" Why do we only
learn to love when it's too late to hold on to it?
And why is it so unexpected? Where were you when I was looking for
someone to hold me?— when I was lonely?— when I was hurt? Where
were you when I caught that bouquet at the wedding where I spilled
red wine on my dress?
And why did you have to be the one? Why you? Why not your sweet
little brother, or your cool, crisp best friend? Why did it have to
be you?— the screw-up, the lost-cause, the angry, angry, angry
one?
And why did it have to be now? You burst into my days like fire,
show me things I should never have seen, and think I can just throw
out those memories like you can? Why did you think, even for a
moment, that I was able to forget how your breath felt on
my neck in that alleyway? You know what I mean. That night when you
saved me. When we laughed together for the first time.
Burning. Goosebumps. Shivers. A sigh.
You know what happened in that moment? Do you even have any idea
what you did to me? All of a sudden, you weren't just 'that
guy' but you were 'this guy' right in front of
me, with a warm chest and a broad back and sculpted arms that fit
around me perfectly. All of a sudden, I couldn't get enough
looks at your arrogant expressions - my eyes suddenly followed you
across the room unknowingly, every red would be compared to your stupid messy hair, no man's voice was deep enough or
rough enough or bored enough or as sexy as yours always ends up
sounding.
How did that happen? Why did you do that to me?
I'm fixated on you. Help me.
"
(suoh mikoto & yukina)
Wednesday, 7 May 2014
Thursday, 1 May 2014
carbon copy princess
title: carbon copy princess
summary: baby, nothing scares me anymore. — edo!juvia/gray.
.
.
.
.
.
.
To Juvia, Gray Surge is made of glass.
Every time she throws him away, his jagged edges cut her hands and she's left bleeding and confused—
it makes no sense
—and yet, despite all the cuts it leaves on her skin, she can't stop herself from breaking him over and over and over again.
.
.
.
.
.
"Juvia (ch-chan...)!"
God, she hates it when he calls her that. And as usual she ignores him — because he can't be serious, how many fucking layers is he wearing? — strutting to the request board and grabbing the one with the least writing on it.
But he's still following her out the guild doors. She grits her teeth, slowing down. "No, you can't come, Gray. Don't bother asking," and she storms away with the knowledge that he's standing behind her awkwardly with an arm half out-stretched like he always is.
"Yes! No, I understand, that— Okay, y-you have a good trip! Do your best, um..." and then she can't hear him anymore, she's too far away.
This is routine (because that's what Gray is), and like she always does after she rejects him, she turns the corner with a quick glance back, and like he always is, Gray's leaning against the guild doors with his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed, his bottom lip jutting out just. His arms stick out at strange angles from his body, just looking at him breaks her out in an uncomfortable sweat.
What a lunatic.
(to Juvia, he looks sad... but that's routine, too.)
.
.
.
.
.
Because Juvia isn't safe and if there's one thing Gray Surge is, it's that.
She wears her tops knotted between her breasts, and her nights always end in fuzzed-out buzzed-out making out for a damn reason (a lot of reasons and they add up to a mirror). Juvia has done a lot of stupid things, things she hasn't regretted because she's had no reason to, but Gray Surge—
oh, that clueless lunatic Gray Surge
— is the kind of guy who spends Saturday nights with a car-obsessed best friend despite knowing nothing about engines. He's the kind of guy you'd ask to a dance as a friend to make someone jealous, because he's nice, and he's cute (probably... all she sees is his face, after all) but he's not someone to fall for. He's not a lunatic because he's crazy — no, it's because he's stupid, and that's just a huge waste of time.
Basically, he's the kind of guy she'd fuck on Friday and forget by Sunday.
(well, he would be, if he'd take his fucking clothes off.)
And Juvia doesn't want to spend time on a guy like him,
'cause wouldn't she ruin him, too?
.
.
.
.
.
Okay, okay, there was one night.
But it wasn't a nightnight, it was just another drunken stagger home, and she was just careless when she fell in the water of some muddy-ass river (who put that there? I mean, come on) and after the stabbing cold she kind of blanked out.
But she woke up in a bed laden — and she means like, fucking drowning — in blankets, and Gray Surge was sitting at the end of it with a mug of tea in his hands.
When he saw she'd woken up, he stood up too quickly and spilled half of the cup's contents on himself because his arms were so stiff with fabric — but he just ignored it and handed it to her with a stuttered, "h-here you a— I mean, it's for Juvia-chan."
"Don't call me that." She took the mug. "And it's cold, you imbecile." How long have you been waiting for me to wake up? she really wanted to ask.
And he just grinned at her like he always did, his cheeks red for no damn reason, took the mug and went to brew another.
And Juvia... well, whatever, she thought that was a really stupidly boringly nice thing to do.
(especially after she called him a imbecile; where's his fucking backbone?)
.
.
.
.
.
But Juvia and Gray? Is that a joke?
Of course it is, because that would nevereverever happen. He's too clingy, too easy, too predictable, way too nice, and if you think Juvia needs a man like that, you're just not thinking straight.
(because nothing scares her anymore, and she's scared of seeing more of him.)
Why would she do that to him—
what? no, no, to herself. To herself.
She's the aftermath of a trainwreck, and Gray Surge could do so much better than picking through her dumping ground of fuck-ups. And that's the end of it.
.
.
.
summary: baby, nothing scares me anymore. — edo!juvia/gray.
carbon copy princess
..
.
i'm making the night mine until the day i die —
— you don't know what it feels like until you're dancing blind.
.— you don't know what it feels like until you're dancing blind.
.
.
.
.
To Juvia, Gray Surge is made of glass.
Every time she throws him away, his jagged edges cut her hands and she's left bleeding and confused—
it makes no sense
—and yet, despite all the cuts it leaves on her skin, she can't stop herself from breaking him over and over and over again.
.
.
.
.
.
"Juvia (ch-chan...)!"
God, she hates it when he calls her that. And as usual she ignores him — because he can't be serious, how many fucking layers is he wearing? — strutting to the request board and grabbing the one with the least writing on it.
But he's still following her out the guild doors. She grits her teeth, slowing down. "No, you can't come, Gray. Don't bother asking," and she storms away with the knowledge that he's standing behind her awkwardly with an arm half out-stretched like he always is.
"Yes! No, I understand, that— Okay, y-you have a good trip! Do your best, um..." and then she can't hear him anymore, she's too far away.
This is routine (because that's what Gray is), and like she always does after she rejects him, she turns the corner with a quick glance back, and like he always is, Gray's leaning against the guild doors with his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed, his bottom lip jutting out just. His arms stick out at strange angles from his body, just looking at him breaks her out in an uncomfortable sweat.
What a lunatic.
(to Juvia, he looks sad... but that's routine, too.)
.
.
.
.
.
Because Juvia isn't safe and if there's one thing Gray Surge is, it's that.
She wears her tops knotted between her breasts, and her nights always end in fuzzed-out buzzed-out making out for a damn reason (a lot of reasons and they add up to a mirror). Juvia has done a lot of stupid things, things she hasn't regretted because she's had no reason to, but Gray Surge—
oh, that clueless lunatic Gray Surge
— is the kind of guy who spends Saturday nights with a car-obsessed best friend despite knowing nothing about engines. He's the kind of guy you'd ask to a dance as a friend to make someone jealous, because he's nice, and he's cute (probably... all she sees is his face, after all) but he's not someone to fall for. He's not a lunatic because he's crazy — no, it's because he's stupid, and that's just a huge waste of time.
Basically, he's the kind of guy she'd fuck on Friday and forget by Sunday.
(well, he would be, if he'd take his fucking clothes off.)
And Juvia doesn't want to spend time on a guy like him,
'cause wouldn't she ruin him, too?
.
.
.
.
.
Okay, okay, there was one night.
But it wasn't a nightnight, it was just another drunken stagger home, and she was just careless when she fell in the water of some muddy-ass river (who put that there? I mean, come on) and after the stabbing cold she kind of blanked out.
But she woke up in a bed laden — and she means like, fucking drowning — in blankets, and Gray Surge was sitting at the end of it with a mug of tea in his hands.
When he saw she'd woken up, he stood up too quickly and spilled half of the cup's contents on himself because his arms were so stiff with fabric — but he just ignored it and handed it to her with a stuttered, "h-here you a— I mean, it's for Juvia-chan."
"Don't call me that." She took the mug. "And it's cold, you imbecile." How long have you been waiting for me to wake up? she really wanted to ask.
And he just grinned at her like he always did, his cheeks red for no damn reason, took the mug and went to brew another.
And Juvia... well, whatever, she thought that was a really stupidly boringly nice thing to do.
(especially after she called him a imbecile; where's his fucking backbone?)
.
.
.
.
.
But Juvia and Gray? Is that a joke?
Of course it is, because that would nevereverever happen. He's too clingy, too easy, too predictable, way too nice, and if you think Juvia needs a man like that, you're just not thinking straight.
(because nothing scares her anymore, and she's scared of seeing more of him.)
Why would she do that to him—
what? no, no, to herself. To herself.
She's the aftermath of a trainwreck, and Gray Surge could do so much better than picking through her dumping ground of fuck-ups. And that's the end of it.
.
.
.
FIN
Labels:
fairy tail,
standalone,
words
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