#THIS FIC HAS A JOURNALIST I MEAN COME ON | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

b0ther · 9 months ago

Text

ain't even jealousy

you fucking hate the basketball team, but there's no one you hate more than aomine.

pairing : aomine daiki x reader (feminine pronouns. afab) rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content) type : chaptered tags : aomine is a bully im not even kidding he is quite cruel, porn with PLOT, reader is besties with satsuki, reader also has a crush on imayoshi, reader also was wakamatsu's ex, hate sex, semi-public sex, manhandling, vaginal penetration, thigh fucking, semi-clothed sex, some slutshaming going on here, reader has big tits, slight dubcon. word count : 4,323

author's note : title from 'want u back' by cher lloyd. this is comissioned by a dear friend. hope you enjoy mwah. this first chapter (and whole fic im ngl) is centered around the onsen episode.

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )

After a long and hard day at school, all that you ever really want to do is to quickly get to your part-time job and finish up your shift. Perhaps you can get some convenient store food after that, or go straight home to shower and rest.

Whatever it is that you daydreamed of, it wasn't this.

Satsuki calls out to you, her voice soft against the bristling wind with her lithe arms circle around yours as you try to walk away, dragging her body forcefully with you. She whines your name over and over again, over the beating speaker against your ears before you finally had enough, ripping your headphones off your head, turning to face her.

“Satsuki!” You try to sound stern, but you end up whining in the same tone that she used. You can only be so serious as a high school girl, after all.

Her pink strands fall against her face messily; you use your other hand to tuck them behind her ear as she elongates the way she enunciates your name and begs, begs, begs you to listen to her. “Please! Just—”

“Satsuki!” You groan, shaking her off your body. “I’m busy. I have a part-time job, I’m failing maths, I have club activities. I can’t just… ditch everything and go !”

“You can!” It’s like she was not listening to a single word that you uttered. “It’s a month away and on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday—which you can begin asking for a leave day starting today , they will definitely let you if you do it a month in advance!—and maths!? That’s easy! I’ll teach you!”

You slant your eyes at her, arms crossing on your chest. “Alright. What about my club activities?”

“You mean your journalist club? One that encourages their members to leave their comfort zone in order to bring back interesting stories? One that basically has a crush on the basketball team?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

She gasps. “Don’t you love me!?”

“Don’t do this to me…”

“If you love me at all, you wouldn’t even think twice about going with me. Imagine me, a girl, going alone on an all-boys’ trip to some secluded place—”

“You’re being dramatic—” You tried reiterating your point.

“I’m not!” She whines, even louder this time, attracting attention from all the other Touou students around you. “You literally have nothing to lose by coming along! Give me five reasons—five good reasons—and I will literally stop bothering you.”

You shake her off again, and this time, Satsuki lets go and stumbles back a couple of steps as the mischief on her eye continues to shimmer. You have never lost an argument to Satsuki—but there is a first for everything, and you have a feeling that you are going to break some personal records today.

“First,” you take a deep breath as you hold up a finger. “Aomine’s gonna be there—”

“Perfect!” Not giving you a chance to speak, she cuts you off, eyes glimmering like starlight. “You like him!”

She strikes a nerve with this one.

One of your eyes twitches as you cross your arms under your chest. The excited smile on her face fades in an instant, recognizing in an instant that something is wrong.

Recognizing in an instant that something she should have known about is wrong.

She blinks a couple of times, trying to use all that intelligence in her head to analyse the error in what she said (which turns out pretty useless—guess all that she is good for is basketball).

“Have you been paying attention at all?” You begin to blabber after letting out a huge gasp, arms waving around in the air. “We’ve been friends for years— years ! Since the first year of middle school, and you know nothing of my strong, burning opinion of Aomine!? Flash news, Satsuki, it’s not love!”

“You—” She stammers, “You talk about him a lot!”

“I complain about him a lot!” You correct her, blowing out air in frustration, feeling somewhat betrayed that your best friend had just accused you of liking your archnemesis… your enemy… your… your rival.

The point is! You hate him!

You would rather live in a world without television and the internet and good music if it means that you will have to never hear him say another word.

Aomine.

You shiver in annoyance.

Just saying his name irks the hell out of you. Imagining his face causes a feeling close to that of an explosion in your chest. You just wanna grab him by his face and shove him down a flight of stairs.

You cannot even count all the shitty things he did to you in high school: revealing your crush on Nijimura Shuuzou not just to the then-basketball team captain, but the entire student body; tripping you in the cafeteria multiple times; stealing your undergarments during P.E. and commenting crassly about how you were two sizes under his favourite adult model. Granted, you never told Satsuki about the last thing. That shit was just too embarrassing—you were glad that no one else was in the room when he threw your bra back at you.

Still, your frustration remains at her. Jogging down memory lane boils your wrath, and you close your eyes to calm yourself down.

He’s just a bully.

A damned bully.

And you would be damned if you are going to willingly spend your weekends in the same vicinity as him.

“Well… Dai-chan likes you!”

You roll your eyes.

Yeah, right.

You would agree if she had claimed that he found you attractive, or he thinks you’re hot. But liking you? Highly improbable—impossible, even.

Aomine Daiki does not seem like he is capable of feeling any emotion aside from boredom and mischief. The only thing he loves, or even likes, is probably his beloved Aya-chan from his gravure magazines.

You’re not even sure if he still likes basketball.

Which is a shame—seeing someone so tall gradually shrinking to the size of nothing, even if you despise the guy, the whole ordeal with whatever-the-fuck Satsuki’s basketball team went through still managed to extract some sympathy from the bottom of your heart. You’ve been paying attention to Aomine, after all, albeit not under any positive light.

“Whatever,” from past experiences, you know better than to argue against Satsuki. “I don’t care anymore. And you know what? Aomine himself and your blatant disregard of your best friend’s feelings—me!—should be enough to fit all five criterias!”

You know that look in her eyes, the way her lips press against each other and how one of her hands is clenched into a fist.

“I’ve been friends with him for 16 years, (Y/N),” she bumps her fist against her chest in pride. “Best friends, even! I know him better than you do!”

You scoff. “People who like someone don’t bully them, Satsuki. Open your eyes.”

“He isn’t bullying you!” She groans.

“Oh, so now not only are you attempting to kidnap me, but you’re also defending my bully?”

“Argh!” Satsuki hugs your arm again, earning her a groan from you. She calls out your name again, enunciating each and every syllable. “ Pleeeaaaaseeee? You don’t have to pay a single dime! You don’t even have to see Dai-chan if you want to. Imayoshi-san will be there—you like him, right?”

You slant your eyes at her in suspicion, not buying anything she just told you. You just know that you will have to see Aomine sooner or later if you come with her to the onsen.

“No man is ever worth that much headache, Satsuki.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, still shaking you ferociously. “But it’s Imayoshi-san!”

You decided to come along. Because of course you did.

It’s either that, or Satsuki pestering you for the rest of the month, bringing either Imayoshi or Aomine or whoever she thinks will get your attention.

And Imayoshi Shouichi? Sure. He’s hot as hell.

But is he worth dealing with Aomine?

You like to think not.

Satsuki dragged you along to a basketball team meeting—the one that would be discussing the practice trip and the whole onsen ordeal.

It wasn’t like you needed to be there at all. You know just a little more than the average person about basketball. All that you were preparing for the onsen was your clothes and deciding whether it’s you or Satsuki who should be bringing her hairdryer.

“Why me?” You said, crossing your arms when the attention of the entire basketball team was redirected towards you, and Imayoshi laughed. The only problem they were facing was convincing Aomine to come along.

And you were happy with not being the babysitter. You were happy with twiddling your skirt as you sat on the edge of the stage of the hall, scrolling down your social media timeline as the team argued on how to get that blue-haired freak into coming.

That was until Satsuki ruined your afternoon by offering up your name.

To your surprise, everyone in the team seemingly agreed almost immediately to offer you as a sacrificial lamb to feed Aomine’s ego and coax him to at least come to the trip.

“He likes you,” Wakamatsu scoffed when you asked why, and you glared at him, but said nothing. Out of respect, you guess, to the upperclassman. It’s not like you respect him, though. You’re on bad terms with a lot of the basketball team, but no matter your disagreements with Wakamatsu, you will never dislike him the way you loathe Aomine.

“He does have a soft spot for you,” Imaoyshi mused as he flashed you a smile—and lord , you cannot say no to Imayoshi. Especially when he’s being so nice.

You saw Satsuki smirking from the corner of your eyes and internally cursed her.

That was how you found yourself climbing the ladder leading to the rooftop.

And that was how you found Aomine with one hand between his backpack and head, and the other holding an obscene magazine.

He doesn’t even spare you a single glance—probably thought you were another manager or even worse: Satsuki again. But the moment you open your mouth to call out to him, his head snaps in your direction, an eyebrow raised in amusement as he pushes himself to rest his body against his elbows.

“What are you doing here?”

You try not to let your rage spill. You try to keep the boiling water down. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and continue to climb the ladder before approaching him.

Think rational, you think to yourself, he hadn’t even said anything yet.

“The Captain wants to see you,” you manage to say between your gritted teeth, staring down at him before looking away. Imayoshi didn’t ask you to make Aomine see him, but Aomine probably respects Imayoshi more than you, so you try to throw him under the bus just to get out of the situation quicker.

“Imayoshi-san?” He frowns before repeating his initial question: “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I want to punch him.

“You own this roof or something?”

“Calm down,” he scoffs, tilting his head before eyeing your body up and down. You shift your weight into your other leg, ignoring the uneasy feeling on the pit of your stomach. “I just wanted to know.”

Sighing, you glance up at the sunny sky, sweat starting to form on the base of your neck and you are dying to leave at that very moment. You shelter your eyes from the sunlight, despite finding it more appealing than Aomine’s face.

“We’re discussing the practice trip thing—whatever, and also the onsen trip,” you lazily explain, not bothering to hide your disinterest. “Imayoshi-senpai wants you to be present for the meeting. Obviously.”

You cannot fathom the fact that you were explaining his basic responsibilities as a club member to him. What a fucking child.

“You coming with us?”

His focus seems to be misplaced, and you glare at the sky, imagining it was his stupid face.

“I’m going with Satsuki,” you correct, still not willing to look at him. “I don’t give two shits about you or the basketball team.”

“Hey,” he sits up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist before tugging your body towards him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You scoff, finally letting your gazes meet before pulling your hand away. “Fuck off.”

He, in fact, does not fuck off.

Aomine pulls on your wrist again, this time hard enough for you to lose your balance and fall, your knees landing on the coarse floor as the bottom of your skirt rides up your thighs. The skin of your knees scraping against the gravelled surface and you curse, jerking your hand away only to immediately shove his shoulder.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You shriek, annoyed at how he remains unmoving even as you push him again.

He towers you, even when sitting, and keeps his eyes peering down at you.

Maybe it’s the heat that day; summer has just ended, but even the soft Autumn breeze cannot conceal the searing flare creeping up the skin of your cheeks. Aomine slants his eyes and grabs your wrist yet again—you weren’t quick enough to retract away from his athletic instincts, and so, you fall again when he pulls you in closer.

You hiss in pain as your knees drag more against the floor, desperate to find your balance only to grab on his shoulders.

“Hey,” He calls out to you, a lame attempt for your attention. “Look,” he says again, and your dumb ass looks.

He grabs the magazine on his lap and tautens the pages together, showing you the spread where he left off before you interrupted his peaceful afternoon. “(Y/N), remember Aya-chan?”

The girl that ruined your life?

How can you forget?

You cannot hide the distaste in your eyes as your eyes scan her beautiful, black hair falling against the sheer material of her white uniform top. The black lace bra she was wearing underneath is apparent as she pushes her two tits against each other, legs spread to reveal an equally seductive pattern on her panties.

Before you even realise, Aomine’s arm begins to wrap itself around your waist as he holds you up, fingers creeping up the side of your torso, tracing invisible lines before resting on one of your breasts. Your stomach begins to churn in excitement, embarrassingly enough, and you press your legs instinctively when the muscle between your thighs tighten as he continues fondling you.

You circle your arm around his neck under the pretence of keeping your balance.

“Mhmm…” He clicks his tongue, resting his face on the side of your upper arm—his nose touching the side of your tit as his hand palms your other one. “I feel like you’re no longer two sizes under Aya-chan. Maybe a size under? Maybe the same size?”

You grit your teeth. “You talk big. Have you ever seen her outside your magazine? She probably edits her photos.”

He grins, gaze shifting to drink in your frustration. “No, but you’re real, and I’m groping you right now. Isn’t that better?”

“Better than your pretty Aya-chan?”

Aomine raises an eyebrow, humming knowingly. You can’t even believe the word escaping your mouth.

“You have a cute side to you after all,” He muses after a short, mocking whistle. “What do you want me to say? Want me to tell you how much better you are than her?”

“Want you to shut the fuck up.”

“Calm down, tiger.” He laughs, pulling away from your arm. He tosses the magazine to the side, straightening his back to press a short kiss to the peak of your cheekbone. His hand begins to work; he slowly kneads your breast while continuously trailing kisses down to your ears. Your nipples brush against the fabric of your damned lace bra, and he stops for a moment only to tug on where your bud is protruding.

A whimper leaves your mouth.

“Excited are we?” He whispers, voice dropping lower as he presses his lips against your ears. “I like hearing you like that.”

“Shut up,” you run out of words, turning your head to the other side, exposing your neck to him. Which turns out to be a bad idea, as he takes it as a sign to sweep his tongue over the skin of your neck.

“A–Aomine—”

“God,” he chuckles. “Who would’ve guessed that you can be this sexy?”

He pulls away from your neck, and drags his hand from your tits to rub against your torso, feeling the material of your uniform. He presses one hand on the small of your back, pressing his forehead against yours. In a swift motion, he pulls on your body, drawing out a squeak as he lays you down against the concrete floor.

“What if…” he trails, rubbing a thumb under your eye as he hovers over rested body. Your cheeks sear with heat, alongside your chest and the pulsating on your cunt. “...I just fuck you right here?”

“W-what?” You whimper.

He laughs. “I’m hard as hell. You made me this way.”

“You were the one groping my tits!”

“You liked it,” he shrugs, pushing himself off of you, forcing both your legs open as he moves between them. His fingers begin to unbutton your uniform, unravelling the bra you are wearing underneath. Sucking in a deep breath, he stops midway down your torso, and without taking his eyes off your chest, he asks, “Want me to stop?”

Your cheeks flare, and you don’t answer him. You don;t even look at him.

He takes a quick glance at your expression.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

“...Whatever.”

A wide smirk forms on his face, fingers continuing to unbutton your uniform all the way down.

“Do me a favour and get up for a bit,” he murmurs, pressing one of his hands against your back once again to get you to sit up. The feeling of his palm against your bare skin sends you to shivers, coupled with the soft wind whistling between the two of you.

“What’re you—”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers fumble with the hook of your bra. It took him two wrong moves before getting it right with the third—the fabric loosens around your body, and you pull him closer to conceal your humiliated expression.

“See,” Aomine chuckles after some awkward motion, tossing your stupid bra to the side when he finally gets it off. “You’re so pretty like this.”

“Shut up,” you groan, nails digging into his skin deeper and deeper.

He pulls himself away from your grip, taking a nice hold on your torso to pull your ass up his lap, letting you fall against the hard floor again.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, roaming his touches against your legs. His eyes cannot leave the heaves of your jugs.

“Stop fucking staring,” your hiss, trying to pull your uniform together, hiding your chest away from him.

Aomine scoffs, using one hand to unbuckle his pants. Your eyes travelled from his face to the loose button on his collar to the wet stain on the grey briefs around his hips to the bulge underneath them.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He tilts his head at your question, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes his cock out from under his briefs. “Fucking you?”

The precum leaks from the tip of his cock, little drops of white strings rolling down his length. He pulls your hips closer to his body and presses it flat against your soaked panties.

He groans at the contact. Your warm slick welcomes him entirely as he presses more against the fabric, rubbing his tip along the length of your pussy.

“S’that feel good?” He whispers, hastily hooking his fingers on your panties, pulling it up your legs, then tossing it to go with your bra. He presses his arm on the side of your head, leaning into you again.

“Don’t put it in,” you whine, trying to hold back your hips from rolling. “You’re gonna get me pregnant.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” he groans against your neck. He positions the tip of his cock against your cunt, and even with your sopping lips, you aren’t sure if you are ready to accommodate his size at all.

“You don’t want to be a teen dad,” you bite your lower lip, hand going to rub his neck.

“I wanna fuck you, though,” he breathes, using his thumb to run along your wet slit. “Wanna fuck you raw, wanna cum inside’a you.”

You tremble with his words, feeling two of his fingers now circling your pussy. “D— don’t be stupid.”

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, making your cunt wish it has something to tighten around. “D’you know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

He pushes himself off of you, and holds your wounded knees as he watches your chest heaves, heavy tits rolling with every staggered breath. He flips your skirt over, exposing even more of your cunt to the chill.

He rubs his length against your slick, his tip now pushing against your swelling clit. “I’d jack off and wonder if you were tighter than my fist,” he wraps his cock with his hand and places it again on your entrance, pushing in a slow, deliberate motion.

Between your drooping eyelids, you saw him inaudibly mutter a curse.

“Used to wanna fight Wakamatsu ‘cus he’d stuff this pussy all he wanted. Right?” He scoffs with a stupid, satisfied smile that you wish you could wipe off his face. “Shame that you broke it off, huh? Did he dump you when he realised how much of a whore you are?”

“Shut up…”

“Well, I don’t care. More fun for me.”

“Aomine—“

“Who else have you fucked in the basketball team?” He grunts. ��In Touou?”

“Shut— shut the…”

You slap the back of your hand against your mouth—not willing at all to let him hear you be satisfied with his size—biting down on the flesh as he pushes his cock in. All of his cock in.

“Aomine—”

His cock is dragging against your wall, kissing every possible inch of your insides. Your hole continues to burn as he stretches you wide open, draining every last bit of energy from inside of you.

“ F-fuck…”

Your hand goes to fondle your own tit, rolling your hard nipple between your fingers, sloppily trying to garner more and more pleasure. His dick fills you more and more, stuffing you full, before finally stopping.

“Don’t act all reserved now,” he raises an eyebrow as you mewl out his name. He stays still for a moment, a bud of sweat rolling down his temple before pulling out of your homey cunt. “You don’t have to lie.”

Aomine bites his lips, letting his cock rest between your pussy lips. He sees the way they engulf his dick, moving his hips to rub against your core.

“Letting me fuck you on the school rooftop,” he murmurs, “where’s your fucking self-respect? Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t your first time getting dicked down up here.”

Your eyes slant up at him, but he quickly shuts down any of your retaliation by pressing his thumb flat against your clit, slowly circling the nub. Your teeth press down hard on your bottom lips.

“We aren’t— we are not …” You babble, putting a thumb between your teeth to stop yourself from moaning, “...having sex.”

He scoffs, drinking in how your eyes roll with your head turned to the side.

“I was inside you just a moment ago.”

Filthy noise of his cock squelching against your cunt filled the air—if someone were to come after you, they would hear Aomine’s dick fucking your pussy lips.

“Fuck,”Aomine spits, pressing your legs tightly against each other then down on your lips.

“A-ah,” You gasp as he drills into your thighs, the tip of his cock rubbing quick and hard against your swollen clit. “Oh my God—”

“Are you cummin’?” He breathes, one hand reaching to roll your tit on his hand. “Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine at the nickname. He snickers, “You’re so sexy like this, y’know that?”

Your back arches, little whimpers of encouragement swallow your pride whole as you fall completely into him. Aomine grunts at the expression, seeing the lewd expression on your face. He picks up the pace, slamming his hips against your ass.

“M’gonna cum,” he hisses. “Fuck. Wish I could shoot my load into your tight little cunt.”

“Fuck it,” you manage to spit between your groans, “F-fuck it. Just— oh God, just don’t stop—”

Your words rile him up even more—he tightens his grip on your leg, his fingers bruising your fragile skin. Your head begins to spin. Your slam your fists against the ground and your mind numbing orgasm comes the moment strings of Aomine’s thick, white cum comes flying down your skirt and stomach.

“Shit,” he loosens the grip on your legs, letting them fall even with your still convulsing ass and core. His gaze stays on the tip of his dick, the white cum oozing from it, then to your face—your parted lips, dumb eyes, and the sweat dripping down the side of your head down your neck.

He feels himself getting harder as he watches your plump lips whine, wondering how they would wrap around his thick length, if the colour of your lipstick would stain the veins of his cock.

“You coming to the onsen trip?” Aomine tries to distract himself.

You roll over, blindly reaching out for the bra that he tossed God knows where.

“Fuck you.”

#knb #one-shot #chaptered: ain't even jealousy #commissioned #aomine #aomine daiki #kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basket #kuroko's basketball #smut #aomine smut #aomine x reader #aomine x you #knb smut #aomine x reader smut

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

Text

WON'T YOU LEND ME YOUR FAITH? | R. ITOSHI

❁ tags ; fem!reader (reader dresses femininely + is referred to as a girl / with she/her pronouns), reader is shorter than rin , strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, getting together, rin is soo teenage boy (and makes some annoying teen-boy comments), slow-burn, making out is as suggestive as this gets, stereotypical shoujo romance, usage of honorifics, coming of age

❁ wc ; 21.4k (insane. most insane thing ive ever seen)

❁ a/n ; i'm genuinely appalled by the length of this fic. how did that happen. what in the world. this fic is truly just. every single shoujou manga trope crammed into one okay. my silly little self indulgent romance !!!!

also this fic is sfw + takes place in their third of hs so im not gonna say mdni that's silly. however if you're a minor please do not follow me i post heinous dark content and this fic is a fluke in the timeline dskffjkfd

❁ synopsis ; the love story of a sensitive, stoic soccer player and an eccentric wannabe journalist

or that time you confess to itoshi rin, knowing he'll reject you, and asking to befriend him in spite of it.

“I like you,”

A breeze of wind passes.

“What?”

You confess to Itoshi Rin at the start of the Spring semester. On the school rooftop with your head down. Bent at a near ninety degrees as you hold out what looks like a love letter.

For a minute, he can’t do anything more than stare. He’s received countless confessions in highschool. Half of which he rejected immediately, not even stopping to hear the full extent of their feelings. Why would he? The lukewarm ideas of first love had never been of interest. Even before his fight with Sae, Rin was always focused on his goals.

After his second year of high school was spent in Bluelock, Rin has only returned for his third. He promised his parents he’d graduate properly, and Bluelock was off-season until Ego could fully prepare for the next stages.

And a lot has changed since then. But some parts of him, namely his feelings towards the idea of conventional relationships, haven't changed at all.

It’s only been a little less than three weeks since school had started, and by now he’s received more confessions than he can really remember. All of which he’s rejected coldly, and blankly, because Itoshi Rin has never been in the business of coddling anyone. Most of those girls he’s never even met. Knows nothing about them because they’re first or second years he’d never even spoken to.

Rin, however, does know you. You’ve been in his class in all 3 years of his highschool, and he’s seen you around more than once. You’re in the newspaper club, which he remembers because you covered their winning match back when Rin was a first year. He wouldn’t call you friends, but you’ve spoken to each other enough that he can remember your name with a little effort.

He also remembers you being sort of annoying. You’re one of those loud and earnest types that he can’t stand.

A year ago, Rin would’ve denied knowing you at all. But now that things with Sae have cleared up just a little - he’s not inclined to take his anger out on you. He knows you. Not well, but enough.

And if his reputation precedes him at all, then you know Rin too. You know that he’s never once gone out with a single girl in his 3 years of highschool and that most of the guys in all three grades consider him an arrogant jerk. You know that he mostly plays soccer alone during breaks and that he only really hangs out with one person.

Which means you must know that he doesn’t harbor any feelings for you. And that he’s going to reject your confession without thinking twice about it.

In the first place, he was just curious if you were stupid enough to do it. If you really called him up here for a roof-top confession. The fact that you were is what’s stifling him. Your words are familiar. He’s heard them so many times. But it’s baffling. It’s ridiculous.

You lift your head to face him. You’re still smiling, though there’s something more there that he can’t understand. He doesn’t do well with people like you begin with. He finds himself backing away when you jog up closer towards him.

He’s taller than you, he notices. You pick your head up to look at him and smile, toothy and at ease. You hold the letter up again and shove it towards him, though you don’t seem like you’re expecting him to take it. He stares at you.

“I like you,” You repeat, smooth and bubbly. He frowns.

“I don’t like you.”

He has expectations for this part. Normally he receives a saddened look like a dog whose tail he stepped on or a fit of crying (sometimes genuine, sometimes with the intent of guilt.) Sometimes he gets an awkward smile trying to seem unbothered by the whole situation.

You don’t falter though. You don’t even flinch at the words, cold as ice and steely. It throws him off.

“I know,” You say back, prying the letter away from him. You turn the other way, walking towards the metal grates and for a minute Rin wonders if you’re going to do something drastic. You don’t though, instead sticking your the paper in the air “That’s why I have a proposal,”

He stares, absolutely dumbfounded. You turn again towards him.

“I want to get to know you. And keep confessing to you,” You say first, and Rin immediately goes to reject you until you put your hands up “And I want you to keep rejecting me.”

He’s baffled. Really.

“What?”

“So I can gradually lose my feelings for you. Nothing that different on your end, honestly..”

It sounds annoying. It really does. If it were anyone else, under any other circumstance he would scoff and tell them to deal with their own shitty feelings alone just like everyone else. But there’s no hidden intention there. Rin’s always been good at sniffing that out. Your words are pure as can be.

Frustratingly simple and twice as sincere, no matter how confusing the whole thing is.

“Why should I?”

“We can be friends,” You reply like it’s the best deal he could ask for. “Isn’t that enough? Not like you really have any right now.”

He scoffs bitterly albeit he can’t counter you.

“Friendship is lukewarm. I don’t care about any of that stuff,”

“Lukewarm? Really? Then..think of it like I’ll be your shield. You hate when people socialize with you right? I’ll help you deal with it.”

That doesn’t sound too bad actually. On top of that, he’s kind of curious what your deal is. He rolls his eyes at you, turning to face the other way.

“Do whatever you want. It’s not like it matters.”

His response makes you beam. He hears you shout from the otherside of the yard, followed by the sound of your footsteps noisily thudding against the concrete as you try to catch up with him. He walks faster than you just to spite you for earlier, but he hears your last words through a huff of breath.

“Jeez, you’re fast. I’ll see you at lunch, be prepared!”

Somehow, he feels like he’s crossed paths with something he shouldn’t’ve.

You keep up with your end of the deal with Rin to the best of your ability.

The upsides of your arrangement is that the usual annoyances Rin has to deal with have decreased significantly in the time you’ve been hanging around him. You’re very good at using your speech to sway conversations one way or the other without upsetting the other party.

Normally, Rin’s rejections for different things leave a bitter taste in the air. He’s never been good at mincing his words for anyone and while it doesn’t affect him - the strange stares and whispers he gets are a little annoying to deal with. People always take his disinterest personally. Rin has always hated that. He was probably a little gentler about the denial before but still.

While other people are too stupid to pay it any mind, you’re clever at turning the tides your way. You always manage to completely divert their questions without making them feel uncomfortable. Rin has tried, many times, to actually break down how you’re doing it. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to replicate it, no matter how much he studies you.

He’s reluctant to admit it, but really, your presence has significantly lowered the number of obstacles in his daily life and made him overall, less irritable.

Instead of many annoying things, there’s only you. Which is tolerable in comparison.

You also expect him to uphold his end of the deal. For the most part, this has just meant you inserting yourself into his usual activities. It started out small enough, mostly just you sitting with him during lunch. It draws too much attention to eat in the classroom so you both fuck off to the roof.

(You often joke about how romantic it is, reminiscing on your rejected first love with as much melodrama as you can muster.

Rin never laughs about it to your face, but he admits it’s funny. Your stupidity is mildly amusing, at least )

There, you eat lunch together. Rin learns you make yourself colorful bentos from time to time- though some days are much less elaborate than others. You like to unwind that way, your designated and nightly me-time. You work part-time, and you take care of your neighbors kids by helping them every morning and night.

Rin doesn’t ask you for more, not willing to deliberately show interest.

But you notice his curiosity for better or for worse and explain that she, the woman next door, used to make you dinner back when your parents were too busy. You have an older brother who's nearly twelve years your senior so you were alone for most of your childhood. She had children late, but they feel like your little siblings. So you help them in the mornings and in the evenings when you have time.

Rin learns you, funnily enough, have a sense of obligation towards other people that he can’t fully comprehend. He forgot there were people like that. In an environment like Bluelock that is so dead set on fostering ego, it’s easy to forget something so simple.

You haven’t confessed to him again since that time. Not like he’s expecting it, but given your personality he wonders why. He thought it’d be more of a daily occurence, something like a bit you did. But you never do. Even when at times, it’s so heavy in the atmosphere even he can tell you want too.

Admittedly, Rin wonders a lot more about you than he cares to. He wonders why you spend so much time with him when you have plenty of other friends who seem to cherish you. He wonders why you care so much about the dying club you're in. He wonders if this, in some strange way, stems from some kind of obligation.

He wonders, sometimes, what about him you could even like. It’s probably something stupid. You’d probably think long and hard before going on to say that you like him because he’s handsome or cool. Something shallow and meaningless.

He tells himself that when he starts thinking about it again.

Rin gets roped into cleaning the classroom with you.

He’s used to being paired with other people. But he’s never had to do with you before, even in the years prior. Or maybe he did. He doesn’t recall much of his first year.

Still, now that it’s already mid-May, Rin has never been on cleaning duty with you. He’s conscious of the sound of your name these days. It’s not something he’s happy about.

It’s a simple affair. Just 15 or 20 minutes. Nothing to talk about. Not really.

But, today you’re alone with him. Alone in an empty classroom with light pouring through the windows and reflecting off of the wooden desks. You’re busying yourself with wiping down the chalkboard, humming quietly. Rin has the broom and dust pan, slowly working himself towards the front of the room.

It’s mostly quiet. Just your humming. The soft thud of a dust pan, a gentle brush of the bristle.

Rin feels a crick in his neck, half-way done with the task at hand. He stares at you, off in the front. In your own little world as you fix everything up diligently without turning your head to look up at him even once.

The nape of your neck is visible from the way you’re standing. There’s a chain there. Do you wear a necklace under your uniform? He can see the slope of your shoulders. The light reflects on you.

It stops him dead in his tracks. All he can hear is the quiet. The soft humming of your voice. The thud of the dust pan, the woosh of an eraser. The gentle bristle of a broom. The sound of his own heartbeat, a little louder than it was a minute ago.

He shakes his head. He goes back to sweeping.

“Why do you look like that?”

You look depressed. For Rin, this expression on you is unusual. You do look sad sometimes. Somber, occasionally but the look you have on your face right now is down right harrowing. You’re staring blankly out into the open, sitting in the usual spot the two of you have lunch at. But you’ve hardly touched your food and your favorite juicebox (a lunchtime staple) doesn’t have a straw in it yet.

It’s freaking him out, quite frankly. He stares at you, waving a hand in front of your face until you click back into reality. You jump in your skin at the sight of him before taking a deep breath once you’ve realized who’s in front of you.

“Oh. It’s just you. Sorry,” You say, immediately going for your juice. See? “What did you say?”

He sighs, sitting down next to you with his own lunch. Nothing special, something his mom likes to pack when he’s at home - though he doesn’t often take it. He opens up his own tin, taking chopsticks out attached from the top.

“I asked why you looked like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like someone just died.”

You look at him morbidly, clasping your hands and leaning forward with your elbows on your knees.

“My midterm grades,” You say solemnly, voice wavering ever so slightly “They’re detestable. A shame to my bloodline.”

Rin looks at you plainly.

“Aren’t you an idiot to begin with?”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m average. Super average. But I scored even lower than usual and I’m concerned. I need to do well on the next one and on my entrance exams.”

Oh, right. Rin forgot since he has no plans to take any.

“Do you know what you want to do for college?” He asks, mostly out of obligation.

“I want to study journalism.” There’s a wispiness to your way of speaking. It gives the air a sentimental feel. “There’s a private university with a good program I want to get into but they’re kind of tough. So I have to focus and do well,”

“What subject are you struggling with?”

You deflate all over again.

“Chemistry and Classical Japanese,”

Rin does well in both subjects. He thinks it over, and decides he can consider this payback. That’s all it is. He’s never liked owing people for favors and while you say this much is enough - Rin can rest assured about your little deal if he’s actually been of use to you in return. He remains impassive as he takes a sip of water.

“Do you want me to help you study?”

You turn to him immediately, suddenly full of life. He doesn’t like the gleam in your eyes, an immediate regret settling in as he stares at you, eyes full of disdain. You don’t hesitate grabbing his hand, putting it to your forehead and bowing deeply as you face him. You’re like a fly that keeps buzzing around him.

“Are you serious? Really? Forreal? Do you mean it?”

“If you keep being a dipshit I’m going to take it back,”

You pull away, hands folded in your lap, going stone faced.

“I would be very grateful,” You say, hands clasped in front of your face. He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” He says bluntly, staring out into space “I just don’t want to owe you any favors.”

This you laugh at, leaning back on the wall behind you - with your legs stretched out.

“Don’t worry,” You reply, self-assured. “Somehow, you asking me to study with you so innocently really cements it in that you don’t have a shred of affection for me.”

Something in him stirs. He ignores it.

“Never in a million years.”

You laugh light-heartedly.

“You’re so cold to me, Itoshi-kun.”

“You still call me that.” He grimaces. You stare at him confused.

“How else would I call you?”

“When you use my last name it reminds me of my brother,”

“...Are you implying I should use your first name?”

Oh. Shit. That is what he sort of said, isn’t it?

“No,” He denies, somehow unable to come up with anything worthwhile “Don’t address me at all.”

“Eh? But that’s impossible? I can try but,”

Only an idiot like you would think to actually try. He shakes his head. It’s no good after all.

“Shut up,” He decides, because there’s not anything else he can think to say “We can study at the library.”

You’re quick to reject the proposal.

“We have to pick somewhere else. Like a cafe or something,” You say, not looking at him. You have your phone pulled up now, looking for places nearby. He’s lost again.

“What? Why? Isn’t it easier if it’s at school?”

You glance over at him wide-eyed, before suddenly smiling. It’s a knowing smile, almost like you feel sorry for him. He wants to ask why you look like that. It’s weirdly guarded and he hates that from you. He stares at you, trying to will you to explain yourself. You’re good at reading his thoughts, frustratingly enough, so he’s not accustomed to asking.

Which means your lack of answer is deliberate, and even with the pressure he’s putting on you, you don’t budge.

“Trust me on this one,” You voice light and airy. “It’s better if we find somewhere away from school, too. There’s still some time to look, so no rush.”

He lets it go because he doesn’t have any other choice. Lunch passes and you talk like everything's normal.

The question lingers in the back of his mind.

Rin spends most of his time between classes watching soccer. If he has some free time on his day off, he’ll look for a new movie to watch. There’s a new foreign film coming out from a director who he really likes and he’s just finished watching the trailer.

Thirsty, with nothing to do - he stands to his feet and briefly surveys the classroom. He wants a drink and there’s a vending machine down the hallway with a sports drink that tastes like..something.

His airpods are close to being dead so there’s no music as he makes his way. He’s not a fan of being forced to listen to the chatter of the general populace so it’s not that hard to ignore.

It catches his attention when he hears your name in passing before turning the corner of the hall. It stops him dead in his tracks, something tense left in the syllables after . He doesn’t know why he stopped, not exactly. He figured it’d be annoying if his presence caused a ruckus.

He’s used to people talking about you, though they usually describe you as a busybody. The Senpai who’s everywhere. A hand in every jar, or something like that. But there’s a tone to that, mild amusement - never malice, that Rin is more than accustomed to.

This is not that, he notices. He leans on the wall and listens. A group of girls. Some of the voices he recognizes. They’re from the third year classroom down the hall.

“It’s like, I don’t know,” Eto-san, he thinks. She’s come up to him before, more times than he can really count on one hand. Rin knows the type. Kind but not really. To the point it’s hard for anyone to call her out on it. “It’s weird how much she hangs around him. She’s not a bad girl or anything,”

The addition makes Rin’s eye twitch. Yeah. He’s very familiar with this type. He keeps listening. Another voice, but he has no idea who this one is.

“Really? But Senpai is pretty kind to me,”

“Mm, I guess so. I just wonder if it makes Itoshi-kun uncomfortable, you know? With pushy people like that, it doesn’t matter how blunt you are. I just worry about him a bit.”

If it wasn’t so annoying to listen in, Rin would laugh. He’s never understood girls. Especially not highschool ones. He doesn’t pay attention to that kind of social hierarchical shit to begin with, only forced to acknowledge it because other people do. None of it matters to him.

He does think back to what you said a week ago, about finding a place away from school to study. It clicks. You probably know they talk about you like this. Or you could surmise this outcome. Rin should expect that level of awareness from you. Sincere. Always attuned to everyone. Of course this is something you know but he doesn’t.

Why didn’t you tell him? That’s annoying. It’s nothing he couldn’t deal with knowing. He would’ve got it if you explained it earlier.

“Oh wow, you really care about him Eto-san,”

There’s a soft chuckle that makes Rin annoyed. Is he supposed to feel grateful? They’ve barely spoken to each other.

“It’s not like that. It must be hard since he missed second year, that’s all.”

With that, Rin decides to turn the corner.

He’s a little pleased at the reaction. How everyone goes into complete silence when he arrives. He spares her a glance as he moves towards the vending machines, clicking in the buttons. A generic sports drink comes tumbling out of the bottom, and Rin grabs it with deliberate slowness - drawing out the unease.

Eto-san gives him a blank stare before suddenly looking cheerful. She seems a little panicked, quickly trying to make conversation with him. The words don’t reach his ears as he stares down at her expressionlessly.

“Are you done?” He says, ice-cold. She stutters at that. Rin suppresses a smile.

“Oh, uhm, yeah. Sorry, were you busy?”

“Yeah,” He says back, completely apathetic.

He doesn’t plan on saying anymore in the first place. The little victories count.

It does feel like some kind of magic when he hears your voice from the other end of the hallway. You’re practically shouting it, and following is the sound of the hall monitors telling you off for running as you barrel toward him full speed. He can hear the thud of your sneakers all the way till they skid to a stop.

You’re out of breath, bent over your knees and messy as you put a hand up. Most times, he would be embarrassed. He’d even tell you off for being such an idiot. Right now, he finds the corners of his lips upturned as he stares at you from where you stand.

“Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I had some business with this guy. Oh, Fujita-chan, your hair is cute today! I like how it looks up on you,” You say, to the girl who was calling you kind just a minute ago “I hope he wasn’t too cruel to you. He’s actually afraid of women, it’s a generational curse. Every night he turns into a frog and—”

You shuffle in front him, arms stretched out like a shield. He sticks his leg out and kicks your shin. You yelp in pain.

“What the hell are you talking about? Shut up.”

“Ow, you strong bastard. You’re a soccer player, please be more conscious of your kicks. What if you shattered my shin? I know you’re loaded but it’s the principle of the thing, you know—”

“Stop talking or I’ll kick you a second time.”

You go silent immediately.

“Forgive me, Itoshi-sama. I’ve strayed from the path of righteousness. Alas, the people need you.” You say, turning around.

“Speak clearly.”

“Homeroom teacher wanted to double check with you about after graduation plans and told me to go get you.”

“Why you?”

“I was already walking around for the newspaper club.”

He nods, not needing any more explanation.

“H-hey, aren’t you acting too friendly with him?”

So she decided to speak. This makes you falter, just a little, and Rin detests the look of self-satisfaction on her face. He speaks this time. It’s not like he can’t fight any of his own battles.

“It’s fine,” He says, not bothering to think about it. He looks at you, as you stare back at him where he stands, wide-eyed. Idiot. “I don’t mind.”

You grin at him. Big and rounded and stupid, with all of your teeth like you’re giddy. If the hallway monitor wasn’t up your ass, he figures you’d be skipping about now. You usher him into the hall, back where he came from, waving them off.

“Be seeing you guys, then! Bye!”

And you’re off. It’s quiet until you’re both completely out of ear-shot. Before he can go any further you stand in front of him, hands behind your back with a dumb look on your face. He already knows what you’re going to say.

“Hey. I really like you a lot. Just now… my heart was fluttering. I thought I was hallucinating,”

“You’re a moron,”

“Ahhh, what should I do? I’m all hot under the collar. Is this what it’s like being a maiden in love? It’s great.”

“How can you say that knowing I’ve already rejected you?”

“It’s because you’ve rejected me, I can say that.”

And Rin doesn't really get it. He’s not sure he ever will.

But you seem happy enough. He decides against prying.

Somehow, you’ve ended up at Rin’s house.

He doesn’t know how it happened. Really.

He mentioned to his mother off-handedly that he needed to help someone study. He should’ve lied about it then, but coming off of running drills makes him pretty stupid. He uses most of his brain power when he trains. So in an altered state of mind due to dehydration, hunger and general exhaustion - he answered honestly instead of lying.

You’re helping someone study? Yes, they’re from my class.

Is it a boy or a girl? A girl. We’re friends.

You can’t study at the library? She doesn’t want to, so we’re trying to find somewhere else.

Why not invite her here, if her parents are okay with it? Her parent’s don’t really pay enough attention to be bothered.

Wait, what is he saying?

Rin doesn’t know how it happened. Really. Really. He tried pretty hard to reject his mothers advances about the situation but he’s never been one to upset her. The whole thing with Sae really tore her up so they both had a silent agreement to try and get along at home. And since Rin is still living at home for now, he tries harder to listen to her. Even so, he wasn’t planning on yielding for this one.

Rin is not immune to his mothers guilt. A long lecture about how her only sons never cared about anything but soccer and how she’s worried she’s never going to have grandchildren later, he finally gave in and gave you a call at his dinner table.

He was hoping you would come through and reject the offer. Say something stupid about how that’s dangerous territory for a young girl in love and let his mom down gently. He forgot about your whole thing about responsibility and being a nice girl who gets along well with adults.

And now, the door is ringing and Rin knows he’s going to open it to you. He mostly blames himself for not thinking ahead.

Rin opens the door on a Saturday afternoon and the first thing he thinks is that you’re not wearing your uniform.

You look…different. It’s weird. Your hair is styled in an unusual way, tied with something like ribbon. You’re wearing something flowy and loose but the neck is a little rounder than usual. There’s a necklace there, a heart-pendant with a chain. You have in...earrings.

Rin thinks vaguely that you look…something. He doesn’t know. But in his vision you’re like a troublesome and amorphous blob that yammers on about nothing. And right now you look…not like that.

“You’re dressed up.” Are the first words to come out of his mouth. You blink at him owlishly.

“Oh. Yeah. I wanted to make a good impression on your mom so I tried not to look sloppy.” You say sheepishly. He leans against the doorframe.

“She doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

“Well I do, okay? Now, can I come in?”

“The white slippers are for you.”

He steps aside and lets you in. You have perfect manners. He probably should’ve expected that. You take your shoes off neatly and place them on the rack the same way, slipping your feet into the slippers provided. Rin just watches, eyes tracing the curve of your neck.

“Where’s your mom?” You ask.

“In the kitchen making dinner. You’re staying for dinner right?”

You blink at him, surprised.

“I mean it’s not like I can’t.”

“She’d be upset if you didn’t.” He says noncommittally before walking you down to the kitchen.

His mother is right where he expects. He stands in the corner as you shuffle in watching on. She turns around to look at you, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Oh, my, you must be Rin’s friend? Such a lovely girl. Welcome! Welcome.”

To this, you bow your head as deep as it can go. The air around you feels serious. Rin scoffs internally. There’s a strange feeling in his chest that he can’t describe, seeing you bowing in front of his mom. An itch he can’t reach, locked tight around his ribs.

You give his mother your name first and she smiles like she’s absolutely delighted just hearing it.

“Thank you for having me. I brought some fruit with me as a gift, I hope that’s alright.”

His mom shoots him a look that Rin deflects by turning away, opening the plastic bag you’ve handed to her.

“Oh my! Aren’t these expensive fruits? Please thank your parents for me!”

“Oh no, don’t worry about that. I work part-time, so I paid for them myself. It was the least I could do. I’m grateful for the tutoring.”

You tense up, realizing that might’ve been an awkward thing to say. It isn’t. Even if it was, Rin’s mother has always been soft-hearted. His dad tells him they’re a lot alike but Rin doesn’t see it. Whatever it may be, Rin’s mom is too doting and too sociable to let you feel bad. Right now she seems emotional, an expression between empathy and pride. She reaches for you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, patting your head gently.

“How diligent. Thank you, then, for the fruit.”

Rin can’t see your face but it’s easy to picture.

“Of course. And pardon the intrusion! And uhm, thank you for having me for dinner.”

Clumsy. Rin thinks you’re clumsy. A flickering light. His mom laughs brightly and tells you not to worry. She leans in closer like she’s whispering but Rin can hear her loud and clear.

“Rin can be very brash but he’s a good boy, so thank you for being kind to him.”

He feels embarrassed. Even readies himself to intervene.

“He is very kind to me.”

Wait. What?

His mom smiles even brighter, and mouths something like ‘take care of her’ when you’re not looking. He wants to stop it before it starts. You’re not dating. You’re hardly even friends, you’re just here to study. Rin almost wants to shout it, but he’s stuck. Before he can do any of that, you’re turning around and smiling like you haven’t said anything strange.

What do you mean he’s kind to you? When his whole thing is rejecting you mercilessly? Being cruel?

What kind of person would ever describe him as kind?

He can’t find the words he wants to say, so he takes you to his room in silence.

You both make it to Rin’s room in one piece.

You’ve been studying now for about an hour. Given your personality, Rin was expecting more of a fuss. He thought you’d make some comment about being in a boys room and then fight off the actual studying like the plague.

Much to his surprise, you started studying with him right away. Rin tries his best to tutor you, though he does make fun of you in the process. But you’re a try-hard all the same, stopping only to ask questions and get clarification occasionally.

You’ve been focused that whole time, miraculously enough. Rin studies too, but only a bit, after deciding to study some recent matches instead.

( Every now and again, he’ll glance at you. Just to see if you’re stuck or still working. Each time, he gets caught up on the fact you’re not in your uniform and has to tear his eyes away. )

After a bout of silence, you yawn out loud, quietly shutting your workbook.

“I’ve finished all my practice problems for today,” You announce, before deciding to lay down on his floor “I’m beat.”

“I thought you were gonna give up before you started.” Rin admits. You frown at him.

“I was serious about needing tutoring. Thanks for all your help.”

“I already told you it’s fine. Is there anything else? Finals are next week.”

You shake your head.

“Mm, I don’t think so. One of the guys from the newspaper club helped me with math so I’ll be okay.”

…Huh?

“From the newspaper club?”

“Huh? Yeah. Murata-senpai. We’re in the same year. He’s a few months older so he insists on making me call him Senpai.”

“And he helped you with math?”

“Yeah. He was a delinquent like, all of first year but he really cleaned up his act. He’s actually really gentle.”

Rin frowns at that.

“Do people usually describe delinquents as gentle?”

You make a noise of indignance from where you’re laid on his floor.

“Hey. Murata-senpai is really nice, okay? And he is gentle, so I won’t tolerate your usual judginess.”

Rin rolls his eyes.

“How’d you even meet him?”

“Uh…I wanted to write a column about him, basically. He was helping in the garden last year and I kinda…stalked him. It sounds worse than it is. I just wanted to know what made him change.”

“So stalking people is pretty typical for you.”

You sit up and gape at him. Rin suppresses a laugh.

“Anyways. I eventually flagged him down for an interview. Apparently, he had a real scare with his granny getting sick and decided he needed to cut the shit. He’s a good guy. He joined the newspaper club after the interview,”

“After the interview…?”

You nod, leaning forward with your elbows on the table in front of you.

“Uh-huh. Said he was interested because of my passion or something. He’s been really nice to me ever since and helps me with all of the ideas I have.” You soften as you talk about it. Rin feels an ugly emotion in his chest “I’m worried about what will happen to the club after graduation, but Senpai is always encouraging me to make the most out of the time we still have. So I’m really thankful for him. That’s why you have to be nice.”

Rin is super annoyed. He doesn’t know why he’s so annoyed but he is. How do you not realize this guy likes you? He doesn’t know why he’s opening his mouth to tell you what’s so obvious. It’s not like it really matters. Rin doesn’t like you in the first place, so if he informs you that your beloved Murata-senpai has feelings for you - it’s no big deal.

In fact it might be better for everyone if you realize. He’s just frustrated by how clueless you can be sometimes.

“He’s interested in you,” Rin says, against his better judgment. It feels like the words are welling up in his throat “Your senpai or whatever.”

You blink at him stupidly. He wonders if you’re wearing mascara.

“Huh? I doubt that somehow. Senpai is kind to me but I think he sees me like a little sister.”

He scoffs at you.

“You would think that. Most guys aren’t just nice to girls they don’t like.”

“Not everyone is like you, yanno.” You say back without thinking twice. That’s not the point this time, he wants to say. And he’s right for this one. Anyone else with half of a brain would realize. You’re just… you. Which means you’re absolutely unaware of things pertaining to you. It’s the only reason he can think you’d deny something so obvious.

The only reason you could come to the house of a boy you liked just to study.

“Shut up. I’m saying this because you’re too much of a dumbass to put it together on your own. The guy definitely likes you.”

“I didn’t know you were a love guru,” You say sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at him. Childish. Annoying “It doesn’t matter if he does.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

You give him an incredulous look.

“Unfortunately my heart is captured by an aloof sportsman.”

He doesn’t know why he feels relieved when you say that. He feels his heart all the way in his throat like he’s going to throw it up, even though his expression remains impassive.

“You already know I don’t like you, though. It’s a good opportunity, isn’t it? Don’t a lot of people move on that way.”

You shake your head.

“I’m not that sort of wishy-washy woman.” You reply, huffing your chest up and trying to ease the tension. You stop to shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You wouldn’t get it even if I explained.”

“It’s annoying when you do that,” Rin voices, not bothering to cut it any other way “You did that with the girls at school too. I’m never gonna get it if you don’t bother explaining it to me.”

You soften at this, then whisper.

“...Why do you care?” But it’s not said with any malice. It’s not said sadly either. Just curious. He freezes, but doesn’t let it show. He wants to ask himself the same question.

“I don’t. It’s just,” And he scoffs, not looking at your face “It’s a pain.”

You hum, not expecting more of an answer.

“I want to treasure my own feelings towards you,” You say, and something in Rin feels like it’s being set on fire. “It’s not just about having a boyfriend. If it was, then I’d consider Senpai's feelings.”

“...So it’s about me, specifically?”

“Yeah,” You say without offering any more explanation than that “It is. I like you.”

The words but why, linger in the air. You seem to be feeling merciful, as you lean back on your palms and stare up at his ceiling. You wear your heart outside of your body, more often than not. And he thinks that part of you is so hard to get used to.

“You’re really awkward. And aloof. And you don’t have any friends.”

“Is this some kind of revenge or…?”

“But. You’re also sensitive. The more I know you, the more I think you’re kind and well-meaning. You uh, remind me of a cat.”

He blinks.

“A cat?”

“A cat. Sometimes they want their own space. And sometimes they knock your water off your desk for fun. Plus they only really care about people in their own circle,”

“Again, is this—”

“Let me finish, jeez. They’re solitary creatures. But like when they accept you, they get comfortable. An’ nice . And they look out for you in their own way. To me you’re a lot like that.”

You give him a smile so warm it makes his back hot. So loud and so vibrant like it burst out of him at any minute.

“I’ve uh, always been interested in you. I watched you play in Bluelock too. I kept thinking to myself, there’s something about you. I want to know more, even if it’s just a little. Stuff like that.” You talk so quietly yet it’s all Rin can hear. All Rin can see in his vision is you. All Rin can think about is you. “I’ve always been interested in other peoples stories. So I thought, what a waste it would be, to throw away that feeling because of something like love or like. I thought, ‘What's your story, Itoshi Rin?’”

Rin doesn’t know what to say so he chooses to say nothing.

“When I confessed, I knew you would never like me. Because that’s just the sort of person everyone says you are. Still, what a waste, right? You miss all the shots you don’t take or whatever. So, I wanted to get to know you. I guess.”

“I don’t get it. I get what you’re like but it still doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing special to know, is there?”

“Feeling that is special, don’t you think? That’s a special reason to me.”

He doesn’t follow. You laugh lightly.

“If I never became interested in Murata-senpai’s story, I would’ve never been his friend. If I gave up on trying to know you, just because you didn’t return to my one-sided feelings, then I would’ve never gotten to know you either. Don’t you think that’s a waste?”

Rin doesn’t know. He’s never really cared about it. He’s rejected so many confessions and never once thought enough about any of them in any depth. That part of you is foreign. He can chalk it up to a difference in character. He can’t understand wanting to know someone just because.

(Or maybe he can. He just hasn’t until now. Until this very moment, suspended in time. Where he wants to know what things make you the way you are.)

Some small, dark part of him wants to ask why. Over and over until his throat feels raw - long enough to understand it. Even as he grips onto that desire so tight, with such bruising force, the words sit in his mouth. They taste like iron. They taste like a bitten tongue. If you’ve watched him all this time, then you know. Being chosen. He’s never been confident in that. Rin wants to ask, why him?

What’s so special? Enough to keep talking to him? Enough to do any of this? Is getting to know people is always this difficult, he wonders. Does it always feel uncomfortable to be in proximity with someone?

In the end, he can’t bring himself to ask. He can’t even bear to examine it in himself, the sense of dread washing over him like sickness. He’s nauseous. And this time, there’s a residue of tension he’s finding increasingly difficult to ignore.

You come through again. He wonders if you can read his mind just like you do with all the nobodies at school.

“Rin-kun,” You say, your voice like the summer heat. “Getting to know you makes me feel like my feelings aren’t a waste. I’m happy getting to know you. I want to treasure that.”

What happens when you run out of things to know? The question is too heavy. He settles on a different one. He wants to understand it more. Just to put himself at ease.

“Isn’t being in the same room with someone who rejected you uncomfortable?”

“Maybe. But there’s a clear line for me and you, so it’s cool. In like, ten years, maybe someone will interview me about you. As your classmate and stuff. And I’ll go - ‘He’s actually a really nice guy. I actually had a crush on him.’ If I can say that, without being regretful, then that’ll be enough for me.”

“That’ll be enough for you? Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re so weird.” He says, unsure of what else he could possibly say. You giggle, and lay back down on his floor.

“I knew you’d say that.”

Summer comes.

It doesn’t occur to Rin how often he sees you in school until it all comes to a halt. He has your number, and you text him often - about unimportant and trivial shit that you think of. In that way, it doesn’t even really feel like you’ve separated.

But the sudden absence of your chattering in his life makes everything feel especially quiet. Summer is a boring time for Rin. It’s mostly the same. Practicing and playing and studying. On the few occasions he’s been out, it’s because some of the other Bluelock members are gathering and refuse to let him know even a breath of peace.

He’s seen Sae now, though they never really talk about anything. Sort of just look at each other and exchange enough words that their mom doesn’t cry before going back to their room. Sae will be gone before school starts back up again, so Rin isn’t all that worried about it.

It occurs to Rin for the first time that this summer will be the last of his highschool days. He’s never been sentimental about stuff like that - so he figures you’re to blame for these sudden thoughts.

Your summer has been a lot busier than his. He should probably expect this from you by now, but your surprisingly youthful social life always shocks him. You’ve been working part-time as usual. In that time though, you’ve also been to the beach and been on an overnight trip to Osaka with your newspaper club.

(Rin wasn’t happy to hear about this. He was relieved to know it was with a teacher and that you roomed with a girl. But still, not exactly his favorite of anecdotes for the summer.)

You’ve invited Rin more than once to come hang out with you, but he’s basically always declined. The group setting is troublesome, but being alone with you feels even worse somehow. It wouldn’t be a date, obviously, but it would be something. Something deliberate.

Rin doesn’t know if he can come see you in good faith for such a reason.

It’s another day spent doing his usual. Being technical, it’s a rest day, which means he’s only allowed to stretch. He has done his basics. Studied, messed around with his ball, responded to a barrage of texts from Bachira and Isagi. He played games for a while, checking out a new horror game before deciding it’d be best not to get too sucked in so he has something to play next time.

After all that, during a mid-August day while Rin sits on his couch and watches T.V., he receives a facetime call from you for the very first time. At first, he just lets it ring. But when it keeps ringing - he figures your persistence is going to continue unless he replies.

He looks around. No one's home, so he doesn’t need to go to his room. He swipes, and the call connects. The screen shows him, propped up against something with a full shot of your room. You’re turned away from the camera. Rin just stares.

“Oh, shit - did you actually pick up?”

“Should I hang up.”

“No! No, I just wasn’t expecting you. Don’t hang up. I need a guy's opinion.”

“What? What for?”

“I got in a fight with my brother about a dress I bought,” You say, exasperated, and Rin is surprised because you hardly see him. “I know he’s probably looking out for me but I don’t think we talk enough for him to be telling me how to dress.”

“He’s older than you, right? Maybe you should listen to him.”

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from. Either way, I’m not a kid. I’m already 18 and I’m going to college. It’s a cute dress! I feel like it’s fine.”

“So..why’d you call me again?”

“I’m gonna try it on and show you. Murata-senpai is busy.”

“You shouldn’t do that to a guy who likes you.” Rin deadpans. You laugh.

“Shut up. I really need an opinion. I wanted to wear it to go out today so if it’s actually too provocative then I have to change my outfit.”

“Where are you even going?”

“My friend needs to get a concealer, so probably the mall or something. After that I’ll go buy some stationary.”

“Alone? What about your friend?”

“She’s gonna go see her boyfriend.”

“Why can’t you just go with them? Or ask them to go with you”

“And third wheel? I’m good. I just need some stationary and then I’ll be home. Easy peasy. Anyway, what’s with the interrogation?”

“It’s not interrogation.” He insists. You’re offscreen so Rin can’t see you, but he can hear the sound of a zipper echo in the speakers. He’s also sure you’re rolling your eyes.

When you come on camera, the dress of the hour is on display. Rin’s first thought is to tell you to take it off. It is too provocative to him. The front is fine as is, but it’s nearly backless and it’s cut too high on your thighs. He’s never seen so much of your skin. Maybe that’s a given, since he didn’t go to the beach with you either.

You give him a quick spin, before patting the front down. You say something, but the words don’t register. It feels like his brain is full of cotton or something.

“So? Too much? I mean it’s backless but like. I don’t know, it’s kind of loose? And the sleeves are long. Neckline isn’t that bad, either.”

Rin just says what he thinks “You shouldn’t go out alone wearing it.”

You frown at him.

“That’s not helpful, Rin-kun.”

“It’s…fine. What time does your friend have to go?”

“Probably right after we’re done.”

He sighs.

“Tell her to go with her boyfriend early. I’ll come with you to get your stationary.”

“Wait, what? Did I hear that right? You’re coming to get me? After I’ve been hounding you to hang out? What’s with the change of heart?”

“I don’t have anything to do since it’s a rest day. You need stuff and I don’t think you should be out alone. Don’t read into it.”

“Kinda hard not too but I’m not gonna complain. Are you coming right now?”

“Yeah. Send me your address.”

Rin has no idea what impulse has brought him here.

That’s not entirely true. What brought him to your apartment towards the end of summer is impulse. He acted on nothing but impulse.

Rin, for better or for worse, finds that you’re clueless about yourself. The fact you were going to call Murata-senpai is already bothering him enough. That, along with the fact you wore the dress and didn’t think it was too short is troubling. It’s not that Rin wants to tell you what not to wear. He doesn’t have the right but you did ask.

Anyway, it’s a lot less agitating if you’re being accompanied while wearing it. Going alone in something like that, even if it’s the middle of summer, would be stupid.

Rin doesn’t make it a habit of worrying about the outfits of girls he doesn’t know. He does know you though. He thinks you’d be really annoying if something happened and you got upset about it. So, all he’s doing is preventing that outcome. It’s nothing more than that.

He knocks on your door as he shakes the thoughts out of his head, and he’s greeted by a man in his late twenties. It dawns on Rin that this is your brother. He really didn’t think this through.

Your brother is an imposing person. He’s a head taller than Rin with a gruff voice and a scar on his cheek. Rin stares at him blankly.

“Who are you?”

“Itoshi Rin. I’m here for—”

“Nii-san, tell Rin-kun to come inside and sit! I’m not done getting ready.”

Your brother glares at him.

“Who’s he? Your boyfriend? Is that why—”

You come stumbling out of your room, half-dressed and Rin immediately averts his eyes. This is the most uncomfortable experience of his life.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He already rejected me, so we’re just friends. Stop fussing and let him in, it’s hot out.”

“He rejected you?”

Rin should just leave.

“I already knew he was going to. Now move,”

Rin doesn’t enjoy being involved in your sibling quarrel. Suddenly, he feels a twinge of regret about some old Bluelock memories. He understands it now more than ever, gaining a little empathy.

Your brother moves out of the way. You’re standing in the hall, with a single stocking on and powder on your face he’s pretty sure is meant to be brushed. You grin at him.

“Sorry! I won’t be long, promise. You got here faster than I thought you would.”

Rin can feel a pair of eyes in the back of his skull.

“Uh. Yeah. I took the bus so it was quick.”

“It might be uncomfortable here. Do you wanna sit in my room instead? It’s colder but it’s kind of a mess—”

“He can sit here.” Your brother insists. Rin is never leaving his house again. You frown.

“Didn’t I already tell you we’re not dating? He’s not even interested in me, it’s not like anything is gonna happen.”

“It’s the principle of it.” Yeah. Definitely siblings.

“Whatever. If you make him uncomfortable, I’m gonna yell at you. Rin-kun, sorry. Do you need anything? Juice? Water?”

Your hospitality throws him off. You’re different at home.

“Uh. No. I’m okay.”

“Okay, then I’ll hurry and get dressed. Nii-san, please be civil.”

With that, you flounce back up to your room. Your brother is staring hard in Rin’s direction. He’s not intimidated. It’s just… so awkward it’s kind of unbearable for him. What do people usually do in this situation? Rin’s not exactly the sociable type.

“She confessed to you?”

Rin is startled.

“Uh. Yeah. In April.”

“And you’re friends?”

“She asked to be friends.”

Your brother looks distressed.

“I don’t understand that girl at all.”

Rin doesn't either.

“What’s she like in school?”

Rin stares. Oh. He’s that kind of older brother.

“Uh. Busy. She’s in the newspaper club so she’s always doing something. She has a lot of friends and gets along with our class.”

“I see…that’s good. I’m always worried about her. Our family has always been busy and I moved out when I was 18 so… we don’t see much of each other. She doesn’t talk about herself that much either.”

Rin nods absently. What circle of hell is this?

“She probably thinks I’m just being overprotective,” Bullseye “But I just worry she grew up too fast.”

Rin thinks if he were a different kind of guy, now would be the time he gives your older brother an encouraging heart to heart. The script is there. It’s just not how he honestly feels. Rin doesn’t take pleasure in defending you. But it’s hypocritical and a little ridiculous to hear it from him.

Some of it is leftover resentment from Sae. The rest is knowing you.

You did grow up too fast. From what he knows about teenage girls, they’re supposed to be…meaner. More hysterical. More inconsiderate. Less responsible and more in the moment. Messy. All teenagers are, really.

For all the ways you are clumsy and ridiculous, sometimes Rin thinks you’re too off-puttingly mature. It wouldn’t kill you to be more selfish. To be just a little less self-reliant. It’s not normal is it? To be so grateful for things you’re owed. It bothers him. Always has.

Rin knows what the script is. But it bothers him.

“If you know that then you don’t really have any right to intervene,” Rin says bluntly. “Suddenly acting protective and considerate when she grew up on her own is just going to feel stifling. Aren’t you just trying to make yourself feel better?”

He looks surprised by his answer. Hurt too.

“I guess that’s right,”

He frowns.

“If you actually care, just be honest. She’s not the type of person to turn someone away on a grudge.”

Before Rin can feel embarrassed about what he’s said, you come stumbling down the steps all dressed up. Your brother gives you a look.

“Do you need any money?”

You look at him confused then shake your head no.

“Okay. Stay safe and have fun.”

He turns to leave. You watch him go. Rin puts his hands in his pockets like he’s trying to wipe himself of it.

“Weird… anyways. Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Your outing goes well.

Outing. Not a date. No matter how many times people mistake you two for being on a date today - it was nothing more than an outing.

You start with stationary for the upcoming term, then you drag Rin to the mall because you need some more clothes. After that, you go into a bookstore to pick up some manga. Rin has fun there because he gets to pick out some new releases and you bond mutually over your tastes. Rin learns both like thrillers. You spend a lot of time together, reading over his shoulder.

It’s not a date. But it wasn’t bad. He’s so used to talking to you that the entire situation doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You’re funnier than he’s usually willing to give you credit for. Doing all that, plus train rides, makes it so you’re not home until sundown. You, however, refuse to end the night without having some kind of treat. After a lot of begging Rin to cheat on his meal plan, the two of you get ice-cream and you drag Rin to a local playground. Apparently you bring your neighbors' kids here sometimes.

Now he’s here. Sitting on swings with ice-cream and it is still not a date. Rin has no opinions on the day but you’re practically bursting at the seams with happiness. The dress you’re wearing is hiking up on your thigh from how you’re sitting. He was right to accompany you, by the way. The amount of creeps he’s had to stare down today alone is outright disgusting.

Rin takes a spoonful of ice-cream and lets it melt in his mouth. You let your feet hit the mulch beneath you as you lick the ice-cream carefully - trying desperately not to let it spill on your hand. He watches on in amusement. After you finally get a handle on it, you give him a small look.

“I had fun today,” You say sentimentally. Rin feels his stomach tie in knots “Thank you.”

He frowns.

“Gross. Stop that.”

“Aw, c’mon. You’re so edgy. Just admit you had fun! You had a fantastic and whimsical time.”

He gives you an unimpressed stare.

“Really? Nothing? You’re not feeling the flames of youthful joy in your loins at all?”

“Describing it like that is disgusting.”

“So you admit you know what it is.”

Rin wants to smile. Fuck, he hates you.

“...It wasn’t bad.”

You grin. You’re so annoying.

“Ladies and gents, we got an ‘it wasn’t bad’ from the ever soulless Itoshi Rin!”

Stupid. So stupid.

“It was more tolerable than hanging out with some of my other dipshit friends.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth dramatically.

“Oh…Oh wow… Do you want to try proposing next? The set-up is there. Perfect ambience.”

His face cracks into a begrudging smile.

“You’re insufferable.”

You suddenly go quiet. When Rin looks at you, you’re stunned

“Why’re you being weird?”

“No, sorry, I was just thinking I really like you,” You say, like it’s the easiest and most natural thing in the world “I’ve never seen you smile before. It’s nice.”

“...Your ability to say cringy shit like that so easily is astounding to me.”

“I don’t want to hear this from the guy who unironically uses lukewarm,” You say, biting into your ice-cream cone. Rin blushes. “Besides, nothing wrong with being cringe when you’re in love.”

“Freak.”

You give him a thumbs up.

“One of a kind.”

There’s a beat of silence. It’s comfortable. Rin eats his too, probably a little slower than he has to. Summer feels heavy in the air.

“You weren’t always like..an edgelord, right?”

Rin stares at you, perplexed by how sudden the question is.

“Where’d you hear that from?”

“Your mom after dinner. You already went upstairs. Said you had a nasty fight with your brother.”

He doesn’t say anything, posture stiffening at the mention of Sae.

“It’s not your business.”

“Hey. No need for the attitude. I’m curious as your number one fan.” You say, trying to back off as much as possible. Like he’s some kind of feral cat you’re trying to calm. “Don’t be mad, okay? You don’t have to talk about it.”

You try your best to be soothing and Rin softens

He is angry. Not at you. Not really. The mention of Sae just does that to him. And if anyone else even thought to bring it up - he’d probably tell them to go fuck themselves with nothing but bitter hatred.

With you, there’s not any of that. There’s a lingering sense of hesitance - an internal conflict, but not anger. Rin’s never enjoyed opening his heart to anyone.

Even so, he feels compelled to tell you, so he does.

“My brothers a dick,” Resentment seeps into his words “He came back from overseas and then basically insulted me for a minute straight. We were always meant to play soccer together but he went through something. He changed. We never talked about it,”

“What? He insulted you for no reason? That’s so weird. Did you always have a bad relationship?”

Rin sits with himself quietly.

“I don’t know if we have one now. We were close as kids. At least.”

“And he just… came back and started being an asshole to you? Seriously?”

Rin nods. There’s not much else to the story. Rin’s tried hard not to think about the situation itself. He only uses the feelings that stayed behind to make him better. To give him a reason to play - it’s motivation and nothing more. If he starts to view it too much like what it is, betrayal, he’s afraid everything inside of him will collapse.

“There’s probably more to it than that,” You conclude thoughtfully. Rin thinks the same “But still. You’re his baby brother. Even if he’s going through something…”

Rin scoffs “You sound like you’re worried about him.” It comes out more petulantly than he expects

“Not really. Not as much as I’m worried about you,” You counter, giving him a small smile. Rin feels his heart leap into his throat “I just figure, you know, maybe thinking about it like that would help. You were close right? Your mom said he used to dote on you,”

Rin nods. He feels his chest swell and tighten.

“Then…I bet it sucked. I bet it was hard. Or at least, it must’ve been lonely to go through that,” You say, frown deepening “Such a sudden change would be hard for anyone to deal with, I think. It’s okay if you feel like it’s unfair. His reasons aside.”

You sigh, suddenly, covering your hands with your face.

“What?” Rin asks. You shake your head.

“You poor thing. I wanna hug you to death you know. A good squeeze. I’m trying to refrain.” You say, stomping your feet just slightly. He feels a flush crawl up his neck, turning his head to look away.

“...It’s not like I’m stopping you.”

He doesn’t have the courage to look at you. Not as he says it, or after to steal a glance of what face you're making. Instead, he hears the metal of the chain and feels the warmth of your body. It’s a tight hug. You’re standing and he’s sitting, your arms around his neck, his face directly against your chest. He widens his eyes. He wants to yell at you for being a defenseless idiot, but the feeling of being hugged so tightly washes the words away. You’re soft…and warm. He’s never been hugged by someone who isn’t his mom or brother before, and he can’t remember the last time either thing happened to him. You pat his head.

Do you touch people like this often? So casually? Or is he special because you like him, he wants to ask. He wants to ask but doesn’t want to know the answer, pushing the feeling down as deep as he can make it go. He wraps his arms around you loosely, above your waist trying to be respectful.

But he leans into the warmth. Like it’s something that happens once in a lifetime.

“Hey, Rin.” You say, soft. He can feel the warmth of your breath against his hair.

“Hn.”

“I hope you kick your brother's ass in soccer.”

You sound teary. Weirdly, it makes Rin feel better.

“Yeah.”

School starts up again during September.

The autumn season welcomes warm colors, fallen leaves and the sort of cool weather that puts the summer uniforms back up on the hangers. Rin is listening to music when he spots you waiting for him at the gate, waving your hand at him. He has half a mind to ignore you, you’re so embarrassing.

But before he can pretend not to see, you’re jogging over to him. He has to stand so you don’t end up bumping into him. You walk like you were born backwards, two left feet with such little awareness of your surroundings it stresses Rin out.

He gives you a blank stare as you smile, securing your bag to your shoulder.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” You say warmly. Rin pauses to look at you. You look different somehow. Lately you always do, Rin wonders if you’ve picked up some weird shape-shifting in your time apart “Are you excited for the new semester, hm? Hmm?”

He keeps walking and you fall in step with him. You try but he’s too fast, so he slows just a little. He clicks his teeth, shaking his head, eyes taking in the view of the building in front him.

“Why would I be excited?”

You shrug.

“Because winter break is close? Because there’s fun leaves outside? Because it’s your birthday in 6 days?”

He stops dead in his tracks.

“What the hell? Why do you know that?”

“Your mom told me.” You say, skipping along happily to school like you didn’t just say something insane. His frown deepens.

“You have my moms number? You talk to my mom?”

“She loves me,” You say casually, turning only to look at him and stick your tongue out “And she’s nice. Get over it.”

With this, you rush into the building faster, giggling as you leave. Rin, frustrated, stomps after you.

Your time together at lunch continues into fall. It’s the third day of the term, September 6th and you’re sitting by his side. The two of you eat in casual silence now, falling into a regular routine. There’s something about the whole ordeal that makes Rin feel a little funny.

Friendship, as it stands, is still a lukewarm idea to him. But sprawled out next to you in a comfortable quiet isn’t the worst thing. The weather is cool enough to be nice and the daylight lasts for just the right amount of time to see sunset when he treks back home from practicing shooting into the net.

That kind of sentimental viewing of his surroundings is a bad habit he’s picked up from you. He can’t seem to shake it off. He’s tried at least, but Rin has been stopping to look at everything nowadays. The sun, the trees, the cars passing. Everything passes right by his life, slowly.

Eventually, eventually this whole thing will cease. You’ll never see Rin again and he’ll never see you - and you’ll part your separate ways. Thinking about that feels so stifling. But he figures since that’s the case, there’s probably not any harm in letting the time pass like this. As long as he’s still improving.

Your voice doesn’t catch him off-guard anymore, no matter how loud it is after a long bout of silence. You stuff something into your mouth, a tomato he thinks.

“Rin-kun,” You start, tilting your head to one-side “Are you doing anything for your birthday?”

“No.” He answers immediately because he never does. He hasn’t done much since Sae left home and now that he’s a third year and about to be 18, there’s even less of a desire to pull together a party and celebrate.

“What? Boo. That’s so lame.”

“Don’t be so childish.”

“I’m older than you, you dummy,” You say with such automation that Rin doesn’t even get the chance to process “You’re not even gonna have cake? Nothing?”

“My mom might but I don’t have any plans.”

“Your mom is so nice.”

“Stop.”

You frown at him but don’t say any more. You look like you have something on your mind. Probably something stupid, but Rin can’t help but wonder what’s making your brow crease so intensely.

“What?” He snips. You flick your eyes to him and shake your head.

“I just think it’s a waste,” You say simply, that tone of fondness seeping into it that Rin can’t get used to. “It’s such a big number, you know? A little cake and some show tunes or something would suffice.”

Rin scoffs.

“I don’t care about it. It’s pointless to me. Lukewarm” He says, before noticing your genuine sadness. He sighs a little to himself “Stop looking like a depressed mutt.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“I guess dogs are more well-trained.’

“Hey. Hey, what the hell do you mean by that?”

He ignores you.

“Anyway, stop worrying about it.”

You pout.

“Easier said than done.”.

Rin’s morning routine has been the exact same for two years.

He starts by opening the window, to let fresh air and sunlight come in through the glass. He feels like his room gets stale overnight and it wakes him up to taste the sun in the back of his mouth. He takes a deep breath of it, clearing out his lungs and blinking his eyes open.

After that he stretches. He unfurls a Bluelock brand yoga mat onto his carpeted floor and gets to his usual cycle. It’s integral for an athlete to keep their muscles stretched, functioning like a well-oiled machine. He has it down pat. He starts from the bottom up, stretching his legs and working up to his arms and shoulders. His legs always come first since he’s a striker, always focusing on the mobility of his calves and foot before he stretches out his thigh.

His core, then his chest and arms. When he’s done with all that - he practices yoga for fifteen minutes. Again with mobility but this time full body, like making sure each of his limbs work with each other without any stops. He’ll sit back down after those minutes are up to meditate for another fifteen - clear his mind of absolutely anything stuck in it. It’s the most peace he gets on any given day.

At the end, he sits with his feelings. Carefully, he undoes the wrapped clothed box around his heart and stares at it as it sits in his lap. Beating and raw and melancholy blue - so full of sadness and anger like it could burst at any minute. Revisiting his sadness and rage is a necessity. Sometimes it feels like only sadness. Only monochrome.

(He wonders if a day will come where that part of his routine is changed. If ever, he’ll unwrap his own heart only to see it pink or golden yellow or even a softer shade of red. He wonders if the colors ever change, or if time will fade them.)

All of this happens before he even brushes his teeth. The rest of his morning routine is keeping his room neat. He folds the comforter on his bed, puts any dirty clothes away, and gets dressed. He doesn’t really style his hair - it’s so pin straight after washing he normally just has to brush it to keep it nice.

After that he has breakfast, and checks through his bag. On days he has school he goes to school and comes back to practice. If he’s home alone - he picks one of many other things to do. He tends to practice closer to evening, taking a shower before he goes to sleep.

On the morning of Rin’s 18th birthday, he’s only really acutely aware of the date. His morning starts the exact same as it has everyday for nearly two years. Nothing to make him feel particularly different. When he looks in the mirror, he still sees his brother's face and when he looks at his heart it’s still a steely, melancholy blue.

When he comes down stairs, though - there’s a pair of shoes he doesn’t recognize. And there’s a humming traveling down the hall and always the way up towards him that he knows quite well.

He thinks, for a minute, he might still be dreaming. Why you would be in his house on a Saturday morning makes absolutely no sense otherwise.

He slips his feet into his gray slippers and treks into the living room, only to find you in view of the open kitchen. There’s a balloon attached to flowers and a spread of fruits on the table. Orange juice in a cold glass. You with his moms borrowed apron, humming contentedly as you bend over the stove.

Rin doesn’t know what the feeling is. He doesn’t know if he’s irritated or not. Just that it’s so overwhelming to see you in his kitchen, marching to the beat of your own drum like you always do.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?”

You startle when you hear his voice, whipping around to face him. Dramatically putting a hand on your chest - you shoot him an unfriendly glare.

“Well hello to you too.”

“Answer my question.” He demands. You click your teeth.

“Well, obviously I’m making breakfast. We’re celebrating your birthday.”

“Without telling me.”

You snap your fingers before giving him finger guns “Precisely. Genius deduction, Itoshi-sama.”

“What the fuck. Where are my parents.”

“They’re out on a day-trip! It’s a Saturday. They’ll be back here on Sunday afternoon. Read the note.”

“What were you gonna do if I had last minute plans?”

“You don’t though?” You say like knowing that is so obvious. He knows you asked but still “I guess I’d turn around and make my own breakfast. Give you your gift at school or something.”

“Why are you here?” He asks a little softer this time. With a little more emotion, just a touch. He never expects anyone to make a fuss about his birthday.

Rin doesn’t really ask for much. Certainly wouldn’t ask for this on his own accord. That’s a vain thing to do, right?

It occurs to Rin that this is the kind of birthday you do for someone you like. Someone you love. You’re always confessing your feelings to him. You only say it when you’re sure. It wasn’t like Rin didn’t know you had feelings for him, because the point of it all had been for you to try and get rid of them. Or honor them, or deal with them in whatever way you saw fit. Rin had agreed on a whim to help you with that. Your friendship had started with the very notion that you liked Itoshi Rin and he didn’t like you back. It’s not some secret.

When the light pours in through the windows and hits your back and for the first time - Rin understands what the fuss is about being in love is. He’s sure that this strange, grotesque warmth is the aftermath of being liked. He always thought it’d feel more simple. That he’d remain unmoved in the face of it because he was different.

It’s not like he’s unloved. He’s sure his parents love him. His brother did too. Still does, Rin thinks.

But it’s the first time someone has made their feelings so clear to him. Someone who isn’t supposed to love or like him. And even Rin, chronically apathetic, can’t bring himself to ignore the weight of knowing that. He stares at you, dumbstruck.

You’re still turned to him. There’s a cool tumbler of iced-coffee sitting on the counter that you sip, head tilted to one side.

“Well, I don’t know,” You start, a hand on your hip “It just felt like too much of a waste to do nothing on your birthday. But you’re not the kind of guy who likes big celebrations. So I thought maybe just hanging out would be more your speed.”

Rin swallows. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Bold thing to assume.”

You frown back.

“Well, I was gonna invite Isagi-kun—“

“Isagi? How do you know Isagi?”

“He saw me leaving your house ‘cause he was gonna visit. After we talked he followed me on Instagram. Anyway, I was gonna invite him and Bachira and all four of us could go to a movie,” You explain as you sigh and go back to the stove “But he said you’d probably just want to hang out with me.”

“…And he didn’t say anything else?”

“Well he asked if we were dating so I just told him the truth. Really nice guy, by the way.”

Rin’s going to hound Isagi next time they practice together.

“So. Now you’re here… doing what exactly?”

“Making you breakfast. I’ll make you ochazuke for lunch later. Haven’t decided on dinner, I thought I’d ask when you woke up. Your mom said you liked traditional breakfast but I didn’t think I’d be done by the time you woke up so there’s fruit.”

Sure enough, when Rin walks over to the other side of the table - there’s a half done spread of breakfast on the table. All the dining ware is set up neatly, the table arranged so well he feels guilty for not helping.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me.” Rin tsks, a frown on his expression as he stands next to you. He watches you pour egg into a square pan, slowly evening out the layers.

“I wanted to,” You reply, not thinking twice about it. “I enjoy cooking for people. It’s fun. I normally just do it to feed myself, so it’s nice to share.”

He closes his eyes.

“Thanks.”

He’s afraid to look over at you, the excitement radiating off of you. It makes him uncomfortable that something so simple could make you so happy.

“Can you repeat that?”

“Don’t start.”

“Rin-chan,” You coo, immediately making him so embarrassed he wants to hit you “You’re so docile today.”

“I’m gonna kill you.” He says, hitting your shoulder as light as he can.

“Woah…how romantic. Dying on the day you were born? Jeez. I’m swooning.”

He looks at you blankly.

“Stop being gross. Where did you even get that from?”

“Too many things to count,” You say with a snap. He shakes his head.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“How diligent. It’s fine! It’s your birthday, right? Sit. Eat some fruit. Pick out what you wanna do. I rented some games and there’s some movies I had in mind too. Make your agenda. “

Rin laughs to himself, lightly.

“Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”

“Don’t be stingy! I’m already making breakfast.”

Rin rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

You end up back in Rin’s room.

After a healthy discussion about what he would like to do - Rin landed on wanting to do both. He picked out a copy of Resident Evil to play until after lunch and then decided to binge a bunch of movies after.

You even agree to accompany him while he practices. There’s 24 hours in a day and the plans are nothing more than vague suggestions - but deep down, it makes Rin kind of…well whatever. It’s not a bad plan.

Currently, you’re sitting at the foot of Rin’s bed with your hands tight around the controller of his PS4. Rin feels a little bad for you. While you do okay with horror movies, the immersion of horror games seems to frighten you enough that your eyes are glued onto the screen. As such, Rin is trying his best not to startle you as you lean forward every so slightly. The leg of your pants is pushed up just barely. You’re dressed cozy, so it’s funny seeing your head shrink into your hoodie.

“Why the fuck would you set it hardcore if this BOTH of our first times playing,” You whine, turning yourself into the next room carefully on screen “I’m scared.”

“You’re such a wuss,” He scoffs, leaning back from where he’s sitting next to you on his bed. “We’re never gonna make any progress like this.”

You stomp your feet and Rin resists the urge to laugh.

“Shut up, it’s scary.”

He nudges your shoulder with his knee.

“Stop complaining. You got to pick the character and I got to pick the difficulty.”

“I deserve to lust after Leon after the shit I’m getting put through,”

Rin scoffs at your declaration. The irritation is softened when you walk into the backroom faced with a zombie - a short scream leaving your lips as you mash buttons and use your gun to kill it quickly. You manage to dodge as much damage as you can, obviously trying not to waste limited resources. Even so it takes damn near 7 bullets. Despite your cowardice, you’re pretty good at the game.

You loot the room for any possible supplies then leave. You turn the corner of the isle, a zombie filled gas station awaiting you. You manage to save bullets and stun the one closest to you before getting your shit completely rocked - quick to duck out. The first cut scene of the game comes next where you meet the other main character Claire. You gasp like you’ve been running, shoving the controller towards Rin.

“Your turn. Move, I wanna sit on your bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause it’s a weekend and I have a right to be lazy. Shoo. On the floor.”

“You’re getting way too comfortable in my house on my birthday.”

Rin, does, go sit on the floor where you were. Mostly because it’s a better position to play the game in. At least it has minimal back support. The cut scene plays in the background, nothing difficult as the main characters go to the next area - the police station and the technical start of the game. Rin hasn’t played the remake, but he did longingly watch some playthroughs while he was in Bluelock during its release.

He had never mentioned it to you, so he was shocked you knew enough about it to bring it over. He likes survival horror and he was always wanting to play it.

“Me and your mom are best friends so I practically live here anyways. Also shut-up and look.”

He does shut up, too invested in the story to be annoyed. The main characters get separated and Leon ends up in the streets.

For whatever reason, he’s conscious about proximity. Your knee next to his shoulder. You’re close enough to touch him casually and he’s wondering…hoping to know if you’re naive enough to do it without thinking. It feels like a stroke of luck, or maybe a form of mind-reading when you reach for his hair with your fingers. He wonders if you’re doing it on purpose. He thinks he should tell you to stop.

But when you ask “Is this okay?”

He can’t find the strength in himself to do it. He focuses on the scene in front of him, weaving through the cars to shake off a horde of zombies. Rin grabs the controls, immediately turning around to try and stun a group of zombies before turning into the gate so he can head to the station.

His heart is racing and his eyes almost feel cross from how much he’s focusing but it’s not exactly the game. The game isn’t even that scary, as much as it’s gory he thinks.

“I don’t care but,” He says through a breath, trying to sound like he means it and that he’s not so conscious of the way your pinky lingers on his nape “when’d you get so touchy?”

“I like touching you.” You reply, twirling a strand of hair around your fingers “Your hair is so silky and nice. I felt when I gave you a hug that one time and I kept thinking about it.”

Rin wants to say “Do you think about me that much?” but the words don’t come out how he wants.

“Do you touch everyone like this?”

You’re silent for a minute. It takes patience, effort - not to turn his head to see the look on your face. Though he probably knows it. He thinks he just wants affirmation from you.

“...No. Not really. I just like you.”

There’s a beat of silence - a pause designated for his rejection, the promise he made to you so many months ago. He knows what the script is. And he’s said it many times before. Not in a million years, right?

But he can’t bring himself to say it this time, so he doesn’t.

“Yeah. I know.”

___

Before Rin knows it, the day is coming to a close.

The entirety of it you spend together, with you faithfully stuck to him and without Rin feeling entirely suffocated. He isn’t sure why it’s so easy with you. Normally this much socialization would render him exhausted. Irritable at best and angry at worst. But he’s not. In fact even after his entire workout routine, he felt fine listening to you ramble. He didn’t need complete silence, but even when there were lulls and dips - it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

You didn’t get far in Resident Evil 2. Rin decides to cut it short since it’d definitely take a lot longer than all the time you had and there were movies he wanted to watch. When you whine about not being able to finish - he quietly told you to just come over next time and play it with him then.

He waited a year, so he can wait a little longer. Your face lit up idiotically, giddy with delight at the promise of next time. As promised, ochazuke was for lunch and after 30 minutes of digestion - he put it out of his mind as he did his daily drills. You joined him, insisting that you’d be fine doing nothing. Sat on the field with a book the entire time even though it was cold, tossing him his things whenever he took a break - smiling each time he talked to you.

(“You know you don’t actually need to stay with me the entire day.” He reminds you of this as he brings a bottle of water to lips, sweat dripping down the side of his head even in the cool weather. You turn your head up at him.

“When else am I gonna get to stick by your side all day? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re so good at being annoying it’s impressive,” He says, dropping his water bottle back down “Aren’t you bored?”

“Huh? No way. I have my fun book to keep me company and on top of that I get to see you play in the flesh.”

Oh, yeah. You mentioned watching him when he was in Bluelock. “Well, it’s not like a match. But I’m not gonna keep asking, so whatever.”

“Yes, yes - I understand. Now go, shoo.”)

Even though Rin practiced for his usually long amount of hours, you sat with him diligently - even stopping to cheer him on when you needed a break from reading or studying or whatever else you were doing.

Upon returning, he went to shower and you went to warm up in the kitchen. After he was redressed and clean, he joined you downstairs to order take-out and have dinner.

Finally, it’s after dinner and you’ve banished Rin to his room while you set something up downstairs. He’s mostly scrolling twitter, watching soccer highlights from the accounts he follows. He’s just about comfortable when you finally call him back down, which irritates him enough to click his teeth but not enough to bring it up to you.

After a long day, when Rin finally comes back down stairs, walking down into the hall and back into the living room - he can’t help but be surprised at the change in scenery. All the lights have been turned low, and everything looks different. You’ve taken to decorating a wall of his living room after some rearranging. A white sheet hanging up with something, and a plethora of fairy lights in stripes going down it in a nice pattern.

There’s a banner and it looks hand-made. It spells out happy birthday, rin in neat, thick blue letters on cut-out white shapes, attached along the back wall. On the table in front, there’s some decoration along with nice paper plates and plastic cutlery and a cake in the middle that’s nicer than he’s expecting.

You beam at him as he walks in. And you’re stupid enough to be wearing a birthday hat, giving him jazz hands as he enters.

“Happy birthday!”

On paper, Rin thinks it’s been something of a boring birthday. He did what he normally would do on a day off but you cooked for him twice. He spent most of it with you, even though it was a lot of nothing. A lot of being together like you were roommates or something. Maybe that's why he’s so reluctant to admit that this is making him feel something.

That the silly theatrics feel meaningful. It is thoughtful, isn’t it? Rin doesn’t think anyone in his entire life has done anything this thoughtful for him. Birthdays are birthdays, and they’ve never really been especially meaningful. He didn’t see the point in just celebrating the day of someone's birth. Certainly, he doesn’t think he’d have it in himself to do something like this for another person.

Rin stares at you. Wearing a stupid birthday hat and the most gleeful, idiotic smile he’s ever seen. All of this for a guy who’s rejected you, but you seem to cherish so much anyways. Apathetic and ungraceful as he is and always will be - he’s so overwhelmed he doesn’t know what to do. What a strange, unrecognizable feeling welling up inside of him. And not even one feeling, but so many so tangled with each other - he can’t see anything straight. His eyes aren’t drawn to the candlelight, or the moon, or the cake.

It’s like a sense of tunnel vision. Where all Rin can really look at is you. It’s happened before. How can anyone be like this, he wonders. Are there people born into the world so unselfishly? And if they are, why would he ever cross paths with them? How could someone so easy to love have any business loving him, in the first place?

Rin won’t ever understand you. He accepts that. He’ll never be able to understand this kind of person. Someone who shines even brighter than the sun.

But he’s not so stupid to not understand himself. He’s unable to say the words he’d promised to you all the way in April. Rin doesn’t like to lie.

He would be lying, that is, if you told him just one more time that you liked him. He’d be lying if it told you it’ll never happen. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like you. And it’s not just because you like him, because that never mattered to him in the first place.

Some people are made to be adored. Born special and bright like everything should revolve around them. Perhaps that kind of thing is only afforded to people without ego. With heart and character and charisma.

It doesn’t matter. What a stupid thing to realize on his birthday of all days.

“Rin-kun?”

He blinks.

“Where’d you hide all of this?”

You laugh at him, bubbly and delighted.

“I brought it in a tote and kept it in the kitchen. Mostly stuff from my house, and your mom helped with the cake and stuff. It’s nice right? I did a good job, no?”

Ah. He’s fucked.

“It looks okay.”

You frown, huffing and puffing “Just okay? C’mon, don’t be stingy.”

“Doesn’t begging for compliments defeat the purpose of them.”

“Not to me,”

Your frown deepens and Rin is starting to feel the rose colored glasses set in.

“It’s nice. It’s good.”

“So you like it? You’re happy? Delighted, even? Absolutely overjoyed by-”

“Cut it out or I’m going to send you home.”

“No,” You whine, tugging on his sleeves like you’re worried he really will “I want cake.”

“Then let’s cut the cake?”

“We can’t,” You put your arms up in a cross and Rin gives you a look of confusion. “I promised I’d get a good picture of you.”

“What? Promised who?”

“Your parents, mostly. But also, you should post on your Instagram a little more, no? You’re basically a famous player already, you should have the courtesy to feed your fans.”

Before he can do anything to protest, you usher Rin to sit on the other side of the table before you back with his phone. He stares at you but you only look at him expectantly. Still, he unlocks it and hands it to you. He gives you an irritated sigh (though he isn’t really irritated).

“This is stupid.”

“It’s a good thing to capture memories, you dummy. Now smile,” You say, holding up the camera after some angling “Or don’t. The people do love a good scowl.”

That makes him want to smile. He’s awkward in the photos but he does stay still for them, trying his best not to look ridiculous. You take a few, then pause to come up to the table and light the candles in front of him. He hears the camera shutter one more time before you look up at him over the edge.

“Ready to blow out your candles?”

“I guess.”

Before Rin can do anything about it, he listens to you sing happy birthday - poorly with too much enthusiasm. You’re tone deaf and passionate all at the same time - singing each word with a dramatic flair until you’re on the final word. You can’t clap because you’re recording but you do cheer as he burns the candles out. Once it’s over you stop recording, looking down and swiping through the pictures.

“They turned out good. You should post them.”

“...You’re done taking them?”

You tilt your head to one side.

“Yeah?”

“We didn’t get any together.”

Your eyes widen like he said something shocking.

“...You wanna take them together?”

He scoffs.

“We spent the whole day together.”

You flush, suddenly embarrassed and god.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to want that. I mean we’re friends but-”

“Shut up. And come here.”

So you do, phone still in hand as you mess with your appearance.

“Do you want to take it or do you want me to?”

“Oh, uh lemme just-” You go through a bunch of filters and find one before handing it to him, a nervous expression “You take it cause your arm is longer and you’re taller.”

Rin just nods. Takes the phone from you, and lets you pose a little before he takes the photo. He hands it back to you so you can see, and watches your eyes light up as you stare at it. Stupid.

“It came out nice.” You say. You save it onto his phone before handing it back to him. “Send it to me later?”

“Yeah.”

You give him another grin and Rin takes his phone from you, going through the pictures as he opens up Instagram. He guess it wouldn’t hurt to post. You leave his side, saying something about cutting the cake. But he isn’t looking, really.

He drafts a post as he waits for you. He likes the picture you took together best and decides to put it second. He never has any idea on how to caption these which is why he doesn’t want to post it in the first place. He glances at you, then sighs internally.

itoshirin._ posted for the first time in a while. posted 7 mins ago. liked by isagi_yoichi, bachiraaaaa, and others. itoshirin._ ; 09.09.2002. thanks for everything, stupid. isagi_yoichi commented: no way you’re getting a girlfriend before me. life is so unfair and cruel. isagi_yoichi commented: oh happy birthday btw bachiraaaaa commented: RIN-CHAN !!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ official_itoshisae: happy birthday. itoshirinsnumberonefan: WHO IS THAT?? yo_hiori: happy birthday!

“Rin, I cut the cake!”

He puts his phone on DND before taking a plate of cake from your hand.

The clock strikes two, and you’re still at Rin’s place.

After a long binge of horror movies, you’re both comfortably in each other's space - only inches away, talking about nothing. The movie ended a little over half an hour ago.

He’s still doing just that, listening to you chatter away next to his ear. The room is completely dark minus the soft glow of the T.V. which gives just enough light for Rin to gaze at your face. Your eyes are wide and sparkly, still, even though it seems like the tiredness is getting to you too.

Neither of you wants to stop talking. You’ve started discussing manga - particularly Rin's favorite manga.

“Ciguatera was interesting,” You say, hugging one of his pillows close to your chest. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“I’m shocked you read it. Seriously. I thought you would’ve forgotten the minute after I told you.”

“Well, yeah. You recommended it, so obviously I wanted to at least try,” You say with a breathless laugh, turning over to face him. You’re facing each other, he realizes a second too late “You’re such a boy, by the way. Weekly young magazine? Really.”

“Shut up.” He says, with no real bite to his words “What were you expecting?”

“Dunno. Didn’t think you were interested in romance of all things. Especially cause Ogino’s kind of a loser.”

“There was other stuff in it.” He points out. You chuckle.

“Yeah. Way raunchier and darker than I thought. But it was mostly about romance. So, I was surprised to say the last.”

“What,” Rin starts, partially offended by the implication “Do you think I'm a soulless machine or something?”

“Well no,” You frown, shaking your head as you stare at him “But you’ve rejected every confession you’ve ever gotten, even from some of the prettiest girls in our entire grade. So I didn’t think you had any interest in that kinda thing.”

He scoffs.”You’re stupid.”

“You tell me all the time,” You point your fingers and place them under your chin. “Why did you reject them, by the way? Just trying to focus on soccer?”

He feels flush, explaining. Turning his gaze to the ceiling, he sighs.

“None of those people actually had feelings for me. It wasn’t meaningful in any way.”

“And you want it to be meaningful?”

“There’s no point being in a relationship with someone I don’t like and barely know. And who doesn’t really care to get to know me. I’m busy enough with soccer, and I don’t have time to entertain lukewarm relationships like that.”

“What an unexpectedly sentimental reason. How soft of you Rin-kun.”

“Shut up.”

There’s a pause of thoughtful silence where you hum and lay flat on your back, reaching your hand up towards the ceilings. Rin can’t do much more than look.

“You know. How I said I’ve been watching you since you were in Bluelock?”

“Yeah.”

“Y’know. I always thought you looked really sad back then. I might’ve been reading too much into it but,” You smile, corners of your lips upturned while you giggle “It’s like…weirdly relieving to see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“You’re like…just a boy,” You say wispy and delighted “A normal boy who reads shitty raunchy magazines and thinks about love. It’s comforting somehow. Makes me feel special. I really like you. A little more every day, it feels like.”

Another beat of silence. He thinks you can sense the hesitance of his rejection. There’s such a tangible shift in the atmosphere. If Rin stretches his hand out to touch it, he thinks he’d push through an impossible barrier and keep falling in it forever. He thinks it would swallow him.

He isn’t sure what it is. If it’s an act of bravery, or a sudden uptick in adrenaline, or if the exhaustion of a long day is finally starting to hit. Maybe it’s just these feelings that keep overwhelming him that make his body move. Something outside of his mind, nestled in his ribs, that has him inching closer to you.

He flips until he’s hovering over you. Your eyes widen and you stare at him. He stares back, like he almost can’t believe himself.

“Rin-kun?”

And he freezes. The confidence dissipates as soon as he finds it but now he’s above you, on top of you. You’re messy and flush from the day. Your mascara is smudged and your lipgloss is gone - leaving a faint sheen on your mouth that matches your skin. Your hoodie is rumpled around the shoulders - one of the sleeves pulled to your elbows. Rin really gets a look at you. Cognizant of the fact he spent all day with you. That’s why you look worn and sleepy and so unbelievably cute. So cute it annoys him. Irritates him half to death.

You open your mouth again, only to close it. It almost feels like he can hear your heart. Or maybe it’s his. It’s hard to know the difference.

“Is this a n-new kind of bullying?” You joke, trying to ease the tension. He frowns at you.

“Does it seem like I’m joking?”

Your eyes widen and you turn away. Rin wants to make you look.

“Well no but…” And you squirm a little “what are you doing?”

He doesn’t know, either.

“I don’t know.” He admits, and you laugh a little breathless and the tension is so thick Rin can’t swallow around it “I want to kiss you.” He blurts out. Awkward and uncharismatic and clumsy.

A bout of silence.

“...Am I going insane? Did you just say you want to kiss me?”

“I did.”

More silence.

“Why? Wouldn’t that make me your first kiss?”

“It would.”

“And isn’t that like… reserved for your special someone?”

“It is.”

“Rin-kun,” You breathe out, blinking in disbelief “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I do.”

You’re a little more serious this time. You put your hand on his shoulder. He feels like the Earth is gonna fall from under his feet.

“Stop messing with me.”

“I’m not.”

You frown.

“Do you really want to kiss me?”

“Yeah,” He can’t think “I do.”

You reach up for him. You’re more experienced with this kind of thing and it shows as you cup the nape of his neck. He doesn’t finch. He doesn’t look away from you either, as your thumb brushes under his eyes - the both of you so wrapped up in each other nothing matters. Rin would stay in this forever, if someone gave him the option.

“W-we have to talk about this afterwards, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious, Itoshi Rin. Because you can’t just—”

Your palm cups his cheek and he rubs against it instinctively. He sees your eyes widen and you swallow - a frown still etched into your features.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Your voice goes as soft as a whisper.

“You’re so unfair.”

He almost laughs.

“Please kiss me.” He asks, so silently it almost goes unheard but he knows you hear it because your lips press into a thin line before you’re pulling Rin down towards you. Your lips are soft. And warm. And they taste faintly like whip-cream and the slight sour of strawberries and your hands are so gentle. Somehow he feels at ease even though he feels like he’s going to implode on himself from nerves.

Just a little deeper before you pull away and stare at him. Rin looks back, eyes jumping from your lips up to your eyes and back down to your lips. You open your mouth to say something. Mumbling his given name only for him to cut you off with another kiss, a little deeper this time. The way it shuts you up is so cute it almost makes him angry. How it muffles your words, tapers off into a noise of surprise and ends up just back at a kiss.

He’s never felt like this kind of thing was a viable option. Itoshi Rin is an antisocial, angry, and apathetic soccer protege and he has no time in the world for anything lukewarm. He’s rejected every confession he’s ever received in his life and always thought of relationships as something far off and disconnected to him in his entirety.

Perpetually unloveable but maybe not in such an angsty, vulnerable way. Like a law of the universe. A truth, like thinking of him, means to postulate that he is that way. A prerequisite to understanding him.

Rin doesn’t like things that are half-ass. Perhaps, part of the reason he likes you so much is because you’ve proved him wrong in such an utterly defeating way. The fact your very existence is by and large, the antithesis of this truth.

Itoshi Rin is not only loveable, but he is capable of loving. There is evidence of it, right underneath him now - with soft lashes and wet eyes and the brightest smile that could ever exist.

And it’s haunting for more reasons than one. But he likes how unyielding the revelation is. You’re worried he’ll want to avoid it, and he does. But he doesn’t think he could forever, even if he tried.

He’s confident if he made the attempt, you’d come barreling towards him once more. With all the confidence in the world. It makes him want to at least try to face it.

Which is why he’s kissing you a second, third, and fourth time. Which is why he’s looking at you in between, wide blue eyes transfixed on every part of your face. He’s trying to face what daunts him most, not like but love and the difference is more important as the days pass.

You pull away, finally - put a hand on his chest and stare.

“Rin-kun,” You whisper, uncertain of yourself which he hates. “I like you. I really like you.” And again, a little softer “And I want you to like me too,” Like that had been the biggest secret of all. Something you’d never told anyone, even once.

Rin can’t imagine it. Have you been holding in something like this all this time? He only realized a couple hours ago and it already feels like he’s going to rip apart at the seams.

“I do. I do like you.”

“Really? Forreal? Seriously? You’re not pulling my leg? Yanking my chain?”

He knocks his forehead against yours.

“Be quiet. How can you be this stupid in the middle of getting confessed to?”

You pout. Pout at him, all whiny. God.

“It doesn’t feel real to me.”

He laughs humorlessly. “It’s all a dream. You’ll forget it all in the morning.”

“Stop being mean to me.”

He has to be. If he’s not you’re going to see right through him.

“No,” He says instead “Stop being so ridiculous first.”

“An impossible ask to the world's most ridiculous girl.”

He smiles a little.

“That’s a good name for you. I’ll change your contact.”

“Nooo,” You say again, this time pulling him down for a hug. His eyes widened. And he’s unfair? “Be nice to your girlfriend.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that. It flusters him too, admittedly. Before he can think of a counter, you yawn big and wide. Rin is still on top of you and neither of you have brushed your teeth. He was planning on putting you up in the guest room, but currently you’re clinging to him half-away. And he has no such plans of telling you to move.

“I’m so tired.”

Rin feels like he’s going to pass out, He mumbles.

“You can sleep.”

“Want you to sleep too.”

Rin closes his eyes. He couldn’t refuse even if he wanted to. You’ll have to talk about it in the morning.

“Okay.”

“Rin? Where’s your frie—oh!”

Rin stirs the minute his mom enters the room. It only takes him a minute to regain consciousness and by the time he’s awake - he’s already regretting not locking his door.

He continues to pretend to be asleep. He thinks you still are because you’re comfortably slotted in his arms. Rin is so embarrassed he wants to die. He hears his mom gasp, and then quietly shouts for his father to come to his room.

“What are you—oh.”

Rin is going to have the worst morning of his life whenever they leave. He remains still. He hears the shutter of a camera and grits his teeth all the way in the back of his jaw.

“Oh this will make a great wedding photo.”

His dad laughs a little to himself, ushering his mother out of the room “Don’t get carried away,”

When the door finally clicks, Rin opens his eyes and lets out a breath of relief. Much to his shock, he also feels you stir. His eyes widen when you turn to him, your face painted in utter mortification before you bury it in your hands. He stares at you as you groan, kicking your feet.

“Oh god I’m going to cry. How am I going to face her? Oh my god”

Rin scoffs a little at your dramatics. It calms him down in a strange way “She’s not gonna say anything to you. She’s probably only going to bully me about it.”

“I’ve forsaken you, mother-in-law”

Rin nudges your ribs, blush crawling up his face.

“Shut up.”

Up until three weeks ago, Rin didn’t take issue with the way you interacted at school.

You two have a pretty strict policy about it. Though you’re in the same class and you chat occasionally in the halls - you tend to avoid Rin where you can. Originally, this made sense. For the sake of his comfort and yours, the best choice was sneaking to the roof together to eat where you could remain mostly undisturbed.

As such, Rin has never been particularly consciousness of your presence in the classroom. For starters, you’re always somewhere. A busybody of the highest pedigree and always running errands - even if Rin were to try to talk to you he can only really find you 20 percent of the time. Secondly, unlike Rin, you have a handful of friends surrounding you. Rin has interacted with them very briefly but you (seemingly for his sake) try not to force him out of his comfort zone too much by making you all sit together. The most Rin has gotten from them is a single knowing smirk or glance.

And lastly, before three weeks ago, it would’ve been a big problem if people started getting onto either of you about a relationship that didn’t exist. That would've been all around awkward and uncomfortable and maybe would’ve deterred your future endeavors with other guys.

That was when you and Itoshi Rin were in fact not dating.

Three weeks into your relationship and nothing much has changed, though nowadays you come over to his house on weekends where you can. You’ve even been on one date after his dad (of all people) hounded him about never taking you on a proper one.

You text the same as you did before, and you call Rin a little more often. Usually for the purposes of rambling so much you tucker yourself out and fall asleep.

But at school, Rin only really sees you for the spare minutes of lunch and not much more than that. He’s never really thought about it before. It was never enough of an issue to warrant his intervention.

It’s not like he cares, okay?

But he’s more aware of it, now - frustratingly enough. You really don’t see each other often enough in school and you have many more guy friends than he had ever considered before. Every time he catches you and Murata-senpai trekking down the hall he feels his blood pressure rise.

You and Rin have both decided, though. Despite his posting of you, neither of you have confirmed the relationship. Rin is immune to the prying and you’re good at dodging it altogether. This is the agreement.

It is therefore very irrational of him to be thinking of speaking up at this current moment in time.

Despite your mutual decision to keep things as private as possible, Rin has heard nothing but gossip about the situation for weeks. Outside of the usual, direct kind of prying - there’s whispers and stares and all sorts of other things. Rin doesn’t care about it. He’s used to it, it’s part of the gig and the neo-egoist league made him near immune.

It’s all the things directed at you that make him seethe. Misplaced jealousy and the disappointed remarks of guys in class that make him feel like his blood pressure is rising. The latter is what’s making him most irritated now. How fucking long are these idiots going to talk about this?

“Dude, you had like three years to confess,” Some idiot, who’s name Rin doesn’t know is still yapping “If she’s actually dating Mr.Popular then it’s on you for fucking yourself over.”

The other idiot in question groans, and Rin forces his face to remain impassive as he listens. He tries to stop listening. More than once, actually. But they just keep going.

“I didn’t think he’d actually do it dude. Like there’s no way, right? He rejected every single girl who ever confessed to him. I thought she was safe. And now my highschool love is forever ruined.”

Like he ever stood a chance. How ridiculous.

Another one of the goons speaks up “Dunno. Neither of them have said anything right? You miss all of the shots you don’t take.”

“Are you saying I should just confess to her anyway? She got posted on his Instagram dude.”

A smirk appears on Extra Three’s face “No confirmation means fair game. Stop being pussy and do it.”

“You think I stand a chance against that dude?”

Rin can feel all three pairs' eyes hit him at once.

“Nah. Not a chance. But you could always wait till she’s all heartbroken and comfort her, right? Hook, line, and sinker.”

“I hear when girls are heartbroken they’re like way more likely to let you—”

With that, Rin stands to his feet. He’s seething. It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. He should definitely just leave to go cool his head but he’s so fucking angry it’s hard to sit still and he has no other way of dealing with his feelings. So he walks towards the table slowly, eyes darkened and just barely holding it in

He knows this is a bad idea. He can feel the whole classroom look at him as he slams his hand down on the desk. But he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with it later.

“You’d be fucking lucky if my girlfriend ever looked your way.”

As soon as Rin says it, there's a thud at the door-way of the classroom. When he looks up you’re there with your eyes widened. Rin just looks back, impassive and immune to the sudden uproar of whispers.

He only clicks his teeth when you grab him by the sleeve of his uniform - cracking a small smile as he hears the faint words “Just give up dude.” as he leaves.

Up on the roof top, you’re shaking Rin by the shoulders - visibly distressed.

“Hey! What the hell was that?”

“What.” He offers, not willing to budge on the situation. In the first place he’s a little irritated by all of it. And he’s a little irritated by how much you’ve been enforcing the no-talking rule. Right now, it really feels like he can’t take it anymore.

You frown deeply, distress only growing as the time passes in uncomfortable silence. Rin doesn’t want to be civil about it. About it and about you and about those idiots.

“We had an agreement!” You say, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, though it’s weak. He stares down at you.

“So what?”

“Rin, we talked about this. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what.”

“Pissy and weird. You’re being weird and I don’t like it. It’s making me sad.”

“How am I being—”

Before Rin can proceed with his sentence, he catches a glimpse of your face in the midst of his tantrum. Sad like a puppy who got its tail stepped on and about ready to cry, he immediately seals his mouth in fear of making it worse.

“Why are you doing that?” He spits.

“Doing what?”

“Being all sad and pathetic. Does it really bother you that much if people know we’re dating?”

“It’s not like that.” You assure.

“Then what is it?” Rin prods, frustrated but not wanting to make things worse “Why is it such a big deal?”

There’s a bout of silence before you sigh.

“Rin, you’re a huge soccer player. The people you’re dating and stuff - it’s a big deal,”

Rin cuts you off.

“That’s what you were worried about? My career?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Hey! I’m seriously worried about it and then you go and—”

He gives you a frown. He forgets all too often you’re like this. He’s used to your silly and unserious way of talking, so it slips his mind that you’re actually a massively responsible person. You probably have a point about it, thinking of the consequences of your relationship through hell and back. With a detached sense of rationality - Rin can recognize that you’re probably thinking about more things than this. Otherwise it wouldn’t be so touchy of a subject.

Nothing’s changed on paper, but everything will eventually. It’s something to think about, admittedly.

Honestly Rin doesn’t care what strangers think. He’s blunt and unfriendly. Always has been, and will continue to be through the majority of his career he’s absolutely sure. Even outside of Bluelock, he has almost no regard for the opinions of other people and what concerns them. Maybe it’s irresponsible, but Rin isn’t playing soccer for the approval of the populace and nothing will ever change that.

“If I thought that was something I should worry about, we wouldn’t be dating.”

You look up at him.

“You should be worried about it.” You emphasize.

“I’m not. I don’t care what any of those people think.”

“Then why’d you go and say something?”

Rin seethes.

“They deserved it.”

Your hand reaches for his cheek. He pauses and takes a deep breath, staring at you. He leans into your touch instinctively, frustration eased by the sensation. You stare back.

“Okay. We’ll announce it officially later, then.”

“Do we even need to do that? If you tell three people, half of our grade’ll find out anyway.”

“Are you saying my friends gossip?”

He doesn’t reply to that. You pout at him and Rin fights the urge to kiss you. There’s a beat of silence as you give him a hug - the two of you on the same roof you always are. Rin doesn’t mind it, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist.

“You know, it’s gonna get busy for me soon.” You mumble. So this is what else you were worrying about. “And for you. I have my entrance exam and the school is in Tokyo. And you’re gonna go back to Bluelock and—”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I’m worried about it anyways.”

“About what?”

“I’ll see you less. What if you stop liking me randomly and I can’t even hunt you down about it?”

Rin huffs “You’re insane enough to find me,” He drops his chin on your shoulder “Plus you talk to my mom.”

“You’re gonna be so busy.”

“I’ll come see you when I’m not.”

“And you’re going to be surrounded by the human equivalent of siren women someday soon.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“But you might.”

“I haven’t in eighteen years, you moron.”

“I’m gonna miss you all the time.” You say, sniffly and Rin is so struck with a feeling of affection he almost falls “I already miss you all the time.”

He squeezes you a little tighter “It’ll be fine.”

“For you.”

Rin furrows his brow, pulling back to stare at you.

“Not for me,” Because Rin can begrudgingly admit he will miss you worse than this “Just in general. It’ll be fine. You almost made it a year without me.”

“But now I’m with you,” You reply easily, and softly and oh-so in love Rin wants to turn away “And I’m so happy and I want it be like this for a long time,”

“Just a long time? Not something stupid like a blossoming eternity?”

“I thought I’d scare you.”

“You did that in April.” He points out flatly. You hit him lightly but smile anyway.

“It’s a problem how much I like you.”

Rin likes you just as much. You’re probably too much of an idiot to realize and won’t for a long while. He takes a little comfort in, strangely.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll come see you.” He says again, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. He believes in it thoroughly. If Rin were a better, more candidly vulnerable person he thinks now he’d give the loving boyfriend speech. He almost wants to half-assedly try but can’t bring himself to get past the awkwardness. He hugs you tighter because it’s all he’s capable of, and hopes he can will it into you. The sincerity of his words, he wants so badly for them to reach you “Stop worrying so much.”

“Rin-kun,” You start, then pause to look up at him. His breath hitches “Rin. I love you. Really.”

He feels like he’s gonna be sick as he stares at you, eyes widened. You look the same as you always do. Unexpectant, terribly sincere, with your heart on your sleeve. The more Rin knows you, the more he thinks it can’t be easy to be so vulnerable all the time.

So you do it for him, and only him. And Rin is always going to be intolerable. Frustrating and impatient. But he wants to do it for you too, where he can. Rin wants you to know it’ll be fine because the fact that you’re standing here now is nothing short of a miracle. Nothing comes out right.

“Yeah.” He says, but he can’t get the rest of words out. And you laugh, and peek up at him through your lashes.

“And you love me too, don’t you?”

Rin grits his teeth. He wants to say no.

“I guess.”

“And we’re going to be just fine.” You repeat, hugging him tight. Rin hugs you back. He wants to say thank you. He wants to kiss you stupid and make fun of you at the same time. He wants you so much and so often he’s sure he’s lost his fucking mind.

But he agrees with you, at least. He nods. He holds you. He doesn’t like to lie, so he looks at you instead.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be fine.”

EPILOGUE ;

In Rin’s defense, he’s not trying to listen in on the conversions of your underclassmen.

For starters, the club door is cracked up and Rin only has one airpod fully charged. Secondly, it’s not like they’re being quiet. Rin’s pretty sure anyone with decent enough hearing could hear them from down the hall. Given that it’s the newspaper club, he’s sure that the conversation isn’t usually this interesting.

It’s just when he catches wind of your name while you’re nowhere to be found, he finds himself eavesdropping just a little. He leans back into the chair he’s sitting in, face tucked into his black mask and hat pulled neatly over his head.

“Guys, I’ve decided I’m going to confess to Boss no matter what.”

He must mean you. Rin often hears how some of the people in the club affectionately add danchou to the end of your name. Rin scoffs a little at the kids' confidence. It reminds him a little of highschool. Rin really think you’re at more of a risk than he is. Being a celebrity makes him naturally unattainable - more of a fixture than a person.

Everytime someone confesses to you though it’s sincere. From knowing you. And he gets it but it doesn’t keep him from scoffing and turning his nose up.

“It’d be a good idea to give up while you’re ahead.” Says another unnamed voice.

“Yeah Nakao-san. Do you even know who Senpai's boyfriend is?”

“N-no. But it doesn’t matter. Through the powerful of love I’ll—”

Before Rin gets a chance to listen anymore, he hears your voice call out for him. He snaps his head up to look at you. You’re dressed so professionally it’s hard to recognize you like that. Your hair is cut neat and styled professionally and you’re dressed in business casual. He’s relieved he brought shoes for you to change into.

You run up to him anyway, and Rin stands up to make sure you don’t stumble as you throw your arms around his neck. You’re closer in height with your heels on so he doesn’t have to bend down much at all to kiss you. He pulls down his mask quickly.

“Rin-tan, you’re here.” You say with a soft, breathless giggle “I missed youuu.”

“Missed you too,” He says, an arm squeezed around your waist “I have shoes for you in the car,”

You gasp, rubbing your cheek against his affectionately.

“You’re the best in the world. My feet are so sore.”

“Did the interview go well?” Rin asks. You pull away, moving your hair away from your eyes before nodding.

“Uh-huh. The women's rugby team captain is super chill and she interviews great so it went smoothly. I just need to drop the transcript off and then we can leave,” You say holding his hand. He squeezes your palms “Do you want to meet them? You don’t have to but a lot of them ask about you.”

Normally Rin would say no. But he’s feeling a little petty today, after all.

“Sure.”

You beam, your hand in his as you nudge the door open. The room goes silent, a bout of excited cheering following at your return. He’s relieved to see you’re still so well loved, a little reluctant to let go of your hand.

“Senpai, you’re back.”

“Yup, yup. I have the transcript and recording on this USB. Watch it and draft the article up tonight. When I come in tomorrow, we’ll go through editing and get it out by Monday.” You say, hand on hip before remembering his presence. You grab him and Rin follows “Oh, and guys - this is my boyfriend! Rin Itoshi.”

Most of them seem to know. Rin can sense the admiration but it’s respectful. He can tell that everyone is professionals in the field. Rin likes that. He bows politely.

“Nice to meet everyone,”

“Nice to meet you too, Itoshi-san.”

“Danchou…you’re dating Rin Itoshi…the famous soccer player Rin Itoshi?”

You giggle, looping your arm in Rin’s. He laughs internally. It’s the same kid who wanted to confess to you.

“Uh-huh. We’re highschool sweethearts! And today is our very special date night so don’t contact me for any reason until tomorrow morning at least. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, senpai.”

“Have fun on your date.”

With that, you turn the corner and leave the room - immediately beginning to ramble about your day. Rin half-listens. He only pays complete attention when he hears your kouhais talking from down the hall.

“Told you to give up, dude.”

“Rin. Are you paying attention?”

He chuckles to himself.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

❁ a/n ; hello!! me again. first of alll, if you read through this whole fic, thank you so much. second of all i want to discuss a few things about this fic.

im usually pretty keen on localization for my fics where possible because i think it makes for a smoother reader experience - however the usage of honorifics was important to the atmosphere for this one so i'll hope it wasn't too awkward to read.

secondly, im nervous about rins characterization for this one so i hope it was alright. apologies for any errors its 5am and im soo tired.

this fic was mostly meant as an exploration of how i think rin would really benefit from being with someone eccentric and bubbly. the core of their relationship is that reader is an overall emotionally intelligent and honest person and how that has a huge influence on rin so i hope that growth came thru. once again thanks for reading and i hope u enjoyed. rbs and tags always appreciated!

#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin fluff #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #writing tag #rin x reader #rin fluff #my brother in christ... how did this happen.

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randombush3 · 8 months ago

Text

(extremely talented, creative) stalker

alexia putellas x reader

based on this and a poem from when i was little. i chose alexia because she fit the character more and i rushed this immensely because i was being pestered for attention by multiple creatures. oh and i went for something decently light-hearted bc these hozier fics have been affecting my soul and ruining my spotify daylists.

happy monday people x

p.s. not proof-read because it's lunchtime and i'm hungry (edit: i just did my proof-read now and i've realised that it was in fact not lunchtime??? it was past lunchtime and i was just zoned out!)

Alexia doesn’t care much for art. Sure, she admires the effort, the time such talent sits behind a canvas and marks something that was once blank until others begin to value it. She agrees with the masses about the beauty of quaint watercolour paintings of the coast, and she lets Mapi rave about charcoal and graphite and oils as if she understands what is so special about the varying media.

She knows she is only here today because the art is about sports. The gallery seems almost reluctant to allow the athletes in, worried they have brought with them their football boots and cones to dribble around, but it would be bad practice to prohibit the muses from the collection. She isn’t an idiot, though, and she knows that no amount of forced reading about the artist and other sophisticated matters will slip her seamlessly into the crowd.

There are lots of people; people she has never heard of, but make it clear they are far superior to her by the way in which their eyes politely drop to the tattoos inked onto her calloused hands. Their skin is soft, accustomed to the stems of crystal champagne flutes, and the drawings that hold so much personal meaning to the footballer are scrutinised to the point of silent… offence.

So much for appreciators of art, she thinks to herself, counting down the minutes until it is acceptable for her to leave.

With a huff and a vow to never – no matter how much she earns – forget where she has come from, Alexia staggers, uncomfortable in these particular heels, towards the painting she deems easiest to understand.

It is the largest in the room: deep, crimson reds on top of familiar greens, streaks of gold falling out of a ponytail.

Call Alexia egotistical, but anyone would be drawn to a painting of themselves.

The artist has done a good job, she guesses, not entirely sure if there is a deeper meaning behind the grass stains on her socks or the crumpled shading of her Spain jersey. It is a little creepy that someone she does not know has captured her likeness so expertly, so practised.

“The nose isn’t quite right,” a voice says beside her.

Alexia turns in surprise, amused enough by the stranger’s observation to examine her painted face, eyes not drawn from how majestic her image is beginning to seem. She sees no obvious issue, and so she replies, “I think it’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

She is still staring at herself, now impressed by the grandeur of the painting; its size, its quality. “Well, I am unsure how someone painted me so accurately when I was never called in for a… I don’t know, a consultation? And it seems a little weird to me that my hair is loose, because I tend to slick it back so it doesn’t fall out of my ponytail, and, you know, I always have something written on my boots, but otherwise, it’s fine. I doubt anyone here has ever watched a football match, so none of this will matter to them.”

“It doesn’t bother you that someone might pay millions for a painting that you have deemed not-quite-right?”

The voice is somewhat too interested, and suddenly Alexia swivels around to face its owner properly, worried she has spoken her mind to a journalist.

“Those millions go to a charity that will improve women’s sports every–”

You are definitely not a journalist, although once, when art really wasn’t paying, you had off-handedly typed out a few articles for one of the bigger galleries.

Alexia knows you are not a journalist because you are dressed to be in front of the cameras, not behind them.

Your hands hang by your sides, but in a rather unnatural manner as though you are itching to do something else, and she is briefly overcome by the horror that you seem elegant enough to be a potential buyer. Has she put you off?

“Oh,” you interrupt, “don’t be so profound. Sometimes you footballers sound like change-making machines.”

“There is change to be made,” she responds indignantly.

“Hence the exhibition,” you allow with a little smirk, nodding towards the rest of the room. Although the biggest of the collection, you had asked for your painting to be displayed in the corner; a filter, in a sense, to ensure no one throws money at the largest thing in the room just because they can. “It creeps you out to be painted?”

The question is curious, but Alexia no longer feels like she has been caged in an interrogation room.

She thinks about her answer for a moment, torn between returning to gaze at the expanse of the scene in front of her or staring at you, wondering if you count as one of the works of art on display.

“I have never met the artist,” she explains neutrally. You laugh, and it sounds infused with champagne and nervousness. “What? It’s like having a stalker. An extremely talented, creative stalker, but someone who studies me in secret nonetheless.”

“No, I understand. She must have researched you until the ends of the Earth.”

“The artist is a woman?” She isn’t sure she is surprised, but she asks you anyway, wanting to anchor you to the spot.

“Alexia, this is an exhibition for women’s sports.” Your point is valid, but you have said her name and she is far more intrigued by the way that had sounded to praise you for your intelligence. You let out an airy breath and click your tongue. “I’d even say, given by the way she has painted you from the back, that the artist fancies you.”

“It’s the squats,” she easily replies with a giggle. “Who is the artist?”

You take a step towards her, the sharp points of your heels clacking against the concrete floor. She follows your index finger to the white plaque beside the canvas, reading the name written in small, black letters.

“I haven’t heard of her.”

Alexia sounds so thoughtful that you have to hide your smile behind your palm, coughing to provide an excuse for the action.

“Because you’ve heard of quite a few artists, haven’t you?”

“I know the main four.”

“The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”

“No.”

Again, you laugh, and it is melodious and rich and Alexia wants to hear it for the rest of her life. Which is not normal, she tells herself, because you are some loaded stranger and she is only here for another hour before she can escape back to the pitch and her teammates who like her tattoos and admire her and respect her hard work without seeing her as some tacky social-climber who scrounged an invite to an area of society where she is institutionally unwanted.

“Picasso,” she then offers, rather petulantly, looking at you with a childish frown. In her head, she estimates the distance between your bodies, noticing how you have not returned to your original position.

“Ah, well done. He’s quite niche.” She doesn’t appreciate the teasing, and so she steps sideways to… put a stop to it somehow. Obviously, the plan had never truly been formulated, and it comes across as a half-lunge to push you away, but then you are swinging your arms as though the conversation is boring you and she desperately wishes you’d stay put.

“What do you think about the painting?” she fires into the shortened space between you, the question wrapping around you like a rope that ties you to the spot.

“It’s boring.” She scoffs, because after all, it is a painting of her. “The poor artist must have been tortured by the task, having to force her eyes to stay open while watching football matches.”

And if Alexia were not so distracted by the way your swinging hand has begun to brush against her own, she would probably catch you out there and then.

(But your touch is electric and she is otherwise engaged.)

“Like, come on, can’t the sports photographers just get their pictures blown up? No one needs such an outrageously huge portrait of Alexia Putellas in their home, or stadium, or whatever. I reckon the artist is now regretting the angle she painted from, anyway, in case some pervert with more money than sense bids for it and hangs it up in his bedroom.”

“Bedroom?”

The tips of Alexia’s ears go red, a stark contrast to the expensive silver hoops she sports, and you stop your fidgeting, hand resting on top of hers – perhaps unintentionally – as her misunderstanding wedges an awkward pause into the middle of your rant.

“Sorry,” you apologise, “that was probably not the best thing to say, considering it’s a painting of you.”

Alexia runs through what you have said, hoping her subconscious has caught it while her mind was preoccupied with what your sexual orientation might be. “Why have you come here if you are so against the principle of it?”

“I was required to,” you explain, through half-gritted teeth and a jaw that tenses with leftover annoyance from a conversation you had with the coordinator.

Seizing the opportunity to get a humorous punch back, Alexia quickly fumbles out a, “someone’s important.”

She’d celebrate her victory over you, the way you blush in embarrassment, if you hadn’t started anxiously playing with her fingers. Suddenly, the air that bridges the gap between you is set alight and Alexia stares at where you are connected.

You hastily pull away. “Sorry,” you say for a second time. “I have to sell this, and I’m nervous.”

“Sell wh– The painting?”

“No, Alexia, I’ve been sent by Real Madrid to hold you hostage so I have to sell this act.” Briefly, fear washes over the footballer’s face, tanned skin paling at the idea that you have a weapon concealed in the satin folds of your dress. Then, your hand makes a decisive movement and your fingers are intertwining with hers before she can run to safety. “I thought it was best to lure you in by flirting with you.”

“You’ve been… flirting with me?”

“God, imagine if I actually were here to kidnap you.” You hold up your joined hands so that she can see for herself. “Is your weakness women who bully you?”

She blushes again, unsure how to handle what you have insinuated.

Alexia grasps onto what little dignity remains and straightens herself, shoulders rolling back as she emulates the confidence she has been painted with. “Only pretty women,” she drawls.

She is about to use whichever line appears in her mind first, completely unashamed by it because she has guessed you would tease her no matter what leaves her mouth, but some evil, cruel person clinks a small fork against their glass, clearing their throat, and your hands quickly return to your body, your attention drawn away from the conversation.

“Thank you all for coming,” announces the event coordinator, clearly gearing up for a speech. “There will be time for more chatting later, but I cannot resist showing off our most talented artist any longer.”

You roll your eyes. The expression is directed at Alexia, who chuckles privately, sunshine blooming in her chest that you have spared a silent comment just for her.

“Y/n, darling, where are you?”

An authoritative gaze searches through the crowd and lands on you.

The dots connect, Alexia begins to feel like an idiot, and you are sashaying away before she can ask you to stay.

#woso #woso x reader #randombush3 #barca femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

545 notes · View notes

harmonicakai · 6 months ago

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Be Around Me

Part 1 of the "Love is Embarrassing" series

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader, Ricky x Reader (one-sided), Haobin crumbs, Jiwoong x Reader teeny tiny crumbs

Summary: Gyuvin is the type of guy to get flustered over everything, but little does he know that you secretly think it makes him even cuter.

Tropes: basketball star!gyuvin, journalist!reader, college AU, basketball!zb1, frat!zb1, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, crack, unrequited love, mutual pining, gyuvin is a LOSER

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Ricky is annoying lol, mentions of masturbation and sex (mdni!!!)

A/N: y’all will have pry zb1 college basketball au from my cold dead hands!!!!!!!! also for once in my life, y/n is not super insecure we cheered!!

FIC INSPIRED SPOTIFY PLAYLIST <3

“It's obvious she's so out of reach And I'm finding it hard 'cause She makes me feel, makes me feel Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard” —Try Hard, 5 Seconds of Summer

On the court, Kim Gyuvin is the star player of the Wakefield Roses. With his long limbs, he handles the ball with ease, capturing the hearts of everybody in the crowd every time he grins after scoring a basket.

Off the court, he’s an awkward mess. Combine that with the fact that you, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, are usually the one covering games for the school news, and he’s a goner.

As if it isn’t hard enough for him to make eye contact with the camera, he also has to make sure he doesn’t stare too hard at your shiny hair or glossy lips. His teammates would never let him live it down if he was caught being an absolute creep on video.

What started out as a little crush has grown into a deep admiration. He reads every article that you put out into the school newspaper, sometimes even cutting out the ones you’ve written about him and his team. Everybody makes fun of him for being too scared to just ask you out.

He’s never been one to flirt with girls, but the way you make conversations so easy during interviews, even when he’s stumbling over his words, makes him feel at ease around you. Still, he wonders how much of it is just your journalist persona versus you actually liking him.

Sharing a double with Ricky means he gets exiled a lot in the name of his roommate getting laid. Sometimes, you come back from getting your morning coffee and catch him sleeping on one of the lounge’s couches.

One morning, when your arms are full of pastries that you intend to hoard in your dorm for the upcoming week, you spot him curled up yet again on your way back to your room.

Without much thought, you stop to leave a muffin and a little note next to it on the table in front of him, conveniently forgetting to sign your name.

It began with cutesy but vague things, like “breakfast for a champion,” but quickly escalated as soon as Gyuvin started leaving notes back for you.

After a couple exchanges, he even wrote that you didn’t need to be leaving him food at all and that he just wanted to know who you were. Truthfully, you had a really big crush on Gyuvin, but didn’t everybody?

Despite being a bit camera shy, he was always so sweet before and after your interviews, doing his best to make small talk and smiling his smile that could make anybody swoon.

Plus, you’ve seen how much more comfortable he is with other people, even the cheerleaders, who are all super pretty. He must just be really nice.

So, you continue to leave the notes unsigned, despite each one growing in flirtation. You like the thrill of being mysterious, but you’re mostly just scared of getting rejected since he’s never given you a reason to think he likes you back.

It isn’t until Ricky catches you one morning, a sly grin on his face when he sees you leaving a whole stack of notes on the table.

When you lock eyes with Gyuvin’s roommate, you know the jig is up. Surely, he’ll tell him it’s been you all along.

“Y/N,” Ricky nods when you approach him, his arms crossed. “I have to say, I had my suspicions.”

“Listen, Ricky, I would prefer if we could keep this between us.”

“Gyuvin’s been going on and on about some secret admirer for weeks now. It’s cruel that you won’t tell him who you are.”

“He’s welcome to stop writing back if he doesn’t want to,” you shrug, although it would probably devastate you if that actually happened.

“Oh, trust me, he wants to. Especially if he found out it was you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that every time he finishes an interview with you, he might always run home and lock himself in our bathroom because you get him so riled up. If you know what I mean.”

Your eyes go wide at the revelation. Ricky is surely just messing with you. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ricky. You shouldn’t joke about those kinds of things.”

“I’m not joking,” he chuckles. “Listen, Zeta Beta Omega is throwing a party tonight and the whole team will be there. You should come.”

“I don’t do parties,” you scoff. “Why would you even want me there?”

“Because maybe after a few drinks, you and Gyuvin won’t be so scared to tell each other how you feel. Then you guys can knock off this silly game and he can stop whining about not knowing who his mystery girl is.”

“And go back to whining about how all his roommate does is kick him out every night so he can fuck whoever he lays his eyes on?”

“Exactly. See, Y/N, you get me,” he practically purrs. “So, you show up looking all pretty and talk to my poor, lovesick roomie, and I won’t spill your little secret. Deal?”

“Ugh, fine, I guess. I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me. Deal.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own good, sweetheart.”

You cringe at the pet name. “Is this how you talk to everybody?”

“Yes. Why? Is it working? Are you going to start leaving me notes too?”

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Ricky. I’ll see you later,” you say, walking past him. Even if he’s annoying, it’s genuinely impressive how he managed to brush off every insult you threw his way.

“See you, Y/N.” You don’t even have to look back at him to know that he winked as he said that.

��————-

Gyuvin knows that staying up all night waiting around for his mystery girl would be an invasion of privacy. At least he thinks the person who keeps leaving him baked goods and notes is a girl. Or maybe he’s just being hopeful that it’s you.

He’s never seen your handwriting before, but he’s been close enough to smell your perfume and he swears he can catch hints of it wafting off the sticky notes.

In fact, he’s started looking forward to Ricky kicking him out of their shared bedroom just because he knows he’ll be waking up to the sweetest surprise when he sleeps in the lounge.

Tonight’s party should be a good distraction from all of the wondering. Maybe, if he’s drunk enough, Ricky will be more embarrassing than alluring and Gyuvin will get to sleep in his own bed. Still, he can’t get this morning’s notes off his mind.

You’ve left him clues, little doodles of your favorite things. Your coffee order, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. He’s hoping you’ll be at tonight’s party so he can see if you mention any of the stuff drawn out, but you never show up to these kinds of things.

That was before Ricky got involved. You stood outside the ZBO frat house wearing your worst sneakers and a baby pink minidress, as suggested by one of your suitemates.

If only you didn’t show up by yourself. There were a few familiar faces from class, and of course, the entire basketball team, but nobody you were really friends with. All you could focus on was how sticky the floor was and how much you needed a drink.

“Hi,” you say, finally making your way over to the bartender. It’s the team’s captain, Hanbin. “Just give me whatever tastes the best.”

“One rum punch it is,” he smiles, his whisker dimples making your heart flutter. Why was everybody on the team good looking? “Y/N, right?”

“Yep,” you say, taking the plastic cup from him. “You’re Hanbin. You know, I’ve been meaning to interview you, but you always seem so busy with other things at games.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be nearly as cute as when you interview Gyuvin,” he laughs, eyeing the line of guests waiting for their drinks. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks for the drink,” you say, holding it up in a sort of cheer before walking away. You take a sip and savor its sweetness, the liquor’s flavor blending in perfectly to the juice. Hanbin’s words stick with you. Were you and Gyuvin cute together?

Sure, he’s so tall that he practically towers over you, but he refuses to ever make eye contact and always keeps his replies so short and polite. Then again, he sure seems to write a lot in the notes that he doesn’t know are going to you.

For a second, you start to consider that you might actually have a chance with him, until you spot him with a beautiful girl touching his arm and whispering something in his ear. Before you can mope for too long, someone is tapping you on the shoulder.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls over the music. You turn to see Ricky grinning at you, his hair looking almost white under the lights. “You look good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent him from checking you out any further. He glances past you at his roommate.

“Don’t worry about her,” he assures you. You don’t know whether or not to believe him. “Gyuvin has never taken a girl home from these parties, let alone kissed one.”

That’s a relief. “Don’t you have a hook-up to hunt down?” you ask Ricky. He cocks an eyebrow at you, sipping his drink.

“Oh, Y/N. I keep my girls on speed dial,” he chuckles. You cringe at his playboy persona and for once in his life, Ricky is embarrassed. He shuts his mouth, hoping you can’t see him blush.

“Wow,” you say, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me young and rich, tall and handsome Shen Ricky can actually feel shame. I really wish I had a cameraman with me right now.”

“Like I said, it works on most people,” he attempts to reason. “You’re just immune to my charms, I guess.”

“Guess so,” you smirk, downing the rest of your drink. You glance behind your shoulder to see Gyuvin still talking to that girl, then back at Ricky, who’s deep in thought.

“Do you want to meet the rest of the team?” he asks, surprising you. You give a slight nod, and that’s all he needs to see before grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd.

At first, Ricky lingers as you make small talk with Matthew, Taerae, and Gunwook, and explains to you that Yujin is actually at home because he’s still in high school. You feel like a horrible journalist—have you been so preoccupied with Gyuvin that you didn’t notice there was a literal child on the team?

By now, Ricky’s abandoned you to go find something, or someone, more entertaining. He’s dropped you off with Jiwoong, the oldest player, who is as aloof as he is annoyingly handsome. The way he eyes you makes your stomach do cartwheels, and you’ve had enough to drink that you can’t see the harm in flirting with a cute boy.

He’s spewing some bullshit about meditating when you cut him off. “I like your hair,” you blurt out, catching him off guard. He turns and smiles at you for the first time since you started talking.

“You do?” he asks, running a hand through it. “I think it’s a little long. I might get a haircut soon.”

“Keep it like that,” you say, not taking your eyes off of him. “It looks good.”

Jiwoong is grinning now, but he remembers that you’re Gyuvin’s crush, and it would be totally wrong to kiss you no matter how badly he wants to. He eyes the crowd, searching for someone to save him from the tension.

“Hao!” he says, grabbing a boy passing by and pulling him into the conversation. He looks familiar, but he’s certainly no basketball player. “Y/N, this is Zhang Hao. He’s our equipment manager. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Hao says, clearly caught off guard. “You’re the one who does the interviews, right?”

“That’s me,” you confirm. Jiwoong’s departure right when you thought he was going to kiss you was beyond bizarre. “I didn’t realize how many people knew me.”

“You’re basically a celebrity to the team,” Hao laughs. “They all think you’re pretty.”

“Makes sense,” you smile, sipping on your third drink of the night. “I am, in fact, very pretty.”

“Agreed. So, which one do you have your eye on?” he asks, leaning in to hear you better. “Or should I guess?”

“Go ahead and guess,” you say, eager to know what he thinks.

Hao takes a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s clear that you’re into Gyuvin based on the way you giggle at his seriously unfunny jokes, but you were also just eye fucking Jiwoong. Then again, wasn’t Ricky dragging you around earlier by the hand?”

“By the wrist,” you correct him. “And yes, I do like Gyuvin. But he’s been talking to some other girl the whole night.”

“He only has eyes for you,” Hao says immediately. This is the second time you’ve heard this tonight, but the first where it’s coming from a trustworthy source.

“And you?” you ask in return, shifting the conversation onto him. “Which one do you have a crush on?”

Hao’s eyes widen. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—I don’t—”

“Hao,” you cut him off. “You’ve glanced at Hanbin at least six times since this conversation started.”

He swallows, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“We talk all the time,” Hao mutters, looking down at his shoes. “I’m basically his personal assistant.”

“Do you talk about anything other than basketball?”

“No.”

“Do you even like basketball?”

“...No.”

“Hao,” you say, gripping him by the shoulders and turning him towards the drink station. “Go over there and get your man.”

—————-

As if it weren’t enough of a shock to Gyuvin that you actually showed up to a ZBO party, he’s had to spend all night watching you chat up the entire team except for him.

They’ve no doubt let it slip to you that he has the biggest crush on you on campus, maybe even the entire world. But he’s way too nice to tell one of his classmates, who attends every game just to hold up a sign with his name on it, that he isn’t interested.

That’s how he ended up nursing his drink with a tight lipped smile, listening to what’s-her-name ramble on about things that would be more interesting to probably anybody else, all while keeping an eye on you as you bounce around the party.

Your interaction with Jiwoong made him jealous beyond belief, and he makes a mental note that while he’s made his crush on you very clear to his teammates, you’re technically not his and free to flirt with whoever you want.

He watches as you grasp Hao and shake him, muttering some words of encouragement before sending him over to the bar. Finally, you’re alone again. It’s now or never.

“I have to go walk my dog,” Gyuvin lies, not even bothering to let the poor girl react before making his way over to you. You’re wearing pink, his secret admirer’s favorite color. Surely, it’s not just a coincidence.

“Y/N,” he says a little too loud, startling you. You jump, accidentally knocking yourself into him. Both of your drinks go flying and suddenly, you’re covered in sticky red liquid.

At this point, Gyuvin might as well just die alone. How did he manage to only spill his drink on you and not himself? He peers down at you, guilt written all over his face, as you take in what’s just happened.

“Here,” he says, reaching into his hoodie’s pocket and pulling out wadded tissues. “They’re clean, I promise. I have, uh, I’ve got allergies, so I carry around a ton.”

He unfolds one and gently pats the liquid off of you without so much of a second thought. Your silence makes him panic even more, and he’s so focused on drying you off that he doesn’t even notice he’s basically rubbing the tissue on your cleavage.

Gyuvin freezes once he finally notices where his hand is, immediately pulling away and putting a good distance between the two of you. “I am so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not a pervert! Please don’t think I’m a pervert.”

“Gyuvin,” you finally say, your voice just as sweet as always. He’s pacing as much as he can with everybody packed in so tightly, his long legs taking tiny steps. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

He stops and looks down at you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Really,” you reassure him. “Although I might think you’re a klutz. Who knew Wakefield’s star basketball player was so clumsy off the court?”

“Technically, you bumped into me,” he asserts, his smile returning. “But you’re also the one who got soaked, so let’s just call things even.”

“Deal,” you agree. Sure, it’s fun when boys are obviously flirting with you, but the way Gyuvin has no clue what he’s doing is just so charming. It feels natural when you’re with him, a nice departure from the overused pickup lines and generic compliments that are usually thrown your way.

Gyuvin takes in your stained dress, the red punch seeping into the pink fabric like blood. You look straight out of a horror movie.

“Here,” he says, shrugging off his varsity jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before taking in the sight of you. “Wow. You look so…”

“Silly?” you answer, the expanse of material wrapped around you like a tent.

“Cute. You look so cute.” Gyuvin meets your eyes for a split second before looking away again, his ears now feeling even hotter than when he saw you with Jiwoong. “I can get you a new shirt, if you want. My room isn’t far from here.”

“You want me to go with you to your room?” you giggle, enjoying how flustered you make him. Hearing his teammates talk about how much he likes you has taken a weight off your shoulders, and you don’t know how you ever thought he wasn’t into you before.

“No! Well, yes, but only if you want to. And I’m not using this as an excuse to bring you back to my room. I just know you like pink and I have this one pink shirt that shrunk in the wash and I think you’d look really good in it. Plus, I can start a load of laundry and get your dress all clean.”

This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk, his voice a few pitches higher than usual when he’s rambling. Plus, if he knows how much you like pink, he must be following your clues. “Let’s go to your room, then.”

—————-

While Gyuvin’s side of the room is much neater than you expected, Ricky’s side looks weirdly perfect. Not a single thing is out of place, with every item labeled or color coordinated. You’re shocked that two basketball players can manage to keep such a small room so tidy.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Gyuvin apologizes, moving to make his bed. “You can sit here.”

“If this is what you think is messy, you don’t want to see my room,” you say, taking in all of the decorations. Usually, when you’re in a guy’s room, it’s all navy blue and manly movie posters, but Gyuvin’s walls are so colorful and covered in photos of his family and friends.

One piece of paper catches your eye—the very first article you wrote about the basketball team. You scan his wall, catching more and more newspaper clippings, all penned by you. Gyuvin’s too busy putting things away and rustling through his drawers to notice you staring at them in awe.

“Here we go,” he calls out, turning and holding up a shrunken pink t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His grin fades as soon as he catches you reading one of your own articles, which have been on his wall for so long that he’s forgotten they’re even there. “Oh. Uh, please don’t think I’m a creep.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet. They’re all about you, anyway,” you say, turning to take the shirt from him. It has a picture of a silly looking greyhound on the front of it.

“Right,” Gyuvin says, shrugging off the interaction. He pulls himself onto the bed next to you, sitting cross legged and making sure to leave a gap between you and him. “That’s my dog, Eumppappa.”

“Eumppappa is an amazing name,” you muse, turning to smile at him. Your faces end up being so close that Gyuvin thinks his heart has stopped beating. In his attempt to scoot back, he ends up tumbling off of his bed.

“Fuck,” he says as he lands on the ground. You peer down from the lofted bed at his long limbs sprawled across the rug. If you didn’t think he was a complete loser before, you probably do now.

“Are you okay?” you call out, watching as he sits up and rubs his head.

“I’m good,” Gyuvin assures you, taking a breather before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. “I’m going to step out and let you change. Let me know when you’re decent.”

“Will do,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up. You strip your clothes off, throwing on the t-shirt and sweats and pulling the drawstring until you know they won’t fall off of you. “You can come back in, Gyuvin!”

He stumbles in, practically waiting with his body pressed against the door for the moment he could see you again. God, could you really not tell how much he liked you before tonight?

Gyuvin eyes you drowning in his clothes and he knows that he’d move earth and heaven if it meant that you’re who he got to wake up to for the rest of his life.

“I’ll go throw this in the washer and then we can head back to the party,” he stammers, snapping out of his daydream and grabbing your dress. Your smile is so pretty right now, even after all of his awkwardness, that it takes everything in him not to get hard just looking at you.

By the time he gets back from the laundry room, you’ve decided you don’t want to go back to the party, especially not dressed like this.

“Oh,” Gyuvin says, disappointed that his time with you has been cut short by his clumsiness. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”

“I live down the hall,” you remind him. You hope he doesn’t realize you could’ve just as easily grabbed your own change of clothes.

“Right,” he grimaces. He knows that. He’s always trying to time leaving his room perfectly so that he runs into you on the way to class.

Just like whenever you interview Gyuvin, there’s an awkward silence, except this time it can’t be edited out. He’s back to looking everywhere in the room except at you.

“It’s not even midnight,” you say, glancing at your phone’s lockscreen. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Like, together?” Gyuvin asks in disbelief. You nod, an amused smirk on your face. “Duh, of course you meant together. Yeah, sure, let’s watch a movie.”

Moments later, you’re sitting in the dark with Gyuvin, your legs pulled close to your chest as you watch Amélie projected onto the wall above Ricky’s bed.

Every once in a while, Gyuvin lets himself relax, his arm or his leg brushing against you by accident. After spending half of the film pulling away out of fear that he’s bothering you, he finally settles for having his fingers barely touching yours.

“You know,” he starts, his eyes still locked on the movie. “I kind of have my own mystery going on right now.”

“Really?” you say, feigning shock. “About what?”

“Someone keeps leaving me notes when I sleep in the lounge. Sometimes treats, but mostly notes. They don’t sign their name, but today they left me some little doodles as clues and I’ve been trying to figure them out.”

The way you’re reacting makes his stomach turn. How could it be you when you have a look on your face that says you have no clue what he’s talking about?

“Well, I’ve been meaning to work on my investigative journalism. What if I helped you track your secret admirer down?”

If you aren’t going to fall for him, he’ll at least settle for being friends. “That’d be awesome, Y/N.”

Suddenly, Ricky comes crashing into the dorm room, his lips attached to some girl’s face. He pulls away from her for a second, barely registering that you’re even there, before pulling out his wallet and throwing a couple hundred dollar bills at Gyuvin. “Get out. Now.”

Before you can protest, Ricky’s already unbuttoning his shirt, and you’ll gladly evacuate if it means you don’t have to watch whatever freaky shit is about to go down.

“I didn’t know he pays you to sleep in the lounge,” you laugh, your arms full of Gyuvin’s comforter as you walk down the hall. “With that kind of money, he could just buy an apartment.”

“He could,” Gyuvin starts, holding his pillow in one hand and the stack of notes—your notes—in the other. “But then he wouldn’t get the true college experience. Plus, he only throws money at me when it’s a last minute thing.”

“How much was that, anyway? Like $300?” you ask. He stops and takes out his wallet.

“$400. Pretty standard,” he shrugs, counting the bills. Your eyes widen at the total.

“Are you going to share?” you pout. “I got kicked out too.”

“You can have it,” he says, handing you the money, his brain short circuiting at the way you bat your eyelashes at him. You marvel at the crisp bills. “This is just another Friday night for me.”

“Okay, young and rich, tall and handsome Kim Gyuvin. Thanks for buying my dinner for the rest of the semester!” You don’t know this, but if you asked him to, Gyuvin would buy you whatever you wanted.

Before you can get down to helping him figure out the doodles, or throwing him off your trail, the two of you are fast asleep. Instead of the lounge’s couch, Gyuvin curls up on the oversized bean bag on your bedroom floor. It’s much too small for his frame to actually be comfortable, but he somehow feels more content just being around you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @theresawtf @nerezza123 @gyvnexe @xiurmy-everything @wollycobbl3-blr @cloudgyubi @yunnie-11 @wheatrice

219 notes · View notes

thegirlamongthestars · 3 months ago

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stolen glances - c. alcaraz

summary: a journalist’s professional facade crumbles when tennis star Carlos Alcaraz locks eyes with her, igniting an unexpected and thrilling connection

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none (maybe a little of light swearing); english is not my first language so sorry for any posible mistake

notes: feel free to make any Carlitos fic request 😌

The atmosphere at the court was ectic. As a journalist and as a tennis fan, of course, I’ve always loved Wimbledon. The grass, the people, the fashion and London itself were always a delight to witness. Covering the tournament final was definitely the biggest achievement of my career so far. When I was a little girl, I found tennis matches the most boring thing in the world. But when my father took me to a court and I could feel the rush through my veins I realized it would accompany me for life. Journalism has been my vocation since I can remember, so now being able to mix that and tennis was like living my life dream every day.

“Are you ready?” my colleague asked while checking everything. “They are about to come out”

“All set, Lucas”

The speaker started to announce Novak’s entrance and my fingers started playing with the lanyard of my press pass as a way to channel the nerves. It wasn’t my first time doing this but it always felt different when it involved him.

Carlos Alcaraz—the name that had become synonymous with raw talent and unyielding passion in the tennis world. I had followed his career closely (since I was in university), watching him evolve from a promising junior to a formidable force on the court. But it wasn’t just his skill that captivated me; it was the way he played with every ounce of his being, his intensity almost palpable even from the stands.

Did I have the most teenager-like stupid crush on Carlos? Maybe (actually resounding YES, but I would never admit it out loud)

The second his name was called, the stadium erupted. And then, there he was, striding onto the grass with that signature mix of confidence and focus, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the stands. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him wave to the crowd, one of his characteristic smiles playing on his lips.

“Remind me to bring a baby bib next time” Lucas started to mock me.

“Shut up!” I slapped his shoulder with all my force and he laughed looking at me as if he knew my little secret.

“It’s going to be a good one” he referred to the match changing the previous topic.

I nodded, trying to compose myself. “Definitely.”

But as much as I tried to focus on the task at hand, I just couldn’t do it. This wasn’t just another match; this was the final, and Carlos was one step away from his second Wimbledon title. And for some inexplicable reason, that fact made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the excitement of the sport.

As both of them warmed up, I busied myself with checking my notes, adjusting my computer, anything to keep my mind from wandering too far. But it was no use. My gaze kept drifting back to Carlos, to the way he moved with such precision and grace, every muscle in his body flexing and looking irresistible.

There was a certain magnetism to him, something that drew me in despite my intention of keeping professionalism. I had been around athletes before, had interviewed a bunch of them, but Carlos was something else.

For being London it was a quite warm afternoon but what I didn’t know was that the heat won’t be the thing raising my heart rate wildly. As Carlos walked to his position on the baseline, his gaze landed on the press box and his eyes lingered on mine for the briefest of moments.

Electricity.

That’s what went through my body from head to toe. My breath hitched. It was a split second, but in that instant, it felt like the rest of the world faded away.

“What the hell was that”? Lucas whisper-shouted, nudging at me.

“Don’t know what you mean” I answered, trying to play it off, though my pulse was still thudding in my ears.

“He looked right at you,” he said, a knowing smirk on his face.

“It was probably just a coincidence,” I muttered, though even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I believed it.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The match was starting, and I had a job to do. I forced myself to focus on the game, on the back-and-forth of the rally, on the cheers and gasps of the crowd. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about that look, about the way his beautiful eyes had seemed to search for mine in that sea of faces.

The match ended with the result I was so heartedly waiting for. After the trophy ceremony, journalists had to go down the court to make some interviews in front of the whole crowd and Lucas was the one chosen for that task. We tossed a coin before the match and my luck was conspicuous by its absence once again.

When we arrived next to the players, I was a bundle of nerves and I wasn’t even the one interviewing them so I thanked the coin. The cameras were being set and our sound operator was about to put the microphone on Lucas.

“I’m not feeling well at all” he started to pull on his shirt collar trying to fan himself.

“Are you getting dizzy?” I grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him.

He looked at me with something like guilt on his gaze and pull me close to him to say “He’s all yours”

I wasn’t processing anything. I just saw Lucas winking at me and getting accompanied to the dressing room tunnel by a member of the staff.

Next thing I knew is that I was in front of the camera and that the crowd was cheering on Carlos as he approached me.

Electricity again.

He showed me one of his full smiles and grabbed the microphone that someone from my crew was handing him.

“Carlos, congratulations” I exclaimed truly thrilled while offering my hand. “Two-time Wimbledon champion. How does that feel?”

“Thank you” he replied, holding my hand for longer than expected. “It feels… pretty amazing, to be honest. Maybe even sweeter than the first.”

“Because you knew what to expect?”

“Exactly” he said, leaning closer. “The first time, it was all new—adrenaline, excitement, maybe a bit of shock. This time, I could really soak it in, enjoy the moment”

“It looked like you were enjoying it, even during those tense moments in the final set” I was trying to be as professional as the heat I was sensing right from him allowed me to. "How do you keep your cool when the pressure’s on?"

“Honestly? I just remind myself that it’s only a game” he said with a shrug, a relaxed grin playing on his lips. “And sometimes, a little bit of stubbornness helps.”

“Stubbornness?” I raised an eyebrow, totally getting captivated by his proximity.

“Yeah, I hate losing” he admitted and the crowd laughed with him. “But it’s also about enjoying the battle. I love the competition, the challenge. That’s what keeps me going.”

I nodded, noting that he seemed as much at ease as me. “And now that you’ve won here twice, what’s next? A well-deserved break?”

“A little bit, yeah. Maybe a beach somewhere” he said, his eyes lighting up. “But you know how it is—tennis doesn’t stop. And the Olympics are almost around the corner.”

I completely went out script with the following question but as a professional, I was feeling in such a safe environment that I had to let my impulses flow.

“Ever think about doing something completely different? Outside of tennis, I mean?” I raised my gaze to his face just to find out that he was already looking at me. Quiet intensely.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then flashed me a cheeky grin. My knees trembled a little.

“Well, I was thinking… maybe I should find more excuses to do interviews like this. They’re turning out to be more interesting than I expected.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest at his words, catching the subtle, playful edge in his tone. And I couldn’t help but blush because of the reaction of the people on the stands, that was a mixture of surprise sounds and cheeky whistles.

“Interesting, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Definitely meant as one”

#carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz x reader #carlos alcaraz x you #tennis #wimbledon #one shot #carlos alcaraz imagine #carlos alcaraz fanfiction #carlos alcaraz fic

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allwaswell16 · 3 months ago

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here!Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #65 | ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis / Harry -

🌤️Your A-Team, Your Endgame by @silverkiiwii

(E, 70k, reality show au) a Next In Fashion au where Louis and Harry are partnered in the competition but they do not get along when they have to if they want to win. Full of fashion, banter, misunderstanding and a whole lot of making each other blush.

🌤️ Groupie Love by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 45k, m/f) In other words, Louis is a rock star on a world tour and Harry is a regular attendee. They could never work.

🌤️ But I know you by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(NR, 26k, space) Harry is a journalist, Louis is an astronaut, but it's way more complicated than that

🌤️ You Can't Change The Rolling Tide by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 24k, summer) Louis lives on a tiny island off the coast of England and runs a sailboat touring company. When Niall is sidelined for the summer after his knee surgery, Louis needs a temporary new partner. Who better to fill that role than Harry, recently returned to the island after five years away?

🌤️ At your service, for your usage (series) by @holdingontochaos

(E, 16k, sex work) Louis is a doctor who works so much that he has barely any time to himself for pleasure, let alone to clean his house so he hires Harry as his naked maid and kills two birds with one stone.

🌤️ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 10k, part 2 of trans Louis verse) it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

🌤️ never just the tip by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 6k, omegaverse) Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

🌤️ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything

(T, 5k, historical) Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college. Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.

🌤️ The Island by @jaerie

(E, 5k, part 2 of The Wilds) Researchers plucked some of them from their secluded island and transplanted them into an enclosure against their will like a bunch of zoo animals. But they weren't animals and they all had a story of how they got here.

🌤️ Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

🌤️ Let the Feeling Last by @allwaswell16

(T, 5k, unhinged pet fic) Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.

🌤️ Stars over Amsterdam by @hellolovers13

(T, 4k, exes) Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex. Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

🌤️ (on the edge until) you pull me in by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 3k, fantasizing) His dick is not about to fall off, thank you very much, Niall, but it has been a while since he’s had time for a wank.

🌤️ i'm going out tonight by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 3k, established relationship) Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

🌤️ I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours) by @dreaminrainbows

(E, 3k, pwp) Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed.

🌤️ the sign on your heart (it's reserved for me) by moon_rose25 / @darkinfinity

(G, 3k, kid fic) The one where Louis Tomlinson is a single dad and is finally allowing himself to start dating. Insert Harry Styles, a charming coffee shop owner who sweeps him off his feet.

🌤️ HOT TO GO! by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right. Or the accidental pervert fic

🌤️ Gotta Feeling by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, tour guide Louis) When Harry's life in Manchester isn't turning out the way he thought it would, he decides to visit his best friend in Mexico City. Maybe Niall can convince him to move halfway around the world.

🌤️ Ice, Ice, Baby by cherrylarry / @beelou

(G, 1k, meet cute) Figure skater Harry takes Louis out on the ice for the first time

- Rare Pairs -

🌤️ Like A Force Of Nature by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 30k, Zayn/Liam) the Heartstopper AU no one asked for.

🌤️ The Grundy County Drag Show Incident by @haztobegood

(T, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Holding a wireless mic in her gloved hand, Veronica Stardust owned the stage. She was one of the most vocally talented drag queens in the Midwest. Part 2 of Grundy County Incidents

#28th appreciation #ficrec #1dsquad #1dficvillage #Larry fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #hltracks #hlcreators #hljournal

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whirlybirbs · 3 months ago

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i am OBSESSED with the bruised ego verse. thank you for singlehandedly kickstarting the long gone bnha brainrot xD

anyway!!! u mentioned derecho x endeavor shipping bc of their first meeting and uuh i was wondering how did said meeting go? and is derecho, at some point, interested in him? (doubt it bc toshi's being a cutie patootie but a girl can dream xD)

anyway, love you! hope you're having a wonderful day/night!

The air gets hotter — like a blast from an open oven — on an already hot afternoon. You're unimpressed.

This guy is #2? This is the Endeavor that Toshinori insisted you have to behave around?

First of all... What're they feeding the boys at U.A. High? Testosterone booster smoothies with every meal? C'mon.

Enji Todoroki towers over you — he's built like a brick-shit-house with a scowl mean enough to scare away most. You can tell from first glance he's a force of nature. Toshi always speaks highly of him, yet always wishes Enji was a little kinder. A little softer.

"He scares the damn kids, Derecho," he told her a few weeks ago.

His arms are crossed. There are flames licking at the air around him. Less like a halo and more like a crown of thorns. Minus all that martyrdom shit.

You tilt your head as you take him in.

Your unnerved, blank stare is beginning to make Enji uncomfortable.

"You must be Derecho," he rumbles dryly.

Your eyes rake up his figure. He's all muscle. Clearly strong. Very fast. His quirk is powerful — an element-based ability, just like your own. Nice costume. He's got big arms. Pretty turquoise eyes. If he wasn't such a jack-ass, he could be hot.

...Ha, ha. Get it?

He feels like he's suddenly under a microscope. His ears are hot.

It's not like there are sides to pick. All Might is #1. He will be for a long time. No one even comes close to your Toshinori in the rankings, not even this emotionally constipated schmuck. You feel a blaring flash of loyalty rising in your chest as you leans back and inspect his face.

Behind you both, the unplanned, improvised team-up is being wrapped up by local police. The perp was caught and you both worked decently well together; all things considered, Enji was impressed. He knew you were good, but not that good. Decent communication, easy adaptability, and quirk synchronicity came easy between the two of you for never having met.

...You're not what he thought.

"All Might told me about you," you offer plainly. You're still sizing him up.

Of course he did.

Enji feels his lip twitch at the mere mention of the blonde. He grits out, "That's kind of him."

"He was right, y'know," you say as you back up, looking to resume your solo patrol route; you're breaking away from him, clearly unswayed by the reporters and journalists clamoring for a statement, "You do scare the kids."

...

What the fuck—

— a reference to this fic here ;

#bruised ego #enji todoroki has a kink for competent heroes and that's all i will say on the matter #in another life this is a dangerous pairing #meanwhile toshi is like “oh yes! enji is an incredible hero!” and derecho is just going “he's mid.”

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kiyoomi-levin · 10 months ago

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here for you (yan!Suna RinatroxF!reader)

a/n this has been a wip for so long... enjoy! i'm working on a atsumu [nsfw] fic so be on the lookout for that next (unless adhd takes over and i start working on a different one instead)!

summary:: As a pro athlete and model, he's nice enough. And yet...there’s something in your gut that says you should stay away. word count:: ~4.4k warning(s):: non-con (no smut/SFW), suna's a grade A creep/stalker, yandere!!, isolation, stockholm syndrome, horror??(i tried to make this scary but it's really not lol) Music rec:: joke's on you - charlotte lawrence

As an aspiring journalist, your dreams had all but come true when you were hired as an intern at the most prestigious sports media center in Tokyo.

You get to shake hands with athletes you see on television daily and most importantly, you had received an actual assignment.

Gone were the days of running around to get your manager coffee and spending the day shredding documents. Instead, you had been tasked with creating an in-depth piece into the most popular athlete of the year— Suna Rintaro of EJP Raijin.

You still vividly remember your first time meeting him.

You’d been star-struck— a tall, gorgeous man you had only ever seen through a screen was standing in front of you.

Smiling. Holding out his beautiful hand for you to shake.

Despite his casual demeanor, there was something off about him. Maybe it was your nerves, or the cold air circulating in the office, but there was a tug in your stomach that was warning you.

At the time, you had plastered an excited grin on your face and scolded yourself.

But looking back— his eyes were quite cold, weren’t they?

You just can’t explain why you feel sick whenever you see him. In fact, despite the great task ahead of you—interviewing and writing up an article on Suna— you had been avoiding him.

There’s just something in you that dreads looking into his sharp green eyes.

It doesn’t help that in spite of your best efforts, you strangely run into him everywhere-- on and off the court.

“Suna?”

Your voice comes out squeaky and clearly nervous.

Are your eyes deceiving you? Why would he be here, in the middle of the cereal aisle, at the small grocery store next to your dingy apartment? You have to do a double take before you can confirm that yes, it is in fact him.

It’s late, and it’s only you, Suna, and the tired store manager. Though, at this moment, it feels like it’s only the two of you in this world.

“Oh. Hey, y/n,” Suna says casually, flashing you his famous smirk— the one that has his fans screaming and crying. He’s on his knees, reading the back of a granola cereal.

Suna turns back to the aisle in front of him, finally placing a box into his basket. Your brain registers it as your favorite flavor (the unhealthy, chocolate-y type that you’re sure athletes shouldn’t be eating).

What a coincidence.

“What are you doing here?”

You live on the edge of Tokyo, an unfortunate 30 minute subway ride to get to the sports arena you’re working at. And you know, from Suna’s player profile, that he lives in a luxurious high-ceiling apartment only a few blocks away from there.

“What do you mean?” Suna asks, frowning. He seems genuinely confused.

Are you the crazy one?

“Oh, it’s just… so random, you know?”

Your throat is tightening now and you feel unable to even swallow.

There are alarms blaring inside of your head, as if every fiber is irrationally telling you to run.

Suna glares at you, sharp eyes studying your smaller stature.

God. Another reason why you don’t like this man— he’s just too difficult to communicate with.

“You live quite far away, right?”

Seconds pass and you’re beginning to worry you’ve said something wrong or offensive when Suna finally stands, sighing as he turns toward the registers.

“No. I just moved to Kamikitazawa.”

You feel that tingle again.

“What a coincidence!” You say, recovering quickly.

Fuck. You sound especially stupid right now.

But could you help it? Suna, a multi-millionaire, moved into your apartment building? The one inhabited by broke college students and poor retirees?

Was he struggling financially? Did he have a secret child like some rumors alleged? Wait, is he—

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, you’re wrong.”

Suna and you are standing at the cash register now, and he turns to gently smile at you. You feel yourself softening.

Why were you scared, anyways? He’s a world-famous athlete and model.

Your premonitions have been wrong in the past— like when you thought your boss, Kuroo, would be upset with you accidentally deleting his PC files.

“I see,” you murmur, “well… the apartment is kind of… there’s a lot of problems, you know?”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. You sound like a broken radio.

There's an awkward silence as you and Suna both try to find the words to say.

This is why you hate talking to him, he expects you to do all the work!

"You should know that the third elevator isn't that good. It always gets stuck on floor two. And the garbage chute at the end of every hall is kind of hard to open. You have to," you make a pulling motion, "really yank, ya know?"

Silence. Suna stares at you blankly.

You're just an absolute loser, aren't you?

He's gonna cringe, or worse, tell your advisor that you're being overfamiliar with him, an athlete 5 years your senior…

As you stand in your cheap winter boots, shivering, Suna suddenly laughs.

It's not the quiet chuckle you see him release when he's joking with Komori, but a head-throwing, mouth widening laugh.

"Uh..." you stutter, nervous.

It takes a full minute before he finally stops, silently pink at the face.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," he says, lifting his shopping basket.

You nod repeatedly, nerves subsiding.

"Wanna walk back together?" Suna asks.

You hesitantly nod. Why not? It's late and dark, and though the neighborhood is calm, it never hurts to have a walking buddy.

On the walk home, to your surprise, Suna begins to talk about his team and compliments you for your article on the top liberos. You’ve never seen this side of him. There’s a reason why he’s so beloved— he’s a mystery.

You’re nearly zoning out as the two of you reach your apartment complex.

"Am I boring you?" Suna suddenly asks.

It's such an unexpected question, you falter for a second.

"No! I'm just... I feel relaxed. I like hearing your voice," you say, surprised.

Suna lets out a sigh of relief as he punches in the door code to the building.

"So. As I was saying, you want me to give you a ride tomorrow?"

"What?”

"A ride. To the arena." He says, enunciating every word as if you're a child.

"It's okay," you start, “I—”

"Take the subway, yeah. But it's a hassle, right?"

No, it's not. In fact, it's pretty nice, seeing strangers off to their desired destinations.

But it's as if he can read your mind.

"I’ll give you a ride."

It's not a question anymore.

"Alright," you murmur.

The short journey to your floor is now awkward, and you’re wishing you had turned down his offer to walk together.

The two of you are almost at the end of the hallway now, at your apartment door. To your horror, Suna doesn’t continue walking.

Instead, he simply turns around and reaches for the doorknob of the apartment just across from you.

Strangely, you’re just now noticing just how narrow and dark this hallway is.

Under the cheap fluorescent lights, you can only see the man in front of you. Suna’s pale hands flex as he easily readjusts his heavy grocery bags, reminding you he could take you out in a moment.

“Wow. Looks like we’re neighbors, huh?” Suna says, stepping into his flat.

You’re blinking up towards him, breath cut short.

“See you tomorrow, y/n.”

Funny. He didn’t sound surprised.

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

You're just tying your hair when the doorbell rings.

"y/n, you ready?"

Who would’ve imagined hearing the Suna Rintaro’s voice at 9 AM.

You sigh as you take a final glance into the mirror. You couldn’t completely hide the dark eye circles from your lack of sleep— who’d be able to sleep after learning a celebrity lives practically next door?

Taking a deep inhale, you push open your front door.

You instantly feel yourself healing as you take in Suna. It’s a similar effect to watching your favorite idols perform on stage— good looks work wonders on your tired body.

Suna leans against the wall, wearing a pair of black sweats and a thin blue hoodie. With a start, you can't help but notice it's almost a couple set with your blue sweater and black skirt.

"Good morning," he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. You nod in response.

As you walk down the hall together to the elevators, you can't help but flush. Is this what it'd be like to have a boyfriend? As a student dedicated to her craft, you’d never felt the urge to date, remaining single your entire life. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be Suna Rintaro’s.

“Oh! What’s this!” Kiana, a middle-aged woman, calls out as you and Suna wait for the elevator.

“y/n! You never told me you got a boyfriend! And such a handsome one, too! Oh, if I was only a little younger…”

You and Suna make eye contact and you blush, quickly turning towards the smiley woman, ready to retort.

“We’re—” You barely make out a word before Suna suddenly takes your hand.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Suna Rintaro, y/n’s boyfriend. I just moved into apartment 306.”

At his words, both your and Kiana’s eyes widen.

Yours in confusion, hers in wonder as she recognizes the handsome stranger.

“I know you! I know you! You’re Suna, from that team! Oh, my son is such a fan! I can't believe you're living here! He’ll be so excited."

As Suna and Kiana make small talk, you try to discreetly shake your sweaty hand out of Suna’s grasp. To your bewilderment, he continues gripping onto it, so hard you can feel his short fingernails digging into your soft skin.

To your relief, the elevator chimes, and as Suna waves goodbye (you do too, out of habit), you gasp as he yanks you into the elevator.

"What was that?" You ask, nervously looking up at your ‘boyfriend.’

Suna’s eyes are hard as he stares down at you, but he’s glowing all the same, as if he’d just received a gift.

“Saying we’re a couple. What was that about?”

Suna hums innocently.

"I just thought it would be most convenient to tell her that. People will see us together from now on."

No, they won't.

“It would confuse them to have to explain you’re an intern.”

Was that so complicated?

But with his mischievous smirk and the way he taps his foot against the elevator floor, you just can’t find the courage to refute.

“Alright… but could you let go?” You ask uncomfortably.

"Ah, right," he says, letting you free.

You rub your hands together, easing the circulation back.

Strangely, it feels especially cold without his grip on you.

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

"Wake up."

Awakening with a start, you rub your eyes.

You can't help but admit you could get addicted to free rides with Suna.

His car is just too nice; the seats are fluffy and he turned on the heater to just the right temperature and there's soft piano playing from the speakers.

How long have you been out?

Taking in your surroundings, you're surprised to find you're already at the Tokyo Volleyball Arena. You almost jump in shock as you realize what’s warming your lap— a box of your favorite strawberry waffles.

“What’s this?” You question as Suna wordlessly hands you a fork.

"I thought you might be hungry.”

Suna slides a cup into your open hand— matcha.

So he is a nice man, after all.

“Wow, Suna! Let me please pay you back!”

Your stomach grumbles as you take a bite of the sweet breakfast.

“No, no, it’s on me.”

How could you make it up to him? Maybe you should bake him cookies or something… you shift in your seat, frowning as you realize your bare thigh is strangely damp. Rubbing your thighs together, your eyebrows furrow.

“Oh,” Suna says, biting into his scrambled eggs, “sorry. That was me, I got some coffee on you while you were sleeping, so I wiped it away," he says sheepishly, gesturing towards the pack of wet wipes in the glove compartment.

He looks embarrassed, avoiding eye contact, so you don't push it any further.

He's kind of cute, you think.

It kind of feels too perfect– the plush comfort of Suna’s luxury car, the sweetness of the waffles, and the delicious matcha, albeit slightly salty.

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

"Hey, y/n, which movie should we watch?" Suna calls from your couch.

You're in the kitchen, preparing popcorn in your small microwave.

"Studio Ghibli!" You shout back, stirring the hot chocolate, “I have a whole bunch downloaded, just choose one.”

It's become a regular occurrence for the two of you to spend much of your free time together. At first, Suna had gently coaxed you into spending time with you under the guise of doing more research for the article you’re writing about him, but now you’ve grown to genuinely enjoy his company.

From morning rides to office lunches to casual dinners, it's like your life has been consumed by Suna. Your gut had been wrong, after all, because Suna treats you like a girlfriend— although you’d long shook away that silly thought— he’d never see a younger, broke student that way.

But despite your brain knowing everything is just fine, your heart has yet to be rewired. It still pounds with discomfort, as if it knows that fundamentally, something’s wrong.

You just can’t identify or place a label on that problem.

More recently, you’ve been getting hit with strong deja vu from that one night at the grocery store months ago.

As if it’s only the two of you on this planet.

Sighing, you take your place next to Suna, glancing at your phone. It remains still, screen dark.

“What’s wrong?” Suna asks, frowning. He pushes up his black glasses, running his fingers through his damp hair.

You hesitate. It’s fine to share this, right? After all, it feels like Suna’s all you have right now.

“Well… I’m not sure why, but I think my friends are mad at me. For the past few months, they’ve been silent. They don’t really respond to me anymore, and when they do they just say they’re busy.”

Suna nods, reaching for your hand. You welcome the warmth of his fingers, blinking back tears.

“And even worse, my family hardly contacts me. I used to call my mom basically everyday. I think there’s something really wrong, Suna, I’m really worried.”

“How long has this been going on?” Suna has the movie paused now, full attention on you. He gently strokes your hair and the kind gesture has tears pooling in your eyes.

“For a few months… maybe… four? I didn’t realize it at first because of how busy I’ve been at work and with the article I’m writing on you,” you mumble, allowing Suna to embrace you.

He’s gently rocking you back and forth now, rubbing your back, whispering kind words into your ear, telling you it’s okay and they’re probably just busy too…

Minutes pass before you finally look up, eyes widening as you take in his facial expression.

Despite his sweet words, Suna’s eyes are completely blank and there’s a questionable, small smile on his face. You barely recognize him.

“y/n?”

You blink, and take in an inaudible breath as you stare at Suna.

He cocks his head, confused. He looks at you with nothing but affection and concern, thin lips pressed into a frown.

Your heartbeat slows as you realize that, yet again, you’d just been seeing and feeling things wrong— whenever you’re around Suna, it’s as if you lose sense of your surroundings.

Smiling, you sniffle as you wipe away your tears.

“Sorry for getting emotional at movie night.”

Suna grins, giving you a final gentle hug before turning back to the television.

“Don’t be. I’m always here for you, y/n.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Q: Suna, this question has been long requested by your fanbase. How do you express love?

A: Dedication. I give my all to my lover, no questions asked.

Oh, and I don’t like to share.

There’s suddenly a knock at your door, causing you to jump. You put down your laptop, where your open article draft sits nearly complete.

The lightning storm outside has you shaking and you just wish Suna was here, holding you and laughing at his silly responses to your even stupider interview questions.

Another knock at the door.

Strange— Suna’s practice runs for extra long today for his upcoming tournament. Maybe he finished early.

“Suna, why didn’t you call before practice finished? We could’ve gone out for dinner,” you scold as you pull open the door.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Standing in front of you is your furious older sister, drenched from the rainstorm outside.

“Oh my god! Come in!” You say, alarmed. You reach towards her wrist, but she remains planted in place.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She’s angrier than you’ve ever seen her.

“How could you tell us to fuck off? You really think your journalism is that important? Your writing isn’t more important than family, you asshole! It’ll never be important!”

Taking a deep breath, your sister lets go, immediate regret evident on her face. She opens her mouth to apologize, but you’re not having any of it.

Anger is coursing through your body now and you shove your sister away, causing her to stumble against Suna’s door.

Your family has never supported your career— from when you were just a child, you’d had to work hard for your own future.

So this is why they had shunned you? Because they can’t stand seeing you successful? Because you had moved away from the countryside to make something out of yourself in the city?

Tears stream down your face as you tremble.

“My writing is important,” you whisper. Your sister nods quickly, opens her mouth again—

“Don’t come by anymore. Don’t consider me a part of the family anymore.”

“No, I’m sorry— I think there’s a miscommunication, y/n! Wait!”

Slamming the door on her shocked face, you stumble towards the couch.

It feels as though you’re going to die— the room spins as your lungs strive for air and your vision is becoming increasingly blurry.

The sound of rain and your sister pounding on the door intertwine, and as you bury your head into a pillow, you really just wish Suna was at your side.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“y/n?”

Someone’s tugging at your sleeve, and you glance up, blinking uncomfortably at the bright lights of the living room. There’s dried tear streaks on your face and you’re sure you look like a miserable ogre, but Suna looks at you with nothing but compassion as he hugs you, alarmed.

He’s slightly damp—probably a combination of sweat from practice and the rain outside—but you hold onto him eagerly as he eases you onto his lap.

“What happened?”

You shake your head, explaining what had happened in the few hours when he’d been gone.

Suna’s furious on your behalf, jaw tight and fists clenched.

“Thank god I told your sister to fuck off. She was standing at your door, yelling curses and threatening to call the police,” he mutters.

Tears spring to your eyes again. This only confirms the reality of your life now— your family (and probably friends, too) absolute despise you.

“Don’t worry, y/n. I’ll always be here for you,” Suna whispers.

His words are somewhat like a relaxant to you. Taking a deep breath, you lean into his chest, sighing.

“I don’t think I can write anymore, Suna. I don’t want to. What have I been working towards my whole life?”

Suna remains silent for a moment, studying your sorrowful face, before leaning in to brush his nose against yours. Your eyes shift, admiring his gorgeous olive ones.

“Your journalism is amazing, y/n. And… if you hadn’t worked so hard, we might’ve never met, right?”

You smile sadly.

“I guess…”

“y/n, how about you wrap up your article tonight? You’re almost done, aren’t you?”

You gesture towards your open laptop on the coffee table.

“It’s done, but it’s shit. My sister’s right, it’s not worth anything,” you say, embarrassed. You’ve always known you were talentless, which is why you’ve always worked harder. But it amounted to nothing in the end.

You press your cold hands against your burning eyes as Suna picks up your laptop, skimming through what you’ve written about him.

If even he hates it… that’s it. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to go on.

“y/n, will you look at me?”

Suna’s gently tugging at your hands covering your face. Biting your lip nervously, you let him take your hands into one of his.

“Want my honest opinion?” He asks, placing the laptop onto your lap. You nod, staring down at the bright screen.

“This is the best thing anyone’s written about me.”

You close your eyes, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie.”

“y/n. I’m serious. This shows exactly the side I wanted the public to know about me. It’s intimate, but written formally enough to be taken seriously by the media.”

When you don’t respond, Suna sighs sadly.

“I guess you don’t want the opinion of a dumb athlete, though…”

Frantically, you look up, shocked.

“Of course not! Suna, your opinion is everything to me!”

Relief settles in your stomach as Suna grins, eyes shining.

“Really?”

“Of course! Thank you… That really means a lot to me.”

Suna nods, rambling about how much he loves that sentence here, the use of punctuation there…

“What’s wrong?” He asks, noticing you look down again.

“I… just feel like I have nobody but you, Suna.”

Suna smiles at you, waving towards the polaroids of your friends and family hung on the wall.

“I’m sure they’ll come around again, y/n.”

Your nose crinkles as you cringe at the photos. You want them gone. You want all of the references towards them gone.

You want to get out of here.

“I hate this apartment, actually. They helped me decorate it and everything,” you sigh.

“Well then, how about we move out together?”

You fiddle your thumbs, headache threatening to return.

“I don’t have that type of money,” you say, frustrated. It’s easy for a world-class athlete like him to just up and leave, but you’d never be able to, not unless you dropped out of school and found a job elsewhere.

“y/n, I’ve just remembered. I have an apartment near our stadium, right? How about you move there for the rest of your internship?”

You hesitate. Intruding into the home of a man you’re not even in a relationship with? While the offer is tempting…

“Don’t worry about anything, y/n. Don’t think too hard about it.”

Suna’s gently rubbing circles onto the side of your hands and you feel like melting away, exhausted.

All that crying and anger has truly taken a toll on you. Your eyelids flutter as you finally nod.

“Okay.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure?”

Now that it’s come to actually burning the photos, you’re hesitating. Aside from the few photographs on the walls, your apartment is completely bare, all of your belongings now residing in Suna’s luxury condo.

“y/n. You don’t need them anymore.”

You pause, the lighter in your hand feeling heavier by the second. With this, you’re truly erasing all parts of your former family and friends. Just then, your phone buzzes— you barely need to look at it to know it’s a string of curses from your ex-best friend.

Suna grimaces as he deletes the message, examining you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re right, Suna. I don’t.”

You watch as the pictures go up in flames, holding back tears.

Looking around your now empty apartment, Suna wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I always thought your walls would look better bare.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In and out.

There’s something so comforting about the way you breathe.

You’re lying motionless on Suna’s large bed, curled into a ball.

Adorable.

Sighing, Suna collapses next to you, admiring your eyebrows, the curve of your nose, your lips…

When was the last time he’d felt this content? Reaching out, Suna gently tucks your hair behind your ears, admiring the small s shaped earrings adoring them.

Bringing you here was the best option. It’d taken him a little longer than he’d hoped, but now you were truly in the palm of his hand.

He’d almost slipped up a few times (your gut was much smarter than you) but everything had worked out, hadn’t it.

Since the day he’d first met you nearly a year ago, Suna knew you’d be his.

He’s not sure why, but there’s this thing about him— sometimes, when he sees something, he wants it.

And he’ll do anything to make sure it’s entirely his.

You mumble in your sleep, rolling over to face the large windows that present the city of Tokyo below his feet.

He has it all now.

His phone vibrates— messages from your concerned father.

Rolling his eyes, Suna silently reaches over to your phone, which lies innocently next to your small hand, and unlocks it (the password being his birthday, obviously).

Without hesitation, Suna begins wiping out all traces of the code he’s implanted into your phone.

There would be no more reason to reroute your messages to himself anymore.

Next, Suna makes sure all of your family and friends’ contacts are blocked.

Ensuring your safety is a top priority of his.

He squeezes your device in his large hand, wondering if he should just break it.

If Suna had it his way completely, he’d rather you not have a phone at all.

Tossing your phone back onto your side of the bed, Suna smirks as he unlocks his own device.

Desperate messages from your sister pop up, warning you of your tall neighbor, he threatened to kill me if i didn’t leave y/n please get away from him and go to the police!

Suna slides his thumb across the screen, removing the messages from his screen, and disconnects his phone from yours.

After all, you wouldn’t be getting contacted by those nuisances anymore.

Almost done, then he can sleep peacefully with you—Suna sends the email he’s been working on: a PDF attachment of your final draft of your article on him and a short message of your resignation as an intern, written by yours truly.

Turning over, Suna locks the bedroom door, smiling.

There’s no need for anyone else.

Not when he’s always going to be here for you.

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu #suna x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro yandere #haikyuu yandere

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buddiebeginz · 4 months ago

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I was talking to a friend earlier and it got me thinking about something.

B*mmy stans project all of the stuff they do onto us to an extent I've never seen with any other fandom discourse before.

They call us homophobic for not liking B/T or T*mmy. Yet they hate on people for shipping Buddie or seeing Eddie as queer. To the point of harassing people for including Eddie and Buddie in pride posts. Continually harassing the 911news account and even trying to dox a journalist for posting about Buddie.

They call us delusional for having watched two men love and support one another for 6 going on 7 years and for thinking there could be something more than friendship there. Even though Oliver, Ryan, and Tim have all said they see what we see. Yet they've seen Buck kiss a guy twice, have very minimal screen time or development and they headcanon that they're in love and will get married in the coming season.

They say we fetishize Buddie. Yet most of the time when our fandom is discussing our ship we're talking about the emotional connection between them. Or how we want to see them finally be together in a canon romantic relationship or as a full fledged family (with Chris). Or have their first kiss. Meanwhile most of their posts are the kind of sex they headcanon Buck and T*mmy have. Hell after that that dinner scene tons of them changed their urls to something with daddy in it (referencing the out of place daddy kink joke). To be clear there's nothing wrong with headcanons about fictional characters sex lives. But the main reason most of us ship Buddie is not just because they're two hot guys who we want to think about f*cking, it's because we're invested in the story of their life together. The same can't be said for B/T.

They say we feminize Buck for Buddie:

Meanwhile most of their fics/art/headcanons involve T*mmy being the big strong protector rescuing the "damsel in distress" Buck. They constantly talk about how hot it is that T*mmy is this big older "daddy" firefighter who can take care of Buck and guide him in what it means to be in a m|m relationship.

They say we've made Buck's coming out all about Buddie but 1. Eddie and Buck's feelings for him were heavily included in Buck's bi awakening ep. 2. They have made T*mmy synonymous with buck's coming out to the point of saying Buck wouldn't have even realized he liked men without T*mmy. They've even said that if T*mmy and Buck were to break up in s8 that it would ruin Buck's coming out story.

They accuse our fandom of being mean and of harassing the actors including of sending death threats to Lou. Of chasing Lou off of social media and being the one who caused him to stop his cameos. They say we're the reason Oliver chooses not interact with Lou or anything B/T related online. When there has been no proof of any of this. Meanwhile there is proof from their own fandom that Oliver and Ryan have blocked some of them. They have repeatedly tried to pressure Oliver to interact with B/T posts and Lou. They were also leaving comments on the the video of the podcast Ryan did (with Tommy DiDario) where he talked about his s*icide attempt, telling him he should have finished the job.

They call us a cult or BoBs (Buddie or Bust) yet they dress up like Lou and would still be paying for his videos if he was still willing to put them out. They prioritize Lou/T*mmy above any other character on the show. They talk about how T*mmy should get a begins episode. How T*mmy should be a main character. They defend everything T*mmy has ever done including when he was racist and homophobic to Chim and Hen. They harass anyone who has a negative word to say about their ship or Lou or T*mmy much like a cult would protect their leader. They to this day act like everything Lou ever told them in his cameos is the gospel truth.

911 fandom has grown increasingly toxic ever since B/T became a thing and I honestly just can't wait for the day we either find out T*mmy isn't coming back or when his last ep will be. I mean in some ways our fandom won't ever be the same after this. I've seen a lot of ugly sides to people who I had followed for years as Buddie shippers.

It will never not confuse the hell out of me that some people who were big time Buddie shippers for years not only dropped Buddie but turned completely against the ship and our fandom. And all for a ship that is seriously underdeveloped and one that it's clear the show is telling us in flashing neon lights isn't meant to last.

#buddie #911 buddie #911!

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praetorqueenreyna · 3 months ago

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For Rhysand Week Day 7: Free Day, I give you: romcom Rhysta AU. I have to give credit to @beansidhebumbling, who shared a snippet of a "10 Things I Hate About You" Rhysta fic that changed me at a molecular level. In that vein, I give you: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days Rhysta!

@officialrhysandweek

Nesta is a journalist for a woman's magazine that's always wanted to write things that matter. Her boss has promised her that she'll be able to write whatever she wants after one more article: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. She has to find a guy, start dating him, then convince him to break up with her within 10 days. The problem? Her target is Rhysand, a playboy advertising executive who needs to make a woman fall in love with him within 10 days to be his company's liason for a lucrative diamond marketing campaign.

*****************************************

Rhys leaned against the railing on his balcony, eyes glued to the gorgeous woman sashaying towards a taxi with a tantalizing sway of her hips. His lips still stung from their kiss; the little minx had bitten him. He had to admit, he had almost gotten carried away, on the verge of careening off the edge from first base all the way home. But he had to stay focused. His entire career was on the line. He had ten days to win this bet and get Nesta Archeron to fall for him, head over heels.

There were worse people to seduce, he mused as Nesta opened the door to her cab. She was hot, smart, and just a little mean in a sexy way. The kind of woman who prided herself on being able to sniff out bullshit a mile away. Still, she had succumbed to his charm already. He wouldn’t need the full ten days.

Nesta turned just before getting into the cab, giving him a flirtatious wiggle of her fingers. Rhys blew her a kiss, causing her to roll her eyes and laugh. “Oh, you are already falling in love with me,” he murmured to himself.

Her mark was cute, she had to give him that. And a good kisser. Unsurprising, considering Nesta could practically smell the playboy sleeze coming off him in waves. It was a shame she couldn’t actually sleep with him, but that wasn’t part of the plan.

She could feel his eyes on her ass as she walked away. Rhysand was easy, and Nesta felt like she already knew everything about him. It had been laughably simple to get an invite over to his place. Men like that loved tittering docile women, but they craved someone with a little bit of a bite. Just a few minutes of flirty sarcasm and he was putty in her hands. The stage was perfectly set. She had ten days to drive him insane. Rhysand would lose it and break up with her. She’d write her article, and then her obnoxious boss would lighten up and let Nesta write whatever she wanted.

In the open doorway of the taxi she glanced back, displaying the gleaming arch of her neck. She waggled her fingers in farewell, and Rhys blew her a kiss from the balcony. It was so cheesy it prompted a real laugh, and she rolled her eyes. She looked up at him again once the cab door was closed and her face was shielded behind the window. Her coy grin shifted into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna make you wish you were dead.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysta #nesta archeron #rhysand #rhysand/nesta #rhysand week #why is rhysta SO PERFECT for early 2000s rom coms????#I don't have a full fic but I do have. this.#UR WELCOME

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forwhatiam · 5 months ago

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Happy 28th! <3 Here's my favorite fics I read this month, organized from longest to shortest. Fics with a * before them found their way into my bookmarks!

*May You Enjoy Your New Life by aimmyarrowshigh (E, 264k)

When One Direction begins, Harry Styles is a sixteen-year-old boy floundering under the pressure of impending fatherhood. His ability to balance the sobering responsibility of caring for his tiny daughter, Millie, and the exhilaration of seeing his own dreams coming to fruition affects not only his future, but those of Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Louis, who never expected fealty to be the key to their success. But Liam is the first to show him how to grow up without growing old, and Zayn is the first to defend from the public what is private and precious. Louis -- Louis is the first for a lot of things; for most of the moments of Millie's life and for the moments of Harry's that matter. And Niall is the first to toast when Millie is born: Go maire sibh bhur saol nua -- 'may you enjoy your new life.'

*Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou (E, 110.3k)

Louis is a psychology student with a tattoo count as high as his genius IQ. Harry is in a (sort-of) relationship with a homophobic man and hates himself a little more every day. Things fall apart and Louis puts him back together.

Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

*Southern Gothic by Itsmotivatingcara (E, 100.4k)

Harry Styles is a part time conman and a full-time antiques dealer, who prides himself on his work ethic, his keen eye and his penchant for clairvoyance. He's traveled the world in search of missing pieces, some likely best left buried. He's a keeper of secrets, with a knack for under-the-table dealings. But not all secrets remain hidden.

The South Strangler made his debut in Defiance, before collecting unsuspecting victims along the southern states. FBI agents Louis Tomlinson and Liam Payne have been dogging his steps for the past few years, and have been led back to where it all began.

A healthy dose of clairvoyance and a heaping pile of skepticism finds Harry and Louis at an impasse. It just so happens to pair well with steaming attraction.

you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe) by alwaysxlarrie (M, 98k)

Being a new employee at a company means that you have to learn to brush off the shitty bosses, shitty coworkers, and not getting the credit you actually deserve for things. At least, that's been Harry Styles' experience. Coworkers who steal his ideas in pursuit of getting praise and a raise, and a boss who's indifferent at best and condescending at worst. Harry has learned to expect this reality for the foreseeable future. He's accepted it.

What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate.

*Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (E, 96.4k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

Secrets in Winter by softfonds (E, 82.5k)

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

Summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes by starryhaze (NR, 82.2k)

A 70s tennis au filled with skirts, pet names and intrigue.

*Allegiance to your burning heart by driveinbingo (E, 82k)

In the ten years since he last saw his ex-boyfriend, Harry has become very rich and very famous and everything's just great, thank you very much. He definitely doesn't even think about Louis anymore. And he's certainly not going to let a ghost from his past haunt him as he embarks on the biggest tour of his career.

Except Louis always did find a way to crawl underneath his skin, didn't he?

sent by the sun by etherealbliss (E, 51.3k)

In 1970s Los Angeles, Harry is a groupie who aches to feel alive. Louis is the lead singer of a rock band who aches to know him.

Went Down In Flames by hazzahtomlinson (E, 26.6k)

Louis was in an absolutely shit storm. He had let it go on for too long. Let it go too far. But he had a plan. And tonight, said plan was going down. He was going to tell the boys he was proposing this weekend. ‘Harry’ would turn him down, albeit gently, and Louis would play the heartbroken boyfriend. He’d gotten this far. All he had to do was lock himself in his bedroom and cry a little. He’d been in a few plays growing up. Piece of cake.

Except. It didn’t go that way. Of course, it didn’t. Because the universe, the beautiful chaotic bitch that she was, just had to have an actual Harry Styles and he just had to be Niall’s best friend.

Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get an Alpha by InsightfulInsomniac (E, 19.9k)

When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep?

It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine.

Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.

The Checkout by SilverStuff50 (E, 12.2k)

Omega Harry is a bit obsessed with one of the workers at the small supermarket around the corner from his flat. The problem is, it's the place where Harry goes for last minute items and emergencies, so the Alpha (Louis) always sees him buy embarrassing things.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry fic rec #my fic rec list #this is my first fic rec post i've been so excited for this all month #check the fics themselves for more description bc i didn't include any snippets for the sake of formatting

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arthenaa · 2 years ago

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Roots - S.S & O.G

SEBASTIAN SALLOW X READER X OMINIS GAUNT

PLOT SUMMARY: After an eventful fifth year, Ominis and Sebastian seems to be the people who know the hero of Hogwarts the best. Approached by an interested third year, the two best friends seem to realize they don’t know anything at all about Y/N beyond school.

DISCLAIMER: Hogwarts Legacy Spoilers, Canon divergent, can be read as platonic or romantic, Scamander brothers and Leta Lestrange is in this, mentions of Fantastic Beast plot, (i rewatched fantastic beasts ok and i love the scamander brothers so bad and I love these boys sm so I’m putting them in one fic), setting is set on FB era but with the the same teachers in HL, mentions of bad home environment on MC’s past, MC is a half blood, MC vents her feelings, im mostly spewing shit out of my ass in this one, she/her pronouns and feminine terms are used.

Out of the trio, Y/N has always received the most attention. Due to her great efforts and contribution to the defeat of Ranrok and saving the wizarding world, eyes are constantly on her and whispers of her achievements flutter around the halls of the castle. This had never bothered Ominis and Sebastian of course. They had always seen you as the flustered and clumsy fifth year walking up to the podium to be sorted. You had always been the center of their attention. They had been with you through most of your ups and downs during your first year as a 5th year in Hogwarts. Stuck with you through various situations and had defended you from those who had tried to harm you and so they had the honorary badge of being called your “best friends.” They took pride in being the people closest to you and it would sometimes be borderline possessive according to Imelda Reyes but Sebastian simply rolls his eyes and tells her to bugger off. That was what they thought, until recently.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about her at all?” Yrma’s face forms a look of disappointment. Ominis cringes at her tone before Sebastian makes a noise of disagreement.

“So?”

Yrma Greenland glances between the two as they stand in silence. The third year had been an avid fan of the Hero of Hogwarts after witnessing her magical prowess against raiders and poachers during an eventful night of trying to rescue a niffler. It almost made her cry as Y/N approaches her with an angelic smile. She had been trying to get to know more about Y/N Y/L/N and given that she was part of the Hogwarts School Journalism Club, it would be beneficial to her job as a journalist (definitely as journalist ….. and not for herself …) to know about her subject’s background.

“W-we do know stuff about her! Besides, why should we tell you? Isn’t this invasion of privacy?” Sebastian retorts as he leans against the pillar. Yrma rolls her eyes at the idiocy.

“I’m a journalist, I have to get information one way or another. What’s this stuff you know then?” She presses on.

“She likes monochromatic colors.” Ominis starts. “Quite skilled in Defence against the Dark Arts.”

“Loathes the pumpkin juice at the Great Hall. Has a specific chair in the common room that nobody dares to touch for some reason.” Sebastian adds. Ominis nods in agreement.

“When she’s nervous, she wrings her hands to keep her grounded. Loves to twirl her wand like a pen for some odd reason. A beast magnet. She can sleep anywhere as well. Did you know she once slept standing very still—“

“I do not want to hear about your obsession with Y/N Y/L/N.” Yrma halts Ominis’s ramblings about the witch with a furious look. “I’m talking about her background. Where’d she come from? Is she a half-blood, pure or muggleborn. THAT’s what I’m looking for.”

The two Slytherins look at the Ravenclaw with a baffled look. Yrma can only stare at them with an amused look.

“Seriously? Two years and you two don’t know anything?”

“I mean she hasn’t talked about it!” Sebastian tries to defend himself. He turns to Ominis who looks like Salazar Slytherin had asked him to commit crimes worthy of Azkaban. “Ominis? Did she tell you anything at all?”

“…I always assumed that she was muggleborn.”

“So I take that you know nothing at all?” Yrma sighs. A chill runs down both of their backs at the revelation. “Some best friends you two must be.”

Yrma grumbles in disappointment on not being able to get information about the Hero of Hogwarts before leaving the pair. Ominis and Sebastian only wallow in their misery in silence.

“I can’t believe this Ominis.” Sebastian’s voice is weak. Ominis nods in agreement. It was never brought up throughout your stay in Hogwarts. Everyone was also quite open with their backgrounds so it was never an option to be brought up in a conversation. Your achievements have overshadowed your personal background as a young witch. No one had even questioned your blood status or where you had come from. Sure it was discussed when you had first entered as a late student but that too had been overshadowed by the dragon attack you and Professor Fig had endured. Somehow, you had become something they knew so well and knew nothing about at the same time.

“At this point, I’m just curious about it.” Ominis breaks the silence. Sebastian glances at his friend before nodding. Why would you not bring it up though? You had experienced Sebastian’s family situation, listened to Ominis’s complaints about his crazy family. It should’ve been an opportunity to bring up but you had always listened rather than talked. Surely, you would’ve talked about it if you felt comfortable enough with them right?

Right?

_______________________________________________________________

“Why do you two looked like someone pissed in your butterbeer and manipulated you into thinking that it’s not piss?” Imelda Reyes looks down at the two Slytherin boys lounging in the common room with frowns in their faces.

“Gross. You needn’t be so crass on your comparisons.” Ominis groans. Imelda rolls her eyes as she sets her broom down beside the couch before sitting in front of the fireplace.

“I hear people from the ministry are coming to visit.” Imelda starts as she looks back at the two. “Some sort of assessment, I suppose.”

“From the ministry?” This catches Sebastian’s attention. “Why?”

“Not sure.” Imelda shrugs. “I think it’s because of Professor Hecat and her assistant. What’s his name?”

“Dumbledore.” Ominis flatly replies from his seat on the couch.

Imelda furrows her eyebrows as she stares back and forth between the two. “Seriously? What is the problem with you both?”

Ominis sighs before properly sitting up. Sebastian on the other hand continues to flail in his seat. The young Gaunt feels his wand as he contemplates his thoughts before asking Imelda a question.

“Do you know anything about Y/N?”

Imelda tilts her head in confusion. “She’s a Slytherin and gifted with the broom—Wait, why are you asking me that question? Shouldn’t you two know the answer?”

“Not that, Imelda.” Sebastian chimes in as he sits up, elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I meant about her as a person.”

Imelda falls silent for a few moments before she lets out a huff of amusement. “Merlin.”

“Right?!” Sebastian whines before slumping back on the couch. “I don’t understand how we both barely know anything about her despite knowing her for 2 years. I mean, I knew Ominis wet his bed when he was 9 within the first 3 months of my first year!”

“Sebastian!” Ominis flushes in embarrassment. Imelda chuckles at the information.

“Well, I mean. The gal’s a powerhouse. I doubt people would be focused about her roots rather than her achievements.” Imelda replies. “I thought you two would know more about her considering you two hover like a hawk.”

“I do not do that.” Ominis retorts. Imelda nudges his knee before laughing.

“Yeah, didn’t know you were quite humorous, Ominis.” Imelda teases. Ominis turns his head towards her, sending a glare to her direction.

“I’m just kind of concerned why she hasn’t told us anything…” Sebastian quietly responds as he watches the fire flicker in front of him.

“Well, guess you’ll just have to find out then.” Imelda grins as she notices a familiar figure walking over to them. The two sulking wizards were too busy with sulking, not noticing the subject of the conversation standing in front of them. Y/N looks at Imelda for context and the Quidditch player only shrugs before standing up and grabbing her broom. She pats Y/N’s shoulder as she passes by her before whispering a “good luck” as she’ll definitely need it. Y/N only looks at Imelda’s disappearing figure in confusion before turning to her dearest friends.

“Ominis? Sebastian?” Her voice shocks both boys as they flail around to sit properly.

“Merlin’s beard. You scared us.” Sebastian massages his pounding chest as you only chuckle in amusement. Sebastian’s not sure if it’s because you scared them with your arrival or it’s because seeing you that his heart seems to pound out of his chest. You sat in between them, squeezing Ominis’s arm to acknowledge his presence.

“Where were you? We didn’t see you at DADA.” Ominis says as he feels for your hand, grasping it in his palm before interlocking your fingers together. You can only lean your head back, eyes closing due to exhaustion.

“I was with Professor Black. Got called up for something important.” You sigh as you squeeze Ominis’s palm. A hand begins to pet your hair causing you to open your eyes and look at the culprit. The Sallow boy only smiles as he presses a soft kiss against your temple.

“The headmaster himself, huh? That’s the hero of Hogwarts for you. Always in for something important.” Sebastian teases. Y/N rolls her eyes, shoving him lightly.

“Stairs are a crime. If only I could just travel the castle on a broom.” You complain.

“Imelda’s been there, done that. Detention for a month, I recall.” Ominis leans his head on your shoulder, basking in your lovable scent.

“You battle trolls for breakfast and all it takes is a bit of stairs to rough you up?” Sebastian laughs as he continues to play with your hair.

“Oh, shut it, Sallow.” Soft laughter, escape your lips before a comfortable silence engulfs the three of you. It would’ve been comfortable had there not been a nudging thought banging against the heads of both boys. Sebastian feels a soft nudge against his shoulder, causing him to look over at the Slytherin descendant. An encouraging look is plastered on his face, and Sebastian internally groans at it.

“Hey, Y/N. We have something to ask you abou—“

“Is Y/N Y/L/N here? You’re needed by Professor Weasley!” A student had shouted out in the common room. The young witch groans before sitting up. The opportunity of asking leaves before Sebastian can even grasp it.

“I’ll see you both later in the Undercroft, okay?” Y/N smiles before placing a kiss on both of their foreheads. She then dashes off to Professor Weasley, leaving the two in silence.

“You should’ve asked faster.”

“How should I know?!”

______________________________________________________________

“She should be here by now.” Sebastian taps his foot against the marbled floor. Ominis can only lean against the pillar. The two had been out of their minds ever since the incident with Yrma Greenland. At this point, they just want to spend time with you. Having finally decided that you would eventually tell them on your own terms as they had done with theirs.

Humming distracts Ominis as he hears the tune from the DADA classroom. Leaving Sebastian grumbling on his own, he lets his wand guide him to the sound. The humming grows louder as he softly pushes the door open. He senses a person inside, unfamiliar to that of Professor Hecat and the new assistant. A gasp signals Ominis that the person has acknowledged his presence.

“The classrooms are restricted at this hour. You’d have to go to the Faculty area to talk to Professor Hecat.” He calmly talks as he senses his the person’s figure in front of him.

“I-I don’t mean to intrude. I was just looking around.”

“As I said, these rooms are restricted at this h—“

“It’s alright, she’s with me.” A new person enters the room. A man, Ominis thinks.

“Apologies for being rude, but who are you?” Ominis sighs. The man chuckles as he feels him walk towards the other person, a woman. About to introduce himself, another presence enters the room.

“Ominis! You left again without saying anything.” Sebastian grumbles annoyed. Ominis looks away from the direction of his voice, not responding to his sudden disappearance. The Sallow boy then glances to the other two people in the room. A man and a woman stood in the classroom, casually staring at the interaction between the two of them. They were dressed formally and seemed far different from how their teachers normally dressed. This must be the ministry visit Imelda was talking about, Sebastian thinks.

“I take that you’re from the ministry?” Ominis reads Sebastians' thoughts. The Sallow turns to him in amusement. “I notice that your presence is unfamiliar.”

“You’re correct.” The man answers. “We’re here for an important matter. We were once students like you and my fiancé wanted to roam the halls in nostalgia.”

The woman smiles at him. “I was also Slytherin, like you two.”

The man steps forward, moving closer to the two boys. “I assume Ominis here is a Gaunt? I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your father from time to time. It’s nice to see his son growing well here in Hogwarts.”

At the mention of his father, Ominis cringes to which Sebastian nudges his side. The man laughs at the look. “Understandable.”

Before the conversation could escalate further, two new voices were heard nearing towards the classroom.

“I’ve told you multiple times. We could’ve done this visit on a free day! Not during a day of classes, Newt!”

“You tell me as if I planned this whole thing.”

“Even if you didn’t, you probably instigated it. Everyone knows Theseus has a brother complex.”

“You know we can hear you right?” The man in the room yells before silence engulfs the halls. The door to the classroom opens and Sebastian looks back in shock to see Y/N with another man.

“Sebastian? Ominis? What are you two doing here?” You rush over to them. Ominis relaxes at your voice. You look back at the two other figures in the room. “This is an awkward sight.”

“Awkward? Really? We’re your family.”

“Soon to be. My sister still hasn’t married you.” You snorted. The two turn their heads fast as a Thestral towards you.

“Sister?!” The Slytherin boys exclaimed. The woman smiles at the interaction. You smile sheepishly before looking at the three other people in the room.

“I suppose introductions are in order.” You start as you stand in between the two. You point your hand towards the taller of the two. “The man you first met is Theseus Scamander, Head Auror of the British Ministry of Magic.”

Theseus waves his hand before saying a quick hello. Your hand then points to the shy male standing near them. “This is Newt Scamander. Magizoologist. The Scamander Wrote our material for Beasts class.”

Ominis gasps in recognition before bowing in respect. The magizoologist reaches over to pat his shoulder.

“This is Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt, my best friends.”

“And my sister, Leta Lestrange. Theseus’s fiancée. Works in the ministry as well.” Your eyes lock with Leta, who smiles proudly. You return an awkward smile.

"You're a Lestrange?" Sebastian whispers in shock.

"Well, half. We have different mothers. Mine's a muggle. Hence my different last name— but yes, essentially, I am a Lestrange." You reply quietly. Ominis and Sebastian acknowledge the new information in silence. You then turn towards the three and motion your hands to your friends.

“I-It’s nice to meet you all.” Sebastian smiles. The three smile at them.

“I suppose Y/N’s taken care of well then.” Leta moves closer to the two. Grasping both of their hands. “I’m grateful that my sister is in good hands.”

“Leta…” You flush at your sister’s words. Leta only pinches your cheeks.

“I suppose the two of you can join us tomorrow!” Leta turns to the Scamander brothers who nod in agreement. “We’ll be roaming around in Hogsmeade with Y/N. We’re hoping the two of you could join us. I want to learn more about you.”

Before the two could agree, Y/N intercepted the conversation. “I can talk to them about it. Don’t worry. Don’t you three have more important matters to discuss with Dumbledore and Hecat?”

She glances at Newt for help who moves quickly to grab his brother out of the room. The older protests but lets his brother drag him out. Leta laughs softly at the sight before walking over to Y/N and pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you around.”

You nod in agreement before watching her leave the room. Once their footsteps fade away, you turn towards the two who stare at you for explanation.

“I know I haven’t talked much about my family—“

“You haven’t talked about it at all actually.” Ominis retorts. He sighs before moving close to you. “I didn’t mean to come off rude but I suppose we were kind of in the dumps earlier after realizing we knew nothing about who you were. It never even crossed our minds and I feel like we’re kind of bad friends because of that.”

“No! what are you talking about? You two are the greatest friends I’ve ever had.” You cup one side of their cheeks with your palms. “The fact that you two stuck beside me and treated me equally despite not knowing a thing is one of the many reasons why I hold you two dearly in my heart. It never really crossed my mind before about family because I had only just recently found out about Leta.”

Your hands slowly drop from their cheeks to hold their hands. You take a deep breath before looking up at them. You suppose after all that they’ve gone through and the fact that they fully confided themselves in you, the least you could do is tell them the truth.

“What do you mean?” Sebastian rubs his thumb against your knuckles. They comfort you in small gestures. Ominis in interlocking his fingers with you and Sebastian with his concerned gaze. They listen but don’t pry. It makes tears well in your eyes with how understanding they are.

“Before the start of my first year as a 5th year, before I met Fig. I originally lived in an orphanage. In the care of a muggle. I lived most of my life there, not caring where I had come from or who I was. People there said and did bad things.” You bit your lip as you recall the memories. Living there had been so bad. No one cared about you or the other children. The adults there only did their job and never took care of you. “Leta had been trying to find me for years with the help of Theseus and Newt. Luckily enough, an Auror who had been stationed near the orphanage had seen traces of magic. When Leta found me, I had been close to becoming an obscurial.”

Ominis and Sebastian huddle closer to you as you look down to the floor. “They had immediately taught me how to hone and express my magic despite being a late bloomer. Then they contacted Hogwarts and with the guidance of Professor Fig, I was agreed to be accepted as a 5th year.”

You look up at them with teary eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted to start anew. I still had time processing everything and what happened during my 5th year didn’t really help either but I had you two.”

You hugged them tightly. “You two became a foundation that helped me become who I am today. So, I think that you two are the best people I could ever ask for.”

Sebastian laughs softly before hugging you back. Ominis leans his head towards yours before rubbing your back softly. “Thank you for trusting us enough to tell us this.”

You press a soft kiss to their cheeks as you pull back enough to look at them but still stay in their embrace. The two of you hug in comfortable silence before pulling back.

“Now that that’s out of the way. Why don’t we head to the Undercroft to hangout?” You smile mischievously. A bottle of fire whiskey appears on your hands. “I got this bad boy from Theseus.”

“I suppose having connections to the Head Auror has its perks huh?” Sebastian teases. Ominis shakes his head as he follows the two out of the room.

“Might as well go all out.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: I hadn’t posted in a while so forgive any mistakes. I had just started playing HL (pirated it ofc) and had rewatched Fantastic Beasts so why not mush them all together HAHAHA. lmk your thoughts!

#ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis #ominis gaunt #fantastic beasts #harry potter #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader

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alienoresimagines · 4 months ago

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Half Of Your Heart Beats In My Chest | Clegan Vampire AU | Part 1

Hiya! I'm really happy to share with you this first part of HCs for the vampire AU I have been brainstorming with @johnslittlespoon ❤️I have a one shot set in this universe almost ready to go so I wanted to give you some context in case you wanted to read it 🥰 I don't trust myself with a multi-chaptered fic but I will definitely write the important moments of these HCs and those of the following parts but if there are moments you'd like to see (or prompts, I'm always down for them) or have questions about this AU, my askbox is always open ❤️ There will be other parts of HCs because I do have to give the Buckies their eternity together and so Gale has to become a vampire at some point but it was getting too long 😅😂 I hope you'll enjoy and let me know your thoughts about this! ❤️ There are a few canon divergences; Gale and Marge do not exist in the 1940s and so Curt sort of takes Gale's place in Mota, except for the "Buck" thing, and doesn't die @amiserableseriesofevents I hope this take on vampires will be to your taste 💕 Part 2 here

Bucky hates being a vampire, he's been one since 1946 and the only reason he hasn't stepped in the sun the moment he could is because he doesn't want to leave Curt to face eternity alone

They both move to New York and help build a vampire community that assists in making them seem less scary and threatening to human

Overtime they build their own society underground, have their own nightclubs, bars, cafes, even sports leagues! At some point, John takes up a job as a sports journalist and focuses mainly on the baseball Vampires Yankees team

But just because he makes some friends and adapts to his new powers and immortality doesn't mean he likes being vampire

He spends most of his time reading all the books he can, trying to pick up new hobbies but growing bored of them quickly, and going to the Wild Cargo, a vampire (and human-friendly) club that Curt owns

John has a lot of one-night stands and lives vicariously through feeling how alive and warm different people's bodies are beneath him but never has any meaningful relationships in which he feels connected to the other

Vampires can have a mate, and they only have one for eternity but John has long since accepted he’d spent eternity alone, his self-loathing not allowing him to even try dating

In comes beautiful, shy, sweet, brilliantly alive Gale Cleven, and John’s entire world shifts

To limit vampires from feeding in crowds and spreading fear and insecurity but also to make sure they drink healthy blood (ie. not containing drugs or nutrients since their body will reject it) and overall make it safer for everyone, states and hospitals organize blood bag donations. It also helps since some of the vampires who despise that they need to feed from people and do not like hunting, like John. Feeding from someone will always feel better than sipping from a blood bag because there is an additional thrill and it’s almost instinct for them, but some are still more than reluctant to do it, clinging on to their humanity as much as they can

Gale and John meet for the first time when John goes to pick up his weekly blood bag at the hospital, and John is really starting to consider hurting himself to spend more time with the one he’s half convinced he’s an angel. Being a college student, Gale can’t be the one taking the blood samples just yet so he’s the one at the counter

Asks John his name to give him his command and is really confused because “I’m sorry, sir, there isn’t any reservation under ‘Bucky’”

John gives him his actual name with a grin but still insists on Gale calling him Bucky

Gives Gale the name ‘Buck’ before he can really think about it and he tries to weave a story around it but Gale doesn’t seem too convinced. Yet he lets him call him Buck and even stops rolling his eyes at the 8th occurrence

Bucky makes sure to go pick up his blood bag at the same time every week- a newborn vampire will have urges to feed pretty often but older can span their feeding by multiple weeks. John for example is perfectly fine with one blood bag every week and a half or so- and eventually chats up a friendship with Gale

He learns that Gale’s from Wyoming and moved to New York to study Medicine & Vampirism, a course his home university did not offer, and that Gale is genuine in his desire to learn and help people like Bucky, which Bucky finds really sweet and does not help stalling his crush on Gale

He gives Gale plenty of hands-on knowledge about vampires, stuff that Gale wouldn’t find in textbooks

They meet for the first time outside of the hospital when John offers Gale to help him with one of his essays on vampires since Gale is adamant he doesn’t want to go into clichés

He chooses a little café, run by vampires that make both vampire and human-friendly drinks, not wanting Gale to feel pressured or intimidated

Soon it becomes a bit of a tradition, a weekly meet-up outside of the hospital where Gale tells John all about what he’s learned about vampires, and John learns a bit more about his species, also giving Gale more human and individualistic takes on vampirism

They’re both incredibly smitten with the other, John’s flirty personality coming back in full force and utterly genuine

He feels so relieved that Gale knows he’s a vampire but isn’t disgusted or afraid of him, even if he keeps all the “ugly” part of him firmly under locks

He eventually learns and guesses that Gale’s father was an alcoholic who used to hit him until Gale fought back, and used to curse out vampires and queers. Little Gale spent a lot of time trying to unlearn all that hate but he managed and ended up embracing being queer (though he has never confronted his father about it, still afraid of the man). He doesn’t know if he should, but he relates to vampires being outcasted for something they can’t control so he’s determined to learn more about them. He’s always liked helping people, so he chose a medical degree. Upon learning all of that, John falls a bit more in love and is determined to treat Gale like he deserves

He courts Gale like he would a dame in the 40s because that’s how he was raised and he just wants to pamper Gale lmao

Meanwhile, Gale is having whiplash being quite literally swept off his feet when all the other men who ever were interested in him were because of looks and just wanted a quick tumble in bed

John offers to take him dancing, lends him books he thinks Gale’d like, and introduces him to some vampire friends he’s made

Curt takes one look at John and Knows something happened because in all the decades they’ve known each other, he’s never seen John so happy and alive. He still feels guilt over not being more stern in his refusal to turn John, and he is the captain of the Clegan ship, with Marge of course

Gale always goes to Marge when he needs advice and a little push in the right direction and this is definitely one of them. He and Marge had tried dating in high school but they didn’t feel it was right so they remained best friends and moved to study in New York together. Marge definitely gives John a shovel talk but she trusts he can take care of Gale

A LOT of pining between the Buckies, both of them going back and forth between “Is this a good idea? Does he feel the same way?” and “I’m so in love with him, I’m doing something about it tonight” then chickening out because they both have issues and fears, lots of which to do with John being a vampire

Gale doesn’t want to be just a one-time thing but what else could he be when John is immortal? Also if they start dating and something happens to him, what would happen to John, who’s already lost so many friends to mortality? Can he trust a supernatural being when he’s already been let down so many times?

John is terrified of losing control and hurting Gale. He’s absolutely repulsed by the idea of feeding from Gale when all he wants is to protect him. The only thought that causes him more pain is turning Gale into a vampire and cutting that brilliant life short. But if he doesn’t, Gale will eventually die, and the last piece of John too

Truth be told, one of them probably kisses the other during one of their little exchanging knowledge dates that have progressively moved to Bucky’s apartment (which has quickly become Gale’s study tbh) and after that, they both get overwhelmed with their respective issues

But in the end, they both agree that they love each other too much to give up on the other so they decide to try and figure it out as they go, both enjoying every moment with the other as though it’s their last

The balance of Gale trusting John after being mistreated and having trust issues, vs John feeling unworthy of being with someone like Gale

Part 2 will focus on them dating (and yes smut I promise) while Gale is still human, and all the softness and issues that comes from a human/vampire (who can fly and shapeshift as a dog muehehe) couple 🥰

My askbox is always open, and I'd love to chat a bit more about this AU with you ❤️

My Clegan Fics

#clegan #buck x bucky #buck squared #vampire au #mota #masters of the air #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #ali writes

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yesimwriting · 1 year ago

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Final Girl (Part 10)

Final Girl Masterlist (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

A/n i’m leaning towards starting to write shorter chapters in order to be able to update a little faster but idk

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of learning that a certain redheaded journalist is making you a focal point of her true crime novel.

----

In the least cynical way possible, sometimes I think a part of my mom craves conflict. Not in a narcissistic or violent way, just in a protective one.

She doesn’t pick fights for the sake of having them, she doesn’t tear into things for the rush of adrenaline or to feed some complex. My mom likes standing up for people in a way that would be annoyingly self righteous if it was any less genuine. Any incident that could be interpreted as blood in the water has her diving in head first, ready to ward off any potential sharks.

That’s why nothing about this rampage is surprising. She’s been pacing the length of the kitchen without giving the phone in her hand a break, typing out numbers at an unbelievable speed, only occasionally pausing to flip through the phone book on the counter.

“Well then put me through,” she stalls long enough to put a hand on her hip, “Not to an assistant, not to the station, or the publishing company. Get Gale Weathers on the phone. Now.”

This is the third time she’s pulled this stunt since I walked into the kitchen to grab a pity snack. The way she presses her lips together tells me that this time hasn’t been any more successful. “She’s too busy? Well, I hope she’s not too busy for a law su--” Something cuts her off. My mom blinks. “Hello?”

“I told you that threatening to sue people wouldn’t work over the phone.”

She pulls the phone away from her ear with a sigh. “It’s not a threat if I mean it.” The phone is placed on the counter as she turns her attention to the phone book. “That woman can’t do this. You, and your legal guardian, never consented to your likeness or story being used.”

Unfortunately, that’s not completely true. Or, at the very least, it’s not that concrete or straight forward. When something’s news, information becomes a lot less easy to claim as personal or yours. Especially if personal information is kept vague enough. The second I was attacked by Ghostface and the news reported it, a lot of me in that context became a lot less legally sound. I’d have to prove it defamed me or hurt my life, which can’t be done before the book comes out.

“We can’t prove that until the book is out.”

She sighs, “There has to be something.” My mom taps her manicured nails against the granite counter top.

My stomach twists with helplessness as the most urgent issue rushes to the front of my mind. It’s more than just someone taking advantage of my trauma or the fact that books are so much more permanent than any news headline ever could be. Books take time to come out, to circulate, which means that this tell all could reach its peak during my college app season. Princeton could see this. All colleges could see this.

“Mom...” I can feel the tremor in my voice, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.

In a way, isn’t this best case scenario? Compared to what could have happened? Isn’t this such a small thing compared to what happened to Casey? I know this, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel it fully. Not when it comes to something I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What if--what if this gets in the way of Princeton?”

She presses her lips together, watching me openly in a way that’s become familiar. “Oh, pumpkin,” she breathes, moving across the counter to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I squeeze her tightly. “And that I don’t know what to say or how to help.” She smooths my hair down gently. “But when it comes to school, all you can do is keep up your grades and when the time comes, write the best essay you can. And if they’re stupid enough to turn down your weirdly-good grades and insane resume, then screw Princeton.”

Despite myself, I smile. Those soft digs at my type-A-ness aren’t lost on me and the sense of familiarity I get from them instantly make it easier. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, and if you want, you could always write your own tell-all book that would outsell hers because yours is from the--”

“Excuse me?”

She lets go of me, taking a step back at my offense. “I’m not telling you to write it, I’m just saying a published book would look good on an Ivy-league application.”

Sometimes I’m so crazy about school that I forget my mom is also capable of insanity. “Mom!”

My mom lets out a sigh. “What? You’ve been obsessed with Princeton since your dad gave you his old college sweatshirt in the third grade, but now I’m crazy?”

She’s half joking and I know she’d never actually push me to write something like that, but my stomach still turns. Yes, I have made a ton of jokes about having no morals when it comes to college apps, but it’s different now. Anything that has to do with that Ghostface stuff feels tainted. I don’t want success from him. I don’t want anything good from Casey’s death.

I pick up the spoon that’s sunken into my partially melted bowl of ice cream. “I am not exploiting this.”

She holds her hands up in defense, “It’d ruin Gale’s book, jump start your career in journalism.” My mom extends an arm, asking for my spoon. I sigh before handing it to her. She eats a healthy spoonful of ice cream. “Two birds, one stone.”

I scoff, taking the spoon back and eating my own spoonful. "You’re sick.”

My mom steps back form the counter. “Just a suggestion.”

I’m about to assert my previous point when the doorbell rings. I raise an eyebrow at my mom, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone. I’m not so I just shrug, moving away from the counter and towards the door.

There’s a chance it could be Wells. He’s at work, but it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot his keys. I peak out the window and am instantly pleasantly surprised. I’m more excited than I can justify as I reach for the front door’s lock.

The door creaks open and I fight down a grin. I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had been planning on moping and rotting in bed until school.

“Hey,” I mumble, latching onto my surprise.

Stu flashes a warm smile in greeting, “Hey, sweetheart.”

I wrinkle my nose at the nickname despite its tameness. My mom’s way too close for that. I’m torn between making a joke about it and avoiding drawing attention to my concern and giving Stu a reason to push. I settle on looking over at Billy. He’s standing in a way that feels a little stiff.

There’s a chance they called first, since they usually do when they come over through the front door instead of just showing up at my window. “If you called, my mom’s sort of taken over our phone line.” They both already know about Gale’s book and the fact that she’s editing it to include me, since they were both there when I found out. That still doesn’t make it easy to talk about, “She’s hunting down Gale Weathers.”

"Then I’m scared for Gale Weathers.” Stu raises his eyebrows, exaggerating concern.

Billy nods once, “She deserves it.”

That’s true. I wasn’t exactly kind to her during our brief meeting, but she ambushed me at school after I was attacked. But that can’t be enough to justify what she’s doing now, especially without so much as a ‘heads up, you’re in my book’ phone call. If you’re going to potentially ruin someone’s future because they happened to have survived a serial killer, it wouldn’t kill you to call first.

“Anything...else up?” Stu’s question surprises me. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough or I still look as worried about all of this as I feel.

I don’t want to get into the details of my concern. I freaked out in front of them enough after I saw Gale’s announcement on TV, but there’s no way I can get away with acting like I’m perfectly okay with it all now. I guess I’ll go with deflecting, “Just my mom being a total college obsessed psycho.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth tilts upwards, almost a smile. “You had to get it from somewhere.”

I glare at him in a way that I really hope is cutting. “Shut up. I’m not psycho.”

“I’ve seen the Princeton poster in your roo--” I shake my head sharply, extending an arm to softly punch Stu’s arm.

He stops, more out of surprise than decency. I drop my voice to a low whisper in order to explain, “My mom’s not that distracted, and she doesn’t know you’ve ever been in my room.” Stu grins at my seriousness. “And she can never find out.”

This only makes him grin more openly, “Keeping secrets for me?”

“I’m not above kicking you guys out.”

Billy sighs, a defensive huff. “I didn’t do anything.”

A slightly too aggressive you brought him here almost slips out, but I manage to stop it. Maybe if I was in a more joking, lighthearted mood I’d let myself make that kind of aggressive joke, but I’m moody and there’s a good chance my irritation will slip into that. it’ll taint the comment and make it something a lot more serious than it’s supposed to be.

“Yet,” I settle on, trying to feel as easy as the comment.

He frowns, eyebrows pulling together like he just watched me kick a puppy. After a second, Billy parts his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything back.

“Who’s at the door?” My mom’s voice carries from the hall and to the entryway, a moment later she appears. I turn my head in time to see her polite smile, a little irate thanks to how the last day and a half have been. “Oh, hi, Billy, Stu.’’ Her greeting is flatter than usual as she barely takes a second to look up from the phone. “Come in, come in.”

I step back to create space for them to come in. Despite my mom’s instinctual fall back to politeness, she barely notices the difference as she hits redial before pressing the phone to her ear. “Do you guys want anything to drink or...are you hungry or...going...” She trails off, attention visibly shifting as she waves us off, “Hello, can I--look, that’s great, Jocelyn, but I need to get in touch with your supervisor?”

With one last force-of-habit smile, she turns away from the entryway and walks out. I walk towards the front door, instinctually shutting and locking it. “That’s basically my life now.”

“Poor thing,” Stu’s voice is thick with false sympathy, “Your mommy’s fixing everything for--”

“Shut up.” The reply comes out too quickly, too serious.

Stu blinks once, clearly not expecting the hint of actual tension and hostility that managed to press itself into the two words. “Someone’s moody.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a long second. “Sorry, I didn’t--” Sighing, I try to force the stiffness out of my body. “This book thing’s starting to get to me. I know that’s not an excuse, I just--” I don’t know how to explain the knot in my throat or the nerves in my stomach.

The thought of this one thing I was delusional enough to think that I might be able to one day put behind me being everywhere is starting to claw at my insides. That helplessness is being amplified by a strange form of guilt, because I’m the one that’s still alive, so why should I get to complain?

“Hey,” Stu interrupts my derailing train of thought. He places a hand on my shoulder, “No hard feelings, okay?”

I nod, irritated at myself for the tears I feel burning in my eyes. “Okay.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Billy’s question is so low I almost convince myself I made it up. But then he lets out a breath and tacts on something else, “...Or we could go upstairs or watch a movie or whatever?”

The offer is so gentle I nearly melt. “Did you guys want to do something?”

They did come here, probably for a reason. Not that they never come over just to hang out, but they usually have some kind of plan or suggestion, like going over to Stu’s or driving around or watching a specific movie.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Billy’s reply comes out slowly, his eyes not fully focused on me. “We called and you didn’t answer, and after the news thing...”

That’s fair. I did leave Stu’s house pretty fast after the Gale Weathers thing and haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house for over 24 hours. Usually people worrying about how I’m handling things makes me feel uncomfortably hollow, but this doesn’t make any of that come up. Maybe it’s because they’re not making it feel like pity.

“Uh...” There’s honestly not much that seems fun right now. A part of me still wants to crawl under my covers and pretend that nothing else exists, but they’ve pulled me out worse moods before. “I can show you guys that album I was talking about?” The offer feels weak, a little hollow. Stu squeezes my shoulder before relaxing his arm. “The CD’s in my room.” I shrug, looking between the two of them, “Or we could do whatever.”

“You’ve been talking about that CD for a long time for someone who always forgets to bring it.” Stu’s not even trying to hide his accusation as he starts walking down the hallway.

I cross my arms, giving Billy a look that asks if he can believe all I have to deal with. “Yeah, I’m just worried your top 20 pallet is too complex for our tastes to ever overlap.”

Stu scoffs, “Yeah, I’m the one that’s into top 20.”

“Out of the three of us?” Billy’s question rivals Stu’s blatant sarcasm.

I fight down a smile as Stu turns his head enough to glare. The display of irritation is short lived, because Stu has to turn back around to avoid tripping on the first stair step. He nearly misses, but recovers so quickly I wouldn’t have noticed the misstep if I hadn’t been looking at him. Sometimes his stability surprises me, because Stu’s energetic and lanky enough to warrant being a little clumsy, but he’s a lot better at not tripping than me.

We walk up the stairs, the only sound filling the space is my mom’s voice, too far for any specifics to be made out.

“I think I miss your mom not trusting us.” Stu lets out a wistful sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to my room. “Don’t worry, she’s just distracted.”

Even though my mom’s phone tirade is definitely helping her be so easy, I know what he’s talking about. When Billy and Stu first started hanging around, my mom felt the need to hover a lot more. She’d check up on us a lot more than she would when I was alone with Sidney or Tatum. My mom would also make a lot of jokes and comments in order to pry as (not so) subtly as possible. Slowly, she became more accustomed (or maybe desensitized), to them and now my mom acts a lot more normal in front of them. When they leave, she normally still pushes a little, usually through humor, but it’s a lot more tolerable now.

Stu walks into my room before I can, walking towards my bed. “We’re growing on her.”

I sit down next to him. “Or she finally gets that you two barely register as guys to me.”

Stu moves, intentionally bumping his knee into mine, hard enough to make my knee move. Once he has my attention, he flexes an arm. “I’m all man, angel.”

There’s an exaggerated quality to his reaction that I can’t tell if I’m meant to take seriously or not. It’s the uncertainty that makes me let out a slight laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He turns his head, leaning back slightly as he presses his palms into my comforter. “Then how’d you mean it?”

My face feels a little warmer than before and I can’t figure out what that’s about. I’m used to Stu pressing after comments like this. Sometimes his humor focuses on making someone feel uncomfortable. Retreating or acting awkward gives him a reason to keep pushing. But I have no good way to answer.

I wipe my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Don’t start.”

“Maybe I don’t get it.”

I stand, throwing him a dirty look as I move towards my CD player. “Maybe you’re full of shit.”

He huffs, “Mean.”

My fingers skim the row of CDs on my desk before finding the one I’m looking for. I use my nail to pop open the case. “Yeah, I’m a real bully.” Billy, who’s been lingering near my desk, opens my CD player before I can. I set the disk in place. “Can you believe him?”

Billy shakes his head once, a few strands of hair falling out of place with the motion. He picks up the CD case and starts studying the back of it. “I can’t believe you can’t.”

Stu lets out a distracted sound of protest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him fidgeting with something. My room’s not a total disaster, but I’ve been too busy moping to fully clean it, so there are a lot of contenders for things Stu could be messing with. I can’t think of anything that’s within his reach that’s embarrassing or important, so I let it go. Billy seems a little tense and considering the headspace he was in the last time I saw him, figuring that out is important.

“Fair,” I hum, shutting the CD player, “You uh--” His eyes flit upwards, away from the CD case. The look is kind of stiff, but not annoyed or wary. It makes me realize that I don’t really have a good way to finish my sentence. Asking if someone’s okay never feels natural. Especially when he’s only been here for a few. “You okay?” I force myself to focus on the CD player, messing with the volume instead fo just hitting play. “You seem a little tense.”

He sets the plastic case down. “I’m okay.” Billy straightens, shifting his weight off of my desk. The movement is small, he hasn’t even taken a full step, but the change makes him feel a lot closer. “Just can’t believe she can do that.” His tone takes on such a hard edge it takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about. Is the book thing really bothering him that much? “To you, to--does she think she’s untouchable? That guy’s still out there, what makes her think he won’t find her and rip that bitch’s--”

Billy cuts himself off with no warning, eyes focusing on me. I blink. Billy might come off as intense and reserved before you know him, but he’s never seemed explosive or prone to emotional impulsivity like that. Even when I briefly thought he could have been the killer, he never came off as aggressive. He never even held the fact that I put his life in danger and accused him of being a serial killer against me.

This tension is new and it came from feeling defensive over me. The realization that it has something to do over me makes me more antsy than Billy’s actual words.

“Woah,” Stu says through a dry laugh. “Relax, dude, there’s no need to write the next news story for her.” Stu swings an arm over my shoulder. I’m still stuck on what just happened, so it takes me a millisecond too long to weakly attempt to get Stu off of me. He pinches my shoulder, the nail of his thumb digging into my skin just enough for it to register as stinging. “You’re in poor Billy’s head.” I can’t tell if Stu’s teasing is meant to be sympathetic towards Billy or accusatory towards me. “Give the boy a break.”

My chin briefly tilts downwards, a compulsory movement that seems to genuinely want to listen to what’s clearly a joking command. “I’ll try.”

Stu relaxes his hold on me, dragging his thumb up and down the exposed skin of my shoulder, soothing the skin he accidentally irritated. I extend my arm, turning on the music absentmindedly. The room doesn’t exactly feel tense, but I feel a lot smaller than I did a few seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s because of the dip into a gory, too real topic or Stu’s comment or if I’m still just irritable.

“Guess it’s not your fault,” Stu hums, squeezing my shoulder once, “You can’t help being lovable.”

I try to keep myself focused as I adjust the volume of the first song. “That’s true.” He lets go of me and I stand a little straighter. “We all have our faults.”

Billy lets out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah, your only flaw’s that you’re too perfect.”

“You were the one ready to support a murder for her,” Stu defends bluntly, “Not saying that Gale Weathers doesn’t deserve what she gets.”

In all honesty, I had been so distracted by the way the book would affect me and my chances to get past the Ghostface thing that I didn’t even think about the actual killer. This could get him to hurt someone else. Gale Weathers could be making herself a target, but I find the thought unlikely. The more I reflect on why he left me alive the more I think that it might have been because there’s more of a story when there’s a survivor. He joked with me about the final girl thing. He also called me once without attacking anyone. The asshole probably gets off on attention.

Gale Weathers is probably the safest person in this town. The more she talks, the more attention he gets. It probably also helps his ego because he knows everyone’s after him and he hasn’t been caught. It’ll probably get him to hurt someone...just not her. Not that I hope Gale gets stabbed, it just makes her choices that much more selfish.

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at my open palm. The tiny white line, the scar carved into the skin of my hand seems bigger right now. “I don’t--it’s not like I want Gale to get hurt.”

“No one’s saying you do,” Billy says, voice patient.

I sigh, a part of me wishing this hadn’t come up. This was the last thing I wanted to think about, that’s why I’ve been ignoring calls and just focusing on homework. I walk away from my desk and sit down on my bed before slumping back semi-dramatically. If this is how Billy and Stu are acting, everyone at school is definitely going to start treating me weirdly again. Maybe Gale will be there, trying to chase me down for a quote.

Ugh...maybe I can get my mom to bully the principle into letting me homeschool for a few days. A week maximum. Or maybe she’ll let me pretend to have mono or something. I have most of my textbooks here and I could get assignments from--

My bed dips, cutting off my train of thought. I turn my head enough to see Billy. “I--” His voice comes out so low I’m surprised I even heard him over the music. “I didn’t want to bring all of that up for you.”

There’s a softness there that makes it easier to genuinely shake my head dismissively. “It’s okay.”

His eyes briefly meet mine. “I also didn’t uh--didn’t want to freak you out or--”

“You didn’t.” That’s true, at least in the way he meant it. That level of anger over something that only really affects me did surprise me, but it’s not like he scared me. He hesitantly focuses his attention on me. I prop my head up on one elbow, watching him carefully. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.”

Billy tilts his head, his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “Oh, yeah?”

He’s probing, likely trying to trick me into a compliment. “You’re losing your edge.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible as I drop my elbow and lay down again. “I think it’s all the time around me.”

His eyebrows draw together like he’s seriously considering my hypothesis. “Valid theory.” The bed moves with no warning, the space to my left indenting. Billy lays down next to me without moving to make sure there’s enough space between me and the headboard. His arm presses into mine. “All the time in here can’t be helping either.”

Billy does come over to my room a lot, usually crashing here when he needs to avoid his dad and doesn’t want to talk about it. Recently, though, he hasn’t been around as much. I didn’t think too much of it until I went over to Stu’s and saw that Billy wasn’t up for much of anything. “It’s the exposure to all the fluffy pillows.”

“Probably.” Something warm brushes against the back of my wrist. Billy carefully traces an invisible line up my forearm. “This song’s nice.”

The warmth of validation tugs at my chest. “It’s my favorite one on here.” He follows the same trail back down the inside of my forearm. “I think you’ll like the uh--” There had been a specific one on the track list that reminded me of a few songs he had shown me before. I list the titles in my head until I remember the right one, “Fourth track.”

“Hm,” he hums in a way that doesn’t feel dismissive, just relaxed.

The bed shifts again. I crane my neck back, eyes straining to see behind me. After a second, I make out Stu circling my nightstand. “This is new.” He’s picking something up. Stu sits back down, making it easier to see what’s caught his attention.

Oh. Not new, but I don’t blame him for not having my bookshelf memorized. “Not new.” He turns the book onto its side, studying the worn spine as if to confirm what I’m saying. “Just haven’t read it in a minute, thought it might cheer up.”

There have been few problems that American Psycho and Patrick Bateman haven’t been able to at least help. It didn’t make me feel a lot better, but it was nice to distract myself from a real life murderer with the fictitious kind.

Stu pauses, skimming the back of the book. “A little dark for a pick me up.”

“It’s well written.”

That’s true, and its commentary on social values and the rise of well off, stockbroker success and the culture that’s developed because of it is interesting and a creative analysis of society’s values. It also helps that despite being written with only a few redeeming qualities and being the literal villain (and weirdly misogynistic), I might have the smallest bit of a thing for Patrick Bateman. Not that I’d ever go for anyone like that in real life, but my fascination with his character is definitely a guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure they really don’t need to know about.

He thumbs through the pages, attention focused like he’s actually reading it all that fast. Stu nods once, setting the book down at the edge of my bed before picking up a sweatshirt I almost forgot was still on my bed. He takes a second to feel the fabric of the sleeve before loosely folding it. Stu leaves it next to my book before laying down.

We’re all lying horizontally now, but Stu’s backwards, his head closer to my torso and legs than anything else. The position makes it easy for me to secretly move my hand and softly flick his shoulder. Stu snaps his head in my direction, expression so shocked and slightly horrified I might as well have slapped him.

It’d probably be smart to backtrack, but I’m clearly in no mood to make intelligent decisions, so I let myself laugh. The sound is a quick, too-smug giggle. Stu’s eyebrows pull together at the sound, the look concerning in its seriousness. I move to pull my hand back, but my reaction is too late. Stu throws his hand forward, grasping onto my wrist. I yank back once, had enough to be considered serious. Stu squeezes tighter, pulling my arm forward with an ease that embarrasses me.

“Stu!” A partial squeak, a partial laugh.

He squeezes my arm to his chest, forcing my body to lean forward. I squirm, attempting to slip out of his grasp. I come close to escaping when I twist my arm back and turn my wrist without warning him, but Stu recovers. Growing desperate, I use my free hand to shove his shoulder. That backfires, too, encouraging him to use his other hand to keep me trapped.

The play fight escalates, both of us trying to win without getting up or seeming too invested. My wrist makes a cracking sound as I finally slip out of his hold. He’s quick to throw his arm forward and grab me again. Before I can even think to react, Stu tugs my hand upwards and briefly nips the side of my hand.

I gasp so dramatically one might think he tried to gnaw off my entire hand. “Did you just bite me?” Stu laughs, finally letting me take my arm back. I take a second to examine my hand, even though his teeth barely touched me. After deciding that my unmarked skin will one day recover, I prop myself up on my forearm and look over at Billy. “He fucking bit me.”

Billy turns his head, unbothered by our conflict. “You started it.” There’s an underlying smugness that makes me want to shove him. I frown openly, not caring if I get accused of pouting. He sighs, holding up a hand. “Fine. Let’s see the damage.”

“I didn’t even touch her.”

I roll my eyes at Stu’s defense. Did it hurt? No, but it was deeply offensive. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.”

Stu lets out a breath, “Sweetheart, you can bi--”

“Do not.” I keep my voice stern as I look at Billy’s waiting hand. He asked to see the damage, but there really isn’t any. The skin beneath my thumb wasn’t even grossly damp. It was more about my shock. But I still listen, setting my hand on his.

Billy pulls on my hand gently, studying my skin intently. He even takes a second to bend my fingers and stretch them back out. “Think you’ll live.”

I nod, letting Billy take his time still examining my hand. “Optimistic prognosis.”

He shrugs slightly, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Only if you’ve had all your shots.”

Stu’s scoff and offended, “Fuck off,” are nearly drowned out by my laughter. Billy sets my hand down between us carefully. My giggling fit is drawn out by the rush of fondness in my chest. These two really are so much weirder than people realize and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Wow. They really are my best friends, and maybe arguably the most important people in my life.

Feeling this close to anyone usually makes me want to be flighty. I’m not used to it when it comes to people I haven’t known my entire life, and there’s an inherent nervousness when it comes to growing attached to people you don’t completely know. It is kind of weird to feel this close to them and I haven’t even seen Billy’s room yet, so it makes sense that sometimes it feels different than what I’m used to.

“What are you thinking about?” The question takes me by surprise, breaking the easy silence that’s been carried by the soft music.

I blink at Billy’s words, a small part of me reacting like I’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. “Uh...nothing.” Fairly true. It’s not like my train of thought was focused or made much sense. Still, though, I should probably give him something more so he doesn’t assume that I’m trying to hide a mental break down. “...That you’re one of my best friends and I’ve never been to your house before.”

Stu lightly squeezes my forearm. “You’re not missing much.”

“You bit me,” I mumble, “What do you know?”

He relaxes his hold on me in order to run his knuckles up and down my arm. “It was a love bite.”

“Like a feral cat.”

Stu scoffs. “This is why Billy doesn’t want you at his place.”

Wow. Rude. I part my lips, ready to insult him. “Okay,” Billy interjects, “Don’t start again.” A part of me’s offended by the defense. I should be able to fight Stu over this. “You guys are kids.”

I glare, “Rude.”

“Fine, let him bite you again.” My nose wrinkles, but before I can say anything, Billy continues, “And he’s not wrong, you’re not missing much.”

He’s probably right, I’ve just been thinking about it a little more than usual. “Until I see it, I’m going to think that your bedsheets are bright pink.”

“Actually, they’re bright purple.”

The sarcasm comes out so quickly, so casually, I almost think he means it. “Nice try, but I’m still assuming neon pink.”

He sighs, “It’s neon now?” The question’s mumbled, and before I can say anything back, Billy sits up.

Stu turns onto his side, eyebrows drawn together in order to silently ask what’s up with Billy. “What are you doing?”

“If she’s going to make up things about my room until she sees it...” He walks away from my bed, stopping close to my door. “We should get it over with.”

Oh my god?? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I also wasn’t prepared for the wave of excitement buzzing in my chest. I sit up too quickly, too telling. “Really?”

It’s a casual thing that I really don’t want to make weird, but I wasn’t angling to get him to take us over there. And the thought is nice, they’re my best friends and a bedroom gives insight into a person. It’s also the perfect distraction after everything that’s happened today.

“Yeah? Really?”

Billy shrugs, already reaching my door. “It’ll be better than whatever she makes up about it.”

A good point, because I was already thinking about ways to work in an assumption about him having zebra print lampshades and posters pulled from pre-teen magazines. “Am I getting that predictable?”

He raises his eyebrows and Stu tries to conceal a laugh. I roll my eyes as Billy returns the question, “Getting?”

“Haha.” Why do I hang out with them? I take back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts about them.

I push myself to my feet, looking for my shoes. Stu sits up, waiting for me to find my sneakers. Because I was planning on hiding in my room until school, I almost didn’t change out of pajamas and now I’m glad I changed into some leggings and a comfortable shirt this morning.

My shoes were hiding underneath a pillow. I free them and sit on the edge of my bed to pull them on. Stu taps my knee, getting me to turn. “What?”

He pats his lap once, implying something I don’t get. When I don’t react quickly enough, Stu sighs and bends forward. He pulls on my laces. “I can--” It’s too late, he’s already looped them once and is working on doing it again. “Double knotted?”

Stu squeezes my ankle after tying my last shoe. “You trip too much for me not to.”

I scoff, “You were almost nice.”

“I’m always nice to you, angel.”

rolling my eyes, I move to stand after Stu straightens.

“Grab a jacket,” Billy mumbles, “It’s cold.”

If my mom could see this, she’d never make another joke about him again. Actually, she’d probably say he’s one of my only friends with good sense. “Nerd.”

He gives me a more-than-slightly-annoyed look as I reach for the jacket hanging on my desk chair. I make a point of holding up the jacket before folding the fabric over my arm.

----

It’s a lot harder to not look like a little kid on a field trip than one would think. Maybe it’s the jacket that’s gone from neatly folded over my arm to a wadded up lump pressed snugly into my chest, held in place by my crossed together arm. The spring in my step could be part of the problem, a slight bounce that has to be a result of the touch of fall chilliness in the air and has absolutely nothing to do with internal excitement. That’d be way too dramatic.

Billy unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stu walks in first, I follow. We walk down a short entryway that leads to a main living area. The living area is put together, radiating a neatness that almost feels clinical. Maybe that’s an exaggerated way of taking in the precisely angled arm chairs and the glass figurine that’s sitting on the coffee table, but I can’t help the thought. It has to be a byproduct of the ‘organized chaos’ my mom raised me on, a stack of magazines in the living room that never seem to fully straighten and unmatched pillows that get paired together to tell a story.

The space is nice, though, some underlying factor I can’t pinpoint making it still feel a little homey. It’s almost like the room’s covered by an invisible cloak that makes it clear that people live here, that this isn’t some open house. I take my time looking around the room, trying to find a source for this feeling.

There are a few framed photos, but none of them revolving around family enough to offer a homey feel, just pictures of a little boy growing up. The fuzzy one of the boy at maybe the age of six stands out on the coffee table, his smile reveals a missing tooth in a way that makes it a personal favorite. For a second, I think the subtle lived in atmosphere could be coming from the few knick knacks on the coffee table and book shelf, but quickly rule that out. Sure, they’re objectively nice decorations but they don’t fit together in that way. There’s no way a dad didn’t pick them out.

I guess the feeling comes from the details. The most comfortable looking arm chair is the one closest to the bookshelf even though that corner of the room is almost a little too cramped for the two to sit next to each other. The rug matches the walls and the couch in a way that makes the cream colored pillows seem sad and out of place.

“Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

Stu’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. I nod once, stepping towards the coffee table. My hand reaches forward, picking up the picture of the kid with the missing tooth. “Oh, most definitely.”

Billy sighs at the same time Stu lets out a quick, easy laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“Put it down,” Billy mumbles halfheartedly, but it’s too late. Stu’s at my side, taking the smooth frame. He holds it up and then down, squinting like he’s studying a complex work of art. “This was a mistake.”

I grin, “Once again, most definitely.”

“You used to be a real softie.” Stu delivers the comment in a way that feels almost factual. I bite down a joke about how used to feels like an exaggeration as Stu sets down the frame.

Billy frowns a little too pointedly. “Yeah, I was the one that was sensitive.”

I turn my head towards Stu, who’s stiffer than he was too seconds ago. There’s definitely a story there. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Stu pouts, lazily extending an arm in my direction. “He’s always been jealous of me.”

Mhm. I roll my eyes, sighing as I reluctantly step forward and meet him halfway. Stu squeezes my shoulder. The gesture is gentle enough, but I still halfheartedly try to push him off. “Yeah, jealous sounds like the right word.”

He huffs. “Don’t be mean.”

I force my thumb downwards. My nail pinches at my skin a little but it works, I get in between the fabric of my shirt and Stu’s palm. He curves his hand to give me the space I need. “I’m never mean.” He tries to squeeze my thumb down flat. “Seriously, though,” I turn my head enough to look at Billy, “Story?”

Billy tilts his head just enough for me to notice and his eyebrows pull together. The feeling that he’s silently trying to tell me something I can’t interpret tugs at me briefly. He straightens his stance before I can read too much into the look. “Imagine that with the impulse control of a seven-year-old, that’s the story.”

Stu being a former terror is a topic that’s been touched on before. Usually, the issue with befriending people that have known each other their entire lives is that you’ll never have the childhood experiences together. You’ll never know whose parents hosted the sleepovers or who had constantly scraped knees or who went through an embarrassing obsession with some child targeted franchise.

It’s a fair thing thing to be intimidated by. And normally, it’d sting from time to time, but with them it rarely does. I like hearing the stories, like the details that come up.

Stu scoffs in complaint, fighting back with renewed interest as I come close to freeing my shoulder.

“He used to have a thing for bugs,” Billy offers after a second, “Didn’t like when people would mess with hives and-and food routes or whatever.”

The hand on my shoulder nearly goes slack. I blink, twisting my neck to look at Stu, whose staring straight ahead. “Shut up.” The words come out uncharacteristically passive, and maybe even a little flat.

Picturing Stu as one of those insect fact kids wouldn’t come to me naturally, but it does kind of fit. Not the defending them, but the interest in something that gets people to react.

“Really?”

Stu sighs, “Not really.” Again, a surprisingly flat defense. “I didn’t have a thing...just thought they were...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “Cool.”

“So cool you had to put a beetle in Valerie Thompson’s cubbie.”

...And there it is. I laugh despite myself, imagining a second-grade Stu and some poor girl getting into some kind of argument and then later finding something crawling between her crayons and coloring sheets. Maybe it’s a good thing we met when we did. Little me could be a monster in her own way, a way that wouldn’t have fit theres. “That poor girl.”

“Valerie Thompson had it coming,” Stu says, “Y’know what she was like.”

I don’t know if it’s weird that I assumed that Stu was talking to me or both of us instead of just talking to Billy. The comment was small, offhanded and focused on a topic only they know about. It’s fair for him to not be talking to me. Rationally, I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it, though.

I’ve seen them interact in ways that make it feel like everyone else is invisible. They get each other like that. Anyone that’s around them long enough to see them relax has to get it. It’s the kind of understanding that makes people insecure about their own best-friendship. Not that it makes me feel like that. Most of the time.

Something about it right now burns more than usual. My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m not upset because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m not comfortable and breezy either. That just makes it worse, why does it feel different now?

Maybe my irritability is a result of multiple things. All I’ve had to today is a few spoonfuls of the ice cream that I mainly picked at so that my mom wouldn’t worry and I’ve had no water. The whole book thing has been stressful, too, and the pulsing ache of a migraine is starting to settle behind my right eye.

It was nice of Billy to invite me over because I asked, but maybe it’s too early for me to be out again. Maybe what I need is the safe enclosure of my bedroom, dim lighting, and a nap.

I try to shake off my discomfort by acting on instinct. The instinct of a feral toddler that isn’t getting enough attention. I twist my thumb, poking his hand with my nail. I’m not being mean about it, but I could have been gentler. Stu doesn’t react, which only adds to my annoyance.

My knuckles bend, giving me the space I need to get enough leverage to separate Stu’s hand from my arm. He lets me.

“Guess he hasn’t changed that much since he bit you today.”

The direct comment has me easing slightly. I get myself to smile. “Clearly.”

Billy takes a partial step forward, “You good?”

I scratch the back of my arm, trying to ground myself in the present. Be normal. “Yeah...just tired.” Which is true enough. I wipe at my face, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control the dull pain. “And I feel like I’m getting a headache.”

He nods, expression cloudy. “You want tylenol or water or...something.”

Pull it together. I force my hands to my side as I shake my head once. “I’m okay, just spaced out for a second.”

“You need to lay down?” Stu tilts his head, watching me like a part of him thinks I could faint.

My fingertips press into my side. “I’m good, it’s just a migraine.” This is what happens when someone decides to write a book about the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. “Probably just stress.” They’re staring attentively. I can’t blame them for their concern. If I freaked out right now, this wouldn’t be my first meltdown. The fact that it’s warranted makes everything feel like too much. “Can we get back to analyzing Billy’s baby pictures? I think I saw one with a pool floaty on the bookshelf.”

“Baby pictures are low tier.” Stu briefly lifts a hand before dropping it dismissively, swiping at the air. “The real making fun of Billy’s in his room.”

“Really?”

"Yep. All the angst.”

Intriguing. “All the angst and pink sheets, right?”

“Neon.”

Billy sighs once, reluctantly stepping forward. This is all out of his control now. “You two don’t need to be around each other.”

He walks past the couch, approaching a hall that leads away from the living room. Stu turns his head the second Billy’s back is to us. “So jealous of us.”

Despite myself, I smile, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “So.”

We walk down the hall together. Billy’s fully ditched us, but Stu knows where we’re going. The hall is short, we pass one door before Stu stops us in front of one that’s partially open. He opens it fully with a gentle push and walks in without a second thought.

I’m still stepping into the room when the bed creaks loudly thanks to the sudden addition of Stu’s weight. He’s making himself just as at home as he does in my room, rolling onto his stomach to reach for a pillow to tuck beneath him.

Billy sighs from his desk chair, moving his legs off the foot of the bed. “What did we say you were? Seven?”

Stu cranes his neck, glaring at Billy before relaxing again. “And a half.”

“Feels generous.” The joke comes out instinctually, but my attention’s already divided.

Billy’s room is made up of deep blue-grey walls, not quite dark but nowhere close to light either. All the furniture is made of dark wood that matches the hardwood of the floor. The room is decorated a little neater than one would expect for a teenage boy, a few posters that are sized too well to not have been picked out carefully. They’re movie themed, though nowhere near as openly gory or sexualized as the one’s in Stu’s.

Everything’s also nicely organized. Like, even more organized than my room. No clothes on the floor or laundry sitting in a basket or on a chair in a pile that’s left to grow until it eventually topples over. What I can see of his desk is also put together, no assignments or unfinished books or projects cluttering the surface.

I walk towards the bed, siting down on the edge. The comforter is navy blue and a lot softer than I thought it’d be. His sheets are dark colored, neutral plaid. Not hot pink or an obnoxious shade of purple, unfortunately. I can’t bring myself to mind being wrong. The space is really Billy in a reserved sort of way. It fits him.

“No pink sheets.” Billy’s voice snaps me out of my analysis. It’s a good thing, too, because I was probably seconds away from touching things on his bookshelf and messing with the lamp and being nosey about knick knacks. I’d feel worse about the desire to pry and investigate for entertainment’s sake if both of them weren’t constantly looking through my things.

My hand brushes the edge of the sheet that’s folded over. “Disappointing.” I twist awkwardly to better look at him. Billy’s bouncing his leg, not looking at anything in particular. “But besides that, it’s nice and not as embarrassing as Stu said it’d be.”

Billy’s eyebrows draw together, “As?”

Stu props his head up on one elbow despite the fact that most of his arm sinks into a pillow. “Look through his underwear draw and then we’ll talk.”

I laugh, surprising myself with how loud and genuine it is. The suddenness aggravates the background soreness of a headache. I ignore it. “You’ve looked through his underwear drawer?”

“It--” Stu cuts himself off with a sigh that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Our laughing fit ends as Billy stands up. “Where are you going?”

He walks around the bed, barely glancing over at me to answer, “Give me a second.” ...Okay? “Don’t look through my underwear drawer.”

“No promises,” Stu calls after him.

Billy doesn’t react, extending an arm and instinctually half-shutting the door. Stu adjusts, forcing himself to sit up. He’s farther back on the bed than me, but his legs are so long his knees are nearly level with mine. “We’re not really gonna do that are we?”

Stu half laughs-half scoffs, wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyes together in pretend disgust. “I’m good.” I smile. “We can tell him we did, though.”

“We should also tell him we found something really embarrassing.” Stu raises his eyebrows and I immediately regret it. I scoff, reaching back to smack his arm. “Not like that, I meant like a stuffed animal or something.”

“Don’t you have stuffed animals?”

My posture stiffens, a tiny part of me offended that he’s implying that my children are something I should be embarrassed about. “That’s different.” I frown, thinking of the one stuffed animal that lives on my bed and the few that live around my room. “And you said you liked them.”

Stu never said that, but he has implied it. Nothing crazy, just a few debates between a duck my mom had given me as a child and a bear from my grandparents. He even asked about their names.

He shrugs, turning towards me. His knee taps against mine. “I’m not complaining.” I narrow my eyes, skeptical if this is leading into some kind of joke. “As long as Daisy leaves Blueberry alone.”

I fight down a laugh, because laughing would undo all of the work I’ve put in to convincing him that making up lore about my stuffed animals is something he should stop. “You made that up.”

He tilts his head, “That’s what Daisy wants you to think.”

“I don’t even think you actually remember which one’s Daisy and which one’s Blueberry.”

Stu gasps like I’ve slapped him. “Daisy’s obviously the duck with the--the sweater--blue sweater with daisies--and Blueberry’s the bear in overalls.”

This time, the giggle slips out. I’m still not convinced he’s not making fun of me in some way or setting up for some kind of joke, but the way he grins might make it worth it. “Too easy. Which one’s Jellybean?”

He presses his lips together to demonstrate serious thought. “The...bookshelf one. The bunny with the--the ears.” Stu lifts a hand, using his fingers to try to draw something long and floppy in the air. “The grey one.” I grin. “And the last one’s French Fry, the dog on your desk for good luck.”

“Okay,” I manage reluctantly, a confession pulled out like a tooth, “You did a good job.”

Stu’s smile impossibly widens, reaching forward to wrap an arm around me. “I know my girl.”

I sigh, mumbling a quick, “Not your girl.” Stu ignores me, squeezing me to him a little more confidently. “And you know I don’t actually think French Fry’s lucky anymore, he just lives there.”

He scoffs, “Don’t talk about French Fry like that, babe, all he does is guard your homework.”

I frown, craning my neck to look at him, “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” he breathes the word out in a way that makes it feel like the opposite of what it means.

Some joke about how French Fry’s going to have to start guarding me from him is almost out of my mouth when something creeks. Billy’s opening the door, a glass in his hand. He extends the glass towards me. I take it instinctually, even though I have no idea what the water’s about.

“Drink,” Billy says, already moving to the other side of the bed, “For your head.”

Ah. Not the first time Billy’s blamed an issue on me not drinking enough water. Even though I didn’t ask for anything, the gesture makes my chest feel warm. I take a few long sips. “Thanks.”

Billy nods once, sitting at the edge of the bed. Stu twists himself to make it easier to look at Billy. “You know she just said French Fry’s not lucky.”

“Wow,” Billy shrugs, a distinctly sarcastic lilt to his shock, “That’s blasphemous.”

I roll my eyes before drinking some more water. “I just meant that I’m not like five and that I don’t actually think he can bark away the bad grades.” A barely covered laugh overlaps with the last of my words. I snap my head towards Billy. “What?”

“Bark away the bad grades?” Okay, it sounds dumb now, but when I was younger the thought of doing my homework in the presence of French Fry was comforting. A school counselor recommended him to keep me calm during tests and now he’s just a good omen. “You just--you don’t seem like you were that weird a kid and then you say--”

“I was not weird!” A little defensive for someone that was in the fourth grade with a stress plushy. “I was--I was like one of those kids that was basically an extra excited old person.”

Stu’s arm slips off me as he adjusts the way he’s sitting. “Yeah, that sounds normal.”

Really? After what’s been established about him? “Okay, bug boy.”

He glares, openly offended. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Billy’s interjection tells me that he’s hitting his petty fight limit earlier today than usual. He only tries to preemptively intervene when he’s hitting a specific wall that Stu and I make people realize they have. “Before you guys start fighting like little kids, have you had lunch yet?”

Unless you count a bowl of ice cream that ended up abandoned in my kitchen...

Stu sits up a little more, “Nope.” He turns his head enough to look at me, “What about you, angel?”

I tap my nails against my knee. “Not yet.”

“Wanna go to that pizza place?” Stu offers, already moving towards the edge of the bed to stand.

The thought of food isn’t particularly appealing, but I’ve moved past the stage of panic that made the thought of eating nauseating. What is nauseating is what could happen if I go out in public. Gale Weathers has been nonstop promoting her book. What if someone recognizes me? It was bad enough when the attack first happened and my school was buzzing with journalists...Now things are confirmed and Gale Weathers can’t keep my name out of her mouth.

My grip on the glass of water tightens, “Sure.”

“We can do something else if you want?”

Ugh...a selfish part of me wishes I had it in me to pretend not to hear the hint of uneasiness in Stu’s voice. I could shake my head and say that pizza’s good, blame my hesitance on the beginnings of a migraine and sleep depravation.

“It’s not...” Both of my hands grasp the glass. I press my thumb against the rim with enough tension to leave a red line indented into my skin. “She’s still talking about it and--and I saw some other show doing a segment on it and my name came up like three times in the five minutes that I watched.”

It’s going to take over my life. Slowly but surely, it’ll take more and more. The buzz will die down and the side stares and not-so-mumbled comments will stop, because they did before. But then the book will come out and it will start again, and by the time it stops being super relevant it’ll be linked to my identity. Colleges will see it, any job that requires a background check will find it in seconds, and all it takes is for one person to find out and then it’s everywhere.

What if I get into a great school and start making friends and then one person realizes they’ve seen my name before or looks into Gale’s career for whatever reason and then suddenly it’s everywhere? It’ll cling to me like a shadow, the label of victim the kind one and the conspiracy theorists...

“You don’t have to put up with it.” Billy’s voice is low, almost unfeeling. I don’t get what he’s saying. Billy understands my question before I can ask. “The Gale thing--if she wants to use your name every two seconds to promote her book, you should let her know you’re not okay with it. Don’t make it easy for her, you’re not helpless.”

The sharpness in his tone doesn’t feel aggressive, it’s urging. Honest. “Sorry, that was--”

“Don’t be sorry.” I mean it. The directness and the lack of coddling forced me out of my the-world-is-ending spiral. My mom’s trying to track Gale Weathers down logically, but with someone that doesn’t mind playing underhanded to get what she wants, you have to work the same way. She ambushes people all the time. “I think I needed to hear it.”

Gale’s office is probably in a public directory, and if it’s not, she’ll probably try to find me at school. There’ll be a chance to tell her off, a chance to stop her. Or at least, to get her to stop mentioning me like I’m a tagline.

“We’ll take her down,” Stu encourages, gently bumping his fist against my arm, “After food.” He stands up, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “C’mon, if anyone looks at you, I’ll beat ‘em up.”

I roll my eyes, letting Stu pull on my free hand until I stand up. “You offer to do that a lot. I think you just want to beat someone up.”

“Nah, if I did, I’d just punch Billy.”

Billy lets out an exhausted sigh as he stands. “Seriously?”

“What? I’d say I’d punch her, but she scares me a little.” Considering how often Stu and I do fight each other, I really doubt it. “She fights dirty.”

“Yeah.” Billy’s agreement comes out suspiciously fast as he opens the door. “I’ve seen her kick your ass.”

----

a/n billy and stu when someone else takes advantage of y/n’s trauma: 🤯🤬

also next chapter should be a lot messier hehehe

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#scream #scream x reader #scream 1966 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #Poly! Ghostface x Reader #finagl girl fic

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