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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

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Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

TAGLIST (ADD YOURSELF HERE)

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arcturusreads · 4 years ago

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Christmas Whiskey Part Two - Merhayes

@merxmac asked for a part two to this fanfic so I hope this doesn't disappoint. Also, if y'all have prompts please send them my way, my dissertation is killing me and I'd love a distraction

Cormac wasn’t surprised when he got home on Christmas Eve to find his boys still awake playing video games and Irene in the kitchen prepping the turkey. He’d managed to draw the boys’ attention from their game long enough to propose the idea of dropping in on Meredith and her family during their walk.

He wasn’t at all surprised at Irene’s eagerness to the suggestion. His sister-in-law had been wanting to meet Meredith since her own visit to the hospital. Once she’d found out that the General Surgeon was out of her coma and back on her feet, she’d kept asking Cormac when they could meet. So far, he had managed to put her off by saying that Meredith was still recovering and that everyone’s schedules at the hospital were still crazy as they came out of the peak of the pandemic. What Cormac had been surprised at was how easily the boys agreed to it, Austin even saying that he was looking forward to it.

***

Christmas morning had passed. By the times the boys had woken up, it was more like afternoon. They’d opened presents, lit a candle for Abigail and the boys messed around with their presents, which included a new set of goalposts in the garden that were a bit studier than the ones that Cormac had put-up when they had first moved there, and a drone. Cormac and Irene spent most of their time in the kitchen sorting out Christmas dinner. Afterwards, they’d all sprawled out around the living room, half comatose, wondering why they decided that a second helping was a good idea.

It was 5pm by the time the four of them had managed to haul themselves out of their seats and change out of their pyjamas. As he shrugged on his jacket, Cormac couldn’t help but feel slightly jittery at the thought of seeing Meredith today. He had texted her that morning to wish her a merry Christmas and ask if they should bring anything over to hers. She’d said that there was no need, they had enough food to last them until the end of January but said she was looking forward to seeing him.

“Mac, you ready?” Irene nudged him with her elbow. “What are you smiling about?” She teased.

Cormac hadn’t even realised that he had been smiling in the first place and quickly replaced his expression with a more neutral one.

“Probably thinking about Dr Grey again,” Liam joined in on the teasing as Austin made kissy faces behind his brother.

“You know it’s not too late for me to take those drones back.” Cormac threw an arm over each of his sons’ shoulders and began walking towards the door.

***

There was a large park that happened to be smack in the middle of the route between Cormac Meredith’s houses. After taking a long walk around it and having a kick about with the football the boys had bought with them. They began to make their way to Meredith’s.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have brought anything with us?” Irene asked him for the 20th time as Meredith’s home came into view.

“We’re bringing Da, I’m sure that will be more than enough.”

Cormac groaned, a red flush crawling up his neck. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his family. “Can I trust you all to behave when we go in there?” He was praying that they wouldn’t make any comments in front of Meredith, or he would be mortified.

“I’ll have you know that me and my nephews are the best-behaved people you know.” The smirk on their three faces told him otherwise and he shook his head and he began walking again.

“Heathens, the lot of you. Don’t know why I put up with it.”

He was responded to with snickers and rolled his eyes. As the Hayes family walked up to Meredith’s door, Cormac cursed at the butterflies in his stomach. Damnit, he was a grown man with two teenagers. He should be past this stage of feeling nervous about seeing a woman. It wasn’t like this was a date. She’d invited him over as a friend, their kids were going to be there.

Cormac continued trying to convince himself of this as he knocked the door. It didn’t work though because the moment Meredith opened the door to his family an entire zoo erupted in his stomach. She wasn’t dressed up to the nines, in matching white loungewear and hair half pulled up but it was the flush on her cheeks that caused a wave of feeling to wash over Cormac. The grin on her face, the glint in her eyes and the ease of her shoulders. She was radiant.

“Hey, sorry it took a while to get to the door. We’re used to people just walking in and out. Come in!” She ushered, Cormac, his boys and Irene into her home.

Before Cormac was able to say anything, Irene stepped forward with a grin on her face. “Meredith, I have to say it’s nice to finally meet the woman behind the name. I’m Irene, Mac’s sister-in-law.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Irene. Sorry we couldn’t meet sooner.”

Irene waved off the apology, “I hear you were a bit tied up, so no worries. Thank you so much for inviting us to your home.”

“I have an open-door policy at this house, you guys are always free to drop in if you need anything. Most people do. Austin, Liam, feel free to hang your coats up. You guys have a good Christmas?””

Mer turned to the boys who were slightly surprised that she had managed to identify them both correctly. They’d only met two or three times and they hadn’t even expected the surgeon to have paid much attention to them.

The boys nodded and launched into how their Christmas had gone so far. Cormac couldn’t believe with how much ease and comfort the boys spoke to Meredith. Sometimes he found it hard to get two words out of them when he got home from work.

Meredith began to herd the four of them into the living room where everyone else was lounging around. Cormac realised he hadn’t actually said anything to Meredith since he had gotten there, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards him.

“Hey?” Meredith looked at him, slightly confused.

Cormac quickly let go of her arm, “Uh, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

“The same thing you text me this morning?” Meredith teased, arching a brow. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hayes” She grinned at him, seeing him slightly bashful was a new thing. Cormac was usually a lot surer of himself.

“Come on, let’s head in.”

Meredith found that there was no need to make any introductions to the kids. Austin and Liam and sat on the floor with them, which was covered with blankets and cushions. Liam had started to chat with Zola and Bailey whilst Austin was taking a keen interest as Ellis showed him what she had gotten for Christmas.

As Cormac said hello to the other surgeons in the room, Meredith headed into the kitchen and began to heat the milk to make the hot chocolate. Whilst she was never going to be the next MasterChef, hot chocolate was one thing that she could manage.

Stirring the pan of milk, Meredith looked out onto the living room. Seeing the way both Cormac and Irene had settled into conversation with everyone else. Seeing both her and Cormac’s kids getting along so easily. A feeling passed over her that she had not felt in a very long time. Not since Derek had been alive.

She’d always felt at home here, a sense of belonging but now there was a feeling of completion within her. There was nothing missing, her heart didn’t feel as though it was yearning for anything. It was like something had just clicked into place.

“Can I help you out?”

Meredith had even seen Irene approach her, “You’re our guest! Go and relax.”

“You wouldn’t let us bring anything, the least I can do is help you with the hot chocolate. Where can I find the mugs?”

Knowing that Irene wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Meredith directed her towards mugs. “They’re in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

“You know, I haven’t seen Mac like this since before my sister died,” Irene placed all the mugs on the counter next to the stove and began to spoon the cocoa powder in there. “When he first moved back to the states, I was excited to have him and the boys here but he wasn’t himself. Not that I was expecting him to be after everything he’s been through.”

Irene sighed, placed the spoon on the counter and turned to face Meredith. “Ever since he told me that you were awake again and leaving the hospital, there’s more light in his eyes. He’s more playful, like he was before. His tread isn’t so heavy anymore.”

“I, uh,” Meredith wasn’t quite sure what to say. She knew that things had changed between her and Cormac, but she didn’t think that any of the changes that Irene had mentioned were down to her. “I mean, work has gotten a lot more manageable lately with the Covid numbers going down so that’s probably helping.”

Chuckling, Irene began to stir the hot chocolate and Meredith poured milk into the mugs. “We both know that isn’t true. My brother-in-law has started to fall hard for you, Meredith. I just don’t want to see him hurt if you don’t feel the same way but from the way you’ve been looking at him, I’m going to guess that you do.”

With that she picked up two mugs and walked into the living room with them. Meredith stood, mouth agape as she watched Irene walk away. Her own sisters had only danced around the topic about Cormac and her, teasing her and making the odd comment when they were seen together. They definitely had not been as forthright as Irene had just been with her.

“Momma! Hot cocoa time!” Ellis’ voiced pulled Meredith out of her thoughts as she took as many mugs as she could carry into the living room.

Eventually there were only two mugs left and as Meredith made her last trip from the kitchen, there was only one person, other than herself left without a mug.

“Hot chocolate?” Meredith offered the mug to Cormac who took it gratefully, their finger brushing against each other.

“Thanks, Grey.”

Looking around for a place to sit, Meredith found that the only place left was next to Cormac on the two-seater.

“Do you mind?” She asked, motioning to the seat next to him with her head.

“That you sit on your sofa in your house?” The glint in his eye made simultaneously made Meredith’s stomach flip and made her want to punch him

“I don’t know why I bothered asking…” Meredith muttered under her breath, but Cormac managed to hear and laughed.

From the other side of the room, Irene kept an eye on them the entire night. Now 100% sure that Meredith Grey did feel the same way about Cormac and come hell or high water, she was going to make sure that they both did something about it.

#merhayes #grey's anatomy #cormac hayes #meredith x hayes #mcwidow #meredith grey #mcwidows #cormac x meredith #excuse me whilst i rearrange the alphabet

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peppermintquartz · 3 years ago

Text

Meet the Family

TyRo, Playroom!verse

Fluffy AF

Tyler isn't going to admit it, but he feels nervous. It's Thanksgiving weekend and he is meeting Roman's family - his whole family - at Roman's grandmother's place. The sky is slightly overcast and the humidity is high enough to make Tyler feel sticky, but the anticipation of meeting Roman's extended family is what's causing his insides to squirm.

"Breathe, babe," Roman murmurs as he turns right onto a driveway, with hedges that are practically exploding with pink bougainvillea blossoms on either side. "It's not a big deal. We're gonna slap some meat on the grill, have some beer or wine, have lots of roast chicken because turkey is a dry bastard bird for white people only - no offense - and watch football."

"Sounds like paradise," Tyler says, privately panicking.

In the backseat, Seffy is napping. She was delighted by Tyler's private jet but wore herself out with the games on board the plane. Tyler smiles at the reflection of the girl in the rear view mirror, and then tenses when he sees over half a dozen vehicles parked haphazardly on a wide grassy patch, in front of a large two-story house with a pale blue roof. On the right there is another single-story building, with an extended roofed patio where an outdoor kitchen is full of people bustling about.

Young children and teenagers are running around, some yelling, and a number of men and women, almost all of them tall and broad, with long dark hair and rich brown skin, stood around chatting. They wave as they see Roman drive up, and one of them shouted for the kids to get out of the way for Roman to park.

"I know you said you had a large family but I wasn't picturing this," Tyler says through a tight, forced smile.

Roman squeezes his boyfriend's thigh. "It's okay, babe, they've all been wanting to meet you for ages. They're thrilled you're here." Then he reaches behind to shake his daughter awake. "Hey Scary, we're here. Time to say hi to your tina and cousins."

"Who's Tina?" Tyler asks as Seffy yawns and stretches.

"Tina matua is 'grandmother' in Samoan. I'm not that fluent in it but some things gotta be passed down. Come on, let's get the luggage."

When Roman opens the door, his relatives call out welcomes to him and to Seffy; when Tyler emerges from the safety of the car, he gets enthusiastic yells of "Hey it's Tyler! Hi Tyler!"

A gray-haired woman, plump and wreathed in smiles, comes over from the outdoor kitchen to hug Roman, then Seffy, and - much to Tyler's surprise - Tyler himself.

"You are much more prettier than Roman tells me!" she exclaims, and then swats Roman on the arm. "You are terrible! The photos you send don't capture how pretty he is! And you don't feed him enough! Look how skinny he is! You should be ashamed of yourself, Roman Reigns. Go sort your luggage out, and then go help your aunts with the preparation. Tomorrow we cook all day, I will have no time with your boyfriend." She shoves Roman towards the boot of the car and takes Tyler by the hand. "Come with me. I simply must show you everything I have of that naughty boy. Seffy, you have to tell me about your new teachers and classmates later, okay? And about your mother's new husband. Your father, he tells me nothing. You help your dad and then go play, and we'll catch up before dinner."

"Okay Tina Nina!" Seffy pulls the old woman down for a kiss on her wrinkled brown face before racing off, yelling for someone named Coral.

Meanwhile, Roman's grandmother bullies the other relatives out of her way, saying, "No, no, I have him for today, you can ask him all your questions tomorrow." Then, to Tyler, she adds, "Where are my manners? I am Penina, but everyone in the family calls me Tina Nina."

Swept away by Penina and rather overwhelmed, Tyler allows himself to be first led to the kitchen to get a drink and a sandwich ("So thin! I must scold that naughty boy again later") before he is led to what appears to be a rumpus room that has three large display cabinets that are full of trophies of different sorts, and family photos fill the walls that are visible. It's clear to Tyler that Tina Nina loves her family fiercely.

She sits him down and pats his hands. "Now you eat, and let's take a good look at you, hm?" Fishing out a pair of glasses from her pocket, she studies Tyler closely. "Mm. The photos on the internet, they're too polished. All that makeup and hairspray and whatnot. You need more sun. Plenty of sun here in Samoa, so that's a problem solved." With a broad grin that flashes two silver teeth, she asks, "How has Roman been treating you? He was always on the move, that boy, never able to stay still. Always playing pranks or getting into trouble. I was angry when I heard he didn't want to marry Galina, but at least he's doing a good job as a dad, and he seems happier with you."

Finally having a chance to speak, Tyler sets aside the fruit juice he was offered earlier and asks, "Does he really?" Then, flushing, he quickly answers, "He's, um. He is treating me very well, thank you. He cooks for us and he's super supportive of me and my career."

"Good. Good. You know, you're the first one he's brought home to me willingly," Penina says with a knowing smirk. "Not even Galina got to visit me here until I made a fuss. I had to fly out to the mainland to meet her and Seffy, when Seffy was one year old. Gave the boy a good whooping with my slipper for not introducing us earlier." She shrugs, her vibrant floral dress rustling. "After we'd seen your photo - you know, the one where he was carrying you? - online, he immediately said he'll try to get you to come here. Couldn't wait to introduce you to us."

The garrulous old woman laughs when she sees Tyler's surprise. "That's when I knew! That's when I knew my Roman has found the one." Patting Tyler's knee, she adds, "I'm glad you're here. The family is excited to have you here. The island will do you good. I can feel it in my heart."

She stands and goes to one of the cabinets to fish about in a drawer, before pulling out two photo albums. "Now, what kind of grandmother would I be if I don't embarrass him by sharing his baby photos?" Winking, she stage-whispers, "Lots of naked baby bums in that blue album. Start there."

[TBC]

#fic:meet the family #TyRo #finn's playroom

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Note

am really interested in seeing nat with an early chris. the moment where she says that his hands are his and he deserves the mind that moves his hands, i would love to see more of a gentle caring nat towards the scared chris like that 🥺

CW: Conditioned silence/kneeling, trauma recovery, recovering whumpee, references to pet whump

“Hey, there.”

Nat has twenty years of this, more or less, under her belt. Twenty years of time since she walked away from creating this mess and dedicated herself to trying to mitigate the damage, one rescue at a time. It feels like saving a single honeybee while whole colonies are fed into a woodchipper, some days, but she tells herself the same platitudes she tells all of them, too:

Even one life saved is worth the risk, and worth the effort.

She doesn’t use terms like value or cost, with the rescues. They know they exist to be exchanged for money, it’s teaching them that they exist outside of what they can produce or perform for an owner that’s the hard part.

Twenty years of keeping her voice low, just like this, and still every single rescue is a whole person, and it always feels a little bit new.

“Do you need some help?”

The newest rescue in their house, the teenage Romantic that only rarely moves out from behind the bed and then retreats right back into his room as soon as he’s spooked, pauses where he stands in the doorway. It’s not right to say he pauses - he freezes, there, like a deer caught in headlights midway through flashing the white tail that signifies it wants to run.

His eyes are wide, and so very green. A smattering of pale freckles across his pale skin, sickly from being kept indoors so often, pulls at Nat’s heartstrings in a very particular way. Strawberry blond hair that flirts with copper is clipped just so, to hang into his eyes just a little bit.

It kills Nat, but she can see why it was cut that way. It makes his expressions seem even more plaintive.

“Um.” The boy’s voice is low, soft and uncertain, and his hands close tightly around the sides of the doorframe he leans against, as though using it to hold himself up. “I’m. Um. I’m, I’m... I, I, I was, I did-” He flinches, winces back away from her. “Um. N-Never, I’m, I’m, I’m sorry, never-... never mind-”

Shifting back on his feet, ready to flee, torn between the carefully conditioned obedience that tries to hold him until he’s dismissed and the fear that pushes him to run. She’s seen it a hundred times, by now.

Nat doesn’t get up or try to go after him - she’d be a threat, if she did that. Instead, she only folds her hands in her lap, in plain view, and gives him a slight, soothing smile.

“You’re okay,” She says, gently. “You’re okay. Jake said you ate some chicken on Thursday, did you feel better after that?”

The boy watches her, and slowly nods. His shoulders hunch up a little towards his chin.

“Good. That’s good, kiddo.”

There might be a flicker - the slightest hint - of a smile at the nickname. All the boy’s expressions happen in the faintest shades of themselves. He’s not the first one to have learned to regulate even the twitch of an eyebrow, the shift of a muscle near the corner of his mouth.

“So. That’s a plate of fried chicken, and then... have you eaten anything since?”

Another hesitation. Then a slight shake of the head.

“Did you come here to tell me you might be hungry?”

No response this time, except for his knuckles going white where he clings to the dark wooden doorframe, one of the beautiful parts of living in such an old house. His eyes are locked on her face, trying to read danger there, a threat, anger that he dared ask for anything that hadn’t been offered. She can read it all. She’d read this book before, of course, but every single time the story unfolds a little differently.

“Well. I’m hungry, and I was about to head over into the kitchen and make a couple of turkey and swiss sandwiches with extra mustard and some barbecue potato chips. Because I, for one, am starving.

The boy bounces, just once, on the balls of his feet and then goes carefully back to still again. He’s like some kind of carved statue, everywhere he manages to go - hidden behind the bed or standing in the doorway to the home office, he looks like he’s been carved from stone by some outstanding sculptor, brought only halfway to life.

“I... like... turkey sandwiches,” He offers, his voice low and tentative. “Ma’am.”

“Oh, please.” Nat waves one hand. “Where I come from, you only ma’am old people, and don’t you listen to Jake saying that they ma’am and sir everybody in the south, we live by Midwest rules around here.”

The boy, who no longer understands those kinds of regional differences, continues simply to stare at her.

She smiles and moves slowly to her feet - even as slow as she can possibly go, he still flinches back at first, his hands dropping to twist into the hem of the oversized shirt he’s wearing with a pair of mesh basketball shorts he’d found in the back of the bedroom closet, abandoned by some prior rescue.

He backs up for her to move past him towards the kitchen, then follows her on silent bare feet, a teenage ghost wandering the halls of a house full of them all, deposited here as shades and told to find their way back to life.

Words aren’t worth much, in the grand scheme of things. What helps a rescue isn’t words - most of them have had reassurance and comfort twisted and spun and turned into the very phrases used to most wound them.

What helps a rescue is a simple action, repeated without expectation of repayment. Nat makes a sandwich, and then another. She puts more potato chips on his plate than hers. And she doesn’t try to make him sit at the table. They’ve already learned he wasn’t allowed to do that. Instead, she carries both plates into the living room and sets his down on the coffee table.

He sinks to his knees with a perfect, practiced motion Nat has seen nearly every day since she walked away from WRU and started her first safehouse. They teach them all to kneel, no matter their designation.

They all know how to kneel more than they are allowed to remember how to breathe.

He watches her for permission, and she knows it will take time before she can stop giving it.

“Go ahead, kiddo.”

His hands raise to pick up the sandwich, gentle as can be. “Thank... thank, thank-...” He winces, pressing his fingers into the sandwich even harder, leaving divots in the soft white bread, little impressions like a man pushing his hand into clay. “Thank you, m-... Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo. You can sit with me on the couch, if you’d like.”

His eyes flicker to the couch and then back to her, trying to decide what she wants him to do. “I like the floor,” He says, finally. His voice is strangely flat, each word drops like a carefully chosen stone when he speaks like this. “Pets belong-”

“Sssshhh, you don’t have to say that stuff here. Do whatever makes you comfortable.” Nat sits herself down, takes a bite, and then carefully peels up the sandwich to slide a few potato chips between the top layer of swiss and the bread. She hums, and catches the boy watching her, looking at his own chips, then back up at her. She grins. “Childhood habit.”

He blinks, and then echoes her motion, his fingers long and thin. “Child... childhood?”

They’re always fascinated by stories about childhoods and families, all the things they must have had in some form, and lost, and can’t remember.

“I grew up a farm kid, did I ever tell you that? No, of course not, you’ve been here four days. Anyway, my dad was a farmer...”

He starts to eat the sandwich as she speaks, in careful bites that are gradually distracted by her words into larger ones. By the time she runs out of stories, he’s eaten every bite on his plate, and shifted from his knee to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

His eyes are still locked on her, but she can see that there is something new his expression.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth

#trauma recovery #caretaker #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #trauma recovery whump #whump #chris the strawberry blond romantic #caretaker and whumpee #recovering whumpee #conditioning #referenced pet whump #referenced dehumanization

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katebacks · 5 years ago

Text

Kiss it Off Me - Jjk/Pjm - (M)

→ pairing | Jeon Jungkook x Reader , Park Jimin x Reader → genre | high school au!, smut, angst, bad boy jungkook → word count | 7,921 → summary | Jimin is a player on the school baseball team, you are his girl. Jungkook wants you to be his. → warnings | oral sex, Adult content, Violence, alcoholic beverages, low slang words,

The first time he saw you was when he was walking down the school corridor and he watched a girl in jeans overalls and a ponytail coming down the stairs with two other girls and three guys. You hugged a history book in you arms and laughed at something that one of the girls had said. Jungkook had been studying there since the first year of high school, but he never saw you in any of the school corridors, you probably should be a new student.

The second time was in history class, where you sat at the first table in the row by the window and for some reason he was unable to take his eyes off you for the rest of the class. In the canteen you sat with the same people who were with you the first time he had seen you, laughing at the jokes that the boys told and he for no apparent reason was jealous of them making you smile.

At the end of class, he saw you waiting for the bus and didn't leave until you boarded it.

The next day, the same thing happened. You were wearing jeans and boots, your hair was still tied up, and you were carrying the same history book when he saw you again, this time he was leaving the library, with one of those boys following you, with his arm around your shoulders. Jungkook felt envy, jealousy, he wanted to be that guy.

The next week, he was even more confused by the way you acted around your friends and when you were away from them. You were like him, you didn't smile and you didn't interact when you were out of your bubble. You were interesting to him, and he had never hesitated to approach someone he found interesting, but this time it was different, he wanted to observe you a little more, wanted to get to know you more, before finally approaching.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Jimin asked you as soon as they left the cafeteria. It was almost nine o'clock at night and they had just had a dinner with friends. Now they wanted to go to a party at the home of one of their schoolmates, but you would rather go home and watch a movie on Netflix instead of going to get drunk like all teenagers your age did. It had been a few months since you arrived in that city and this would be the first weekend that you would not let them drag you into some mess.

“I do. See you Monday at school." You then waved at them as they got in the car, and took the cell phone out of your jacket pocket to call for a taxi.

Across the street, Jungkook and two of his friends were walking, both with beer bottles in their hands, making fun of each other when he spotted you standing on the sidewalk, with your eyes on your cell phone. You wore a white skirt, sneakers of the same color and a black shirt. You were also wearing a school baseball team jacket and a peach baseball cap, after all, you were hanging out with two of the school team players, so using their stuff was like a law for anyone who was a friend of the team. Something popped inside him and before he could control himself, he was crossing the street towards you while the other two boys looked at each other in confusion, until finally seeing you there. They knew that since you stepped in that school, Jungkook had developed an unexplainable attraction to you.

“Hey” you looked up from your phone screen when you heard a voice. When you looked in the direction that that voice was coming from, you were surprised to see the boy with long black hair, crossing the street and running towards you. You knew who he was, one of the rebellious and socially excluded boys from school, the boy who only hung out with two guys and never spoke in any class. You had already seen him jump over the school walls to skip classes, sometimes you saw him under the bleachers in physical education classes smoking with his friends, you had heard his laugh when he laughed at some student in the hallways, but you never really heard his voice, because you never came closer enough to him to be able to hear him. He wore a black tee, on top of it a long-sleeved checkered shirt in black, White and gray and on top of a black leather jacket. His black pants were baggy and had boots on his feet. Your friends were pretty, Jimin, the boy you kissed sometimes was handsome , but he, no one would ever be as handsome as he was. "Hi." He said as soon as he approached, stopping in front of you, far enough not to invade your personal space, but close enough to get you drunk on the perfume he wore. And his voice was as stunning as he was. “You are (Y/N), right? We study together."

"Hm, yes." You answered uncertainly, never imagining that he would know who you were. You were silent then, he staring at you and you feeling embarrassed, trying not to look into his eyes that seemed to undress you. Soon you saw the other two boys who were dressed in clothes similar to Jungkook's, who were across the street, whispering something to each other and laughing. When they realized you were looking at them, they waved and you just shook your head in greeting.

"Why are you here alone?" He asked and you turned your attention to him who was looking at you now curious. "Did your baseball team boyfriend and the other two super powerful girls leave you behind?" He asked you through a chuckle. Anyone with the slightest intelligence would understand the irony he was using in those words, and you frowned, biting the corner of your cheek, trying to understand the reason for the irony. Did he have a problem with your friends?

“Actually, I was with them, but they wanted to go to a party and I preferred to stay and call a taxi to go home. And Jimin is not my boyfriend.” And you could have sworn you saw the beginning of a smile appear on his lips before he spoke again.

"Oh yeah? And does he know that?” He taunted, biting his lip before taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand, without taking his eyes off you. You were never good at reading signs or understanding people, but at that moment he seemed to be flirting with you and just thinking about it, you felt like there were butterflies in your stomach.

"I hope he knows, or he will end up with a broken heart." And you bit your tongue, looking away from him for a moment. Jungkook exhaled and then smile, content with the answer.

"I would let you break my heart if you want to."You couldn't hide the surprise on your face when you heard those words coming out of his mouth, your insides twitched, your body shivered and a silly smile appeared on your lips, forcing you to lower your head, and use your hands to hide your face that was starting to burn. Jungkook smiled like a child when he realized that his line had supposedly worked, and finished drinking his beer, throwing the bottle into a trash can that was not far from where you two were.

“Hey Jungkook.” Taehyung shouted across the street, waving at his friend, making both him and you look at them. "Are you coming or not?" Jungkook just waved at them, asking them to wait a minute before turning his attention back to you who now looked at him with an innocent look that honestly was fucking sexy.

"We're going to my apartment, let's eat junk food, listen to some music and have a few beers. Want to come?" And again you were taken by surprise. First he was shameless flirting with you and now he was asking you out?

"Like a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?" He questioned again teasingly. You rolled your eyes and laughed. He seemed to be willing to make you blush every second.

"You are not one of those crazy people who try to seduce innocent girls and lead them into a trap where they will be doped and transported to Turkey to be sold as sex slaves, right?" His eyes widened and he jerked back, blinking and looking at you like you were crazy before laughing and shaking his head in denial.

"Unlike my reputation, I am not an animal, at least not with those who don’t desserve it." He replied. "So?"

You took a deep breath. It wasn't every day that one of the most beautiful and mysterious boys you had ever met in life called you out with his friends. In fact, you didn't know anyone who had ever gone out with him and the other two guys and was always curious to know how bad boys acted out of other people's eyes. Ignoring the sermons and curses your friends would address you when they found out you were going home with Jeon Jungkook, you nodded your head in agreement.

"If you buy me a milkshake, I'm in." You shrugged and he smiled, showing his perfectly straight, white teeth, before running towards the diner behind you and returning minutes later with a glass of vanilla milkshake. So the two of you crossed the street, towards the other boys who greeted you and thus proceeded towards the apartment where he lived.You didn't expect them to be so much fun in the way they were showing off.

Nor did you expect him to live alone in an apartment in the suburbs of the city.

��I didn't know you lived alone.” In fact, I know almost nothing about you. You wanted to add, but left the comment only in your mind. As soon as you entered the living room door, already throwing yourself on the sofa that was leaning against the wall under the window facing the street, you observed the place, it didn't seem to be a very big place, the room was combined with the kitchen , were divided by kitchen counter and had only a small corridor that led to three doors and one of them was the bathroom, at the very end of the hallway.

"I share the apartment with Taehyung.” He said walking to the white refrigerator and taking three bottles of beer from there, throwing one for each friend and sitting beside you on the sofa, putting his feet on the coffee table.

"And did your parents accept it?" You asked with a frown and Hoseok, who was sitting in an armchair, not far from you, laughed and took a sip of his drink.

"It was either that or keep coming home after every business trip and finding drunk and drugged teenagers passed out in the corners of the house at six in the morning."

"Yah, you were the one who distributed the drugs at our parties, it's all your fault." Taehyung said laughing, sitting on the floor across the coffee table, and throwing a pillow at Hoseok. “But tell me... (Y/N), what's with the uniform? Does your boyfriend make you use this to mark territory?” He mocked and you looked at him offended.

"He is not my boyfriend." You answered with a frown. “And I am not an object to be marked as someone's property. I just like to wear it because it is warm and the cap is stylish.”

"If you're only wearing this because it's warm, then you should be wearing it." Jungkook said leaving the beer bottle on the coffee table, taking off the leather jacket he was wearing and holding it out to you who looked at him as if asking what he was doing. "Wear that, it's warm and stylish." You laughed and nodded, taking off your jacket and wearing Jungkook's. "Now take this off, it's ridiculous." He took the cap off your head and tossed it in a corner of the room.

“Wah, look at the preppy girl. Now you look like one of us.” Hoseok joked and you glared at him.

"I am not a 'preppy girl'."

“Come on, you are Miss Pristine, we are the drugged punks, and life goes on. Who wants pizza?”

You met a side of them that you didn't really think existed, they were like any boy your age, they were full of life, they were more ironic than normal, and they cursed more than they should, but they seemed to be a lot nicer than the rest of the boys at your school. Jungkook was being incredibly sweet to you, you didn't want to get drunk like they were doing, so he ordered some cans of soda at the same restaurant where they ordered the pizza, so you had something to drink while they talked. Unlike Jimin, he hadn't put his hands on you at any time, and even though he made it crystal clear that he was interested in you, he hadn't made a move against you. He was being very respectful.

You didn't even see the time go by, you had so much fun laughing at the stories and jokes that the boys told you that when you looked at the time on your cell phone, you got scared when you were shocked to realize it was two in the morning. There were messages and missed calls from Jimin and your friends. When you told Jeon you needed to leave, he sighed in defeat and his friends started making fun of him saying that he was in love and that he would probably cry in the bathroom after he took you home.

“You mean really cry or crying with his dick out?” And that was enough to make Hoseok throw himself in the armchair laughing out loud, Taehyung spat his own drink and Jungkook started to laugh, using one hand to hide his face embaressed with your sentence. You were less innocent than they thought.

The way home was filled with laughter and you singing the entire discography of The Neighborhood. When he stopped in front of your house, he turned off the engine and turned the music down. You looked at each other. His eyes alternated between your eyes and your mouth, and he finally had the courage to move his torso towards you, slowly, letting you watch his movements and stop him if you wanted him to stop, but you didn't. You let him approach you and finally touch your lips with his.

You stayed a few seconds like that, your whole body trembling, until finally you pressed your lips against his, and opened your mouth a little, letting his tongue slide against yours.

The first kiss was quiet, you could hear him breathing hard, almost like he wanted to control himself. His hand, which was on your cheek, slid towards the back of your neck, his fingers digging into your hair and pulling it lightly, making you moan between his lips, which triggered something inside him, making him deepen the kiss that was now full of lust and desire.

"You taste so good." He whispered, biting your lip and pulling, before kissing again, taking a hand to your waist, squeezing it, with the intention of pulling you into his lap, but you stopped him, breaking the kiss and moving your face away. He opened his eyes abruptly, bewildered, then his eyes turned away from you in disappointment, his jaw clenched, perhaps feeling guilty. He was obviously going too fast. "Sorry, I..."

"Do you want to come in?" You asked and it truly took you by surprise. His dark eyes lit up with lust and his pants, which were baggy and comfortable, were now causing him discomfort in his private parts. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had really heard what you said. "But we can't make any noise, my parents are at home."

"Apparently, I'm will have to gag you." He laughed and attacked your mouth again.

You were still wearing Jungkook's jacket, but you carried Jimin's cap and jacket in your hands. Upon entering your house, you did your best not to make a noise while walking up the stairs, you both took off your shoes, stepping on tiptoe, walking slowly down the hall until you entered your room. You locked the door behind you and left your shoes in the corner of the room. You put your cap on the dresser where you kept your lingerie, on top of some jewelry and some makeup products that you had used to get ready to go out with your friends. You threw Jimin's jacket into the closet, and finally looked at Jungkook who was sitting in your bed, his hands resting on the mattress as he watched you from head to toe.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He whispered with a frown, as you started to undress, taking off piece by piece, slowly, giving him a show, a show he always dreamed of seeing. And with every piece of clothing you dropped on the floor, he wondered in his mind if that was really true and not one of the erotic dreams he used to have about you.

When you took your hands back, opening your bra and letting it slide from your arms to the floor, Jungkook whispered a curse and moved uncomfortably in place, swallowing hard at the sight of your breasts. When your fingers reached for your red lace panties, he held his breath, watching you slowly push it down, sliding down your legs until you were completely naked. This was paradise for him.

Jeon stood up, he took off his plaid blouse and threw it on the floor before reaching the collar of his black blouse and pulling it up, without ceremony, showing his six pack, making you rub your thighs and bite your lips, getting even more anxious. When he finally brought his fingers to the waistband of his pants, you found yourself walking towards him and holding his hands, making him stop. Jungkook looked at your face, looking for any sign of hesitation or regret, but instead, he found excitement, lust. You knelt in front of him, holding the waistband of his pants and pulling it down, taking his underwear with it, your mouth starting to salivate at the sight of his hard, thick cock.

You held it, listening to a low murmur from Jeon who kept his eyes on you. You squeezed it lightly and moved your hand up and down, massaging him, while he bit his lip, stifling his moans. And when your lips touched the tip, Jungkook blew out of his lungs and watched how you sucked it, how you swallowed it, how you made it wet. He threw his head back with his eyes closed and one of his hands landed on your head, grabbing your hair, moving his hips towards your mouth in tune until he was fucking you throat causing you to choke for a few seconds, completely forgetting that if you made too much noise, your parents could wake up and he would be screwed.

“Fuck, babe. You're driving me crazy. ” He whispered hoarsely, looking down at you again, and the look in your eyes only made him even more hard. "Come here." He called to you with his hands and you stood up. Jungkook placed one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, squeezing lightly as he walked backwards, falling sitting on the bed. He broke the kiss and lay down on the bed, holding your waist and pulling you forward. Soon he had his head between your thighs and his tongue and lips in your pussy, you put your hands back, spreading them on his chest and he moved his hands up your belly until they were holding your breasts, massaging them while squeezing and pulling on your nipples.

The pressure he made with his tongue on you clit, using his lips to pinch it lightly, was making your core tighten and turn. The pleasure was unparalleled with anything else, it was inexplicable. Swallowing your moans, and controlling your muscles that were beginning to want to get out of control, you bit your lip and started to move your hips, grinding your pussy against his mouth. Jeon laughed and increased the speed and pressure of your tongue, which made you roll your eyes and arch your back. It was too much, if you didn't get out of there, your mouth would end up giving you away.

You patted his arm, as a sign for him to let go of your breasts, so you can get off him, but he didn’t obey, because instead of just letting go of your breasts, he dropped his hands up to your thighs, holding you over his mouth. At that moment you lost control of your breathing, panting violently and biting your lips hard, while he stimulated you with his tongue. He found it so sexy when you held your own breasts and threw your head back when you started to come.

"Fuck." You whispered, your body starting to shake when the hot pain reached its peak and you held his hands on your thigh, shaking your head in denial, with your eyes closed tightly, as he continued to overstimulate you. "Please. I can't do it anymore. I'm going to scream." Your voice was cut off and desperate.

When he finally released you, you fell on the bed next to him, curling and placing your face against the sheet, trying to control your spasms. Jeon got out of bed, grabbing his pants, reaching into his pocket and taking out a condom packet.

"Are you alright?" He whispered in your direction and you laughed in agreement. "Do you want to continue?"

"Yes please." You said with sensuality in your voice, and Jeon gasped, tearing the package with his teeth and placing it on his dick. You, on the other hand, watched him from the bed, lying with your back against the mattress. He climbed back onto the bed, and crawled until his hips were between your legs and his hands beside your head.

"Raise your arms, place them next to your head." He ordered and you obeyed. Then he held your hands, intertwining your fingers as he positioned himself and pushed into you. You opened your mouth to moan, but he went faster and kissed you, putting his tongue in your mouth and not letting you make a noise. Jeon started to move slowly, your thighs at his waist. His movements were slow, but deep, they were short but strong, they were intense, and with each thrust you tightened a little more around his cock. "Your pussy is so tight, babe. So soft around my cock." And he lowered his lips to your neck. You moaned as you felt him nibbling at your skin, biting your lips, as he moved slowly over you.

Before Jungkook you never thought you would be able to come while sex was so slow, but as soon as you felt your core tighten, you stuck your face in the curve of his neck. He laughed. He wanted to increase the speed, he wanted to pump hard into you, make you scream, but he couldn't, or your bed would make a lot of noise and in two seconds your father would be running after him with a knife down the street. But just being there, fucking you, feeling your body, listening to your whining and whispers, that was enough to take him to heaven.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." He growled. “Fuck babe.”

"You want to grab a coffee?" It was almost six in the morning when you asked Jeon. He had his arms around his waist and you had your head on his chest. You heard him laugh, his chest swaying with laughter.

“Yeah, why not? We are already awake.”

You spent Sunday together running around the city, and you didn't take out your cell phone for a second to talk to any of your friends, you didn't have time because your hands were always busy touring Jungkook's body just as his hands were on your body. At one point you found yourself together in the city arcade, doing a Just Dance competition, betting who would be the most embarrassed, and it was obviously you because Jungkook was a wonderful dancer.

At night you said goodbye with a kiss and agreed to meet at school the next day.

You didn't know what to do or how to tell your friends about it.

You were so tired from the weekend that you ended up waking up late, missing your first class at school. After being able to explain to the principal why you were late, using a lie of course, you entered the hallway of your locker seconds before the signal for the break signaling the end of the first period hit and the corridor was filled with students.

"Girl, where were you?" Selina, the brunette, asked, approaching with Ariela, the redhead. You snorted, stuffing your books into the closet, and and slamming the door closed, before turning to your friends.

"I lost the time. I didn't hear my alarm clock.”

"Did something happen?" Ariela asked a concerned face. "You look tense."

“Yeah, and where were you yesterday? We called you all day, Jimin almost had a heart attack wanting to talk to you, but we couldn't talk to you at all.” Selina asked and you swallowed. Should you tell them what happened between you and Jungkook? Would they judge you? Would they fight with you? Would they be mad at you? They were your friends after all, they wouldn't do that, right?

“Hey Miss Pristine.” Someone's voice caught your attention and as you turned towards that voice, you saw Hoseok and Taehyung walking down the hall, both had provocative smiles on their faces and looked at you. Oh boy. "Or should we call you Jeon Jungkook's New Girl?" Jung raised his eyebrow teasingly while Taehyung laughed pointing at the obvious features of surprise on your friends faces.

"See you at lunch." Taehyung said waving in your direction and hitting a high five with Hoseok while both continued to walk with style and calmly, as if they hadn't just dropped a time bomb in your hands. Slowly your friends turned towards you, all waiting for you to explain what had just happened, but even before you opened your mouth to say something the signal for the next class hit and you felt relieved.

"I'll explain later." You said it and practically ran up the stairs to the second floor where your class would take place, praying that you wouldn't clash with Jimin or any of your other friends, afraid that the gossip was already starting to spread. You knew you hadn't done anything wrong, but you still felt guilty. When entering the room, the tension completely left your shoulders when you looked at the back of the room and saw Jungkook sitting on the last desk, his arms resting on the table, he was wearing headphones and his cell phone was on top of his book.

When he felt that someone was looking at him, Jungkook looked up, his face lit up with a smile when he saw you. Something was wrong, why did you feel butterflies in your stomach every time you saw that smile? You composed yourself when you saw that some of the students there were looking strangely in your direction, because you were standing like a dead body right in front of the door, then you walked towards your table, which consequently was next to his.

As you sat down, you looked in his direction and nodded before opening your book. Jeon took off his headphones and placed them on the table before reaching for you and grabbing the bottom of your chair, pulling and dragging you close to him, causing you to widen your eyes and use one of the hands to hold the arm that was pulling you, not wanting to fall off the chair. The other students who were already in the room and those who were entering, looked confused at you as Jeon released the chair and used that same arm to hug you by the shoulders and kiss the corner of you mouth, making you blush.

"You're late. What's it? Did I make you too tired yesterday?” He demanded, whispering close to your ear, and you shivered all over.

"The other students are staring." You whispered and he laughed softly, taking a look around before grabbing your chin and making you look at him, who had a provocative look.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"No, of course not, but... Look, I still haven't talked to my friends about what happened and not even Jimin..."

"I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend." He countered, arching an eyebrow, his eyes darkening again and you didn't even notice when you held your breath. "If he is not your boyfriend, why do you have to explain yourself to him?" You opened your mouth to answer it, but the math teacher's voice caught your eye, and you moved your head, looking at the man in his late thirties placing his briefcase on the table in front of the class. "We can talk about this later." Jungkook's voice said and before you could even look at him, he took his hand back to the chair and pushed you back into place.

The class was tense, you had never been so nervous in the presence of someone, but it still wasn't a bad nervous, you didn't feel bad around him, just anxious. But eager for what? You didn't know. Maybe you were anxious to know that you have to talk to your friends about it, or because you didn't know what Jimin's reaction would be. Maybe you wanted to have sex again with Jungkook, or were you just anxious for him to say that what you had was just a joke and that he didn't want you anymore, so maybe you would have less problems, but obviously you would have less fun too. Not that your friends or Jimin were not fun, but with Jungkook was different.

When the bell for the third period rang, Jungkook was one of the first to get up to leave the room, but first he threw a piece of paper on your desk, marching out of the room without looking back. You raised your eyebrow and while you closed your book, you read what was written, unwittingly rubbing your thighs together.

'I can't stop thinking about the night I spent at your house. Every time I remember your cunt tightening around my cock, I get hard and completely crazy with desire. I am looking forward to the next time. '

"I am screwed." You whispered before you banged your head against your book.

In the next period, you were running around the football field in your physical education class. Ariela and Selina were at your side and made no effort to contain the shock on their faces when you finished telling them why you were gone on Sunday and why Jeon's friends were interacting with you.

"Okay, I congratulate you for having sex with one of the hottest guys in the world, but what the fuck did you have in mind to go alone to a place with them?" The brunette scolded you. "They could have drugged you and raped you."

"They are not animals, and if you want to know, I really had fun with them."

"Okay, but what about Jimin?" Ariela asked and you looked at her confused. "When he finds out that you cheated on him, in your bed, in your room, where he hasn't even entered yet, he'll freak out."

“I didn't cheat on Jimin. We're not even dating, it's not like I owe him an explanation.” You shrugged, continuing to run, starting to get upset about that subject. "Why does everyone think I date Jimin?"

“You’re always together, you always wear his baseball team jacket and the cap too. Not to mention that most of the breaks, or studies in the library, he was kissing you in front of everyone. So people figured it out.” Selina explained, stopping running and putting her hands on her knees, tired. So you decided to sit in the stands to get some rest. "But the million-dollar question is, is he good in bed?"

You laughed hiding your face in your hands before you agreed and they started asking for details.

After the bell rang, you went to the women's locker room to shower and change. All the girls finished off quickly and went to the canteen for lunch while you decided to spend some more time enjoying the hot water, since you weren't that hungry.

After finishing the bath, you wrapped the towel around your body and walked towards your locker. You could hear the locker room door being opened and closed soon after. Thinking it was probably just one of the girls, you didn't bother checking, just grabbed your clothes from the closet to get dressed, but you jumped back a few inches when Jungkook came into your view.

He carried a pretentious look and a malicious smile on his devilishly perfect face, and you automatically hugged your own body that was covered with the towel, trying to ignore how tempting he was. He, on the other hand, would never ignore the fact that you were irresistible with just that white towel covering you.

"Someone can catch you here." You said, clearing your throat, trying not to rub your thighs together for the thousandth time that day. He tipped his head slightly before propping himself up in one of the cabinets, without taking his eyes off you.

"Are you worried that they'll caught me in the women's locker room, or are you worried that they'll caught me with you?"

“Both? Either way, we're both going to get in trouble.” You sighed and Jeon smiled. Oh boy, he was up to something.

He pushed himself away from the locker, and started walking towards you, his eyes locked on yours, and with every step closer he was to you, the heavier your breathing became, until he was finally inches from your body, his hands on your face and his mouth brushing against yours.

“So I better make it worthwhile.”

And then he kissed you, a calm and sweet kiss, a deep kiss, making your desire for him intensify. You put your hands on his shoulders, until you were hugging him around the neck, It was so different with him, you felt like you could kiss him until your lips were hurt, you felt like you could, and wanted to kiss him forever.

“Let me make you forget that rich fuckboy.” He whispered, his teeth nibbling on your lip, while his hands went to your hips. You didn't say a word, just nodded. You couldn't resist him and it was still the second day since you started go out with him. You didn't even want to think about how you would be on all fours for him in the next few days. You would fall hard.

"You don't have to make me forget anyone." You had the courage to speak. Jungkook opened his eyes and stared into yours. "I can't stop thinking about you since yesterday."

"I'm glad we feel the same way." He whispered before picking ypu up and carrying you to the back of the locker room, placing you on the floor behind the last row of cabinets. He plucked the towel from your body, throwing it on the floor, before pushing you against the cold iron of one of the doors, making you moan, grabbing your face with one hand while the other tucked itself between your hair. "We don't have much time, so I'll just make you come and later, I'll fuck you, yeah?"

“Okay.”

You swallowed hard when he started to drag his lips across your skin, stopping for a moment on your nipples before licking your belly and finally kneeling in front of you. Jungkook kissed your thigh before placing it on his shoulder. He felt water in his mouth as he looked at how your pussy was already wet for him, and the urge he had to put you on your back and fuck you hard was almost unbearable.

When his lips came in contact with your swollen clit, you had to bite your hand to keep from groaning too loudly and ending up attracting the attention of any student who was passing through the locker room at the time. That was the most stupid and dangerous thing you had ever done. If you were caught, you would both be expelled, probably accused of indecent exposure and arrested, so you could say goodbye to your perfect grades and college. But on the other hand it was the most delicious thing you had ever done. The fear, the danger of being caught only made your lust increase and your libido soar, and Jungkook felt it in you, because you were dripping, twice as wet.

“Please Jungkook.” You whimpered, and he took his mouth off you for just a minute, enough for you to complain quietly, missing the touch of his tongue.

"Talk to me, babe. What do you want?"

"Please make me come." You murmured and if he hadn’t the jacket on, you would see the hairs on his muscular arms stand up with your hoarse, horny voice. At your request, Jungkook sucked your clit again, letting you hold his hair and control the speed at which he did it. His tongue circled your point, while his lips pressed it, sending signals and spasms to your body that became stronger and more intense with every second, until you finally pour into his mouth with a low, long moan, feeling your muscles relax, and if he didn't have his hands on your waist, holding you, you probably would have fallen to the floor, because you felt like your legs were jelly.

Jungkook left the locker room first, but only after making sure that you were okay. You took another quick shower, and got dressed, leaving the room, still feeling your cheeks burning with embarrassment, you had no idea how you were going to face your friends after that.

When you entered the school cafeteria and tried your best to look like everything was normal, but the first thing you saw as you walked towards the table where you used to sit with your friends, was Jungkook's look at you and that made you feel your legs numb.

"Hey Miss Pristine." Taehyung's voice sounded and was followed by him throwing an arm around your shoulders, making you look at him with a smile. "You're going to sit with us today, aren't you?" He didn't even wait for you to agree or decline the proposal and practically dragged you over to the table where the other two were at, pulling out a chair for you right next to Jungkook. He, on the other hand, raised his eyebrow, looking up at you, as if challenging you to something. So you just sat down, making him smile and several students start whispering and asking each other what you, Park Jimin's untouchable girl were doing with those punks. "What do you want to eat? I'm going to get our lunch ... Okay, it doesn't matter, I'm going to bring everyone's Monday special." And so he marched away, making you blink in confusion. Since when was there a 'Monday special' in that canteen?

“You know, (Y/N).” Hoseok's voice caught your attention and your head turned towards him. “You look much better without that damn jacket.”

“Indeed.” Jeon agreed.

"Hm, (Y/N)?" You froze when you heard that voice. You had completely forgotten about Jimin. You saw the eyes of Jeon and Hoseok leave you and look at the one who was practically standing next to you. You cursed yourself mentally before moving your face and raising your head a little and looking at the blond boy who looked totally confused. "What are you doing?"

Jungkook scoffed, letting out a sarcastic laugh and looked at Hoseok. "Apparently, he's blind."

And while his friend was laughing, you turned wide-eyed to Jungkook, and Jimin blinked a few times.

"What did you say?"

"Did I stuttered?" Jungkook questioned, looking back at the blond boy who didn't seem happy with Jeon's petulance. Jimin knowing that starting an argument wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he just rolled his eyes and looked back at you who felt tiny at the time.

"We were waiting for you at our table. Why did you sit here? I didn't know you were friends with these guys."

"She owes you no explanation, man." Jeon's voice said and you could see when a vein in Jimin's neck popped out and he swallowed his saliva before turning around with an angry look at the boy next to you. His eyes were slightly wide, his lips were pressed, and his face was beginning to redden, not a good sign. You had seen Jimin nervous a few times, and every time it was in the games he played in, and it was sincerely terrifying to see him angry. You were always afraid when he was in that state. But what you didn't know is that Jungkook was not afraid and that he could be a thousand times more terrifying. "I mean, you're not even her boyfriend, so." Jungkook teased with a smile and Jimin frowned, slowly placing his clenched fists on the table and bending down to be the same height as the other. It was already beginning to attract the attention of the other students who were watching in silence.

"Who told you that I'm not her boyfriend, asshole?" He asked, slowly. Jungkook leaned forward and propped his arms on the table.

"She did, asshole."

And Jimin's eyes moved towards you like lightning. You didn't know what was hovering over his eyes at the time, but they were empty, and it scared you, scared that maybe you really hurt him.

“We need to talk.” You finally got the courage to speak.

“Please tell me this is not true.” Jimin said after you finished telling everything that had happened between you and Jungkook within two days. You guys were sitting in the bleachers and he was looking at you as if you had just committed the worst crime in history. "How could you do this to me, (Y/N)?"

"What do you mean by that, Jimin? I didn't cheat on you or anything.” You said, as offended as he was. "How was I supposed to guess that you thought we were dating? You never even asked me to date."

"I thought I didn't have to, come on. We already spent most of the time together and I wasn't seeing anyone else but you." He stood up, moving away from you a little, hands on his hips and breathing through his mouth. He felt betrayed, but deep down he knew he was wrong, and that he shouldn't be demanding anything from you, after all it was his mistake to never make his feelings and intentions clear to you.

"Jimin, I'm sorry ..."

"No, it's not your fault." He interrupted you, turning in your direction, seeing how shrunken you were. He knew you well enough to know that you only looked that way if you felt really bad about something. "I just ..." He closed his eyes tightly. "I'm really in love with you, (Y/N)." And so he opened his eyes and looked at you, seeing the shock that his confession had caused you. You didn't really expect that, so your only reaction was to lower your head and face your own hands. And that didn't surprise him at all. He knew from the beginning that you didn't feel the same way, so he had been preparing for rejection for a long time, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. "But I think you love someone else."

"It’s nothing like that ..." You lifted your head. "I barely know him, okay? It was a moment thing, I don't think I'm liking him or anything."

"But even so, what you felt for him was strong enough for you to take him to your room, (Y/N)." The boy said, hurt, frowning. "We were together for more than 3 months and I never even stepped on the second floor of your home." You lowered your head again, biting your lips, not holding to see the hurt look on his face. Even if you didn't like him the way he wanted to, you still adored him.

Both were silent. There was nothing to be said. It wouldn't do any good for the two of you to start discussing an issue that wouldn't get anywhere, it wouldn't do any good to start fighting with each other, it would only hurt his feelings and yours too.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head back, staring at the sky that was previously sunny, starting to get cloudy, just like his heart. Jimin bit his lips a few times thinking if he just left without saying anything else or if he would say anything more.

"Please, give me back my jacket and my cap." He said, making you look again at him who kept his eyes on the sky. "I don’t think we should continue to use couple clothes since we have never been one." His voice came out full of hurt and spite, even though he didn't want to show that that was what he was feeling at that moment.

You opened your mouth to say something, but realized you had nothing to say, so you just mumbled a okay and stood up, turning to leave. walking towards the school entrance, but as soon as you heard something, you stopped walking and turned back, your heart breaking when you saw Jimin sitting down and hugging his head, hiding his face in his arms while crying compulsively. Your reflex was to go to him and hug him, to comfort him, as you had done in the last few months when he was sad about something and wept for it. Jimin was a very sensitive guy, and you loved that side of him. But at that moment you couldn't do that, you had no right to do that, because you were the reason for that cry, you had hurt him.

You then turned your back, your chest aching and wanting to burst into tears for hurting an incredible person like him, feeling like the worst person in the world.

What have you done?

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fleckcmscott · 4 years ago

Text

Bewitching Hour

Summary: October has been a blissfully busy month. With Halloween around the corner, Arthur and Y/N have some planning to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,665

A/N: Special thanks to @hhandley80 for this request! You've been so supportive and sweet. I truly appreciate you and hope you enjoy it!

On a side note, my oneshots will be more sporadic. I'm still writing but life has been life. Also, I've finished the first draft of another multi-chapter featuring Arthur and Y/N. It's going to take time to rewrite the subsequent drafts and edit, edit, edit. The chapters will go up once the story is ready. Thanks for your patience and support! 🙂 I heart you all!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask!

Arthur's suggestion that they make plans to celebrate Halloween should not have been a surprise. He loved starting traditions with Y/N, and she prized adopting them with him. "It's been awhile," he'd said as they'd walked arm-in-arm to the laundromat. "I think it'd be nice."

Holidays had been a source of merriment most of her life. The beauty of red and green decorations at Christmas. Turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. An egg hunt and chocolate rabbit at Easter. The togetherness of family during them all.

Halloween, though, wasn't a favorite.

As a child, she'd had fun trick-or-treating, riding her bike from house to far-flung house. And she hadn't minded escorting her little sister as a teenager. Y/N's homemade witch costume had been passed down. She could still recall the sleekness of the ribbon between her fingers as she'd secured the pointed hat under Mabel's chin.

But the magic had fallen away. When married to Jeff, she'd had to attend his boss's annual party. After receiving an apologetic shrug and kiss, she'd be relegated to hanging out with the other wives. They'd included her in their recipe swaps, in their exchanges of mild gossip. Her natural friendliness made chit-chat easy, far easier than having a good time. Those evenings had been spent nursing a glass of wine and willing the clock to go faster.

During the period she'd cared for her father, she'd tried to hand out candy. She liked being a good neighbor and imparting kindness in the form of bite-sized sweets. As his health had declined, the porch light had gone dark. Random rings of the doorbell would result in shouting and swearing. Repeated attempts to explain the door's lock wasn't broken. Festivity would transform into drudgery. It hadn't been worth the trouble. Instead, she'd watched terrible TV specials while her thoughts wandered to a future far from Boonville. A future she'd doubted would ever be.

"I don't know if it's your thing," Arthur had continued, bringing her back to the present. "But you might enjoy it with me." The response he longed for was evident in the worrying of his pocket, outlines of his knuckles visible through the tan cloth.

Everything they'd experienced together had soothed the sting of those wasted years. The hesitancy lurking in her was silly. Unwelcome. Less than either of them deserved. She'd met his keen eyes and half-smile. The sudden mental image of him dressed as a cowboy or pirate, eyepatch and all, prompted a laugh. Convinced her as she dug out her dry-cleaning stub. "It isn't my thing," she'd said. "But you are."

Relief had relaxed his wrinkles, save for his crows feet, which had deepened as he'd returned her happy expression. A slender arm wrapped around her waist, drew her against his solid frame. Once the clerk disappeared through the swinging doors to retrieve their clothes, Arthur grasped her chin and kissed her. The tender explorations were soon sloppy, and she'd giggled, his enthusiasm becoming her own. Their noses had met, his lashes resting on his wide cheekbones. "I think you're the sweetest treat, Mrs. Fleck."

Currently, Donahue's Department Store, Gotham's number one retail emporium (if the ads were to be believed), was bustling with last-minute shoppers. Weary mothers escorted their babbling children through the aisles. Clerks swapped out displays for the changing blue light specials. Lines went for yards. Patricia and Y/N sought refuge at a corner table in the café on the top floor. The warm glow from the pendant lamps provided a relaxed ambience, one that matched the hot cider and pumpkin spice cake they were savoring.

"I've got my grandson on Sunday," Patricia said between bites. "My daughter's going to a party with a medical records tech from Gotham General. Met him when she missed the bus. They split a cab and hit it off." Chuckling, she lifted her mug. "Speaking of, how's married life been so far?"

Memories of the past week quickened Y/N's heart, until she thought it might stop. How Arthur had gripped her replacement Social Security card, just to read her new name. The way he'd grab her for a twirl whenever they were in the kitchen. The reverence in his gaze when they'd lay together after sex, a look that both thrilled and made her blush. "The bills for his medication and appointments will no longer make us cringe," she deadpanned. She lowered her fork. "When we met, I was kind of blindsided - I'm not the type to fall in love quickly." The corners of her lips tugged up. "Being married to Arthur feels like a habit. A habit I should have learned twenty years ago."

"I'm glad you found each other." Patricia reached across the light brown table and covered Y/N's hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she wiped frosting from her mouth and nodded in the direction of the escalator. "Now let's find a costume that'll drive him nuts."

Beyond the colorful cosmetics and pungent perfume counters, they sorted through racks of vinyl smocks and plastic masks. Pop culture icons and princesses. Vampires and spooks. Knockoffs of classic movie monsters. Most were poorly made and decidedly uninteresting. Y/N pawed through accessories in a nearby basket, a cigar here, a patched hat there. "How about a hobo? I could steal Arthur's tie."

"This was his idea. Give him something a little exciting." After a roll of Y/N's eyes, Patricia held out a plastic display bag. "Found it."

The white font on its blue label declared she should "Create a unique look!" A woman in a leopard-print leotard and bow-tie wore black cat ears and a tail, the only two items included in the set. Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I don't think so, Patricia." She rummaged through another bin and examined a hockey mask. "I don't show a lot of skin."

"You show Arthur." Patricia ignored Y/N's glare, continuing to shove it at her. "Every man loves a woman dressed as a cat. Our next lunch is on me if I'm wrong."

Patricia could be relentless, but Y/N had to admit she was usually right. She arched a brow as she eyed the costume. Maybe she could find a solid body suit instead of animal print. The kit was only $2.98. And her friend had made it a challenge. "You're on. But I'm not wearing a bow-tie." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her mouth. "Your turn. Would Robert like you as a French maid or a go-go dancer?"

~~~~~

It was a busy season for performers. Arthur remembered HaHa's talent agency being booked solid for October by the end of August. Myriad functions at nursing homes, parties, and children's organizations took place throughout the city. Amusement Mile had a series of special events, allowing Arthur to work extra hours before the slowness of winter dragged in. Once the holiday was over, he'd buy make-up and props on clearance.

He'd always assumed he would like Halloween - if he'd had the chance to celebrate it properly. It was about connection, something he'd never managed. The customs gave him a pretense, a template to meet people, rather than leaving him wondering how to go about it. Provided a hiding place for his seeming inability to act normal.

Recollections of the day were few but vivid. When he'd been around eight, there'd been a party at school. The teacher had made brownies and given the students a half-hour respite from lessons. (A welcome relief, since he wasn't very good at most of them.) But he hadn't had a costume. Hadn't known how to reply when the other kids asked where it was. Not wanting to be left out, he'd pocketed a watercolor pallet and sneaked to the bathroom.

The teacher (he wished he could remember her name) had walked in as he'd smeared green and blue on his face, a pathetic attempt at a turtle. Fear of punishment had caused his laughter. But her kindness as she knelt, wiped away tears and pigment with a scratchy, brown paper towel, had calmed him. "Wait here," she'd instructed. It had taken all his courage not to run home.

After some minutes, she'd returned, an old white sheet in one hand, black marker and pair of scissors in the other. "The nurse won't miss this." She'd traced eyeholes, helped him cut them out. She'd asked questions. About his mother and what it was like at home. Questions he was at a loss for how to answer. Finally, she'd draped the cloth over his head. "There," she'd declared. "Gotham Elementary has its own ghost."

Even as he'd gotten taller and the sheet no longer went beyond his knees, that costume had remained his go-to. He'd venture out to the rest of his building, knocking on paint-chipped doors and pushing broken buzzers. Having learned to stay away from doors that yelling or funny smells emanated from, he hadn't gotten a lot of candy. What he had collected he'd shared with Penny. The wax lips became a free toy. He wasn't sure his memory of startling his mother and being tickled until he couldn't breathe was real or imagined.

At twelve, he was told he was too old to go trick-or-treating. He'd starting scrounging for change to buy hard candies at Helm's Pharmacy. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they'd been what he could afford. Only a few kids rang, a number that dwindled further every year. Most neighbors kept their distance, likely aware he was troubled. Cinnamon discs and butterscotch drops had loitered around the apartment for months. He'd sucked on them in an attempt to cut down on his smoking, just to save money. It hadn't worked.

Y/N hadn't spoken about the holiday, not the way she had other special occasions. At first, he'd thought it had slipped her mind. Work, planning their honeymoon, completing the red tape required to meld all aspects of their lives had taken up much of their time. But, given her reluctance to talk in detail about her past heartache, he'd come to assume her Halloweens had been unpleasant. He was certain he could change that.

Sitting on the dingy, dark green plastic seat of the train car, he giggled to himself, chest puffing up as he straightened. They'd been man and wife for eight whole days. Movies and songs said love was supposed to be somewhere between serendipitous and fated. A happy accident that was meant to be. Lying awake at night, he would find himself wondering where they were on that scale. If the emotions swirling through him - the excitement of belonging, the fear of fucking up - were what every newlywed felt. Then Y/N would snuggle closer in her sleep, murmur nonsense into his skin, and for a few minutes he'd be at peace.

Years had been spent trying to figure out who he was. Trying to find an identity, his role within the world. While he was still searching, it had been far easier to become accustomed to the role of "husband" than he'd dreamed.

Teaching his wife about events across the city had been a delight. Gotham Village's Annual Costume Extravaganza was a parade that went all the way to Gotham Square. He'd participated a couple of times, never formally registering but slipping into the clown section. It had been exhilarating. Had allowed him to pretend, for a little while, that he was being seen. That the crowds lining the sidewalks were cheering for him. Signs for extravagant balls were plastered on billboards and lampposts throughout the streets; he'd have gladly attended and shown her off. A haunted house was being held in a building in his old neighborhood, a fundraiser for the orphanage. He hadn't brought that up.

In the end, once he'd explained trick-or-treaters went from apartment to apartment, they'd decided on a cozy evening at home. The details had been left to her. Whatever she'd plan, he'd love it. He wondered what she'd disguise herself as. Would she be a sexy devil or nurse, like he'd seen on a sit-com? The notion sparked a fire in his cheeks.

Given how busy he'd be, he'd stay dressed as plain, old Carnival. Part of him regretted accepting two gigs, especially on a Sunday. He would have preferred her company. But he wanted to put the money towards the wedding band he'd put on layaway. (Even though they had one account, he wasn't going to let her chip in for it.) He should already be wearing it for all of Gotham to see.

The lurch of the subway prompted him to rise and grasp the pole grip. His stance widened as it came to a halt, knees bending with the instinct of a man who'd ridden public transportation since he was a boy. As soon as the graffiti-covered doors parted, he stepped out onto the platform and ascended the stairs, eager to share his new insurance information with Dr. Ludlow.

~~~~~

Scratchy violins and the hum of a theremin. Shrill shrieks and cracks of thunder. A cackle resounded, then a pipe organ, playing a melody in a minor key.

There was no doubt about it. Halloween spirit had saturated 4A.

NCB's Movie Marathon Mayhem had begun at 10:00 AM. Y/N had had it on since getting out of the shower, hoping to catch a horror classic while she decorated the apartment and prepared Bloody Mary mix. As she hung cotton batting between the television's rabbit ears, creating a long, narrow spider-web, she realized they were only playing cheesy B-movies. Giant insects threatening buildings. Science experiments gone wrong. Alien invasions. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to pay much attention to get the gist of the plots.

The orange plastic platter, black bats along its edges, had been an impulse buy. She thought its array of sugary skeletons, candy bracelets, and Jolly Jack chocolate bars would be well received. But having seen only one or two kids in the lobby, she had no idea how many children lived in their building. She hoped she'd bought enough.

The cardstock window decorations she'd found were festive and matched Arthur's sweet nature. One portrayed a warted, green witch flying on a broom past a full moon. On the other, a ghost and mouse shared a pillowcase of candy and wished a "Happy Halloween." She held the tape dispenser between her teeth as she stuck them to their white front door.

Just then, the elevator dinged. Glancing to her left, she saw Arthur stroll down the cheerfully lit hallway. Buoyant expression on him, despite his white, blue, and red make-up being streaked from sweat. Striped prop bag on his shoulder and carved pumpkin cradled in his arms. "The store owner was going to throw it out," he explained with a half hug. "But he let me have it as a tip."

Classic, triangular eyes evoked the annual carving contest her parents had taken part of back home. Her father had been well-known in the community, being the town's only doctor. Entering the competition had been expected. They'd never won but enjoyed it all the same. Y/N had picked out the patterns and scooped out the squash's slimy innards. Her mother had baked the seeds. Peals of their laughter echoed in her ears, and a lump formed in her throat.

She swallowed hard against it. Dammit, Y/N. Get it together. This was supposed to be a special night for Arthur and her. She needed to distract herself. One of his curls peeked out from under his bald-cap and green wig. She twirled a strand around her finger. "With that toothy grin, it just might be your twin," she said. He pecked her temple, the kiss sticky from greasepaint. She lit the half-melted candles using his red lighter and put the jack-o-lantern just outside their door.

While he freshened his paint in the bedroom, she slinked into the bathroom to change. Arthur's and her routines were closely aligned; keeping her costume hidden had not been easy. The headband holding the furry cat ears was quite stiff, its teeth a tad sharp on her scalp. Once it was in place, she hid it under her hair. The lint on her form-fitting stretch top and leggings reminded her why she rarely wore all black. She retrieved her brown eyeliner from the nearby shelf and started in on her whiskers.

Arthur's footsteps neared, heavy due to his clown shoes, and Y/N turned to lean back on the sink. His thin lips parted as he scanned her body, forehead furrowed in pleasant surprise. His reaction planted a seed of bliss in her belly, one that bloomed every second they regarded each other. The lunch she'd have to spring for was well worth the pink shells of his ears. Eventually, she held out the fluffy, wired tail and a safety pin. "Would you pin this just below my waistband?"

Fingers grazing hers, he took it and sat on the toilet lid. He cupped her hips and pulled her closer, positioned her until the dampness of his breath hit a bare sliver of her back. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice sending a tingle through her. At his gentle ministrations, the spandex of her leggings felt snugger. "Did you- Did you read my journal?"

A faint click of metal as the pin closed. "No." She colored the tip of her nose, frowned at how lackluster the shade was. "I'd never do that. Even if I'm dying for a preview of your material. Why?"

"No reason." A soft huff, his shy smile clear in his answer. "I have an idea." He handed her a washcloth and hurried out of the room. She was patting her face dry when he returned, a fine tipped brush and pot of black greasepaint in his hand. "This'll look better."

Her brow arched. She'd only had her make-up done once; Patricia had invited her when they'd first met. Such an outing was not her preference, but Y/N had accepted, being new in town and wanting to learn about her colleague. There'd been champagne at the counter, which she'd sipped until she'd spent too much on eyeshadow and apricot scrub. The next morning, she'd put the products and a note on Patricia's desk: "I'll never forgive you. Thanks!"

The heat radiating from Arthur prompted her to close the gap between them. She craned her neck towards him, slid her palms to his yellow vest until she held him just below his ribs. His forefinger curled under her chin, lifted it slightly and angled it to the right. The cool, wet brush met her fevered skin. The dusty smell of the greasepaint blended with a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and traces of his sweat. She licked her lips.

The vibration of his chuckle was felt before heard. "I really like your costume," he said lowly. Two more ticklish caresses of the bristles on the apple of her cheek. "If you're not careful, I might werewolf and go wild."

She stretched closer to him, the fervor in his tone going straight to her center. Though he'd been growing bolder, his cocky side wasn't often revealed. She wanted it, thirsted to see more of the wild horse kicking inside him. Her touch ran over his chest, until she dipped under his black suspenders and pulled. "Are you going to gobble me up?"

Teasing strokes on her nose. "Maybe." Then his thumb whispered along her jaw and guided her face upwards. His kiss was supple, slow, a drag of his mouth as his tongue sought entry. She yielded, the simmer of anticipation bringing her to her toes. He groaned deeply and palmed her thigh, then fondled the curve of her rear-

The ding-dong of the doorbell halted them. He lifted his head and laughed, gaze sparkling. "I got paint on you."

She twisted in his arms and looked in the mirror. The whiskers caught her eye, embellished at the ends with dainty curlicues - his skill never ceased to impress her. Red brightened her lips and streaks of white were on her cheek. "It's all right. They'll just know I've been necking with a clown."

~~~~~

The sound of the bell continued. Over and over and over. More than it ever had in Otisburg. There were mummies, ghosts, a couple of skeletons. A superhero proudly displayed his red cape and blue tights, and a kid in her karate robe went on about her yellow belt. A tiny clown, too young to walk, was brought by her sister. As Arthur made funny faces, the baby cooed and tried to take his red, foam nose. Arthur parted with it gladly.

Only one member of the Wayne family appeared, slicked back hair and pompous pout making the disguise complete. The man accompanying the boy introduced himself as their upstairs neighbor and shook their hands. After one look at Y/N, he nudged Arthur's bicep. "So, she's the one keeping half the building up at night. Good on you, pal." Arthur blinked in confusion as she ushered the guy away, red-faced and muttering about his nerve.

Arthur was overly generous, giving out fistfuls of sweets while taking a few extra seconds to gather his nerves and compliment the costumes he liked best. It felt good to interact with strangers without constantly second guessing himself. Y/N would rub his arm or kiss his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. "Kids are easy," he said, refilling the candy dish. But he reveled in her praises, anyway. And the knowledge that meeting the neighbors was going well.

Clean-up required little effort. The jack-o-lantern sat on their kitchen table, flames flickering as the wicks burned away. The door decor was packed safely for use next year. His plaid blazer was slung over the back of a dining chair and his wig was off. Y/N's decision to leave her whiskers on pleased him - she made a damn sexy cat. He pocketed the last few pieces of candy to snack on during the remainder of the evening.

The Sunday Night Special Presentation she'd picked out, a made-for-TV horror movie, began at 9:00 PM on GBC. Most of its airtime was punctuated by her tipsy snickers and legal wisecracks, which was typical when they watched something stupid. Yet, as the show went on, she grew quieter, barely speaking between sips of her third cocktail. As they sat on the sofa, her posture stiffened. Forearms crossed over her breasts. Her nails dug into her upper arm.

The change started two-thirds of the way into the show, when the plot about a doll running amok twisted into a story about a professional woman trying to assert herself against the demands of her mother. Against the expectations of availability. To fight for the simplicity of having dinner and peace and quiet. It resonated with him, which felt weird. Especially when the film cut to black, the implication being the mother would meet a violent end at the hands of her possessed daughter.

A cheerful jingle came on. Puerto Rico was a direct flight from Gotham Airport, it advertised, a flight that lasted "two hours and fifteen tropical minutes." They should get out while the weather was still good. The juxtaposition of mood broke him out of his ponderings. He flicked off the blaring television with the remote. Then he heard Y/N sniffling.

She set her glass on the coffee table, a slight tremble in her hand. "I need some air," she whispered as she rose, then went out onto the fire escape.

Arthur rubbed his thigh and pressed his lips together. He wasn't used to seeing her cry. Not from sadness. Should he follow her? Give her time? Both had worked previously, depending on the situation. But he wasn't sure what had upset her, what situation they were in now.

Exhaling sharply, he grabbed her glass and dumped the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Rinsed their dinner plates and put the slow cooker in the fridge. When he'd finished making decaf coffee ten minutes later, she still hadn't returned. He ambled towards the ajar glass door and stepped out.

Moonlight outlined her shapely figure and reflected off her hair, the silver a contrast to the orange glow of the streetlamps illuminating her face. Her stare seemed fixated on the street below. He followed it to see a group of ghouls and goblins spraying shaving cream on a shop window. A couple, one he'd see occasionally when out for a cigarette, walked down the sidewalk. A woman was half-carrying a drunk man towards a bus stop.

Upon clearing her throat, Y/N spoke. "I may not look like it, but I had a great time with you tonight. The movie just got to me." Relieved, Arthur sidled next to her, wrapped his arm about her back. Her head fell to his shoulder and she smoothed her hand over his stomach. "I don't mean to hide from you. Someday you'll know the details of my earlier life." She scoffed. "When I'm ready to think about them." He entwined their fingers and kissed her hairline, avoiding the wired tips of her cat ears.

Shivering, she took a shaky breath. "There are no skeletons in my closet. Only disappointments." Her voice cracked as she beamed at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed her face to his. "Knowing I'd get to have you would have made those years so much easier."

He held her tightly, massaging between her shoulders. She'd been speaking about herself, but he couldn't help thinking it was about him, too. His years with Penny. His stints in Arkham. The loneliness, the isolation, the endless anger and yearning to be more than a speck of dirt no one cared for. His journal was full of questions about where the hell his one and only was. If he'd known she'd be real, tangible instead of a figment, would existence have hurt less?

Wincing, he tried to push through those thoughts. To focus on her instead of himself. What mattered was that Y/N needed him. Perhaps a joke would cheer her. "I was thinking the other night of how easy it is to smile around you," he said. "You tickle my funny bone." Amusement bubbled in her throat, music to his ears. She released a contented sigh and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Peaceful stillness ensued as the minutes passed. Though the breeze was chill, goosebumps forming on his pale skin, her affection kept his heart warm. His fingertips rubbed circles into her lower back, and she offered a pleasured hum. Across the way, footsteps pounded. He glanced to see a kid darting up the street, plastic pumpkin pail in tow. The boy's scream was filled with boundless energy: "Happy Halloween, Gotham!"

Snorting, Y/N took Arthur's hand and led him inside. The cheap tail she wore bounced with every exaggerated swivel of her hips. "I've behaved all evening, which your werewolf comment made extraordinarily difficult." She looped her arms around him and flashed a come-hither stare. "May I have a goodie?"

The scrape of her nails on his scalp coiled a knot in his abdomen. "Aren't you supposed to say 'trick-or-treat?'" he asked huskily.

"Your pussycat needs a petting or two." She closed the bedroom door behind them. "Maybe even a mauling."

His brows shot up on a hitched giggle. Then he palmed her hip while she started in on his buttons. Before she got too far, he traced a whisker with the pad of his thumb. Let their foreheads meet and pecked her eyelids. "Only if you give me something good to eat." He pressed into her, his enjoyment relentless, not waiting for her reply before devouring her mouth.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @howdylilflower, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 4 years ago

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Girls Just Want to Have Fun

It’s always fun jumping into a movie I know next to nothing about, and this requested review for Wes will be no exception. All I know is that Girls Just Want to Have Fun is an 80s teen romp with the worst photoshopped cover photo I’ve ever seen. It looks like Michael Scott put it together. I know it stars girls, AND I know what those girls want. That’s half your narrative battle right there. So do they achieve the fun they seek? Well...

They do! A lot of weird shit happens along the way, but yeah, fun is had and that’s all that really matters. God, 1985 was a simpler time. I mean, I know everyone was living in constant fear that the Russians were going to invade Kansas and we’d be faced with a neverending nuclear winter, but in the face of all that existential terror you also get movies where the entire pitch is “So there’s this girl (Sarah Jessica Parker) who wants to be a dancer on tv, but her parents don’t want to let her. But she does it anyway! And her partner is chosen for her and, boy, they do not see eye to eye. But then they do! And they have to practice a lot. And then they win the dance contest!”

You know some studio exec heard that and screamed at his secretary to hold his calls for the day so he could sign the contracts and then do a mountain of blow off them.

Some thoughts:

It’s so weird to see Sarah Jessica Parker without curly hair! I was never a Sex and the City fan, so my exposure to SJP is purely Hocus Pocus based.

This dance sequence over the credits is incredible. Why do we not have shows anymore that are just a large group of young attractive people dancing in sync? No host, no dialogue, just the power of dance. I was born in the wrong decade. I would have appreciated the shit out of the 80s when I was alive.

Poor Helen Hunt - she must be one of those people who always looked like she was 35, even in high school. Granted, she was 22 when this was filmed and she’s playing a teenager, but still.

Helen Hunt is wearing dinosaurs in her hair. 80s fashion was on a wavelength that I don’t think any of us living will ever see again.

Omg this rich bitch (Natalie, I guess? She’s not named for at least the first 30 min of the movie) had Claire’s closet from Clueless 10 years before the movie existed! This is already groundbreaking.

NOW SHE HAS A BUG ON HER HAT. A big plastic green grasshopper. This review is mainly going to be about the insane things Lynne (Helen Hunt) wears.

Speaking of - I’m getting big lesbian vibes from Lynne Stone and I am so here for it. The homoerotic tension when she acts like she’s gonna fight the rich bitch? Delicious. The immediate intimate connection she makes with SJP? Practically U-Hauling.

I love an 80s dance montage, and this movie promises to contain basically nothing but that tied loosely together with some nonsensical dialogue in between. This is gonna be my new favorite movie.

Ooh Nestle Quik syrup! I forgot about Nestle Quik.

Favorite line: “There is a time and a place for calypso music, young lady.”

Ohhh I see what this is gonna be - Janey (SJP) is a classically trained dancer and gymnast, and Jeff (Lee Montgomery) is more of a rough and tumble music video kinda guy from the streets. You can tell cause he’s got a motorcycle and a leather jacket. And he wears cutoff sleeves! He’s a white guy in Chicago, who could be more street than that? And they’re butting heads! How will they ever be able to make it work for the big dance contest??

How did Natalie know Janey’s phone number? She specifically said it was unlisted. Unless she remembers it from overhearing it offhand after the dance tryouts...? That’s insane, I can’t even remember what I wore yesterday let alone a 7-digit number someone shouted in a crowd.

Lynne Fashion Alert: Is she wearing a belt made out of bullets? And a Davy Crocket hat. This is galaxy brain lesbian fashion. If the costume designer for this movie didn’t win 10 Oscars...

The music director on the other hand...not sure what is up with all these weird KidzBop covers of excellent songs like “Dancing in the Street” or the titular “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” but if you’re gonna include them, you gotta spring for the originals. This is just sad.

I’ve never been at a party with an ice sculpture. I think that’s how you know you’re among the rich.

Whatever happened to Jonathan Silverman? I miss when he was the nebbishy sidekick in every 80s movie.

Who enters a party by catapulting through the damn window?? Punk does not mean that you no longer know how to use doors, sir!

Who serves a full roasted turkey at a party? Is this how rich people live? This feels like the equivalent of using Google translate to identify rich people food in another language, then translating it back to English.

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now I think she has space shuttles in her hair.

Wow we got a real 1-2 punch of sexual harassment in this club. Who wrote this Tune in Tokyo gag and was like “You know what would be hilarious? If this shitty little nerd convinced this girl to raise her arms so he can just grab her boobs full on, front and center. And then she gets upset and runs away. God I’m good at this *snorts another line*”

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now it’s two globes (like, two Earths) with crab claws on them? This is a choice that I don’t understand, but I think I may just not be seeing what it is clearly. I am digging her mirror sunglasses though.

I know Janey is smart but when did she learn how to hotwire a security system? It’s not like Google or Youtube existed, and I doubt there was a library book about how to dismantle that specific system. MYTH BUSTED.

Oh god oh no I’m so gay for these Dixon sisters from Kansas City, these two gorgeous black women in tuxes and spandex leotards. They 100% should have won this dance contest.

Why did guys stop wearing crop tops? Can we bring back slutty quarterback as a fashion trend for dudes? Seriously, the costume design here is everything.

I really love Jeff and his little family - his sister and his dad are so proud of him and supportive. You never see that in dance narratives featuring guys. I like the reversal here of gendered expectations.

Did I Cry? No, but my heart was warmed at various moments.

Honestly, why can’t more narrative arcs in movies be solved via dance battle?

Lynne Fashion Alert: She’s now dressed as...Cleopatra? Wait why the fuck is there a horse here?

Oh that’s it that’s the end! Man, you can’t be mad at a tight 90 min film like this - it gets in, it gets out, bing bang boom you’re done with enough time to read before bed.

Is this a cinematic masterpiece? No. But is it good clean fun? Absolutely. Barring the brief [obligatory 80s] sexual harassment scene, there’s very little to be upset with here. Kids wanna dance, they’re told they can’t dance, they dance anyway! It’s the power of dance! You’re either into it or you’re not, but if you’re not, I ask that you search your heart and try to find one teeny tiny sliver of joy inside it. You’re gonna need to feed that joy if you wanna make it through 2021, and watching this movie is a darn good place to start.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #girls just want to have fun #sarah jessica parker #helen hunt #lee montgomery #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

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niall-the-churchboy · 5 years ago

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The Better One ~ Louis Tomlinson x reader

In which Louis leave Y/n for her sister

Warnings: Kinda angsty

Word Count: 1.8K

Y/n had always been the overlooked sister, I mean, she could understand why, being the smallest of three girls made it hard to stand out.

Her sisters were beyond unique and with extreme beauties, they were talented and intelligent and more than she could dream of ever being. And then, there was little Y/n, the one who always had to think twice before giving her opinion because she feared it would be wrong; the one who at the dinner table no one would hear what she had to say, sometimes even interrupting her mid-sentence; the one who everyone thought her suggestion on something was not reliable or useful. She wouldn’t dare to complain though, she had grew up with a silver spoon granted at her, and she was well aware of how privileged she was.

However it didn’t take away the pain, and she felt guilty for that, what right did she have to complain when people all around the world didn’t have to eat? Or a comfy place to live in? So whenever someone --her friends even-- joked about her being the failure of the family she laughed along them and made it look as if it was funny. She knew they didn’t actually mean it --she was sweet and people loved being around her-- but it still hurt.

She didn’t complain about her beauty, it was just a standard given by society, and she was happy with being ‘average’, but it killed her whenever someone would meet any of her two sisters and instantly comment on how beautiful they were. And their intelligence, Y/n could swear they knew almost everything, always had bright A’s and B’s without even trying. Unfortunately it wasn't her case, she had to study for weeks to ace an exam, try to memorise and understand the logic of every detail in every book. She knew she wasn’t the smartest --not that she was dumb either-- but comparing herself to her sisters made her mad. Was it too hard to give her a brain too?

She believes her mother noticed this repetitive comparison, maybe the countless of times her mother had overheard Y/n encouraging herself to keep on studying because her sisters would have had great marks, or the amount of times she had cached her own daughter glancing on the mirror, examining her nose or lips or face.

“What are you doing?”, her mother had once asked when she found Y/n comparing her report card to her sisters’ ones. “Nothing! I’m sorry”, she apologised.

Apologise. She would always apologise for the tiniest of errors. “Y/n, it’s okay. It’s no big deal, you don’t need to apologise”, her mom would asure her but it just didn't sit right.

Her parents were happy and eager when Y/n announced she would bring home her boyfriend for the holidays. In her short twenty-four years of life she had never had a boyfriend or a special someone, something that had also been different from her sisters’ teenage years. They where even more surprised when they found out it was no other than Louis Tomlinson himself.

Louis and Y/n had met in an interview, she was asking him question about his new album like the professional reporter she was when all of a sudden he asked her out.

“I’m sorry, I believe I didn’t hear you correctly”, she said brushing her hair behind her ear. Louis laughed, that charming laugh that would cause dimples in his cheeks and Y/n couldn't contain her blushing. My god! Why was she so dumb and awkward?!

“I asked if you would like to go out sometime, maybe go to a coffee place or to a bar...”, he asked again waiting for her to answer with a positive response. Y/n glanced at her coworkers who were filming them and the she looked back at Louis, “me? You want to go on a date with me?” Poor Y/n, she couldn’t believe it herself someone would invite her out, let alone a celebrity, she believed this was a twisted joke her mind was playing on her.

“Yes. If you don’t want to I totally understand”, Louis was quick to answer. So she said yes, and she pinched herself during the whole date just to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

It was difficult for Y/n to open up, someone was suddenly asking for her opinions in certain things and questioning about her day, but Louis knew what he was getting himself into and truly believed she was worth it. It took Y/n a whole year and a half to bring Louis home, she was scared of him meeting her sisters and suddenly realising how little she had to offer. Obviously she would never tell him this and always excused herself saying they were very far away from her hometown.

The day would eventually come, and now there they were, standing at the door of her childhood house with a grip on their suitcases and tight coats against the cold December winter. “Y/n!”, Avery, the second child, greeted them with a christmas hat and a warm hug towards her little sister before welcoming them in.

“Avery, this is Louis. Louis, this is Avery”, she said with a sweet smile as they shook hands. “Y/n, is that you, sweetheart?”, the cheerful voice of her mother reached her and Y/n felt herself grow happier, soon enough her mother was coming out of the living room with an eager look on her face. “Is this handsome man Louis?”, she continued to ask after hugging tightly her younger daughter.

Louis liked being here, they didn’t seem to treat him like a celebrity and that made him feel normal for once, he wrapped his arms around Y/n’s waist as they sat on the dinner table that was already waiting for them with a big turkey. The table held all new faces for him, Y/n’s father who smiled proudly when asked who had cooked; Avery and her Husband, Chris, who was a Lawyer; and Y/n’s mother.

“Where is Tessa?”, Y/n asked when everyone began serving themselves food. “Oh, Tessa wasn't feeling well. I believe she's asleep”, her mother answered her and Y/n ordered herself to remain happy even though she had a sad feeling forming on her chest.

Tessa and Y/n didn't have the brightest of relationships, Tessa had always been somewhat mean towards Y/n and the younger sibling had never know why. When she was eight she came to the conclusion that her sister hated her, Y/n tried everything to become part of Tessa’s white list but the task seemed impossible. So she kept her head down low and sinked in the words her sister would tell her because she clearly had done something wrong and she had to pay the price of it.

“Oh...”, Y/n made a pregnant pause, a year had gone by since she last saw her sister, why would Tessa prolong their reunion even further?, “I’ll be sure to go say hi to her when we finish eating.”

“That won’t be needed”, all eyes fell on the women who walked down the stairs with sturdy long legs, hair curled perfectly and her face completely clean even though she didn't have a single drop of make up on. Y/n felt Louis hand fall from her waist.

“Tessa, is so nice to see you again”, Y/n stood up from her chair and went to greet her sister. “Good to see you too, Y/n”, the older one answered looking at her right in the eye. “Em, sorry, this is Louis”, Y/n continued to present her boyfriend after a quick hug.

“Nice to meet you, Louis.”

-----

Their connection was almost instant and Y/n hated herself for it. Tessa had recently divorced and Louis seemed like the perfect distraction. However, Louis grew interested in his girlfriend’s sister. They both had the same age, so it instantly gave them more similarities; they liked football, a sport Y/n never really understood; and a special chemistry between them that Y/n had never experienced ever in her life.

Y/n became more impatient for the two weeks to end so she and Louis could go back home and escape her sister’s seductive stares. But Y/n knew, she knew her time was running out when Louis barely spent time with her and began replacing her with Tessa. Both Avery and her mother attempted to keep Y/n occupied with other things, but the reality was that no one knew what to do.

She was taking the garbage out when she spot them, it took her almost five seconds to realise that it was in fact his boyfriend kissing his sister, that’s when she knew it was over. Her stupid, little to offer self had lost again, this time however, the only person who actually listened to her. So she went back inside and told herself that she should leave because who was she to ruin their love? She wanted them to be happy, and if they needed each other to achieve that she would have to move from their way, even if it hurt her in the process.

The sun had already set and it was snowing when she told Louis. She had asked him to go outside to talk for a little while and he had agreed with an irritated look on his face.

“I bought an airplane ticket to leave at dawn”, was the first thing she said.

“What? Why would you do that?”, Louis asked as anger began stirring in his insides, they didn't leave until three more days and christmas was still to arrive! Y/n cupped her hands together as she tried not to cry, she wasn't allowed to cry.

“I only bought one, for me. You should stay here with Tessa and my family, I don’t want to damage things for you”, she explained sighing. It was hard to let go.

Louis knew instantly what she was talking about, she knew. Maybe they hadn't been as careful as they thought, but he wasn't sorry --probably just a little that he had broke Y/n on the process, but he knew she would get over it--, he wanted Tessa, he loved Tessa.

“I’m really sorry, Louis”, Y/n said. What was she apologising for? Oh well, she had forgot. “I won’t ruin things anymore. I’ll leave and grab my things back at home, it will be like I was never even there, I promise.” She felt angry at herself for letting tears spill from her eyes, “I’m sorry. I’ll leave now, thanks for everything Louis.”

Indeed she left, with barely an explanation towards her family and a shuttered heart. Don’t they say goodbyes are the hardest? And Y/n knows that what comes always goes.

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

I feel sad for Y/n and mad at both Tessa and Louis! I think she deserves a better ending, what do you guys think?

Part 2 is here

#louis tomilson #louis tomlinson one shot #louis tomlinson fanfiction #louis tomlinson imagine #Louis tomlinson blurb #one direction #onedirection #one direction one shot #one direction preferences #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines #one direction 2020 #one direction fandom #1d #niall horan #harry styles #zayn zquad #liam payne

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asexual-hugger · 3 years ago

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Lady Eleanor McQueen leads the group to a brilliantly-decorated table in the dining room. Tall candles surround a large silver plate, and chairs are set all around. Harry and Dominic get the two chairs next to each other along the long side of the table, on the right, while Kade gets the third chair next to Dominic. This placement is directly across from where Allison will be sitting right next to Detective Ernest Sinclaire. To her surprise, however, there appears to be an extra chair on her other side.

“Mum, did you mis-count the seating?” she asks. “Why is there an extra chair on the other side of me?”

Lady Eleanor is about to answer when the doorbell rings.

“That must be him,” she says. “I forgot to mention... Excuse me. You can all sit down. Dinner will be served momentarily.”

She disappears down the hall to answer the door. Muffled voices. One is clearly Lady Eleanor, but the other is an unrecognizable male.

“We were just sitting down to eat,” Lady Eleanor says. “Please come in. Allison is already here. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

She re-enters the dining room, and Allison gets a good look at the mystery guest behind her. A strapping young man wearing a felt hat with a patterned scarf and a long jacket grins widely at the assembled family.

“Evening, everyone,” he greets them in a smooth kind voice. “Brothers. And Allison McQueen. My, my, my. You get more beautiful with each passing day.”

“Oh, my god. Walter Enos. Is that you???” Allison gets up from her chair and embraces the stranger tightly, and he returns the gesture a bit too eagerly.

“The one and only,” Walter answers proudly. “How have you been? You sort of lost touch after high school.”

Walter was Allison’s high school sweetheart. After graduation, they had gone their separate ways but managed to stay in touch here and there. When Allison decided to move to London, Walter had stayed closer to home, wanting to be near his family.

“Yeah. I’m afraid that’s on me,” Allison answers. “As you know, I moved to London in hopes to find a job in my field of study. I’m still working through my criminal justice program, but I think now I’ve settled on something I really want to do.” She nods towards Detective Sinclaire. “Detective, I want you to meet Walter John Enos. He was my boyfriend in high school. Walter, meet Detective Ernest Sinclaire.”

Detective Sinclaire stands up and offers his hand. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Enos. I’m a private investigator with the Ledford Park Detective Agency, and Allison is currently my assistant.”

“Assistant?” Walter looks between Allison and Sinclaire. “So he’s your boss?”

“He is,” Allison replies. “I invited him to spend Christmas with us, and no one told me YOU were coming.” She eyes Lady Eleanor skeptically, and Lady Eleanor takes a small sip of wine as she looks away.

“Sorry.” Walter looks guilty. “I thought maybe your mum told you. She thought it would be a good gesture for us to catch up and spend the holidays together. It’s been a long time since we saw each other.”

Allison can sense her family’s and Detective Sinclaire’s eyes on her, and her cheeks burn. “Let’s eat dinner first,” she says quickly. “I guess you’re on my other side, Walter. That explains the extra chair. I’m starving. I don’t know about the rest of you.”

“Yeah! Let’s eat!” Dominic shouts. “We can catch up and all that good stuff after dinner. Walt, how’s it going, man?”

“It’s been great, Dom. How are you?” Walter asks, reaching over to shake the eldest McQueen child’s hand. “Are you still flying?”

“I am always flying,” Dominic answers. “Nothing’s changed. You still working at your dad’s accounting firm?”

“Nah. I decided to go my own way a couple years ago,” Walter replies. “Allison inspired me. I thought that if she could travel to London to be her own person, I could do the same. I’m actually working in an office for a small local company running their numbers. They were looking for a bookkeeper.” He winks at Allison and gives her a tender kiss on the cheek. On her other side, Detective Sinclaire tenses up.

“A bookkeeper! How wonderful!” Lady Eleanor comments.

Lord Sebastian, Allison’s father, speaks up. “Is it by any chance that Winslow’s place a couple blocks down from here?” he asks.

“It is,” Walter answers. “They’ve been in need of a bookkeeper for months. When I spoke to the guy at the desk, he explained that all their skilled people had left. They hired me on the spot.”

Dinner is served, Lady Eleanor placing a giant roast turkey on the silver plate in the center of the table. Sautéed vegetables surround it: carrots, onions, mushrooms, potatoes and peppers. There is a smorgasbord of side dishes and a variety of breads.

“This looks delicious, Mum,” Harry comments.

“Thank you, Harry dear,” Lady Eleanor responds, grinning at her son. “I made something for everyone, since there are different preferences at this table. You know that variety is the spice of life.”

“I think we should serve our guests first,” Lord Sebastian says. “Walter, Detective Sinclaire...would either of you like some turkey? I’ll let you in on a secret. My wife cooks the best dang turkey on this side of the village.”

“Oh, stop.” Lady Eleanor giggles like a schoolgirl, cheeks flushing.

“Yes, please!” Walter answers eagerly, at the same time Detective Sinclaire says, “I would love some, Lady McQueen. Thank you.”

Walter holds up his plate for Lady Eleanor to serve him, while Detective Sinclaire waits patiently before receiving his serving. Again Walter gives Allison that flirtatious wink and a sidelong glance. Detective Sinclaire stiffens, his jaw tightening, but for Allison’s sake, he keeps his professionalism.

“So Mr. Enos,” he starts, addressing Walter before clearing his throat. “You said that you and Allison used to date in high school.”

Walter gazes at Allison fondly. “We sure did,” he gushes, remembering every moment like it was yesterday. Memories start bubbling to the surface as he speaks. “Those were great times. Movies, bowling, dinner and dancing at the local cafes. Pretty much every date that teenagers experienced. And of course you couldn’t forget prom.” His hand finds Allison’s knee and gives it an affectionate squeeze. The way he’s recalling every detail of their time together in such a romantic fashion only causes Sinclaire to tense up even more. He grips his dinner fork with such strength that his knuckles turn white.

Allison doesn’t say much during the story. She looks over at her boss and notices his expression. Was that jealousy in his blue eyes? His face is dark, and he seems to be clenching his teeth. Walter’s hand begins to rub gently across her leg. She manages a small interested smile at him and places her right hand on Sinclaire’s shoulder, silently attempting for him to relax. He seems to acknowledge her touch for a moment, easing up only slightly, but his eyes move down to where Walter’s hand is resting on his assistant’s knee. Anger crosses his features and he stabs his fork aggressively into a slice of turkey, bringing it to his mouth and chewing it quickly.

“Yes, Walter, we know how romantic you were in high school,” Allison tells her former flame gently, trying to halt the topic. “It was fun while it lasted, but we both know that everyone moves on at some point.” Her eyes keep diverting to Sinclaire.

“Not me,” Walter says truthfully. “A day in my life has not gone by without me thinking about you and what you’ve been doing. You were everything to me, Allison McQueen. I always believed that you would be the girl of my dreams even beyond high school. Are you going to the tree-lighting ceremony tomorrow night?”

“Of course we are,” Allison answers. “Our family goes to it every year. We’re going to stand around the fence and sing carols. Same as last year.”

“I didn’t see you last year,” Walter says. “I had to work, sadly, but at least this year will be better. If I get picked to be Christmas Maestro this year, I’m choosing you as my duet partner.”

He grins the grin that always melted Allison’s heart through high school. He hadn’t changed. He was still the charming boy she had fallen in love with back in the day.

“And you believe you’re going to be Christmas Maestro,” Allison observes. “You seem very confident about that. Not to mention you’re hoping that I’ll sing with you.”

“Why not?” Walter challenges. “We both have the best singing voices of a lot of people in this small town. It only makes sense that I would pick you. We were the top singers in our high school chorus. It’ll be just like old times. I still love you, Allison McQueen. I’ve never stopped loving you. I want us to catch up. There is so much I haven’t heard about your life in London. I wish I could see you more often. I only hope that you still have a place in your heart for me.”

He turns back to his dinner and starts conversing with the rest of the family, and Allison takes advantage of her new out. She looks back over at Detective Sinclaire, his face still hard but saying nothing. He looks as if he is really struggling to hold back some very powerful emotions.

“Are you all right, Detective?” She speaks in a low voice so that Walter won’t hear.

“To be honest, no, I’m not,” Sinclaire replies, his voice sounding strained. “Just listening to your former boyfriend rave about your high school romance and then have the nerve to put his hands all over your body is enough to make me hurl. It’s like he was craving attention, and the way he was gloating about you being the love of his life...ugh. I’m vomiting in my mouth just thinking about it! You’re not really still into him, are you?” His expression turns questioning, and slightly hopeful that she will say no.

“Honestly, I haven’t really thought of him at all,” she replies, and she can hear the huge relieved sigh that escapes him. “I was not expecting him to show up tonight. Mum didn’t tell me she had invited him, and I had distinctly told her that I had already invited you. You seem really tense. Did Walter’s story get to you that much?”

“His story, his attitude, everything,” Sinclaire admits. “He was speaking extra loud, too, like his relationship with you was the highlight of his entire life. He just confessed his love to you, and he hasn’t even seen you since high school.”

“Well, we WERE in love, once,” Allison replies. “I did love him. He was the most charming boy I ever met. He treated me like a queen when other boys brought me down. We lost touch after high school, though. I moved away for college and job hunting. I never knew I would meet another equally charming and handsome guy after Walter John Enos, but then you showed up that night several years ago with your white knight in police armor demeanor and saved me from what would’ve been a toxic date. I don’t recall Walter doing that.”

“I saved you because I saw a vulnerable woman in danger,” Sinclaire explains. “That despicable individual that attacked you in his car was way out of line. Even if I wasn’t a private investigator, I still would’ve rescued you. My instincts were telling me that you needed help.” He pauses, looking over at Walter laughing with the boys. “You mentioned that you loved Mr. Enos, like past tense. How do you feel now?”

“Now...I think I might be falling for someone else,” Allison answers.

#choices stories you play #desire and decorum #pixelberry #detective story #fanfic #tv show idea #choices game #play choices

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fairytsuk1 · 5 years ago

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trainwreck | pt.2

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader

genre: fluff <3

warning: none! swearing lmao

words: 1,965

summary: after meeting in a rundown station, you both settle on a checkered blanket underneath the cherry blossoms

part one!

It felt straight out of a movie, the whole scene in front of you felt just like a romantic comedy. The ones where the boy is so obviously out of place, but it was still endearing somehow. Bakugou stood, a checkered blanket and basket in his hands. He was that boy in the movie, handsome but with his own unique charm that no other film could replicate. He was not just that boy. He was your boy. The Adam's apple in your throat bobbed, a wave of nervousness washed over you. You'd brought your own woven basket full of delicious treats you'd specially baked for this date, but now you fretted that it wasn't enough.

"Quit starin' and c'mere!" He shouted with his infamous scowl and low baritone voice before beginning to spread out the blanket, "I'll force-feed you if I have to! They took a lot of work!!"

He was nervous too, it was only the second date. What was supposed to happen on the second date? Hell if he knew, and he certainly wasn't going to ask his mom or dad. That was just asking for jokes about his love-life and whatnot, it was his business! Whatever. He'll figure it out because you're just a girl...just an adorable, charming, and cute girl.

"I didn't know you had it in you! You don't seem like the type to…" you grew quieter as you came face to face with a bouquet of Gardenias. White Gardenias, they were beautiful, "...to show up with flowers…"

You take them and swear you can feel the electricity when your fingers graze his own.

"What the hell does that mean?! Just...take the flowers. And don't look so shocked about it either! Sit down with me, I didn't bring all of this for nothing."

You sniffed them and savored the sweet, delicate scent before grinning widely. You donned a cute outfit, cozy but fashionable. Your mother-deemed by herself as the best consultant for dates-made sure to accessorize you for a final touch of pizazz. His eyes trailed over the various gems and shimmers that graced your body.

"You look cute."

"You look handsome! So...what'd you bring me?"

His shoulders dropped as he grew more relaxed and into the mood. You weren't a stranger; you were just someone who seemed to be occupying his mind everywhere he went. Must be a curse of the crush.

He began to rant about his experience making deli sandwiches and how "they better taste like heaven on bread!" but you could only focus on one thing. Him. His face was smooth with no blemishes and his hands seemed soft based on the light touch from before. You hadn't kissed him yet, but you knew well enough from the late-night video chats that his lips were cushy and smooth from the strawberry chapstick he wore.

"Are you listening?"

"Hah? Yeah."

"Don't worry, I'd tell you all over again if I had to." He snorted and pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich. "This one's yours. I didn't know what you wanted, but everyone likes roast beef...right? Uh there's also turkey or chicken if you-"

"Did you seriously make me tons of different sandwiches because you didn't know what I liked? Why didn't you just text me?!"

"It would've ruined the surprise! I don't know what you brought so why should you know?!"

"That just seems like a waste-"

He shouted, but it wasn't malicious, "I'll eat all these goddamn sandwiches myself if I have to! Don't test me!"

The fact that he was getting riled up over some subs sent you into a fit of giggles causing you to fall back onto the soft blanket. He grumbled curses as he nudged your knee to "come up and eat!". Your stomach eventually ceased it's laughing fit and you sat back up while trying to bite back a smile. Bakugou had already started to eat in which he reminded you of a giant wolf. But if he was a wolf, what were you? Maybe a bunny? Either way, you two were an unlikely pair. You began to eat.

The first bite was an experience in itself, your tastebuds happily savoring the flavors of tomato, beef, and dijon mustard. The bread was even lightly toasted. A delightful moan escaped your lips as your tongue darted out to swipe over them once more. His red eyes roamed your face to search for any hint of dislike.

"Bakugou, this is so fucking good. I know you said you liked to cook, but I wasn't expecting corporate-level food!"

A smug grin tugged at his lips as he looked down and crumpled the wrapper. A "T" labeled on it for turkey was quickly hidden by the folds. He was also an organized guy though you knew that already. It was just as you thought when you caught a peek of his phone one time to see everyone's contacts labeled with photos. Yours had a heart next to it which you had pretended not to notice.

"Well, only for you. I'd hate to disappoint a pretty girl."

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you cheesed over the downright dangerously romantic line. The sun shone on you both, a gust of wind let the flower petals of the delicate cherry blossoms flow to the ground, an easy path left behind them. You took another bite and watched as he dug around in his basket, revealing chips that he opened and pointed towards you.

"We should've brought plates instead of wrappers and napkins. Don't you dare spill anything on my blanket or else my mom will have my ass!"

"Oh? Maybe then she'll finally know who her son keeps calling so late at night."

"You're the one that stays up late! It's none of her business anyways," he squinted at you as if to dig his heels into proving he'd never tell a soul before happily snacking on some chips.

"Well, whatever makes you comfy! It doesn't bother me."

As you finished up your absolutely delightful sandwich, Bakugou tugged on his bottom lip. You were completely comfortable in his presence, no tense energy or apprehensiveness radiated off of you.

"If you start overthinking Bakugou, you'll get painful gas."

"Who says something like that?! That's not even true! Your quirk's wrong, I'm just thinking."

"Uh-huh, I can feel your aura. You think too hard! You work hard all the time, so just relax, I'm not gonna go anywhere. Alright, time for my super awesome kickass and totally delicious desserts! So..."

The first Tupperware box contained two crispy brown flaky pieces of pie. The crust was cooked perfectly, and Bakugou's mouth watered as the cherries glistened with their sugary sheen.

"Here it is! This is cherry pie, I thought it'd be nice 'cause I know you aren't the biggest fan of super sweet stuff," you smiled and lifted the container up to his face, "plus it matches your eyes!"

"It looks amazing. I can't wait to-hold on-you baked more than that?"

Nervous laughter made Bakugou scrunch his face up, ready to reprimand you for doing so much for him.

"Like you said, I didn't know what you'd like...It seems like we were both insecure about what to bring!"

He didn't know why it felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

"Seems...seems like it," he grabbed a fork and got a nice bite of the dessert, the cherry sauce dripping from the prongs, "open your mouth. I'll feed it to you."

You stared at his hand and could almost see the shaking. Your face felt hot, and as if your necklace was a choker. It was only your second date. No need to panic, you opened your mouth and let your mouth take the delicious into it before pulling away from the fork. He was right about one fact, the fact is that it was a fucking amazing pie. Though it was so obvious that your pulse raced as his eyes hyper-focused on your lips. This time you hoped he didn’t notice.

You took your own fork and snagged a bite for him. You still had some cherry sauce on your lip, but you hadn't yet noticed. He did though. You offered the bit of pie towards him and it felt like your stomach was pooling with something. Was it intuition?

He didn't know why he lurched forward and captured you into a bruising but full of emotions type of kiss. The type of kiss that makes you drop your fork and undoubtedly leave a red splotch in the cherry's descent. The type of kiss you immediately respond to and rest your hands on the junction between his shoulder and neck. The type of kiss with a firmness that makes you push up into the kiss when it seemed like he was trying to crush you with not only his need but his love. He supposed that asking first would've been the gentleman route, but since when was he ever gentlemanly?

After a few short seconds, your lungs pulsed with the need for air as you fisted his shirt and pulled away. Your brain was racing a million miles a second, and it seemed like there was a slight fog clouding your mind. There were no fireworks or seeing stars, it just felt right. Your lips fit together right. Everything just seemed absolutely perfect.

"...You didn't even get to try the cherry pie."

"I'm sure it's good, but I was far more interested in something else."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're just a horny teenage boy who should try my pie."

"Not to be a horny teenage boy or anything, but doesn't that sound a bit dirty?" A boyish smile full of happiness takes you by surprise; you make sure to take a mental snapshot of it in case it happened to disappear right before your eyes, "it'd be funnier if you had brought a creampie! Hah!"

You groaned and promptly let go of his shirt to poke him in his ribs. Was this the real Bakugou Katsuki? Crude and full of passion? Or was he more like the romantic you saw earlier, with a touch of shyness?

"Now you're the one overthinking. Look, you'll miss my pie-eating face," Bakugou held the fork up with an impossibly large bite that made you doubtful as to whether he could actually eat it, "see? Of course, I'll try whatever you make."

It makes sense now. Bakugou wasn't as one-sided as everyone made him out to be, he was so very complicated with so many varying aspects of him that it almost made it hard to tell. Most people just chose one side and decided to be done with it. But no, you now know that with the countless video chats, games played together, and the two dates spent in each other's company that he was much more than some angry pent-up boy with an ego.

He was just like everyone else, and the fact that he looked at you with those vermillion eyes made that clear.

Your heart soared, was it because of seeing him exclaim that your pie was so good? Or was it that the red string had finally come to a close and sealed you two off together. You couldn't possibly know. You told yourself you wouldn't use your quirk on him for a while, but you just had to know what he was feeling.

An overwhelming rush of warmth and light washed over you, like an ocean wave crashing into you and knocking you down. But no sharp sand or water filling your lungs, just the softness of pure joy and excitement.

"Mhm, this is so fucking good. And call me Katsuki, okay? It's better that way."

You had to agree, it was indeed better that way.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou imagine #bnha bakugou #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader

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daybreak-delusion · 5 years ago

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Chapter 7

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina. As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

After the long walk home I took a shower, finally, and went straight to bed. It had been an excruciatingly long day and I was ready for some sleep. Thankfully the next morning I wasn’t awakened by the annoying sound of a lawnmower. I took a shower to clean off my sleep and changed into some shorts and a simple blouse. The one good thing about the humidity is that it was making my normally frizzy curly hair look normal. Back in my room after looking around at my mess, I decided that would be a cleaning day. I put on my headphones and shuffled my cleaning playlist and got to work. I started with my room, unpacking my bags, finally, and organizing my clothes in the closet. Then I moved to the bathroom, cleaning the mirrors, countertops, and disinfecting the shower and toilet with some cleaner I found in the kitchen. I spent three seconds debating whether or not to go into Grandmother’s room and then turned into the living room. I vacuumed, dusted, and disinfected some more. The kitchen was the worst, I kept sneezing from all of the dust when Fernando by ABBA came on. Oh my god, this was my song. I picked up a spoon and pretended to sing to my adoring fans.

“There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando!” I was practically screaming by the time the chorus came on, dancing to the beat like a maniac.

“They were shining there for you and me for liberty-”

“Hey, sunshine!” yelled a voice from behind me. Screaming I turned around and saw JJ leaning against the back door frame. He was wearing the same tacky shorts as yesterday and a white t-shirt with some fishing company logo on it.

“How long have you been standing there?” I said, taking off my headphones blush creeping on to my face.

“Not long, I’m here to pick the lemons and just need to get a bag,” explained JJ walking towards the pantry getting a reusable bag out.

“Oh right do you need any help?”

“Oh no I’m good, wouldn't want to cut your little concert short.”

“Ha, ha,” I laughed sarcastically, “be sure to bring them back, I’m thinking of trying Grandmother's lemonade recipe.”

“Really?” he stopped before heading out the door giving me a quizzical look.

“Yeah, I was thinking about making a batch for good measure.”

“Well good luck with that, Vicky was really particular about the way she made her lemonade.”

“Oh, I think I can handle a little lemonade.”

“If you say so, I’ll be in the greenhouse,” he said humming the chorus of Fernando on his way out the door. When he left I shook off my embarrassment and I turned back to dusting the shelves. After a while, I realized how hungry I was. The only food that I’ve had was dinner last night with the Camerons and the only food in the house was some stale saltine crackers and beer, which was kinda concerning but I tried not to look too into it. One thing was for sure, I needed food. Like now. Thankfully just as I was about to try my luck with the saltines, JJ walked back in with a bag full of lemons.

“I only got about 10 this batch but next week we should get about triple,” said JJ walking in through the back door. He placed the bag on the counter and reached into the fridge to grab a beer.

“Thank you, also do you by any chance know of anywhere to eat?”

“Um yeah my friend’s family owns a restaurant, it’s called The Wreck, they got great sandwiches. It’s about two miles into town.”

“Sounds perfect, you want anything?”

“Uh no, no I’m good just tell Kie I said hi,” he said taking a swing of his beer as he walked towards the back door.

“Do you ever drink water?” I asked.

“Not if I can help it sunshine,” he replied with a wink walking out the door.

That boy was going to die of liver failure if he kept his drinking habits up. A problem he’d have to deal with. In the meantime I needed food. That’s how my search for transportation started. No way was I gonna ask for a ride from Rafe and I’m pretty sure JJ just materializes everywhere, so I had to either walk or find another way.

Another thing I was oblivious too when I first arrived was the garage to the left of the house. Hopefully, Grandmother left a bike or even a skateboard for me. I walked the dirt path to the old little garage. It’s kinda how I imagined what the house would have looked like if I’m being honest. It was even more faded yellow then the house with a rusty white painted garage door. Cobwebs were everywhere. I was terrified that I would have to encounter the creatures that made them. I was half expecting the handle to fall off when I pulled the door up. It opened with an ear-piercing screech and a cloud of dust. When I stopped coughing my lungs out I saw it. A vintage yellow Volkswagen beetle with a rack on top for surfboards surrounded by at least 50 cardboard boxes. I just stared at it for a few seconds admiring the car. I’m not exactly an expert on automobiles or whatever, but something about vintage cars really got me going. On the left of the garage was a bulletin board with a couple of keys tacked to it labeled with different things. I found the one that said car and prayed that the thing would start. The outside of the car was covered in dust, but thankfully the inside was a little cleaner. The only problem was that the car was a stick. Now I haven't driven stick in two years. Grandmother always said any person with a brain could drive automatic, but it took a real driver to learn stick. It was a miracle the car started in the first place and all I had to do was pray I remembered how to drive it.

I only stalled a couple of times in the beginning, but eventually got in the grove of changing the gears. As I drove I was hoping I was imagining it but people seemed to be looking at my car as if it were on fire. I’m pretty sure I would know if my car was on fire or not so I kept going. Eventually, I found the little restaurant and pulled into a parking spot. The Wreck was just preparing for rush hour when I walked in. The floor was worn by the many footsteps that had walked into this establishment. The walls were decorated with pictures that looked as old as the restaurant and stickers from different surf shops and fishing companies. What I noticed most of all was the salty and intoxicating smell of freshly made french fries. I was practically salivating when a girl about my age approached me.

“Welcome to The Wreck, what can I get for you,” she said with a tired, but genuine smile. She had her dark curly hair tied up in a messy bun with an old gray headband keeping her flyaways out of her face and was wearing a dark green bikini top under her tank top with the logo of the restaurant on it.

“Hi, I hear you guys got great sandwiches,” I replied. If my instincts were correct this girl was Kie, JJ’s friend.

“Yeah, we got tuna, turkey, roast beef, and our specialty lobster.”

“Do you actually have any vegetarian options?”

“Oh, you’re a vegetarian? So am I!” she said with a little more energy in her voice.

“Yeah have been for the past two years.”

“Wow I started about three years ago and am trying to make the switch to veganism.”

“Good for you!”

“Thank you! Most of my friends make fun of me for it, but I just can't stand the thought of eating a living creature. Anyways just one vegetarian sandwich?”

“Yes please and some fries as well, also I’m sorry if this is too weird to ask , but are you Kie by any chance?”

“Uhh yeah how did you know that?” she replied giving me a look that said, “who is this weirdo and how does she know my name?”

“Okay cool, I’m Whitney and your friend JJ works… I mean worked for my grandmother.”

“Oh my god, no way your Vicky’s granddaughter of course!” she said the look she was giving me melting into a smile,” I knew I recognized your car from somewhere, your grandma would come in here every Sunday for brunch, there gotta be a picture of her on the wall if you wanna look. She was such a sweet lady. JJ mentioned that you were in town I don’t know why I didn’t put that together and you had dinner with Sarah’s family yesterday right?”

“Yeah I did, she has an interesting family.”

“God tell me about it, her brother is a piece of work.”

It seemed like everyone had some kind of beef with Rafe.

“I had to spend the afternoon with him yesterday and it was excruciating. Thankfully JJ saved me.”

“He saved you? Usually he’s the one to get people in trouble.”

“Yeah I heard something like that, but so far he’s proven his usefulness.”

“Well I’m glad he hasn't screwed you over yet,” she said noticing the lunch rush was about to start, “So just the sandwich and fries?”

“Yeah and just whatever JJ usually gets, he’s over working right now and I figure I’d get him something to consume that wasn't a cheap beer and make it to go please.”

“Alrighty then a vegetarian sandwich with a side of fries and a The Barrel Roll Burger coming right up. That’ll be $15.25.”

I pulled out a twenty and put the change into the jar when she was looking the other way. While a man, who I assumed was Kie’s father, was making my order I looked at all of the old photographs and stickers on the wall. I failed to find any of Grandmother but a newer looking polaroid stood out to me. It was of a group of teenagers sitting around a table in the restaurant. I recognized Kie, Sarah, and JJ with two other handsome looking boys. Geez what was in the water on this island, everyone seemed to be incredibly attractive. JJ was shoving some sort of food in Kie’s face while Sarah and one of the boys were pretending to make out, I assumed it was her boyfriend John B, while the other boy just looked straight into the camera like he was on The Office or something. They all looked happy and seemed to be enjoying their afternoon. I couldn't help but notice how close Kie and JJ were and a twinge of jealousy sparked in my stomach.

“Order up Whitney!” called Kie with a brown bag in her hand.

“Thank you!” I replied, “You have no idea how hungry I am.”

“Well come by anytime, we got the best food on the island,” she said with a smile.

“I sure will, thanks again!” I said walking out the door and towards my car.

a/n: So yeah apparently Whitney gets turned on by cars. Anyways thank you so much for reading! I absolutely LOVE writing and although sometimes it gets frustrating or I start to doubt wether I should continue or not I just keep going because I love it. Next chapter will be up Wednesday so stay tuned! Thanks again!

#jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank x original character #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fandom #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fandom #obx #obx fandom #obx fanfiction #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fic slow burn #slow burn

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neonsentient · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu! Rise Above

A ragtag group of students from a school for troubled teenagers forms an unconventional co-ed volleyball team in hopes of proving to themselves that they're more than what people make them to be. With the help of a few loopholes in the rulebook, they'll have the chance to win the gold for what might possibly be the last time in their lives.

Think of it as a spin-off, the Karasuno's first years are now second years, but I will focus on this paticular team.

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, underage drinking, self harm, eating disorders, depression, suicide, racial and homophobic slurs. Not all at the same time though.

Chapter 1: Promising Young People

Amara leaned closer to the toilet as she gagged, throwing up her measly breakfast of tea and apple slices, the only things she could stomach that morning. In an unusual lucky strike, the bathroom she was currently in puking her guts out was empty. It probably had something to do with the fact that she decided to arrive at the school building an hour earlier, otherwise she would’ve had an audience.

She rose from the floor, wobbling like a newborn fawn, and went to check herself in the bathroom mirror. Her russet skin had an unhealthy pallor to it, her waist-length crow black braids were loose and poorly made and the bags under her eyes could’ve been easily mistaken for bruises. That morning she didn’t even bother to look for her makeup bag in her suitcase.

“First impressions matter, you know?” Her parents would’ve told her. “It’s not every day you get to make them.”

“But I already made mine.” Amara thought bitterly.

She splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth as best as she could. Now she was regretting not bringing at least some concealer or even chapstick.

“As if that were to make things any better.” A voice hissed from the back of her head. “As if that would…..”

Amara shook her head, bringing herself back as she checked her wrist watch. She was supposed to meet her guide at the entrance. In a normal scenario, she would’ve already known by now where everything in the school was, her classes, the gym, the best spots for a smoke break……

But despite being her second year of high school, it was her first year at Ōkamiyama Alternative Academy. In fact, since most of her education consisted of homeschooling, it was her first time back at school since she was in elementary, period. And unlike many other students who had arrived at least a week earlier, Amara’s messy flight schedule made her arrive only a day before the school started.

One look at the main building and it was clear that the school had a thing for a certain color scheme, or lack thereof, rather, since Amara noticed that all the buildings were either black, white or gray. That and the uniforms, a dreadful combination of a prison concrete gray blazer and pants or skirt with a white shirt and black tie. Luckily, the school didn’t seem to be too strict on the dress code, since she saw several students with all sorts of accessories, shoes and even altered pieces of the uniform.

She decided to play it safe by wearing it plain with a pair of rather sad looking black loafers that had seen better days - an emergency purchase at Target after her suede Jimmy Choo boots fell victim to an unexpected downpour-, and a gray Casio. It's not like she was expecting the sailor tops and blue skirts she saw on TV, but the overall look did leave Amara incredibly disappointed.

Her guide was a girl called Emine Narisawa, also a second year and in the same class as her. Other than that she didn’t knew anything else. It was still a bit early, so she sat at a bench near the entrance, and to no surprise, it didn’t took long for the stares and whispers to start.

“That’s her, right?”

“Oh, so it was for real?”

“Is it just me, or did she looked taller on TV?

Amara’s vision turned blurry, her eyes curdling with tears. She quickly dug into her bag, pulled out her IPod nano (one of the few devices that the school allowed) and headphones and pressed shuffle, not even paying attention to the song that was playing as she took several deep breaths.

She tried her best to distract herself with anything, yet not even a second later, Amara felt a light tapping on her shoulder. She jolted on her seat, took off her headphones and turned to face the person behind her.

“Ups! Sorry!” A cheery voice apologized. “You’re Amara Murakami, right?

The girl was tall, not as much as Amara, but still taller than the average second year girl, and model-thin, with long hair the dark red of rose petals tied in a high ponytail. A ridiculously big, silvery gray bow sat atop her head. Amara immediately noticed her uniform, or “uniform”; the blazer had been turned into a button vest, the gray skirt was embezzled with black and white rhinestones and she sported a pair of white Adidas sneakers. Amara had bought the same ones just two months ago. A thin, white gold anklet with pea-sized bubblegum-pink sapphires was clasped at her slim ankle.

“My name’s Emine Narisawa, but everyone calls me Emi! Wow, you’re taller than I imagined.” The girl chirped. Her voice had a slight hoarse edge to it, which combined with her super girly perfume, an overly sweet combination of flowers and strawberry, made Amara suspect that she was a smoker and that she probably had a cigarette before the tour. “Welcome to The Den!”

Amara could only raise her eyebrows.

“Get it? Cuss we’re wolves!” The girl pointed at the welcoming banner hanging in the entrance, where a menacing looking gray wolf was painted.

“Right.” Amara nodded, not knowing what else to say. "Umm, thanks?"

The redhead caught her hand in an overly enthusiastic handshake. She had a pretty face, although her cheeks looked a tad bit gaunt, and she wore silver eyeshadow with glitter all over her face and hair. Her tanned skin, a shade lighter than Amara’s, was completely covered with freckles, and her lips were painted a shimmering soft pink.

“Wow, your eyes look super cool!” She said, inspecting Amara’s face. “You’re from America, right? Is one of your parents Japanese?”

“So she hasn’t heard of me.” Amara thought with relief. She then noticed that Emine was waiting for an answer.

“Y-yeah I’m from Massachusetts.” She answered. “Umm, my dad’s Japanese and m-my mom’s Nipmuc.”

The redhead cocked her head in confusion.

“Native American.” Amara explained.

Emine’s licorice black eyes lit up.

“Cool! So you guys are the ones that make, like, dreamcatchers and stuff?” She asked. There wasn’t a single hint of malice in her voice, just genuine curiosity, but still, it made Amara feel annoyed.

“Ummm…”

“My Nine was from Turkey,” Emine said. “And they have these Nazar amulets to ward off the evil eye or something. Is it the same thing?”

“I don’t…”

“Anyways, you’ll love it here. It never gets boring!” Emine explained as she leaned uncomfortably close, linking her arm with Amara’s. “Follow me, I’ll take you to our classroom.”

The girls made their way inside the building and all the way through Emine "discreetly" pointed out rooms and people, giving Amara a crash course on the school, the students and teachers.

By the time they reached their classroom, Amara had learned that the captain of the baseball team had just began dating the president of the Student Council, crop tops were back in style, the back of the football field was the best place to smoke and that the guys from the Shōgi club sold the best ketamine during midterms.

"Don't they do drug tests all the time?" Amara asked. She herself had an appointment in the nurse’s office later that night for one.

Emine nodded.

"Yup, but it's a six panel."

It was Amara's turn to be confused once again. She had drug tests done before but she only...provided the sample, she never bothered to ask about the details.

"Weed, coke, speed, benzos, angel dust and opiates. All the mainstream stuff," Emine explained. "Ketamine doesn't show."

“Oh.” Amara said. “I thought there weren’t a lot of drug users in Japan.”

“Oh there are,” Emine said, occasionally waving to the people in the hallway. “And here are some of the ones that got caught.”

“Good to know?”

Amara thought that drugs were a rare commodity in Japan, but then she remembered where she was….

“So…” The redhead began, pulling Amara out of her thoughts. “How are you liking the dorms so far?”

“They’re cool.” Amara replied in a monotone voice. “My roommate hasn’t showed up yet, though.”

“Oh yeah, I heard she’s busy with some family stuff.” Emine pointed out.

“So you know her?” Amara inquired. “What’s she like? I mean, personality wise.”

Emine scrunched up her face, trying to find the right words.

“Well, she’s a bit of a…..

“Bitch!” A voice yelled from the other side of the hallway.

A girl walked towards them with a rhythmic and intense stride that made Amara think she was going to do a handspring or cartwheel at any second. She was gorgeous, what people would call a “Bombshell”, with sun tanned skin as if she had spent an entire summer at the beach, and a long mane of sandy blonde waves styled in the same way as Emine; a high ponytail with a bow on top, though hers was black. Her dark teal eyes had a gleam that Amara could only describe as “keen”.

The girl faced directly at the redhead with a quasi indignant look. Amara noticed that her look was very similar to Emine's; the embezzled skirt and altered blazer, shimmery eyeshadow and glitter sprinkled all over her face and hair.

"I can take a couple missed calls but ignoring me the whole summer was just mean!" She said, giving the redhead an angry look.

Emine looked saddened.

"I'm sor…..”

Before the redhead could finish the blonde interrupted her with a big hug.

"I've been worried sick! Even a "Don't text me" would've been enough!" She cried, clinging to Emine's neck. "Never do that again, got it?"

Emine's expression eased as she returned the hug.

"Never again."

If there was something worse than being a third wheel Amara sure was being just that at the moment.

The girls broke their hug and a pair of teal eyes immediately fell on Amara. They weren't menacing, just, observing her. The blonde was significantly shorter than Amara and Emine, but her presence felt more….. imposing. Even with the uniform, Amara could see the outline of muscle on her legs and arms.

"Oh!" Emine exclaimed, as if she had just remembered that Amara was there, and gestured towards the blonde. "Amara, this is Erika Sawai, captain of the cheer squad.

“Now it makes sense,” Amara connected the dots as she looked at both Emine and the blonde. The perky attitude, the lithe build, and even the bows. “They’re cheerleaders.”

“And Erika, this is….."

"Amara Murakami," Erika said, capturing Amara's hand in a firm handshake. "Rumour mill went that you were gonna end up here. But for future reference, I wouldn't trust anything they say around here. It tends to be a little….unreliable."

"Umm, sure" Amara said. She wasn't sure how to react to that. "I-I'll keep that in mind."

“My, my,” Erika leaned a bit closer. Amara caught the scent of the blonde's peach blossom perfume. “What pretty eyes you have.”

“Uh, thanks.” Amara muttered.

"Oh, I know!" Emine perked up with an “Eureka!” type of expression. “Since I can’t join you guys for lunch why don’t you go with Amara to the cafeteria, Erika?”

Amara felt incredibly awkward. Day one and she was already being ditched by the one person that was supposed to be with her.

“Sure.” Erika shrugged, a smirk appearing on her face. “I love fresh meat.”

Amara gulped. Why did spending a couple hours with a cheerleader, a really pretty one to boot, made her more nervous than stepping into a court filled with professional players?

Then the bell pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Come on, Amara!” Urged Emine. The redhead turned quickly and gave Erika one last hug before entering the classroom. “And see you later Erika!”

Erika waved them goodbye before making her way to her classroom.

Their first classes; English, Math, Japanese literature and Science seeped through Amara’s brain like water on a strainer. Luckily none of her teachers made her introduce herself to the class so far.

But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but notice the “subtle” whispers and looks from her classmates.

A few minutes after the bell rang they found Erika already outside. Emine apologized to Amara, promising to be back as soon as lunch was over and making quick plans with Erika to catch up later in the day before she made her way into an unknown destination. Amara was tempted to ask, but at the same time she told herself that she knew better than prying on someone else’s business.

She exited the classroom and was immediately greeted by Erika’s sly smile.

“Long time no see, Sugar.”

Amara gave her a tight smile as they walked towards their destination.

_________________________________________________________________________

The principal was a firm believer that a healthy diet was key to a healthy mind, therefore, the school’s vending machines only offered water, organic soy milk, sugar-free drinks, fruit and protein bars.

There were two cafeterias, but Amara was told upon arrival that she only had access to one of them. There, most of the menu items were either boiled, steamed or baked and it also had an all-you-can-eat salad bar and a drink station where one could get teas, coffees, smoothies or juices. Amara thought it was a sharp, yet nice, contrast with her old elementary school’s cafeteria choices of cardboardy pizza, dry meatloaf and congealed mac 'n' cheese.

Amara silently wondered what was the deal with the other cafeteria as she took a spoonful of miso soup.

“Liking the food so far?” Erika asked, placing her tray opposite to Amara's. She had a bowl brimming with a colorful salad of greens, pecans, apples and fennels, a plate of spiced tofu and two cups; one filled with a pale orange drink and the other with a beige colored liquid. She handed the beige one to Amara. " Here, try this."

She had told Erika that her stomach was feeling a little odd (yet not the reason as to why), so Amara trusted that anything she had given her wouldn't kill her on the spot. She took a sip and despite the unappetizing color the flavour was delicious; sweet, creamy yet not too heavy, and with the aftertaste of almonds. It felt nice on her tender stomach.

"Wow," Amara said, pleasantly surprised. "What's this?"

Erika winked and smiled. For a second, it reminded Amaran of someone else's smile.

"My Mama calls it the Jitter Killer." She explained, her voice emitting a hint of nostalgia. "She's been making them for me ever since I started competing. But once I got here I had to start making them myself."

"It's really good!" Amara complimented, taking another sip. She then thanked her, wholeheartedly. Gestures like those literally made her day a thousand times less shitty.

"Any time, Sugarcube." She chuckled, and then leaned towards her with a curious expression. "But do tell. How is a first day of school more intimidating than stepping into a court filled with three meter sized Amazonians?"

Amara lowered her face and blushed. She only told her that she wasn’t feeling good, she never told her the reason.

"Is it really that obvious?"

"You look exactly how I did on the day of my first competition." Erika recalled. "I believe I was around six?"

"What?" Amara said. "Do cheerleaders really start that young?"

"Yup." Erika nodded. "Especially in the States. They love their cheers there, let me tell ya."

"You're from there too?"

"Mama's from Texas" The blonde said. "So it’s always been half and half until now. We still go for the holidays though, they’re much more fun there."

"Sounds cool. I'm from Massachusetts, and I've only been in Japan like twice….until now."

The atmosphere suddenly became grim, and Amara felt her breath hitch. Erika's hand reached for hers.

"Hey." Emiki said, her voice serious. "I know you probably heard this enough but...I'm really sorry for your loss."

Amara's eyes began to curdle with tears.

"You're actually one of the only ones to tell me that."

Then she broke into sobs.

"S-sorry." Amara tried to apologize. Last night she had cried herself to sleep in her dorm, clutching a pair of worn out volleyball shoes, not even bothering to unpack, she just wasn’t in the mood for anything but crying. And there she thought that she had cried everything last night…...

Erika bolted from her seat and to her side, placing her hands on Amara's shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Oh, Honey Bee." She said. "Don't you dare apologize for your feelings ever again. You better promise me that"

Amara sniffed and nodded.

"You wanna talk about it?" Erika asked, the way a mother would when trying to comfort her child.

"I….

"There you are!" A voice interrupted. "We've been looking for you everywhere, morra!"

Amara and Erika both turned and looked. There were three girls, each one different from the other. They were around the same height but that was where the similarities ended. One had brown skin, long glossy black hair in a single thick braid tied with a gray bow and umber brown eyes traced with glittery makeup. A gold stud glinted in her nose. The other had bronze skin, waist-length chocolate colored hair with a gray bow atop and eyes like two yellow tourmalines. On her face was a red lipped, wicked dimpled smile, like a kid who’d just finished pulling up a prank. The third one was a bit meek looking, with rosy white skin, a cloud of short strawberry blonde hair with a white bow on top and soft green eyes. She fidgeted with her hands and seemed ready to throw up at any second. Amara immediately felt a bout of compassion towards her.

“It’s lunch time, where else would I be?” Erika asked with a confused expression.

“Good point.” The brown haired girl said. She took a sip from the giant coffee cup in her hand. “Can we join you?”

Erika gestured at the empty seats.

The black haired girl looked at Amara up and down, from her messy braids and puffy red eyes to the plain black loafers.

“First time here?” She asked her as she sat.

Amara nodded and noticed their outfits; skirts embroidered with flowers and crystals, Miu Miu sneakers and Birkin bags. How she wished she had her new Air Jordans with her….

“Aww! I remember my first day as if it was yesterday.” The brown haired girl sighed.

The black haired girl furrowed her brow.

“Didn’t you threw up from withdrawal?”

“It was from a hangover, not withdrawal! They’re like two different things!” The brown haired girl corrected, indignant.

Erika cleared her throat, making the three girls turn their heads at her.

“Amara, these are my friends and members of the cheer squad.” Erika explained.

She pointed at the black haired girl.

“This is Kumari Hanan, our best flyer.”

Kumari gave Amara a small nod.

“This is Ximena Otakara, our dance expert and choreographer.”

“And future celebrity, don’t forget that.” The brown haired girl added with a wink.

Erika rolled her eyes and then pointed at the strawberry blonde girl.

“And this is our newest addition to the team, Kara Tamada”

Kara gave Amara a timid smile and wave.

“Kumari is a third year like me, Ximena’s a second year like you, and Kara is a freshman.” Erika explained and then gestured at Amara. “Girls, this is Amara Murakami, please don’t torture her.”

“A la madre! ” Ximena looked at her, surprised. “Wicked eyes, girl!”

Amara lowered her gaze and mumbled an empty thanks. If there was something she was used to at that point in her life, was of people making comments about her eyes.

"Sectoral heterochromia." Were the doctor's oficial words.

"Stained glass eyes." Her friends often called them.

"Woodland eyes." Her grandfather had called them. "Brown for the soil, black for the stone and green for the life."

"You carry your land within your eyes, Amara." He told her once. "You will never be lost."

“If only that were true.” Amara couldn’t help but think.

But then she saw Ximena’s eyes squinting in concentration.

“No mames, I’ve seen you before!” She said, proud of her discovery. “You’re that volleyball chick!”

“Holy shit, you’re right.” Kumari joined.

Amara’s stomach plummeted and her face paled, which Erika noticed.

“Damn it you two, what did I just say!?” The blonde scolded. Her tone was the same one Amara’s mom used when reprimanding her. “Hope you’re in the mood for running suicides today!”

"What? Why?" Ximena and Kumari cried.

"That's okay, Erika." Amara reassured her. "It's not like it's a secret, anyway."

“See? We have the Ok.” Ximena said, earning a murderous gaze from Erika.

Then an awkward silence filled the table.

“So…” Kumari began, taking a sip of her purple smoothie. “You’re joining the volleyball team?”

In Ōkamiyama, all students were required to join a school club or association, and from looking at the list that came with the welcoming pamflet, there seemed to be quite a lot, from embroidery and cooking to horse riding and rock climbing. There were even some odd ones like “The Cheese Connoisseurs Association” and “Apocalypse Survival Prepping Club”. And there were also the typical sports clubs like baseball, basketball, football* and of course, volleyball.

She didn’t wanted to give up volleyball, but the wound was still so fresh it still bled…...

“I-I don’t know.” She mumbled. “I’m still not sure. I have a week, don’t I?

“Yeah, of course.” Erika reassured her. “And if you need more time, you can ask the therapist for an extension.”

Amara had completely forgot about the therapist.

In a normal school, a counselor was usually available for students if they wished so, but here it was mandatory to have individual one hour weekly therapy sessions,and once she joined a club, group therapy would also become obligatory. Amara’s first session was scheduled for Sunday.

“Yeah, don't sweat it!” Ximena said.

“Isn't Emi also joining the volleyball team?” Kumari inquired.

Amara raised an eyebrow.

“I thought she was a cheerleader.” She asked, looking at Erika.

“Emphasis on was.” Ximena sighed.

“And not just that, she was...is...the best tumbler in the prefecture.” Kara explained in a soft voice.

“Really?” Amara asked, she knew from somewhere that tumbler meant acrobat, basically a gymnast with a mini skirt instead of a leotard. “Then why did she quit?”

Ximena, Kumari and Erika looked at each other.

“She didn’t told you?” Kumari asked.

“Tell me what?” Amara looked at Erika for guidance.

“Okay that’s enough.” The blonde’s face had a not so subtle hint of worry. “That’s not for us to talk about, I’m sure that in time Emi will tell you all about it.”

Amara certainly felt a bit pained for being left out, but it was someone whom she literally just met, so she concluded that she had no right to be upset either.

Kara must’ve sensed the tense atmosphere and quickly asked some questions about the cheer squad. There were many terms that Amara did not understood, but she soon became fascinated. The cheerleaders at the games Amara played in danced around and cheered (duh!) but the way Erika and the others talked about the work plan for their squad it was clear that they did more than that.

“Hey, why don’t you join the squad?” Erika suggested.

“We do need more tumblers.” Kumari pointed out.

“Yeah.” Ximena agreed. “How are your back handsprings?”

“Ummm...nonexistent?” Amara admitted, although the idea did sound nice. “I do have a mean cartwheel, though.”

The girls chuckled.

“Okay, maybe we can help you find another club if volleyball and cheerleading won’t do it for ya.” Erika smiled and stood, walking towards a notice board and taking a poster version of the clubs and associations list.

“Let’s see then.”

They tried to summarize each club as best as they could, counting the pros and cons and telling her about the people in them.

“What’s the Wolf Kingdom Club?” Amara asked, slightly amused by the odd names.

Everyone grunted, which Amara took as a bad sign.

“That’s the historical reenactment club.” Erika said. “They do everything medieval, and I mean everything.”

“Except dying from the plague.” Kumari muttered.

“So that’s a no?” Amara inquired.

“Depends.” Ximena said. “Do you like dancing with seven layers of clothing on and churning your own butter?”

“Pass.” Amara said.

And so they spent the rest of the lunch break going over the list in hopes of finding something for Amara, but nothing seemed to catch her attention. Kara spoke on occasions whenever she felt in danger of being forgotten.

By the time the bell rung, they’ve managed to narrow it down to the basketball team and the basket weaving club. She had the height and the jump for the first one and the skills for the last one.

“If you change your mind, you should go with Emi to the tryouts after school.” Erika reminded her as they walked towards Amara’s classroom.

She nodded weakly, lost in thought.

Erika sighed and tapped her shoulder, making their eyes meet.

“Look, I don’t know a lot about volleyball, but I do know that it shares something in common with cheerleading.”

Amara arched an eyebrow. Then, Erika grabbed her hands, the blonde's lightly tanned skin clashing with Amara's russet complexion. Their eyes met, and Erika’s had one of the most serious expressions Amara had ever seen.

“Jumps are the most thrilling part, as well as the hardest.” She said. “When we jump, we don’t take steps back, not even to gain momentum. It’s always forwards, full force.”

Amara had so many questions about those words, yet she didn’t ask. Was it fear or confusion that stopped her? She didn’t knew. But for a moment she was sure the girl was saying that there was only one way to go.

Forward.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq #OC #my OC #ocs #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #haikyuu

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