doppelganger.

A/N2: For background, Sawyer’s face claim is Hannah Jeter, wife of baseball legend Derek Jeter. The couple just welcomed their fourth child a couple weeks ago.

Walking arm in arm toward the hotel's coffee shop, Sawyer suddenly stopped.

"Ethan, we forgot to leave a tip for housekeeping."

He quickly replayed their morning activities in his head then leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'll go take care of it. We left quite a mess behind with our version of breakfast in bed, didn't we?" he winked.

"We're definitely going to need clean sheets. We got chocolate and strawberry juice everywhere," she giggled. "But I'll go. I want to grab a hair tie while I'm up there. You go order our coffee."

"Okay... here," he handed her the room key and some cash from his wallet.

"I'll be right back, babe."

After waiting several minutes in line, Ethan placed his order with the barista. He scanned the café for a place to sit and found Sawyer already sitting at a bar that took advantage of the tropical view. She had put her hair up in a ponytail and had definitely changed her outfit. He'd recognize that dress anywhere. The country club/cult dress.

She was completely preoccupied with her phone when he approached. Coming up behind, he whispered close to her ear. "Tease. This dress and a big window with a view..." pushing his hips against her backside, "....if you wanted to get a rise out of me, Sawyer, it's definitely working."

"Whoa there!" she spun around and pushed him back.

Before she said anything more, Ethan's mouth fell open as he realized his mistake.

"I don't know who Sawyer is, but my name is Hannah. And I think you’ve saddled up next to the wrong woman.”

Ethan immediately took a couple steps back. His cheeks turned a bright shade of red as he tried to offer an apology. "I…I'm so sorry! You…you, uh, you look so much like my girlfriend. She even has a similar dress."

"Yeah, I picked up on that," Hannah said, looking him up and down.

"My behavior just now was so inappropriate. I hope you can accept my sincerest apology,” Ethan begged as he ran his hand nervously through his hair.

Hannah could see he was genuinely embarrassed. "Of course…but only if I get to meet your Sawyer. I have to see this resemblance for myself now."

"It's uncanny," shaking his head, still in disbelief.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room…

Sawyer entered the cafe and looked around for Ethan. When she finally spotted him, her heart sank into her stomach. She couldn’t believe the sight before her. Her boyfriend, who she just made love to no more than an hour ago, appeared to be making moves on another woman.

Caught up in the scene before her, Sawyer didn’t hear the voice approaching from behind.

“There you are. I’m done with the golf tournament. What do you say we head back up to the room and try for number five?” he suggested, inconspicuously grabbing her ass.

“HEY!” Sawyer swatted his hand away, shocked out of her stupor.

“Sweetheart, what’s wro–” he stopped short, realizing the furious woman now facing him was not his wife. “Ma'am, I’m so sorry. I thought you were my wife, Hannah.”

The man looked familiar to Sawyer, but she couldn’t place him. Not until she heard the clicking of a camera and saw flashes of light.

“Derek! Over here! Are you and Mrs. Jeter on the outs?” the paparazzo yelled as the concierge tried to shoo him away.

“Derek Jeter?” she asked. “The baseball guy?”

The commotion caught the attention of Ethan and Hannah, who both made their way over.

“Yes, and I’m sorry again for the confusion,” he said as Hannah came to his side. “This is my wife, Hannah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sawyer,” Hannah offered her hand.

“I’m confused. How do you know my name?”

“Well, it appears your boyfriend was just as confused as Derek,” she smiled, watching Ethan take Sawyer’s hand in his.

“I’m guessing the guy with the camera was too. It makes a lot more sense now why he was following me around and asking why I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring,” Sawyer shared.

“Ethan Ramsey,” Ethan interjected, offering a hand to Derek. “It’s nice to meet you. Although, I wish it were under less embarrassing circumstances. I’m very sorry to both you and your wife. I wasn’t very gentleman-like when I approached her.”

Shaking his hand, “No worries, man. Apology accepted. And please accept mine in return. I tried to make it to second base with your girlfriend,” he chuckled. Derek looked between his wife and Sawyer. “It’s crazy how much you two look alike. You're each other’s…what’s the word?”

“Doppelganger,” Ethan answered.

“Yeah. Look, Sawyer, there’s a pretty good chance that a picture of my hand on your backside will be on TMZ tomorrow,” Derek said regretfully. “If there’s anything I can ever do to make it up to you, here’s my card.”

“We could use a ringer for our annual softball game,” she grinned, playfully jabbing Ethan in the side.

“She’s joking,” Ethan insisted. “We should let you both get on with your day.”

"Do you mind if we take a group selfie real quick?" Sawyer asked.

"Of course not." Derek held his hand out for her phone. As they squeezed together, he instructed, "Everyone smile and say 'Doppelganger!'"

“Enjoy the rest of your vacation,” Hannah offered politely as Derek handed the phone back. “Maybe we’ll see you around later.”

“Thanks, you too,” Sawyer waved goodbye.

Ethan put a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry, Soe. I honestly thought it was you. I meant no disrespect.”

“It’s okay, babe,” wrapping her arms around his waist. “I mean, I did have the scare of a lifetime when I walked in and saw you leaning over another woman, but it was an honest mistake. I forgive you.” She stood on her toes and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Excuse me, sir?” the barista interrupted, “I believe these were yours?”

“Yes. Sorry about that, thank you,” Ethan took the drinks, handing one to Sawyer. “Do you want to sit outside?”

Sawyer nodded and followed him out to the patio. “Hey, did you notice the tennis dress she was wearing? Did it remind you of anything?” she sang, suggestively raising her eyebrows a couple times.

“Yes. It’s what got me into trouble in the first place.”

As they took their seats, “Now this I have to hear…”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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maranull · 2 years

Note

Hi!! Headcanons for what the ladies (and Blaidd) would do for a date mayhaps?

Hello! My hand slipped so here's a wall of text! Hopefully it's close to what you had in mind. Also thank you for the ask! <3

Ranni: Picks you up late in the evening. She tries to be nonchalant but she also did say, "Yes, sir!" to your mother so she's going through it. You get drive-through and park at the top of the nearest hill. You sit on the hood and spent hours just chilling and talking under the moon and stars with the faded city lights below. She gets all bothered and flustered at almost any compliment or tease you throw at her. A cheesy eyes-like-stars type compliment has her swooning for a good five minutes. There's a light breeze that is pleasant at first, but starts to turn chilly after a while. She gives you her jacket (that she only wears for fashion) the moment she notices you're cold. She also steals all your fries. No, she didn't want any. You return in the middle of the night. If you kiss her goodnight, you'll spot her jump in the air in triumph the moment she thinks no one's watching.

Melina: Comes by your house around noon. You grab a bus and head into the city. You share earbuds during the trip and she keeps her hand around yours. You get out close, but not too close, to the library and stop by a cafe on the way. She gets warm tea. You spent some time there, with Melina getting all giddy every time she sees couples or families walking by. You walk to the library after a while. There, you first head to your favourite section, then to hers (history). You play a game where you pick a book with your eyes closed, pick a random chapter number and read it to each other (quietly). You then have to guess what's the book about without looking at the synopsis. You both leave with (at minimum) two books on your hands and schedule your next date to be a reading one. But at a cafe cause people-watching is fun.

Malenia: Actually invites you over her house. She can't leave because she's carrying for her brother. But they have a whole ass pool so she invites you for a swim. Her brother keeps smiling and winking every time he thinks you're not watching. He soon retreats to his room, while wiggling his eyebrows. Malenia has a dance studio at the basement and she spends an hour or two teaching you some steps. A sneaky little bro changes the song to waltz a couple of times. Instead of a shower you jump in the pool at which point you discover that Malenia doesn't believe in undergarments. But she's really chill about it and soon you stop paying attention to her lack of swimsuit and you just talk at the edge of the pool until your fingers start to wrinkle. After a quick towel dry, you take a walk in her garden and pick fruits from the trees to eat. Which you do sitting by the pool, talking and watching the sunset.

Marika: Picks you up with a sport motorcycle early in the evening. She's in full leather. Wears no helmet but bought one for you on the way and refuses to move if you don't put it on. You go to an early screening of a generic action movie and she also pulls the yawn and stretch move. She's really into the stunts and excitedly explain how they did such and such both during the movie and at the walk back to the bike. You drive to a rock bar and sit at the front bar. She's a whisky on the rocks kinda gal but only drinks a single glass tonight despite almost getting into a drinking challenge with a random dude. She might start explaining the differences between single and blended malt and all other kinds of details about whisky, if asked. And she does it with such genuine enthusiasm that you find it hard to get bored. At the drive home, she takes the highway and floors it. She goes so fast that you start thinking you'll crash but she has perfect control over the bike and slows down when she feels you tensing on her back. She does a donut as she waves goodbye.

Blaidd: He's the type that suggests a hike for a date. You leave at dawn and he insists to carry your bag for the first two hours. Until he realizes that carrying two bags and talking on the trail is really not a easy thing to do. Stops every now and then to show you how these tree scratches are from a deer, or how this round, cleared hole was made by wild hogs. If you pass a stream, he'll suggest to try and find the source, because "water from the stream source tastes better". He actually has cleared an area for a picknick upstream and wanted it to be a surprise. He also has brought all the ingredients needed for a full meal and cooks for you on the spot. He undercooks the meat but everything else is perfect. You spent a couple hours on the clearing, some talking, some just listening to the life around you. Eventually you return to the car and you drive to a hill to watch the sunset. You are home by 21:30, on the dot.

#elden ring #ranni the witch #melina #malenia blade of miquella #queen marika the eternal #marika the eternal #blaidd the half wolf #asks #x reader #headcanons #these are like for 1st or 2nd date kinda situations

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bubble7o7 · 2 years

Text

Mature Content

Over 18’s Only

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Doors Closing…

“What?! I don’t understand. I’m just supposed to stop, stop seeing you, stop loving you, stop texting, calling, just stop having any feelings for you…”.

Your voice breaks as you swallow hard. “I just have to forget about you, hate you… is that what you want?”

“No please… please don’t hate me?” He pleads.

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to do… where has this come from?!”

Total silence… why does he look so sad if he’s so sure that we need to break up?

“I love you. But you’re pushing me away!” You cry out. “What have I done? am I so hard to love is that it?!”

“God no!…” he moves towards you his arms reaching for you, then he clasps his hands together. It’s like he’s stopping himself from moving closer.

He stutters “I… I’ve… I’ve never been happier… but you…”

“But me what? Why do you want to break up, I’ve been here a week, what have I done that was so wrong…?!”

He opens his mouth but no words come out.

“For fuck sake!, oh fuck you! Fuck off and leave me then, I don’t want to hear your bullshit! I honestly can’t take this! Just go!”

“Fuuuck!” He shouts as he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

You put your head in your hands in total disbelief but anger quickly creeps in… “Fuck him!” You grab your bag and jacket and storm out the office to the elevators, you practically punch the call button until the elevator dings, the doors open and you head in.

Angrily wiping tears from your face you look up and see Yoongi running down the corridor towards you wiping tears from his eyes. You hit the door close button hard as he’s just feet away.

He shouts out “Wait!” As the doors close.

“Fuck Him” you say to yourself. You can barely catch your breath. You run through reception and out onto the street. Looking around, you have no clue where to go, you’re staying with Yoongi at his place, you have no where else to go.

You see a bus pull up at a nearby stop, you run to it and get on. You just need to get away from the HQ and Yoongi as quickly as possible.

Taking your seat you wipe your tears, take a deep breath and check your phone. You have 20 missed calls, multiple text messages and voicemails. You switch it off.

After about 20 mins you spot a little cafe opposite a play park coming up so you get off at the next stop.

You head in to the cafe, the waitress guides you over to a seat by the window. She takes your order, then gently pats your shoulder as she hands you a packet of tissues. You smile and thank her, her kindness sets you off crying again.

You take out your phone to check your makeup in the screen, you look a mess… No!… you look like the love of your life has just broken up with you, completely out of the blue.

You try to rack your brain to figure out what you could have done to push him away, were you too clingy, too needy?… you literally had no clue.

You switch your phone back on and it buzzes like mad. You leave it a little while as the waitress hands you your tea and water. She gives you a steamed bun, you didn’t order it but she’s not taking no for an answer. Your stomach grumbles and you thank her again, doing your best not to cry at her kindness.

You scroll through your messages all but one of them is from Yoongi. You don’t want to read his yet but there’s one from Hobi.

“Hi Y/N, it’s none of my business what has happened but please let me know where you are, are you safe? Yoongi is frantic, I’ve not seen him like this before. He’s panicking, he’s ready to call the police. You don’t have to speak but please just let me know you’re ok xx”

You text him to say “I’m ok xx”

He replies straight away “Where are you? I can come pick you up, you can come stay with me”

“Thank you, I just need a little space/time. I’ll text you in a little while, thank you x”

He replies “Ok. Love You x”

You let out a little sigh… take a sip of your tea and sit back watching the people pass by and the kids playing in the park across the road.

You can’t understand why Yoongi has acted the way he has, every time he spoke it was like he didn’t want the words to come out but each time they did they’d cut deeper. You were in the building to meet him for lunch… how did it turn so bad so quick… and why was he crying if he’s wanting to break up so badly?

A couple of teas and another steamed bun later, you feel calm enough to text Hobi. You can stay at his and try to exchange your ticket back home. You burst into tears again… “some fucking vacation this has turned out to be!”

You text Hobi “are you ok to pick me up still?”

“Yes, yes of course. Just let me know where you are?”

You haven’t got a clue!… you open google maps and work it out from there. You send him a screen shot of the cafe.

“Please don’t rush, drive safe” you text back.

You thank the waitress for her kindness being sure to leave a generous tip and you head out across the road to the park and wait for Hobi.

You sit on the swings, in a world of your own. You don’t want to have to go back home to the UK but you don’t want to be a burden and you can’t afford a hotel for the next 5 weeks! You’re screwed.

A little time passes as you sit on the swing and try to distract yourself listening to music. You see a car speed round the bend and pull up to the cafe scattering the gravel everywhere.

“What a dick” you think to yourself.

You hear the door slam and see Yoongi franticly run round the side to the cafe entrance, talking to the waitress, she points to you across the road. They both look over at your direction.

“Fuuuck!” You call out

He’s the last fucking person you want to see and “Hobi! That little Shit.” You panic standing up from the swing fumbling for your bag.

He runs across the lanes, a car blares it’s horn at him. He’s focused only on you…

“Is he crying?” You ask yourself

“No stop!… don’t come any closer!” Damn it, you start to cry again.

“Please… Y/N!” His hands clasped together as he walks towards you “Please” he says almost begging.

“I’m sorry” he cries, “I’m so sorry”

He continues to get closer as you back away, eventually falling back into the seat of the swing.

“Please let me try to explain!” He quickly wipes a tear from his cheek.

“I thought it was the right thing to do, I was worried about you and couldn’t bare to see you dragged into this lifestyle, the trolling, watching you second guess yourself because of comments or false scandals about me. We don’t see each other as much as a regular couple does. I feel like I’m stopping you from being truly happy but selfishly I can’t bare to be without you.

I spoke to some of the management and they said that it was unfair to you, for me to expect you to always be waiting for me. I thought breaking up would be the right thing, all I want is your happiness. I want you to be happy 365 days of the year”

You stand up again “Firstly, no person can be truly happy 365 days of the year. Secondly, Why did you ask for advice from management when they don’t know what we have together? Talk to me!… ask me!

I could probably handle it if you naturally fell out of love with me but this isn’t right Yoongi… I know what I signed up for from our very first date. I have never been happier in my entire life… even when we aren’t together I would rather miss you from miles away than not have you in my life. You don’t make my decisions for me!”

He’s devastated he’s hurt you, he hates himself for doing this but all he wants to do is protect you from the life he has chosen.

“Please tell me that I haven’t completely ruined everything?” He holds out his hand to pull you to him.

You hesitate “Don’t ever do this to me again.” You say angrily wiping your tears.

“I, I won’t… I’m sorry, I thought I was protecting you… but I need you, I fucking adore you.”

He takes hold of your hands and pulls you to him, he lightly kisses your lips… unsure if you’ll kiss him back or slap him. “I love you Y/N” he kisses you harder “Please say you love me back?”.

He runs his hands through your hair, he kisses you passionately and deeper. “I can’t believe I thought that I was doing the right thing”

“You’re an idiot…” you kiss him desperately, standing on your tip toes as he holds you tightly round your waist, holding you to him so you can’t leave him again.

He breaks the kiss by gently kissing your neck and cuddling you into him with his fingers running through the back of your hair. He takes you by your hand and walks you over to his car, the little lady from the cafe excitedly gives you the thumbs up through the window as Yoongi holds the car door open for you and you get in.

You sit and close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you rest your head back against the seat. You’re totally overwhelmed by the day. You move to fasten your seatbelt, Yoongi leans over to you pulling you to him by your collar, he kisses you hard his lips lingering on your bottom lip as he sucks it gently.

“I love you” he whispers “But next time I ask you to hold the elevator for me… Will you?…” he asks.

“Too soon dickhead” you smile. “Take me home”

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glassesandpassion · 2 months

Note

Send 🌀 for my muse’s reaction to getting stuck in a storm with yours. [idk if you're ok with me asking for Lui but if not, Taichi :V ]

RELATIONSHIP BUILDING

Send 🌀 for my muse’s reaction to getting stuck in a storm with yours. [i'm okay with lui, of course!!]

It shouldn't have been surprising that the weather forescast in Japan wasn't the same as in India. And yet there was Miyako, looking dejected, sitting at the (thankfully covered) bus stop while her dampt long hair made sure to leave puddles of water around her.

Her goal was to meet Lui right after his work shift to talk about his experiences as a Chosen Child. There was a lot she didn't understand about him being the "first" and the whole deal about Ukkomon being responsible for the Chosen Children system, so she was glad that the timid young man agreed to be interviewed by her. The plan was to meet him outside the cafe he worked at, but since she didn't know its exact location, she only managed to open a Digital Gate on the nearby area.

What poor excited Miyako didn't expect was to be pouring down back at Tokyo, considering how clean the skies were in Bangalore that day. Clear skies meant no umbrellas, which in turn left her stuck between that bus stop and the growing desire to throw it all away and open a Gate back to her dormitory.

She was typing on her phone, about to call the whole thing off, when a soft voice called her name. There was Lui, right next to the bus stop, his umbrella doing a terrible job at keeping him safe from the rainstorm.

- Oh, Ohwada-kun, I was... - she waved her phone at him, as if it meant anything - ...nevermind. Come, sit! There's a lot to talk about, and the rain won't stop any time soon!

He hesitated for a moment, seemingly unsure of what was happening, but soon joined her under the canopy while closing his umbrella. A moment of silence went by before he confessed he thought she wouldn't show up that day. No one was crazy enough to go out in that storm, not if they could avoid it. Lui, who had no other choice, was just there to catch a bus and go home.

- I see... - Miyako hoped he hadn't noticed her blush, being pretty sure he'd just called her crazy. He wouldn't be the first, but still - The weather was pretty nice in Bangalore, y-you know? And I didn't want to miss this today, I had already arranged my schedule for it. Do you mind if we go somewhere together? There's still so much I need you to tell me!

#The Alledged First | Lui Ohwada #A Panicking Yamato Nadeshiko | Adult Verse #Chosen Children LET'S ROLL!! | In Character #variouscolors #[i was supposed to post this yesterday but I Am Slow]#[also i'm pretty sure i'm not following the prompt correctly? it feels like it's supposed to be more of a hc thing??? anyway.]#[and idek where she's staying in india i just supposed bangalore made sense]#[ugh i don't know about india as much as i do about spain there's so much to research lmaooo]

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museaway · 6 months

Note

Trick or treat! 🎃

hello friend & ty for stopping by! you receive this unpublished fic called distant shores that I wrote a few years ago and never had the heart to share.

for ask box trick-or-treat

distant shores

kawoshin (EVA), 1.4k, set after the final film but it's vague enough that I suppose it could be read as original reincarnation fiction

You see him for the first time across the train tracks, drawn in by a laugh you could swear you’ve heard before. His face is new. Young, about the same age as yours. You wait for him to laugh again in order to see if you were wrong, if the laugh actually belongs to someone else, but the train rolls between you. Through the windows, he’s smiling at a woman in the crowd.

Carry the voice with you to work. Replay it like fragments of a song on endless loop. No other face comes to mind, no time. But it has to be from long ago. Who, though? You never knew the laughter of a parent. Mark it down to faulty memory and focus on the towering documents on the desk.

He’s at the station again the next morning. This time when you look at him through the window, he’s looking back.

It becomes habit, this looking. Without thinking, you take the same position each morning. He never seems surprised when he lifts his head to find you watching. The look on his face is relieved, as though he’s been waiting for you as well.

The morning he isn’t there, devastation sinks in your chest, anchoring your feet to the concrete. All day it haunts you. All day you wonder where he was, if he isn’t from here and has returned to another place, if yesterday’s looking was the last. He hasn’t laughed again since that first day, but you still can’t forget the sound.

After work, celebrate the end of the week with colleagues at the cheap bar near the office. Even the ruckus can’t drown the memory of his laughter. You search every face for him although it’s naive to think that in a city this size, you’d both be here. Coworkers split a taxi home. You take the train, but the platform is empty.

Come Monday, you’re afraid to look and turn a to-go coffee in your hands. You bought it as a distraction and haven’t taken a sip. The cup is hot-to-burning even with the paper sleeve around the center.

Pretend to lift it to your lips. Lift your head. He’s across from you, already looking. Everything around you goes hazy—the station announcements, the other passengers waiting to board. When the train rolls between you, don’t blink. Don’t board. People shove past on both sides but you don’t cross the line. The train departs. You’ve never skipped work before, but he’s smiling and nods toward the exit.

On the sidewalk outside, you touch him for the first time. A handshake. Firm. He holds it longer than most people would, but it’s not strange. His hands are larger, fingers long and evenly thick, with well-trimmed nails. He’s dressed for work—a white buttoned shirt, dark pants—but not as formal as you. Up close, his eyes are gray.

“You missed the train,” he says in a voice you’ve dreamed.

Tongue tied, you nod.

“I’d ask you to get coffee, but…” He motions to the cup in your hand.

“I don’t really drink coffee,” you say. His smile says he knew you would.

“What do you drink?”

“Juice. Usually.”

The hand on yours lifts away and with it, he points down the street. “There’s a cafe two blocks up.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I can take the morning. You?”

Call in sick. He watches while you do. The sun on his cheeks makes his skin seem to glow.

“I’ve never done this before,” you confess when you hang up with HR.

“Lied to your employer?”

It’s embarrassing. Standing beside him, you feel ten years younger and just as awkward. But he offers an arm, and despite not knowing anything about him, not even a name, you take it.

The cafe is small, just three booths and a handful of tables tucked into a space no wider than a school bus. The seats are held together with strips of silver tape. Sit carefully so it won’t stick to your suit pants and shake open a menu. It has more choices than you would have thought for the size of the place. He orders pancakes. You ask for eggs over easy with toast and a large orange juice. Why are you here with him? Why can’t you get a stranger out of your head? Why is he watching you like it isn’t the first time, but the first time in so long it casts grief across his eyes?

Say, “Do I know you?”

His smile is warm and sad at once. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem familiar.”

He rests his face against a hand. “Is that why you watch me across the tracks?”

Flush but don’t deny it.

Feel relief when the food comes out and provides a reason not to speak for a few minutes. Or so you’d hoped.

“What do you do?” he says as he floods his plate with syrup.

“I work in advertising. And you?”

“I’m a music teacher at an elementary school. How’s your juice?”

“Really good.”

“I thought you might like it here. Why did you buy coffee if you don’t drink it?”

“Isn’t that what people do?”

“People who like coffee.”

Bite into the toast to give yourself time to think. It’s strange he seems so at ease, but like when he offered his arm, you lack the instinct to run from him.

“I thought you wouldn’t be there,” you say.

He settles back in the seat, floating an arm to rest along the top of the booth. “I have Fridays off. If you give me your number, I can let you know next time.”

Blink rapidly as your face floods with heat. “Why?”

He smiles, eyes closing and opening slowly, as though in slow motion. “So you won’t worry.” His eyelashes are colorless like his hair, almost white in the streaks of sunlight through the window that tinge his eyes momentarily red. Yours, for no reason, grow wet. Take out your phone and extend it over your plates. He does the same, and when his name appears on the screen, it’s the name you would have guessed. He holds out a napkin and dries your eyes as though he’s not a stranger.

“Spend the day with me,” he says.

Take the napkin from him. Fold it beside your plate. “Can I finish breakfast first?”

His laughter, jubilant, achingly familiar, fills the diner like music.

He’s content to walk quietly, hands in his pockets instead of free at his sides like yours. You keep your arms straight to prevent your suit jacket from creasing. You ought to take it off, but it’s everything you can do not to look up at him every few steps, to wonder if those eyes could have met your long ago, if you could have forgotten him. He wears a silver chain around his neck. It lays flat against his skin, obscured by his collar, but when he moves its flashes catch you, turn your stomach. Fight down the irrational desire to rip it off of him, smash it under your heel. It’s just a necklace but you taste dread.

He takes you to a park like the one where you take lunch. A mother pushes a toddler on a swing that creaks with each pass. You find a bench and sit together, close enough that your fingers would brush if you flexed your hands. He rounds out his back and sighs, a smile in it. The swing creaks, creaks. Sunlight flints off of his necklace. Quickly, as the dizziness rises, you cover your mouth.

Without a word, he puts a hand on your back, firm against your spine. A breeze scatters dried leaves caught around the bench’s legs.

“Are you alright?” he says.

Nod. Say, “Yes. I must’ve eaten too much.”

He moves his hand in a slow circle the way you imagine a parent might. “Should I take you home?” he asks. You shake your head, drawing both hands down from your face. The breeze on your lips chases some of the nausea, enough to look at him from your peripheral vision. You could swear that you’ve sat together like this before, but the memory—if it is a memory—lacks place and time. An ache throbs deep in your chest where you didn’t know it was possible to hurt.

When you’re able to walk, he takes you to a nearby shopping district. You end up in a music store. “I like to own the albums,” he says before you ask. “It takes up a lot of space I don’t have, but it isn’t the same if you can’t touch them. Do you like music?”

“I love it.”

“Show me your favorite.”

You do.

“I have these,” he says. Somehow you knew that like you knew his voice, the pain in his eyes, the warmth of his hand. “Maybe we can listen to them sometime.”

#inbox trick or treating #kawoshin #my writing tag #I forgot how much I love this fic 😭#I didn't think I'd ended it which is why it has been stalled eternally #but re-reading I quite like where it ends up #the title is a reference to kaworu's name #渚 (nagisa) can mean 'shore'

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artistkeval · 3 months

Note

... Frick it. . .

Frick it all-....

Hard Drive by Griffinilla

Romantic homicide by d4vd

Warnings for:

Implied murder, blood, implied gore, yandere character behavior, stalker character behavior, implied death(s)!

Pt. 1

"A nice afternoon drink."

. . .

He scoffed. It wasn't unusual for these pesky people to run away, or at least somewhat try to. He honestly enjoyed the chase, but more the aftermath and the justice he does.

. . .

Ripping and ripping, it felt awful as the victim barely put up a fight with him. Why has it put a fight up with you then? It made no sense, but no matter, he knows what he's doing is better. You won't be bothered by this pesky person anymore.

Oh, how it dared to touch your precious body in such violent ways. He didn't like people touching what's his in general. But this was more then just that, and he didn't like to see you so uncomfortable, so unhappy and so, so hurt.

He wouldn't tolerate anything like this. Not again. So, the moment you were out of sight he went for it immediately, and successfully got rid of another obstacle in his path. Oh, but sometimes it got so dirty, such awful blood too. It wasn't yours. It wasn't good. It was anything but good.

He cleaned himself off and disappeared the same way he appeared, for the moment nothing in his way to get to you yet again. Dirty and awful people were obstacles, so he is more then willing to get rid of them.

. . .

You weren't much of a fan of the workplace you had to go at, it was usually pretty slow but today more than usual. You can't help think about the other night with that awful and uncomfortable contact... You shake your head side to side, not the time to think about it.

You straighten yourself form under the desk and look at the customer walking in, wearing a ominous black and red cloak that his them very well despite the bright lights in here and at how tall they were.

You welcomed them with a bright smile, more of a forced one before they took off their cloak, smiling back down at you and waving. A automaton. They were pretty common amongst humans these days, mostly the ones that claimed themselves as 'actual humans', because they looked like so.

At first look you'd say he looks nice. A long, two ways jester hat decorated their head and right at the tips hanged little stars. The automaton had it's face split into a crescent moon with the right side brighter then the left, a half lidded gaze following yours. Under the cloak you could just barely see overalls and a tie(?).

You stopped your staring when the automaton made eye contact with you, shaking your head and apologising for it, getting a snicker from the very being, who didn't want to sound mean and apologized back. "No, no, it's fine, I'm used to it." It reassured you, waving it's hand, dropping the subject faster.

You take its order and start preparing it as the automaton sits somewhere outside at a single seated table. You soon realize you we're already done with the order, so you took the tray and settled the drink on it, walking outside and to its table. With your free hand you settled the cup down in front of it, getting a 'thanks' from it, which rarely happens around here, given some people...Aren't so nice.

You stepped back and went inside the cafe again, giving the automaton one last look before closing the door behind you, walking back behind the counter and standing there. Not like you're going anywhere for the next six to seven hours anyways.

. . .

After another two hours, someone else finally came into the cafe, gave you his order rather rudely but you ignored it, knowing it was just the usual average customers that came to this place.

You weren't gonna judge him, this place is quite awful, the single reason you're here is for the sweet paycheck that is actually better then any other places you worked at. So you were happy with it nonetheless, even if you had to be here daily, even on the weekends, it was worth everything.

You can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, looking behind yourself to see no one there, or it was probably just the man looking at you from the far side of the cafe, who knows, it's better to ignore it for now if you don't want more complains.

After finishing up the order you went to the customer to give it to him, he inspected it closely but immediately started yelling at you on how it wasn't what he wanted and the fact that one bit of sugar or cream isn't there.

You hated this part of the job with all your being, so you recollected yourself, sighed heavily and started to remake the order again. You were gonna be here for a while.

It was very, very late at night by the time your coworker finally came in and took your place, you actually believed him saying he was late, there was a lot of traffic at night for some reason these past few days. Everyone's been scared of the murderer that lurked the city, but honestly? You weren't all that afraid, you knew what to do if that said murderer happened to cross paths with you at night. Your mama raised a fighter after all.

You thanked your coworker for finally coming in, took your belongings and shoved them in your bag, throwing it over yo ur shoulder before saying goodbye and going out the doors, ah, finally, all done for today.

You walked for a while now, scrolling through your phone and replying to some of your messages, obviously taking some time at the longer ones and all at once looking down as to not trip on anything. Again, you can't help feeling watched by something, but you shake it off, this city was full of cats, so you wouldn't be surprised if one followed you because you took a donut with you.

You supposed you didn't know much about cats, but still didn't think they are supposed to wat donuts, so in case of anything you're just gonna run if it chases you.

After a while of walking, you were sure you were at least half way there before you arrived home. Your apartment wasn't that far, but it still was somewhat of a walk nonetheless. Can't be helped since it's such a big city and a bigger maze of buildings and shops. Luckily, you knew your way around here for the most part.

. . .

You were more then sure you were followed the moment you saw a figure behind you on the screen of your turned off phone, on this supposedly empty street, so you picked up the pace, trying to look like you haven't seen whoever it is yet, you knew better then to act out too quickly. And the fight or flight response wouldn't be useful anyways, it would cause more harm to yourself then the actual creep.

You then took out your phone again, pretending to text someone while actually turning on your camera and switching it to look behind yourself, seeing that the silhouette looked awfully familiar, but you shook it off, averting your gaze from your phone and setting it back in your bag.

. . .

You didn't mean to run so far off your initial path, but you did, out of instinct. When it got too close to you, your brain took it as the perfect moment to pick up the nearest rock near by you and throw it right at it, not looking if it actually hit the target or not or even stunned it the slightest bit, speeding off.

Okay, maybe you were the one who provoked it on the first place and the person probably didn't mean to scare you and was probably trying to ask you something, but you take everything as a threat as it seems if you don't know who it is.

The moment you got cornered you thought it would've been worse than it actually turned out to be. The person smiled at you, patted your head and just, walked off, which was honestly gonna leave a weird memory in your brain. What.Was.That.All.About?!!?! Just for the creep to pat you, that's why you got chased?! Seriously??? For something that could've been simply avoided with a 'no'?? You wish you weren't a idiot as you were right now and maybe thought first before acting. But the way the person grinned at you before leaving left you to shiver in your spot. What the hell?

Magic word and I'll make part 2 (not 'please')

Dies.

Now I'm leaving you to guess who this is, but it's more then obvious who it is. If you know, you know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It all started from two or three songs and then went to this image and then to whatever I just wrote 👁👁

One last thing btw.

Keval

Finish

Your

Goddamn

WIPS

If you did, then go on, judge this🙇‍♀️

RAGRGRGGR I LOVE THIS IM EATING EVERY WORD 😤

Also my wips are actually dissolving so cant be finished :D /silly

#kevalask #fnaf #EATING THIS OML

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kaq3yma · 2 months

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 [male oc]

You check your phone to see the time and it's says to be almost 20:25 sharp. You had just finished your night shift working as a waitress at a local cafe. It's the usual Monday, the street is bustling with people. A few in suits, just got back from work and a few in normal clothing, with grocery bags in hand or either just their phones. You waited for the bus, a few people is with you but no one is standing since there's a bench. You stand in, look to your right and left for the bus to arrive when suddenly a man came step in beside you. He had a mask on, though "You're waiting for the bus?" You almost jump in surprise but nod your head nonetheless.

The bus screech at the stop and people got in, paying for their tickets. You thought you could finally get yourself a seat but the bus is already too full for any vacant seats. You decided to stand at the very front though, deciding it'd be better if you can get in and get out fast. The same man was just behind you, giving you a shrug of acknowledgement when you both make an eye contact. You didn't say anything, simply looking out front.

A few minutes past and the bus stopped at your stop, pulling the automatic door open and you got out in a hurry, a few people following suit. The bus closes its door and drive away.

Reo watch as you left, disappointed that he didn't get to ask for your numbers. Well he had lots of times but he's too scared, couldn't blame him you look too imperturbable. When the bus reaches his stop, he knock over an object on the floor and it's a wallet. He picked it, curious and open it curiously to see your id picture pop on the photo insert.

You just got out of the shower, drying your hair off with a towel when your phone notification sound played on your vanity desk. You look up, unlocking your phone to check your messages. It's from an unknown number; "Hey I found your wallet!" Your eyes widen, rushing to get your jacket and check the pockets and no, you did not find your wallet.

You hit him up back, nose scrunch together. You just clocked that you didn't know how to reply. What would a sane person reply to if they got sent a message like this? It's a bothersome to check the Google or the Safari, so you just reply back; "Cool."

The person sent in; "So when can I send this back to you?" Another message came in "I'm the guy at the bus stop, btw." You hit the keyboard, typing in "Tomorrow, at the same bus stop." He sent back an OK and you reacted with a thumb up emoji.

The next morning, you hurried your way out of your house, grabbing a pair of shoes to match and went straight to the bus stop where you met him last night. Oh yeah, you totally didn't use the bus because you didn't have your wallet. You check your phone, open his text but stopped - What should you say? Should you just "Yo, I'm at the bus stop-" You deleted the text, purse your lips and sent in; "Hello stranger."

Reo got out of the bus, look around and find you right on the bench, sitting down with your head hung low. It looks like nothing interest you anymore. Not the warmth of the sun, or the cooling wind or the green trees and the aromatic smell of fresh brewed coffees "Hello stranger," You look up, eyes widen seeing him here, well it's not like you didn't expect him.

"Here," He handed you your wallet and you check everything inside making sure nothing is stolen. You thanked him and he nod to you. An awful, most unexpected awkward silence fell upon you two despite the loud chatting amongst the passers-by "Should I treat you with a coffee? You found my wallet and I want to thank you," Reo wanted to reject, not because he didn't want to but because he feels like there's no need to.

"I insist," And how can he say no to that. You two walk alongside to a nearby coffee shop, order yourself two cup of coffees and pastries to eat "What's your name?" He is the first to ask when you both sat down "It's Y/n." He hums, nodding his head in acknowledgement "I'm Reo!" Wow, he's very full of energy, unlike you, especially during morning and weekdays. Your orders arrived and you two eat whilst chatting. You told him a little bit about yourself and he told you a variety of what he likes and dislikes. You may not seem like it but you are very attentive. He likes cats by the way and hates vegetables.

"I had a cat at home, his name is Simba because he looks like Simba from The Lion King!" He told, sipping on his drink. You manage to crack a small smile when he showed you his lockscreen picture. It's a picture of his cat, yawning. You also asked him how did he get your number and he said he found a piece of paper you folded in a half, there's your number inside that you wrote down "Contact me if I ever lost my wallet" You had totally forget about that! You wrote that like years ago.

The two of you had a wonderful time, chatting for hours and Reo got to know about you. You didn't seem nonchalant as you look, in fact he need to scratch the fact that he said you may seem like you didn't have any interest in things. In fact, you like so many things! You like to read or writes sometimes, gaming, watching Netflix or YouTube, listening to music, drawing or painting or doing pottery, enjoying nature or just sleep and eat. You are such a bright person inside, he just got to be on the good side of you to see how much of a fun person you are.

Reo and you parted ways when he need to be somewhere and you had to go work. You two separate ways after bidding goodbyes.

That night, a notification popped from messages and you open it "Hello used-to-be stranger. Reo said he'd like to ask you out this weekend."

Another message came in, "This is Simba, btw."

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imagine-the-energon · 1 year

Text

PRIME DIRECTIVES, CHAPTER 1

At 25, she never expected to die.

Well, no. That’s a lie.

By 25, she was surprised she hadn’t died anytime before then. It was like some cosmic being kept pulling her back from that potential brink, not ready to part with their favorite toy just yet.

Except, one day, perhaps they looked away for a second longer than they should’ve, and the consequences… well, they’re the reason why we’re here.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the children were all playing in the park, and she was stuck on a bus, desperately trying to get her outdated phone to charge so she could find her mother’s message about where the book was located in the local library.

It was supposed to be a one-stop trip, but instead, it felt as if the world had gone cold as she looked around. The windows were open to let the cool air in, and she could see traffic was a bit more congested than usual.

Something in her gut told her to stay seated, but the smell of the diesel truck ahead of them was starting to give her a migraine, so she shifted a seat over, standing up to push at least her window closed. The second she touched the window, she realized the emergency latch had popped off and a wrong tap would set the alarm off.

“Ma’am?” she called out hesitantly, trying to get the driver’s attention. “Ma’am, I think this window is busted. The latch-”

Had she looked away from the window, she wouldn’t’ve missed how the traffic lights were blinking, or the desperate look on the truck driver’s face as he tried to stop in time.

As it were, she was thrown into the window she had tried to warn about, her front half leaving the vehicle before being slammed back in it as the bus tipped. She landed harshly against the seats across the aisle, screaming as she swore she heard a crack. Glass was embedded in her stomach, and she couldn’t hear much beyond the screeching of what sounded like the emergency exit alarms.

It hurt to breathe, and she was vaguely aware of people yelling around her, and the jostling sensation of being moved.

It wasn’t until they put her under for emergency surgery that she realized she couldn’t feel her legs.

----------------------------------------

She wasn’t sure when she woke up, or how, just that one moment, she was being put to sleep, and the next, she was sitting in a small cafe, nothing but a cup of coffee in front of her.

She could see a few other people also looking around in confusion. She glanced down at the cut before pushing it away, slowly standing up, the concept feeling… alien to her. After a few shaky steps, she got to the closest person. “Are you ok?” she asked, but the Latina woman suddenly let out a wail.

“¡He muerto! ¡Él me mató! ¡¿Cómo estoy vivo?!”

She never studied Spanish aside from a few Duolingo sessions here and there, but yet, it was like she could understand what was being cried out perfectly, and judging by how a few others went pale, so could the rest.

Slowly, as if nodding to herself, she spoke again, this time to everyone else. “Ok, a show of hands… who here remembers being in some sort of accident, or… or getting killed?”

Her own hand was the only one up at first, but slowly, the other twelve also raised their hands. She let out a shaky breath, dread building up as she glanced around. There was no one else, save for the barista.

Glancing back at the others, she moved forward, the barista looking up immediately. He had a sad look on his face but otherwise held a smile. “Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

“Where are we?” She asked, making him blink.

“New York,” he replied. “Are you alright?”

“I think I’m dead.” It slipped out so easily, she couldn’t even be shocked by it. “Are you the Grim Reaper?”

He set down the cup of coffee he was making (it looked similar to the one she had, except there was some swirling blue liquid in it) and sighed. “You always were perceptive, Purity.”

“That’s not my name,” she protested, but yet she couldn’t deny the feeling of rightness she had felt when he had said that. “My name is Ashley.”

“Ashley,” he corrected. “You’re not dead. Not quite. You’re all in a state of limbo, between life and death.”

The woman had stopped crying by then, and she looked furious. “¡Mándame de vuelta! ¡Llévame de vuelta ahora mismo para que pueda matar a ese hijo de puta!”

But the man shook his head. “I can’t take you back to your previous life, but I can continue it back where you were supposed to be.”

Ashley stared at him, jaw slack as the implications hit her. “I got truck-kun’d,” she muttered. “How long have you been trying to get us? And why us and not others?”

“Because you’re my creations. You weren’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be better .”

She shook her head. “No. No! Only I can call myself useless, got it? I don’t even know who you fucking are!” The second she stopped talking, he just looked at her with bright, unnatural yellow eyes. He was human, but his eyes…

His eyes were alien.

“You know my name,” he started as she took a step back, shaking her head. “All of my children do. Especially you twelve,” he turned to the others, motioning to them one at a time. “Prima. Alpha. Vector. Nexus. Solus. Mortilus. Alchemist. Amalgamous. Onyx. Micronus. Quintus. Septimus.”

She knew those names as if they were seared into her very soul.

“Dynasty of Primes,” she whispered. It tickled her mind, reminding her of the memories she had forgotten over the years. The amazement and hope she had felt. “You’re trying to say you’re Primus? A fictional god?”

He let out a deep chuckle. “I am not trying. I am saying.”

She blinked, and suddenly, she was in nothingness, floating in pitch-black darkness, only able to see herself and nothing else. It looked like she was falling, but the sensation wasn’t around. Slowly, the darkness shifted, and she was face to face with… what could only be described as a giant eye. It was the size of a bus, and that same alien yellow as before.

The eye shifted back, revealing a giant robotic face. The top of the robot’s helm was blue, with a blue chin guard, and all of the kibbles across its shoulders were spires and towers. She couldn’t begin to describe just how massive the robot was, only that its presence didn’t frighten her. Rather, it was comforting.

When the robot spoke, the mouth didn’t move, but his voice surrounded her, practically vibrating all of her bones. Do you believe me now, Purity?

“Why do you call me that?” she asked once her throat felt like she could finally breathe.

It is what you should have been. It is what you are. It is what you always will be.

She bit back a scoff; in what world has she ever been considered pure? Regardless- “Are the others also getting this treatment?” she asked instead, and the mech shook his head.

They are remembering their previous life in the world they were supposed to be in.

“You named eleven of them after the original Thirteen,” she commented. “Excluding Megatronus and Liege Maximo, of course.”

They were taken from before they could return to the Well. I sent you to find them.

Her eyes narrowed. “All those accidents. Were they you?”

I prevented you from leaving before it was time. None of the others were ready yet.

“I wasn’t ready,” she protested, and he had such a look of pity, even she knew she was lying through her teeth. She had been ready since she was 11 and diagnosed with bone tumors. “I’m just a human. Why me?”

You are more than you think, Purity.

One of his hands came up, and she could’ve easily fallen through the cracks of his plates, but instead, she was now standing on his palm. “So I’m, what, dying and have to choose to stay and die or, what, continue living in a world I know I won’t survive in?”

You will survive. You must.

She shook her head. “I don’t even know what year it would be in! Before 2007? Oh, look, there’s Sector Seven and their “if it’s alien, it’s ours” policy. I wouldn’t be considered human in their eyes if it got out the information that I know. The years from 2007 to 2014 are ok, and great for gay rights, but from 2015 onwards? Cemetary Wind going and killing any Cybertronians regardless of faction? That’s not even talking about human allies! So I get sent to that world, I have a maximum of seven years to live depending on where I get placed if I accept.”

No harm will come to you.

“And the others?” She demanded, crossing her arms. “There are twelve supposedly Cybertronians turned human who are about to be thrusted back into that world. Are you going to put them back to their hypothetical original race? Or are you going to have them remain human and be torn between two species?”

If their human body is intact, that is their choice.

She could somewhat understand that and nodded. “How many and who can’t be human anymore?”

Solus, Amalgamous, Onyx, and Septimus will return as descendants of their former selves.

At least four had to go through identity crises just to be told they can’t be human anymore. She felt sick to her stomach. “And me? I get to remain human, right?”

You must. It will be your job to connect the races. You must stay hidden in plain sight.

“So I stay human and become The Liasion?” she joked. “As tempting as that is, I… I can’t. I can’t just leave my family like that.”

But they have already left you?

For a god, she could hear the confusion and anger in his voice, causing her to sigh. “We’re… tight on money. If it comes between being in debt with a brain-dead daughter or pulling the plug, I hope they do the latter.”

Would they not wish for you to be happy?

She hesitated and hated the fact that she did so. “My father would’ve,” she finally whispered. It had been him and her eldest sister who introduced her to the Transformer’s franchise, and it had been them who encouraged her to do what she loved.

You will find happiness with the rest.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath..

How long had she been unhappy? How long had she cried herself to sleep? How long has she felt like she never belonged?

When was the last time she had been able to be herself?

When she opened her eyes, she could see the mech smiling down at her, and she gave a watery grin back. “What year are we going to then?”

----------------------------------------

Six chose to remain as humans, while two transitioned back to Cybertronians. Most noticeable was Solus and Nexus, Nexus remaining a human while Solus declared herself his guardian. The others paired up, leaving her alone, but as she was left in a small cottage on the outskirts of a forest, she supposed it was for the best, especially with the giant pile of paperwork she had been given to sort through.

Beside that were her black laptop, a smartphone, and a smaller manilla folder. The phone buzzed once, then twice, then it was a never-ending stream.

With a sigh, she picked it up, noticing the giant group chat.

[COMM DEVICE 6]: So… was all of that a weird fever dream?

[SECURED PHONE 4]: You mean where we’re all actually 50-foot tall aliens with half of us stuck in human bodies?

[SECURED PHONE 2]: OH THANK GOD IT WASN’T JUST ME

[COMM DEVICE 3]: Sound off, who is who?

As they introduced themselves, she turned, booting up her laptop and looking over the giant files first. The first bit was false documents, birth certificates, passports, all that jazz. The second was the stuff she’d get in trouble with Earth's government for having, while the third would definitely put her on the squish list.

Her phone gave a final buzz, causing her to look over at it before quickly changing the numbers to the names provided.

Mortilus: So the human who was with us is Phone 1 then?

She bit her lip before sighing and beginning to type.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: You may call me Ashley. I have the documents for those who are human, seeing as I am supposed to act as a bridge between our species.

Nodding to herself, she added that she’d be turning off her phone to get used to her surroundings and that she still had access to her emails if they needed her. Looking around, she realized just how right she was to call it a cottage. There were two rooms downstairs; the first one being a living room/kitchen area, which had a sliding door open to reveal a burnt orange. 1970-style muscle car parked along a gravel driveway that wound through trees. There was a small staircase in the corner of the room, and when she peeked upstairs, she found another two rooms. The staircase led directly up to the bedroom, a door on the opposite end of the bed. A quick peek in there told her it was a bathroom with an attached closet. It was roughly the same area as the other room downstairs was also a bathroom, but only a half-bath.

The best, or, perhaps, worst, thing was that everything was decorated exactly how she loved it. The pillows on the chairs and blankets were thrown onto the couch for no apparent reason - it was like she had been the one who decided where everything went.

Feeling too unnerved, she left the cabin and walked outside, pausing as she realized that she could actually walk without feeling severe pain. But yet, her chest burned as if-

She was frozen for only a second before she bolted into the first-floor bathroom, ripping off her shirt, bile rising up at the sight of the numerous scars on her, her once brown hair now a more silvery-blue tint.

The most noticeable was a giant Y across her collarbone that went down between her breasts, ending at her naval.

“Fuck,” she whispered, the stitches flaring to life a second later, causing her to cry out in pain. She fell to her knees, curling up as much as she dared, After the initial wave of pain washed away, she all but crawled out of the bathroom, fumbling for her phone.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: Cybertronians, scan your humans. NOW.

She could feel something warm trickling down her stomach as she let the phone slip between her fingers as she leaned against the table leg, trying to catch her breath between the sharp bouts of pain from the dissection wounds. Or would it be vivisection, considering she was alive with them now?

She could hear her phone ringing, blaring a ringtone she vaguely knew, but couldn’t be bothered to answer. She knew that something wasn’t right if she was passing out, but, well, she also didn’t do blood, and seeing that on your body was definitely a way to knock that trigger out of the ballpark.

And so, as she lay bleeding, she felt a deep pulse within her soul...

#Transformers #Prime Directives #The Failed Fix-it fic #Original Characters #Fanfiction #fanfic #writing #Transformers Fanfic #Transformers Bayverse #Bayverse #Primus #Dynasty of Primes #maccadam #mentions of character death #dissection #Prime Directives Fic

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amiramorozova · 2 years

Text

Twisted Twins pt. 8 cafe

Going into the dorm and closing it I realized I was getting deeper into this than I wanted to and that was good and bad. Good because I was probably making a decision soon but I knew he was right. I had to give Billy a fair chance even though there was this connection. So the next morning I asked Nicolas to get my homework that I was ditching school today. Everyone did it but I needed to go to my grandma's so I caught the bus and went to talk with her.

When I arrived I walked up to the door and knocked on it to which she opened it. "Amira..shouldn't you be in school?" Grandma Catalina asked as I knew I should have been. "I need to talk with you..about Aleksander." I said. My mind was not even on Billy just the connection I felt with Aleksander at this point as Grandma let me in and I walked in. Grandpa Jorge was sitting at the table seeing me as I walked to the table and hugged him. I loved my family but this was serious.

Grandma got some tea and I walked over to us as I accepted it and sat down as I took a sip. "Now what about Aleksander do you need to talk about?" Grandma asked as I looked at her. "I know their mom had made this a competition between them..you were there. I haven't been around Billy much but I feel a connection with Aleksander." I said finally speaking the truth to someone else.

Silence filled the room and we didn't have much to say right away "It's not uncommon for Shadow and Sun to feel a connection with each other. Billy is able to amplify but I always thought he had shadows too otherwise they wouldn't both be alive..but you don't feel a connection with Billy." Grandma said as I nod having more of the tea. I didn't spend time with Billy so there was nothing there and I'd been around Aleksander the most. "Give Billy a chance before you make your choice. Regardless of what you think, the agreement is you be with both of them." Grandma said

I sat there thinking about what to do as I had my tea as I knew that it was not going to get any easier. As I sat there I was going to go when we heard a knock on the door as I looked at the door then at Grandma. Grandma got up as she walked over to the door and was ready to figure it out or defend but when she opened the door she stopped. "Billy, what are you doing here?" Grandma asked as she let him in.

Billy walked in and then his eyes landed on me as Aleksander must have told him I wasn't in class. He smirked as he walked over to me as he looked at me. "So Amira, this is where you are. Aleks said you didn't show up to class today." He said as he seemed amused. I knew it wasn't odd for someone to skip class once in awhile and I knew that it was not going to be easy.

"Hi Billy, I was just leaving." I said as I walked past him knowing it was not my business what he was there for but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. "Now now, you have free time and besides Aleks spilled how you kissed him last night." Billy said as he put a hand on my cheek. I was unsure what to say at the time.

Billy had a talk with grandma for a few minutes and then he led me out of the place and made me get in his car. It was fancy like he'd owned his own company or something and when he closed the door he started to drive as I was unsure about this. "Billy, I don't think this is a good idea." I said as Billy ignored me as I just looked at him.

When Billy stopped we made it to a cafe and he got out then walked over to the other side of the car. He let me out as I didn't know the area but I did have my phone and if I had to call Aleksander to get me out of this I would. Billy noticed I was hesitant and he took my phone from me as he put it in his pocket. "Come on Amira. Lighten up, ten minutes." He said as he led me inside.

It was a nice cafe as we walked to a table and then he pulled out my chair as I sat down. He offered me the menu as I did skip breakfast to go to my grandmother's place. "Get whatever you want." Billy said as I was not the type to be spoiled by a man as I walked over to as I looked over the menu I was shocked at everything how expensive some were.

When the waitress came back I ordered simple since I didn't want to worry about it. Billy looked at me but I had nothing to say as we stayed there. "Come on Sweetheart, you can't just kiss my big brother and not even give me a chance.." Billy said as I wanted my phone. I wanted to get out of there but not an option. "I'm not a prize to win Billy." I said

"You are a prize, most valuable...having you on my arm would up my ranks easily but you won't seem to budge.' Billy said as it wasn't long my food came as I ate. I knew I was unfair and things were not any easier. When I went to go to the bathroom Billy grabbed my ear and whispered in it "Perhaps you'll be nicer if Aleks and I share you for your first time...many girls would love being pleased by two men..twins."

I felt something I shouldn't have, the idea of having them both on either side of me aroused me. I hadn't slept with anyone but that'd be one first time story for anyone yet I didn't say anything. "B-Billy please.." I said as he let me go then I went to the bathroom to use it and then calm down.

These twins are going to ruin me... I thought

TagList: @lifeisingrey, @houseoftoomanyfandoms, @mizelophsun11, @budugu

#twisted twins #shadow and bone crossover with The Punisher #shadow and bone #Grishaverse #aleksander morovoza #Amira Silina #billy russo #darkling #Team Darkling #the darkling #darkling x oc #billy russo x oc #ben barnes #original story #fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction

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