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millyh23 · 4 months ago

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Always Almost

Alessia Russo x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Based on this request

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The sun was setting over the small town where you and Alessia grew up, casting a warm golden glow over the neighborhood. You could hear the distant sound of laughter and the thud of a football being kicked. It was a familiar sound, one that brought with it a flood of memories of summers spent playing in the park, dreaming of being professional footballers.

“Come on, you can’t be serious!” Alessia exclaimed, rolling her eyes as she stood with hands on her hips, her blonde hair bouncing with every animated gesture. “You’re going to let me score again?”

You smirked, positioning yourself in front of the makeshift goal—a couple of old backpacks propped up against a tree. “I’m just warming up, Less. You’ll see, I’ll save every shot!”

The two of you had been best friends since you could remember, inseparable through childhood, and it was moments like these that solidified your bond. Alessia had a fierce determination, a spark that made her stand out, even among your group of friends. You admired her talent on the pitch and the way she could light up a room with her laughter.

As she took a deep breath, preparing to shoot, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. There was something deeper than friendship blossoming between you, but you brushed it aside, dismissing it as typical teenage feelings.

Fast forward a few years, and high school was in full swing. The innocence of childhood began to give way to the complexities of teenage life. Alessia was now the star of the football team, her skills catching the attention of scouts and peers alike.

You, on the other hand, were still figuring out your place. Football was a passion you shared but didn’t pursue seriously. Instead, you found solace in art and writing, often sketching scenes of you and Alessia on the pitch together.

One Friday night, you both attended a party at a friend’s house. The music was loud, and the atmosphere was electric. You watched as Alessia mingled with others, her laughter ringing in your ears, and suddenly, a pang of jealousy surged through you when you saw her chatting closely with another player from the team.

“Hey, you okay?” your friend asked, noticing your distant expression.

“Yeah, just…fine,” you replied, forcing a smile. But deep down, you felt a shift in your relationship with Alessia. You had developed feelings for her that were becoming harder to ignore, but with the way she was being pursued by everyone at the party, you felt like you were losing her.

Later that night, as the party began to wind down, you found Alessia sitting on the porch, gazing at the stars. You joined her, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words.

“Did you have fun?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Sure,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, I guess. Just…sometimes it feels overwhelming, you know?”

You nodded, feeling the weight of your own feelings pressing down on you. “I get that.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” she said, breaking the silence.

“Of course.”

“Do you think we’ll always be friends? No matter what happens?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the stars.

“Always,” you promised, but inside, you feared that those words might not be enough to keep you together.

As the months passed, the tension between you and Alessia grew. She was busy with training, and college scouts were starting to show interest in her. You cheered her on from the sidelines, but every time you saw her with someone else—a teammate, a fellow student—your heart ached a little more.

One fateful day, you were sitting in the cafeteria, sketching in your notebook when Alessia plopped down beside you, her face aglow with excitement.

“I just got an offer to play for a club! It’s a huge opportunity!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

“That’s amazing, Less!” you replied, forcing a smile as your heart sank. “When do you leave?”

“In a few months,” she said, her enthusiasm palpable.

You nodded, hiding your disappointment. “That’s…great. You deserve it.”

But as the weeks turned into months, the distance between you began to feel insurmountable. You watched her go through the motions of training, growing closer to her teammates, and your heart ached at the thought of her leaving for good.

One evening, you decided to confront her about how you felt. “Alessia, can we talk?” you asked, your voice shaky as you found her alone in the park.

“Sure, what’s up?” she replied, her expression curious.

“I don’t want you to go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like we’re drifting apart, and it scares me.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of understanding. “I don’t want to lose you either. But this is my dream, and I have to pursue it.”

“I know,” you said, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. “But I wish things were different. I wish we could just… be together.”

Alessia stepped closer, her gaze softening. “Maybe one day, we’ll figure it out. Just promise me you’ll support me no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of unspoken feelings hanging between you. “Always.”

As Alessia’s departure approached, you tried to immerse yourself in your own life, but the ache of missing her weighed heavily on your heart. When the day finally came, you stood at the train station, watching as she prepared to leave for her new club.

“Promise you’ll call?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“Of course,” you replied, fighting back tears.

As she stepped onto the train, you felt a piece of your heart go with her. You watched until the train disappeared from view, the reality of your separation settling in.

The months that followed were filled with the void she left behind. You threw yourself into your studies and creative pursuits, but every time you picked up your phone, you hesitated to call her. You didn’t want to burden her with your feelings when she was chasing her dreams.

Meanwhile, Alessia thrived in her new environment. She was making a name for herself, and the distance only seemed to amplify the gap between you. You saw her on social media, celebrating goals, and getting to know new friends. Each post felt like a knife to your heart, a reminder that she was moving on without you.

One night, as you scrolled through your feed, you stumbled upon a picture of Alessia with another player, their arms wrapped around each other, laughter lighting up their faces. A wave of jealousy crashed over you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were losing her for good.

As the seasons changed, so did your lives. You both tried to keep in touch, but the conversations felt strained, filled with polite small talk instead of the deep connection you once shared.

One evening, you received a text from Alessia that made your heart race. “Hey, I’m coming home for a weekend! Can’t wait to see you!”

Your heart soared, but the excitement was quickly overshadowed by a sense of dread. What if things had changed too much? What if you couldn’t go back to the way things were?

When the day finally arrived, you found yourself pacing your room, nerves buzzing. You arrived at the park where you used to play, the familiar surroundings bringing a sense of nostalgia.

When you saw her walking towards you, your breath caught in your throat. Alessia looked different—more mature, more confident, and yet, that same spark was still there.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, running toward you and pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I missed you,” you said, feeling the warmth of her presence envelop you.

“I missed you too!” she replied, her eyes shining. “It feels like forever.”

As you spent the day together, you found yourselves slipping into your old rhythm, but the underlying tension was palpable. You both tried to mask it with laughter, but the reality of your feelings loomed over you.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” she asked, her voice casual but her eyes revealing a hint of vulnerability.

You hesitated, not wanting to hurt her. “A few dates here and there, but nothing serious.”

“Same,” she said, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I guess it’s hard with everything going on.”

That night, as you sat on the porch of your childhood home, you could feel the distance between you both, the untold words hanging in the air.

“Less, can I be honest?” you said, your heart racing. “I think about you all the time. It’s hard seeing you with someone else.”

Alessia’s eyes widened, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. “I feel the same way. I thought it was just me.”

Before you could process her words, the moment was interrupted by a notification on her phone. “I have to take this,” she said, her expression shifting as she answered a call from a teammate.

You watched as she stepped away, feeling the familiar pang of jealousy creep back in. It was a reminder that even with the feelings you both shared, life had pulled you in different directions.

The weekend flew by, filled with laughter and nostalgia, but the unresolved tension between you lingered. On the last night, as you sat together under the stars, you knew you had to confront your feelings once and for all.

“Alessia, I can’t keep pretending that this doesn’t matter to me,” you began, your voice trembling. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Her eyes widened, surprise etched on her face. “You…you love me?”

“I do,” you admitted, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “But I’m scared. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, and I don’t want to hold you back from your dreams.”

Alessia’s expression softened, and she moved closer. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you. But I thought I was being selfish by wanting to have both—my dreams and you.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, a fragile moment of vulnerability shared between you. But just as you leaned in closer, her phone buzzed again, shattering the intimacy of the moment.

“I’m sorry, I need to take this,” she said, stepping away.

You felt the moment slip away, the fear creeping back in. You knew that timing had always been a hurdle for you both, and in that moment, it felt like fate was playing cruel tricks on you.

After that weekend, Alessia returned to her club, and the distance felt more pronounced than ever. You tried to focus on your own life, but the ache of missing her grew heavier. The phone calls became less frequent, and the messages felt shorter, filled with polite updates rather than the deep conversations you once shared.

One night, you received a text from her. “Hey, I’m seeing someone seriously now. I just thought you should know.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had prepared for this possibility, but knowing it was real hurt more than you could have imagined.

“Okay,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “I’m happy for you.”

But deep down, you felt the sting of betrayal and loss. You thought you had a chance, and now it felt like you were losing her all over again.

Days turned into weeks, and you drowned your sorrows in your art, pouring your heart into every sketch and every brushstroke. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the feeling that the one person you wanted most was slipping further away.

Months passed, and you found a new normal, but the void Alessia left in your life was still palpable. You tried to move on, but every time you heard her name or saw her play on television, your heart ached with longing.

Then, one fateful day, you found out that Alessia would be back in town for a charity match. Your heart raced at the thought of seeing her again, but the fear of the unresolved feelings lingered.

When you arrived at the event, the atmosphere was charged with excitement. You watched as Alessia interacted with fans, her laughter echoing in your ears, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed.

But as the match began, you noticed her glancing toward the stands, her eyes searching for someone. It was then that you saw her with someone else—a player from her team, their chemistry undeniable. The sight twisted your stomach into knots.

After the match, you approached her, heart pounding. “Alessia!”

She turned, her eyes lighting up. “You made it!” She rushed over, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“It’s so good to see you,” you said, feeling the warmth of her presence wash over you.

But the moment was quickly cut short when her teammate approached, wrapping an arm around Alessia’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re heading to grab some food. You coming?”

You watched as Alessia glanced between you and her friend, the tension palpable. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” she replied, her gaze lingering on you.

As they walked away, you felt a mix of heartbreak and frustration. You wanted to scream out how you felt, to tell her that you were still here, still waiting.

After the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. You decided to text Alessia, hoping for a chance to talk. “Can we meet up? There’s something I need to say.”

When you finally saw her, the familiar flutter of nerves coursed through you. “What’s going on?” she asked, her expression curious yet wary.

“Alessia, I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” you began, your heart racing. “I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with just being friends. I still love you, and I don’t want to lose you again.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, the world around you faded away. “I’ve felt the same way, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought I had to choose my career over my feelings for you.”

“But you don’t have to choose,” you implored, stepping closer. “We can make this work. I believe we can have both.”

As you spoke, you could see the conflict in her eyes. “I want to, but what if it doesn’t work out? What if we lose everything?’’

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” you said, your voice steady. “But I can’t stand to lose you without trying.”

Alessia’s gaze softened, and you could see the walls she built around her heart beginning to crumble. “Okay. Let’s give it a shot.”

As you both navigated this new phase of your relationship, there were challenges and obstacles to face. Balancing her football career and your own passions was difficult, but you both made a conscious effort to prioritize each other.

You attended her matches, cheering from the stands, and she came to your art exhibits, supporting your creative endeavors. With every shared moment, you felt the bond between you deepen.

But the road was not without bumps. There were times when scheduling conflicts arose, and the pressure of her career weighed heavily on her. You could see the toll it took, and the fear of losing her again crept in.

One night, after a particularly grueling week for Alessia, she sat on the couch, her head in her hands. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” she admitted, her voice shaky.

“Hey, you’re doing great. Just take a breath,” you said, moving closer to her. “We can figure it out together.”

“I feel like I’m constantly being pulled in different directions,” she confessed, tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint you or my team.”

“You won’t disappoint me,” you reassured her, wiping away a tear. “I’m here for you, no matter what.”

As you held her close, the weight of her struggles felt lighter. You both understood that love was not just about the good times; it was also about supporting each other through the challenges.

As the seasons changed, so did your relationship. You both learned to communicate openly, sharing fears and dreams, and the bond you forged felt unbreakable.

One evening, as you stood on the pitch where it all began, Alessia turned to you. “You know, I never thought I could have both my dreams and you,” she said, her voice filled with emotion.

“Neither did I,” you replied, smiling at her. “But we’ve proven that timing doesn’t have to dictate our happiness. We can make it work.”

Alessia stepped closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I love you, Y/n. I’m so grateful for you.”

“I love you too,” you said, pulling her in for a kiss, feeling the warmth of her presence wash over you.

As you stood together under the stars, you knew that despite the challenges, you had found a way to navigate the complexities of life and love together. Timing may have been a hurdle, but you were ready to face whatever came next as a team.

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The End.

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donaidk · 4 years ago

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Marcus Armstrong - Almost Home I.

In advance: This is getting a Part 2 for sure. I don’t want to leave it here, but at the same time I felt like it would be really long if I left it in one piece. Turns out I have a whole lot of inspiration for Marcus fics right now. 😂 I also wanna let everyone, who’s waiting for their request, know that uni is starting next week for me. It means less free time, but I will make sure to finish every one of them in the next week or so, and then focus on all the series I started. There’s gonna be slower updates to them, but I’ll make sore to have one or two per week at least. Hopefully they won’t try to kill us in the starting weeks and I will finish up the Lando one so I could start posting that every week and just add some parts from the others to the queue 😊

Thank you Anon for requesting this one though, and sorry for the wait. Hope you will enjoy it and as it’s almost the next day here, have a really happy start to your Friday everyone 🧡

Kind of Taglist: @mickschumcher, @art-gp

Title Song | Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

With the Australian GP knocking on the door Melbourne filled up with tourists and fans even more than usual. The first time I got to witness it in 2017 was actually scary in a way for someone who didn’t know the city well yet. Getting from one part of the city to another was a hard task already, and all the shouting and crazy fans weren’t of much help when I tried to get some usable info out of them so I could finally get to my destination and get off the streets. It almost held me back from choosing Melbourne’s university, but I had to remind myself that it was just once a year and I shouldn't give up my plans because of it. Melbourne was beautiful and their schools were highly rated, giving me everything for a stable future. Luckily I was never disappointed by my choices as it was easy to get used to the life here and I even found some new friends who helped me every time I felt homesick. It wasn’t the worst usually, as I was truly content with how my life was going, but sometimes it just hit me out of nowhere and in those moments they were always there for me.

It was now the third year when we lived through the race weekend, meaning we finally had a working schedule with which we still followed our usual plans but stayed out of the bigger crowds. Although we were in the middle of the semester we always found time to enjoy the still warm weather and spend most of our free time outside. Usually our choice was the beach for the afternoons as even though it was packed until noon, the tourists never stayed for long. We usually arrived in the late afternoon and stayed well after the sun went down, and the temperature went down a little finally. The water usually stayed comfortable until later in the evening making it bearable for almost a whole 24 hours if you weren’t squeamish. Even if you were after spending a few weeks at the beach, everyone got used to it.

As soon as everyone finished with their lectures we got our things together and took the 5 minutes walk down to the beach. We had a favourite spot which was luckily never taken when we got down there. For a few minutes we just sat down, talking about our weeks. I shared a dorm room with two other girls, but we had a few friends who had their own apartments or lived with their family a bit farther away from our university. We usually had one or two days every week to catch up with them as in between lectures we were either too tired or didn’t have the time to do so. But most of the afternoons were ours fully and we used it the best we could to relax but still use that time to make memories for the few years we’re spending together. We could say it’s gonna stay the same after we graduate but everyone knew we would move to different countries as soon as we weren’t connected to Australia. Even I planned to go home, although I enjoyed living here and getting to be independent without my family behind my back.

“ Are you coming? ” One of the girls asked me, as they were already walking down to the water, while I was still standing around our towels with my phone in my hand. I was in the middle debating which sunset photo I should post from my gallery, but her voice made me look up.

“ Just a second. I’ll catch up. ” I smiled at her before looking back down at my screen. In the end my finger finally tapped the posting button and I pushed it aside while I got the sundress off that was on over my bikini.

Right before I would have ran after the girls, the device was back in my hands so I could check that the picture uploaded without a problem. A smile got on my face when I saw a reaction from one of my family members but as soon as it showed the whole list of the people who looked at my story, it faded away. For the past few months whenever I posted something he was always there in the first few seconds or at least minutes. I couldn’t understand what changed that he showed up in my life again, but I didn't really want to give him space in my thoughts either. It has been almost 4 years since we last talked and could call each other best friends, but I wasn’t about to take the first step and message him after he forgot about me until now. I just dropped my phone back into my bag, closing it and then caught up with my friends so they could make me forget about him again.

We spent quite some time in the water, swimming a few laps back and forth before just standing around and enjoying the last rays of sunshine while we chatted away. My thoughts were already in a different direction thanks to all the different topics that came up between us. Sometimes it was harder to make me forget time and time again, but turns out today I only needed some distraction and everything was set for an enjoyable night. With the sun completely off the sky the temperature dropped quickly and it was getting a bit chilly for my liking in just a few minutes. When it was truly uncomfortable I gave up and walked back to the shore, sitting down on my own blanket and draping my towel around my shoulders. It immediately brought enough warmth over my body that I stopped shivering and could wait for them until they would get cold too. Until then I just went onto my phone to go through some posts of my friends. Sometimes I looked up to check on them just so they wouldn’t leave me out of something. One of those times I saw a person coming my way and although I didn’t mind too much attention to it, when he continued and there was no one else in my close proximity I felt like he might be coming to me. In the end I was right as he turned right towards me and then stopped just a few steps away from our blankets.

“ Never thought you would exchange our lovely and perfect red stars for ugly white ones. ” He spoke up and I could recognise the voice even though his face was almost unseeable thanks to him standing with his back towards the moon. My jaw dropped immediately and I felt like I grew roots into the ground as I couldn’t move my body. “ If you want me to fuck off, just tell me. It’s okay. I just thought we could maybe talk, and from the pictures I saw that you’re here. Hoped you didn’t go home yet so I could catch you and... ” He started rambling but I was quick to finally push myself up and hug him immediately. I always imagined our reunion with me being angry at him, but somehow I couldn’t get myself to feel that way now that he was standing right in front of me.

“ You idiot. ” I told him not leaving any space for questions and I could feel as he finally relaxed and hugged me back. “ The biggest in the whole world. ” I added with a sigh, closing my eyes as my brain started functioning again and I had an urge to kick his shin at least.

“ I can live with that. ” Marcus let out a laugh and I could feel as my heart jumped a little at the sound. It was something that always reminded me of our home and spending every possible second together. “ I’m sorry for disappearing. ” He let out a sigh, letting go of me only when we realised my wet bathing suit soaked his shirt, although even he didn’t care about it for too long.

“ What are you doing here? I thought F2 wasn't coming here. ” I asked him confused, knowing that we wouldn’t be in this situation if he traveled here for one of the races in the past two years. “ Not like I’m complaining, but I can hardly believe my own eyes and senses. ” I shook my head a little before looking up at him again. He changed, quite a bit since we last met and even though I saw pictures of him it was different in a face-to-face situation.

“ Ferrari invited a few of us so we could gather some experience. The speed I accepted the offer with might have raised some eyebrows. ” Marcus hid his face in his palm, making me chuckle as I could see the situation unfold in front of my eyes like I was there. “ Thought I would DM you and ask if you wanted to meet up maybe. But I realized it would be better offline. ” I had to roll my eyes at his first idea although I knew he wasn’t lying and it for sure went through his brain as a real possibility.

“ You’re lucky you didn’t. I would have blocked you forever I think. My plan was connecting my fist with your face if we ever meet again, right until you showed up here. ” I shook my head with a smile, as I wasn’t proud of what I wanted to do to him. “ I was really angry when you just stopped talking to me. I tried so hard to reach you, but it felt like you didn’t even exist anymore even though they were talking about you almost every week. ” I sighed, sitting back down and leaving enough space for him too.

“ Would have been deserved actually. ” His fingers scratched at the nape of his neck and I could see the tint of purple traveling up his neck. I watched him as he sat down, pulling his legs up and resting his arms onto them. “ I really am sorry. For a part everything got busy with all the training, races and studying, but at the same time I know damn well a message here and there should have been possible. I messed up, everything. ” His eyes shined even in the minimal light of the moon, and I could get myself to look away. Even feeling the burning stares on my back from my friends didn’t get me to turn around.

“ I won’t say that it’s okay, but I accept your apology. How could I not. ” I let out a breath that I realized was still stuck in me since the initial surprise took over my body. “ It feels like we didn’t even skip over like 3 years of each other’s life. Only difference is that you’re finally taller than me, but the baby face’s still there. ” My hand went up to his cheek to pat it gently like my grandma did for him all the time when he came over for lunch. He always hated it but knew that it was a gesture of love from her and a way to show Marcus that she considered him part of our family.

“ Yeah, I guess it’s going to stay forever. ” Marcus huffed, moving his head back a little to avoid my attack, although he failed miserably. “ I almost forgot, congrats for uni. I remember how hard you were studying to get in. Everyone home was ecstatic when I told them about it. ” His hand slapped his forehead, making me laugh with his expression at the slight stinging he caused himself.

“ Thank you, but it’s nothing compared to your second place last year. ” I shrugged a little but as soon as his lips pulled into a slight smirk my eyes rolled on their own. “ Surprise, surprise, I followed your career. Just as much as you followed my life for the past few months. ” I poked him in the ribs with my finger, making him wince for a second before we both started laughing at the little sound he made.

“ Fair. I still hate how Instagram shows who opened your stories. ” He shook his head a little and both of our heads turned towards the water when we realized the background chatting was getting closer and closer to where we were sitting. They were just a few meters away when my eyes landed on their figures and I sensed when Marcus stood up from next to me, making me push myself up too.

I didn’t feel too anxious about him meeting my other friends, although I knew what this meant for my evening at the dorm with them. They would have an immense amount of questions both about him and us, even though I already mentioned him when we were bringing up our past. A few of them even knew about my past feelings about him and how him reappearing on my socials played with my emotions, but they only saw a few photos of him. This was another level and I knew he would be the topic for at least the next week between us, for one reason or another. Depends on how we get on from this point and if we manage to keep in contact when they have to fly away again.

“ Oh, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. I told you someone was coming here. ” My roommate spoke up as soon as they got close enough to make us out from the darkness. “ You’re Marcus, right? ” She stepped right in front of him, reaching her hand out while introducing herself. I always admired her boldness even in front of strangers.

“ Yes, although I didn’t know so many people knew me from here. ” Marcus let out an uneasy chuckle, looking at me a bit concerned. I just shook my head dismissively, almost telling him that it was just a ‘Girl group’ thing. Relief washed over me though that I didn’t share a lot about him, behind his back.

I watched from the sideline as everyone introduced themselves to him and for a second it felt domestic as all of them shot me a concerned glance towards me. It felt like they would pounce at him if they saw that I was uncomfortable in his presence. While it made me feel loved in a way, I also didn’t want them to really chip on the situation. It was something that better dealt with in private as I felt like we had to talk lots of things through to get back to the friendship we left behind years ago. This wasn’t the setting for a conversation like that.

“ We should probably get home before it gets really late. School won’t wait in the morning. ” I spoke up before any of them could start questioning him. We would never be able to get going then. “ Maybe we can catch up sometime before the race? I’m sure you will have enough to do during the weekend. ” I turned back towards Marcus who looked just as relieved as I did seconds ago.

“ Yeah, that would be better. Maybe lunch, or a coffee in the afternoon? Whenever you’re free of course. ” He nodded a little, still glancing at the girls who were either packing up or staring him down behind me.

“ I’m up for either of those. Surprise me. ” I grinned at him, feeling the pull on my arm when everyone was ready. “ Is your number the same? ” I asked him, already taking a step back, but waiting for his answers.

“ Yes. Never changed. ” Marcus nodded again, a little smile playing on his lips at the idea that we’re going to meet up again probably. At least I hoped so. Why else would he stalk me down and come up to me for a chat?

“ I’m gonna text you in the morning when’s my last lecture. We can meet up after that. ” I told them, before turning around with one last wave and catching up to my group. I could only hope that they would at least let me sleep before the questions start pouring out of them all at once.

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littlemisslipbalm · 5 years ago

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“you get me” (famous!y/n x harry)

Famous!y/n x Harry Styles

First Harry fic so please be kind, but feedback is SUPER appreciated

Initially inspired by the picture of Harry leaving the Gucci store with 15 bags but barely has anything to do with that lol

Definitely thought of Ellen for the interview idk why tho - also I struggle with writing Harry’s dialogue because I really want to get it right, but hopefully the more practice I get, the better/more natural it will sound. ALSO i have like no music or music industry background lol. Somewhat proofread, but its 2:30 am so it could be shit

Fluff!

Warnings: maybe some angst over being famous per say, past loneliness

Word Count: 3.7k literally howwww, i’m going to do a pt. 2 though because it was kind of a long set up and feelingsssss

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Interviewer: Please, welcome our next guest, a woman who’s sure to have her name written up beside the music greats someday, Ms. Y/N L/N!

You can’t contain the grin that spreads to your face as you carry yourself out onto the stage and see the audience cheering for you. It was your third big interview since your first album had been released and you’d seen your fame skyrocket over night. This being the third one this week meant you’d gotten comfortable getting asked questions, but you also weren’t bored of it yet. It was exhilarating being the center of attention, especially for something that had been your life’s work up until this point. You always had to fight for whatever you got and the recognition you were starting to have was reassurance that you hadn’t been a fool to risk a safe and certain life for your dreams.

The interview begins as the rest had, a few pleasantries, how you were feeling, and then the introduction of the album. The host asked you what your inspiration was for some of the songs and the album name and cover. You loved to talk about the music, it was the whole reason you were there. The meaning, the sound, the name, it all meant so much to you and you talked about how music can be interpreted differently by everyone and even the shifts in someone’s mood can change a song’s meaning, but what it meant to you at the time of writing was always something specific. You practiced those answers in the mirror before the interviews because they were important to you and you didn’t want your words on your art to ever be misconstrued. The host then complimented your style and you were at the point where you thought your interview should be wrapping up when they asked you one more question, and it threw you for a loop.

Interviewer: So Y/N, we’ve been hearing some rumblings around, about you and another famous musician, Mr. Harry Styles. Anything going on there?

Your face heated up, you hadn’t been expecting a personal question about possible relationships. Nothing like this had been asked of you at your previous interviews. It’s about the music, the art, and who you were, it’s always about that and nothing more. To be honest, you were a bit annoyed the host had chosen to stray from those topics. You didn’t care for the celebrity side of being a famous musician, the lack of privacy, the prying eyes of media and the general public. They saw enough of you through your art, you bore your soul through music why did they want to peak into your heart as well?

Y/N: I don’t know if I’d rather be with Harry Styles or actually be Harry Styles. Like, he’s literally such an icon, I want to be able to walk out of a Gucci store after spending hours there with 15 bags full of my purchases and helpers to carry it all out c’mon… He’s also an amazing songwriter, musician, and performer, of course. Didn’t mean to sound superficial, but I’d also love to own even half of his closet.

You hadn’t really answered the question, but the audience laughed and the host obviously got the hint that you weren’t interested in fanning any flames of romance with Harry Styles or anyone else. For one, you didn’t even know the man, but you had always been a loving fan of his. You cited him as one of your role models when you were first starting to try and break into the music world. Second, if you did know him, that wouldn’t be an appropriate topic for your album press junket going on, even if it meant more publicity because of Harry’s big celebrity status. The host decided to qualify their original question with a final sentiment.

Interviewer: I totally feel the same way! I only ask because the outpouring of support you’ve received seems to be from similar groups who also follow Harry. Many have been comparing your sound to his solo career work.

Y/N: Ah...well that’s very kind of people to say. He’s definitely a big inspiration, his creativity and drive is incredible. I’d love to be as successful as him someday.

The interview ended. You and the host shook hands and you waved and sent kisses to the crowd before retreating backstage. You were exhausted, but happy. You hoped to avoid anymore stressful interview questions that didn’t truly revolve around music. Of course, life is never that simple.

One month later

You had done countless more interviews and talk shows as promo for your album and the buzz around it had continued to grow. Your fame continued to rise as well and that one question you had dodged at your third interview had come back around to bite you, naturally. Daily Mail’s dumb headline read: “Y/N can’t decide! Date Harry Styles or Steal His Closet?” The Sun was also running with your response and miscontruing it completely, something about how you were madly in love with Harry but jealous of his designer partnerships, you couldn’t even stomach reading the garbage. This was your worst nightmare. Not only was it taking away the focus from your album, but you were also sure this dumb gossip had reached the very set of ears that the gossip was allegedly also about.

You had signed with Columbia Records for your first album, the same record label as Harry Styles, so managers had been in contact with one another about the whole fiasco trying to get the actual truth - which was that the two of you didn’t even know each other and there were no problems whatsoever. Your manager also brought along the good news that Harry had actually listened to your album and loved it, “He said ‘Congratulations’ by the way, loved the sound. Said he’d heard you were very music focused and be open to do some mentoring on songwriting and vocal specifics, if you wanted. It’d have to be in private though, obviously.” She had added the last bit, but you understood why. To have the opportunity to discuss your music with one of your longtime role models, heroes even, was beyond anything you could have imagined coming from your album’s success. And it made the drama all the more palatable because now you at least got to talk to Harry like the media was so adamantly saying you were doing already.

You nodded quickly and agreed, while trying to keep your teenage fangirl excitement hidden below your mature now-famous musician facade. Like you said, Harry was your hero, he’d been your hero since you were in middle school and had Up All Night downloaded on your iPod touch, blasting it as loud as possible, sound hitting your poster-filled walls. You weren’t the same girl as you were then, obviously, you had grown up to be a strong, independent, and confident woman. But, you still smiled at the thought of your younger self with your baby face squealing in the nosebleeds at the Take Me Home Tour (where you swore Harry had looked straight at you) and her seeing you now, dressed in a sleek outfit setting up an appointment to meet with Harry to discuss your first album, a success.

The next Thursday evening

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your pursed lips. You were anxious and excited at the exact same time. Your meeting with Harry was tonight, right now actually, and you hadn’t been able to think about much else since your manager had confirmed the meeting last week. She got you the details a couple of days ago, the location: his house in Malibu, the time: 5:45 P.M. You had brought along a copy of your album on vinyl because you thought it sounded best this way, second only to performing it live.

Choosing your outfit for tonight was probably the toughest decision you’d ever made, harder than choosing between an education and following your dreams, harder than choosing your favorite Beatles song. You didn’t want to worry so much, this wasn’t a date you kept reminding yourself, but everything you tried on earlier kept having something wrong with it, too dressy, too boring, too ‘not yourself’. You had settled for these blue high-waisted pants that you’d worn to your first ever podcast interview, a thin black long sleeve, and a brown leather coat that fell below your hips with vans sneakers, casual, simple, yet still true to you and your vibe.

You raised your free arm and formed a fist, hesitant to knock, as if you’d damage Harry’s seemingly perfect Malibu beachfront home by knocking too hard on the wooden front door. You waited a few moments and could here some shuffling behind the door, some incoherent words were seemingly said, but the walls muffled them before they could reach for ears. Soon enough, Harry Styles in the flesh was before you. He beamed down at you, huffing, slightly out of breath as if he had been clear across the house when you knocked. His strong figure towered above your far smaller stature. He was hanging onto the door since he had opened it only slightly. “Hello, Y/N?” he greeted and questioned simultaneously. “Hi,” you responded and extended the same hand that had just rapped against his now open door. He gripped it, ushering you into his home, “Come in, come in, it’s nice to meet you, don’t want you to catch a cold now do we?” He took note of your strong handshake and ring clad fingers.

He walked you into an area between the kitchen and a sitting area. The kitchen was open aside from a bar high top between the two rooms. You sat down at his prompting and made yourself comfortable. “I brought my record on vinyl, sounds best in my opinion, otherwise I’d recommend seeing it live,” you laughed as you handed the vinyl to him and took off your coat. “Technically, y’know, I could hear it live right now, if you were willin’ f’course,” Harry had responded over his shoulder as he placed the vinyl by his idle record player, “Anything to drink?” “Just water for me, please.” His accent was even stronger in person, especially since he had moved back to London and seldomly stayed in California, except for business and quick trips. As far as you knew, he had already been here on business for the week and was able to pencil you in.

You two settled in, with your waters, seated at the bar top beside each other, but swivelling the chairs to face one another more. Again, you were overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, sitting beside Harry Styles as professionals, peers even. He had heard your work and liked it enough to want to discuss it with you. It was a day you never thought would come to pass. He started off not by asking about the music right away, but about how you were doing with the whirlwind that stardom is. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been somewhat of a out of the frying pan into the fire kind of moment for you?” He stared at you intently, caring to hear your answer.

You couldn’t help but chuckle again and contain your smile, “Thank you for asking, Harry. Yeah, its been definitely stressful, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more so the good is still outweighing any bad. Definitely, fucking exhausted though, dunno how many more interviews I can do before my jaw goes completely rigid from talking so much.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, his eyes shone with intrigue at what you said and how you said it. You were gorgeous, but it was how your hands helped you through what you were trying to say and the small laughs you tried to keep in while you amused yourself with your words that really made him want to hear you talk all night long.

He agreed about how the promo junket for an album can get tedious and tiresome, but also the absolute fulfillment you get from people loving the music you’ve made. The two of you chatted about surface level personal matters for a little more, but quickly moved to the music. “I took a listen a couple weeks after the album was released. I especially loved the last track. It reminded me so much of a song I never released, actually…” he trailed off.

Your final track had been a ballad, an homage to George Harrison with your use of guitar and sitar, but the lyrics were a story based off of a poem you had written one night in high school. It surrounded a girl never feeling quite good enough for the person she wanted to be with and how it happened everytime, everytime she was ready to giver herself to someone, they were always closed off. Of course it held some truth to your own life and feelings, but you wrote this girl as someone with a seemingly perfect life - when yours was obviously far from any semblance of perfection.

You wondered what Harry’s song would have sounded like, had it been about a seemingly perfect girl or a guy with a seemingly perfect life, always giving himself to the wrong person and getting destroyed by that very fact because he was impatient as the girl in your song had been. “Can I ask, how so? How’d it remind you of your own song, the words or the music?” “Oh, the story, I felt like that for a time in my life and I like to be vulnerable in my songs because it helps me process, but listening to it back has always been too painful. Could never release that or perform it, it’d wreck me.” You nodded, you completely got where he was coming from. You noticed his downcast eyes and his somber tone, you knew not to push it any further.

It was quiet and you decided it’d be okay to take his hand resting between the two of you. “Harry, I understand,” your sincerity spilled into the words, filling the quiet house, “It’s not easy. Feeling that way. Thinking you’re the only goddamn one and why the fuck does it always happen to you? I used to ask my ceiling ‘why me?’ every night of high school” you smiled then. “But you know how it is,” you rubbed your thumb over his large warm hand and he lifted his head, “it gets so much better - c’mon look at us now! It can get hard, too, all this, I’m sure. But our lives? They’re amazing!” He beamed as he had when he had first seen you at his door and when you’d first really spoke. He moved his hand from under your palm to weave your fingers with his, both of your hands with covered in rings and they clinked to fit together, finally resting perfectly fitted. He shook your two hands up and down, “God, you’re so right! That damn song, m’sorry always puts me in a mood,” he shakes his head, “not yours though, f’course, s’lovely, better than my sodding song” he finishes quickly.

After that, the mood lightened right back up. It filled you with such appreciation for Harry that he would trust you so much with such a personal detail since you two had just met. But maybe, he had trusted you because he had felt that same spark between you. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic spark, but it was obvious the two of you were kindred spirits. Besides your album, the two of you talked about everything. You loved the same bands, movies and books, you both loved to cook and had similar fashion taste, you even had the same person type - something you found out late into the night.

At the end of the Side B of your album, Harry switched to a Bill Evans record that had ‘Peace Piece’ on it. You loved that song. So did he. “So...planning to raid my closet?” Harry raised his brows from the record player and walked back to you. You almost sputtered the water in your mouth. Luckily, you got it down. “Pardon?” “All that bad press the two of us have been getting...I watched the interview that kind of ignited the tabloids. You’re obviously not used to those overstepping personal questions.” You nodded. “It’s fine, even if you’d completely shut it down, the tabloids probably would have picked it up still, they snap up anything and everything, true or not.” You softened at his reassurance. You hadn’t expected Harry to bring the interview up, but you were sure he wasn’t happy about it, he was so private, especially about his love life. “Thanks, I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off, kind of made it worse, didn’t I?” “No! Thought it was hilarious and I totally appreciated the sentiment. Little ol’me, an icon? And an amazing artist? All I gotta do is watch that clip and I’ve fed my narcissistic side for the week!” You giggled and replied slyly, “So does that mean I can raid your closet? As compensation, of course.” Harry threw his head back in an all consuming laughter, when he’d composed himself he looked in your eyes again and said, “You just...God, you get me.”

Harry had continued to put records on throughout the night, diligently flipping sides and asking for requests, he of course had an extensive collection. The two of you had moved onto his plush couch that looked out his french doors to the beautiful ocean view. Finally, your exhaustion caught up to you, mid-Harry describing his latest travel fiasco, you glanced up at the clock. You gasped. Harry stopped. “When did it get to be half 12?” you questioned almost incredulously, “I’ve gotta get home, Harry, but this has been truly amazing, more than I could have asked for, so thank you.” Your speech began to rush as you started to get up and gather your things, that had slowly scattered as you’d gotten more comfortable, jacket by the table, shoes around the back of the couch, your phone forgotten somewhere in the couch. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry Styles.

Harry quickly stood up from his relaxed positioned on the couch and asked if you were alright to drive this late. You scoffed, “Oh please, I’ve driven around at 3 am before, I just have to turn up the music and I can cruise.” He smiled, “This was great, Y/N, I know we didn’t really go super in depth into your writing process, but I’d love to write with you sometime or just hang out again f’course. Your seriously talented and obviously a wonderful person.” He didn’t include that he felt like he’d never met anyone like you, never met someone so perfectly matched to himself, in passions but also in work ethic and demeanor - compassionate yet confident. He felt like you got him perfectly and he got you. You had stopped your scramble to gather yourself and now you were both smiling at one another.

This had really been an unforgettable night, you couldn’t believe how well you two had meshed, like childhood friends reconnecting after years apart. “Can I give yeh a hug before you go?” Harry’s voice had grown raspier as the night had progressed. He had grown rather tired an hour ago, but had pushed through because they had been having so much fun and you hadn’t noticed his physical fading or the time, obviously. You stepped toward him and his large tattooed arms enveloped you into his body. His body truly dwarfed yours now as he held you to his chest. You both were warm and soft. He tucked his head on top of yours that rested on his chest. Your arms were loosely resting where his back met his waist because you would have had to strain to get them to encircle him. His arms rested around your small frame. “Love your jacket,” he mumbled into your hair. His rough voice was quiet, but the house was silent otherwise, Tusk Side C had finished around when you had noticed the time. The embrace lasted long, but it felt so amazing you had a hard time pulling yourself away, but you had to get back home.

“G’night Harry” you said softly at the threshold of his home. He had insisted on walking you to the front door at least, since you had declined his offer to walk you out to your car on the street. “G’night. Safe travels.”

You got in your car and headed to your apartment in the city. You didn’t bother digging for your phone so you turned on the radio and drove home singing whatever came on, including your own song at one point. The whole time you drove with a grin. Harry was the nicest person you’d ever met and you were confident that the two of you were friends now. As you pulled into your parking garage it dawned on you why you hadn’t connected your phone immediately when you got in your car. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you put the car in park and rested your palms in the depressions of your eyesockets, over your closed eyelids, and rubbed hard. “Fuck!” It was far too late to drive back out to Malibu for your phone and you obviously couldn’t text Harry that you’d left your phone at his place, despite the two of you exchanging numbers during the night for future hang outs, so they didn’t have to be arranged through your managers, like playdates. Even if he found your phone between the cushions, he couldn’t drop it at your place in the morning because he didn’t know your address. This was a whole mess, you thought. You’d have to drive over in the morning and hope he was still there or email your manager from your computer. The former meant you got to see Harry sooner and likely your phone, too.

part 2

@berrynarrybanana

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #har #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #I DID IT #I sat down and wrote it #and it took forever #and I need to write a second part but I made something coherent #one direction fanfiction #not my gifs #my writing #I love you h #you get me #my writings

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obeymeasks · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! I love the way you portray the boys and your art of them is so good!! ❤ Could I maybe get some headcanons or smth of MC accidentally calling the boys "daddy" or "sir"? Thanks!

thank u so much anon ❤❤ and oh, i love this trope. i added diavolo, solomon and simeon as well because i can picture their reactions so vividly…

M/C accidentally calling the boys ‘daddy’ (NSFW)

Mammon

Mammon was beneath you on your bed as you straddled his body with your legs. You had hidden your face in your hands in embarrassment after you had accidentally said to him, "Can I touch your body? Please, daddy?" He had instantly gone red and started stuttering his speech as he tried to form a coherent thought. "W-what did you c-call me, M/C?"

He tried to hide his blushing face as his hands trembled from excitement. "Sorry," you whimpered, resting your hands back on his chest. "I didn't mean to."

"You don't have to stop... " he said, gaining enough confidence to look back at your eyes. "A-after all, I'm THE Great Mammon, of course you can't control yourself around me. Could you try... calling me that again?"

Lucifer

You loved to tease Lucifer. Seeing him get more annoyed and frustrated with how bratty you were being was a happiness that was insurmountable to you. Currently he was angry with you again, and had pulled you aside after school to talk to you privately. “I don’t mind you calling me Luci when we are home, but in front of Diavolo I won’t tolerate the disrespect,” he stated, gazing down at you intensely with his dark red eyes. Just his stare alone made you tremble-but you wouldn’t give in-not yet. “Sorry, daddy,” you teased, smiling coyly. The ‘daddy’ hadn’t been on purpose… but seeing Lucifer’s eyes go wide with surprise and embarrassment was worth the mini heart attack you felt. The flush on his face soon faded, replaced with a sly grin. “If you truly mean it, you’ll go along with a punishment from your daddy, then, hmm?”

Satan

Satan was thrusting into you at an umatched pace. Each pump caused numerous gasps and moans to escape your lips. One thrust. "Fuck!" Another thrust. "Unff!" Another. "Ah-Satan!" Another. "D-daddy!"

After hearing you call him that, Satan grinned at your blushing face and pounded into you even harder. "That's right," he growled as he grabbed and squeezed at your neck. "I am your daddy. Don't stop calling me that! I want to hear you call me daddy as you cum on my hard cock. Come on, M/C, do it for your daddy."

Beelzebub

Your face had gone beat red as you realized what you just said. “I-I’m so sorry,” you stuttered. He probably thought you were so weird now. All he did was hand you a piece of pizza, and you just had to go and let out ‘thanks, daddy’. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

“Uh, w-what did you just say, M/C?” You two were alone in Beel’s room, sitting on his bed, about to watch whatever was on the Devildom network at the moment.

You looked at Beel quickly, still furiously blushing. “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I’m gonna-I’ll go back to my room.” You began to move out of his bed when his hand caught your wrist.

“It’s okay,” he stated, blushing slightly. He looked even more embarrassed than you had been. “I… like when you call me that. Could you… do it again?”

Asmodeus

It was another usual night for you – in Asmodeus’ bathtub, surrounded by candles and flowers. Asmodeus was there as well, of course, holding you on his lap and kissing you in a simultaneously beautiful and erotic way. His hands explored your body, sending shivers down your spine as you leaned more and more into his kisses. Repetitive moans escaped both you and Asmodeus’ mouths, but it wasn’t until you had accidentally whispered out ‘mmm, daddy’ that he had faltered. He pulled back, staring at you in a delightful shock and asked, “Is that what you like, M/C? You want to call me Daddy?” Asmodeus was already hard, but as he spoke you could feel his cock twitching beneath you. It was then you instantly realized you should have called him this sooner.

Belphegor

The moment you had accidentally muttered out "Fuck me, daddy" to Belphegor as he positioned himself at your entrance, he had halted and looked you dead in the eyes. You instantly regretted letting him know how badly you wanted to call him that. Belphie was almost sadistic when it came to teasing you-and watching as his smile grew into an evil grin you realized that he would never let you hear the end of it.

"So I'm your daddy, M/C? Why don't you beg for your daddy to fuck you, then? Since you like that so much, why don't you call me daddy all the time? Even at dinner. Call me daddy in front of everyone you see. That way no one will question who you belong to."

Leviathan

You were in the middle of licking Levi's cock when you had accidentally let out, "you taste so good, daddy". Hardly hesitating, you continued your movements, but couldn't help but notice Levi's blushing face as he stared down at you from his chair. "M/C????" he asked, mouth agape and eyes lidded from pleasure. "D-did you only call me that because you thought I'd like it?"

Pulling back, you licked your lips and batted your eyes at him. "No, daddy."

He immediately blushed again, moving a hand to cover his face. "P-please don't stop."

Diavolo

Diavolo had called you and Luke to his office, asking you to report on how school was going as exchange students. You hadn’t expected to stay quiet as long as you did, but Diavolo would get easily sidetracked and ramble on about insignificant things. Your mind was already hazy from the long day of classes, and at this point in the conversation, you just weren’t even paying attention anymore. Muttering out occasional ‘yeah’s and ‘mmm’s to make it seem as though you were listening, Diavolo continued on. Luke, however, seemed intense on paying attention, nodding vigorously at everything Diavolo stated. However, at one point, as you were almost half asleep, you had slipped out a “Yes, daddy” into the conversation. Diavolo instantly stopped talking and stared at you with wide eyes, Luke looking at you confused. You automatically started stuttering out apologies and trying to make excuses as the demon prince continued to look at you with an unreadable expression. He interrupted you eventually, laughing and saying “M/C, I didn’t know you thought of me as a father figure.”

You instantly relaxed as he said that, remembering Diavolo is quite oblivious to a lot of things. Luke looked satisfied with that explanation, and after apologizing again, and a short conversation, Luke made his exit from the office and you began to follow closely behind. Diavolo called for you as Luke stepped out the door. “M/C,” he said, and you turned back to look at him. He wore a devilish, sly grin. “If you ever plan to call me Daddy again, why don’t you do it in a more private setting? Where we can both enjoy it?”

You blushed as realization hit you like a train. Nodding and murmuring out frantic “yes sir”s, you left his office.

Simeon

Simeon had always been soft with you, gentle and caring. He was quite literally angelic. One night you two had been trading light kisses with each other and muttering sweet phrases back and forth when you had accidentally said “I love you, daddy.” Instantly you pulled back from him, preparing yourself for his disgusted reaction. You had never imagined Simeon to be one to indulge in that kink, so you always refused to bring it up around him. Instead, you were met with a cute laughter as his face brightened up. When he saw your confusion, he explained to you that it was cute how embarrassed you got, and that he is more than willing to pamper to your interests. “In fact, I don’t mind being called daddy at all. As long as you’re happy, M/C, you can call me whatever your heart desires. ”

Solomon

Solomon was pounding you from behind, pinning you down against the desk in his room, which he had frantically shoved all the books and papers off of in a desperate attempt to fuck you as soon as possible. It wasn’t unusual for you two to end up like this after a long study session, but it was unusual how slow and sensual he was being at the moment. Solomon had never been one to shy away from pulling your hair and railing into you as if his life depended on it, muttering dirty words into your ears. But suddenly, he decided to take his time, pushing in and out of you so slowly that you could feel almost every twitch of his cock inside of you. It was almost too much to bear-you needed him to go faster-harder. That was when it slipped out. “Please fuck me harder, daddy,” you whimpered. Solomon leaned forward toward your body, breathing close to your ear. “Oh, yeah, M/C? You want that? You want to be fucked and used by your daddy, huh? You want me to destroy that tight little hole of yours? Go ahead, call me daddy again.”

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batarella · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Hate You - Part 12 (Jason Todd x Reader)

the angst gets even worse from here, folks.

WORDS: 6303 WARNINGS: ALMOST SEX, VIOLENCE, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH, SO MUCH ANGST

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Then

“There’s no way I’m getting out of Jersey.”

“NYU? Come on, if you're taking a science course might as well go for the best.”

“New York’s just as shitty as Gotham. At least I grew up here.”

“If you’re staying in Gotham anyway, might as well take a course you’re actually interested in.”

You turned your head to the side, where Jason’s chin was resting on your shoulder. He shifted on the bed and let his legs on either sides of you fold up so you could hold the laptop better. “I’m not interested in any course, for your information.”

“You have to go to college, Y/N.”

You grunted, and you felt his arms around your waist tighten. “I can't believe you still hadn’t thought of this,” he said. “Some kids have their whole lives planned out all the way until they’re fifty.”

You hated it when he was so patronizing, but didn’t reject a kiss to your shoulder when he thought your attention was too far off into the laptop’s screen.

“Okay. All this is way too intimidating. What if I get the hang of it and decide I wanna proceed to medicine? I don’t want that.”

“You’re already hating the you five years from now. Chill out.”

“Ugh.” You scrolled through the list of universities nearby. “I’m not taking a sciences course.”

“Although I agree, Chemistry, Biology, and Physics are the highest marks in your record. It’d be much easier for you in the long run.”

“I don’t care. I hate it.” He snickered at your bitter annoyance when you shut the laptop close and set it aside on a chair near your bed. You then leaned against his chest and he immediately dug into your neck. “What about you?” you slightly pulled away. “What are you gonna take?”

Jason let out a long breathe out from his nostrils into the back of your hair. Tightly, you held his arms that were around you and craned your head to the side so you could look at him.

“What would you say if I took English Literature?”

“I think that’s amazing.” You tickled his cheek with your gentle finger. “Gotham U?”

“Yeah. It’s the only course I can think of that doesn’t exhaust me just thinking about it.”

You swung your thighs over to rest on his leg, and he started fiddling with the hem of your jeans, tracing your ankle. “You’ll do great.”

He smiled and kissed the corner of your mouth before pulling your head to rest on his cheek. “You know you’ll have to choose a course soon.”

“I know.” You looked down.

You weren’t one to look forward to college much. And it wasn’t because you had no plans at all. You just had no idea if you were to go out of the city, find a job somewhere that didn’t sound too repulsive or too much of a chore or go to college perhaps, but that felt way too much of a commitment to a future you had no idea about. What were you supposed to do?

If your grades had a say in it, science was the safest choice. Maybe even literature. But it mostly spiked all because of Jason’s help. What if you’d fail just as it was too late to turn back? You couldn’t afford for that to happen. And if anything, the only major drive was choosing a place where Jason wasn’t so far away.

Up until now, it seemed too early to make that kind of decision.

“What about music?”

You looked at him. “Funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“My dad will kill me.”

“Since when do you listen to your dad?”

Never. Never in your whole life did you listen to whatever he had to say. “Point taken.”

“You’re good at it. You’re amazing at writing songs. And your voice definitely guarantees you a spot.”

“I don’t know,” you settled deeper into his chest. “I never really thought of that.”

“Does the thought of spending the next few years of voice lessons repulse you that much?”

“You know for a fact that it won't just be voice lessons,” you scoffed.

“But does it though?”

You sighed and let your nose touch his jaw to give you that slight little push you always needed when you tried to figure shit out. “I guess not.”

“Well, you should give it a thought. Gotham College of the Arts looks promising.”

Looking up at him, you felt his arms shift, and you went along with him so you were now straddling his lap. He kissed you, gently at first before you felt his teeth nip at your tongue. “Also, it’s fifteen minutes away from Gotham U. Won't have to go so far just to see you.” He brushed a strand of your hair away from your cheeks.

Well, if he put it that way, maybe you will give this a shot.

You kissed him to relieve yourself of any more tiring contemplation about a future you regret never having planned out by the time you got out of middle school. You lightly swayed, letting him lean against the headboard. Soft. Subtle. Elusive. His lips were delicate, and so were his snaking hands that were crawling its way up your thighs. You giggled when he thumbed that sweet little spot in your groin he found out about months after you started dating.

You breathed harder, heavier, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. He was leaning further into you to deepen his kisses. He was so warm… and when your hand wandered down his chest, Jason’s went under your shirt, making you jolt at his rough fingers tracing the sides of your waist. “You're so hot…” he whispered.

You smiled and dug into his lips again. Something was poking into your clothed cunt, and you accidentally bit into his lips too hard when he grinded against you. Jason hissed. “Ow!”

“Sorry!” you placed gentle kisses onto his lip, but he didn’t look too bothered. In fact, you felt him even harder beneath you.

His lips met your neck, and you could feel him wanting, desperate even, though there was that slightest bit of hesitation he tried hard not to show off. Probably afraid to mess up. But you welcomed him, moaning when he dug his teeth into your skin.

“Fuck…” Jason gripped on your hair, the back of your head, then with your heaving chest, he started biting into your collarbone, unsure of where to make you moan even louder. You found yourself starting for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up so you could touch the ripples of his muscles.

You were wet. You could feel it. You were biting your lip while you instinctively tried to push your legs together, but he was between them, and you couldn’t do much but lay there and take it all. Jason stopped, breathing just as heavily as you. And with your hands so gently holding his face, he looked straight into your eyes as he pulled on the back of his shirt and took it off.

He let you roam your hands around. Your warm, aching palms hovering over his lean muscles while you shamelessly bit your lip. He touched your forehead with his, feeling the way you were touching him. All over him. You brushed your palms against his pecs and jumped when he grinded up to you.

“Sorry…” he gulped. You shushed him instead and kissed him until he relaxed. Then you grinded against him, hard enough to make him audibly gasp. He let you roll your hips again, this time making you both moan into each other’s mouths.

Jason gave you a pleading look, asking if all this was okay. But it was without a word, and like him, you pulled back. Raising your shirt up and off your arms, your skin flushed the moment you saw him take his look all over you. Your bra-cladded breasts, your waist, your bare shoulders and how your hair laid so delicately against your skin. Jason looked up at you again, and you nodded at him.

You moaned at the first contact of his lips against your chest. Your tits, almost peeking out of your bra, were yearning for his tongue the more he placed kisses all over you. Then he pushed his weight against you, slowly flipping you over to let you lie down on the bed. You stared at him, kissed him hard, then moaned when he started going after your chest again.

His hands tried not to be so hard on your waist, but you could feel him wanting to dig into your skin, dig his nails into your flush. You felt his thighs part your legs and he situated himself comfortably on top of you. Then he grinded, again and again. Your hand went around his back and pulled him closer towards you.

Then he suddenly pulled away and hissed. You stopped, immediately backing off. Your heart was about to blow up and you instantly went to hold his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m-“ Jason flinched when he moved his back.

You quickly moved over to the other side of the bed, but Jason turned away which made him hiss even more.

“Jay, just let me look.”

“No-“

“What is going on?” you stammered, and when you stood up on the floor, pulling his hand away from covering his back, he stopped struggling.

You hadn’t seen it. Until now. This was recent. The largest bruise you’ve ever seen, spanning from his left shoulder all the way down to his lower back in several smaller circles. It was just by his shoulder blades where it was horribly blued and purpled, right where you were trailing your hands at just now. You placed your hand on it, but Jason inched away.

“What. Happened.”

“Nothing.”

He was looking away from you. Looking at the ground.

“Jason, you can't expect me to turn a blind eye on this again. What the hell is going on with you?” you insisted. You placed a hand on his shoulder, but he pushed it away.

He took his shirt back and slid his arms through the holes. “Workout.”

“Workout?!” you guffawed. “How stupid am I to you?”

He didn’t answer and moved over to lean against the headboard. “I hit my back against a pole. It’s no big deal.”

“No. Definitely not. That-“ you gestured to his back. “-was left by a fucking foot. Plenty of them!”

He crossed his arms and tried everything he could not to look at your face. You pulled on his arm, and just like last time, he pushed you away.

“I’m calling the police.”

“No.” He held your wrists, and with his strength you could never overpower, held it tight and took your phone away from you. “You’re not doing that.”

“Where did you get those?” You growled, frustratingly throwing his hands back towards him. “Tell me right fucking now.”

“I just got into another fight. What’s the big deal?”

You pulled on your hair. “You come home with different bruises every fucking week! Unless you're in some kind of fight club, I hardly believe you're that much of a thug-“

“Maybe I am-“

“You are insane!”

“So what?! I get into fights. All guys do.”

“No. No they fucking don’t,” you faked a laugh and covered your face with your palm.

“Did you get these from home?” your voice softened. “Tell me the truth. Please Jay. Are you being abused?”

“NO!”

“THEN WHAT IS IT!?”

“I TOLD YOU I GOT INTO A FIGHT!”

“THEN FOR FUCK’S SAKE, STOP PICKING FIGHTS-“

You were interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. You turned away, leaning against your desk and closing your eyes.

“Bruce?” he said into his phone. You heard deep murmuring, though you didn’t try so hard to listen in.

Not long after, Jason hung up. He stood up from your bed and picked up his jacket.

“I’m sorry. Bruce wants me -“

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you scoffed. “Does Bruce know? About that?”

Jason finally turned to you, standing on opposite sides of the bed. “He does. And we have a butler with medical training at home, so stop it.”

“OH,” you really wanted to laugh right now. “So now you think I’m being obnoxious!?”

“WHO SAID-“ he grunted, pulling on his own hair. “I never said that.”

“Yes you did!”

“I have to leave.”

You walked over to the door he’d just opened and slammed it shut with your palm. “We are not done here.”

“We are.”

You wanted to punch him. “What the fuck are you hiding from me, Jason?”

“Nothing.”

“You and I both know it’s not just the bruises. It takes you an hour tops to finish all our homework so where the fuck do you go to all night?”

He looked away from you, and you saw him purse his lips, steadying his breath.

“Fucking look at me-“

“I’m at home. Asleep. That’s it.”

“Or you're out with your friends? Having the kind of company you tell them not to squeal about to your girlfriend?”

“Okay. You’re insane. What makes you think I could-“

“Are you denying it?”

“Of course, I’m fucking denying it. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So there is something going on!?” you screamed. “If I find out you're hiding something, I swear to god-“

“You’ll what? Murder me in my sleep? Unless you forgot, I’m still not fucking afraid of you.”

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD BE!”

“MAYBE I WON'T.”

“FINE!”

“FINE!!”

You were shaking. Your hand specifically. And there was a painful sprout coming all the way from your chest to your neck. It was like something was biting into your organs from the inside, making your throat burn too much for you to say anything more.

His expression softened when he saw you fighting back tears.

“I have to go.” He slowly pulled you to the side, storming out of the door before you could stop him. You made sure Jason heard you throw the nearest breakable object to your side, hitting the walls of your room. He stepped out of your apartment, and by then, you were on the ground, wearing nothing but your fucking bra in a crying mess.

-----

Jason regretted everything the moment he stepped out the door.

He was a huge fucking moron to tell you off like that when you were just genuinely worried for him. You, someone who’s shown him a kind of love he’s never had with anyone else in his entire life. Maybe that was why he was shit at handling it all.

You just had another fight a week ago. He was terrible at this. No matter how much he loved you, there was no getting out of his demons’ hold.

He wanted to turn back, possibly get down on his knees and apologize immensely for everything he’d said. But another call from Bruce and not long after, the Batmobile was speeding through the streets. He cursed and ran all the way to his bike, speeding behind the car and slipping into an alley so he could quickly change.

He really fucking hated himself.

By then it was almost sundown, and when they reached Joker’s massively scaled robbery in a mall at Otisburg, they were so close to being too late. Batman crashed his car into the mall’s entrance and he jumped out, disarming five men at just a swipe of his arm.

Robin didn’t take too long to arrive. His bike stormed in from the second floor window, flying in so incomprehensibly quick that the goons couldn’t move out in time when his bike landed right on their bodies. And when it did, Robin pressed a button on his wrist, and the bike’s tires accelerated to it burned their flesh.

Fuck this world. Fuck everything in it. Everything deserved to be beaten down to the ground.

He couldn’t care less when he’d hear Batman’s scolds even from all the way across the mall’s lobby. Robin narrowly missed the bullets, snatching their guns right from their arms along with a kick right up against their chests. And with his weight placed directly on their ribs, Robin smashed their heads in with the butt of their guns. Repeatedly. They’d probably die from it. Who cares.

He was so much stronger when he wasn’t thinking too much about it.

Grappling up to the higher floors, he was instantly cornered by ten of Joker’s men. All with their stupid fucking clown masks and guns in their hands. He flipped over, rolled around to dodge the bullets. He threw batarangs one after the other and flung the heel of his boot right at any face he could reach. He blew up a store. He blocked the bullets with his cape and moved at the split second they had to reload. He smashed a head right into a concrete pillar so hard that it cracked upon its immense impact.

It had grown dark. Twenty. Maybe thirty men down on the ground. So far, his heat sensors detected they were still alive.

An elbow behind him, he grabbed a man’s arm, flung it over his back and slammed his body against the ground even when he was significantly larger than him. He placed his boot against his chest. Harder. Longer. And when he was struggling to get out, spitting at Robin’s face, he merely wiped it away before he crouched over to repeatedly hit the side of his face with his balled-up fist.

“Robin!”

He ignored that and kept going. Over and over until he felt his victim’s jaw shatter and he was lying close to lifelessness on the ground. He stopped, grabbed onto his collar and threw him onto the floor.

He barely noticed the aches on his back and how it was definitely going to take a toll on him eventually.

Darkness. Pure darkness. The demons were taking over. Just as they often did. And when they do, there was no stopping them. Not even him.

Another goon tried to shoot him, but he just walked straight at him, blocking everything with his cape, and took the gun by the muzzle with a single arm. The clown backed off, and with a single swipe, Robin smashed the gun right into his head.

The gun broke in half, and he threw it to the ground.

There was nothing in his mind at all. Not a storm. Not a single thought. Not a single word that told him to stop or think of something cleverer to put them down. There was nothing. His face blank, emotionless, Robin turned to a voice crying for help.

He walked over to the source, coming from a broken window. At four stories high, he saw one of Joker’s men hold onto the window pane for dear life.

He looked just as villainous as the rest of them. “Help me!” he cried out to Robin.

How many lives has he taken? How many families left broken? How many has he hurt?

Working for Joker, the answer to that would be far from pretty.

He was slipping, barely on his fingertips. A fall like that was surely going to kill him. But how many lives would be saved if it were?

His foot was just an inch away from his fingers. Just a step. A single step. And he’d fall.

But he stepped back, looking at the man straight in the eye.

And without a single flinch from him, the man slipped off the window pane by his slippery palms and dropped to his death.

When he got to the ground floor, now with GCPD officers taking over the place, he was immediately grabbed by the shoulder and hauled into the batmobile.

“My fucking bike-“

“Leave it,” Batman growled.

He got into the car and drove out before anything else were to be said.

The drive was silent. For the most part. And when they got to the cave, Jason threw his domino mask to the ground.

“Do that again, and you lose the suit.” Bruce stammered.

“Boo fucking hoo.”

“At least fifteen of them were a hit away from dropping dead. Care to explain that?”

“Isn’t that what we do? Incapacitate them but not actually take their lives to satisfy your fucking morals?”

“Don’t start with me, Jason.”

Jason turned to him on his tip toes to try standing him off. “You have no idea how long I’ve fucking wanted to do that!”

“Then you're admitting to not being capable of handling this responsibility. THIS is a responsibility, Jason.”

“THEY WORK FOR JOKER. DO YOU KNOW HOW VILE AND DISGUSTING A PERSON HAS TO BE TO WORK FOR HIM? THEY’RE ALL SERIAL KILLERS. RAPISTS. HOW ARE THEY STILL OUR FUCKING RESPONSIBILTY?!”

“You don’t get to kill. None of us do.”

Jason stomped his heavy boots onto the ground and started for the door. “You’re a madman, Bruce.”

“One dead. Fell from the fourth-floor window. You were there when it happened.”

He was so sure all the pent-up lava was going to burst out of him anytime soon and destroy everything in its path. He stopped walking, kept his eyes on the cold metal ground.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Did you kill him?” Bruce said. “I’m only going to ask you once.”

Jason turned around.

“No.”

The man slipped on his own, and Jason just happened to be there watching him fall. So no, he didn’t kill him. He just willingly let him die. There’s a difference, right?

He didn’t even care if there was.

“Jason-“

“Good night, Bruce.”

He slipped out of his suit and stormed into his room.

He pulled out his phone.

Jason: “Babe, you okay?”

Five hours later, you still hadn’t replied.

His desk chair had been broken in half by his bare hands by the time morning came.

-----

If your chicken nuggets were still alive, you’d have killed the bird ten times over just by the tip of your fork.

You didn’t even eat. Your hand practically had a mind of its own, impaling your food until it was in mushed up bits. You were silent. Far too silent. Your eyes were locked onto your food, but if you were to be asked, you’d have no idea what was going on. And you felt empty, your body hallowed out to the point where you were nothing but a set of skin, flesh, and bone with no sign of a soul left within you.

You hit the bottom of your tray hard enough to make a dent.

You heard Jason from across you sigh. “You gotta eat-“

Smashing the tip of your fork into the largest piece of nugget left intact, you gritted your teeth, stared at the ground with those deathly eyes and stuffed it into your mouth. You chewed so harshly at your food that you might have tasted your own blood.

Jason shook his head, taking his can of soda and emptied it out before he’d say anything more. And when he’d finished, you heard the can get crushed by his bare hands.

A hard swallow down his thick neck and a grunt out in frustration, and it only made your head boil even hotter.

You looked up at him, momentarily catching his eye, and without breaking your deathlike eye contact, you pierced your fork into your tray, hitting the bottom. Jason cocked his jaw to the side, giving you the same frown, but he said nothing and leaned over to rest his elbows on the table.

Again. And again. Your fork made so much dents in your tray that it’d barely be of any more use. This time, you were eating the food you’d mutilated.

Jason’s teeth were biting into his lip so much that at the nth time you smashed your tray, he felt a sharp sting in the back of his gums and a taste of bitter iron filling his tongue.

“Stop that.”

You smashed your fork again, flaring your nostrils at him and tensing all your muscles that you were just a second away from pouncing at him. Thankfully, you didn’t. You didn’t listen to him, either. You pierced your food with your fork and clenched your jaw the whole time you chewed.

He gave up and finished his own food, sliding his tray aside with a strong, frustrated push of his arm.

When your tray was empty, filled with dents, you threw your fork right on top of it and immediately stood up, grabbed your cup of iced coffee while sparing him a lasting glare before you turned away to your next class.

Jason sat there, alone, his mouth completely dry and his fists wanting to hit the next thing that comes his way.

Calm. Reserved. Not yet screaming at anyone on the way to your classroom. Although people instantly stood aside the moment they saw you walk down the hall with an explosive look on your face, you didn’t blow up just yet.

You reached your room, and just about you entered the doorway, Lana bumped right into you.

“Watch it-“

She looked up, saw it was you, and instantly bit her mouth. To make matters worse, your iced coffee slightly spilled on your shirt.

Your fists were clenched. Furthermore, and you’d blow. Your breaths were unsteady, your teeth baring. The look on your eye was enough to give fucking Medusa a run for her money. You gritted your teeth and stood silent, watching Lana start to say something, anything.

But she craned her head down and stood aside to let you walk in. And with your eyes keeping on her, you took your time making your way inside, walking so slowly that everyone kept silent at the sight of you.

You took a seat. And Lana took one four seats away from you.

Jerry the science teacher walked in, bed head still on probably from being asleep at the library, and placed all his stuff on the desk.

“Afternoon, everyone…”

You didn’t listen to a word he said. Your eyes were on the board, but you couldn’t recall a thing that was on it. You were relaxed on your chair, back arched down and your arms crossed.

Even at your worst, the world managed to go on like you weren’t in some kind of crisis at all. The sun continued to show up that morning as if it were mocking you that other people probably had one of their best days right now and you were stuck sulking without a choice. Of course, you technically did. Jason texted you once last night. Twice this morning. He sat with you at lunch despite you on the brink of choking him to death. You haven’t said anything to him so far. But you could tell he was trying. Terrible tries, to be honest. But it was there.

“Ms. Y/N.”

You didn’t move your head, or anything else, when you looked at Jerry.

“No drinks allowed in class. Throw that out the trash.”

Everyone was staring at you.

“I’m not done with it,” you grumbled.

“I don’t care. Pour it out and throw it away.”

The cup was about to explode in your hand just like that soda can did with Jason. You made sure they all heard you stomp on the ground when you stood up. And with such force you pushed the chair behind you.

Silence.

You turned over to Lana.

She wasn’t smiling, but she must have loved seeing you being called out like this. You just fucking knew it.

She was watching you like all the other kids. But the longer you stared, eyes narrowed at her, you notice her breathe hard and turn her attention away to the blank wall in front of her.

Nothing. You felt nothing. You wanted to feel something. Anything to take you out of this sad, sulking state.

“Fine,” you said.

And without even the slightest speck of shame, you slowly walked over to Lana, took out the cover of your ice coffee, stopped right in front of her-

“Y/N-“

You poured the cup right onto her head.

You heard gasps, oohs, and hisses. But even Jerry was speechless. Lana horrifyingly shrieked, eyes closed and jaw on the floor. Your face was blank, hips cocked to the side like you were casually doing it in some sink or a trash bin. And it took a long while. Longer than you should. The coffee spilled so slowly into her scalp that you wanted her to completely realize what was going on far before you were going to finish.

Her hair and face were drenched by the time you turned the cup over until it was completely upside down. All the ice fell to her head, and she gasped.

Silence again. And the expression you had on your face never faltered. Jaw to the side, arms crossed, you sighed with a high-pitched voice mimicking Lana’s.

You threw the cup in the trash, giving everyone slow glances as you made your way back into your seat. No one dared to speak up. No one moved from their desk. You raised your eyebrow at all of them, then you turned over to look at Jerry.

“Done.”

You sat down, and Lana screamed out of the classroom. Normally, you’d be smiling your face off by now.

But just like the rest of the day, that persistent frown never left. You didn’t feel any better. Nothing possibly could make you feel better.

You were lucky it was Jerry that was in charge. If it had been any other teacher who had just the slightest bit of energy left in them, they’d have taken you to the Vice Principal’s office. But today, you got off scot-free.

Looking out the window, ignoring all else that was going on, you wondered how Jason was handling all this.

-----

Now

You were barely ten minutes into your appointment, and already, you were getting to the ugly parts you struggled so hard to repeat. The therapist did a good job at convincing you there was no shame to it, though. You, on the other hand, were going to have to try much harder at convincing yourself.

“Did all this start with just the bruises?” she asked you.

There was a twist in your chest, something so violently twisting all your organs, your heart just being one of them, and it was gripping onto your rib cage, shaking them so vigorously you felt like you were about to fall out.

“No… I think… Well, it was the point where things actually felt like they started to change. Even though it didn’t feel that way at first.”

“How did it feel at first?”

You shrugged. “Like just an ordinary fight. Something all couples go through.”

The therapist took note of that. The pain just kept worsening the more you talked. Wasn’t she supposed to talk just as much? Give you advice? Let you have a different perspective of things?

Apparently not. She continued to ask. “Was it?”

You didn’t exactly have a solid answer. It was. And it wasn’t. You’ll just have to keep going.

“We dealt with it horribly. By ourselves. I did some cruel shit to lash it out. Things I’m no longer proud of. And he did, too.”

“Go on,” she said. And you tried to hold back a roll in your eyes.

“But if there was one thing I noticed, we never lashed out much on each other. Sure, we’d bicker and fight and scream every once in a while. But I never once thought of hurting him just for the sake of causing hurt.”

“But you hurt other people in the process…”

You nodded. “I said I’m not proud of it.”

“I’m seeing some progress in you. I see you regret the way you handled that fight. And you wish you could have done things differently.”

Like a sword riding right down your stomach. You gulped. “Yeah…”

“How would you have done it? Knowing what you do now?”

She had to be kidding. You basically had your answer memorized over the course of three years mourning and blaming yourself for everything that had happened.

“I wish I called him that night instead of ignoring his texts. I wish I gave him the chance to apologize. Maybe even apologize myself. I wish…” you breathed. “I wish I just accepted the truth he was telling me…”

“Frankly, he was in the wrong as well.”

“I don’t care if he was anymore…” you caught your breath, stopping your voice from cracking.

The therapist gave you a bit of time to collect yourself. You were gripping onto the couch. Perhaps a bit harder than you should.

“The fights… I wish we realized none of them was ever going to be worth it. Not when it means I was going to lose him…”

-----

Then

Well, at least you let him take you home.

And after his argument with Bruce, he didn’t care if he was going to get another scolding when he gets home. He’d stolen one of his cars, and he was driving it right now with you at the passenger seat. You had your knees pointed out the car door facing away from him. And each time he glances at you, he’d see your face in the reflection.

You were staring at the glass, face blank. You hadn’t talked all day. Barely a word out of you. He desperately wanted to say something. Anything. But he’d end up realizing his words were just going to make things so much worse.

And he should have thought more about bringing the car with him. There was traffic. Even when you weren’t so far from your house. It only made everything so much more silent and eerie than it already was.

He wasn’t going to turn on the radio or plug his phone in for some music. The silence was going to be better. And he was afraid he’ll miss a whisper out of you if you were too hesitant to say anything loud enough for him to actually hear.

Your fights never went on this long. It usually just ended a few hours after it happens and you’d have kissed and made up before the night comes to an end. And they were always light, even when it worried him, it never actually came to the point where visions of him walking away forever suddenly surged up his mind. It wasn’t much different from the bickering you always had the first time you met. When you hadn’t gotten along.

He didn’t realize he was smiling, thinking back at the times when you’d punch him for letting a book fall to your head, when he’d purposefully hit your back with the cart and you ended up chasing him down the aisle. When you used to scream at each other just to argue over where a book was supposed to be placed.

Jason licked his lips and smiled at those memories.

Then he turned to you. You were his now. Even when at times, it didn’t feel much like it. You were still his. But when he glanced at you, seeing you look so miserable looking out the window, it hit him like a bat to the face.

He reached your apartment, parked right beside the curb and unlocked the door.

You looked at him, no longer in frustration, but with sorrow, weariness. You were tired and he was, too.

“Thanks.”

That was the only thing you said to him all day. And right after that, you walked out the door, closing it behind you without slamming it like you’d expectedly do.

And even when he knew it was just for the day, that’s when the visions came up. You walking away. Possibly forever. Him losing you to his stubbornness. Even when it was just from the car, it all felt like you were walking away from his life entirely.

So he got out of the car and raced to you before you stepped into the door. “Wait-”

You stopped, turning around.

You tried to make your face as expressionless as you possibly could, but even you failed at that. You looked exhausted, not at all like you were at lunch. And he walked towards you. Surprisingly, you walked down the steps towards him as well.

His eyes on yours, shaking and unstable, he slowly stepped in front of you and pulled you to his chest as numbingly tight as he could. You were tense, unmoving, and he could feel you hesitate.

But unknown to him, a tear had fallen down the side of your cheek. You eventually fell into him and instantly you wrapped your arms around his waist, stuffing your face into his shoulder like he was to your neck.

You didn’t know how long you stayed in his arms. But even with the wind so strong, nothing blew you apart.

It wasn’t the same at all. The quarrelling, the disputes, it had evolved into something neither of you anticipated, though when it actually happened, it wasn’t much of a surprise. The cuts it made onto your flesh were so much deeper, when at first it barely made any cuts at all. You thought that was how it was supposed to be, something that brought you together. Your petty fights have always been something to look back to and smile at. Something cute.

But now…

What happens now?

What happens when those same exact fights progress into something you’d no longer easily forget?

What happens when the pettiness causes a wound not so quickly healed?

What happens when the back and forth, the disagreements, the bickering…

What happened when they stop being cute?

-----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

AT LEAST KEEP ME ALIVE UNTIL THE FINALE

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ricksbowen · 5 years ago

Text

simply, utterly | pt. 3

IN WHICH: the tension finally snaps between y/n and ricky, but it gets a little out of hand.

INSPIRATION: start of something new — high school musical, more than a woman — the bee gees

WARNING: there’s making out. is that even a warning?

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7

“Do you remember in kindergarten how you’d meet a kid and know nothing about them, then seconds later you’re playing like you’re best friends because you didn’t have to be anything but yourself?”

You looked up from your script, ignoring the way the eyes of the rest of the cast stayed on you and Ricky. Everyone was watching, and you tried not to seem uncomfortable at the thought that Nini Salazar-Roberts, Ricky’s ex, and your own brother was watching you act as if Ricky was your dream guy. You were trying to keep your face sincere, fitting into the scene as you imagined someone — anyone — else as Ricky.

“Yeah,” Ricky stepped closer, looking at you with the same expression. It had been a week since the agreement, and to say that it was easy would be a lie. Keeping his sarcastic comments about you to himself was harder than he thought. But as he stood with you, chests almost touching, the same old smirk crept up onto his face, and a blush dusted over your cheeks.

“Singing with you felt like that,” you responded, words coming out more curt and rude than what was expected of you.

Coughing to diffuse the tension, Miss Jenn offered you and Ricky an ecstatic smile. “Wonderful! Go over the script a few more times, maybe even hang out,” she wiggled her brows to the both of you, your nose scrunching at the idea. “We need to sell this! We need the Gabriella and Troy to pop out from the both of you!”

With that, rehearsals were over.

“You know, we never played like best friends back in kindergarten,” Ricky commented, following you as you walked to where all your things were piled up.

“That’s because you decided to cut my hair instead,” you retorted, rolling your eyes as you threw your backpack over your shoulder. You turned to Ricky, giving him a look up and down. “Why’re you talking to me?” you asked, actual curiosity hidden behind annoyance. He didn’t need to be civil with you after rehearsals; hell, he didn’t even need to talk to you, yet here he was, starting up a conversation.

“Well, Miss Jenn did say that we had to sell it,” Ricky said, shrugging nonchalantly as he played it off. “So I thought we could talk more—“

“That’s never a good idea,” you said blatantly, giving Ricky a look that screamed, ‘Did you really think it would work?’ before walking away.

Ricky hid his slight disappointment behind a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

Much to your disappointment, you heard sneakers squeak against the floor follow you.

“Fuck off, Bowen, I’m not gonna try and — Oh. It’s you.” Your angry expression dropped when you saw Ej and Ashlyn next to you rather than Ricky, Ashlyn’s face showing pure amusement.

“I think I know why Miss Jenn chose you and Ricky,” Ashlyn stated, and you could already make out the teasing tone in her voice. “I’m not gonna lie: I wouldn’t be surprised if you two started making out out of nowhere.”

“Jesus— Ash!” You groaned, trying to block out her laugh. You could see a frown appear on Ej’s face at her words, his obvious dislike towards the idea of you and Ricky being together obvious.

“I’m just saying!” Ashlyn protested, nudging your shoulder. “I mean, it probably won’t happen anytime soon, but c’mon; everyone sees it.” She glanced down at you, her grin widening at the total bitch face that was plastered on your features.

“It’s only gonna be a few more weeks, then showtime. After that, you can go back to whatever relationship you two had,” Ej stated, obviously uncomfortable at the topic. He didn’t want to imagine Ricky Bowen and his sister together.

“That’s the plan.” The three of you walked down the empty hall, comfortable silence enveloping you all. One of your hands gripped a strap of your backpack while the other was holding your script. You looked down at the script in your hand, biting your bottom lip in thought as you read it. “Hey, can you pick me up later?”

“Later?” Ej looked at you with a slight frown.

“Why later?” Ashlyn questioned, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively at your words.

You rolled your eyes at her antics. “I need to practice these songs. I kinda forgot to.” You looked up at your brother, already seeing the hesitancy on his face. Jokingly, you jutted your bottom lip out ( a move you learned as a small child ). “Please?”

“Y/N—“

“I’m not gonna go off and do drugs, Ej,” you said with a small smile, the smile growing when you saw him roll his eyes. “I just need to practice something. It’s for the musical, I promise,” you reassured, slowly walking backward from him and Ashlyn.

“Fine.” Ej sighed. “Just call when you need me to pick you up,” he glanced down at his phone, shrugging his shoulders to himself. “Looks like I’m inviting Nini to fro-yo and not you.”

“Rude— you’re not gonna invite me?” Ashlyn asked, cocking a brow at her cousin.

“Nope.”

“You both do you! Love you both!” You ran back down the hall, hearing Ej’s faint, ‘love you more!’ from behind you. You slowed to a walk, making a beeline for the stage doors and peeking inside.

No one. Perfect.

Your shoes echoed around you as you made your way to the piano that Ashlyn usually claimed. You needed practice on the songs ( you procrastinated on remembering them, and while you used to know them by heart, it had been years since your High School Musical phase ). You set your bag down next to the piano bench, sitting down on it and letting out a huff.

You had no piano at home. Only your guitar.

You searched on your phone quickly, bringing out the lyrics to the song you had in mind. You placed your fingers on the keys, letting out a breath before playing. You learned the song in your odd High School Musical phase: The Start of Something New. One of the duets you had to remember and sing alongside Ricky. The beginning was Troy’s part, but that never stopped anyone.

You’ve been singing the song alone for years. You pressed the keys, testing the waters, and played the beginning over and over again to see if you still remembered. You did ( surprisingly ).

Ricky didn’t know why he was still here. Everyone left ages ago, yet he still found himself roaming the school. He didn’t want to go home; not with everything that was happening in his life.

He roamed the halls aimlessly, scrolling through his phone. He passed the art hall, not even bothering to look up until he heard the sound of a piano playing faintly down the hall. It was the beginning of a familiar song, playing over and over again and practically willing him to follow it — and he did.

Quietly and feeling like Joe from You, he made his way down and hall and followed the music into the entrance backstage. The music stopped for just a second before it continued. Ricky walked in, steps light and careful not to startle whoever was playing until he saw—

you.

Ricky didn’t know you played piano. Then again, he didn’t know much about you and what you could do ( other than singing and being better at skateboarding than him ). It was just another talent he could check off of the list.

He almost thought about surprising you while you played. Almost.

“Okay. You can probably play this,” you encouraged yourself quietly, oblivious o Ricky’s presence as you began to play the song: Start of Something New. But as you opened your mouth to sing Troy’s part, you heard someone else beat you to it.

“Living in my own world, didn't understand

That anything can happen, when you take a chance.”

Your fingers left the keys, head turning to the voice. Immediately, your face hardened at the sight of Ricky Bowen, walking closer to you and the piano with a smile on his face.

“Well? You gotta sing your part now,” he commented, leaning against the piano’s body as he looked down at you.

“I’m not going to if you’re here.”

“Oh c’mon, babe,” he encouraged, the new nickname making your heart skip a beat. Just one; not that you’d mention it out loud. You hid it behind a bitchy look. “Miss Jenn did say we had to sell Gabriella and Troy.” Ricky shrugged to himself nonchalantly. “Singing this song might help pull it off.”

You rolled your eyes at him for what felt like the 100th time that day.

Again, he grinned encouragingly. “Please?” Ricky asked, pouting jokingly.

With one last cold glare, you sighed, scooting aside for him to sit. “Fine. Just this song.” You looked at him expectingly, watching him look at you in confusion before you motioned to the seat. “The lyrics are on my phone.”

“What if I don’t need them?” Ricky challenged, cocking a brow.

“You do. You barely even know the plot to High School Musical,” you retorted, turning your attention to your phone and knowing you won the argument. You felt him sit down alongside you, and you tried to ignore how warm he was before placing your fingers on and keys and starting the song from where you left off.

“I never believed in, what I couldn't see

I never opened up my heart, to all the possibilities.”

Your eyes were focused on the lyrics on your phone, effortlessly singing Gabriella’s part as if it were nothing. To you, it probably was nothing, but as Ricky subtly watched you from the corner of his eye, he knew exactly why Miss Jenn chose you to be Gabriella. You nudged him as you sang, snapping him out of his trance. You were smirking at him, and he could already hear you say, ‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer.’

“I know that something has changed. Never felt this way, and right here tonight..”

It seemed to shock you both how well your voices melded together. It was the first time you sang a duet together and it sounded as if you had practiced for forever.

“This could be the start of something new.

It feels so right, to be here with you, oh.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your face at how you both sounded, and you found yourself laughing softly when you saw Ricky nodding his head to the beat. The same subtle smile was on his face, all usual tension between the both of you gone as you sang in harmony.

“And now looking in your eyes, I feel in my heart, the start of something new.”

Your eyes met at that line ( as cliche as it sounded ), and your smile grew as you found yourself nodding along with the song. Ricky was practically dancing, and you bit back a laugh as you both continued to sing.

“Now who'd of ever thought that, we'd both be here tonight?” Ricky sang, pointing at you for dramatic effect.

“And the world looks so much brighter,

with you by my side,” you responded, nudging him yet again and making him grin as he sang the backup vocals.

“I know that something has changed, never felt this way, I know it for real..”

Ricky couldn’t believe how much you changed with one small song. You were having fun, belting out the lyrics like there was no tomorrow. His eyes always landed on you despite his need for the lyrics, and a smile would tug at his lips when he saw you, nodding your head and playing happily. Shit. Maybe he needed to stop looking at you.

“This could be the start of something new

It feels so right, to be here with you, oh.”

He was leaning closer to you, his side touching yours as you played. You both weren’t looking at the lyrics now, your eyes looking at each other with a feeling you couldn’t pinpoint.

“And now looking in your eyes, I feel in my heart, the start of something new.”

The last chord echoed between the both of you. You were both slightly out of breath from the song and from the small bit of dancing you both did. It only took a heartbeat of hesitation before you grabbed Ricky by the collar of his shirt and pulled his lips to yours.

Your lips moved quickly against each other, all the pent up frustration being taken out as Ricky kissed you. His hands went to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you to the side of the piano where he placed you on it. Your legs spread and he placed himself between them, breaking the kiss only for a moment before kissing down your neck.

You tilted your head back, a breathy moan leaving your lips when you felt him leave marks along your neck. You ran a hand through his hair, messing it up and bringing his lips back to yours. You pulled away before kissing his neck, leaving a mark under his ear and listening to his shaky breaths. You continued your way down, leaving marks to get him back for the ones he left on you. Your hands crept up under the shirt he wore, tugging it up to pull it off of him until—

“Holy shit.”

Big Red’s voice broke you two apart, your eyes wide as you stared at Big Red. You tried to fix yourself and your hair, covering up the hickeys that you knew he left behind. Ricky immediately rubbed his neck, hiding the marks you left on him as he smiled sheepishly to his friend.

“When I told you you were gonna make out someday I didn’t know it was gonna be in a week or so!” Big Red remarked, making you groan and making Ricky rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “I came back to get you, by the way,” Big Red said pointedly at Ricky. “I knew you were gonna be at your house,” he added, voice softening slightly.

Ricky nodded, mumbling a ‘thank you.’ He watched as you jumped off of the piano, grabbing your backpack from the floor. Your hair was a mess and red splotches were starting to appear on your neck. “Hey. I’ll see you tomorrow—“

“We don’t speak about that to anyone,” you stated, quiet enough so that only he could hear you. Your whole demeanor changed, and for once, you couldn’t meet Ricky’s eyes. “It meant nothing to both of us. Okay, Ricky?” Those were lies, but he didn’t need to know that.

You’d never called him his real name before.

Hiding the hurt from his eyes, Ricky nodded, forcing a smile to his face. “Right. It meant nothing.” He but his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from asking you why you didn’t want to talk about what had happened. It had to mean something, right?

You had hurried out before he could utter another word, leaving him to answer all the questions Big Red had for him.

—

TAGS: @softpeteparker, @jointherebellion215, @l-tt-e, @broken-from-fandoms, @uwupxterparker, @room-3o4, @eternaleviee, @hobistigma, @fangeekkk, @wcnderwoo, @myrandom-fandomlife, @multifangorl, @tomshufflepuff

#ricky bowen headcannons #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen smut #ricky bowen hcs #ricky bowen imagines #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #ej caswell #hsmtmts #big red #joshua bassett hcs #joshua bassett angst #joshua bassett imagines #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett #ashlyn caswell

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moccahobi · 5 years ago

Text

Written in The Stars [Hoseok x Reader]

Warnings: Cuss words

Summery: Hoseok had always been big on supporting his friends. Thus it came as no surprise that he ended up spending his free time at Namjoon's latest buiseness venture: a little dessert cafe. He didn't expect to fall for the cute barista who always worked when he was there though the.

Word count: 7k words

Genre: Slice of life au; Cafe au

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to @kyub for making the banner and @heyitsmeee2, @jung-hoseok-s-airplane, @jiminful, and @elenasgotyourback for betaing. This fic took so much out of me! I had one idea than the next and the main time I had to write this was during school. Oof! I am glad I did it though! Big shutout to @bangtanscenery for orchestrating and creating this project! It was soo fun!

Hoseok sighed from where he was seated in the all too cliche cafe. Namjoon had just opened it up so Hoseok was trying to fulfill his role as a supportive friend by eating there, but it just wasn’t a place he was into. The place was beautiful. He could tell Namjoon and his business partner had quite the eye for design. The wall behind the register was painted in chalk and the menu was written in large swirling letters across it. They had picked a light and natural wood tone for the tables and booths that complimented the dark grey of the metal chairs which were all all seats upholstered with a rich navy blue and embezzled with glittering gold rebites keeping the cushions to the furniture. It was an ethereal kind of look that undoubtedly drew in the crowds.

Looking around, Hoseok’s eyes landed on a large astrology chart sprawled out on the back wall, similar in handwriting to the menu, painting a story with the chart. He only noticed it because Namjoon had a passion for astrology and he would often gush about it to Hoseok who would listen to almost all the times that they met up. To top it off, the ceiling was painted in an all consuming shade of black, mimicking a galaxy with its streaks of white, here and there, which glimmered like actual stars (although Hoseok could admit that the ceiling was almost a piece of art). Aside from the heavy reliance on a theme, it was a dessert cafe. Hoseok liked sweets. Namjoon loved sweets apparently. Almost every food was doused in sugar and it was almost overwhelming just how sweet it all was. They all sounded amazing and cavity inducing (especially the french toast and ice cream combo), and Hoseok was tempted to try them, but he couldn’t handle all that sugar in one sitting. He’d need someone to help and he didn’t have someone to help him today. The only thing Hoseok could handle was the Black Hole coffee (americano with a little sugar) and a Galaxy bagel (it was just a plain bagel with some sugary cream cheese). Hoseok felt a little more like Yoongi, the resident grump of his friends, sitting in the cafe with such… unsweetened foods.

Of course Namjoon’s cafe had some savory food and Hoseok wanted to try them some other time, maybe with Yoongi.The main thing Namjoon sold was dessert though, and to support Namjoon, Hoseok had to have one of the desserts.

What wasn’t a shock about Namjoon’s cafe was that he co-owned and ran it with someone else. Hoseok didn’t know who it was yet, Namjoon having not told him yet but from what Hoseok knew of the current set up, they were manning the counter with two baristas. From what Namjoon had said about his business partner, they were much more focused on what they were serving as well as the astrology side of the cafe work than any of the real business. It gave Namjoon exactly what he wanted: the business side of things and a partner to share the possible debt. Hoseok had finally managed to visit today, their fifth day open and if he had to list the things that he did like, he’d have to start with the ceiling and then mention one of the baristas:

They took his breath away the second he entered the store. They smiled broadly and greated Hoseok and for a second, he forgot that he was at a local cafe and not a family run restaurant back in Gwangju. The world slowed as he looked at them and all Hoseok could think about was the warm feeling of returning to his mom’s friend’s restaurant after his post-school program and eating kimchi and rice.

The trance was broken the second she turned to take someone’s order and Hoseok slowly came back to reality. He wasn’t in Gwangju but he was about to have a wonderful meal in a shop owned by a friend.

Hoseok had only been in the cafe for half an hour and he could already say that he was starting to develop a small crush on the barista. He didn’t mean to and he didn’t dare think about actually asking her out… it just happened. She was a pretty woman doing her job and Hoseok was an attention starved small business owner who was entranced by her caring attitude. Hoseok was stressed and tired. Plus, he was finally feeling better after his last relationship. There wasn’t this constant longing nestled deep inside him at the thought of the end of his last relationship anymore, and he might finally be at a point where dating was ok to do again.

That is what he brushed it off as.

Hoseok didn’t want to think of the alternative. He just got out of a relationship a month ago and was still recovering even if he felt like he might be better now. Sure it might have been a mutual agreement based on his best interests and their best interest, but that didn’t make it any harder. Hoseok still missed the nights when they would spend the night in their apartment and snuggle close while watching cheesy shows or when they’d force him to stop working on pottery for a day and instead grab food at one of the food trucks. He missed the companionship but by now, he didn’t know if he missed them.

He might.

There wasn’t a real way to always tell though. The two went everywhere together. Every place that Hoseok went to now conjured memories that danced and pranced around in his mind. This cafe would be different though. There were no ghost memories dancing around. It was new and he could work effectively and happily.

At some point while Hoseok was finishing his food, Namjoon came over and joined him. The two had barely had more than a handful of conversations since graduating college, both too busy to make time for the other as small business owners (well this was Namjoon’s second business venture, the other supplying him a good source of money to fund him and the cafe). That was how life was sadly but with this cafe open so close to where Hoseok lived and worked that now they might have a chance of having long and winded conversations again.

“Do you remember watching stars on our old apartment’s rooftop?” Namjoon asked at one point, a soft and content smile on his face

“Somewhat. They were nice. Cold, but nice.” Hoseok lied while taking a long sip of his coffee.

Namjoon had always loved the night sky, so much so that he would drag Hoseok out three times a week just to look at the sky. The man could name every constellation and phase of the moon off the top of his head. It was an amazing skill. Hoseok didn’t have that same passion though. Sure, the night sky was nice, awe inspiring at times, but most nights Hoseok would return from work exhausted and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Those nights when Namjoon and Hoseok would go onto the roof and look at the sky were mostly filled with Hoseok drifting off in the cold.

Hoseok did it though and Hoseok would do it again in a heartbeat because it made Namjoon happy.

Namjoon smiled broadly, “That was kinda the inspiration for the cafe’s decorations! My co-owner, Y/n-ssi, really likes astrology so she added some of the more… magical elements.”

Hoseok chuckled and looked around with a small smile growing on his face as well,“I am glad you enjoyed those nights so much. Do you still make time to go out and look at the stars?” Hoseok asked before taking a long sip of his coffee.

“No.” Namjoon snorted, his smile much larger now, “I am a working man. I barely have time to eat, sleep, and breath. Let alone gaze up at the stars.”

“You should make time, Namjoon-ah. It isn’t healthy to work all the time.” Hoseok chastised, taking special care now to scrutinize Namjoon’s face.

He looked very similar to the young twenty year old Hoseok once knew but there was more evidence now of stress and wear-and-tear. Frown lines and bags etched in his face. When was the last time Namjoon took a break from all his work? Hoseok didn’t know the answer. He did know though that he was no better than Namjoon. This was his first real break in a week or two.

“You sound like Minjae.” Namjoon laughed.

Hoseok winced instead, “Sometimes we need someone to look after us, Namjoon-ah.”

“I am sorry, man. I didn’t mean to-”

“It is ok, dude. I am over her.” Hoseok said, carefully watching Namjoon process what Hoseok said.

He still looked stressed, his frown lines growing as he looked at the table instead of Hoseok. Namjoon had set up Minjae and Hoseok and his pride was undoubtedly wounded when the two decided to end it. Namjoon also barely had time to check in with the two so his own memory was probably a little foggy.

“ Anyways, we should try to go camping sometime… or go to some sort of museum for stars. Bet we could stay there for five hours before they’d kick us out.” Hoseok proposed, watching as Namjoon smiled, his frown lines becoming ghosts as he looked back up at Hoseok again as the previous stress left him.

Namjoon snorted in laughter, “I would love to look at the stars with you again, if that is what you’re asking.”

His eyes lit up as he started to speak animatedly, “And we can make s’mores and grill some beef. Oh my god! I haven’t had beef in sooo long. It would be so good!”

“I think we would have to go camping to do that, Namjoon-ah. I don’t know if a museum will allow us to start a fire and cook stuff there.” Hoseok laughed.

“Well then, looks like we will be going camping.”

“Yeah. Looks like we will have to plan that soon.”

A comfortable silence filled the two as they looked out at the bustling cafe, nothing left to talk about. They were both running their own stores, Hoseok had his pottery shop and Namjoon had the bookshop and now this cafe. The two did the same work just in a different setting and neither felt the need to talk about it. Shortly after their conversation died down, Namjoon had to go back to work. He mainly worked in the backroom but there was almost more work to be done.. Hoseok didn’t mind. He understood the struggle. Namjoon leaving actually left Hoseok excited as he could finally start reading the latest book he grabbed from the library. Giddily, he tapped his feet against the floor and quickly pulled the book out of his bag and started to read. The soft and sure feeling of the hardback book grounded him as he started to be carried away by the words. Distantly, he registered people moving around him as life carried on but he didn’t care one bit. The tension rose in the story the further he read and soon enough he found himself tightly gripping the book as more and more problems arose. Time passed at an unknown rate to Hoseok as someone new sat near him or left or readjusted. He barely noticed any and all changes that happened around him, too absorbed in the world he held in his hands (which he was somehow only a third of the way through). That was until he noticed someone sit across him at his table. They said something that he didn’t quite hear or understand and he quickly tried to get to a stopping point so converse with whoever it was (probably Namjoon back to bother him more).He looked up in shock to see the cute barista from earlier, smiling and taking a bite of her sandwich. You were the last person Hoseok expected to see sitting with him. Maybe an old friend and very possibly Namjoon, but you? A cute barista he barely said one word to? Nope.

You blushed and started to speak, a hand covering her mouth to hide the food you were eating, “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for my lunch. I noticed you talking to Namjoon-ssi earlier and you’re reading one of my favorite books and I thought that it could be cool to meet and talk to you. I am Y/n by the way.” She smiled brightly and nodded lightly at Hoseok.

Hoseok laughed quietly and blushed himself before nodding with a smile, “I am Hoseok. Why is it your favorite book? Oh! And no spoilers! I just started the second part.”

“Ah! A bunch of good stuff is about to happen! I am warning you!” You laughed before taking a sip of your drink.

As you did so, Hoseok looked at what you brought with you, namely your lunch box. Hoseok knew that Namjoon built into the budget a small meal for each of the workers during their shift and it struck Hoseok as endearing that you brought your own food instead of eating the sugary sweets offered in the cafe. It was smart too. The sweets probably wouldn’t be the healthiest to eat daily and you could eat more if you packed your own food.

“I really enjoyed the story. It just… it traps you and doesn’t let you go. The author is really good about that in general with her works. I have read some of her other works and they’re so good!” You said, your eyes glued on the book splayed on the table and not Hoseok.

“I am learning that now.” Hoseok laughed, “This is my first time reading one of her works and I definitely want to read more of her stuff. I specifically enjoy how she is associating certain aspects of her world with different textures and feelings. ”

You nodded excitedly as Hoseok kept talking, your cheeks full of food as you ate. His heart fluttered endearingly as he watched you eat and talk about the book, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement. Time was moving almost as quickly as when he read the book and he enjoyed it. There was something fun about talking about a book with someone. He hadn’t done it since high school (Minjae was always more of a movie or show person and he did other things with other people). Until now, reading had been an activity he’d done alone. He found himself smiling and laughing more with you than he had in awhile. Maybe there was something fun about talking about books with others that Hoseok had been ignoring until now.

Maybe there was something magical about you.

Maybe it was how your eyes drew him in and kept him there. He didn’t fully know.

The fun didn’t last too long though. You came to talk during your lunch break and lunch breaks were short. It didn’t help that as they talked more and more, he started getting inspiration on some new pottery and he knew that he would need to start working on them soon or he might lose the idea (that or he’ll lose the inspiration).. Just to be safe, he excused himself after you finished eating your sandwich and made his way to his shop. He tried to ignore the image of you nodding and smiling sadly as he left that bounced around in his head but it was heard. You simply looked so adorable and he wish that he didn’t have to leave.

In fact, he thought about how he left Namjoon’s cafe in a rush many times over the following week. Regret stewed inside him the more time he dwelled on it and didn’t return to the cafe. He should have risked the idea for talking with you (his new creation barely sold so it probably wasn’t worth losing a conversation). He should have stayed longer. He should have asked you for your number. Then maybe he might have been able to ask you out to meet up (and maybe call it a date). Plus, if he had gotten your number then he might have had enough courage to reenter the shop instead of standing outside of the shop like an absolute buffoon every time he passed it. Like he was currently doing right now. Inside the shop, people were bustling around. A group of children had gathered there after school and were drinking some sort of milkshakes. People were simply sitting there and working. Friends were meeting up. You were working away behind the counter.

He was standing outside like a loser.

He wished that he had the gall to go in and order something (as well as as for your number) but all he could do was watch you flutter around behind the counter as you worked hard, his own heart fluttering and stuttering as he watched you work. Why was he chickening out? He didn’t have this issue when he officially asked Minjae out but with you Hoseok could barely manage to gather up courage to ask for your number. Maybe he wasn’t actually ready for a new relationship.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about possibly having one with you. Hoseok was so confused. Friends could ask for numbers too. It wasn’t inherently a romantic action. Hoseok liked the idea of it being a somewhat romantic action.

He didn’t have the courage to go in today sadly. Hoseok didn’t know when he would have the courage to.

With a disheartened sigh that seemed to cling in the air around him, Hoseok turned around and sat at the bench in front of the cafe. It overlooked streets that were surprisingly empty save for a bus or two. He watched as a couple walked hand in hand on the sidewalk across the street, dopey smiles on their face as they looked at each other.

A pang of jealousy bubbled up in his stomach as he stared at them. The two looked so happy and content. He wanted that. He wanted that with someone who wanted similar things out of a relationship (unlike Minjae). Hoseok could be the man across the street holding hands with a romantic partner if he just asked someone out.

“Crazy seeing you here, Hoseok-ssi.” Your voice shocked Hoseok out of his thoughts, making him jump and turn around to face you.

Your hair was frizzy from a long day of work but your eyes shone brightly, almost saying that you enjoyed every minute of the hard work you did. Hoseok understood that drive. Your navy blue apron complimented what you were wearing underneath too, over all you looked undeniably cute. You took Hoseok’s breath away. Even if you had coffee stains and looked like death, you would have taken Hoseok's breath away.

“Y-y-yeah! I… Uhhh… I was enjoying the view.” Hoseok managed to stutter out, turning red as he kept stuttering.

“Oh really? Street views are nice… Yet, I had hoped that you might have been thinking about coming into the cafe. Guess I was wrong.” You laughed, sitting next to Hoseok on the bench and taking out your lunch box, this time a dinner tucked neatly into it.

Hoseok spent a few seconds to look at the tattered lunch box. You must have had it for a while as there were scratches and dents on it that only came with time and repetitive use.

“I-I… well… I might have been thinking about going inside.”

“And what made you decide to not go inside? Did you want an actual dinner?” You laughed before putting some of your food into your mouth.

“Oh… Uh… no… I just… decided not to. Nothing against the cafe.”

“Ok. And how is the book going?”

“Uhh… It is going decent.”

Hoseok was kicking himself. Just a minute ago he was fantasizing about going on a date with you and thinking about how cute you were and now he could barely finish a sentence! How was he supposed to even possibly ask you out when he couldn’t even get out more than a four word sentence and you were carrying most of the conversation?

He was handsome, damn it!

He was a catch! Yet here he was getting flustered by a barista… what has he come to.

You weren’t just any barista though… You were a cute and interesting barista who liked similar books to him.

“Why’d you decide to come outside and eat instead of eating inside?” Hoseok finally asked, trying to push his nerves aside.

“Oh! Well… It’s hot and stuffy. Plus, you’re here. That helps.” You said quietly and from the corner of Hoseok’s eye he noticed you blush as you gently brushed your shoulder against his.

A fluttering in Hoseok’s heart made his response get stuck in his throat. What was that supposed to mean? Was she interested in him too? How was he supposed to interpret that?

He cleared his throat and spoke, “Yeah… You’re pretty cool too, I guess.”

What?

What is all he could say?

How lame!

“I mean, I think you’re cool. I just don’t know you much yet and don’t want to say something that might possibly be wrong… I don’t think you might not be cool though! I just-”

Your laugh interrupted Hoseok and struck him into silence. It was a melodious laugh that he could listen to for hours on end and never get bored.

“I am glad you think I am cool, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, turning towards Hoseok with a broad smile.

Hoseok’s heart was beating wildly now. Its erratic heartbeats weren’t ideal earlier when you were simply sitting next to him but now? How was he even supposed to focus with you staring at him intently? Especially with your lips looking like the perfect place for his own lips.

Unintentionally, Hoseok started to lean towards you.

They really did look wonderfully soft.

What was he thinking about?

You were practically a stranger! Even worse: you were Namjoon’s employee! For all he knew you were trying to use Hoseok to get a better pay.

But Namjoon paid his employees well… and most didn’t have tons of room to grow with the work as it was a small cafe.

“I enjoy your company too, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok said with a cough as he turned to face the street again.

All of the sudden he was very focused on how hot he was feeling. It wasn’t summer but the heat was… present. He was probably blushing and sweating from the heat. Nothing else.

“Even if we have a conversation like this? Where we’re both awkward?” You asked with a strained laugh, leaning into Hoseok.

You had stopped eating.

“Uhh… y-y-yeah. I am having fun. Even if it doesn’t seem like I am.”

“So… would you enjoy my company if we… went on a date, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked slowly, your voice devoid of all laughter.

“Oh. I. Yeah! Totally.” Hoseok’s voice cracked and he leaned back and coughed to try to cover it up, “I mean… It’d be cool, I guess. Yeah. That would be nice.”

You giggled, “Wonderful. How does… Tomorrow at seven in the evening sound? We can meet up here and then go somewhere close by.”

That was so soon.

He could make it though.

“Yeah. That works.” Hoseok nodded, trying to ignore the incessant vibrations from his phone that was sitting in his pocket.

“Are you going to take that, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked with a small giggle, already going back to eating your food.

“Oh. Yeah.”

He quickly grabbed his phone and looked at who was calling. It was Jisoo, one of his employees.

“Hey… boss. I am sorry but uhh… I can’t make it to my shift. I have been vomiting nonstop. I think I have food poisoning. I am about to go to the hospital. I tried asking Jinyoung but apparently he is currently working and can’t do any more overtime. I am so sorry.” Jisoo spoke hurridly.

Hoseok winced at the connotation. He only had two employees aside from him and this meant that he would have to go in and keep the shop open until ten tonight. Five hours more of work and he needed to leave soon.

“Don’t worry, Jisoo. You didn’t intend to get sick. Take care.” Hoseok said before hanging up and looking over at you, “That is sadly my signal to go.”

You looked like a kicked puppy in that moment, a sad gaze growing as you looked up at Hoseok, “Ok. See you tomorrow.”

All while he walked away, he wished that he could turn around and spend the rest of your break together. He felt like an ass for leaving right after agreeing to a date but his shop needed him. It was the curse of a shop owner and it was a curse that Hoseok had chosen.

Of course, what he hadn’t realized until he got to his shop and Jinyoung had left was that he completely forgot to get your number once again.

He was such a damn idiot at times!

Now he couldn’t text you to fill the time that he was forced to work. He also couldn’t get any more information about your date. Would it be formal? Casual? Where were you going to take him? Should he get a gift for you?

It’d make sense that the two of you would be going on a date after your shift because otherwise why would he meet you at Namjoon’s cafe?

In the end Hoseok fretted all throughout his shift and the night about what he could possibly wear for his date tomorrow. Everything felt wrong and he had no idea what to do. Everything he did and tried on felt like not enough. Nothing felt right and for the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do. First dates were hard and he didn’t know how to prepare.

He shaved and just barely missed twenty nics and even took a longer than normal to make sure that he wouldn’t stink during the date but what was he supposed to wear?

Despite his panicking and fears, Hoseok somehow managed to calm himself down to restlessly sleep that night and was even able to work in the morning. After work though, he was back to panicking. Somehow Hoseok managed to settle for wearing a simple pair of light blue jeans, one of his favorite large shirts with a smile on it, and his long tan jacket.

His whole afternoon bleed into itself and eventually Hoseok found himself sitting on the bench outside of Namjoon’s cafe, a single sunflower held loosely in his hands as he waited for you (he got it at some point between changing into his current clothes and coming here but he didn’t know if he could manage to pinpoint exactly when he had). He barely had enough sense to wear his jacket for when the sun set and it got cold (or if he had to hide in it if you ended up taking him to some fancy restaurant). He would feel so underdressed if you did.

Why would you though?

From what Hoseok understood, you were just coming off of work so you probably wouldn’t want to go to some fancy place. Plus, working in a cafe wasn’t going to get you too much money, even if one’s employer gave them a living wage. You’d probably be a little pressed for money.

If that was an issue though, Hoseok would be more than happy to pay but he wouldn’t care either way.

It also probably wasn’t Hoseok’s place to pry at this time either.

In a last ditch attempt to make sure he was ready for the date, he quickly tried to check his breath with his hand, only getting blasted with air in his face instead. How was he even supposed to check his breath with his hand?

Had his hair got messed up on his trip here?

Had they even agreed to meet here? Maybe you said a different place instead?

Just to check, he looked inside the cafe and didn’t see you there. It was almost seven so maybe you were in the back? Maybe he could just text Namjoon to make sure you were off at seven. Hoseok didn’t want to overstep yet.

“Are you looking for someone in there, Hoseok-ssi?” You asked from beside him, scaring him to the point that he jumped up and almost dropped the sunflower in his hands.

Once he managed to get his bearings again, his breath was taken away by how etheral you looked. There was almost no way that you had come from work, Hoseok was sure of that. Your hair was beautifully and simply styled and your outfit… Hoseok loved every bit of it. His heart fluttered slightly as he looked you over again (barely noticing the reddening blush growing on your face). You looked so good and for the umpteenth time that day, he questioned his own choice in clothes. He might be really underdressed.

Dress pants would have been better to wear instead of jeans. What was he thinking? He really goofed up.

“Y-You look wonderful tonight, Y/n-ssi.” Hoseok finally said, blushing lightly as you laughed quietly.

“So do you, Hoseok-ssi.” You complimented, a broad smile on your face as you stepped closer and looked down at the sunflower.

“I… Uhhh… I got this for you. I don’t know what your favorite flower is or if you even like flowers but I thought it would be nice.” He stuttered out, quickly giving the flower to you.

You looked up at Hoseok with a small laugh before saying, “I love it Hoseok-ssi. Shall we get to the restaurant? I got a reservation for seven thirty.”

“A reservation! I guess it is really fancy, huh?” Hoseok asked, rubbing his neck nervously as he started to walk with you.

“No. Not really. It is just popular and I didn’t want to have to spend the night looking for somewhere to eat. I hope you like Haemul Pajeon (vegetable pancake), I got us a reservation at a small place that is just about three blocks down the street. They make wonderful food.”

“I love the sound of that. How’s your day been so far, Y/n-ssi?” Hoseok asked, biting his lip to hide a large smile growing on his face.

Haemul Pajeon was one of his favorite foods… and Y/n was being so considerate. He was feeling so soft and mushy. How dare you make him feel so soft.

He loved it.

“It hasn’t been the best. I worked the morning shift and… well there are always rude customers but morning people have such a strange breed of rude customers.” You had started rambulling, animatedly gesturing and talking about the rude morning customers.

Hoseok simply watched and listened as you kept going on, a content and fuzzy feeling washing over him as he kept waking next to you. Occasionally your shoulders and hands brushed as you expertly led the way to the restaurant while ranting and while it left Hoseok reeling, it didn’t seem to phase you at all. He could live with that though. As long as you were happy.

In the midst of all your rambling about work, the two of you made it to the restaurant. It was at the bottom of a large building, the upper floors likely dedicated to apartments or business offices. Even from the outside, Hoseok could see a large mass of people jostling around in the restaurant. Large friend groups talking and moving around the restaurant drunkenly, couples draped over each other, and restaurant workers expertly weaving through the masses.

It was obviously a popular place and it made Hoseok just a little nervous. How would you and him get to talk much when all that was happening around you two? Maybe it would be more of a people watching event? One where he only really talked when it came to theories about other’s lives outside of this restaurant.

There wasn’t too much time to think though as the two quickly started walking inside. You only stopped talking after introducing yourself to the hostess. In the silence between you two, Hoseok looked around the restaurant. It looked different from the outside. Whereas earlier it looked as if it would be a party place, now that Hoseok was inside, he could see a semblance of organization to the chaos.

Despite both you and Hoseok not talking, there wasn’t a silence that fell. The whole of the restaurant was lively and filled with a soft amiability that Hoseok really enjoyed.

“Alright. Your reservation is ready. Please follow me.” The hostess said, bowing slightly before turning around and starting to weave through the tables.

Hoseok swallowed his nerves before he started walking in front of you (the three of you had to walk single file because the space was too small to walk side by side) and gently grabbed your hand from behind. People were bumping up against him as he quickly followed behind the hostess but his grip on you didn’t falter. He hoped that his hand wasn’t too sweaty and that he wasn’t gripping you too hard, but Hoseok was nervous and he didn’t want to lose you in the crowd (or let go of your hand yet).

The table that you had reserved was tucked in a corner and overlooked all of the action happening in the bar. There was a small candle lit between the two of you that flickered gently in the soft breeze created by the fans above. Hoseok liked the spot.

“I just realized,” You started with a laugh once you sat down, “I talked the whole walk here. Silly me. I got carried away. How has your day been so far?”

“I like listening to you talk so it’s ok. As for my day, it has been a good day. I didn’t make any more pottery, but I headed the shop and got some good work done there.” Hoseok started, a large smile on his face as he looked across the table at you.

“Oh! So you’re one of Namjoon’s business friends?”

Hoseok snorted at that. Namjoon did have a lot of business friends at this point.

“Yeah. I think I might be Namjoon’s first business friend though. We met in high school and have been friends since. Back in high school Namjoon wanted to be an astrologer believe it or not.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t have guessed!” You laughed, “So what do you do?”

“I am a potter. My shop is just two streets over from the cafe you work at.” Hoseok nodded.

“Own. Namjoon and I are co-owners. I run the front.” You corrected lightly, “How about we look at the menu?”

“Oh. Yeah. Let’s look.” Hoseok nodded along, somewhat caught off guard.

You were the co-owner? It made sense, Hoseok thought as he opened the menu, you looked like she belonged in that cafe. Plus, you were closer to Namjoon’s age than the other baristas' ages. He should have seen it coming.

After a few minutes of looking through the menu Hoseok spoke up, “So… have you figured out what you’re going to get?”

“Yeah. I am thinking of getting Haemul Pajeon with a side of chicken feet. What about you?”

“Uhhh… I think that I am going to get Haemul Pajeon as well but with a side of kimchi. I’m not too hungry today.” Hoseok laughed lightly thinking back to his two large stress induced meals earlier today.

You snorted and laughed lightly before taking a sip of your water, “I get that. Plus, the Haemul Pajeon are quite large. They have great deals.”

Shortly after you two decided, a waiter came by and took your order, and then Hoseok and you were left in amicable silence once again. He was a ball of nerves once again and he had no idea of where to go from here… He wasn’t this anxious when he started dating Minjae… why was it so hard with you? Maybe because he was genuinely interested in you from the start and he was scared of screwing it up. Maybe because he had just spent most of the day fretting over this date and now that it was here, he realized that he didn’t think over the right stuff.

“So,” Hoseok coughed lightly, hoping to clear his throat some, “Do you come to this restaurant often?”

“Not really. I came here the first night I moved into the apartment complex above the cafe but since then I haven’t. I actually came here on my own and just sat at the bar and talked to random strangers. It is amazing to see what conversations one can have when they’re open to it.” You said with a smile as you looked over at the bustling bar space.

“I can imagine. I haven’t gone to bars much so I don’t have such conversations often but I have never had a dull conversation.” Hoseok said wistfully, thinking back to some of the talks that he had when he volunteered to help the homeless back in Gwangju. He wanted to keep up the volunteer work when he moved to Seoul but it simply didn’t happen. He got carried away with his studies and his life and service work simply got put on a backburner.

“Yeah? I doubt that, Hoseok-ssi.” You laughed, “I can’t believe you’ve never had a dull conversation. Not even one with a boring professor?”

Hoseok laughed lightly and shrugged, “I mean, I guess you could count some of those conversations as dull. I guess I was more thinking about general conversations with people… not cardboard cutouts.”

You snorted at this before taking a large sip of your water, blush rising quickly on your face. A sense of pride washed over Hoseok at your reaction. He had made you laugh. It felt good to make someone smile this much.

“I loved most of my professors, don’t get me wrong. They were amazing, but oh my gosh. Ask Namjoon about Professor Gaewon who taught our Stat 240. He was such a snore.” Hoseok started animatedly, smiling as you laughed again, “Even for me and I double majored in Statistics and Business. Dude could put me to sleep in seconds. Lecture or not. I went to one of his office hours once and it was even worse.”

“Oh really?” You asked with a laugh, raising your eyebrows and looking at him with a lopsided grin.

“Oh yeah! I wanted to know a little more information about some complicated statistic and the details and whatnot, nerdy stuff really. He got so excited but you couldn’t tell because he talked in such a monotone voice,” Hoseok smiled brightly before he started mimicking Professor Gaewon, “This statistic, blah blah blah. It is interesting stuff.”

You were laughing uncontrollably at this point and Hoseok couldn’t help but indulge in the butterflies that fluttered wildly in his stomach. This was amazing.

“Needless to say, I didn’t go to his office hours after that.”

You nodded, “I didn’t have anything like that in college. I mean, I was also not a business major and didn’t have to take any stat classes but I mostly got a lot of very pretentious professors who had written books or wild professors who I loved. I didn’t enjoy the former.” You laughed lightly and shook your head, “They seemed to think that they knew everything. It was painful.”

“Oh? What’d you major in?”

“I double majored in Literature and History. I love it. Don’t use it much with my work but that is ok.” You said, coming to a stop when the waitress came with sides for the food.

You and Hoseok slightly bowed to the waiter before turning back to each other and smiling. For a couple minutes, the conversation died down and the noise of the restaurant around you two filled the air as both of you indulged in the sides. Before you and Hoseok had time to continue conversing, the waiter returned and gave both of you your Haemul Pajeon and the two of you dug in All throughout eating, the two of you made comments about how the Haemul Pajeon compared to what you two had had in the past.

Somehow, all the time in the restaurant blurred together and before he even knew it, the two of them were back at Namjoon’s and your cafe. It had closed by now, the windows dark and reflecting the party life outside.

“Well… this was a great night, Hoseok-ssi.” You said, swaying forwards and backwards with a soft and happy smile plastered across your face.

Hoseok felt giddy looking at you. How did he get so lucky to have you ask him out?

“It was. I would love to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah.” You giggled and bit your lip as you asked.

“Yeah.” Hoseok nodded, biting his own lip as he took a step closer to you.

You took a step closer to him as well, your smile growing as you reached out and grabbed Hoseok’s waist. He leaned closer at this and gently pressed his lips against yours, you quickly reciprocating. His hands rose to cup your face as the kiss got heated, soon enough tongues starting to intertwine.

A moan left him as you broke the kiss, a sly smile spreading on your face, “You may have to work for my phone number first, Hoseok-ssi.”

He groaned quietly and smiled, his hands sliding down your soft face to your shoulders, “Well then, can I get your number then, Y/n-ssi?”

You took a step away from Hoseok and giggled as his hands fell to his sides, “Nope. Try again tomorrow… then I will consider. Until then, good night, Hoseok-ssi.”

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bellarke-angel · 5 years ago

Text

Drabble request: stiles is killed by monroe post-series and lydia sorta does a scream that ends the whole world and sends her back in time to ep1, where she does a very complex martial arts move on Jackson when he hugs her from behind and tries to only act friendly in front of stiles (which still astounds him). Peter's someone she can deal with rather quickly but her main problem rn is to not scare the crap out of this lovable young stiles with her intensity while still grieving HER stiles.

Lydia was sure this was a dream, it had to be, waking up to find herself lying in bed as though nothing had happened. Yet the last thing she could remember was Stiles limp in her arms, blood covering both her hands and clothes...but it wasn’t her blood, it was his. He’d been stupidly heroic yet again, the pair walking hand in hand through the woods, sure it was weird to be going on a late night walk in the woods but it had become a little thing they’d do. To spend time together without all the murder and shit. Then Brett had appeared out of thin air, the boy scrambling helplessly blood gushing from his arm as he held it, his breath hitched as he collided into the couple.

One word and that was all Stiles and Lydia had needed to know about what had happened,

“Monroe.”

The boy strained, clearly needing medical attention. Stiles had been quick to the boys aid, trying to help him standing asking him a million questions at once. But all Bret could do was shake his head, mumbling something about his pack being hunted, that so many had died. Lydia couldn’t imagine the pain of losing so many. Stiles had instructed her to take Bret back to the jeep, to get him to the hospital before he lost too much blood. But before he could even shift Bret’s body weight onto Lydia, a sharp snap shot into the floor beside their feet. A gasp escaping their mouths. There was no time.

“Next one goes through the chest!” A gruff voice echoed from behind them - they didn’t have to turn around to know who that voice belonged to. Gerrard.

"Of course it's you," Lydia sighed heavily, anger bubbling inside her.

It might've been in his genes to be a hunter. But it wasn't what Allison had wanted, Lydia just wished Gerrard would respect what his granddaughter's wishes.

"I should've guessed you'd come crawling out of your hole at some point." Lydia snarled, Stiles close beside her, his hand resting on her lower back.

"To be fair, I've always thought you resembled a mole," Stiles chimed in, a dancing smirk on his face as he ran his free hand over it. The scrawny boy earning himself a glower from the older man before them. “What? It’s true.”

Lydia stifled the smirk that threatened to appear on her lips, the short girl staggering as she felt Bret stumble weakly. A worried glance shooting his way as Gerrard muttered something to the woman beside him, the girl raising her crossbow to aim so perfectly at Brett. The three knew how this was going to end, with Brett’s condition deteriorating rapidly, there was no chance he’d be able to run without getting hit. Stiles quickly straightened, raising his hands up trying to defuse the situation. Shoving all his jokes aside.

“Hey, hey, look. No-one has to get hurt anymore than they already have,” He rambled, “We’ll just be taking our little wolf friend here, and he’ll be out of your hair. We’ll act like this never happened.”

The cruel pair before them let out a harsh cackle, “You think we’ll just let him go? How many people have to die because you monsters roaming our lands? No. He dies tonight.”

It was ironic that she was a councilor, the woman who was supposed to help with the students and their issues. Now turning on them, trying to kill them for something they never asked for. They were just trying to survive, like everyone else in this ghost ridden town. All it took was the snap of a wire, for the arrow to come soaring towards the innocent, injured boy ready to take his life. It happened faster than Lydia could process, Stiles being beside her one minute to launching himself before Brett the next.

It was the sound of the arrow stopping that shattered Lydia’s reality. It had hit him. Stiles. Stopped plain in his chest, for a moment she found herself frozen in time. The redhead watching as the boy she loved stared down at himself, seemingly in shock that he’d actually risked his life for someone he barely knew. That he’d traded places, life for death. When his warm brown eyes locked onto Lydia’s, that was when she saw fear and pain begin to flood his mind. It was like Allison’s death all over again. But this time she was in Scott’s position, she was the one now cradling Stiles in her arms, the man having fell to his knees quickly losing the strength to breathe let alone stand. It ached her heart to watch, her hand putting pressure around his wound, her hands shaking as tears streaked down her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Was all Stiles kept repeating, but she wasn’t listening. She knew it wasn’t. If it was then Allison would still be alive now, all it takes is one arrow and she knew Stiles knew that. “Lydia, listen to me. Y-you’ve got to get Scott, or...or my dad, I—”

“Why would you do that? You knew what would happen—fuck, Stiles.” Lydia questioned in anger, all the pain beginning to bubble up. The thought of losing yet another person she loved in the same way, causing sobs to rack her body. “I-I don’t want to lose you.”

Stiles raised a shaking hand to her cheek, his thumb grazing over her soft skin trying to memorize the feeling. He’d waited so long for them to be together, for Lydia to reciprocate his feelings and now it was all being taken away. Lydia let out a soft whimper, leaning into his touch, wishing everything to be okay again, but it didn’t change the fact that Stiles was dying. Right here, in her arms. A piece of her heart crumbling away.

“I love you, never forget that. Since the day I met you...you’ve been all I can think about, all I dreamed about, when I thought of my future, Lydia...” Stiles choked, the tears that were brimming in his eyes now falling. “You were all over it. You still are, okay. S—so whatever happens, promise me you’ll be happy, promise me you’ll go get that award you’ve always wanted. Promise you’ll take care of Scott.”

If Stiles wasn’t dying, she’d refuse to listen, refuse to hear his goodbyes or promise anything that didn’t involve him. She was finally happy, after all these years and that happiness was currently in her arms, on the edge of leaving her.

“Stiles, I can’t — “

It was getting harder and harder to swallow the scream aching to leave her body, but she watched as his eyes flutter, the boy struggling to stay awake. She needed him to hear her say it, to say she loved him more than he’d ever know, to tell him she didn’t want a future where he wasn’t in it. That for the past three years she’d loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone in her life, Stiles was she’d wanted...but it was too late, her mouth fell agape ready to flood him with all the love consuming her thoughts. But his eyes were closed, his chest still...his hand limp. He was gone. And that was when she screamed, just before everything turned black.

[x]

Lydia hauled herself up, wincing at the coursing pain that shot through her head. She hadn’t had a migraine this bad since Eichen House, it took her a second to notice the changes in her room, the walls a horrid hot pink that of which they used to be years ago. The sight immediately making her cringe, she could’ve sworn just hours ago her bedroom walls were a warm rouge pink that she’d chosen with Stiles not too long ago. Lydia shook off the eerie feeling weighing on her, trying to piece together how she could be in the woods with Stiles one minute, to waking up in her bed...but that’s just it. She didn’t remember waking up. The redhead startled hearing her door click open, her mother walking in looking at her as though she was crazy.

“Lydia, what the hell are you still doing here? School starts in ten minutes.”

The redheads eyes widened at that, not bothering to question how the weekend had managed to fly by so fast. Senior year was the year she’d sworn not to be late, it could remain on her record forever and after being stuck in Eichen for so long. Missing out on essential classes wasn’t on her itinerary.

“Shit,” She hissed beneath her breath, her mother glaring at her daughters foul language. Lydia’s green eyes flickered to her mother, knowing she’d get scolded for cursing - even if she was eighteen. “Sorry, I guess I slept through my alarm.”

“Well, you’d best get moving, you don’t want to be late.” Natalie tutted, she’d always frowned on anything but perfect when it came to her daughter. She knew Lydia was capable of whatever she set her mind to.

Lydia simply nodded, snatching up the first bag in her sight which just so happened to be her bag from her freshman year. It was horribly out of season, but it would have to do, she threw on an outfit - her grey boots, a loose fitted dress and her grey leather jacket thrown over the top. She instinctively reached for her car keys, which she always left resting upon her bedside table. Only to find them missing, she could’ve swore she put them there yesterday. The redhead knew she didn’t have time to fuss about where her keys were, darting down the stairs and into the kitchen, she’d have to ask her mother to drop her off.

The redhead had fought the feeling of heartache the moment she’d awoken in her bed, but heading towards the school with her books in her arms and bag on her shoulder. It just seemed to get heavier, Stiles flooded her mind, his last words, the pain filled brown eyes, she’d never known Stiles to be as pale as he was that night. It haunted her, and something told her it was too realistic to be a dream. She remembered it so vividly. Lydia sucked in a breath, something telling her today was going to be different and the second she walked towards the double doors, noticing two familiar looking boys, her closest friends, both looking a lot younger and doe eyed than the last time she’d laid eyes on them. Something stopped Lydia in her tracks, she was close enough to note the buzz cut on Stiles and the rugged curls on Scott’s head. Something was definitely wrong.

But right now, with a heavy heart of losing the man she loved seeing him alive and healthy was all she cared about. The redhead strode forward, not bothering to think it through and threw her arms around the skinny boys body. The weigh of her suddenly colliding with him causing him to stumble back in shock. Lydia could tell immediately that this Stiles wasn’t hers. At least, not yet. The girl pulling back, to meet the slightly confused, slightly frightened muddy brown eyes she loved so. But all she could offer him was a smile.

“Lydia...uh...” Stiles visibly gulped, clearly dumbstruck, fumbling for words to say. Seeing Stiles like this, shy and nervous just how he was when they first became friends, melted her heart. “W-What, uh...I didn’t think you knew I existed.”

Lydia laughed lightly at his words, back then she didn’t, she hadn’t even known he’d attended the school until Allison took interest in Scott.

“Nonsense, I know everyone.”

Scott had been stood beside his best friend, in his own state of shock at the redheads presence. Not once had she even glanced in the boys direction, now here she was as though she’d change over night. Stiles gave Lydia a shy once over, noting the apparent differences in the girl.

“Did uh, did you do something with your hair?” The nervous boy asked, frightened he’d scare her off. Lydia frowned at his words, lifting a gather of her hair, did he not like it?

“No…” She begun, suddenly self conscious that all this time Stiles might’ve disliked her straight hair. “Do you not like it?”

Stiles reacted quickly to her words, rushing to nod his head feeling as though this was his one chance with Lydia and that he might screw it up.

“Fuck, uh. No, no I love it. I think it’s beautiful, you know, that you’re beautiful. I-I just meant that it was straight, it’s usually curly.” Stiles stammered, trying to correct his error.

Lydia had forgotten how shy Stiles had been around her when they first met, always fumbling for the right words, shooting her loving little looks. It caused Lydia’s cheeks to burn with a blush, falling more in love with him every second that passed. The redhead had no clue how she was here, if this was some strange multiverse, or if she was simply dreaming. But to see her boyfriend like this with his stupid buzz cut, his goofy smile and fit as a fiddle. She was thankful. Because at least it gives her a chance at loving him again, to savor her time with him whilst she could.

[x]

Strangely enough, classes had passed by quickly, Jackson had been hounding her like a dog most of the day. Lydia surely didn’t miss that. The girl sat at the “popular” table listening to Danny hammer on about some model from Vogue; the boys usual topic of conversation. When her green eyes landed on a familiar set of brown ones boring into her, like she was a puzzle he was trying to decipher. Lydia muttered an excuse to Jackson, rising to her feet and heading over to Scott and Stiles.

“Hey.”

Was all she came out with, for no reason feeling a bundle of nerves build up in her stomach. Stiles seemed to smile instantly at her presence, clearly thrilled this morning wasn’t just a one off.

“What are you boys fanboying about? It’s just I was watching you guys and uh, whatever you’re talking about, it’s clearly important...or intriguing at least.”

Lydia knew Scott got bit around this time, seem as it was the start of freshman year. The two boys nervously glanced at one another, hesitant on whether to spill the details of their night.

“Just...boy stuff, I guess.”

The ginger had to stifle a laugh at that, “Wow, boy stuff...you sure you don’t mean werewolf stuff?”

Both of the boys eyebrows shot up, mouth agape as they looked at her as though she could somehow read her mind. Maybe she could’ve came about telling them a lighter, instead of dropping a bomb like that. But what was the point in wasting time?

“What? I mean, how do you know?” Scott struggled, scratching his head anxiously. His eyes suddenly growing wide, lowering his voice as he asked, “Did you get bit by that thing too?”

“No, ew. I just...happened to know, that’s all.” The girl shrugged, sliding into the seat beside Stiles. Subconsciously sitting a little too close to him, he’d been silent since she appeared. Lydia returned her attention to Scott. “That bite, starts something incredible.”

Scott remained dumbfounded, having no clue how she could’ve stumbled across all of this information. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was some kind of psychic. Stiles cleared his throat, eyes still trained on Lydia beside him.

“I’ve never got to admire those green eyes of yours up close,” Stiles looked as though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, his face mimicking a tomato. Lydia could only smile, knowing her eyes were always her Stiles’s favourite. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not often I get complimented this much.” She smiled sweetly.

“Doesn’t Jackson compliment you?” Stiles frowned, he’d assumed their relationship was the typical popular high school couple, honeymoon phase all around. Lydia scoffed.

“Jackson...has his own shit going on. He doesn’t exactly have time to notice me.”

It felt weird confessing that out loud, knowing that really was how their relationship had been all those years ago. Lydia loved him, despite the fact she knew he was gay…that he had hook ups with guys here and there. It hurt her to know she was just his beard, but as long as she portrayed this perfect picture for everyone else, she dealt with it.

“You don’t deserve a douche bag like him.” Stiles muttered beneath his breath, knowing the old Lydia would turn her nose up at him for saying that.

“Took me a long time to realize that.” She agreed, wishing she’d fell out of Jackson’s spell a lot earlier than she did. “I should’ve seen what was right in front of me.”

The pair seemed to share a silent exchange, both their hearts fluttering in their chests. The love Lydia felt for Stiles was unlike any of the love she’d felt for her past lovers. Lydia sighed, hauling herself to her feet.

“I’d best get to class, I’ll catch you guys later.”

[x]

Lydia walked down the corridor, she’d flew through her classes. She wasn’t sure if it was considered a cheat that she’d already gone through all of the paperwork and exams. But she hadn’t exactly asked to go back in time. It was the glimpse of dark curled hair that caught the corner of her eye. Her heart dropping to her stomach, it was as though all of the pain from three years ago came flooding back. Allison.

Without thinking Lydia was before the girl before she could stop herself. The urge to throw her arms around the brunette calling to her, but unlike with Stiles she fought it. This Allison didn’t know her yet, frightening her off wasn’t an option. Lydia forced on a fake smile, good at hiding her pain as always.

“Is that the new designer jacket from Gucci? Oh my god, I wish I could afford that.”

The shy girl brushed her hair behind her ear, smiling awkwardly towards Lydia.

“Uh, yeah. My mom’s sort of into their stuff.” Lydia felt like crying, it had been years since she heard her best friends voice.

Lydia wasn’t sure if this dream or whatever the hell it was, was supposed to be some form or torture or heaven. Whatever it was, she was grateful to see Allison again, whether it was real or not. Only now she was carrying both the loss of her boyfriend and best friend. The dark thoughts seemed to cloud her mind, the redhead being pulled from her thoughts by Allison. Finding the brunette waving a hand in front of her face.

“Hey, you okay?” The concerned laced in Allison’s voice made Lydia give her a weak smile. Shaking herself back into her act.

“Yeah, sorry. Just got lost in my thoughts, but we should totally be best friends?” The ginger beamed, linking her arm through Allison’s with a chirpy bounce of happiness. The brunette closing her locker with her free hand, going along with her.

“Sure, why not?” Allison laughed shyly, as they turned both the girls eyes met two boys at their lockets further down the hall. Allison seemed to notice Lydia’s gaze. “Friends of yours?”

Lydia glanced up at her long lost friend, a small smile on her face. “Yeah, two of the best people I know actually…”

It felt like nostalgia being back where their adventure had started, Scott, Stiles, Allison and her all together again. How it was meant to be. Something within her broke, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this.

“The cute one? What’s his name?” Allison asked, eyes trained on the boys.

“The boy with the buzz cut, Stiles?” Allison seemed to raise a brow at the name, but Lydia quickly noted she’d meant Scott. The redheads cheeks blushing, “Oh, you mean Scott.”

Allison stayed quiet for a moment, “I met him earlier...he seems sweet.”

“I think the feelings mutual,” Lydia grinned, gesturing towards the boy that was now looking Allison’s way. “And now the love story begins.”

Allison blushed furiously nudging her, hating the attention. “Hey, you’re one to talk. Clearly this Stiles, means something to you.”

Lydia shook her head, the brunette was correct to assume so, but she simply smiled. “Time will tell, my friend. Time will tell.”

But little did Allison know Lydia knew how their story unfolded. Love, heartache and adventure awaiting them. Lydia started to walk towards the lovable pair of boys when she felt a pair of snake around her waist, tugging her into whomever it was. As if on instinct, Lydia performed a perfect martial arts move on the boy who was her current boyfriend. Her heart was racing as she backed off of the boy realising who it was, Lydia placed her hand over her mouth in shock.

“Jackson! Shit, sorry. Y-you scared me.”

The attention of every student in the hallway was on her, each of them bewildered by the sudden incident. Lydia extended a hand to help him up but the boy simply scoffed, shoving her hand aside, a scowl written across his expression.

“What the fuck, Lydia.”

The boy dusted himself down, wincing at the ache that ran through his body. Lydia kicked herself, Parrish’s lessons came in handy, but they also appeared like they were on auto-drive whenever anyone touched her. Stiles saw the exchange from afar, anger coursing through his exterior at how Jackson had swatted Lydia away. The scrawny freshman rushing over, standing protectively before the redhead.

“Dude, she said she was sorry.” He spoke up, Jackson took a step towards the boy as though to seem threatening.

Lydia knew what Jackson could be like, the girl slipping between the two men, a hand on both of their chests.

“Let’s all just calm down, okay? It was an accident. You startled me, that’s all.”

Jackson huffed, glaring at Lydia with anger. “We’re over, Lydia. Sort your shit out.”

Lydia remained unfazed, she got over Jackson a long time ago. The woman rolling her eyes at the immature man, her eyes falling onto the worried brown eyed boy. A smile instantly finding her lips.

“I didn’t know you knew karate?” Stiles spoke up, looking down at the short girl.

“Martial arts.” She corrected, “I learned from an old friend of mine, guess it comes in handy sometimes.”

Stiles shuffled on his feet, looking over her shoulder noticing Scott was in some deep flustered conversation with Allison. A goofy grin on his face,

“Seems Scotty’s got a himself crush.”

Lydia watched the pair interact, the love blooming just as it had so long ago. “I ship it.”

Her words earned a loud laugh from Stiles, the man joining in, “I think they should have a name, just between us, how about...Scallison?”

“I like it, it’s got a ring to it.” Lydia chuckled lightly, her gaze returning to Stiles who met her as though they were in sync.

Lydia felt like a school girl with a crush when she was around Stiles, she’d always tried to hide it but she couldn’t fight the attraction she felt towards him. Even with his bald head. He was still her Stiles, he cleared his throat, gesturing towards the double doors.

“You wanna, you know, go for a walk or whatever? Feel free to say no.” Stiles asked, looking as though he was preparing himself for rejection.

The redheads heart fluttered, “I’d actually really love that.”

Lydia couldn’t read the boy before her, so many emotions flooding his expression. Happiness, confusion, excitement all wrapped into one. Stiles rubbed the nape of his neck with a innocent smile.

“Great!”

The pair walked out of the school, no teacher stood guard to tell them to head back inside. It wasn’t like missing a few classes would damage Lydia’s grades anyway. Comfortable silence hung between them as they walked, arms brushing from the close proximity, goosebumps running up Lydia’s arm every time they touched. Stiles was the first to speak up, breaking the silence between them.

“I didn’t even believe Scott when he said it was a werewolf…be honest with me, how did you know?”

Lydia pondered on telling him, seeing no harm, the worst that could happen is him thinking it was a joke.

“I...I’ve known about werewolves since I saved Jackson from the Kanima,” The redhead confessed, Stiles gave her an odd expression. Lydia sucked in a breath before she continued, “Scott was bitten by Peter, some asshole related to Derek Hale. From there Scott becomes a werewolf, he falls in love with Allison along the way, I know this sounds crazy...but I think, I think when I screamed when you died in my arms - brought me back here. Back to you.”

Stiles stood in ominous silence for a minute or two, debating whether to believe the woman he loved. It sounded ridiculous, she just so happened to be thrown back in time to when they first met. And yet it all pieced together, the way she noticed him, the way she looked, how her hair was straightened, longer and her face matured. This wasn’t the Lydia he knew.

“So...in the future I die...that kind of sucks.”

Lydia let out a breath of relief, thankful he believed her. “It was...one of the worst nights of my life.”

Stiles thought it over for a moment, shortly connecting the dots. His eyes suddenly sparkled with hope, a charming smile dancing across his face.

“Were we…? Are we more than friends in the future?” His question was hesitant, as though he was afraid to ask...maybe to know the answer.

Lydia bowed her head with a smile, “I loved you more than I’d ever loved anyone.”

The words that fell from her lips seemed to knock the air from Stiles’s lungs. All his life, since he’d known the red haired girl, he’d been waiting for the day she returned the love he held for her. Stiles found himself jealous of his future self, to have Lydia all to himself. To get to hear her say she loved him, to sleep beside her, to hold her close whenever she was afraid. Stiles longed for that life.

Before Lydia knew what was happening Stiles crashed his lips into hers, it took her by surprise but less than a second later she responded with the same amount of passion, pulling the boy close. Lydia found herself lost in the kiss, her mind, body and soul all focused on Stiles. The way he held her so gently, the way he kissed her with such fire and affection, his thick shaggy brown hair, those puppy dog brown eyes...that’s when a wave coursed through her body and everything turned black.

[x]

Lydia felt a rush of déjà vu, waking from the darkness, a surge of pain running through her head. She internally groaned, she swore there was nothing more that she hated than a migraine. The redhead head held her head, blinking a few times to get rid of her blurred vision, it wasn’t until then that she heard Melissa’s voice.

“Lydia?! Lydia, hey, can you hear me?”

The girl all but groaned a response, “Where am I?”

“Beacon Hills memorial. Can you tell me the last thing you recall?” The brunette asked, fussing over Lydia as though she’d been in some sort of accident.

“M-me and Stiles...why the hell am I in a hospital?”

It was quiet for a moment, Lydia looking up to meet Melissa’s concerned brown eyes. “Stiles was shot by an arrow...don’t you remember?”

Lydia’s eyes widened at her words. The woman leapt out of the hospital bed she’d been apparently lying in and was on her feet in seconds. Stiles wasn’t dead. Melissa held up her hands, placing them on Lydia’s shoulders, keeping her from racing out of the room.

“Whoa, slow down. Scott’s with him. You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days, Lydia.” Melissa informed her, easing the girls worries for a moment. If Stiles was in pain, at least Scott could help ease it. “That scream knocked you out, Scott found you three in time. Stiles and Bret had been rushed into surgery, they’re in recovery now. He’s been asking about you.”

Lydia sat quickly at the edge of the bed for a moment, thinking about kissing Stiles. It must’ve been some sort of...unconscious reality. Lydia sighed, glancing up at Melissa, tears welling in her eyes as she remembered the pain that harboured in her chest.

“I need to see him...please Melissa.”

Melissa nodded, she’d been hearing those exact words from Stiles since the moment he’d regained consciousness. The curly haired woman gestured to the door, holding it open for the redhead to head through. Lydia couldn’t settle the bundle of nerves that were in a knot in her stomach, the last time she saw Stiles, the real Stiles. He was bleeding out in her arms, before she knew it Melissa was pushing open a door that led to Stiles’s room.

Lydia stood in the doorway, feet seemingly glued to the floor as she looked at him. The boys brown eyes finding her the second she came into his sight. She’d never seen his face glow with such happiness and relief, except when he’d got her safely from Eichen. Tears burned in her eyes as she let all of her emotions free, he was okay. His hair scruffy, his face paler than usual from the loss of blood, but he was alive.

“Lydia, thank god.” His voice was hoarse, rough from lack of sleep no doubt.

The boy’s voice seemed to break her trance, the redhead rushing to her boyfriend’s side, taking his hand in hers. Tears trickling down her cheeks, Stiles smiled softly, he knew how she felt, he’d thought the scream had threw her into some kind of coma. He thought he’d lost her just as she thought she’d lost him. He ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping the tears staining her face.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” Stiles told her, hating to see her so upset. Lydia let out a strangled laugh, heart faltering.

“I thought you were dead.”

Lydia’s voice broke, struggling to keep herself together. The ginger hesitantly climbed into the hospital bed, making sure her hospital gown didn’t ride up, curling up beside Stiles. Lydia’s head resting on his chest, her eyes fluttering shut as she listened to his heartbeat. Stiles held her close, trying to let her know he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m right here, Lydia.” The messy haired boy assured her, “I’m not going anywhere. I waited so long to be with you, you think I’d leave you now?”

Lydia arched her neck to meet Stiles’s gaze, her eyes flickering down to his lips, the boy noting the lingering stare, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“When they told me you were here too, that you were unconscious for some unknown reason,” Stiles started, “I almost lost it...I’ve almost lost you more times than I can count, they wouldn’t let me see you. Arrow wound and all. I had to make Scott promise to keep an eye on you.”

“I didn’t even know where I was...it was like I was in some weird dream. You were there, Allison and Scott too,” Lydia said, wondering if she had somehow gone insane. “Part of me wished it was real, because it would’ve meant you were still alive. But...even then, I knew I’d rather be with you. Here, now...just like this.”

Despite the sharp pain in his chest from the wound, Stiles reached down planting a adoring kiss on her temple. Smirking in amusement as he watched Lydia’s cheeks flush scarlet. The redhead tightening her hold on his hand.

“I love you with everything in me, Stiles. I really truly love you.”

As his heart raced with happiness, he smiled. “I’ve loved you since I could remember and I’ll love until my last dying breath.”

Okay so I absolutely LOVED writing this one shot, I hope @petrichorblue94 and all my other readers love it as much as I do! Thank you for the amazing request too!! :) A big thank you to my wonderful girlfriend @jaguarslegion for helping me on the parts I was stuck on. Thank you for reading, you can also find this on my ao3 > LoverOfCoffee

#stydia #stiles x lydia #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #allison argent #scott mccall #scallison #stydia fanfic #teen wolf #requested #anyway i hope you like it #ao3feed #one shot #ff #5k words #time travel

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shhh-no-ones-home · 5 years ago

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bases loaded* highschool!ricky horror x reader

+++++++++ Highschool au woo!

originally i was like ‘hey maybe they could like sneak into an empty classroom’ and then i remembered in my highschool there are batting cages for softball practice in a long narrow room above the gym. also the only way you can get to it is a staircase that goes from the basement at the end of the hall with the art/shop/weight training rooms all the way up to the gym and the batting cages above it, its like a four story staircase. (i know it sounds weird but our school has had a lot of additions over the years, theres a wrestling room in the back of the ‘new’ gym too) but thats kind of where the idea for this came from so if it reads weird or doesnt seem like a normal highschool set up, i promise it is because i lived it, its literally in my highschool lol.

* - You two sneak off during class to find an empty room (this was og promt). He has to keep you quiet during a hard fucking so you dont get caught

Song: mrs infamous (my sweetness) by palaye royale

tag list: @thisplace-ishaunted @svintsandghosts @theoneandonlykymberlee @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @musicsexandpizza69 @ryansitkowskiswifey +++++++++

"Meet me at the end of the shop hallway during sixth period."

I replayed that sentence in my mind over and over again. He sounded so needy whispering it in my ear as the bell rang to release us from lunch. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and it made me blush each time. I thought about if skipping class would be worth it but it always was. We were seniors after all, which meant what few classes we did have, we didn't have much to do at this point. I rounded the corner and spotted him at the other end of the hallway, smoking out the open window. I walked quickly towards him, hoping none of the art teachers would notice me. When I got to him I smiled.

"Did you miss me?"

I said quietly, making him jump. He sighed out in relief.

"Jesus y/n."

I laughed a little bit.

"You said to meet you. What are we doing?"

He smirked at me before putting his cigarette out on the window sill.

"We, are going to have a little fun."

He grabbed my hand and started towards the stairs.

"Since we haven't been able to hang out after school for the past like two weeks I figured we could have some time to ourselves during. Besides, it's not like we have anything better to do."

I smiled to myself as he looked around, leading me up the stairs once the coast was clear.

"And we're heading to the batting cages because?"

this stair case only went to one place and i had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to do. He looked at me over his shoulder and smirked.

"It's private, and with it being over the gym no one will hear us."

I raised a brow.

"Oh?"

He sent me a wicked smile before turning back around. When we got to the top he paused, letting go of my hand.

"Isn't it locked during school hours?"

I asked. He just ignored me, kneeling down and pulling two pins out of his hoodie pocket.

"Nothings locked if you try hard enough."

He said smoothly, moving to pick the lock. I smiled to myself as the door popped open and he stood up. He held it and kissed me endearingly.

"After you m'lady."

i smirked at him.

"How thoughtful."

He followed in after me. The whole room was dark aside from the light coming in from the 'windows' to the gym. You could hear the coaches instructing students, it sounded like they were playing kick ball today which meant we'd be home free in the noise department. i walked along the far wall, making sure no one down below would be able to see us at the angle. there were gym mats littering the floor along with a few racks of equipment and large nets to catch the balls that were hit. in one corner however there was a medium sized table with two chairs behind it, where the coaches usually kept their clip boards and the water coolers and things. today however it was empty. i walked quietly over to it, leaning my hands on it to make sure it wouldnt squeak under my weight. when it didnt make a sound i turned around and slid up onto it, kicking my legs under me and watching ricky as he looked around. by now the gym class had started their game and you could hear the loud sound of rubber being hit and students yelling to their teammates.

"you stalling for a reason kiddo?"

i asked, pulling rickys attention to me. he held his pointer finger to his lips to shush me as he peered out the glass-less window down at the class. he looked back to me after a second and smiled. i watched him intently as he strutted carefully over to me, placing his hands firmly on the table on either side of my thighs.

"you ready to go?"

he asked smoothly, staring into me, his gaze falling momentarily to my lips. i shuddered, running my hands lightly up his arms. i always could get lost in his ocean eyes, the dark makeup pulling me in deeper as he beckoned me with his siren song. i nodded to him before capturing his lips in mine, pulling him to me as i kissed him hungrily. we slowly began making out and i could feel his hands move to my hips, squeezing them gently as he stood up. i detached from him and inhaled deeply, looking up at him with an innocent gaze.

"i love you ricky."

i said a little dazed. he smiled at me before kissing me lightly, his one hand moving to my face to caress my cheek.

"i love you too y/n."

he waited for my response and as soon as i smiled at him, bringing my hands to hold his waist to me, he was back to my lips. i hummed against him as he shoved his tongue in my mouth. as we continued to make out i moved to get his jacket off, unzipping it slowly and pushing it down his arms. he dropped it to the table next to me and returned his hands to my exposed thighs. he pulled away from my mouth, moving down my neck as i snaked my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, just under his black beanie.

"im so glad you wore a skirt today."

he mumbled against my collar bone, making me shudder at his hot breath.

"so am i."

i sighed out, feeling him slip his hand between my legs. he moved his head back up to kiss me as he ran two fingers over my clothed heat.

"so needy."

he said seductively, making me blush.

"i missed your touch."

he moaned low in his throat at my comment before pushing my skirt up quickly and pulling me to the edge of the table. i caught myself, dropping both hands to the table behind me as i leaned back. when i looked down between the two of us i could see his bulge pressed hard against his tight jeans.

"god, i need you so bad right now."

his voice was barely above a whisper. i pecked his lips before looking back down between us. i slowly began to undo his jeans, looking back to his face every once in a while to see his eyes screwed shut as i grazed him, pushing his bottoms down. he breathed deeply, barely opening his eyes as he pulled himself out of his jeans. i groaned to myself as he pressed his member against my thigh, spreading my legs apart and pushing my panties to the side.

"you ready baby?"

he asked lowly. i raised a brow.

"did you bring it?"

he looked confused for a second before realizing what i was asking and pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. when he opened it i could see it was half empty but he had remembered to bring a condom this time.

"got it."

he said, pulling it out and tearing it open. i helped him roll it on before leaning back again. i moaned as he ran himself over my slit, getting my wet over his tip before he guided himself into me. He reached up to cover my mouth with his hand and looking panicked for a second.

"youve gotta be quiet princess, or we're not gonna get very far."

i nodded and he dropped his hand back to the table. i scooted closer to the edge of the table as he pulled halfway out and pushed back into me a few times. as he began thrusting a little harder i brought one leg up to hook around his waist, bringing him closer to me. as he got rougher he finally remembered to take care of me, bring his hand down to circle my clit. i dropped my head back immediatly, giving him access to kiss and suck at my neck again. my eyes screwed shut as he pounded into me, breathing heavily against my skin. i moaned again and he shot upright, covering my mouth as he continued fucking me hard. i looked at him with dark eyes, reaching for his shirt and gripping it tightly.

"ricky."

i moaned into his hand. he decided that wasnt enough though and replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing me roughly as his movements got sloppier and more uneven. i could feel him twitch as he kept moving, thrusting into me and pushing his thumb against my clit. then i felt it, my vision went blurry for a second as my orgasm wracked through my body, making my thighs quiver against his waist. he thrusted hard one last time before pausing and sighing heavily into my mouth as he came. we both sat there breathing heavily for a second before he pulled out of me. as he was pulling the condom off we both heard a whistle blow from inside the gym, then one of the coaches yelled for the class to clean up.

"you ready to dash?"

he asked, pulling his pants back up and helping me down off the table. i nodded, fixing my panties and my skirt back into place.

"lets hope we dont get caught."

i winked at him, picking his hoodie up and draping it over my shoulders. he smirked down at me, taking my hand in his and pulling me towards the door.

"do we ever?"

#wattpad #x reader #smut #Ricky horror #Ricky Olson #miw #one shots #imagines #221

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inspirationdivine · 5 years ago

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Shadows of the Heart || Morgan and Lydia

Timing: Current Parties: @mor-beck-more-problems, @inspirationdivine Summary: Lydia and Morgan discuss Remmy and life, until their summer day walk is interrupted by something terrible Warnings: Gore, reference to vomit

There was a delicate pleasure in these summer evenings, where the sun still hung in the sky even so late in the day. The last weeks had been tiring, but ultimately rewarding, with the vampire dealt with and Remmy now safe. Lydia saw in them all the scars of that week, but also a lightness to them that she hadn’t seen in a month, since that wretched collar had appeared on their neck. Lydia’s ankle bounced under her when she saw Morgan approach. Standing up from the weather-worn bench, she smiled at the zombie. So much had changed since the last time they’d met. “Lovely of you to meet me. How are you, my dear?”

Morgan hadn’t guessed that Lydia would ever look at her so warmly and neither would she have figured that she would reach to hug the fae as if she were a friend of her own. At least, not this soon. But there was comfort in the other woman's arms and Morgan was ready to take as much of that as she could. “Better, I guess,” she sighed. “I stopped by the bakery for snacks. I probably should’ve asked what you like, but then it would’ve spoiled the whole part where it was a surprise so, uh, anyway--” She held out the small paper bag. “I hope you like cream puffs. There’s also those um, tiny french sandwich things they pipe with meringue? Seemed kinda like a safe bet.” Starting to feel awkward at her own eagerness (What was she trying to prove anyway? Didn’t they understand each other better by now?) Morgan stuffed her hands in her skirt pockets. “It’s good to see you too, you know, after everything. It still doesn’t feel like it’s over, but at least we’re, I don’t know, still alive to keep at it? Is that an awful thing to say when you’ve caused the deaths of a few people?”

“Oh, you wonderful person,” Lydia grinned, taking a proffered cream puff from the brown bag. “I do love to indulge in human food from time to time.” Which, Of course, unable to taste it Morgan wouldn’t. “This is very kind of you, what a lovely treat.” She didn’t think much of it, but Morgan seemed to briefly look uncomfortable, as if Lydia might have snapped at her for it. Lydia took a small bite of the cream puff as Morgan talked, and swallowed it with a small frown. “No, I don’t think it’s an awful thing to be glad that you’re alive. Death is a tragedy, but so is what was happening to Remmy.”

Morgan began to relax, pleased with her success. “Lucky guess,” she said. “We can take them on our walk with us, if you want?” In spite of Lydia’s strange but serene presence, Morgan was restless. It was harder than usual to slow down and be still. The impulse to run still burned in her muscles even if there was no longer any curse to escape or spectres chasing her on the horizon. “And, you know, you do have a point. That place was...awful. I saw one of the fights, the way people cheered for the destruction, for their...pain. I don’t understand how anyone could work there willingly, behind the scenes, guarding their...I don’t even want to guess what they called them. But it doesn’t feel like it’s really been balanced, you know?”

“That would be lovely,” Lydia agreed, falling in step beside Morgan, who had much more energy than Lydia felt in herself. The zombie was distinctly restless, and while Lydia was hardly at peace with the events of the last weeks, her manner was to internalise such things so deep that they might never erupt from her chest. It was the only way to cope with the hearts of two to four other humans alongside her own. “It was nightmarish. There can be an art to the act of war and battle, but I did not see it in there.” She chuckled, but the sound was twisted with a deep sadness. “Somehow, that sounds like a very spellcaster thing to ask. Don’t go looking for balance, Morgan, there is none. “

Morgan sighed and gave Lydia an apologetic smile. “I guess I’m still struggling to let go of being a witch. But in my defense, it was everything I was, my whole being. In school I had science club and student government and magic lessons. I double majored in college for magic. I made all my life choices around my curse, I moved around on my own for research, including here, and I--stupidly human or not, I was raised to think that there was some kind of sense to everything if you could look wide enough. And when I tapped into the universe for my magic I actually believed it sometimes. I thought all the lopsidedness in my life was because of my curse, but here we are, and I just don’t see any-- sorry.” Morgan deflated, finally gaining sense of her rant. The days had been strenuous and when she wasn’t picking apart the things she’d done or trying her damnedest to forget them, she was seeing Coraline’s body in the alley. “I don’t mean to be all…” She gestured helplessly. “It’s already been a week, and I saw something...so awful the other day. Which is part of why I was so ready and relieved to meet up in the first place! But--” But that dead girl, dead nix. What if it had been Mina instead of Coraline? “I’m just making a mess. Still. Sorry. Um, tell me what’s been going on with you. It must be a relief to have Remmy back, right?”

Lydia couldn’t do much but listen, nodding as Morgan vented. Her head just tilted in more concern. “I think it’s… natural, to want to find a fairness or balance of sorts, especially for everyone who isn’t fae. I don’t think you need to apologise for that. To us, the world is chaos, and sometimes it is… easier to remember that, than wish for something to repay it.” There was something more, and Lydia almost asked what, when Morgan sharply changed conversational directional. “Oh, um, alright. It is such a relief to have them back. I’m keeping the fridge stocked, they look so… underfed, but they’ve been doing better than I’ve seen them in a while. Aside from that, things have been good. A vampire was giving me serious trouble but I’ve promise bound him into finding his true love, which is a delightful twist of irony considering he doesn’t have a soul.”

“That’s good. We’ve been talking too, and I think things are getting better, and we all just probably need more time but that’s just--stars, that’s so good to hear.” Morgan managed a small laugh of admiration at the rest of Lydia’s escapades. “You know what, that is some amazing folkloric justice,” she said. “It kind of sounds like order to me. Maybe not human order, but putting some asshole in check with part of their own assholery is kind of brilliant. And, you know, I’m trying to reconcile the overwhelming amount of caos with everything I’ve known before and all, but, yaknow, witch justice kinda goes that way sometimes too.” She then grimaced at her own comment. Witch justice was supposed to work that way, giving people their due, what they’d earned, for better or for worse. “Not that witches always play by the rules they should,” she added, grumbling. “Is that what fae do when someone does something horrible to them in the supernatural world? Trick them? Make them pay somehow?”

"I'm glad they have you, whatever the future looks like." Lydia said softly, pressing her lips together in a grim smile. "Is it not? I was ever so proud when I came up with it," Lydia replied with a small laugh. While she listened, Lydia had to admit that the intricacies of witch magic didn't much interest her. Morgan was not a Spellcaster anymore. "No one plays by all the rules they should." Lydia tilted her head, thinking over the question as they passed a crowing Raven. "Not necessarily. The trickery is a bonus, and a protective measure in equal parts. If the vampire left me alone I would not actively seek justice or balance." Lydia replied.

Morgan considered this. It sounded more than fair, even accommodating, but it wouldn’t help her in the face of this killer. Her brow furrowed with thought as they walked until finally, “Lydia, what would you to someone who had killed another fae? And I don’t mean like what Remmy did, but something cruel. Torture. Something with the worst of intentions?”

“What a strange question,” Lydia replied, stopping in her tracks and turning to the other woman, frowning, clicking her nails against her thumb. “Why would you ask that?” She looked around, to the trees in the deep park, heavy with birds chirping their summer melodies, and pixies most would never even notice unless they were looking for them. “I know what I would wish to do, but Morgan, that doesn’t mean I’m capable of it. I’m not a violent person, nor do I think I ever could be. Not to mention, attracting the attention of hunters and spellcasters is not something I can easily risk. I have set bounties in the past, but that is the most of it.”

“Fine, okay, but what if you didn’t have to be the one to do it?” Morgan persisted. “If it didn’t have to come back on you, which, for the record, is my preference too, what should happen to someone who would do that, who would just take—” In the middle of their talk, Morgan hadn’t noticed their path, veering away from people and closer towards the tight, shadowy clusters of trees and bushes. She had not noticed the faint hint of death in the air either, not until she stopped. Her first thought was that it couldn’t be. If going out with Deirdre had taught her anything, it was that there was always some dead bird or squirrel to be found if you only knew where to look. But as Morgan scanned their surroundings, the ample cover for a stashed body, she couldn’t help but wonder. She sniffed the air, searching for the direction it was coming from, and started walking. Please, please be some stupid felled bird.

“If I were to have my way, every last hunter would be dead,” Lydia replied darkly. “Every single one of them.” It wasn’t what she’d expected to discuss today, which was perhaps why she spoke so venemously, with convictions she’d spent a lifetime developing. At first, she didn’t catch the distant look to Morgan’s expression. “Why do you ask?” She asked again. “Morgan, is everything alright with Deirdre?” But Morgan wasn’t paying attention to Lydia, she was off walking, sniffing the air, as Lydia’s own chest began to ring a little.

“Trust me, if someone had hurt Deirdre, I wouldn’t be asking for help in hypotheticals,” Morgan muttered. And it wasn’t a hunter, a fact that still made her head spin. She followed the pull of hunger until it was unmistakable. It brought her all the way to a copse of young oaks and bushes in need of trimming. This far at the edge of the park, whoever tended them had probably thought no one would notice. Morgan stood and waited to know what to do. She had to know. She also, depending on what she found, needed to not snack on a random body. But it was just a bird. Or a fox. Maybe some very random very human arm. Or one of those weird hands with eyeballs in them. Fuck it. Morgan peeled back the leaves and-- “No. Oh no.” It wasn’t a trick of her mind. Not an overreaction. She didn’t know what it was, but the bashed skull and the bloody stumps where something had grown from the head were enough to know the answer was not human. Morgan didn’t stop moving. She continued to stagger forward, clutching her stomach, until she tripped on a root and fell to her knees. She curled her fingers deep into the dirt, grimacing as she fought herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry…”

“Morgan? Morgan, you need to get away from the body. Please, Morgan, get away from the body.” Lydia felt bile rising in her throat along with the pitch of her voice, quickly stepping away from Morgan and the body both, trembling with fear. She had heard of this part. The human body never could fully handle the magic that had made them into something else. The human mind could only be reinforced so much, but it was not made to cope with being supernatural. The final outcome? That horrifying loss of control that Morgan seemed to teeter on the edge of as she collapsed, clutching her belly. Lydia needed to be ready to run, to try to outrun something like a mindless zombie. Her voice went shrill. “Morgan! Please, pull yourself together!”

“I’m trying!” Morgan screeched. She crawled further away, dumping her bag on the ground once again and ripping open her safety snacks with her teeth before stuffing a paprika dusted heart into her mouth. “It’s...not...a hunter,” she said, still chewing. She stuffed another one, trying to think about how rabbit hearts prepped the right way reminded her of those fruit gummies with syrupy juice in the middle. She popped another one in her mouth. Raw really was best. “If it’s the same...as what I saw the other day...it’s something else.” She choked on her food, trembling. “What do you see? How...how bad is it?”

Lydia kept backing away, her heart hammering in her chest. There were trees she could fly into, or if she ran and screamed she might find some hapless human male willing to protect her, especially if she spat in his face. She flinched as Morgan screeched at her, hopping even further back as Morgan tore into her back and pulled raw flesh from her bag. Lydia cautiously snuck around her, gagging as her stomach tried to bring up the cream puff she’d been eating earlier. She knelt, carefully, next to the wispy corpse, her nose pinched. Blood had soaked the grass, but it was long dried. It wasn’t Felix, and it wasn’t Morelia, but Lydia the more Lydia looked, the less sure she was of all of that. “How can you possibly know this isn’t a hunter? This is what they do! They cut off the antlers for trophies or money!” Lydia’s voice cracked, tears prickling at her eyes. “Oh, this poor soul.”

“I--I don’t! I’m just guessing! I can’t even look! But if it’s the same...if the iron is…” Morgan struggled to string the words together. “If it looks like it’s part of the skin…” She stuffed an eye into her mouth and chewed furiously. “It’s what I was trying to tell you. A nix...I found her a few days ago...but I brought her to someone...and it was alchemy.” The word still burned in her mouth. She wasn’t sure which outcome she hoped for, one monster or two. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference, either way, two people had been killed in awful, terrifying ways. And for what? “What do you see, Lydia?”

“What do you mean if the iron is part of the skin? Warden’s skins can become iron!” Lydia replied, her voice still shrill as she blinked away tears, looking over the battered, ruined corpse. The beautiful light that should once have shone in those eyes, forever extinguished. “A nix? Morgan, what do you mean, alchemy?” The more she looked, though, the more the wispy shadows gave way to glinting iron, to burns so deep they were bloody. Lydia was going to throw up. “Morgan, I need- I need a moment. Just… stay away.” There was no way knowing whether this lampade was part of any Aos Sí, what dialect they spoke, but in America, English was the safest bet. If their soul was listening, they needed to understand.

“May you rest quiet in the Whispering Grounds.” Lydia murmured, holding the lampade’s cold, stiff hand. She spoke in a strange lilt, words practiced over centuries to guide fae spirits past the ghostly form and into their thereafter. She moved her hand to the lampade’s lips. “You have kept all your words and promises to life alike. I relinquish you from what binds you to this world. Move forward, safely, knowing that you will lie with your brethren and your family will always have a home to turn to.” Her hand moved to his chest. “May your body fill with magic threads and the mushrooms dissolve the order of your body into chaos anew. They will create life from it, and the autumn equinox will be used to celebrate you. May your soul rest where you most wish it. You are relinquished from everything. Rest easy.” Lydia leant over the body, and pressed to their forehead a small kiss. “Taisteal sábháilte isteach san oíche.” Travel safe into the night.

Morgan groaned with frustration. “I mean someone tortured a fae with alchemy! And she died! And if it’s the same asshole---urrgh!” She couldn’t do anything like this, and she’d barely been able to talk about it with Lydia before they’d found the body. She staggered further away, where the park ended and the ground became rocky and dry. She heard, faintly, the murmurs of funeral rites for the body. She dragged herself a little further, feeling that it wasn’t something the was meant to be a part of, and did not stop until the smell of death grew fainter and her stomach began to relax. Morgan folded herself up tight and buried her head against her knees while she waited for Lydia to come find her.

Lydia knelt by the body a moment longer, before slowly pushing herself upright, and walking nervously back to the zombie waiting at a distance. She did not try to hide the multitude of tear streaks on her cheeks, wearing them as proud as a crown. Morgan was curled up in a small ball, and with a deep breath Lydia knelt beside her, putting her arm over the younger woman’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmured, and hoped Morgan knew she didn’t say those words lightly. “I want… I want to get them to a real resting place. Can you help me carry them?” Lydia pressed her wobbling lips together, looking back at the wispy body. There was more of that body that was worth it for scavengers to harvest. Whoever that person was, they needed to rest where no spellcaster was welcome. The light would be right in an hour or two. They just needed a mirror. Lydia’s eyes glistened with angry tears. Even if it wasn’t a hunter, it was still a filthy human that had done this. “Then, after, Morgan, please tell me everything.”

#para #chatzy #wickedswriting #morgan

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ranma-rewatch · 4 years ago

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Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Aaaaaaaaand we’re back! It’s a new story arc on the Ranma Rewatch, and we’re more than halfway through Season 1 of Ranma 1/2. I honestly did not remember that the focal character for this arc was introduced now, I thought she wouldn’t be a thing until at least Season 2. To be honest, I’m also not super excited, just because this new character is probably my least favorite main member of the love dodecahedron. But hey, maybe I’ll like her more this time around! Next paragraph, I’ll have watched the episode, and we’ll see what I think.

So, uh, before I start the recap for this episode, one thing I feel like I have to say first.

CW: Attempted Sexual Assault played for humor

For now, make of that what you will. Anyway, the episode starts off with Ranma having just used his cursed form to score some extra sweets for what money he had, and is heading home. But he runs into three girls from his school facing down another girl from somewhere else. The Furinkan High girls are all injured, but still try to fight, only to be thrashed by the other girl’s ribbon and then sadistically assaulted by her.

Not liking that, Ranma intercedes, easily able to dodge the girl’s attacks, showing this newcomer that he can hold his own. She gives her name and title, Kodachi the Black Rose, throwing Ranma a literal black rose before leaping away and laughing. Ranma takes the hurt girls to Akane, who hears what’s going on.

The girls are all from Furinkan’s gymnastics club, and they were scheduled to enter a Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics tournament. Only problem: Kodachi and her team ambushed and injured them badly enough that they can’t compete. With no other hope, they ask Akane to fight in their place, to which she accepts.

There’s only one major problem there: Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics requires the participants to use Rhythmic Gymnastic items as weapons, and while Akane tries to train with them, it becomes clear that she doesn’t have the skill necessary to use them. Think of Akane as a Fighter with high STR but low DEX. She gets angrier and angrier as she continues to try to find something she can do, only to be met with failure after failure.

Ryoga, as P-Chan, was hanging around watching, but can’t take it anymore. He runs into the bathtub, currently occupied by Mr. Tendo, and jumps into the hot water, changing back in front of him and heading back to the training hall to help Akane. He does everything he can to improve Akane’s skills, for which she’s grateful, but at the end of the session it’s clear Akane’s about as rubbish as she had been at the start.

As Akane goes to bed, Ranma tries talking to Ryoga, annoyed that he’s still trying to worm his way into Akane’s life. Ryoga’s reply is to insinuate that Ranma is getting jealous, something his immediate reaction makes look pretty accurate. But then before they can talk more, Ryoga jumps into the pond to return to being P-Chan, eager to snuggle up with Akane in bed again, something Ranma doesn’t want to let happen.

While Ranma chases the piglet around the house, Akane returns to her room and tries to sleep, only to realize that Kodachi was waiting for her, holding herself up in the ceiling, ready to attack. They start to fight, but just as Kodachi gets the upper hand Ranma enters in his chase of P-Chan, giving Akane the ability to break free of the ribbon. After they dart away again, Kodachi decides it’s enough for the night, and tells Akane they’ll finish the fight in the tournament.

As Kodachi runs along the Tendo families roof, she runs right into Ranma’s kettle of hot water, knocking her off the building. Seeing that, Ranma catches her, and she falls for him instantly. She uses a paralyzing powder to completely freeze Ranma in place, and then tries to kiss him while he can’t resist. The only thing that stops her is Akane investigating the noise on her roof, finding the two, and assuming Kodachi and Ranma were about to do the do over her bedroom. She sends Kodachi packing, but leaves Ranma up on the roof, unaware he had no say in the matter.

That’s the basic idea of the episode. Like I said at the start, this is the first episode to the next arc, so it’s mostly set-up. For the most part, it works to set up the character of Kodachi, and it does that well. She’s clearly eager to win at any cost, and a lot of attention is spent contrasting her aristocratic way of speaking with her underhanded and deadly actions. She is something unique, though there are hints of what will later connect her better to what we’ve had before.

She’s also the first rival Akane gets, and we see already that she’s into Ranma. It’s also shown that, specialties aside, she’s probably around Akane’s skill level in combat. Of course, it’s also shown that she’s way below Ranma’s strength, which is a bit disappointing. I don’t like that they chose to make Akane’s rival weak enough for Ranma to handle easily, instead of giving her a stronger opponent that she would have had to work harder to overcome. But of course, that would have meant giving Akane’s martial arts skills more of a focus.

Speaking of focus, can we talk about why I had a content warning in this? I can see why some people might feel it may be a bit over-the-top to use such a warning, since Kodachi seemed to just be after some lip-to-lip action, but I felt it was a good idea regardless. Kiss or no, Kodachi wanted Ranma utterly helpless so she could do whatever she wanted to him, and it’s hard not to look at it as sexual assault, or at least attempted sexual assault. I’m a little iffy on that as a thing to use to set up the bad guy, and we’ll see if that’s a trend that continues with her.

I’m not doing a Character Spotlight this week because I feel it’s too early to talk about Kodachi just yet, and I don’t think there are any other characters I’d like to cover more in-depth. Genma Saotome is the only regular so far I haven’t covered with a Spotlight, and that’s because I’ve wanted him to actually be a bit more involved in an episode’s plot, which we haven’t had in a while.

As for my thoughts on this episode as a whole, I’m not totally against it. It does a good job setting up what’s to come next, Kodachi gets a decent introduction as a villain, and there were a few moments I liked. But aside from the uncomfortable rooftop scene, on the whole the episode was mostly just sort of “there”. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I’m actually putting it exactly in the middle of what I’ve covered so far. Room for improvement, which I hope to see next week.

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Next time I’ll be covering Episode 12, the midpoint of this arc, titled “A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!” Once again, I love this kinds of titles. Hope to see you all then!

#episode 11 #Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!#ranma 1/2 #ranma saotome #akane tendo #kodachi kuno #ryoga hibiki #anime analysis #anime rewatch

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ravenbrenna09 · 5 years ago

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Safe - Chapter One

AO3

...

Hey, everyone! I finally got around to posting the first chapter of Sander's POV of Unattainable. When I asked at the end of Chapter 3 of Unattainable, a lot of people wanted it so I decided to go ahead and write it.

Now, I'm letting everyone know that it will be a bit heavier than some of Robbe's story with one main point being (if you saw the tags) that there are mentions of past abuse. Please do not read this story if you feel uncomfortable with these topics or it's too triggering.

Also, this chapter was soooooooo long and it was only HALF of what I originally wanted to be Chapter One, so the entirety of the chapter is on AO3 now. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

...

italics = receiving; bold = sending

...

Sander wasn’t for sure the last time that he felt remotely safe.

The use of the word was foreign to him, but the only time that Sander could pinpoint a moment that he might’ve felt safe was at the warehouse, the one that he was headed towards now, the purr of his motorcycle vibrating his legs as he drove. It had been a staple of his high school, so much so that he still remembered the route to take, the knock on the garage door. He hadn’t been here in years, not since his final year, before his mother had packed up him and Camille and took them with her to Paris for a job, to get away from his father.

As if the mere thought of the man that was equivalent to a sperm donor had summoned it, his scar lit up like an uncomfortable burn, like an old would that was reopening.

Back when he was younger, back when his father’s passive-aggressive comments and the way he held them too tightly when he got angry had been considered how he showed love, Sander had been nothing but obedient to him (sometimes, even now, he wished he could turn back the clock, back before the harsh reality of his father’s words fully sat in, because he missed the man he thought his father had been). He listened to his father’s every command, dodged his wrath endlessly, and remained on guard, so much it seemed normal. But, then, he realized it was wrong, the way his father showed love, and so he fought back. His mother would try and divert his father’s rage, but Sander would fight back against him harder, unable to see his mother be the only one getting hurt anymore.

(The first time he walks into school with a black-eye, he claimed that it was a fight that he had won in an attempt to divert attention away from his mom, not wanting to get her in trouble. His high school art teacher didn’t buy his story and his French teacher pulled him aside, giving him makeup to cover it up, which he took, and encouraged him not to fight… but if Sander was being honest, she didn’t believe his story either.)

Part of the reason he snuck out to the warehouse was to spite him, but Sander admitted that he kept the events of the warehouse to himself. His father was a cop, rigid in making sure that Sander didn’t embarrass him by getting arrested. When Sander had been caught smoking with spray paint on his fingers, he was blessed with a broken arm, a bruised eye, and a scar on his chest (his tattoo covered the scar from sight, only able to be seen if someone knew where to look). The events leading to him in a hospital had been something of a blur, but his mother had enough, grabbing her children and all the important things and charting them on the first flight to Paris.

It was how Sander had met Eliott, who was his friend before Sander became Instagram Famous and Eliott became an established director, and, through him, all of his friends.

But, after moving back to Antwerp, Sander hadn’t been back to the warehouse, partially because of Britt (his now ex-girlfriend), partially because he didn’t have the time, and partially because he was afraid that his father might show up and break his arm again for even thinking about going to the warehouse. He knew the fear was largely irrational because his father had denounced all claim and moved to the Netherlands (but, no matter how irrational his thoughts were, he knew his therapist would insist that his feelings were valid).

Over the horizon, he spotted the warehouse. It still looked the same, maybe a little bigger, and there were a handful of bikes and cars pulled up outside, partially obscured by the shadows of the trees around them. It might’ve been something of a miracle that it had never been found before now, by the police or anyone, because there was surely something suspicious about cars and bikes and, now, a motorcycle pulling up to an abandoned warehouse surrounded by trees.

Sander directed his bike beneath a tree, using his foot to balance as he pressed down the kickstand, cutting off the engine, and pulled his phone from his pocket. Without thinking, he pulled up his helmet, just enough to uncover his face, and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, tilting his head back. When was the last time he had been out of his apartment? Living in his new apartment, even surrounded by unpacked boxes that weren’t getting emptied quickly enough for his inner, meticulous satisfaction, Sander had finally started feeling normal again.

Now, outside of the warehouse and the unknown family that he missed so much, he felt a little exposed, a little nervous, like he had changed too much from the person that he had been before.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down.

noor.bauwens sent a message.

We’re on our way. I know you’ll probably be taking tons of pictures. But come say hi :)

Sander smiled, unable to contain his smile.

Noor Bauwens had been an old friend of his, back in art school. The two of them got along swimmingly and were interested in more of the same stuff. Aside from Sander’s intense love of David Bowie, the two of them had the same music taste, the same interest in art, a certain fascination for well-done tattoos, the warehouse that he was at. In fact, it was through her that Sander had met Britt (whether that was a good thing or not was still undecided), but it increased the frequency in when they saw each other. When Britt and Noor had a falling out, Sander felt like he lost Noor too. Their uni classes were on different blocks and they always promised to meet up, but they never ended up following through.

Now, though, they had a chance to reconnect. Sander missed having friends outside of Britt and her friends from uni. Since their breakup over a month ago, Sander had come to the shocking realization of how lonely he had truly been. The fact that Amber was always with her boyfriend and his friends, his sister was out of the country on a friend-vacation, and his mother was in America had really sobered up his realization of how controlling Britt had truly been.

Sander returned his attention to Noor’s earlier messages. When she had messaged him earlier today, Sander realized, quite suddenly, that he no longer had anyone stopping him from going to the warehouse. His father used to sit and watch him until he went to sleep, angry when Sander’s restless mind prevented him from slipping into sleep. Britt had condescending words, often treating him like a child in need of guidance and Sander had gotten used to her words and passive-aggressive comments, wanting to avoid an eventual fight.

Hey, Sander. Are you still into photography? If so, can I ask for a super big favor? My boyfriend and mine’s four year anniversary is coming up and I’m doing a piece at the warehouse. But, obviously, we can’t have the mural forever so I was hoping that maybe you could take a photo? And, then we’d be able to have the photo with us forever?

Of course, I would pay you! Whatever the cost.

Nonsense. I don’t need to be paid to do a favor.

Sander, I’m paying you.

Nope. Not going to accept it. I don’t need any money. I get paid enough with commissions so you don’t need to worry. Just let me do this for you. As a friend? Use the money and go out to a nice restaurant or something.

Are you sure?

Yes. Absolutely.

Okay, fine. I’ll be at the warehouse later. I HAVE to finish tonight. Busy week & no time to go out and finish. I might bring my boyfriend. He likes keeping me company.

Awesome! Knock still the same?

Yep. I’ll see you later tonight!

Yup, can’t wait to meet this boyfriend of yours.

Lol, yeah, I usually bring him around. If not him, then I might bring my friend, but I think he’ll come tonight.

Returning his phone to his pocket, Sander adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His camera weighed down inside of it and his apartment keys dug into his thigh, practically cutting through the fabric of his pocket. He quickly replaced his motorcycle helmet with a black mask that covered his nose and mouth, pulling his hood over his head to obscure the rest of his features. The last thing that he needed was for someone to recognize him as earthlingoddity here in a, probably illegal, spray-painting ring.

That was another reason that Sander stopped feeling safe.

earthlingoddity was his Instagram handle. Before he had gotten that commission for Eliott’s Polaris, before he quickly gained enough followers to rival some other art Instagrams, he had simply posted what he wanted to and showcased his art. Once his followers reached a certain point, they wanted to know more about them and Sander was willing to give some piece of his life, of who he was, because he loved each and every one of his followers that supported him and loved him. He loved being recognized in public and hearing from his fans in person.

But, since he returned home with Camille, bickering over what to eat, only to find a brown-haired girl (who, he later learned at the court hearing where he was granted a restraining order, was named Estelle) that he had seen almost everywhere he went in his living room, a set of keys with his front door key on her keyring, he couldn’t help feeling unsafe and not wanting to be recognized. He packed up his things within a day, moving back in his mother’s house, but he didn’t feel safe there either with the memory of his father lurking around, so he found a new apartment, one with higher security, one where only residents could get in with key to the gate outside or a specific combination that was lengthy, and moved there. It was part of the reason why he stayed home so much.

If he went out and looked over his shoulder and saw Estelle there, he was afraid that he would never feel safe anywhere ever again, forced to only live in a space that was only halfway safe.

Letting out a sigh and whispering, you’re okay, to himself until he believed it, Sander rose from his motorcycle and moved to the warehouse. His knuckles rapped against the metal of the garage door, echoing slightly. The knock was still ingrained in his mind, beat out with his fingers as he sketched, forcing himself to remember the beat of the knock. Once the rhythmic tapping was complete, the door was rising and Sander quickly ducked beneath it so they could lower it back down.

He didn’t recognize the eyes of them right inside the warehouse, but one approached from further in. He was older and taller, his hands shoved in his pockets, and Sander didn’t know his name, or remember the code name he used to use, but he recognized (vaguely) his grinning green eyes and the patch on his black jacket. He quickly moved to embrace Sander, grabbing his hand and patting him on the back, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our own camera boy! Where’ve you been man? It’s been years!”

Not wanting to go into a long story, Sander shrugged and quickly changed the subject, “Around. Mind if I take pictures tonight? One of the others asked me for a favor.”

“‘Course! Been a while since we’ve had someone here to document it all. Always nice to see the progress you know? And, besides, you know that you’ve always been welcome. Just promise not to disappear for years after tonight, yeah?”

Sander laughed, real and genuine, the first one that he’s had in a while. “Yeah, course, just a lot of things happened all at once and I couldn’t get away. Should be here more though after tonight.”

“We’ll catch up later, okay?”

Sander nodded, fairly sure that he had been winked at, but he simply rolled his eyes, moving further into the warehouse and digging his camera out of his bag. Compared to all those years ago, there was at least twice the number of people. More artists talked to one another from behind masks, combining and collaborating on spray-painting masterpieces around the room, on the walls, on trucks and pillars and any surface that would allow for some form of expression.

It was addicting and fascinating.

Without fully realizing, the camera was level with his eye and he began taking pictures of anything and everything and everyone around him.

He took so many pictures that he had to switch out memory disks. He had used whatever remained on the one in his camera, which had only really been half full. Luckily, he had thought about grabbing his extra memory disk and switched them out. He knew that he would never be able to post these photos on his Instagram, or even display the more detailed ones outside of his apartment. But, seeing this environment, experiencing it, sent a thrill up his spine that he had missed desperately. He missed being here.

It had been too long since Sander had been able to capture this atmosphere without having to worry about getting home to Britt to avoid another fight.

Over the past years, he had fallen into the comfortable lull of being in a relationship with Britt.

At best, their relationship was fragile, switching back and forth from good to bad like a light switch being flipped, a relationship bounded out of necessity, not of love. At first, it was nice, the sex was good and she was good to him. But, then, once she found out about his episodes and his medicine and everything else that had happened, everything that Sander ever did was a byproduct of his “mania”. Sander wanted to shout that it didn’t work that way, but that would only be a result of his mania too.

However, as much as Sander didn’t want to admit it, he needed Britt more than he cared to admit. He wanted to be loved, but Britt’s love for him was all he might ever get, might be the only love that he would ever get in this world. She was controlling and Sander gave in to her demands if only to prevent a useless fight that he would never be able to win. She spoke to him like he was a child and she was his mother. But, through everything, through all the breakups and him getting with others, she had stayed around, been with him through his episodes, and, in her own way, loved him.

But, following yet another breakup and yet another hookup after weeks of Britt’s passive-aggressive avoidance, she had reached up, slapping him across the face and shouting at his face for him to “be normal!” and he had enough. At that moment, Sander had finally come to the conclusion of what he was doing to himself and he had enough. Sander wanted to be loved, but he had seen what had become of his mother in the shell of his father, and he deserved better than that. So, he snapped and kicked her out, leaving a shocked ex-girlfriend standing outside his front door.

He didn’t deserve that.

No one did.

Looking through the lens at the arts around him, Sander realized that he didn’t have to be Britt’s “abnormal” boyfriend anymore, the boyfriend who dragged her through rough times, the boyfriend that caused her to complain to her friends, the boyfriend who pretended that he didn’t hear her friends say that she was “so strong” to be with him. He could be anyone that he wanted to be. Next week, he’d be another artist, spray-painting the walls in an explosion of color. But, tonight, he would only be an observer.

So, Sander took pictures of anything and everything and then some. There was a couple in the corner, pulling down their masks down to kiss, running their fingers through their hair. An artist stood in the middle of a section of the floor, his masterpiece coordinated off by the backpacks of the other spraypainters. There was a man with his hair tied back in a bun, a mask over his face, with a can of spray paint in one hand, a used paintbrush behind his ear covered in bright green paint, and a palette balancing dangerously on his knee, and Sander kneeled to snap a photo of the delicate balance.

After snapping a photo, Sander turned to try and find a new person to shoot and found Noor on the other end of the warehouse.

She was at the side of the warehouse, towards a wall that hadn’t been touched all night and a half-finished piece plastered on the wall. She wore a black shirt, her jacket was wrapped tightly around her waist, and a deep red skirt. He could tell from the way that her masked moved that she was talking to someone, moving away from the wall towards a pillar where there was a set of legs.

As Sander moved his lens and moved to take a photo of the wall, to depict the progress of Noor’s work-in-progress, should Noor ever want it, through his camera lens, she caught sight of him.

There was a man that sat against the edge of his pillar, leaning up against the untouched pillar of a quiet warehouse. He was sitting on the floor with his phone in his hand, his jacket two sizes too big tucked behind him. He was beautiful, dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a sweater that was a size too big. His hair, brown, was all messed up and ruffled, like the wind had been blown through it, and the tips curled upward. The bright blue moonlight bathed down on his shoulders, accenting every part of his face that Sander could make out from this way.

The mask on his face hid half of his face from Sander’s, but through the camera lens, he could see that he had brown eyes that scrunched up when he laughed. The mask obscured the majority of his features and locked them away from Sander, but there was a knowing twinge in Sander’s stomach, in his mind, his soul, as if everything in his life had simply been leading to one, singular thing…

Him.

Sander blinked in realization, his heart swelling in his chest.

Was this what Senne had talked about all these years ago?

Senne had been one of his closest friends and his roommate for almost two years before he moved back in with his girlfriend at her apartment. Then, life had gotten in the way. Senne had been in desperate need of a place to live now and Sander had been in desperate need of a roommate now. So, Amber had traded their information and they had quickly moved in together. For the first two months of their roommateship, Senne would stumble home drunk, curling in his bed and clutching at a gray blanket. Sander would always grab him some medicine, leaving it by his nightstand and pull his blankets over his shoulders.

It was after two full months later, as Valentine’s Day approached, when Senne came home drunk, wasted beyond relief at only midday, barely able to stand and leaning against Sander as he guided him into the bathroom, that Sander learned why he was drinking so much. It ruined his plans with Britt, who was annoyed that Sander would cancel their plans to take care of the drunk, wasted Senne, but Sander didn’t care. Senne needed him. As Senne bent over the toilet and Sander rubbed his back, Senne choked out, “I thought she was the one. I thought that… I had finally found someone who would always be there and then I went and fucked it up completely.”

It’s nearly six months later before Sander found out what happened, everything that happened. How Senne’s brother had taken advantage of Zoë, how he had tried to get between Senne and Zoë, how it was almost worked in tearing them apart. But, Senne had been there for Zoë, going with her to the police station, urging her to testify so she could seek justice, trying to do what was best for her. In the end, she needed space and had ended their relationship. Senne couldn’t blame her at all, but that didn’t make the pain hurt any less.

Even drunk, wasted beyond belief, Senne had been so sure of what he was feeling.

He was right.

By the next Valentine’s Day, the two of them were back together. Sander would receive messages to avoid the house so they could have some privacy and Sander would tease Senne because he would never let Sander meet her, but Senne would laugh, saying he didn’t mean anything by it. By the time that Senne moved back in with Zoë at her apartment, he had only met Zoë had a handful of times, only in passing as he entered the apartment and she left it. They made promises to meet up, to hang out sometime, but Britt kept him away from his other friends, claiming that he never spent time with her. Sander would agree with her, only to avoid fights that he couldn’t win, but that never seemed to work out for him.

Yeah, this was that feeling. It had to be, Sander thought, staring at the man with Noor, playing on his phone and chatting with her. His eyes were squinted like he was smiling. He was the one. It was only once Sander took a half-a-dozen photo, knowing that the camera and the photos wouldn’t be able to properly capture the sight in front of him, that he remembered Noor’s message from earlier. His stomach dropped and he fetched his phone from his pocket.

I might bring my boyfriend. He likes keeping me company.

His stomach flipped, jumping around in his gut.

Fuck.

It had taken Sander hours to work up the courage to go over there. The entirety of Sander’s fresh memory card was filled exclusively with pictures of Noor’s brown-haired company (well, almost, he needed some room for Noor’s masterpiece), still playing on a phone, his head down, his head up, looking around the room. His heart thundered against his chest. He’s the one. But… if this man was Noor’s boyfriend… He had to know. If he was happy with Noor, if he had been happy these past four years with Noor, would Sander be doing more harm than good? Could he walk away, pretend that it had all been a fluke and that he didn’t have this deep emotional sense of knowing, if it meant that he would be happy?

As Sander walked over, as Noor stood on her toes and hugged him tightly, as the man’s big brown eyes rose to meet Sander’s green ones, a look of indifference and confusion on his face, as his heart fluttered at the look of innocence on his face, Sander hoped that he could. Because, if he was happy, it was going to hard to walk away. As Sander moved to respond to Noor’s question of how he was, the phone in her hand vibrated and she turned towards the man beside her, extending the phone.

The man looked away from Sander, down to the phone, and took it from her grasp, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” and walking away. Sander watched him go, spotting the look on Noor’s face. Worry and concern covered her face as she watched after him.

After a couple of seconds, Sander broke the silence, commenting, “He’s cute. Your boyfriend.”

Noor turned towards him, chuckling. “No, he’s not my boyfriend,” she replied. Sander tried to control his breath of relief, and probably failed. “He used to be, but we ended up becoming friends afterward. My boyfriend had to go home. He’s got an important meeting with his mom in the morning.” She glanced towards him again, Sander followed her gaze to him, he had pulled his mask down to talk on the phone, and Sander felt himself breathe a little heavier. “So,” Noor spoke up, nervous and drawing Sander’s attention back to her. “What do you think?”

Beautiful.

Oh, she meant the mural.

“It’s amazing, Noor. You put so much work into it,” Sander informed her, turning back to the mural. “I’ll definitely get a lot of good pictures. We can meet up and you can pick out the best one. Once I can edit it for clarity, I’ll print it out and frame it for you. Just let me know when to bring it.”

Noor nodded her head. “Thank you so much, Sander.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a heartbeat, they’re quiet.

“I’ve missed you,” Sander spoke up.

Even from behind the mask, Sander could tell that Noor was positively beaming. “I’ve missed you too.” She threw her arms around him in a hug, holding him so tight that Sander had to squirm to get her to loosen her grip. But, then she pulled back. “We’ve definitely got to meet up. Outside of the picture stuff. We haven’t been able to properly hang out since before you and Britt got together. I miss when it was just the two of us.”

“Me too,” Sander confessed.

Noor smiled, beaming. “I wish I could stay here longer. But, we need to get back to our apartment. The rest of our roommates have already gone to bed and I’m likely going to be woken early up in the morning by my boyfriend. Maybe we can meet up sometime next week?”

“Of course,” Sander replied.

Noor grinned, bending down to collect the remains of the man’s things and rushing over to him. Sander watched her go, holding up his camera to take multiple photos of the mural. There was so much that he had loved about it and he knew that there must’ve been some form of special connection to Noor and her boyfriend. She had been meticulous about every detail, the blending of colors on the wall, the detail of the stars in the night sky. Sander turned to find them talking, the man’s mask still at his neck, and without thinking, he reached up, snapping a photo of the man as he talked to Noor.

Then one more.

Then another.

And, then, Noor took him by the wrist and pulled him towards the exit. The man followed easily as Sander turned towards the mural again, taking a couple more. He wanted the photo and the frame to be perfect for Noor, for her boyfriend, because Noor was important to him, still, after all these years. But, still, he couldn’t help turning and watching them go, out the warehouse door and into the abyss outside.

Once the man was gone, Sander left soon afterward, letting out a breath, his shoulders lighter than they had been before.

His Instagram story, a photo of himself, his features shrouded in darkness, and the white text across the photo, slanted in a diagonal across the screen, his words reading: Do you ever see someone and just know that they’re the one?

His phone had blown up with texts, comments, likes, replies, and direct messages. While he had disabled notifications on the majority of his social media accounts, his phone had been slammed with them as soon as he opened his app. That also hadn’t stopped Eliott, and Lucas through his boyfriend’s phone, from sending him over a dozen text messages. He had made the post on a whim, like he did everything else, but he didn’t care because he had to get it out, confess it to the world. That was him. That was it.

And, still, hours later, even though Sander hadn’t responded to the original screenshot from Eliott or Lucas’s follow up messages when he didn’t answer, he was still getting messages from the couple through Eliott’s phone.

Sander.

S-A-N-D-E-R.

Answer your goddam phone.

We need answers. (-Lucas)

Hey, Sander, it’s Eliott. Take whatever time you need. Lucas is just concerned.

No, answer back right now. I need answers. (-Lucas)

And nosy.

As you can tell.

Sander laughed, typing out.

Eliott, calm your angry hedgehog.

I NEED ANSWERS, SANDER (-Lucas).

Get home safe. I’m taking the hedgehog to bed (-Eliott)

...

READ THE REST ON AO3

#sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #rosander #my fic #wtfock fic #sobbe fic #rosander fic #safe: an unattainable spin-off #tw: past abuse #past abuse #i'm sorry once i saw this theory i haven't been able to move away from it #so i'm sorry #brief appearance (through text) of elu #noor bauwens #this thing was 12k words

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fenheart87 · 5 years ago

Text

Unexpected Ch 1

"Alright class, I know today is a special day and you all have been so eager to drop the school work and get to celebrating but we have one more thing before we can end our work for today." Mme. Bustier smiled brightly at the collective groans across the classroom. "This is a project, you can be by yourself, with a partner or a group or even all work together."

"Mme. Bustier, what type of project is it?" Mylene asked, more excited than confused.

"Marinette as class president I believe I'll let you share with the class." She waved up the ravenette, flipping the white board that showed a loosely detailed plan and a list of everyone in the class.

"Sure thing! And before you say it, no Alya I was not hiding anything from you, we actually set up this a few weeks ago." Marinette teased, falling into her confident planner self as her front row distraction was currently modeling for a perfume ad. "We are taking over the park for a few hours for a class party at the end of the day! Snacks will be provided by the best bakery of course, papa has some new flavors so please be honest on what you think. The best ones get to become part of the menu."

"Oh yeah dude! Bring it on!" Nino cheered, Kim fist pumping the air in excitement.

"First things first! We need to split into jobs, here is a rough idea of what we need done and how many people to do it. If you want to take a few jobs that require only one person go for it! If you only want one or just a group job that's fine too. Please make sure you sign up for at least one as that is considered your participation for today and cross your name off the list."

Everyone jumped from their seats, breaking off into groups and talking about what they wanted to do and how they want to decorate. Marinette waited to the side for any follow up questions or to give directions to find supplies they had set aside for the party.

"Um, mme. Bustier, I don't see my name..." Lila spoke up, pouting slightly.

"Oh! With how busy you, Chloe and Adrien are, I left you off incase you weren't able to make it. Same with Max, sometime his gaming club has plans already. Just made it easier so we dont accidentally sign you up for something." Marinette said brightly, watching as Lila tried to hold her composure at being thwarted.

"Oh thanks Marinette but we do not have plans for today, we are getting together over the weekend. Speaking of, would you like to join us?" Max invited, ignoring the italian completely who seemed to be struggling for a composed face.

"Sure! Although I'm not sure how good I'll be at anything other than mechastrike." She laughed, waving off Markov who was running numbers to argue her claim.

"Looks like you'll have to try harder Rossi." Chloe commented in a smarmy manner. "Sabrina sign us up for something like getting supplies, make it quick and easy. I do not want to be crowded with a bunch of losers."

"Sure thing Chloe, looks like we'll be helping Marinette with the food! We just have to get it from her parents bakery when everyone else is set up." Sabrina wrote their names under Marinette's, handing off the marker to Alix.

"Girl you thought of everything! How did you keep this a secret from me?" Alya accused playfully, throwing an arm around the shorter girl.

"I told you we had a party coming up, you just thought I meant a different kind. Besides you gave me a lot of the ideas and you didn’t know it!" Marinette preened under the positive attitudes and creative ideas that were flowing around the room.

"Marinette you forgot one thing!" Rose spoke up, jumping in place excitedly.

"Oh no, did I forget some decorations? Or did i not ask for enough food? Drinks?"

"No silly! Music!" Rose twirled Marinette causing her to stumble right into Ivan who just got back from the art room. Seeing the boxes she almost knocked out of his hands, Marinette squeaked and flailed a little bit more causing her to tumble down fully.

"Whoa, careful! Looks like I got back just in time." Ivan smiled helping a red faced Marinette from the floor with a free hand.

"Oh Ivan! Good thing you are back! We were just talking about the Valentine's Day party for the class and setting everything up at the park. Marinette, do you think we could ask Kitty Section to play?!" Rose gushed, hands under her chin and hearts in her eyes.

"Kitty Section is busy but I could talk to the leader guitarist, I helped with their outfits when they performed for Bob Ross after all." Lila spoke up drawing everyone attention, confused and angry alike.

"Alya, for once, please just let this happen." Nino whispered, cupping his hand over his girlfriend's mouth.

"Oh! That would be amazing Lila! Just the thing were missing. I cannot believe I spaced on the music selection. It is kind of last minute though, they are super busy... If they can't make it, Nino would you be able to spin some beats?" Marinette chimed cheerfully, snagging one of Lila's hands as she would anyone else before spinning to the frozen couple.

"Sure thing dude!" Nino smiled, removing his hand from Alya's mouth.

"Awesome! Rose, Juleka, Ivan and Mylene can you help Nino with his equipment?" Marinette asked with a grin, blue eyes sparkling.

"Sister-dude." Juleka mumbled as she walked by, earning a bright smile from the shorter girl and giving a small upward squirm of the lips in return.

"Chloe and Sabrina, if there is nothing else you want to help with, maman said we can start boxing up stuff. We have to wait for the tables before we can place them." Marinette smiled and left the classroom, sending one last text to her maman. "Today is a great day!"

__________________________________________

"So the party is at lunch and we get to enjoy the rest of the day to celebrate and enjoy!"

"Looks good so far Nathaniel, Maman said the food is almost done so we will go get it once the tables are setup." Marinette complimented, giving a thumbs up.

"I hope I'm invited this all looks great!" Adrien joked, finally back from his perfume ad. " What can I help with?" Streamers decorated the trees and a huge picnic blanket was. hosting some board games with coolers next to them.

"Hey dude, we could use some help getting the tables propped up so when the girls get back they have somewhere to put the food." Nino waved the blond over to where he was trying to puzzle out the safety latch.

"Adrikins! After this, we should totally go eat at my fathers hotel, I can have them reserve a table for just the two of us-" Chloe began, cut off by Lila who joined in swarming the model.

"Adrien! I don’t know if you've heard but I'm getting Kitty Section to play, I talked to the lead guitarist and since I helped design their costumes, they said they owe me a favor and will play for us!"

Adrien looked uncomfortably between the two girls, looking to Nino for help be he certainly knew Lila was lying. The DJ looked ready to laugh at any moment and subtlety shook his head. His savior came in the form of a blue hair guitarist, who was helping Marinette and dropping off Juleka's hair clips.

"Hey Adrien, Nino. And new girl." Marinette snorted softly, earning a playful nudge. "I heard something about Kitty Section?" Luka listened to Lila's spiel, noting her methods and listening to her true self. "Cool, I wanted to give back the guitar pick to the bass player. She's pretty awesome and I hear close to the guitarist."

"Oh well when they get here you could!" Lila deflected, sliding closer and seeming to just notice his aesthetic.

"Too bad you don't go to our school, things would certainly be more musical if you did." Marinette giggled, drawing a smile from Luka. "I can stop by later for the finishing touches, there's no rush."

"Marinette! You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!" Lila exclaimed, drawing the attention of the entire class, most amused as they knew the blue eyed darling was torn between the two boys.

"You know it is so not cool to blurt out other people's business when it doesn’t concern you. I'd appreciate it if people who don’t even know my name didn't spread lies about me. What Marinette and I have between us, or do not have, is our business and we certainly don't need outside help to figure it out. Unless we ask for it." Luka coolly snapped, leading Marinette over to Rose and Juleka.

"Adrikins!" Chloe would not be letting the little liar work another lie to cover up her being called out. "Dinner tonight, my father hotel of course. Wear something nice."

"Actually I already have plans with Kagami... We're going to see a movie and then have dinner, her mother and my father have fencing ideas to discuss. Hey Marinette, if you and Luka want to join us you can."

"Actually-" Luka stared but was cut off by the shorter girl.

"Double date?" Marinette asked, looking at Luka to confirm, smiling shyly.

"Oh, cool." Luka smiled like the sap he is, drawing giggles from Rose and snort from his sister. "Yeah, double date."

"Text me later?" Marinette blushed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. The sappy sigh had Rose burst into giggles which snapped the taller boy out of his trance.

"Yeah, later." He looked lost for a moment. "Later." Luka repeated and then left, not even caring the cheesy grin on his face was completely ruining his bad boy image.

"Marinette." Alya's voice snapped Marinette back to herself and she became an incoherent blubbing mess of blushing stutters.

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vicunaburger · 5 years ago

Text

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 2/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,679 Warnings: M for Language

Notes: Gettin’ spooky up in here.

In Which Odd Happenings Occur

It took several hours of the women to fully unpack the truck and start to settle in their respective space in the house. Lydia had given Holidae the guest room next to her own bedroom on the second floor, which happened to be nearest the steps to the attic. A situation that was not Lydia's original intention, but Delia had commandeered the other bedroom to store her art pieces while she and Charles were away. Holidae wasn't the sort of person go to poking around by herself, so there wasn't a danger of her discovering the secrets lurking around the home. However, there was a zero percent chance that the resident ghost would extend the same courtesy to her friend's privacy.

The proximity of the new breather to his humble abode did not escape Beetlejuice's attention. A nagging little thought in the back of his mind warned him that this might some sort of test set up by Lydia to see how well-behaved he could be with such an opportunity.

Fuck that, he thought, not as though she could do much in retaliation.

The specter watched the girls throughout the move-in process, hovering just out of sight to not alert Lydia to his presence. One glance from her and there was good chance he would be sent back to cool off in the Neitherworld before you could say sandworm.

No, he had to stay inconspicuous, which was a struggle for the extroverted bioexorcist truth be told. He followed Holidae up the stairs to her room, picking occasionally at her sweater to make her pause and glance around to look for the stray nail or some other object she might have caught it on. At one point, her gaze had landed right on his face, her dull-green eyes staring right into his molten gold.

It made him pause, thinking that he had pushed her a little too far and the jig was up on his playtime. After a few moments, she continued her trek up the stairs, heading into her bedroom. Beetlejuice was safe, for now. The benefit to such a position was that it allowed him a very intimate look at the new house guest without her freaking out.

She was pale as Lyds; and between the smudged eye makeup and dark circles she gave the impression she hadn't slept in a good several years. Insomniacs were the best when it came to frightening breathers. Fish in a barrel. Not that he wouldn't have appreciated a harder challenge, but hey, everyone likes to have a little break now and again.

Holidae's lips were full - matching her overall face shape - but noticeably bitten. Nerves? Bad habit? Things that he definitely kept tabs on to create the perfect storm of scares for the unsuspecting breather? Yes.

Beetlejuice busied himself with being nosy while Holidae haphazardly unpacked her suitcases, moving the clothes into a nearby dresser under the window. He frowned at the lack of frilly lingerie and other scandalous things one might hide away out of embarrassment. Nothing obscene to gossip with Lydia about, how disappointing.

The only thing worth noting were the copious number of notebooks and accounting ledgers.

What was she, a nerd?

While she was distracted with the dresser, he caused one of the ledgers to "accidentally" flutter open to a random page. They were filled with detailed lists and monetary amounts; a few random acronyms he couldn't identify in the side margins. After a moment, it dawned on him that the lists were titles of Lydia's photographs and art pieces.

"Oh God/Satan, don't tell me she's an accountant." The ghost ran a hand through his hair, the green fading into a more solemn blue tone.

Lydia had told him about the growing number of followers who frequented her art shows in the human world; to which he would always offer himself up as the next model for her studies. For some reason she always turned down his offer, stating that it would be difficult to photograph a ghost that wouldn't appear on film.

Thoroughly dejected after yet another rejected, Beetlejuice decided to be a brat and take a chunk of her photographs down into the Neitherworld with him. Turns out, human paraphernalia was a hot ticket item to all the ghouls and demons down there, and he was able to make a quick'n'dirty profit off Lydia's work. Sure, he kept the profits for himself, since he was the one who had the brilliant idea in the first place.

It was only fair.

Holidae must do the same thing for Lydia topside, he surmised, although by the shabby state of her wardrobe and sparse furniture... it wasn't a profitable venture for her. Did she not know that sellers get at least a 75% cut of all deals? What do they teach breathers up here anyway?

"Gonna have to teach you the fine art of the deal, girly," Beetlejuice muttered, floating over to drape himself over the dresser. "Be happy to lend you my expertise on a whole bunch of topics."

The woman paused in folding her clothes into the dresser, looking around the room with a sour expression. She could have sworn she heard someone talking, but Lydia had gone back downstairs not too long ago. A chill up her spine made her shiver; not having noticed the temperature of the room dropping sharply.

The ghost above her grinned from ear to ear, "C'mon, I know you're not scared already, are you? I haven't even done anything. So sensitive, huh?"

Holidae hugged the sweater she had been folding against her chest tightly, her mouth curving into a pout. A faint buzzing sound... like someone mumbling constantly from several rooms away.

"It's an old house, probably fried wiring buzzing." Holidae reasoned with herself, continuing her task and closing the dresser drawer. "Maybe an animal got into the walls at some point; it's an old house, probably needs new insulation. ...or some sort of eldritch horror beckoning me into the deep abyss through some portal in my closet."

Beetlejuice snorted with a cackle, "You have no idea how accurate you are, baby doll. Oh boy, I have got to get us better acquainted."

"Lydia?" Holidae stood up straight, rubbing her arms to generate some heat. "Are you trying to talk to me?"

Soft footfalls were heard coming up the staircase, and soon Lydia's head popped into view from the doorway. She opened her mouth to reply, but what came out was a choked gasp.

Lydia could clearly see Beetlejuice balanced on the dresser beside Holidae, his expression like a snake toying with a mouse. When he noticed his bed friend staring at him, he waved enthusiastically, his hair turning a bright, luminescent green. Her jaw worked up and down like a gaping fish, her brain furiously scrambling to process the scene.

"Babes! Aren't you going to introduce me to your breather buddy?" He vanished and then reappeared on Holidae's bed, lounging like a great cat. "Teach her the magic words and we'll have the best housewarming party."

Holidae noticed Lydia's distressed expression, "Lyddy! What happened?"

"Nothing!" The tone was so high pitched it could cut glass, "You... startled me and I ran up here. I thought you like, fell or something."

Her eyes kept nervously flicking over to the bed, trying to ignore the ghost rolled around on the sheets like a child.

"Laaaaaaaame. Better come up with something quick before she gets suspicious." Beetlejuice taunted her.

"I meant the house makes things sound weird, so I rushed up," Lydia placed a hand on her hip, "Haunted and all that."

Holidae's eyebrows furrowed, "Right. So, the buzzing noise is a portal to another dimension, yeah? Just want to make sure none of my clothes get stretched out by demons trying them on."

Lydia laughed, "Exactly. Demons aren't exactly known for being petite."

"I resemble that remark." Beetlejuice hissed, sitting up on the bed and smoothing out his striped suit.

"Good to know." Holidae cleared her throat, "Oh, hey, mind if I snag some extra blankets? You weren't kidding about the drafts in here."

"Third door to the left," Lydia gestured out into the hallway, moving aside as the other woman moved past her.

As soon as they were alone, Lydia marched over and grabbed Beetlejuice by his tie, putting them nose to nose with each other. The childish attitude he had was completely dropped, replaced by with a much more placating tone.

"Now now, babes, I wasn't bothering her that much. Just wanted to know what was going on since you hadn't come and said hello yet." He held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "How was I supposed to know she would be thoroughly engrossed by my humble presence."

"Nothing about you is humble, BJ." The deadpanned tone said it all. "What did I say about Holidae?"

There was a pause, "...that when there's a school holiday you get to come visit longer?"

"Beetlejuice," Lydia let go of his tie, running a hand over her face in anguish. "No."

Beetlejuice winced at the use of his full name, "Okay, okay... I know. Don't bother her. But Lyds, she looked right at me. She knows I'm around! You're not gonna deny me the chance to be seen, are you?! You were the last human in aaaaages that could see me first thing."

As much as she wanted to stay angry, to say him name three times and banish him for a while as punishment for breaking her rules, she couldn't refuse his plea. It was true what he said: she had been the first living person to notice him in a long time. To end his invisibility. If Holidae could already feel him around... maybe it was better to treat the subject like a band aid and rip it off quickly.

With a heavy sigh, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Give me some time to ease her into the idea."

"That's why you're my best bestest friend, babes." He loosened his tie, vanishing from the room.

#beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x oc #beej x oc #writing time #beetlejuice x self insert

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milk-mochi · 5 years ago

Text

title : drama club

pairing : jeongguk x reader

genre : high school! au, gender neutral! reader, fluff

word count : 2k

warnings : none

prompt : btsboulangerie’s september prompt : “wait, that was you ?”

The key to a good friendship had always escaped Jeongguk. He was bad at talking, emotional expression, being the center of attention, and anything of the sort. Being a socially awkward outcast in a high school setting was hard enough. When you added his school theatre background into the mix, it led to nothing but constant suffering. It hadn’t always been this way.

When Jeongguk was five, he entered into primary school like every other kid. Off the bat, he had an aptitude for the fine arts. He was exceptionally good at music. He was gifted. Not quite a prodigy, but talented nonetheless. Every teacher he ever been taught by had said that to his parents without fail; however, it was always followed by another sentence.

“He just doesn’t apply himself enough,” they would say. Conferences and parent meetings for fourteen years provoked the same response. It didn’t make any sense. He was an honors student with straight A grades, what else could they ask for ? They would tell him to join after school activities to make friends, or to play a sport. Nothing had ever interested him. He was athletic, but sports teams didn’t suit his fancy. He had no burning need to be on things like the math team, to be in clubs or to participate at all. He just wanted to get through school alone.

Against his wish, he met a boy on his first day of high school. Kim Taehyung, a hyper but suave puppy dog with a passion for art just like Jeongguk’s. Kim Taehyung refused to let Jeongguk be alone, despite his inability to talk to people. Which is why on the fifth day of his freshman year, Jeongguk stepped into the auditorium of his high school to attend a drama club meeting.

He fell in love with it, to put it simply. He never preferred a lead role, but rather one that kept him in the spotlight for the least possible amount of time. He did find it difficult to express himself, but the club helped him with his awkwardness. Now at seventeen, he was a full blown participator in drama activities.

You were an A-Class Theatre Nerd. You had been in every school musical since grade four, often playing lead characters. Music was your one-way ticket to being well known by the entirety of your high school. It was safe to say you took the cake for popularity, being that you could walk the hallways and students would split to let you pass. Your real friend group consisted of three boys and a friend you knew since birth. Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin were your clique. You had met the three of them through theatre. Ji was your best friend, and she had stuck beside you through all of your hardships. She had joined drama club with you with the hope of breaking out of her shell.

“I just wish we could do something less boring, like the stuff they do on Broadway nowadays !” Hoseok enthused as you walked into the auditorium after school.

“Yeah, and get the entire program cancelled by administration ?” You drawled, giggling. “The stuff they do on Broadway nowadays wouldn’t be allowed here.” You set your backpack down on the ground and ran up the stairs to sit on the stage with the rest of the club. Today was the first day of drama club of your senior year. Your last chance to make high school worth something.

“Hello everyone, welcome to drama club ! This is the first meeting, so I’d like to start with a friendship-building activity. We’re going to go in a circle and introduce ourselves.” Your director smiled as she sat on the floor of the stage with the group.

“I’ll start !” You raised your hand, smiling. “I’m Y/N, and I’m a senior this year. I’ve been participating in school productions since I was a kid, and here I am.” You gave an enthusiastic wave and settled back down.

The game continued on in a circle, with Seokjin introducing himself as a wreck, and Jimin asking to use the bathroom and tripping over his own feet as he sprinted from the auditorium. You spaced out as it went on, pausing momentarily to pay attention to a kid with bright eyes and curly hair falling halfway down his face. He offered a timid smile, and his introduction came in a sort of whisper.

“I’m Jeongguk, a senior. I joined drama club my freshman year, and I really love to sing.” He paused and swallowed deeply, giving a nod as he pleaded to the director to move on. The boy next to him jumped at his opportunity to speak, giving Jeongguk time to recover.

You smirked to yourself, combing a hand through your hair. This would be a fun year after all.

It took you two weeks to approach Jeongguk. You spoke to everyone in the club aside from him. You were worried that he was beginning to think you hated him. Painting sets gave you the perfect opportunity for conversation. Every once in a while, the club would work on sets for future productions. You would all just get to work on painting. It was more of a time to relax with friends than anything, so you decided to speak to Jeongguk.

You sat down beside him. He paid you no mind, and you inhaled deeply, coughing a bit from the amount of air you took in.

“Hi,” you choked out, your face turning a bright red.

“Hey,” he responded with a bright smile, turning to face you. “Y/N, right ?”

He was calm. You were not. Your face turned deeper red, if at all possible.

“Yeah, and you're, uh, you’re Jeongguk. Aren’t you ? ‘Cause if you aren’t I’m sorry, I’m really bad with remembering-” He cut you off with a rich laugh, his voice modulated and husky.

“Yeah, I’m Jeongguk.” He was surprised at how easy the words came to mind. He wasn’t particularly good at talking to anyone, let alone people like you.

“Oh ! Yeah, I definitely knew that. I thought so, and I was right. Huh,” you said, stopping yourself before you could go any further with your useless word vomit.

You dipped your paintbrush into the can of white paint, removing it to paint a small dresser. Seokjin took the wonderful opportunity to place his hands on your shoulders, shouting a greeting in your ear. You let out a yell, flinging the paintbrush in the air and getting white paint on your black shirt. Seokjin let out a howl of glee, his eyes falling on Jeongguk as he keeled over in amusement. Your focus turned to the boy you were sitting next to, and sure enough, the paintbrush had landed in his hair. You apologized profusely, promising yourself you’d never talk to him in person ever again.

You gave Seokjin a stern talking to that night.

“He probably thinks I’m a spaz, and it’s all your fault !”

He just laughed and told you to try harder to get to know Jeongguk. You refused.

You're lookin' sharp, so let's go back to my flat and get natural.

Jeongguk read the sticky note three times over, pausing to sigh in resignation before reading it a fourth time. It was a terrible pick up line, but the person who put it in his locker had to have music knowledge, so that narrowed it down. He’d never received a note or anything of the sort before. He stared at it once again before sticking it to the inside of his locker door.

“That’s awful,” Taehyung mused, poking the sticky note with his pointer finger over Jeongguk’s shoulder. Jeongguk jumped in surprise, bumping his head into the lockers. He winced, offering yet another sigh.

Drama club that day was boring, to say the least. His gaze kept landing on Y/N. They were going over their lines with a friend, who he thought was named Ji. They both paused every few minutes to crack up in laughter. He wondered why Y/N hadn’t talked to him since the paint incident. He thought it was hilarious, but they were probably traumatized from the situation. He returned to his own lines, his mind lingering on the idea of them.

“Seriously, that’s what you put on it ?” Ji snorted, shoving your shoulder.

“I thought it was funny !” you retorted.

“Yeah, to a seven year-old maybe ! I bet he hated it.”

You stuck your tongue out at Ji in retaliation, crossing your arms. Little did she know, you had at least a hundred crumpled sticky notes at the bottom of your backpack. It had taken a long time to find the perfect line. You were going to do this until he figured out who you were.

Are you a fermata? Because I want to hold you.

Not bad. Jeongguk let out a chuckle, sticking it next to the fifteen others on his locker door. It had been three weeks since the first, and they kept getting better. Most of the time they were music related, with an occasional dirty joke added to the mix. He appreciated it, but his mind was only focused on one thing. Y/N. He really liked seeing them during the day and in the auditorium, and they were on his mind all the time. On top of that, Y/N’s friend Ji had started talking to him. Often their conversation would drift to Y/N. It was fun to hear a different side of their personality. All he knew was the calm and composed popular kid. Despite the one time he talked to them, he always knew that they were confident. He wasn’t aware of their socially awkward side, to which he could definitely relate. Ji explained that Y/N was garbage at talking to anyone they found attractive. He wasn’t sure if that was an indication of their attraction to him, or just a slip of the mind from Ji. He convinced himself it was the latter. He wasn’t anything special.

That day during drama club, Jeongguk decided he was going to talk to Y/N. It didn’t matter what he said, he just needed to get the thought of them out of his mind. He walked into the auditorium almost in a strut. He walked towards Ji in an effort to converse with her. Ji was standing next to Y/N, and he suddenly heard something familiar come from her mouth.

“-I want to hold you ? That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard !” Ji was heaving for breath. Jeongguk stopped dead in his tracks. He was about two feet away, but his gasp alerted the two friends.

“Wait, that was you ?” Jeongguk asked, dumbfounded. He looked down at his hands and beamed, his cheeks turning red. Of all the people he knew, he didn’t expect Y/N to be the one giving the sticky notes. He thought they were too busy, too popular, too disinterested in him. He took a moment to compose himself, and when he looked up, Y/N was in a state of shock. Their eyes were watering, presumably in fear of rejection. They made eye contact with him. They seemed fragile. Vulnerable. Jeongguk didn’t like that in reaction to him, so he took a deep breath and prepared himself. He was ready for this moment since the first note. He knew his lines this time, and he wasn’t afraid to be in the spotlight.

“Hey, I bet we’d, we’d get into some, uh, serious treble together,” He winked shyly, exhaling with relief. He still stuttered despite the practice. Oh well, at least he didn’t miss his mark.

There was a pause. A completely silent second filled with anxiety. Then a sweet noise rang through the air. He soon realized it was you. You had burst out in laughter.

“Golden. That was absolutely golden, music boy.” You grinned widely at him, winking in return. He might have been bad at social skills, but Jeon Jeongguk sure made your heart sing - pun intended.

tagged; @lofihope

#btsboulangerie #btsboulangerieseptember #bangtan #bts x reader #bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts high school au #gender neutral reader #bts sfw #my writing tag

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