#I WAS NOT LYING. WHEN I SAID THIS WAS AN ESSAY. IT IS OVER 2K WORDS OF ME TALKING MOSTLY JUST ABOUT YARROW

[ichorblossoms]

*slithers in* i was thinking about your guys as you do and i was wondering how does Yarrow feel about crime and violence? in the sense that, i know you've said Yarrow is the one to spur the both of them into retribution once their lives are threatened later on in the story and i've been wondering how is Yarrow's relationship to something like that. in terms of like does he have any history with that kind of life before Grimm? did anyone ever teach him to shoot, or fight or is that something Grimm has to impart? does he take it to it well, and as a doctor does he have any conflicting feelings about it? WOO sorry a lot of questions but if you feel like talking abt any of it id be very curious :>

HIIIII THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME A CHANCE TO TALK ABOUT THIS HEHEEEEEEEE i'm excited rubs my hands together yarrow my favorite guy yarrow who has problems

this is also a lot of fun bc it's something i DO in fact think about often heheeheheehohohooho

also this turned into. A Lot so it's mostly under the cut BUT for the thesis of this: yarrow prefers not to fight, but if driven to do so, has no qualms about it, especially if violence is the only answer. he’s always kinda wanted a reason to beat the shit out of someone real good but never had that reason until now. yarrow can have little a bloodshed. as a treat <3

also i didn't draw anything new for this but i'm putting in relevant images so there are pictures and not all words

SO yarrow's relationship with violence is so much fun for me to turn around in my brain because, although he's a doctor, he's not inherently opposed to violence. he's a sweetheart and genuinely cares about the well-being of people, but deep down he also wants to know so badly what it would feel like to full-throttle beat the shit out of someone. to know what it's like to break instead of fix and give it to someone who deserves a beating. and he knows this about himself—yarrow’s deal is suppression, not repression. that being said, he doesn't love violence, or rather, the aftermath; his job would be a hell of a lot easier if it wasn't so prevalent. so for him, physical violence is a final resort. something he would need to be pushed to do when left no other choice.

i’ve mentioned before his pervasive sort of ”give and take” mentality—that mostly applies to himself before anything else, and ofc that attitude extends to violence as well. pretty simply an “i don’t wanna get punched so i’m not gonna punch people” thing. he wants to be a bitch sometimes. he will not let himself be a bitch. p3 frees him from his shackles because he now has reasons to be a bitch

at his core, yarrow wants to help people, to make the world a less shitty place with their actions, and ideally inspire that compassion in others—this and an interest in the (mostly) human body is why they’re a doctor. p3 of honeybee sees them removed from their practice entirely and—to their knowledge—possibly unable to go back, so they go: “what is the most helpful thing i can do right now not just for grimm and i, but other people? commit violence against the people who harmed not only me, but my lover and countless others because they have not faced consequences for their actions”

the world of honeybee is ofc course like ours where those in power inflict violence that they don't consider violence and, like a lot of characters, yarrow sees that imbalance. most people cannot meaningfully disrupt the machine slowly devouring them without risking their lives, loved ones, livelihoods, etc. and grimm and yarrow are in a particularly unique position to actually retaliate: neither of them are in any debt, they have each other, and their home/loved ones are far away enough as to not be directly threatened (* as of right now), so this, combined with grimm’s expertise and the knowledge that the two of them are being pursued anyways, creates a mindset of essentially “let’s try to turn them into the hunted instead of the hunter because there’s going to be violence either way and just maybe we’ll be enough of a threat for them to back off” they’re both humod, diplomacy is a laughable pipe dream

also generally the more wealthy and powerful someone is, the less yarrow cares about hurting them—especially because he believes it's the duty of anyone with power to wield it for the benefit of all and witnessing the constant misuse of it at the cost of other's lives/well-beings kind of galvanizes him more because it’s punching up

up until they ran off with grimm in p1, yarrow had basically no experience engaging in or even really being on the periphery of crime (with the exception of dealing with the physical consequences on/in people's bodies), they stayed in their lane, didn't wanna get killed or hurt by any outlaws or organized crime things happening where they grew up, which is also easier to do in the larger cities due to more wealth/security/etc/etc. grimm introduced them to more overtly breaking laws early in p1 by breaking into a motel their first night in rappock, and yarrow got really nervous not only about being caught, but about how they're indirectly harming someone, unlike grimm (who is concerned with its own survival first and foremost), yarrow considers how it affects people outside themself

i'd say this hang-up with doing illegal things mmmostly applies to himself though, as he recognizes that circumstances and desperation will bring people to do things they normally wouldn’t and tries to extend that forgiveness. grimm’s work as an outlaw in p1 is one example, where he knows it’s not a job it takes to gleefully but out of necessity, so he doesn't have too much of a conundrum about its work. if anything, he’s more off-put by grimm’s ability to kill him if it wanted to, but also in a way, grimm not killing him in cold blood helps yarrow come to the conclusion that grimm won’t harm people more than necessary...? (grimm’s own thought process is more self-centered than that but. close enough)

also! yarrow's views on violence are not static throughout the story! i’ve been mostly talking about p3 yarrow, who has much less to lose, less face to save, and more life experience, but in p1 especially he’s naive to a lot of what goes on and gets hand wring-y about some stuff. for instance, he does take issue with grimm being contracted to kill the hayden mining exec by their random client at the end,.even if he does benefit from it immensely (grimm talks about using the cash to maybe settle down and yarrow’s included), is it really worth the life of another person? In p2 though? yeah kill that guy, sure. yarrow’s been in union meetings, he knows the bullshit hayden gets up to. if some third party also wants him out of the way and will pay for it? great. he won’t say any of that out loud but. not a huge loss to him

going back to yarrow committing violence himself though, he won't do it without solid justification. violence is for people that deserve it, not everyday people. i have this p3 scene half-written where he and grimm rob two random people at gunpoint and he's shaking and apologizing the entire time despite knowing this is the quickest way the two of them could get enough cash to not have to like...fully survive out in the desert. it's necessary but these people didn't do anything to him so he has a hard time with it! and it eats at him! and he knows he’s not unjustified with it but he doesn’t want to do something like that again if he can help it

but when they do have that real justification? there is a reason yarrow's weapon of choice is a shotgun.

they still want a bit of an excuse to be really bloodthirsty, and when it falls into their lap, when no one, including themself, could really blame them for what he did, if they have to resort to physical violence? they are going to make it hurt. they are not aiming to kill, they are aiming to maim. if someone dies? serves them right. if they live? give them scars to remember not to fuck with him again. and if pushed to this point, they won't have many moral hangups about it—yarrow is the guy with the whole worthiness complex and sometimes it applies outside himself

and also to that point, there’s very much a sense of justice and defense to it too. shoot at grimm in the middle of his clinic's lobby? get a shotgun slug to the chest. a girl too young to be a mother comes into his clinic pregnant? if the man who did it comes in bleeding out, yarrow might just let it happen. couldn't save him in time, so sorry. he’s no saint, but if he has the power to balance the scales, he might take it. and to be clear though this is more about like. yarrow shedding inhibitions rather than enjoying partaking in violence. at the end of the day he’s not having fun with this (but i am :3c) and knows the weight of what he does and what it may cost him, even when he doesn’t regret it.

all that being said though, yarrow doesn’t get into fights like. ever while in rappock until the end of p2. medical neutrality protects his ass from the worst of it and if it’s not a huge deal, he’ll put on an intimidating face. i don’t have specifics in mind but he’s probably been on the periphery of some shit going on in town, but no one’s ever seen him get real scary or anything. something for me to chew on later prolly idk. i have so many other thoughts rn

(there is a slight exception to what i’m saying here between p2 and p3 when he’s undergoing his modification because at that point he’s just. kicking and screaming because well. he was kidnapped and his body is being altered against his will so of course he’s gonna fight back animal-brain style. this is all a sort of blur to him though bc he was essentially put in a goo-tube coma for most of his modification because he kept fighting people and they didn’t know what else to do with him)

okay now. how he learns to fight

he doesn’t know shit until grimm comes along. he’s maybe done some ~self defense~ type stuff while in school or some work-sponsored bullshit they did instead of paying him more, but never any formal training. being able to defend yourself is a good skill in the wider world that yarrow more or less ran off into with grimm and he needs to learn if he literally wants to survive. grimm’s the first one to teach him and begins with teaching him how to shoot their revolver and fight a bit as part of an exchange in p1 for yarrow teaching them some first aid skills. after p1, yarrow asks some of the more rough miner types in rappock to teach him some stuff, which is where he learns to use his shotgun and that he likes how it feels better than a revolver (yes the hurting thing but also it is more comfortable for him). then grimm teaches him some more once they come back bc he does want to learn (if only to have somewhat of an outlet lol) he’s not great at fighting by virtue of being busy with other things and not having consistent time to learn, but with both the weight and muscle he’s put on, he can pack a punch and doesn’t go down easy

shotguns don’t require much in the way of accuracy so he doesn’t have to be as good of a shot. the extra eyes throw off his aim for awhile too so he's all over the place for a chunk of p3. when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, i would describe him as a brawler; he’s more reckless than grimm (much to their distress), but at the same time does use his medical knowledge to target weak spots and get things over with quickly. grimm’s the more elegant of the two by virtue of being trained, but neither of them are fighting clean. Then again no one else really is either dhgkfhldk

it’s also fun comparing and contrasting them bc when it comes to physical violence in a fighting situation, yarrow prioritizes disabling the assailant without killing them (injury/breaking things is not off the table), where grimm prioritizes their and yarrow's survival, and will more readily use dirty tricks or kill people to ensure its own survival. because grimm so easily outclasses yarrow in fighting ability and it’s guard dog nature, it’s much more keen to jump into violent situations in yarrow’s stead. not out of recklessness either, just a trust in its own abilities and in yarrow to help if it needs. while it still makes them nervous, yarrow pretty effortlessly falls into more of a support role in a lot of situations, hanging back or being a lookout 

yarrow does struggle with the loss of life at times, especially if he causes it, but grimm’s got a sort of kill-people-for-free pass in yarrow’s mind, so over time it sort of shifts into this “if grimm kills people, i don’t have to feel bad about it” thing that yarrow tries really hard not to slip too far down into because also grimm is really eager to serve ease any discomfort of yarrow’s and he still like, has his morals mostly intact. he knows grimm is so happy to be his guard dog, he can’t let it destroy itself like that, he has goals that he can’t accomplish without grimm, grimm wants to be wielded like a knife, grimm is a person not an object, he cannot ask that of grimm, and he’s so, so sorry for all of this

so his conflict with violence doesn’t arise from the violence itself, but with how far he’s willing to let grimm go on his behalf. there’s also some “i can’t ask you to do that if i’m not willing to myself” stuff mixed in. it’s a whole mess but that’s also why i have SO much fun with the two of them and their dynamic. i’m desperately trying to plot out what the fuck it is they actually do in p3 so i can figure out actual situations that demonstrate all this bc it’s driving me bonkers to just!! have this in my head and no concrete actions really but! i’m hoping to really beef up the first draft this year and i’ve made a few strides towards Figuring Things Out lately so i am. Getting Somewhere yeehaw

[giamee]

╭┄───────────── 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐔𝐕! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

featuring. hsr men 〆 wc. 1.0k

art creds. 海仑 on weibo 〆 contains. mentions of being drunk/drinking, some suggestiveness but still sfw

gia's notes. new layout bc im allergic to keeping a theme 🏰 also i'm writing this while i procrastinate an essay. which is due in like.. 8.5 hours. and i am 2k over the word limit. joy upon joy.

╰┄➤ ❝ request. anon 〆 What HSR men says when they are drunk. ❞

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re SWEET when they’re drunk.

his voice gets a touch softer, a little lower so that you have to crane your neck and lean in real close to him to catch what he's saying over the bustle of the bar that you went to and the chatter of your friends that you came with. it’s like you’re in your own little universe with him, the sweet pinkish tint to his cheeks and the dilated pupils a look that you could definitely get used to- not that his usual more reserved look didn’t make your heart hammer in your chest, too.

but it's just so rare to see him like this, for him to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky, like every word that passes your lips is a prayer, whose hands furl and unfurl in his lap like he's itching to touch you (you wish he would).

it's not like he really says much, per se, instead opting to watch your every move wide-eyed and with a slackened jaw. you're growing warm under his gaze, and you stutter out that he'll really have to quit staring at you like that before you get the wrong idea. that does little to stop his actions, though he does flash you a sheepish smile.

"i'm sorry, you just look so beautiful."

you almost choke as you take a sip of your own drink.

gepard, dan heng (imbibitor lunae), moze, luocha

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re FLIRTY when they’re drunk.

it should be illegal for him to be this much of a smooth talker with that many drinks in his system. he's completely and utterly shameless, one arm rested casually against the back of your chair and his whole undivided attention on you as he throws every line he knows right at you hoping that one will land.

you'd be lying if you said that you weren't enjoying this attention from him, though there's the remaining sober part of you screaming how he's just a friend over and over, but when he dips his head low to whisper into your ear you're delighted to find that part of you audibly drown out.

everything about him is just so... tantalising. the way his silver tongue darts out to swipe across his lip, him not missing the way your eyes follow the movement. the way he leans back in his seat, the hungry yet calculating look in his eyes doing something to you. the way you see him deliberating over something before finally opening his mouth to speak.

and when he asks you if you want to get out here with him, it's only natural for you to accept his offer.

aventurine (realistically he gets sad when he drinks but that is not romantical or lighthearted at all) jiaoqiu, gallagher, boothill

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TALKATIVE when they’re drunk.

even on a good day, he's known to just talk, and talk, and talk if he gets going. that particular quality only seems to be amplified by the alcohol coursing through his system. he's been talking your ear off for the past half hour or so, a never-ending flow of words escaping his lips as he seems to he telling you just about everything that's on his mind.

you see the glances from others, the pity edging its way to concern adorning their features, but little do they know that you don't mind one bit.

while he may not be everyone's favourite to talk to, you've always found something within you compelled to sit and listen while he talks. he's always had something interesting to say, always been wary of if you are feeling tired or bored (not that you ever would be of him), and over your few encounters you've grown to be rather fond of him.

he's still talking now, an enthusiastic gleam in his eye as you smile and nod, propping your chin against your hand as you get comfy and study his features unbothered.

he sees the affectionate look on your face and stops for a moment, smiling widely and stuttering a few times before continuing.

dr ratio, sampo, mr reca, argenti

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TIRED when they’re drunk.

it's something that happened once, a few months ago when you had drank with them for the first time. you had all been in a group, and you had been chatting away with your friends rather livelily (i dont think that's a word) until you promptly felt a weight against your shoulder.

your reactions are a bit sluggish, but when you do turn to see just what it could be you're surprised to see a head of hair, and your tipsy brain just about manages to realise he's slumped over, dozing off on your shoulder, much to the amusement of everyone at the table.

you find it rather funny yourself, sneaking your phone out of your pocket to snap a rather unflattering-angled photo of him (which he still manages to look good in) that you send to him the next morning (he smiled to himself as he saw your grinning face in the corner of it and saved it to his camera roll).

you don't quite have the heart to wake him up or shrug him off, so you sort of just... let him be and continue talking like nothing had happened. some nondescript amount of time later he wakes up, blinking uncertainly as he gains his surroundings, before jolting up ramrod straight and apologising to you.

you giggle, tell him it's alright and tease that he must be getting old to be asleep this early, which is met with an unimpressed look from him.

but from that night onwards, it happens a little too... often to be some chance.

every time he drinks, without fail, his head drops onto your shoulder. it's somewhat of a routine to snap a photo of him like this, to admire it in secret before sending it to him, and it's somewhat of a tradition now for him to wake up and instead send you a reserved smile before letting himself doze off on your shoulder again.

not that either of you are complaining.

blade, jing yuan, caelus, welt

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

[dirtyoatmeall]

Bokuto’s Cool Sister (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

A/N: Here is an actual fic! I have a list of shit to write I’m slowly working through, next will either be more head canons or a one shot. I’m re-watching AOT rn to get caught up with the new season so sorry about being absent! Luv u guys a lot

Pairing: Tsukishima x Bokuto sibling reader (No pronouns or gendered language used toward reader, not referred to as sister just used for title purposes), Bokuto x Akaashi, Kenma x Kuroo

Word Count: 2k! (longest ever!)

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (everyone at least 20), mentions of secs

~~~

You groaned as you neared the door to your apartment, seeing that the door was not cracked open a little for you to nudge open like you had asked your brother to do as you pulled into the complex. You remember him vaguely mentioning friends coming over, and you can hear music faintly coming from the apartment, but he always checks his phone, especially when you're coming from the store. 

You try to balance the milk on your knee to open the door, and just as you think you have it, the door doesn’t budge. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your brother never locks the doors, why would he now? His car is in the parking lot and you can hear noise inside, so he’s home. Instead of putting groceries on the ground and fishing your keys out of your purse like a normal person, you make the decision to kick the door, not very hard, but hard enough to be heard in the apartment. 

“Kou! Why is the door locked? Will you come open it for me, I have groceries!” You can hear your brother tumbling towards the door, apologies flying out of his mouth a mile a minute. The door swings open, revealing your brother, grimace on his face. “Sorry! I totally forgot you were at the store, I think ‘Kaashi might’ve locked it.” You sighed, not being able to stay mad at your brother’s friend. 

You walk in, jerking your head in the general direction of the parking lot, “I have some more in my car, can you go grab it?” He nods, grabbing his key ring and jogging out. Both of you had the spare key to each other’s cars, which turned out to be more convenient then you originally thought. 

You move toward the kitchen, yelling out a greeting to your brother’s boyfriend. “Akaashi! Next time you come over to fuck my brother let me know before so I can have my keys out, or just leave the door unlocked and go in his room!” You had a joking, yet scolding tone of voice, imagining his flustered state at your words. What you did not expect, was a hyena-like laugh to come from the direction of the living room. You were almost positive your brother said Akaashi was here. 

You place the groceries on the counter and make your way to the living room, freezing in the doorway. Akaashi was there, but so were 3 other people. Akaashi was red, shaking his head that was resting in his palms. There was someone playing on a gaming console on the couch who had their legs thrown over the lap of the laughing one, and one on the other couch, tall and blonde, who looked weirdly familiar, who had a faint smirk on their face. You grimace, you didn’t realize your brother had actual friends over, he usually just meant Akaashi or the occasionally Hinata. “Oops sorry ‘Kaashi, didn't know Kou was having other people over.”

He lifted his head, face still slightly flushed and smiled. “It’s fine (Y/N)-san, do you need help with the groceries?” You shook your head, pointing behind you in the direction of the kitchen, where you could hear your brother rummaging around. “Nah, I made Koutaro get the rest. If you guys are staying for dinner let me know and I’ll make something instead of making him go to the food truck for me. By the way, who are the rest of you? I literally thought Kou was lying about having friends.” 

The blonde one snorted, you narrowed your eyes slightly, he looked so familiar, you just couldn’t quite place it. The one playing the console seemed familiar too, you think you might’ve seen him on Twitter. The only one you didn’t recognize was the first to speak. “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro, we all played volleyball together in high school, I’m surprised he hasn’t talked about us before.” 

You nod in understanding, “Oh so that’s where. I’m sure he has, I just probably wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. I mean you guys seem kinda familiar, more the other two than you, were you like benched a lot?” The quiet one next to him looks up to see his reaction and snorts at the disbelief on Kuroo’s face. “Yeah, Kuro wasn’t very good.” The half blonde says, giggling softly as Kuroo gasps and yells at him. “Kenma!” He turns to you, “I was the captain and a very good player actually.” You laugh as Kenma behind him makes a face that says ‘That’s what you think.’ Before Kuroo could whine some more, Akaashi speaks.

“Kenma-san is a YouTuber, which is probably where you’ve seen him. He and Kuroo-san played for Nekoma, I’m surprised you didn’t remember them from that, you remembered Lev-san.” Kenma actually laughs at that, and Kuroo is pouting as Akaashi continues, a cheeky smile on his face that told you he purposefully sprinkled that last little tidbit in. 

“Tsukishima-san, aren’t you a museum-studies major?” The blonde on the loveseat across from the other three nods, and you snap your fingers, finally realizing where you know him from. “Oh, that makes sense! I think we’ve had a class or two together. I’m an archaeology major.” Tsukishima’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but before he could speak, your brother finally comes in from the kitchen.

“(Y/NNNNN), I put everything away, we were going to go to Onigiri Miya tonight, wanna come?” You nod and swat at his had when he ruffles your hair before plopping down to his boyfriend. You go to leave your brother and his friends, taking one last glance at Tsukishima, who seemed to have the same idea, he averted his eyes the moment yours met, and you smirked to yourself on the way to the kitchen to re-put away the groceries. You loved your brother, but he definitely did not know where to put things, your thought validified as you pull the eggs from the pantry, switching it with the instant ramen packets in the fridge. Good thing he was a great volleyball player. ` Later that night, you join the boys for dinner at Onigiri Miya. You take two separate cars, you driving your brother and Akaashi and Kuroo driving Kenma and Tsukishima. Kuroo made a joke about racing there, which you took as a personal challenge, much to the dismay of Akaashi. You would’ve won too, but you had to pull over to kick Koutaro in the backseat for playing Nickelback. He buys your food as an apology, and Kuroo’s food because he won (you venomed him later for your share of food, which he promptly venomed back to you with angry faces in the description.). The 6 of you sat in a corner booth, you were sandwiched between Akaashi and Tsukkishima with Kuroo between your brother and Kenma on the other side.

The table was loud with jokes, laughing, and yelling as everyone ate their meals. You snuck drinks of ‘Akaashi’s’ margarita when the waitress wasn’t looking (You were 20 and Akaashi submits to peer pressure from you easily). “(Y/N), are you not 21 yet?” Kuroo asked as he watched you nudge the drink toward Akaashi as the waitress talked to the other table. You turned to Kuroo, cheeks just barely flushed. “Hm? Oh no I’m not, I’m two years younger than you guys, I turn 21 in a few months.” 

Kuroo hummed in understanding and got a suspiciously mischievous look on his face. “Oh, you’re the same age as Tsukkishima, and you guys have similar majors, how interesting” Your eyebrows furrow and you snort. “So do over a thousand other people Kuroo, its not a super niche subject.” You turn to Tsukkishima and continue, “Hm I didn’t realize we were in the same year, I thought you were older, must be your grumpy grandpa like disposition.” Akaashi explained what disposition meant to your brother and Kuroo snickered before he was shut down by Kenma, who has been doing an excellent job of roasting Kuroo at every chance he gets. “You laugh like everyone doesn’t call you old man behind your back.” 

You laughed for the umpth time that night, Tsukishima watching you, he could really see the sibling resemblance when you laughed. You throw your head back and laugh loudly, from your gut much like your brother. Tsukishima looks away from you, catching Kuroos eye in the process, the blonde rolls his eyes at the smirk on Kuroos face. Out of the 5 of them, he was the only one not in a relationship and Kuroo has been trying to set him up since Bokuto and Akaashi finally got together at Akaashi’s graduation. 

Tsukishima looks at you again, watching you take a sip of the margarita, and subsequently watches it almost come out of your nose as you laugh at something Akaashi said to Bokuto, clutching the former's shoulder, hand over your nose. There was no doubt that you were pretty, and you did have similar interests. His thoughts were interrupted by you turning to him, knee-knocking against his thigh. “Have you taken Anth 267?” He nods “I took it last quarter.” He replies and watches you sigh in relief. “Oh thank god, I’m having trouble meeting her insane essay expectations. I usually have ‘Kaashi read through mine but would it be ok if I sent them to you? Or at least bounced topics off you?” When he agrees you smile, unlocking your phone and sliding it towards him, a new contact open. “Oh great, here, why don’t you put your number in?” As he fills it out, his eyes involuntarily flit to the text message appearing at the top of your screen. From: That Sunny Bitch

Ew you think Tsukki’s hot? He’s a good volleyball player but he was a meanie in high school 😝

He held back the urge to smirk. That must be Hinata based on the name. He quickly finished the contact and gave your phone back before giving his to you, and you quickly typed in your contact info, as well as snapping a quick contact photo. It was super close to your face with your tongue out, a good tell of your personality. You give his phone back and the two of you talk more about school and classes before everyone gets ready to leave. 

Your brother stands up first, and you take advantage of his large frame and chug the rest of the margarita down, smiling big at Akaashi who chastises you about drinking it so fast. You all wave to Osamu as you leave, and before Tsukishima can get to Kuroo’s car, he turns to the group, smirking. “I've got to run Kenma by our apartment to grab his charger, we’ll meet you guys.” You nod, handing your keys to Akaashi and turn to Tsukishima. “You can sit in the back with me Tsukishima!” Though you might be promoted to passenger if Bokuto makes bad music choices again.” You glare at your brother as you finish the sentence, and he whines about how his taste ‘isn’t that bad!’ 

The car ride back to your apartment is short, and you spend it chatting with Tsukki, as you’re now allowed to call him, and you spend the rest of the night with the boys, playing games and watching movies until early morning. Kuroo and Kenma leave first, and Kenma made your night when he looked you in the eye and said goodbye. Tsukki left about an hour later, his roommate picked him up. Akaashi ended up staying over, and you were glad your bedroom was on the other side of the apartment from your brother’s. You fell into bed content with the day, happy you were able to meet your brother’s friends.

You awoke mid-day, and you browsed your notifications before dropping your phone on your bed when you read one text message, heat spreading over your cheeks. You definitely do not remember changing his contact name.

From: Hot classmate Tsukki

Hey, how about we go over your essay over some coffee tonight?

[stargazing-enby]

The Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Jumper

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Eighth Year, Pining, Fluff | Read on AO3

“Harry!" 

Ron and Hermione halted, leaving Harry no choice but to do the same. He was exhausted, and it had already taken too much energy to get up from their table at the Three Broomsticks so they could make it to the Hogwarts grounds before Filch closed the gates in their faces. The last thing he wanted was to talk to people, lovely as Madam Rosmerta was. 

“Sorry to keep you, kids, but someone forgot this on one of the tables. Would you please do me the favour of taking it back to Hogwarts with you? I still have patrons to attend.” 

“Uh...sure.” Harry took the khaki jumper she was handing him—gosh, but it was much softer than it looked—and she smiled at him appreciatively. 

“How do you know it’s from a Hogwarts student, though?” Hermione asked. 

Madam Rosmerta snorted. 

“Because none of my patrons are naive enough to step into the inn whenever you kids are taking over the town. Teenagers are loud as all hell, in case you hadn’t noticed!” 

“All right,” Harry said quickly, dreading the idea of the exchange turning into a full-fledged conversation. “We’ll take care of it. Have a nice evening, Madam Rosmerta.” 

On their way back to the castle, though, Harry started to regret his decision. It was the beginning of the school year, and the transition from summer to autumn had fooled many Hogwarts students into putting on warm clothes to fight the morning chill, which meant practically everyone had ended up carrying jumpers and jackets over their shoulders and around their waists for most of the day. The jumper could be anyone’s. 

“What are you going to do with the jumper, anyway? It could be anyone’s,” Hermione echoed his thoughts, turning from Ron to Harry.

“I have no idea,” Harry admitted.

“Maybe you could hand it to one of the Heads of House. Or...” Her voice shifted into that tone of hers that meant she knew she’d come up with a brilliant idea, “we could tell the ghosts to ask around the castle and see if anyone is missing a jumper!” 

Even as Harry nodded, Ron shook his head in disbelief. 

“Or you could just smell it,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to either of them. Harry and Hermione just stared at him. “What?” 

“That’s kind of creepy,” Harry said. 

“Wha— No it’s not! Don’t you know clothes smell like their owners?” Silence. Ron looked increasingly exasperated. “Come on, don’t tell me your families didn’t smell the clothes lying around the house all the time to figure out who they belonged to!” 

“Er…I’m afraid not.” 

“That’s probably only a necessity when you have seven kids’ clothes to keep track of,” Hermione offered. 

“Yeah…fair enough,” Ron grumbled. “Still, it won’t hurt to try. If it’s from someone our year we’ll probably be able to recognise them.” 

Harry doubted that would be the case, but then Hermione and Ron turned to him, expectant, and he didn’t have a choice but to bring a corner of the jumper to his face and give it a sniff. 

“...Oh.”

“Well?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s…” Harry smelled it again. “It’s familiar.” Familiar and nice, he thought, giving it one extra sniff for good measure. “But I just can’t tell who it is.” 

“Oh?” Ron grabbed a sleeve, brought it to his nose. “Hmm…Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s definitely not a Gryffindor bloke. ‘Mione, why don’t you try?” 

“I’ll pass, thank you very much.” 

“Eh, that’s fine. I’m sure if we leave it in the Eighth Year Common Room someone will claim it sooner or later.” 

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, folding the jumper properly over his arm. 

As a new conversation started, Harry held the jumper a little bit closer. 

***

The stupid thing was still where they’d left it—hung over one of the Common Room couches, the one nearest the hearth—when they came back from Hagrid’s, its pale khaki tone contrasting starkly with the purple sofa. 

Hermione led the way to their usual corner of the room, keen on getting some more homework done before bed, and Harry tried to ignore the jumper, just visible out of the corner of his eye. His friends had clearly forgotten about it, and Harry didn’t bring it up again. 

But the feel of it, the scent of it, was ingrained in his thoughts, and concentrating on his Potions essay soon proved to be an impossible task. Merlin, he knew that scent. He knew it well; every time he’d sniffed the jumper, it’d been like a word was on the tip of his tongue; like a thought in the back of his mind wouldn’t come forth.

Like there was a need, buried deep within him, that he couldn’t fulfill, because he didn’t know what it was he was yearning for. Who it was he was yearning for. 

So he looked. Every few minutes, as much as he tried to avoid it, he looked back at the couch, waiting, hoping that someone would walk past and go, Hey! That’s where it was! And the missing piece inside Harry’s mind would finally click. 

But no one picked the jumper up, and when practically everyone had gone to their dorms, and Ron and Hermione had finished neglecting their homework—Ron’s fingers tracing Hermione’s knuckles, her cheek resting on his shoulder, a goofy smile brightening his face—and seemed ready to call it a night, Harry decided he simply couldn’t leave it alone. 

“You guys go ahead,” he told them. “I feel like I’m finally making progress with this essay, and if I stop now it’s going to be impossible to pick it up again tomorrow.”

As soon as he was alone, though, Harry stuffed the parchment in his bag and made for the couch at a pace just slightly faster than could be reasonably considered walking. 

Ah. The scent was just as enticing as he remembered it from earlier. 

Harry basked in it for a few moments. When someone walked into the Common Room—Terry and Hannah, who nodded at him on their way to their dorms—he let go of it as though it had burned him, but as soon as he was alone again he draped it over his lap and raked a hand over it, thinking, wondering. 

It wasn’t Hannah’s or Terry’s, Harry knew: not just because they hadn’t recognised it on sight, but because the smell did not belong to either of them. It was…deeper. It was masculine, definitely—a hint of sweat at the armpit area, like the owner hadn’t taken it off straight away after growing hot underneath it—and it was intense, in that it did things to Harry; riled him up, and brought him back down from the high, only to make his heart quicken again as soon as the thrill of it had diluted in his veins. 

Sighing, Harry lay on his back and placed the jumper, once again, over the armrest behind his head, just close enough for the scent to reach him. 

The hearth crackled. A House Elf vanished the crumbs and dust from the floor with a spell and disappeared again. Nearly-Headless Nick floated by, but didn’t seem to notice him. 

The door to the Common Room didn’t open again. 

***

“Are we going to do this every night now?” Greg grumbled, dragging the last word—practically dragging himself to the Common Room behind Draco. 

“Only until I force Slughorn to give me an Outstanding,” Draco said. “Which won’t take long, because my first essay was clearly perfect, and if that one wasn’t enough for him, this one will for sure. I swear that old man has it out against me!” 

A portrait shushed him, and Draco flipped it the bird. It wasn’t like there was anyone sleeping in the bloody halls. Or roaming them, for that matter: only Prefects and Eighth Years were allowed outside the Common Rooms past curfew, and it had been a good hour since he’d seen any of the former around. 

“Gardyloo,” he told Sir Cadogan upon reaching the Eighth Year Common Room entrance. Glad as he was that he didn’t have to share a space with people from other years, entering his new Common Room had to be one of the most draining moments of his day. And so, before Sir Cadogan could start spewing nonsense about him and Greg, Draco Silencio’d him, watching as the knight gestured dramatically without uttering a sound until the door had closed. 

“Draco, isn’t that your…?”

Draco saw it just as Greg pointed at it. 

“My jumper.” Salazar, he’d put that jumper on that morning, hadn’t he? When had he even taken it off? He’d completely forgotten all about it. 

He doubted he would ever forget the sight that greeted them, however. 

“Uh, Draco…? What’s Potter doing with your jumper?” 

“It would seem that he is cuddling it, Gregory,” Draco said, tone flat. Completely out of tune with his raging thoughts. 

“More like curling himself around it,” Greg murmured, and Draco could only agree. 

Merlin. Potter looked so young when he slept. So small, like he was afraid to take up space. His hair fanned over his forehead and his face, some of it caught between his arm and Draco’s jumper. His chest falling and rising slowly, evenly. His feet pressed close as if to keep their warmth. 

Draco shook his head, annoyed that he had allowed himself to be caught off-guard by the sight, and walked up to Potter. Grasped his jumper, and pulled at it. 

Potter’s eyes snapped open and stared right into his. 

***

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Fuck,” Harry slurred, sitting up, half-asleep and entirely too awake, as Malfoy took the jumper from him and just stared at him. “Fuck. Sorry. Madam Rosmerta told me to bring it…the...you’d left it there. It’s yours, right?” he asked, even though he didn’t need to. It was Malfoy’s, of course it was Malfoy’s. His strong, deep, alluring scent was unmistakable now. 

“Yes,” Malfoy said. He sounded weird—strained. His eyes were fixed on Harry. “It’s mine.” 

“Right,” Harry nodded. Then, after a few moments: “Er. Sorry about that. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Malfoy snorted. 

“Never would’ve guessed.” 

“Can we go to bed now?” 

Harry whipped his head around—he hadn’t noticed Goyle was there with them. 

“Go ahead,” Malfoy told him. “I’m right behind you.”

“M’kay then. G’night, Potter,” Goyle said with a yawn, dragging his feet to the stairs. 

“Er…night?” 

Malfoy huffed again. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s an idiot when he’s sleepy.”

“No offence, but he’s an idiot all the time,” Harry said. 

“You’re one to talk.” Malfoy looked at him, then. He wasn’t as stiff now, although he was still weirdly clinging to his jumper, a gesture that reminded Harry of his own fixation with it earlier. “No one with more than two brain cells falls asleep in the Common Room, honestly.” 

“Piss off, I was exhausted!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Malfoy retorted. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t utilise your perfectly comfortable bed to meet the need, though.” 

Harry glared at him, and Malfoy arched an eyebrow. 

“Well?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Harry bit back—a little childishly, he knew, but it wasn’t like Malfoy was acting much more maturely right now. “Did you enjoy the sight that much?” 

“Wh—don’t be preposterous!” Malfoy spluttered, a grimace distorting his sharp features. A grimace that did nothing to distract Harry from the angry blush spreading across his cheeks. From the way Malfoy averted his gaze, clutching at the jumper so hard he was almost twisting it. 

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed. “You did enjoy it, didn’t you?” 

Malfoy’s panicked gaze turned back to him. 

“No, I didn’t!” 

Almost as mesmerised as he was amused, Harry stood. He took one more look at Malfoy’s increasingly flushed expression, just to be sure he wasn’t reading it wrong, and then stepped into Malfoy’s personal space. When Malfoy’s breath hitched, Harry, heart in his throat, brought a hand to his flushed cheek. It was soft: softer than the jumper. 

Malfoy stood completely still, wide eyes stuck on Harry’s face. A breath stuck in his lungs: waiting. 

Heart racing, Harry let his hand stray back. Let himself caress Malfoy’s cheek and jaw, let himself cup Malfoy’s head at the nape, play with the hair there—Merlin, was there anything about Malfoy that wasn’t illegally soft?—and lean forward to take a long, deep sniff of his hair. 

Malfoy shivered, and it suddenly hit Harry just how close their bodies were. 

“Potter.” a broken whisper.

Harry inhaled again, his own skin tingling with excitement—anticipation—lust for that scent. That scent that belonged to Malfoy, that now had every reason to drive him fucking insane, to draw him near, to leave him hanging. How had he not recognised it straight away? There was nobody else who could elicit such a response from him. Whose mere closeness thrilled him like this. 

“I needed to know,” Harry said, voice low, as he let his hand slide down slightly, a caress that ended on the jut of Malfoy’s spine at the base of his neck, fingers splayed over the edge of a shoulder blade. Then, pulling back his hand, taking a step back: “I needed to know who that intoxicating scent belonged to.”

As Harry retreated toward the stairs, Malfoy swayed, eyes closed. Jumper clutched close to his chest. 

***

The following evening, when Harry arrived at the Common Room after dinner, a deep grey jumper was draped over the armrest of the couch closest to the hearth. 

[gohyuck]

part 1 is out now! here

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; ft. brother!johnny

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: this is just a prologue (but you should still read it 😉) and it provides some context for the events of the main story... part of the criminal collaboration by @neovisioned

let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

April 13th, 1956

There’s a couple of lilies in a transparent vase, half filled up (half emptied out? you ponder this in an attempt to keep your mind off of what is right in front of you) with water that likely hasn’t been changed since before the weekend. Jojo, the class pet, runs on his wheel, keeping a surprisingly steady pace for a hamster. He pays no mind to his surroundings. What it must be like - to be completely and utterly unperturbed and unaffected by those around him. Maybe you’ll be reborn as a hamster in your next life. A quick glance (your fourth in maybe three minutes) around the tense room at the rest of your classmates and at the teacher leaves you hoping.

The clock’s ticking is louder than usual - though that may just be your mind playing tricks on you - and the room seems to be holding its breath as a singular entity rather than a whole composed of twenty-three individuals (one of whom is the teacher himself), or parts, within it. The whole situation is like a suspenseful movie scene - you know something big is going to happen, and soon - it’s just that none of you have any idea of what it’ll actually be. All eyes are focused on one person - a person who’s up on his feet with a previously pristine stationary-based letter crumpled between his fingers and who is staring holes through the teacher up front, who just so happens to be the sorry individual who had handed him said letter. The teacher, a man whose knuckles have more hair than his head, is trying his best to stare back. He can’t quite match the student’s gaze.

You glance down at your desk at the wrong moment. Before you can even register that anyone has moved, the distinct sound of a textbook hitting the floor startles you. A chair follows it. Before you can look up, the classroom door shuts with a resounding bang. The crumpled up letter is on the floor by the door. Mr. Simmons, in all his balding, middle-aged, beginnings-of-a-beer-belly glory, stands in front of the chalkboard, mouth open in a comically wide look of shock. 

After what has to be more than just mere minutes, your English teacher decides that the lesson must go on, and in the midst of telling the class (now with twenty one students and one teacher) more about Shakespeare’s specific usage of language in The Taming of The Shrew, he subconsciously wipes his chalky hands on the front of his pressed khakis. You wince. That’ll be hell to wash. A girl behind you snickers behind her hand to the boy beside her that it looks like Simmons does cocaine. Somebody wonders aloud, though in a quiet enough whisper that Simmons himself can’t hear, who would sell a man like your English teacher coke. 

A smart-mouthed class-clown type in the back heaves a cough that sounds oddly like “Jeno Lee”. laughter ripples through twenty seniors. you don’t join in.

Jeno Lee. 

You hadn’t even caught sight of his scuffed black Chuck Taylors or the back of his hand-me-down leather jacket when he’d stormed from the room. There was no glint of his pocketknife, either. You’ve come to see all three as hallmarks of his persona. 

There’s a lingering smell of smoke in the air, though. His seat, after all, is only two over from yours to your right, and you’ve always been unlucky with inhaling his secondhand smoke. Rumor has it that he smokes two packs a day. 

Somehow you doubt that, though. 

Maybe you’re naive, but, after all, nobody with a smile like that can plow through 40 cigarettes in 24 hours.

♕ ♕ ♕

April 16, 1956

That's the last class you ever have with jeno. His desk is noticeably empty the next day, and the next, and the next after that until your teacher finally - though with an air of relief you find at least mildly despicable - lets his remaining students know that Jeno will no longer be attending your high school, or any high school at all. You don’t pretend to understand - there’s only about four weeks left until you’re all set to graduate, anyways - but you also don’t pretend to be surprised. 

The recycling bin hasn’t been emptied for days. In what’s far from your proudest moment, you stay after class - waiting until Simmons himself walks out to check on what sounds like a hallway fight between two boys - to dig through it, trying to hide your triumphant smile from your own self when you find the crumpled paper Jeno had discarded on his last day here. It had very obviously made him angry, angry enough to drop out, and the wonder of what might be in it is killing you.

After all, he’d been good eye-candy in class, at the very least. You kind of miss him being there, even if you’re the only one who does. You squint, trying to make out what the ink on the paper says. 

It’s a letter - specifically it’s a letter from the Neo Institute of Technology, easily one of the most difficult universities to get into in your state. Your fingers twitch as you battle internally over whether to open it or not - rejection is hard to deal with, even if it isn’t your own. Your school sends hardly two or three people to NeoTech per year, and there’s no way someone like Jeno could’ve gotten in. Eventually, your curiosity wins over, though not before Simmons walks back into the room and you find yourself telling him that you’d tripped and fallen near the recycling, all while hiding Jeno’s letter behind your back. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Your brother, home from college for the weekend, is lying languidly across the couch, hand in a bag of chips when you walk in through the front door. You aren’t surprised - you’d seen his prized red Chevy Bel Air convertible parked out front when you’d stopped to pick up the mail. You realize fairly quickly that he’s the only one home - your mother must be at a book club meeting, and your father is still at his 9 to 5. it’s just you and the devil himself. 

Johnny raises one chip-dust covered hand in greeting before turning back to whatever old western rerun is playing on the TV. For your part, you pay him no mind, dropping the mail - some bills, a... magazine, a reminder card from the dentist - on the kitchen counter while shouldering your backpack to keep it from falling. 

“Hey, John?” You finally call, already halfway up the stairs. 

He grunts in response, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You consider not telling him for a moment, but then realize that you really don’t want to witness the screaming match your parents will have with him if they get to it before your brother does. 

It, of course, being his not-so-guilty pleasure. 

“This month’s Playboy came in. it’s on the counter.” You finally say, though not before throwing him as disgusted a look as you can muster once you see the way your brother perks up immediately. Pig. He drops the chip bag onto the coffee table, scattering bits and pieces of food across it. You don’t hold out hope for him to clean it up. You also don’t wait around to watch him grab his magazine, instead making your way up the stairs and into your room, finally free to be truly alone for the first time all day. 

You shut the door, making sure it’s locked properly, before dropping your backpack on the floor and jumping backwards, bouncing once, onto your bed. The letter’s been in your hand since you’d found it, and you can’t help but feel mildly excited - and also, of course, just a little bad - as you smooth it out in your lap against your plaid skirt. Slowly, very slowly, you pull it open, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see. 

Dear Mr. Jeno Lee,

Once again, on the behalf of the admissions board at NeoTech, I extend a hearty congratulations to you for being accepted as a member of the class of 1961. The School of Engineering looks forward to witnessing your growth over the next four years, and we know that, upon your graduation, you will make us proud as an alumnus. However-

You pause in your reading, blinking rapidly in mild disbelief. Jeno - Jeno Lee, known for being a greaser and a hooligan, a threat and a terror - had gotten into NeoTech? The realization shakes you, causing you to blow air out through your lips before you continue reading. 

However, we find that we will have to rescind your full scholarship. I understand that you may find it difficult to pay tuition, but there just seems to be nothing we can do: we request a disciplinary record for each student, and yours is riddled with fights and altercations with both students and teachers, especially one Mr. Richard Simmons. Typically, this would be grounds for rescission, but considering how stellar your grades and essays are, we will allow you a probationary semester. 

You will still have to pay your tuition in its entirety. The first semester payment of $1,200 is due by Friday, April 20, 1956. If you cannot pay it, I’m afraid that we will be unable to take you on for the fall semester. 

Best regards and congratulations once again,

Sooman Lee, Neo Institute of Technology President and Board Chairman

Although you’re still surprised at him having gotten in - internalized prejudice, your brain whispers to you, and you hate that it’s right - your heart twists as you read the letter over and over again. $1,200 is steep for a college, and you know that there’s no way in hell Jeno can ever fork that up. Of course, you realize, heaving a heavy, heavy sigh as you do, he no longer can guarantee getting a high school diploma anyways. His rescission from NeoTech must be on its way to his mailbox already. 

Before you can think too deeply into Jeno Lee and his now-precarious future, a loud knock interrupts you, causing you to swiftly slide the letter underneath your bed. You never know if Johnny’s going to try and pick the lock on your bedroom door or not, though you’re glad to see that he stops short of doing so this time. 

“What?” You ask, your tone as annoyed as possible. 

“Don’t ‘what?’ me, shithead,” Your brother responds, throwing your tone of voice right back at you. “Mom’s back, wants your help with dinner.”

“Why can’t you help for once, you ass?” You snark, sliding off of your bed regardless. The door swings open just as you unlock it, revealing your brother smirking down at you in a way that makes you want to right hook him directly in the face. 

“Men aren’t made for the kitchen.” Is all he says, stepping back so you can get out. Before you can reprimand him, threatening to kick his patronizing and patriarchal ass, Johnny disappears into his own bedroom, slamming the door shut. 

“(Name)?” Your mother calls, sounding displeased at having to wait for you. You groan, pulling your own bedroom door shut before bounding down the stairs. As rock-and-roll music starts pouring out of Johnny’s room, no doubt courtesy of the radio he’d gotten as a high school graduation gift, and as your mother thrusts a rolling pin into your hands while grumbling about not raising you right, all thoughts of Jeno are pushed out of your mind. 

Dust starts to settle on the letter beneath your bed. 

It’s no matter, though: though you believe it might very well be the last thing connecting you to the Jeno Lee, fate has other plans for you. Soon enough, the surface level image of who Jeno is will no longer exist to you, replaced by your own truer perceptions. 

Of course, there’s a series of things that have to happen before that.  

It all goes to shit on May 25th, 1957. 

[angryinternetduck]

Like a Fool

this... was supposed to be a uni friends to lovers fic.  oopsies :)  It’s still a university au (kind of? idk) but uh... well.  A bit under 2k words, no warnings I can think of besides a bit of swearing, potential underage drinking, lots of yearning, and some unpopular opinions on Starbucks. 

“You’re late,” you announced as you opened the door. 

Harry groaned, stumbling into your apartment and dumping his bag by the door. “Had the most horrific exam - lasted for hours, lad in the row behind me kept tapping his bloody pencil, questions were fucking rubbish - and then Java was closed.” 

You wrinkled your nose, shaking your head as you closed the door behind him. “Java’s coffee isn’t even good.” Harry glared at you from where he was stuffing chips into his mouth from the bowl on the coffee table. “‘s certainly better than that Starbucks shit you’re such a fan of.” 

“I’m not a fan of Starbucks,” you muttered. “Just better than Java.” 

“You so are,” Harry said with a grin. He raised his voice to copy yours, “Oh, I could just die for the caramel frappe whipped cherry cream chocolate hazel -” You scoffed, hitting him on the chest with the back of your hand, and cut him off, “You’re so dramatic! I do not sound like that.” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, “you do. Also, what’s the film, then? Doesn’t look familiar…” 

You sighed, collapsing onto the couch next to him. “It’s a new one.” 

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look at you skeptically. “A new one,” he echoed. 

“Yup,” you chirped, clicking on the remote. 

“Absolutely not,” Harry deadpanned as he saw the title. “I am not watching a movie called The Kissing Booth. Already sounds ridiculous.” You tsked, leaning against the arm of the couch and throwing your feet over his lap. “Give it a chance.” 

“This is rubbish,” Harry mumbled through another handful of chips, and you shushed him. 

He didn’t say anything when the movie ended, and you grinned, poking his shoulder with your finger. “You liked it,” you said, and he rolled his eyes. “I did not like it.” You laughed, poking him again, and exclaimed, “You loved it!” 

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “It was cheesy and stupid and just unrealistic. It’s -” 

You laughed, shaking your head, and interrupted, “Dude, you’re literally describing every single one of your coveted classics. Look me in the eye and tell me The Notebook isn’t cheesy, stupid, and unrealistic.” 

Harry pursed his lips. “The Notebook is a classic.” 

“You’re so pretentious,” you said. 

“Oh, shush,” Harry said back, finally breaking into a smile, and then he sighed, dusting crumbs off his pants, and stretched. “Finished your essay, then?” he asked, glancing at your open computer. 

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Wonderful,” Harry said, and you looked up to see him grabbing his stuff. “I’ve got to sleep, and you’ve got to write. Have fun with that.” You pouted, leaning over the couch, and said, “You should stay! I’ve got to introduce you to the modern rom com! You haven’t even seen Noah Centineo yet!” 

Harry made a face. “Sounds like a bug,” he said, and you laughed despite yourself. “Work on that essay,” Harry went on, “and next time, I am picking the film.” He grinned. “And it’s not going to have a multi legged bloody creature in it.” 

“Oh, go to Starbucks.” 

“Uncalled for,” Harry said. 

“See ya later,” you said. 

“Arrivederci,” he replied as he closed the door behind him. 

You sighed, turning to your laptop reluctantly, and got to work.  ***

“I need a date,” Harry declared as soon as he walked into your apartment the next week. 

You raised your eyebrows, able only to gape as he collapsed onto your sofa, and he frowned, noticing your expression. “You alright, then?” he asked, and you blinked. Cleared your throat. “Uh - yeah. What’s this about a date?” 

“Nick’s mum’s out for the weekend,” Harry explained, “so obviously he’s hosting a little something on Friday, and I need a date.” You nodded. “Right.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “So?” he asked, and you raised an eyebrow back. “So?” you echoed. 

“Have a start on the wine, did you?” Harry asked, grinning. “I need a date, so hook me up. Who’s single, who’s not, who’s complicated…” He faded off, staring at you expectantly, and you cleared your throat. “Right,” you said, sitting down next to him. “Um… well, I’ve got a friend…” 

Harry grinned, propping his head on his fist and leaning in. “Tell me more.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, she’s got a car and you can take her to the arcade,” you muttered, “but I dunno how friendly she’d be down in the sand.” Harry huffed. “Your references are woefully arcane.” You scoffed. “A, it’s Grease. B, arcane?” 

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed. “You’re getting off topic!” 

You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “Yeah, she’s nice. Name’s Casey. You’ll like her.” 

“Have her number?” 

You handed your phone over to him, and he laughed giddily as he scrolled through your contacts. “Bloody hell, need a proper shag - haven’t gotten laid in ages…” You made a face, shoving all the dirty thoughts flooding your head about Harry Styles and his proper shags, and told him, “Shush, Styles, nobody wants to hear about your sex life.” 

He looked up, smirking. “Sure about that?” 

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, distracting yourself from his smirk by flicking through the TV. “Figured out your movie?” you asked. “Or should I find your hundred legged boyfriend?” Harry grinned, apparently finished keying in Casey’s number into his phone, and grabbed the remote from your hands. “The Notebook,” he announced, and you scoffed. 

“You’re kidding,” you groaned, flopping onto your back. “We’ve seen it a million times!” 

“That’s what you get for comparing this classic to that kissy bench rubbish,” Harry hummed, clicking on the movie and getting situated as the sun rose and Ryan Gosling’s name flashed on the screen. 

You sighed, and grabbed a few chips, and prepared for the two hours of boredom. 

***

You were watching Harry flirt with Casey, all dimples and bad jokes and too close touches, when you decided that you were going to get drunk. Harry laughed as you walked over to the refrigerator, and whispered something in Casey’s ear that made her giggle and lean in as you cracked open the bottle of beer. 

It tasted disgusting. 

You weren’t really a fan of good beer, much less this cheap piss water the little fridge was stocked with. It tasted sour in your mouth, but maybe that’s just because you were a bit sour yourself over the whole Harry situation. 

It was weird, the whole thing, because you really shouldn’t have been mad. It was your fault and your fault alone that you hadn’t told Harry about your ginormous crush on him, that you hadn’t kissed him or confessed or even talked about feelings with him ever. 

So you had no right to be mad. 

Harry wasn’t yours. And really, he never would be. 

You sighed and wondered if there was any other alcohol in the huge house you were in that would taste better or, at the very least, get you drunk faster. You could probably ask somebody, but that would mean talking and social interaction, and you were really just not in the mood for that at the moment. 

A few seconds after you peeled your eyes away from Casey twirling her finger around one of Harry’s stray curls (he really needed a hair cut, you thought irritably), letting your gaze wander, somebody shouted your name from behind you. 

You sighed as you recognized his voice, letting faux annoyance flash over your face when all you wanted to do was turn around and kiss him, and asked, “How are you already drunk? We’ve been here less than an hour!” Harry giggled - he tended to do that when he was drunk - and shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “‘m not drunk,” he told you, slurring his words, and you rolled your eyes. “Sure.” 

“Really!” Harry exclaimed, giggling to himself like he knew he was lying. “Really, swear it, lovey, ‘m sober as - as -” He faltered, and then laughed again, and said, “I’m sober!” You bit back a smile and said, “Whatever you say, Styles.” 

“Look bored, lovey,” Harry murmured, leaning on the wall next to you. 

“You’re very observant,” you said, and Harry pouted. “Shouldn’t be bored. Should be happy!” He gave a little smile, lifting up a finger to bop you on the nose. “Deserve to be happy, lovey.” You flushed, looking away. “Where’s Casey?” 

“Oh, somewhere…” 

You looked at your beer. “Seem to like her a lot.” 

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed absently. A beat of silence, and then he said your name, and you looked up. He suddenly seemed a lot closer than before, and you blushed harder. “Yeah?” you asked, your voice coming out a whisper. 

“Can I kiss you?” he murmured. 

You blinked, startled. “I -” 

He was so close, still leaning in, so, so close, that you breathed, “Yes,” and he barely had to move for your lips to meet. He tasted like tequila and that cheap beer, but somehow minty and buttery and wonderfully sweet and perfect. 

And then, just like that, he was gone, his breaths just a tad quick, his cheeks tinged red. “You’re the bestest,” he told you softly, just a bit breathless. “The bestest in the world,” he repeated, laughing slightly. 

“I -” 

“Harry!” Casey squealed from behind him, and then he was whisked away. 

***

You didn’t talk to him for almost a whole week after that. 

And then, when he was supposed to come over for a movie and he was forty minutes late, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You walked over to his apartment, and knocked hard, ready to be mad or yelled at or have your heart broken, and waited. 

But he didn’t look upset. He looked overjoyed. “Guess what?” he asked as soon as he opened the door, not even saying hello. “I have got a date!” You froze, unable to do anything but gape, and he said, “Casey was all upset because I didn’t call her or summat, and I decided to, like, ask her out on a proper date, you know? And she said yes!” 

“Um - congratulations?” you finally managed, and he grinned, nodding as he fiddled with his tie. He frowned, glancing down at it, and you sighed, reaching forward. “Help?” you asked, already nudging his fingers away and pulling the knot through. 

“Thanks a million,” Harry said, already grabbing his keys. “Hope you don’t mind I’m missing movie night, yeah? You understand.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he went on, “I can’t wait. Bloody hell, this is gonna be - have you seen my wallet?” 

“On the shelf,” you answered reflexively, and he grinned, pocketing it. 

“Wicked,” he said, and his hand was on the door when you finally said, “Wait!” 

He paused, turning around. “What?” 

“Are we gonna - are you ever gonna -” 

Harry frowned. “What?” he asked again. 

You bit your lip. “The kiss?” 

“What kiss?” 

You faltered, and he asked, “What are you talking about?” 

“The party,” you said, your voice barely there.

He blinked. “Oh.” 

A beat of silence, and then you said, “Harry?” 

“I was drunk,” Harry said, and then he repeated, “I was drunk.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t - I don’t like you like that.” He frowned. “You know that, yeah?” You nodded. “Of course,” you whispered, and it sounded like a lie even to your own ears. 

But Harry just smiled, and opened the door, and said, “Good. See ya later, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you said, and then Harry left, and you were alone, standing in his apartment like a fool. 

***

HELLO IF UR FEELING SAD DON’T!!!! HERE’S PART TWO!!!!!

lol thanks for reading!!!! if you liked it feedback and a reblog would be v much appreciated 💜

masterlist | ask

[storytellerssanctum]

Petals & Thorns - chapter 5/?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x oc

Warnings: none

Word count: 2k

SONG OF THE CHAPTER - don’t get me wrong • lewis capaldi

The library was quiet, there was few people in the room. The books stood sturdy on the shelves, calling to her as she walked towards them. The room had a chill; a small draft wafted through the windows. The end of fall was near, and the weather was proving it. The castle was not very well insulated. She found her fingertips drifting over a few hardcover novels on the wooden shelf. She picked up one that peaked her interest, and she brought it to an empty table. It spoke tales of the history of magic. She needed it for her essay, but she did enjoy learning about it. As she sat, the old chair groaned under the slight weight. She opened the cover, and dove inside a world away from her own. As she flipped through pages, she heard footsteps crawling towards the table. Her eyes filtered up over her glasses as she caught sight of a few fourth year Hufflepuffs watching her. They were all girls, and looked as if they wanted to ask her something. They were issuing hushed whispers, clearly talking about her. Their eyes averted to the floor as she caught them.

"Enlighten me on what you find so interesting." She snapped, now her neck was straightened. Her eyes bored into them. They didn't answer. "I'm speaking to you?" She ushered them to respond. Her foot tapped against the floor as her impatience grew.

"We were just wondering if you knew.... if your brother had a girlfriend." She rubbed her face in her hands at the word and snapped her book shut.

"You came to bother me... to ask if my brother had a girlfriend?" She repeated their question. One of the girls nodded. "Do you really think I have the time to answer questions about my stupid little brother?" She scolded. They didn't answer. With a sigh, she stood. "No, he doesn't. Don't waste your time on him." She snapped, walking past them. "Next time, ask him yourself." She signed the book out and walked out of the library. The halls outside of it were littered with students from all houses. She suspected they were just trying to pass the time until the other schools arrived. It was mid-October now, and soon enough it would be the thirtieth. Maybe they were waiting for the day after, when the Triwizard champions would be selected.

She walked down the hallways leading to the dungeon. The time was just after dinner, the lot of everyone would be back inside anyway. Most of the people in her house were lazy, and got tuckered out any time after six o'clock. As she passed, her heels clicked angrily against the floor. When she passed through the entrance hall, the Weasley twins were arguing with each other over something she didn't care to understand. As she walked, Fred stopped arguing and followed her with his eyes. Usually, she would feel any type of satisfaction at this. Now, she was angry at the Hufflepuff girls for bothering her. She didn't give the two a second look.

"Close your mouth, mate. You'll catch a fly." George shot at his brother. This made Fred give him a glare. "Just looking out for you is all." Addy couldn't even laugh at their banter. This week had been a week of hell for the girl. An essay in three of her classes were due, her brother was driving her up a wall, and she was dealing with daily coercion from her boyfriend to do things she didn't want. Now, she was doing everything she could to avoid Adrian. She spent her time in the library or in her dorm, where he couldn't get to her. He rarely stepped foot in the library in his years of schooling; she didn't have to worry about him looking for her there.

She found herself in front of the stone wall that hid the Slytherin common room. Her lips let the password escape and it opened to reveal a staircase leading down to the dungeon it was located. As she took the steps, she could hear chatter at the bottom of the staircase. She pulled her book closer to her chest as she revealed herself into the opening. A few second years scattered out of her way as they saw her. She scanned the room, seeing her boyfriend sitting in an armchair by the fire. To keep up the reputation of their relationship, she went to him and placed a kiss on his lips. She wanted to throw up at her actions. Being with him made her feel physically ill sometimes. This year, especially. His actions of late were not close to what a relationship should hold.

"Where have you been hiding?" He asked, giving her a smile. He was being nice, it came to her as a shock.

"Library," she showed him her book. "I have some homework due this week, I needed to catch up on it." She gave him an honest answer.

"Looking to take a break?" He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She gave a small shrug.

"Maybe not a break, just some company. Some Hufflepuff girls got on my nerves earlier." She let her lips upturn into a smile. "I had to leave the library before I hexed them."

"Mrs. Prince didn't get them?" He took her hand into his own.

"Must not have been paying close enough attention." She joked.

"Her, not paying attention? That's never happened." He stood and placed a hand on her lower back, leading her back out to the deserted hallway. The castle was quiet near the Slytherin room. Hand in hand, they walked to the astronomy tower. This was a place Adalinda loved dearly. He knew this, and used it to his advantage. When she was up there, her mood drastically increased. As they took the stairs to the top, they didn't speak. When they reached their destination, she let a sigh of relief out of her mouth.

Her hands rested over an old tattered desk as she let her book fall to it. Her eyes fell over the telescopes that grazed the open windows of the room. The darkening sky held speckles of stars. "It's so beautiful up here."  She stated, walking to one of the openings in the wall.

"Yeah," his eyes fell over her, watching her take in her surroundings. "It sure is." He made his way over to her, wrapping an arm around her small figure. She fell into him, accepting the hold. He leaned down and brought her into a kiss. She accepted, holding him there for a moment. Adrian wasn't awful when he wasn't angry. When he was kind, it almost made her forget about the bad times they shared. Still, deep in her stomach she couldn't pass the feeling of uneasiness. She knew the good times would pass by almost as soon as they arrived.

The words of her father held her captive in his love. Though, Adrian didn't even know if he truly loved her. He was obsessed with the idea of being with her, but he wasn't sure if it was out of true feelings or simply the idea of a powerful girlfriend. He made her angry often, and feel appreciated seldom. He wasn't sure if the time spent with her was worth it. Yet, when he held her he forgot his doubt. He was peaceful when he had her in his arms, until she tried to push him away. Adrian hated nothing more than being rejected.

"I should probably get to work." There it was, the withdrawal. She couldn't be affectionate with him to save her life.

"You always have something better to do." He muttered, releasing his hold on her. She gave him a quizzical look.

"What are you talking about?" She sighed, walking away from the view.

"You. You couldn't pretend to love me if your life depended on it." He took a seat in a chair, looking away.

"I do, Adrian. This week has been busy." She tried to console him, to prevent him from getting angry.

"Then what'll it be next week? You're too tired, or you have to help your stupid brother with something?" His words were hard as he avoided her face.

"That's not true."

"Then what is it? I brought you up here! It's your favourite place, I wanted some alone time, and you can't even give me two minutes!" He was shouting now. She cowered at his words, scared of his clenched fists.

"Fine," she walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. He hit it off, not wanting the contact anymore. Her heart sped at his actions. "What do you want from me, then?" She was getting angry now, too.

"I want you to have some kind of feelings for me! Stop pretending that what we have is more than a public face! You're only caught up in the thought of pleasing your father, stop leading me on already." He snapped. The sentence hit her deep in the stomach.

"I'd love to tell you whatever you want. I want to make you happy. I can't do that if you aren't letting me." She took a chair beside him, nearly falling into it.

"Haven't you had enough of loneliness already? You have all of these people around you, but you don't let anybody in. You keep us around because it makes you look like you have a purpose. Aren't you sick and tired of lying to be someone your father wants you to be?" A grimace took her expression. "I know you, Addy. This cold person, the one you believe is truly you, it isn't. You put on this face to make everyone scared of you, to make them believe you're the a true Malfoy. I see you when you're not around a crowd."

"I am exactly who I present myself as." She grabbed his hands, making him look to her. "I would not be sitting here with you if I didn't want to be. I chose you, out of everyone I could've had." His eyes met hers, falling into them. As much as he didn't want to believe her, her powerful stare influenced him. She leaned forward and made their lips meet. She was scared that he was discovering her true emotions. When you spent so much time with another person, they could pick up on things. When they parted, he held her with his expression.

"Every time we talk about other people, we make fun of them. You don't join. Your brother hates mudbloods, and he shows it. You have never said that word. In the six years I've known you, you have never let it slip. You'd think, if you hated them so much, you wouldn't avoid it. You don't join in when we laugh at anyone. You laugh at the Weasley twins like they're funny, not like they're stupid. You don't hold a distaste when you see a half-blood, or a blood traitor. You try to, but I can see past it."

"I am a Malfoy, Adrian. I hate everyone who's blood isn't clean. I have to. I don't say it, because there's no need to. With my name, it's assumed. I don't have to show it like Draco. He's trying to prove himself for no reason." His hand reached out and caught her cheek, holding it there for a moment.

"Soon enough, I won't be the only one you have to convince." It was the only words he responded with.

"I'm not convincing you. I am simply telling you."

"You have to prove the words for them to mean something." His thumb drifted over her bottom lip. She felt nothing, no emotion or love at the gesture.

"I love you. We were meant to be together."

"Then show me."

Tags: @play-morezeppelin

[slashersteve]

Can’t Cheat Fate [3]

pairing: Steve Harrington/Female Reader, slight Jonathan Byers/Female Reader || Fake Dating! Au

series summary: After years of pining after the same guy you finally decide to tell him, but unfortunately you waited too long and he’s found someone else. Luckily, Steve Harrington offers to help you get him back if you’re willing to help him win the girl of his dreams. 

warnings: some cursing my guy || word count: 2k+

Note: Jonathan get’s a little douchey in this one, like i said this fic is STUPIDLY CHEESY AND CAN GET ANNOYING but i wanna write it so- enjoy~~~~~~

| Check out my other works! | Can’t Cheat Fate Masterlist |

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The sound of shuffling and backpacks being zipped shut tore you out of your thoughts, and you had to sit there for a moment to wonder where you were. When you saw a lab table and heard your Chemistry teacher remind you all to read the next section of the chapter- you realized that you were about a minute away from lunch. You were completely distracted- your nerves getting the best of you the entirety of Chemistry. You were lucky your teacher wasn’t in a bad mood today or he might’ve called you to answer a question because of your distant look.

With shaking hands, you began to put away your binder, and chem textbook into your bag, trying to steady your breathing as well.

You will not chicken out today, you told yourself, if you do you’re going to regret it. So just do it! Jonathan wasn’t a mean guy, why were you so afraid? If he didn’t return your feelings, he wouldn’t be a jerk about it. Sure it may be a little awkward, but you were friends first and could work through the awkwardness. A burst of confidence replaced the fear and the nerves that stayed with you the entire walk to the cafeteria.

Jonathan was sitting in your usual spot, poking at his tray of food, something he did until you would arrive. Luckily, you decided to pack your own lunch today so you didn’t have to wait in the too long of a line for cafeteria food, “Hey!” you called maybe a little too excitedly, he looked up at you with a small smile as you sat down, setting your brown lunch bag in front of you.

“PB and J? And a banana?” he asked without even needing to see the contents inside. You grinned and nodded. Sure, it was the most basic lunch to exist, but it was your favorite, “You want me to get you a soda or something?” he was already pulling his wallet out, and standing up. You quickly shook your head because if he left now you’d probably run away.

“No I’m okay! Urm- how did the photos turn out?” you asked, starting out with small talk first before making a smooth transition into the confession of your feelings. Jonathan settled back in his seat, and he began to tell you how he arrived extra early to the photography room, but that everyone else in his class also had the idea so he didn’t get around to doing it.

“Bummer- I was hoping I could have one of those photos too,” you said.

“Maybe after school it’d be more available, if you’d like to come- you could wait outside the room of course,” he said, referring to your ink incident.

“Oh- I have to wait for you anyway,” you smiled, and Jonathan returned it with a smile of his own, you felt your heart swell up, and you blurted out, “Hey can I tell you something first? It’s something that I wanted to tell you for a while now, and I don’t think I can keep it a secret anymore.” Jonathan tilted his head.

“Oh...okay- I’m listening,” he nodded at you to continue. Your cheeks grew hot, and you found yourself looking at your unopened lunch bag, and gently chewing the inside of your cheek, trying to force yourself to just say it.

“Okay Jonathan I-”

But before you could finish that sentence, a new voice interrupted you.

“Hey (y/n),” Steve suddenly appeared in the empty spot next to you, making you jump slightly, “Sorry to interrupt whatever is going on here- but-” Steve merely glanced at Jonathan who was frowning before resting his eyes on you, “I talked to my swim coach about skipping out on practice- and we came up with an arrangement- every Tuesday and Thursday we can work for the full hour in the library after class.”

You blinked, “It’s Monday.”

“Yeah I can come today still! but I have to leave in the last 20 minutes to see how the freshman swimmers are doing, you know- I am the best swimmer and they need some advice...” he shrugged, and there he goes again. Who exactly are you trying to impress here Steve? You wondered as you glanced over Jonathan. He was looking forward, a distant, annoyed look in his eyes.

“Okay? Well- that’s actually good.” You weren’t lying, it did sound a good arrangement for him, he was the best swimmer according to the school records and himself- oh what are you doing? Why are you letting Steve distract you from telling Jonathan your feelings? This couldn’t wait until after? How could he choose a more inconvenient time for you?

Steve pat your knee, something you didn’t really take notice too, “Can you book the private study room?” You were becoming anxious by now, your leg bouncing up and down, wanting Steve to get out of here already so you could get on with what you were going to tell Jonathan. You just shrugged.

“Yeah I’ll do it before sixth.” Steve smiled, and squeezed your knee. You gave him a smile back, then for some reason as he got up, he winked and replied with, “You’re the best. See you after school.” And okay. Shaking your head, you waved as you watched him go. When he was back to sitting with his friends, throwing a glance over at you for a split second, you turned your attention back on Jonathan.

“So um- as I was saying...” you said, looking at Jonathan, seeing how overly annoyed he looked, and also...well...sad? You raised a brow, but decided to continue, “I was going to say before Steve interrupted is-”

“It’s okay (y/n), you don’t have to tell me. I already know.” Your eyebrows raised.

“You do?” Jonathan nodded, and began to gather all his food on his tray, “Oh well then…” you cheeks were completed heated by your nerves and surprise. He knew? You moved your hair behind your ear, offering a shy smile, “What do you think?”

“You know what I think,” he replied in a groggy tone, making you give him a confused look, and your shy smile falter. He stopped moving now actually looking at you, and he looked upset and annoyed which made your heart drop to your stomach, he rolled his eyes now, “You know what I think of him.”

You were about to speak when you realized why he was acting like that- does he thinks me and Steve are together? What kind of-

“Jonathan what are you talking about? I don’t-”

“I’m not going to dictate you on who to date or who you can mess around with…but with him? Of all people?” he cringed and now you were starting to get annoyed now, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You don’t- I wasn’t even- I don’t even understand how you even think I’m fooling around with Steve!” you said, trying not to be too loud but the people at the next table over could definitely hear you two beginning to argue.

“It’s obvious! Private study room? You ditching me to ‘help him with an essay’?” he made quotation gesture, you were fuming right now because you couldn’t believe this guy and the conclusions he somehow came to, “You could at least be more subtle about it, especially around me.” Oh what the hell!

“Stop acting like an ass! We’re literally working on an essay Jonathan- you’re welcome to sit in with us,” your voice was a bit louder now, the people in the next table were actually looking and even stifled a laugh when Jonathan shut his mouth.

It was honestly moments like this when Jonathan got into one of his moods where you wondered why you even harbored feelings for the guy for so long, he’d snap at you- usually when he was going through some stuff with his dad, you never faulted him for it, but this was just- so ridiculous and stupid of him that you couldn’t let him go on. So as you shoved your lunch bag back into your school bag, not caring if you were smashing the contents, and got up, you glared at him and said, “Get over your stupid hatred of Steve and grow up then maybe I’ll tell you what I actually wanted to tell you.” And with that you left.

Jonathan cursed under his breath, shoving his tray away and then glaring at the other students next to him. They quickly looked away, then Jonathan got up and left too, going straight to his photography class. You on the other hand didn’t actually know where you were going, he was your only constant friend. In fact, you were already starting to feel bad about the stupid argument as you left the cafeteria, and you would only start to feel more sad about it as the day inched to an end.

You’d have to see him in your class of the day anyway, and to get your bike from his car too. You already decided to apologize first, not liking when you fight with him even though sometimes you don’t really think half your arguments are your fault. You just wanted this empty feeling and the ache in your heart to go away for this misunderstanding.

***

As you walked into your last class, History it was, you made a beeline for Jonathan who appeared to be sitting all alone in the back, but as you got closer to take your seat, you were surprised to see that someone else was sitting there, a girl. You stopped in your tracks, seeing the girl leaning her head on her hand as she smiled, nodding along to him. He was smiling too, showing off his camera to her. Now they were leaning close, and you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that sparked inside of you. Still, you walked over there, stopping by Jonathan and he didn’t even look at you.

“Jonathan,” you squeaked, he didn’t look but the girl did. She smiled up at you, her glossy lips shining in the sunlight that shined through the large windows, you didn’t give her one back, “Hey-”

“Oh- hi,” he spared you one glance, “I left your bike by my car- you can get Steve to take you home.” You clenched your jaw, biting back a response. His friend’s smile fell slightly, noticing the harsh tension between the two of you.

“I don’t want to fight anymore about something ridiculous Jonathan, it’s annoying. So I’m sorry, okay?” There you apologized. Jonathan looked up at you, then just gave a kurt nod, but didn’t say anything like a ‘I’m sorry too.’ It irked you that he didn’t, but what irked you even more was when he turned back to the dark-haired girl and started to continue their conversation. Her eyes lingered on you for a bit, but then rested on Jonathan, her brown eyes shining now too.

You didn’t know how to react, so you simply took a seat more towards the front now sad, and a wee bit jealous. Jonathan glanced over at you when your back was turned, lingering on you as well for more than a few seconds, and would catch himself staring for half of class.

When the day was over, you were quick to retrieve your bike from Jonathan’s car, bidding him a small good-bye (to which he kind of ignored because he was talking to Marlene you learned her name was) but then you ran into Steve in the middle of the hall just before you were about to leave the building to get it.

“Hey! Did you book the room?” he asked. Your eyes widened, you’ve been completely distracted by the messy events that happened in a mere three hours that you totally forgot! Steve could tell by your reaction that you didn’t and playfully waved his finger at you and shaking his head, “This is absurd (y/n), I expected better from you. Ugh.” You felt the corner of your lips curl up, then you released a nervous chuckle.

“It’s a first huh?” you replied, Steve grinned and dropped his hand to the side, “I’m sorry though- it just slipped from my mind I guess.” He examined you now, then tilted his head.

“Are you okay though? I heard everyone talking about some argument you and Jonathan got into…” you blinked, people were talking about it? “Not everyone of course- I just heard about it.”

“If you heard about it then everyone did- it was nothing, Steve. We get into stupid arguments all the time- can we walk and talk?” you thought you heard his laugh from down the hall, not wanting to deal with him and Marlene and just wanting to go home. Steve nodded and you both walked through the double doors, Steve holding it open for you, and then towards Jonathan’s car where your bike was leaned across the side of it, “It’s done, we’ll be back to normal. I’ll get here early tomorrow to get us the room okay? You just annotate the prompt tonight, and write down any questions that I’ll answer for you.” You honestly didn’t want to tell him the fight was about him, Steve would probably get a little big headed if he thought you liked him like that.

Steve nodded, “If you say so.” You retrieved your bike, and he spoke up again, “Is that your ride? Don’t you live like...a million miles away?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. He put his hands on his waist and shook his head.

“No way- here just stay until the practice I thought I wasn’t going to is over, and I’ll give you a ride, we were supposed to stay here anyways,” he offered, and to be honest you were touched by the offer, but you didn’t think you could stay on school grounds any longer than you should be so you declined as you hopped onto your bike.

“Thank you, but- I kind of want to be home like now, have fun at practice though Steve, I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” you gave a small smile, and Steve nodded.

“Alright- see you tomorrow.” He watched you ride away, then huffed slightly, wondering what the argument was about anyway.

[peters-starks]

Lost

Peter Parker x Reader 

Word Count: 2k+

Summary: some angsty shit based on Lost On You by Lewis Capaldi

Masterlist 

Peter sighed as his alarm blared, forcing his blood shot eyes to open from another restless night. Thoughts of you drowned him every night but not in the way they used to. The previous comfort of you used to wrap him up and lull him at night, a soft smile would fall upon his features as he would drift to sleep but lately he found it wound too tight, suffocating him. He was haunted by image after image of you lying there, hurt because of him, someone who wanted to hurt him or because of you being typical stubborn you and getting in the way.

Peter felt like he was fighting himself every single second he was around you, he still adored everything about you but loving you was different now. He still loved you but he knew you were so in love with him you’d do anything for him and that scared him so much he felt himself back away, could he lose someone else? Your love was weighing so heavily on him because he was being so selfish by being with you, he couldn’t hurt you because he wasn’t sure he was still fully in it anymore. And it was his fault. He managed to panic himself into not being completely and utterly devoted to you anymore.

You could tell, you weren’t stupid, especially when it came to Peter. Your Peter. Late nights where the spandex covered vigilante would knock on your bedroom window in need of patching up, or just a hug, slowly came to a stop. Your dates were often canceled for “spider-man business” and Peter stopped having as many study sessions with you claiming to be too tired. His touches no longer lingered until he barely touched you, feeling foreign to each other’s bodies. Holding hands as you walked to your next class or bumping shoulders, and placing each other’s fingers around the other’s under the lunch table was distant. He was slipping between your grip and there was nothing you could do but love him endlessly and watch him fade away from you.

You and Peter both had what MJ referred to as “shit eating grins” on your faces, and you walked hand in hand down the corridor towards the cafeteria, both Ned and MJ on either side of you.

“You know, you two are actually disgusting” MJ commented and tore your eyes away from Peter who was currently laughing at a joke you just told him and rolled your eyes smiling at her.

“You’re just jealous” Ned stated and quickly ducked his head as MJ shot him a famous glare making you and Peter laugh.

“Yea, I really wish I could hold some boy’s hand in the corridor of this damn high school on the way to eat the bland cafeteria food, height of my wish list” MJ muttered but you could hear the smile in her voice as she joked along with you guys, you nudged her shoulder lightly to which she turned and grinned at you.

When you sat down with your lunch in your usual spot opposite MJ and next to Peter his hand casually drew shapes into your thigh as you leant your shoulder against his listening to MJ talk about her recent History essay with Betty who was next to her.

“You still coming round to help me study for chem tonight?” Peter said quietly as he turned to you creating a small bubble around you both.

“You and I both know you don’t need help with chemistry Peter” you said placing your hand on top of his that was still on your thigh and he smiled at you.

“I know, but I may or may not want an excuse for you to come round and May is getting Chinese food tonight” you smiled back at him at that and bit your lip.

“Like you need an excuse for me to come round” and at that Peter hummed in agreement and leant forward to give you a kiss which was met by a ‘PEOPLE ARE EATING HERE’ by MJ.

It ate you away to see Peters glow falter around you, your friends could see it, MJ would often comment “you look like shit” as you threw yourself into your seat next to her in bio. You were paler and shadows under your eyes had become your latest accessory because sleeping was a lot harder without Peter Parker lying next to you.

You opened your locker for your last class of the day, the day was longer than usual, dragging more although that was probably due to your exhaustion picking at your skeleton until you could hear your bones ache and groan for the urge to sleep for longer than 4 hours for just one night. You leaned against your locker after closing it to catch your breath when Peter walked past you, Ned at his side as they smiled and laughed over something one of them had said. Peter looked as much as a wreck as you recently and you wanted nothing more to confront him but you knew if you did that would be it. You were in a ghost of a relationship with Peter Parker but at least you could still call him yours and as selfish as you were being you weren’t strong enough to let that go yet. So you simple rotted away for now. Peter saw you stare at him and gave you a small smile, he gave you a look of ‘talk to you later’ still managing to have a conversation with just your eyes because you still knew each other better than you knew yourselves. You sighed and felt your mouth become dry as the realization that this might be it came upon you.

Walking out of school was usually a relief but today it felt like you were walking into a trap. Dread filled your body with every step and your shoulders tensed when you saw Peter waiting at the gate for you, his hand playing with the bottom of his sweater showing you he was just as nervous. He smiled upon seeing you and gestured got you to lead the way as you approached him. You returned the smile trying to be as natural as possible but even people who barely knew you could see the anxiety and dread behind it.

You and Peter began the walk back to your apartment, knowing it would be empty as your parents were at work until the evening. The walk wasn’t as awkward as you assumed it, gently conversation about your day's happened and your hands brushed as you walked, however neither of you reached to grab the others.

Once inside Peter turned to you as you sat on your couch and patted the space next to you, he sat down but left considerate space between you which made you laugh internally. Talk about a physical manifest of the situation.

“We um we need to talk” you nodded slowly at Peters words, his voice shook slightly but his mouth was in a hard line of determination. “We-we haven’t been as close lately and I know you’ve noticed it’s been off, we’ve been off” Peter swallowed gauging your reaction and you simply nodded, wide eyes staring into his brown ones.

“Well it’s my fault and I just I don’t know how to say it you know? I’ve been tossing and turning at night, and I still can’t find the words and it’s been so distracting because I don’t want to leave you lonely like the other day I brushed a building because I was so distracted and scraped all up my face and usually my first thought would be to go to you? But it wasn't, I just came home and got May’s usual lecture of watch where I swing” a forced chuckle came from him as he was obviously nervous but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile at the image of May ranting to Peter whilst wiping the poor boys brick burns. The words “leave you lonely” simple repeated within your head. This really was it and there’s nothing you could do to stop it because in reality hadn’t it already ended?

Your palms were sweating and your breath was hitched. If your heart started beating any harder you were sure you’d physically start vibrating along with it and you knew Peter could hear it, he could always hear your heartbeat, he used to love listening to it.

---

Peter climbed into your bedroom window, you had left it slightly open in anticipation for his arrival as you knew school was rough today, a bio and a math quiz, and on top of patrols you knew he would need some comfort.

He lay down next you as you were snuggled under your duvet trying to hide from the winter chill that surrounded New York. Ripping his mask off Peter smiled softly at your relaxed expression as you dozed, your lips were parted and soft breathing left them. You were far too adorable to be allowed to exist.

Slipping under your duvet with you, you shifted slightly and peeked your eyes open to be met with the soft brown ones of your spidey. “Hey” you whispered, and he lazily smiled at you and brushed his cold nose against you making you sigh.

“Rough day?” Your voice was still husky with sleep and it made Peters heart flutter. He hummed back, and simply snuggled into you closer, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, and burying his head into the crook of his neck. The gentle thud thud thud thud of your heart soothed his racing mind and helped his muscles release some of their tension. He swears he could tell your heart beat out of a crowd.

“Mmm love listening to you” your eyebrows scrunched and you let out a gentle giggle at his comment.

“What?” You laughed lightly moving your hand up to tangle into his soft hair and he let out another mumble of content.

“Your heart, your breathing, swear I can even hear your thoughts sometimes” Peter spoke softly into your neck where his face was still buried which made your cheeks dust pink. Who knew something so simple as your heartbeat could bring one boy so much comfort.

“Oh you’re cute spidey” you teased and he lifted his head to meet your eyes, softly rolling them before pulling you towards him and meeting his lips with yours.

---

“Right so um I still, I still care about you so much but Spider-Man is just he keeps pulling us apart and I think it’s almost for good? I can’t be here for you whilst fighting around the city it’s dangerous and it’s not fair” he gulped again but your face remained still the only sign you were still functioning was the hammering of your heart beat in Peters ears.

“You’re right” your voice made Peters eyes widen, taking him by surprise as you spoke. “It’s not fair, you, you used to be here and now you’re not and you can’t use Spider-Man as an excuse Peter, if you don’t love me anymore just say it, I don’t want to be lied to, not anymore” the quiver in your voice was noticeable but you tried your best to sound strong because you didn’t want him to know just how badly you were crumbling. The idea that you were still head over heels for the curly brown haired boy in front of you actually snapped you in half because he was so far away, you couldn’t even reach out and touch him anymore because you didn’t have the right to. He was no longer your Peter Parker and he hadn’t been for a long time. You just wished he had been so vigorously that you convinced yourself he was still there.

“It’s not like that I still love you I adore you, I just, I don’t know if I’m still in love with you” Peter breathed because god this was hurting him too, he knew he still loved you but it wasn’t good enough anymore. He didn’t love you like he knew someone else could. His fear and anxiety had driven him crazy since he found out someone almost came after you because of him. You almost got hurt because some New York Brute found out Spider-Man’s connection to you and wanted to hurt you. And since then his mind was doing loops and he found himself so distant from you he no longer felt he belonged next to you, which he subconsciously did on purpose. If you were no longer his then you were no longer a target. You were safe.

Peter sighed and stood up running his hand through his hair. “I still care about you but this” he moved his fingers between you two “isn’t going to work anymore” and with that you finally let the tears fall. Peter screwed his eyes shut and looked up to the sky cursing whoever he could at the fact he had to do this. God, why did he have to do this.

“I think you should leave P-Peter” your voice was mangled and broken, a sob escaped and you finally completely shattered. Like glass that a toddler had thrown around completely tearing your world apart and Peter seemed to do it like it was nothing new to him. Like he could do it again, as he stood there and looked at you. He nodded and moved to your front door, his hand gripped the handle and he looked back at you one last time before closing the door behind him. That was it. He hoped you were safe in whoever’s arms were lucky enough to hold you next because he was stupid enough to lose you.

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

Hope this was good, wrote this at 4am whilst listening to my sad song playlist feedback would be good aaaand maybe a part 2 has already been written but im gonna wait and see if its worth posting or just leave it as a one shot 

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[fics-kats-procrastination]

Love Finds a Way (Harry x Reader)

Requested: No

Word Count: 2k

A/N: A little bit of sixth-year Harry love as the gif below gave me feels and inspiration. Also, requests are always open! Please request!

It wasn’t a secret that Severus Snape had originally applied for the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It also isn’t a secret that he was turned down and had been lusting for the position ever since. Year after year, Defense Against the Dark Art professors fled Hogwarts and Snape was never lucky enough to replace them. Because of this, it came as a great surprise to everyone when during the Welcome Back Feast in the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore introduced two new teachers.

You watch in a mixture of disgust and awe as Ron Weasley scoffs down chicken leg after chicken leg. His disregard for his best friend’s location driving both you and Hermione Granger insane. “He could be dead!” Hermione argues quietly. You’re quick to agree and a smile slips on your lips when Ron gives a shrug. “Honestly Ronald, your best friend is missing! How can you eat at a time like this?” Her gentle shoulder push quickly turns into a smack with the textbook she had been reading on the train ride back to Hogwarts.

“Oi! Look behind you,” Ron grumbles as he lightly rubs his sore shoulder before his attention is once again drawn to the feast presented on the long tables. Your head automatically flips to face the Great Hall doors that have just closed behind the missing Gryffindor and Luna Lovegood. A relieved smile cross your features but it’s gone just as quickly when you recognize the crimson stains on his clothing. Noticing your fallen expression, Ron comments, “Looks like his own blood this time.” His words don’t make you feel any better.

Exhausted, Harry manages to slide himself in the small hole between you and Neville Longbottom. A tender kiss is placed to your cheek from the late Gryffindor causing you to sigh, releasing all of the tension from your limbs. The concern, however, doesn’t leave your veins and you’re quick to conjure up a napkin that you press gently beneath Harry’s nose. It’s still bleeding lightly and there’s dried blood beneath it. “What did you do?” You ask quietly. The worry is clear on your face due to your furrowed eyebrows and your mouth that’s tugged down at the corners. “You disappeared from our compartment and show up, late, covered in blood,” you continue while you busy yourself with cleaning up your dirty boyfriend.

Harry waits until you finish removing the blood from his face. You learn in the time that Luna had set Harry’s nose for him, so you make a mental note to thank her for it. As you go to put your hand back in your lap, Harry’s hand flys up and catches your wrist. He turns his head and places a butterfly light kiss to the inside of your wrist; his actions cause your face to flush although a warm smile graces your lips. “Thank you. ‘M sorry for worrying you.” The honesty in Harry’s voice is tangible. You allow your neck to relax and your forehead rests against Harry’s own. Dazzling green eyes stare into your own and the moment is oddly intimate in spite of all of the hustle and bustle of the feast surrounding the pair of you.

“I was so scared,” You finally admit in a whisper that’s only heard between you and the boy in front of you. “Anything could have happened. With..with Voldemort being back and all.” Harry kisses your nose before he wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you into a hug. His lips move from your nose to your forehead. Here he presses a long kiss in hopes of relieving your fears and reassuring you that he was okay and here.

Hermione coughs quietly to alert your attention back to the feast and to where Dumbledore has just risen to give this year’s welcome back speech. Your jaw, Ron’s jaw, and Hermione’s jaw drop upon hearing that Snape will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. Harry doesn’t seem at all surprised though. He’s quick to fill you in on his and Dumbledore’s little adventure to procure a new Potions Master. After this shocking news, the feast ends with dessert. Ron, once again, is stuffing himself with any and all sweets he could get his hands on; Hermione’s disgusted face nexts to him marks the annual beginning of this school year.

The four of you leave the Great Hall in a rush of students from all Houses. You watch as Harry rushes off to talk with Dean and Seamus; Ron is only steps behind him while Hermione and yourself stay back and roll your eyes fondly at their antics. Gryffindors split from Ravenclaws and within minutes the portrait is swinging open and post dinner stupor is settling like a blanket over the crowd of Gryffindors. Harry runs back through the other Gryffindors with a large grin on his face. He tugs you into his arms and kisses you deeply; a kiss that says goodnight as opposed to goodbye. When he pulls away, you feel dizzy with the amount of carefree happiness that rests within it. Hermione laughs and grabs your hand to lead you back to the dorm you share with her. You fall asleep peacefully the moment you’re tucked behind the familiar maroon curtains.

———–

“Wait, you’re doing what for Dumbledore?” Hermione inquires. Ron, Harry, and yourself are able to hear the incredulous tone she asks the question in. Harry had seen Dumbledore a few weeks ago and was now informing the lot of you about his task assigned by the Headmaster. You’ve got your head lying on Harry’s shoulder as the pair of you sit on the floor. Your back is open to the Gryffindor common room fire, allowing warmth to seep through your skin. You blink your eyes sleepily as Harry relays what he’s just said.

“I’m going to get one of Slughorn’s memories for Dumbledore,” Harry says with a shrug. He’s fast to apologize with a kiss to your temple when you give a slight grumble of protest at the movement. A smile settles on your lips and Harry knows he’s forgiven. “He needs it to defeat Voldemort.” The name brings a shiver through your otherwise warm body causing you to push yourself further into Harry’s side; he squeezes your waist happily at the little bit of affection.

Ron moves his arms from the back of the sofa and runs his palms down his face. “Okay…” he sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of them, “how are we supposed to do this?” Your eyelids have grown steadily heavier through the conversation and you’re asleep before they start brainstorming ways of doing this.

———–

Ancient Runes managed to drag on today and you were more than ready to return to the common room and your boyfriend’s arms by the end of it. You let out a huff as you shove your book bag back onto your shoulder while the portrait swings open. As you enter, you are met with an awful cheery, “Hello!” and a kiss on your cheek. Before you can respond, however, Harry is past you and out of the common room. Looking to Ron and Hermione where they stand by a sofa, you ask, “What’s going on?”

“Harry finally drank his Liquid Luck and is going to get Slughorn’s memory,” Hermione replies while Ron walks behind her and makes himself cozy on the couch. He pulls out a Transfiguration essay but you and Hermione both know he won’t get it done when you’ve got another week until it’s due. Your eyes widen and you blink a few times before Hermione’s words registered in your mind.

The couches of the common room and the roaring fire are calling your name, begging you to relax and maybe start the very same essay you just saw Ron pull out but you know that Harry will get into a mass of trouble on his own. He always does. With a heavy sigh you hand Hermione your book bag. “I’ll be back.” Your out of the common room after that and running down staircase after staircase until you finally reach the main entrance stairs. This is where you finally find your boyfriend. He’s just about to walk out the front doors.

“Harry!” You shout, pleased when he stops and waits for you. You rush down the rest of the stairs and come to a stop before the dark-haired male with unsteady breath. “Can I come with?” A sweet smile accompanies your question and Harry is more than happy to pull you in for a kiss and let you join him on his journey to the green houses.

At the green houses, you find Professor Slughorn smuggling Tentacula leaves from Professor Sprout’s precious plants. You’re not entirely sure how Harry knew to find Slughorn at the garden houses but you don’t question him. Not that you had the chance to as he was off to chat with the short, pudgy man before you could form a word. You stay back and fondly watch the Mandrakes sleep in their new pots; they had been replanted two weeks ago by the second years. You can’t shake the strange feeling being around Harry with this potion, is giving you. He’s too loud, too eccentric, too…too unlike Harry. Harry only took the Felix Felicis in order to accomplish his given task yet you couldn’t help the feelings you had towards this particular potion and the way it turned your boyfriend into someone unfamiliar. “Care to come with us to Hagrid’s?” Harry offers, interrupting your thoughts. You turn to find he and Professor Slughorn only steps behind you.

“No thank you,” You say with a fake laugh before you lean forward and place a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Just…be safe.” Although you were tempted to go with them down to visit the Gamekeeper but Harry will be more successfully if he goes alone with Slughorn. Aside from that, you find the smell of earth and various scents of plants to be soothing which you need at this particular moment. Slughorn gives you a small, fake smile as he and Harry leave and go down to Hagrid’s hut. You enter greenhouse two and take a seat in front of the snoozing Mandrakes with a heavy sigh. “I hope this works,” you mutter to them.

After sitting with the Mandrakes for nearly two hours, you found the motivation to move yourself back to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione and Ron raise an eyebrow at you in question but make no effort to ask when you sit at the table nearest them and pull out your Transfiguration homework to work on. Harry comes in nearly another two hours after you did. The large smile on his face lets the three of you know that he completed his conquest. You’re waiting for him to take a seat next to Ron and Hermione so he can repeat his tale in hushed whispers but instead he marches over to you and sits in the armchair beside you. He reaches his hand over to tug on the sleeve of your jumper. Once your attention is on him, he lightly pulls you onto his lap. This was familiar. Harry seeking comfort in you and your presence. “Everything alright love?”

“Missed you is all,” Harry murmurs into your ear before he nuzzles the skin of your neck and places a kiss to the crook of your shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me.” Although he thanks you for the simple action, your trust in Harry is unending and he knows it. You understand that he just needs the reassurance sometimes so you nuzzle yourself back and places a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Harry. You’re a silly git and I love you,” You whisper, allowing yourself to be dragged into a kiss that breathed love with the very press of your lips together. Harry’s hand cups the back of your neck, prolonging the kiss as long as he can. Your own fingers are gripping Harry’s shirt tightly as the kiss deepens with the slightest tilt of your head. The love passing from him to you and back is tangible. It no longer mattered if war was brewing on the horizon or if this memory of Slughorn’s was important, all that mattered was Harry and Harry’s love for you. Guess love really does find a way.

[makknays]

missed you.

requested.

genre: romance uhhh fluff????

word count: 2k

a/n: i heckin love jimin with everything i am ,, no one ever hurt my precious baby

Hiii. I really love your writing style and i think you can pull this off. Can i please request a jimin scenario based on their song just on day wherein he spends a perfect day with a female stranger but then they lost contact but after a year of desperation to find the reader, he finds her once again. Fluff ending please. Thank you so much💙❤💙❤

It was a cold winter’s morning, about 4am, anyone who was at this hour must have be crazy but here you were. Nothing in particular was keeping you up, you’d written all your essays and assignments, you had been on top of your game recently, but for whatever reason you couldn’t fall asleep. Nothing would help you sleep either, music, white noise, none of it, so you gave up eventually. You decided to make yourself some warm tea and wrap up to walk the cold streets of Seoul.

Seoul had always been beautiful at night, ever since you moved here you admired the lights and the view when it was so late at night, or early the next day. You wandered around aimlessly, you really had no reason to be out this late but it was better than not being able to fall asleep at home. There was a bench that looked out onto the Han river, so you walked towards it and decided to take a seat on it. At the same time a stranger had decided he wanted to sit down there, which resulted in an awkward mess. “I’m sorry, you take the seat.” he said, you could make out his face since it was so dark, but based on his voice you imagined he’d be quite sweet and cute. “No, sorry, I don’t even know what I’m doing out here, you take the seat.” “Why don’t we both sit?” “Umm, sure, I’m ___, by the way.” “Jimin.” “So Jimin, what are you doing out so late?” you asked as he took a seat beside you. “Tryna get away from idol life. I like this time of day, everything’s quiet and serene. What about you?” “Oh, you’re that Jimin,” you chuckled, not believing you forgot that there was a famous Jimin, “but yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. I agree that this time of day is truly something else.” “Yeah, I’m that Jimin. I’m surprised it took you a moment, not to sound big headed or anything.” he laughed. “Oh no, don’t worry, you’re a big deal but it just slipped out my mind; you’re just a normal guy, no big deal.” “I like the way you think.” he joked.

“Seems like being an idol is tougher than it looks.” “You wouldn’t even know, I can barely go out without people recognising me, there’s no personal space, I can’t date without my so called fans disapproving, there’s way more but I don’t wanna bore you with a list.” “Okay, how about we do everything you can’t do normally today?” you suggested. “We just met…” “But there’s clearly a lot you’d rather be doing than being disapproved of.” “Fine.” he chuckled. “What have you always wanted to do?” you asked him. “To be honest, I just wanna chill, maybe catch a movie, just live as a normal person for today. I don’t wanna tick anything off a list.” “Okay let’s catch a movie later, it’s about 5am right now, so nothing’s open. What do you want to do until something is open?” “Let’s go for a walk. I never go for walks with other people, you can be the first.”

“So, ___, what do you do?” Jimin asked as the two of you strolled the quiet streets. “I’m a student, but I work in a cafe too.” “I can imagine that, is it fun? Working in a cafe?” “For the most part. Every now and then there’s a customer that’ll keep complaining but y’know, whatever.” “Better than being stalked.” “You’re not wrong there.” “Anyway, tell me some more about yourself, I wanna get to know you a little.” “Well, there’s not much to me.” “Don’t lie to me, you’re out and about at 4am, there’s gotta be something interesting.” he joked. “Well, I dunno, I’m really simple. I like looking at pretty scenes, which is why I came out tonight, I travel up and down the country just to look at the view, to be honest.” “See! That’s interesting!” “Yeah, but I don’t have enough money to be doing that.” you laughed. “Don’t worry about that, just live in the moment!” The two of you continued walking and talking until it was around 7am; you were both quite tired but decided to go to the cinema to catch a film, like Jimin wanted to.

“Well, we’re here.” “Yep, what do you wanna see?” you asked him. “Let’s just watch anything, it doesn’t matter to me. You pick.” “Okay, let’s get popcorn too.” “That’ll be our breakfast.” he said and you nodded as if it was completely normal. “C’mon, let’s go.” you smiled as you grabbed his hand and led him into the theatre. You didn’t even think about the fact that you had grabbed his hand when you did it but for the next year you kept thinking about that moment. “Let’s sit here.” Jimin told you. “At the top? I’ve never had the privilege, there’s always people here.” “It’s 7am, who would even be here at this time?” “I forgot, okay?” Not even twenty minutes into the film, all the popcorn was gone and the two of you had fallen asleep. Your head was softly resting on his shoulder while his was leaning on the seat. One and a half hours later Jimin woke up, seeing that you had fallen asleep on him. “Cute. She’s cute.” he chuckled, he secretly took a picture of you to remember this moment. About ten minutes later you woke up, “Morning.” Jimin said when you lifted your head. “Oh, we’re still here?” “Yeah, the movie’s about to finish though.” “How sad, but let’s go.” you smiled. “Where could we possibly go? It’s almost 9am now, papz will see me.” “Let’s go back to mine then, cover your face and I’ll get a taxi.” “You’re inviting a stranger back to your house?” “You’re not really much of a stranger anymore, are you?” “Okay but I’m gonna have to cover everything.” “Then do that!” you laughed as you watched him put his cap, face mask, scarf, etc on his body in order to disguise himself.

“You guys cold?” the taxi driver joked when he saw the state of Jimin. “Yes, it’s chilly today.” you replied. “What were you kids doing out so early?” “We wanted to catch an early film.” you smiled. “Ah, young love is really something else.” “Oh, we’re not in love.” you laughed. “Oh, my apologies I just assumed.” “Don’t worry about it.”

“Here is my home. Nothing extravagant.” you said as you opened the door to your apartment, it was a bit of a mess but tidy enough. “It’s nice. You live on your own?” “Yep, my neighbour’s cat visits sometimes.” “I hope he visits today then.” “What do you wanna do then?” “Let’s make breakfast.” “Do you like pancakes?” “I love them.” “You have to try mine then, they’re the best.” “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You finished creating your pancakes with Jimin and placed two plates down on your coffee table; you never bothered to get a dinner table since you lived alone. “Let’s see how good these are.” Jimin laughed as he plopped down on the sofa beside you. “You’ll love them, everyone does.” He dug into the pancakes and his eyes immediately opened wide. “These are amazing!” “I told you!” “Damn, I gotta get more of this. My friends would be so jealous.” “I can make some for you to take with you if you want.” you offered. “Really? You’d do that?” “Sure! I’ll do it now!” The rest of the time that Jimin was at your home was spent being rather lazy; you started watching a series together but he had to leave at 4pm.

“It’s a shame that I have to go but yeah, I have stuff to do back home.” Jimin told you. “Don’t worry about it! We’re both adults with stuff to do.” you joked as you opened the door for him. “Well, yeah I’ll be on my way then!” Jimin walked out of your door and towards his home, where all his members were waiting for him.

“Where in the hell were you, Park Jimin?” Taehyung teased as he walked through the door of the dorm. “I was with this amazing girl all night, we just talked and talked and we went to the cinema and back to her place and just hung out. It was perfect.” “Uh, you just bumped into her on the street at like 4AM?” Jungkook asked. “Well, yeah but you had to be me to know what it was like.” “So, what’s her name?” Taehyung curiously asked. “___. She’s so pretty and really smart an- OH MY GOD! I didn’t get her number or anything!” “You said you were at her place?” Jungkook told him. “I don’t remember where it is, I kinda was tryna hide myself from anyone who might see me.” “Oh, Jimin. You’ll find her one day.” “You don’t understand, Tae, she was like the perfect girl for me.” he groaned.

“Yeah, I spoke to this guy all night and we hung out, it was really fun.” you told your best friend over the phone. “What was his name?” “It was Jimin.” “Park Jimin? BTS Jimin?” “Girl, keep dreaming. It was just a regular Jimin.” you weren’t completely lying, you had met Jimin but he wasn’t superglamourous idol Jimin, he was down to earth sweetie Jimin. “Oh, did you get his number?” “Fuck. No.” “He knows where you live, right?” “I’m not sure. I kinda just took him here. Dude, how am I ever gonna find him again?” “Maybe you’ll bump into each other at 4AM again.” she teased.

Almost a year had past and both you and Jimin hadn’t stopped thinking about each other; every night you thought about the day you spent together and it put you at ease, even if you never bumped into each other again. That night was such a sweet memory.

“___, you’ve gotta get back out there! I mean it’s been like a year since you met that Jimin kid!” “You’re right but he was so perfect.” “___, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you don’t listen to me. It’s been a year and you haven’t managed to bump into him.” “Maybe he got busy.” “___. Let me at least try to talk some sense into you. You’ll meet loads of people who seem like the perfect guy; they’ll have everything you’ve ever looked for but there’ll be something that is a sign that you shouldn’t wait around or get involved with them. Him not coming back should be that sign.” “You’re right but he was so nice.” “___. Just do it for yourself.”

“Are you still thinking about that girl?” Namjoon asked Jimin. “Yeah, I just can’t forget her.” “I mean, maybe you should try to find her? You met at 4AM, right? Try going to that spot again, maybe she’ll be there?” “I’ve tried that. She wasn’t there.” “Try again. I mean, last time you left that late was months ago, so maybe she’ll be there this time. Stay strong.”

Once again, it was a cold winter’s morning. 4am to be specific. You sat on that same bench that you met Jimin and took in the beauty of Seoul at 4am. You weren’t expecting Jimin to appear; he hadn’t done so for the past week so you really started considering moving on; it would be better for you, right? “Is this space free?” “Uh, I guess.” you replied, not looking at the person as you were lost in your thoughts. “___?” “Huh? Oh my God, Jimin?” “It’s me!” he laughed as you pulled him into your arms. “You don’t understand how much I’ve wanted to see you.” he told you. “Me too.” “I couldn’t believe myself when I forgot to get your number. I was just so comfortable around you, it felt so normal.” “I know what you mean. How about a part two to that? Except this time I give you my number.”

[writingbarnes]

Sea Change • Bucky Barnes x Reader • 02

Summary : There were things she expected to happen in her life. Getting fired from her job after punching a perverted colleague in the neck was one of them. But getting kicked out of her apartment because she couldn’t pay her share of the rent for the month (and because her roommate’s boyfriend was moving in) apparently was not something she thought she would experience. Good thing Clint Barton knew someone who was looking for a roommate.

Character : Bucky Barnes X OC ( Reader )   |  Warning : Cursing  |  Words : 2K-ish

Author’s Note : Merry Christmas! Here’s another update lol i hope you like it! Let me know what you think! <3 Thank you, Victoria for proofreading this !

• 01 • 02 •

Sometimes [Y/N] wondered how much more the world could fuck her up. Like, when she was just eight years old and was a little too excited for her own good to climb a tree, only to end up with a broken arm. Or that time she had to submit a very important essay for her finals, only to spill coffee all over it. Or when she was celebrating her 21st birthday and ended up getting mugged the moment she stepped out of a club. Her life might be filled with misfortunes but this? This took the whole cake.

[Y/N] sat on the blue couch in Bucky’s apartment with a cup of tea while she watched Clint explain his brilliant idea to Bucky. Steve was kind enough to steer her to the kitchen once Bucky’s face contorted into pure frustration. He sat her down on one of the kitchen stool and took out a plate of chocolate cake from the fridge.

“Chocolate always make you feel better.” He offered, grabbing two spoons from one of the drawers. She didn’t know what she would do if Steve wasn’t here to mediate the whole argument (there was a 98% chance she would start crying in front of everyone, but no one needed to know that).

“Sorry for this.” Steve smiled.

She scooped a spoonful of the cake and slowly brought it to her mouth, eyes automatically closing in delight. “This is so good.” She moaned, grabbing another spoonful. “I might even forgive my old roommate for kicking me out of our apartment if you keep giving me chocolate cake.”

“You don’t have a place to live?” Steve frowned, his spoon stopped mid-air. [Y/N] looked up from the cake, eyes filled with confusion.

“Yeah, I thought you knew? That’s why Clint told me to come here. I didn’t have a place to go. I’d stay with Nat and Clint but they have Peter.” Her answer seemed to startled Steve for a moment before the blond guy got up from his seat and stormed out of the kitchen. She wondered if she had offended him in any way, but her worry soon disappeared when she heard Steve’s panicked voice.

“You need to let her stay here, Bucky!”

“What-No, I don’t?” came Bucky’s reply.

“Yes! She doesn’t have anywhere to go. She needs a place to stay and you need a roommate. She seems nice, Buck. Definitely better than the other applicants.”

“She loves cleaning too! Just like you!” Clint added excitedly, earning a glare from Bucky.

There was a long silence in the living room and [Y/N] opted to shove another spoonful of cake to ease her nerves. It took her five more spoonfuls of cake before Bucky finally let out a sigh and a mumbled, “Fine.”

Huh, maybe this wasn’t as bad as she initially thought.

The three men walked into the kitchen a moment later. Steve had the happiest expression on his face and Clint couldn’t stop fidgeting in excitement as they relayed the news. Bucky, on the other hand, only stood by the table with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on her.

“I like my place clean. I don’t like loud noises. Do not take my cake and sweets. Clint said you were in a rough spot, so I’ll let you off for this month’s rent. In return, you will clean the apartment and do some chores for me. Is that okay with you?”

[Y/N] nodded quickly. “I’ll even bake you cookies and cakes if you want.” That seemed to brighten him up a little. Bucky gave her a little nod and shook her hand.

“Welcome, roommate.”

“Yes! Why don’t you show her around while I go get Donut?”

.

“Uhh–“ [Y/N] stared at the huge bathtub installed in the bathroom. This bathroom was probably bigger than her new bedroom, with the gigantic bathtub taking almost half of the room. She looked up at Bucky, who stared at her, as if daring her to say any stupid comments. She gulped down her curiosity and nerves and flashed him a nervous smile. “So you like bath time a lot, huh?”

She could hear Steve’s snort from behind her.

“Your room is across the hall.” Bucky changed the topic, dragging Steve out of the bathroom while [Y/N] trailed behind him. “You’ll have to buy some bedsheets and covers later, but I can lend it to you for now.” He said as he pushed open the door.

The room was decorated with minimalistic interiors. The blue color of the desk, wardrobe, and window frame provided a nice contrast to the pale colored wall and wood flooring. There was a huge window on one side of the room, with generous sunlight pouring in and [Y/N] fought the urge to smile at the prospect of basking in its warmth.

“It’s not much.” Bucky quietly said, still staring at her, gauging her reaction.

“It’s beautiful. I love it so much. This is definitely better than my last apartment.” She gushed. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”

He flushed a little, quickly dismissing her gratitude with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothing.” He mumbled before leaving her room.

“He’s not very good at making new friends,” Steve whispered with a grin. “He’ll warm up to you soon. Don’t worry.”

[Y/N] opened her mouth to reply when she heard loud profanities coming from the living room. She and Steve quickly made their way out of the bedroom and into the living room, where Clint was standing with a huge white cat who kept hissing at Bucky.

“What the fuck is this?!” Bucky glared at the cat.

“This is Donut. I told you I’ll be bringing her over, Buck.”

“I thought you meant the food.”

“Donut is her cat.” Clint pointed at [Y/N] who shuffled awkwardly under everyone’s stares.

“She’s really nice, I promise.” She mumbled quietly, not daring to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“You will be in charge of throwing out the trash for two months.” Bucky grumbled in response.

.

Bucky didn’t mean to pry. He wasn’t that nosy of a person, but the red notebook was just lying there on the couch. It was practically begging to be read. He probably would blame it on the chilly weather and the abundance of free time he had gotten after finishing another project as well. And it was definitely not a payback after that particular incident just shy two months ago.

He was practically immune to cold, which was great, because he got to save a couple hundred bucks every winter, much to Steve’s and Sam’s dismay. He had been saving money for years, opting to splurge on other essentials Steve dubbed as ‘useless-fish-necessities’. And he would have been showing off his pride and joy to his best friends and bragged about his money just like he did the past years if it wasn’t for his new roommate.

It was a quite a chilly evening in late October and Bucky was quite excited to go home after a long meeting with a client. He had been planning on enjoying the cold evening with a box of pizza and a nice beer, alone in his living room. [Y/N] said she would be home late, which gave him more than enough time to relax. Maybe he could even use the bath bombs Natasha gave her few weeks ago. Bucky’s smile grew as he approached his apartment door, keys in his hand. Today had been a good day.

A click and a turn of the knob later, he pushed open the door, smile quickly slipping off his face at the state of his apartment. Nothing was amiss. In fact, it was too clean and he would’ve been impressed by his roommate’s cleaning skills if it weren’t for the irritating warmth of his apartment. His eyes landed on the huge glass window near a single couch and an electric heater. [Y/N] was currently curled on top of a fluffy carpet in front of said couch, face filled with pure bliss as the heater warmed her body and lulled her to sleep. It was almost adorable.

But Bucky was too annoyed with how warm his apartment was and how he could feel sweat starting to form on his forehead to admit it. He glared at Donut, who hissed quietly at him from the couch, as if daring him to wake up her beloved owner. And Bucky Barnes was not going to be a petty person, especially to a cat. He raised his eyebrows at the cat in a mock challenge and took a few steps closer, setting his belongings on the table before he closed the distance between [Y/N] and him. Donut, in all her white fluffy glory, let out another hiss, and wiggled her butt in a stalking manner, ready to pounce him.

                                     Screw being the bigger person, Bucky huffed, poking her gently with his foot, eyes never leaving the cat.

“[Y/N]. Wake up.” He called her name, giving her another gentle poke.

She scrunched her face, curling her body tighter to itself before letting out a little happy sigh.

“What the fuck did you do to this apartment?” Bucky continued poking her, earning another hiss and a growl from the cat. “You, shut up. Let the adults talk.” He pointed his finger at the cat.

“It was too cold.” [Y/N] mumbled, voice groggy with sleep.

“It’s not even snowing. You’re not supposed to turn on the heater! Do you know how expensive this shit can be?”

“Nice to know you care more about your money than my life.” She replied and opened one eye. She pulled the thick blanket up to her chin as she looked up at him and the sight of her definitely didn’t make his heart skip a beat.

“Are you sick?” Bucky frowned. He might be immune to cold but he knew today’s weather was not even that cold. Sam and Clint were doing just fine with their sweaters, and Steve was even sporting a simple t-shirt when he met them for lunch earlier that day.

“No. I just hate the cold.”

“It’s not even that cold, [Y/N].” Bucky crouched down in front of her, hand automatically touching her forehead. “You don’t have a fever though…”

“Our kind likes warmth.”

“Your kind?” Bucky frowned. She was already drifting back to sleep, her speech slurring as she spoke.

“Yeah, werecats…”

It was how he finally discovered his roommate was a werecat and he didn’t know if he should kill Clint for not telling her, or laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

He thought the first option was better when he received the monthly electric bills.

.

He took few careful steps closer to the couch, as if afraid [Y/N] would sense him and call him from her new workplace, a quaint bookstore owned by the descendant of Bastet named T’challa. He was the most charismatic and terrifying and beautiful man Bucky has ever seen in his life, and he had been friends with the Steve Rogers since he was 5.

He shook his head a little, turning his attention back to the red book sitting on the couch. His hand slowly reached out to grab it, flipping it open to a random page.

“I shouldn’t be reading this.” He paused, gaze still fixed on the date at the top of the page. He was about to close the book and set it back on the couch when a little voice in him reminded him of last night’s fiasco.

“So…” [Y/N] awkwardly started out. They were enjoying take-outs during their off-day. A random animated movie was playing on the TV, one Bucky didn’t bother to know its title. He picked up the last piece of dumpling and turned to her, waiting for her to speak out.

“I was talking to Clint earlier…” oh this can’t be good. “I was asking him how to be your friend and he told me to ask you about Finding Nemo and The Little Mermaid?”

Bucky choked on the dumpling, the food spluttering all over the floor. He kept coughing loudly before [Y/N] quickly offered him a glass of water. It took him a few moments to finally calm down and he wiped his mouth, grabbing the extra napkins to clean up the mess.

“Do you like the movies?” [Y/N] asked after a long beat of silence. “I mean, I guess you do, judging by how you decorate your apartment.”

“I- I–“ Bucky took a deep breath to calm his frustration. “The movies are fine. Clint is just being an asshole.”

[Y/N] nodded quietly, slurping some noodles before she turned to him again.

“Can we watch The Little Mermaid, then?”

“Maybe I should.” Bucky said to himself. “Just a little peek.” He convinced himself as he reopened the book.

Thoughts ?

Tagging some people : @pleasecallmecaptain @mangosoldier @wakandasoldier @tabi-toast @writing-soldiers @4theluvofall @meavie @montysmayhem @scarlettsoldier @marvelrevival @sebbys-girl@waitingfortherightpartner @elfwriter1088 @wordsturnintostories @chromealchemist @showbuckysomelove @meavie

[pineapple-scribbles]

Bullet Mates (Part 3)

Part 1🍍     Part 2🍍

A/N: Currently trying to tame the stress of writing art college essays, and making portfolios. If anyone else is getting stressed, I’d just write it all out, this series is a life saver for my anxiety. Even if you don’t like writing, using a private journal can help. 

Rating: Mature

Au: Mafia/Soulmate

Warning: Violence and mild sexual themes. Also, includes colorful language.

Word Count: +2k

Shuffling through the drawers I pulled out some joggers and a slightly fitted running shirt. I had to dress how a man would when working out, but It couldn’t be too tight fitting or else it would give me away.

Checking the clock, it was about 4:45 when I was done getting dressed, and tying up my shoulder-length hair. I had tried mulling through all of my fighting moves that didn’t involve weaponry, fast kills or harming a sparring partner. I settled on bluffing, making sure they thought I was useless in combat. They’d have to teach me their style of fighting or change the course of my training. Usually, Mafia families had their doctors out of sight, and protected, much like their bosses. It wasn’t rare that they did have some trained though, just not recommended.

Since I didn’t know where I’d be training today, I stayed put till Jooyoung set someone to retrieve me. About five minutes later, someone’s rapped on the door. ‘Oh please don’t be that chick. Please, please.’ I open the door, letting out a breath of relief.

A young man slightly older than me, stood flashing a teasing smile. His hair was an auburn shade, parted neatly, but he had a striking seductive undertone about him that made me wary. He was very handsome, and seemingly down to earth that he presents no immediate threat. “Daejung right? My name is Baekhyun, I can show you to the training facility.” setting off to the direction of where I walked towards the dining room this morning.

Spacing myself slightly behind him, he led us through the house. With an abrupt left turn, he started down a set of hardwood stairs. The walls were painted baby blue, there were yet again smaller paintings strung down the walkway. Once at the bottom of the stairs, it seemed we were on the second to last floor. The floor had different rooms that varied in purpose. One held weapons, high tech equipment and types of obstacle courses. There were about 20 people within the area, all of them doing separate training.

That’s when I noticed him, Jooyoung was about 12 feet from me. Shirtless. I nearly choked on air, his core muscles rippled as he landed a punch to his sparring partners stomach. His body glistened. Then he followed with an uppercut, which was dogged. He was expecting this,  leading with a forceful kick that brought his opponent’s feet out from under him, landing on the mat like a sack of potatoes. His bullet wound was tightly bandaged, it didn’t seem to bother him. My own was calming down.

Jooyoung had him pinned down, in that moment I began to imagine self underneath him. I bit my bottom lips to stop myself from moaning out loud. Refocusing, Jooyoung had helped the man up. He grinned widely, speaking to him most likely about his improvements. Once he was done, he turned towards us.

The closer he walked, the easier I could see his tattoos. Splashes of red, black and hints of green were present on his arm taking the shape of geometric roses and an elegant figure.  There were a few others on his skin, but I didn’t get the chance to really see them.

Baekhyun bowed at him, I knew I’d have to as well. I grit my teeth and bowed in respect. “Go help Kara with her weaponry training will you Baekhyun?” Jooyoung asserted. Baekhyun didn’t even hesitate with the request. In seconds he was gone. This also left me essentially alone with him.  “Alright, before we get started we need to test to see what you know.” he persisted. ‘Bring it on’ I snickered, If I could actually show him my skills, oh man he’d probably lose his shit.

He took me into a different mat room, there stood another man. He had a buzz cut hairstyle, his arms were covered with tattoos. He looked so stern I thought he’d crack the wall with just a look.

Already seeming a weakness in him, before we spar. He could definitely outmuscle me, but he was slower than me. I check his stance, his left knee had gone lax more so than his right. Most of his weight was shifted to his right, knowing this I would expect him to set right before attacking, but so he has a worn out left kneecap. One twist and he’d be down.

Jooyoung motioned to where I’d stand, and then indicated to start the fight to the large man. He jumped the gun, stepping right and going right for my upper body. I shifted right as he lunged. Then It hit me, if I could just dodge his moves, I can exhaust him. I would need no use of violence, which will show no threat.

I watched him closely, evading each punch, and blocking a kick he sent my way. I relied solely on my body movement, keeping my maneuvers fluid and smooth. It has been a while since I’ve sparred, but never had I gone completely on defense. I could see the interest forming in Jooyoung’s eyes. He was carefully watching my every move.

His gaze set my skin ablaze, I felt even more determined to show him what I got. I didn’t even know my mind was elsewhere till I heard a sharp crunch, suddenly blood flowed down my face. I let him distract me so much so, that the guy landed a punch that broke my nose from the impact. It burned from the bone being out of place.

My vision began to take on a shade of red, I wanted to break his giant ass neck right here and now. I stared him down, not taking my eyes off him I set my nose back in place, wiping the blood with the back of my hand. Bottling the rage, I converted to adrenaline and circled around him. Taunting him, slowly taking the bait, feet shifted and then lunge. Taking his force, I used it against him. I propelled myself into the air and used him as a weight to get behind him.

He tripped over himself, seeing I was nowhere near him. Suddenly it was fair game now, he was down and getting up would be slower because of his knee that I pinned him there till Jooyoung called it. “Christ! I should make you one of my enforcers instead of a Doctor”. He suggested. It was a notion I needed to avoid, I couldn’t exhibit further than my defense skills. “ I think it’s for the best I don’t sir, I dislike any form of violence.” I detested, Jooyoung didn’t press further on it but he was still evidently very curious. “ I wonder why that is, your form and defensive maneuvers are almost flawless even though you don’t like to fight?” he persisted for more answers. ‘I think fast, what backstory fits my alias?’ I tried to come up with a response. ‘Ah, I got !’

Looking up at him, I didn’t let any of my tells come out that could indicate that I was lying. “When I was a child, I wasn’t the most sociable kid, it made me an easy target.  Until my parents found out, then I was forced into defensive classes.” I knew he was searching for a weak spot, I could see it in his calculating eyes.  What I said wasn’t completely a lie. When my parents passed away, my aunt was working in the council, deciding to take me under her wing.  Mostly because I’d always come back home with a freshly bruised eye,  busted lip and less money that I had when I left the morning of.

I relaxed when he retreated out the door, stopping just for a moment. “Alistair takes her to  the obstacle course, I need to take care of something.” He rushed out, I thought it was odd how his voice had become slightly shaky. “What obstacle is he talking about?” I inquired. Alister turned towards me, responding in short sentences. “You’ll see”. His voice was very deep, that it was almost too hard to understand. ‘Man of few words. How helpful’ I wasn’t going to get anything out of him.  When we went to the obstacle room, just before I can open the door my wounded shoulder became tender, my body was rising in temperature.

While Alistair was walking in, I moved the collar of my shirt to examine the laceration. I carefully peeled the bandage, overnight his wound had become infected. ‘Fuck, I forgot about the bullet I used’ I became aware of the emergency situation. The bullets have a chemical compound used to cause targets that don’t immediately die from the contact to be affected by the infection that sets in.

I ran to Alister, my eyes wild and frightened. He and I could die before the days ends. “Where is Mr.Kim! It’s very important I see him.” Alistair furrowed his brows in confusion. “What do you mean? “ He asked, I was beginning to get pissed. “Where is he! The bullet could have been laced with something, and I hadn’t thought of it until now!” I yelled, he immediately took my arm without another word and rushed us upstairs.

The rooms seemed to blur together, he stopped abruptly at a wood door much like the one at his study. Alister knocked on the door, but we heard no answer. He was about to try again when I walked past him, turning the knob. He was about to halt me, but as the door opened you could see Jooyoung unconscious near the bathroom. Running towards him, I placed my head on his chest. I heard his strong heartbeat, but his faint breathing was an indicator of serious problems.

Turning my attention to Alistair, who was losing his shit, I ordered him. “Get my duffle bag, some rubbing alcohol, and a drip. “ Apparently not hearing me from shock, this time a yelled. “Get your ass going, Now!” This time he ran out of the room as if he caught fire.

Jooyoung yet again was in a dire situation, his lips were cracked from dehydration, and his face was drained ghostly pale. I lightly shook him, there was no sign of acknowledgment. “Jooyoung wake up!” I shook him again, each minute that went by increased my fear. I felt his faint aura but he wasn’t fully in tune with reality.

My mind was clouded, I’ve never been this scared since the day an officer had gone to my house, notifying me that my parents died in a street shooting. I bent down over Jooyoung and placed a kiss on his forehead. The action, steadied my nerves, helping to stay calm. It made me realize how much of my life I had suppressed all emotions, everything was new territory. ‘How could an assassin have significant other?’

It didn’t take Alister long to grab the supplies I needed, there were a few more members at the door when he arrived but the look they received from me halted all efforts to get in. He was already shirtless, so all I had to do was delicately remove the dressing covering the wound. Having a pretty good idea how it looked from my own injury, I was surprised to see the infection that seemed to consume it. There were faint collective gasps within the room. Quickly I walked to the bathroom, washing my hands thoroughly before getting to work

I removed the sutures, it was a fairly mild infection compared to what I’ve seen before. It wasn’t deadly, but if I didn’t fix this now, we will be six feet under.  I took some of the rubbing alcohol, added some healing herbs to it that we genetically produce for quick healing and poured the concoction into the wound. Slowly the infection began to retreat, leaving raw flesh. I feel the whispers of discomfort from the contact of alcohol in the wound.  It was only bleeding, which meant the natural healing processes was taking over.

Digging into the bag, I pulled out a line of stitching and closed it up. Once I was finished bandaging, I motioned for Alistair over. “We need to get him to the bed” I huffed, already exhausted from the echoes of his pain that are affecting me. Alister assisted me, I covered Jooyoung with the plush blankets. After walking over to get the liquid drip, I inserted the needle in his arm so he could get liquids back into his system. Without a single word, I walk out passed everyone. They didn’t stop me, I just went straight to my room.

Having to report back to the council, it was time to play both sides. I knew my place as an assassin, but also as an individual. Using my connections, I can find out why Jooyoung was the target in the first place. 

Thank you for reading! <3

[eventuallyfall-blog]

13 Envelopes

pairing: reader x lin summary: After graduating from UCLA, you would find any way to escape having to go back home. Lucky for you, your Aunt Jasmine Cephas Jones had organized a way for you to have the adventure you’d never gotten to have before. You’re ready to take her up on the offer. warnings: rpf (naturally), mentions of teen pregnancy a/n: thank you all for liking part i! we’re starting to go places now and this is Slightly Longer (by slightly i mean about 2k words longer). (previous part) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) tagged: @defenestrate-yourself-please

According to Aunt Jasmine's instructions, the apartment was on 15th street and while you didn't know what to expect, you were expecting it to look so... residential. It was the only word you could use to describe the area with apartments everywhere and a corner store just a block away. It reminded you oddly of your own apartment area back in LA and that was enough to make you feel homesick and eager to get back home already. At this point, it felt like you were trying to be something you weren't. You weren't the adventurer like Aunt Jasmine and you didn't take risks like this. But you'd came all this way and leaving felt like it'd be a let down.

So you climbed up to the door, finding you couldn't open the front door. You gave a sound of annoyance, turning your head to note the buzzers. To your surprising, the name Pippa was written out next to one of the buzzers in the cleanest, largest handwriting you'd seen in a while. It reminded you of the nice girl with a big water bottle that had sat next to you in class who had always let you borrow her notes if you'd been out of class and had shown you how to apply the perfect wing. Instantly you liked this Pippa and instinctively trusted her. You pressed the buzzer and a sweet sounding voice answered. “I'll buzz you up.”

Pippa didn't even know who it was and she was willing to open the door to you. You took note of her apartment number and climbed the stairs up to her apartment and knocked on the door. The door opened to reveal a tall woman with long, dark hair and kind eyes. Her eyes went wide and instantly she threw her arms around you – much to your surprise. “You must be Y/N! Your aunt has told me so much about you,” she said as she pulled you in and you realized this must be Pippa. “I was beginning to think you were never going to show! Oh, your aunt is going to be so, so happy to see you.”

You didn't expect her to be this talkative nor did you expect there to be a room waiting for you. The room Pippa showed you was as big as your apartment in LA's kitchen and living room put together. Wasn't New York City supposed to be smaller? “Uh, it's nice to meet you,” you finally managed to get in as soon as Pippa fell silent. “Aunt Jas set all this up?”

“I helped. I got her the copy of the key to my place,” she said with pride. “Oh, I was supposed to give you this! Your aunt also says you should change that as soon as you get the chance. And before you open the next letter, I need to let you know that your aunt and I are involved in this musical and it's about to get crazy. I'll take you by rehearsals later – get settled in and changed!”

She pressed a piece of paper with four numbers scrawled across it in your Aunt Jasmine's handwriting – your mother's birthday. You never really thought of your Aunt Jasmine as caring towards your mother since she'd stopped visiting when you were fourteen after a huge fight with your mother. You couldn't really remember the details of the fight but it had been upsetting enough all the same. It was a sign that maybe your Aunt Jasmine did care about you and your mother. You pulled the key out from the envelope again – so this place is what the key was for, then. While you were exhausted, you were also kind of curious about the musical Aunt Jasmine was involved in. So instead you put your backpack on the bed provided, examining the space and finding that you had a bathroom to yourself as well. An unexpected perk. Letter number two could wait until you were clean and changed.

The plane ride had left you feeling a little grimy so you decided you might as well shower before you change. It gave you time to think over what was happening here. Overthinking was one of your best and worst qualities. While it had enabled to turn over those twenty page essays for classes easily it also paralyzed you whenever you do something that so clearly was just for you. It was easy to think how leaving California was a mistake, it was easy to see the cons and none of the pros. You supposed you probably should start thinking pros list. The shower time gave you a little time to think about the pros of the situation you'd thrown yourself into (with the help of your Aunt Jasmine).

Pro number one: you'd get to see your aunt, who you hadn't seen in years. And maybe seeing her again would bring you two closer together, which could be listed as pro number two. This was a new experience and that could help you in your writing. Which would make it easier to get a writing job somewhere, anywhere. That was a total five pros right there. You wanted to think of at least ten but that was all you could bring yourself to think of.

As for getting dressed – you weren't certain what one wore to rehearsals for a musical. You decided to go jeans and a simple t shirt, figuring Pippa would set you straight if you'd gotten it wrong. Letter number two had a cute little sketch of Lady Liberty on it and you wondered who did it. You couldn't picture Aunt Jasmine as an artist in the traditional sense of the word.

Honey bun,

If you're opening this letter, I'm assuming you made it to Pippa's safely. Which means I'll proceed forward as if you are at Pippa's. So, you might be wondering what prompted me to reach out to you after all these years and with no explanation whatsoever give you money and a plane ticket and expect you to drop everything and visit me in New York City. In truth, it's partly because I miss you and want to see you again. However, the biggest reason is because everyone deserves a chance at adventure and I know you rarely go on adventures.

I'm not sure why you don't, but whatever the reason, it's high time you had one. And I know you're probably wondering why I asked you to leave all your electronics behind in a world where electronics are becoming a necessity. Which is why this letter is mostly about explanations. For a lot of things, like why I never contacted you after the fight with your mother, what I've been doing since I last saw you, why I decided to give you an adventure. But first things first: why you couldn't bring electronics along.

Leaving behind everything you know is scary. It's the scariest thing you could ever do and it's even scarier without the security blanket electronics give you. It gives you a chance to experience the world in a way that feels brand new. I have no way of knowing if you followed that request or not and it's not like I'll be searching you to make sure you followed through. But I'm hoping that if you did follow through, you followed through all the way.

Now, for what I've been doing since you last saw me. I went to school, got a degree in acting, and have been working a few odd jobs here and there. That's really it. Nothing that could give me any excuse to not call or even send a letter – which is why I'm probably going overboard with sending fourteen at all at once. Which might be guilt talking, I'm sure. But it just felt like after all the things I said about your dad, you might not want to talk to me. I don't know how close you are to your father, but I stand by calling him a son of a bitch and I'm not sure why she stays with him. Hopefully that doesn't give you second guesses on staying.

I suppose now that you have the information to the bank card and the money, you could take it and go wherever you want. Which is why I'm going to change it up a bit here on the letter opening order so you feel a little bit more interested in staying involved with this adventure. You cannot open letter number three until I get to see you. Hope to see you soon!

All my love, Aunt Jasmine

With that, it was like the memories came flooding back of Aunt Jasmine's visits before they stopped after the fight with your mother. The firecracker who would take you on trips to the museums and bought fancy caviar for you to try “just once” and somehow always made sure she'd stayed in an amazing hotel for you to play princess in. How she'd take you to concerts and plays, insisting that culture was important for a growing child despite not being that much older than you. You didn't realize how much you'd missed all of it until you read this particular letter.

You found yourself having to wipe away tears and still unable to piece together why you could barely remember the fight Aunt Jasmine and your mother had. You vaguely remembered it starting with your Aunt Jasmine indeed telling your mother she didn't understand why she stayed with dad and mentioning your grandfather being willing to help. For your part, you didn't understand why your mother was so against your grandfather's help the same you didn't understand how your mother and Aunt Jasmine had two different mothers. He'd offered to help at multiple points in your life, floating in and out and eventually he just existed as an abstract concept, the only proof he existed being the movies and TV shows he was on.

Why your mother refused help from your grandfather didn't matter, however. You remember vaguely the fight being about how Aunt Jasmine always stuck her nose where it didn't belong and how your mother insisted she was happy still with your father. Your mother accused Aunt Jasmine of not having enough life experience to understand. Anyone with eyes could tell she was lying, though. The final nail in the coffin had been your mother accusing Aunt Jasmine's mother of being a whore. That was when she stopped visiting.

Pippa reappeared with a bright grin, taking you out of your train of thought. To your great relief, she was dressed just as casually as you were. You had dozens of questions for her – what Aunt Jasmine had been up to besides acting, how they'd met, what the musical they were doing even was, how much involvement did she have in this – but none of them ever reached your lips. Instead you followed after her, noting the trains that you two took on your way to the Richard Rogers theater. While you were expecting some level of amazement, you weren't expecting an actual Broadway theater. “Wait, this is on Broadway?”

You were stunned if only because you couldn't picture your Aunt Jasmine as a Broadway type. You could barely remember if Aunt Jasmine could sing, come to think of it. Pippa nodded absently as she led you through the stage door where there was a level of hurry that you'd never encountered before – even in UCLA where everyone was rushing to their next class or rushing to meet someone. You could feel the stress radiating off of the people as Pippa led you to her dressing room with a bright grin. “Your aunt and I share a dressing room with Renee. Renee's going to be excited to meet you – Jas won't shut up about how proud she is of you for your master's.”

Aunt Jasmine knew you had a master's degree and bragged about it to her friends – who were actresses on a Broadway play. That sentence definitely did not seem like a sentence you'd ever think or use to summarize part of your life but there it was. Unexpected and unprecedented. Everything about this was unexpected, really. At some point, it became far too much to just sit in Pippa's dressing room so you asked her where the bathroom was. She gave you directions and you got up and left – running straight into a man who looked like he needed a really good night's rest and dark, shoulder length hair. And unfortunately for you, he was carrying extremely hot coffee that ended up all over your favorite comfy shirt. And you couldn't help the loud swear that escaped your lips while he instantly went, “Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Here, let me help!”

At some point, he realized as he was going to help (in the loosest definition of the word, you supposed) by dabbing at the stain on your chest. For your part, your cheeks flamed as you realized this very attractive man had his hands hovering right over your chest with a napkin. You grabbed the napkin and dabbed at your shirt yourself. “Not that I'm against you touching my chest, but I feel you should probably buy me dinner first,” you managed to get out, a lot shakier than you would like. At least he had the decency to be just as embarrassed as you were. Some guys were so indecent by not being embarrassed when you were. This was made worse by remembering how your Aunt Jasmine was definitely far better at flirting than you. Broadway actress, better flirter, better at keeping her curls in order, better at applying red lipstick... it was entirely unfair to compare yourself to your aunt, you knew. However, you also felt it was fair since she was only two years older than you as well – it was like comparing yourself to a sister. “I'm sorry about running into you and making you waste your coffee, though.”

“It's... fine,” he got out and you took note of how dark his eyes were. Like black holes, sucking you in and making it impossible for you to escape. That was also unfair. “I'm sorry, I don't recognize you. I thought I met everyone on the crew.”

“Oh, I'm not on the crew,” you said, realizing he must be involved with one of the plays going on at this theater. “I'm Y/N – Jasmine's niece.”

A flash of recognition crossed his face. “Oh,” he exclaimed, pulling you into a large hug that you weren't expecting. He gave nice hugs, you noted with a slight pang of panic. Attractive and gave good hugs was an unfair combination, you decided. “I'm Lin. Your aunt talks about you all the time. I didn't realize... I just thought you'd be younger.”

He was definitely blushing, you noted. “Uh yeah,” you said, realizing that it was kinda screwed up that your mother and Aunt Jasmine were so far apart in age. You rarely thought about it until someone pointed it out, actually. You didn't want to think about the reasonings behind that and Lin didn't need to know everything about your screwed up family. “Well, I'm not. Actually, do you know where she is? I'm supposed to meet up with her.”

Lin nodded quickly. “We just finished rehearsing Say No To This – she's still on the stage talking to Anthony. Here, I'll walk you there. I don't want you getting thrown out by security just because they don't recognize you. Did you not get a guest badge?” You shook your head, wondering what on earth he was talking about. You quickly realized this musical was a much bigger deal than Pippa previously implied. There was a lot of people here but somehow they were all involved in the project. Lin managed to fill the void with hundreds of words, talking at an insanely rapid speed and you couldn't bring yourself to admit you were having a hard time keeping up with him. So you tuned him out.

There Aunt Jasmine was on stage and of course she unfairly outshone you even in just a tank top and dance pants. And suddenly you were nervous – it'd been so long since you last saw your aunt. What if she didn't recognize you? What if you had nothing to talk about? Of course, these fears were ridiculous considering Pippa seemed to recognize you right off the bat despite never meeting you – why wouldn't your own aunt? When Aunt Jasmine finally glanced over at you, a large smile appeared on her face and she abandoned her conversation with who you figured must be Anthony to run over to you and pull you into a tight hug. “Y/N,” she half yelled. “Oh gosh, girl, it's been too long!”

Somehow, her recognizing you was worse. You were heavily aware of everyone looking over at you and your aunt. That was the thing about Aunt Jasmine – she tended to attract a lot of attention. You wanted to give a scathing reply asking whose fault that was but nerves got the better of you. “I missed you,” you said instead and it wasn't even a lie. “It's good to see you again.”

Aunt Jasmine was grinning as she led you back to Pippa and her's dressing room. You supposed that it would be nice to catch up with Aunt Jasmine proper. Almost ten years without seeing her. And as your Aunt Jasmine recounted stories of meeting the cast, stories about the cast in general, and stories from her own college experience, you realized what you missed most about Aunt Jasmine. Whenever you saw Aunt Jasmine, you were guaranteed to come home with a story. She and you had mostly grown up together. Eventually, you found yourself sitting in her and Pippa's dressing room recounting your twenty-first birthday to them in laughter. “So my good friend Lissa goes and flashes the bouncer so the whole group could get in despite me going we should just go somewhere where everyone can get in,” you said, fond memories of Lissa resurfacing. “And it was so dumb, because we ended up having to leave early anyway because it turns out that Katy couldn't hold her liquor at all so we didn't even get to see the band that we went to see play!”

Pippa had her hand over her mouth, doubled over in laughter. You'd barely noticed the time flying by until someone knocked on the door. “Hey, Renee is here so Lin wants you guys to come rehearse the Schuyler Sisters,” the person said. “Oh and, Y/N, you're welcome to stay and watch.”

And it was then that you realized: you could open the third envelope now. Yet at the same time – you were truly curious to see what your aunt was doing in this play. Schuyler – why was that ringing a bell? You supposed there was only one way to find out.