#But then again that's just me asking for another reason to procrastinate

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Simple Things

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

Cause your presence still lingers here (it won't leave me alone)

(In which a procrastinating writer starts another series to continuously procrastinate on)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 5.8K (lowkey shocked I managed that)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Look at me not being a liar! I'mma try to be good with updates but we all know me. This first chapter is mainly buildup and it's not my favorite but it's important to get the plot rolling. I know very little about California and it's going to become more and more apparent throughout this series so everyone who knows Cali, just pretend thanks! Did I edit? Yes. Are there probably still mistakes? Also yes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked, and what you wanna see next!

February 2033

“Anywhere but GSV,” Paige says adamantly, staring at the white wall in front of her, instead of her exasperated agent. 

Talia lets out a deep sigh, perfectly manicured sharp red nails tapping incessantly against her desk. For the most part, Paige is a dream client and when Talia says jump, she says how high. It’s easy to trust Talia’s vision when she hasn’t let her down once since Paige’s management company has assigned her to their basketball sensation. But most of those decisions had been about endorsement opportunities, opportunities that wouldn’t have other ramifications on the rest of Paige’s life, opportunities that didn’t come with personal consequences. 

“Paige-”

“How about the Sparks?” 

“They’re not offering nearly as much.”

“I’m okay with taking a pay-.”

“You do not pay me as much as you do for me to let you finish such a stupid sentence.”

“Fine,” Paige spins around in her swivel chair, “you’re telling me nobody else is offering me anything as big as GSV.”

“Well I mean Indiana…” Talia trails off, barely able to hide an impish grin at Paige’s pronounced eyeroll, “and of course you could always just stay in Dallas.”

Paige winces at the mention of the current team. With one championship and two MVP campaigns under her belt, it would be incorrect to say her time with the Wings hadn’t been fruitful but she’d never felt quite at home here. And that had been before the personnel changes had hit Dallas and suddenly, the team coming off a near perfect season with a trophy in their hand, was struggling to keep themselves in playoff contention. Paige had stuck it out two more seasons after, a testament to her loyal nature and desire to start and finish her career at the same place like many legends had done but ultimately enough had been enough and she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s not meant to be a part of the Wings forever. 

“Can’t you try talking to the Sparks again?” she says, hands massaging her temple as she resorts to begging, “it’s fucking L.A. they’ve got to have some money lying around somewhere.”

“Even if they did, you and I both know the Sparks aren’t a good fit basketball wise either. GSV has everything you’re looking for. They need a PG and you need a championship contender who’s offering you a deal like they are. You can’t throw all of that away just because-”, Talia bites her lip, catching herself before she can vocalise out loud the real reason they’re having such a complicated conversation about what should be a simple decision. 

Paige swallows uncomfortably, skin prickling with that all too familiar fire that spreads through her veins every time her past brushes a little too close to her present. It would be impossible to keep them from ever colliding, but for almost a decade now, Paige has managed to keep them separate beyond absolute necessity. She’s done the cordial handshakes when the Wings played the Valkyries and given due diligent praise when the media had asked about the competition, but that was it. More than that would have been like willingly walking into a fire with kerosene all over her body. And Paige can’t do that, not when the burn marks from years and years ago, still haven’t healed. 

“Team chemistry is important,” Paige says finally, “I might be an on-court fit at GSV but that won’t matter if it’s a disaster off the court.”

Talia sighs and Paige can tell she’s fighting the urge to whack her head against her desk, “it’s been years Paige. You've lived a whole life without each other. The two of you are adults. You’re professionals and you’re two of the best goddamn players in the league. You have the same goal; you want to win. You don’t think you can put that behind you to get you both what you want?”

You've lived a whole life without each other

It’s like a well-aimed arrow that barely breaks skin but shatters something underneath, something buried deep within, something she should have gotten rid of years ago but hasn’t been able to let go of yet. Something that feels a lot like a forever she’d never gotten to live out and an always that had flown out of her reach. And Paige knows nobody lives the life they’d expected to live at fifteen or even eighteen but the truth is that most of her dreams had come true. The only thing missing was the person she’d expected to be there by her side when they did. 

“Okay listen,” Talia begins again, “here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Bossy,” Paige smirks, bracing herself, knowing she’s not about to like the next words out of Talia’s mouth. 

“You’re going to go to San Francisco,” the older woman raises a silencing hand the minute Paige tries to protest, “you’re going to meet the front office, you’re going to meet the GM and you’re going to tour their facilities. And if after talking with them and seeing all they have to offer, if it’s still not enough to counter having to play with her, then we can revisit this conversation.”

“Can I say no?” Paige tilts her head with a sigh. 

Talia smirks and it’s enough for Paige to let her head finally hit the table, “your flight leaves in two days.”

***

Azzi wakes up to a light weight sprawled over her back and tiny fingers rubbing circles against her temple. She can’t help but smile, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the sound of her daughter’s quiet breathing as the little girl continues her ministrations. It’s a new skill she’s been taught, to wake her mom up like this instead of screaming. So far, Azzi think’s it’s been a successful transition. 

“Mama,” Stephie whispers in Azzi’s ear, “are you awake yet cause I really really want waffles.”

Azzi laughs, finally flipping herself over and Stephie squeals as she goes from on top of her mother, to landing on the bed, “I thought you said you wanted pancakes last night?”

“I did,” a thoughtful look crosses the five-year-old's eyes, “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?” Azzi suppresses a smile. It’s uncanny really how she’d given birth to her perfect mini-me. The moment the nurses had placed the tiny little creature into her waiting hands, she’d noticed immediately how much it felt like looking through a door into her childhood. And with every passing day, it seems Stephie morphs more and more into Azzi. From the way her face betrays her every emotion to the way she can’t make a decision to save her life, it’s all Azzi and really it makes sense, because Stephie is all Azzi’s. 

“Yes,” Stephie nods matter-of-factly as she sits up onto her knee and pulls at Azzi’s blanket, “so can you get up and make me waffles now?”

“Oh of course I can, your highness,” Azzi says dramatically, rising off the bed and letting Stephie climb onto her back, “would you like chocolate sauce or maple syrup with that your majesty?”

Stephie groans, burying her face in Azzi’s neck as if her mother has asked her to make the most difficult decision in the world. They settle into their morning routine, Stephie brushing her teeth as Azzi goes through her meticulous skin care regiment, occasionally dabbing little bits of this and that on her daughter’s skin, eliciting soft giggles from the little girl. It’s her favourite sound in the entire world. Azzi’s life isn’t perfect and there’s a million what if’s, one bigger than all of the others, that plague her mind sometimes but then she looks at Stephie, and she knows she wouldn’t change a single decision she’d made. Because they’ve all led to this moment, 9 am on a Friday, making waffle batter as her five-year old sits on the counter-top. It’s not everything but it’s enough. 

The frantic sound of a door being haphazardly slammed open has both Stephie and Azzi startled, until Colleen comes bursting through it like a tornado. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Azzi’s best friend and manager says, out of breath, as she throws her car keys on the kitchen table.

“Hi Aunty Leen,” Stephie grins, waffle batter all over her mouth as she continues to dip and lick. 

“Hey kiddo,” Colleen ruffles Stephie’s hair before sitting down and staring pointedly up at Azzi, “you might wanna sit down for this. I have news.”

“Sorry to break it to you Collen but your new h-o-o-k-u-p-s are not sit-down-newsworthy,” Azzi smirks as Colleen scrunches up her nose trying to keep up with the spelling. 

“Oh trust me Az, I wish this was about my h-o-o- whatever,” Colleen takes a deep breath, “GSV is meeting with a potential point guard this week.”

“I would hope so. We really need a PG if we’re gonna redeem ourselves next season.”

“Right, well- you see- the thing is-”

“Today if you can please Colleen,” but there’s this knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Her sixth sense that’s been dormant for years is prickling and if she’s honest with herself, Azzi knows the next words that are about to come out of Colleen’s mouth before her best friend has even said them. 

“GSV wants to sign Paige,” Colleen says slowly. 

For a moment there’s silence and it’s ridiculous how all it takes is her name for Azzi’s mind to start flipping through pages and pages of a photo album she’s buried deep in the treasure chest of her mind. And for a second, she allows herself to get lost in a flood of everything we could have been until the sting of her hand slipping against the waffle iron jolts her back to reality. 

“Fuck,” she curses, immedaitely blowing at her fingers. It does nothing. She should know by now that when things burn, the flames might die out, but even the ashes remain on fire. 

“Bad word Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, unaware that her mother’s world has just been thrown off balance, “you owe me a kiss.”

She juts her cheek out and Azzi complies, trying to ignore the way her heart is desperately trying to beat out of her chest. It only calms down a little when Stephie presses a kiss of her own against Azzi’s cheek. 

“Sorry sweetheart, mama’s bad, Here can you mix this batter for me,” Azzi whispers to the younger girl, distracting her child with something to do, before rounding on her best friend, “she can’t come here.”

Colleen sighs, getting comfortable in her chair, “unfortunately I don’t think you have much choice.”

“The h-” Azzi cuts herself off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “the haystack I don’t. This is my team and I don’t want her on it and I’m gonna walk into Ohemaa’s office and tell her exactly that.”

“Right and what exactly are you going to tell her when she asks you why you don’t want the best point guard in the league on your team Azzi? Your team, who mind you, lost in the finals last year because you didn’t have a point guard.”

Azzi flinches, gritting her teeth, both at the reminder of the loss that had happened not long enough ago and the fact that she couldn’t very well go into her boss’s office and blurt out the truth about a tragic relationship that had lived and died in secret. 

“It's a bad idea, the two of us- we’ll kill each other Colleen,” she struggles to string the words together, swallowing away the we already have that tastes like bile on the tip of her tongue. 

“Well you’re gonna have to learn not to,” Colleen says decisively, slipping from being Azzi’s best friend to her manager, “because you and I both know that if you want GSV to win another championship, you’re going to need her.”

“Are you my manager or GSV’s,” Azzi grunts, rubbing a tired hand against her forehead. 

Colleen smiles, “it’s the same thing isn’t it? What’s good for GSV is good for you. And we all know the two of you thrive on the court together.”

“We did. Past tense,” the admission falls like lava from Azzi’s lips, singeing the edges of her mouth as everything that she’d let simmer underneath threatens to bubble over, “there’s no guarantee we still will. Besides, it's all a moot point anyways because she would never agree.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Colleen cocks an eyebrow and Azzi groans at the rhetorical question, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop, “because last I checked, she’s flying into San Francisco tomorrow.”

***

Paige has a problem. A really big fuck i really want to be a golden state valkyrie type of problem. She’d fought it every step of the way since she’d landed in San Francisco. Something about the city felt like it was bursting with basketball. The drive from the airport into Oakland had been bursting with murals of the Warriors and the Valkyries and for a split second, Paige can see her own face up on the billboards in a #5 Valkyries jersey. She just doesn’t know if it she can imagine herself next to the woman in #35 again, the woman whose smile in the posters is exactly as she remembers it to have been like when it was pressed into Paige’s skin every night almost a decade ago. 

On top of that, Omehaa Nyanin had seemed to know exactly what made Paige Bueckers, the basketball player, tick. Every argument Paige had about why she shouldn’t be Valkyrie, the woman had a counter ready, as if she’d already anticipated exactly what the blonde would say. The Valkyrie coach had been even more prepared with videos of their offensive and defensive sets and how they fit in tandem with Paige’s own skill set, all ready to show off the minute she had walked through the door. It should be the easiest decision in the world to let herself just belong to this world that is screaming her name but there’s a rope around her waist trying to tug her back to safety, trying to tug her away from dousing her still-open wounds in salt. 

Sighing, Paige lets herself into what she’s been told is called the “chill area”. Coach had offered to give her a tour of the facilities herself but Paige had declined, asking instead for her former UConn teammate and currently Valkyrie centre Jana El Alfy to do the honours, desperate for a familiar face who knew her history to bounce her thoughts off. It clearly wasn’t what the woman had wanted, but considering she was trying to convince Paige to choose them, whatever the blonde wanted, she was going to get. Massaging her temples at this irritating predicament she’s unwillingly found herself in, Paige’s head rolls back against the back of the chair, eyes closing involuntarily. 

“You’re not supposed to sleep in here,” a tiny voice echoes and Paige almost jumps out her skin in shock. 

“Fucking hell,” she curses as her eyes fall upon a little girl who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, “shit kid, you scared me.”

The child scrunches her nose and Paige feels her heart beat start to quicken as recognition settles in. She knows this little girl, has seen her on the sidelines at countless games and just like every other time, all she can think of is just how much this child resembles the future Paige had once believed would be hers. 

“You owe me three kisses,” the girl says matter-of-factly, her tone so similar to her mothers. It shouldn’t surprise Paige, not when the kid has those same dark curls, those same doey brown eyes, that same nose scrunch.

“I owe you three kisses?” Paige repeats. 

The girl rolls her eyes letting out a sigh far too grave for someone of her age, “yes. Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. You said three bad words, so you owe me three kisses.”

“And what does Mama say about asking strangers for kisses?”

“Stranger danger duh silly,” the child puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looks at Paige with a far too familiar expression, “but you’re not a stranger.”

Paige purses her lips, “I’m not?”

“You’re Paige Bueckers. I’ve seen you at Mama’s games and Nanna and Pops have pictures of you in their house,” she stops, staring accusingly, “you don’t know who I am? Did you forget me?” 

And Paige doesn’t know what catches her off guard more. The casual mention of a house that used to feel like a home, of people that used to feel like family or the fact that, that puppy dog stare still has the exact same effect on her that it did years ago, even if the owner of said eyes is different.

“Of course I didn’t forget you. You’re Stephanie,” Paige says softly, trying to muster a smile as she adds the last name, “Stephanie Fudd.”

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” comes the immediate correction, “but everybody calls me Stephie,” tiny hands wrap around Paige’s neck as Stephie climbs on to her lap, tapping a finger on her left cheek as she smiles up at Paige, “so now can I have my kisses?”

Slowly, Paige presses three featherlight kisses against the little girl’s cheek and when Stephie squeals in delight, she wishes she could record it. Someone somewhere is playing a practical joke on her, Paige is sure of it. Because all of a sudden, all the little things she’s been collecting as to reasons why she might just like the Bay Area are starting to feel insignificant in front of this one, in front of Stephie and her innocent smile and the way her free hand is curled around Paige’s neck as if she’ll hold on forever. And the world is definitely playing a cruel prank on her because Stephie can’t be the reason Paige wants to stay, not when her mother’s the reason Paige needs to go.

“Your Mama just lets you run around the building like this?” Paige asks, trying to focus on Stephie instead of the turmoil in her brain. 

Stephie smiles sheepishly, “well I was ‘posed to stay with Aunty Leen while Mama talks to Miss O but then Aunty Leen got a call and I was bored so I came here.”

It doesn’t take Paige too long to decipher that Miss O must be Omehaa, but she’s stuck on who the hell Aunty Leen could be. She’s distinctly aware that her skin has no right to prickle, her hands have no right to sweat, her stomach has no right to knot, she has no right to feel anything when it comes to Stephie’s mother. But jealousy floods through her anyways. 

“Who is Aunty Leen?” Paige asks and then mentally slaps herself for it. 

“Aunty Leen is Aunty Leen,” Stephie explains unhelpfully, “so Miss Buecks-”

“Bueckers.”

Stephie shoots her an unimpressed look, “same things Miss Buecks. Are you here to join Mama’s team?”

“I-” Paige scratches her neck, only slightly taken aback by the direct question, “I don’t know.”

“You should,” Stephies says decisively, “Mama’s team is the best team in the world and Mama’s the best player in the whole wide world.”

Paige can’t help but smile at Stephie’s loyalty, “so why does her team need me then?”

Stephie looks contemplative for a moment before she uses her index finger to beckon Paige towards her, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” Paige says, leaning her ear down so Stephie can whisper into it.

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my second favourite player.”

Paige swears her heart feels like it might burst. She’s been plenty of people’s favourite player and it’s always been nice to hear. But somehow, all of that seems to pale in comparison to being Stephie’s second favourite player. 

“Why’s that a secret?” she asks softly. 

“Cause you play for the wrong team silly. I can’t cheer for not Mama’s team,” Stephie huffs and then her eyes twinkle, “that’s why you should play for Mama’s team and then I can support you!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Paige concedes, battling against the part of her brain that’s conjuring up an image of Stephie on the sidelines, cheering for Paige. 

“What’s log-ic?” Stephie asks. 

“Just means you’re a really smart kid,” Paige says, tapping the little girl’s nose. Her head is ringing with warning bells because this floaty feeling of belonging that’s encompassed in this little bubble she’s found herself in with Stephie is not one she’s allowed to feel, not now, not ever. 

“STEPHIE,” a shrill voice echoes outside and Stephie immediately dives into Paige’s neck, hiding herself in the crook of it as a frazzled woman bursts through the door. Her eyes soften when they fall on Paige and the blonde can’t help the caught expression that filters on her face. She knows she’s done nothing wrong; Stephie had been the one to find her after all. But perhaps it’s because she’s scared Colleen will take one look at her and see that tiny rebellious part of her that wants to fight what’s coming next, wants to fight the woman who’s going to take Stephie away from her. Paige isn’t one to get attached easily. It had only ever happened once before when she was fifteen and she’d just known that the girl shooting three’s next to her on the court was meant to be in her life in one way or another. But things had been simple then. Nothing was simple now. 

“Stephie,” Colleen says slowly, “what have I told you about running away from me?”

Stephie peeks her head out from Paige’s chest, a coy smirk playing on her lips, “not to do it? But you were boring me Aunty Leen.”

Oh that’s Aunty Leen, Paige thinks and she absolutely should not let out a sigh of relief at that but she does anyway. 

“I was on the phone for two minutes, Steph.”

“Two minutes too long,” Stephie counters and Paige has to stifle a laugh. 

Colleen rolls her eyes before holding out a hand, “well your Mama’s nearly done so we have to get going kiddo.”

“Can Miss Buecks come with us?” Stephie asks innocently and both Colleen and Paige freeze. 

“I don’t think-”

“I’m not sure-”

They both begin before their eyes flicker to each other and they can’t help but smile. It’s funny how relationships work, how one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve, no matter how hard everyone involved had tried to make it work. 

“I’m waiting to meet someone sweetheart so I can’t come right now,” Paige explains, “but maybe next time?”

And she shouldn’t add that last part, not when Paige should be devising an escape plan to never be in Oakland again instead of giving Stephie false hope about a next time that’s far from guaranteed. But it’s worth it for the way Stephie grins, staring at Paige like she’s given her the world’s greatest gift. 

Before Paige can say anything, the little girl presses her lips against Paige’s cheek and she swears she stops breathing for a moment, “I hope you choose to play for Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I think you’d look pretty in purple.”

***

May 2024

“I’ve figured it out,” Paige says triumphantly as she unceremoniously flops onto Azzi’s bed.

“Well hi to you too babe,” Azzi grumbles as she scoots over to give the other girl space. It’s unnecessary because the minute she does, Paige only moves closer, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s torso. 

“Hi baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s lips and pulling away so quickly that it leaves Azzi chasing after her. 

Azzi huffs and Paige laughs as she gets herself comfortable, resting her chest on the darker skinned girl's stomach, “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Our future,” Paige says triumphantly and Azzi can’t help but smile at the our as she intertwines their fingers together. It’s been years in the making and there’s nothing Azzi’s more confident in than those two words. Not everyone finds forever this young, but she’s certain they have because really she can’t imagine a life where they don’t belong to each other, a life where every night isn’t spent exactly like this. 

“And what do you see for our future,” Azzi asks softly. 

“Well it’s simple really,” Paige hums, “I’m going to get drafted wherever next year but the year after,  you’re definitely getting drafted to Valkyries-”

“I don’t know about definitely-”

“Azzi it’s rude to interrupt,” Paige sends her a chastising look. 

“Right of course,” Azzi nods solemnly, “continue.”

“As I was saying. You’re definitely getting drafted to the Valks and then we just have to wait for my rookie contract to be up and boom! I’ll join you in the Bay Area and we’ll be together forever and ever and ever.”

Azzi giggles, brushing her hands through Paige’s hair, “that simple huh?”

“That simple,” Paige promises, catching hold of one of Azzi’s hands to press a kiss to her palm, “it’s us Az, we’ll always be simple. Besides, I think we’d both look pretty good in purple.”

***

May 2033

The Valkyrie facilities are state of the art as expected. Jana is the perfect tour guide, pointing out everything she knows will garner Paige’s attention. As they step foot onto the practice court, Paige feels the overwhelming sense of this could be home that’s been dancing along with her every step of the way today. All the resolve she’d carried with her from Dallas is slowly crashing down and she can practically hear Talia’s sing-song i told you so voice echoing in her head. 

“You’d be really good here P,” Jana says excitedly, doing a little spin.

“You’d be lucky to have me,” Paige teases, as she picks up a basketball and subconsciously starts dribbling. 

Jana laughs, before a serious expression takes over, “we would. We got really close to winning it all last year and I think you might be our missing piece.”

“I want to,” Paige confesses, “I just-” her eyes flicker to the most recent MVP poster hanging on the walls, Jana’s gaze following hers, “I don’t know if I should. It’s so complicated.”

“Only if you let it be,” Jana says as she swipes the ball out Paige’s hands, “don’t think of everything else P, just- just think of the basketball. Because you know basketball-wise, this is the right move,” she passes the ball to Paige with a smirk, tilting her head towards the basket, “why not take a shot at it P?”

Paige shakes her head, palming the ball in her hands, “can’t believe my son’s all grown up.”

“Children of divorce have no choice but to grow up,” Jana says gravely and Paige laughs despite herself. 

Taking a deep breath, Paige raises the ball, arching her arms perfect as she shoots it. It barely touches the rim, before falling through the basket with swish. Hitting the floor with a quiet thud, the ball rolls until it’s stopped by someone's foot. Behind her, Paige can hear Jana cheering for the shot but she barely registers it, her entire attention on the new figure who’s just entered the court. It’s a tale as old as time. Azzi Fudd enters the room and suddenly everything else in Paige’s peripheral fades away, until it’s just her and the girl who still manages to steal her breath away. 

“Nice shot,” Azzi says, as she takes a slow step towards Paige. The air is thick with tension as if a time capsule has been opened and their past is leaking onto the pages of their present, staining it with marks of the you and me that we used to be. She should say something, even if it’s just an acknowledgement of the compliment but her tongue feels dry and she’s scared that if she opens her mouth, all the things she shouldn’t say will flood out instead. 

“Hey Az,” Jana’s eyes flicker awkwardly between her former teammates, “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Had to talk to Omehaa about a couple of things,” Azzi says airly, eyes still fixated on Paige, “Jana can we have a minute?”

“You won’t kill each other will you?” Jana asks nervously.

Azzi laughs and even Paige cracks a small smile, “no Jana, we won’t kill each other.”

“Just making sure because last time-” Jana clamps a hand to her mouth as both Paige and Azzi flinch, “because nothing- you guys- you guys talk. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

She scampers away cursing to herself about putting her foot in her mouth and it would be amusing, if not for the fact that Paige can still barely breathe. They haven’t been alone in a room since last time and the air around them hangs heavy with the casings of the grenades they’d hurled at each other. 

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other. 

“Yeah um, can’t really do summer braids with the W season,” Azzi chews at her lip.

“Right yeah- yeah that makes sense,” Paige nods. The awkwardness is killing her. She’d never been a fan of the silence, always more comfortable in the chaos but it had been different with Azzi. There had been something peaceful, something calming, about the quiet, when it was just the two of them, hands intertwined, eyes closed, as they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeat. 

“Paige-”

“Are you here to tell me not to come to GSV?” Paige blurts out, “because it’s- it’s okay if you are like I get it. I mean- the two of us- it’s just really fucking complicated so I get it- I get it if you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t,” Azzi admits and it shouldn’t, but Paige feels it sting anyways, “you’re right. You and I- there’s just a lot there and it would- it would be really complicated and when Colleen first told me I- I was gonna go fight Omehaa and be like abso-fucking-lutely not but-” she sucks in a deep breath, “do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

“We made a lot of promises to each other,” Paige says, unable to keep the harshness out of her tone, “sorry I-”

“No you’re right,” Azzi swallows, “but I meant the promise we made when we first started dating. We said we’d never let the personal affect the professional. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d never let our relationship affect us on the court And I know- I know we’ve broken a lot of promises to each other,” they both let out a breath at that, “but I think- I think maybe we should try and keep this one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need a championship contender and GSV needs a PG. Paige, I’m not here to convince you to not come to GSV, I’m here to ask you to join our team,” Azzi says resolutely. 

Paige isn’t easily shocked by anything really. She’s lived what she’d consider a pretty interesting life but of course if anyone was going to surprise her, it would be Azzi. Azzi, who has always been an exception to every rule. 

“You- you want me on your team?” Paige repeats, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Azzi affirms, “you told me once that we could be the best backcourt duo in college basketball and we were, even if it was only for a year, we were and so now I’m telling you that I think we could be the best backcourt duo in the WNBA.”

Paige is silent for a second before a smirk takes over her features, “I think I did a lot more than tell you, pretty sure I had a whole video that proved it.”

“Are you asking me to make you a recruiting video?” Azzi raises an unamused eyebrow. 

Paige shrugs, “could be a nice gesture.”

“I have a five year old child, Bueckers. Trust me when I say I don’t have enough spare time for bullshit like that when you can easily just search up our highlights on youtube. Or just look in your trophy case if you’re looking for proof of how good we can be together,” Azzi says, a hint of that familiar sass bleeding into her spiel. 

“We really were good together weren’t we,” it spills out before Paige can stop it and it’s like they’re taking two steps back from each other, the friendly-ish banter of mere seconds ago being clouded by a past tainted by their mistakes, “on the court I mean. We were really good on the court.”

“Right,” Azzi averts her gaze, “just- just think about it okay? This doesn’t- it doesn’t have to be about you and me, not like that at least. It’s about basketball. GSV is the perfect fit for you and you’re the perfect fit for us. And deep down you must know that too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the free trip to Cali,” Paige surmises. 

Azzi scoffs, “you and I both know you make too much money to need a free trip to Cali. If anything, the hotel they’ve given you is probably cheap for your standards.”

“Maybe I just like feeling important? I always did love people showering me with praise.” 

“You always did love the attention,” Azzi grins teasingly, “but there’s one thing you always loved more.”

You, Paige thinks but she can’t say that, “and what’s that?”

“Winning. That’s what this is about. You want another championship, so do we. Come help us and let us help you. It’s that simple.”

As Azzi turns to walk away, Paige can’t help but call out from behind her, “you know I think your daughter’s pitch might have been better.”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips when she turns her face back a little. It’s a new smile that Paige can only assume is Azzi’s Stephie smile,  “yeah? What did she say?”

“She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple,” Paige smirks. 

Azzi laughs, and it’s exactly like Paige remembers,  “it’s that simple huh?”

“It’s that simple.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

ok what if reader is also a vigilante?

reader and Jason met in their civilian identities, and after a while they start dating. but like, neither of them tells the other one about their vigilante identities? and then something random happens and they both find out in a funny way?

(alsooo can I be 🐈‍⬛? :3)

Idk if this is considered ‘funny’ but I tired, oh and Yes, you may be 🐈‍⬛ anon. 🦦

When you first met Jason in the cosy book store, you were far too concerned with keeping your stint as a vigilante as close to a secret as possible, so much so that the mere aspect of dating wasn’t something you contemplated on a day to day basis; Never less dating a civilian when you’re fighting street level thugs. However you couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of his smile, his eyes and the way he ran his hand through his hair.

All you were aware in that moment was that Jason is just perfection in a six foot something frame. He was just that beautiful that you couldn’t find yourself looking away from him, ever; It had to be illegal to be that beautiful.

When Jason first met you in the cosy book store, trying to reach for a book that was just out of reach, he was far too concerned about the new vigilante that had taken to the street of Gotham. Nightshade was their name and they obviously had natural talent but were still sloppy in some areas, but they showed enough promise in their debut outing to be apart of the Outlaws. Dating was the last thing he needed honestly, despite affection, loyalty and love were something he deeply longer for more so then anything, however he felt a little tempted by the idea when you gave him a look of gratitude as he handed you the book was enough to set him alight.

‘Jason.’ He blurted.

‘Come again?’ You asked.

‘My name. It’s Jason.’ He clarified, internally cursing himself for making himself looking like a right idiot in front of you, but you just had that effect on him and it hadn’t even been ten minutes upon meeting you. Was he really that depraved? He asked himself as in that very moment you decided to smile at him, which gave him his answer that yes, he was indeed that depraved for a genuine connection. ‘Well it’s nice to meet you Jason. I’m y/n.’ You greeted, finding Jason absolutely endearing and insufferably cute. ‘Do you often help people with books or is it just a one time thing?’ You then asked, holding the book close to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I don’t come here as often as I promised myself I would, so consider this as a rare occurrence.’ Jason shrugged, leaning against the shelf. ‘So do you come here often or are you a fellow procrastinator?’ You chuckled and Jason has to pat himself on the back for that one. He managed to make you laugh and god did it sound ethereal. ‘I’m kinda a fellow procrastinator but that’s because I’ve been busy with life and such.’ You told him, not wanting to admit to everything to a conventionally attractive man you’ve just met at a small, run down book store just yet; You didn’t want to fuck this up for yourself.

‘Oh yeah? Then maybe if you come here more often, I’ll have more of a reason to stop by other than the books.’ Jason said and you felt your smile even wider and tighten your grip on the book, casting your eyes to the floor. Curse this beautiful man for making you feel like a silly little schoolgirl either way a crush, it was both embarrassing as it was all consuming. ‘Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, mr Jason.’

Jason shrugs. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I mean is it wrong for me to want to get to know you better?’

‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt.’ You admitted.

‘So it’s a date?’ Jason asked, anticipating your answer.

‘Yeah. It’s a date.’ You replied, feeling a warmth flood through your body, followed by a feeling of nervousness simultaneously it was hard to figure out which feeling you should focus on.

Several book store dates, skirting your obvious feelings for one another and moving into his apartment later, you and Jason were officially a couple: and a happy one at that. And yet despite sharing everything to one another, every deep secret you’ve ever kept in your entire life and yet the one secret neither of you chose to disclose was your vigilante identities, and for simple and justifiable reasons on both your parts; You didn’t want Jason to be brought into the crossfire as a casualty and Jason didn’t want you to get hurt because of the dangerous people he wronged as RedHood. You’ve both hated yourselves for keeping a tight lid on your vigilantism but you knew it was for the betterment of the other, after all ignorance was indeed -on some occasions- bliss.

However on this very night, everything you and Jason have ever hidden from the other had decided to come to light but not in a way that’d either of you were expecting.

You and Jason were cuddled up on the couch and enjoying a peaceful evening in together, seeing as for a week straight both of you have had your hands full with capturing and clearing the streets of Gotham of thugs, goons and drug dealers, and actually getting the golden opportunity to act like an ordinary couple and shower the other in the love and affection that you’ve both been aching for the entire week.

‘You need to get some better sleep Jaybirdie, I can see dark bags starting to form under your eyes.’ You mutter softly as you run your calloused thumbs under his eyes, naturally concerned for his health and well-being. ‘Are you saying that I’m not that appealing to look at anymore because I’m developing eye bags? How shallow of you babe.’ Jason joked as he moved his face from your hands and looking away from you with a pout on his lips.

You laughed, reaching to hold his face in your hands again and gently made him look at you. ‘Stop being dramatic my little Jay bird, I think you make eyes bags work for you but I just don’t like the idea of you staying up longer than you should.’ You said as you kissed his lips and then under his eyes, feeling him hum in content as he dragged you into him tightly. ‘I appreciate the compliment babe.’ He said as he pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in deeply. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had enough time with each other lately.’

You burrowed yourself deeper into him, hands clutching at his shirt. ‘it’s okay Jason and besides I should sorry too because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I hope you don’t hate me afterwards.’ You admit, scared that this might break your beautiful relationship with the sweetest man you’ve ever met, who had been nothing but unquestionably loyal to you through and through. ‘You could do no wrong pretty baby,’ Jason cooed, ‘but since we’re sharing things, I have something that I’ve been keeping from you also sweetheart.’ Jason said as he feared that he’d only be scaring you away afterwards and he can only hope that you’d stay and hear him out.

‘No, Jason you don’t-‘ you were cut off by the sound of two emergency alerts going off from your shared bedroom and before leaping off of Jason’s lap, much to his displeasure and worry, and rushed towards the bedroom with Jason hot on your heels going on about something you couldn’t quite make out over the noise of the emergency alerts. It was rare that it goes off and when it does, it’s when someone like scarecrow or Joker has made a reemergence to the public and when they do, nothin good ever comes to pass.

Within the depths of your shared closet in your bedroom were two equal sized duffel bags. Inside these duffel bags held everything to do with your vigilante personas that you and Jason had hastily shoved inside, and all before you officially moved into his apartment too. You never touched his out of respect for him and he never touched yours out of respect also, you both knew which one belong to who as they also sat just beneath your own civilians clothes, that and the fact that Jason’s duffel bag was a lot more beat up and rugged compared to yours which only had slight wears and tears; but other then that it was relatively a new bag.

Right of this moment however you didn’t stop to think about which bag you’ve picked up because before you knew it you had locked yourself within the bathroom, just about ready to change into your attire, when you were face to face with a familiar red helmet causing you to freeze in place. While you were trying to grasp the idea that your beautiful, beautiful Jason was the ruthless RedHood, a knock on the bathroom door broke you from your thoughts, and you automatically knew that Jason saw your vigilante attire and was feeling a similar sort of confusion towards you as you were about him. You placed the red helmet back into the duffle bag, zipped it shut before unlocking and opening the door wide enough for Jason to hold out your duffel bag towards you.

‘I believe this is yours sweetheart.’ He said awkwardly.

‘Thank you Jaybirdie.’ You mutter as you took the bag off of him, placing it down on the toilet seat as you picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him through the gap in the doorway. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’

‘Thank you sweetheart.’ Jason replied as he took the bag off of your hands as an uncomfortable air of silence followed as you both stood on either sides of the door, not knowing how to properly address the situation. Until… ‘I knew I recognise that ass in spandex anywhere.’

‘JASON!’ You exclaimed, face becoming flushed.

‘What? It’s true you’ve got a distinctly shaped ass! So of course I’m going to recognise it!’ Jason replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘So you’ve admitted to staring at my ass like a perv?’ You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason pushed the bathroom door open fully to get closer to you and hold your face in his hands. ‘Don’t start acting like you haven’t stared at my ass like a perv, perv.’ He says with a chuckle upon seeing the expression upon your face, pressing kisses from your forehead and all the way down to the tip of your nose. ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice.’ You murmur softly, making Jason laugh as he lead you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where he then sat you down on the end of the bed and held your hand.

‘Well unfortunately for you, I do notice and I can’t say I don’t like the attention that I’d get for my charming parent.’ Jason says as he kisses the back of your hand. ‘You’re not mad that I’m a vigilante and have been keeping it from you all this time?’ You asked, running your thumb over his hand. ‘No because it would be quite hypocritical if I did because I’ve been keeping the same secret hidden from you also. Would you be mad at me being RedHood?’ Jason asked and you immeditly replied ‘no because I know you did so to keep me safe.’

‘Ans I know that you didn’t tell me for the exact same reason.’ Jason butted in. ‘Now that we know however, this just means that we’re even more of a kick ass couple because we literally kick ass every night and I couldn’t be more prouder of you baby.’ He add as he presses kisses to your face, making you chuckle before pulling away. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop worry about my baby. So expect a whole lot of team ups in the future okay chipmunk?’ You pressed a kiss to his cheek before stealing one from his lips as you stood up from the bed, tugging at his arm. ‘Why don’t we start teaming up now? RedHood and Nightshade, they’ll never see us coming by a long shot!’ You said and Jason couldn’t help but smile at your excitement as he then stood up, groaning dramatically. ‘Alright, alright, quick pulling my arm and get changed so we can go catch us some bad guys.’

You beamed brightly as you stole another kiss from his lips. ‘I love you Jaybirdie.’

‘The things I do for you buttercup.’ Jason spoke against your lips as he kisses you again.

[lookforsomeoneelse]

Can we get some more sahsrau? Does not have to be a long one-shot, I just really like how you write! And I would love to hear more of your ideas!

Maybe about how specific characters show that they interact with the reader? For example, how they act before reader is in HSR, and once reader is in HSR? As for characters, you can choose who ever you want! You're the one writing it after all.

As for writing, you asked if writing gets better if you do it often? And well, for me what works is writing, doesn't matter if it not good, just enjoy yourself. Plus reading books, fanfics, or whatever you like once again, and this time try to pay attention to how things are worded in your favorite books/fanfics.

Anyway, take good care of yourself cause there are always people who care about you, and stay hydrated!

Alright! First ask. Only gonna be headcanons because I’m a procrastinator. Reader discretion is advised, because I have no idea what to put for the content warning. I think it only goes for Kafka though.

Herta

I touched on her briefly in another post, but know that despite her arrogance and apathy towards most, she’s just as down bad for you as the rest of the cast.

She gives her absolute best when it comes to you.

Also in Simulated Universe, your word is absolute law. If the simulated you decides that the project is a bad idea or something, Herta will absolutely stop, regardless of the resources she put into its creation.

I imagine her to be with you the exact opposite of how she treats everybody else- with the utmost respect and attention.

Once you actually do make it inside of the game for whatever reason, Herta is absolutely ecstatic.

When you’re actually around her though…

Let’s say that her IQ drops by a significant amount.

Combined with her intense faith, this can lead to a lot of misunderstandings and false assumptions.

You can legit just be sitting down or something and herta will be in the background like “WRITE THAT DOWN, WRITE THAT DOWN!”

Misha

Born as a reincarnation(?) of the Watchmaker, I’m not actually going to discuss him. Rather, I wanna talk about who he originally was, and (technically) his creation.

Mikhail Char Legwork, aka The Watchmaker, was also a devout follower of yours.

All throughout his travels on the Express, he never lost sight of your mercy, which allowed him to survive on his long journeys.

Thanks to this, you end up as a “character” in the Clockie cartoon, who the writers show as a mysterious figure who gave Clockie his powers.

There’s also a LOT of propaganda surrounding you in basically every piece of media, (in the game) including Clockie.

Speaking of media…

Robin

ah yes, the shining popstar of the universe herself, Robin!

Robin’s no doubt another faithful follower of yours.

She believes that her amazing voice and innate talent came from you (it actually came from Chevy, holy cow is she a good singer) and she gives many praises to you for that.

In fact, do you want to know what her best selling single is?

It’s not Sway to my Beat in Cosmos, nor Hope is The Thing with Feathers, and it’s not even If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking!

It’s actually a song- a hymn, rather, composed and sung specifically just for you.

Ask basically anybody who is a fan of hers and I can bet that they know the lyrics by heart and can absolutely sing it backwards.

Make it into their reality, and you’ll get free access to front seats to any and all of her concerts. And when I say “front seat” I mean you get a whole ass throne specifically built for your comfort.

She will die of joy if you ask her for an autograph. Keep that in mind.

Kafka

last but most certainly not least, it’s our mom, but more commonly known as Kafka, the charismatic and beautiful Stellaron Hunter with a big bounty and big boobies. (I’m f#cking ashamed of myself for writing that)

She’s the one character on this list that we haven’t been given a backstory for- except some voice lines, but they really don’t tell us anything.

As such, the only real thing I can tell you is that she’s faithful to you, just like everyone else.

It becomes a completely different song and dance if you come to them, though.

She’s essentially a glorified wine aunt, and she will treat you out for whatever you wish.

She’s also very very defensive of you.

That guy over looks stole a glance? Dead next morning.

That girl goes even within 50 meters of you without your permission? Her fate is sealed.

Kafka is by no means like this to you, however.

She’s probably gonna lick your shoes free of charge.

(A/N: I, uh, really like asks. please send more. you probably won’t get anything good, but least you’ll get what you requested.)

[morgana-larkin]

I love angst for some reason, but can you write a Melissa x reader breakup fic? Where reader is in their mid 20’s and Melissa is obviously wayyy older than her. Melissa realized that they’re both heading in different paths in life and tries to gently breakup with reader, but calls her all the pet names like “kid/kiddo, young one, little bunny, etc” (this is taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘Illicit Affairs’ where she’s going “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me…”)

Maybe a part two if you’re feeling up to it, with gentle smut as reader and Melissa get back together and make love again? 👀

Oh I’m definitely making a part two to this, I mean I can’t leave things with Melissa on a sad note. So I went with the nicknames hon and kid. I did ended listening to the Taylor Swift song and based some of the things off of the song. And I just gotta say that I procrastinated on doing this for 4 days straight as it hit too close to home. I called off my engagement 3 months ago to someone 12 years older than me because we were heading down different paths in life. Anyway, not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: still taking prompts peeps!

Part 2

Don’t Call Me That

Warnings: Angst and no comfort, no happy ending, may break your heart like it did for me

Words: 2.25k

You and Melissa are cuddling on the couch watching real housewives. Melissa found out you’ve never seen it so of course she had to show you. The two of you have been together for about 8 months now and never been happier.

Well, you have never been happier. Melissa was happy, but she still has so much doubt on whether or not she should have gotten with someone so much younger than her. Especially when you made comments on what you want to do with your life.

“I hope to get married someday.” You said once. “Maybe we can have kids together.” You said another time. “We should go out to a bar or a club together sometime.” You said one time. Melissa just looked at you and smiled each time but didn’t reply. Those thoughts swirl around in Melissa’s head until one day she couldn’t ignore them, you both wanted different things and she couldn’t let this relationship go on even more.

“Hey hon, can we talk?” She says to you when she visits you at your place on Saturday.

“Alright, sure.” You said, none the wiser. You and Melissa go on your couch and you face her with a smile. Melissa wishes you weren’t smiling as it makes it harder knowing that she’ll be that reason for that smile to drop.

“I don’t think this is working out anymore.” She starts and you look at her confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask and you frown.

“I mean this.” She says and gestures between you both. “Our relationship, I think we should end it.”

“Why?” You ask, concerned.

“Because we want different things in life hon. I don’t want to get married again, I wanted kids before but not anymore, and I don’t want to go to clubs if I don’t have too. But you’re young, you should have things you want and you should do it.” She tells you and you look down at your lap. She really wants to comfort you but knows she can’t.

“So that’s it? We’re over, just like that? I have no say in this?” You ask her and she looks guilty.

“I’m afraid so hon.” She says and you snap you head up at her.

“Don’t call me that if you’re gonna break up with me.” You snap and that catches her off guard. She knows you might be upset but didn’t think you’d snap at her, but she doesn’t blame you.

“I’m sorry y/n.” She tells you.

“Please leave.” You say and she nods defeatedly. She gets up and walks to the door and opens it. Before she leaves, she glances at you.

“I really am sorry.” She says and leaves. As soon as she closes the door, you get up and lock it, then you put your back on the door and slide down while crying.

On Monday you walked in the doors of Abbott and went to the break room as usual. Only this time instead of saying hi to Melissa when you pass her, you just walked right by her to the fridge.

“Hi hon.” Melissa says to you.

“Don’t call me that.” You say as you put your lunch in the fridge. Everyone turns their attention to you and Melissa as they knew you were dating. “My name is y/n.” You say to her and go to make a coffee.

“I know what your name is.” She tells you as you pour the coffee into your mug.

“Then I suggest you use it.” You tell her and walk out.

Melissa sighs and leans back into her seat.

“Trouble in paradise?” Barb asks Melissa.

“If trouble you mean broken up then yes.” Melissa says and everyone gasps.

“Omg what happened?” Janine asks.

“None of youse businesses.” She tells them and walks out. Everyone turns to Barb for answers.

“Don’t look at me, the only thing I know is Melissa broke up with y/n if their emotions are anything to go by.” Barb tells them.

Melissa tries to talk to you for the rest of the day when she gets an opportunity but you keep shutting her down.

She keeps trying every day for 2 weeks until she had enough. She got Mr Johnson to watch over her class while she goes to talk to you during your prep period.

She knocks on your door and walks in after you call out a ‘come in’ to whoever was there. When you look up you see the person you least expected, mostly because she has a class right now.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be teaching?” You tell her as she closes your door.

“Mr Johnson is watching them until I get back. I need to talk to you hon.”

“I keep telling you not to call me that! And the last time we talked, you broke up with me so I don’t really want to talk to you.” You told her and she sighs. You get up and go to bring a stack of papers to the back of the classroom.

“I know but I’ve been trying to at least be friends with you like we were before we started dating because I like our friendship.” She tells you as she follows you to the back and you whip around to face her.

“Friends? You think I would want to be friends with you? Melissa, do I need to remind you that you broke up with me and didn’t even bother talking about it with me? You just made the decision on your own.” You grit out.

“It was the best decision.”

“For who exactly? Cause it sure wasn’t the best for me.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“It was for you. I made it for you so you can have the life you want. I can’t give you everything! So I let you go so you could! Believe me when I tell you that I didn’t want to break up with you! You are the best damn thing to happen to me and it broke me to let you go!” She tells you and you gasp.

“That’s the reason?!? You. Are. An. Idiot Schemmenti! Just because I may have thought about certain things doesn’t mean it’s set in stone. I’m 25 and I’m not certain about what I want to do in life.”

“See that right there is what I’m talking about. You have no idea what you want cause your life has just begun, while mine, well I’m 55, I’m going to retire in 10 years hopefully. My life is almost over.” She tells you frantically and at that Barb comes in.

“Girls, can you quiet down. It’s hard enough to teach 5 year olds how to read the alphabet as it is. It’s even harder with your yelling.” She tells you both and you look at Melissa.

“What I knew I wanted in life was you. But I guess I was wrong. You should get back to your class.” You tell her and you leave to go print something. “Sorry Barb.” You tell her as you pass her by.

Barb looks at Melissa who has a couple tears rolling down her cheeks. “Sweetheart, what were you trying to accomplish here?” She asks her and Melissa lets a sob escape.

“I was trying to be friends with her again.” She tells her.

“Melissa, you just broke up with her out of the blue. At least for her it was out of the blue. You have to give it time before she might consider being your friend again.” Barb tells her and Melissa nods.

“I know, I just, I miss her.”

“Listen I have to go back to my classroom and you have to go back to yours but how about you come to my classroom at lunch and we can talk then.” Barb suggests and Melissa wipes her tears away.

“Ok.” She says with a nod and then leaves back to her classroom.

2 months go by and Melissa has stopped any interaction with you. You still know she looks and stares at you but never talks to you.

Melissa can’t help it whenever she sees you, she never talks to you even though she wants to, she just stares at you. Her heart breaks every time she sees you.

10 weeks after she breaks up with you, your both in the break room along with everyone else. You’re talking to the trio and they ask about your weekend plans and you mention you have a date. Melissa whips her head up from looking at her phone and her jaw drops and eyes got watery.

You may not be able to see her face but you saw her whip her head up. You also see Barb looking at her sympathetically which means she must look sad right now.

You tell them your contemplating on whether or not you should go, you think you shouldn’t but Janine and Gregory tell you to go and Jacob tells you no. You go over to Barb for the tie breaker and you show her a picture of the girl, Melissa also sees the picture of her and she realises that you’re going out with someone around her age.

Barb tells you it’s your choice and that’s when Melissa pipes up. “Isn’t she too old for you kid?” She asks you while taking a bite of her pasta.

You glare at her and scoff. “I think that’s for me to decide, cause I do have a say in some things.” You tell her and she looks down guiltily.

On Monday morning you walk in the break room and the trio asks you how your date went.

“It was alright. We’re going out again this Saturday.” You tell them and you hear Melissa scoff. “Something you want to say Melissa?” You ask her and she turns around in her chair.

“It doesn’t seem you’re interested in her since you said it was alright.” She tells you.

“Well it was my first date with her and I haven’t had a first date in a year.” You say and she stands up, grabs her things and walks out. You turn back to the trio and continue the conversation. Barb follows Melissa out to make sure she’s not destroying anything or about too.

The next Monday you’re talking to the trio about your second date and you tell them that you’re not going to see her again as you’re not interested in her. You don’t see it but Melissa smiles. You don’t but Barb sure does and rolls her eyes at her.

It’s been 3 months since the break up now and you stop by quickly at Melissa’s to get a few things she recently found that’s yours. In reality, Melissa found them 3 months ago and hid them when you came to get your things so she would have a few reminders of yours but now she wants an excuse to talk to you.

The box of your things is on the coffee table and Melissa is sitting on the arm of the couch when you walk in. Melissa told you that she’ll leave the door unlocked for you.

“Are those the things?” You tell her and nod your head to the box and she nods at you.

“Ya, it is.” She tells you and you don’t really move, she sees you looking around. You usually went to her place about 3 times a week to hang out with her after school and she would make dinner for you two.

“How are you kid?” She asks you and you look at her.

“I thought I’ve told you to stop with the nicknames and use my actual name.”

“You have, but I like using nicknames for you.” Is all she says.

“Why?”

“Because I always have, I’ve rarely called you by your actual name. It feels wrong to call you by your actual name.”

“Well you might want to work on how to make it sound right.” You tell her and walk over to grab the box and she grabs your wrist and you gasp.

“You never answered me when I asked how you were.” She tells you.

“You really want to know how I am?” You ask and she nods. “I’m broken.” You told her and her eyes look upset. “You broke up with me and now I’m broken and a mess. I chose not to go on a third date because all I thought about on the two dates was you.” You tell her and she lets go of you but you make no attempt to move. You want to challenge her to something to see what she really thinks and you grab the back of her head and you kiss her. She’s stunned for a second but then she automatically kisses you back but then you pull back 3 seconds later and she looks at you shocked. “You can’t tell me that that doesn’t feel right. I may not know much about what I want in life but I know I wanted to spend it with you. I’m aware of the age gap but it never made a difference to me because I love you. I thought you loved me.” You tell her then you grab the box and leave.

As soon as you close the door, Melissa falls down on the couch and starts crying. “I’m so sorry y/n.” She sobs out. “I do still love you.”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[gender-trash]

(i am seriously late in posting about this due to The Problems BUT whatever! its here now!!)

somewhere around late november 2022, i asked my dad "hey are there any out of print technical books you'd like a reprint of for christmas?"

he linked me to a dubious black-and-white pdf of Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy. now, i wound up checking out a copy through link+, and the original edition is a really nicely put together book! the chapters are themed around various types of measurements (length, angle, etc), and they all have these cute little diagrams which the endpapers reuse in a lil repeating pattern... the image captions are done in this really lovely dark red that did not scan for SHIT... tons and tons of diagrams and illustrations and images (both color and b&w)... just, all around, a fucking nice book!! (see also @morrak's post about it here.)

and that made me feel kind of bad about the crappiness of the pdf, which is where the Problems began. i used my phone to take pictures of all the photos and color diagrams in the original and went about replacing them in the pdf, using what turned out to be the world's worst pdf editing software (i also got through replacing all the image captions in chapter 1 of 5 before my dad convinced me to give up). i did NOT finish the pdf editing before christmas 2022 (i was going somewhat off the deep end, because both my housemates were away visiting family and i had zero external structure in my life so it was just me and my cat and this stupid FUCKING pdf wrecking my sleep schedule together); i poked away at it for most of the rest of my time off and then got so goddamn sick of it i put the project away for months. "it'll be a birthday gift instead", i said optimistically (my dad's birthday is in april! it should have been enough time!)

gentle readers, i did not finish the pdf editing by april. mostly because it was such a miserable slog that i put it off until the last possible moment and then tried to make up for it with another death march.

hating both myself and the project again, i decided i was Not going to let myself typeset Anything Else before it was done, and then took a break to bind my immortal (using the renegade publishing typeset! i didn't do any typesetting!!). SURELY, i said, i can finish this in time for christmas 2023.

i'm sure you know where this is going.

in my defense i DID finish the pdf editing by christmas, despite first doing every other possible procrastination project (including a second edition of the little second century warlord book), because by this point my dad had managed to convince me to lower my standards. on the evening of the 22nd i kicked off the print job and said to myself "this will finish printing overnight and then tomorrow i can work on sewing the textblock!"

late on the 23rd, after lots of babysitting and using at least one cartridge of every color ink in my printer, the print job was finally done. (my sweet and lovely cat wants SO BADLY to hunt and stalk the printer while it is printing -- more specifically, the printed pages, i think because they tend to make noise and move and then STOP moving. for this reason, the printer is kept in the craft room, because the cat can be shut out of the craft room and thus prevented from chewing on the pages when i have an all-day book printing job going. unfortunately the craft room was also being pressed into service as a guest room at the time so 80% of the floor space was consumed by an air mattress which i had to repeatedly trip over in order to reach the printer and replace the ink cartridges.)

then i went to my parents' house on the 24th and 25th and apologized to my dad (again) for not having the book finished. but this worked out well because we finished putting together my awesome new book clamp:

(the feet still aren't done being painted so they're just dry-fit on for now but you can still clamp books in it and that's what matters!!)

i came home, sewed the textblock (french link stitch over four linen tapes, with sewn endbands made of variegated embroidery floss over linen cord, and kozo paper glued over the spine)

... and promptly realized i SHOULD HAVE PUT IN MORE OF A GUTTER because some of the text was getting reeeeeeal close to the spine. "it's fine!" i said. "i just have to make sure it lays flat!! what better time than to try out K118 binding, a technique i have literally never done before and which people on the bookbinding discord notoriously have a hard time pulling off first try! i even have tyvek tape for it!"

so it turns out that tyvek tape isn't actually tyvek with glue on it, it's tape FOR attaching pieces of tyvek TO EACH OTHER, which maybe i could have guessed if i'd done even the slightest amount of research or planning. at this point i think it was the 27th and i was still angling to get this thing done by new year's, so no time to order Actual Tyvek.

fortunately, i had ALSO received An Package in the mail with yarn for a totally unrelated knitting project... shipped in a tyvek envelope.

i peeled all the shipping labels and stickers off my tyvek envelope, cut that shit up, and glued it on there.

and THEN it was time for gluing on covers, which i thought was going to be easy because i had actually thought ahead and ordered materials (specifically acid-free museum board), except when i cracked open the box of museum board i decided i Didn't Like It because the surface was too soft and easily dented, so i glued onto it the too-thin board material i'd previously been using (so that the cardboard goes on the outside of the book). this worked super well (the cardboard stuff has a tendency to curl up from the glue moisture, but the museum board doesn't!) and i'll probably use it on other stuff in the future.

i thought the blue bookcloth i used was kind of boring but i showed my dad the available cloth options and he really liked it, so... what do you know? i cut the piece i used on the back cover very slightly too short but it wound up being covered by the leather, so you can barely tell.

and the leather... a scrap just baaaaarely big enough from my bag of leather scraps from discount fabrics... and this the first time i'd ever attempted to put leather on a book... AND YET the only complaint i have is that i didn't manage to put an even amount on the front and back. it's reasonably square and straight!! amazing!!

i am super super happy with how this project came out (especially given the number of problems i encountered) and oh my god check out how much the spine bends

AND, AS A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT, I FINALLY MANAGED TO GIVE IT TO MY DAD

[eraenaa]

U.N.I. (College AU)

Aemond Targaryen x Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Where one of the sons of your mother’s estranged best friend attends the same university as you, and did I mention you were the reason why he lost his eye? 

Warnings: Mature +18, Stalking, Smoking, Semi-Public Sex

Word Count: 2930

You feel his stare again, but you look onward and focus on what your friend was saying. But still, the image of him in his leather jacket, staring at you, the way he held his cigarette and puffed out smoke from his thin lips, eye so openly closed on you— it was starting to unnerve you. A festering feeling spread through you that all you wanted to do was lay your gaze on him, something you swore you would not do. At least not so obviously. 

“He’s staring at you again,” Your friend sang, and you painted a confused look on your face. “Who?” You asked. Feigned cluelessness on your face. “Pirate boy,” they call him, and you always seem to scold them at their insensitive nickname. “Oh,” You said, but you never gave him a glance, even if you badly wanted to. “I’m telling you… you should approach him.” You shake your head and sigh. “I have to go— I have to study for a test,” You suddenly reasoned to change the subject. Your friends gave a nod as they puffed out smoke between their lips, bidding you farewell, and they shall meet you in the dining hall later. 

You walked through the halls fast; you always do. You just did not notice that another copied your steps. 

Aemond had been growing tired of your stubbornness. When he first saw you in the halls of your college, he was certain his eye had deceived him. But no, there you were, laughing carelessly with your friends. A beaming smile on your lips, eyes crinkling with joy. He sneered as you walked past him— completely disregarding him— completely forgetting about him. After that day, he was determined to catch your eyes, to make you look upon him again. Him, the boy you had maimed. 

You finally found a place to study in the library. Somewhere secluded, somewhere you would not be bothered. Staring hard at the reading you procrastinated to do, so now, you’re exhausting your mind as you tried to stuff it more with whatever was said by a dead scholar so many years before. You hunched over the bound book, trying hard to focus, but your eyes did not miss as a figure now stood before you. You cautiously looked up and were met with an indigo eye and frowned lips. “Is this seat taken?” His voice was velvety and cold. You quickly avoided his gaze, “Yes,” You said. “By whom?” He asked. “Me,” You replied. 

“You occupy two seats at the same time?” He asked. You were not looking at him, but you plainly heard the sneer in his voice. Your mouth opened and shut, mind searching for a response. “It is a simple question— yes or no?” He snapped, and you let out a harsh breath. “No,” You harshly bit on your lip as he took the seat across from you. Your knees brushed as he scooted closer to the table. You did not dare to look at him— something that he boldly did. 

Aemond watched you as your eyes were planted toward whatever book you were reading. His eye implored you to look upon him again. He enjoyed the look of surprise and panic in you. “Actually, I’m leaving.” You uttered lowly and quickly gathered your things. Passive and flighty when it came to him. Because guilt never sat well with you— and he was a great reminder of it. Aemond rolled his eye as you gathered your things. “So you can take my eye but cannot even sit across the man you have maimed?” You froze as the image of him as a boy, on the ground and clutching his face in pain, flashed through your mind. It had been years since the accident— an accident that was not entirely your fault, but you bore the guilt as if it were. You took a deep breath and stopped gathering your things. Eyes courageously set themselves upon the boy who smirked before you, enjoying the look of silent anger on your face. You quite had enough of fleeing and letting guilt consume you whole. 

Aemond hummed as you stayed and resumed your task. His eye observing you, his knees bouncing up and down under the table, brushing against yours. He missed you if he were being honest. You who had spent almost every single day with him since the two of you were born until you were both ten. Eight years spent apart. Eight years trying to pretend that neither existed and that neither missed the other.

You stayed there for hours, trying to read, and he stayed there for hours, watching you try to focus on your reading. You were genuinely clueless as to why he was doing such a thing. When you were finally done, you stood without uttering a single word. “Where are you going?” He asked with a raised brow. You debated if you should answer him. Why should you? But as your gaze went back to his, him who expected you to respond, you sighed. “Dinner.” You quietly muttered, and he gave a nod, standing as well. “You no longer talk much now, do you?” He asked as the both of you walked towards the dining hall. He knew the answer: you were oh so talkative when it came to your friends— a beaming smile always on your lips. A wheezing laugh would always find its way to you, but with him, you could barely speak two syllables. 

Aemond frowned as you gave no word. The boy sighed and pulled you towards an alcove. Shoving you forcefully against the curved wall, the hall was dark as it was dusk, and they had yet to turn on the lights. “Stop acting as if I had been the one to have wronged you,” He spat, eye-widening in anger. “You have wronged me!” You answered, trying to push him away as he encaged you with his body and the wall. “You were the one who has wronged me first! And you fully knew it was an accident!” You defended. Aemond clenched his jaw. “You were the one chasing me— running after me, trying to take revenge.” He gritted his teeth. “Because you were the one who took my knickers from my drawers! I was trying to get it from you. It was not my fault you tripped and maimed your eye on a rock!” You reasoned, your voice growing louder, catching other’s attention. “I had ceaselessly apologized— begged for your forgiveness for something that was not entirely my fault, but you had ignored me! You let them believe that it was entirely my fault!” 

Your ragged breathing mixed, your eyes closed on each other, your bodies flushed. You stared up at him with a glare. He stared down at you with a glare. The only thing that broke intense gazes was the sound of the dinner bell ringing. Sensibilities regained, and you pushed away your once closest friend. “That accident was years ago… let us just forget of it— let us just pretend that neither of us exist or know each other.” You sighed. “It is a large campus, Aemond. Surely we can avoid each other.” You proposed. He scoffed. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Escaping, fleeing just like before,” He whispered. You froze as you realized his head was dipping down. “I shall be here constantly… everywhere you go, I shall follow, just to remind you how badly you have wronged me. You have taken from me— now it is my turn to take you.”  You frowned at what he uttered— a word missing from his statement. But you could not question him as he was quick to push himself away from your frame and walk away. 

Aemond stayed true to his word. Everywhere you turned, everywhere you looked, there he was. Him and his lingering indigo eye, him and his smirking pink lips. You sighed as you caught leather-clad arms once more. Take in a deep breath, cross your arms across your chest, and try to focus on the work of art in front of you. Trying to ignore the man who stood next to you, a bit too close for your liking. “Seriously? Even here?” You asked. You were hoping you would have some peace in the gallery, wanting to escape the thought of the papers you still had to write and the man whom you kept on trying to avoid. But whatever tactic you used to not let your paths cross seemed futile. He always found you. He always trailed you. 

Even at night— when you thought you were finally alone. His indigo eye followed you in sleep. Scenes that you will never utter— that you will never admit to bringing you pleasure in the dead of the night. The man who gave them to you in your dreams stood next to you, his eye finally not on you but upon the painting. “Do not flatter yourself, I came here for the paintings.” He quietly uttered. You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks as you gazed upon the side of his face. Aemond bit down his smirk as he saw an embarrassed blush rise to your cheeks. 

You let out a breath and mindlessly gave a nod, stepping away from Aemond. As being in his presence brought forth the dreams you had of him. The dreams where his lips were upon yours. Where his hands would explore your body, would tangle themselves in your hair, would grip your throat, would bring pleasure to your cunt. As you moved on to face a sculpture, the thought of Aemond only seemed to fester. You slyly cross your legs as you stand, regretting the decision to wear a skirt that day. 

Though Aemond said that he came to the gallery for the art, it was only partly true. He trailed you once more, following your scent that he had grown fond of over the days he would follow you. His eyes scanned your frame from behind. From the back of your head to the middle of your thighs where your skirt stopped. To your crossed legs where his gaze lingered. Aemond licked his lips and stood next to you once more. He would lie if he denied that he kept following you for the sole purpose of tormenting you for an accident that was only partially your fault. No, there was something else fueling him to keep on trailing you wherever you go. There was something else he wanted from you— and that something was not entirely revenge or justice. He simply wanted you. You were not the only one who had scenes of pleasure in the night. Aemond’s dreams of your lips, your taste, and your touch were a constant. Every single night as he drifted into slumber, the only thing in his mind was of you. Your lips upon his, your body flushed against his, your cunt clenching around him. 

Neither of you uttered a word. Your minds were filled with thoughts of desire, thoughts of need, and thoughts of sin. The air between the two of you was tense and growing warm. It did not matter that the air conditioner blared— it did not matter that it was autumn. The two of you who stood next to each other felt nothing but raging heat. 

You turned to your right, peaking a look at Aemond through your lashes. Aemond was quick to feel your gaze, turning to you. Indigo eye was dark and filled with something you could not decipher. No word was uttered, only needing bodies threading closer together until lips locked. You clung to him, pulling him close; his lips tasted of coffee and cigarettes. He smelled of citrus and spice. 

Aemond placed his hands on your ass, clutching hard the plump flesh. His tongue lapped against yours, tasting every part of you. Berries and mint on his tastebuds. The smell of peonies and peaches invaded him. “Aemond,” You called as your lips parted, both of you in need of air. You watch him shake his head and take hold of your arm. You let him drag you wherever; the only thing on your mind now was the lust you felt. The only thing on your mind was the want to kiss him again. Aemond pulled you towards an empty hall, an exhibit not yet open to the public. Your eyes scanned the room; paintings and sculptures that would intrigue her any other time bored your mind. All you wanted to do was drown in pleasure from the man who now began to place kisses on your neck. 

Your hand traveled down, cupping his hardened length through his trousers. A groan left his throat, eliciting even more wetness from your cunt. His hands undid the buttons of your shirt, forcefully yanking your brassiere down to reveal your tits to him, his mouth quickly closing in on the taut bud that hardened and pebbled because of his touch. “I need you,” You boldly uttered, not able to resist the tight need in your core. Your head tilted back; face pointed to the ceiling as he continued to nip and suck on your tit. Aemond smirked as your breast was still in his mouth; he felt you exchange your hand that cupped his length with your cunt, grinding upon his cock. You showing how truly in need you were. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked; you were quick to nod. A chuckle escaped him, a smirk rising to his lips as his hand trailed from your chest, venturing downward. Teasing you as his hand hovered over your dripping cunt. “Please,” You mumbled against his lips. “I thought you did not want my presence?” He teased, hand quickly grazing your cloth-bound cunt. “Please, Aemond… I need you— I want you.” You begged. That seemed to satisfy him. 

You whined as he moved you away from the wall he pushed you against. Dragging you deeper into the room. You were becoming crazed— desperate. You needed to feel released, and Aemond was taking his time to give it to you. You frowned as he placed you too, and upon a statute, confession took hold that you did not notice that he placed himself behind you. 

Your moan echoed through as his hand finally grasped your needing cunt, cold fingers met with the dripping wet heat that was for him. You hear him hum as his slender fingers run along through your folds. Desire mixed with your confusion as to why he placed you before the statue— man and woman of marble reaching for one another. Before you could ask him— before you could even utter another word, you heard the buckle of his belt hit the floor, his bare length pressed against your behind. He bundled your skirts up to your waist, and you could only wait in heavy anticipation for him to take you. 

His finger continued to draw circles upon your needing bud. His lips continued to torment the side of your neck, nipping and sucking, leaving his mark. You were ready to beg for him to give you more, no longer caring about how pathetic you were starting to sound. You could not utter your plea as Aemond, without any warning, bent you over and shoved his cock inside you. A squeal left your lips as pain mixed with pleasure. One of his hands continued to draw circles upon your cunt while the other found your neck. Grip tight, filled with pleasure. 

Aemond was merciless as he pounded at you from behind. Not caring that your slapping skin echoed through the room, not caring that you were spewing moans that rang in the halls. All he focused on was the feel of you, tightening and clenching upon his length. Warm and wet, needing and screaming for his name. You felt tears spill from the corner of your eyes as you were overwhelmed with pleasure. You turned your eye upward, gazing at the statue before you. Letting the man behind fuck you roughly. “Harder,” You asked, and that only made his desire grow. His hand on your neck tightened, and his fingers drawing circles grew faster. His length pushed deeper until you felt blood and both of your essences run down your thigh. 

Your surroundings were growing dark; the only thing you could see now was the statue of Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. Your mind could not comprehend or think as to why Aemond chose that particular sculpture for you to look against as he fucked you. All your mind thought of now was how close you were to climax. Aemond let out a growl as you clenched painfully around him. “Aemond,” You called. And he moved your bent frame to lean against his chest. “Aemond,” You called once more. His lips found yours, nipping at your lower lip that cause a rush to go to your already peaking cunt. “Come for me.” He ordered. His hand moved from your neck to your breast to pinch the taut bud. “Aemond!” you called for the third time. Waves of pleasure hit the shore as you came undone in his arms— on his cock. 

Aemond let out a groan with his last thrust, his seed filling you but quick to run down your thighs. “I have told you that I will take you.” He whispered and nipped your ear. You could only let out a stuttered sigh and hoped that he would do it once more.

[jishyucks]

Happy Holidays! The Universe Hates Me. — hrj

‣ pairing: huang renjun x reader

‣ genre: fluff, academic-rivals-to-(implied)lovers, forced proximity, kinda slice-of-life

‣ wc: 3.7k

‣ summary: You don’t hate many things, but you could proudly say that you hate snow and Huang Renjun. And now that the universe has decided that it was a great idea to have you snowed in with the smartass himself, you’ll gladly add the universe to that list.

‣ warnings: slightly one-sided rivalry (more so Renjun’s developed feelings before reader so he’s acting on it before reader even gets what they’re feeling), the pair eat some cup ramen, set in that weird period where they dk how they feel

‣ an: I rly thought this was going to be easy to write but sike (⊙_⊙) ig its bc its basically e2l and these r difficult to write,, I was excited to write Renjun's but idk if I did my own idea justice,, anyways I hope it's still a fun read!

Series Masterlist

You’ve never been so nervous for a final in your life.

Sure, you didn’t find the content difficult, nor did you feel lost. Hell, if you were asked to explain the content with no aids, you can confidently do it. 

The only reason why you were so nervous for a damn final was because you knew that Huang Renjun was going to do better than you. Why? You’re not sure. But you had this gut feeling that his name was going to be listed right above yours on that stupid list and you were not going to let that happen. 

“You need to go home soon, okay?” Karina frowns. She’s all bundled up, a scarf tightly wrapped over her face to shield her from Jack Frost. She knows how much of a workaholic you were, especially when it came to Renjun, “It’s getting late. It’s already dark out and there’s no one else here. Text me when you get home.”

You nod, “I will, I promise. I’ll just finish this last lesson and then I’ll leave. I’m hungry, anyway.” 

Her stern expression softens underneath her scarf and she teasingly ruffles your hair, “Talk to you later, honeybun.” 

You wave and watch her leave before turning back to the scattered papers in front of you, your laptop burning holes in your eyes because you’ve been staring at it for way longer than a physician’s recommendation. The final was on physics, something that wasn’t your strongest suit. It was probably because the way your teachers decided to word the questions on exams screwed you over—but then again, you couldn’t blame your struggles on that. 

Maybe you did just suck at physics. 

Your eyes scanned the lesson you were currently studying, quietly reading it under your breath so that you could process the information—critical threshold… velocity… laminar to turbulent… fluid and momentum… the dissipation of energy…

“Ughhhh!” 

Your heart drops to your stomach, eyes almost slipping out of their sockets at the sound of another person groaning. You clearly remember Karina just saying that there wasn’t anyone else here. 

Then who in the actual fuck…

Your mind jumps to conclusions and thinks up the worst-case scenario. It could be a ghost… were you Scrooge and the ghosts here to visit you? No fucking way… you loved Christmas… Or it could be a murderer. But what kind of murderer groans before he reaches his target?

Using this as an excuse to procrastinate, you quietly push your chair away from the table and stand up. You can recall that the groaning echoed from the back of the library, so you begin making your way down to the back of the room. Your attempt to keep your footsteps quiet, barely lifting them off from the ground.

You guess you were making your way in the correct direction because now you can hear the sound of muffled music. You suppose it was coming out of the other person’s headphones. 

As you approach the end of one of the aisles of books, you bend over and peek through the cracks between the books. Your eyes betray you, not focusing on the figure sitting at one of the tables because the books are in the way. Leaning closer, you squint to get a better look at the figure studying, head bopping to the music blaring through their headphones. 

Who is that?

When your eyes finally adjust, you curse under your breath.

Personally, you would rather it be a murderer on the other side of the shelf. 

Because Huang Renjun of all people? Here? With you? Did the universe hate you or something?

You let out a faint groan, squeezing your eyes before you go to turn back to your table. 

Of course, Huang Renjun would be here and studying late. There’s a small tiny part of you that wasn’t even surprised that Renjun was the only other person at school at this hour. There was a reason why you felt like he was seriously going to do better than you on this physics final. He worked for it despite being naturally intelligent. 

“Fucking Huang Renjun,” you gently let your forehead fall forward, making a gentle thud against the table. Fucking Huang Renjun because, suddenly, you no longer feel hungry and you now desperately wanted to finish a week’s worth of content before leaving. Sure the idea was immature—doing all this for some guy who thought he was smarter than everyone else—but you couldn’t help it. This was how it’s been since junior high. 

And old habits die hard, right?

For the next 2 hours, you push yourself to study for the stupid final, eyes straining as you continuously shift them between your laptop screen and your papers. And you say push yourself because now that you had the knowledge that Renjun was sitting metres away from you, you somehow could not focus for the life of you. It was like he had cast some spell on you to do anything but focus on physics. 

You groan. You have been reading the same paragraph on boundary layers for the past ten minutes, hyper-aware of Renjun. The words blur together, and you become hyper-aware of Renjun's presence nearby. Despite your efforts, your mind wanders, and occasional stolen glances in his direction betray your attempts at concentration.

With an irritated sigh, you shake your head, attempting to bring yourself back to the task at hand. Why the fuck is Renjun occupying so much of your headspace?

Feeling defeated, you reach forward, roughly shutting your laptop closed before you begin bunching your papers up together. Not a single fibre in your body even cared if it was organized or not—that was for you to worry about later—because you just wanted out of here and away from Renjun before he completely plagues your mind. 

Finally, you throw your bag over your shoulder and begin making your way out of the library. 

Meanwhile, Renjun, who was managing well with his work catches sight of your figure leaving, winter coat zipped up to your nose. 

“Wait, Y/N!” 

You turn back to find Renjun pushing his seat back, getting up to make his way towards you. 

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes. You continue making your way out of the room, ignoring Renjun’s calls for you to stop. 

The mature response would be to, well, stop and listen, but after Renjun just indirectly wasted 2 hours of your life trying to absorb some information on physics, you didn’t want anything to do with him. You just wanted to go home and eat, before you pull another all-nighter to make up for the lost time. 

“Y/N!” 

You were jogging now, treating the situation like Renjun was some kind of monster coming after you. It was odd that Renjun was keeping up with you, tailing you like he was one of those salesmen trying to get you to try a sample of their product. 

You’re relieved when you see the front doors of the school ahead of you, streetlights illuminating through the small half-windows. You feel your feet pick up its pace, eager to finally get out of the building and get fresh air. 

“Y/N!” Renjun’s out of breath, “You can’t leave!” He reaches out and quickly grabs your wrist. The contact causes shivers to run up your arm and you’re quick to pull your limb back. 

Brows furrowed, you sent him daggers through your glare, “And why not?” 

Renjun fishes his phone out from his hoodie pocket and he holds it up despite you not being close enough to see anything on it, “The news. All the roads are closed. No cars on the roads. We’re stuck in here until they say everything’s clear.” 

“You’re lying.” Your stubborn ass refuses to believe Renjun. 

Renjun huffs, “Just check it for your fucking self if you don’t want to believe me.” His arms crossed and he pushes all his weight onto one leg. 

Reluctant to look stupid, you slowly pull your own phone out. You realize that you actually haven’t looked at any notifications lately, all your focus directed toward studying. When you finally look at your phone, you’re met with tens of notifications, both from the news app and a handful from your family members and friends, mainly Karina, who are asking if you’re going home soon or if you’ve gone home because of the news the city sent out about the roads. 

“And why didn’t you leave?” you say awkwardly, “When they sent the warnings out?” 

Renjun swallows his spit, “I didn’t see any of them either. I was too caught up with studying.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you mutter. The realization of the situation starts to sink in—you're trapped at school, possibly overnight, and your only company is Huang Renjun, the boy who’s decided to make himself the bane of your existence. Then, you find yourself teetering between relief that you're not alone and frustration that you're stuck with Huang Renjun of all people.

Your eyes flicker at Renjun, who’s waiting for you to say something to him. And you do, “This is all your fault!”

Renjun’s mouth falls open slightly, the space in between his eyebrows wrinkling at your accusation, “How the hell is this my fault? I didn’t tell the damn city to close the roads!” Renjun holds himself back from raising his voice, but the emptiness of the halls causes it to bounce off the walls. 

“If I hadn’t seen you studying and being the overachiever you are, I would have gone home earlier,” you argue back. The second it slips from your lips, you realize how stupid you actually sound—but you don’t say anything. Without saying another word, you push past Renjun intending to return your spot in the library. 

Renjun, however, isn't one to let things slide. He follows you back into the library, his frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw. "So, it's my fault you chose to stay? That you didn’t see the notifications?” 

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, not slowing your pace. "I chose to stay because of you! Trying too hard being a model student." 

Despite it being pretty clear that the argument was childish and that it was going nowhere, you and Renjun were far too stubborn to back down. 

Renjun scoffs, catching up to you. "Trying too hard!? I study because I take my education seriously. Maybe if you put in half the effort I do, you wouldn't be lagging behind."

"Oh, spare me, Renjun.” Your blood boils at his condescending tone, whirling around to face him and eyes ablaze with frustration. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

This is where you can see Renjun physically falter. The stress in his brows goes slack and there’s a shift in his expression, “Insufferable? Y/N I—”

"Whatever, Renjun. I really don’t want to speak to you right now.” You roll your eyes and turn your back on him, “Now, If you’ll excuse me, I have a fucking final to study for.”

Ignoring his attempts to keep the conversation alive, you make your way back to your table, your anger simmering in your chest. Renjun watches you go, a mixture of annoyance and something else in his eyes.

The library becomes a battleground of silent tension, each of you (mostly you) seething in your own space.

You set your table back up the way it previously was. Then, you quickly send your friends and family texts explaining what had happened and why you weren’t home by now. 

You attempt to start where you left off, the words Boundary Layers practically taunting you at this point. The phrase is pissing you off and you’ve read it enough times for you to be able to recite the sentence from the textbook perfectly. 

Wave interference, you read, eyes blinking at the screen—something about paths intersecting and creating new patterns of unity… discord… 

You let your eyes do the rest of the scanning, not exactly absorbing any of the material before you move on. At this point, you feel like not studying entirely. Besides, you weren’t exactly in the right state of mind to be absorbing material. 

The clock at the front of the library reads 8:28 and you feel like taking a nap is the best idea right now. It’ll help you cool off, pull you back in the right headspace and perhaps help you with the all-nighter you’ll probably pull tonight. 

Twisting your body, you pull your jacket off of your chair, folding it to create a makeshift pillow. Sliding your things aside, you place the pillow in front of you and shimmy your butt back against the chair before leaning forward to rest your head against it. In all honesty, it wasn’t the most comfortable place to rest your head, but it will have to do for now. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The shuffling of feet and the clattering of objects woke you from your nap.

You don’t move, nor do you open your eyes, all you do is listen to try and figure out what the hell is going on. Through the fabric of your jacket, you can hear that Renjun is moving things around on your table and you can’t help but feel your anger shoot up. 

You keep your cool on the outside, pretending to stir in your sleep before you peek through half-opened eyelids. 

You’d honestly find this part funny if you were watching a drama. But the thing was, you weren’t watching a drama. And it was anything but funny. 

Slowly, you raise your head to get a better look at what Renjun was up to, fully expecting him to be messing with your belongings. You guess you were doing your job correctly because Renjun seems to not have noticed you looking at him. 

The scene (you embarrassingly admit) warms a piece of your heart just by a little bit—and you hate that it does.

Renjun’s trying to keep your papers organized, stacking them horizontally and then vertically to keep them grouped in the stacks you already had them in. He had even moved your laptop to a safer spot, off to the side. 

The reason why he was doing all this was sitting just across the table from you and to Renjun’s left. 

Two cups of instant ramen.

“What are you doing?'' Your voice comes out more hoarse than you’d like, but it was probably because you’ve been napping for what felt like an hour or two. 

Renjun freezes, lips parting slightly and eyes growing two times its size when he realizes that you’re awake. Sure, he would have had to wake you up sooner or later, but you waking up on your own wasn’t part of his plan. He should’ve done all this a bit quieter. 

“I…” He starts. Renjun gulps and pulls back, wringing his hands through sweater paws. 

You wait for him to give you a coherent reply, looking at him in hopes of forcing one out of him. 

Renjun’s at a loss for words, afraid that you wouldn’t quite get him if he explained his reasoning. He leans over and wraps his hand around one of the noodle cups, gently sliding it toward you. 

You blink at the steaming cup in front of you, caught between annoyance and a peculiar sense of gratitude. "Are you trying to make this situation bearable or something?" 

“Well it wouldn’t be fair competition if only I was able to eat, would it?” Renjun shrugs. From his hoodie pocket, Renjun pulls out a plastic fork wrapped in tissue, one he had probably taken from the cafeteria, and places it next to your cup of noodles, “Eat.” 

You blink at the noodles and eye the boy suspiciously, “You didn’t do anything to it, did you?” You mistrustfully pull the fork toward you, unwrapping it before you dip it into the soup. 

“Of course not… I’m not evil.” A scoff shoots out through Renjun’s nose. 

Renjun pulls out a chair from your table, taking a seat before pulling his own cup of noodles toward him. 

Your eyes linger on Renjun for a moment longer, contemplating whether or not you should believe him. Eventually, hunger wins over skepticism, and you take a cautious bite of the noodles. They taste surprisingly good, given the circumstances. 

For a while, there's a strange quiet as both of you focus on your meal. The only sounds are the occasional slurps and the storm outside rattling the windows. It's a bizarre scene, you and Renjun sharing instant ramen in the middle of the night, trapped at school. Who would have thought? 

As you dig into your food, you start feeling a shift in your mood. The annoyance from being woken up slowly turns into a grudging acknowledgement that Renjun tried to make things a bit less crappy. It's kind of funny when you think about it. You two had a small argument earlier, and now here you are, quietly sharing a meal. It's like an unspoken agreement, maybe a truce, even if neither of you is ready to admit it out loud.

Meanwhile, Renjun seems engrossed in his noodles, occasionally glancing in your direction as if gauging your reaction to the impromptu meal. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s not choosing to do so despite the tension that is usually present in your interactions being strangely minimal. 

Finally, you break the silence. "Where did you get the noodles?"

He looks at you, brows raising at your willingness to start a conversation. "It’s not my first time staying past dinner. I have a stash in my locker."

“Not surprised,” you mumble. You pick the cup up and bring the rim up to your lips. Tipping your head back, you take sips of the soup, feeling the warmth of the fluids fall into your stomach like a hug. 

“Oh, shut up,” Renjun groans, “Or else I’ll take the noodles back.”

“Lucky for me,” you look at him and laugh, “I’m finished.” When you plop the fork back into the cup, it makes that noise you hear when you scratch the cardboard. 

Renjun hums. "Well then, I guess you owe me one. After all, you're enjoying the hospitality of my secret noodle stash." 

You roll your eyes, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance, but there's a glint of amusement in your eyes. Of course, Renjun would take this opportunity to gain something for himself. It was such a Renjun move. It’s always been like this. "I could've survived just fine without your instant noodles."

He chuckles, taking the last slurp of his own noodles before he deems himself finished, too. "And yet, you still ate it all up like a starved puppy.” 

There’s a beat of silence before you lean forward, resting your head on your propped arm, “I guess I should say thank you, huh?” 

Renjun grins and you only notice it because it’s more evident in his eyes than it was on his lips. He was seemingly pleased with your acknowledgment, but he quickly covered it up with a nonchalant shrug, "Don't mention it.” His voice comes out soft, mirroring the setting, “If you passed out from hunger under my watch, wouldn’t want that tainting my ‘model student’ image.”

You give him a side-eye, feeling the sudden need to tease him, “Don’t lie, Huang Renjun, you secretly care about me.” The statement was mostly a joke, so you think nothing of it. You stack your empty cup onto Renjun’s and stand up to throw it out. You don’t notice the way Renjun freezes in his seat for half a second.

“And what if I did?” Renjun shrugs. He gulps and feels the sudden need to flee the situation—Why did he say that? 

You turn to face him, surprised by his response. Renjun's casual demeanour, though slightly defensive, holds a hint of genuineness. It's a side of him you're not used to seeing, and it catches you off guard. 

"What if you did what?" you ask, feigning ignorance to see if Renjun would elaborate. A part of you is afraid of what he’s going to say. 

“What if I did care about you?” Renjun’s playing with the corner of one of your papers, creating a sound that fills the silence between the two of you, “I don’t hate you as a person, you know… I get that we always compete in grades and extracurriculars but… I don’t hate you as a person.” 

The confession makes your heart skip a beat and you catch yourself beginning to chew on your bottom lip, something you do when you’re nervous. The unexpected sincerity in his words causes you to halt your own, a momentary pause in your banter. You've grown used to the constant back-and-forth, the verbal sparring that characterizes your interactions with Renjun. This, however, feels different. 

"You're messing with me, right?" you reply, half expecting him to smirk and dismiss the entire conversation as a joke.

“What do you think?” Renjun retorts. 

You take a moment to think everything through. You have a good feeling Renjun’s not joking, that he really doesn’t hate you as a person, and you can’t help but think about the other possibilities of what this meant. Then you think about how you feel towards Renjun because you guess you at least owed him that. 

“You don’t need to say anything now,” Renjun assures, “It’s… confusing. Even I'm still figuring things out… I just know that I don’t hate you.” 

"You're not as insufferable as I claim you are,” you begin cautiously, “But it pisses me off that you both distract and motivate me when it comes to school.” And this was true. Today was a good example of that, though you weren’t entirely sure where these stem from. 

Renjun raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. "I'll take that as a compliment.” 

You roll your eyes. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, Renjun. I’m just saying—” “—Saying that you like me more than you think you do?” Renjun interrupts, “I know, I know.”

Your eyes narrow at Renjun, “You wish.” 

A moment of understanding passes between you, and for the first time, the competitiveness in your dynamic softens. It's not yet a friendship, but it's a recognition that there's more to each other than the constant rivalry. 

Renjun laughs, which transitions into a yawn. He acknowledges your comment with a hum, “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up in a bit so I can study?”

You playfully roll your eyes, a small smile lingering on your lips. 

“Well it wouldn’t be fair competition if I didn’t, would it?”

tags: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi

an: the next few parts of the series might be posted a day late (until Felix,, but we'll see!). Next up is Jisung which I feel like will be ADORABLE. ty for taking the time to read! I would love to hear your thoughts even if its something short! hope you enjoyed it!

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook says i love you for the first time.

> fluff, a twinge of angst / wc: 2.8k

> warnings: making out, false stealing accusation </3 not exactly a warning but jungkook moles appreciation moment that did things to my heart

note: hehehhe look at me procrastinating again :] as always feedback is always appreciated <3

—

“why are we hiding?”

you sigh, resting your head on jungkook’s chest. you can hear the pounding of his heart in your left ear, loud and fast from adrenaline caused by a reason still left untold.

“i’m scared of him. let’s wait for him to go inside.”

“what’s wrong? did he do something to you?” he tenses up, his protective arms wrapping themselves around your body. as if it’s possible to be further pressed up against each other in this small gap that separates the two houses sandwiching the two of you. it’s not. you’re not even quite sure how you managed to squeeze yourself in here along with your boyfriend, who is wearing a backpack.

you wince, embarrassed about your current situation. sometimes you find yourself fearing that your inborn magnet for trouble might drive him away before you can even celebrate your first anniversary. ironic. funny.

you take another glance at your neighbor’s porch, only to be disappointed to find that he’s still there, reading the newspaper while sipping on a mug. he’s an old man who lives with his teenage grandson. he’s quite famous around your neighborhood for his beautiful garden. having spent all of his precious time making the best out of the earth he was blessed with, he is deserving of the lovely compliments.

you’ve grown quite fond of this little tourist spot as well. you allow yourself a minute or two every morning to admire the flowers before going on your merry way. it’s a good reminder that you reap what you sow. perhaps one day, you will also live in your own house. with a porch, and a flower garden. and if it’s not too much to ask, a peach tree would be nice, too.

but the thing is . . . today’s visit didn’t exactly go well.

to summarize it quickly: “uhm, how do i explain this?” you chuckle nervously, looking up at jungkook. “this morning, i saw a sunflower that fell on the ground. so you know, uh- just like what any other person would do, i picked it up. but then he saw me holding it, and he accused me of stealing. which i didn’t do! clearly! then he started jogging to me while holding up his cane, so of course i got scared . . . and ran away.”

“but you’re not hurt anywhere, right?” he tenderly strokes your face, illuminated by the warm streetlamp, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“i’m alright.” your abashed eyes meet his, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. “i probably overreacted, honestly. my flight response just activated.”

“no- he sounded threatening. of course you got scared.” he interjects, frowning.

“if i avoid him for a while, he would forget about me eventually, right?”

“oh, my baby,” he surprises you with a quick kiss on the lips, followed by another. “how can anyone accuse you of stealing?”

you unsuccessfully hold back a smile, hiding yourself between the unzipped confines of his jacket to muffle the loud beating of your heart inside your ribcage. you can hear it in your ears, and you’re embarrassed that he might also does.

he chuckles, pressing a kiss on the back of your head. “let’s come out, baby. there’s no reason to hide. i’ll protect you if he comes for you again. we’ll clear things up.”

“but i just don’t want to put you in that situation, you know? i’ll figure it out myself.” you come out for air, but his sweet perfume lingers in your nose like a vivid memory. “and this is so comfortable. let’s just hug here for a little while.”

nobody speaks for a beat.

“okay then. let’s keep each other warm.” his embrace tightens, and you hear the crinkle of the plastic bag hanging on his forearm.

“hmmm, sounds nice.” you hum, closing your eyes to bask in the peaceful atmosphere.

this is one of the things that makes jungkook’s presence in your life very special. when you’re with him, you’re only aware of your heart. your mind stills and quiets, and your heart takes over. pumping to the beat of ‘hold on to this, hold on to him’. and that’s not difficult to do, especially when he makes it clear that he bears no plans of letting go of you either.

it’s been seven days since you last saw him, since you were last held like this. you know you’re both busy, but seeing his face on a tiny screen before bed just isn’t the same as feeling his warm body.

when you got home earlier this evening, you discovered that the lightbulb in your bathroom went out. it’s the first time you’ve had to change one since you moved to this apartment, so you never really realized that the ceiling is too high for you to reach. you attemped to remove the lightbulb to see if you could handle the task yourself. you stacked the two chairs you have and stood on the tips of your toes, but to no avail. your efforts proved futile.

when jungkook called, you were already at the hardware store to pick up lightbulbs with extras to keep for future emergencies.

“can i sleep over tonight? i miss you.”

“of course, baby. but i’m at the hardware store right now. i need my bathroom light changed.”

you heard a zipper closing from the other line, followed by rustling. “the one infront of a pet shop?”

“yeah,” you were browsing through the wide selection of lightbulbs, having an existential crisis because you’ve never truly given this object much thought in your life. you used to just grab one and leave, but you were talking to jungkook, so you took your time tonight.

they even sell four-foor-long lightbulbs in here? wow, there are chandeliers over there. are you in this stage of your life now? finding stuff such as house fixtures interesting?

“okay, wait for me there so we can walk home together. it’s getting late.”

“okay,” you responded with a foolish grin. the thought of holding hands with him while walking got your ankle twisting before the sole of your shoe brushed across the floor to express your giddiness.

if jungkook carries on spoiling you like this, it’s going to become harder and harder to imagine your life without him. having him, and belonging to him, it could make or break you. it’s . . . terrifying. nevertheless, it’s a risk you found yourself wanting to take no matter the consequences.

you love him. you love him. damn it, you love him. the lights laid out infront of you could light up all at once, and in your eyes, he would still shine brighter. your hands shook, restless in your limbs, craving to be touched by your man.

—

“have you eaten dinner?” you ask, knowing how hard he worked today.

for a guy who claims to hate texting, he sure does text you a lot. he sent you pictures throughout dance practice. he had a big smile on his face at the beginning, saying he was ready to work hard. later on, he showed what he had for lunch. and then it ended with him slumped in a corner, face and neck sweaty, zoning out.

“i had meat and rice. but i feel more energized after seeing you.” you jokingly huff at his answer, and he chuckles. “did you not miss me too?”

“why else do you think i’ve been hugging you for the past ten minutes?” you remove your hold on his waist, throwing your arms over his shoulders instead. his earring brushes against your cheek, but you endure the cold metal to keep him this close.

“can i have a kiss?”

you pull away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “come get it then.”

and one hell of a magnet for trouble you are.

enchanted, he drinks in your features. from the arch of your eyelids, down to your cupid’s bow. he marvels at the stars that make up your beauty, the stars he crawls home to at the end of each passing day.

he offers you a sweet smile, and next thing you know, your back is pressed against the wall, your weak knees buckling, and your fidgety hands tangled in his soft hair. you don’t know how kissing came to be an act of intimacy and romance, but your lips caressing jungkook’s lips, the subtle brush of his tongue against yours, and his hands squeezing your hips— visceral, euphoric, devotion. it makes sense. it all makes sense to you. when is the mouth at its most honest, if not when it is kissing?

he pulls away to nuzzle his face on your neck, warm breath contrasting the chilly spring night. “don’t pick up flowers on the ground again. i promise i’ll get them for you more often from now on.”

“you promise?”

“i promise.” and he seals it with one final kiss on the corner of your lips, curved upwards by a delighted smile.

you take another peek at the porch, itching to finally take off your shoes and to change into your snug pajamas. “oh my god, he’s gone. all the lights are out.”

jungkook is the first one to wiggle out from the confined space, and you follow suit with your hand held tightly by his. you whimper in discomfort when you feel numbness and tingling on your right foot, pausing for a second to stomp it on the ground before catching up to your boyfriend’s pace. a breeze blows as you pass by the house you ran away from this morning, causing you to visibly shiver. your boyfriend notices, and so, he pulls you to his side and rubs your arm to provide you warmth to the best of his abilities.

“you’re so cold, baby. why don’t you wear gloves?”

“it’s too hot when i wear them.” you complain with lips forming a pout. “being cold is better.”

you’d rather have his hands keep you warm, so at least until winter arrives again, you will remain stubborn and gloveless. however, you are forced to briefly part when you reach the staircase leading to your apartment. you hold onto the left railing, him to the right, and you reunite at the final step.

your apartment is the fourth door straight ahead. you enter your personal space with jungkook secretly excited about getting to use his spare key. two pairs of sneakers are lazily left on the welcome home mat, and two pairs of socks are tossed in the laundry basket.

after shrugging off his backpack and jacket on your bed, your boyfriend goes straight to the bathroom with one of your newly bought lightbulbs. the stacked chairs are still there, and he laughs to himself when he realizes that you attempted to reach for the ceiling.

he makes sure the switch is turned off before climbing on the chairs, his heels slightly rising so he can use strength without losing balance. he replaces the burnt out lightbulb with the new one in under a minute.

“you already changed it?” you exclaim in surprise, flicking the switch to see it for yourself. alas, a bright light fills every corner of your bathroom. “you’re a lifesaver!”

your cheek is rewarded with a kiss as he passes by to bring back the chairs to your kitchen. “you’re welcome.”

“oh, babe! if you get hungry, i still have chicken in the fridge from earlier. do you want me to heat them up?” you trail behind him while hugging your bath towel.

“i’ll do it myself. go wash up now, so we can go to bed.” he separates the chairs and places them back at their designated places around your dining table.

you sigh as you are reminded of the task assigned to you tonight. “i need to do my readings before bed, though.”

“you’re not done with that yet?”

”i have two chapters left.”

you fell asleep on your desk last night doing the same thing. and if yelling at you through the video call didn’t work? he would’ve gone all the way to your house just to carry you to bed. but he’s with you tonight, so he doesn’t need to worry about that anymore.

“then can i watch a movie on your laptop?”

—

you originally planned to study on your desk, as a diligent and studious person would normally do. does lying on the bed, where you rest and sleep, make sense? no. however, it’s not exactly the bed you find inviting. it’s jungkook, looking all cuddly in his oversized shirt and pajama bottoms, with your laptop sitting on his naked lap (he bunched up his bottoms to his thighs because he realized it’s warmer on your bed than he initially predicted). it also seems that he found the headphones you forgot you left on the couch yesterday.

compared to your bed, the desk looks awfully grim. and so, you crawl between your boyfriend’s legs, carrying your two-inch thick book and blue highlighter. he squeezes your body for a second, not missing a chance to plant another kiss on your face before letting you settle down with your back against his torso.

the next hour and a half is spent in silence, mostly. you’re leaning to the side, the lamp shading the pages of your book. your eyes are watering under your glasses, and you wipe the tears away carefully with your thumb. beneath you, jungkook is watching the notebook, said it’s been years since he saw it for the first time and he already forgot the plot.

you can hear the sounds spilling from the headphones, barely, really, but it’s still there. you can also feel the laptop starting to heat up, slightly burning your thighs carrying its weight. it’s been sleeping on your desk the whole time you were gone, after all. you don’t mind. it feels oddly comfortable, warm. you’re not sure if it’ll remain that way by the time the movie concludes, but you’ll just have to cross the bridge when you get there.

your eyes. your eyes just won’t stop bothering you. the tears are streaming down into your ear. they’re begging for a rest. left with no other choice, you put down the book, sliding the highlighter in between the open pages. you close your eyes for a minute, and using your finger, you write the alphabet on jungkook’s knee to keep your mind awake. you’ll never know, but the heart you draw after the letters j and k puts a fond smile on his face.

your eyelids flutter open, and your gaze lands on his thigh. bewitched, the tip of your finger has a mind of its own. this time, it traces the two moles adorning his delicate honey skin, crossing the distance between them back and forth.

“these are my favorite.” you whisper absentmindedly, unaware that your boyfriend has paused his movie due to your distracting touches.

he leans his cheek on your temple, warm hands sliding under your shirt to rest on your tummy. “i thought your favorite is the one under my lip?”

“oh,” you sleepily blink in realization. “i’m torn. the ones on your thigh are so cute. and unique. they’re like childhood friends.”

his quiet laughter turns into a fit of giggles when you pinch at the space in between, drawing an elephant with his moles as the eyes, just as he demonstrated the first night you slept on the same bed.

“i think you need to go to sleep, baby.”

you contemplate between work and sleep, blankly staring at the book. “how much longer until you finish the movie?”

“mhmmm,” his finger slides across the touchpad to make the remaining time appear at the bottom of the screen. “thirty-two minutes?”

“then i’ll wait for you so we can sleep together.” you force yourself to pick up the book again, scanning the paragraphs to find where you left off.

another scattered kiss is placed on your skin, where your shoulder and collarbone meet. and he doesn’t understand why this feels like the perfect moment to say the three magical words for the first time, when you’re barely awake and his heart is beating so fast he’s afraid he’s going faint. he planned for this to be more special and romantic, but this, tonight . . . it only feels right.

more than a confession, it’s an everlasting promise. he wants to let you know that he’s not going anywhere. you don’t have to grasp your time with him like water in your hands. when you wake up later this morning, he’s going to be by your side. and the next hundred thousand mornings after that. it means he is steady, and he is sure— body, heart, and soul. it means he is honest, and he is patient. it means he carries you in his heart like a locket hanging on his neck everywhere he goes. it means he believes love is true when it is given.

he stutters your name, which he rarely uses when talking to you. but your brain is too fuzzy to recognize that fact, and you only hum in question as you try your damn hardest to absorb the words you’re reading.

“i love you. i don’t mind if you sleep first. i know you had a long day.”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl @cherishoshi @taexidriver @luaspersona + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

[to-boldly-nope]

Like Crazy (Peck!Spock x Reader)

Plot: just...angsty pining

Words: 566

Warnings: drinking, brief mentions of making out (so slight nsfw), angst, self-angst(?)

A/N: Hey!!! First of all, if you've read that one post about the reason why I stopped writing, I'm here to say everything is still OK between me and my fiance and we plan on getting married in October! Second, it's been a while, like I don't know how long, maybe 2 years? Maybe 3? How's it going! And third, my dad started watching Strange New Worlds and holy shit Ethan Peck is...woah...(in a good way..obv)

Another A/N: If yall see me posting a lot just message me and tell me to get back to my school work because I'm a master procrastinator.

You sit at the bar on the ship, watching as the people party and drink and you do too, well, you drink. You watch as Christine flirt with Spock for the umpteenth time tonight, he looks bored as he makes eye contact with you from across the room. Was he actually uninterested or did he just look like that? You take another shot. 

You see Spock walk up to you and you grimace softly. “Too much Christine?” 

“Indeed,” he simply said. I try to sit up, but I sway softly. Was the ship unbalanced or were you drunk? You couldn’t even tell until Spock’s hands steadied you. His face was blank, but his eyes were concerned. “You’re intoxicated.” 

“I’m not. Why do you care?” 

“You are a valued member of this crew,” he said, his voice deep like always and it sent shivers down your spine. This wasn’t even right. Spock shouldn’t be caught in the middle of whatever was going on. Between you and Christine pining after him, trying to win his affection. You swore that there was something there for you in his eyes. He always had a softer look, a softer voice, a softer touch. You don’t want this to end, but if you kept on being a coward then Christine would win him over first. 

“Right,” you say with an eye roll. 

“I mean it, (Y/N),” he whispered and the shiver returned again. 

~

You don’t remember when you made it into the science lab with Spock. Maybe it was adrenaline or maybe you were drunk, but those thoughts went away as Spock pressed you against the table. 

“Don’t wake me,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“What was that?” Spock asked while pulling away. 

You just shake your head. You were scared of that one wrong thing and you’d wake up from this dream. You’d wake up and Spock would realize that you didn’t deserve any of this and he should be with someone like Christine and not some tough security officer. Someone who matches his intellect and can have conversations and requires logic and not force, but you could do that too. What’s the difference between you and her anyway? You can be logical and intellectual too. You seem to be viewing yourself from outside of your body, like a reflection. You see yourself wrap your legs around his waist as he easily lifts you up on the table, making some of the glasses fall to the floor and shatter. 

You’re afraid that everything will disappear. Maybe he’s just here to help numb the pain, the pining. Maybe he made his choice and decided that he wanted you and not Christine, she was leaving for the Fellowship after all. Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all. 

You let him lean into you, placing kisses against your neck, one of his hands holding your thigh and the other resting on your lower back, holding you up, making sure you don’t touch any of the broken glass. Your hands go towards his uniform shirt, grasping it.

~

You wake up in your bed, the skin on your neck tingling softly from where you dreamed of the kisses and the bites. You take a minute to ground yourself, making sure that you are awake and aware, your fingers slowly touching the tingling skin. 

“Alone again,” you hissed to yourself, wiping away tears, “what’s the point?” 

[thedemonsurfer]

hey uuuh im procrastinating on other things so let's write a big ol' essay about

Eclipse 3.1, and Why Moon Is Doing a Disservice By Writing Him Off As "Insane*"

*insane in this context being the definition of 'acting erratic and unpredictable with no regard to consequences' and not an actual mental illness diagnosis, I know, I wish they'd pick a different word too, but this is an essay about Eclipse's behavior, not linguistics

So! If you've only been sorta keeping up with SAMS, the current plot is someone (we still don't know who) revived everyone's favorite dusty Dorito that had been forgotten under the couch, slapped him on the ass, and pointed him at the Daycare. This has made a lot of people (in universe) very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move, even by Eclipse.

Especially by Eclipse.

Our buddy boy has magic (dunno how), incomplete memories of both the original Eclipse and the backup (no clue how he got those), and directives embedded in his code that can't be removed without killing him (¯\_(ツ)_/¯). He literally woke up in the hallway outside the Daycare and then went inside and started monologuing.

Eclipse wants to find the person who brought him back, maybe or maybe not ask some questions, and then kill them.

He reeeeeally wants to kill them.

(This whole arc honestly boils down to Eclipse grabbing various folks and shaking them while screaming "ARE YOU MY MOMMY?!")

In recent eps Moon has accused him of going 'insane', mostly due to his insistence on picking fights and threatening others, and that he cannot shut up about wanting to get the guy that made him. He very recently picked a fight with Lunar, who killed him again-- and proved at the moment he can't be killed permanently, he'll just come back in a new body.

Huh.. fighting a programmed compulsion, becoming more erratic and aggressive over time, breakdown of logic and reasoning... That seems kind of familiar...

Oh yeah! This is Eclipse's kill code. I'm calling it the 'bother code', but 'cringecode' and 'pain-in-the-ass code' aren't off the table. Unlike Moon's kill code, the expression seems to be 'be a distraction to Moon' rather than like, outright murdering people.

Like the kill code, fighting the compulsion seems to make his behavior more unstable. Because here's the thing: Eclipse isn't stupid.

Well.

Okay, Eclipse is stupid, but not... like this.

Eclipse is a manipulator. His thing has always been to recruit others to help him achieve his goal, and he's patient about it. He's willing to work for months on someone, and while he does shoot himself in the foot eventually, it's usually more indirectly than this. Moon is currently helping him search for the guy, it makes no sense for Eclipse to continue posturing and threatening.

Except-- that's his only outlet right now.

The "I need to find the guy who made me"? That's Eclipse's goal, the one he's pursing with all the stubbornness he has.

The "hey what if I killed or maimed some of your family"? That's the directives.

What we're seeing with Eclipse's behavior is him desperately trying to keep himself on track, when the bother code is trying to yank him in another direction. Threatening Moon so he'll 'work faster' is an outlet, a way for him to briefly pacify the code while redirecting it back into his own goal. He knows it's a stupid suggestion, but he's going to make it anyway because he has no choice.

I think he feels like he's running out of time as well. Because Eclipse can be patient, but he gets frustrated and short tempered the closer he gets to a deadline (this is why I believe he started being meaner to Lunar-- he was frustrated about not finding the star and had given himself only a month to do it).

So like.. yeah. I don't think he's going 'insane' or 'losing his mind'. I think he's fighting a losing battle against his own programming, and taking the frustration and panic out on everyone else. Because the kill code couldn't be fought off indefinitely, eventually the bot would crack under it. And it'd be nice if Moon could acknowledge that Eclipse's behavior isn't entirely voluntary, and he IS I think honestly doing his best-- he outright came to them for help, something he's never done before.

Idk maybe they need to let Eclipse put Moon in a stupid trap again for an ep to get it out of his system so he can chill out for a while.

A sidenote! Its interesting to me that Eclipse's behavior in the coming back ep seemed to be erratic only as long as Moon was present. Once Moon left, Eclipse changed gears in how he was talking to Solar, and had some very classic "you know you're better than this, don't you want to go apeshit?" lines. The kind of thing that we've seen from the previous Eclipse incarnations. Dunno yet if it means anything, but it's interesting!

[staticnight]

The Boy at the Gala - Bruce Wayne x Male!Reader

This took me ages to do. I've been absolutely swamped lately (plus a lot of unrelated procrastination). This kind of sucks, the pacing is off, and I'm overall not a huge fan of it, but I figured I would just get something out and work on something better rather than worry about it.

pairing: Bruce Wayne x Male Reader genre: fluff? meet cute I guess word count: 1.6K

   You’d never been to a gala before. You’d never even been to a really nice house party. In fact, you haven’t been to many parties at all. Certainly, you weren’t supposed to have been invited to Bruce Wayne’s gala, it must have been a mistake.

   But whatever, you got an invitation - and who were you to decline an opportunity to meet Bruce Wayne? You bought the nicest suit you could reasonably afford, and you headed out. 

   You took a breath, taking a moment to prepare before opening the large doors to Wayne Manor. The large entrance room was full of people mingling, in fancy gowns and suits, drinking expensive wines and spirits. You felt very out of place.

   As you walked through the room, nobody spared you a glance, too busy with whatever it was they were doing. You looked around the room, at the high ceilings and the marble pillars as you moved. How could anybody actually live here?

   You were so distracted by the fact that you were in Wayne Manor, that you failed to notice the large man you were about to walk right into. You stepped on the back of his heel, bringing you back to Earth. 

   “Oh, shit!” You stumble backwards, bumping into another person doing so. The man turns around, looking at you. “Are you alright?” He asks, concerned. You nod and look up at him - your jaw drops a little. Bruce Wayne. The man you bumped into was Bruce Fucking Wayne. 

   After looking at him flabbergasted for a moment, you compose yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, nodding. He nods in return, his eyes drifting to your shoulder.

   “You got some wine on your suit,” he points out, to which your eyes widen. “Fuck,” you mutter, looking at the slight red stain on your shoulder. Your suit is black, so the stain isn’t obvious, but you spent way too much money on this suit to get a wine stain on it.

   Bruce takes a small cloth out of his chest pocket. He raises his hand in the air, calling over a waitstaff. After a moment, the waitstaff arrives, carrying a tray with various shot glasses and a jug of water.

   Bruce presses the cloth on the rim of the jug and turns it upside-down for a brief moment. He then brings it to your shoulder, wiping off the wine. The damp cloth is cold, even through the suit jacket. Even worse than that, Bruce had gotten rather close to you to do this, and you can feel his breath on your neck. Trying your best to ignore it, you bite on the inside of your lip. After what felt like forever, Bruce’s eyes met yours, only for a moment, before he pulled away.

   “I got most of it off,” he says kindly, folding up the cloth and throwing it onto the table behind him. “Your shoulder is damp now though,” he frowns.

   “It’s fine…” you touch your shoulder lightly; it’s a lot wetter than you thought it was. Bruce seems to think for a moment. “Maybe you should take your jacket off for now?” He suggests, his eyes meeting yours again. You think his face is a bit pink, but it’s hard to tell in the dim light. Perhaps you’re projecting, because God knows your own cheeks are starting to burn.

   You remove your jacket, holding it awkwardly. You can’t just tie a suit around your waist, right? There’s a strange silence between you for a few moments before Bruce’s expression quickly shifts. 

   “I forgot to ask your name,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice and face. “Oh, uh,” you hesitate. Does he know the names of his guest list? You aren’t rich, or famous, or related to anybody rich or famous. “My name’s [Name]. I got an invitation,” you respond, adding the last sentence quickly. Which you realised just as quickly was a weird thing to say.

   Bruce gives you a strange look, but only for a second. “Bruce Wayne,” he holds out his hand. He surely knew that you knew he was Bruce Wayne, but you shake his hand and say “Nice to meet you, Mr Wayne,” nonetheless. 

   “Ah, just Bruce is fine,” he smiles. He spends a brief moment just looking at you, but then realises that he’s still holding your hand, not even shaking it. Bruce pulls his hand back. “I’m sorry about that,” he apologises. “Just… zoned out,” he adds.

   You move your jacket into your other, newly freed, hand. “I can have that washed if you’d like?” Bruce asks, looking at the jacket, then back at you. “It’s no problem,” he assures. 

   You nod, “If you’re sure it’s no problem.” He smiles and nods back at you. Bruce puts one hand under the jacket, and the other gently atop your own hand. You look down at your hands, and his hands, feeling your face getting hot. 

   His fingers graze softly over your hands as he pulls his away, turning and giving the jacket to an old man beside him. He says something to him, and you’re only able to make out the words “washed,” and “tomorrow”, but that essentially tells you everything he said anyway. The man gives Bruce a look, before leaving with your jacket.

   “Do you do this for everyone you meet at galas?” You ask jokingly. He shrugs, “Not everyone I meet at galas gets wine on their suit.” You let out a breathy laugh, to which Bruce smiles. 

   “Would you like a drink?” He asks as a waiter with a tray of champagne walks nearby. “Yeah, I’ll have a drink.” Bruce nods and takes two glasses from the tray as he passes by. He hands you a glass. You take it, making sure your hands touch as you do so.

   You clink your glasses together and take a sip.

   “So, [Name],” Bruce starts, “What do you do?” You tilt your head ever so slightly at him. “What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

   “I can’t say I know everybody that attends these galas, but they all do something in particular. Usually businessmen and their trophy wives,” he takes another sip of champagne. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you don’t like you’re the businessman type,” Bruce explains.

   “Do I look like a trophy wife?” You joke, trying to avoid the question that will for sure get you kicked out. Bruce laughs, “I think you could be,” he jokes back. “At least a trophy boyfriend.”

   “Speaking of trophy wives, surely Bruce Wayne has a lovely girl that’s here somewhere?” You ask, half trying to avoid the previous question and half asking if he’s single.

   Bruce looks a bit embarrassed, “No, I don’t.” You refrain from making a face about it, but you can’t deny your surprise. “Yeah, love’s hard,” you shrug as casually as you possibly can.

   The old man comes back, notably without your jacket in hand. “The suit jacket will be washed and ready tomorrow. Would you rather pick it up yourself or have it delivered?” He asks. “Ah, I’ll pick it up if that’s not a problem?”

   The man nods. You really just want another opportunity to be in Wayne Manor, especially if it means talking to its owner again. 

   “Maybe I can get your phone number?” Bruce asks, “To let you know when to pick it up,” he adds quickly, his cheeks pink. You smile, “Yeah, of course, uh,” you check your pockets for something to write on.”

   “Oh, you can just put it on my phone,” Bruce says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He taps a few things on it before handing it to you, open on the new contact page.

   You add your number and name (with a <3 next to it for good measure). You hand his phone back to him.

He looks at the screen, a small smile on his face at the heart next to your name. He taps a few more things, and your own phone buzzes in your pocket. 

   You dig it out, checking the notification. A text from an unrecognised number; ‘Hey [Name]’, complete with a heart next to your name the same way you put it in. 

   You smile, and look back up at Bruce, who lets out a small hum. 

   “Y’know, I’d heard you were the cute playboy type, but you're much cuter in person.” You say, vocalising what was in your head. You’d already scored his phone number, so you figured ‘may as well'. Bruce laughs, though his face is undoubtedly pink.

   Turning your attention back to your phone, you add the number to your contacts under the name Bruce, of course with another heart. You have a theme going.

   You struggle to hide your excitement at the fact that Bruce Wayne is in your phone contacts.

   Before you know it, people start to filter out of the building. Neither you nor Bruce had noticed the time passing by, far too enthralled in your own conversation.

   Bruce checks his watch - surely the most expensive watch you've ever seen - “I can't believe it's that late already.”

   You check your own watch - surely a far cheaper watch. Your friend might have even given it to you second-hand - 12:27 am.

   “I should probably get going soon, then, huh.” You frown a little. Spending all night talking to Bruce might be one of the best things to ever happen to you. 

   “Or, you could stay the night?” He suggests. “Since your jacket is here and everything,” he reasons, seemingly to himself more than you. 

   Now your face is most certainly at least a little red. “Well, if you want me to.” Bruce nods, “There's more than enough beds - or room in mine,” he adds the last part quietly.

   The last of the guests are seemingly gone now. 

   Bruce holds out his hand to you. You take it.

   “Lead the way, Bruce.”

[vampynights]

CLYDE (ELECTRICK CHILDREN) — hanging on the telephone

✰summary: clyde’s not the conventional type to bring home and your parents make that abundantly clear. still, he’s desperate to keep you in his life somehow. do you choose between the approval and love of the people who keep a roof over your head, or the boy who made you feel alive for the first time ever?

✰warnings: cursing, smoking and weed usage (i’ve never actually smoked so bear with me), mentions of drinking, lots of tension, pretty slowburn (this is kinda an understatement, it took around 6,000 words to get to the lovers part), angst with comfort, unhealthy relationships with parents, afab reader, reader uses she/her pronouns 

✰a/n: this is not only the first fic (or oneshot) i’ve written in a while but also my first ever clyde fic so please excuse any mistakes!!! i’m open to any requests for clyde seeing as there isn’t enough fanfiction of him out there. 

✰words: 14.3k (it's a long one so strap in.)

————————————

Meeting Clyde was an accident but to her, it was almost a blessing. 

Y/N didn’t intend on letting it go as far as it did. He was just the weird stoner kid she met at a music venue. If you asked her, she’d tell you the story of how they met was as cliché as it could get. Girl bumps into boy with a drink, boy shrugs it off and promptly begins flirting with her, and they hit it off almost immediately. She’d never been to something like that before and it was obvious but Clyde was nice enough to make sure she didn’t feel too out of place (or bump into any more people.) 

By the end of the night, the two were walking around the streets of Las Vegas, talking endlessly about everything and anything that popped into their minds. Both of them knew that by bringing up a random story or question, they were simply procrastinating saying goodbye to one another, yet neither of them bothered to point it out or put an end to it. 

“Okay so- wait. You’ve never gone, like, fucking rogue on your parents for not even a day? What, do you just stay at home and shit?” Clyde is inebriated and exasperated, running a hand through his hair with one hand while the other raises to his mouth and grabs the cigarette in between his lips. He blows out the smoke and Y/N lets her gaze linger on the sight for a few seconds before looking at the street ahead, shaking her head. 

“I mean…yeah? I’m not really the type to disobey my parents for no reason. I didn’t feel any need to.” She looks down and kicks a pebble in front of her. She can feel Clyde staring at her but she refuses to make eye contact, weirdly embarrassed by her admission. 

“Yet here you are walking around with a random guy at night, real fucking smart. Were you even allowed to go to that venue?” He asks, laughing as he raises the cigarettes to his lips again. 

“Nope,” she replies, emphasizing the ‘P’. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket and looks around. It’s surprisingly vacant, though she assumes it’s because they’ve unknowingly departed from the busier streets and are now walking around aimlessly. 

“Well aren’t you just a little rebel-“ he begins to tease her though is cut off by a harsh shove, making him laugh and stumble to the side. She playfully glares at him and flips him off. 

“Shut the fuck up?” She giggled. “I bet you’re probably a fucking nuisance to your parents.” Though it’s a rather mean statement, Clyde knows she’s only joking through the smile that spreads across her face. He smiles back and for a split second Y/N swears she feels her heart skip. 

“Well actually,” he raises the cigarette to his lips again, “I don’t live with them anymore. Well, technically I don’t.” 

Y/N feels a tinge of guilt for even bringing up the subject of his parents after hearing that, though Clyde is quick to notice the way her smile falters and he quickly adds to his sentence.

“Not that I really give a shit though, I like being on my own a lot better than staying over there. It’s suffocating,” he says through the cigarette in between his lips. 

“How come?”

“I don’t know, they’re like…not supportive of who I am and shit?” Clyde shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. Y/N feels as though he’s excluding a large majority of the story though drops it. She instead chooses to focus on how they’re approaching her neighborhood. She sighs, disappointed at the prospect of having to leave Clyde. He glances over at her from the corner of his eye at the sound and then directs his attention to where hers is, staring at a street sign in front of them. 

“Is uh- is this where you live?” He asks her, holding the cigarette between his fingers before flicking it and throwing it on the ground, stepping on it with his shoe to put it out. Y/N nods and then turns to face him. They’re both silent for a few seconds, staring at each other awkwardly as they try to formulate a proper goodbye. 

“This was…fun,” she eventually speaks, her lips pursing together into a tight smile. Clyde nods and smiles as well, though he is a lot more relaxed.

“Can I get your number?” He blurts out. Her eyes widen only slightly before she quickly begins digging into her bag, pulling out a pink flip phone with small bedazzled jewels on it. She holds it out for Clyde to take and he laughs at the sight, grabbing it and inspecting it.

“Cute,” is all he says as he flips it open and begins putting his number into her phone. He pulls out his own and puts her number into his, Y/N staring in awkward silence.

He shuts both phones and hands hers back, beginning to walk backward and away from her. “I’ll call you!” He shouts out to her, waving goodbye. She waves back, standing in place and watching him leave. Looking back down at her phone, she can’t help but grin wildly and laugh to herself as she walks back home, a blush spread across her cheeks the whole time.

———

It takes Clyde two days to call her. In those two days she did nothing but think of him. The way he pat her shoulder after she profusely apologized for spilling her drink on him, the way he whispered into her ear whenever someone he knew walked past and he had a strong opinion on them he just needed to share, and the way he asked her to walk with him before the band they were watching even finished performing all snuck their way into her mind throughout the day. 

What was in the forefront of her mind however was his smile. The smile he gave her as he offered to be her ‘guide’, the smile he gave her when she told him her name and the smile he gave her as they said goodbye. If there was anything she learned about him after the night they spent together, it was that he would very easily become her new favorite person. 

She was in her bedroom when he called, flipping through a fashion magazine while lying on her bed. Laying on her stomach with her legs swinging in the air, she mindlessly stared at the model on the page in front of her, though her mind was anywhere but on the skirt she was showcasing. Coincidentally enough, she was thinking about Clyde when the loud ringing alarmed her out of her thoughts. 

She jumped and got up, racing towards her phone on the dresser and picking it up to see the caller's I.D. Her heart raced as she read the name and she purposefully waited for the phone to ring for just a couple more seconds before picking it up to avoid looking eager. 

“Hello?” She could hear Clyde’s voice clearly through the speaker and her heart raced. It had only been two days since they met yet it felt like an eternity since she had heard his voice.

“Hi,” she breathed out, subconsciously checking herself out in the mirror and fixing her hair as if Clyde could see her. 

“What are you doing?” He asks and she can hear muffled music in the background as if he were listening to a live band in a different room. 

“Uhm nothing really…just doing some light reading…” she glances over at the magazine on her bed and paces her room. 

“Light reading? What the fuck is that?” He laughs on the other end and Y/N bites her lip to try and control the smile on her face. Sighing, she sits down on her bed and flips another page of the magazine absentmindedly. 

“Doesn’t matter. What are you doing? Sounds like you’re at a venue or something again.” She runs a finger down the page. 

“Close but not really. I’m uh watching some friends practice…they’re in a band and shit. They’re actually kinda good but y’know music is subjective and all that bullshit so maybe you won’t agree,” he mumbled into the phone, and she laughed in response. Laying down on her back, she stared up at her ceiling and tapped her fingers on her stomach. 

“Right…I’m sure they’re good. Well if they’re anything like the bands we heard the other night, they were amazing.” 

Clyde chuckles and clears his throat. “Yeah no they were great…they’re actually playing again at the same venue next week…if you wanna go check it out.” 

“The same venue only a week later? Wouldn’t they wanna broaden where they play and stuff?” Y/N furrows her eyebrows and rolls over on her side.

“Well they’re small bands and a shit ton of people usually go over there so…either way, it’s better for us cause it’s closer. So are you in or nah?” 

Y/N takes a moment to think. She was dying to see him again though the prospect of going against her parent's rule of sneaking out at night wasn’t one she was intending to break more than just once a month. Still, she found herself abandoning all logic and agreeing. “Yeah, sure. What day?” She tries to sound casual though a bit of excitement shines through her tone. 

“Next Wednesday at 11 pm. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you out long like last time,” he laughs, “unless you want me to.” 

Her heart skips at his words and she can practically hear his smirk over the phone. “We’ll see.” She’s trying her best to play it cool despite the tremor in her hands. 

“Cool.” 

And with that, they’re left in awkward silence for a few seconds. Y/N thinks of what to say and though she really, really doesn’t want to come off as desperate, she can’t help but ask the question that’s been nagging her ever since the day before. 

“How come it took you two days to call?” 

There’s a brief pause on Clyde’s end that makes her panic. Did she freak him out? Was she being overbearing? Was two days a reasonable amount of time to wait before calling someone and she was just clingy? His laughing cut off her train of thought. 

“Missed me?” He asked teasingly. She felt her cheeks grow warm from embarrassment but he spoke before she could defend herself. “I’m gonna be honest I just got kinda busy. Trust me when I say I wanted to call you, though.” 

Y/N smiles widely, not bothering to push it back. The confirmation that he had also been thinking about her, maybe not as much as she was thinking of him, but that she was on his mind at all overjoyed her. She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger and closed her eyes. 

“I’ll believe you. For now.” 

He snickered at her last statement and opened his mouth to reply before a voice other than his could be heard from the phone. She couldn’t tell whose voice it was, though the person seemed agitated with him. She stared at her nails as she waited for Clyde to speak to her.

“Listen, I gotta go but I’ll call you again soon, alright? And if not, I’ll see you on Wednesday. Kay?”

She was disappointed at the fact that their call had to be cut short though nodded to his words before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Uh- yeah! See you.” 

They exchanged a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone. Y/N flipped hers shut and set it down on top of her chest, her hands resting on her stomach as she smiled up at her ceiling. She knew it’d be a long week before Wednesday came.

—------------

She didn’t understand what part of her behavior may have changed throughout the week, though to her parents, it was fairly obvious that she was a little too happy. The next Monday Y/N could sense something was off the moment she stepped foot into the dining room. The atmosphere was tense almost, and what made things worse was Y/N couldn’t pinpoint why. Did they somehow know about her secret rendezvous? Maybe she was too loud on the phone the night before? Or perhaps they knew she snuck out the other night. They wouldn’t have waited this long to confront her, however. 

As she approached her seat at the dinner table, she cautiously stared up at her father through her eyelashes and pulled out her chair. Her father was too busy setting the table to notice. 

“Y/N! Can you come help me set the plates?” Her mother called out to her from the kitchen, startling her. She let go of the chair and began to walk towards the kitchen, taking one last glance at her father before directing her attention to her mother. She paced around the kitchen grabbing plates from cabinets, forks and knives from the drawers on the counters, and began transferring the food from the pots and pans onto the plates. Y/N walked over slowly and grabbed a plate, taking hold of a large spoon and scooping out some of the rice in the container to pour it onto the plate. The air felt a little lighter in there, and they both did their tasks in mutual silence for a minute before her mother began speaking. 

“You seem happy lately. Anything new?” It was an innocent question. Her mother was usually the type to inquire about her life so this wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. The guilt from sneaking out three nights ago plagued Y/N’s mind, however, and what once was a warm and comforting inquiry of how she was doing now became a terrifying interrogation. Y/N tried her best to remain calm and continued to fill the plate with food, setting it down and reaching over the counter to wash a spoon in her hands. 

“Nothing new, just happy that it’s summer,” she replied cooly, mentally applauding herself for responding without a shake in her voice. Her mother hummed in response and left the kitchen with a plate in her hands, walking out to the dining room. Y/N turned the sink off and sighed under her breath, looking down and gripping the counter with her hands. She was definitely not made for the lifestyle of sneaking out against her parent's permission. She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath, grabbing her plate and walking out to the dining room. 

Her father was seated already, flipping through a newspaper while her mother set a plate down in front of him. Y/N fought back the urge to roll her eyes at his inability to make his own plate and placed her plate down on the table. She silently walked back into the kitchen and looked in the fridge for something to drink. Her family wasn’t the type to drink anything deemed ‘unhealthy’, meaning the only things available to drink were water and homemade juices. She’d rather drink her own piss than ingest an entire cup of her mother's kale juice, so she instead opted for a water bottle. She’d kill to drink some soda, however. 

As she walked back to the table she found her mother and father already seated, staring at her expectantly. It was uncanny, almost, the way they both looked over in her direction at the same time and smiled. She froze for a split second and smiled back (though it came off as more of a grimace), her teeth in full display before she continued to walk back to her seat. She sat down and smoothed out her pants before looking down at her food and closing her eyes. Before every meal, they were expected to pray. 

‘Oh heavenly father,” her father began, sighing deeply as he intertwined his hands in front of his plate, “we thank you for the opportunity to be blessed with the food in front of us and we are grateful for the roof over our heads and for each other. Thank you for my wonderful wife who prepared this delicious meal, and thank you for my truehearted daughter who continues to stay on the right path, the path that you have created for her.” His prayer continued, though Y/N tuned out. 

The guilt was eating at her. Her father sat just inches away praising her for her obedience and loyalty to god, when just three nights before she was out on the streets with a boy who she knew very well both her parents and God wouldn’t approve of. Not that she really gave a damn about God anyway. He was always something her parents believed in and pressured her to believe in as well. Her doubt of his existence didn’t make her guilt any better, though. Even though she knew deep down she didn’t fully believe in him, she didn’t completely deny him either. And if he did exist as her parents insisted, was she just a horrible person and daughter for doubting that? She already felt like a horrible daughter for sneaking out the way she did. For years her parents publicly and privately praised her for being the “most well behaved child they’d ever seen.” They had confidence in her that she’d always do the right thing, and made it abundantly clear that if she were to ever, ever, disobey them she’d be betraying their trust completely. She was too caught up in her thoughts and failed to notice both of her parents staring at her worriedly. 

“Y/N?” Her mother reached out and grabbed her arm, gently shaking her. Y/N snapped back into reality and blinked, staring down at her food and then looking at her parents. “Are you okay sweetheart?” Her mother asked. Y/N could only nod and grab her fork, stabbing into the meat on her plate and shoving it into her mouth.

—--------------

Wednesday night, Y/N found herself pacing her room in an attempt to relieve the anxiety that surrounded her like a dark cloud. She’d gotten past the first two stages of her plan: she kissed both her parents goodnight and waited for them to fall asleep before hiding out in her room like a hermit. She placed a bunch of pillows under her blanket strategically to look like a body (something she’d learned from the corny sitcoms she was allowed to watch. She found it ridiculous though did it anyways,) and began getting ready. She didn’t own a lot of clothing that would be deemed ‘appropriate’ for the occasion and ended up wearing a loose black dress that stopped just short of her knees. She put on a leather jacket that she stole from a friend who had a lot more freedom to wear whatever they wanted, and some dark brown eyeshadow to try and give herself a more ‘edgy’ look. She assumed that’s what Clyde would be into based on the appearances of the girls he hung around with. 

It was a struggle to get out of her house without making any noise. She had to take off her shoes while she walked down the stairs and past her parents’ room to avoid any creaking in the floors, and it took her almost three minutes to unlock and open the door without making any noise. By the time she stepped out of her house, it was 10:55 pm and she had to be at the venue by 11, though her house was about a ten-minute walk from there. She was now not only incredibly nauseous from the fact that she was sneaking out in the first place but also that she had only 5 minutes to get there on time. Maybe he wouldn’t be there on time? He seemed like the type of guy who was never actually on time for stuff, so maybe, just maybe, she’d get there before him. Right? 

Wrong.

By the time she did get to the venue, sweaty and out of breath, she could see him standing against a wall with his arms crossed, smoking a cigarette. She didn’t understand why he smoked so much but decided now was definitely not the right time to ask any questions like that. She nervously walked up to him, trying to get a good look at his face underneath the colorful lights above them to gauge his mood and decide whether or not it was smart to actually go say hi or if she should just walk away and never talk to him again. It was hard to actually pinpoint his mood however, seeing as he remained rather stoic as he stared out at the street in front of him. He must have sensed her presence before he glanced over from the corner of his eye, and his eyebrow twitched just slightly. He pulled the cigarette away from his mouth and threw it on the ground, stepping over it before cooly walking over to her. She stayed frozen in place.

“Took you long enough. Was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his navy blue hoodie as he walked towards her. Y/N laughed quietly, looking down at her shoes to avoid his gaze. 

“Sorry. Turns out sneaking out of your house with the intention of meeting up with someone is a lot harder than just sneaking out in general,” she was about to explain herself in further detail, feeling as if she needed to or else he’d get mad before he laughed and place an arm around her shoulder casually. Her eyebrows rose and she stiffened under his touch though didn’t make an effort to shove him off or anything. He was warm. She smiled softly as he began to lead her into the venue, rambling about how the bands already started but they weren’t missing out on much. 

—--------------------

That was a month ago. Every day since then, they have been in contact somehow, whether it was exchanging phone calls or texts, or meeting up with each other. They started hanging out more during the day as well, with Y/N lying and saying she was visiting her friends from church. The guilt of lying to her parents and disobeying them grew every day, though her affection towards Clyde was growing at an even more rapid rate. The guilt was worth it if it meant she got to see him one more time. One day, they were in his…room? She still didn’t know what to call it, she just knew that’s where he stayed most of the time. They both sat on his bed with their hands in the air, in the middle of a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’. Y/N was obviously winning with only three fingers down, meanwhile, Clyde had eight of them. 

“Okay sooo…” she began before smirking mischievously. Clyde sighed and rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as well. 

“Ah shit you’re about to kill me, aren’t you?” He asked, giggling as Y/N placed a finger over his lips and shushed him. 

“Shhshhhshhh….never have I ever smoked.” 

Clyde narrowed his eyebrows at her. “Gotta be more specific. Like weed or cigs or-”

“Just put the finger down, Clyde, we both know you’ve inhaled any smoke you can think of naming,” Y/N laughs and grabs Clyde’s hand, forcing a ninth finger down as Clyde scoffed. 

‘I’m asking you, dumbass. What haven’t you smoked?” He asks, causing Y/N to go silent and stare. Clyde stares back. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Over the past month, the two had gotten close enough to have a basic understanding of each other and their families, and Clyde knew damn well that she wasn’t experienced with any of that. In response to her silence, he chuckles and gets up, walking towards a book bag in the corner of the room. Y/N watches him wordlessly, having a growing suspicion of what he is going to pull out. She’s proven right when he turns around with a large smirk on his face, a tiny ziplock baggie in his hand with weed in it. Y/N scoffs and rests her back on the wall, her knees going up to her chest. 

“Wanna try? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just notice how you’ve been eyeing my shit whenever I smoke,” says as he approaches the bed, going to the bedside table next to it and digging through it. She couldn’t find the courage to correct him and tell him that the reasoning behind her staring when he smoked was because she thought he was attractive, not because she wanted to try it though. She stared as he went through the drawer, thinking through the pros and cons of what would happen if she smoked with him.

She did have a bit of a curiosity when it came to smoking and drinking, though her parents always told her it was a sin to do either. Though she was already sinning by being in this room with Clyde, she figured there’d be no harm in trying. He made a small ‘aha’ noise once he found whatever it was he was looking for and sat down in the bed in front of her, setting the items down. Aside from the baggie of weed, there were what Y/N understood to be cigar papers (from what Clyde had described it to look like in one of their previous conversations). Clyde picks it up and waves it around in front of her face. 

“Let’s see if you’ve been paying attention to anything I’ve said in the past,” he mumbled, setting it down and taking the weed out of the baggie. “What’s that? Do you know?” He nods towards the cigar papers. Y/N hesitated to answer, afraid of being wrong and embarrassing herself, though when she looked at Clyde’s face she saw nothing but a warm fondness in his eyes that made her whole body warm up. She knew he wouldn’t actually judge her, maybe tease and poke fun at her, but no real judgment would ever be made. 

“Uhm…cigar papers?” She answered, wincing a bit at the end of her response. Clyde’s smile eases her anxieties, however, and he laughs as he begins to pack the weed into the papers. 

“Shit, you have been listening! Good job.” 

The praise goes straight to her stomach as she feels it twist and turn. She was falling deep, a little too deep. She smiles in return and watches his movements. The two are silent for a few minutes, comfortable just enjoying each other's company. Once Clyde finishes, he holds up the blunt and rotates it in front of Y/N’s face. 

“Okay, serious talk now. You seriously don’t gotta do it if you don’t want to. I know your family have your own fucking reservations and shit about this type of shit,” he warns her, his tone genuinely rather stern. Y/N smiles at his concern. 

“Clyde, seriously, it’s fine. I wanna try. Plus, I’m not too concerned about anything bad happening, I mean, you smoke this stuff all the time, right?” Clyde nods and searches his pockets for his lighter. When he can’t find it, he begins lifting the blankets and pillows to find it around his bed.

“Yeah but this is your first time and well…shit get’s weird on your first time. I got you though. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Y/N’s almost glad he's preoccupied searching for his lighter so he can’t see her face after he says that. Little does she know he’s glad his lighter was hidden somewhere under his covers so he didn’t have to look her in the eyes and accidentally show off the blush that sneaked its way up to his cheeks. Once he finds it he chuckles to himself and glances over at Y/N, who is nervously staring at him. 

“Alright, you ready?” 

—---------------------------

It wasn’t a surprise that Y/N was high out of her mind from only a couple of hits. Clyde watched amused as she lay on his bed, staring up at his ceiling and rambling about god knows what. If he’s being honest, he stopped tuning in ten minutes into her rant and gave up trying to make sense of what she was saying. He was having just as much fun watching her fall into deep relaxation. He’d always found her to be on edge constantly, even when it was just the two of them in a secluded area, so to see her openly say what was on her mind with no hesitation was a sight to behold. And he was beholding it alright. 

As he listened to her rant he sat up and reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a water bottle, holding it out so she could take a sip. She whined and pushed it away, making him laugh and grab her hand. “C’mon dude you gotta drink something. You’ve gone through like three bags of chips, isn’t your mouth like hella salty?” He asks her, motioning towards the chips.

She looks over and stares in amazement at all the empty chip bags in front of her. “Holy shit…” she mumbled, clearly not fully present. “I ate all of those?” 

“Yeah, now open your mouth.” He grabs her chin and forces her mouth open despite her protests, placing the bottle up to her lips and tipping it slightly so it doesn’t all flow out. She drinks and he watches with an inexplicable expression on his face. He couldn’t believe that people like her still existed in the world, somehow so pure yet the slightest bit tainted. She was hopeful for a better world but not delusional, she was detached from the world he lived in yet kept an open mind and wanted to know more about it, and she was beautiful. Not just in a physical sense, but beautiful in the way she spoke. Gorgeous in the way she laughed and alluring in the way she presented herself. 

He slowly moved the bottle away from her lips and watched as she wiped her mouth, his eyes flickering down to her lips and staying there for a few seconds. They always looked so inviting. 

“Y’know, Clyde,” she began speaking and he looked away from her lips and up into her eyes. “I always thought you were really cool,” she huffed out, laying her head down on his lap. He tensed and looked down, his breathing growing shallow. There was a large pause in between her sentences. She closed her eyes and Clyde could only stare in silence. He hesitantly reached his hand down to her hair, hovering above it to see if she was okay with him touching her head. She didn’t make any indication for him to move, so he began to gently comb his fingers through her hair. The two sat like that for a while before Y/N continued her point from earlier. 

“You are really cool…” she lifted herself off his lap and instead moved closer to him, their bodies inches away. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what she was trying to do.

She glanced down at his lips and Clyde subconsciously licked them. She moved even closer. 

“I think I like you.” 

That confession alone was enough to make him stop breathing for a couple of seconds. Sure, there had been a couple of signs out there that seemed to hint towards her having an attraction to him. That was all it was though. An attraction. He’d always been doubtful of the idea of her ever gaining any actual feelings for him, he was far too damaged to be hers. He’d only ever entertained the idea of them being together at night when he was up late at night and needed something to soothe him to sleep. So to hear her say something like that, he just couldn’t believe it. She was high. It had to be because of that. He refused to believe any other reason. 

She began to lean in and Clyde could feel the overwhelming urge to allow her to kiss him wash over him. He couldn’t allow that to happen, however. Not while she was not in the right state of mind. He put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her movements, making her furrow her eyebrows and pout at him. The sight alone was testing him. 

“C’mon. You’re high, you don’t know what you’re saying,” he mumbled, watching as her pout developed into a frown. 

“What? But I thought-” 

“Just go to sleep or something, I don’t know Y/N,” he sighed out, running a hand through his hair. Y/N shrugged and laid her head back down on his lap, yawning and closing her eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look down, knowing that if he did, he’d regret not kissing her.

—-------------

Things were tense after that. He drove her home after ensuring she was fairly sober, making sure she left after ingesting a fair amount of fast food. He could still see the wide smile that plastered itself onto her face when he presented her with an extra large cup of soda. That night he didn't sleep, though that was fairly common for him. This time, however, he refused to lull himself to sleep with daydreams of them together, afraid that he’d get overwhelmed. They didn’t see each other for another week after that, which after spending almost the entire month together, obviously aroused suspicion from Y/N. She couldn’t recall much of what happened that day, knowing that she got high and did go on a tangent about baby whales, though everything else was a blur. She first assured Clyde was busy. After all, he had been acting semi-normal when he bought her food and dropped her off, and a day later the two talked on the phone for about ten minutes. But then he changed. He texted her less and when he did text her, it was fairly short replies with no warmth or jokes like usual. She’d begun to get the feeling that she did something wrong but had no idea what it was. 

After two days with no contact on the phone, she grew extremely worried. Not only for his sake but also for their relationship. Did she say- or do- something while high? She decided that night she was going to check on him. 

After sneaking out and lying to her parents about what she was doing for a little over a month, she began to grow increasingly good at deceiving them. Of course, it never felt good, and she found herself actually praying for forgiveness some nights, though she was far too addicted to the rush she got from doing so to ever stop. That night, like most, she kissed her parents goodnight and waited until around 10 p.m. to sneak out. She didn’t bother texting Clyde to let him know she was visiting, not wanting to risk him running away to avoid her. 

When she arrived at the building he usually stayed at, she went straight to his usual spot, though was unable to find him. She frowned. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be out at night, the issue was he had more than just one or two spots he went to hang out, and she really didn’t feel like walking around the streets of Las Vegas at night in search of him. She decided to suck it up, though, knowing that her relationship -or lack thereof- with Clyde was more important than preserving her energy. 

She stopped by Johnny’s room to see if he was there, pushing the door open slightly and clearing her throat over the loud video game sound effects and music coming from his T.V. making him glance over and nod in her direction. 

“Yo,” he spoke absentmindedly, his fingers harshly clicking the buttons of the video game controller in his hands. Y/N smiled at him though he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Have you seen Clyde?” she asked, her hand gripping onto the door. 

Johnny takes a second to answer, his eyebrows furrowing though Y/N can’t tell if it’s because he’s too focused on the game or if it’s because he’s actually trying to think of when the last time he saw Clyde was. Y/N raises her eyebrows expectantly, and Johnny pauses his game and looks at her. “He went to the park with Snow, said he needed to clear his mind or something,” he says while scratching his head. Y/N can tell he wants to say more and stays in her place by the door. 

He continues. “Not that it’s any of my business but uh…did you and Clyde get into some argument or something? I didn’t wanna eavesdrop but when they were leaving I heard her mention something about girls and then your name and…well I don’t know I just haven’t seen you around this week so I just assumed.” He shrugged and leaned over to grab a beer bottle on a tiny wooden table, chugging the liquid down. Y/N smiled. She remembered her first impression of him wasn’t the best, thinking he was a bit of a dick and standoffish, though he eventually came around. She sighed and patted the side of the door, getting ready to make her departure. 

“Ya know Johnny that is a GREAT question. I’m about to go find out,” she replied simply before waving goodbye and rushing off. Johnny stared after her and shrugged before returning to his video game. 

Y/N wasn’t too worried about Clyde hanging out with Snow this late at night alone. She’d interacted with Snow several amount of times before and she was a very sweet girl, although a bit ditzy whenever she was intoxicated (which was a little too often.) She gave Y/N a safe space to talk about being a girl and made it obvious that Clyde was her friend and nothing more. She of course became aware of Y/N’s feelings for Clyde before Y/n herself was even aware of them, and took any chance she got to push the two together. Overall she was the cute blonde girl who at first glance looked like a mean girl but would actually end up being your best friend. 

What concerned her was the fact that her name was mentioned in their conversation, meaning Clyde was talking about her despite not reaching out to her at all. She had to have done something wrong. As she walked towards the local park she did nothing but think through the countless number of possible ways she could have fucked up. She had eight minutes to think through exactly what she was going to say when she saw him. Was she going to be angry? Demand why he didn’t talk to her for days? Or maybe she’d take a softer approach. 

Eight minutes was not enough time to make any decision. By the time she got to the park, she was less than ready, staring at the figures sitting on a bench a few feet away. She could easily tell it was Clyde and Snow based on the shape of his hair, and she felt her palms get clammy as she walked towards them. Clearly, she didn’t think that through. 

“Clyde.” Was all she said as she approached the two. They both turned, though Clyde was a lot quicker, and Snow smiled widely when she saw Y/N. 

“See, what’d I say,” she whispered over to Clyde, patting his shoulder before getting up and smiling warmly at her friend. Y/N couldn’t be upset with her, she was far too cute, so she smiled back. Snow leaned in and gave Y/N a quick hug, patting her back before walking away without another word. It was silent after that. 

Clyde turned back around and stared down at the ground, Y/N walking to the front of the bench and sitting down next to him. She left little room for him to run away. Whatever it was, they were going to confront it tonight. Y/N was the first to speak after gathering her thoughts.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asked, her voice breaking. She didn’t intend to get emotional so early in the conversation but she couldn’t help it. Aside from the fact that she harbored feelings for him, his friendship meant a lot to her. He was the first friend she’d made who she felt completely comfortable around. He introduced her to a whole new world that she didn’t know existed, and she knew that world meant nothing without him. He was ingrained into her. 

Clyde looked up quickly and stared at her, his eyes wide and bloodshot. When she turned to look at him she couldn’t help but feel pity. He’d obviously been lacking sleep. “Jesus Clyde, what’s happened?” She asked, leaning in and cupping his face in her hands. He twitched underneath her touch but said nothing. Y/N inspected his face for a sign, anything that would tell her what was wrong, but she found nothing. That was until she looked into his eyes. 

She couldn’t tell what it was, but the intensity of his eyes made it so that she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She didn’t need to hear any words to understand that he was in some weird internal battle with himself. 

“You told me you liked me.” Clyde finally breaks his silence. His voice was so quiet, she could almost barely hear it. She’d never heard him so vulnerable before. 

“What?”

“When you were high you told me you liked me and tried to kiss me.” Y/N was at a loss for words. She should have known she’d say something so stupid in a moment of vulnerability. She let go of his face and opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, so Clyde continued. “I can’t be with you, Y/N. And if I can’t be with you then I don’t know what else to do with myself.”

She was confused now. What did he mean by ‘he couldn’t be with her?’ Was that because he didn’t feel the same way? Then why add that last part? She searched for the words in her brain though all that could come out was a weak “What?”

“Y/N,” he breathed in and looked away, as if he felt guilty, “I like you. But I can’t let myself ruin you.” 

She should have felt overjoyed. She just got confirmation that her crush liked her back, this should have been a happy moment, but instead, she just felt nauseous. The pit in her stomach that had been lingering there for about a week was intensifying. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” She spat out. Ruin her? How could he ever ruin her? “Clyde, I don’t know what you’re talking about and to be honest, I don’t care. You couldn’t ever ruin me-“ 

“Y/N, you’re Christian.” Y/N stared in disbelief, ready to ridicule him for bringing up such an irrelevant fact before he continued. “You’re Christian and you’re- you’re fucking amazing. You’re like a rainbow at the end of a storm, and I know that it’s fucking cliché and corny, and you can make fun of me all you want, but I don’t know how else to describe it. You don’t smoke, you don’t drink, and you hadn’t had a soda in years before I bought you one for fucks sake! You’re in your own sweet, innocent little world, and I took you away from that. I don’t wanna take you away from more.”

His confession left her speechless. She understood what he was trying to say, having had the same thoughts before. They WERE different, though she didn’t have to carry the burden of thinking she was ‘tainting’ him the way he did with her. He was the opposite of everything her parents wanted for her. Disobeyed his parents, he smoked and occasionally drank, he definitely didn’t hold any religious beliefs that they would agree with, and the list went on longer than she’d like it to. 

She looked down at her hands which rested on top of her knees. She’d hate to admit he was right. They both sat in silence for a while, seemingly contemplating what they should do. She felt weird. As if he was somehow misconstructing the truth. She didn’t doubt that he felt bad about changing her, though something was telling her that wasn’t the full story. If he really did feel so bad, why did he let her keep hanging around him? Why not cut contact earlier? He was leaving something out. 

“Tell me the truth, Clyde,” she sighed out. Clyde frowned and turned to look at her. 

“That is the truth.” 

“No, it’s not. I don’t know if you’re lying to me or something but there’s no way the only reason is cause you feel guilty.”  Clyde bit the inside of his cheek. 

“I’m not good for you,” he began and Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting back on the bench and crossing her arms. He ignored her and continued, “I’m a dumbass, Y/N. I don’t think you understand just how-“ he sighs, exasperated. “I can’t give you anything. I don’t have a lot of money to fucking buy you jewelry like some other guy can, shit I don’t even have like a real home to live in! Shit, dude, I’m like…the worst guy you could date.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. Clyde was obviously confused by her random change in mood, though Y/N couldn’t stop herself. As she threw her head back her laughter died down to just giggles. “So this is all about you not being good enough for me?” She turned towards him. 

He sniffled, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket and avoiding her gaze.”So what? You think it’s fucking stupid?” He asks, laughing a bit to mask his hurt. She wordlessly grabbed his hands and removed them from his face, forcing him to maintain eye contact. Cupping his cheeks once again, she wipes away the few stray tears that managed to fall and smiles at him. Without warning, she leans in and kisses him. 

The kiss is soft as if she were worried about breaking him, and Clyde has no idea how to respond. He keeps his hands by his side and closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of her lips against his. He knows his are cracked and probably dry but she doesn’t care. As he goes to lift his hands to grab her face, she pulls away, confusing him. He finds it adorable how her face is obviously flushed despite being the one to initiate the kiss.

“Clyde, I don’t give a damn if you don’t have any money,” she breaks the silence. He says nothing and just continues to admire her. “I don’t care if you don’t have a proper home, or proper parents, or a proper attitude. I like you because you’re fun. You’re fun and you’re sweet and you’ve shown me that life doesn’t have to be lived by the rules only. And holy shit did my life suck before I met you.” Clyde laughs quietly. 

She presses her forehead against his and he shuts his eyes, smiling. It was pure silence around the two and if they focused hard enough, it felt like they were the only two in the world. 

————————-

Two months pass by without an issue. Y/N continues to visit Clyde in secret and once in a while he stops by her house, but only when her parents are asleep. The two share a few kisses in her dark room, talk about whatever came up, kiss some more until he eventually wound up on top of her, and then say goodbye. He promised her that he’d never pressure her into doing anything she wasn’t ready for, and though she trusted him with her entire life, she knew she wasn’t ready to take a step like that. 

It was a rainy Saturday night when Y/N made her first mistake. 

The two were hanging out in Clyde’s room, Johnny, Snow, and Lola joining them. The other three were obviously intoxicated and trying to play a game of Monopoly while Clyde and Y/N sat in the corner of the room, Y/N’s legs over Johnny’s lap while he drew something in his notebook. Y/N painted her nails with a dark purple polish Lola let her borrow. 

“What are you drawing?” She asked, leaning forward a bit to try and get a glimpse. Clyde smirked and pushed back, swatting her hands away as well. 

“Mind your business,” he laughed. Y/N rolled her eyes and set the polish aside, removing her legs from his lap. Clyde looked away from his drawing to stare at her questioningly before she maneuvered herself to sit next to him. He shut his notebook and threw it to the side, wrapping an arm around her as she put her head on his shoulder. They watched the other three argue about fake money and properties. 

“Man fuck you, Lola! That was supposed to be my station??” Johnny spat out while Lola laughed and flipped him off. 

“Yes? Well, it’s mine now. Too bad,” she hummed happily, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder as Snow passed her a large bottle of alcohol. 

“Hope your ass lands in prison…” he grumbled, making Clyde snicker under his breath. Y/N smirked and reached out to grab Clyde’s hand, subconsciously playing with his fingers. He looked down at their hands and then at her. 

“Ready to go home?” He asked. She hummed in thought and glanced over at a clock nearby. 

“In like…five minutes. I’ve got church tomorrow morning so I gotta be up early,” she whined and threw her head back, Clyde raising his hand so that the back of her head didn’t hit the wall. Snow, who apparently has been watching them and listening in on their conversation, sucks her teeth. 

“Why don’t you just tell them you don’t wanna go?” She asks, laying down. Clyde rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

“Yeah, bright idea, she’ll just tell her vehemently Christian parents that she doesn’t want to go church. That definitely won’t be suspicious,” he remarks. Y/N glares at him. 

“Don’t be a dick, Clyde,” she whispers. Looking over at Snow, she smiles softly. “He’s got a point though. They’ll get all weird and assume I’m doing something behind their backs which… I am but…” she shrugs. 

Snow passes over another bottle of alcohol to Clyde which he declines. “Gotta drive her home,” he mumbles as an excuse. Johnny laughs. 

“Look at you being a good little boyfriend,” he teases and Clyde side-eyes him. He gets up, extending his hand out for Y/N to take, and helping her get up when she does. He then walks over to Johnny, smacking him on the back of the head while simultaneously grabbing his keys from the table nearby. 

“It’s called making sure we don’t fucking die on the road.” He scoffed. Y/N bent over to hug Snow and Lola before ruffling Johnny’s hair, waving goodbye to everyone as they walked towards the door. 

“See you guys later!” She exclaimed while following Clyde out of the room. They walked down the hallway in comfortable silence until they went down the stairs and reached the front doors. It was pouring rain outside and Y/N grimaced at the idea of getting soaked. Clyde sighed and searched around for an umbrella he could borrow, but he came to no luck. He then shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Y/N who smiles gratefully in response. She puts it on and puts the hood over her head to protect her hair, and the two interlock hands before counting down to three. 

“Ready? One, two, three-!” Clyde counted out, gripping her hand tightly as they ran out into the pouring rain, giggling as they crossed the street to where his van was parked. Clyde hurries to unlock the doors, Y/N laughing at how his hair was sticking to his face. They rushed inside and drove off. Clyde drops her off a couple of streets away from her house just in case anyone were to see her, they wouldn’t see her being dropped off by a rusty van. 

As the vehicle comes to a stop, Clyde turns to face her but she quickly smashes her lips against his. His hands immediately go to cup her face, and she runs a hand through his hair as their kiss grows rougher. He pulls away first after a couple of seconds, breathing heavily and laughing. 

“You gotta go-” he’s interrupted by her kissing him again. He makes a small “hmph” sound as their lips touch, and this time she tries to pull him closer by his collar. His hand travels down her face to her neck and he wraps his fingers around her neck loosely. She whines against his lips and he has to remind himself that they are inside his van in the middle of a Christian neighborhood. This time Y/N pulls away, giggling as she gives him one last kiss on the cheek before opening the door and rushing out, shouting out a quick goodbye and thank you.

Clyde doesn’t even have time to utter a response as she’s gone by the time he really comes to his senses. He shakes his head while laughing and drives off.

—--------------------

Y/N is asleep for longer than she should have been, seemingly sleeping through her alarms and her mothers shouts for her to get up. She barges in through the door, obviously annoyed, and huffs out another “Get up”, yanking the blankets off of Y/N. Y/N groans and turns over, shielding her face from the sun shining through her windows. 

“Get up, Y/N! What has gotten into you? Do you not remember we have service this morning? You have twenty minutes to get ready, hurry. Since you seem to be incapable of getting up on your own I’ll have to pick your dress for you as well, since you want to be a child.” Y/N can barely understand her mother, still too groggy to even respond. She sits up on her bed and rubs her eyes, yawning, and stretches her arms in the air, as her mother goes through her closet in search of something she can wear to Church. She mutters to herself, commenting about each dress she sees as she frantically goes through her closet before going awfully silent for a few seconds. Y/N takes notice of this and furrows her eyebrows, scooting towards the front of her bed. 

“Mom? What’s wrong-?” She herself goes quiet when her mother pulls out Clyde’s jacket that was stashed in the back of the closet and holds it up for her to see. Suddenly the atmosphere of the room is tense, and Y/N feels as though she can’t breathe. She watches as her mother wrinkles her nose at the smell, holding the jacket up by her fingertips. It’s already very apparent that it’s a males jacket, though Y/N’s plan on lying and telling her mother it’s a jacket one of her friends let her borrow from Church immediately goes to shit when her mother scoffs. 

“This smells like rain and cologne…Y/N where did you get this? And why is it wet? You didn’t leave the house yesterday.” Y/N can feel her throat closing in. The room feels as though it’s closing in on her as she and her mother lock eyes in a silent battle, one that Y/N is losing horribly. This tension is luckily diffused the moment her father calls out to her mother, and she turns to look towards the door. She glances back at Y/N once again and then leaves the room in a hurry, the jacket in her hands. Y/N watches her leave in silence before groaning and covering her face with her hands, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

She didn’t know if it was some sick joke or if the universe was just against her, but that day’s sermon was about disobeying one's parents and straying from the word of God. 

—--------------------

The jacket incident wasn’t brought up again. She didn’t understand if her mother just forgot about it or decided that it wasn’t worth arguing over, either way, Y/N was glad. She called Clyde the next day when her parents were out of the house and told him what happened, telling him that she’d take a break from sneaking out and visiting him. She couldn’t risk raising suspicion on her. Clyde was obviously upset though understood that she was just taking necessary precautions and told her to stay safe and let him know if she ever needed any help. For the remainder of the week, she didn’t call or text him and made sure to be on her best behavior. This, of course, did not go unnoticed by her mother. 

After a couple more days, Y’N assumed she was sort of in the clear to at least contact him again. She texted him an update and asked how he and the others were doing, leading to him sending her an onslaught of messages complaining about how he missed her and “couldn’t stand dealing with the others without her around.” She then reminded him he was friends with them way before he met her, and he just ignored her and asked when he’d see her again. 

CLYDE

Y/N: i’m scared, don’t want her 2 notice anything weird

CLYDE: It’ll be fine, it’s been days hasn’t it?

Y/N: yeah but…

CLYDE: Just come over for like a hour or two.

The others wanna see you too. 

Y/N sighs. She can’t deny his offer, no matter how many warning signs are going off in her head. She missed him, she missed being around him, she missed his lips, and she missed her friends. Just an hour or two wouldn’t hurt, right? She types back. 

Y/N: fine, but just for two hours and then i gotta be right back home. 

CLYDE: Awesome. I’ll pick you up at 11.

—--------------------

That was her second mistake. 

Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t the actual act of sneaking out that got her caught. No, it was the fact that her mother got the inkling to just check her phone the next morning while she slept. She should have known something was going to go wrong considering how smoothly the night before went. She did her usual routine of kissing her parents goodnight, waiting till they slept, and sneaking out of the house at exactly 11 on the dot. The moment she stepped foot out of her house she ran towards the street he usually dropped her off at and sure enough his van was parked. 

She ran inside and almost immediately after settling herself down on her seat, Clyde smashed his lips against hers. It took her by surprise though she had no issue with it and leaned into the kiss, placing a hand on his shoulder. The kiss was rougher and noisier than any of their previous ones, with their lips making a smacking sound every time they moved. They eventually pulled away when Clyde’s hand slipped around the back of her neck, and they took a minute to catch their breath. 

“Good to see you too,” she joked, giggling as she wiped her mouth, Clyde only nodded and laughed breathlessly, turning on the engine and driving off. They didn’t do much that night, simply going to his room and making up for lost time (this of course included talking about their days while interrupting each other with kisses that led to her being on his lap and leaving one or two bruises on his neck). Eventually, Snow and Johnny stopped by. Snow was probably more ecstatic to see her than everyone else, having almost crushed her with a hug that lasted exactly two minutes, and the four played games and talked about what she’d missed. 

Clyde drove her home two hours later, as promised, and the two departed with yet another passionate kiss. They agreed to meet again the following night at the same time, feeling as if only one night a week wasn’t enough. When she got back home everything was as it should be. Everyone was in bed and her pillows were still placed in the exact positions she had arranged them to be under her blanket. She was happy and secure when she went to bed, which is exactly why she panicked the next morning when she couldn’t find her phone. 

She’d searched everywhere, her entire room turned upside down as she tried desperately to find her phone. It wasn’t underneath her pillow where she put it before she went to sleep, it wasn’t in any of her drawers or on top of her dresser or bedside table, and it wasn’t in her closet. It wasn’t under her bed or in her jewelry boxes, and as she continued to search, that unmistakable feeling of dread settled upon her. She knew she took it with her up to her room, she specifically remembers policing it underneath her pillow before falling asleep, so why couldn’t she find it? There was only one answer and the thought alone made her nauseous. 

She couldn’t bring herself to go downstairs. She knew she had to eventually, but a part of her wanted to stay locked inside her room until she died. She might as well die now in peace, seeing as the moment she walks down those stairs, she is sealing her fate. Was her room always this stuffy? Why did it feel so dark? It was only ten in the morning. Y/N took a moment to sit down on her bed and try to catch her breath. It was no use, however, and she could feel herself hyperventilating. She’d done so much over the past couple of months and she’d gotten so used to going unnoticed that the prospect of getting caught wasn’t really in her mind much at all anymore. Clearly, she had gotten too cocky. 

She knew she had to go downstairs. There was no use in prolonging the inevitable. As she made her way out of her room -extremely slowly-, she took notice of just how quiet it was. Her house was never a noisy one, seeing as it was just the three of them, though she added context of her parents waiting for her downstairs to confront her seemed to emphasize the silence. She trudged down the stairs, feeling lightheaded. She had to grip onto the railing tighter than usual to ensure she wouldn’t fall. Her footsteps were too loud. The lights were too bright. Somehow everything that she encountered every day overwhelmed her. As she approached the dining room she felt her mouth go dry. 

There both her father and mother sat in chairs right next to each other, holding hands. They looked glum. Y/N’s eyes drifted towards the objects on the table in front of them. Sure enough, it was her phone and Clyde’s jacket. She was beyond fucked and there was absolutely no way out of this. She didn’t even bother moving towards them, instead staying frozen in her place. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. She was quite literally paralyzed by fear. 

“Take a seat.” Her father never had a ‘warm’ tone to his voice, yet she’d never heard him be so cold and demanding. When she looked over at her mother she took note of how she refused to make eye contact with her. She was always the softer of the two. Y/N refused to take pity on her, however. She was the one who brought this situation to life. Despite that small little voice in her head telling her not to, Y/N walked towards the table and took a seat in front of the two, her face stoic. If she was going to go through this, she needed to seem as unbothered as possible. 

“Do you understand what you have done?” Her father didn’t wait to begin berating her. Y/N continued to stay silent, her eyes fixated on Clyde’s jacket. Oddly enough the sight alone gave her a sense of comfort, knowing that it belonged to the boy who was there to support her no matter what and always keep her safe. This of course didn’t apply to the current situation. Only God knew what was about to happen to her.

“You’ve completely broken any ounce of trust your mother and I have spent years building up. We have not raised you this way.” Somehow the lack of yelling and anger in his voice made this all the more terrifying. He was angry, his words didn’t conceal that at all, and when she looked up into his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel like she’d dug her own grave. They were washed over with this darkness that she couldn’t explain. She felt disgusted to be on the receiving end of his stare. “No daughter of mine will behave this way.” 

She didn’t know what came over her. Perhaps she was momentarily possessed by some spirit that was like her outspoken alter-ego, or maybe she just had gone insane after months of being riddled with this guilt for disobeying her parents, but she opened her mouth to speak without any second thought. “What way?”

Her father scoffed and her mother pleaded with her through her gaze to take back what she said. While she certainly wasn’t intending to say that, now that it had left her mouth she needed to own up to it. She didn’t falter under her father's strict gaze. Her mother was the one to speak up.

“What he means is-” 

“Quiet.” Her father is quick to shut her down. She shuts up. “You’re whoring yourself out to some stranger boy on the streets? Is that seriously how you intend to live your life? Do you not feel ashamed? Dirty?” 

Y/N couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She knew her father wouldn’t be happy, she wasn;t expecting him to throw rose petals and give her his blessing, but to go as far as accusing his onw daughter of being a whore? She couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in her eyes, though the rest of her face maintained neutral. 

“Well? Speak!” He raised his voice for the first time and Y/N flinched. What was she supposed to say? Admit to his demeaning allegations? 

“If you want me to call myself a whore then you might as well just leave now because you’re not getting a single confession from me.” 

She definitely pissed him off with that one. He clenched his jaw and looked off to the side, taking in a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. He grabbed her phone and held it up so she could see, making her frown. 

“You will never contact that boy again. Do you understand?” 

Y/N would be stupid to assume this was the end. She nodded along to his words however to appease him. He stayed silent and hardened his gaze, making her realize he wanted a verbal response. 

“Yes sir.”

He laughed. “I don’t think you understand. But you will soon.”

Before she could question what he meant he took her phone and threw it across the dining room, the impact making a loud noise as it hit the wall and fell to the floor. Both Y/N and her mother visibly flinched at the noise, and for the first time, she was genuinely afraid of something happening to her physically. Her father stood up and walked out of the room, not bothering to give her one last glance. She stared down at the table, her tears falling freely at this point. Her mother offered out her hand, though Y/N swatted it away and got up and stormed off as well.

—---------------

Clyde knew something was wrong when she didn’t show up at that night. He didn’t know what happened or why, but he was concerned. There wasn’t anything he could do, however, seeing as he couldn’t just walk up to her front door and knock and ask why she flaked out. He tried his best not to let his mind wander and assumed she’d just fallen asleep earlier. Or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself until the next day when he didn’t hear from her at all. 

Now things were getting concerning. If she really had fallen asleep, she’d just text or call him and apologize. Her lack of contact made him wonder if something did happen to her and if something did happen, what could he do? He left her two text messages that day, both asking if she was alright. He decided to just wait, one wrong move and he’d be getting her in a world of trouble. His messages were never returned. 

Another day went by without contact and though he didn’t show it outwardly, he was absolutely freaking the fuck out. It was unusual for her to go radio silent with absolutely zero warning, and after not showing up the other night, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. What if she’d gotten caught? What was he supposed to do? Go to her house and demand she give him an explanation? Threaten to fight her parents? Throw rocks at her window to get her attention and then convince her to leave her home and run away with him? 

Being the romantic that he was, he naturally chose the last option. He drove to her house the next day at around 12 am, stopping his van a few streets away like he normally would in case anyone was nosy enough to even look at the front of her house. He walked in the cold night with a pocket full of tiny pebbles, mentally going through what he was going to say to her. He knew that despite her feelings for him, she loved and respected her parents, so it wouldn’t be easy to convince her to leave. That and he knew how rough life was when you didn’t have the support of a parent or loved one to fall back on. He was okay living like that but he didn’t want that to be her reality as well. She deserved better than that, even if it was a couple of assholes with old fashion traditions.

Once he arrived at her window he threw the first pebble, getting no response. That’s fine, she probably didn’t hear it. He threw another one and again: no response. He threw another one, and another one, and eventually, he’d thrown every pebble in his pocket. Making a mental note to carry more the next time, he debated yelling out her name though decided against it. He couldn’t risk her parents hearing him. He walked away, dejected and ready to return the next day to try again. 

He decided to take his chances and call her again the next day, just in case she was asleep the night before and just didn’t hear him. He knew the call was going through but didn’t understand why she wasn’t picking up, and to be quite honest, it was starting to piss him off. His anger wasn’t directed towards her of course, no, he was mad at her parents. Why couldn’t they just let her be happy? When his call went to voicemail he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Leave a message after the beep,” the robotic voice spoke and Clyde had to suppress everything in him that was telling him to just throw his phone at the wall. After hearing the beep he shook his head and looked around his room. 

“Hey, Y/N. I don’t know what the fuck happened -I mean I have an idea but- I need you to call me back okay? I don’t care if it’s to tell me that you can’t see me anymore, I don’t care if it’s your stupid fucking parents telling me I’m a piece of shit who isn’t good enough for their daughter, I really don’t give a shit. I just want to know you’re okay. Call me back when you get this. Bye.” 

—-----------------

She did NOT in fact call him back. He visited her house again the next night and brough two pockets full of pebbles, taking his sweet time throwing them at her window just like the other night. Still, no answer. He could have sworn he’d seen her light flash off when he was approaching her window though he wasn’t sure if he was just going crazy. He was getting frustrated. How else was he supposed to feel? When he got back to his room that night, he completely ignored Snow and Lola who tried to cheer him up with some alcohol and instead went straight to bed, though he of course didn’t sleep at all that night. 

The next day he called her again. The call went to voicemail again, and he cursed at the stupidity of leaving a message she probably wasn’t going to hear or respond to. Yet he still left one. 

“Hey, uhm I don’t know what is going on over there but you need to call me back dude. This isn’t fucking funny okay?” His voice was sounding uncharacteristically desperate. He needed to remind himself that it wasn’t that serious. Or at least that’s what he needed to believe to keep himself calm. “Call me and tell your parents to go fuck themselves while you’re at it, okay? Stay safe, bye.” 

—-----------------

He knew she wasn’t going to be responding to any of his phone calls, yet for every day that passed by, he left a new one. 

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N. It’s not like I can just show uo to your fuckin’ house and, like, demand your parents to let you see me. I mean, I could but, what the fuck is that gonna do? Come on Y/N just…fuck.” 

—--------------

“At least I know you’re not playing some stupid fucking prank on me now. There’s no way you’d be able to keep it going this far. I don’t even know if you’re listening to these. Or your parents. Is anyone fucking there? Are they doing some weird punishment thing where they force you to listen to each of these messages and fucking laugh at me or something? That’d be fucked up. Call me back sometime in the near future. Preferably before I die.”

—-------------

“Snow is on my ass right now because of you, did you know that? She’s pissed at me. Thinks I’m not doing enough to see you. I don’t know what the fuck she wants me to but she’s been complaining about how she misses you. Everyone’s kinda on edge right now. Would be really cool if you’d, I don’t know, pop up out of nowhere. We miss you.” 

—-----------

“Y’know I look like a dumbass making all these phone calls and leaving all these fucking voicemails knowing they aren’t going to anyone. There’s a part of me that wishes you’d just pick up randomly and we’d just talk normally as if nothing happened… that’s so stupid what the fuck am I saying? Fucking corny….I gotta go. Miss you.” 

—----------

“Uhm. I know I was always awkward about it in person and shit but… I really like you, you know? I hope you do. Even if I’m not there to say it. Just…remember that for me okay? I like you. I trust you. To me, that means a lot more than love. But I do love you. I hate saying it cause it’s fucking stupid and you can’t count on anyone ever so what’s the point of saying it, yknow? And maybe it’s stupid to even think I love you because we really only knew each other for a couple of months but…whatever. Bye.”

—----------

“So what? You’re gonna give up on her? That’s your fucking GIRLFRIEND, Clyde.” Snow smacked the side of Clyde’s head making him groan and divert his eyes from her. He wasn’t giving up, or at least he refused to look at it that way. He’d decided to give up calling. He refused to be held captive by the idea, the fantasy, of her coming back and answering the phone one day. He lifted the blunt to his lips and took a deep breath in, trying his best to ignore her scolding. 

“Clyde what if something seriously bad happened at her place? Think about her point of view, for fucks sake. Stop feeling bad for yourself and maybe think about how bad this is is for HER. She has to live in a house with those people.” Clyde would never admit Snow had a point. He refused to ever give her the satisfaction of being right, though he’d be stupid to ignore her words and continue wallowing in his self pity. He let her say her peace and without a word handed her the blunt, getting up and grabbing his keys, before walking out the door. She called out to him though he wasn’t listening. 

—-------------

Y/N was beyond fucked. She’d spent the past 12 days in isolation in their guest room, only allowed to leave to use the bathroom. She was no longer allowed to eat with her parents at the dinner table, though she didn’t complain, grateful that she didn’t have to see the pathetic excuse of a man she had to call her father. It was lonely, being stuck in her room with no other way out. She knew her phone had survived being thrown by her father though her mother told her he’d confiscated it and planned on never returning it. She didn’t care anymore. Speaking of her mother, she refused to speak with her. She didn’t give a damn if she was more compassionate than her father. She’d shown him the messages and she’d presented the jacket to him, so her predicament was just as much her mothers fault as it was her fathers.

She couldn’t begin to explain how lonely she felt. This wasn’t living. She never knew what living was until she met Clyde. He’d taught her that life was more than just Sunday morning Church services, bible verses to abide by, doing chores around the house, going to school, and sleeping. There was going out at night and meeting new people, listening to music that actually spoke to your soul instead of reiterating tired biblical lessons, eating the foods that actually made you happy and crave for more, and loving so hard that you’d rather spend your entire life in isolation with that other person than breathe without them. Y/N knew that without Clyde, she wasn’t herself, not because she depended on him to live, but because he ingrained himself into her. 

She had a roof over her head, she had food and water and she had clothes, but she had no real substance to her life. And she’d rather be disowned by her family for the rest of her life than continue to live this way.

—----------------

Smoking just wasn’t cutting it out for Clyde at the moment. He’d driven off to a park pretty far from where he lived so he wouldn’t encounter anyone he knew. He needed time to himself. Standing outside his van, he rested against it and crossed his arms while smoking a cigarette, ignoring the ‘NO SMOKING’ sign just a few inches away from him. He wasn’t known for his ability to abide by rules. Snow’s words replayed in his mind constantly. She was annoying. She was annoying, and persistent, but she was right. Hitting the back of his head on his van, he threw his cigarette down on the ground and stepped on it. 

“Godamnit…” he sighed out and ran a hand through his hair. He paced. Was he really going to just let her stay in that toxic environment? Who’s to say his plan would even work though? He’ll never know unless he tries. But if he does try and fail, it’d be a waste of time. 

“Fuck!” He hissed out, smacking his van once, and then twice, before smacking it one final time and backing away. Catching his breath, he backed away and pushed his hair back before getting back in and starting the van.

—--------------

This was not thought out at all, Clyde realizes as he stands in front of her front door. He was either about to get his ass beat or take home the girl of his dreams. Either way, he was shitting his pants. He rang the doorbell and looked down at the ground, muttering under his breath “This is so fucking stupid.” 

He could hear footsteps behind the door and straightened his posture, watching the doorknob jiggle before the door swung open. Clyde studied the man in front of him and the man did the same with him, though his eyes narrowed almost immediately.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here, boy.” The man, who Clyde assumed was her father, snarled at him. Clyde’s face contorted in disgust at his words. 

“Jesus, could you sound any more like a weird Southern creep? Sorry, is saying Jesus offensive to you people? I don’t give a shit actually- anyways, ya kind of left me with no choice here but to make sure my girlfriend was still alive…” Clyde rambled, though he knew he was only making his case worse when he saw her father clench his fist in the corner of his eye. 

“What are you trying to say? Are you accusing me of murdering my daughter?” Her father scoffed and it took Clyde everything in him to not laugh in his face. 

“It was more of a… never mind.” He shook his head. “Just let me talk to her man, I’ll leave you alone after that.” 

This time it was her father's turn to laugh, though Clyde remained as stoic as he could possibly be with the anger that was slowly bubbling up inside of him. He could see someone moving around in the background and glanced over, seeing her mother. He raised his eyebrows at her and she quickly scurried away after being noticed. He directed his attention back to the man in front of him. 

—---------------

Y/N could hear two voices outside the room and though the other sounded so familiar, she refused to believe it was actually him. There was no way he’d really come for her, and as she lay on her back on the bed provided, she stared up at the ceiling and wondered what would she do if it really were him. Just as she closed her eyes to sleep, the doorknob began to rattle, startling her. There wasn’t reason for anyone to open the door for her at this hour, and she hadn’t asked to use the bathroom. 

She sat up straight and stared at the door as it slowly opened, her mother in clear view. Before Y/N could even ask what was happening, she heard the one voice she swore she’d never hear again, and her heart soared. If she was being fully honest, she didn’t care much for her mother doing this final favor for her, though she gave her a grateful smile nonetheless as she jumped up out of the bed and ran out the door. She didn’t hesitate to run straight to the front door, pausing behind her father. 

“Listen asshole, you’re really testing my patience here-” 

“Watch your language, the lord is watching.” 

“Who gives a damn! Just let me see her-” Clyde stopped completely when he saw her step out from behind her father. His eyes widened and her father turned around to see what he was looking at, growing furious at the sight of his daughter who should have been locked away in a room. 

“You let her out?” He asked her mother, his voice low and Y/N backed away out of fear. Clyde looked over at her and then back at the man, his breath quickening. Things were about to get ugly fast, and they needed to leave. He motioned over for Y/N to walk over, and as she tried to discreetly make her way toward him while her father was distracted, the older man looked over and grabbed her wrist to prevent her from moving any further. Despite her struggles and protests, he wouldn’t let go, tightening his grip on her. She looked over at Clyde for help and he did the only thing he could think of. 

His hand was going to hurt like a bitch after this.

Punching her father square in the jaw, he let go of her and she ran towards Clyde. He groaned and grabbed his jaw, watching as the two fled hand in hand. “Know that you can never come back to this house ever again! No daughter of mine will be another man's slut!” He yelled out to them. They both couldn't be bothered to listen, giggling as they ran, the cold air hitting their faces. Once they were finally out of sight Clyde pulled her in, his hand cupping the back of her neck as the two crashed their lips against one another. Giggling in between kisses they struggled to pull apart, lips stuck in a dance with each other, and that’s how they intended to stay for as long as they lived. 

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

a/n: holy shit this was long. to be honest, i lost a lot of motivation towards the end which is why it isn’t the best, but i really did try my best! i hope you all enjoyed<33

[scarletslippers]

Literally procrastinated brushing my teeth to write this. I'll get it up on ao3 later because I have to go to work 😂

Dedicated to @flythesail because you know why, Ash. You're the reason this dialogue spark happened.

“And then we, uh, you know.”

“Oh.” Ace sounds surprised. “We did? Here? Like, in this bed?”

Nancy huffs a quiet laugh, forehead creasing as she considers his question. “Sort of? It was your apartment but it looked different than this. You know, like how things in a dream are not quite right but they feel familiar? The bed was in front of a window.”

“I don’t even have a window big enough to put a bed in front of.”

Nancy laughs again. “Maybe interior design wasn’t Temperance’s specialty.”

“Hmm.”

Silence falls between them, the comfortable kind they always used to share, and Nancy closes her eyes, soaking it in. Ace made that comment about losing a friend and she hadn’t realized just how much she had missed this. That loving him was getting to love all the parts of him. 

“Was it good?” Ace asks so suddenly that it startles another loud, watery laugh out of Nancy.

“That’s your question?” she asks incredulously. 

“Well, yeah.”

“Ace,” she begins in almost exasperation. “It was great.”

“Hmm,” Ace hums again.

“Oh no, that’s your jealous ‘hmm’.”

“I am not jealous.” He protests, but his voice says otherwise. 

“Nice try.” Nancy looks over at him with a fond smile. “But I know you.”

“He—that version of me got to be with you. Of course I’m jealous of that guy.”

“Well, that guy also died,” Nancy quips, the laughter rapidly draining from her voice as she realizes the weight of her words, having been caught in their banter. 

She looks over at Ace, finding similar tears brewing in his eyes. But he just looks concerned, worried for her, not upset about his death. She’s not sure why she expected anything else. 

Instead, Ace smiles, pulling her back to right now, making real memories, here, in his bed. “That guy is definitely missing out. He didn’t get personally delivered bagels and pickles.”

Nancy smiles too. “A winning combination, really.”

“Hmm,” Ace muses for a third time, only this time Nancy can tell it’s soft and sappy. “Just like us.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles wide. “Yeah, Ace. Just like us.”

[danfrik]

IT IS I, ONCE AGAIN.

Did'ya miss me? Probably not, anyway.

I'm here with another drawing that I kind of procrastinated to finish until today-

It took me like five hours to finish what I already had started...

But whatever, welcome again to my impulsive (and kind of stupid) little brain, I'm going to talk about this and you will read everything.

⚠️Minor/Major Spoilers Ahead⚠️

First things first.

I want to make clear that, yes, Miles and Phoenix switched bodies just like Aziraphale and Crowley did.

Those marks on Phoenix's face? Let's just say that that one headcanon about holy water tears is a thing here (because I'm a sucker for angst).

I also want to point out some details about the switch thing because... well, I just want to talk about every little detail, let me cook.

• On Good Omens (the TV show, of course), Crowley (as Aziraphale) has an ice cream while Aziraphale (as Crowley) has a popsicle, but here I decided to be special and reverse that because, honestly, I see Phoenix being more of a popsicle guy, and Miles more of an ice cream type of man, don't ask me why.

(Also, I gave Miles a strawberry ice cream with sprinkles and Phoenix a grape popsicle, I'm sure you know why.)

(Because Miles likes pink and Phoenix likes "grape juice", that's why.)

• One of the things that I did to make the switch slightly more obvious is the frown, more specifically Miles' frown, the old "Edgeworth glare™️".

So, no matter how hard Miles is pretending to be Phoenix, we cannot take away his glare. On the other hand, Phoenix is really expressive (even behind those shades, yes), so he'll try to keep it either slightly neutral or keep that rest bitch expression (did I say that right?).

I mean... he is pretending to be Miles, y'know?

• Other thing that I did was change Phoenix's clothes while Miles is pretending to be him.

Gave him a waistcoat and his tie back because, of course, Miles thinks they suit Phoenix just fine (and he is absolutely right) and because he could never dress like a basic bitch, he is a classy bitch after all.

Oh, and I gave Phoenix a little handkerchief, like I said, Miles is a classy bitch... with questionable fashion sense *stares at his jabot*.

And, not gonna lie, Phoenix has no fashion sense, at all, the only reason he slays like he does in his usual outfit, is because he takes Miles' advice every now and then, but if it were for him he would wear crocs with socks (I mean, based, I do that too).

• Oh, I almost forgot about a tiny detail.

Miles also managed to brush Phoenix's little flick of hair, you know that one.

He likes to be presentable, no hair out of place.

• Phoenix didn't change anything of Miles, he is perfect as it is (jabot and all, I guess).

Now that I covered those little details, I can proceed to talk about other things >:)

Actually, is more of the same topic anyway.

The whole switching bodies trick, that is.

Aside from the details about costume and mannerisms, I want to talk about both sides.

How Phoenix will act in heaven and Miles in hell?

I picture it kind of like this:

For Miles side, pretending to be Phoenix is not as difficult as he would've thought, at least for the bantering and body language part.

Quite surprisingly, he does pretty great, the only difficult part might be the facial expressions, but he managed to not catch anyone's attention anyway.

Like in the TV show (Good Omens, I mean), Miles exaggerates little things about Phoenix, like being a bit more dork, maybe even a bit nonchalant or flamboyant, slightly dramatic but not too much.

Now for Phoenix, it is kind of difficult for him to not react at the petty coments and keep a neutral face but he manages, though his eyes speak for him, of course.

He keeps this solemn atitude, even spoke with the same flourishness that Miles tends to speak with, and bows before the Archangels.

Not that he wants to, but he knows that Miles does that out of respect for any higher being.

His body is mostly stiff, not daring to make any sound unless necessary, he only dared to glare when the hellfire came and when they insulted Miles.

Miles, much like Aziraphale, played with the holy water, splashing just enough so it won't reach anyone but also enough so no one would dare to get close to him.

Also joked around and asked for a rubber duck and a towel (and almost dared to ask for some scented candles).

"Y'know? It is quite relaxing being like this, it feels refreshing, a demon could get used to this."

With Phoenix is quite similar as to how Crowley messed a little with the Archangels, but he didn't stay silent.

He took a deep breathe once he was on the fire, did the "breathing fire" trick as well, and made a little joke, as if taunting them for not being able to destroy Miles nor him.

"I've been to hell recently, it was really lovely if you ask me, warm and cozy... you'd like it."

And so, both sides let them go and switch back again.

Leading to a small talk about both sides leaving them alone for a while, the not-apocalypse, the "antichrist" and all that.

Of course, finishing with that date- I mean, dinner at the Ritz, cheering for the world while a nightingale sings not so far away.

Oh, and I want to add a little thing too!

When they stand up from the bench, after switching again, I kind of want Phoenix to make a little joke about his own name, kind of like:

"I'm gonna be honest with you, angel, I really felt like I raised from the ashes back there."

"Must you be so foolish all the time?"

"Aw, c'mon, you think it's funny, I can see you holding back!"

"Nonsense, I would never consider funny that ridiculous and foolish joke of yours..."

[Spoilers: He did]

Anyway, I think that's all, at least for now.

Thanks again if you have read all the way down, if you didn't... well, that's understandable, but thank you anyways!

Hope you have a nice day, stranger!

[osakaonryoif]

I don’t know why I’m feeling compelled to come and apologise here, when there’s not really any reason to. It’s not like I’m being held accountable by anyone, and to be perfectly honest, no one here would likely care if I just didn’t post again and dropped off the face of the Earth.

Truth is though, I only wrote about 500 words last month. I had thought that completing university would allow me to work on my IF a lot more, but in some cruel twist of fate, I haven’t. I’ve plenty of time. I have mondays to fridays free, and only work part-time on the weekends, and I’ve just been staring at the file, blankly sitting and doing nothing. It’s not an issue of writer’s block, it’s more an issue of lack of motivation. I’ve just been feeling, to be perfectly honest, super depressed, and while I thought all this free time would be a boon, ironically it’s been a bad thing. I actually got a lot more done when I was working on this in small snippets while procrastinating on my assignments, etc. Right now though, it all feels like a life without passion or purpose.

Part of me feels guilty, and another part keeps telling me that no one really cares. I’m reminded of those accounts that drop an IF premise, and never a demo, then just never post again, or keep answering asks but never actually write anything substantial. I have something to show for all my work - a full 160kish IF, but I still can’t help but feel guilty for my lack of work.

I’m not sure if I will be able to pull myself out of this, but if I do, I know that if I used all this free time to work on my IF, I could potentially have it finished in a few short months. And that thought only makes me feel worse.

Anyways, apologies for spoiling the happy mood of your day with this slightly ranty post. But I have a plan for July to hold myself accountable… Anything… Everyday. Be it one word, or a thousands words, my hope is that if I write that first word, I’ll get in the zone and be able to pull myself out.

Leila

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 21 - Prompt: Brink @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 498 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

James spent his entire life as an only child with no one to share the undivided attention of his parents with. For most of that time, he loved it. Ranging from loving acceptance, concern, and playful teasing, his parents were brilliant.

There were times when he wished at least some of that attention was shared. Times when he was in trouble or lonely or on the brink of a meltdown. Times like now, when he was eating lunch with his parents after Sirius and Regulus left for a heart-to-heart “brotherly bonding” pub run. James alone was faced with the task of explaining why the three of them were acting so strangely.

“So, you found Regulus,” his father prompted, circling his fork for him to continue.

“Yeah. He was at the beach talking to…a new friend.”

“That’s good! Isn’t that good, Jamie?” his mother asked, watching him closely.

James nodded at his plate of rarebit, shoveling another slice into his mouth as an excuse to avoid answering. Cheesy over-easy egg on toast was an ideal comfort food. Even the slice of tomato on top hadn’t caused him to hesitate. The dish was delicious, he was sure, but he couldn’t taste much at the moment.

“Is this ‘new friend’ the reason Sirius and Regulus didn’t join us for lunch?” she asked, nodding at the empty seats beside him.

He swallowed hard, then shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Jamie, is there anything we should know?”

This was it. The opportunity to explain everything without anyone butting in, and it was laid out before him like a treasure map with a giant red ‘X’ on “come clean.” Yet, the words stuck to the roof of his mouth along with the mustard sauce.

He knew he was procrastinating again, but he couldn’t help it. While his parents weren’t the judgemental sort, they could still be disappointed. James hated disappointing them.

“Is it about Regulus? Sirius said you two were arguing earlier,” Effie prodded. “And it was hard to miss your disappearing act over the last few days.”

James sighed as he set the last slice of rarebit back on the plate. “It’s just that I like him…a lot, and I think I pushed him away. I’ve tried subtlety. I’ve tried to be obvious. No matter what I do, he runs away.”

“Are you sure he’s interested in you?” Monty asked pointedly. “Perhaps you should leave it.”

“I tried that too! The ‘disappearing act’ was my attempt to give him and Sirius space.”

“Is that what caused the argument today?” he checked.

James nodded fervently. “He made it clear that he wanted me to stop avoiding him.”

Effie hummed thoughtfully and tapped her lips. It was a tell-tale sign that she was scheming, which should concern him. Given the circumstances though, he was wide open to suggestions.

“I think I have an idea, Jamie. A sure way to tell if your interest is reciprocated,” she said finally.

“Here we go,” Monty huffed.

“We’re going to need a decoy.”

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