#....also seriously hope you get the weekend off in its entirety this time that's so not okay that you ended up so ill!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beels-burger-babe · 4 years ago

Text

The Day Out

GN!MC Summary: MC and Solomon spend the day out enjoying the wonders of the Devildom. The problem with this? They never told the seven Lords of Hell that they’d be gone for the day. TW: Torture (Not to the MC or the bros tho), Injuries, Murder (Again, just an unimportant Background Character) When the Wise King Solomon asks you out of nowhere if you would like to spend a day exploring the Devildom with him, some hesitancy is to be expected. We’re talking about an ancient wizard who is notoriously sketchy in every way and who seems to always have some kind of personal agenda that he uses for everything. But the fact in the matter was that you had just survived and grueling two weeks of exams at RAD, and the stress of always being passed around between the demon brothers to partake in their various schemes and problems was really starting to wear on you. So a day out, relaxing, and finally getting to explore Devildom in its entirety, regardless of the company, actually sounded pretty good. Solomon had asked you to meet him outside of the House of Lamentation just before dawn. He stood there now, looking as collected and secretive as ever, with a satchel strapped over his shoulder. “Ready to go and enjoy the company of another human?” “More than ever! What’s with the bag?” The wizard shrugged held out his arm to you. “I thought I might collect a few potion ingredients if I happen to spot any. The Devildom is home to a number of special rarities after all, and it would be horrible not to take advantage of my time down here to collect some of them.” That was fair. You took Solomon’s arm and allowed him to pull you close to his side before the two of you took off onto a trail in the woods.

*** Later that morning Mammon frowned as he approached his human’s room. You hadn’t been at breakfast, and he hadn’t heard from you all morning. This was weird. More than weird, it was worrying. It seemed like ever since you had arrived in the Devildom, the second born had a hard time getting you to leave his side, and sure it was annoying at first, but he had come to appreciate the warm presence that you exuded and found himself feeling strangely cold without you there. He knocked on the door. “MC! Ya gonna missed breakfast! Wake up, ya lazy bones. Just because it’s the weekend, doesn't mean ya get to hold up in ya room all day like Levi!” He smirked at his own insult and waited for your inevitable retort. Instead, he was met with silence. Mammon’s frown made a quick reappearance. “Oi! Don’t go ignoring the Great Mammon! Beel’s gonna eat you’re share and I don’t wanna hear ya complainin’ that you’re hungry all day. Now wake up!” Again, silence. He growled quietly to himself in frustration as a knot of concern began to tighten in his stomach. “MC, open the door and get over here or I’m comin’ myself! This ain’t funny, human!” When he was once again met with no response, the demon cursed under his breath and went to open the door; to his surprise, it was unlocked. He threw the door open and glared inside the room. “That’s it human! Up and at it! I’ll drag ya down to the dining room mysel-” He cut himself off as he noticed the room was empty. “MC?” Mammon looked around, noting your unmade bed and window being propped slightly open. He chuckled worriedly and began to look around a little more frantically. “Ha. Ha. Very funny. What? Ya plannin’ to jump and scare me? Ain’t gonna work, so ya might as well come out now. Seriously, MC. This ain’t funny.” The knot pulled tighter as he realized he was talking to himself. He began to search every nook and cranny of the room, hoping to Diavolo that maybe you were just really dedicated to this prank and was still hiding, but paled as he realized you were nowhere to be found. “Shit!” He cursed aloud and sprinted to the dining room where the rest of the brothers still sat. “MC is missing!” *** You gasped and ran ahead of Solomon as the two of you walked through the forest. You crouched down and looked at a patch of glowing blue mushrooms, eyes wide with awe. “It’s so beautiful,” you gasped and glanced over your shoulder. “I can’t believe I’ve been in the Devildom for nearly a year and never came out here.” Solomon chuckled at your child-like wonder. “The forest can be quite dangerous to those who don’t know what to look out for. For example, those beautiful glowing mushrooms?” he gestured to the fungus in front you, “Those are called the Ardentes Mushrooms. They explode on contact and create a poisonus gas.” You’re eyes widened as you quickly scrambled back from it. “What?! Why didn’t you tell me that before I got close?” The wizard shrugged and put a hand on your waist to pull you close to his side, as he handed you a cloth. “Like you said, you’ve been here for nearly a year and haven’t seen much because those demons have gotten quite protective of you. I thought you might enjoy observing and learning about the wilds of the Devildom. Put the cloth over your mouth and nose, and watch.” You did as instructed. Solomon smirked before putting a cloth mask over his own face. With one hand holding you close to him, a safe distance from the mushrooms, Solomon picked up a long stick and gently poked one of the fungus. With a small poof it quickly became engulfed in azure flames aned small glowing flecks danced and sparkled in the air around you. You held back a gasp from behind the cloth as you watched in amazement, and Solomon simply stood there holding and watching you. *** The Seven Avatars of Sin stood in the lounge anxiously. They had searched the entire House of Lamentation inch by inch and there was no sign of the human that had been entrusted under their protection. Lucifer sighed and leaned against the table. “If they’re not in the manor, we have to consider other possibilities. Has anyone had any luck reaching them?” He looked over at Levi, “Could you potentially trace their D.D.D. if we aren’t able to reach them?” Levi solemnly shook his head and placed the mentioned device on the table. “Found it in their room,” he ran a hand over his face in frustration. “They know better than to go out without their phone! This isn’t like them!” “Maybe they didn’t go willingly.” All attention snapped over to Satan, who was looking at the D.D.D thoughtfully with a hand on his chin. Mammon paled as his hands gripped tightly onto the chair in front of him. “Y-Ya mean ya think someone took them?” The aura in the room darkened as Satan nodded. “Levi’s right. They know better than to leave without one of us and even if they had to, they would at the very least take their D.D.D. They may be reckless sometimes, but they’ve been more careful about their safety ever since-” he paused and glanced at Belphegore before clearing his throat. “But that’s besides the point. Their window was unlocked and open as well. A demon could’ve very easily gotten in through there and took them while we were all asleep.” Asmo let out a dramatic gasp and threw himself onto Beelzebub’s arm. “Oh the poor dear! They must’ve been so frightened being taken advantage of like that!” Beel looked down at Asmodeus both disturbed by his brother’s antics, but also distraught by his words. Belphie rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “But there wasn’t any signs of foul play in the room. No signs of struggle.” Satan hummed in thought. “MC is a human with no particular means of defense. They’re weak enough awake,” a spark of wrath flared behind Satan’s eyes as he clenched his jaw. “I imagine that asleep, they wouldn’t even have the chance to become fully conscious before a demon, even a lesser demon, could knock them out.” Lucifer growled lowly. “We’ll find whoever did this, get MC back, and make the perpetrators responsible for this regret their very existence.” In that moment, the brothers had never appeared more frightening or demonic, as the room filled with eyes glowing with the promise of death, snarls of anger at the knowledge that someone dared to touch what belonged to them. In that moment, they truly were the Lords of the Devildom. Satan grinned a wide, murderous grin, “It seems, for once, we agree, Big Brother.” *** You peacefully continued to gather the flowers and mushrooms that Solomon had pointed out to you and verified were “safe for human contact” as the mid day sun beamed lazily through the tree branches of the forest. You quietly hummed to yourself and glanced occasionally over at Solomon who was collecting some of the more dangerous samples to observe later on. You smiled at the wizard. It wasn’t often you got to see him so relaxed. It seemed like every time you saw him, he was prepared for at least ten different scenarios and was weaving the strings of manipulation before his victim could even blink. But out here, where there were no prying eyes and no other tasks to follow, Solomon looked open and the most human that you’ve ever seen him. “You really like it out here, huh?” He glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow, and made quick work of putting his current sample into a storage bottle. “And how did you come to that conclusion?” You rolled your eyes and went back to picking mushrooms as you spoke. “I just mean that you seem so calm and...loose out here. Like you’ve finally dropped that act that you always put on and are finally allowed to be yourself.” Solomon was silent as he looked at you with a strange glint in his eyes. As after a moment or two, he smirked and chuckled softly as he looked away. “For a human with no magical talents, I have to applaud your skills of observation. I think I can understand how it was you, and only you, that was able to see through the brothers as you have.” You shrugged and attempted to hide the blush dusting over your cheeks. “It’s nothing. I just want to-” You cut yourself off as a low growl fills the air not far from you. You slowly look up to see what appears to be a mix of a bear, a rat, and a skeleton, standing only a few meters from you. It’s beady red eyes were glaring directly at you. Your breath caught in your throat as you froze, “S-Solomon?” “MC, listen very carefully. What’s in front of you is an Iacis Rat. They are extremely hostile, and considering their hibernation period has just ended, I imagine they are very hungry. I need you to back up very slowly and carefully. Avert your eyes, and hunch low to seem unthreatening. Keep it in your peripheral vision,” his voice was low and calm but firm with a sense of urgency. You took a shaky breath and slowly began to do as Solomon instructed. You got five steps in before you heard something snap beneath your foot. The giant rat let out a horrendous roar that you could feel vibrate in your bones as it suddenly swiped at you. Your cry of pain pierced the air as it sliced open your arm and threw you back several feet. Another snap; only this time it was the fragile bones in your other arm breaking, not a stick. You could hear Solomon shouting a series of spells, before he quickly scooped you up and began to run. You whimpered as he picked you up and jostled your arm. “We’ll get that taken care of in a minute MC, for now, we need to run.” You glance over his shoulder and see the rat surrounded by a series of warding walls and swatting at a few crackling balls of arcane energy that prodded at it and flew around its head. The two of you managed to get away. You found yourself sitting on near a cliff, panting heavily as you looked out on a view of all the Devildom, with the sun just beginning to set. It would’ve been beautiful if you weren’t bleeding and in pain. Solomon crouched beside you and inspected the gash on your arm and your broken bones the moment he had deemed that you were both safe once more. After a few silent moments of observation, he had set up a small fire and began to brew some kind of potion. You watched closely as he worked, and within an few, agony filled minutes the wizard was holding out a small cup to you. “I am so sorry you got injured. In all honesty, I had forgotten about the Icais Rats post-hibernation season, and foolishly believed that we would be safe today,” He sighed and shook his head. “Regardless, this potion should heal all the injuries on your person. Though I should warn you, this will hurt...quite a lot actually. You can hold my hand during the process if you’d like.” You took a shaky breath and took his hand into yours. The wizard smiled softly at you and pressed a kiss to your fingers before handing you the potion. “Whenever you’re ready.” You eyed the red liquid in the cup before bringing it to your lips. Before you could change your mind you quickly downed the potion and squeezed tightly onto Solomon’s hand. You tensed waiting for the pain to kick in... but nothing happened. You frowned and looked over at Solomon. “I don’t feel any worse than I did before. Are you sure this thing-” You were cut off as a fiery hot pain suddenly shot down both your arms and your head began to throb. Your loud piercing scream could be heard all throughout the forest as the pain began to overwhelm you. Solomon pulled you into his lap, and held you tightly with one hand as the other ran his fingers through your hair. “I know,” he whispered softly through your screams. “It’ll be over soon. Just a couple minutes. You can do this MC. It’ll be alright.” You sobbed as waves of pain hit you over and over again, until a sudden cool, sweet, numbness began to trickle over you. A gasp escaped from you as you stilled in Solomon’s arms. The wizard chuckled, “Growing back your bones isn’t very fun. I’m sorry you had to go through that. You should be feeling better now.” You looked down at your arms, and sure enough, the gash on your arm was gone with no sign of it having ever existed and the bones in your other arm had mended. You sniffed and wiped away the tears that had begun to appear in your eyes and looked over to Solomon. “Can you take me back to the House now? I think I’d like to take a nap.” He smiled sadly at you. “Of course.” *** A loud agonized scream rang off the walls of the House of Lamentation, causing Belphegore and Satan to grin. Their victim hung by their hands, chained to a wall while they slowly carved into its flesh. “You know neither of us are exactly known for a patience...” Belphie drawled as he slowly brought a claw down across the lower demon’s chest. “So this is your last chance; Tell us where MC is.” The demon sobbed openly as it shook it’s head. “I’m telling you! I don’t know where they are! I swear! Please, let me go! Please, I don’t know anything!” Satan tsked as he polished a knife and approached the demon. “Really? Because I know for a fact that you have been following them around and watching them at RAD lately,” he points the knife against the demon’s throat. “You wanted them, didn’t you? You were figuring out their routine so that you could take them for yourself. Admit it!” The poor demon sobbed even louder as it’s body trembled. “No! I admit, I-I was following them around! But not because I wanted to- to- kidnap them or anything! I swear! I-” the demon’s face turned red, “I find them attractive and I-I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to them! That’s all!” It made eye contact with Satan, it’s expression pained and desperate. “Surely you guys understand that! I-I mean all of you brothers like them, right? That’s why you’re always following them-” The demon didn’t get a chance to finish before Belphegore growled and snapped the demon’s neck. Satan rose an eyebrow at his younger brother, causing Belphie to shrug in response. “He didn’t have anything we needed, and was just babbling. It was annoying.” Satan rolled his eyes and looked back at Lucifer, who stood in the back of the room, going over stacks of papers, maps, and occasionally checking his D.D.D. “Another dead end.” The eldest brother scowled and crossed something out on a piece of paper. “Right. That’s it for possibilities at RAD then. We should start with the list of possible suspects from The Fall and the people Mammon’s indebted to then. They’ll be harder to get a hold of, but some of them would definitely have a strong motive.” Just as he finished, the House doors swung open and Mammon and Levi came marching in with the angels in tow. “We got them,” Mammon stated the obvious as he unnecessarily pushed the two in front of him. “They’d just gotten back from RAD. We haven’t told them anything yet.” Simeon gasped at the sight of the tortured demon still hanging dead on the wall in front of them, and quickly drew Luke against him, hiding the younger angel from the sight. He glared over at Lucifer. “What is the meaning of all of this?” Lucifer ignored the question and frowned when he noticed there was only two out of the three exchange students. “Where’s Solomon?” “Chihuahua says that he’s been gone all day gathering ingredients for some potion. Based off of the stuff missing from his room, and the feed from the security cameras, it checks out,” Levi explained. “Luke is not a chihuahua!” Simeon loudly defended, surprising all the demons in the room, as the little angel hugged himself closer to Simeon. The elder celestial scowled at everyone. “Now will someone please explain to us exactly what is going on and why you all are acting like a bunch of mindless, feral, demons, when we all know you are more intelligent and civilized than that!” Lucifer gave him a flat look as he crossed his arms over his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut of by a hiss of pain as a sharp, agonizing, burn suddenly swiped over his upper right arm. Not too long after, an even stronger twinge filled his entire left arm. A quick look around the room told him that his brothers were feeling the same thing; meaning this could only be one thing: MC was hurt. Mammon snarled as he grabbed the front of Simeon’s robes. “Look, we ain’t got time to mess around. MC’s been taken, and is currently being hurt. That’s all ya need to know. What we need to know is if you got any ideas in that feathery, “holier-than-thou”, brain of yours who might’a took them or where they are! If ya can’t help us, than ya useless, and you can just get the hell outta our way while we actually do something about it!” Simeon’s eyes widened as he felt Luke stiffen against him. The elder angel glanced over Mammon to Lucifer, “MC is missing? For how long?” The second-born growled and harshly shoved the angel away from him. “Did ya not hear anything I just said?! We ain’t got time for stupid questions! Now do ya know where they are or not?!” The angel opened his mouth to speak, when Lucifer’s ring tone suddenly cut him off. The demon quickly snatched it up and put the call on speaker. “Asmo, report. Any sign?” “Beel and I didn’t have any luck downtown, so we were headed back to House. We were passing the woods, when Beel... Beel thinks he’s picked up the scent of MC’s blood. We’re following it now.” Simeon shivered as he felt the demonic power in the room quadruple in strength and could practically feel it’s energy crackling in the air around them. Mammon’s face paled, as the second-born cursed and rushed towards the door. Satan, Leviathan, and Belphegore weren’t far behind him; all four brothers were already shifted into their demon forms. Lucifer’s expression became absolutely murderous as he swung his cloak over his shoulders and moved past the angels to follow his brothers. “Keep track of the scent, and describe to me where you are. We’re all coming to-” Suddenly, all the brothers cried out in shock and pain, some of the younger ones even stumbling from it, as their bodies felt as though they had been filled with white-hot needles. Even more painful, however, was the distant, familiar, scream that could be heard on the other side of the phone call. “Th-that’s MC,” Beel grunted out through the pain. As suddenly as it came, the pain vanished as was replaced with a chilling, numbness that filled the demon’s with dread as the screams also ended. Levi froze and looked around at his brothers. “D-Does that mean...Are they?” Satan swallowed thickly and shook his head, but there was a hint of uncertainty and fear in his eyes. “No. If they were dead, we’d feel the pacts break. We’d know. R-Right, Lucifer?” The first born merely scowled and charged forward, leading the group towards the woods. “Let’s go find Beel and Asmo. We’re getting our human back now.” *** Solomon kept an arm wrapped around you as the two of you slowly made yourr way back down the trail to get home. He watched you carefully, keeping an eye out for any unexpected side-effects of the potion. “You’re sure you’re alright then?” You smiled weakly at him and nodded. “Yeah. Only side effect I’ve noticed is it’s made me quite tired. Other than that, I’m all better now, thanks to you.” You looked out at the trail ahead of you, “I’m sorry our day had to end on such a bad note.” The wizard waved a hand in dismissal. “Non-sense. It wasn’t something neither of us could control. Though perhaps I should’ve been more cautious before taking you out here,” he chuckled in thought. “Imagine what the brothers would say if I returned you beaten and broken from a giant rat attack.” You laughed and shook your head. “I doubt Lucifer would let me leave the House again! If I got hurt, it would be damaging to the program after all.” Solomon frowned at your words. “Do you truly think that is the only reason why he, or any of the others for that matter, would care if you get injured?” You shrugged and notably avoided the wizard’s gaze. “What other reason would they have for caring for me? Their the Demon Lords of the Devildom. I’m just MC. A defenseless human with no magical powers and nothing that makes them special.” Solomon stopped walking and grabbed you by the shoulders. He looked down at you with his stern silver eyes as though he was attempting to see straight into your soul. “You are MC. A descendent of the Angel Lilith, Master of all seven of the Avatars of Sin, and one of the kindest most observant individuals I have ever had the great fortune of knowing. You are not just some defenseless human, MC. You are special; and I know the brothers see that too.” You’re heart fluttered in your chest at his words, as a light warmth filled your chest. You opened your mouth to respond, when suddenly the calm forest air was filled with the sound of the Icais Rat’s roar and several battle cries. The two of you frowned and glanced at each other before cautiously making your way towards the commotion. There, in the middle of the same field you had been attacked in earlier, was all seven of the demon brothers, decked out in their demon forms, as they viciously brutalized the wild beast, that looked as though it had been killed within the first hit. Your eyes widened at the sight as you took several panicked steps closer to them. “Woah! Guys! Stop! What are you doing?!” You flinched back as you were suddenly being looked at by seven sets of manic eyes gleaming with danger. Solomon came up behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder, he began to quietly whisper the beginning of a protection incantation. You gulped and held up your hands defensively. “Easy boys. It’s just me. It’s MC.” Asmodeus was the first one to fall out of whatever daze the brothers all seemed to be under. His demon form instantly dropped as tears lined his eyes. “MC!!!” He sprinted over to you and was about to pounce, but found himself smacking into an invisible wall as Solomon threw his hand up. The demon rubbed his nose and gaped over at the wizard in shock and betrayal. “Solomon?! You’re the one that took MC?!” The vicious hue that surrounded the brothers while they were attacking quickly returned as they set their sights on the wizard. Lucifer growled, his eyes remaining fixed on the hand that the wizard kept on your shoulder. “I knew we couldn’t trust him. Solomon, we demand that you let MC go, now.” Your eyes widened as the demons began to surround you in a notably offensive position. You could feel Solomon’s hand tighten on your shoulder as he glared at them. “Not until you all calm down enough, that I feel that I can lower these protective walls without MC being maimed to death.” Levi squawked in offense. “Us hurt them?! You’re the one that kidnapped and tortured them!!!” “Wait what?!” You and Solomon exclaimed in sync. You shoved Solomon’s hand off your shoulder and stood between the wizard and the demons. “Alright, everyone calm down for a minute. I think there’s been a big misunderstanding. Why do you think that Solomon kidnapped and tortured me? That’s insane!” Satan eyed you analytically. “He’s probably given them a potion to manipulate their memories to make them think they’ve come willingly and have them be more submissive,” a few growls filled the air from the statement. Mammon moved as close to you as he could with the invisible wall still up, and looked at you desperately. “MC, you’ve been drugged. But we’re gonna get ya home! Solomon broke in through your window this mornin’ and took ya from us. We know that he’s hurt ya, but we’re not gonna let him hurt ya any more,” his eyes hardened as they shifted to Solomon. “That’s a promise.” Solomon sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t do any of that! Earlier this week, I invited MC to accompany me today as I gathered ingredients to give them a chance to see more of the Devildom. They agreed and came with me this morning.” You nodded and held up a bag of mushrooms as proof. “Exactly. We’ve just been out here exploring the woods all day. That’s all.” Belphegore raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Then how come you didn’t tell us, or leave a note? Why was your window open and your phone left behind?” You’re eyes widened as you felt your stomach drop in realization. “Oh, boys, I am so sorry. I completely forgot! We left so early that I was a bit out of it, and I must have forgotten to make a note. I figured there wouldn’t be any reception in the woods, and I had Solomon there with me for protection, so I didn’t take my phone. I promise this really is just a misunderstanding.” Belphie’s eyes narrowed, clearly still not fully buying the story. “And the window?” You chuckled and scratched the back of your neck. “It was hot last night. I opened it too cool off. I must have forgotten to close it too,” you could feel guilt course through your heart as the brothers all glanced at each other with caution and uncertainty. “I’m really sorry guys. I promise I’m okay. Really!” Beel growled lowly as he moved closer to you. “Then what about the blood that we found in the woods? What about the pain we felt you go through? I know that was real! You were hurt MC! Solomon hurt you!” his voice dropped dangerously low on the last line as his eyes began to glow once more and he punched the invisible wall; trying to break it down by sheer force to get to you. You flinched back, as you realized just how bad this must have seemed to all of them. “We weren’t careful, and we were surprised by that Iacis Rat that you found. It scratched my arm and threw me causing me to break my other arm. Once we got away, Solomon gave me a healing potion, that unfortunately has a pretty painful process,” you looked at Beel sympathetically. “I’m alright, see?” you moved your arms around, and took off your coat to show the undamaged skin on your arms. “No injuries. Just a plain, old, healthy, MC.” You sighed and looked over at the others. “I am so so sorry for worrying you all. I swear I didn’t mean to. If I get Solomon to lower the wall so that I can hug you, do you promise not to attack him?” There was a notable hesitance in their response as they eyed the two of you and seemed to exchange a silent conversation between one another, before one by one, they all dropped their demon forms. Taking that as confirmation, Solomon dropped the warding walls, and within moments you were engulfed by the arms of six of the brothers. “Stupid human” Mammon grumbled and he held you tightly to his chest, “What were ya thinkin’?” “Don’t ever pull that normie crap again, okay?” Levi nuzzled his face into your hair, blushing deeply. “I-I missed a raid because of you!” “You’re not allowed to do stuff like that. You had Beel all upset. You know I don’t like it when Beel’s upset.” Belphie muttered, causing Beel to wrap his arms around the group of you tighter. “You really had us all worried MC,” the gentle giant whispered. “We...We thought you had gotten killed or something. Thought that we lost you.” “Urgh! All this stress has been terrible for my skin!” Asmodeus complained as he pulled away from the group hug. “You owe me a full spa day, darling. I don’t wait want to hear any arguing about it either, because it’s happening. It’s the least you can do after everything you put us through.” Satan pulled away in front of you and frowned as he flicked your nose, like an owner would to a misbehaving dog. “Your actions today were reckless. You know the dangers of the Devildom. You should’ve told us where you were going and took your D.D.D with you. Do I need to remind you of just how wrong today could’ve gone even with Solomon by your side?” Lucifer, standing away from you looked down at you with a carefully drafted gaze of indifference. “We’ll need to make sure that what happened today does not happen again, and ensure that you don’t ‘forget’ basic Devildom safety once more. There will be consequences that we will discuss once we get home. Am I clear?” Strong waves of guilt, shame, and regret washed over you as each of the brothers spoke. You shivered at Lucifer’s words, and his tone which promised that these consequences would not be pleasant, and nodded in response. “Good. Let’s get you back home then, shall we?” As you were to be lead back down the forest path in Levi, Mammon, and Beel’s arms, you glanced over your shoulder and waved at a notably concerned Solomon. “Bye Solomon! Thanks for taking me out today. Next time, we’ll both make the proper preparations and have an even better day, yeah?” Solomon smiled softly at you and nodded. “That’d be lovely MC. It was great being able to spend the day with just the two of us.” The moment you weren’t looking, the brothers all snapped their glares back at Solomon, causing the wizard to flinch back. The message was clear: he would not be taking you for a day out ever again. ***This was meant to be just a funny little drabble, but I accidentally went a teeny bit serious with it...woops. Oh well, hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Love, B 🐝***

981 notes · View notes

arigatouiris · 5 years ago

Text

never too late // bakugou katsuki

Author’s Note: I’m a Bakuhoe and it is so evident ughhh. So I’d been to Hong Kong earlier this year and I visited Ocean Park and fell in love with the place! It’s the amusement part I’ve based off of for this one-shot. I personally think Theme Park AUs should be a thing, you know? I don’t personally know how things work, so I just made things up here. Hope ya’ll like this!

Word count: 5480 (omg words just spilled oops)

Pairing: Theme Park AU! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: slow burn, pining, some angst if you squint, fluff

❝

As soon as you wore your uniform and stepped out of the locker room, you heard a scream.

“Help me! Somebody help me!”

You were late to work that day. You came in an hour late (a very reasonable excuse, if you had to say so yourself). You blinked before trying to find the source of the scream, scanning your eyes amongst the crowd of children and grown-ups in front of the queue leading to the aquarium. You sighed before walking over to a small child, whose hands were being held by his father, you presumed, and crouched down with a smile.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

The child looked at you and blinked before saying, “He isn’t buying me ice-cream!”

His father shot you an apologetic look, which you returned warmly.

“Maybe, you can get ice-cream after the aquarium visit? The fish aren’t allowed to have ice-cream, they’ll get jealous!”

The little boy’s eyes widened, before looking at his dad, who shot him a heartwarming smile. As the boy cheered, you bowed and made your way into the aquarium.

You were incredibly happy with your life and your job—but after a certain incident, you were demoted. You were once a part of the dolphin crew—the best job, according to you, in Ocean World. You sighed as you thought about the dolphins and seals you were working with, you missed them and though it wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to visit them, not working with them in those little skits broke your heart.

Stupid Mineta, you thought before grumbling and heading to your current post. Well, at least he lost his job or fucking quit, I’ve no clue, you thought.

You were currently in charge of the aquarium section—answering queries, if any, watching over the bigger fish, ensuring the tanks were clean and managing the crowds too. It wasn’t much on most days, but during weekends, it was jam-packed. You used to be one of the lead performers in the Ocean World’s dolphin and seal act—alongside the one and only Tsuyu Asui. Thanks to a little grabbing and slapping incident involving a regular pervert, Mineta (who was most probably fired or forced to resign, either one), you were asked very kindly to shift departments.

While the entire ordeal was unfair, there was little you could do. You were given the hope that when things died down (you did not know what this meant), you could return. The best part about working in Ocean World was that you knew almost everyone who worked there.

The head of the aquarium department was Midoriya Izuku, a close friend of yours from when you were in school. His knowledge of aquatic animals and plants was tenfold, there was no one who knew better than him. He was kind and stern when he had to be, and children adored him. The aquarium was large and the departments that were connected to it were—the Koala reserve, the Panda reserve, and the reptile section.

Your good friends Jirou Kyouka and Yaoyarozu Momo worked in the Koala reserve, with Momo being a ranger herself. The Panda reserve had Kaminari Denki and Uraraka Ochako working there, and Uraraka was someone you constantly met with to share hot gossip, even when you were working with the dolphins and seals. The reptile section was headed by Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eirjiro, but there was a slight problem there.

Bakugou Katsuki did not like you.

And it wasn’t as if you hid your dislike for him, either.

Kirishima was often struck in the middle amongst your bickering but rarely said a word because only often does he get to enjoy two of his friends fight about the silliest things like water bottles or broken plastic chairs.

It wasn’t as if you hated one another, no; Bakugou and you shared a weird relationship. You’ve known Bakugou for as long as you’ve known Izuku, and you could even call yourselves friends. But, the deal was very simple.

There was a point in your life when you had a large crush on him, and there was a point in his life when he knew about it. However, there was no confession and there was no rejection—things were left floating in the air until those feelings evaporated in its entirety. You two now shared a weird kinship, bickering all the time but not letting it get too far if the other had a problem.

When you were working with Asui, you rarely got to see Bakugou. The man never ate with the others, stuck to working all the damn time, and barely ever hung out after. He had a schedule he stuck to like nothing else—and this was perhaps why his only friend was Kirishima and sometimes, Midoriya tried to talk to him as well.

“(y/n)-chan!” Izuku whisper-yelled as soon as he spotted you.

He was standing in front of the tank that contained sawfish. You blinked before walking over to him, wondering what the whisper-yelling was about.

“Izuku-kun? What’s wrong—”

“It’s Kacchan.”

You hated that the situation began with ‘It’s Kacchan’ like it was a problem you had to deal with. You didn’t want to, but despite everything, Izuku was still your friend and it meant dealing with his friends from time to time as well.

Groaning, “What’s wrong this time?”

“The boys were getting beer last night and somehow Kacchan joined us, maybe Kirishima-kun forced him to, I don’t know... So, things got... Things got a bit—”

“Excuse me, miss?”

You turned around to spot a lone parent with a worried expression.

“Yes?”

“I can’t seem to find my daughter... I’m worried, she doesn’t have a phone on her, can you—”

Your eyes widened, “Do you have a picture of her, ma’am? We’ll get on it right away. Izuku-kun, can you announce her name on the loudspeaker?”

Midoriya paused instantly and nodded, “Of course! Ma’am, please give us a picture of your daughter?”

“She’s 7 years old... She’s deathly afraid of water, I wanted to bring her here to show her that it isn’t all that bad! I didn’t think she’d run away—”

“Ma’am, I’m sure she’s fine. This is a big place, but we will find her. Rest assured. What’s her name?”

“Mimi. Ito Mimi.”

You nodded once before taking the picture from the mother and showing it to Izuku. Midoriya ran off to the mic station to make an announcement, and you started to look around inside. You instantly posted a message of Mimi’s picture and name in the Ocean World group on WhatsApp.

Me: 𝙽𝚊𝚔𝚘𝚞 𝙼𝚒𝚖𝚒. ��𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍. 𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝. 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚖, 𝚜𝚊𝚠𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝! 〣( ºΔº )〣

Ocha-chan: 𝙾𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜! 𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚠𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )

Eijirou-kun: 𝙽𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 (╥_╥)

Kyou-chan: 𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 ┐(︶▽︶)┌

Eirjirou-kun: 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚢! 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 ヽ(`⌒´メ)ノ

Me: 𝙶𝚞𝚢𝚜... (￢_￢)

Kyou-chan: 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, (𝚢/𝚗) (シ_ _)シ

Eijirou-kun: 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝! (￣^￣)ゞ

You sighed before holding your phone in your hand and scanning each and every child’s face in the aquarium. A second later, Izuku’s voice was heard on the loudspeaker, announcing Mimi’s name and asking her to stay put wherever she is. He even stated that she should try and find someone wearing the Ocean World uniform and ask them to bring her to the Aquarium entrance.

A second later, your phone buzzed.

Your eyes narrowed when you noticed it was Bakugou who was calling you.

“I really don’t have time for—”

“Shut up, idiot. The kid’s here with me. She’s fucking crying and I don’t know what to do.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“Are you fucking slow or something? The kid’s with me—”

“Bakugou! What did you do? Did you make her cry?”

You couldn’t understand. Kirishima said there was no kid in the reptile section. But, where was Bakugou?

“Wait, where are you?”

You could hear him groan on the other end, “I’m near the amusement park. Outside the roller coaster.”

“What are you doing there?”

“Shut up and come get her.”

You let out a long sigh. Ocean World was large—it was the largest theme park in the entire country. Since half of the park was situated literally on top of a mountain, the park is separated by a large mountain into two areas, The Summit (Headland) and The Waterfront (Lowland). To get to the amusement park, you had to move from the Lowland to the Headland—and you can only do so by using a cable car (which takes close to 20 minutes on its own).

“Seriously, Bakugou,” You said, right before he hung up, “Is everything okay with you?”

You didn’t hear him curse, which was new. You heard him breathe on the other end and say not a word.

“Bakugou—”

“(y/n), just come get the girl. She’s scared and has no idea how she got here.”

You nodded once before ending the call. You wanted to drop a message on the group saying the girl has been found, but you decided you’d do so after seeing the girl first. You quickly rushed to Midoriya and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Quickly tell me what’s up with Bakugou in like, 30 seconds.”

Izuku blinked, “We were drinking last night and we spoke a lot about you and Kacchan, not intentionally, but it just came up about how you two could have dated in school but didn’t and—”

“Oh my god, Izuku-kun, I will kill you—”

“But, Kacchan was quiet during the whole thing! I haven’t ever seen him so quiet before! It was strange... As if he was regretting something. Also, he called me Midoriya after and not Deku—”

“So weird.” You said, scrunching your eyebrows.

“Weird, indeed. But, it was Kaminari-kun who brought it up. Anyway, when Kirishima-kun asked Kacchan if he liked you back, he just up and left. We haven’t seen him since. He apparently took a day off today, too.”

A day off? You blinked. But, he just called me!

“Uh, okay. So, I think I know where Mimi-chan is, so I’m going to head there now, okay? We’ll talk about Bakugou after!”

“There really isn’t anything more to talk about, considering how he knew you liked him back then—”

“The entire school knew, Izuku-kun, I’m over it.”

“He just looked really depressed about it, that’s all. It’s like, the second your name was mentioned, Kacchan wasn’t Kacchan anymore.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the mere thought. Nodding, you shot a personal message to Bakugou saying you were going to catch a cable car there and asked him not to move.

Bakugou: 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢.

Me: 𝙸𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐? (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

Bakugou: 𝙽𝚘, 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚍.

You giggled before rushing to the cable car section. Of course, he doesn’t use emojis.

You were glad it was a weekday, which meant the cable cars were free and you could literally hop on one before heading up to the Headland. Sighing, you sat inside the cable car and waited, wondering about Bakugou the entire time.

It was all true. You could have told Bakugou you liked him back then but chose not to. You didn’t know why, but some part of you wanted to get over him and not face rejection. There were many signs that showed he had an interest in you as well, but you assumed it was mainly because he knew you just as much as he knew Izuku. You got over your crush in less than a year—you even dated Monoma after that for a whole year! And after that ended badly, you decided you’d not date anyone in your close circle.

But, each time you did think of Bakugou, you felt sad. Almost as if you let something go—you barely knew him too well when you liked him, but there were things about him that were so attractive. He was focused and had his way with the reptiles. You’ve watched him with them, he wasn’t his usual loud and abrasive self. He cared for the reptiles and treated them all like children, despite reptiles being hated by so many for being physically repulsive. You wouldn’t deny it, you hated reptiles before Bakugou explained them to you.

They’re just misunderstood, he’d say.

You gulped when you thought of how you could apply his words for him as well. For the most part, Bakugou was misunderstood, and it was no fault of his. He was loud, true, and could be intimidating, for sure—but, he was kind and you had seen it and experienced it first hand.

Now, when you came to think of it, you couldn’t see why you never told him. And to think he knew about it—that shocked you more. He knew you liked him, and never told him, you only wondered what he thought of you.

Did he wonder why you never told him?

Did he... you gulped, Did he also...?

You shook your head before thinking of such things.

On reaching the Headland, you sighed before looking down at the 10-minute walk to the amusement park. You shot Bakugou a message saying you’d reached the Headland, asking him about his whereabouts.

Bakugou: 𝚂𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

Me: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜! (￢‿￢ )

Bakugou: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎.

You froze.

Your fingers were itching to type something in response to that, but you shoved your phone inside your pocket and made your way to the amusement park. You knew the entire theme park like the back of your hand, so what would normally take you 10 minutes, took you 4. You weren’t sprinting, but you were eager to see Bakugou more than ever before.

He wasn’t working, which meant he would have to be in civilian clothes. He walked out of a party or whatever it was, without saying a word—very unlike him to call Midoriya as Midoriya and not Deku, and it was very, very odd for Bakugou to say what he had just said.

For some strange reason, your heart was beating very fast. Suddenly, it felt like you had two hearts palpitating instead of one—your nervousness was profound.

It had been years since you had seen Bakugou alone without anyone else. It was a strange thing to think about when you were going to meet him alone, but it shocked you, too. You hadn’t been alone with Bakugou in more than 8 years almost, you were always with your friends or he was with Kirishima.

And the last time you were alone, you had a huge, huge, huge crush on him.

You spotted Bakugou sitting across a small child with brown hair. You sighed in relief when your eyes landed on him, but a second later, his eyes met yours—almost as if he knew you were there. You froze where you stood; suddenly, Bakugou was a remedy for heart palpitations. Or he made them worse. You couldn’t tell.

You walked over there and double-checked if the girl was the missing Mimi. It was.

“Mimi-chan,” you voiced, your heart still beating frantically, “Your mother is looking everywhere for you! She was so worried. What happened?”

“I wanted to see the cable cars...” She said, guiltily.

You sighed before placing a calm hand on her shoulder.

“Once you’re finished with your food, let’s go to your mother?”

She nodded happily and pointed to Bakugou, who was quietly sitting across her.

“Baku-san’s very nice! He bought me popcorn and cotton candy!”

You looked to Baku-san with amused eyes, “Baku-san sure is something else, isn’t he?”

Bakugou blushed with embarrassment, a very evident frown on his face.

“Baku-san’s the best!” Mimi exclaimed, causing you to giggle.

“He sure is—”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, you stupid extras!”

A second later, you shot a text to Izuku saying the girl was found. Midoriya instantly called you.

“She’s fine, Izuku-kun. Is her mother there with you?”

“Can you stay put there? Her mother and I are coming to you.”

You blinked, turning to Bakugou, “Uh, I can bring her to you—” Bakugou’s hand grabbed your wrist, shocking you to stillness.

“Stay here.”

Your eyes widened at his words, such a confusing change of behavior. You blinked twice before trying to figure out what to do.

“Alright, Izuku-kun. I’ll be here. We’re at the roller coaster food trailer.”

“Okay!”

Once the call was done, you turned to Bakugou with a scowl. You wanted an explanation. You pulled her hand away from his grasp before turning to Mimi, who was concentrating on her food. Plopping beside Bakugou, whose facial expression was currently null, you hit him across his arm.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You never swore, but on the rare occasions that you did, Bakugou was always amused. You heard him chuckle. You hit him across his arm again.

“You’re not acting yourself, Bakugou! What is going on?”

It wasn’t like him to beat around the bush. Bakugou’s firecracker personality didn’t make a lot of people like him, but that was the one thing you admired. Sure, the two of your relationship dwindled after school but that didn’t mean you hated him. You two drifted apart, and that was as natural as anything else.

“Why are you so fucking annoying, (y/n)?” He asked, not looking at you.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You...” He shook his head, trying to find the right words, “You fucked things up.”

Your heart fell at his words. Fucked things up? What did he even mean?

“What did I even do? You aren’t being clear here—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You barely heard him but you managed to understand what he said.

“Tell you... what?”

Bakugou turned to look at you with a ‘really?’ expression. His red eyes were literally piercing into your soul. You had to gulp before even trying to answer.

“Oh...”

He chuckled before turning away, “Yeah.”

You two sat there, not saying a word. Your heart was beating so fast, you could feel the blood rushing to your ears.

“But, why does that matter now? I mean, it’s been 8 years, Bakugou...”

“And not once in these 8 years did you think I deserved to know?” Bakugou asked, and you had no idea why his words pierced you.

You almost winced at the way his words sounded. He was stoic, but it was unusual.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. It seemed like you hated me. It seemed like you hated everyone. I couldn’t approach you—”

“I didn’t fucking hate you, (y/n). Fuck, I...” He cursed under his breath, “I really thought you of all people knew me better.”

Your eyes widened and you turned to look at him avoiding your gaze. Your hand reached out to his, but he pulled his hand away before you could even graze your fingers against him.

“Bakugou—”

He turned to the girl, Mimi, who had finished eating by then.

“You done, kid?”

She nodded happily before Bakugou stood up.

“I’m going to the roller coaster. When you’re done handing her over, come see me,” He turned to you before deadpanning at you, “We’re not done talking.”

You nodded. It was so unlike him, but you knew you had to get things over with. It was 8 years overdue.

“Why did you take a leave today—”

Bakugou was already several feet away. You sighed before turning to the girl and smiling. A few minutes later, Midoriya and her mother came over. Mimi hugged her mother before waving goodbye at you and Izuku. You sighed for the thousandth time, before turning to Izuku.

“Say, Izuku-kun,” You struggled to find the right words, “Do you think I should have told Bakugou about liking him?”

Izuku hummed, “I think if you have a crush on someone, they deserve to know. I mean... I’d have felt bad if Uraraka-san never told me that she liked me. She did and it didn’t work out after, but I’m glad she was honest.”

You stayed quiet. “Do you think Bakugou feels bad I was never honest with him?”

“Anyone would, really. But, if you ask me,” Izuku looked at you with a calm smile, “I think Kacchan is hurt not because you weren’t honest with him. Everyone knows he struggles with expressing his own emotions. He won’t hold it against someone for struggling in the same way.”

You blinked, what Izuku said made sense. But, then why was Bakugou hurt?

“Then why is he...?”

Oh.

Izuku chuckled, “I think you know the answer, (y/n)-chan.”

You could barely breathe. There was more than one type of guilt. You might do something horrible that you later regretted. But you could also feel guilty for something you'd not done. By not telling Bakugou you liked him, you robbed him of a chance to respond; you robbed him of a chance for a confession, you knew he could have done so himself if he wanted to, but that was something you knew now, and not before. You robbed Bakugou a chance of experiencing something for the first time, and you robbed him of a chance to grow up not wondering, ‘Am I not worth liking?’

Oh God, you thought, feeling fresh tears strike your eyes. What if he thinks...?

What if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it?

What if he spent all these years thinking he doesn’t deserve it?

You brought a shaky hand to your mouth before turning to Izuku. He merely smiled at you, patting your shoulder twice.

“Don’t overthink it,” He suggested, “Kacchan’s a lot more complex than people give him credit for.”

You knew all this. You knew how he was always misunderstood. You urged people to give him a chance, despite pretending all this while to hate him. You were aware that he had difficulty expressing his emotions, but you also knew that didn’t mean he didn’t have emotions, to begin with.

If Bakugou knew you liked him and did everything you could to get over him, if he knew just this fact and especially if it didn’t come from you, then he must believe that you hated it the whole time.

You needed to rectify this. You needed to let him know that you didn’t tell him because you were scared. You needed to tell him that he’s worthy of those feelings, that he has nothing on him that can even be considered repulsive. You knew of his internal struggles, you knew how hard he worked, even in college. You knew he was focused, driven, arrogant—only because he wanted to be a better person, a better adult, a better human being.

And you had denied him, despite knowing it all, of a chance to grow romantically.

You could still argue on why Bakugou never confessed to you if he liked you back. But, the problem was a lot bigger than just him liking you back or not. The problem was you never having told him yourself. The problem was him believing you didn’t want to.

“Izuku-kun, can you ask someone to take over for me?” You were glad you were wearing a tank top underneath the Ocean World uniform.

Midoriya’s eyes widened as you handed him your uniform.

“W-Where—”

“Just take this and put it in my locker. You know my combination, right?”

Izuku nodded, “Yeah—”

“I need to rectify something I should have done 8 years ago, Izuku-kun, so, please. Do me this favor, okay?”

Izuku nodded before smiling at you. You loved this boy, he was just so precious. You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, earning a chuckle from him.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Oh, yeah.”

As soon as Izuku walked away, you turned to the roller coaster and rushed over there. You spotted Bakugou, using his phone, leaning against the counter. The roller coaster was apparently the scariest rollercoaster in all of Asia. While you hated rollercoasters with your life, you also knew Bakugou loved them. He loved anything that involved adrenaline, so you had something in mind.

“Baku-san!” You teased, before making Bakugou scowl at you.

“Don’t call me that, idiot.”

“Don’t call me idiot, idiot.”

You grabbed his hand before leading him to the ticket counter. Bakugou’s eyes widened before you rushed to the rollercoaster’s waiting line. You two worked there, you didn’t need tickets.

“What the fuck—Hey! I thought you hated—”

“Oh, yeah, I hate them. I might grab on to your hand and squeeze the life out of them so, just take it.”

Bakugou blinked before being violently pulled into the rollercoaster’s first car. You gulped before feeling your entire body tremble, grasping Bakugou’s hand as tightly as you could.

“(y/n), you’re literally shaking.”

“Shut up. If we’re dying, at least we’re dying together.”

You heard him chuckle once just as the rollercoaster began to move. You squeaked before tightening your grip against his hand, only to have Bakugou hold your hand in return. You wanted to appreciate this gesture, but you were scared shitless. Just as the coaster moved, you screamed—you screamed, screamed and screamed some more—before you stopped screaming.

“Oi—”

You were about to faint.

“(y/n)—”

“We are so dead—”

A minute of death later, the rollercoaster stopped. Bakugou helped you out, pulling you to a standing position. Your hands, legs and your lips were quivering, causing Bakugou to fall into a fit of laughter. You knew the adrenaline made him laugh and not to mention, your scared face.

“S-stop l-laughing, I-I was r-really—”

“Why did you do it?”

You looked him straight in the eye and frowned. Your frown deepened when you noticed his smirk increase.

“Let’s go. I want to see the dolphins,”

Bakugou looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“I really like dolphins. I especially miss Kiro and Soma, they were lovely. Not to mention, Tama the seal. She’s adorable! Did you know she loves mackerel the most? I mean—”

“(y/n), you’re nervous.”

You shook your head, “I mean, Tama’s the nicest seal too! She loves when you put her in those cute little—”

“You definitely are. You talk a lot when you’re nervous.”

You could feel your heartbeat in literally every part of your body. You didn’t know why.

“No, I don’t. I was just talking to you about—”

“Do I make you nervous?” You could practically hear the smirk from Bakugou at this point.

“No. I’m not nervous, Bakugou.”

“You’re trembling.”

You hated how perceptive this douchebag was.

“I’m cold and I almost just died.”

Bakugou laughed before noticing your hands were still connected. He didn’t say a word and walked ahead, your linked hands still linked. You tightened your grasp, looking over to him and blinking a few times, expecting some response. When you felt him tighten his grasp as well, your heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

When you reached the open auditorium where the dolphin show was happening, you noticed Tsuyu and your temporary replacement, Iida Tenya, perform a different skit. You smiled when you saw your animal friends, your hands still linked with Bakugou’s.

“Bakugou?”

When you didn’t hear him say anything, you assumed it was safe to talk.

“Can I call you Katsuki?”

He turned to look at you once, before nodding. He noticed how you weren’t meeting his gaze, and he knew he had to say something before things escalated.

“Listen, you don’t have to do this shit just because—”

“Just because of what? I see what I did wrong, and I... I regret it.”

“(y/n)...”

You turned to him now with pleading eyes, “No! I have to do this—”

“This isn’t the time or place for—”

“Then take me somewhere you want to, wherever you think is appropriate. If I don’t do this now, I... I’ll live with regret all over again, and I don’t want to do that. Katsuki,” You didn’t notice how his face reddened when you called him that, “I was so wrong in not telling you how I felt. I was so wrong, I wish I could go back in time and tell you back then how much I—”

“(y/n), I’m in love with you,” Katsuki said, with a straight face.

Your eyes widened.

“Have been. For years. It sounds like a fuck-all cliche, but it’s a fucking pain. And when I got to know you liked me back in school, I knew I should have fucking said something. But, I’m like this,” he gestured to himself, “And you’re you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Bakugou groaned, “It means, we’re not compatible.”

“And who made that fucked up assertion?”

Bakugou tried to let go of your hand, but you held on tighter than ever before.

“For the last time, Katsuki, tell me what the fuck is on your mind or I swear to fucking hell I’ll never know.”

Katsuki took a moment. He was frowning at you, but you knew it wasn’t at you but at the thoughts, he was currently having. He took a deep breath before composing himself.

“I can’t give you what you want,” He brushed a hand through his hair and, “I’m not... I’m not boyfriend-material. I can’t be nice, I can’t be romantic for shit, I can’t surprise you, I can’t compliment you, I can’t—”

“And all of those things, you did today. In a single day.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened.

“What?”

You nodded, “You can’t be nice? You bought a random little girl some food and made sure she stopped crying to the best of your abilities. Boom, next. Can’t be romantic? You held my hand all through the rollercoaster ride despite finding it hilarious. Boom, next. You can’t surprise me? You gave me a hell of a shocker by even saying you’re in love with me and practically everything you did today is a goddamn surprise, so boom! Next,”

You stepped closer to Bakugou, your hands still in his. You noticed his grasp on your fingers was loose, and you used this opportunity to play with his hands.

“You can’t compliment me? You told me you love me, Katsuki. That’s the biggest compliment anyone can ever give me.”

Katsuki just stared at you, blankly.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

You giggled before leaning down and placing your forehead on his chest. Bakugou’s hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, and he leaned against the pillar by which he was standing.

Suddenly, a thought entered your head. Leaning back, you looked at Bakugou with a confused expression.

“What?”

“Do you have anything to do with Mineta quitting?”

Katsuki scoffed. He didn’t say a word and just leaned back, eyes closed. You quietly placed your forehead back on his chest and sighed, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“I guess I have my answer.”

A few minutes later, you led Bakugou out of the open auditorium, hands still connected.

“Katsuki,” He didn’t say anything. “So, you love me? Like, love me love me?”

You could practically see how the cringe form in his face, making your smile grow in response.

“I take it back.” He snapped, grumbling.

You giggled before leaning closer to him, hands still connected, “No.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, “No, I can’t take it back or no, you don’t... You don’t feel...?”

He felt like an idiot even saying it. He could feel something sink inside of him. He guessed it was his dignity. He placed his hand to cover his jaw, in an attempt to cover the redness in his face.

Your fingers wrap around his fingers and you pull his hands from his jaw so he can look at you, or you guessed, so you can look at him.

“No, you can’t take it back, silly.” You said in a voice so deep and warm and full of things that Bakugou couldn’t get mad anymore.

This has to be what people mean when they say they “melted.” Bakugou would never admit he felt this way.

Bakugou gulped. He couldn’t look away from your amused expression. Your eyes were so deep and warm at the same time, just looking at him and nothing else. Right then, Katsuki wondered how could a person’s eyes be so ridiculously gorgeous and enchanting and so full of things he desperately wanted to know.

“So, what’s your answer?” He almost whispered, afraid he might screw it all up.

Those eyes of yours widen a little bit. You hold your breath. You lean forward, standing on your tip-toes, feeling the confidence come from who knows where and fan your lips over his.

“I like you, Katsuki,” you say and close the gap instantly.

❞

586 notes · View notes

airis-paris14 · 4 years ago

Text

Human Nature Part 5

Summary: T’Challa has a secret but he’s tired of loving her in secret.

Warnings: None

A/N: Only one more part to go. Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list. I’m also working on a complete master list of all of my works so be on the lookout for that soon. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Looking out, across the morning

The city's heart begins to beat

Reaching out, I touch her shoulder

I'm dreaming of the street

-Michael Jackson “Human Nature”

T’Challa Udaku was madly and blissfully in love. He’d never felt anything like this and he knew that if Naomi were to leave him, he would never find anything like it again. Which is why he was staring at his reflection in a mirror, his fingers running over the fabric of his button-up. M’baku and the other groomsmen had left to check on the venue a few minutes ago. He knew they had gone because he probably looked like a nervous wreck pacing the floor of the hotel penthouse, but he didn’t care. He was grateful for the peace. He shouldn’t have been nervous. He and Naomi were already married. They had done the hard part. They’d already said their ‘I dos”. The church was just for show, but it seemed like his stomach had missed that piece of information. A block away from this room he knew that Naomi was in her room, probably pulling on her wedding dress as he spoke.

Of course, he hadn’t seen it yet. She had made sure to hide any and all information about her attire from her husband. She and Shuri went as far as to encrypt her purchase information in the palace’s internet server so that he couldn’t find out where she bought the dress from or who made it. T’Challa laughed at the memory. He’d spent hours trying to guess her password. He and Shuri knew that he could have hacked the information if he really tried, but he knew that the dress was something Naomi wanted to surprise him with so he left the information password protected. The king stared at the midday sun over the Mississippi River. He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was almost time to leave. He took another glance at himself in the mirror and smiled. Today was the day that Naomi would no longer be a secret, she would be made his wife in the eyes of the world.

“T’Challa, it is time my friend,” M’baku’s voice boomed through the door. With a final look in the mirror, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed out of the room.

A block away at the Roosevelt hotel, Naomi Udaku was losing her breakfast and it was not because she was nervous. Not that nerves weren’t contributing to this bout of sickness, they definitely were. Hunched over the toilet, she knew that one of the best decisions she had ever made was having her hair pulled back into a sleek bun for her wedding. She reminded herself to thank Beyonce for the suggestion. “That’s it, let it all out” Gabrielle rubbed her friends back as Naomi sat back away from the toilet. Tasha stood at the door with some ginger ale and nausea medicine. “I can’t believe I’m pregnant on my wedding day,” the blushing bride grumbled as her oldest friend handed her the medicine and soda.

“Well, technically you weren’t pregnant on your wedding day,” Tasha shrugged from the doorway. ”Shut up” Gabrielle and Naomi answered simultaneously. “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Tasha grinned while Naomi finally pulled herself off of the bathroom floor. “Hardy har har,” Naomi deadpanned, “Seriously though, I can’t even drink at my own toast.”

“First off, stop whining,” Gabrielle smiled, pulling her friend in for a hug, “We are in one of the most expensive hotels in New Orleans, about to live out your dream wedding. Thousands of people are lining the streets to catch a glimpse of you in your dress. You should be on top of the world right now baby girl.”

“Exactly you’re marrying the love of your life and he’s a king.” Tasha grinned at her friend. “You have pulled together one of the best weddings anyone could ask for! You look drop-dead gorgeous and you aren’t even in your wedding dress yet.”

“ So finish that bottle of ginger ale so we can get you dressed and ready to go.” Gabrielle reassured her friend. “And know that we bought you some of that sparkling cider you like. Red grape, white grape, and white grape with peach. That way it looks like you are enjoying all of the delicacies of a non-pregnant bride.” Tasha added, “We got you.”

Naomi smiled, her hormones swirling up and out as tears. “I love you guys,” she cried. “This is why we saved the mascara for last,” Tasha mumbled. Gabrielle elbowed her before hugging Naomi, “You know we love you too. Now let’s get you in this dress before we’re late.”

Naomi laughed and quickly finished the drink. She brushed her teeth and her friends double checked to make sure everything was put away. She and T’Challa would stay together in the Ritz-Carlton while the bridesmaids enjoyed another night in this penthouse at the Roosevelt.

While the bride waited for the medicine to kick in she smiled hearing the squeals and pitter-patter of little feet running around outside of the bedroom in the living room. She assumed that her niece and friend’s daughter were wreaking havoc on the rest of the bridal party awaiting her entry. A few minutes ago everyone had finished getting ready and was lounging around until it was time for Naomi to get dressed, until Naomi had run out of the room sick for the second time that morning. She knew that everyone in the room would eventually wonder why she was so sick today, but Naomi chose to focus on the little girls. The two flower girls Carter-Giselle and Rumi had bonded instantly when they meet yesterday morning at the airport. When Naomi had originally called and asked Beyonce’ and Rumi to be in the wedding, the singer had joked that Rumi and Carter would be the best of friends before the whole weekend was over, it seemed that she hadn’t lied. The two had become thick as thieves and she knew they would have a hard time being separated tomorrow afternoon. Watching the two had made her start to imagine what she and T’Challa’s child would look like. What would they like? Would they be as friendly and rambunctious at the two little girls rampaging through the living room?

The sound of Beyonce’ and her sister in law, Porche, calling both of their daughter’s names at the same time snapped Naomi out of her daydream. She drank down the rest of the ginger ale and went to grab her gown out of its bag. “You can’t get dressed without your bridesmaids,” Tasha teased as she and Gabrielle walked out of the bathroom with their makeup touched up. “I’ll get Bey and Porche.” Gabrielle peeked her head outside of the door and waved the other two women into the bedroom. “It feels so surreal,” Naomi smiled, her fingers running over the beading. “It’s definitely real,” Tasha squeezed her friend in a hug.”

“Not too tight, we don’t need a repeat of earlier,” Gabrielle teased as she walked in with Porche and Beyonce.”

“Definitely not, we’ve got a schedule to keep, chop chop!” Porche clapped at the bride. The small friend group chuckled. “So can you step into the dress or do we gotta go over your head?” Beyonce asked as she lifted the gown off of the bed. “We gotta go over my head, it laces up in the back. Naomi slipped off her robe while her friends lifted the gown up and over. “Dang girl, you couldn’t get a normal dress with a zipper?” Tasha grunted as the group maneuvered the dress over Naomi’s shoulders. “Corset backs are better for curvier bodies, they give more support,” was Naomi’s muffled reply as the tulle and flounce at the bottom of the dress enveloped her. “And they make your body look good from any angle,” Porche added in. Bey cosigned an “Amen” as the dress finally slipped into place over the bride’s head. The room went silent as Proche deftly laced the back of the gown and tightened it. Her best friends cheesed at Naomi as a tear slipped down her face when she turned to look at herself in the mirror. The bridesmaids wiped a few tears of their own before fawning over the gown. “Fawn Giselle Elizabeth Udaku you look stunning,” Gabrielle smiled pulling her friend in for a hug. “I remember the first day on campus, when I was moving in and we met at the sign-in table and found out we were roommates. Now look at where we are, my name’s gonna go down in history as one of the luckiest bridesmaids on the planet.”Gabrielle teared up as Naomi laughed a little and dabbed her tears away.

“Okay, no crying on the dress y’all” Tasha fanned her eyes to keep her tears at bay. Beyonce laughed and pulled Naomi in for a quick hug as well. Porche and Tasha followed suit. A knock on the door interrupted the hug-fest. “Everything alright? Y’all left these two old ladies and poor Shuri out here with these children, and we wanna see the bride.” Naomi’s mama called through the door. The woman erupted into laughter, “Coming mama,” Naomi yelled back dabbing at her eyes again. Gabrielle helped Tasha to clip the veil into place and after a few more tears, hugs, and dabbing of makeup the group entered back into the living room of the penthouse.

Ramonda and Naomi’s mother smiled at each other locking hands as they stared at the young queen in all her glory. Shuri’s grin stretched for a smile across her face, “He’s not gonna be able to keep his hands off of you in that dress.” The fitted silk gown hugged Naomi’s curves perfectly. The silk was covered in beading that created roses and swirls all down the gown until it flowed out in a soft wave along the bottom of the dress. A train spilled out for ten feet behind the bride as she walked into the living room. Carter-Giselle, Naomi’s four year old niece, and Rumi Carter gazed at her in awe. “You look really pretty auntie,” Carter-Giselle giggled running to hug her. Rumi followed suit hugging Naomi’s other leg. Watching the bride receive hugs from the flower girls had the entirety of the wedding party on the verge of tears. The bridal party packed everything up and headed down into the lobby of the hotel. Beyonce and Gabrielle helped to carry Naomi’s train and veil while the other three women watched and helped the flower girls down the hall.

Naomi could hear the roar of the crowd outside of the hotel before she even stepped out of the elevator. “Holy-” Tasha started as the mass of cheering people became visible outside of the Roosevelt’s glass doors. Naomi waved at the crowds as her friends, the videographer, and the photographer fussed with her wedding gown. After taking a few photos together in the lobby, the all-white vintage Rolls Royce limos arrived outside of the hotel. Tasha and Gabrielle made sure to gather Naomi’s train, with Shuri and Porche helped hold her train up as the party headed out of the doors. Smiles erupted on the entire party’s faces as they climbed into the large limo. No one was immune to the infectious energy that surrounded them in the crowds. After watching her mother and mother in law climb into the Rolls Royce in front of them with the flower girls Naomi’s nerves hit full force. Her smile grew by the second as the cars pulled away from the curb and headed up to the church. Progress was slow because the streets were choked with people hoping to catch a glance of the new royal. Naomi waved back through the untinted windows. This was more than she could have dreamed. Seven months ago she had married T’Challa at a last-minute courthouse wedding. Only the women present in the car with her even knew it had happened. She knew that one day she wanted a ceremony, but she could never have guessed that the ceremony would look like this.

“I can’t figure out who they’re cheering more for, Bey or you Naomi,” Tasha teased as everyone chuckled. “I’m pretty sure this crowd is for Naomi. No one knew I was gonna be here,” Beyonce laughed. “But how is the bride feeling?” the singer smiled as she reached for Naomi’s hand. “A little nauseous, overwhelmed, but excited too,” Naomi laughed back. “Just breathe, that’s what you told me remember?” The singer smiled. Naomi nodded thinking back to that day, “Just don’t breathe too hard or you’ll pass out,“ Naomi smiled back. The limo slowed to a stop and everyone sucked in their breath. “Welp, back out into the fray,” Tasha pretended to pull up her gown as the driver got out and headed around to open the doors of the limo.

The crowd’s roar crescendoed as each bridesmaid stepped out of the car. Porche first, followed by Shuri, Beyonce, Tasha, then Gabrielle. The women all waved to the crowds lining the street and the square. Naomi took a deep breath, then allowed Gabrielle to help her out of the car. The cheers grew to deafening. Naomi smiled and waved as her close friends helped to lay out her train and long veil. Once everything was in order, security opened the doors of the cathedral Naomi’s father walked out to stand next to his daughter. The bridesmaids were going to walk down the aisle unescorted, with Porche walking Carter Giselle, and Beyonce walking her daughter Rumi. With everyone stationed and in order, the organ began to play and the procession began. With each bridesmaid disappearing into the cathedral Naomi’s stomach began to twist. While awaiting their turn to tackle the aisle Naomi’s father squeezed her hand. “You look, beautiful baby girl, you’re gonna knock his socks off.” Naomi’s father kissed her cheek. “Thank you daddy,” Naomi kissed his cheek back and the doors opened for them to walk in.

Two hours later, with many giggles, tears, kisses, and laughter, Naomi Udaku walked out of St. Louis Cathedral a twice-married woman. Before exiting the cathedral Naomi and T’Challa stopped in the foyer grabbed their custom second line umbrellas from a footman at the door. The roar of the crowd sent energy through them. Naomi fingered the feather and beads lining her umbrella. As T’Challa smiled at her. “Did I tell you that you look breathtaking in that dress, T’Challa murmured kissing her forehead then her lips. “Only a million times your highness,” Naomi giggled. “And I’ll tell you a million more times,” he promised. “I have a surprise for you,” Naomi smiled up at him, his hand finding a way into her own. “Can I guess what it is?” The king asked. “No, you wouldn’t be able to anyway.”

“Can I know now?” The king whispered leaning in to kiss his wife. “No,” Naomi murmured back into the kiss. “How about now? T’Challa leaned in this kiss lingering for a little while longer. The looby of the cathedral filled with “Ooohs” and whistles as the bridal party and groomsmen filled in around them. Each of them now holding customized handkerchiefs embroidered with T’Challa and Naomi’s names and wedding date. “Aye, y’all save all that nasty stuff for later, we got kids in here now,” Kimbe, one of T’Challa’s friends from college teased, gesturing towards his son, the ring bearer, and the flower girls. Everyone broke out laughing as Naomi hid in T’Challa’s chest. T’Challa pulled his bride in for another kiss as some guests began to file into the lobby as well.

The sound of the brass band began to float into the cathedral and everyone started to get excited. T’Challa nodded and a footman opened up the doors to the street and the bride and groom stepped out to the roaring crowd once again. After sharing another quick kiss for more pictures, they raised their umbrellas and the party began. The crowd pushed up against the barriers as the bridal party danced past. Everywhere around them, people started dancing and waving handkerchiefs to join in the couple’s celebration. Naomi looked behind to find her bridesmaids and groomsmen laughing, singing, dancing, chanting, and smiling contagiously. Jay, Sir, and Blue Ivy had joined Beyonce and the Rumi. She carried Rumi on her hip as Bey and the toddler waved their handkerchiefs. Her niece was dancing with her father on his hip. Shuri looked up and waved as she danced along with Tasha, Porche, and Gabrielle. Queen Ramonda was dancing with Naomi’s parents, and the people of New Orleans joined in from behind the security and barriers. Naomi let out a loud laugh as she gripped t”Chala’s free hand in her own. “I love you, he smiled.

“I love and adore you,” Naomi grinned. The paused to share another kiss Confetti and rice began raining down from behind them. The couple stopped kissing and watched as their bridal party laughed and showered the newlyweds. “I couldn’t have imagined a better wedding,” T’Challa grinned. “Me neither. It’s beyond perfect, but wait until the after-party. If you liked this dress, you’ll love that one.” Naomi grinned as they continued to dance towards the Ritz-Carlton. “Can I have my surprise then?” T’Challa smiled. Naomi paused and smiled up at him, she glanced at the hotel about a block in front of them. She knew that once they entered the doors, they’d be pulled away for wedding pictures along the river bank and the city. They’d be in a limo with the rest of the wedding party, and then they’d be separated again to change for the reception. Now was the last time they’d be alone until later tonight. She smiled to herself and pulled the king in for a kiss. Cheers erupted from the crowd and the wedding party. She pulled back and whispered against his lips, “I’m pregnant.”

T’Challa’s mouth dropped open and Naomi let her head fall back in a loud laugh, her arms now wrapped around his neck. Before she knew it she was up in the air being spun around. No this wasn’t the wedding she had imagined. Her and T’Challa’s love playing out on a world stage was not something she could have guessed. But with her husband spinning her around, the crowd around them screaming and dancing, and her friends and family dancing through the streets with them, she could not have imagined anything better than this.

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @nyneebee @hutchj @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @strictlyashley @afraiddreamingandloving @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @yoyolovesbucky @derangedcupcake @builtalongthewayside @ilcb7 @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @dopegalkk @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @shesakillerkween @waitingonafriend @faatassbitch

#tchalla fanfiction #tchalla x reader #tchalla fanfic #tchalla black panther #tchalla #t'challa imagine #t'challa x reader #t'challa x oc #T'Challa x black reader #T'Challa #tchalla imagine #bpapfics #humannaturefic

19 notes · View notes

fromtheringapron · 4 years ago

Text

Random Notes on Episode #1 of Sunday Night Heat

I miss Sunday Night Heat. I miss wrestling weekend shows in general, but Heat holds some particularly unique appeal to me. Back in the day when I was too young to stay up and watch Raw in its entirety, Heat was usually the place to get my wrestling fix. By the time I started watching it, Heat was pretty much an afterthought, but it would recap the past week’s Raw, so it also helped keep me up to date on storylines. Even in its latter days, you would get a lot of weird stuff you wouldn’t get any other WWE show and, thanks to the WWE Network, some of it is finally starting reemerge.

The premiere episode of Heat debuted on August 2, 1998. Contrary to popular belief, a lot of stuff happened on the show in its first year on the air. As Smackdown did not yet exist, it was actually WWF’s B show for a short while, often furthering storylines and even once saw Mankind win the WWF title in the famed empty arena match. The first episode gave a small inkling of what was to come. Here’s the results from the card that literally nobody remembers:

Edge defeated Jeff Jarrett (with Tennessee Lee).

Droz & The Headbangers (Mosh and Thrasher) defeated Kaientai (Funaki, Men’s Teioh, and Dick Togo) (with Yamaguchi-san).

WWF European Championship Match: D’Lo Brown (champion) defeated Ken Shamrock via disqualification.

#1 Contenders’ Match for the WWF Tag Team Championship: The Rock and Owen Hart defeated Kane and Mankind (with Paul Bearer) vis count-out.

Edge as a rookie! D’Lo Brown as Euro champ! The Headbangers in general! What a time. Outside of the card, here’s what also randomly caught my attention:

Early Shane McMahon is Obnoxious: The early, early days of Heat were our formal introduction to Shane McMahon and, oh boy, it was rough. Thought it wouldn’t be long until he became a mega spoiled prick, the first episode sees him woefully miscast as a babyface color commentator, which is absolutely NOT his thing. First of all, his overall presentation is just weird in retrospect. He comes down to the ring in what would become Jacqueline’s entrance music, which already sets a jarring tone. Not only that, but he’s joined by two women named Alley and Kyla (or at least I think that’s her name? I couldn’t hear it well). Who are they? What’s their relationship to Shane? Why are they more random than The Wrestling Classic’s Susan Waitkis? Then we get his commentary and, woof, if you ever want to hear a human being speak in all caps for an entire broadcast, be my guest. It’s a far cry from the man who’d become known for failing several feet off various structures, somehow avoiding serious injury every time.

Droz’s World: Perhaps the most bizarre segment of the first episode is a segment inspired by MTV’s The Real World, starring everyone’s favorite puke artist Darren Drozdov. He tells the story of how he threw up on Mark Henry’s hand during training. Yep, that’s literally it. Fortunately, Tom Prichard is here to offer some color commentary to the event, saying “IT WAS GROSS!” and how Droz’s puke was filled with “corns and beans.” Oh, and then Droz shows a tattoo of a dog on his ass for good measure. Somewhere, Vince McMahon can be heard laughing in the distance. It’s oft forgotten how much the Real World was parodied back in the late ‘90s, even before the reality TV genre ever really exploded in popularity. Remember how it found its way in She’s All That?

The Val Venis/Mario Lopez Feud: One of the best parts of watching old Raw episodes is having to listen to the commentators awkwardly plug the USA Network’s original series. After all, a plug for Silk Stalkings just doesn’t feel right if you’re not watching an Undertaker squash in jest. The first episode of Heat carries on with this grand tradition and hypes the hell out of Pacific Blue, which I’ve never watched but sounds like some Baywatch/Miami Vice/crime procedural schlock. It takes it even one step further by having star Mario Lopez in the audience, who then proceeds to get into a fight with, um, Val Venis (in the midst of his castration storyline with Kaientai no less)?!? The WWF seriously tried to tease us with a Venis vs. Lopez feud in 1998. I’m not even really sure who the face in that situation would be. It sounds ridiculous, but can’t be any more so than what WCW was doing at the exact same time with Jay Leno.

Bart Gunn and Shanna Moakler: Did you do a double take reading that headline? One half of the Smoking Gunns and one half of MTV’s short-lived reality show Meet the Barkers! In the same room! On TV! If there were ever a more random pair of people to share TV time, I’d like to know it. Anyway, continuing the theme of plugging Pacific Blue as much as possible, we have cast member Shanna interviewing Bart Gunn (dubbed here as “LeFTY”) about his upset victory in the ill-advised Brawl 4 All against tourney fave Dr. Death. Of course, Bart yammers on a bit about knocking Dr. Death out with his left hook. Blah, blah, blah. I’m sure if you adjust the volume a certain way, you can practically hear Jim Ross seething behind the commentary booth.

The Main Event is a Mess: If you thought they would’ve ended the first episode of Heat with a bang, guess again. It doesn’t even end with a whimper, really; more like a slow, drawn-out fart. The winner of the main event tag team match would go on to face Steve Austin and The Undertaker, example #457 of tag champs who are actually mortal enemies. The match is just a lazy brawl where everyone involved doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass, despite Shane’s best efforts to once again to bring the excitement by speaking in all caps. The Rock and Owen Hart win over Kane and Mankind (Team Hell Socko?) by count-out, as Owen casually slides back into the ring after an outside brawl. I don’t know how Rock and Owen fared against the tag champs the next night on Raw, but it’s safe to say it didn’t lead to much. I know I have full access to the WWE Network where I can easily watch that but, hey, these guys didn’t put in any effort into this match so why should I? Fair is fair.

And there you have it⏤the first episode of Heat in the books, ass tattoos and all. I hope the WWE Network uploads more episodes in the future. I personally want the MTV era on there. Anyway, they better upload them soon, or else I may just resort to finally watching Pacific Blue instead.

#wwe network #wwf attitude #the rock #the undertaker #90s nostalgia

6 notes · View notes

cherry-holland · 5 years ago

Text

Dmitri Island: ch 1

A/n: here’s the first chapter!!! Sorry it’s so long I wanted to get the reader and Tom’s back history started!! But I hope y’all enjoy it 🥰

Beep, beep, beep.

[[MORE]]

The blaring sound of your alarm rang through your ears, waking you from your dreamless slumber. Groaning, you fiddled around in the darkness searching for your phone.

Where is this damn thing? And why is it so loud?

Once you found it, you brought it close to your face and stopped the obnoxious alarm from ringing anymore to give you a peace of mind. Your phone cleared the alarm away from the screen as you saw a row of messages from Tom, your best friend.

T: loooooooove, WAKE UP!!!!!!

T: (y/n/n), I need you!!!!!!! 😭

T: Come overrrrrr 🥺

T: this is verrrrry important (y/n/n), n I need ur help ASAP xxx

T: (Y/N)!!!! ANSWER ME THIS IS URGENT 😰😰😭😭🥺🥺

“Oh my gosh,” you let out a loud laugh as you scroll through the extensive, dramatic messages left by Tom.

Some say it was crazy how you met Tom. You had just moved to London after your job had you transfer to run their UK division from your cozy, well-known New York office. You were so excited for the opportunity for change, even though you loved your NY team. You were desperate for a change of pace, so it was only natural for you to say yes to the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Not too long after you moved, you were checking out the scene that engulfed your new apartment, and had stumbled on a cute & quaint coffee shop. You walked in, and was in the middle of picking up your coffee when you felt a stiff, dark figure bump into your left shoulder, causing the coffee to spill everywhere.

You let out a small gasp as the scalding cup of coffee landed on the sleeve of your grey sweater. How in the hell does this happen to me? You were about to curse out the person who bumped you when you looked up and saw what was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen.

He was dressed in all black, with the collar of his pea coat cuffed up to cover his neck from the London cold. He definitely looked to be about your age, maybe a bit younger if anything. He had the most gorgeous head of dark brown curls, and they looked so glossy and soft under the warm lights of the dim cafe. His dark brown eyes were wide with fear (probably because of the scowl you were sporting) and embarrassment, but still there was a glimmer of something else you couldn’t make out. His chiseled face was flushing a deep red, and his mouth was hung wide open.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry, love. I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t see you there and-“

“No, no, it’s okay,” you sighed, feeling the creases of your forehead lift at the sight of the boy in front of you. “It was an accident, it’s all good.”

“Oh, good,” the boy relaxed, “because I thought you were gonna full-on beat me up.”

Your ears perked at his charming British accent, something you still hadn’t gotten used to after being in the UK for about a week at that point. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. It’s not usually a good thing when someone does what you did where I’m from, guess it was a quick reaction.”

“It’s okay, darling,” the boy smiled. “Where I’m from, it’s usually a cause for conversation with a pretty girl.”

“Hmm, is that so?” You felt your cheeks get hot at his comment and tried to flush it down by feigning confidence. “Well that’s a funny way to get someone’s attention. Guess that’s how it is over here, innit?”

“Yeah, it’s an unusual way, but it works quite often for me,” the boy winked at you as you felt the heat return to your face. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“Hi Tom, I’m (y/n),” you replied, sticking out your hand to reach Tom’s already outstretched hand.

After that initial conversation, the two of you sat down in that coffee shop and talked for hours, getting to know one another. You found out he was an actor, and that he had just left New York after filming the new Spider-Man movie, and he found out you were from New York and the reason for your move.

Ever since that day, the two of you were inseparable. Even Tom’s friends and family would comment at how he always seemed to be by your side, but it never traveled over that line. That invisible line between friends and lovers, despite the fact that it felt like you two were always dancing around that line.

You were pulled out of your thoughts at your phone dinging, signaling another text coming through. However, it was not Tom that was ringing you this time, but Harrison, Tom’s best friend who was also yours.

Haz: dude, if you don’t get your 🍑 over here ASAP, tommo’s gonna combust 🙃

You: lmao, I’m coming!!!! Tell the div to chill and I’ll be by within the hour 💃🏽

You type away, and went to your contacts and searched for Tom’s number, hitting the call button as you peeled yourself out of bed to grab some caffeine.

“You know, a simple reply would have been really great, (y/n). Almost gave me a heart attack,” Tom’s dramatic voice filled your kitchen after not even one ring.

“Well good morning to you, too. Tommy, you know Saturday’s are my days to sleep in. Not everyone has the requirement to wake up at ungodly hours on weekends to exercise,” you chuckled. Sometimes, being friends with an actor can be so... dramatic.

“It’s a part of the job, darling. This is my line of work,” Tom replied, and you could hear the sarcasm dripping in his voice.

“Sorry your line of work sucks,” you snorted as the beeping of your coffee maker sounded, signaling the end of the brewing.

“(Y/n), are you seriously still drinking coffee? We have to change that - you’re a Londoner now!” Tom shouted.

“No way, Tommy. I’m a New Yorker through and through, and there is no way I’m gonna have tea before coffee. Once a New Yorker-“

“Always a New Yorker. I know,” Tom interrupted, causing both of you to laugh. “So, darling, when are you popping on over?”

“Soon. I still have to get presentable, you know. Can’t come over in my pj’s,” you speak while taking a big gulp of the sweet caffeine in your favorite mug. It was a mug Tom and Harrison had given you for Christmas, and it had a picture of the New York City skyline covering the entirety of the mug. They gave it to you because it was the first Christmas you were not able to go home, so the two of them, Tom’s brothers Sam & Harry, and you guys’ other best friend, Tuwaine, brought Christmas in New York to you. Tom had organized the whole thing, and it made your heart swell.

There were so many moments in you guys’ friendship that twisted your heart in ways that should have killed you in the best way. But that day was the day everything changed for you. The way the day was planned, down to the gift that he and Harrison (but mainly Tom, because Harrison sometimes has a tendency of forgetting things) had gotten you, made you realize you were falling for your best friend.

It was hard not to - Tom is gorgeous. Like the kind of gorgeous that could take your breath away. And what made it even better is his sweet heart. He loved people with his whole heart, and he always made sure everyone who was around him was well taken care of. Despite his movie-star status, he still remained humble, which was so admirable to you.

“(Y/n/n), you could come over in a garbage bag and it would still be acceptable in my house,” Tom giggled, interrupting your thoughts.

“Oh hush, you. Okay, lemme get ready and I’ll be there in 30!”

“Okay, darling! See you soon!”

With that, you hung up and padded over to your room. You opened the sliding doors of your closet, sifting through the cozy linens and sweaters lined up in color order. London was a lot colder than New York during the fall, which you appreciated, but sometimes it got hard finding an outfit to fit this chilly weather. So you went with your go-to.

Working in the city taught you a lot about fashion, especially working with a fashion magazine. You were always up-to-date on trends because of it, and being editor-in-chief, it was necessary. Most people would go for a full-on sweatsuit with old sneakers, but your mind was trained to always look put-together, even when you were being “bummy”.

You pulled out your black jogger sweatpants and a long-sleeved, white, cropped graphic tee with an artsy-looking face on it, and your undergarments. You threw it on, and fast-walked to your bathroom, where you washed your face and brushed your teeth. Afterwards, you put on a little bit of concealer, blush, mascara, and eyebrows, and ruffled your hair out of its bun. You didn’t care to style it because it was your day off, and you were just going to hang out with your best friends, so it was highly unnecessary. Also, you were having a pretty decent hair day, so you just went with it.

Before leaving, you grabbed your black and white-speckled pea coat and slid on some pointed black flats. You took your keys and purse, and before opening the door, you grabbed your phone and headed out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, you pulled up to Tom and Harrison’s apartment and hit their buzzer four times. You hear the lock click, and you quickly walked into the warm building.

You could hear the chatter of multiple boys behind the door of their apartment before opening it. Tom and Harrison always knew to leave the door unlocked when you came over, mainly because of laziness, but it was definitely more of a comfortability, which you didn’t understand.

“You know, boys, having your door unlocked is super dangerous. I could’ve been a murderer for all you know,” you shouted as you stepped into the cozy modern apartment.

“(Y/n), we know it’s you. You have such a unique buzzer, so we always know,” Harrison rolled his eyes as he walked over to give you a hug.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Where’s the fussy boy at?” You replied as you were taking off your coat.

“Over here!” Tom perked up from behind the massive dark grey couch. His wet, post-shower curls bounced up from over the cushions, his face painted with a huge grin.

“What are y’all doing?” You asked as you made your way over to sit by Tom on the couch. While walking over, you saw the heads of more familiar sets of brown curly hair turn to face you.

“We’re looking to see where we all wanna go next on holiday, (y/n/n)!” Sam, one of the twins grinned.

“Yeah, we’re going on holidayyyyy!” Harry, the other twin, perked up, his grin reaching the freckles that lined his cheeks.

“No way! Is this what you were bugging me about, Holland?” You bump Tom in the shoulder as you sat down.

“Yes! I told you it was urgent! We need help finding a place,” Tom replied, tugging your arm in fake desperation.

“Okay, okay. Let’s look and see what we can find,” you sighed, eyes lighting up in playfulness at his response.

You took out your phone and began searching. It felt like forever, because there were so many different places you guys looked at. And it seemed like everyone was saying “no” to everyone’s ideas.

Twenty minutes later, your landed on a page talking about this island in the states that you had never heard of. The header of the article read, DMITRI ISLAND: THE BEST DESTINATION YOU NEVER HEARD OF. You figured, hmm, this could be worth a shot. You skimmed the article quickly, and as you were reading it, you knew in your heart this was it.

“Hey, have y’all heard about this? There’s this island that’s off the coastline where there’s only a population of 110 people, and there’s all this historic stuff about it and the only mode of transportation is golf carts,” you said, scrolling through the beautiful photos of the island you found on google.

“No I don’t think I have. What does it look like?” Tom asked, leaning over your shoulder as you scroll through. He rested his cheek on your shoulder while his curious brown eyes scanned the screen, causing a faint blush creep onto your face.

“Guys, we’re supposed to be looking for vacation spots, not desolate islands,” Harrison groaned into his phone, giving your right arm a little shove.

“Oh come on, Haz, this is a vacation spot! There’s multiple accesses to the beach, a live lounge where music plays all throughout the weekend, a tequila distillery, and a massive golf course in one of the hotels that are there,” you laugh, returning the shove into his left arm while wiggling your eyebrows.

“A golf course?! Mate, we’re definitely going. (Y/n), book the ferry tickets!” Harry perked up from his current binge of Stranger Things on the enormous SmartTV to jump out of his seat, shaking Harrison’s right shoulder in agreement.

You had to laugh to yourself at your friends. They were all so different, and such dorks, you just couldn’t help but admire their banter and energy. “Alright, y’all, the ferry tickets are booked. Vacation, here we come!”

A chorus of shouts and cheers erupted in the expansive living room of the boys’ apartment as the excitement and promise of a relaxing vacation starts to become a reality.

You know the boys needed this vacation, especially Tom. They all have been working so hard to get their careers on the path that they desire, and Tom has his fair share of craziness this past year. With Far From Home, Endgame, the press tours, and his other projects that were coming up, you knew he was exhausted beyond belief. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he desperately needed a break from reality. And that’s what you vowed you would do - get him and the boys a chance to breathe without people constantly bombarding them with questions, invading their personal life.

You were determined to make this vacation worthwhile, and as you looked down at Tom, you saw a new glow lit deep within him. His smile was practically taking up his entire face, he had a small flush of pink on the apples of his cheeks, and a glint of excitement in his deep brown eyes.

And it was a glow you wanted to continue seeing in him.

A glow you wanted to be the reason for.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb

61 notes · View notes

poisxnyouth · 6 years ago

Text

teacher!dave fic. chapter 1. (d.d)

A/N: oops. I couldn’t not. I wrote this SO quick, apologies if there are any errors! let me know what you think. -hailey

wc: 3.5k

The thought of senior year in its entirety was nerve wracking. Left and right, everywhere you went, you were going to be experiencing things for the last time ever. Including your last relationship of high school.

You had been hoping to see Mrs. Porter on you schedule ever for your AP Lit class; instead, seeing someone named Dobrik. There were only 2 AP Lit teachers at your school, so you can’t help but wonder if whoever Dobrik is replaced Mrs. Porter, or if they replaced the other teacher.

You and your friends flood the steps of your high school’s main campus on the night of Open House, schedules in hand as you flit around the grounds, meeting your teachers and finding your classrooms.

It’s an easy process, you and your friends were the same types of students with a majority of the same classes, so out of your 7 classes, you shared the same periods with them. It being your senior year, finding your classrooms was a piece of cake and took little to no time.

You move period by period, hopping through your lists out of order. A constant in your conversation was whoever Mr. or Mrs. Dobrik was; it was rare for teachers to leave your school or quit, so it made you all curious.

You and your friends eventually make it to the classroom of your first period: room 225, AP Lit with Dobrik. You mistake who you assume is Mr. Dobrik for a student, his hips propped up against his desk at the back of the room, arms crossed as he talks to a parent. His eyes glance toward the door as your group files in, standing up straight and politely excusing himself.

“Hey! You guys have this class? Let me check you all off my roster, just so I know I saw you and talked to you and gave you the syllabus and all that.” Mr. Dobrik turns to his desk, grabbing his rosters and thumbing through a stack of stapled papers, eyes looking up as he counts how many of you there are and taking the matching amount.

He makes his way over to you and leans against the nearest desk to you all, pen and green highlighter in hand.

“So, hi. I’m Mr. Dobrik. This is my first year teaching so don’t be too rough on me, but like, if I’m doing a terrible job and you don’t understand anything…..please tell me, even though my ego will get hurt. Seriously, though, this is a really difficult course and while I want to make it academically challenging, I don’t want to make it impossible. I’m pretty malleable with homework deadlines, but only if you come talk to me. Otherwise, late work is an absolute no and I can’t forgive it,” Mr. Dobrik is highlighting the same spots of every syllabus as his eyes scan back and forth through your group of five, making a point to make eye contact with every single one of you every time he glances up.

“I know you guys have jobs and extracurriculars and everything, but again: my answer is to just talk to me. I’m easy in that aspect. Um...there was something else, too,” he scratches his head, pushing his glasses up and searching through a syllabus.

“Oh! Phones. You can listen to music or whatever, I just ask that you don’t text or post or anything during my class. I’ll go more into all of this on Monday, I just wanted to clarify the basics, okay?” He looks up and makes eye contact again, searching for all of your confirmations.

“I know there’s usually a summer assignment for this class, so you guys are lucky you didn’t have to do it since I wasn’t here. That being said, my lesson plans are especially rigorous for the first quarter because you didn’t have one.”

“Basically, a good rule of thumb if you have any questions about anything, is to come talk to me. You can’t get the notes done on time because you work three to ten? Come talk to me. You have band until eight that night? Come talk to me. I’m here to help you, not make shit - sorry, not to make things difficult for you. I want you to pass the exam and get this credit.” He stands now, capping his highlighter and uncapping his pen.

“What are your names and what period are you in?” Mr. Dobrik makes the point of eye contact, checking the name off of his roster, and writing the name on the syllabus. You’re the last one, and you stutter out your own name, your eyes glancing down to his lips as he scans through his list, putting a check at the side of your name. He writes your name in the top right corner of the paper in messy handwriting, looking as iif it was written with the intent to be neat.

“Okay! Thank you guys. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning. Have a good weekend.” You all murmur your polite reciprocation, waving him goodbye as he smiles and runs a hand through his hair, seemingly nervous.

Once down the hallway, one of your friends eventually bursts, “Okay, was he totally fucking fine or is it just me? He’s also super young. Like, he’s barely older than us. Please tell me it’s not just me.”

You and your group immediately start, “Oh my God, no. It’s not just you. He’s probably the most fuckable teacher now. He’s got that messy brown hair, doe eyed, smart, nerdy thing going for him. I literally felt speechless as he looked at me for my name...Y/N stuttered!” You blush at their derision as they only laugh harder.

You don’t know how you’re ever going to talk to him or ask him questions when you can barely tell him your name.

Monday morning comes quickly; your last first day of school begins with you and your group stockpiling into your car, picking each of them up one by one. It’s an easy (albeit early) morning leading up to the first bell.

You all wander through Mr. Dobrik’s propped open door a few minutes after the first bell. He’s fiddling with his coffee pot he must've brought, back turned to the door. He hears the ruckus, though, looking over his shoulder.

“Hey! Good to see you again. You guys can sit anywhere. I’m not gonna have assigned seats or anything, so…” he trails off, turning back to whatever he was doing. His hair is slightly wet, white dress shirt clean and pressed, paired with a red tie, black skinny jeans and black Vans. He was too close to your age to be your teacher.

You and your friends are mostly too nervous to make any sort of conversation with each other amid the mostly silent room, sitting together and mouthing to one another, Oh my God, he looks so good!

More students come through his door and he greets every single one of them, quietly fixing himself a cup of coffee in a mug that stated what must have been his alma mater. The late bell rings, Mr. Dobrik immediately shutting his door and taking attendance. He calls out the names under his breath, eyes darting in between his computer screen and his students as he searches for the familiar faces.

“Y/N is present...okay, we’re good! Everyone’s here.” Mr. Dobrik doesn’t look at you as he says it though, one of your friends kicking at your leg under the table as you blush at the fact. He quickly sets up his computer and his PowerPoint on his class information, leaning against a table as he sips at his coffee.

“Okay, hi, everyone! I’m Mr. Dobrik. I went to University of Illinois and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree. I majored in English and minored in Film, and I’ve just started an online Master’s program with U of I, where I’ll study Psychology. Um, I just turned 23, like, last month, and this is my first year teaching so all I ask is you don’t murder me if you don’t like something about my class or how I act, ‘cause I’m new at this!” Mr. Dobrik takes another sip of his coffee, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and hitting the next arrow on his keyboard, revealing a slide of essentially everything he had explained to you the night of Open House.

“So, like, the phones...I don’t care if you listen to music, but I don’t want you Snapchatting or playing iMessage games or anything while I’m trying to teach or you’re supposed to be doing an assignment, you know? I believe it’s disrespectful and rude; don’t waste my time and don’t waste yours. This is an AP class and we all know it’s a difficult course. If any of that’s an issue for you, I politely ask that you head down to guidance and snag you one of those handy schedule change request forms. Um,” he pauses, “I won’t ever put my hands on your stuff; you don’t touch my stuff and I won’t touch yours. It’s simple. I respect you guys and it’s not fair if I can do things you can’t, you know? So, I won’t take your phone. Again, I will never lay a finger on anything that’s yours, however, if your phone is out and you’re not changing a song or something, I will kick you out and send you to attendance. It’s different if you come up to me and say, Hey, Mr. Dobrik, my mom is calling, can I step outside and answer it? Like, duh. If it’s important, just ask me.” Mr. Dobrik continues sipping at his coffee, pulling his glasses off and placing them on the table. He rubs at his eyes before he slowly takes another mouthful, eyes peeking up sleepily as he looks around the room blindly.

“That’s really the gist of this whole thing, honestly. If there’s an issue, if you need more time for an assignment, need to take a phone call or text someone back, just talk to me. I was practically just in high school, so I get it; I know how hard it is when everything is due at the same time and the pile keeps getting bigger and bigger and you’re trying so hard to balance everything along with school. I’m also all ears if you want to come and talk to me about something that’s happening in your life or something similar, I have A lunch so if you guys want to come in and hang out, feel free. Again, the main point is: if you have any issues at all, just come talk to me, we can work through it together. Most of you are seniors, so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.” He shrugs nonchalantly, putting his glasses back on and placing his mug on the table. “D’you have any questions?” He scans the room quickly, taking everyone’s unresponsiveness as his answer, “No? Okay. Cool.”

Mr. Dobrik continues speaking about the first quarter and what you’ll cover during the first few units, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows as he lectures. He reveals the first assignment: simple Cornell notes for the first two chapters of the textbook due Wednesday.

“The plan is to have a day every month where I meet with you guys and talk about what you understand and what you don’t. My philosophy is that your grade reflects what you know, not what work you did or didn’t do or copied off of someone else. If I can talk to you and have a good discussion about whatever we’re analyzing at that time, you’ll be fine. I really just want you to be able to analyze and have the ability to connect what we read with our personal lives in this day and age. You probably know this, but we’re starting in the 1600’s and going until present day. We’re going to read some John Keats, William Wordsworth, Anne Rice, Charlotte Bronte, et cetera, et cetera, you know the drill. I’m going to try to pick things that I believe you will be genuinely interested in or connect with, and if I don’t...um, not to throw him under the bus or anything, but it’s probably Mr. Carroll’s pick that he’s making me do with him. I’m serious! He wanted to analyze, like, the Federalist papers and I immediately said hell no.

“Really, though, your grade reflects what you know. And you guys probably need to get to it, so I’ll stop beating you over the head with my voice. Talk to me if you don’t like a certain type of assignment and we can come up with an alternate; talk to me if you need to take a call; you can eat in here but be nice about it; talk to me if you don’t understand something, all that jazz. I’m easy to get along with, I promise. Just talk to me and respect me and we’re all good. Cool? Alright. Textbooks are under your seats. You’ll need to go down to the Media Center on your own time to check one out. Get started. I’ll come around and talk to you guys in a few.” Mr. Dobrik finally pushes himself off of the side of the table he had been leaning on for the past 15 minutes, students rustling through their bags for pens and paper as he sits at his desk, submitting his attendance and responding to emails.

“Y/N, stop staring!” One of your friends, Jessie, kicks you under the table for the second time that period. “You’ve been drooling over him ever since he said Hi, I’m Mr. Dobrik! Like, it’s impossible for you to stare any harder. He totally noticed, too!” She’s whispering as you all work, a quiet hum of voices spreading across the room.

“He did not!” You defend, “No way. I was just paying attention.”

“Y/N, you were literally leaning against your arm with hearts in your eyes. Get a grip. If he wants to talk to us as much as he says he does, you’re going to have to get over it. He’s our teacher and he’s hot, but that’s all he is!”

“Oh my God, Jessie, it’s not that big of a deal. Just because I think he’s hot doesn’t mean I want to date the guy-,” you’re scribbling main ideas down as you skim through the paragraphs.

“Who’s the guy? Maybe I have him,” Mr. Dobrik leans over your table, scanning over your group’s papers before looking at you.

“Oh, um,” you blush at his eye contact as he bites at his lips, looking down at you. “Doesn’t really matt-.”

“I’m joking, Y/N,” he cuts you off and leans over, turning your paper to face him. He repeatedly glances between you and the paper before speaking once more, “Okay! You ladies good?” You all murmur your agreement before he moves around to another group, shifting from table to table.

“Y/N, what the fuck was that? He has to know you’re into him!” You shake your head, no longer wanting to speak about it.

Two days later in Mr. Dobrik’s class, he’s going around, table by table, and grading everyone’s notes in front of them. It’s a snicker fest between your friends as he leans over you, red pen in hand as his eyebrows scrunch together and he shakes his head.

“No. You did this wrong. I’ll give you partial credit, but it’s not what I asked for. You can come in here during lunch and redo it for full credit. They look good, though.” He’s stern, already moving onto Jessie’s work before you stop him, making his eyes meet yours.

“Mr. Dobrik, respectfully, what do you mean? You looked at my notes both Monday and yesterday and you said it was fine. Like, I don’t understand. This is the first assignment of the quarter, and I’m starting it with a fifty? I’ll come in and redo it, but why? I just don’t understand.” You maintain the eye contact with him, his lips going in between his teeth as he chews on them for a split second.

“We’ll talk about it at lunch, okay? It’s fine. We can do this later,” he promises, returning to Jessie’s work as you stare at the bright red fifty percent at the top of your page.

So, you come in during lunch. He’s alone, typing away at his laptop as you walk through the door.

“Hey, Y/N. Come sit and we’ll talk. Can you get out the notes?” You feel odd about this already, silently obeying him and pulling the papers out as he continues sending emails, not looking at you. You wait quietly, placing the notes on his desk. He turns to you, looking them over quickly and leaning in closer. He’s too close, it feels like, and you can smell hints of his cologne mixing with his soap.

“Yeah. Okay. So, like, you paraphrased this entire time. There aren’t any bullet points, they’re just paragraph summaries. I don’t want what the book says, except for vocab, maybe. Like, I can tell just by looking at this that if I made you take a quiz right this second you’d fail it. Convince me. Make the work worth it and make it help you in the long run.” He leans back in his chair, looking at you again.

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter how we take our notes-.”

“It doesn’t,” he shrugs, “I don’t care how you do it as long as you know the content. But you don’t.” He doesn’t appreciate your talking back to him, but he lets it slide, liking the fact that you feel comfortable enough with him to argue about your work.

“How do you know that?”

“Y/N. I’ve peer edited and peer edited and peer edited these past 4 years of my life. I can spot when someone’s writing is half hearted. Even if it’s just notes. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t mean it that way, like, I never thought that you didn’t know what you were doing, I was just asking-.” He waves you off, smile playing at his lips.

“I know. I’m teasing,” Mr. Dobrik rolls a pen in his fingertips, running the pads of his fingers down the ridges of its side. “Really, though, just think about the content thoroughly and analyze it and you’ll get a 100. The work was phenomenal, I mean it, I just don’t think it’s the best you can accomplish as a student. I know I’ve only had you for 3 days, but like, it’s really obvious to me that you can do better than half-assed summaries. Again, they’re still great, but you can do better. It’s really not about the grade, at this point, right?”

You tilt your head in confusion, looking at him as he leans forward.

“Your work is college-level already. They’re just summaries, but you reworded them great and got the main idea across fine. If you do your best, I’m giving you a 100 in here,” he shrugs again, still playing with the pen in his hands. “I also saw you skimming the passages and your mind was somewhere else entirely.” You know what he’s hinting at, and it’s suddenly obvious how right Jessie was. He knows, but there’s nothing you could do about it and there’s certainly no going back.

“It’s fine. Just be present in my class and we won’t have any issues.” What the hell did that mean? That he knew you had the hots for him and that it was fine, that he was perfectly comfortable with it as long as you kept focused?

“Back to the point, though. You can produce better academic work. Do you agree?”

You nod, meeting his eyes.

“Okay. So, since you agree you can do better, I can start pushing you. If you want that, of course. Do you?” He’s pushing his fingers through his hair now, still looking at you. You don’t know what game he’s playing at, but something in you is telling you there’s a different motive than purely a teacher/student drive. Still, though, you say yes, looking at your hands.

“Okay. Then, tomorrow, I want the revised notes, your favorite poem, and a five paragraph analysis of it on my desk first thing. Can you do that for me?” You make eye contact again, nodding.

“Then you’re all good. I just wanted to talk to you privately about it. Let me know if it becomes too much or something. I honestly just think you have a lot of potential and as your teacher, I’d hate to see it go to waste. I don’t want you doing what I did. I didn’t try hard enough.”

“That’s besides the point, though. You can go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Mr. Dobrik promises as you both stand and he begins walking you to his door. He’s putting the doorstop in as you step out of his room, making sure you hear his Can’t wait to see what you come up with for me!

You stay up until 2AM ensuring everything is perfect.

#david dobrik fic #david dobrik #vlog squad #vlog squad fanfic #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik x you #david dobrik imagine #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad fic #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik fanfic #teacher/student au #TALK TO ME ABOUT IT #WHAT DO YOU THINK

284 notes · View notes

dnylwrites · 6 years ago

Text

noren / dnyl (alternatively: fuck you and jaennifer)

renjun suspects jeno is cheating on him with his childhood friend.

cross-posted to ao3 / rating: teen and up / word count: 12134

hello children. this fic is very obviously inspired by the dreamies newest station dnyl which you should 100% stream cuz *kisses fingers* molto bene!!!!!!! big big thanks to my friend @henderson_wong (on ao3) for betaing and putting fire under my ass whenever needed the alternative title is from bülows song titled 'fuck you and jennifer' please enjoy

Everything about Renjun’s demeanor as he stormed through the courtyard of his school was the prime dictionary definition of explosive. It was the angry tears oozing at the corners of his eyes, it was the stomping, apace stride, the balled fists which so fervently attempted to wipe at the wetness on his cheeks every few seconds despite the very blatancy thereof, and it was the overall aura that shrouded his alarming presence, that made people automatically turn their heads and break out into hushed murmurs.

It was the aura of someone who has just broken up with someone.

And it so happened to be Renjun’s boyfriend of ten months, school basketball team leader and commonly known high school sweetheart, Lee Jeno. Whose yellow basketball jersey was now permanently graced with a big irremovable stain of pink Kool-Aid, courtesy of his now-ex-boyfriend.

It really was a call of fate, Renjun reasoned. Not even five minutes before the beginning of classes that day, Renjun received a text from Chenle, saying his friend Jisung, Jeno’s neighbor, had spotted Jeno and Jaemin leave his boyfriend’s house together earlier with what looked like a bag of toiletries and immediately Renjun got the unrelenting urge to vomit all over the chemistry homework he was copying for third block, as it suddenly occurred to him why he hadn’t received his daily Good Morning text for the first time since they started dating. Renjun found himself in the male washroom of the gym, the one place where he knew no one to be at this hour because it was furthest from the cafeteria, furthest from him, and lunch break still lasted for another seven minutes which he could spend having his irate heaving echo against the devoid walls freely before he’d have to suck it all up and move on to the next class looking like nothing affected him.

As if nothing affected him.

Renjun laughed bitterly. His phone was going off with all sorts of notification sounds, some from Line indicating them being from his older brother, others from iMessage which indicated Chenle, or their group chat, or perhaps – Renjun bit down on his bottom lip. Removing his phone from his pocket, avoiding explicitly reading anything on the screen before holding down the shutdown button and panic-strickenly swiping for it to turn off as if it was a ticking time bomb. Once the sounds were cut off, he pushed open the door of the last stall to slump against the closed toilet seat, fresh sobs raking their way through his tied up throat as he pressed the heels of his palms against his drenched orbits.

Fuck Lee Jeno.

Fuck Lee Jeno and fuck Na Jaemin. May they fuck each other and let everyone else live in peace.

“Renjun?”

He startled, instinctively pulling his knees to his chest, yet he knew that he had given himself away when a rueful sniffle broke the dead silence upon Mark’s entering. A pair of feet stopped before his stall.

“Renjun, I know you’re in here.”

“Go away,” He hissed.

Mark sighed.

“How are you doing?”

“Just about fucking brilliant, thank you very much.”

He knew he was being harsh on his friend, but he wasn’t in a mood to talk. He wanted to go home, curl up in his bed, soak his panda plush with tears until he was completely devoid of emotion and then fall asleep watching some cheap new Netflix original. All simple requests he supposed, and yet all so far from tangible at this moment. Renjun shed another tear at the thought.

Mark still wasn’t moving, and Renjun assumed he was looking for something to say. Good old Mark was never a man of words, and usually Renjun found it in him to applaud the effort but not today. The silence lingered for a bit, and Renjun hated every second of it considering he spent the entirety of it actively attempting to suppress audibly sobbing so Mark wouldn’t get even more concerned, and god forbid, suggest for Renjun to go home. He had to know that Renjun would nevertheless insist he had to maintain a strong stance in front of the school, especially after the embarrassment he underwent in the cafeteria, this kind-of-obsession with image consistently having earned him That Look from Mark that he really wasn’t all too keen on having today.

Renjun had to look strong. He had to look certain.

As much as he couldn’t deny that getting over someone wasn’t a matter of hours, or days even, he wasn’t going to let people speculate on the validity of their breakup – Renjun was sure, and Renjun didn’t hand out chances like free candy. People had to learn that. Renjun had to learn that.

“Let me know if you want to talk,” Was all that Renjun heard before the sneakers beneath the stall door set in motion, seemingly heading towards the exit.

God bless Mark. God bless Mark and friends like Chenle, and Jisung even, for having his back. Love was for suckers, Renjun concluded, and unlike Jeno he knew his friends to be loyal to him even if he acted like an impulsive bullheaded crybaby. His blurry vision zoomed into a spot on the mud brown stall wall to his left, nausea rising in him again.

A heart-framed ‘J+R’ written with black permanent marker which seemed to subsist for the sole purpose of twisting the knife in Renjun’s gut, as if it predicted all of this was going to happen, and Renjun was seriously going to vomit.

But first he had to sit through two more blocks.

Renjun had done his fair share of angry moping the following weekend, his older brother popping his head into Renjun’s room every few hours or so to find the younger wrapped up in his blanket pretending to sleep, as if he hadn’t just bawled his eyes out for what seemed like the five hundredth time since school ended that particular day, and when Monday rolled around he almost found himself jumping into some shallow guise of the routine he had before the incident.

But just almost.

Leaving out the two thirds of his day that used to revolve solely around Jeno it seemed. But luckily he had friends who seemed to have nothing better to concern themselves with than spending their afternoons hanging out at Chenle’s place, their usual hangout spot because the boy’s father was some rich corporate business bloke with three sticks up his ass while his mom was a pilot – an odd couple, as the people who knew liked to point out every so often, and while it meant that Chenle was often alone, it also meant they had a bat cave, a bat mansion rather, that they could unwind in after school hours and play Wii to their hearts’ content.

They were sprawled out in Chenle’s living room, the youngest on the floor in front of Mark and Renjun who had plopped down onto the vast cream couch that would most definitely fit all of them if only Chenle didn’t insist that sitting on the floor felt more organic. It was around the third round of Mario Kart that Renjun was practically itching to talk about it, but he kept seal, at least until Mark exasperatedly slammed the controller onto the cushion next to him effectively declaring defeat until his spirits would be magically lifted again.

“How are you dealing, Renjun?”

Renjun deflated backwards into the cushions with a huff. “Dealing.”

“Have you seen him today?”

He had.

And it was as aggravating of an ordeal as Renjun had anticipated, the lack of having properly dealt with his feelings seeping past the stone cold guise that he had deliberately plastered onto his face before entering school premises in apprehension of said scenario. It was before Renjun’s second block, when he knew Jeno to be having basketball, that he snuck to his locker in hopes of avoiding the latter when by ill luck he found the very devil himself leaning against it, eyes catching onto Renjun quickly and striding towards him with urgency.

“Renjun I–”

“Swallow it.”

He turned on his heel to skate down the other direction, not even bothering to pick a swift pace knowing that Jeno would chase him down regardless. Feeling fingers grasp at his wrist, Renjun promptly snapped his head towards the other to shoot him a murderous glare, one that made Jeno loosen his grip instantaneously without Renjun having to utter a single word.

“Renjun, I beg you, please let me explain to you,” Jeno’s eyes were genuinely pleading, Renjun could tell, and yet it only made him grate his teeth even further.

“I don’t want your dumbass explanation,” Venom seeped through his tone and he noted how it made Jeno almost reflexively take a step back. “I don’t want to see you or your new boytoy ever again. Stay the fuck away from me.”

It shocked Renjun how much satisfaction he got from seeing everything from Jeno’s expression to his body visibly deflate, twist with hurt and in some indistinct nook of Renjun’s mind he thought himself to be a sadist for enjoying what felt like kicking a puppy in its guts. But he took that feeling over the overawing feel of remorse that overcame him by the time he sat in class later on any day, and he was resolute that if Jeno tried to show up in front of his locker again he’d start storing his stuff in Chenle’s to make the message all the clearer. Mark looked considerably awed at Renjun’s retelling of the incident, the latter having left out the part about kicking puppies for obvious reasons.

“Damn, Injoon, you served it to the fucker cold,” Chenle quipped from below, Renjun feeling pride disseminate in his chest.

“Wasn’t that a bit harsh?”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, yours,” Mark’s hands shot up defensively. “But did you actually hear anything about what happened apart from what Jisung said he saw? For all we know it could literally just be a misunder–”

“Hey, are you questioning my friend’s integrity?” Chenle barked in offense, and Renjun was quick to follow up, getting more irritated with every second of Mark’s tentativeness.

“I know because this isn’t the first time Jaemin caused problems between us. Mind you, you were the one telling me to dump Jeno’s ass when he and Jaemin got all cozy at your party that one summer.”

“That was eight months ago! You guys have made progress since then,” Mark argued, Renjun all the more tense.

“Have we though!? Because he was the one who promised there was nothing going on when there was, very evidently, something going on the whole time, right in front of my fucking face mind you and now I look like Boo-Boo the fucking Fool because I haven’t seen this coming from a mile away like I should have!”

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to talk about it. Renjun realized his mistake now. A frown was settled deeply into the crease between his eyebrows, and he didn’t look at his friends, a certain sense telling him that the two were exchanging telling glances at this very moment. The wound was still raw, and while he immediately felt a prick of conscience upon yelling at Mark for asking questions that weren’t in the slightest short of validity, he also felt a pang of hurt at their lack of faith in his decision. He knew it wasn’t realistic to expect unconditional support in whatever Renjun decided, but he couldn’t deny he was stubbornly expecting it nonetheless.

“You know what, fuck the guy,” Mark suddenly spoke up again, and Renjun finally glanced up again to see the tension his friends’ faces having worn down, to his relief.

“Yeah, fuck the guy!” Chenle mimicked, sounding almost excited at the prospect of going back to bashing Renjun’s ex. “Jisung says he sucks at basketball anyway, if his dad wasn’t friends with his coach he wouldn’t even have made it as captain!”

“Enough Lele,” Mark warned, and sometimes Renjun was grateful for Mark’s insistency to always do the mature thing.

“By the way, I tried to talk to him today.”

For a second Renjun’s brain jumped to Jeno? once more, but he immediately came to his senses. He seriously had to get over his Jeno tunnel vision.

“How did it go?”

“I wasn’t even going to talk about it,” Mark picked at the hem of a hole in his ripped jeans. “That’s how bad.”

Renjun was sort of relieved that Mark was changing the subject to his distant crush, a change from the charged up earlier topic more than welcome.

“I asked him if he still needed backing for his number at the talent show and he asked how I knew he’s participating this year,” His lips pressed into a tight line. “I got nervous as hell and then his friends came around and I just. I said Don’t worry about it and turned around and left.”

Chenle started cackling, earning himself an eyeroll from Renjun’s end followed by a slap to the back of his head.

“You could’ve just told him that you assumed because he participated last year,” Renjun said almost scoldingly. “Baffling how your braincells exit the second he breathes in your direction.”

“Implying Mark has any to begin with.”

This time the smack was considerably harder, as was the Ow! that Chenle huffed out in response.

“I let you into the sanctuary of my home and this is how you repay me!”

“Stop being a dick, this is our crisis circle and you’re putting it to shame,” Renjun snapped back, returning his regard to his best friend.

When suddenly, he was hit by a brain wave.

“Guys,” Renjun pondered. Both friends fixed their gaze on him. “What if we created a club?”

Mark grimaced slightly.

“A club? It concerns me that this comes right after you called our hangouts crisis circles.”

Renjun didn’t annotate to that. “A club like. You know, like Anonymous Alcoholics just for people who,” He beat about for the right words. He didn’t particularly want to use the term heartbroken, as his heart was whole and anything but, thank you very much. “People who don’t need love?”

“People who don’t need love? Sounds very dramatic,” Chenle sneered. “I like it.”

“I need love though. Lee Donghyuck’s love preferably.”

Renjun gave Mark’s thigh a light push. “Come on, Mark. It’s not just for people who resent love. Just for people who have been let down by it.”

“This is so high school slice-of-life movie-esque, people would eat it up,” Chenle tapped his finger against the solid cushions. “Besides, this school lives for the gossip, and this screams drama.”

Renjun had a feeling his eyes would eventually get stuck at the back of his head, because for one, point at the obvious, and secondly, how was he supposed to convince Mark with the agenda blatantly displayed like that. “Not really the point. But yes,” He turned his regard back to the older. “Imagine how much motivation could come from hearing everyone else struggle with the same shit you do. How much raw, balled up emotion we could gather in one room, and we don’t even need to call anyone by their names. Just a bunch of kids letting out their frustrations, to help them cope with all this shit and we could even do some rebellious teen activities to let off some steam. It’d give us strength, a fortress within the school, people supporting each other, outsiders wanting to be a part. We’d be untouchable. Like an actual support group, but just, cool you know?” He elbowed his friend lightly. “And who knows, maybe Donghyuck shows up to join one day.”

Mark’s brows settled into a light frown at that. “Sounds like you’re just saying that to convince me.”

Renjun grinned. “Is it working?”

Mark zoned in on the table top in front of them. “Maybe.”

“Cool,” Renjun’s head whipped to Chenle, his creative impulsivity having reached new peaks at that very moment. “Chenle, we need posters.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“And a classroom. Preferably far from the cafeteria, somewhere quiet and secluded. No science classrooms – they always smell of phosphor,” Chenle avidly typed away on the note app on his phone. “We also need a good name. Something that people will remember and want to tell their friends about. Something like–”

“DNYL?” Mark cut in, expression still featuring hints of hesitancy. Renjun and Chenle turned to look at him. “It’s like. Don’t need your love, but with letters in short.”

Wow. Mark really was a man of speech.

“DNYL,” Renjun tried on his tongue. “It works.”

“It works!” Chenle piped up.

“It screams chaos,” Mark mumbled.

Renjun half smiled at his friends, newfound confidence making his chest rise solemnly. “Which is exactly what I’m after.”

Renjun was impressed.

Chenle really didn’t disappoint, and neither did Jisung, Chenle’s creative mastermind and designated partner in crime, as they liked to call it. God knows when they had found the time to do all of this, but the next morning when Renjun walked into school he was awed to find posters plastered all over the hallways, on lockers, pillars, classroom doors and water fountains. Renjun was kind of sad at the notion that all of that hard work may eventually prove futile, latest when the school decided to put all of them down as soon as the principal got whiff of the situation, but he also considered that a fair amount of people was bound to see the uproar before that’d happen, particularly taking the sheer quantity of them into account. Chenle was smart enough to merely reference a vague meeting spot and not a specific classroom, from which he’d escort students to the club location so they may remain shielded from teachers’ prying eyes – merely students were to speak of DNYL and its location or circumstances, and snitches, as Renjun smilingly referred later at lunch that day, got stitches. Chenle and Jisung were a force to be reckoned with.

Renjun did spot Jeno in the cafeteria again, but to his relief the latter made no attempt to chase him upon sight again, merely shooting Renjun a longing gaze (Chenle’s words, not Renjun’s) before joining a table primarily assembled of his basketball team mates.

“I know exactly what the topic of our first DNYL meeting should be!”

“Chenle, there is no specific topic for meetings, we’re just supposed to ramble.”

“Hear me out, won’t you,” He said, offended, threateningly charging his spoon with sticky rice in Renjun’s direction. “My parents won’t be home until Sunday this week, how about we hold an initiation party at my place? You know, to get the people hyped and bonding and drunk!”

Renjun mused, nodding along. Mark hummed. Almost as if on cue, Jisung emerged from what seemed to be the jock table to slide into the seat next to Chenle, tossing his bag to his feet.

“Hey everybody,” The others regarded him with a nod respectively. “How do you like the posters?”

“They’re insane, how the fuck did you make them so fast? When did you guys put them up?” Mark asked half weary half impressed.

Chenle and Jisung shared a glance.

“I have an uncle who owns a print shop who lent the keys and the design makes itself when you listen to heartbreak-legends like Marina and Ari during the process. As for hanging them up,” A half-grin unfurled on his lips. “Let’s say the school’s night guard still owes me a couple favors.”

“Isn’t he the kid that dropped out the year he was supposed to graduate?”

“Yeah, who do you think got him the job.”

Mark stared at the younger in disbelief, shaking his head as he placed his regard back to picking on his mediocre sandwich. The fact that a mere spark of an idea seemed to just fall into place so seamlessly made Renjun feel the closest to joy he had in days, the sweet thrill of high school spirit effectively sticking a band aid to his bruised, aching heart. He shot an inconspicuous glance towards Jeno’s table, immediately averting it again when he saw Na Jaemin’s face directed right back at him. So much for inconspicuous. He unceremoniously rejoined the chatter of his friends, which had bizarrely swayed to the topic of genetically conditioned tongue shapes.

When Chenle arrived to their chosen headquarters with what looked like a small crowd, even Renjun wasn’t short of a smug and prideful grin.

“Delivery!” Chenle piped, and the people started sprawling out amongst the classroom, some clustering, others off by themselves, but each somewhat assembled into a circular shape and murmuring away.

Renjun asserted his position with a hem. “Welcome students, to DNYL. Be aware this isn’t just a place to talk shit about exes,” A student got up from one of the tables, leaving the classroom, Renjun continuing without a beat. “But a place to unwind and forget about them. Here we go by a few simple rules,” He theatrically whipped out a piece of paper with a pointed list on it. “Point one, do not glorify love. We’re here because love can suck it, frankly, so this one should go without saying. Second point – no crying. No one’s worth that shit, no exes, no current boy or girlfriends, no crush, just, suck it up. We don’t mourn these sorts of disappointments. Point three, good vibes. Pretty self-explanatory, basically don’t be fucking dicks, alright. No one’s a bully here, no one shames the other, no one picks fights. As long as you follow these,” His eyes sternly scanned the crowd. “DNYL welcomes you with open arms.”

“Then what do we do here,” A female student cut in, Renjun recognizing her from Calculus last year. “What’s the point of this club? How is this not a big waste of my time, I have a GPA to uphold. Why should I, or anyone be here?”

Fending off irritation with smugness, Renjun replied. “Glad you asked,” He raised his voice a notch. “In celebration of the founding of this club, we are going to host an initiation party this Friday, 7 p.m., address will be passed along members throughout the week, drinks will be provided. Which brings me to another rule,” Renjun’s gaze hardened again. “Snitches, my loves, get stitches. This is a club for the students, and I expect everyone to return the courtesy. Clear?”

The room had broken out into murmurs once more, Renjun throwing an inquiring glance Mark’s way who gave him the quiet thumbs up. Renjun felt over the moon. No, he felt powerful, in control, and he couldn’t suppress the smile on his face when calculus gave him the nod of approval after having counselled with her friends. Renjun knew exactly what they were out for, and really, he wouldn’t want it any different – students were like attracted to the exclusivity like moths were to light, and the prospect of parties was precisely what it took to sway them. Since the seniors who used to throw the parties around school had graduated, there had been dead silence in the outer school activity department, apart from the occasional stoner party that the general school body rarely liked to frequent. Parties meant things happening, chaos, drama, sex, alcohol. All the socially acceptable forbidden, and Renjun felt like he held the bucket of treats in his very hands.

“Uh, Renjun,” Mark pointed at the door, unease suddenly washing over his features. For a moment Renjun was absolutely convinced the spell was about to be broken by them being busted by a teacher on their very first assembly, when he turned his head to ascertain it something almost worse.

“You.”

Renjun stomped to the door in fast strides, promptly aiming for the color as to drag Jeno outside into the hallway – merely to discover that it only got worse from there. He forced out an incredulous laugh.

“This has to be the joke of the fucking century. You show up here, and then you have the fucking audacity to bring your new boytoy along!?” He swore he could’ve strangled Jeno when he saw whose mien flash with hurt, he would’ve. He really would’ve.

“I didn’t know you would be behind this.”

“Well, surprise, I fucking am, now get the fuck out of here because you two aren’t welcome.”

Jeno’s eyes narrowed, but he said no more apart from a subdued “Let’s go Jaemin.” before he turned down the hallway with one last look, one that Renjun would gladly refuse to decipher, ever. A rage boiled at the pit of his gut, a rage that he knew to be not solely rage, but mixed with something else, something he wouldn’t own up to, something far less badass – sadness.

When Renjun finally turned to return to the classroom, he startled when he found Mark standing there, arms folded in front of his chest giving him an odd once over.

“What!?” Renjun’s arms flew up momentarily, and for a moment he contemplated simply pushing past Mark without giving him the courtesy of saying what he so evidently had lying on the tip of his tongue, but Mark didn’t say anything. And while part of Renjun was eternally relieved at Mark turning around to walk ahead into the classroom, another was devastated at his friend having witnessed what he was perhaps struggling to admit to himself, being that he was wounded, terribly so, and now Mark knew.

And Renjun was aware that if Mark knew about something, he would hear of it time and time again.

By the time Friday rolled around, word was out at the entire school about the most anticipated event of the year, possibly in school’s history. Tainted were the whispers during lessons, were the notes that they passed, were the lunch chatter and locker room hollers with the topic of DNYL’s official initiation party, and Renjun was living in the midst of it all.

Renjun arrived at Chenle’s house two hours early to help with preparations, which he was surprised to find out were already taken care of for the most part – Jisung having waggled his magic wand and gotten them discount on a catering service, compliments of a distant cousin, or perhaps a friend of a cousin, Renjun wouldn’t keep track. He left little time to dazzle himself up, resorting to a hint of brown liner and some gel to style his hair up nicely along with a white wide-cut shirt that he loosely tucked into his regular jeans. Soon enough the house was swamped with students, and Renjun made his way through the crowd to find his friends lounging on the stairs, Mark looking like his soul had left his body and Renjun had a suspicious inkling of the cause, additionally judging by the way Chenle and Jisung were dramatically fake fanning whose deadpan guise.

“He’s here, isn’t he,” Renjun pressed his lips into a line, patting his friend’s shoulder sympathetically.

Chenle leaned in. “He’s wearing leather pants. And lipgloss,” He shot a brief, pitiful glance towards Mark. “This one asked him if he’d like a drink although he was already holding one in his hand.”

“Awk,” Jisung supplied, Mark finally moving to run his palms over his face.

“I need to get a drink.”

“I need to get a drink,” Renjun mimicked, trailing the older when he lastly jumped up from his seat to maneuver through the masses towards the kitchen.

He was waiting for Mark to fix himself a rum and coke, when he noticed a pair of eyes unabashedly giving him a once-over, this particular pair of eyes belonging to someone that Renjun had never spotted at school, nor elsewhere. He was handsome, a cocky vibe about him with a few strands of blonde hair lazily hanging into his vision and the rest effortlessly styled up, coyly sitting on the edge of the spacious kitchen counter whilst sipping on a red solo cup. Right in front of him was Renjun’s plan to forget about Jeno for the night.

“Hey,” The stranger nodded in Renjun’s direction. “What’s your poison?”

“Tequila,” Renjun replied. He wasn’t keen on having to wait to be drunk.

The guy jumped from the counter, rounding its corner to fetch a bottle from one of the cabinets. “Spicy,” He said while pouring a shot that Renjun assumed to be his. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” Renjun accepted the glass and promptly downed it, a familiar tingling warmth unfurling in his stomach. “I haven’t seen your face before.”

“Is it a nice one?” Oh, this one oozed smugness out of every nook of his bearing. “Just kidding, I don’t go to your school. Friend brought me along.”

“Where is your friend now?”

“Somewhere. Why? Am I not enough?”

On normal occasion Renjun would’ve been at his nth eyeroll, but he was trying to accomplish something here, whatever that may be, whereas it certainly wasn’t Renjun aggressively shoving any lingering notions of his ex out of his mind with some stereotypical hot white boy rebound. Never.

“Very funny,” Renjun deadpanned, instead.

“I sometimes like to think that I am. My friends also tend to say I’m quite honest, so let me be frank to you,” He took a step towards Renjun, the latter suppressing the urge to mirror and instinctively move back. “You’re very nice to look at.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

The boy chuckled, a hand rising to cup at Renjun’s face and Renjun was rather certain that it wasn’t early enough to accredit the sudden nausea rising from the pit of his gut to the one shot he had so far, but he damn sure was going to do it anyway. Practically watching the guy lean in with what appeared to be some newly acquired slow motion vision, Renjun lastly took a small step backwards, prompting the boy’s brows to perk up and give him a look that wasn’t short of puzzlement.

“Did I…?”

“No, no,” Renjun waved his hands apologetically. “It’s not your fault, I’m just. I’m not feeling too well.”

“I mean, to be fair, I was pretty forward,” The other smiled. “But it would be a shame if this is the last impression you have of me, because you’re really cute.”

A faint blush fanned over the highs of Renjun’s cheeks at that and he mustered a smile back. “I’m Renjun.”

“Harvey.” He held out a hand for good measure, Renjun shaking it carefully, yet amicably. “Since I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, how would you feel about giving me your number so we could discuss your terms without any hurry?”

Renjun appreciated the sentiment, he really did, and because he appreciated it so much he promptly whipped out his phone to hand it to the no-longer stranger so he could enter his number, entirely forcing aside the comfortlessness swimming within him that was nonetheless making him inconceivably tense and apologetic. The guy probably just wanted to hook up and now Renjun was forcing him to put up with his prudish moodiness. Great.

Renjun accepted his phone back with a slightly forced, grateful smile, turning towards the exit of the kitchen to find Mark standing there, seemingly having monitored the exchange whilst inconspicuously sipping on his drink, and Renjun thought about how much he was starting to hate his friend being attester to his rapidly accumulating recent moments of weakness. What he almost hated even more was the way that Mark simply spun around to disappear into the buzzing of the crowd wordlessly, which Renjun knew to be saying something considering Mark never just didn’t comment on things. Particularly things of such scandalous nature. Renjun poured himself another shot before heading towards the other room.

It was well past 10 p.m., the party still going at its full peak when shit started going down, so to speak. Renjun was at the very least five more shots deep, his surroundings gradually drifting into a delightful spin. It was in the midst of a game of Kings Cup on Chenle’s living room carpet and of Renjun jovially slumping against some guy next to him, that his gaze wandered to the doorframe, to remain there, locked onto the timid guise entering the premises and a dizzying wrath took over Renjun, so much that it initially had him frozen until he leapt up brusquely to approach the figure with fitful footfalls.

Jeno saw him coming.

“What the fuck is your problem!?”

People turned towards them, even drunk off his ass Renjun could tell that all the attention was on him within an instant, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Now that might’ve been a side effect of intoxication.

“Renjun, calm down, I don’t–”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to calm down when you got the fucking, the fucking nerve to show up here when I told you I don’t want to ever fucking see your cheating ass again! Which, speaking of,” Renjun’s eyes narrowed, arms linking in front of his chest in a defying stance. “Did you not bring your new boyfriend with you today? Seems like this would be the perfect date location, a fun party where you can sneak off into one of the bedrooms and–”

“Renjun!” Jeno cut in at the reference of a shared memory, tone having turned alarmingly hard and brows tugged into a deep, glowering frown. Never had Renjun been on the receiving end of a look like that, especially not from patient angel Lee Jeno, yet his gears were continuously turning by virtue of the fuel pumping through his veins and there didn’t seem to be a stopping his mouth from running on.

“You said he’s a childhood friend, a fucking childhood friend who everyone knows has been dying to suck your dick for fucking ever and you had the audacity to tell me I’m delusional! Me! Delusional! Even after I catch you guys practically cuddling up to each other at Mark’s party, because I trusted you. I trusted you, Jeno!”

Renjun hated it. Hated that he could feel the hot tears starting to gather up at the corners of his eyes again, hated that he couldn’t even perceive the crowd around them anymore, hated that he could faintly hear his best friends mumbling frantic apologies as they hurriedly made their way through it, and he hated that even after all things considered, Renjun couldn’t hate Jeno.

So apparently it had come to the point where the only rational solution appeared to be that he had to make Jeno despise him.

“If you’d only stop and not yell at me every time you see me to calmly let me explain what happened, we wouldn’t be having to carry our conflict out into the open like this. I told myself to give you space, heck, Jaemin was the one who told me to try and keep pushing and to come here tonight to see if I could catch you alone while you’re in a better mood, but–”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, sorry to disappoint.” Renjun glared at him, wetness blurring his vision as he suddenly started perceiving a light tug on his right arm, then a more forceful tug, and then Renjun was brusquely faced with Mark’s concerned face.

“Renjun, enough.”

“It’s enough when this bumbling buffoon gets into his head that I don’t want him looking for me ever again.”

“That won’t be a problem anymore.”

Renjun turned to look at Jeno, something unreadable playing on the younger’s features as his gaze lingered some place on the marble flooring before it reverted back to Renjun with a grave mien.

“I won’t be chasing you anymore,” He headed towards the door, with one last look back mumbling an inexpressive “Have a good life.” that made Renjun’s gut seethe with all sorts of unresolved emotion, and next thing he knew he was sprinting through the masses to rid the bile that was rising in his pharynx – Mark and Chenle in tow.

“You know you’ll have to talk about it at some point, right?” Mark said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub that they had just chased a straight couple out of while Renjun was puking out the entirety of his body’s contents. Feelings included.

At least that’s what it felt like.

Renjun saw Jeno at school the following week. As much clumsy conviction as Renjun had gathered by the time his train wreck of a weekend was over, that he was fine, just really drunk, and possibly a little bit pressed, still, his heart wouldn’t keep itself from jerking in his chest when he saw Jeno waiting in front of one of his classes, keen to make up for the scene he had caused at the party. Despite his being riddled with bitterness, he knew his behavior to have been out of line, and if not for Jeno’s then for his conscience’s sake he was convinced he had to set the record straight.

Yet when he approached Jeno, pride reluctantly set aside with what was a mere hint of a frown, the younger immediately deadpanned, expression rigid.

“Don’t you worry, I’m done bothering you.”

Renjun was about to retort, when Jaemin skipped out of the classroom behind Renjun, notorious thousand-watt smile plastered onto whose facies.

“Jeno!” Renjun wanted to melt into thin air. “And– Renjun.”

Not wanting to subject himself to the situation for even a second longer, Renjun turned on his heel and skated down the hallway, an ugly, scorching feeling gnawing its way up towards his throat and suddenly he felt like crying all over again but this time he was sober and managed to fight the urge with all his might, the threat of tears spilling gone by the time he reached his next class, yet the feeling ever persistent. He hated Lee Jeno. He hated Jeno, and he hated Jaemin’s dumb, brilliant smile and what it made Jeno do, what it made Jeno do to him. No, this was all Jeno’s fault. It was Jeno’s fault for lying to him about there not being anything between him and Jaemin, about their sleepover, about many more things, probably, and Renjun cursed the day he agreed to be his boyfriend in the first place. Fuck Lee Jeno.

“We need to talk.”

Renjun was sitting at their usual lunch table, waiting for his friends to join him from their classes when a voice which ring was all too familiar to him startled him into one of his earplugs falling out.

“What?”

“We need to talk,” Jaemin repeated, mien earnest and stance uncomfortably intrusive in that typical Na Jaemin manner that made Renjun lean backwards in his seat.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Well, I have a few things to say to you and you’re going to listen.”

Jaemin slid down into the seat in front of him, Renjun’s expression nothing short of appalled at the action yet nonetheless not finding it in him to protest other than with a menacing glare that the other appeared to effectively discount.

“You need to talk to Jeno.”

“What do you care?”

“Jeno is my friend, I care.”

“Your friend, yeah. I know that much,” Renjun theatrically rolled his eyes sideways, making no attempt to hide his irritation.

“No, not like that. You can’t be acting like this forever. You need to listen to me and you need to fucking start listening to him. You two have been in a relationship for ten months and this is how you treat him? The guy would probably die for you and you wouldn’t even talk to him when he’s been nothing but trying his best to reach through to you because that’s what you do when there’s tension.”

“I’d like to say that this could barely just be considered tension,” Renjun hissed, nonetheless quieting after to let Jaemin continue.

“You’re right. It’s not just tension, it’s madness. Jeno let me stay over that day because my parents are going through some tough times and I needed a friend, someone familiar, who knows how much this would affect me. Next thing I know you’re telling the whole cafeteria that your boyfriend cheated on you, toss a drink at him and walk off to never let anyone explain shit to you. Do you consider that fair?”

The furrow in between Renjun’s brows remained tense and deeply seated, however, he couldn’t keep himself from weighing Jaemin’s words, gaze drifting off, pondering, almost shamefully.

“Ever since that day Jeno has been beating himself up like crazy, he was going to go to your house but I told him the drive isn’t worth getting the door slammed in his face so he should wait till the next day to go after you, but God did I underestimate what a fucking diehard you are. I know I haven’t always been a fair player when it came to your relationship,” Renjun’s eyes returned to Jaemin to shoot him a glare that was the physical manifestation of an incredulous oh really? “But this isn’t about me. Frankly, I’m over playing these childish games and you need to grow the fuck up. The reason I’m not going after him this very moment is because the dude loves you, God knows why, and I know there’d be no point in chasing a man who’s got eyes for another person. Dude, he’s got your whole future planned out! God’s sake, you need to fucking step up.”

Renjun muted for a few, heavy-weighing moments before raising his voice in a mere rueful mumble. “I can’t.”

Jaemin grimaced. “What do you mean you can’t? Do you not love him?”

Renjun kept silent. How was he supposed to tell Jaemin out of all people that what he was being eaten up by was the profound, retching feeling of shame, that the desperate feeling of wanting nothing more than to cling onto his pride was conflicting with the inexorable reality that Jeno had a grasp on him, on his heart, his emotions, it was a daunting thought to Renjun that the minutest of hunches regarding his boyfriend could evoke such explosive behavior on his end. Frankly, Renjun had never stopped being scared. Paranoid that he might be too attached, too emotionally invested that it’d eventually end up getting him so hurt that he’d simply stop subsisting, the apprehension and constant reminders whenever he witnessed his boyfriend being flirted with gnawing at his insides uncomfortably, like a time bomb threatening to go off any day and it just so happened that his fears have yielded fruit in the form of Jaemin.

He didn’t know how to tell Jaemin all that. He couldn’t bear to speak it out loud to begin with. “You don’t understand.”

Jaemin momentarily rolled back his head to heave out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I do understand now.”

With that Jaemin promptly pushed himself up with the table top, abandoning Renjun with a vacant expression on his face and subjected to his deafeningly disquiet thoughts.

Two DNYL club meetings go by before Renjun decided to speak to Mark.

What had initially felt so empowering and liberating, had turned into a painstakingly languid process of attempting to have the next event accommodate every person in the room since Chenle’s parents were to stay in the city for a little while, queries on when the next party was to happen flooding Renjun’s ears on almost a daily basis at that point, little consideration for the fact that he himself was yet to recover from the fiasco of the first one. DNYL was what he initially wanted it to be – a monster that sprouted with vitality and refused to cave and let him sit out and breathe, but he supposed that he had chosen this himself and he once more cursed his impulsivity for putting him in situations like these.

“…and then I told him to go fuck himself, because my body is not for him to take whenever its convenient for him and it certainly isn’t doesn’t serve as his revenge rebound.”

The girl finished off the last confession of the day, the round animatedly hollering and Chenle clapping along excitedly before raising his voice above them with ease. “Ok guys, the next event is in planning so keep your ears and eyes out for the notice! I’ll see you next time!”

He flashed everyone who passed him in exit a jubilant grin. Renjun appreciated Chenle. He really did, Chenle and his relentless enthusiasm for high school politics and social gatherings and his never-depleting radiant smiles. Renjun had been sitting on the sidelines for the entirety of the gathering, slumped forward against the backing of a chair with his arms folded atop to rest his head in, his energy levels dull in comparison to Chenle’s persisting sprouting nature. Yeah, thank God for Chenle.

“Renjun.”

Renjun startled out of his train of thought, swiftly scanning the room to discern that it had become entirely devoid of people save Mark and Chenle, who was waiting by the door.

This seemed to be happening a lot lately. Him not being able to stay grounded in his surroundings, adrift in thoughts. Mark gave him a concerned look.

“Chenle, you go ahead,” He said, turning towards the younger who countered with a brief nod before exiting into the hallway, trailing the echo of the moving crowd.

Usually, even if merely out of reflex, Renjun would shoot his friend a glare at the prospect of what he was about to do, but frankly, Renjun was tired. Tired and perhaps waiting for a chance to catch Mark alone and through some weird best friend telepathy, Mark had heard him and he pulled out a chair to sit down facing the younger, expression wearing something warm, something familiar and trustworthy which almost sufficed already in making Renjun tear up, but only almost. Maybe this was what Jaemin meant.

“What is it?”

Renjun didn’t realize that he had been staring at his friend the whole time, not uttering a single word since the latter had sat down. Time was a weird concept, he thought, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep track of how much of it was passing as they sat there in silence.

“Mark,” Renjun rasped out, immediately feeling the tears prick at his eyes. “I think I fucked up.”

Mark was quick to reach forward to grasp Renjun’s hand, eyebrows tugging into a careworn frown as he squeezed it lightly, his silence prompting Renjun to continue.

“I was so scared he would do this to me one day that when Jisung told me I didn’t even question it. I didn’t question it, almost as if I anticipated it would happen. I didn’t know how, I just, I started seeing red, I felt so hurt, and then, just like that everything was over and it shocked me how fast it happened. As if it was always meant to happen anyway. Even being with Jeno, I just can’t help but feel like he deserves so much better? Like, look how I’ve been treating him now, I’m such a shit boyfriend, I can’t even look at him.”

Renjun buried his face in his arms momentarily to subdue a sob threatening to jolt out of his body. Never had he felt so pathetic, and while he knew Mark wouldn’t ever find it in him to judge Renjun, or anyone, simply because of the kind of person he was, Renjun couldn’t help but feel such a profound feeling of shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach. It made him feel sick. He made himself feel sick.

“Renjun, listen to me,” Renjun couldn’t bear to look at his friend full on, so he kept half his face hidden in the crook of his arm. “I’m not going to lie to you, I kind of had a feeling there was a bit more to it the whole time, but I didn’t bring it up because I trusted that you would eventually figure it out yourself. Because you’re smart like that. Your emotions are so strong that it frankly scares me sometimes, but that also means you deal with them, in your own way. You don’t keep things inside, that’s just not you. And maybe trying so hard to keep things inside, being something that you aren’t, is exactly what has brought this upon your relationship. You need to start telling him what’s bothering you, Renjun. Shutting him out is not going to make you happy, nor is it going to help Jeno try to keep up with you. He’s not a bad guy, you know. At least not from what I’ve seen.”

Mark stilled, and Renjun could feel his friend’s eyes on him so he finally decided to look up.

“You cursed him too.”

“Because you’re my friend and also I fear the wrath of your tiny fists,” Mark chuckled, and Renjun couldn’t help but go along. “Besides, I knew you’d figure it out. As suspicious as I was of Jeno since that day at my party, I also need to respect how diligently he cleaned up after himself. He even came to me after to ask for advice.”

Renjun’s ears perked up at that. “He did?”

“Yeah. He asked what he should do to make it up to you, and told me how scared he was of losing you. I might not be the best judge of character here, but he seemed very sincere to me at the time.” Mark smiled and Renjun’s gaze wandered off again, contemplating. “I made sure to give him hell though, everyone knew Jaemin was out to destroy you two so I wasn’t going to just give him a free pass for being oblivious. Not cool.”

“Not cool,” Renjun mimicked, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Thank you, Mark,” He rubbed his eyes with the hem of his longsleeve. “For being my friend.”

Mark snorted. “Nothing to thank me for. But to repay me you could maybe help me figure out what my first text to Donghyuck should be.”

Renjun’s mouth flew slightly open in awe. “You mean you got…?”

“At the party, yeah. He gave it to me,” A wide grin spread over his features, the highs of his already pronounced cheeks pulling up all the more. “Alcohol really does wonders.”

“Oh my God. Our baby is growing up.”

Mark gave his elbow a light push. “Hey!”

They spent the next hour or so formulating what would be Mark’s ultimate wooing strategy.

Renjun didn’t know what came over him when he found himself at Jeno’s front door on a lukewarm Sunday evening, but it probably had to do with him lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling of his room for what felt like hours without being able to rid the insistent urge to just do something to make him stop feeling the way he did. His impulsivity evidently served many purposes. He had vaguely prepared what might be a good apology speech on the bus ride there, passionate speeches always sort of having been a strong forte of his when yet he couldn’t help but feel completely stranded going into this regardless.

Jeno wasn’t a crowd of impressionable, rowdy youths who were keen on the persuasion that Renjun had so triumphantly supplied. Jeno was Jeno.

Renjun almost swallowed his tongue upon watching Jeno’s expression flash from a mien of surprise to one of visible aggravation, then to one of not nearly as concerning tired annoyance.

“What do you want?”

Renjun swallowed, gaze dropping onto the tips of his feet, however, forcing himself to look the other in the face before he spoke. “I need– I need to apologize to you.”

He didn’t miss the action of Jeno’s eyes narrowing just the slightest. “You need to or you want to?”

“Both.” He bit his lip, briefly weighing his words before sending them out. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, at the party. Or at the cafeteria that day. I was so– You didn’t deserve to be treated that way,” His fists balled tightly and his stomach churned, struggling to keep his eyes ahead as he pushed on. “I was always so…scared you’d just walk out on me one day, I couldn’t think when I heard. My mind went blank and all I could see was what I had already painted out for myself for the past few months and I just. I hurt you,” He looked at Jeno, really looked at him and his dark eyes that were so unusually hard, but still so warm and familiar. He thought he definitely knew what Jaemin meant. “I’m sorry, Jeno.”

A silence hung upon them for the next few moments, Renjun looking at Jeno, and Jeno looking back with an unreadable gaze that frankly made Renjun feel like there was a trap door in the floor beneath his feet that was going to open up and swallow him next thing he knew. It was weird being on the other side like this. Usually when Renjun came over, he didn’t perceive what now felt like a physical threshold, a barrier to keep him out of the house that had become like a second home to him. He wished he had calculated the losses beforehand, the many tokens of familiarity and comfort that had been an essential part of his everyday life that were now pushed onto the other side of a wall that he had built himself, all by virtue of his irrational fear of losing them in the first place. Yet despite the memories of Jeno’s mom bringing them lemonade while they studied together, of climbing on the roof at night to test what it would feel like to be a romantic movie cliché, of drawing random objects in Jeno’s room while Jeno was still fast asleep to pass the time, of Jeno kissing the top of Renjun’s head when he could tell Renjun was trying to seem like he wasn’t upset about something – on top of all, Renjun missed Jeno. Whether or not those memories could be salvaged or not wasn’t a priority, not really, so he kept his eyes locked on the other, watching his features move in all the ways that were familiar and reminded Renjun that he knew Jeno and reminded him that he didn’t have to know Jaemin to ascertain what Jeno would do.

“You need to learn to fucking listen, Injoon,” Was what Jeno finally said, Renjun’s eyes faintly flickering with newfound hope. “You especially need to listen when I tell you to talk to me about what’s going through your head. You always seem to wage a war inside and whenever something happens I have to be scared it’ll just,” He gestured with his hands. “Hit everything around you and then no one can get through to you anymore. I should’ve told you that Jaemin is staying over the night before, I realize that, but you were already asleep and I would’ve explained to you when I saw you at school the next day before you’d even have to say a thing and that would’ve been the end of it! It’s so baffling to me how you can blow up without the slightest warning I just. I wish you would’ve told me, Injoon.”

Renjun watched the exasperation on Jeno’s face, glassy eyed and at a lack of a response that’d feel appropriate. So he just said “Sorry,” once more, taken aback by how it came out as a mere whisper.

Jeno took a step back. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

A panic took over Renjun at the prospect of Jeno disappearing through the door again, and it incipiently urged him to follow in step, however, he checked himself the instant after and ascertained that he had to give Jeno space, so he remained put.

“I’m really sorry, Jeno.” He reiterated once more, the sound of it akin to a goodbye this time and Jeno nodded, tight-lipped, lastly stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Despite him having received what felt like the worst telling-off of his life, Renjun felt an odd sense of calm wash over him as he stood on Jeno’s doorstep. The notion of actually losing him was a bitter sting, but less bitter than doing so by his initial assumption which would’ve permanently tarnished Jeno’s image in his mind along with it all the happy memories they had shared before this fiasco went down. Jeno was still Jeno, with or without him, and the reassurance that it would forever remain that way made a warmth bloom within the very midst of his core.

But while that contentedness in itself was a pleasant surprise, he was also sad. Incredibly and seemingly irremediably sad, as he ultimately turned around to find his way back to the bus stop.

Word about the next DNYL party traveled double the velocity than the first time around, their reputation having received a significant boost after their initial success and Chenle and Jisung extended their notorious party planning services to found an entire committee that took charge of various aspects of the preparation process, Renjun watching from the sidelines as the two sternly ordered around a small crowd of underlings as if they were born to do so. He was only half paying attention, frequently zoning out and shifting his focus from the street outside Chenle’s window to the many objects being hauled into the house. Chenle had pretty much taken charge of DNYL at that point, but Renjun liked to at least provide the courtesy of being present and somewhat showing his support in light of the fact that it was initially his idea and Chenle was helping him take the rap without so much as a complaint, let alone that it was either this or spending the afternoon in his room all by himself feeling void, when yet healing. But void nonetheless.

Part of healing involved making himself feel good, and with that spirit Renjun had decided to indulge in some minor preparation for tonight as well. He had borrowed a black blouse from his older brother, who was happy to assist Renjun if it forced the younger abandon his room for a little while and in addition, he also offered to do Renjun’s make-up which he was initially going to skip on because temperatures were starting to raise to inhumane levels of heat, but Sicheng insisted that he at least take the highlight to Chenle’s place so he could apply it himself when the threat of it melting off his face upon applying was effectively gone.

Renjun kept his promise and dabbed some of it onto his nose and the highs of his cheeks when the time for finishing touches came, already having applied a hint of lip tint and dark red liner ahead and he checked himself out in the body mirror situated in Chenle’s spacious top story bedroom, a fleeting boost of confidence conjuring a weak smile onto his facies before he perceived a faint knock on the door.

“Renjun, Chenle asking for you.”

Renjun brusquely swung the door open, startling his friend into jolting backwards, Mark’s eyes promptly widening upon getting a proper glimpse of his face and stilling for a moment before gradually raising both his thumbs in approval, a broad smile tugging at his equally handsome features that automatically compelled Renjun to mirror, when yet not without a blatant hint of bashfulness.

“Thanks,” Was all he managed to mutter before he scooted past Mark and into the hallway to the stairs, eyes scanning the vast entrance area for a platinum head of hair. Some people had already started to befall the premises with their uproarious chatter, Renjun spotting Chenle amidst a round of his committee members holding what appeared to be an attempt at spirit uplifting hazing, and suddenly Renjun wasn’t sure if he was so keen on complying with Chenle’s calling upon his presence, promptly settling on taking a quick roundabout detour to the kitchen to make himself a drink.

The buzz within the house grew rowdier by the minute it seemed, Renjun sipping on his second Malibu sunrise mixture by the second hour and occasionally pushing himself to interact with the one or other familiar face if just for the sake of not holing himself up in some corner out of what may look like self-pity from the outside, but really manifested in the sudden realization that he wasn’t particularly in a party mood. He wasn’t mourning anymore, by no means, while Jeno still occupied a prominent fraction of his mind Renjun had started to find significant benefits in the solitude his being single provided, particularly in terms of addressing his emotions that used to be so overwhelming he found there was no healthy outlet to effectively translate and study them, until it became gradually more perspicuous to him how it was impossible to rush these sorts of matters. Spending grand amounts of quality time with his friends was also a major contributor to his process of acquiring insightfulness, and he periodically attempted to express his gratitude, if not explicitly then with the act of further opening himself up to their advice, so much that at moments he almost found himself grateful for how things had turned out, yet only almost, and only scarcely.

He still really missed Jeno.

“Hey Renjun,” Renjun startled at the sound of the familiar voice, and he shocked himself once more by not countering the greeting with a vitriolic remark.

“Hi Jaemin.” He mustered the hint of a smile, which the younger returned. He suppressed the urge to question whether the boy had come alone.

“Heard what you did,” Renjun bit his lip at the notion who from, but his demeanor towards the younger didn’t budge, at least not visibly. “Glad you did it. T’was really mature.”

“Thank you, Jaemin.”

“I also have something to tell you,” Jaemin’s head whipped around to look behind him briefly, face pulled into what Renjun interpreted as a bewildered grimace when he faced towards him again. “Well, not me. There’s some guy waiting on the terrace asking for you. Looks greasy.”

Renjun froze momentarily, an almost forgotten face with green eyes and blonde hair whose messages he had been actively ignoring popping back into his mind.

Oh boy.

“Ah, not sure if I should–”

“He sounded like it was urgent.”

Renjun’s brow perked up in confusion at that, struggling for a plausible basis for this guy to inquire his attention so suddenly. If his memory didn’t delude him, he had a somewhat clear image of giving away his number. Perhaps he had lost it, or been too drunk to remember receiving it in the first place.

“Alright, I guess,” He bid Jaemin goodbye with a brief nod and an amicable “See you around.”

Renjun smoothly maneuvered his way through the sea of people, preliminarily crafting a careful string of excuses before ultimately setting on simply telling the truth, if not for the sake of respecting the guy’s pride considering he had been nothing short of courteous towards him, then at the very least in celebration of the steady path of self-growth Renjun had recently embarked on in light of recent events. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, finding it to be considerably more quiet which initially struck him with a rapidly growing sense of anxiety, because what if it turned out the dude wasn’t as friendly as he initially anticipated, involuntarily taking into account that he was literally about to deliver news of practically having intended to use him to get over his ex-boyfriend, but he attempted to shove that notion away, finding a bit of relief in the spotting of a group of people playing truth or dare in one of the upstairs guest rooms.

Renjun’s heart pounded heavily in his ears for some reason, breath reaching abrupt deadlock in his throat when he finally slid open the glass door and slipped outside at the very last, a brisk breeze sending a chill down his spine and he halted.

On the empty terrace of Chenle’s million dollar mansion sat Jeno, propped against the railing in a sort of boyish manner and Renjun’s first thought was of course, and obviously Jaemin’s acting skills were nothing short of disgustingly brilliant. But that didn’t linger.

What lingered was the look that Jeno shot him upon his registering Renjun’s presence, a permeating, yet soothing sentiment swimming in those brown orbs and for a while it effectively eliminated any remnant feelings of unease.

“Hey,” Jeno started, voice light.

“Hi,” Renjun responded, taking a cautious step forward as if to test whether Jeno would budge. He didn’t. “Why did you ask to see me?”

Jeno patted the spot next to him, and Renjun felt relief, having to remind himself that he couldn’t just ease himself into that spring of emotion. He slid onto the floor next to the other. Moments passed, then minutes, and Renjun weighted the possibility of them sitting there, eyes lost in the barely visible sprinkle of stars in utter silence being all that was to transpire, and somehow he found contentment in that. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about his mouth running in all sorts of uncharted directions, and luckily once the time came around, Jeno took the courtesy of setting the direction for him like ever so often.

“You really pulled something off here, huh.”

“What?” Renjun’s head turned towards the younger.

“DNYL. A lot of people seem to speak very highly of your club.”

Renjun wanted to snort. “It’s not really…my club.”

Jeno looked at him quizzically. “Not? But–”

“I founded it, yes. But I didn’t make it what it is, that’s all Chenle’s doing. They have him to thank. My motivations for making it were…”

He stilled.

“Were what?” Jeno appeared genuinely curious.

“I was trying to spite you.”

Renjun’s eyes dropped to the flooring and he pulled his knees towards his chest, arms laxly resting atop. He didn’t want to see the expression on Jeno’s face, not if he wanted to clear the slate and get it all out there before he’d cave at what a horrible person he had been.

“I thought that if I made a successful club with the sole purpose of spiting love and relationships, you’d somehow find out about it and get. I don’t know. Agitated? Annoyed? Not that that’s something you’d actually do. I just needed something to shove into your face for what you did, or, what I thought you did, as if that’d magically fill the hole inside of me. As much as Chenle spoke in favor of making this some dumb big cliché vigilante high school club, I think he was the one who really turned it into something that people look forward to attending. He somehow flipped my negative intentions around and created something uplifting. I could never be leader – not after what I pulled at the last party. Not after what I did to you. I humiliated you and myself and I didn’t even care because I was so blinded with hate. And Jaemin,” His bottom lip caught in between his teeth for a brief instant. “Without him it would’ve taken me forever to snap out of it.”

Renjun turned to Jeno finally, momentarily startled when he discovered the younger was looking at him for what appeared to be the entire duration of him talking. Another moment of silence passed between them, Renjun struggling to decrypt whatever was running through Jeno’s head as his expression was captured by a steady sense of serenity that made Renjun all the more perplexed. Was he to get up and leave? Was he to wait until Jeno would tell him to? Did the younger actually have anything to say to him at all?

Jeno exhaled, Renjun catching the movement in the peripheral of his eyes as they remained glued to the flooring.

“I appreciate the explanation,” Jeno said, calmly. “I kind of assumed after what happened that first time.” Something in Renjun’s chest twisted at the memory. “But I should probably tell you that the only reason I went in the first place is because I thought I’d get some advice on how to deal with heartbreak.”

Renjun turned to look at him, puzzled at that statement. “You what?”

“I told you I didn’t know the club was your idea. None of the posters said, and Jaemin convinced me it was a good idea after I– Well. Yeah.” He hemmed lightly, the look on his face flashing with hints of abashment that Renjun was extremely glad he caught. “Jaemin was a really good friend these past weeks. You should give him a chance.”

“Figured,” Renjun quipped, and Jeno smiled a beautiful smile, the first one Renjun had seen in what felt like forever.

“As much as I wanted to be mad at you for not letting me speak to you I was just so. So desperate? I knew that once you’d hear the full story it’d all be water under the bridge but it just, I just couldn’t reach you at all and really, that was the thing that made me so incredibly frustrated in the end. I missed you, Injoon.”

“I’m sorry, Jeno.” Renjun looked at him, earnestly. Jeno’s gaze locked with his.

“I’m sorry too.”

The next instant Renjun found Jeno’s lips slotted onto his, and he immediately sighed into the kiss. They heavily made out for a desperate few minutes, blissfully carefree of whoever saw them and after a while Jeno leaned back to cup Renjun’s face, head limply slumping against Renjun’s shoulder, out of breath and with a smile on his face and instantaneously Renjun’s insides bloomed with the overwhelming feeling of affection.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

Renjun found it to be almost funny how quickly everything was over.

“DNYL – a place where people find love within themselves to potentially find it with someone else on the way!”

Chenle plopped his backpack on the seat next to Renjun, the older practically hearing the grin in whose blustering tone.

“Keep it down, won’t you?”

“Wow, you sound uptight for someone who has gotten laid for the first time in weeks.” Renjun shot a lethal glare at his younger friend, Chenle stopping his motion of slipping into the nearby seat and instead scooting towards the one further away from the other. He theatrically mimicked karate motions which Renjun countered with a roll of his eyes.

“But sounds cheery, no? DNYL but with a positive twist. Hate to break it to you, but the whole heartbroken crybaby cliché is starting to become kind of outdated and who knows better what the teens really want besides moí,” He pointed both thumbs at himself, Renjun having settled on entirely dismissing Chenle’s subsistence for the rest of lunch break. Mark snickered.

“At least there will finally be an end to the daily earful about Mark not being able to talk to his crush without getting soaked in sweat,” The amused expression on Mark’s face immediately twisted to one of indignation. “What! Did you in all seriousness think you’d be spared, my eyes and ears cover every ground, Mr. Lee!”

Renjun’s ears perked up at that, eyes shooting towards his other best friend. “Excuse me what?”

“Our Markington scored himself a date yesterday,” Chenle followed up his statement with a diabolical chuckle, Mark’s cheeks tinting. “Another case to back up the new brand. I’m telling you guys, you’ll make me rich!”

“But you don’t get any money…?”

“Rich in votes when I run for student president. Think big, boys.”

With that Jisung appeared at their table, and with him two others. Renjun smiled.

Jeno slipped into the seat in between Renjun and Chenle, Jaemin next to Mark and Jisung opposite of Chenle. Jeno brushed his lips against Renjun’s cheek in a brief, yet affectionate peck in greeting and the two youngest grimaced.

“Actually let me go back to the time when Renjun permanently swore off love.” Renjun’s eyes shot daggers at Chenle for what seemed like the millionth time that day. “Too soon?”

Jeno chuckled and Renjun could feel the younger sneak his hand towards his under the table, Renjun taking the liberty of intertwining their fingers.

Maybe he could stand Chenle’s relentless quips and devious smiles, and perhaps he even found delight in their existence. At least it seemed all too effortless to do so when Jeno squeezed his hand like that.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

#nct #nct dream #nct fanfic #noren fanfic #noren #renjun #jeno #mark #chenle #jaemin #jisung #renjun pov

26 notes · View notes

msruchita · 6 years ago

Text

In Lies: You Hide - The Moon

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Indian Reader

Words: 2.1k+

Warnings: None

Summary: From Tumblr Prompt @writing-prompt-s ‘When someone lies to you, you can feel the weight of how bad the lie is. little white lies are a barely there pressure while lying about murder feels like a truck is being balanced on your head. You’ve just asked your spouse how their weekend at their parents was, and the answer makes you feel like the entirety of the world is crushing you.’

(So after months, I’ve finally come to part 2. There’s a point that seriously, I have no idea what i’m writing anymore. I changed from Indian lawyer to Indian reader. If you want, you can always still imagine the reader as yourself, minus the skin tones and such. Let me know your thoughts about this. All mistakes are mine, and I really love feedback. Hope you enjoy this!)

Masterlist

Part 1

There was a thrum of energy as Judge Rogers leaned back against his chair listening to another fresh-faced associate struggle to explain how they had treated the case with bias due to the lawyer on the other side being Loki. Restraining the urge to grin like a shark especially when the smell of blood was so lovingly wafting over to him, he merely kept his smirk on.

The courtroom was Loki’s favourite place to be; the lies, the deceit, the sheer chaos of it all, was a wonderful cup of rose earl grey tea to him. He thrived on being a lawyer - embracing the slow coil of desire at the liberty it gave him, allowing him to twist and tease fact till it no longer held any shred of credibility - as his victim lay destroyed by another one of his lies. Such an incident would usually give him much satisfaction, however, his mind was preoccupied today.

His dear betrothed; a fierce spitfire compared to his ice, with her curves and butter soft skin, and he couldn’t help but chuckle soundlessly at the irony of opposites attract. They were meant to meet up today, together with their caterers for the cake and food testing, however, he had smoothly evaded her question of when he would arrive by answering that a case held more precedence.

He could very well leave by now, seeing how Rogers seemed to be pulling the last vestiges of his patience as the associate continued to blunder on till he help a hand up.

’Mr.Carter, if you don’t shut up, I will personally file a few lawsuits just so you will my chambers. Due to your personal bias, Mr.Loki’s client has been waiting for the past 8 months for this charade to come to an end. Your client has 2 hours to think about the plea deal, otherwise I’m taking this to trial. Now, leave, before I shoot you.’

Loki’s smirk slid off his face when the Judge turned to glare at him. He may be a shark, but Rogers was a mountain compared to him. Exceedingly brilliant as he was honest, he reminded Loki very much of you. He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a low chuckle.

‘Counsellor, I don’t know if I should warn her or hug her. From what I heard, she’s more than capable off handling you. Anyways, get the fuck out. We all know this case is in the bag.’

Striding out of the office, Loki checked the watch on the wall in front of him. He just had enough time to meet you at the caterers, a small smile playing on his lips as he contemplated your reaction. He could have made another excuse but the thought of seeing your flustered look made him groan softly to himself. Finding his phone, he punched in a number heading towards the courtyard, ‘Niles, the caterers please.’

I struggled to keep a straight face as Loki moaned low, licking buttercream frosting off his finger as we both tasted the third cake. He had been attempting to seduce me the moment he slid out of a black BMW, lean and powerful, in a simple three piece suit. My jaw almost dropped when he reached down to squeeze my butt through the pencil skirt before sliding his hand up to the small of my back, ushering me inside. His low chuckle telling me he enjoyed my wariness and surprise.

The caterers were friends of Judge Rogers; Maria Hill and Pepper Potts together owned a small bakery that was just on the edge of town and it was only due to my love for long walks off to nowhere did I enjoy the seclusion it provided. I had managed to throw Loki off when I mentioned that our menu for the buffet had already been set.

Ignoring his look of surprise, we settled down to try the five different cakes I had selected to try. Loki dismissed the first cake the moment he laid eyes on it while I still chose to try a slice, closing my eyes the flavours of hazelnut chocolate and raspberry preserve hit my tongue. The second cake was called banana foster, a simple butter cake with a caramel and banana filling, that also included rum and cinnamon.

I wrinkled my nose at the slight scent of alcohol, shaking my head as I did not want to get drunk off a cake. Loki on the other hand, enjoyed it a little too wholeheartedly, his hand on my knee leaving no mystery to what he wanted. The third cake, was definitely a treat to my eyes and everything I had wanted for a wedding. Cherry blossom - half fruity, half floral, this cake was a unique dessert with a light, refreshing taste and an equally delicate flavour. Combining layers of strawberry and vanilla with rose ganache and cream cheese frosting on top, it was a girl’s dream come true.

Loki on the other hand, teased me by sucking buttercream frosting off his finger, quietly telling me how much he loved the soft pink and how good it would look on my skin in contrast. What a pleasure it would be to lick off this flavour off my clit, when I clamped a hand down on his thigh, squeezing hard.

‘Tell me, are your parents dead?’

Your voice washed over him like a cold slap of air. You didn’t care when you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes before he grimaced at the taste of the cake, pushing the plate away. Masking the surprise at your words, he attempted a nonchalant shrug, wondering how long had you known that he had been lying about his parents. Nobody knew the truth about his family and he chose to keep it that way - being the black sheep of the family would be of no surprise to anyone.

Slowly standing up, he pulled her chair away from the table, circling her, like a wolf stalking its trembling, paralysed prey. She was anything but terrified as he leaned towards her, growling in her face. She sat promptly, completely unaffected except for the frown still in place, her legs crossed. His eyes darkened to bottle green as the scent of cinnamon and chocolate tickled his nose. Even when he stopped behind her; puffs off his hot breath brushing against the skin of her neck, she didn’t move.

Her skirt slightly rode up as she leaned forward to reach for the next cake - the ever classic red velvet. His mouth watered at the sight of fabric stretching over that luscious, round ass, vivid images of her bending over his desk, his hand coming down to spank each globe filled his mind. The simple white blouse she wore accentuated her full breasts, and he wanted to tear off every button, watching them expose inch after inch of creamy brown skin as the fabric moved from each breath she took.

‘Your parents don’t approve of you, or your proclivities, do they?’ Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he stilled as she slowly turned to offer him a bite of cake from her fork. Sighing, she finished the slice and stood up to cut herself another slice willing her migraine to stop. It felt like a truck had decided to sit on her head and she wanted to head home and knock herself out with sleeping pills. Turning around, she leaned against the edge of the table. A foot shorter than him and yet she showed no fear, her gaze directly on him. ‘Were you planning on making them disappear? Is that why you lied about your weekend?’

He took a deep breath, shock lancing through him as her words hit their mark. How could she have possibly known the truth and his true intentions? Unless, he suddenly took in her demeanour, she wouldn’t stop scrunching her nose muttering about balms and sleeping pills, constantly sighing and turning away from the sun’s glare shining through the windows.

She was a open book; her honesty and goodness shining out of her every time she smiled. He wanted to preserve that smile on her face, not see her frowning in displeasure especially because of him. His lips thinned slightly as she huffed out in discomfort. The moment she looked him in the eye, every cell in his body screamed to dominate her. Her confidence in her abilities as well as her body was admirable - he could see the seams of her pencil skirt were about bursting.

Stepping into her space, he tugged her closer to him, his hand burning through the thin layer of her shirt at her back, trailing a long, cool finger down her cheek as she stared at him wide-eyed. Finally, a reaction worthy of his taste.

‘It’s alright, my darling. I will never hurt you, not you. Not here…’

The desperation to taste her, mark her was slowly driving him mad. How sweet it would feel, her soft moans as he stretched her arms over her head and her legs apart; wrists and ankles in his leather cuffs bound to the bed. His silk sheets gliding against her skin, as he would tease her with his fingers and lips; his skin tone a direct contrast to her beautiful bronze.

Picking her up, he gently set her down on the table, her head tipped back against his hand reached up to cradle it. Rummaging in her bag, he found the small bottle of sweet-minty smelling balm that she so coveted. He held it above her head when she reached for it, his voice slightly husky. ‘Let me, my dear. After all, it is my right as your husband to take care of your every need.’

Her eyes widened as the weight tripled, letting out a silent scream and she slipped into darkness.

He gently spread the balm in soothing circles on her forehead, the sudden urge to protect her, cherish her filling him. Even fast asleep, Y/N let out a small moan of relief that was music to his ears, his eyes glued to her body. Sinful thoughts ran through his head whenever she shifted, his shirt sliding across her hips. Every breath he took was carefully exhaled, perfectly planned as his eyes wandered up and down.

Softly, he pushed aside her braid, letting the overside of his fingers slide down her collarbone that was exposed in his shirt. He didn’t understand the need for him to have to dress her in something with colour, but he dug in his wardrobe till he found an old yellow shirt, slightly worn from several washes. You shivered, whimpered softly as the anticipation of branding his mark over her creamy brown skin had him clenching his fist tightly.

Unable to help himself, he slid the blanket covering her lower half, exposing her to him as he slid a pale hand up her leg, tracing the thighs full of hickeys, and the finger shaped bruises on her hips where his fingers had bit into her when she rode him. He knew her breasts held the same marks, her throat lightly bruised from his chokehold.

He couldn’t believe it when she passed out from a simple lie; yet, instinctively he knew, she had figured out that he had made plans for her to disappear like his parents. Stealing a quick look at her, he lightly stroked a bruise on her thigh, lightly pressing eliciting a soft sigh from her.

Picking her up in his arms, he had told Maria they would take the last cake; Honey and lavender - vanilla cake soaked in honey-lavender-white wine with honey-goat cheese frosting, something that suited the both of them. He had Niles rush them back to his apartment, understanding that his lying was physically hurting her.

After applying the balm and changing her out of the confining clothes, he laid her down in his king sized bed with silk sheets that now just seemed too much. Sitting next to her, he had gotten the shock of his life when she suddenly sat up to straddle him, rubbing herself against him. ‘Loki, you have to help me. It’s too much, and I need relief. Need you in my wet pussy.’

Crude seduction had never worked on him before, he preferred women of class and stature but those words sent his cock springing to attention. The next few hours were a blur as she humped him until she came again and again, completely soaking his pants till he lost control, and buried his tongue in her pussy just so he could answer the question of how she tasted. The answer: divine and sweet. He stayed there for several minutes, alternating between biting the soft skin of her thighs and licking her clit as she dripped onto his tongue before collapsing still after the 9th orgasm.

Breathing hard, he stared at the small woman next to him. She was a match made for him.

In one week, they would be man and wife.

What would she do when he told her the truth?

Forever bae <3:

@dammn-dean @aniketadeptinmacabre

Taglist:

@thesaltyduchess @book-dragon-13 @eurynome827 @cchellacat @anyoneforteaus @hail-meezus @whitewolfbumble @time-travel-bouqet @the-wayward-robot @supersoldiersruined-me @stanclub @buckmesideways22 @unicorns-and-fairy-dust @cutie1365 @theonelittleone @saundrasays @kingbouji3 @h0-h0-h0micide @some666shit @lostinspace33 @midnightdream83

My taglist is open, so if you want to be a part, just send me an ask. If you don’t want to be a part of this, that’s fine too, just send me an ask!

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#marvel fanfiction #avengers

9 notes · View notes

whimstories · 7 years ago

Link

BalconyAU Pt 6

Part 1 // Part 5// Next

A/N: Everyone that has ever comment and been just fabulous human beings, (Tumblr, A03, or Fanfiction) you all are the only reason I’m finishing this. You. You right there reading. So thank yourselves, you’re doing good work.

I always write to improve, so comments and critiques are welcome! Please rip this to bits! Thank you!

Word Count: 3k

Waking up and staring at a blemish on her ceiling, Marinette is reminded she has no patience for subterfuge. She asserts this fact all morning as she tugs on her clothes, crumpling the fabric in her grip, and withers frustrated glares out her balcony window; a pair of pigeons stare back, flaunting their easy system of mating on the criteria that their partner has wings and is alive.

Chat Noir fragrantly proclaimed his intentions almost a week ago; to Plagg, then Manon, and thus essentially the whole building, and he hasn’t followed through in the slightest. Though her identity in the situation is in check, what reasoning can make a person say such a silly thing then disappear?

Do men in her life have a sick enjoyment in rallying her affections then promptly throwing them to the dust? It’s a pattern that’s becoming her best friend and, honestly, she doesn’t want any of it.

Yet even in her frustrations, her heart still wants to know him. She believes it’s a misunderstanding— soft strings plucking in the night air and gentle male undertones are difficult for her mind, and even her body, to forget. So she’s determined to make everything straight.

She’s not a princess locked in her tower in the 12th century, she’s a warrior princess of the 21st century, free to do as she will; and if this situation isn’t straight by the weekend, she’s giving up entirely. Even if he kneels at her door, with roses and tears rolling down his cheeks from anguished love, she will direct him to the nearest trash bin.

Alya calls for their morning meet up, and Marinette almost topples a lamp when she realizes she never told Alya about the entirety of last week. She didn’t think to call Alya at all about the Chat ordeal, or even the dramatics with Chloe and Adrien. Its probably because Alya would consider it an op-ed piece for the modern romantic and would, also, give the worst advice.

Chat Noir proclaims his adoration? Bang him immediately.

Chloe insults her and her best friend in a single breathe? Bang down her door, with doormen in tow, and throw her to the streets.

Adrien Agreste hides in her house? Bang him then get connections with the dad. Two-for-one sale!

Unsurprisingly, the latter sounds like she’s angling for Mr. Agreste, and if that isn’t a clear indication she’s known Alya too long, there’s no way she can tell her a thing.

Marinette is groaning like a troubled moped as she approaches the door to Alya’s newest cafe discovery. The front door is glass but a distinct darkness reflects through the window which stops Marinette to consider if it is still morning or that the store is closed.

However, the door pushes open when pressured and she finds the entire cafe is shadowed in dim light and too many black curtains. Marinette is certain she stumbled into the cafe for the undead, which is actually a fantastic cafe name when one considers morning patrons. Alya is sitting in a booth a few steps from the door and waves her down, her wonderful smile a strange contrast to the general bleakness.

Marinette sits across from her, the black leather seat reflects the light at the center of the table, and looks around at the blackboards, the scatter of high skinny tables with bolted chairs, and workers with piercings. The menu on the table displays pictures of all the drinks which are either complete black or ironic pink. Her mouth twitches when she considers anything eerie from her life is easily overshadowed by the terrible atmosphere here. A bit genius, actually.

“Marinette, your hair!” Alya exclaims, slapping the table. Marinette flushes, containing her glee, and tentatively touches the corner of the princess braid still safe on her head. She preserved it the best she could when she went to bed, adding all the bobby pins that didn’t exist before and wrapping it in a scarf, and was quite happy looking at it this morning. “Did you get it done at a salon? You never want to go!”

“Well, I—“

“I knew you’d look like a bombshell if you went to a professional.”

Marinette frowns. “I do fine on my own.”

Alya gives a here-or-there gesture with her hand flat, and looks dubious. “You have a poor, hot artist vibe. ‘I only have time for mascara and head buns because I can kite a man with my deep inner thoughts and button nose face’,” She teases then gestures to her own face. “Some of us have to watch youtube videos.”

Marinette pouts and plops her face onto her hand. “I don’t kite men.”

“Only hot people say that.”

A female employee walks up to their table for their order, which exempts Marinette’s response. After ordering, Alya begins gesturing excitedly about her weekend with Nino, where they went on a grand date to a concert and restaurants. It’s rare for them to go on dates because Nino travels with his job; or when he is home, he’s so tired from jet lag it’s just a lot of cuddling and extracurricular activities that Alya loves to describe in torturous detail. It’s hard to look Nino in the face sometimes.

“Alright, alright, I’ve said enough,” Alya sighs like a lovelorn dove. ”I just love him too much, you know? Lets get back to your clearly interesting weekend.” She waggles her eyebrows which puts up Marinette’s hackles.

She picks up her drink that arrived during Alya’s anecdote, one of the ironically pink frappuccinos with chocolate skulls on the side, to cover the bottom half of her expression. She scrambles for anything of interest.

“I went running two mornings in a row,” she shrugs.

“Trying to look good for someone?” Marinette clenches her jaw, the plastic straw crushes underneath her teeth, and curses Alya. She was always good at steering a conversation.

“More like, trying to get rid of the extra pounds someone put on me the past several months,” she quips.

“Gurl, give me some credit. I know when you’re hiding something,” Alya smirks. She brings her drink to her mouth, it’s a latte— the darkest black Marinette has ever seen— and also decorated with a foam skull. Alya’s delight in the taste is reflected when she downs half of it within a second. “Did you finally make it to next base with Chat?”

“He hasn’t shown up since the day I got back,” Marinette admits, going with a partial truth.

“Oh,” Alya blinks several times. “That’s… surprising.”

What’s more surprising is Alya actually looks surprised. She holds her latte at bay, considering it in contemplative silence, then sips it with more patience than previously. Like she was holding something back. Marinette tilts her head. “You think?”

Alya blinks several times, again, and waves her off. “No, no, I was thinking…I just had a feeling he was a good guy.”

“You said he was probably a murderer,” Marinette intones.

“Obviously, I was joking.”

“And an adulterer.”

“We live in Paris, not Antartica.”

Marinette shakes her head, unsure of her friend’s sudden good faith. Though she has pushed Marinette towards Chat since she realized Marinette’s over the top admiration, at the same time she is supportive of keeping her in traditional and healthy matches. From her perspective, him giving up means he’s a tease, artificial, and possibly an actual adulterer. Definitely not a good base for boyfriend material.

Alya’s eyes twinkle suddenly, like a spark of inspiration, and she waves her empty cup towards Marinette. “How about this: Nino and I are going to a Karaoke Bar next Friday. You should come with us! Nino’s bringing an old friend, and I hate third wheeling the friend dates,” Alya says.

“Karaoke?” Marinette asks.

“You sing for a stranger but not your best friend? I’m shook,” She says with the utmost seriousness. “You need to get this guy right out of your head. Embarrassing yourself is the best option.”

Marinette groans into a smile, imagining said embarrassment. “Why must you torture me?”

“Because I’m all knowing and all powerful.”

Marinette cannot enact ‘operation warrior princess’ until Wednesday afternoon, when she catches sight of Manon at the front desk. If Marinette hopes to meet Chat Noir when he no longer shows up on to balcony, and she had checked every night, then she has to ask the central hub of communication.

“Manon?” Marinette asks. Manon hums, an arm leaning on the desk and supporting her head as she reads a novel. The cover is tilted low and Manon looks about as interested as a fox to an ant. Required class reading, then. “Do you happen to know what happened to that—um, singer? The one that use to come out every night?”

Manon hums, again, flatly, looking like she was stuck in the void of reading the last line of her page and the battle has worn her a reading speed of 20 words per minute. Marinette wonders if she should come back later, but Manon would probably be done for the day, and Marinette made a promise to herself.

“Did he ever find that girl? The one Plagg pointed out?”

Manon snaps the book shut, like an electric wire hits her, and stares aghast as Marinette. “Plagg. Oh my goodness, don’t get me started on Plagg, that dolt!”

Marinette straightens out, happy something caught the girl’s interest, and asks, “What happened?”

“Okay, I can’t tell you all the details, because Plagg said the guy is afraid girls will flock his door. Which I don’t blame him. They would if they knew the whole package.” Marinette’s mind latches onto the information, wondering if she fell for a Mr. Darcy after all. “But I do need to rant a bit.” She pauses and looks over Marinette. “I love your hair.”

Marinette is use to the compliments, dragging out the remains of the hairstyle to its last. It wont survive the night, the frays becoming less stylish and her hair needs to be washed soon, which definitely disappoints her. “Thank you. And I won’t tell anyone. Not even, Alya.”

“Please, tell Alya. Actually bring her along so I can rant to her as well, and maybe we can solve this dramatic liaison in a single afternoon,” Manon sighs.

Marinette tends to forget Manon and Alya are as tight as twine whenever they’re in the same room. They have the same interest for drama and mystery and just about the same amount of cynical humor.

“So, Plagg, he’s an idiot,” Manon starts. “He’s an idiot because he got the wrong door number, and now our dear singer is ensnared in the claws of a she-devil.”

Marinette’s mind buzzes at the words. Chat is still looking for her. He wasn’t chased away, he was sent down the wrong path! “So he knows its the wrong girl?”

“Yes! But he’s with the she-devil’s out of guilt for leading her on for a day. A DAY. That girl would guilt him for the rest of her life just to keep him ensnared. Plagg is a penchant for bad luck. So, now, what’s happening?” Manon leans on her forearm and waves grandly to herself. “Plagg comes crawling to me to solve the case. Which is a pain because I couldn’t even figure out our male without him telling me, how am I supposed to find the leading lady?”

“So, you don’t have any clues?” Marinette asks.

Manon looks physically pained. “Im dried up.”

This is so much information, fantastic information, that Marinette doesn’t want to wait. She can straighten this out right now— just tell Manon and she can point her to Chat. Perhaps Alya’s gut really did mean something. “I might, actually, know something to help?”

Manon perks up, eyes wide, and leans over the counter to grip Marinette’s arms. “You’ve been holding out on me Dupain-Cheng? Who gave you the goods? What do you know?”

Marinette raises her hand in defense. “Before I say anything, you’re my friend, right?”

Manon pulls back and huffs. “Of course! I would cover murder for you.”

“Manon.”

“Including my murder. Full coverage.”

“Okay, fine.” Marinette takes a breath “The girl who sings with him—“ a bustle of people returning from work, enter the front doors and Marinette’s nerves flusters her words. “—I, I happen to know her. And she’s looking for Ch-that guy, too.”

For some reason, even if she trusts Manon, before the cat is caught, she doesn’t want this soap opera even remotely broadcasted to the building. She remembers the doormen teasing her about too much takeout, what would they say about her love life at this stage? Barry has a boyfriend now, and she could not take his pity stares again.

“You knew? This whole time?” Manon stresses. “No wonder you were so excited that day! You went to tell her!”

Marinette breathes relief. “Something like that. Look, she’s trying to talk to him. If you can give me his door number, this whole debacle can be cleared up.”

Manon bites the inside of her lip. “I don’t know, Plagg sort of told me in confidence. Even if it is her, which I’m not doubting you—“

Marinette recognizes a sinking ship when she sees one and changes tactics. She grabs Manon’s hand between two and hers and leans across the desk. “Manon. This is true love at stake. This could be the greatest story to ever come out of these apartments and you are at the center of it.”

“That’s a little—“

“You always complain that romances in this city are too dramatic. Maybe it’s because the wrong people keep tearing them apart. Romeo and Juliet. Westley and Buttercup.”

“Clarke and Lexa.” Manon’s eyes are wide and inspired, and Marinette is rejoicing. “You’re right, if I leave it to Plagg, he’ll screw it up again. The girls need to take action now.”

Manon takes a post it note from the desk drawer and scribbles on it before folding it up and sliding it across the counter.

“Thank you, Manon,” Marinette sighs, clenching the paper in her fist. Manon sends soft punch to her arm in return.

“I better hear all about it the next time I’m on shift.”

Then the next three seconds is a whirlwind. Marinette is smiling and turning towards the elevators when a heavy obstacle hits her mid step and she’s careening forward. Since the paper is in her fist, she attempts to use one hand to balance check, but another person is already mid motion to catch her, so her body is going the wrong way. In result, there is turning, tangling and crashing to the ground.

“What are you doing, Bruce?” Manon yelps.

A soft grunt responds along with a jiggling motion under Marinette’s head. She’s rising on fours from the ground and her face is right next to a well pressed pant leg. Bruce, the least clumsy and least likely to cause an accident in the entire building, is on his rear next to her.

“You really do work in the shadows, don’t you?” She jokes, though a bit dizzy from the sudden fall. A weird imbalance is causing her head to tilt and she looks to the left and the princess braid is no more, dangling in a single long braid with locks falling out. She wouldn’t be surprised if some bobby pins were scattered on the ground next to her.

Bruce smiles, an eerie and strange sight for those who know him. “My mistake,” he says. Manon walks around the desk to help Marinette up, in which she smiles gratefully.

“Wow, what happened here?”

Plagg is in casual attire, a black bomber jacket, a t-shirt, and jeans, and standing right next to Manon. Marinette glances below her and notices a few suitcases scattered on the ground next to a golden cart. They must have fallen, though how she didn’t hear them is amazing.

“I didn’t know you worked tonight,” Manon glares, probably still riled up from their conversation.

“Barry needed the night off,” he shrugs. He shuffles closer to Bruce, dragging his black converse across the ground, then offers out a hand. Manon accepts the explanation, her shoulders unwinding, but her eyes are still narrowed at Plagg.

Marinette takes her cue to leave and looks down at her right hand, now empty. She grumbles then whispers to Manon, “I think I dropped the paper.”

Manon looks towards her then at the ground, which is usually spotless so finding a pink post-it should be a breeze, but there are too many the suitcases. Manon looks towards Plagg, probably not wanting him to see her, before turning towards the desk, but Bruce taps her shoulder first. Manon turns with her brows raised.

“You’re almost off your shift. Do you mind sending up some boxes to Madame Bustier? Now, if you please.”

“Ah-um,” Manon glances at Marinette and sends an apologetic smile. “Right on it.”

Marinette clamps her lips to a thin line and curses her luck. She looks at the suitcases and leans down to help pick them up, hoping to find the paper, but Plagg shuffles in front of her. “I have this. Do you need anything else today?”

Marinette sighs, knowing it looks awkward to stay and watch him clean up. “No, thank you. I happened to drop a piece of paper. If you find it, can you send it up to my room?”

“Yes, Miss,” Plagg grins and stands there. She looks around awkwardly and nods in return and walks to the elevator. She looks back and Plagg is still standing there with a smile, not cleaning up yet. Marinette narrows her eyes at him before the door dings and is forced to enter.

He’s still smiling, stock still, until the doors close.

She remembers thinking that Plagg must be close friends with Adrien. Considering how strange he is, she wouldn’t be surprised.

#adrinette #marichat #ml #balconyau #storytime #writing

14 notes · View notes