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starfinss · 3 years

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Good;Bad — Morisuke Yaku

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Summary: You’re having the world’s worst week. Yaku can fix that.

Pairing: Morisuke Yaku x Reader

Rating: Fluff, comfort (SFW)

Word Count: 1,839

You’d been having a terrible week.

It rained on Monday, and because of your spacey Monday brain, you forgot an umbrella, resulting in you getting soaked on your mad dash home from school. Tuesday was a test day, and you hadn’t studied, resulting in a less than ideal score. Wednesday, you left your lunch at home and had to buy something from the vending machine to tide yourself over. This would have been fine if they weren’t out of your favorite snack. Finally, on Thursday, you woke up late, and when you finally got to school you were ten minutes late and you received the humiliating death stare as you took your seat. And at the end of the day, as you were innocently taking notes at volleyball practice, Lev served a ball straight into your face.

The fact that he received an earful from Yaku didn’t comfort you as much as it probably usually would’ve. But Lev was sorry, and you couldn’t really be mean to him. So you let it go, along with the other things you let go from your overall hellish week.

Needless to say, with your seemingly chronic bad luck that week, you were dreading Friday. And for good reason.

The milk was spoiled, so you had to eat your cereal dry, and when you showered, you cut your leg with the razor when shaving. To top it off, you couldn’t get your hair to look right, so you piled it into a bun at the crown of your head.

ou looked at your disheveled reflection in the mirror with tired eyes, stuck your tongue out at it, and hurried to leave the house.

I just have to survive today and then it’s the weekend.

You ran into Yaku as you neared the school, and he had his earbuds in. And when I say ‘you ran into him’, that was literal.

Your feet went out from under you in a flash, sending you tumbling to the pavement. You watched from the ground as Yaku also lost his balance, and he slipped, landing on top of you at an awkward angle.

You heard him groan in pain, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” you said, “my bad.”

Yaku rolled off of you, rubbing his elbow. His sleeved were rolled up, and you saw his brows furrow as he took note of the scrape on his outer forearm he’d gained from the fall.

You paled. “I’m so sorry, Yaku!”

Yaku offered you a smile. “No, I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s fine. Are you okay?”

You patted dow your body, and aside from a bruised elbow and more than slightly bruised dignity, you weren’t injured.

“Fine,” you said, “but you’re bleeding.”

Yaku glanced down at his arm again. “It’s fine. Not so bad.”

You struggled to your feet, offering Yaku a hand, which he took.

“I’ll take you to the nurse,” you said, “I’m really sorry.”

Yaku looked at you quizzically. “It’s just a scrape, (Y/N). I’ll go myself if you’re worried. Just head to class.”

You took a breath. “Fine, okay.”

You left Yaku by the gates after a few parting words, keeping your head down as you walked.

Great job, (Y/N). On top of everything else, you just injured the guy you like.

You pushed it to the back of your mind, pulling your sweater sleeves around your hands.

This is gonna be a long day.

——————

Class went smoothly, thank god, and by the time lunch rolled around, you found out your best friend was absent again, so you opted to eat your lunch with the team. Kuroo was warm and welcoming to you when he spotted you, hurrying you into a seat beside Yaku with an almost knowing look that frankly alarmed you.

Yaku’s arm had a bandage on it, and he smiled wanly at you when you appeared beside him.

“Is your arm okay?” You asked as you removed the lid from your lunch box.

Yaku chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about it, really. I’m not gonna die because of a scrape.”

Lev leaned over halfway so he could see you, a smile appearing on his face.

“(L/N), you’re sitting with us today?”

You nodded. “Himari is gone, so here I am. Hope that’s okay.”

[Yaku glanced from Lev and back to you. “It’s fine. You’re always welcome here.”

He took a large bite of his rice. You did the same with your own food, chewing slowly.

Kuroo started taking about volleyball, and you listened as best as you could. You possessed a decent understanding of the game because of the fact that you were the manager of the Nekoma boys team, but you didn’t give any input.

Lunch passed, and you went back to class. You just hoped you could get through the rest of the day without incident.

——————

You arrived at practice late.

Kuroo didn’t comment on it, it wasn’t his place to since you weren’t a player, but he gave you a funny look since you weren’t usually late.

“I’m having an off day,” you told him, and he offered a friendly, albeit Cheshire smile. That was just how he usually smiled.

You sat down, pulled out your notebook, and began to take notes over the practice while doing some of your English homework.

It was about halfway through the practice that a ball suddenly hit you in the side of the face, the contact knocking you off your chair and onto the ground. You notebook skidded across the floor, your pencil sharing its fate. Your nose slammed into your arm as you tried to use it to cushion your fall, and you yelped in pain.

The room went quiet.

“Lev, you idiot, you hit (Y/N)!” You heard Yamamoto cry.

“Don’t flail your arms!”

That was Yaku, and judging from the context, Lev had probably lost control of a serve.

You propped yourself up on your arm, lifting a hand to rub at your sore cheek. Your nose was bleeding. You reached up to wipe the blood away with your sleeve, adding the fact that you now had to wash your sweater to the list of things you were upset about.

You looked up to find a handful of the players around you, concern in their eyes.

Yaku pushed through them, sending a downright murderous look to Lev, who’s expression morphed into a fearful one.

“Give her some space, guys. Back to practice.”

“I’ll get her some ice,” Lev said, guilt in his voice.

“It’s okay, Lev, I’m not mad,” you told him.

He was already out the doors by the time you finished speaking, so you just sighed.

Yaku knelt beside you, helping you sit up against the wall.

“Are you okay?”

You tried to answer him. You really did. Because honestly, while the hit hurt, it wasn’t going to kill you.

But the second you opened your mouth, you began to cry.

Yaku looked alarmed, and the sudden choked sob drew the attention of the other boys, but Yaku held up a hand. He pulled you into his arms, shushing you quietly, his movements a bit awkward, but you appreciated his effort.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He whispered, and you reached up to hold onto him.

“I’ve just been having a terrible week. I guess I… I hit my breaking point.”

And the whole knocking-over-my-crush thing really isn’t helping.

“Why don’t we go somewhere quiet?” Yaku asked, and you nodded.

“That would be nice.”

“Okay. Hey, Kuroo!”

Kuroo turned. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna take her to the clubroom. Send Lev when he gets back.”

Yaku helped you to your feet, hand pressing to the small of your back as you walked.

The clubroom was nice and quiet, and once you were inside, Yaku shut the door, leaning against the doorjamb.

You opted for sitting on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. You tucked your skirt between your thighs to conserve your modesty.

Yaku sat beside you.

“Tell me,” he said, “if you’re comfortable with it, that is, what’s wrong?”

And you told him. You didn’t know why you just began to spill your guts to him, but he listened attentively, offered sympathy, comforted you. It felt nice.

“And then, this morning,” you were saying, another sob building in your throat, “I ran right into you, and I was afraid I’d hurt you—“

Yaku smiled. “(Y/N), I’m perfectly fine, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You sniffled. “I know, but running into the—“

You cut yourself off. What you almost just said would have revealed your feelings for the boy beside you, and rejection wasn’t something else you wanted to add to your terrible week. It would be the cherry on top of your own personal hell.

“Running into the… The what?”

Yaku looked at you with furrowed brows, and you buried your head in your knees.

You could have come up with a creative lie, but that required energy, and that was something you frankly didn’t have.

“The guy… The guy I like.”

Silence.

Heavy silence.

You looked away, somewhere to your left, eyes falling on a pile of volleyball magazines in the corner.

“(Y/N).”

You didn’t answer.

“(Y/N), look at me.”

You turned, eyes full of unshed tears.

And he kissed you.

It was gentle, warm, tender, and you all but melted at his touch, sighing as his hands came up to cradle your jaw. His palms were warm against your already hot face, but they felt nice nonetheless. You linked your hands together behind his neck, slowly kissing him back, your movements unpracticed and tentative, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The door slid open and you and Yaku broke apart quickly, turning to see who entered.

It was Lev, an ice pack in his hand. A wide grin broke out across his face.

You exchanged a look with Yaku.

“I just won 2,000 yen,” Lev said, matter of factly, “here’s your ice pack, (L/N).”

You broke into laughter as he left the ice pack on the ground by the door, and your tears were forgotten as a tender warmth filled your body. You wrapped your arms around Yaku’s neck, kissing him deeply, and he made a soft noise in surprise as he returned the gesture.

“I like you, too, (Y/N),” he said when he pulled back. You felt more tears fill your eyes, but they weren’t of sadness this time.

They were of joy. Of relief.

As Yaku pressed his lips to your forehead, pulling you close to him, you figured that your week maybe didn’t suck as much as you thought it did. It couldn’t, not with an ending like that.

And when you walked back to the gym, one hand holding the ice pack to your head and the other laced together with Yaku’s, you smiled.

“I changed my mind,” you said, and Yaku raised his eyebrows.

“About what?”

“Maybe my week isn’t all bad.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes dancing with mirth, and you forgot all about the pain in your head.

Almost.

#yaku x reader #Morisuke yaku #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #I wrote this for a friend #like #last year #Hurt/comfort #fanfiction #My writing #fluff #hq x reader #hq

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

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TEMPO (Racer! reader x sehun, nct, exo) #4 (just one more!)

Previous chapters 1 / 2 / 3

HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? (3/5)

“Taeyong hyung.. can you find me a promoter? I need a new bike. The old one is starting to not cooperate.” I said one afternoon.

It’s only the two of us in my apartment. I call him over to talk about this. He is my manager after all.

“Hmm.. you need a new bike? Can’t we modify or fix the old one?”

I bite my lips.. well we can.. but I want a new bike.

“I’ll work on it… be patient okay. I’ll tell you when I found one.” Taeyong pats my back and glances to my table.

“Didn’t know you smoked Pall Mall.. I’ve always thought you liked Eve.” Taeyong naturally grabs a bar and lights it up.

My eyes widens. Hey that’s not mine. Shit it must be Kai’s. He left it here..

“Oh that’s not mine. Bring it with you.. it’s too strong for me. Maybe my friend left it accidentally.”

“Woah great. Thanks to whoever left it here. Why would someone leave a good cigarette.”

“You take the cigarette… and don’t forget to find me a new promotor.”

“Done princess.”

My study meet ups with Sehun still happen regularly and after that Kai will be in my apartment cleaning my mess and be my chat buddy. Got to say Kai is an amazing listener and advisor. It is easier to talk with Kai than with Sehun. Sehun is a from a noble family, sometimes I feel not in the right place to speak with him.. or even be with him.

Sehun never returns to the hellish place. He doesn’t come and see me race. Instead we meet elsewhere like the library, café , or Jaehyun’s apartment.

And that is the reason why Sehun doesn’t know what happens with the racing team. Apparently Kai told his group about Taeyong, and their manager Kris appears to like the way Taeyong works. He offers him a deal to join forces and with the huge amount of money they can win when putting Kai (y/n) and Yuta in one group, Taeyong signed the deal. Now the Aces are in one team, and that made it easier for us to win every night. We made schedules Kai and I will least likely meet each other.. when we do, whoever wins.. the team will still earn something right? And that’s how unknowingly.. we fall into the demons trap.

One night Sehun secretly comes to the race and he is more than surprised to see his friends hanging out with EXO. Not that he has the right to ban them befriend EXO, it’s just that.. Sehun can’t blend in comfortably with them. That night he keeps himself under cover. He actually wanted to place a big bet on (y/n), but Sehun is a smart and quick man. He knows his money will eventually goes into Kai’s pocket too.. and he doesn’t like that.

His last patient burst when (y/n) passes the finish line with lots of bruises and Kai welcomes her to a warm hug. Sehun wonders why Jaehyun hasn’t thrown his punches yet… but who is he to judge.

Sehun goes back home with a heavy feeling in his heart. Why must Kai interferes with his life again. Why Kai out of all people. And why (y/n).

Luhan knows every updates about Sehun from his spies. Luhan knows Sehun is secretly interested in that low class wild racer. Luhan knows Sehun always leave to learn in the library.. just to meet her. And Luhan knows how Kai is playing along with her. In order to keep his brother from falling too deep in love, and to keep their dignity… Luhan needs to find a way to separate the two of them. Kai doesn’t seem to succeed. He’s clearly interested to the point of friends. Luhan sees no lust between them. Kai really sees her as a sister. While Sehun.. Luhan knows Sehun is in love.

“Yes appa? Is the deal going smooth?” Luhan talks over the phone alone in the balcony.

“Great! I can’t wait to inform her. I know.. thanks appa! You’re the best!” Luhan cuts the call off.

He checks his email and feels on cloud 9 when he finds the mail he’s been waiting for.

Meticulously Luhan sends the email to Taeyong and (y/n). Inside is a small present for (y/n). Luhan pretends he is a scouter for young racers to be trained and compete professionally. He lies that he happens to watch her perfect performance and he is interested to offer her a full scholarship to the known racing school.

Upon receiving the email… (y/n) could not be more delighted! She practically made her own decision that she will say yes. And Taeyong cannot hold her back he will have to look for another racer. Jaehyun is happy that she is finally reaching her dream. She mindlessly replies the email agreeing to attend the class as soon as possible.

That Thursday afternoon (y/n) has her usual meet up with Sehun in the library. Sehun is less chatty than usual. Ever since he saw Kai and (y/n) close to each other.. he is keeping his mouth close most of the time.

“What are we learning today?” Sehun asks after sitting down across her.

She pulls out a folded paper and without a word shows it to Sehun. Sehun grabs the letter and reads it carefully. His brow frowns and his face stiffens when he reach the last page.

“what is this?” Sehun asks keeping his emotion down.

“Don’t you read it? It’s an offer for me to attend the racing school of my dream!”

“What? You sure this isn’t a scam?”

“Definitely! I sent them my agreement and they explain me that someone is funding my tuition. I have a promoter!”

“What’s the name of the promoter?” Sehun rechecks the paper.

She points to a name and Sehun’s face goes white..

There it’s clearly stamped his father’s company. He re reads the paper and after reading it three times. His mind goes blank. It’s written there (y/n) is under full scholarship from his father’s company to attend the prominent riding school.

Sehun knows this must be his family’s dirty ways of making Sehun away from her. How can he know? Well first none of their family watches or knows a racer from the wild racing thing… second.. they are usually not this generous.. third.. they don’t even know (y/n). Only Luhan knows.. and damn Luhan.. he did not expect his brother to be such a cockblock. Luhan has always been supportive and this is for the first time Sehun feels disappointed.

“Sehun??” I wave my hand in front of his blank face. I snap my finger and he goes back to his consciousness.

“ah! Sorry I got lost.. I still think this is a scam.” Sehun holds the paper tightly, he low-key wants to burn it here.

“No Sehun! Taeyong and I checked the company’s name and it’s verified. Like it or not I’m leaving! Oh come on it’s still in the same country. Just different region.. you are always welcome to come and see me!” I pack my belongings and stand up from my chair.

“Come on let’s go.. I need to smoke..” I pull Sehun’s hand and he reluctantly follows my steps.

We got to the park near the public library and I light a bar there, sticking it between my lips as I put the lighters on.

I inhale a huff and lets out a puff “Why Sehun? You don’t seem happy? Isn’t this a nice opportunity for me? This is my dream!” I tap on my cigarette as I wait for Sehun to reply.

He looks really different. Since he saw the letter he seems annoyed and mad.

“i.. I can’t explain what’s in my mind… of course I’m happy you can finally reach your dream.. but..”

“But what Sehun? Tell me..”

“It’s just that.. I might not be able to see you anymore..”

“what do you mean? You can join the others when they see me for the race. Or meet me around the area.”

“No. It’s not that simple. I can’t bring myself to that place again (y/n)..”

“Why? Just because you don’t like wild racing?? Fine. We can still see each other outside that place.” I try to see the bright side. Hey there’s so many place in the world. Why is he so confused.

“No it’s not like that.. fine let me be honest. I am not allowed to meet you frequently. And it’s not because of Jaehyun.” Sehun closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry.. I should have never met you in first place.”

“What are you talking about Sehun?” I bite my stick between my lips. Totally confused and not understanding a single thing about Sehun. Why is he lately so secretive and quiet. He doesn’t act like the same Sehun I met at day one! No. He’s totally off.

“Today’s not the right time to tell. Just put in mind I never wanted this to happen.” Sehun looks into the distance, he freezes when he sees someone (I don’t know who.. he looks far away over my shoulder) and suddenly he taps my shoulder and say goodbye.

I finish my cigarette and turn it down while looking confused as hell

“the fuck Sehun? Was he on his right mind? I don’t understand a single thing.”

Last Chapter

#sehun x you #sehun x reader #sehun #kai #taeyong #yuta #jaehyun #johnny #nct fanfic #exo fanfic #exo x oc #nct x y/n #nct x you #tempo #exo imagines #nct imagines #taeyong x you #jaehyun x you

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7-wonders · 5 years

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Pour One Out

Summary: After lashing out at Michael, you find yourself at the receiving end of his rage. You stand up for yourself and decide to, in the words of Tom Haverford and Donna Meagle, “treat yo’self” to a night out with friends. Alcohol and anger make for great choices, right?

Word Count: 3973

A/N & Warnings: Warnings first: Alcohol, physical violence, people being mean to each other, cussing, partying. Hi there! Once again, I’m terrible at posting this story. It’s one of my favorite long-form pieces that I’ve ever written, but I’m still incapable of sticking to a schedule. Anyways, this is part 5 of my ‘Mad Love’ series, which I’ll have linked below. Feedback is always appreciated; leave me a like, reblog, comment, or ask letting me know what you think. My inbox is always open if you want to chat :)

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE

The cursor on the screen in front of you blinks constantly, silently asking you when you’re going to start typing. This essay isn’t going to write itself, but you can’t seem to muster up enough willpower to actually start putting words onto the paper. In all honesty, it’s hard to work on homework lately. Being the Antichrist’s unwilling wife and knowing of his plans for the apocalypse really makes essays on Plato’s Allegory of the Cave seem trivial, if they weren’t already trivial before this ordeal started. So you stare at the screen, zoning out while occasionally nodding your head so that it seems like you’re invested in the conversation your friends are having.

You jump when a hand touches your shoulder, staring wide-eyed at the classmate sitting next to you. She’s nice and you’ve worked with her on a few projects for this particular class, but you don’t really talk to her when it doesn’t relate to school. She smiles comfortingly at you while the rest of the group stares at you, all with different levels of bewilderment on their faces.

“What?” You ask, trying to make it seem like you weren’t on a completely different wavelength.

“We’re all getting ready to leave and I asked if you were okay. You’ve been really off recently, no offense.” The same classmate, Kate, repeats.

“I’m fine, I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently.”

“I can tell.” She jokes, gesturing to your blank screen. “I’ll send you the notes and what I’m basing my essay off of, if you want?”

“That’d be great, thank you so much.” You reply gratefully.

You hurriedly pack all of your items in your bag, not wanting to hold the group up anymore than you already have. Luckily the parking lot of the cafe you all met up at is fairly small, which means your cars are all parked next to each other. Still, the trauma from what happened that fateful night in the library parking lot has you locking the doors, jamming your seatbelt into place and driving out of the parking lot almost before everybody else has even gotten their cars started.

It’s probably not the best idea to get Chinese takeout when you’re already on a budget and you definitely have leftovers at home, but you figure you can splurge a little bit tonight. The bag that you’re carrying has you tempted to just sit in your car outside of your apartment and eat it all, but that’d be a little difficult since you have no utensils with you. So you make the trek to your apartment, which seems ever-longer with the food basically calling your name.

Unlocking your door and turning on the lights, the first thing that you see is that your cat is once again on the table, a habit that you’ve been trying to curtail for a few days now. The second thing you see, Michael Langdon petting said cat, has all thought of complaining fleeing your head.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasp, throwing your hands up in fright at the surprise intrusion. By some miracle, your food doesn’t go flying everywhere, so you place your things on the table before you do ‘accidentally’ throw them at Michael.

“Kind of the opposite, actually.” Michael smirks, placing his hands behind his back and walking towards you in the way that you hate so much.

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing here?” You huff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It’s Thursday, you’re literally going to see me tomorrow.”

You had actually kind of been expecting for him to show up somewhere in your life. After eating a single bite of toast before rushing out the door after your early weekend last Saturday, you knew he had been pissed. That much had been made clear when he called you Monday, as well as yesterday. A little bit of warning would have been nice, though.

“Well, seeing as how I already used my allotted two calls for the week,” his nose scrunches in distaste at the rule you had set, “I decided that I would drop in and see how my beautiful wife is doing. You never told me you had a cat.” He mentions when the little brat starts rubbing her head against Michael’s hand, begging for attention.

“It never came up in conversation.” You mutter, pushing past him so that you can take back the control of your apartment. “You dropped in, saw I’m fine, got to pet my cat; can you go now?”

Michael pouts teasingly before shrugging.

“Are you really just going to kick me out like that? You’re not a very good hostess, (Y/N).” You squeeze your eyes shut and clench your jaw, patience wearing thin with each second that Michael remains in your home.

Maybe if you had had some forewarning, been given some time to prepare for having to be around him, you wouldn’t be getting so angry. But now, not only has he invaded your home, he refuses to leave as well. Even worse is that stupid fucking smirk that is ever-present on his face. God, if you knew there wouldn’t be any consequences, you’d love to knock that look right off of his face (and maybe a few teeth out, too, although you’re sure that his Antichrist powers would grow them back right away).

“Look. I’m tired, hungry, I have a mountain of homework to do and I still have to finish my laundry. All I want to do is eat my dinner, maybe watch some Netflix while I work on homework, and then go to bed. Please, Michael, just go home.” You plead with him.

“I can help you, you know. Or you could just quit school and mo-”

“What happened to letting me have my alone time?” You question, reminding him of the contract you just went over less than a week ago. The smile fades off of his face as his blue eyes turn to a steely color, and you watch as he clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly.

“I don’t ask for much from you, (Y/N), just for you to cherish and obey me.” You glower at him when he comes closer, attempting to push him away, but he snatches your wrists easily in one of his large hands. “Do you know how many men-- how many women worship my father? How many of them would have thrown themselves at my feet for a chance to be my bride? But no, my father had to make you as my soulmate. You, a stubborn, whiny little bitch who can’t just shut up and be grateful for the position of power you’re currently in.”

You yank your hands out of his grasp, and before you can even process it he slaps you across the face. One of his large rings caught against your lip, and you bring a hand to your face to catch the blood that’s starting to pool on the floor. Poking your tongue out at your lip, you can feel how it’s already starting to swell from the force of Michael’s hit. The man in question holds his hands up by his head, eyes wide as he pants loudly. He repeatedly shakes his head, like he’s trying to convince both you and him that he didn’t mean to hit you.

“(Y/N)-” He’s silenced when you spit at him. It lands on his cheek, and you watch with eyes blazing as the mixture of saliva and blood trails down his face.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” You don’t look him in the eyes, instead choosing to focus on the blood you’re cupping in your hands. When he doesn’t move, you start to yell. “Leave! I swear to God, if you don’t leave, I’ll get my landlord up here and he’ll haul your ass out!”

The door never opens, but when you look up again he’s disappeared. You’re still beyond pissed, but the adrenaline is wearing off and the throbbing in your lip is starting to become more prominent. Stumbling off to the bathroom, you get a washcloth and hold it to your lip to stop the bleeding. Somehow the cut’s not deep, it just landed in an area that produces a lot of blood. You get cleaned up fairly quickly, and within twenty minutes you’re laying on the couch with an ice pack pressed to your lip. The cat sits on your lap, kneading your thighs with her little paws.

“Next time he shows up here, claw his eyes out, okay?” You request. She blinks her large eyes at you once before yawning and rubbing her nose. “Thanks.”

Your phone chimes with a text message that you almost ignore, thinking that it’s Michael. When the name on the text isn’t just the devil emoji that you use for him and is, instead, the name of your best friend, you unlock your phone.

“Hey girl! Thirsty Thursday tonight @ Stadium House, you in?”

Stadium House, the frat house closest to the campus’ football stadium (nobody ever said frat boys were good at naming things), offers what is arguably the best Thirsty Thursday you’ve ever experienced. Frat parties aren’t normally something you enjoy going to, choosing instead to do your social drinking at friends’ houses. Even though they’re not normally your scene, you still find yourself mulling over the idea. It’s been a while since you even drank, let alone went out with your friends and drank. Besides, after the hellish past few weeks, partying doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Sure, we riding together?” Within seconds, she’s responded.

“OMG YAY REALLY??? Yeah we’re getting a Lyft. Wanna come over to mine and get ready/pregame?”

“Be over in 10.” You reply.

Since you both live in the same building, all you had to do is get everything together and take the elevator to her floor. The cat, although not pleased that you’re standing, quickly settles down again in your spot as you go to put the ice pack back in the freezer. As you gather the ‘essentials’ for a night out, you realize that this is the first time you’ve been genuinely excited for something since the day you were kidnapped. Locking your door behind you, you head out with a purpose: to get fucked up. Classily fucked up, but still fucked up.

Stadium House is just like you remember it from the last party you attended, which would have been almost a year ago. It’s insanely loud, with enough bass to make your teeth shake. There’s an insane amount of people that you’re sure violates some sort of fire code, none of the furniture matches, and there’s enough booze to give the entire school alcohol poisoning.You’re already mildly buzzed, the alcohol that you pregamed making you feel a good kind of fuzzy. Making your way into the kitchen to grab a beer takes twice the time that it normally would since inebriated-you likes to hug everyone that you see.

“(Y/N)!” A voice shouts. You turn around to see Kate waving at you, beckoning you towards her. “Hey! Thought you didn’t come to these types of parties?”

“Normally I don’t, but tonight I decided to.”

“God, what happened to your lip? Did somebody punch you?” You almost forgot about the cut on your face, having covered it with enough makeup to hide the bruising and swelling.

“Oh, I tripped and busted my face against the stairs earlier today.” Kate grimaces, but obviously believes it.

“Well hopefully that means you won’t bust your face while you’re drunk. Anyways, you wanna play pong with me? I need a partner.” You shrug before nodding, letting her take your hand and lead you to the living room.

All of the couches are pushed up against the walls, allowing people to sit and catch their breaths. There’s a long table set up in the middle of the room, the classic red cups creating pyramids on each side.

“Katie, you found someone!” Kate giggles and blushes when a guy slings his arm around before kissing her cheek.

“(Y/N), this is my boyfriend, Brennan. Brennan, this is (Y/N).” You both wave at each other awkwardly. “Oh my God B, do you know who (Y/N) would be absolutely great with? Lucas!”

Brennan chuckles at the look on your face.

“Kate likes to play matchmaker when she’s drunk.” He explains. “Go play then, everyone’s waiting on you.”

Kate pouts before kissing Brennan and jogging around to the side of the table that you’ve already migrated towards. Picking up a Solo cup, you glance inside to see what the poison of choice is tonight. One sniff of the clear liquid tells you that it’s vodka, and definitely not the good kind. Kate fakes a gag when you hold the cup under her nose, making you giggle.

“Guess we’ll have to play extra good, then.”

Both teams suck, but you somehow manage to eke out the win. Even with the win, you still had to down an ungodly amount of vodka. Couple that with the two beers you’ve had since starting the game, and you’re definitely feeling the effects. Everything has you laughing, from the posters on the wall and your opponents’ jokes to the outfits of some of the women here and how they all line the walls, looking for their prey. You and Kate had almost collapsed against each other when the familiar chorus of ‘oh fuck, shit, BITCH’ coursed through the entirety of the frat house. Another side effect of being drunk is just how loud you are. You know that you’re nearly yelling whenever you open your mouth, but you’ll be damned if people don’t hear what you have to say.

After the game is over, you end up heading outside to get some fresh air. A good number of people have the same idea as you, standing together in small groups. Pushing past a couple making out, you lean against the wall and pull your phone out of your back pocket. There’s a few notifications from various social medias, mainly your friends tagging you in their stories. Unfortunately, there’s also a text from Michael that simply reads ‘I’m sorry.’ The sensible part of you that remains sober tells you to not do what you’re thinking of, but since that part of you is stupid, you click on Michael’s contact anyways. It only rings twice before he picks up the phone, which makes you roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m so sorry about what happened earlier, I shouldn’t have done that and I’ll never do anything like that again.” You hear the words that he’s saying, but they don’t actually register with you while you wait to finally speak.

“Y’know, you’re the--the biggest jerk I’ve ever met!” You huff, sitting down on top of the cool grass.

“I know, and I deserve th-”

“No no no, mister, you listen to ME! All my friends’ boyfriends are so fucking nice, and they care about their girlfriends, and they certainly didn’t kidnap them. One of my friends even told me there’s a guy she knows that’d be--that’d be perfect for me!” You pause to take a sip of the beer in your hand. “But I had to say no, all because I’m married to the fucking Ant-Anti-crust!”

Michael’s silent while you ramble on, waiting patiently for you to finish. You snicker at your oh-so-clever wordplay, repeating ‘Anti-crust’ quietly to yourself.

“(Y/N)...are you drunk?” You sigh, humming a tune that you’re not quite sure of while you look up at the sky.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Stay where you are, I’m going to come and get you. And don’t hang up the phone!”

“You’re so lame, Michael.” You groan loudly.

“I know I am, so incredibly lame.” He agrees with you.

“Whatever, I gotta tell my friends I’m leaving, ‘else they’ll think I got kidnapped...again.” Stumbling to your feet, you squint your eyes to spot your friends. Sure enough, the three of them are all sitting on the couch under the large oak tree. What is it with frat guys leaving couches outside? Is that like a requirement for frats?

“Why is there a couch outside?” Michael asks incredulously, and you clap a hand over your mouth when you realize that you said that out loud.

“Oops.” Your friends all wave to you, and you fall sideways on top of their laps. “H-hey guys!”

“(Y/N), where the hell did you go?”

“Oh, I kicked ASS at pong. Did you know that I’m good at pong? ‘Cuz I didn’t know I was good at pong.” Your mumble, reaching a hand up to stroke your friend’s cheek. “Anyways, I gotta go. My husband is gonna pick me up.”

You can hear Michael gasp as your friends all laugh and giggle.

“Fuck off, you don’t have a husband!” You’re about to argue before you remember that you totally should not have said that.

“You’re right, I don’t have a husband.” You agree, sobering up long enough to panic before realizing that they’re just going to think you’re joking. “Anyways, my...friend Michael is gonna pick me up.”

“(Y/N)’s gonna get DICK tonight!” She yells, making them all cheer loudly.

Before you can argue, a sleek black sports car pulls up. Michael doesn’t even have to unroll the windows for you to know that it’s him; nobody else would be driving around in a college neighborhood with a car like that. Your friends help push you up, and you grab all of your stuff from where you threw it on the ground. Your goodbyes are all long and exaggerated, all of them hugging you and kissing your cheeks before letting you leave.

You throw open the car door dramatically, sliding not-so-gracefully inside. Michael stares at you, and if you were more sober you’d try and attempt to figure out what he’s thinking. Instead you give him a wide smile, waving excitedly while you try to buckle up.

“Here, let me help you.” He says finally, easily buckling you up.

“Thank youuuuuu!” You sing out, leaning back against the cool leather.

“I, uh, brought you a water.” He hands you a bottle of water, making you gasp excitedly.

“How did you know I was thirsty! You’re the best, Mikey!” You open the bottle easily and down half the bottle in one go.

“Don’t call me that.” He’s obviously not too impressed with having to pick you up, but whatever.

“But-but I like calling you Mikey! It’s my nickname for you! Isn’t that what married couples do? They have nicknames for each other!” You argue while Michael maneuvers through the deserted streets.

He decides that keeping silent is the best course of action, which makes you pout. There’s no music on, and the only sound you can hear is the engine purring. His eyes are focused on the road ahead, so you decide to creep your hand up to touch his hair, which is something you’ve always wanted to do. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you’re pretty sure he thinks you’re going to hit him. He flinches when your hand lands in his hair, sending you into another round of giggles while you feel his golden curls.

“So soft.” You mutter to yourself, running your hand through his hair. “Mikey, I’m gonna need you to drop your haircare routine.”

“Tomorrow.”

“We’re at my apartment! How do you know where I live?”

“I was here four hours ago.” You hum, nodding.

“Riiiiiight.” You basically fling yourself out of the car, bouncing on your heels while you wait for Michael to catch up to you.

He politely slides his arm around yours, keeping you steady while you both make your way to your apartment. Standing still in the elevator makes you realize just how tired you are and you yawn repeatedly and rub your eyes, undoubtedly smudging your eye makeup.

“Drink the rest of your water, please.” Michael requests, gesturing to the near-empty bottle you’re still holding.

You do as he says, letting him guide you to your apartment door. He opens it without using a key, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Oh no, did I leave the door unlocked?”

“No (Y/N), I unlocked it with my magic.”

“That’s right, I forgot about that! That’s how you left so quickly after you slapped the shit outta me.” Michael winces at your words, but you ignore him and walk into the apartment. “Hi, kitty kitty!” You greet the cat, who doesn’t even bother to wake up.

“Go get some pajamas on, I want to make sure you make it to bed alright before I leave.” You glare at him, but do as he says. When the cat hears his voice, she eagerly jumps up and hops off of the couch, padding towards him and meowing. You stop at the sight, mouth hanging open while he crouches down to pet the cat.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, and Michael has to stifle a laugh when tears start to fill your eyes. “You little traitor.”

Michael remains on the floor while you get changed, giving his attention to the small cat. When it’s been a couple of minutes with no sign of you, he begins to get a little concerned. What trouble can a drunk person get up to when they’re just getting changed. Michael stands up, cautiously making his way to your bedroom. If you are still changing he really doesn’t want to walk in on you, knowing that there will be absolute hell to pay. His concerns are instantly wiped away when he sees you laying in your bed, eyes already closed.

“(Y/N).” Michael whispers, shaking your shoulder. You groan and try to push him away. “(Y/N), you still have makeup on.”

He’s not sure you string together a full sentence, but he does make out the words ‘makeup wipes’ and ‘bathroom,’ which is all that he needs. Thankfully you left the package of makeup wipes on the counter before you left for the evening. Pulling one out of the package, he walks back into your room and crouches next to you. Your nose crinkles at the feeling of the cool cloth against your skin, and your eyes flutter open before closing so he can take your eye makeup off. When he reaches your bottom lip and chin, he frowns.

“I am so sorry.” He apologizes before he starts cleaning your lipstick off. You both know that he’s not just apologizing for the hiss of pain that escapes your mouth.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” You mumble, licking your chapped lips while Michael examines the damage.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did that. I’ve never hit anyone before.” He’s telling the truth; he’s murdered people and animals before, obliterated people’s souls, but he’s never slapped anyone. If there’s one useful thing his grandma taught him while growing up, it’s that you never hit a woman.

“You did it because you’re mean.”

“I promise you, (Y/N), that I’ll never lay a hand on you like that again.” You look at him from under your lashes, causing his heart to clench painfully.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Your eyes close again, and Michael gets up to throw the makeup wipe away.

When he comes back into your room, you’re already asleep. Michael smiles at the small snores that escape you and how absolutely comfy you look, slipping out to grab you some water and pain meds for the morning. Placing it on your bedside table, he spares one last glance at you before going to leave, petting the cat once more and disappearing again.

Tag List: @sammythankyou @let-me-try-mom @ultragibbycentralworld@sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblog@everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @dolceandchalamet @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @americanhorrorstudies@sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo@storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsdemon @langdonslove @carousallie @cuddletothecake

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagines #Michael Langdon imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagine #american horror story #american horror story imagine #American horror story apocalypse

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starshua · 5 years

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c.sc ❥ deluge

seungcheol x reader; 100wtsily

word count; 1.1k

synopsis; a school project on a rainy day with none other than choi seungcheol himself ; drabble, fluff + based on wtsily prompt 35, “after you.”

✎ hello it has been roughly a year and seven months since i’ve posted any seventeen fic at all and i am. ashamed

You’ve probably never been this nervous in your entire life.

You knew taking this class was a mistake. It was going to be nearly impossible for you, what with the workload and the damage it would surely do to your anxiety. But still you pressed on, determined to grow even in the smallest of ways, and so there you were with what might have been the most ludicrous assignment you could have been assigned: write a speech about your classmate.

The document with all of your instructions sat waiting on your laptop screen, mocking you for your cowardice. Your speech was due in three days, and you haven’t even met with your partner to hold an interview, let alone actually constructed the damn thing. To your credit, you did attempt a meeting once before—last Thursday, after class—but he had been busy, or something.

In fact, he always seemed busy. He was involved with the school council somehow, though you weren’t quite sure about the details, and popped up just about everywhere on campus to lend a helping hand or deal with an issue. You didn’t want to blame him for being so unavailable—he was doing good work, after all, and he really was very sweet—but you were not going to sacrifice your grade in this hellish class just because he was nice.

“Hey, y/n!” he called, walking briskly through the double doors of the library. It was raining outside, and he was positively drenched, dripping wildly from head to toe. He took the seat across from you and shed his soaking jacket. You tried not to stare at the damp hair that clung to his forehead.

“Hi, Seungcheol,” you said. He was a little bit late, and though you attributed it to the rain, it still left a bitter taste in your mouth. “Let’s get started.”

“Oh, yeah, sure!” Swiftly, Seungcheol pulled his laptop out and set it down on the table. “D’you wanna go first? Since my speaking day is next week, anyway, and I already got a little on you last class.”

You nodded tersely. Seungcheol’s face didn’t change, but you caught the involuntary twitch of his jaw and knew he was a little peeved by your attitude. You didn’t mean to snub him, really, but something about him set you on edge. He was too kind, too helpful, too attractive, and you had a hard time believing he was so without fault.

“So,” you said, opening a blank document for notes, “tell me about yourself. Life story kind of stuff.”

Seungcheol obliged with little difficulty, and his eagerness shocked you. He was from a small town just a few hours north, he explained, and he came from a family that couldn’t really provide for him as well as they wished they could have. He came to school with an academic scholarship, and he worried a lot about his grades even though he didn’t really need to. He had two close friends his age—Jeonghan and Joshua—that he went on a trip with every summer. Last year they went to a scenic town on the coast and wrote songs on the beach, drunk on cheap wine and moonlit adventure.

You watched the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up as he talked about his friends, describing their shenanigans like they meant the world to him. The fondness on his face when he spoke of his mother was heartwarming, too, and the stony indifference in regard to his father wasn’t lost on you. You were beginning to see the scars, the little bruises he hid behind convincing smiles and a good attitude, and it made him seem a lot more human than he had twenty minutes ago. His passion is what sold it, though; the spark in his laugh as he talked about his loved ones, his dreams, his future. He almost seemed to glow with certainty.

It may have been foolish, but you felt like the two of you were connecting. He was being very personal—much more so than the assignment required, and you were certain he knew that—and he seemed to want the same from you, if the probing in his watchful gaze was anything to go by.

“So, yeah. I’m really into music production and songwriting,” he continued. “My mom helped me get really into it—that’s how my parents met, actually—and I’ve been doing it for about six years now?”

You nodded to encourage him, typing dutifully. You were sure you had gotten enough material, but something in you didn’t want to let the moment slip away. It felt like you’d never see that look in his eyes again if he left now.

Besides, you told yourself, you still had to return the favor.

“Okay, can you tell me a little bit more about—?” you faltered. The lights above you flickered, and with them, the whole library went black. You made alarmed eye contact with Seungcheol in the darkness; he looked as unsettled as you felt. The room went quiet.

A moment passed. Like a stuttering breath, the lights struggled back on. Outside, the wind raged against the trees meant to shield you. Rain fell in heavy waves, and thunder screamed across the sky. You caught sight of something—perhaps an umbrella?—caught in the torrent, rocketing through the air like a lost missile. How had you missed the nasty turn the weather had taken?

“You wanna get out of here?” Seungcheol offered tentatively.

You didn’t, not really, but you also kind of wanted to be able to find your way back to your dorm, and that would only be easy before nightfall. “Sure.”

He stood and grabbed his backpack, slinging a strap over one shoulder. You hurried to put your things away, and after a moment, Seungcheol came to help you. It was honestly more of a hindrance than a help—such a mess of limbs and movement—but it warmed your heart all the same.

“So?” he asked, slipping his jacket on as the two of you edged closer to the library exit, “Where do you wanna go?”

“Huh?”

Seungcheol smiled fondly, almost like he found your reaction cute. Cute. The thought made your head spin. “To continue the interview? And maybe eat a little?”

“O-oh. My dorm?”

“Ooh, bold. Taking me home already?”

You fought a blush in vain. “I meant the study rooms on the first floor!”

He laughed. “I know.” The automatic doors dragged themselves open, and a fresh wave of rainwater smacked Seungcheol right in the face. He flinched but stood otherwise frozen. You coughed out a laugh. He eyed you teasingly and gestured toward the storm, blinking back droplets. “After you.”

You smiled. Adrenaline surging, you grabbed his hand and dashed off into the deluge, Seungcheol trailing raucous laughter behind you. It was freezing, and the two of you were soaked to the bone in seconds, but it was exhilarating all the same. His hand was warm in your grasp, and somewhere in the mess of rain and wind, you felt his fingers encircle yours.

Maybe this class wouldn’t be so bad.

#got a vern scenario on the way hopefully #i pulled this out of my ass #i'm not even rly proud of this bc it's based off of smth i actually had to do !! ah the joys of university #shoutout to my speech partner #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #choi seungcheol #seventeen s.coups #s.coups scenarios #s.coups drabble #s.coups fluff #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol drabble #seungcheol fluff #t: 100wtsily

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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825.

At what time of day do you normally feel the best? >> If there is a set time of day when I feel best, I don’t notice. The way I feel seems to depend on more esoteric factors than just where the Sun is in the sky. Although I will say, I do feel better overall when I can see the Sun. Anxiety and despair seem to have more power in the [metaphorical or literal] dark. Do you normally have to hem pants? >> I’ve never hemmed pants. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. >> I am unable to name a reason why someone else shouldn’t commit suicide, particularly if I know nothing about their life. It feels strange to me to try to convince someone to stay alive when they are suffering enough that suicide seems a viable option. That’s not to say that I believe they should die -- it’s to say that I don’t believe I possess the power to convince them otherwise. What would you do if you had no one to love and support you? >> I’ve been in that position before, and I pretty much just... kept going? I don’t really know what this question is asking. You either die or you live, and since dying wasn’t working out for me, I just kept plugging along. And collected some pretty heavy issues along the way, but, you know. If you didn’t have love and support, would you feel life was worth living? >> I didn’t feel that life was worth living, no, but being passively suicidal, even constantly, is a pretty easy way to live. Ironically. Passive suicidality is weird.

If you had no family nor friends nor money, would you feel life’s worth living? >> I’ve had no family and no money, and questionable excuses for friends (definitely not the kind that I’d consider supportive and life-affirming...). And my answer is the same as the above one. If you’re unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? >> It depends on what kind of unhappiness I’m experiencing, obviously. They’re not all alike. And some of them don’t even respond to appeals to fulfillment... they just persist and persist until they’ve run out of steam. What was the last thing that upset your stomach? >> I don’t remember. Probably just... something I couldn’t trace. General indigestion. Do you have to go the pharmacy a lot? >> I haven’t been to the pharmacy since... three or so years ago, I’d say, when I had a tooth taken out. Are you sunburned? >> I’ve never been sunburned. Do you wish someone loved you? >> At least two people love me. What I wish is that I had the capacity to feel the love of people that aren’t Inworlders. Do you call yourself stupid often? >> Unfortunately. We’re working on it. What’s a song you love? >> Turbo Killer, Carpenter Brut. (Also, thank you for asking for a song I love, instead of “my favourite song”, which isn’t a thing.) Do you miss anyone who was mean to you? >> Sometimes, because trauma is a bitch. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. >> I don’t know any cancer survivors. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? >> ^ Does God often answer your prayers? >> I don’t pray to any gods, so I wouldn’t know. How was your day today (or yesterday, if it’s morning)? >> It was a decent day. Had a good time. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? >> That’s not something I recall ever wishing for, no. Would you want to relive your childhood again? >> No fucking thank you. As hellish as my adult life has been, it was still preferable to being a minor with no control over my life.

Were your college years the best years of your life? >> I didn’t go to college. Would you rather re-live high school or college? >> --- What is the dumbest sports-team mascot you’ve heard of? >> --- Are you a sports fan? >> No. Where do you feel like you fit in the most? >> Inworld. Do you hate social classes? >> Not terribly, or anything. I can definitely see the flaws in them and I’m not necessarily a supporter, but like... hate is a specific emotion and I don’t feel that in this case. Do you think talent should have anything to do with social class? >> I’m not interested in this. Name a country who’s history you know nothing about. >> Peru. Name a religion you know nothing or very little about. Zoroastrianism. I only remember the founder. <-- Same. Don’t you hate know-it-alls? >> I don’t really encounter people that I would describe as “know-it-alls”, and if I did I would just not interact with them. What is your favorite store at the mall? >> I don’t have one. When was the last time you went to the mall? >> December. Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? >> I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? >> I don’t go for runs, I go for walks. The last time I went for a walk was... Thursday? Let’s say Thursday. (I’m going to get back on schedule tomorrow.) Have you ever tried hard drugs? >> Yeah. Which school subject did you hate the most? >> --- What was the last thing you wore from Aeropostale? >> I don’t recall ever wearing anything from there, unless it was something I got out of a donation bin or something. Which devotional do you read? >> I don’t. Do you appreciate classic literature? >> I appreciate classics from an academic point of view, I suppose. But I’m not going to pretend to enjoy them, because most of them I don’t.

What is something you find strange? >> *shrug*? Do you like your natural hair color? >> I don’t care about it, really. Would you rather get a pixie cut or get dreadlocks? >> I have wanted dreadlocks since I was a teenager, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t have them (because I can’t maintain anything more complex than a buzzcut). Would you rather dye your hair or get a perm? >> Neither.

Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? >> No. Have you ever started a new trend? >> No, I have never had that level of influence. Do you have any artwork of yours from high school? >> I don’t have anything from high school. What did you win a scholarship for? >> --- Did your college meet your expectations? >> --- What was the best thing about college? >> --- How old were you ten years ago? >> 23. What’s the best piece of advice you can give someone ten years younger? >> I don’t have any advice for some random hypothetical 23yo. Do you feel like you are old enough and experienced enough to give advice? >> I can certainly give advice on things I’ve had experience with, of course. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to, unless I’m explicitly asked. How old were you when you started to feel mature and experienced? >> That’s a feeling that people have...? Well, I’m not familiar with that feeling. I understand that I’ve experienced a lot of things, and I can see that I have grown over time, but there’s no time when I can say ‘this is when I started to feel mature and experienced’. Like, that definitely sounds like some story device shit. Were your 20’s hell? >> Some parts were, of course. Also, let me just say that it’s interesting for a survey question to assume that I’m older than 20something, for once. What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? >> Fungus gnats and fruit flies. Do you put off things until the last minute? >> Sometimes. Do you have the air conditioning on right now? >> No. It’s actually been on the cooler side the last couple of days. That’ll change completely by Wednesday or so, but it’s nice to have a reprieve from the noise of the fan. Is your mom the same size as you? >> ---

Does camping appeal to you? >> Yes. What color is your sleeping bag? >> --- How often do you pray? >> I do not.

Do you surrender to Christ daily? >> I do not. Also, don’t say stuff like this to me, it just sounds sexual.

When was the last time you went to church? >> Uh... last Christmas? I think I went this past Christmas. Do you know any Christians who aren’t judgmental? >> Probably. The thing about Christianity is that there are so many sects and offshoots and individual interpretations of the text that it’s really not that surprising to run into Christians who are pretty uninterested in being judgemental about non-Christians or gay people or whatever the fuck. I mean, it’s not surprising for me, anyway. I’ve met a wide variety of people over the years. Do you believe there are any good people in the world? >> Uh, duh. What’s one thing you are scared of? Flying cockroaches. <-- Pretty much. Hate those bitches.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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cassyblue · 4 years

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I’m just so tired of not having money and always being short for rent. I’ve had such a rough past week that I am behind even more on commissions (I’m so sorry) and I spent money I shouldn’t have on food. Good news, I’m going to the rent assistance place but bad news my meeting is on Thursday and rent is due Saturday. And they scolded me for not using the food bank which is frustrating because everyone is like go to the food bank if you need food!!! But I have food!!! I just don’t have energy to make food!!! Like for two weeks of January I ate raw ramen because I was too tired/depressed to cook. I got myself signed up for intake at a sliding scale therapy clinic today too. But i’m so exhausted. I’m trying to survive and its hard. I wouldn’t be in as bad of shape as I am if I hadn’t had to borrow money from my parents last month to pay rent. I started going back to dance because its good for my mental health but I can’t afford it. I’m taking some of my costumes on Wednesday to see if anyone would buy them because let’s be honest I’m not good enough to dance by myself in restaurants and some of these costumes haven’t been used for a year bc they’re not things you wear to class or to dance with a troupe.

I have six days to prevent myself from getting dinged with rent late fees or being evicted and homeless.

And I’m really tired that my parents keep calling my two part time jobs not real jobs because they aren’t full time. I fucking work hard. I fucking work until I physically and mentally fall apart. And yet I’m just so fucked because I hit a parked car in 2018 and couldn’t use my insurance because I was on my parent’s and they freaked out and wouldn’t let me file a claim because it might make their premium go up. So I literally have had a maxed out credit card for a year and half that I have been struggling to pay off and taken out student loans to pay rent. Live within my means they keep telling me but I have no means and sometimes I just fucking want something nice like a coffee. I sold half of my lolita stuff which I had bought when I had a full time job for the summer just so I could pay my bills. I would sell my camera but I would literally not be able to afford a new one for another five years if I did and it’s a tool.

I might have to move back home with my parents sooner rather than later and I really don’t want to because my mother and I fight whenever I am home. Like our fighting has gotten to the point that my dad has threatened to disown me because I’m the agitator even though its shit that my mom did that I’m upset about. She can’t possibly ever be the bad guy because she was a victim of abuse in her mind. Even though she literally screamed and blamed my sister and I for issues in her marriage when we were in high school and said it would be our fault if she divorced our dad and then left and we didn’t know if she was going to come back and it was so traumatic that I still get upset about it. My parents had a lot of screaming fights when I grew up and stupid shit like slamming cabinet doors trigger me. Like I literally loose it because there’s no fucking way to rationally and calmly talk about shit that’s happened without her loosing it first and it’s not healthy for either of us. My mom’s been upset with me for years about just loosing it. I had a breakdown in undergrad and I don’t fucking remember it all because it was a blur but I basically told her she was a bad parent because of the way she held things over my head and shit’s been tense ever since. It’s not a good excuse for my behavior because yelling and screaming never solves anything. I have such a hard time not loosing it around them because they do things. Like the summer I lived at home before I moved away was hellish because I was so anxious all the time I was going to loose it again and I wasn’t out and I was terrified of what they’d do if they found out. And its frustrating because like she’ll be like oh ill talk to you about stuff and im not ignoring you and then we never do. And she doesn’t like it when I don’t want to talk about things or dont want to explain it. And I honestly can’t live at home because they don’t even fucking try with pronouns. Asked one fucking time and just didn’t try and I don’t correct them because it’ll just turn into another fucking fight. Like I literally do not say anything because I will loose it and get kicked out of the house. My dad was going to kick me out and drive me back to the airport the last time I was home but didn’t ultimately because it was Christmas Eve. Like I literally had my bags packed and ready to go. It all started because I said I was going to go spend the weekend with a friend (who for years my mom has accused me of treating better and loving more than her which is fucking ridiculous) and my mom got all upset and I was like why yes, I didn’t want to visit because this always happens and then it fucking spiraled into a fight.

And I have been a mess since I found out that the man who scooped my research and fucking sexually harassed me won the most prestigious award at my undergrad university. Like I haven’t slept more than 4 hours for the past three days because I have been so upset and angry and mad. I never reported him because I was scared of loosing both my jobs since the big boss was the same for both even though they were in two different sections of the department. And I fucking should have even if it backfired on me and fucked me over for the rest of my academic career. I almost wrote a long letter to my adviser thanking her for being so good to me but I didn’t because I was too embarrassed because I dont really want her to know about things that happened in the past I can’t change. It was hard enough telling her I have depression.

#true facts about erin

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kirishii-gay · 6 years

Text

Kiribaku Week Day 1

BITTERSWEET- Co-written by @fortheloveofbmo

Word Count: 5k Prompt: Shy / Coffee Shop AU / Tears

@kiribakuweek2k18

Read on AO3 Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356611

Katsuki grimaces as he finishes buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror. Another day, another fuckin’ dollar. It’s seven am on a Sunday morning, and here he is getting ready for another lovely day of his customer service job. He loops his tie around his neck, and knots it mindlessly as he stares out the window at the lighting sky. He can at least be thankful that he didn’t have the opening shift. The only thing he dreads is who else he has to work with this morning aside from his boss, Aizawa. If there’s any benevolent deity out there watching over him it will be Kendou. She’s professional, and a cool chick all around. Shifts with her are more tolerable.

Katsuki slides his non-slip shoes on, and makes his way out of his apartment. He has to get to the station in fifteen minutes if he has any plans to get to the cafe on time. He jogs over to the stairs, knowing the elevator is ‘down for maintenance’. It seems like the elevator is down for maintenance every few weeks, but Katsuki supposes that’s what’s to be expected when you live at a cheap apartment building.

Meanwhile, Eijirou has finally given in to his screaming alarm and gotten out of bed, unusually excited. The sun seems to twinkle a little brighter as it coats the room in a soft hue, gently asking Eijirou to get up. The red-head complies, hoisting himself up and running his hand through his messy bed-hair. The apartment still feels unfamiliar, waking up each day without recognition at first before becoming acclimated with his new bedroom. His high school friend, Sero, is next door, accompanied by his roommate, Kaminari, who is also friends with Eijirou. Things seem pretty cool so far.

The only thing he hasn’t found is a job, which is his plan for today. Carmine eyes scan his wardrobe before lighting up and he grabs pieces of clothing, shrugging them on. Eijirou takes one last look in the mirror and nods happily at the sight. He’s chosen a semi-expensive, tight-fit black shirt that has sleeves that reach just below his elbows and clings to his chest slightly, with blood-red trousers.

He starts to gel up his hair in the mirror of his fairly small bathroom,

The redhead makes his way down the hall, heading towards the staircase. On the stairs is a young man with spiked, ash-colored hair and intense red eyes. He’s wearing what looks like a uniform for some cafe. Eijirou recognises him as the guy who lives across from his apartment, but they have never really talked. “Yo!” Eijirou calls, waving as he makes his way over to the blond. “I live in the apartment opposite you, but I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Kirishima!”

Katsuki turns to face the man speaking to him. It’s some guy, probably around his age, with red hair gelled up in a bizarre hairstyle. He had actually seen the guy moving in a few weeks prior, but he hasn’t had a desire to speak with him. Katsuki has been quite preoccupied with his exams for summer classes, so the new neighbor hadn’t been a priority at the time. The red-head might be cute as hell, even with that shitty hair-do, but Katsuki has enough on his plate as it is without extra social obligations.

The blond tsks and begrudgingly answers, “Bakugou. Now, I have to fuckin’ split. I have a train to catch.” He turns away, hoping the other will leave it at that.

Eijirou’s eyes widen and he runs forward to grab Bakugou’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Bakugou shoots him an annoyed expression and Eijirou releases his hand with a nervous chuckle. Embarrassing or not, Eijirou doesn’t want the conversation to end there. He racks his brain for a conversation starter, dreading the lingering silence before Eijirou’s eyes dart down to the blond’s outfit. A vest hugs his chest, as well as tight-fit black jeans, and a tie hangs tightly from his neck which he keeps tugging every so often.

“Nice uniform! Do you work there?” The redhead comments, beaming and voice filled with newfound excitement. “I’ve been looking for a job for a while, actually. Are they hiring?”

“No,” he drawls, shaking the hand off of his shoulder irritably, “I’m just wearing this for fun. Of course, I work there. And who knows? I guess you would have to ask to find out, I don’t keep up with the employment status of the place.” Seriously, who does this fuckin’ guy think he is?

Eijirou throws back his head and laughs, finding the coarse attitude of the stranger completely amusing. Most would’ve dropped it right there, said a regretless goodbye to the stranger and left. But Eijirou is determined, and he has a newfound goal, a mission you could say. He’s going to befriend the pissed stranger. Something about this guy just..drew him in. He wanted to get to know him.

Step 1: Find out where he’s working and apply for the same job. After all, he is a broke college student in need of money.

It isn’t that hard to track down the cafe after a bit of digging, to be honest. The uniform is a dead giveaway. It belongs to a popular place called “The Mug Shot”, and his friends are actually regular visitors there. He loves the joke in the name of the cafe and how the whole store follows that theme. Luckily enough, they happen to be hiring when he goes for a visit With a satisfied grin, Eijirou applies, and chuckles to himself knowing that the hot-headed blond will not be happy. At all.

It’s Thursday afternoon, and Katsuki has just finished his last class for the day, he contemplates the new assignment that the economics teacher has given to the class, going over different ideas he can use for his paper as he walks leisurely to the cafe. He doesn’t have to be there for another hour, but he likes to get there early so he doesn’t feel so goddamn rushed. It gives him time to sit and make a dent on his hellish amount of homework, maybe drink one of the specialty hot chocolates before his shift (they have this one made with chile infused chocolate, and it’s so fucking delicious).

Unfortunately, his pre-shift plans are ruined as soon as he arrives. Aizawa looks up as the front door chimes, seeing Katsuki walk in. The older man gestures him over. “Ah, Bakugou. Perfect,” Aizawa says when the blond reaches him. “I’m glad you’re here early today. We have a new employee, and I need you to walk him through some things before your shift starts.”

Katsuki grits his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ think so, isn’t that your job? My shift hasn’t even started yet.”

Aizawa is, predictably, completely unaffected by Katsuki’s refusal. “Some deliveries are scheduled to arrive in ten minutes, and as the owner and currently the only working manager, I have to oversee them. The rest of the staff are busy actually working. Logically, you’re the best one to ‘show him the ropes’, so to speak.” Aizawa jacks his thumb over his shoulder toward a corner table and continues, “He’s signing some paperwork in the office right now, but his stuff is over there, and when he comes out I need you to go over the rules, and what will be expected of him as an employee. You know the drill. When your shift officially starts, he will be shadowing you so at least try to play nice.” His boss doesn’t even give him a chance to reply, heading to the back of the store before he can get another word in edgewise.

Katsuki seethes in place at the injustice of it all. Of course, he’s gonna fuckin’ do it, but that doesn’t mean he’s gonna be happy about it. It’s probably another annoying teenager with a cracking voice and no concept of hard work that’ll just weigh him down, like they usually do. The last person he had had to train was Mina. She had been annoying as hell to deal with, but at least she’s competent. He can only hope he’ll be so lucky this time, but with how his day has gone so far, he doubts it. He gives the still vacant corner an irate glare, before stomping up to the register. His coworker, Todoroki, is there, taking a free moment between customers to clean the counter.

Seeing a scowling Katsuki stalk up to the counter, he asks, “The pre-shift usual?” The blond gives a terse nod, not looking at the other. Todoroki calls the order over to their other co-worker, Kendou, before turning back to Katsuki. “I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think, Bakugou. I met the guy earlier. He’s not so bad, and seems sincere enough.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Easy to say when you’re not the one training him.”

Shouto grabs the finished hot chocolate off of the counter and sighs as he hands it over. “Don’t be too hard on him just because you’re in a bad mood, Bakugou. It’s his first day.”

“Tch. I might be pissed off, but I can be professional when the time fuckin’ calls for it.” Shouto gives him a deadpan look, causing Katsuki to bristle angrily. “You trying to say something, half-n-half?!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Katsuki scowls and turns away from the man to go sit at the table Aizawa had indicated earlier. There’s a red messenger bag in one of the seats with plenty of pins stuck on. Katsuki does his best to ignore all the indications of another human as he drinks his hot chocolate. The guy isn’t here yet, and he’s going to enjoy his alone time while he still fuckin’ can.

When Eijirou finishes the paperwork, he makes a quick stop in the bathroom to go over his uniform one last time in the mirror, inhaling and exhaling slowly, a little nervous for his first day. He has his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strings of red hair falling carelessly into his face. The uniform feels comfortable over his tanned skin, and the tight top hugs his muscles. It’s a little too small, but who is he to complain? Eijirou struggles with the tie, looping it over and over in an attempt to knot it properly, to no avail. After a couple more minutes of struggling, the tie finally cooperates. Eijirou carefully pins on his badge, a black and white piece of plastic that reads his first and last name underneath jail bars. The design makes Eijirou laugh. Man, he loves this cafe.

As he makes his way out, he catches contact with his co-worker that he met briefly earlier , a two-tone haired man who looks somewhat exhausted. The man’s phone hangs in his hand lazily, and he blows a stray strand of hair off his face. Eijirou waves and flashes a grin, making his way over to the other man. “Yo! I just started working here! Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Kirishima.” He grins, holding out a hand. The young man, whose name badge reads Todoroki, takes it with a slight smile. Eijirou immediately beams and attempts conversation, to which Todoroki politely replies.

The veteran employee can tell Eijirou is excited—too damn excited. This is a cafe, people don’t usually treat it like a dream job for crying out loud. “So, do you know who’ll be your mentor?” Todoroki asks with a small, knowing smile.

“No, I don’t know yet but I’m sure we’ll get along great!” Eijirou replies, his weird excitement not ceasing. Todoroki lets out a slight chuckle, one that reeks of pity. Eijirou cocks an eyebrow, but dismisses whatever insinuation Todoroki is trying to make.

“Kirishima!” Aizawa calls, his face peering out from the kitchen where Eijirou can see a man carrying in boxes. His new boss appears completely uninterested, his hands hanging in his pockets. “Your shift is starting, hurry up.” Eijirou nods eagerly and holds up a hand in apology towards Todoroki. He sucks in a breath, attempting to calm his nerves and then returns his smile, making his way over to the table that holds his mentor.

Eijirou’s eyes go wide and he holds back a choked laugh as he catches sight of his new co-worker, mentor, and—most importantly—neighbor. Bakugou is sprawled across the seat, aggressively drinking from an enclosed coffee cup. Eijirou didn’t know that was even possible. The man’s familiar red eyes are narrowed, and the blond looks downright annoyed. Still cute, though.

“Bakugou! What a coincidence, mate!” Eijirou calls out, waving as he jogs toward the blond. This is so damn funny, Bakugou—who barely even wants to look at him—is now going to be his mentor! And on top of that, his co-worker! Kirishima’s chest turns and a blush dances across his cheeks. Seems like he’s going to get closer to Bakugou than he thought.

At the sound of his name being called, Katsuki turns to find the source of the voice, automatically glaring in response to the enthusiastic and overly familiar greeting. When he sees the redhead making his way to the table, it takes a moment for him to place the other. It’s the guy with the shitty hair a floor down. He’s hard to place with his hair no longer gelled up, but Katsuki could hardly forget that sharp smile. This is the person he is supposed to mentor? Seriously, could his day get any worse?

“What the fuck are you doing here? Stalking me?” Katsuki mutters, drilling holes in the opposite wall now so that he isn’t tempted to wince from the bright smile of his newest trainee. Of course, Katsuki knows what he’s doing here. The blond can put two and two together, but hell if he’ll take this lying down.

Eijirou ignores the comment and sits down next to the blond, his smile not ceasing even for a second. He’s excited to start his job here, but even more excited at the fact that it’s Bakugou who’s teaching him. The guy seems to always have an awful attitude, sure, but Eijirou feels there is more to him. Plus, a part of him really, really wants to get to know him more. Eijirou wonders what he’d look like if he wasn’t wearing that scowl, what his laugh would sound like. He looks strong, very strong, as well. Eijirou wants to get closer to him.

Even with his sour behaviour and fire-like temper, Bakugou is very attractive. The spiky blond hair that falls over his eyes when he turns his head down, the intense glare that emerges from his fire-filled eyes. The way his mouth stretches into a growl, causing his tan skin to flush an angry red. Eijirou finds that extremely attractive.

Eijirou then realises his gaze has been on the blond for a little too long and shakes his head, focusing his attention back on Bakugou’s words. “I’m not a stalker, Bakugou! I was just looking for a job and chose to work here.” Eijirou grins, wincing as he notices the way his heartbeat sped up from just looking at Bakugou.

Katsuki grunts. “Ya know, when I said ask for yourself I didn’t think you would actually fuckin’ do it, Shitty Hair.”

Eijirou drops his lip into a fake pout, his eyes twinkling. “I’m a man of many surprises. Come on! Are you seriously not looking forward to working with me?” The redhead replies, overdramatically painting his face in a ‘hurt’ expression.

“Honestly?” Katsuki asks. The red head nods expectantly. “Not particularly, if you’re as annoying as the rest of these shitheads. But I guess… as long as you work hard we’ll do okay.” Katsuki’s eyes narrow. “If you slack off and cause any fuckin’ problems, best believe you’ll be on your ass without a job before you can even say ‘sorry’, got it?”

“Got it!” Eijirou replies cheerfully, determined to make the time with the blond a good one. And if that means impressing him with the ability to make different variations of coffee, so be it.

“Good.” Katsuki slaps down a trainer’s handbook. “We’re going to go through this, and I’ll be telling you about the different jobs that you’ll be expected to do. If you do better on one thing than another, more than likely that’s what you’ll end up doing most of the time. But you have to try your hand at all of the jobs to get a feel for what will suit your dumbass the best. Besides, it’s better to know how to do everything in case you need to take over someone’s shift, or what-the-fuck-ever. So—”

Katsuki spends the next forty-five minutes or so walking Kirishima through the handbook, answering any questions he might have. Katsuki has to admit, Kirishima is much more attentive than he thought he would be.

“Alright, so that covers everything pretty damn well. If you need to know anything else, feel free to ask. My shift is about to start, so I have to change and shit. I’ll be right back, so why don’t you go ahead and introduce yourself to those new shithead co-workers of yours.”

The redhead reaches behind his back and tightens the knot in his apron, separating from Bakugou to head toward the counter. Eijirou is immediately greeted by the only two other employees , each waving him over with polite grins. The welcoming attitude of the two is a nice change from Bakugou, he has to admit.

Todoroki acknowledges him with a nod, and Eijirou nods back before the other one comes forward, a girl who introduces herself as Kendou. She is very friendly, and she seems like the most well put together out of the entire group. Her sunset orange hair is pulled up into a bun, and her warm green eyes are twinkling as she gives a small warning about Bakugou before wishing Eijirou luck.

Having finally met everyone, Eijirou returns to Bakugou— who has just returned from the back room, now dressed in his uniform—even more excited, if that’s even possible. He vows to follow each instruction that Bakugou gives with careful precision, to try to get the best possible outcome and overall experience from today.

“Oi, did they already get you started?” Katsuki turns to the others as he lightly prods the redhead away from them. Kirishima shakes his head in the negative. “Good. I don’t want them poaching my goddamn trainee,” he says with a glare.

Todoroki rolls his eyes. “What, do you think we would teach him wrong or something?” “Hah?! Maybe! At the very fucking least you might not teach him how to do it right. I won’t have my trainee learning subpar methods.” “You do realize that you trained most of us, right Bakugou?” Kendou points out in a reasonable tone.

“Yeah, I do! And I dunno what happened! You learned from the best, but I’m still the only piece of shit here that can make a decent cup of coffee!”

Todoroki sighs. “You don’t even drink coffee, Bakugou...:”

Katsuki’s nostrils flare. “Hah? What’s your point?!”

“His point is, how do you know what a good cup of coffee tastes like if you don’t like coffee?”

“I just fuckin’ do. It’s one of my many talents.”

Kendou smiles at him. “Sure, Bakugou. Whatever you say.” The worst goddamn part is that he can never tell when she’s being sarcastic or not.

Katsuki turns away, still fuming slightly to find Kirishima still watching from the sidelines. The blond can feel blood rush through his cheeks. He clears his throat roughly. “Anyway… I’ll show you how to make a goddamn proper cup of coffee.” Katsuki starts by taking over the orders, demonstrating to the newest employee how to use the machinery, how to break down the orders into steps, and how to use those steps to fill the order. In between sales, the blond walks Kirishima through some of the more complicated beverages in the guide, including seasonal specials that the cafe features during holidays. The redhead does exceedingly well, picking things up with ease and that dumbass smile on his face almost the whole time. Kirishima asks pertinent questions, moves confidently when Katsuki allows him to make his own attempts at the orders, and remains easy going and seemingly unflappable throughout—despite Katsuki’s gruff demeanor.

At the hour mark things in the shop pick up for a few minutes, and Kirishima begins looking a bit overwhelmed. When he flubs two drink orders in a row, Kirishima’s self doubt begins to shine through. Katsuki decides to give him a break. Pushing the guy any harder wouldn’t do either of them any good, and—while he hates to admit it—he’s impressed by his neighbor’s competency so far.

Usually, people applying here don’t last long. Aizawa may dodge as much work as he can, but he’s a taskmaster when it matters. He will fire someone in the blink of a fuckin’ eye if they aren’t up to snuff, no matter their work history. It’s one reason why Katsuki can never keep up with whether they’re hiring or not, new people are always coming and going. But, so far, Kirishima seems to tick all of Aizawa’s boxes. However, it’s only the guy’s first shift. Katsuki will have to keep watching to see if he keeps up this level of diligence in his work after his training is over.

“Go work with half-n-half for a while. He can get you started on the cash register, and when things slow down Kendou can show you how to do the sandwiches and shit. I’m gonna help our sleep deprived boss do the inventory. No, doubt he fell asleep on the goddamn boxes again…” Katsuki grumbles.

Eijirou turns his head up from his current project and nods, still beaming from the success of his first day.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” Katsuki turns away, wondering why stomach feels so fluttery as he makes his way to the back room.

He has done really well, and the work came fairly easily to him. Todoroki and Kendou are so open and friendly, and the conversations he has had with them so far flowed so well that within minutes he felt like he’d made friends with both of them. But to top that off, for every successful cup of coffee he made, Eijirou would notice Bakugou’s lips turn up into a smile. It was nice, his smile. And he wants to see it again, and again, and again.

Eijirou makes his way over to Todoroki, passing Kendou who is beside a coffee machine quietly preparing a skinny-flat white. He lifts his gaze and smiles when he sees Eijirou, grabbing the coffee from Kendou to hand to a waiting customer.

“So, I see you and Bakugou are getting along. You must really like being around him,” Todoroki comments. Eijirou feels his face flush. Is it that obvious? Eijirou looks up and catches Katsuki’s eye right as he is about to step into the kitchen, and his mouth stretches into a grin. He turns back to Todoroki, whose gaze flickers between the two then smiles.

The workers here are great. He got to meet Todoroki and Kendou, who both are so lovely. They make his time training with them the best it possibly could be. They love him, they compliment him, and Eijirou even hears them whisper how much the customers will love him and he feels his chest swell with pride.

When Katsuki returns from helping his boss (who had, in fact, been sleeping) he finds Kirishima beaming at the other two workers, who are both smiling back at him. Katsuki pauses where he is, watching their interactions. Both Kendou and Todoroki appear to have welcomed the man into their fold, leaving a bitter taste in Katsuki’s mouth. He supposes seeing Kirishima with the others is just a reminder that his newest trainee treats every goddamn person he meets with the same overly familiar friendliness—Katsuki isn’t special in that respect. He notes the way Kirishima casually slings an arm around Kendou’s shoulders, the blond’s eyes narrowing in thought as he observes.

After spending a few hours with the redhead one-on-one, he’s annoyed and intrigued all at once. Katsuki can feel the kindle of interest brewing in his chest, but he does his damnedest to stamp it out. He doesn’t need anything like that right now when he’s so close to finishing his degree. Not like it would last if he pursued it anyway. Katsuki clenches his fist, then releases it as he shoves himself off of the doorframe into the back and slips past Kendou (who has since turned back to the espresso machine) to speak to Kirishima.

“So, how did things go while I was in the back? Aizawa told me to let you know you can go home after you wipe down the open tables and sweep, and that after you’re done you need to go see him. He’ll show you how to clock out, and give you the rest of your training schedule,” he relays to the redhead.

Eijirou looks up from the coffee he’s making and grins as he sees Bakugou. He puts the cup down and stands up properly, devoting all of his attention back onto the blond. Eijirou’s smile widens, if that’s even possible.

“Things went well! The workers are really cool and I think I’m actually doing ok.” The redhead smiles, flashing his impressive array of teeth.

Eijirou makes his way over to the unoccupied tables he’d been instructed to clean, Bakugou following behind. Eijirou beams.

The two talk as Eijirou wipes down the tables, his hands moving in mindless circles, his attention solely on Bakugou. Katsuki can’t help but blush at the unwavering attention the younger man is giving him, he isn’t used to that kind of thing. At one point Kirishima continuously wipes the same table without moving as Katsuki talks about some of the quirks of the place.

Katsuki clears his throat. “Ah, you know you’ve been cleaning the same damn spot for like ten minutes?”

Eijirou looks down at his hand, still moving in circles in the same spot and snaps his hand up, leaving the rag to rub the back of his head and chuckle nervously. His face burns a deep red, and his heart beats a little faster, embarrassed.

“Well, I think the table is cleaner than it’s ever been, to be fucking honest,” the blond teases, smirking at his trainee. He has to admit, Kirishima is pretty cute when he’s flustered.

“You’re done here for the day, go ahead and get the rest of your schedule from the boss. If you can’t find him, look for a yellow sleeping bag under the desk, or maybe in the walk-in.”

“Yes… yes, I’ll do that now! Thanks for your help today, Bakugou.” Eijirou responds with a grin, getting up from the table.Eijirou waves a temporary goodbye to Bakugou, making his way over to Aizawa. He scans the office for the sleeping bag, before spotting it sprawled across the floor. With a slight chuckle, Eijirou turns the obnoxious yellow bag over, his boss fast asleep inside. Mr. Aizawa immediately opens his eyes and lets out an annoyed groan. “G-good afternoon, Mr. Aizawa. I’m just looking for my schedule.” Eijirou says gently as his boss sits himself up the best he can in the bag.

“Yes, your schedule..it’s..it’s on the desk, near the paperclips,” Aizawa instructs drowsily. “There are instructions for how to clock out, too.” Eijirou nods and fetches the schedule, leaving the room quietly.

Eijirou’s day went surprisingly smoother than expected, the jobs he was given were fairly easy—small cleaning tasks he did while chatting to one of the other employees, he learned how to make different variations of coffee, preparing the food the cafe offered, and getting a feel of the cafe in general.

Before Eijirou leaves the cafe, he quickly stops by to see Katsuki, who has now taken over the register for Todoroki. Eijirou rubs the back of his neck—a natural habit when he’s nervous—as he thinks of what to say before he goes. Kirishima was able to keep his cool when working, the other workers and general tasks distracting him. But being here one-on-one with Bakugou , Kirishima’s heart is racing with nerves. Bakugou seems to do that to him, make him more anxious, make him consider his words more carefully in order to make a good impression on the blond.

“Hey, Bakugou. I’ve, uh, I’ve finished my shift for today… and I’ll be heading home now.” Eijirou starts slowly, placing his words carefully. Awkwardly. Damn it. “It was nice today, thank you for teaching me...hopefully I’ll see you round at the apartments.”

Katsuki straightens up from where he was leaning on the front counter, his face flushing with color. “I was just doing my fuckin’ job, dont look too much into it…” he says as he looks away, embarrassed at Kirishima’s earnest thanks. “Yeah, I’ll probably see you around. When do you work next?” Katsuki carefully avoids saying anything about their apartments. He may work with the guy, and maybe he finds the redhead attractive, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let him wedge his way into Katsuki’s life so easily.

“Yeah, I’m working around noon tomorrow. I think that’s what it said on my schedule.” Eijirou replies, nodding. Apparently, some other workers he hadn’t met before are going to be working then as well. He only heard the name Mina so far, though.

The blond huffs. “Well, I’ll be seeing you sooner than I thought. I have the opening shift, but I don’t get off until two. No doubt that fucker Aizawa wants me train you further when you come in.”

Eijirou’s eyes widen before his mouth melts into a smile. “Really? Sweet! I’m looking forward to it.” Eijirou beams, placing one hand in his pocket.

“Yeah, see you then, shithead,” Katsuki says, shifting awkwardly in front of the redhead. He’s not familiar with having this kind of tension with another person, and he can’t really say that he’s enjoying it. Still, it’ll be interesting to see where things go from here, even if Katsuki fights it tooth and nail along the way.

And with the day ended, Eijirou makes his way out of the cafe and back to his apartment, Bakugou still on his mind despite leaving. He’s still slightly uneasy, butterflies going mad within his stomach and heart fluttering. The sky is painted in a colourful hue, and his surroundings seem a little brighter. Despite being nervous around the blond, today was a good day. The employees are helpful, professional. He spent time with Bakugou. He seemed to be doing well at the job, so far. All-in-all, it was a good day.

#krbkweek2k18 #kiribaku #bakugou x kirishima #bakushima #bakukiri #my writing

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talkativelock · 6 years

Note

Lock! Have you seen the tumblr sweater-guy yet? Literally the cutest and purest story I have ever heard (and it’s continuing!). All I can think of is tododeku in that situation and then thought, omg that would be an interesting prompt. So I guess tododeku meeting in a class lecture and Midoriya blurting our that he’s gay to Todoroki and the ensuing friendship or romance.

When I realized I wouldn’t be able to write this one until after the new year I made a note to remind myself which post this was referring to and the note just says “I’m very gay”. Round of applause for my planning skills. Luckily, I know how to work a search engine even one as broken as tumblr. This ficlet is vaguely based on this post and I hope that @sweater-guy @sweater-gays is okay with this. If not let me know and I’ll delete it~

Izuku is so tired. He made the choice to stack all of his classes on two days, which is awesome for his days off but makes Tuesdays and Thursdays a little hellish. He wishes that someone had told him that before. Now he’s getting to his last class of the day, Physics, and he has a lot of regrets.

Luckily, he’s early and has his pick of the seats. He chooses one near the middle of the room, not too close to the front but not too far away either, and settles in. Students fill the seats around him one at a time and Izuku keeps his head down, pulling out his textbook and the notebook he’ll be using for lecture notes in this class.

When he feels organized he takes stock of the area around himself with a few glances. Both seats on either side of him are filled. On his right is a brown haired girl with an adorable smiling playing at her lips. She’s flicking a pen around her finger with expert precision. She meets his eyes when he glances her way and she winks. On Izuku’s other side is a guy that makes his brain come to a grinding halt.

He’s beautiful, hair of snow white and soft eyes of gray. He blinks slowly at the front of the room, not even seeming to notice Izuku’s current crisis. Why is Izuku having a crisis? Because this guy’s dark blue turtleneck sweater clings to every plane of his body, shadowing plush pecs and biceps that aren’t large enough to be terrifying but are very well shaped. The guy shifts in his chair and Izuku desperately needs to know what material that sweater is made out of because it’s magical.

Izuku only realizes that he’s staring when the guy clears his throat.

He looks up and blinks in surprise. It wasn’t obvious when he was facing the front but now that he’s turned towards Izuku both sides of his face are visible and it’s a completely different look. The half of his hair that hadn’t been visible before is fire red and his other eye is a crystal clear blue, surrounded by a faded red scar. Before he had looked soft and ethereal, washed out colors, but now he looks intense. He’s a combination of over saturation and under saturation. That combined with his amazingly fit body and that ridiculous sweater is giving Izuku heart palpitations.

“Is there something on my shirt?” the guys asks and Izuku feels his face catch fire. He’s been caught.

“No, it’s fine. It’s nothing. I was just, I mean, there’s nothing wrong.”

The guy’s brow furrows at Izuku’s nonsensical babbling. “What?”

“You just have a nice chest and I’m very gay,” Izuku says without thinking and then he wants to die. He can’t believe he said that. Izuku claps a hand over his mouth in order to stop himself from saying anything else stupid and embarrassing like ‘Can I touch your sweater it looks really nice’ or something.

The guy’s eyes go a little wide and his face looks like it’s pinking and he just says, “oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku says except he doesn’t move his hand so it mostly just sounds like muffled choking. On Izuku’s other side the girl giggles and Izuku can’t believe he’s doing this in public.

Izuku is suddenly and unceremoniously saved by class starting up. The guy’s attention turns to the front of the room and Izuku robotically mimics him, sinking low in his chair and praying for class to pass quickly so that he can flee to the guidance office and change to a different physics course. Maybe one that’s on a different day of the week to give himself a break.

He’s contemplating dropping out and becoming a self-sufficient hermit in the mountains who farms fungus when something brushes against his arm and he looks down on instinct. There’s a small piece of paper that looks like it was ripped off the corner of a notebook sitting on Izuku’s complete lack of notes. It’s folded in half and shakily, carefully, Izuku picks it up and opens it.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” the note says complete with a number written below in neat, small handwritting. Izuku glances to the side to see the beautiful guy, Todoroki, still facing towards the front of the room. He’s looking at Izuku out of the corner of his warm, washed-out gray eye, though. There’s pink on Todoroki’s cheeks and it makes Izuku smile.

Izuku rips off a corner of his own notebook paper and scrawls his name and number before folding it in half and sliding it over to Todoroki’s stuff. Carefully, trying to make it look unintentional, Izuku lets his fingers brush against Todoroki’s elbow as he retreats.

The sweater feels almost as nice as it looks.

#lock writes fic #my hero academia #tododeku #otp: bones and other fragile things #i hope tagging sweater guy wasn't out of line #i just felt weird stealing his love story without some credit #ta da lock is back with the ficlets #happy new year yall #pubertthefungus

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rendexus · 3 years

Text

The Point of No Return

NOTE: I wrote this in 2019 and never finished it. I meant to, but never got around to it. Ironic, since it ends with me saying I’m finally ready to write it all down, but I guess that wasn’t true.

I. The Conference

Here’s a story that I’ve never let out.

It was the weekend of January 30, 2015. I was a sophomore in high school attending a Model United Nations (MUN) conference in Boston with my school. I was never good at MUN, having no skills in speaking extemporaneously in front of a room full of strangers. But it was one of the few activities I participated in at all in high school, so I planned to make the most of it. At the very least it was a trip to Boston and I even got to miss school. This particular conference, HMUN, was a big deal in the world of high school MUN. Schools from around the world came to it. Every committee would be considered huge in comparison to some of the smaller conferences. Not the best venue to try and improve my debating skills, though I fully intended to take a more active role than I had at my last conference.

I was not super close with any of the other members of my delegation, which consisted of about 15 students from my school, though some of them I liked a lot. We headed up to Boston with our advisor, my history teacher Ms. Abel, via an Amtrak train on a Thursday afternoon. We checked into the hotel, which was also where the conference was being held, and began a typical schedule at these sorts of things - registration, opening ceremonies, filing into committee.

My partner was Gal, a freshman whom I hadn’t known at all before being paired with her. She seemed nice and we got along fine. Unfortunately, she had as much desire to get up to the podium and talk as I did. A power duo we were not. But we both felt we had done an adequate job at researching our committee (African Union), country (Libya), and topic (a fictional outbreak of Ebola). Armed with our placards, Gal and I left the group to find the drafty hotel event room where we’d be spending the bulk of the weekend.

It’s a good idea to arrive at your committee room early, so you can meet and network with the other countries and begin forming alliances that you will need to treaties passed. Everyone moves about the room, shaking hands and asking where everyone is from. This portion was never my favorite as I am not personable. But it’s fun to size up the other delegations. Since MUN is largely a rich kid activity, it’s very easy to feel out-classed in an environment like that. It can seem like everyone else goes to a fancy private school and has better clothes than you and is better looking than you. And older! Even though we were all roughly 15, the other kids looked older to me, making me feel like there was something in the water in my home town stunting my growth. Feeling insecure and out of my element, I was not emotionally prepared for what was about to happen. Only now, looking back on it four years on, am I able to identify it for what it was - a formative, this-changes-everything, you-are-now-passing-the-point-of-no-return step in the creation of my identity.

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

II. Niger

We met his partner first. During the meet and greet portion of the first committee session, Gal and I met one of the delegates for Niger. “Us too! What school?” was his response to hearing that we were from New York. Immediately I realized the communication error and became internally horrified. Gal said our school name, which is the public school in the town where we lived about thirty minutes from the city, to which the delegate from Niger replied “Oh, not the city, got it” in a way that made me feel like low-class garbage. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to come off as smug, but his whole demeanor seemed to suggest an air of superiority. He was like a lot of MUN kids in that way. I shouldn’t care about things like that, but there was practically class warfare going on under the surface of these banal interactions. To make the situation worse, Gal, whose imprecise answer to a simple question got us in this situation, it turned out, had friends at Niger’s school, a private international school in Manhattan where a lot of kids of diplomats go. As they bonded over mutual acquaintances, I felt utterly abandoned because I was the only one who didn’t know Johann or whoever. I awkwardly continued to smile and nod, secretly wishing to be anywhere else.

Right around this time, I can’t remember exactly, is when I saw him for the first time. He was the other delegate for Niger and he was the first boy I ever had a crush on. Tall and skinny, dressed in a suit like all the other guys, and with bangs subtly swept to the side. Even now, I can’t really explain what it was, but from the first time I saw him, I felt a way I had never felt before. There was an awareness in the pit of my stomach that was totally new to me. My palms got a little sweaty and I felt off-balance, like I was light-headed except I wasn’t. I didn’t even know that that was what it was like to have a crush. It caught me off-guard. From that moment on, containing the Ebola epidemic was the furthest thing from my mind.

The room was set up in rows of chairs all facing the podium, with one center aisle. The first few rows, and the aisle seats generally, are where the “power delegates” sit. These are the ones who will do the lion’s share of the speechifying, participating, and treaty-writing, the ones who came to win the awards handed out on the last day of the conference. Typically, they came from private schools that devote far more resources to their MUN programs than my school did. The back several rows of the rooms were informally reserved for the kids who didn’t participate, who were just there to have a good time and/or to put it on their college application. My ideal seat, as I explained to MUN-newbie Gal, was right in the middle of these two groups. Close enough so you could take an active if you wanted, but far enough away that you weren’t in the way if you felt like just watching for a bit. We took the middle seats in a middle row. No one claimed the seats in between me and the wall, so I had a place to rest my notebook and placard. The delegates from Niger took the two seats nearest the aisle in the row in front of us. Uh oh. I was one row up and four seats over from this boy who I was suddenly obsessed with.

I spent much of that first committee session trying to actually do a good job; I made Gal go up and present our opening speech, though I wrote notes for what she should say. Though certainly aware of this new feeling, I was ill-equipped to excavate and categorize it as something different from the twenty-odd other things I was nervous about that day. A MUN conference could be hellish for someone with social anxiety, so adding this on top of everything else really did a number on me.

I thought I could put it in a box and shove the box so far under my bed that I would never have to deal with it. If it would just never come up, I would never have to acknowledge it.

A version of this story started swirling around in my head almost immediately after these events took place, and four years later I finally feel ready (yet still terrified) to write it all down.

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showingthroughtome · 7 years

Text

somewhere in between - two

January & February 2012

“I'm trying to save us all from getting hurt with all that flailing you're doing.” She giggled. “Can't you just do the running man or something?” She started the classic dance move, probably looking dumb herself since she was also hopelessly uncoordinated. “You have less of a chance to hurt others with this one.”

“Like this?” He copied her movements exactly. And it turns out, he didn't look half bad doing it - well, not as bad as he could have.

Emptying the contents of her bottle into her mouth before answering, she chuckled, “Magnifico!”

“My bilingual beauty!” Harry grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around, then wrapped her in a drunk hug. With arms tight around her middle, he whispered, “Happy birthday.”

read below - story page - character page

January & February 2012

So it turned out that Lenny had a boyfriend. A really nice, chill boyfriend who came around occasionally but made her so fucking happy. He was older than her by kind of a lot - five years - and he had an IQ no one around the shop could come close to, but none of that ever showed. What showed was his ability to make everyone laugh with his dorkiness or smile over the way he brought Lenny her favorite tea every Saturday shift.

Not long after Harry became aware of Chris’s existence, he let go of the tiny crush he held for Lenny. He still found her insanely beautiful and just plain lovely to be around. But he could easily shift what he felt for her to just friends - he hadn't gotten in deep enough yet for it to be irreversible. Four months into working at the store and he’d call her one of his best friends. Well, her and Toby. Niall, one of his oldest mates, kind of paled in comparison to these two (but not really - they were just the shiny new toys is all).

It was mid-January, and Harry had been off his shift for two hours with no reason to go home. His schedule was still the same - Monday and Friday 10:30-1:30, Tuesday and Thursday 4-9. Lenny had to switch her morning slots with Toby so she could accommodate her 11am French 102 class, but she worked those days from 1:30-4 so Harry still got to see her before he was off to his own classes.

On this particular Monday, Harry's three hour lecture on screenwriting had been cancelled so when it was time for him to leave, and he saw Toby ordering a pizza and plugging in his Wii, he knew he wasn't going anywhere.

“Toby, man, you have to let me win this round!” Harry leaned to the side as he raced around the track in Mario Kart, a big fat 5th place staring him in the face at the top corner. He figured if he tilted his body maybe his Yoshi would go a little bit faster, take the turns a little bit smoother.

“Sorry, bro. Even if I try, you still have to beat four computers which I can't see you doing.”

Harry scoffed at the insinuation. He was sure with enough determination, encouragement from his good friend, and a lot of leaning, he could at least place in the top three.

With only one lap remaining, he knew that wasn't going to happen. And when Lenny came into the break room after her shift, standing in front of the tele to grab a slice of pizza, Harry somehow fell back two more places.

“Thanks a lot, Len.” He huffed and threw his controller on the couch beside him as he watched the winning sequence - Toby's Mario on the highest tier of the winner podium.

“What did I do?” The redhead questioned with a mouth full of pizza, truly confused.

“You got in my way while I was trying to beat Toby's ass.”

Lenny looked over at Toby then to Harry then back to Toby again. She swallowed her bite and was about to apologize when Toby leaned forward, placing a hand to shield his lips from Harry and whispering not so quietly, “Don't worry. He wouldn't have done it anyway.”

“Oh, I know. He’s absolutely shit at video games.” Lenny mimicked Toby with the fake whispering and giggled along with him as Harry crossed his arms and pouted his lips.

“At least I try.”

“Aw, that's right, mate.” She ruffled the very top of Harry's curls before going to the end of the coffee table, away from their mess and dropping her heavy satchel, taking a seat next to it. “You know whose ass is getting kicked? Mine. By French.”

As Harry clicked on a new round, Toby, being the caring lad that he was, asked in the most sympathetic tone, “Oh no. How come?”

“Grammar in another language is harder to comprehend than I ever expected. I thought Syntax II would be killing me but no bloody way.”

Hearing the pure distress in her voice, Harry felt something pluck at his heart. He had come to know a lot of things about her - she was a free spirit but took school extremely serious. She wanted to do well and make everyone proud. When she saw that as a thing she would fail to do, she freaked out. Finals week last semester was absolute hell for her. Even though he couldn't possibly understand how just two weeks into a new semester anyone could be frowning like that, he accepted it when it came to her.

“Do you have any flashcards?” Harry asked, taking his eyes off the screen - he was already in 8th place so it wouldn't really matter if he gave up anyway.

“Do you not know me at all?”

“Give ‘em here.” Harry stretched a large hand in her direction, wiggling his fingers until a stack of about 30 cards were placed there. Harry turned towards Toby. “Win by yourself for a while, okay?”

He slid off the couch and sat opposite Lenny at the coffee table. The smile she offered at his gesture reached from ear to ear and lit up every other feature on her face. It gave him a sense of pride that he could elicit that reaction from her, just because he offered some help.

Before they could start, Toby paused his game and grabbed their attention. “What are we doing for your birthday this year?”

“What do you want to do, Tobs?” Lenny returned, shocking Harry because he thought Toby had somehow found out about his birthday even though he was sure he hadn't mentioned it yet.

“It's not my birthday.” Toby beamed with silliness in his tone.

Ignoring that sheer adorableness, Harry blinked and realized he didn't know when Lenny's birthday actually was. “Wait, Lenora, when is your birthday?”

“The thirty first.”

“No way! Mines the first!”

“What?” Lenny seemed just as shocked and overjoyed by the fact as Harry was, moving to sit on her knees and up straighter. “So, you're like 364 days older than me?”

“That sounds like the right math to me.” He scratched a finger against his temple and ran over the numbers in his head. “I can't believe I've known you for this long and haven't even asked your birthday. I'm so neglectful of you,” he pouted in jest.

Lenny nodded ferociously and wiped a single fake tear across her freckled cheeks. “I'm hurt.”

Toby chuckled at that, fondness in his eyes for the two. “We should do a joint thing for the both of you and just make it extravagant as fuck.”

Lenny and Harry looked at each other and then at the same time exclaimed respectively,

“Love the way you think, mate.”

“You have a beautiful mind.”

“Aw, I love you guys.” The giggly friend closed his eyes and declared warmly, fidgeting with the bottom of his triangle patterned shirt. With every tiny shake of laughter in his shoulders, the curls he had styled upward would bounce on the top of his head.

“Toby, quit being so cute in here.” Jen stuck her head in right as the words left his mouth, cutting off the chance for Harry and Lenny to return their love. “I can hear your giggles all the way out here.”

Harry dropped his jaw, wondering what kind of nerve it took to tell someone as bright as Toby to simmer down. “Let him be.” He patted Toby's knee comfortingly.

“We like it.” Lenny snapped at her friend who disappeared behind the swinging double doors before hearing them out. She turned towards Toby with a smile, “But, we will plan at a later date. I have got to get this French past tense down.” She slammed a fist on her hellish looking textbook.

Toby agreed with a nod and pressed play on his game. Lenny gave Harry the go ahead, prompting him to hold up the first flash card that had vous on one side and avez on the other. It took her a few hints from Harry so by the time she got the right answer, she felt like a cheat and made him put the cards on the do not know pile even after he suggested putting it on top of the small almost there stack.

---

It was a rare day that Lenny was in the store and not working or studying. It felt bizarre for her to be there and not be on duty or to have a book open somewhere nearby. But it was her day off - Wednesday - and she just had her first oral exam of the semester - three weeks in - so she felt like she deserved some time off.

She didn't even mean to come to the shop that day until Jen called her and demanded she sit with her for her five hour shift. Lenny wanted to refuse, she contemplated going to her uni to hang out with Chris in his Chem Lab, though, she knew if she did she'd probably just break something.

So instead, she walked into the shop on a Wednesday and felt kind of out of place until she saw two familiar faces behind the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Parker questioned as Lenny got closer, brash and blunt as usual.

Jen, looking up from her favorite magazine, Cosmo, cheered, “Because she loves me!”

“Sure do.” Lenny confirmed and hopped on the counter, swinging her legs as they hung off the side. “Plus, there’s something very urgent I need to be told.”

“Oh, great. So by extension me too?” Parker rolled her eyes as she continued her retagging of returned vinyl’s.

Closing her magazine, Jen sighed, “You’ll get a kick out of it.”

Jen and Parker had more tension between the two of them than any of the other coworkers. It was probably because of how many shifts they had together even though they couldn't be more dissimilar. Still, half of the time, Lenny thought the bickering was out of love. Jen would probably admit it after a few drinks and Parker after a couple of shots.

The loud slamming of the break room door drew all of their attention to Brando exiting in a long, dramatic, black trench coat. “Lenny! What are you doing here?”

“Just seeing my ladies.” She shrugged in a sugar sweet voice.

“Rad.” Brando nodded and made a beat on the counter as he passed, walking to the front door. “Going to get pizza. Anybody want anything?”

“Breadsticks.”

“Cheese slice.”

“Breadsticks.”

They all had no problem requesting something knowing that Toby would get it for them for free. The manager at The Pizzeria was good friends with Tiff so he never cared if ‘her kids’ got something.

“You got it.” He was out the door as they threw their thank you’s at him.

“So what's up, kid?” Lenny ironically called Jen as she looked around to find five people perusing the rows and rows of vinyl, old and new.

“Okay,” Jen started and then, giddy as hell, gushed. “I hooked up with one of Harry's bandmates last night.”

Lenny had to do a double take. “What?”

“Last night I went to a club and ran into him. I recognized him from that New Year's Eve party.”

Oh yes, the party Lenny missed out on because she went to a different one with Chris and his science friends. It wasn't a bad time at all and she only started regretting having gone after a couple of days at work where all everyone could talk about was how Louis did a keg stand that songs should be written about and how Harry and all his friends started the longest game of beer pong this world had ever known.

She tried not to be bitter or at least, she tried to hide it with an arm wave for Jen to continue the story.

“So he recognized me obviously, because like, how could he not?” Jen flipped a brunette lock over her shoulder and pushed her chest out. “We got to talking and sure, he's broody as fuck but he’s fit enough to make broody okay.”

“I have to see this.” Lenny had never known Jen to find melodrama attractive, making her want to see this bloke's face ten times more than she normally would. She can't recall it from the few shows she's been to - too focused on the wild, erratic behavior of the lead singer.

“We’ll stalk him on Facebook after my shift… if he even has one. He doesn't seem like the type.”

Parker, still labeling, snorted, “Hipster.”

“Alright, Buzz Cut McGee.” Jen rolled her eyes but then laughed when Parker flipped her off without turning away from her work. “Anyway, three drinks in and he didn't seem like he wanted to take me home. I was laying out all my flirty lines and batting my eyelashes for fuck sake.”

“What? How could he not be fucking you right then and there?” Parker gasped at the thought sarcastically. After finishing the last vinyl, she hopped up next to Lenny and made sure that no customers were approaching the registers - not trying to seem too unprofessional as she listened in.

“I don't know, Parks. I was stumped too... Until, he went out for a smoke and asked me to join him. I knew I was getting laid then.” Jen started smiling wider, giddier than Lenny had seen her in a long time. “One cigarette later we were walking to his flat two blocks away.”

She crossed her arms triumphantly and paused. Lenny knew she was doing it for dramatic effect so she leaned forward, showing interest, and nudged, “Okay, and?”

“And it was the best sex of my life. I mean, guys, it wasn't just toe-curling-good but crying-as-I-came-good.” She threw her head back like she was about to experience it all over again.

“Like actual tears?” Lenny squinted, because that didn't sound real. Her eyes had probably watered once or twice during sex but that was more due to a tight feeling she needed to adjust to than anything else. It wasn't as if sex with Chris wasn't amazing or anything - her toes curled quite often - but tears? That seemed like something you saw in porn and porn only.

“Streams, baby. Streams.” Jen emphasized and stared straight into her young friend’s eyes. “I couldn't even leave when it was over because my legs were shaking so good.”

Parker and Lenny turned towards each other, both incredulous and asking at the same time, “So good?”

The synchronicity of it got them all chuckling. Through it, Jen replied, “I'd say so bad but I would never associate that word with last night. I don't even know what's wrong with me because I slept over and then we had sex again this morning.”

“Excuse me,” Lenny had to be hearing things. “You don't have sex with people twice. That's your rule.”

Ever since Lenny had met Jen, one night stands had strictly been her thing. She made it a point not to see a guy twice, which she considered “getting attached”. Lenny tried asking questions about it once, but Jen shut them down with a simple why tie myself down in return.

Jen hit herself on the forehead and ducked her head, shame for breaking her sacred personal promise.

“I once had that same rule. Until Louis.” Parker shrugged.

“Maybe this guy is your Louis.” Lenny awed at the idea of that. Louis and Parker, even though unofficial, were almost too cute together. “Oh my god, that's so sweet!” She cooed.

“No, it's not. I don't want to have a Louis!”

“Well you won't be getting one.” Parker jumped back down from the counter and scoffed. She checked her hip with Jen’s as she grabbed her tea from the counter. Jen gave her a side eye in return and glanced over at Lenny who shrugged, not knowing what to say to that. “Listen, Jennifer.” Parker cleared her throat after a sip. “I know one night stands can be great. Probably better than great. But if this guy is as good as you say he is, then just calm down and see where this thing goes. That's what I've been doing with Louis for the last year - seeing where things go.”

There was that soft side - that moment Parker came in clutch and made herself such a valuable member of the group. Even though she was sometimes a bit too rude, she knew what to say when Lenny didn't.

“Well I don't know. I might not see him again...” Jen trailed off, examining her fingernails to disguise the smile she couldn't get rid of. “He got my number though.”

Lenny slapped one hand to each cheek. “Oh my god, I cannot believe this. You're going to see somebody more than one time. Have you guys seen any flying pigs lately?”

“Shut up. I might not... but maybe.” Jen shimmied a shoulder and then when Parker made a gagging noise, she shimmied even harder right against Parker's shoulder.

Lenny laughed loud at their antics and watched as they bickered for a few minutes before she thought of her own shift mate. “Are you going to tell Harry?”

“What? Tell him what?”

“That's you're possibly maybe seeing his friend.”

“Fuck no. Why would he need to know?” Parker answered for Jen, getting a fist bump from her - the pair were so hot and cold, Lenny could never keep up.

“I don't know. I was just thinking of him.” Lenny shifted her eyes away and down to her beige flats, not sure why the question was so weird to the girls.

“I don't think me and Harry are close enough for him to care but maybe if you start fucking this guy you'd have to give Harry a call.”

“Maybe Chris first though.” Parker added, tapping a thinking finger against her chin.

“Oh yes, then I'd get a chance to snatch Chris right up.” Jen rubbed her hands together maniacally.

“Should I be alarmed that my best friend is waiting for me and my boyfriend to break up so she can seize the day?”

Parker shook her head back and forth. “Not at all. You should feel powerful.”

And Lenny agreed with that - she definitely should. She had a guy even Jen would settle down for.

All at once, a customer came up to the register, prompting Lenny to slide off the counter, and the front door bell dinged, Brando carrying boxes and boxes of pizza and breadsticks in. Lenny rushed to his side and took the top three, even more thankful she came in on her day off when she smelled the tomato sauce.

---

“Shut up, guys! They'll be here soon!” Louis yelled over the music blasting and the people talking in the break room. Lenny laughed, because of course Louis was loud enough to be heard over all that. Harry shook his head and smirked as they got closer.

The two met outside of Dream Records on January 30th at 11:30pm just like their friends told them to. It was obvious they were being thrown a joint birthday party but it was also quite plain that Louis - who had masterminded the whole thing - was trying to make it a surprise.

Lenny didn't know how he could ever think they would assume it was anything but a party. Nevertheless, she worked on her surprised face for forty-five minutes while she was curling her hair after work.

“You even going to pretend to be shocked?” Harry asked her, right outside the door leading to a room full of all their friends.

“I'm going to try.” She threw a hand over her mouth that she had dropped open into an O shape, showing him all her efforts.

Harry chuckled. “Cheers. Let's go.” He pushed open the door and waited as everyone turned to find the two birthday people.

“Surprise!” Came out stuttered and not one bit in unison, yet amazing all the same. Everyone from the shop was there - even Tiff - and then a few extra people that Lenny recalled as friends and bandmates of Harry's who had stopped by the shop at one time or another.

She didn't miss the fact that Chris wasn't there, but she figured he probably wouldn't be when she first heard about the plan. He was likely still at the lab, doing something all chemical-y.

She bounded in the room anyway - shocked - and hugged Louis first. She then made her way around the circle, moving from Niall to Brando to Parker to Toby and finally, Jen. Harry followed behind, shouting thank you’s to every single one of them.

“Did ya know?” Louis asked, hope in his eyes and a beer in his hand that Tiff told them they weren't allowed to have in the store but often let slide for the right occasions.

Lenny, trying to keep a straight face, declared, “No way.”

“Not one bit.” Harry threw one arm around Louis’ shoulder and the other around Niall's.

“Nope.” Lenny reiterated, surrounded by the guys, still holding her expression strong until Harry winked at her, causing her lips to falter into a smirk.

“Liars!” Niall accused, looking over at Harry and then back to Lenny to double check their now full blown laughter. He acted upset for one moment before he mumbled, “Aw, that's okay. I told him you would've known.”

“It's hard to plan a surprise birthday party at the shop when we close at 11 and you guys get off way earlier in the day. If you guys worked until 11 then we could have just yelled at you when you got off and you wouldn't have seen it coming.” Louis rambled on about his woes with a half smile - the beer not allowing him to really be too mad about his failed efforts, or make too much sense.

“It's still great, man.” Harry squeezed his shoulder and then unwrapped himself from between the two. He reached over for a drink in the bucket of ice on the coffee table, pulling out an ale for Lenny.

“I really love it, Louis.” She gladly accepted the drink and popped the top off.

Louis gushed about how much he had loved them in return, how it was no problem to just ask everyone to come back to work a little later than usual and call up a few people he knew Harry was close with - because Lenny truly didn't have other friends, or at least ones that would come to this kind of thing. The three guys and three girls that showed up for Harry, that Lenny hadn't met yet, stayed in their own corner and talked amongst themselves, not really intermingling with the rest of the group. But when Harry greeted them, they lit up.

Lenny watched the way the friends interacted, wondering if she would be introduced as Brando and Jen argued to her left over what playlist to keep it on. Tiff walked over and weighed in, and in seconds, The Spice Girls were playing from the sound system.

Slowly, as if it couldn't be helped, people started dancing one by one. Toby was the first to start wagging his hips, then Niall started jumping around to Mel B’s voice. Tiff and Jen grabbed Lenny's hands and spun her around, right into her 19th year.

It became a blur from then on. Less than 15 people were making it seem like an actual crazy house party.

Lenny was laughing her head off watching everyone show off their own dance moves, and she almost fell to the ground at the way Harry swung his hips at her. The two of them spent three songs trading moves back and forth, imitating the other and then consequently making fun of each other.

Tears were in her eyes when Harry tried to roll the rhythm from one extreme of his hand to the other. “Harry! Stop!” She felt the ale tingling her lips and warming her cheeks - giving her even more of a blush than normal.

“What? You don't like this?” He attempted the smooth move again, failing miserably.

Lenny had to get him to stop - it felt like her civic duty to all who were witnessing it - so she reached an arm for both of his and pulled them down to his side. “Keep them here please.”

“Don't try to hold me down!”

“Like this?” He copied her movements exactly. And it turns out, he didn't look half bad doing it - well, not as bad as he could have.

Emptying the contents of her bottle into her mouth before answering, she chuckled, “Magnifico!”

“My bilingual beauty!” Harry grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around, then wrapped her in a drunk hug. With arms tight around her middle, he whispered, “Happy birthday.”

It was the first time they hugged like that - for longer than a second - and Lenny wasn't hating it. As a matter of fact, she found it incredibly nice how Harry’s chest was strong but had no issue making her feel cozy.

“Happy birthday.” She smiled and held on tight for a few seconds longer, pulling back slowly. “Well, almost. Because technically they planned all of this so it would be my birthday at midnight and not yours.” She stuck out her tongue.

Harry flared his nostrils at her and dropped his arms away, pretending to be hurt. “How dare you rub that in?”

“Maybe they'll throw you one at midnight tomorrow too and we can drink more beer.”

“That's not beer.” Harry clinked his glass bottle of Blue Moon against her empty Red’s.

“Close enough, mate.”

Harry rolled his eyes fondly at the determined-to-be-cool ginger. When his gaze landed back on her, it quickly shifted to somewhere behind her shoulder. His lips upturned on sight and out he shouted, “Chris!”

Lenny turned around right as Chris located them and started rambling the words, “Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn't be here on time. Lab all day and then a quick power nap that turned out to be hours longer than I expected. I got here as fast as I could.”

“That's okay.” She sighed a breath of relief that he showed up at all, giving him a quick hug. “You're here now.”

“Mate, you're here just in time.” Harry reassured him with a pat on the shoulder. “We were just having a dance off and Lenny was about to tell me how her ale was indeed a beer.”

“Oh, man,” Chris seemed regretful of what he was about to say to Harry. “Ale is a type of beer actually. It's just fermented differently than lagers.”

Harry shielded his face with both hands as the words sunk in.

“Why do you look sad too?” Lenny put a hand on her hip as she looked up at her boyfriend. “You are supposed to be on my side. It's okay to let Harry down.”

“Have you seen his face when he gets sad? It's heartbreaking!” Chris pointed as Harry uncovered his face to reveal sheer disappointment at being proven wrong. “See, I'm already feeling it.” Chris covered his heart with his hands.

“It's okay. I guess I can be wrong just this once.” Harry didn't like seeing Chris sad either apparently - their relationship was symbiotic in that way, Lenny was figuring out.

“This once?” She snorted. Harry was proven wrong in debates with her at least once a week and somehow he managed to forget that tidbit every time.

Harry ignored the question and simply finished off his beer, getting a laugh out of Chris.

“I'm going to get us more drinks.” Chris said as he kissed Lenny on the cheek and then rounded a few of her coworkers.

A drunk Harry watched him as he went and Lenny wondered how she was surrounded by people who were so mutually infatuated with one another. Harry must've felt himself being caught so he shrugged and simply said something Lenny had already thought. “I’m glad he made it.”

“So glad he proved me right.”

“Less glad about that myself.” Brando came up beside Lenny, not knowing what he was disagreeing with but saying it anyway. “Happy birthday you two.” He smiled and lifted his beer to cheers with them. Lenny and Harry both clinked their unfortunately empty bottles with his and said thank you.

Chris returned a second later and replaced their bottles with brand new ones. After twisting the top off, Lenny raised her bottle for a real cheers, then waited for the dancing to begin again. Egging on Brando when he started banging his head to Spice Up Your Life.

---

Valentine’s Day arrived before Lenny could even process the fact that she had a speech to give on February 15th - in French. Her Italian 101 class was picking up and Syntax II was getting harder and harder with every passing day. Her head was spinning, so that when the ‘day of love’ appeared, she wasn't ready for it whatsoever.

She was known around the shop as the girl who made cookies on days off just to bring them in the next day, or whip up a batch of cupcakes when something special was happening just to make her friends smile. On that particular February 14th, she came into her 4 O’clock shift stressed and empty handed.

Chris had already sent flowers to her dorm that morning - a dozen roses - and he knocked on her door with two cups of coffee, ecstatic that he had the entire day off. The way his face fell when Lenny told him that she had the exact opposite made her heart twinge.

It was just, she hadn't expected everything to happen so fast or for Chris to even get out of the lab that day. She never even considered asking for her shift to get covered at Dream. So, they drank their coffee, she ran off to her class, revised in the library, and only looked up at the clock at 3:38, rushing to make her shift on time.

Harry was ignored on her way past him to clock in. Jen was thrown just a wave as Lenny rushed back to the register.

“What's up with you?” Brando quirked a brow as a bundled up Lenny approached, out of breath and frazzled.

“I'm sorry I'm late. I was studying and the time got away from me.”

Harry lifted his wrist to check his watch, then looked at her like she was crazy when he said, “It's literally 4:01.”

“I know. But it's not the five minutes early that I normally like to leave myself so it feels late to me.” She bent down and unzipped her heavy as hell backpack. Of all the books in there, she only needed the one French book but it felt wrong not to have it full. Huffing as she straightened back up, she found Brando joining Harry in the incredulous looks.

“Calm down, love.” Brando instructed. “It's fine.” He rubbed his hand through his nonexistent hair, straightening the millimeter of scruff his head had - him and Parker were in fact twins after all.

“Why are you so frazzled? It's Valentine's Day!” Harry nudged a fist against her shoulder as if to say buck up, be happy.

Lenny distanced herself from him as much as possible just so Harry couldn't do that again.

“I have a speech tomorrow and I didn't even start working on it until two days ago because my first Pragmatic’s paper was due on Monday.” She huffed, placed her heavy book on the counter behind Brando, and slumped over it - slightly overdoing the dramatics. “Everything's just getting away from me!” She screamed face down onto her book.

The shop fell quiet after that - except the John Lennon that was playing over the speakers and the sliding of records in their bins as people looked through them - still, somehow, too quiet without a response from either boy. Lenny lifted her gaze and turned around to find the them staring at her.

Brando pulled the stool right up behind her, and with caution, said, “Well just take this seat, let Harry do the check outs, and do your Lenny thing where you write an amazing speech.”

She agreed, “I do only need to write one more paragraph.”

“Get to it. I'll alert you if Tiff walks out.” Harry informed her with a wink.

Finally smiling, Lenny let the tension in her shoulders loosen just barely. “Thanks, guys.”

“Happy Valentine's.” Brando rubbed her on the back comfortingly as she began searching for the correct page. Grabbing his black, electric guitar from the stand that was a permanent fixture behind the register, he hopped over the counter. “Bye, Haz.”

“Bye, Brandy.” Harry, totally unbothered by anything as always, sung and waved a hand.

When it was just the two of them, Lenny could finally get back to writing - except she couldn’t focus on anything but the weight of Harry’s gaze. She ripped her eyes off the bullet points she had made earlier and raised a brow at him.

“So, I'm assuming you didn't make any baked goods today?” He asked cautiously. He didn’t want to trigger her but still hoped she had brought along some treats.

“No, Harry, I didn't.”

“I'm just asking.” He raised his hands in defense at her harsher than usual tone, mumbling, “You made cupcakes for my birthday.”

“Well, imagine those and pretend like you're eating them now.” She wasn't trying to be mean but she really didn't have the time or the energy to feel worse than she already did.

“Grumpy Lenny is not my favorite.” He pouted.

“I’m not grumpy. I’m busy.”

Harry hummed loudly, sarcastically agreeing and then nothing else was said between the two from then on. Harry checked people out as they came to the counter but otherwise, he was messing around on some kind of camera. Normally, Lenny would ask what he was doing exactly but she could hardly look away from the note cards she was writing her speech on.

Eventually, after almost throwing multiple pencils across the store and many more groans of despair, she finished the writing process with two hours of her shift to spare. She would've been done sooner if she didn't have to check conjugation and grammar and tenses multiple times using nearly every chapter of her book. She wasn't complaining though, because she was one step closer to not feeling so much panic in her chest. All she had to do now was practice it enough times until the pronunciation was spot on and the flow was fluid.

“Harry.” She called over to him sweetly, him leaning his long body against the counter tops and flipping through one of the books she kept there for people to read if they wanted.

“Yes, Leonard?”

“Will you listen to me practice my speech?”

He lowered the book enough so he could see her smiling up at him innocently, pleadingly. “Oh, so the Lenny I like is back?”

“The Lenny who needs you is.” She stood up and moved beside him, leaning with him. “I'm sorry I was being grumpy earlier.” Harry didn't move to say anything or accept her apology so she grabbed ahold of his elbow and shook, “I'm sorry I didn't make anything for valentines!”

He snapped the book shut abruptly. “And?” He shifted his green eyes to hers the slightest bit, not giving her full eye contact, but just enough to tease her.

“And…” she prompted.

Harry sighed. “And for not talking to me once in three hours? I get that you're busy but come on! Not even one how's it going over there, Haz?”

“Aww, I'm sorry, Harry.” Her heart warmed at knowing the main thing that had his lips in a frown was just the fact he wanted to talk to her and that she hadn't allowed that to happen. “How about we chat for the rest of our shift and then you stay until closing and help me practice?” That would give her two hours of practice unless they ran out of things to talk about and he let her begin running through her speech early.

“I don't know. I'd have to stay until eleven for you. And on Valentine's Day no less?” He grimaced like it was the worst possible way he could spend the night. Granted, it wasn't the best, but Lenny hoped maybe her presence would sell him on the idea.

Over the five months of working with him, she had grown to know him pretty well, and she had a solid backup plan to ensure his presence. “I'll order a Chinese takeaway.”

“Sold!” The words weren't even all the way out of her mouth before he yelled over her and turned right back into normal, happy, charming Harry. Just like that.

She picked up her cell phone immediately - because Tiff hadn't been out of her office in so long that Lenny thought she might have gone home - and called their favorite place, getting Harry the orange chicken he loved so much and herself the pineapple chicken he was always trying to steal off her plate.

A customer came up to the register right as she was hanging up and as a sign of their good will, she swooped in front of Harry and checked them out - all five 8-tracks and eleven vinyl’s. Whoever this person was, they were treating themselves on Valentine's Day.

“So what do you want to talk about?” She asked Harry after the customer left with a have a nice night, letting Harry sit on the stool as she stood at the register.

“Well…” He smirked like he was about to say something good. “I really really wanted to tell you about this horrible film a classmate showed in class today.”

“Harry! That's not nice. I'm sure it was just fine.” She took up for the person she didn't even know because she always felt bad for judging people's art - thinking how upset they would be if they heard. And how upset she would be if she heard someone talking rubbish about something Harry made regardless of how bad it actually was. Especially if they didn’t know anything about him.

Shaking his head, he began chuckling, “Three words: nude bowling sequence.”

“Go on.” She nodded and listened as Harry went on and on about this short film. He talked about every frame and every angle of the ode to bowling some guy made and thought was okay for their narrative piece. Various parts throughout made her laugh too hard and others were so unbelievably boring, but she listened anyway because Harry’s voice had a calming effect on her, and because, two hours later, Harry pretended to know French for her.

He watched her pace up and down the store for hours, reading the same six minute speech on French Government over and over again, nodding anytime she asked, “Did that one sound okay?”

At eleven o’clock, Louis came in and told them they had to go - not home but the hell out of there. Lenny decided she had done enough for the night and would just go in the next day hoping for the best.

“Going to see Chris?” Harry asked as they stepped out into the cold London night.

“If he's still awake.” Lenny pulled her coat tighter around her ribs and then reached for her phone, texting her boyfriend. She looked over to Harry, who was digging in his pocket for something. “Where are you going? Surely not to bed already.”

“Ummm, I don't know.” He found whatever he was searching for, pausing with a smirk. “I may actually have a date.”

“A date?”

“Well, a girl asked me if I wanted to meet up at this pub a couple hours ago. I told her I would when we were done so now I'm just waiting for a response.”

“Harry!” Lenny punched him on the shoulder. “You could've left me.”

He rubbed his arm, hurt, and then shook his head decidedly. “Nah, it's all last minute stuff. Doesn't matter.”

“You're insane, Styles.” She laughed, convinced, lifting her phone when it vibrated in her hand with a text from Chris reading: yes, please come!

“More like insanely awesome.” Harry removed his hand from his pocket and held it open in front of her - a small chocolate heart wrapped in pink foil in the center of his palm - beaming, “Happy Valentines.”

She bit her lip as she plucked it from his hand. Even though it was warm and probably totally melted from all that time it had spent in his pocket, she loved it all the same. “Happy Valentines!” She said, backing away with a smile equally as wide as Harry moved down the street in the opposite direction.

authors note:

hahah this is so long. i am writing my longest chapters for this fic while writing my shortest ones for incredible. which, you should go check out if you havent. i swear its a quick read. the slowest reader on the planet could read the first two chapters of it in ten minutes. swur.

anyway, last time i posted, i forgot to put a “read more” and almost died of embarrassment. something about having it all out there so readily kills my soul. if this doesnt work, ill never update again..... jk i have too much going on with these guys.

please please please tell me what you think!!! my asks have been a bit silent which is okay but not very #inspiring. maybe once the chapters get more exciting, people will give me feedback?? fingers crossed. i mean,

tell me what you thought of their valentines together!?!

thank you for reading!!!! thank you to ash, @what-comes-from-within for being such a kick ass beta.

im posting a character moodboard and playlist soon so keep those eyes peeled.

one day ill learn the art of not writing long authors notes.

love love love you guys.

lauren xxxxx

#1dff #sib chapters #im done posting things for a few days lol #sorry if i do this too much #my b girl #let me know what you think please #:)

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simplicitydefined · 4 years

Text

Dear Retrograde FUCK YOU

So retrograde in Scorpio started back on Halloween and it has been a hellish 16 days. I wasn’t thinking about retrograde but I know that night I was exhausted from the week before. We went everywhere and I planned that next year we wouldn’t do much else during that week. All of my projects were rushed and this was the first week I missed classes and assignments. I remember talking to UniQue about how crazy busy my week was and thinking that I would NEVER have big projects due during Halloween week ever again. We went to the corn maze, we went trunk or treating, we had Day of the Dead celebration set up to do. It was a lot of stuff.

That week I also had to turn in the Annual Report. Now, I had most of October, but the first 2 weeks I couldn’t get inspired. I had no idea what I wanted to create that would be this art piece for the 45th annual, annual report. It wasn’t until the 29th that I was like... I got it. I want to create a sketchbook. In my head, the report was going to be like 8 pages. So even though it was due on the 31st, I was sure I’d complete it in time when I started on the 30th. It. Was. 70. Pages. When. I. Completed. It.

I did not sleep. I created. I did not eat. I created. I designed my fingers off and I did, of course, accept the responsibility because I was the one who waited until the last 3 days to start. BUT OMG it was horrible. I thought to myself that this was it, this was the retrograde I had been warned about. I waited and this retrograde was going to make sure I paid for my transgressions. So when I put the file safely in the dropbox in the format she wanted after fighting my laptop tooth and nail. I was certain that the worst of it was over. No such luck was had. I ended up collapsing and going to bed at something like 5, 6 am to wake up at 7:58 to a message from UniQue asking about the file. To then having her find the file, and it opens up garbled. Not quite pixellated, not quite clear it looked like I was just a really bad designer. I was crushed.

I spent all afternoon learning new ways to share files, uploading them was taking upwards of 20 minutes each time. And every other if not most times the upload would go for 19 minutes and fail at the 20th minute. My laptop was angry, I was angry, UniQue was angry, I broke down.

I broke down on the phone like a child because I had poured every bit of my soul into that stupid report. And here I was on the phone with UniQue being told about everything I forgot or didn’t understand. I had failed and she seemed like she wasn’t even fond of what it looked like. Even when the pixelation was gone, she never said, that’s beautiful, I love it. It was just this is wrong, this missing, where is this, why is this like this... I was staring at a dumpster fire. I spent the day fixing the file, sent it over and didn’t even hear back until the following Monday. I spent 4 days on the edge of my seat.

The best part was right before this I asked if I could have the full-time design position. Irony is a shitty thing. I kept working on the other projects and then I get the callback and I come in, and she loved it. Greg loved it. I was borderline suicidal over that weekend and they loved it the whole damn time. Fast forward to True to Yourself, that was the next big project, while we were going over the report and my possible position she asks me if I could send her what I had sketched out on the 12th for a meeting, even though the deadline (which she had reiterated before) is the 15th. I obliged, showed her my inspiration for the poster, she liked it. I created it. I sent it to her on the 12th for the meeting (right at the buzzer) and she hated it.

That’s fine, I actually didn’t care about that project like I did the annual report (and I never will ever care about a project like I did the AR ever again. That was a complete mistake). However, instead of telling me, “Meh, that’s not it, let’s go for the 15th, and you can send it to me then” she said nothing, and then told the people in the meeting she was disappointed in me and that I had all month to do this so she didn’t understand why this is what I gave her. Someone asked how old I was. Look. No one has to like my art or my ideas. But she never ever came to me and said, I didn’t like it April. She never said to the group that we had been working hard on the AR, and this was really due on the 15th. She hit me with the whole bus and walked away. I broke down again. If you’re the scorekeeping type this is 2 break downs, same client.

At the same time, I was working with another client, who has a barber show in December. All of his files are now none accessible on my drive due to a reformatting that occurred when I set it up on my network. I had to build all of his files from scratch. I had to recreate his logo, this is how bad it was. I finally finish all of that, and then get his flyer to him, and he loves it. This is why you’re the best at what you do, he exclaimed. Well, he then turns around and starts sending a change a day for a week. I had already sent the flyers to print because we were on a time crunch. Something in me didn’t let me send over the reorder invoice. I was actually waiting for him to give me the rest of the information. He sends the last edits on a Friday and on Monday he’s wondering why he doesn’t have the new ones yet.

How would he get them? There have been no business days in between. I tell him they will be in by Friday due to the changes. He says okay. Then knowing they won’t be in by Friday (because I forgot and didn’t order them that Monday because of the AR, plus it was Veterans day) I messaged him that I would go get them printed locally. ON MY DIME.

I actually special ordered these Avery perforated event tickets. So I could make sure they were numbered and secure. Then I went to Staples with pneumonia, mind you, I haven’t gotten to my sickness yet. And they said that it wouldn’t work, and sent me to FedEx. So I went to FedEx and printed the stuff for about $70. Plus the 2 Avery things, it was $80 in cost. He paid me $50 to design this stuff. Right now we’re -$30. So I go to his shop, he’s headed out of town. I meet his wife who tells me that they bought tickets already with someone else.

Did I not message him, and let him know what I was doing? In my [addiction] to be nice and go above and beyond I offered them a refund on the tickets. So now I’m -$105. I’m still miffed about that, but last night I thought they would have me killed or sued or something so $105 loss is a lot better than my life. I’m also very sick so there’s that.

On last Sunday we go to take Marcos’ mom out to eat for her birthday. She requests Golden Corral. I don’t know why she did. I hate Golden Corral. It is dirty, noisy, grimy, and the food is terrible. We used to go with his dad back when we first got married and I actually enjoyed it until I really looked at my surroundings. The walls were covered in food. It was disgusting. Also over the years, we are less into buffets. They feel like troughs for pigs, and all of the food is so fatty and cheesy and mismatched. I mean when else do you eat egg fo young and pizza on the same plate? It’s disgusting. But she requested it, so we’ll grin and bear it.

When we get in line there is a small child behind us coughing like a grown woman. I am clutching my babies to my chest because we just got over an almost month-long congestion party where I didn’t sleep, I just stay up night after night holding trash bags up under them because they were coughing so hard they were throwing up. Just because of congestion. It was intensely crowded. I decided to just push through, this was for his mom. And then we go to check out, and this thing cost us almost $70. Why would anyone pay $70 for 5 people to eat? We don’t even eat that much food to go to a buffet. I eat like one plate and maybe a dessert. Nehemiah eats a saucer worth of food, and Orion eats like 4 tablespoons depending on his mood. We also like geniuses ate about an hour earlier. We are super smart.

The whole thing sucks but what’s worse is the next day I have caught the plague. The black death, scarlet fever, whatever medieval disease there was I had it. I had it deep inside of me. On Monday it was a cough, on Tuesday it was a burning throat, same on Wednesday, on Thursday my sinuses were so swollen and I knew it was bad. I wasn’t eating, sleeping, anything. I was just trudging through it. I kept Nehemiah out of school because I thought he was getting it on Wednesday, and I was late for his fashion show on Friday because of it. I’m still sick and I feel horrible. I thought I was going to die. To add insult to injury, Friday night take a nebulizer to go to sleep and wake up at 3 am and have my period. I have a very heavy period that makes it so that I cannot do anything. I have to change my menstrual cup every 2 hours. This is a cup that a normal woman can wear up to 12 hours. Most women only lose a tablespoon of blood per day, I lose 1-2 tbs every 2 hours. Yes, I am anemic. Pneumonia had also given me a UTI. My kidneys and bladder are sore. I’m wearing depends because I cannot make it to the bathroom. I just immediately start peeing when I get the sensation. Now I’m also bleeding like a stuck pig. I’m certain my death is soon to follow.

It’s some northern winter all of a sudden as well, and rains for 4 days. Just rain, wind, cold. And I’m just so tired and sick and beaten down. I cried all night last night about the barber show thing, (before I knew he was an ass and I was feeling guilty) and about my old church. So that’s breakdown number 3. I almost had #4 in the car after I left the barbershop but... I was too angry to be sad. In short, I don’t know if I can make it 4 more days. OH in an effort to fix an issue I had been putting off, I reordered the nametags and they looked great!!!!! And then, of course one name tag was messed up. And of course, it was UniQue’s because, OF COURSE, IT IS. So I have to send them a photo of this being the 3RD TIME THEY HAVE SENT ME NAME BADGES THAT HAVE NOT BEEN QUALITY CHECKED. I want to shake someone!!!!!!!

0 notes

stupidpianist · 6 years

Text

16 october 2018

08:00: Turned off alarm, “forced self” not to go back to sleep immediately by thinking, “if you win this battle, you’ll start the day off with a victory, not a defeat,” realizing the latter part of this sentence was redundant, but unable to stop myself from thinking it anyways.

Apologizing to all my “liveblog fans” for the low quality liveblog yesterday, was still feeling very under the weather for almost the entire day. After the last update, I lay down in bed, thinking I was just going to “rest my body a little,” and then, like, literally a second after I lay down, I fell into the deepest nap, which lasted just under four whole hours. I guess my body was a lot more exhausted than I thought?? Regardless, the day felt distinctly “over” after that nap, so I looked at things on the internet (music reviews, YouTube, you know, “the usual”) until around midnight, showered, fell asleep again at one am. Feeling good about that, that I got so much sleep yesterday, like, so much.

Might explain why I woke feeling refreshingly “refreshed” for the first morning in a long time. Still coughing A LOT, but definitely feel a bit less sick than yesterday.

08:10: Turned off alarm for second time after lying in bed with eyes closed, sometimes alternating to eyes open, staring blankly at ceiling. Turned to my side and checked phone, which I keep charging on the nightstand to the right of my bed (the right if you’re lying down on it, not facing it). Briefly checked Facebook, Instagram, skimmed news headlines, checked weather.

08:12: On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have to make an 8:30 class in “McMed,” the medical building situated near the base of one of the ways to get up Mount Royal, so it’s a bit of a trek, and it’s a good twenty-plus minute walk from my apartment. I’ve found that if I power walk, I can get there in around seventeen minutes, depending on how long my strides are. So I need to “hustle,” gotta “hustle my butt to class,” gotta “push my butt up that hill.” Glad the weather is feeling like autumn, but the temperature is, characteristic for Montreal, “dropping rapidly” already… I fear it won’t be “sweater weather” for much longer...

Stood from bed, then, in an “extremely efficient manner,” I feel, in fluid, unstopping motion, put on brown corduroy pants, black short-sleeve t-shirt, flannel over shirt, “bunny sweater” over flannel, filled water kettle with water, set it to boil, went into the bathroom to “assess the situation” of how I looked, splashed water on face and hair, brushed teeth, placed yerba mate bag in mug, poured hot water in mug, put on boots, then sipped from almost-too-hot mate while taking a selfie of me sipping from it to put on Instagram story. Thought, “nice, nice, good job,” while stepping out apartment, knowing I would make it to class on time, and that I was atypically feeling ungroggy, though also a bit dim and unmotivated, though also unstressed, probably a result of the emotional stunting effects I always feel when I have a cold.

08:34: “Made it” with a minute to spare. Sitting in the furthest back row of the large lecture hall. Hey, between you and me, this is actually the first lecture in this psych stats class that I’m going to sit “all the way through.” I know what you’re thinking, please don’t think it, because I already am. I’m such a terrible student, I know, and I’m wasting so much money. The professor for this class is so efficient, and also so empathetic; she took a break partway through the lecture to ask us humorous questions from an old survey given to Americans, like, twenty years ago, including things like: “do you put on your socks and shoes in the order sock-shoe-sock-shoe, or sock-sock-shoe-shoe,” and “do you twirl your spaghetti when you eat it, or do you cut it into pieces?” I laughed “heartily” when nobody raised their hand for sock-shoe-sock-shoe. That order does seem hellish, to a significant degree, to me, at least, though the actual survey of Americans two decades ago said that around a third put their feet-things on in the order sock-shoe-sock-shoe. What the hell.

Got first assignment back and laughed again when the TA who graded it didn’t give me points for the question which I knew I answered inefficiently, though I wrote next to my answer, “I know this is, like, the least efficient way of solving this, but I am so tired please cut me some slack.” Worth the loss of points, in my opinion. At least it gives the graders something to laugh about through the endless hours of mindless marking? In my English midterm last semester, I just rewrote all the questions I didn’t know the answer to, to things that I could actually answer, like, I’d change “Name three German Romantic poets who influenced…” by crossing out “German” and writing in “English,” then writing the answer to the new question I created.

Found myself “pleasantly enjoying” this lecture, but still finding “complete lack of enthusiasm” in knowing I’d have to finally force myself back into the practice rooms to “tickle the ivories” after not touching them for three days as a result of debilitating cold. Picturing Sylvester Stallone saying “this… is not gonna be fun” in his usual gruff delivery, then grimacing slightly, and standing up from previously seated position.

09:49: Thinking, “onto the practice rooms,” while walking to practice rooms. Weather feels “brisk,” like a Subaru commercial. Thoughts while walking: -Going to start referring to eating/drinking as “taking things to the face” -Would people really not wear ripped underwear? re: another survey question asked in class -Maybe I need to “get caffeinated” before practicing, need to update liveblog anyways -Dude vaping Juul-like device, remembering that Juuls are now officially shipping in Canada, except Quebec -Cannabis is going legal in one day here, seems so surreal

Making decision to stop at Tim Hortons on the way to “take a large coffee to the face.”

10:04: Holy crap the line at Tims is almost “out the door,” there’s no way I’m gonna wait for a coffee, heading to Java U instead.

10:10: Mission successful. Large light roast coffee in hand, chosen over dark because of its higher caffeine content. Chose maple milk to put in for the first time ever, feeling “cheery” and “full of grins.” Gonna drink it while updating liveblog in music library, then practice.

10:46: Hey, what’s up, I’m just finishing up today’s first liveblog update!! Now I’m going to post it!! Then I’m going to walk to the practice rooms and practice for a few hours!! Today is going well, I hope your day is going well too! Wow!! I’m thinking the word “wow” a lot today! Wow!!! Here’s some more Kero Kero Bonito lyrics to brighten up your day if it’s going bad, or make it even brighter if it’s going well!! I love you!

I got so much time today I got hopes and dreams and plans all yet to be made So look out the way 'Cos I'm coming through now I got something to do And I'll try As I might To keep up with the light 'Til I'm into bed for the night

I got so much more to say I got books and tapes and canvas bearing the weight But they're not arranged 'Cos it takes too long and I'm still moving on But I don't Even know Where I should be trying to go So I guess I'll follow my nose

And I can't help but think about If the sun ever stays down Will I notice or will I Just be sitting around Ticking a list off Rueing what I said wrong But dawn still greets my windowpanes And as long as I shall Wake up in the morning I got plans

I got so much time today I got so much time today I got so much time today I got so much time

13:40: Okay, so, a good almost-three-hour session. My hands felt like mush for the first hour-and-a-half, which was expected, but after going through the Beethoven and part of the Alkan, they felt strangely not as bad as I thought they would. Feel like I was “hyper-focused” for the first ⅔ of the session, and then only “sort-of focused” for the final third, but it was overall really nice.

Feeling skeptical at how smoothly today is going… Where’s the catch? What’s going on? Something bad is brewing on the horizon, isn’t it… Oh heavens look, it’s me thinking pessimistically again, I’m really not a pessimistic person, why do I keep doing this. Have to “reel in” this sort of behaviour. Today is going well and I’m putting in effort towards having a productive day, and sometimes that effort aligns with chance events that cumulate to a smooth, sometimes even “good” day, that’s all, right?

Gonna “call it” on this session, feeling energy/focus storage for piano “depleted.” Feeling semi-proud of myself for making it to nearly three hours without feeling “depleted” earlier, usually my sessions are most productive capped at two hours, and then if I try to continue I end up wasting more time than I actually use practicing. Might return to the practice room again today before going home, I really should be doing at the very least four hours, but maybe I’ll keep today at three hours, just because starting up again after a few days of not practicing and immediately jumping back to four-plus hours might be a little hard on the tendons/joints?? Is that just me making excuses for myself? I’ll see how I feel after my next class, I guess.

Walking to McLennan now to study a bit, see ya soon.

13:54: At workstation in Cybertheque. Weird “phasing” effect going on in my head right now, like, sounds are slightly off-balance? Not that they’re louder in one ear than the other, like, sounds sound dizzy to me, right now, if that makes any sense… I’m not describing this well…

Stomach in a bit of pain, a result of having coffee on an empty stomach and not eating anything yet today. Maybe I’ll get something cheap before class starts at 17h. Yeah, I think that would be the best option… Don’t think I’ll “last” til the end of class if I don’t. Do I go get food now, and then try and study?? That seems like a waste of time going back-and-forth so much, maybe I’ll try to “tough it out.” Yeah, okay, that seems the best option, gonna start studying now, wish me luck.

14:27: Oh no, oh no, seems impossible to “scrounge up” the motivation needed to study effectively, I’m just reading more on Ghost right now, this is bad, this is bad, don’t do this to yourself. Maybe this can be counted as the “study break” between practicing and studying?? Maybe I just won’t be able to get any studying done during this little chunk of time? I’m fine with that, I’m fine with that, I think… Still have time after class ends at 17:30 to study, can always study at home, “in the comfort” of my “tiny abode.” Shoot shoot shoot why didn’t I bring Knausgaard with me, now I don’t even have any reading material. Oh! Oh! I can read Megan’s Liveblog from my phone!! Yes yes okay, perhaps I’ll just “nip on out” for some food, then, and then head directly to class? That might work…

#liveblog #blog #writing

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sineumbranihil · 7 years

Text

Subconscious Suicide

I woke up on the Flow House couch last Thursday morning. There was a pit in my stomach and I curled into the fetal position and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the waves of realization from my mind and body of how much of a shit show I had been on Valentine’s Day. I hadn’t eaten the entire day before and taken a weed gummy from Kat before we’d gone out, washing it down with a hefty glass of shitty whiskey and doctor pepper before kicking back two more obnoxiously strong jack and gingers at the club to get me to the point I’d been. Casey held my hair back as I puked that night and babysat me until we got home. One of his customers watched the entire performance and judgmentally scoffed at Casey as he walked out of the club. I still have absolutely no idea who else saw me in that state that knew who I was. Oh my fucking god, I thought to myself, there is no redeeming myself from this. Especially after I’d just written my Alcoholic’s Manifesto and had basically challenged myself to stop drinking just a mere couple days before this Valentine’s fiasco.

Desi handed me a chillum when I finally was able to pry myself off the couch to go pee in their bathroom. I automatically took it from her and sparked it... just one hit. It’s all I really needed to feel anything. I peed and then walked back to the couch to contemplate my shit show of a life, and the deep high thoughts took over. I mulled over what this all meant. I knew that when I uncovered my demons and gained new information about them that I could use against them, they always sunk their claws in deeper. This was definitely what was happening. I’d seen a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel for the autonomy over my soul and they clawed over its possession, hissing how dare you think you can own your own life and serve your own purpose here on this hellish, Earthly plane. We are your masters.

I realized that I am absolutely stark petrified that Ray has up and moved here. I am terrified for what this means for Casey’s and my relationship. Everything has been so imbalanced before in the three of our interactions because she always took precedent when visiting from out of town... I feel like I’m slipping into a nightmare where I don’t have my boyfriend anymore. I had planned to go visit him at the club for Valentine’s day with Kat and her friend who was in town. I’d been plotting hooking up with Kat and had been intrigued by the idea of a threesome with Casey. It was the perfect, flirtatious plan for us to go out and buy some dances from him and get steamy. Casey sprung on me about two and a half hours before we arrived at the club that Ray would be there alone at a table. It’d be awkward if we didn’t get a seat with her. But I didn’t really want to share her with him that night. I still have so many insecurities. Now that Casey and I are official, I fight over the feelings of possessiveness that come natural when in a relationship, because it’s all I’d known from monogamy... but this was polyamory. This was freedom. I have to deprogram myself. I don’t know how else to do that but to numb myself with alcohol. So I drank. I stopped thinking about the fact I hadn’t had a meal all day and I drank so much more than I even usually do. I drank until I made out with Ray in the club. I drank until I kissed Kat for the first time and don’t remember it. I drank until it didn’t hurt anymore. I drank until I didn’t care, and then made a fool of myself and made my boyfriend pick the pieces of my shattered soul off the ground of the club.

Ray moving here has felt like such an invasion into my and Casey’s life. I didn’t consent to this. There was a strange security I felt with Casey being the only local girl he was dating. It was easy to let him run off with another girl whenever she was in town or if we were together visiting out of town because I could justify it... He saw me all the time locally, so it was only right to respect the little time he did have with his other lovers when he had the chance to see them. Now everything is getting muddled. Now I have no idea what to expect. I have so much else going on in my life too, I can’t be focusing on a relationship this fucking much. She moved here without anything. She’s dependent on him for money. She’s dependent on others for a roof over her head and food to eat. She moved here to be a stripper like Casey and I because it earns good money. And honestly, truth be told, I think she moved here for Casey too. But a piece of me is so fucking angry because she’s romanticizing stripping. It’s not easy money. It’s not a good life. This is something I’ve started doing out of necessity. I need my boyfriend to be able to come save me at the drop of the hat if I need to. I don’t need his second girlfriend moving down here and then being fucking needy... and she’s just going to become more needy as she begins to realize how fucked up it is to be objectified multiple days out of the week.

What’s wrong with this viewpoint are two things: 1) I am operating on a frequency of scarcity. I am so stretched out in my own life and feel so many obligations to other people and to show them I care about them that I am projecting my tiredness on to Casey. I am skeptical of Casey’s ability to take care of both our needs now that Ray is in such close proximity. I’ve sacrificed Casey comforting me in the past because I knew Ray was having a tough time at the same time as me. I’ve set it up where I’ve already compromised myself in so many ways and it feels like she hasn’t compromised at all yet. I worry about Casey feeling so obligated to take care of both of us, too, that he stops taking time for himself and growing independently. 2) On another layer, I have become emotionally dependent on Casey for me to even get this upset about the possibility of his time and emotional support being compromised. When we began our relationship, I was so detached that when he tried to end things multiple times out of fear of being hurt, I just smiled sadly and told him it was fine if that’s what he really wanted... and each time he ended up changing his mind without any sort of obnoxious begging or convincing on my end. This was because I had come to a rather nice place mentally and emotionally on my own where I was working through my own things and didn’t need a significant other in my life to do it after Blake and I had ended. The fact of the matter is since I’ve started stripping, I’ve looked to Casey for emotional support and advice. I would be so completely fucked without him playing that role in my life.

//////

And as I lay on the couch with my eyes closed, feeling too much mental and emotional pain to even move, I realized another reason of why I drink so much. A much darker reason, beyond my fright of true connection with others. Beyond just not knowing how to handle this new rhythm in my life... I still want to die. I still want to kill myself. I still fantasize about it sometime. I used to write and fantasize about it constantly when I was an early teenager. It wasn’t until I went to rehab when I was 16 that I started shoving it deep down into my unconscious. Back then, I knew that I wasn’t meant to be there. I knew that this “rehab” was not healthy for me. I knew it was wrecking my life to not be in school when I was there instead, dealing with beings less enlightened then my damn pinky finger. Not that I was especially enlightened... but they had absolutely no spiritual credentials to help me deal with what was going on in my life. I realized the more loudly I denied my problems to myself and to the staff, the more quickly I could get out and get on with my life.

No doubt, I’m here for a reason, and my curiosity has gotten the best of me. I want to see where this goes. I want to see where my life takes me if I really give it my all. But I still think about killing myself. I asked my shaman what he thought of all this. He told me suicidal tendencies seem to come from a pre-verbal, extremely primitive part of our psyche, one that has bloodlust and acts more like a wolf or a bear. When things get out of balance, this piece of us wants to attack, and sometimes the nearest thing to attack and kill is yourself. These parts of you aren’t logical. This parts of you aren’t moral. They are you, though. You have to accept and integrate them and pay them respect and also communicate with them so they don’t eat you alive.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, I was peering through the eyes of a coyote. In front of me was my own primal psyche in the form of another coyote. I stared it down and started barking at it and then began to growl. I could sense it mock my growls, for they were small and unimpressive with human vocal chords. I bared my teeth and growled harder, snarling. I am not your meal. We hunt together. We work together. You do not attack unless I say so. Don’t worry, I will find ways to feed you. It licked it lips, message received. I howled. I heard it howl with me and I knew we had connected. Our voices rose harmonically and we howled a couple more times before i took my body and rubbed it against the coyote’s... a tradition between pack members that calms the fight or flight response after an attack has occurred. No need to always have fight or flight on. No need to attack the one whose psyche you’ve sprung from. No need to attack those around her without her control. No, our bloodlust is for survival. We are a team. Feed me your fire and I will feed you your blood. I’m starting Krav Maga classes back this month, and after that I’m getting a new gun and will be shooting at the range at least once a month... and after that I think I might just pick up a bow and arrow and get real primal in this bitch.

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