Enjoy - Tumblr Posts
Anhedonia
The loss of interest and enjoyment in all activities that you once liked; the feeling of not caring anymore.
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I do not care anymore, all the stuff I used to like, enjoy doing, it's no longer fun… it's boring and tedious and I hate it. I only continue to do them because it's what I'm used to, the familiarity of it makes me feel safe.
But I also just do not care anymore about anything. What's the point of caring when the place we live is so ruined? Between wars and rich people up in their towering buildings this planet is being destroyed and no one with enough power seems to care enough to change it, so what is the point in caring?
You can not force someone to care, no matter how many times you show them that their actions have consequences, that what they do is slowly killing everyone.
But they do not care, they just care about the money, the power, the status of it all, but that is also a part of human evolution, being greedy is how we got here in the first place. amassing huge amounts of food to survive, but now instead of food its money.
Is there even any reason to hope when the people who can change the world for good are all too ignorant to and only do it for the worse? Is there any reason to care anymore?
What's the point of bringing life into a doomed world anyway? Who would want to raise a child in this place? It should not be a necessity to pay to live, being able to live your life should be free, it should be joyace and fun, you only have so much time to live, so much time to make an impact, to be remembered and not forgotten, fading into obscurity.
Is it even possible to change all of this? To break the status quo and save what we can of this planet, or is it too late? Have the dominos already started to fall and we are all just too ignorant to see them falling till they have already squashed us?
I hope that when- if things change that future generations do not look back at us in disgust,hate us for what we did to this planet and forced them to fix it, i hope things change… things need to change and it needs to happen fast or we will just be a blip in the timeline of the universe.
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Psychomachy
A conflict between the body and soul
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My body yearns for another, to have them close to me, to feel them in my arms and hold them close to me like a dragon does his hored. My body needs someone to rely on, to stop me from hurting myself, to hold my hands and tell me that everything will be ok.
But my soul is scared, it does not want to be hurt again. It no longer wants to share itself with others only to be damaged and broken. It no longer wants pieces ripped off of it and kept by people who do not deserve it.
My soul so badly wants another, to merge together, to be one with another soul, but it has only been hurt so far.
My soul hides itself, through emotions that make the body unlovable, to drive off people from hurting it once again. But it does not want to, it wants to open up, to feel another, just like the body.
My body resents my soul, hates it for what it makes the body do, it can not overlook the damage and hurt that the soul feels, it only sees what it is missing out on. It refuses to see the soul's point of view.
Maybe my body and soul don't need anyone else… Maybe they can learn to love each other. And then maybe, just maybe, they can both love another body, another soul, to be together just like they both so desperately want- so desperately need.
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feelings are a very strong motivator for writing.
TW: talks about death and stuff, read at your own risk
Moribund
On the point of death; breathing your last; not growing or changing; without force or vitality
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I lay on the ground, struggling for breath, feeling my life drain from me slowly, I reminisced on my life, all the good, all the bad, all of the hurt. I think about the people who I was close with, my friends, my family, my lover… I think about how once they hear about this, beaten to death in an alley, how it will break their hearts, shatter their world and uproot everything.
I think about my funeral, everyone dressed in black, crying as they speak about me, tell everyone what they thought of me, as they reminisce on all of the good times we had together, all the memories that they will cherish and hold close to their heart.
I think about the legacy i will leave behind, all of my stuff, my hobbies, it will all go to my partner, they will look through it all, find all of the love letter we wrote to each other when we were young that i kep, hidden in a box under a draw to my desk, i think about how they will smile while tears stream down there face reading them again.
I think about the children i was never able to have, the names we had for them, the fact i didn't get to raise a little me, didn't get to see new life blossom and grow as i too grew old, i think about how my lover will talk about me to their kids once they come into their life, i think about the small smile they will have talking about me, missing me.
But, I'm ok with that, life is rough, not everyone gets dealt the same cards, not everyone is fed with silver spoons and trusted with incomprehensible amounts of money. Life is rough, life is cruel, it hurts but it also heals. Life is beautiful, like the roses that grow next to rivers, like the moon's pearlescent light that bathes the earth at night.
I breath in my last breath, a smile on my face and an ache in my heart. I feel myself fall, being embraced by the eternal void, the cold cold void. But i am happy with it, life will go on, people will move on, i may not have gotten to live my full life, but many other people will.
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it took me by soap-rise
contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. 4k words — fluff. cursing. slightly suggestive. ⭑ of course your public nuisance no. 1 has to hog your favorite shower stall the day you forget your body wash in it.
Katsuki was honestly starting to suspect he wasn’t your type.
Which one, was something he’d never even bother to consider. He’s ripped up more confession letters than he can count after three years. Graduation was just around the corner and he still hates social media, but even he knows how popular he is on it because of his classmates whining about it all the damn time. He knows he’s well-liked, and it’s not just his ego talking.
Genuinely it's a thought that would never occur to him, if only Eyebags wasn’t lounging around you all the time, casting annoyingly cocky glances at him as he taps your shoulder and leans in to whisper whatever the fuck it is in your ear whenever he passes by the two of you.
Not that he cared.
Two, when Dunce Face dared you to say who you thought was the most attractive guy during a game of truth or dare in the common room last year, while he pretended to be disinterested when he very much in fact was not, you had offhandedly answered with that half-n’-half bastard’s name, who could not be more polar opposite to him.
Again, he really couldn’t give less of a fuck.
Not like he’s been thinking about it since then. Totally. Not.
Katsuki also hasn’t been thinking about how it should be him whispering in your ear instead of that purple haired extra, the endless list of things he could say to make you squirm and blush in your seat.
Of course, that doesn’t happen because you’re too busy arguing with him, like usual, about the new group project Aizawa just assigned. Something about reconnecting with their roots before graduating. With you two as partners, much to the amusement of your classmates.
“We should work on the script first!” You insist while he leans back in his chair, observing you get more and more worked up.
It should be irritating as hell, your hand gestures, your matter of fact tone, but what’s really bothering him is that it’s not. He’s not sure when that started happening.
“It’s better to prepare the interview questions we’re going to ask our parents when we visit each other's homes.”
He snorts. “What are we, some ditzy news report crew? We’re not gonna waste time doing that, we should just visit your place first, then mine and get it over with.”
You spin away from him before he can open his mouth again, and raise your hand.
Aizawa slowly turns to you with a sigh, already knowing what you’re about to ask.
“No.”
“But Mr. Aizawa!”
Eyebags casts an amused glance in both of your directions, and Katsuki scoffs.
No way in hell was he letting you switch and downgrade to an extra like him.
“What, you’re chickening out?”
You ignore him. “Can I please switch partners?”
“No,” Aizawa deadpans.
“But—“
“No. One more word from either of you and you’re getting zeroes.”
The both of your mouths snap shut, and you glare at each other.
“When you’re a pro, you don’t always get to choose who you team up with.”
Aizawa rubs his temples.
“And you’re supposed to be my top ranking students. You’re not first years anymore, so act like it.”
You hang your head. Like a scolded puppy, Katsuki notes.
“Yes Mr. Aizawa.”
From the corner of his eye, you flip him off under your desk and his lips can’t help but twitch. Does he really still piss you off that much after all this time?
Without hesitation, Katsuki flips you off back.
‘Fucking teacher’s pet.’ He mouths with a smirk.
‘Asshole.’ You mouth back.
Aizawa sighs again, throwing a pointed look at Sero and Denki who are struggling, and failing, to hold back their giggles behind you.
This was going to be a long week.
It’s the day after the group project was assigned, and you’re still reeling from the fact that out of everybody you had to get paired up with, of course it had to be your crush.
Hey Siri, does it make you a masochist if for the past three years you've been in love with a guy that’s laser-focused on his personal development and has zero interest in dating anyone other than his career, ever?
Are you a masochist if you kind of find that kind of hot?
Just when you were starting to make a pros and cons list with Mina the night before to try and ick yourself out, too. But even that was getting increasingly hard to do.
His growth was undeniable, and you curse at him for being almost as mature as he was attractive now.
Well, towards everybody except you.
Three steps away from the door to your room, you freeze in place as your brain stops your usual ramblings of the blond boy to register two alarming facts.
One, the bottle of body wash you usually use was not in your hand like you thought it was.
Two, it was in fact, still in the shower stall you left it in.
Pink house slippers slap against the floor’s carpeting as you race back to the showers with a death-like grip on your towel.
You’re slightly out of breath as you clutch the doorway of the showers, and just as quickly as you enter you find yourself exiting lightning fast at double the speed, nearly launching yourself against the wall of the hall outside.
With your heart racing uncontrollably, tips of too familiar blond hair disappear into the stall you were in moments ago.
Too familiar, for your liking.
But that strong jawline you caught a glimpse of was unmistakable.
Your irritating classmate slash crush you were trying to get rid of was taking up your shower stall.
Okay technically it wasn’t yours but it was the one you used everyday, each morning and night. You’d claimed it when you first stepped foot in it at the beginning of your first year.
So basically, it was yours.
And you definitely don’t remember that bastard ever using it until today.
A screech jolts you from your thoughts. He must have turned the water on, which you can hear, but strangely there was no steam wafting out at all.
The realization creeps up on you like the sound of running water that trickles down and echoes throughout the room.
Hold on.
What was this idiot doing taking a cold shower at four in the morning?
The all too familiar soothing scent of cherry blossom fills the chilly air, and your eyebrows furrow even more in confusion.
And was that your fucking body wash he’s using?
You take a deep breath. Okay, calm down. He’s bigger than you, probably stronger too, that stupid gym freak, not to mention taller than you.
But your fingers were still itching to whip out your quirk and shoot a moonbeam at his crotch.
Because why the fuck was he using your L’Occitane Cherry Blossom Bath and Shower Gel?
Trying to sneak a glance to confirm your suspicions, the obvious shadow of Bakugo is visible through the glass, and you duck back into the hallway.
Oh my god, it is him.
Taking a cold shower in the morning like a crazy person. Although you hate to admit it, that would explain his perfect skin. Everyday you wake up and see his flawless face, you go to bed praying that he gets a blemish.
The shower turns off, and you let out the breath you were holding. Confrontation wasn’t your strong suit, but when it came to your possessions, you weren’t about to be a doormat.
You cross your fingers and pray that he’s wearing clothes.
“Bakugo! Come out here, we need to talk.”
He snorts, already recognizing the chiding voice about to round the corner, and turns. “Picking a fight with me outside of class? Thought you had more self-respect than tha–”
Bakugo is then sharply cut off.
By you hurling into his very naked, very bare chest.
He forces his eyes to not linger on the dip of your collarbone, and as he looks down on you he sees you struggling to do the same in his direction.
You accidentally make contact with his eyes.
The rare, amused look on his face sends something strange and hot down your spine, and you force yourself to turn away so sharply you think you dislocated your neck.
Bakugo smirks. “Wasn’t nearly this focused when we were working on our project.”
An embarrassing noise escapes from your mouth, and his lips curve ever so slightly on his handsome face at the sound.
He’s never seen you this flustered before.
It’s kind of cute, he admits this time.
Despite your clearly humiliated state, you point an impressively steady finger at the object in his hands.
“That’s um, that’s mine.” You awkwardly clutch your towel tighter, suddenly feeling very naked in his presence. Seriously, why didn’t you put a shirt on before coming back?
His eyebrow raises and he lifts the bottle slightly. “This?”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh,” he says disbelievingly. “Don’t see your name on it.”
You sigh in exasperation, did he always have to be so uncooperative with you? “It’s mine, okay? Just give it back.”
Bakugo's eyes narrow as he studies you. Like you’re a puzzle piece he’s trying to make sense of.
And as much as you hate to admit it, the focused look on his face was annoyingly attractive.
“That’s funny.”
You open your mouth, your patience is on the last straw and you’re about to yell back ‘what is?’ and snatch the bottle out of his hands when he smirks, holding it high out of your reach above his head with his bicep, still gleaming with water from his shower.
“Because this is mine.”
You blink at the water falls from his raised arm onto your nose, not registering what you’re hearing. Looking away from the pink translucent bottle above your head, your eyes meet his again.
“What?”
“You heard me the first time.”
You can’t help but stare at him incredulously.
“I don’t think I did.” Confusion could not be clearer than glass in your voice.
“You—You use L’Occitane?”
He averts his eyes from the droplet that falls from your still wet hair and rolls down what skin you have exposed, disappearing into your thankfully tightly wrapped towel.
“Dude. You are so not cherry blossom bath and shower gel material.”
He snorts. “Fuck is that supposed to mean.”
“I don’t know! I thought you’d use like, Dove MenCare or five in one.”
“Five in one? Are you stupid?”
“Apparently! But—Oh my god can you stop flexing your biceps for one fucking second.” You groan. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“Why were you looking?”
“I can’t help it! They’re distracting me and—“ You clap your hands over your mouth, glancing at his slightly amused expression with horrified eyes.
“Distracting you?” His voice is low, and you curse at the way your stomach flip-flops.
“Um.” Fuck. Where did that even come from? “I meant, uh.”
“Trying to take it back now?” He smirks. “Coward.”
“I am not a coward!” You glare at him. “And I’m not feeding into your ego.”
“You just admitted you were staring at my biceps and thinking about what body wash I would use.”
Okay, so you’re just digging yourself a deeper grave. Your cheeks are warmer than the shower you took earlier, and you can’t even deny it.
“Creep.”
You huff. “Okay fine, I’m a creep. Just give me my body wash back.”
“Told you,” he starts walking away, towel still wrapped around his waist. You pointedly look away towards the wall. “It’s mine, dipshit.”
“Wha–” You whip your head around just as he disappears behind the corner, too tired and irritated to even chase after him, and with a sigh you walk into the shower room, heading for the stall you used earlier.
Your eyes widen as you stare at it in embarrassment.
There your bottle of cherry blossom body wash sits, untouched in the shower caddy.
As you head back to your dorm room, the body wash safely clutched in your hand, you wonder.
Was it too late to call in sick for today?
Aizawa did not in fact let you call in sick, and you're painfully reminded of everything that happened in the morning as you complain to Hitoshi about it. Your best friend snickers as students file into the cafeteria behind his seat.
“You’re so stupid.”
You take the opportunity to shove a sweet roll into his open mouth. “Shut up! I’m going to pretend like it never happened.”
Hitoshi snorts, taking the bread out of his mouth. “Good luck with that. But hey,” He leans in with a mischievous grin, and you glare daggers at him. “Isn’t this the most progress you’ve made since you started liking him since, what, first year entrance exams?”
Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
He takes his sweet time eating the roll in his hand instead of elaborating, like the petty asshole he's always been. Your fingers tap impatiently on the table of the cafeteria as you wait while he chews.
After what seems like an eternity, Hitoshi finally swallows.
“I mean, you’ve never really made a move on him this whole time. Kind of just been a spectator, like a creep.”
Warmth rushes up your neck as you’re reminded of what Bakugo called you yesterday. Creep.
“I can’t help it! The only time we ever speak is during class projects, and even then we’re always arguing. I just don’t know what to say to him.”
“I know.” Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. “Woop woop. 3A’s own live little romcom.”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“Okay, but after I finish this soup.” He blows on his steaming spoon, and pauses as a thought occurs to him.
”If he didn’t like it though, he would’ve told you by now.”
You can’t help but perk up at that. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.” He spoons the soup into his mouth. “Oh. This is good, why didn’t you get any when we were in line?”
“...The red color reminded me of his eyes too much.”
Hitoshi sighs.
“For your birthday, I’m going to admit you to a mental hospital.”
“It’s not that bad!” You insist and he snorts derisively.
The both of you know you’re lying.
The ride to Katsuki’s house after class is awkwardly silent.
Your folks conveniently went out of town to visit some relatives you’ve never even heard of yesterday, so the both of you were left with no choice but to interview his parents only.
The train is almost full, and every seat in the car is taken except one.
“I’m standing.”
Katsuki grabs onto the handle above his head, a silent signal for you to take the only seat left and watches with barely concealed amusement in his eyes as you hurry to sit in front of him without a word other than a small ‘thanks.’ So skittish today.
He’s not sure if he likes it though. You being quiet around him.
You’ve said less than two sentences to him since this morning, and he almost misses your snappy quips.
Almost.
He hides a sly grin. It’s all his fault you’re acting like this, and he's going to enjoy it while it lasts.
You’re putting your earbuds on, and just before you put the left one in, he snatches it out of your hands and puts it in his ear.
Your eyes widen cutely, too stunned to speak.
"Just don't play anything shitty." He turns his attention back to his phone, ignoring all the smoochy faces the group chat's sent him about you as he sends his mom a quick text to tell her you two are on the way.
With a shy nod, which he can't help but note is so unlike you, you scroll down on your own phone and click on a playlist.
Katsuki's eyes widen in surprise not even five seconds in.
The instrumentals, those vocals. He knows this song.
He loves this song.
"You listen to Pierce the Veil?"
You blink up at him. "Yeah. I do."
He can't help it. The edge of his lips twitch as he recalls what you said to him yesterday, and he mimics your exact tone.
"Dude. You are so not post-hardcore alt rock material."
The expression on your face is priceless.
Katsuki never uses his damn phone camera but he almost wants to snap a picture right there and then.
Except of course, you do the unexpected.
You giggle at him.
He can't help but feel a little proud. Take that, stupid fucking Eyebags.
"I guess you're right," you laugh behind your hand. "Jirou recommended me some songs last year and I've been a fan ever since."
"Then what's your favorite lyric by them?"
"Oh my god." The grin on your lips spreads a warm, sweet feeling across his chest, like strawberry jam on hot toast. "You're one of those people that see someone wearing a band shirt and go 'Oh you like them? Name five of their songs.'"
He scoffs. "I do not."
"You totally do."
Katsuki rolls his eyes. "You trying to distract me from the fact you're a fake fan?"
You fake a little gasp. "Me? Never." There's a thoughtful hum that comes from your lips, and he observes you as you take a moment to think.
"My favorite lyric has to be 'been counting the stars and scars, how I’m becoming a work of art.'"
The Divine Zero. Fuck, he loved that song too.
"Huh. Guess you know your shit."
You huff proudly, so similar to a dog happily wagging its tail that he resists the urge to pat your head. "Of course! What's your favorite lyric?"
He smirks, staring directly into your eyes.
"I’m gonna tear out the thread one by one from your skin till your bones feel embarrassed by all the attention."
Your lips fall into a flustered 'o' shape and you turn away when he finishes, nodding. "That's, uh, that's a good one too."
He bites back a laugh as you hurriedly switch playlists, and a familiar R&B tune starts singing in his ear instead.
Mitsuki’s face greets the two of you as she opens the door.
“Katsuki! You're here early—oh!"
She spots you.
“You’re one of those cute maid girls from last year’s cultural festival!"
Your cheeks flush as you remember. That stupid day when Denki’s suggestion finally won the class vote. She was visiting for Bakugo’s role as an oni in the haunted house, and happened to stop by the maid cafe in the class where you and the rest of the girls were working. “Yes ma’am.”
“I didn’t know you were Katsuki’s girlfriend.”
“What?” Your mouth drops. “Oh, I’m not—“
“You brat! You never told me you were going out with a sweet, pretty girl like this.” Mitsuki scolds in her son’s direction. Your cheeks grow warm as your curious eyes can’t resist trailing over to see his reaction.
"She's not my girlfriend, Ma."
Oh my god, was he blushing?
Mitsuki sighs in disappointment. His crimson eyes meet your widened ones for a split second, then he's brushing past the both of you and heading inside the house.
His mother smiles at you apologetically. "Sorry about him, his puberty came late."
You can't help but snort. "It's okay Mrs. Bakugo, I'm used to it."
"I heard that!" A yell comes from down the stairs.
Mitsuki and you share a mischievous glance, and she ushers you inside. You take off your shoes and look around.
So this is where Bakugo grew up.
There's the smell of green tea in the air, and was that a vanilla candle burning somewhere? Framed photos of Bakugo with his parents are on the wall as you walk into the living room, and you can't help but coo at the one where his chubby baby cheeks are smeared in frosting while he blows out a candle shaped like the number three.
The interview flies by in a breeze. You do most of the asking.
Okay, you’re the one asking all of the interview questions. A warm mug of steaming green tea is placed next to you on the coffee table from your cross-legged position on a cushion.
Bakugo sits next to you, unnervingly silent ever since his mom's outburst from before, as he types up his mother’s and occasionally his father’s responses on his laptop.
It’s funny, the way you think he doesn’t notice your shivers.
"Ma." He glances up from the keyboard. "Do you need to turn the AC up so damn high all the time?"
Mitsuki rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her tea. "It's warm in here!"
He sighs, eyes flicking over to you, and starts getting up from his spot on the floor.
You stare at the hand he holds out to you. And with great interest, so do Masaru and Mitsuki, who mutters something to him that you better be her daughter-in-law within the next three years.
"Come on," Bakugo says gruffly, tugging you to stand.
You stumble a bit as you walk through the hallway with him and up the first few stairs. "Where are we going...?"
"My room. To get you a fucking jacket."
“No, I don’t need it—!” You're cut off with a sneeze.
He groans, and shrugs off the black fleece-lined one he's wearing and bringing you into him by tightly wrapping it around your shoulders.
“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” He grumbles. He's so close you can see how unfairly long his lashes are, and you're not sure if it's the sheer nervous adrenaline from him being so near or the scowl in his voice but you giggle, feeling bold.
“It’s sexy to see you prove me wrong.”
His eyes widen, and he quickly recovers.
“You’re so fucking weird.” There’s an unmistakable fondness you catch in his voice as he says that, and you shiver this time for a different reason.
"Your jacket's too big on me." You flop your newly acquired sweater paws in his face.
“Shut up.” Bakugo snorts as he zips it up for you in one smooth motion. “Fucking baby.”
“You're the baby!" You retort. "I saw your pictures on the wall."
There's a groan from him. "No you didn’t.”
"What, they're cute! I'm gonna send one to the class group chat."
Bakugo shoots a glare at you, and you teasingly wiggle your phone screen in his face. "Don't you dare."
"Hmm, okay I won't. Only if you do something for me first."
He smirks. "Fine, what do you want?" Bakugo leans closer to you, and your cheeks burn hot. "A kiss?"
You were not expecting that.
The way your eyes linger hopefully on his mouth looks like he's right. "Um."
"Um?" He huffs a laugh with his face hovering in front of yours. Bakugo's hot breath teases your lips, and you can't think.
Fuck it, you don't even care if he's just joking anymore. If this is your only chance, you're going to take it.
"Yes."
Bakugo cocks his head to the side, irritating to the very end even when you're on the brink of giving in. "Yes what?"
Your eyes squeeze shut as you blurt out, and you can almost hear Hitoshi cheering in the distance.
"YesIwantyoutokissme!"
"Fucking finally." Your eyes flutter open at his murmur, what did he mean by that? But you don't get to spend another second thinking about it because suddenly his soft lips are on yours and your heart skips a beat as you realize Bakugo is kissing you.
It's feels almost scarily natural to lean into his touch, like a gravitational pull getting stronger and stronger the longer you're near him, and you wonder why you didn't sooner. You numbly acknowledge the growing sweatiness of your palms as your nose bumps against his gently.
His comforting hands cup the back of your head, tangling his calloused fingers in your hair as he guides your mouth against his. A delicious little sound escapes from you the moment you break away from him and it only makes him want to close the gap between you again with more hunger, and he nips at your bottom lip like a starved man.
"Knew you always liked me, by the way." Bakugo gives you a wolfish grin, as the both of you pull back for air, leaving a trail of saliva still connected to your lips in your wake. He slyly glances at your dazed self sideways, flashing you a rare sight of his canines.
"Was just waiting for you to stop being such a damn pussy about it."
can everyone show off their genloss reaction images/memes/general silly images in the notes please i wanna gather them and put them in a silly goofy folder
Ignore any instances of handwriting please </3 it sucks normally but drawn with my finger on a cracked phone screen is a million times worse.
HI 👋👋👋🤗🤗🤗🐝🐝🐝 I SAW YOU DO TRAVIS X READER 👀.... WOULD YOU PERHAPS DO... TRAVIS X READER WHERE THEY SEE A HORROR MOVIE 😁😁😁? (romantic or platonic, I don't mind. Go where your heart goes etc etc) The Craft came out in spring of 1996 and might be of interest to dear travis 👀👀👀 alternatively, Scream came out that fall!
hello ! i’m going to go with scream because i’ve seen it before and vaguely remember it!!! hope that’s okay, and if you end up not liking this, just lmk and i’ll rewrite it ^^
Movie Night
travis martinez x Reader, javi martinez & Reader, javi martinez & travis martinez, fluff, general silliness, reader and trav are pining idiots, javi’s along for the ride, me getting a feel for writing romantic trav stuff lol
This was a horrible idea. You knew it when Travis suggested it, and you knew it when you agreed to it. You were not the biggest horror fan; blood and gore weren’t really your idea of a good time. Travis, your best friend, on the other hand, was a horror-loving fanatic. He convinced you to watch one with him, one he assured was “more of a comedy than a horror,” which, now you knew, was utter bullshit. The intro alone was enough to bring you to tears! (You ignore the fact that you cry when Travis killed spiders for you and Javi instead of carrying them outside. You also ignore the fact that you’re incredibly well-known for being skittish.)
Travis snickers as you nearly jump out of your skin at a jumpscare playing out on the TV. The killer has appeared, slitting the throat of his poor victim. He watches you intently, his smug smirk disappearing slowly as you cuddle further and further into his side. If you were paying any attention to him, you might’ve noticed the crimson flush on his cheeks, but, in your defense, you were trying to find good things to say about your friend's interest. It’s hard to focus on the cute boy whose arms you're cowering in and the movie he wanted to show you.
As the movie progresses, you’re still on edge but starting to loosen up. As you watch, Travis makes idle chatter to you, and eventually, you find yourself shushing him as you get into the story. You’re actually kind of enjoying yourself by the time the next kills occur, although you do watch through the gaps between your fingers, a shiver running down your spine. Yikes. Getting crushed in a garage door…sounds like an awful way to go.
You’re watching intently, the suspense building gradually, when suddenly, you feel a hand grasp your shoulder firmly. You yelp, screaming in terror while hurtling yourself off of the couch in fear. You’re expecting to get murdered, but instead, you’re met with your best friend’s laughter. Travis is doubled over, laughing hysterically. It’s now that you remember Travis had wrapped his arm around your shoulder. He had moved his hand from the back of the couch to your shoulder to freak you out. Fucking doucebag.
“You asshole,” you groan, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He’s still laughing, tears in the corners of his eyes, while the movie plays faintly in the background. You get back up and make a point to sit on the opposite side of the couch from him, stealing the blanket the two of you were sharing. Your resolve quickly crumbles, however, when the movie's plot thickens. You find yourself inching closer and closer to Travis out of fear. Eventually, you’re practically in his lap again.
“So, what do you think so far?” he murmurs, eyes glued to the screen. You ignore him with an annoyed huff.
“Aw, come on, are you still mad at me?” he pouts, jutting his lower lip. He mockingly throws a hand against his chest and claims he’s heartbroken from learning this information. You roll your eyes, shoving your hands into his sides where you know he’s ticklish. He yelps, startled, and starts laughing while desperately trying to push you away.
“Stop! Stop, I can’t- I can’t breathe!” He laughs, batting at your hands and trying to push you off. You’ve got him trapped, however, and continue your relentless attack.
“Only if you apologize!” you call out in a sing-song voice, and he’s laughing while also huffing out a “Fuck off,” which inevitably leads to an, “Okay- okay! Sorry!”
You remove your hand from his sides, sitting with a triumphant grin on your face.
“Was that so hard?”
He rolls his eyes fondly, about to retort, when the door creaks open, and Javi steps through.
“Hey, have you seen my- what are you guys doing?”
It’s now that you realize the position you’re in. You’re sitting on top of Travis, straddling his waist while he lies on his back and stares up at you. Or, well. Was staring up at you. Now, he’s looking in Javi’s direction with an extremely embarrassed look on his face—equally mortified and annoyed.
You hop off of Travis quickly, moving to the other side of the couch as fast as possible. Javi has a confused glint in his eyes. Good, you think to yourself. At least he didn’t think you two were doing…something else.
Travis rolls his eyes at Javi, sitting up awkwardly. He begins to lecture him on what they talked about with knocking, and Javi grins sheepishly. He ends up sitting through the rest of the horror movie with you two because he's bored, sandwiched between Travis and yourself, jumping more than you do. You smile at him, glad you have a buddy who will agree that it’s scary. Travis looks slightly annoyed at the addition of someone else’s presence, but you chalk it up to his usual brooding. You don’t notice the wistful gazes he sends in your direction the same way he doesn’t notice the wistful gazes you send in his—status quo for Javi. Watching you two idiots pine for each other has become a pastime for him, one that he immensely enjoyed.
You end the night with Javi asleep on your shoulder and booting up your choice of movie, a rom-com, which Travis will sit through and pretend he hates. Then, when it’s over, he’ll pretend he isn't crying over the sweet ending.
You smile. Movie nights with Travis (and Javi on occasion, too) were always the best.
