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sweetchup · 3 years

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Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

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Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 6

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 3,000+

Masterlist

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Cold. That’s the only way you could describe the man in front of you.

Cold as in his eyes were like stone. As if they were dead as they stared down at you. Cold as in that you couldn’t read him, at all. Even as he was covered head to toe in blood, you had no clue what he would do next. Cold as in he was intimidating. Way too intimidating. Like a primal feeling in you was screaming danger at you. It made you want to bolt from the spot.

“Tch…” You instantly freeze as Poseidon finally lets out a sound. He glares down at you in disgust as if you were some dirt on his shoe, “My brother must be losing his mind.”

Scared, you let out a small gulp. Your throat all of sudden feels extremely dry. Brother? Was he perhaps referring to Zeus? So, that must mean this was Poseidon. Right…?

“S-So…” You pause for a moment as you decide if you should dare continue, “…Are you Poseidon?”

You shouldn’t have done that. With a loud bang, you slowly turn your head to look at the Trident he cleaved down in the sand next to you. Its harsh throw sending the sand beneath and surrounding you in the air in a huge rumble.

“Ack!” You spit out as Poseidon suddenly grabs your jaw while you are distracted. His harsh grip on you as he turned your face to look at him felt as if he was trying to crush the bone of your jaw underneath. Even though you knew it was useless, you squirm lightly underneath his grip in hopes to lessen his tight grip.

“Pathetic.” He spits out in a grumble as he watches you squirming. Letting out a small huff, he watches you for a couple of more seconds before finally releasing your jaw. A sore feeling begins to replace the pain you had previously felt. “Humans do not address a god by their name. Especially pathetic mortals such as yourself.”

You feel the need to flinch under his harsh words but thankfully stop yourself. Instead choosing to tighten your grip on Triton who still laid unconscious in your arms. You understood that what Poseidon said was partially true. A mortal such as yourself had no chance against a god, nevertheless one of his stature and power. But he still didn’t have to be so blunt about it. Even Zeus held some sort of common courtesy when interacting with you.

“Ugh…” Startled by the sound, you spin your head downwards to look at Triton who was letting out a loud groan. His face scrunched up in pain as he wiggled around in your hold to get up.

Instantly, you put your hand on Triton's chest to stop him. Worried with the amounts of cuts and blood he was covered in that he could possibly have a fatal injury, “Shh. Don’t move, Triton. It’s okay. I got you.”

Triton seems to thankfully listen to your words and stop moving, relaxing back into your arms. Instead using the energy he had left to open his eyes to look up at you. Though, as you stared down at him with concern, you could tell he couldn’t properly see you. His eyes shrinking and dilating in an attempt to see what was in front of him.

“Triton, can you see meeeE—“

Gasping, you instantly pull Triton closer to your body as you are carelessly lifted off the ground by Poseidon. The blonde male with one arm underneath your knees and the other holding your waist behind the small of your back stands up as if you two weighed nothing. Even slightly throwing you up in the air to adjust his grip. You stared confused at Poseidon whose gaze looked away from you for the first time since he arrived. Instead staring out at the waves of the sea.

As the male began to walk towards the water, you wanted to question what he was doing. Wanted to question why in the world he had picked you up and was currently holding you. Why he hadn’t killed you on the spot. Why he was walking towards the water. But chose against saying the thoughts that were present in your mind. Remembering fearfully the sharp gaze he gave when you not only called his name but also spoke out of turn.

However, you soon regret not speaking your thoughts out loud. Or, at the very least, putting up a fight.

“H-Hey! What are you?!” You screech out as Poseidon travels further into the sea. The cold crashing waves now hitting your feet and soon traveling up to the rest of your body as Poseidon continues further in. “Hey! Stop! We’-I’ll Drow—“

“Shut up.” Poseidon barks out. Even though he doesn’t bother to give you a glance, you still hear the venom in his voice and freeze up. You looked worriedly around you as the water got higher and higher, all the way up til your chest and neck.

“A-Ah.” You can’t help but let out as you see Triton’s head starts to sink underneath the water. Quickly, you fix your grip on the boy and lift his head above the water. Even if he was an aquatic god, you still weren’t sure if he could breathe underwater. However, the only problem with lifting Triton above the water is that it pushed you further under. The waves now crashing against your chin instead of your neck.

“W-Wait—“

As you gasped out your last word, your head went under. You struggled slightly as Poseidon continued to trech forward but couldn’t do much as you didn’t want Triton’s head to drop underneath the water. Even if you knew it was fruitless and Triton would eventually go under, You hoped he would wake up and make an escape.

Stupid human.

As Poseidon's head finally goes under the water and he begins to float down, deeper into the sea, he finally turns his head back to stare at you. You really were pathetic and stupid as the other humans. Lifting his son’s, Prince of the sea, head above the water as if he could actually drown. What a joke.

What in the world did his brother see in you? Making a huge show in the courtroom about how you would be the perfect substitute for Amphitrite. How everyone should at least give you the chance to be Triton’s nanny and take care of him. How you would help the child grow and shit. How you would actually pay attention to him.

Poseidon feels himself freeze for a moment before tightening his grip more on you. Your body had already began to grow limp in his arms. If he so pleased, he bet he could just tighten his grip more on your frame and you would shatter in a million pieces.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. Fragile.

Poseidon grunts out in disapproval at the disgusting passing thought in his mind. You were just a pathetic being. One that would pathetically die right here.

Poseidon once again grunts as the feeling of annoyance passes by in his mind. It must have been all those stories Zeus shared at the trial while he secretly observed you two. As a perfect being he shouldn’t be so easily swindled by such thoughts. His son once again was making him weak.

This is why I stayed away in the first place, Poseidon thought as he rolled his eyes.

Slowly, Poseidon trails his hand up from the small of your back to your cheek. He tilts your head that was flopped to the side with his thumb so that you looked at him.

‘The perfect substitute for Amphitrite’. His brother sure was cruel. You were nothing but a small mouse compared to the apex predator that was his, likely, soon to be ex-wife. The minute Amphitrite lays her eyes on you she would surely kill you.

Poseidon gives your cheek a slight stroke around the bruise that was settling there. You really were pathetic, getting a bruise from such a weak grip.

Little by little, Poseidon leaned down closer to your face. His nose grazing yours slightly causes him to pause as he once again observes you. He wondered if what he would do next would end up getting you killed.

You truly were Pathetic after all. Even amongst all the humans he has met over the many millenniums. Though, he couldn’t deny, much better than the venomous Amphitrite.

I’ll just throw you away later when I’m done, Poseidon decides as he finally closes the gap. His lips swallowing yours in a harsh kiss as he brings his palm away from your cheek to wrap around the back of your neck. For once in his life being careful not to snap someone’s spine in half.

Fragile.

That thought once again passes by in Poseidon’s mind as he continues to hold you close to him. Fragile like fine china. Yet also soft…, warm… A contrast to his cold and strong marble like body. The body of a god.

Disgusting.

Finally, Poseidon pulls away, scrunching up his nose in distaste. It seems he’ll have to ‘talk’ to his brother about interfering in his personal life again. Though, it’s not like his brother ever listened to begin with.

What a pain.

—.—.—.—.—

Were you dead?

No, you were definitely still alive. For your body felt like a ton of bricks. So much so that even lifting a finger exceeded all of your energy available.

But how were you still alive?

Did Poseidon possibly save you in the end? Knowing that asshole it wasn’t likely. Perhaps Zeus swooped in at the end or Triton saved you. A possibility…but also still highly unlikely. You guessed you would have to find out for yourself.

“Ugh…” You groan out as you attempt to open your eyes only to shut them again. The light in the room felt all too blinding. That wouldn't work, you couldn’t see anything in front of you but it wasn’t like you had any other options, you would have to try again. “Shit…”

You once again attempt to open your eyes. Your vision was still hindered by the light this time but it was at the very least bearable.

Ah, that’s painful. You can’t help but hiss out as you attempt to lift your arm to cover the light coming into your eyes.

It seems you would have to wait patiently for your vision to… return…

You feel yourself freeze as something blurry comes into your view. It was blue and shiny, seeming to levitate or float towards your face.

“W-what…?” You can’t help but spit out as you stare at the thing approaching you. Blinking and unblinking as you attempt to make your eyes address what was in front of you, “A-A fish…?”

It was in fact a fish. A giant one at that, if you had to guess it was about the length of your forearm. But, how was it floating there in front of you…? Fish can only exist in wa—

“Hello My Lady!”

The…

The Fish…. Just talked.

You stared in horror at the thing in front of you. You had to be out of it, there was no way that a fish had just talked to you. Nevertheless be actually able to breathe air…

“No way…” You gasped out as you finally drifted your gaze away from the fish. Now that your eyes had finally fully adjusted, you could finally see where you were.

You were…

Underwater.

Specifically you were underwater in a fantasy noble-like bedroom: Ginormous in size, able to fit a huge bed, couch, dressers and, of course, still plenty of space to be able to walk around. The only difference from the fantasy-like bedroom that one would see in novels was that it was clearly flooded with water.

“My lady?” The fish calls once again, “Are you okay?”

“How—how? What— You…” You gasp out in confusion, only to suddenly stop and grab at your throat. How were you breathing underwater to begin with?

“M-My Lady please calm down!” The fish shouts out worriedly as it watches you panic. “I promise I’ll explain everything once you calm down.”

You pause at the fish’s words, he was correct. You had to calm down if you wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with you. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm yourself but quickly scrap the idea as it felt way too odd to you. Instead choosing to just nod your head to get on with the fish’s explanation, “O-okay…”

“Thank you, My lady.” The fish tells you as it somehow bows, at the least what looks like a bow, “My name is Marine and I’m a Servant at Lord Poseidon’s Palace…”

So, Poseidon must have saved you. But,… why… it didn’t make sense with all he stated on the shore. Zeus or Triton must have made some sort of interference to save you.

“…Please do not worry as you are still alive and well. The reason you are breathing underwater and communicating with me is due to the blessing you gain from Lord Poseidon.”

“B-Blessing..?” You ask a gasp as you look down at yourself. Patting yourself in certain places to make sure you were all well only to let out a small groan. It seemed you were still sore and in pain.

“Please be careful, My Lady.” Marine tells you worriedly as pats you with his fin. Seeming to attempt to push you backwards so you can lay back down. Thankfully, once you comply with Marine’s request, it answers your question, “Gods can usually bestow 3 things on humans: Curses, Blessings and Ambrosia. Though this can differ from god to god based on what they can accomplish. Curses are pretty self explanatory but Blessings and Ambrosia are complicated. Blessings are gifts or abilities that are bestowed upon humans by gods. In Lord Poseidon’s case he bestowed upon you the ability to breathe underwater and communicate with sea life like other aquatic folk.”

“I see…”

“Finally, Ambrosia is what happens when a human consumes the blood of a god. If said human somehow survives the consumption, they are bestowed the gift of being a Demi-god. So far only one human has survived consuming Ambrosia and that is Lord Hercules.”

Dangerous. Not just in the way of how powerful Ambrosia is but in how many times you could have accidentally consumed it from Triton alone. Even though a God’s skin is stronger than a human’s it wasn’t by much as they could still bleed just as easily. The amount of times you had to bandage Triton’s scrapes when he tripped or bumped into something proved that.

“My Lady?”

At Marine’s call, you are startled out of your thoughts, “Ah sorry. I—“

“P-please don't apologize! You are my lady, you have nothing to apologize for.” Marine shouts out as he visibly pales, “I am your servant, it is actually my fault for disturbing you while you were clearly thinking.”

“A-ah I wouldn’t say that…” You murmured out, clearly disagreeing with what Marine was telling you. Though… You find yourself pause as a thought suddenly hits you, “Marine, Why are you calling me ‘My Lady’?”

“Why that’s because you are the new lady of the Manor.”

“T-the manor? What Manor?”

“Southern Manor, Of cours—“ Marine seems to pause at his words as he realizes something. “I sincerely apologize, My Lady. I totally forgot that since you are from the human realm that you have no idea what has happened here.”

Marine looks around the room before finally spotting what he was looking for and swimming over to it. A map…? You sit up slightly as you look over at the giant map that mount the wall above a dresser.

“At the Palace, there are 5 Manors that make up its body. Pacific Manor, The main Manor that holds the king and queen of the sea. Arctic Manor, which holds and trains the knights that protect Atlantis. Atlantic Manor, Lord Triton’s as well as any future heirs Manor. Indian Manor, which holds Lord Triton’s classes, storage and other needed rooms. And Finally, Southern Manor…., for Lord Poseidon’s Mistresses.”

“M-mistresses?!” You spit out as you shoot up from your spot. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. In no ways would you bed Poseidon. This wasn’t what you wanted when you accepted to be Triton’s mother. You didn’t want to actually be with his father.

“P-please calm down, My Lady. You aren’t one of Lord Poseidon’s Mistresses. My Lord has never taken a Mistress ever.” At Marine’s explanation, you let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. “The reason I call you My lady is simply because you are now Lord Triton’s official guardian along with Lord Poseidon after Lady Amphitrite was ruled irresponsible for such duties. Due to Lady Amphitrite still not officially divorced from Lord Poseidon, she still lives in Pacific Manor. So you can not live there as of now and the second best place is here in Southern Manor.”

“O-oh…” You choke out. Though you were happy that you were officially Triton’s guardian and can still stay by the boy’s side, you weren’t sure how long you would last. Especially since you were sure that woman was now going to be out for your throat. “…but couldn’t she just come over to this Manor if she so pleased?”

“Not at all, My lady. Do not worry.” Marine informs you as it points its fin to the cluster of three manors at the top. “The Atlantic Manor, Southern Manor and Indian Manor were all originally designed to hold an intricate sea garden in the middle. This idea was later scrapped by Lady Amphitrite but, by the time she denied it, a tall metal fence had already been put up that surrounded the three buildings to keep unauthorized visitors out from the garden. Under Lord Poseidon’s watch, early this morning a sea witch put up a spell that forbade Lady Amphitrite from entering anywhere in the gated area. So she will not be able to get anywhere near you or Lord Triton.”

“Oh. Thank goodness” You mutter out as you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, you and Triton could live in somewhat peace after—

Triton…!

How could you possibly forget about what happened with Marissa? Was Triton treated for his wounds once he got back?

“My Lady, you can’t get up—“

“Marine. Please take me to see Triton. I need to see him at once!”

Author Note: Ooooop— We got a little insight on how Poseidon feels about the reader and still what in the world happened to Triton? I’m just glad Vol. 2 is up and I can’t wait for the next chapter. Yet, Triton… I miss you 😢. Come back soon in my writing, bud. We need you to lighten up the atmosphere.

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #snv #record of ragnarok #bivalve

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doppopoppo · 3 years

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|| Usahara Headcanon ||

|| Warnings : Fluffy smoochies, Usahara asking for it from Uramichi lol ||

|| Usahara • [Eddies sister] ||

Sneak Attack

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*💖

Everyone in the “Together with Maman '' crew knew Usahara was dating Eddie’s little sister. He was against it at first. He was aware of Usahara’s history with women, in general in the dating scene. He also had a bad habit of wasting his money away at gambling and panchiko. Eddie did not think he was a proper fit to be a partner for his little sister. She was old enough to make decisions for herself, but she knew her brother was simply worried for her. Usahara worked hard to prove himself to Eddie. Her mother already loved him; as he was tall, fit, had a job, youthful energy, and respectful. Usahara may make jokes that aren’t too nice, but he knew when he needed to show respect and to whom. Meanwhile, her dad thinks he’s a loser with style, so he was with Eddie in not wanting his daughter to date him.

Fortunately, Usahara did a splendid job at showing her family how serious he was about their relationship. He had initially met her when she came to pick up her drunk older brother at night after the crew went out to drink after work. He quickly slipped his number through her car window. She found him to be brave, and cute. At the same night she texted him back and the two got close rather quickly. Uramichi, Kumatani, Utano, especially Eddie, were extremely shocked to hear she found him funny.

Someone actually finds Usao-kun funny.

She found his antiques to be more funny than his jokes, but she didn’t mind at all. Likewise, she wasn’t into watching movies either. Could never sit through them. She enjoyed games, watching shows with short episodes, and simply hanging out with others. Somewhat similar to Iketeru, she tended to zone out, so her activities consisted of things that could hold onto her attention. With Usahara, things could be unpredictable and that’s what she liked the most about him. She felt good and found a kind of thrill with him. Even Eddie was surprised to hear Usahara stopped frequenting gambling places. He opted to play games with Y/N instead, which he found far more intriguing. In doing so, he was no longer as broke as he used to be. He was even able to pay back Kumatani. He also didn’t get drunk as often, and when he did, he stopped saying how he wanted to be funny and popular with girls. He had you already.

Usahara and those around him saw how he changed for the better due to making better decisions. This hadn’t been his girlfriend's goal, for she liked Usahara for him. If this change made Usahara happy, then she’ll gladly support him. When she confronted him, making sure he wasn’t just trying to “please” her family. He had let her know he rather enjoyed having pocket money, so not to worry. It was more for himself after a while, his intentions had changed. Also, a wonderful woman is by his side, so he wants to do the same. His coworkers definitely thought Usahara was being extremely out of character, but it goes to show even he can be serious in a committed relationship. And this is how Y/N’s father came to like him. Eddie is still weary of a sudden change in character.

Y/N had a free day so she came to surprise Eddie and Usahara. While walking down the familiar hallway to greet her bunny boy, she heard frantic footsteps behind her. Then, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into a nearby room. Or closet it would seem. She didn’t have time to react so she went to punch her capturer, just as her older brother thought her.

“OOF!” she hit a cushiony like material.

In the dark she couldn’t make out which mascot it was but she knew very well it was Usao-kun. Kumao-kun would never. “Oww, what was that for?” Usahara was rubbing his mascot's cheek. “Uramichi Oniisan already hit me today. Not you too.” Y/N can hear the pout.

“Then next time don’t go pulling me into,” she took a look around, “supply closet?” she wasn’t sure.

That didn’t matter though. Guess the surprise for Usahara was ruined, because he surprised her instead. It brought a smile to her face as she gave him a soft peck on his mascot's snout. Usahara whined because he wanted a proper kiss. It was Usahara/Y/N daily smoochie time.

Y/N chuckled, “Sneaking away into a closet for a secretive kiss?” She smirked. Of course her boyfriend would do something like this. And at work of all places. Typical Usahara, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Usahara took off his mascot head and planted a nice and firm kiss on his girlfriend. He deepens it by pulling her closer by the waist. It sure felt weird, being pushed up against his soft costume rather than his firm, toned muscles on his torso. She gave his costume a squeeze and chucked into the kiss. This caused Usahara to smile. They both have moments like this. Where they can forget about the world during intimacy but still manage to make it lighthearted.

“I have to call for you as is, must I come looking for you to come out now?”

Y/N shrieks and pulls away from Usahara.

“Isn't this too risqué for the bunny?” Uramichi smiled tightly.

Y/N can feel the venom seeping from Uramichi as she quickly shoves Usahara’s mascot's head on him. Then roughly pushed him towards Uramachi, “Sorry Chi-niisan.” She quickly apologized.

“You’re very much in the clear.” He gave her a soft smile. “Him? Not so much.” Uramichi’s smile faded and roughly pulled Usahara with him to the set. “Hey! Why not meEeE?! You ruined the moment huhuu.” Usahara was asking for another beating.

She felt bad for her boyfriend, but she took her time to make it to the set. She still had Eddie to surprise!

Author’s Note:

This was much longer than expected! It was fun to write lol. My mom started watching the anime after hearing about Iketeru. She finds Usahara funny and said he reminded her of me XD

Enjoy!

#life lessons with uramichi #big brother uramichi #usahara tobikichi #uramichi omota #usahara x reader #anime x reader #uramichi #usahara asking for it #uramichi getting annoyed at usahara #usahara tobikicki headcanon #daga iketeru #kumatani mitsuo

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merakicharm · 3 years

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SERENDIPITY

(part - 1)

Karasuno, along with the other schools in Miyagi, were having an exchange event for the benefit of their students, in academics. Almost all schools in the county were part of it. To be quite honest, most of the students were excited about it, keenly looking forward for the school assignments to come, so they would know which school they'd be assigned to.

The boys volleyball team of Karasuno were waiting for it too, with bated breath. Why, you ask? There was a reason, a reasonable reason. They were all hoping and praying for their blueberry eyed setter, who they knew would be fine wherever he went, as long as it was not Aoba Johsai. His old team mates from Kitagawa might just make things difficult for him, if that were the case, which was just what he did Not want, Ennoshita had told Suga firmly, when he'd called up once or twice, to ask about his ex-team's current state.

"You see, they may think that Kageyama is made of stone, but I beg to disagree. You and I both saw the first match of Seijoh against Karasuno, Suga-san. All it took to cut daggers through Kageyama's heart was that sleepy looking middle blocker's smiles. So I'd rather he not spend a whole damn month there and return to us with his spirit broken and shattered."

"Hmm, you're right, Ennoshita. But if Kageyama does get assigned to Seijoh, there's nothing we can do about it"

The current captain's lips curved into a soft smile, when he heard how his ex-senpai still said 'we' as if he were part of the team, even now.

"I know. I just hope Kageyama's luck holds. Honestly"

The conversation from two nights ago still played in Ennoshita's mind, as he led his team over to the noticeboard where the pin ups for the schools, his team would attend, would be written down.

Kageyama following behind Hinata and Tsukishima, tried hard, not to think about the chances of having to attend the same school as his ex friends and ugh ex crushes? attended. He prayed hard that his rotten luck would just be kind to him this one time.

Please! Just this time! Just this one time! And I'll never ask for anything! I promise!! he thought to himself.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, startled, to find a reassuring looking Yamaguchi gazing at him. Kageyama nodded at him, silently thanking him. Yamaguchi nodded back, removing his hand.

Bless him, Kageyama thought.

Yamaguchi was one of those rare few, who could understand Kageyama's various silent gestures besides Hinata, Suga and Akaashi.

"OK, I'm going to read out the placements, alright?", Ennoshita's firm tone brought him back to earth and he payed close attention.

"Chikara Ennoshita - Johzenji"

As soon as he read it, the captain looked horrified. Attending the assigned schools also meant participating in the same clubs that you were in, back at your own school. Just thinking about Johzenji's lunatic team was enough to give Ennoshita a heart attack. But what he read out next, made him question his very existence.

"Yuu Nishinoya - Johzenji

Ryunouske Tanaka - Johzenji"

Surviving by myself with a bunch of madcaps was hard enough by itself, did they have to add madcaps from my own team to add to the injury?Ennoshita though rubbing his temples.

Noya and Tanaka were yelling and chest bumping and tribal dancing already.

"Alright you two that's enough", he said.

Who was he kidding?

A fearsome image of Daichi sprang up in his mind.

I really don't wanna do this but....

"I SAID, THAT'S ENOUGH!!"

Tanaka and Noya shut up immediately, while the others grinned.

"Moving on, Kazuhita Narita - Nekoma

Hisashi Kinnoshita - Fukurodani"

The two quiet players looked a bit doubtful, but nodded. Nekoma and Fukurodani were okay, and were actual havens when compared to Johzenji. Kenma and Akaashi would surely ensure that some semblance of peace reigned.

Now it was the turn of the second years. And almost everyone was looking visibly tensed for the ravenette. Even Tsukishima.

"Shoyou Hinata - Nekoma"

"Yayyyy", the ginger head cheered.

"Hitoka Yachi - Nekoma"

An enthusiastic Hinata high-tened a still shy Yachi, but she returned it with the same vigour, if not strength.

"Kei Tsukishima - Aoba Johsai"

Tsukishima smirked. Everyone knew what that meant.

Any one of those brats try to pull one on me, I'll make them pay.

For Kunimi and Kindaichi's sake, Kageyama hoped that the Seijoh team wouldn't be too stupid or brash around SaltBottle.

"Tadashi Yamaguchi - Sh.. Shiratorizawa...?"

Ennoshita looked up to gape at the green haired middle blocker who stared right back, before collapsing down.

"Tsukiiiii Ennoshita-san!! There's no way I can go there by myself!! Please spare meeee!!"

Ennoshita tried to calm him down.

"Relax Yams! You're not alone. Let's see....."

As Ennoshita's eyes skimmed through the contents, at a particular name he stopped and stared, numbly.

"Captain!?? There's no one right? I knew it! Tsukiiiii"

Yamaguchi's wails broke through Ennoshita's dismay, and he continued on till,

"Aha here we go. Kazehaya and Reiki are going with you"

The cheerful pair of libero and spiker, first years, Kazehaya and Reiki smiled soothingly at their soft hearted senpai. Of course they were nervous too, but then again, they were more excited than nervous.

Yamaguchi stifled his sobs, a little bit better now.

"Uh... Tobio Kageyama - Aoba Johsai"

Each and every person in the room turned to look at the boy currently cowering in his corner.

No.

Please.

Not again.

I don't....

I don't wanna....

They hate me.....

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yanderslutt · 4 years

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𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 - mikasa, x reader x yelena

chapter two

"If x is three. What is a and b?" Your teacher asked as you tried to contain your shaking legs. "A should be seven and b should be eight!" Armin exclaimed as the teacher sighed. "Anyone else besides Armin?"

"Seven and eight." Yelena mumbled as you feel your face heat up. You clenched your thighs tighter as her fingers played around with your clit. "Thank you. Y/n, why don't you demonstrate how to do number five?" The man asked as you fanned your face. Yelena pulled her fingers out of your wet underwear as you felt your body slightly stumbled. Mikasa arched a brow at your movements as you gave her a fake smile. You finally make your way to the white board turning to the side seeing the blonde girl stick her fingers inside her mouth.

You gulped beginning to write the equation only to get the wrong answer. "MISTER CAN I PLEASE HELP HER?" Armin yelled wrapping the blanket around his face tighter. "Whatever." He muttered slamming his head against the wall. You gulped walking back to your seat as Yelena scooted towards you. "Your were a little distracted weren't you?" She asked with a slight chuckle falling back further into her seat. "Of course I was. You had your fingers.. inside me." You gritted through your teeth as she placed a arm over your shoulder.

"I have a big nice strap wa-."

"HEY GUYS!" Pieck said sitting on top of the desk as Yelena rolled her eyes. "Y/n, so I was wondering if you had any plans tomorrow." She said tilting her head as you shrugged your shoulders. "No-."

"Yes she does. Me and her are going to the movies." Yelena said as Pieck giggled. "That's great I can come too!"

"And me! I heard that have a sale on POPCORN!" Sasha said as Connie, Jean, Eren, and Mikasa joined in. "Great it's a date! I'll see you all tomorrow." Pieck said waving her hands getting off of the table. The teacher gave the class some time to finish work and talk. However, everyone just talked. That wasn't anything new. You stood at the window looking outside as Reiner made his way towards you. "So.. are you planning to go out.. with anyone.. tomorrow.. on the movie date?" He asked nervously as you turned around shrugging your shoulders. "I don't know."

Annie made her way towards the two of you as Yelena pushed her over. "Yah, she is big boy. With me. Haven't you heard? Y/n is a lesbian. Say it with me.. lesssbiaaannnn. She doesn't like boys." She said winking your way as you crossed your shoulders. "God Yelena your about to make me turn straight." You said as Pieck perked up from her desk. "YELENAAAA GODDDD DAMMITTTT!"

"Gee," Annie said dusting the dirt from your jacket as you watched Mikasa and Eren chat with one another. You sighed wishing you were in his place as Reiner saw where your eyes fell in place. Maybe she's secretly.. straight for Eren.

"Anyways, y/n... is going to be my date." Pieck said kissing your cheek as you turned around. You grabbed her jawline forcing her to look at your eyes. "Kiss me like that again and I'll kill you."

"Please kill me. ANYTHING TO BE TOUCHED BY YOU." She said desperately as Sasha looked at the girl eating her potato chips. "Girl get a grip. If anything she's going to be my date." Sasha said as you sighed. "As long as you buy the food."

"NO I CAN BUY YOU FOOD." Pieck said wrapping her arms around your neck as you gave her a blank scare.

The hell ended as the bell ringed causing you to bolt to your locker before any other girls could claim you as theres. You headed to your section grabbing your basketball clothes needed to put them to wash. You placed your books back in heading to the campus library.

There was no point walking home with Mikasa anymore. The more you stood next to her, the more it hurt to see your crush with someone else.

You sat against the wooden chair preparing for your cramming session as the seniors begin to walk out of there classes. Yelena, Hange, Levi, and Erwin chuckled and talked amongst themselves as you placed your reading glasses over your face.

No one with noticeeee meeee.

You placed your water bottle to the side removing your jacket from your shoulders. You stood in a tight black t-shirt with a pair of your basket ball shorts.

"Good afternoon y/n." The librarian said checking out your books as you gave the old lady a smile. "Afternoon." You said giving her the card as she checks them through. You make your way back to the desk sitting down as you noticed someone behind you.

A pair of cold hands covered your eyes as you could already smell her perfume in the distance. "Yelena." You stated coldly as she kissed you cheek. "In the flesh baby."

Hange crashed down on the table as Levi begins to organize your papers. "We shouldn't disturb y/n and her studies." Erwin said as Yelena bursted out into a fit of laughters. "Put a whole in it grandpa. We came to help her study." Yelena said as Hange grabbed one of your papers. However, it seems like she couldn't pay attention. Levi grabbed her head turning her to face him. "Staring is not polite."

You quickly put your jacket back on as Yelena chuckled taking a seat next to you. "So, what subject do you need help with?" She asked chewing her favorite spearmint scented gum. "Um, I.. well.. just one. AP Physics." You said looking at the multiple f's as she sighed taking out her papers. "I'm surprised. Normally your smart in everything." Levi said crossing your arms.

"Your just mad because she beat you last year in academics." Erwin teased as Levi rolled his eyes. "I can help you with that." Yelena said grabbing the arm of your chain pulling you close to her. "And that's our cue to go." Hange said winking into the girls direction as Erwin and Levi exit the room.

You take a deep breath as Yelena grinned placing a hand on your thigh. "Don't worry, I'm just here to teach you somethings."

#attack on titan #attack on titan mikasa #mikasa x reader #yelena aot #yelena attack on titan #yelena smut #yelena x reader #yelena

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Win Back

Summary: Bret Weston Wallis/Reader, After reader finds out what Bret did to her cousin Jughead he has to win her back

Enter My Giveaway Here!

You’re pretty sure your life is perfect. You’re one of the top students in stonewall prep. You've been dating Bret for almost a year and you were easily able to pick between the two top colleges you’d had your eye on. The likelihood of you getting into at least one of them was high.

Everything was fine. Until Jughead Jones showed up.

He was your cousin; you knew that much and you knew your parents hated him and his mother, your aunt. She had abandoned him, and as far as you knew so did his dad once his mom went back for his younger sister.

He was currently wandering the halls of Stonewall convinced about some dumb concpericy, you’d seen him snooping around in other peoples rooms and you were sure yours was next. You didn’t want him to find out your connection to him, which you assumed he would, seeing the family photo you have on your dresser, your mother and his were identical twins after all.

“Listen Jones, I don’t want anything to do with you or your dumb concpiracys…”

“It’s not one! My grandfather..”

“Like I give two shits about some poor dead guy.” You scoff, and Jughead glares.

“Listen you spoiled bitch; I’m telling you that things are going to get a whole lot worse and more dangerous.”

“Oh sure, like I’m going to believe some fake gang member from some backwater little town.” You roll your eyes and walk away, wondering if he knows the two of you are related.

When you bring up your encounter to Bret he nods a little.

“Yeah Jones has been going off on this weird tangent; best to just ignore him; me and the guys have a prank we want to play on him.” You chuckle assuring him you can’t wait to hear all about his joke.

”Bret, what are you doing?” You whine playfully and he looks up from his computer screen.

“Trying not to fail chemistry, it’s going to murder me.” he pouts and you grin, kissing him.

“You can do assignments later, come pay attention to meeee.”

“Babe, while I would love to, I have to finish this up, besides actually studying gives me an alibi.”

“Alibi?”

“Yeah from what happened to Jones…”

“What happened to him?”

“Aw worried you could get in trouble for his almost murder?”

“His what?!!”

“Me and Donna, well we attempted to uh, bury him alive, and- Babe! Where are you going???”

“You fucking tried to kill someone Bret!” You snap and he mumbles at you to be quiet.

“Oh I should be quiet? Not the guy who tried to murder a whole other person!?!?!”

“We didn’t actually kill him!”

“You were going to!”

“What does it matter to you anyways.”

“He’s my fucking cousin and if he dies then everyone knows that and my reputation here is ruined, which means I’ll drag you down with me!!” You scowl and Bret laughs a little. “Oh, you don’t believe me? Fine.” You storm out of his dorm room and block his number for at least the night.

You wake up the next morning to no missed calls, texts or anything from Bret. You try to check to see if he’s even left his room, and he catches you.

“Miss me that much Y/N?”

“No… maybe, yes.” You pout and he opens his arms for a hug.

“No! You almost killed someone. You’ll have to do a lot more than that to…” You watch as Bret dangles a necklace from his hand.

”It’s going to take forever for you to make it up for me..”

“Forever is a very long time; anything I can do to speed up the process?” He grins and his hand trails lower over your skirt.

“I can think of a few things..” You smirk at him and nod towards the bedroom.

Support My Writing?

#bret weston wallis #bret wallis imagine #bret wallis x reader #bret weston wallis imagine #bret weston wallis x you #bret weston wallis x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale reader insert #riverdale request #written #stattic

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kuiinncedes · 3 years

Text

relight that spark

jatp au - chapter 1 - part 2/15? - 9,385 words

the prologue/part 1 (tumblr link) if you missed it!! (ao3 link) :D

so obviously this is pretty slowly updating already and it probably willll get worse 🤪 i might post the next part in like a week tho, it's not a full "episode" chapter and i already have it fully written and i'm pretty happy with it 😗✌️

this chapter is pretty long and i apologize for that bc i know i get annoyed when i have to stop in the middle of a long chapter and then my phone like loses my spot or whatever lakdshgjfs but idk how else to do it so .. just have my apology lol sorryyy <3 the next "episode" chapter is looking to be longer tho sdlkhglsj

LASTLY BUT NOT LEASTLY A HUGE MASSIVE FUCKING THANK YOU TO MEG @neversatisfiedwithlife FOR BETA READING THIS FOR MEEEE AND BEING SO SUPPORTIVE AND WONDERFUL LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SM 💞💖💓💗💕

chapter title and lyrics in this part from "wake up" from the julie and the phantoms soundtrack (whichhh if you haven't heard it... you should listen to it after reading maybe 👀)

plot and a lot of the dialogue from julie and the phantoms so like credit to all those creators and writers 🤪

warnings for this chapter: grief, mentioned character death (regarding kurt's mom)

read below the cut or here on ao3!! <3

2020

There’s a deep-seated weight of dread in Kurt’s stomach that he’s unable to ignore for the entire morning.

His last chance at the music program -- he needs to play again today, for the first time in over a year, or he’s done.

It’s all he can think about all day. He makes it through his first few classes, somehow, walking through the halls almost mindlessly, thoughts far away and only worrying about what he’s going to do, barely paying attention to who he’s almost running into, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

It almost feels like last year again, when school started and everyone knew and everyone was staring at him in the hallways, even though he knows that they’re not right now and he knows most of these people couldn’t care less about him not being able to play at this point, but in his head it feels like they all know, like they’re all waiting, waiting and watching for him to play again and sing again.

He has been, too, for over a year.

He stops at his locker to wait for Mercedes before going to class.

“We’re gonna get tattoos together,” comes her familiar voice out of nowhere.

Involuntarily, Kurt smiles a little, turning to Mercedes. “Umm…?”

She shrugs and smiles back at him. “You know, when we’re adults and out in New York together or something. Just -- you know, at some point.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, silently saying, where the hell did this come from. Mercedes raises both of hers as if to say, answer the question. “Just curious,” she adds out loud. “Could start planning them now.”

He chuckles. “Of course. I’ll get all the matching tattoos with you.”

Grins and silent agreement pass between them and they both turn toward the lockers, a welcome break in the slowest part of the day, the voices and noises of other students filling the air.

“I know you don’t want me to ask, but…” Mercedes starts slowly after a moment, and Kurt nods his head in acknowledgement; he knows what she’s going to say. “Do you know what you’re going to do today?”

He puts some books in his backpack, mainly for something to do. “I’ll know in the moment,” he says, somewhat truthfully. He could just say what he thinks will happen, which is nothing. But Mercedes can see right through him anyway, so might as well stay somewhat positive until it happens. Or rather, doesn’t happen.

Mercedes sighs a little. “Mrs. Harrison said today is your last chance,” she tries, leaning on her side against the lockers.

“I know, I was there,” Kurt says lightly, letting his eyes scan the contents of his locker a tenth time. Mercedes reaches over and squeezes his hand lightly. Her eyes tell him that she’ll stop talking about it for now, and he squeezes back gratefully.

The conversation with Mercedes has really helped, though; it always does. If he’s going to spectacularly embarrass himself in front of his music class, and probably for the last time, at least he’ll have Mercedes there.

She sees it in his smile, and she sends it back. You always will, is her silent whisper.

A sharp, cheery voice pierces the air and makes them both turn their heads, and the uplifted mood from the conversation with Mercedes disappears when Kurt sees none other than Quinn Fabray, in her Cheerios! uniform, complete with a tight ponytail and perfect smile as she hands out what appears to be flyers to passing students, who are immediately won over by her status, closeness, sweetness. Finn Hudson lingers behind her with his guitar case and his own stack of flyers that he’s not handing out nearly as enthusiastically.

“Spirit rally Friday!” Quinn’s saying as she all but shoves another flyer into the face of a nervous freshman who takes it and scurries away, doing a double-take once they pass her. “Come see the Cheerios! do their new routine, and my group, the Unholy Trinity, perform our brand new original song!”

“What’s she handing out?” Kurt whispers to Mercedes. A corner of his lip quirks up despite the general unpleasantness of seeing Quinn.

“Desperation?” she answers with a small smirk. When Kurt turns back, Quinn is in front of him. He holds back a grimace at her fake smile and cheeriness.

“Hey, guys!” she chirps, as if they’re just any two other students at this school. “Here you go, my group’s performing at the spirit assembly on Friday!”

Kurt flinches back a little as a flyer appears much too close to his face and he takes it instinctively, holding it lightly in his fingertips. It truly looks like something Quinn designed -- perfectly professional, impressive, eye-catching -- and he can’t say it looks bad, as much as he might want to. He eyes Quinn over the top of the flyer.

“I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” Quinn continues, that smile still on her face, and there are the claws, Kurt thinks as he resists the urge to rip up the flyer right in front of her.

“Oh, my gosh, Quinn, thank you!” Mercedes says in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, clearly -- or at least clearly to Kurt, and likely Quinn as well -- imitating the specific tone of voice that Quinn takes, and Kurt stifles a laugh.

“Oh my gosh, Cedes, don’t bother coming!” Quinn says with a wide smile, turning away with a whip of her ponytail to continue pushing her flyers.

Kurt looks back at Mercedes, mumbling, “She did not just call you Cedes,” while Mercedes crumples up the flyer in her hands.

“Well, she did,” Mercedes says. Kurt can see the anger behind her eyes and he raises a concerned eyebrow. “I’m fine. She just… you know.” She dismisses his silent question.

“Yeah.” He loops his arm through Mercedes’ and they head down the hallway, almost running into Finn not three steps from Kurt’s locker.

“Oh, hey, sorry guys!” he says with a sheepish but genuine smile that contains all the warmth missing from Quinn’s. “Did you -- I guess Quinn already got -- ”

“Yep, she got to us,” Cedes says quickly, steering Kurt around Finn. “Thanks, Finn, bye!”

“Please tell me you are over him,” Mercedes says when they’re in a quieter area at the end of the row of lockers. Kurt realizes he’s staring and quickly looks away.

“Yeah, I am.” Mercedes looks at him skeptically and he insists, “I am, promise! You just… don’t find a nice jock like him around here that much.”

She nods, satisfied, and raises her eyebrows meaningfully. “You know they’re going to get married and have a bunch of demon babies.”

Kurt’s jaw drops open slightly and he laughs. “You can’t say Finn isn’t a sweetheart.”

“Only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby,” Mercedes says matter-of-factly.

“What… it’s a dominant gene?”

“Of course.” Mercedes turns back toward Quinn and raises her voice. “Demon!”

The two of them push against the wall, hiding behind the end of the lockers, when Quinn snaps her gaze back. Kurt can’t hold his laughs in this time, and he feels a little bad about it, but… considering what Quinn’s done to them, he can let himself and Cedes get away with it.

“There’s that smile,” Mercedes says gently as they gather themselves. “Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.” She pulls him toward the music room and slowly but surely, the sickening feeling in his stomach returns. He sits down next to Mercedes and just breathes. She squeezes his hand again.

Mrs. Harrison starts class soon after they arrive, getting into the last of the progress performances which are both a chance for the students to show off to their classmates, and also a checkpoint for participation in the music program, which is the part Kurt’s concerned about.

He barely hears as Finn finishes his drum solo and everyone claps and then Mrs. Harrison is calling his name and he’s standing and walking to the piano and oh god.

“Take your time,” Mrs. Harrison says gently.

That’s all he’s been doing for almost a year, just taking his time, but nothing has come of it. He sits down slowly, opening his music in front of him but it’s like his eyes don’t see the notes and just gloss over the page. He looks down at the keys, sets his fingers in place reluctantly.

It’s been so long that the keys almost feel foreign under his fingers when they once were the most familiar thing in the world. It’s been so long that he barely remembers how the song should go and why did he think he could just do this, it doesn’t matter how good at sightreading he’s always been. It’s been so long of him locking the memories in a chained and padlocked safe in the back of his mind and he’s terrified of playing again being what opens it because playing and singing and music has always always meant Mom, and she’s gone which he still sometimes forgets and it always hurts like hell to remember again, so letting himself remember so much more will only make reality that much worse. It’s been so long and what if he’s forgotten, what if he opens himself to the memories just to find that they don’t exist anymore?

It’s been so long; it’s been over a year, but doesn’t that mean he should be fine by now?

He knows avoiding the memories hasn’t been the best idea, but right now he can’t think of anything he could have done differently, can’t linger and regret his choices because he feels so vulnerable and exposed finally sitting at the piano in front of his whole class for the first time in a year, and the choice is right there and maybe he could do it but not in front of everyone his brain screams, and he can almost feel Quinn’s sharp, judging, so far from friendly gaze fixed on him and that is what breaks it, that is something he definitely can’t take and he pulls his hands back with a short inhale and the whirlwind in his mind stops and he can mostly breathe again.

It’s been so long.

Heart still pounding, he gets up and apologizes to Mrs. Harrison because she really has tried to help him and he appreciates it but he still can’t, and Quinn makes some comment and Mercedes fires something back but he doesn’t hear any of it, he just has to leave.

He knows Mercedes follows him out and she calls out his name when he’s halfway down the stairs. He’s started crying at some point and he doesn’t know when. All of it is just such a mess and so present in his mind; he was so close to music again, to Mom, but he’s not ready. He’s scared.

“Kurt,” Cedes calls again, quieter, her voice soft and choked, pleading. “Come on, please. Come back… and show them you can sing .”

He turns to look at her at the top of the stairs. “I can’t,” he says, voice rough with tears. “I’ve tried, for over a year I’ve tried…. I’ve tried for Dad, I’ve tried for Mrs. Harrison, fuck, I’ve even tried for Quinn.” He gives a short, bitter laugh as more tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’ve tried so hard for you.” He gestures up to her, voice breaking. “I’ve tried for Mom.” He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath. “And I’ve tried for myself.” Mercedes is also crying a little now.

“For over a year, I’ve tried,” Kurt continues weakly. “But I just -- I can’t. Not… not now.”

He runs down the rest of the stairs and out the door, and he knows he just got himself kicked out of music, knows he just ruined everything.

From mercedes 💖, 2:04 pm:

Are you leaving?

From mercedes 💖, 2:06

Tell me when you get home. I love you

To mercedes 💖, 2:08 pm:

i will, at the park for now

From mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

I’ll bring your stuff around later.

To mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

thank you

To mercedes 💖, 2:11 pm:

i love you. i’m sorry

From mercedes 💖, 2:12 pm:

Nothing to be sorry for, just take care of yourself okay?

From mercedes 💖, 2:13 pm:

Give yourself a hug from me until I get there to do it for you

“Hey, kiddo, how was your day?” Burt asks as he walks in, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder who’s doing homework at the kitchen table.

“It was okay,” Kurt responds with a small but hopefully convincing smile to hide the worry eating away at him inside, because if the school’s already contacted his dad about today, about Kurt ruining his last chance…

“I gotta go again in a bit,” Burt says, taking a drink of water. “Some guy really needs a car fix by tomorrow morning, but I’ll be done by dinner.” Kurt nods, some relief flooding his veins. He turns back to his homework.

“Oh, another thing,” Burt says and Kurt stiffens again. “I wanted to come and check in with you -- I talked to a real estate agent today, and they said if we’re serious about selling the house, we need to take some pictures and stuff, clean everything… and I was wondering if you’re up for cleaning Mom’s studio?”

Kurt’s immediate surprise and hesitance must show on his face even as he tries to keep his composure, because Burt quickly assures, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, I promise; we have time. You know I just -- I wouldn’t even know where to start in there.”

Kurt smiles a little. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I can try tonight.”

“Awesome.” Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair, which from anyone else other than maybe Mercedes would not end particularly well, but Kurt just laughs and tries to brush the loose strands out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Kurt. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Kurt exhales slowly as his dad leaves again.

Cleaning out the studio means having to confront exactly what he’s tried to avoid for a year. The disaster that was music class today doesn’t make him feel better about it… but at least this time he’ll be alone -- none of the pressure of having to live up to the standards of well-meaning teachers or aggressive ex-best friends, none of the pressure of having to play at all, especially from the competitive nature at school. And… maybe he needs it.

Moving from here will only help you move on. Kurt’s aunt’s words echo in his mind. A part of him recoils at the idea of leaving his childhood home -- leaving the spaces his mom used to inhabit and her light and energy used to fill to the brim -- and starting over, someplace where there are none of those memories… he can’t tell if that’s a good thing. It feels like more of the running away that he’s been doing for a year, and he wonders if it really will solve anything.

But maybe he does need it. If staying in this house for the last year hasn’t helped, a change would be good, right?

Turning back to his work, he takes a deep breath and starts planning dinner in his head. He’ll tackle the studio after dinner’s ready.

To Dad, 7:39 pm:

dinner’s done, i’ll be in the studio

Kurt takes a slow breath as he opens the doors to the garage.

It’s not that it’s his first time in the studio after his mom died -- someone had to water the plants -- but he kept any interaction with the rest of the room minimal, so it still feels different to take in the full space instead of just rushing to the plants in the back with his head down. It always came with some guilt; it felt like the least he could do to keep some life in the studio when he could barely even bring himself to enter, let alone fill it with music as it needs to be.

He walks in slowly, some apprehension tickling the back of his neck, trying to stay calm. The familiarity is almost overwhelming this time as he looks around, actually taking in the room. The guitars on the wall, the couch and table, all of his mom’s decorations and knick-knacks. The chairs on the ceiling, story told with a fond smile from his dad about his mom wanting to decorate in a fun special way even while 7 months pregnant. The plants in the back, flourishing in front of the wall of windows positioned to let in the sunrise beautifully, not that Kurt has seen it happen recently.

And the grand piano -- in the center of the room, covered with a sheet, neglected for over a year. Kurt pulls it off now absentmindedly, letting the fabric pool over his feet. He takes a deep breath even though he probably just filled the air with dust, and goes over to the bench. He doesn’t open the lid, not yet. Some sheet music is on the seat and he places it on the piano without looking, sits down and gently touches the fallboard, inhaling shakily, not opening it to reveal the keys but just… remembering what it used to be, what it used to -- still means….

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, “that I haven’t been here.”

With his eyes closed against the dark emptiness of the room, he can almost forget. It’s too easy to think that when he opens his eyes, his mom will be there, and she’ll be writing a song with him, or she’ll be playing, or they’ll just be talking…

Before the idea can flood his mind and leave him reeling when he returns to reality, Kurt stands and looks around the room again. There really is a strangeness to the place now. What used to be so comfortable and an extension of home -- sometimes even more home than the main house -- was always warm and brimming with emotion and joy and music and life -- now cold and dark and hollow, quiet. The familiar bones have an unsettling foreign emptiness around them. It feels wrong.

It needs to be filled. But… Kurt can’t do that.

He misses his mom -- always, but it’s amplified in this space that was always hers. He misses the feeling that the studio used to bring, that spirit that is now dimmed and suppressed. Covered, but still there. He can feel it like a gentle heat behind his skin. Not bad, but overwhelming, and he just….

The loft, Kurt decides suddenly. He’ll start with the loft. There aren’t memories and emotions so confusing and thick there that he’s barely able to avoid it, to push his way through with no energy left to untangle and understand. The loft is just full of random old stuff that his mom wouldn’t throw out and his dad teased her about.

So the loft first. And then he can ease into the rest when he’s more ready. After all, his dad did say they have time.

It’s significantly dustier in the loft; old instruments and random bags full of clothes are scattered and piled across the floor, his own electric keyboard propped up against the wall. Kurt stands on the stepladder a few steps below the actual loft floor, looks around a little, his eyes landing on a CD case lying on the ground -- black with a simple stark white word design: Sunset Curve. He picks it up, eyeing it thoughtfully, brings it back down to the main floor and decides to put it into the old CD player.

He doesn’t really know why he has such an urge all of a sudden. He’s listened to some music, but not nearly as much as before, and has actually chosen to listen to music only a handful of times since his mom died.

But… the studio needs music. As an apology for a year of neglect, and as a goodbye, he can let this music redeem the studio’s spirit a little, fill what he’s left hollow.

And he doesn’t want to be alone in the silence with his memories while he’s going through everything, even just in the loft. As something completely unfamiliar and random, this can give him the distraction and none of the pain. At least, that’s the plan.

Stepping down from the loft stairs, he glances at the picture in the CD case as he opens it -- a band of four who all look like teenagers, staring seriously into the camera -- he doesn’t get a good look at them, just slides the disc into the CD player and takes a seat on the couch.

The opening song starts strong with a gritty guitar riff and a 1, 2, 3! counting the band in. Despite himself, Kurt starts nodding along to the beat. It really is a great song, unique and upbeat…

Then some kind of… panicked screaming makes itself heard, first quietly and he thinks it could be part of the song, but it crescendos and gets unbearably loud --

And then there are three strangers appearing out of thin air before his eyes, screaming as they fall to the ground heavily. Kurt would wince at the sound of the impact --

That part’s certainly unlike any CD he’s listened to before.

He’s frozen, heart hammering and eyes widening as he stares at the three strangers picking themselves up off the ground, taking in their surroundings a little…

“How’d we get back here?” the middle one -- a shorter guy with black hair -- says breathlessly.

Kurt screams.

It’s not his finest moment, but three complete strangers just appeared in his mom’s studio, seemingly just popping into the air, and he can’t say he’s never been superstitious in his entire life or that he isn’t drawing immediate conclusions -- supernatural conclusions, fucking ridiculous conclusions. He doesn’t love that he runs into his dad on his way back into the house which may have also involved a little yelling about seeing ghosts (ghosts who screamed back, for the record), but he makes it to the safety of his room and texts Mercedes frantically, who doesn’t respond.

“Come on, Cedes,” he hisses to himself, shooting off another text. “Answer me!”

A knock from his doorway startles him and he just barely manages to hold back a shout, turning to see his dad leaning into his room hesitantly.

“You okay?”

Kurt gives him what must be a hysterical-looking attempt at a reassuring smile, all wide eyes and clenched teeth. “Yeah, no, totally fine, sorry for -- scaring you,” he replies choppily, tone not even convincing to himself. “Just, um, practicing for a school play.”

Burt definitely doesn’t believe him, but nods slowly anyway. “Well, I’m gonna go clean up -- ” He gestures over his shoulder with a grease-covered hand. “Dinner in like, ten minutes?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Kurt says shortly, forcing another smile and a thumbs-up.

As soon as the door closes, Kurt turns back toward his window and tries to get a glance of the studio, but it’s blocked from this angle by the trees in their yard. Apprehensively, he heads back to the garage, thankfully not running into his dad this time, phone in hand and thumb hovering over Mercedes’ phone contact.

When he goes in, it’s empty; no sign of anything out of the ordinary happening.

He scans the space warily, feeling jumpy and nervous, but nothing happens and he mumbles, “I know I saw something, I’m not crazy.”

He hears a soft popping noise and then, “Well, we’re all a little crazy,” from behind him and he turns with a sharp gasp.

“Oh, my god, who are you?” Kurt yells, maybe a little too loud because the black-haired boy winces slightly and all three of them step back a little. “What the hell are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

“Your mom’s studio?” the black-haired guy scoffs. “This is our studio!”

The tall blonde guy bounces forward. “Yeah, like, the piano’s new, but -- ” He looks to the right and his face lights up. “My couch!” he calls, running over and jumping straight onto it.

The girl -- hair black and in braids -- rolls her eyes. “Not your couch, Sam.”

The blonde -- Sam? -- sits up indignantly, stabbing a finger in the cushions. “Hey, I spent more time on this couch than any of you. Pretty sure it’s mine at this point.”

Kurt just watches them with wide eyes, jaw hanging open, with absolutely no idea what to do.

“But these aren’t our instruments,” the black-haired guy says warily, looking around. At some point he and the girl have linked arms, Kurt notices. He watches as they all take in the studio, faces getting increasingly confused and worried. Kurt raises an eyebrow that apparently can go higher than it already is.

“Because… it’s my mom’s studio…” he manages to say again, mind still whirling at the hurricane of new and completely nonsensical information.

“Can you just -- give us a minute?” Sam says, jumping over the coffee table to join his friends. They turn away to talk in a huddle, and Kurt stands awkwardly as they talk in failed attempts at hushed tones.

Tina’s trying to ignore the pounding of her possibly-only-theoretical heart -- she’s dead, how can she even feel a heartbeat -- as she watches Blaine and Sam talk to the… living person in front of them. Sam makes his usual comment about “his couch” and Tina snarks back with her usual response and it gives her some comfort, some familiarity even in this studio which should feel like home, has for so long, and it still does to an extent, but everything here is suddenly different.

The comment does send the strange boy’s attention back to her, though, which she doesn’t really like. Blaine wraps an arm around hers and she squeezes his forearm in gratitude. He did that a lot when they were alive -- knew how and when to offer her his touch to reassure her a little.

At least there’s something that’s still the same.

At least her boys are still the same.

She tries to focus on Blaine’s arm in hers, on Sam’s dumb comments as he comes bounding back to them, hissing, “Guys, what is going on here?”

Tina shrugs. Blaine whispers, “Who is he?”

“He can hear you,” the person in question says pointedly from behind them, but Sam ignores him and says, “Maybe he’s a witch.” He looks up, pointing. “There are chairs on the ceiling.”

“There’s no such thing as witches,” Tina hisses.

“Are you sure?” Sam shoots back. “Because I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts!”

Tina swallows. “That’s fair.”

“So we’re going with witch?” Blaine asks.

“No!” Tina waves her hands at both of them. “No, come on. You guys are just -- he’s probably just overwhelmed, okay? Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

Maybe “softer touch” wasn’t the right phrase to use in this instance, she thinks, but she really just wants answers and figures she might as well be straightforward. “Why are you in our studio?” she asks, maybe a little too aggressively, stepping up to the alive stranger.

He looks down with a shocked expression and Tina realizes she accidentally got close enough to touch him -- or… pass her hand through his, partially. They both watch as he brings his hand through hers again. It’s a weird feeling -- warm and kind of tingly, or like she’s putting her hand through water.

“Oh my god,” he says, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

Tina raises their eyebrows a little. “Okay, clearly you don’t -- clearly, he doesn’t get it,” she says, addressing the guys behind her. She turns back to the stranger, gesturing to herself and the others as she explains, “We’re ghosts. We’re just three ghosts, and we’re really happy to be home, so… thank you for the flowers; they really brighten up the room.” She tries to smile at him.

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up, stepping up to flank her on the left.

“Tell your friends!” chimes Sam on her right.

“Last night was a really big night for us,” Blaine says, a little sadly. “It was gonna change our lives.”

Tina whispers, “Uh, I’m pretty sure it did.” Blaine huffs and elbows her gently.

“This is freaking me out,” the stranger says, shaking his head as he takes something from his pocket.

“What is that; what are you doing?” Blaine asks.

Alive Stranger looks up, fingers still touching the face of the object. “It’s my phone -- nope, stop talking to them! There’s no such thing as cute ghosts,” he says, seemingly to himself.

Sam gasps. “Think we’re cute?” He raises an eyebrow, making one of his insufferable Sam faces; Tina almost laughs.

The boy looks up again with wide eyes, gaze flitting to each of them as if watching for a reaction, swallowing and going back to his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tina asks, trying to see the side facing him because that doesn’t look like any phone she’s ever seen.

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

“Sunset Curve!” Blaine, Sam, and Tina correct him at the same time, Sam drawing a curve in the air with his finger.

The stranger laughs nervously, staring at them with wide eyes and then back at his phone. “Okay… so there is a Sunset Curve.” He swallows again. “You guys did die. But not last night.” Tina’s stomach drops a little; Blaine and Sam get closer.

“Twenty-five… years ago,” the boy finishes, a confused look in his eyes.

Tina barely has time to register this before Sam says, “That’s impossible. All we did after we floated out of the car was go to that weird dark room where Tina cried.”

Her mouth drops open. “I wasn’t -- I -- we -- ” she squeaks, voice jumping up an octave. “I think we were all pretty upset,” she says, but she supposes Sam is right.

He pats her back and doesn’t have a chance to respond again because Blaine steps in, “That was just for, like, an hour, though. We just showed up here.” Tina and Sam nod.

“Look,” the living one says, finally turning his “phone” toward them. They lean forward to see a screen with a photo of them -- and Artie, Tina thinks distantly; she feels his absence acutely and it spikes through her chest -- taken for their summer tour, and a bunch of small text around it that she can’t read, a bold headline at the top reading, Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. “I’m just telling you what my phone says,” he explains. “You guys died in 1995. It’s now 2020.”

“So this is the future?” Sam asks incredulously as the boy pulls his phone back. Something else sticks out in Tina’s mind, though.

“So -- it has been twenty-five years,” she says, pausing to gather her thoughts. “I have been crying for twenty-five years -- how is that possible?!”

“You’re a very emotional person,” Sam reasons.

“I am not!” she insists, but the tears already pressing in the back of her throat want to prove otherwise. Distantly, she reminds herself that she’s with her friends who’ve seen it all and she doesn’t need to hold back, but the presence of this complete stranger also overrides the ease of her relationship with the guys. Sam rubs a comforting hand over her shoulder, and she swallows the tears down.

Alive Stranger shakes his head. “I gotta go… eat dinner,” he says slowly. He turns back around once he’s walked past the three of them and says, “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“But we -- ” Blaine starts, starting to go forward but a sharp glare stops him and he clears his throat. “We didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s Kurt,” the stranger snaps.

“Cool, I’m -- Blaine,” Blaine says hesitantly. “And this is…”

“Sam, hey.”

“Tina, how’s it going…”

“Ba-da,” Blaine sings weakly, gesturing his hands in front of them like he’s presenting them to Kurt.

They all watch for Kurt’s reaction, but he just sighs and leaves the studio. He leaves the doors open, probably to remind them that they technically just got kicked out of their studio -- or, Kurt’s mom’s studio -- someone’s studio, but really it’s been their home for so long…

“Kurt seems nice,” Sam says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Tina turns to him. “Did you miss the part where he kicked us out, or…” she says drily. Sam shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Okay,” Tina mutters, turning to wander around the studio some more. If they’re going to be kicked out, she wants to spend as much more time as she can here.

Kurt’s mind is a storm. He doesn’t know where to start with this new information -- with an evening that took such a sharp turn from reminiscing and sad and somewhat painful into just… something so completely different and unexpected.

Dinner Kurt can do. He can put the craziness of ghosts aside because dinner is easy, dinner is simple; dinner is important.

His dad has already set everything out so Kurt takes his seat across from him, sending a not-completely-true nvm everything’s fine, sorry for worrying you text to Mercedes, who finally got back to him at some point when he was distracted…

Distracted talking to ghosts.

“How’s it going?” Burt asks as he sits down and it takes Kurt a second to remember he must be talking about cleaning the studio, and not actually about ghost musicians.

Ghosts don’t exist. There are no ghosts in the garage. Don’t think about ghosts.

“It’s good,” Kurt says, poking at his food a little. “I’m starting with the loft.”

Burt smiles. “Those old instruments need a home.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, returning the smile. “Mom would like that.”

The instruments probably belong to some ghosts, Kurt realizes, but… nothing he can really do about that. And that’s if the ghosts can even touch objects.

They eat in comfortable silence for a while and then Burt sets down his fork. Kurt looks up apprehensively.

“So I got an email from the school today,” he starts. Kurt fiddles with his fork and drops his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, Kurt, I’m not mad,” Burt promises.

You should be, Kurt thinks -- all that money spent for him to audition for and attend the music program, and for private lessons and sheet music and piano maintenance, just for him to throw it all away.

“I know those classes can be hard,” his dad says, and Kurt almost can’t take his gentle tone, feels guilty about it even though he appreciates it. “But… you still like music, don’t you?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I know the memories are hard, believe me, Kurt. But, every time I see you, I see Mom, you know? And I love that, I really do. Maybe, if you give yourself a chance, you can, too.” Kurt looks up hesitantly to see his dad’s gentle, loving expression and eyes slightly glassy with tears. Looking down again, he swallows, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I will. I’ll try.”

Because what he said to Mercedes earlier on the staircase is true, but… he’ll always try harder for his dad.

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Burt assures him. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Kurt smiles and almost starts eating again, but music suddenly blares from outside, startling both of them, Kurt barely holding back a loud swear.

“What is that?” Burt says, getting up but Kurt rushes to reassure him, saying quickly, “I must have just left the CD player on in the garage! It’s fine, I’ll go get it!”

He runs back to the studio where the ghosts are still there apparently, and have somehow gotten instruments from the loft and set everything up to start playing, and play really loudly -- and it honestly sounds good but Kurt can’t focus on that because they’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood and get the cops called on them for a noise complaint and what is he supposed to say -- no officer, it was just the three ghosts in the garage being idiots, sorry?

Kurt yells for them to stop but it’s useless; he can barely even hear himself over how incredibly loudly they’re playing. Blaine, on an electric guitar that Kurt remembers seeing in the loft, turns and sees Kurt, walking towards him and finally playing one last chord when Kurt makes a horizontal cutting motion with his hand, and Sam, on the bass, follows, Tina playing one last short drum roll, looking up with a wide grin.

They all look… alive, Kurt thinks, despite literally being dead, so different from the confusion he left them with -- relaxed and loose and faces lit up, the energy flowing through them almost visible. If he didn’t know they were ghosts and made of air, he’d expect to be able to reach out and feel them, breaths hot and fast from the exertion and adrenaline, skin warm and slightly sweaty, hearts beating strong like the steady percussion of their band.

It reminds him of how music used to make him feel.

“Cut it out!” Kurt snaps, trying not to raise his voice too much. “The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you to leave!”

Blaine looks back at his bandmates, bewildered. “People -- people can hear us play?”

“Yes!” Kurt says exasperatedly. “My dad heard you from inside!”

“… What did he think?” Blaine asks after a moment. Kurt opens his mouth for an irritated response --

“Everything okay in here?”

Kurt whips around to see his dad in the doorway and smiles with wide eyes. “Yeah! I just -- had to turn off the CD player,” he lies.

People have told Kurt before that he’s a good liar; he really hopes that’s true after the evening he’s had -- he's having.

Burt’s attention is elsewhere, though, seemingly forgetting about the chaos from just a moment earlier. “Wait, is this the junk that was in the loft?” he says, excitedly eyeing the instruments and… the ghosts that he can’t see.

“Junk?” Blaine exclaims. Tina stands up, her eyes on Burt, drumsticks gripped tightly in one hand.

They all watch apprehensively as Burt weaves through the instruments, even going so far as to rattle Tina’s cymbals and tap the drums, much to her horror. She fixes Kurt with wide, urgent eyes, to which Kurt just shrugs and gives her a helpless look. Hey Dad, actually, the ghost drummer wants you to stop, so…

“Hey, this stuff’s in pretty good shape,” Burt says excitedly. “Maybe we can make a couple bucks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees weakly, mostly just watching as Tina fails to push Burt away from the drums.

“I like the song you had on,” Burt says, finally stepping away from the instruments. Tina rubs down a cymbal with her sleeve.

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up.

“Tell your friends!” Sam says, to a fond eye-roll from Tina.

“It’s just an old CD I found,” Kurt says, ripping his attention from the ghosts.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re listening to music again,” Burt says sincerely. “Out here, you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.” He waves his hands out on either side for emphasis, going through Sam and Blaine’s bodies. Kurt chuckles weakly.

“Oh,” Sam says, looking down at where Burt’s hand was in his stomach just a moment before. “That’s nice.”

“Stay out of this,” Kurt hisses.

“Sorry, Kurt, I’m just trying to help -- ”

“Oh! No, not you, Dad,” Kurt says quickly. For fuck’s sake -- “Just -- just give me a minute -- ” He starts pulling his dad toward the door. Burt stops him and says, “Hey, we’re gonna figure out this music program thing, okay?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt says with a smile, and gestures for him to leave.

Once Burt is out of sight, he turns back to the ghosts.

“Wait -- ” Tina waves her drumsticks around a little. “So -- only you can see us, but everyone can hear us?” Kurt nods in confirmation. “What kind of ghosts are we?” Tina says.

“Who cares, dude!” Sam says, stepping up to Tina’s drum kit with a grin. “People can hear us play!” The three exchange fist-bumps as Blaine says happily, “We might be dead, but our music isn’t.”

“And Kurt’s dad likes our music!” Sam cheers.

“He’s a dad, it doesn’t count,” Tina mumbles, smiling and pushing Sam playfully when he turns to her with an offended look.

Confusion and annoyance bubble up inside Kurt along with something like anger at, just, all of it and he groans and says loudly, “Why can’t you guys just be normal ghosts? You know, go hang out at an old mansion or something! I hear Pasadena’s nice!” and turns to leave, slamming the door on his way out.

He just… has had too much going on today. He needs to -- ignore his homework and the problem with school and maybe just sleep in for the next two days. That would be really nice.

He’s so caught up in his head and he jumps and yells when a ghost appears in front of him with no warning.

“Don’t do that!” Kurt exclaims.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine says quickly. “ -- You do know how rad this is though, right? People -- people can hear us play!”

“Yeah, good for you,” Kurt replies, a little too harshly. “It’s just that I’ve had a really, really, awful day. I’ve gotta go.”

He walks past Blaine just to turn around again when he says, “I’m really sorry you had a bad day.” Kurt nods; he can tell Blaine wants to say more, so he waits.

Blaine continues slowly, “I just… three ghosts just found out they had a bad twenty-five years, and then they find out that the one thing they lived for in the first place, they can still do. So you can kick us out, but -- we’re not giving up music. We can play again; that’s a gift no musician would ever turn down,” he says earnestly, eyes wide and almost pleading.

That hurts in Kurt’s chest a little more than it should and he looks down again to avoid the passion and excitement shining clearly in Blaine’s eyes, in his voice, in his words. He swallows down the feeling that statement unearths inside of him, but suddenly his bad day is at the forefront of his mind again -- his bad year.

That’s a gift no musician would ever turn down … some musician he is, then. But he already knew that.

Blaine says softly, “You’ve gotta know that. Clearly your mom is into music.”

Kurt swallows. “Was,” he says, monotone and quiet. “She passed away.”

He hates that it’s become easier to say; he wants to either spit the words out or break down sobbing but he manages to keep his voice steady. (In the back of his mind, he wonders why he just told that to a random ghost he just met. Maybe he’s just going crazy. He’s literally talking to ghosts, after all.)

Blaine’s face falls. “I -- I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah, we -- we didn’t know,” Sam says quietly. He and Tina have also left the studio, standing on the other side of the low wall separating the garage area from the pathway back to the house. They look up with sympathetic eyes and Kurt looks away from them too -- can’t meet any of their wide, well-meaning gazes right now.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses. “Sorry I got mad.” The ghosts are thankfully looking at each other now, seemingly silent conversation passing between their glances. “You guys are pretty good,” Kurt says, trying to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere.

Blaine raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze back to Kurt. “‘Pretty good’? You know that’s just, like, 25 years of rust being dusted off, right?”

“Do you play, too?” Tina asks.

“No, no, I don’t play.” It’s not exactly a lie anymore but it scrapes in Kurt’s throat with his haste to answer. “That’s all my mom’s stuff in there.”

“She’s an amazing songwriter,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, she was,” Kurt answers. “Wait… how do you know?”

Blaine opens his mouth, glancing at the others for a second. “We found a song on the piano,” he says. “If it’s hers… your mom was really talented.”

Kurt nods. She really, really was.

He feels like he doesn’t have the energy to say it again, so he just stays quiet. Somewhat awkwardly, he turns to leave, sensing the end of the conversation and part of him desperately wanting to just leave and not have to see these ghosts again….

So Kurt surprises even himself when he pauses and turns back to face them. “I guess,” he starts, and their gazes snap back up to him. “If you need a place to stay… you can stay in there.” He nods toward the studio and the ghosts’ faces light up. Kurt can’t help but smile back. “There’s a couch that turns into a bed, and in the back there’s a bathroom with a shower, if you still need any of that stuff.”

“Awesome!” Sam exclaims quietly, earning an elbow in the side and a questioning look from Tina. “What? Dude, I just really like showers,” he defends.

Tina rolls her eyes. Kurt takes a breath, raising his hands to gesture vaguely at the three of them. “This is just… too weird.” He nods to himself, finally leaving this time, leaving the ghosts to… do what they will.

The fact that there are ghosts in his mom’s studio…. Maybe there’s a chance that Mom knows them -- sent them, he thinks… but decides to not get his hopes up. She’s gone and he needs to just keep it at that.

What he really wants is to tell Mercedes, but he doesn’t know how.

What would you say if I told you there were three ghosts living in my mom’s studio? Kurt thinks on his way back to his room.

You’d say I’m crazy.

It’s some point in the night; they figured out that they don’t need to sleep -- can’t sleep, it seems like, which is honestly really annoying in Tina’s opinion because they’re ghosts with literally nothing to do for too many hours at a time -- so they’re just hanging out in the studio, with the lights outside giving them a little visibility through the garage windows, but it’s kind of nice to just sit in the dark.

Tina has been on the couch with Sam, lying on their backs, heads in opposite directions, legs pressed up against each other. Sam’s bass is unplugged, laid on his stomach and extending over Tina’s legs. He plucks out notes and Tina accompanies with a soft beat using just her hands and body parts as instruments. Sometimes it’s a familiar bassline -- a Sunset Curve song rehearsed or performed or recorded before -- and they also hum the harmonies that they know, and sometimes they improvise -- Tina storing the good bits in her mind for a future writing session.

Blaine is in the loft where they hoped a light could be on and maybe go unnoticed. Tina assumes that he’s writing; he always was when they were alive. And of course, now he has 25 years of dark room and relative nothingness to catch up on writing about.

It feels like another quiet night from when they were alive, each of them with an excuse to escape their homes for the night, and they’d all crash here, filling the studio with soft music and noise. Blaine would stay up writing and sometimes singing while Sam and Tina (and Artie) would try to sleep, telling him to stop humming, or, since the main house inhabitants who would care about the noise were rarely there, they would sometimes join along with him and make it a Sunset Curve midnight rehearsal.

They’ve never had the best sleep schedules anyway.

Tina giggles quietly as she and Sam play into nothingness, both parts running uncontrolled and unable to get back on track. They both stop and Sam starts playing a familiar line -- parts they’d worked out before with bass, drums, and both guitars, but never actually put into a song. Tina waits for a moment to come in with her part.

She’s nearly startled off the couch when Blaine poofs down beside the couch with his guitar and starts his part. Tina starts laughing -- probably too loud but they’re pretty sure only their music can be heard anyway -- and slides off the couch to sit on the ground, picking the drumming back up on her legs.

“You guys wanna check out this teleportation thing?” Blaine asks, playing the challenging guitar riff meant for electric guitar messily on his acoustic without a pick.

Sam sits up and puts his bass to the side. “Absolutely,” he says. “Where’re we going?”

“I have an idea,” Blaine says, setting his guitar down. He pulls Tina up and extends a hand out for Sam. “I think I can take you guys with me.”

“What?” Tina squeaks, but a second later, she’s sitting far above the ground, outside, on top of the marquee of the Orpheum. “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking down dizzily at the people passing by on the sidewalk. Her body tingles with a weird uncomfortable energy for just a few seconds before it fades.

“Yes!” Blaine laughs, kicking his legs up excitedly. “I mean, I know being a ghost isn’t our first choice, but it sure is easy getting around!”

“Easy for you, maybe!” Sam cries on Blaine’s other side. “I lost my shirt on that one!”

Tina looks over and sure enough, Sam is shirtless. She stifles a laugh behind her hand. “Like that’s a concern,” she pipes up, but Sam’s shirt appears right as she says it. They all laugh and sit in silence for a moment.

“So why’d you bring us here?” Tina asks, looking out across Hollywood Boulevard, the new and old buildings and shops, the people and cars of the future. The light of the Orpheum’s neon sign shines in her periphery, same as it did on a night twenty-five years ago. “Just another reminder of where we never got to play,” she says wryly, turning to face Blaine on her left, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you guys, it’s not over yet!” Tina reappears on the sidewalk right below them, almost losing her balance and falling through a person walking past. She shoots a glare at Blaine for teleporting them with no warning again, but he just grins back and starts down the sidewalk, Sam following. “Let’s see how many places we can play tonight, yeah? Check out the music scene of the future? And no trouble getting into those clubs anymore!”

Tina laughs, falling into step with them. She watches Sam walk straight through someone going in the opposite direction and doesn’t realize someone is in her way, which shouldn't be a problem, until she bumps into them.

She feels them.

“Hey!” she says involuntarily, turning to see who it was -- another ghost? A tall man with a cape and top hat nods at her with an acknowledging and almost menacing gleam in his eye, then turns again and walks away.

He could see her, he could touch her -- he has to be another ghost, right?

“Tina, you coming?” Sam calls. She swallows and takes one last look, the other ghost having disappeared among the other people on the sidewalk, before turning and running to catch back up with the guys.

“I just ran into someone,” she says, a little breathless -- she doesn’t know if that’s from running, which she doesn’t think she can actually get breathless from, or the fact that she ran into someone.

“Another ghost?” Blaine says.

“I mean, it has to be, right? Uh, Kurt -- Kurt can see us but he can’t touch us…”

“And his dad couldn’t either,” Sam adds.

“It must have been another ghost. He looked like a… performer, or something.” Tina wrinkles their nose a little as she remembers his whole get-up, completely out of place among what she’s seen so far of 21st century street fashion. (But then again, so is she, and her friends.)

“… I guess we’re not alone, then,” Blaine says, breaking a short bewildered silence.

“We’re never alone!” Sam exclaims, walking between them to throw his arms around Blaine and Tina’s shoulders. Tina laughs and grabs his forearm, mystery ghost forgotten for the time being.

Blaine responds with a grin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kurt wakes up earlier than usual the next morning. He thinks he still has school -- he doesn’t know how being removed from the music program works, but no one told him not to come and besides, he does have non-music classes to keep up with, even if he doesn’t necessarily want to. He gets ready as usual, leaving breakfast out for his dad, and there’s still half an hour before Mercedes should be getting here.

Perfect. There’s something he needs to try by himself… for himself.

He heads out to the studio with his things, a fluttering feeling in his stomach, but it’s different from the feeling before he tried to play in class yesterday, like the butterflies had turned to stone and were rolling around inside him, weighing him down and making him nauseous. This time it’s promising, hopeful, familiar -- butterflies fluttering normally, peacefully.

The room is empty when Kurt pushes the doors open and drops his backpack by the entrance.

“Guys?” he calls hesitantly, to no response.

He wonders if he should be worried about where the ghosts might be, or relieved for if they really did leave after all, since that is what he wanted… but he realizes relief is not at all what he feels at that possibility.

But if the ghosts aren’t here, then all the better for what he wants to do, so he decides to ignore their absence for now.

Kurt walks up to the grand piano in the middle of the room, thinking. There’s something… something deep loosening in his chest -- something about Blaine and the others and their intense passion for music that is so different from the intense judgment and competition at school that made it so impossible for him to play yesterday.

The way Blaine had talked about music…

The one thing they lived for in the first place -- they can still do.

A gift.

Kurt spreads out the sheet music that he found yesterday, just placed on the piano lid without a glance and it’s still there, so Blaine and the others must have just taken a look at it. He recognizes his mother’s handwriting, achingly familiar and beautiful in a minimalistic way, the neat notes and lyrics, clean and legible even without the help of staff lines. His heart stutters and he gasps a little as he reads some of it -- he recognizes the song. Something his mom told him she was writing when she got sick.

Kurt used to be so involved in her songwriting, but as she got worse and Kurt grew away from the piano (and from his voice), he never asked about this song.

She’d finished it.

Here’s the one thing I want you to know, you got someplace to go…

And he needs to hear it.

His fingers tremble slightly as he places them gingerly on the keys over the starting notes of the song. It feels completely different than it did yesterday; he doesn’t know if it’s the lack of teacher and students watching, the insanity of yesterday evening in between, the song itself… but the stones turned back into butterflies and it almost feels like it did before….

He wants to play, to make music. For the first time in a year, he actually feels like he can. And he needs to.

And if -- when -- it unlocks the memories… he thinks he’s ready.

Kurt takes a deep breath and plays.

#i somehow added like 25 words in my final edit just now lol #idk if anyone really cares but suspend ur disbelief at kurt singing julie's songs XD #i definitely know it probably would not work with her songs as is #they have Very different voices i am aware but i'm also too lazy to do anything about it so . they can be adjusted #to fit his voice right lol i just have no idea how that works 🤪 i just play piano and even then not really 🥴#so just like imagineee lol #i love how in the last part i said what would be endgame in this fic but like #damn i don't have any idea what's happening past what happens in the actual jatp show and #even then idk what's gonna happen within those bc it's not exactly the same 😂#lol but those ships Will probably like #have hints or something if that makes any sense laksdhgdjfs anywayyyy #kurt and the phantoms #my ficsssss #glee fic #glee #idk how i tag things lmao i think that's good enough XD #DRUMMER TINA DRUMMER TINA DRUMMER TINA #oh my god it's finally happening skdghsdhdkghdhjfhgjfgh #i've been working on this since my family went on vacation at the end of june so like two months fuckdghjfdkl #anyway lol hope y'all likeeeee 🥺💖#omg we're at 79 pages of google doc total lol

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hoebii · 4 years

Text

Like me better

Pairing : Park Jimin x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Highschool!Au, e2l, rivals

Rating : PG13

Warning : ‘Curse’ words are mentioned (is ‘shit’ even a curse word fhgjv), OC wanting to choke Jimin and not in the kinky way, brief mention of Jimin being a playboy thot, hating on mint chocolate because it’s the worst flavour to exist you can fight me on this

Wc : 4k

A/N : Alright, this was originally supposed to be a birthday drabble but it got a little out of hand as you can see. We had a whole lot planned for this fic but it got too long oops- so we decided to cut it short and keep the ending open huhu. Happiest birthday to our precious maknae @heejinnien from @xiaokoo (who also made this AMAZING banner btw) and I. Hope you like your present baby! We love you so so so much~<3 Also this isn’t as edited as I’d like it to be but I got impatient okay don’t @ me :<

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

The bustling crowd of students bumped into you repeatedly as you weaved through them to get to class. You kept a strong grip on your books so as to not drop them. People squeezed passed as you tried not to trip and fall flat on your face. You had slept through your alarms and were currently rushing to your class, cursing at yourself for this blunder in your head.

“Sorry, excuse me, oh shit!” You catch yourself as you tumbled to the ground. Your books splay across the floor as you winced at the sore feeling. Hopefully, no one would step on you or your books - you had paid good money for them!-. As for tripping over, you looked over your shoulder, glaring when you caught sight of a group of boys laughing.

“Aw is little princess hurt?~” You heard one of them call out, the others snickering in the background. You ignored them and started gathering all your books, telling yourself they weren’t worth the trouble. You were almost done picking up all the books on the ground when one was suddenly snatched from your grasp. Looking up at the culprit you see Park Jimin, the bane of your existence, holding it up.

“Are you sure you even need books?” He snickers, flicking through it. “You’re not even smart, why bother studying if it doesn’t do you any good?”

You feel your blood boil. How dare he?! You were smarter than him in every possible way. He had no right to mock you, sure he was smart but you always placed second. If there was one thing you hated, it was being second best to Park Jimin.

“You’ll just come second like always.”

That comment hit you hard. You tried to keep your cool, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Sure, Jimin was annoying but there was no way you were going to create a scene because of it. Not again. Instead, you rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore him and walked away. There would be no reason to argue with a dumbass. Why waste your time?

Jimin watched as you walked away. He smirked to himself. Despite acting calm, he’d known you long enough to know that you were fuming inside. There were buttons he knew how to push to get the reaction he wanted and he thoroughly enjoyed provoking you.

--------

You stumbled into the classroom, panting from the light jog. “Damn I need to get back in shape, Jesus Christ.” you whispered to yourself.

“Miss Y/L/N, care to explain why you’re five minutes late to the class?” Your professor’s voice boomed in the small classroom. You look at him, giving him a sheepish smile as you rub your neck.

“I… got lost…?”

What was that?! You wanted to smack yourself at your own words. So much for your perfect attendance.

“You got lost?”

“Y...es…”

Your professor took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just, just go to your seat.”

You scurried to your seat, setting down your books and sitting down. You heard snickering from beside you and you turned your head slightly towards the sound to see none other than Park Jimin laughing at you. Feeling your face flush in embarrassment, you turned towards your professor and started jotting down notes. You were not going to get riled up by Jimin during a class.

-----------

It’s official. Life hates you. You must have been some sort of a witch in your last life who thrived by torturing others. That had to be it. Why else would you ever get partnered with Park freaking Jimin for your science project?! Apparently, the professor had said it was because you two were ‘top students that will compliment each other well’. But you’re certain it was actually because she hated you and you must have tortured her or something in your past life and this was her way of getting revenge. You’re pretty sure you came up with at least 7 ways to end Park Jimin in the time he took to move his seat closer to you for ‘discussing details about the project.’

“So you’re gonna draw the diagram and write everything,” Jimin started as soon as he sat down. He dumped his bags to one corner taking out the necessities. “I will be supervising you as I’m clearly the better one here.”

Oh how much you craved to just lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck and choke him. How can a person be this insufferable? You could just shove a damn pen up his-

“Alright class dismissed! Remember, the deadline is on Monday next week! Have a nice weekend.” Your professor announced, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, don’t screw up the project.”

With that Jimin left you sitting there fuming at him. You let out a tired sigh and begin packing up to leave too, mind running wild. Why couldn’t Jimin just be a good person for once?

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

The weekend seemed to go by in a flash, just you working on the project with Jimin, who had surprisingly been quite helpful. Just when you thought he had a heart, he had said it was ‘so you don’t ruin my grades.’ Yeah nevermind he still sucks.

What you didn’t know was Jimin being nice - well as nice as a jerk can get anyway - was because he had a bet to win. One of the boys had proposed a bet after class when he caught Jimin bickering with you yet again. The bet was simple really, ask you out and date you for a while before leaving you. Jimin had refused at first but then everyone started taunting him. Who liked getting mocked? No one. It was plain simple anyways, no one would actually get hurt, wasn’t like you liked him. So he accepted.

It wasn’t easy to catch your attention, given the fact the both of you were mortal enemies, it was near impossible. He did everything in his power so you would look at him but all tactics had somehow managed to flop. There was only one other way of actually getting you to notice him and that was annoying you. However, that would ruin the whole point of the bet.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.” Jimin chanted as he poked you on the cheek incessantly. “Y/n pay attention to meeee.” He continued to whine.

You felt your right eye twitch. Why was this dumbass bothering you?! There was no reason for him to even be five feet close to you.

“What is it Jimin?” You turn to him, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “What is so important that you’re trying to talk to me?”

Jimin grinned, his eyes turning into crescents as he poked his cheek and gave a wink. “Hi~ How are you doing?”

Is he for real right now? Did he think he was cute? You felt like throwing up. “Park what are you up to? You never act,” you started, eyes squinting in suspicion, “like whatever you’re doing right now.”

Jimin gasped and placed a hand on his chest as if in pain before exclaiming, “What?! Me? Up to something? Impossible, I’m as innocent as an angel.”

An angel? More like a devil. There was no way he was telling the truth. You’d known him long enough and not once in your life had he treated you with such...whatever that emotion was.

“Right. An angel. Okay.” You nodded.

“Do you not believe me? You can ask anyone on this campus and they would tell you how amazing I am.” He gestured his hands wildly.

You scoffed at that, of course they would, he had slept with the majority and had the remaining wrapped around his tiny fingers. Plus, no one wanted to cross Park Jimin. He ruled the campus and everyone knew it.

“Listen, just get to the point. I don’t have time for this nonsense.” You said, rolling your eyes and huffing. You had to get to your next class in about five minutes. There was no way you were going to be late because some idiot was bothering you.

“Go on a date with me.”

You choked on air at that, did you hear that right? “E-excuse me what?!”

Jimin shrugged and crossed his hands, flexing slightly, “You heard me, go on a date with me this weekend. Heard there's a new ice cream shop here, we could go there.”

“You want to take me on a date?” You look at him skeptically. Was this a test? Were you being filmed? “You’re joking.”

“No.” He fixed you with a stare. “I’m serious. One date, if you don’t enjoy that one date, I promise I won't bother you ever again.”

You stood there staring at him, alarm bells ringing in your head. This can’t be real. He’s lying. “You? Never bothering me ever again? That’s like saying you don’t sleep with everyone you meet.”

“I didn’t sleep with you.”

“That’s different!” You exclaimed, face flushing. “You hate me!”

Jimin tilted his head, his nose scrunching up. “I never said I hate you.” You open your mouth ready to retaliate. “You simply assumed I did, my actions don’t mean anything unless I say something.”

You stood speechless. There had to be one occasion where he had stated he hated you. One. You searched your brain. Sure enough there was no such memory.

Not wanting to lose to Jimin nonetheless you stomped your feet and said, “Yeah well that makes no sense! Haven’t you heard ‘actions speak louder than words’? I thought you were smart” You tsked, shaking your head as if you were disappointed.

“But I’m standing here asking you out, I’m sure that counters all the things I’ve done to you.” He gives you a sly smirk, one you’re all too familiar with. “There’s really two options Y/n. One’s yes and the other is...yes. Which one do you choose?”

If you could you would have burned him to a crisp with your glare. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been gifted with laser vision like superman. It would have been quite a gift if you had. Imagine how peaceful life would be without Park Jimin judging your every move. Then again, you would miss him. Wait what?! You shook your head to clear your mind before looking at Jimin.

“No.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he spluttered. “W-what do you mean no?!”

“N-O. No. Don’t tell me you forgot basic english.”

Jimin clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at you. No one had ever turned him down. Whatever Park Jimin wants he gets. Right now he wants you.

“Why not?”

You gave him a look. “Well, it isn’t exactly a secret that you sleep with anything that has two legs. I don't even know why you’re asking me out, you never go on dates.”

“That's because you’re different.”

You scoff. “Listen Park, this isn’t some shitty rom com that you can charm your way to my heart, this is reality and I’m smart enough to realise how much of a jerk you actually are.”

Words seemed to die in Jimin’s throat. A jerk?! Sure, he annoyed you but he didn't think he deserved the title of a jerk. If it wasn’t for that stupid bet he wouldn’t even be asking you out. There was no reason why you couldn’t go on just one date with him. It wasn’t as if he was asking you to juggle swords and then swallow them. Besides, Jimin was a very attractive person and he knew it too. What’s so bad about going out with him? You should feel blessed he was even asking you out in the first place!

“Just say yes already woman. One date won’t kill you,” Jimin groaned out, throwing his head back in frustration.

“One date with you will.”

You stared at each other, no one making a single move. The silence stretched on for a moment before Jimin sighed loudly and ran a hand through this hair.

“Come on!”

“No”

“...Please?” Jimin couldn’t believe he had to beg. He never begs! The things he does for a stupid bet.

Rolling your eyes at Jimin, you sigh, “Fine. We can go there this Saturday.”

“I begged, why won’t you just accep--” Jimin started before cutting himself off, “Oh you said yes. Um, well, yeah ok.” He mumbled, trying to fix his composure. “Yeah see you there or something. Bye,” and with that he walked away, leaving you both amused and confused… and also late for class! Damn Park Jimin.

-----------

You stood in front of the ice cream shop waiting for Jimin to show up. He was late, but then again what were you expecting anyway? You rolled your eyes as you looked around, “If he doesn’t show up in the next minute, I’m leaving.” you mumbled to yourself, checking your watch for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“Y/n!” A voice shouted from behind causing you to turn around. Jimin ran towards you, panting slightly. “Sorry, I had to run all the way here.”

“Did you forget about the date or were you just being a jerk and were late intentionally?”

His face flushed pink, avoiding your gaze. “I might have forgotten but that wasn’t completely my fault, I just lost track of time.”

“Yeah whatever.”

Jimin went to hold open the door for you but you beat him to it, opening it for yourself and slamming it in his face. He held back the urge to leave right there. A bet needed to be completed. He followed you inside trying to strike a conversation with you, trying to get just a crack of a smile.

“So Y/n, how’s your day?” Jimin asked, giving you a sweet smile that would have anyone swooning but it had no effect on you.

“It would be good if the one who asked me out on a date came on time.” You didn’t look at him, instead you were staring intently at the menu.

Jimin bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something he would regret, giving you a tight lipped smile. “I’m sure your date regrets being late.” ‘And asking you out in the first place’ Jimin thought the last part but didn’t say out loud.

“Doubt it.” You shrugged.

Jimin knew what you were doing. You were specifically trying to provoke him, there was no way that he would ask you out on a date voluntarily. You were trying to gouge out any secrets he was hiding. His job, obviously, was to try and not let you find out those secrets. There was no way you were going to cooperate if he told you about the bet.

The two of you knew each other since you were both babies, your mothers knew each other and would always coo at ‘how cute these two will look together.’ Unfortunately for them though, since you were both young the two of you had some sort of competition going on. Didn't matter if it was who was smarter, who was faster or who could fit the most grapes in their mouth, the both of you were always competing.

As you both grew older the bickering turned into bullying on his part. In truth, you actually didn't know what started this long feud, all you remembered was one day when you were five an annoying boy yanked your hair so hard that a few strands had come out. Annoying boy turned out to be Park Jimin and the two of you haven’t stopped arguing since.

“What flavour are you getting?” Jimin peered over your shoulder. He looked at you expectedly. “I’ve already chosen mine, so it’s just up to you and I’ll pay.” He holds his wallet out.

“Vanilla.” You said plainly.

“What?!”

You turn to face Jimin, frowning. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

He makes a face. “Y/n, it’s so boring, like you no doubt.” The last part had slipped out accidentally and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. That was it. You were going to scream at him and he would lose the bet.

Instead, you ignored his comment fixing your gaze back onto the menu. “What do you think I should get then? I’ll give you the choice, assuming you don’t pick a disgusting flavour like mint chocolate chip, I’ll be fine.”

Sure, it was a stupid decision giving Jimin the power to pick what you were going to eat, but what could go wrong? Worst case scenario, you didn't like the flavour and he would be forced to go get a new one, which would cost him more money. It’s a win win.

“You’re giving me the freedom to pick what flavour you’re having?” Jimin asked, making sure he didn't misunderstand your statement. You simply nodded, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Yep” you replied when he stared at you for a while longer, popping the p.

Jimin smirked. “I’ll get you the best flavour to ever exist then.”

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, “Oh?”

“Yeah, mint chocolate~”

You stared at him in disgust, scowling as you said, “Dude I just said that flavour is disgusting. Made by the devil himself.”

Jimin tapped his chin, as if he had no clue about you were saying, “Did you really? Can’t recall anything like that. Hmm.”

“Park Jimin, I swear to god if you get me that flavour I will rip your eyeballs out and shove them up your ass.”

“So you wanna touch my ass now?” He grinned smugly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you spluttered, desperately searching for a comeback.

“Just- just get me whatever you’re having. Unless it’s chocolate mint, then get out of my sight right now.”

“Don't worry, I hate the flavour as much as you do. So, two birthday cakes coming right up.” You try to find ‘birthday cake’ on the menu.

“Dude, the thing looks like a unicorn just threw up on it.”

Jimin shoots you a glare. “Don’t disrespect the superior flavour bestowed upon us by the ice cream Gods.” You gape at him open-mouthed. Ice cream Gods?! The guy was insane. You were on a date with a guy who was insane. Rest in pepperoni to you.

“You’re insane,” You shake your head. “I’ll be waiting over there. Be quick.” You point to a table in the corner.

“Yes ma’am” Jimin saluted before going to order at the counter. You shake your head. You’d known Jimin of most of your life and he’d always been silly and annoying.

Some reason you knew a lot about him. You blamed it on your parents making you spend too much time with each other when you were younger. Also you needed to know every little thing about your mortal enemy, wasn’t that what mortal enemies did? You had to be prepared for anything and keep track of them at all times!

“Got your ice cream.” Jimin placed the cup in front of you as you stared at it with distaste. You’d never really had ice cream often but when you did you always went for the plain vanilla. It was simple, no need for toppings or colourful flavours. You weren’t one to take risks.

“What monstrosity did you get for me, Park?”

“Oh stop being a baby, it’s just strawberry with some syrup on it.” Jimin answered while he rolled his eyes, lips tugged up into a small smile. Eyes twinkling with adoration as he looked at you.

“I’m not eating it.”

“Oh yes you are. Here comes the airplane!” Jimin started, taking a spoonful of the ice cream and moving it towards your face as if talking to a child.

“I’m not a kid. I’m not ha-” Jimin shoves the spoon inside your mouth when you open it to retaliate, his lips lifted into a sly smile. You snatch the spoon off him while glaring at him and start feeding yourself. “Don’t patronise me, you jerk.” You grumbled.

Jimin almost cooed out loud at your pout but he barely controlled himself. Since when were you this cute? He watched as you ate.

“Is it good?”

“...yes” You reluctantly answered, still pouting.

Jimin smiled, leaning back on his chair as he pat himself on his shoulder. “Another job done well by yours truly.”

You rolled your eyes. Then you noticed that Jimin’s ice cream looked slightly different to yours. It wouldn’t hurt to ask for a bite. Would it?

“What’s on yours?” Jimin looked up, the tiny spoon still in his mouth. “What’s on your ice cream?”

“Just extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce, nothing too special.” He shrugged, continuing to devour his dessert. You stare at your cup and then at his. Something must have been possessing you because before you knew it you were leaning over and digging your spoon into his cup.

“Hey, you can’t just do that!”

“Pretty sure I just did.” You popped the spoon into your mouth, savouring the taste. “You know you really weren’t kidding when you said this was good. For once, you did something right, congrats dude.”

Jimin would have made a snarky comment but the look of pure ecstasy on your face stopped him. Even though he knew you for most of his life, there were parts you kept hidden. He knew you didn’t get out much, constantly studying was the only thing you seemed to do. A nice feeling bubbled inside of him. It was nice to know you were enjoying yourself, made him feel happy for some reason.

You giggled, shoving more of the sweet dessert into your mouth. Too busy to notice that Jimin was staring at you. When you did, you gave him a look of confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“You got a little something here.” He pointed to the left side of his face, holding in the urge to laugh at your cute expression. “No here, no.” He leaned over brushing his thumb over the corner of your lips. He stared at you, had your eyes always been so pretty? You felt yourself grow red at the close proximity between you two, not knowing what to do. Jimin leaned away, - why did your heart sink at that? - and licked his thumb. “Love this flavour.”

You avert your eyes quickly, blush getting brighter. You should not have found that as hot as you did. Get yourself together Y/N! Park Jimin, enemy number one! Nothing he does is mildly attractive. Nothing. He is the devil reincarnated!

Suddenly your phone started ringing, shattering whatever moment you two had going on. You picked up the device and checked the caller ID. Why was Jungkook calling now? You gave Jimin a sheepish look.

“Hello? I’m out. No. What? How did you- Alright alright.” Jimin watched as you spoke on your phone.

You sighed in annoyance, hanging up after a while and giving Jimin a sheepish smile, “I need to go. Jungkook somehow made the microwave catch on fire.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows in shock, looking at you as if you had grown two more heads. “What? How is that even possible?”

“Not a clue but I gotta dip. Thank you for inviting me here today. I still think you’re up to something though but whatever.” You spoke, getting up from your seat and grabbing your small messenger bag that you brought along.

Jimin stood up alongside you, the both of you walking out of the shop and stopping on the sidewalk. “Yeah… Thank you for coming here with me.”

You two stood there staring at each other, not wanting to leave just yet.

“Well then! I’ll see you on Monday. Bye Jimin,” You announced after a while, quickly pressing a small kiss on his cheek before dashing away.

Jimin stood there in shock, hands raising to touch where you kissed him. Why was his heart racing so fast and why did he feel so warm inside?

“Huh.. maybe you’re not so bad Y/L/N” Jimin spoke up to himself before he too started his walk back home, mind filled with thoughts of you.

#thebtswritersclub #bangtaninn #blackswannet #castlebangtan #pjm #bts pjm #park jimin x reader #bts park jimin #bts jimin #jimin fluff #bts fluff #highschool!au #bts fanfic

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 42 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hello darlings! The saga continues… Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Pearl’s eye started to wander and Violet set out on a quest to truly prove herself.

This Chapter: Aiden struggles with envy, Adore learns something extremely disturbing about her girlfriend, and Violet makes a friend in the park.

***

“Oof!” Katya held the sweater she was knitting in front of her face, blocking the view of the TV. “Oh god, that scene gets me every time.”

“I can see why this is one of your favorites.” Violet smiled, her pencil paused on her sketchpad as she watched Nancy’s powertrip, The Craft a surprisingly good film.

They were sitting on the couch in Trixie, Katya and Pearl’s apartment, Katya sending Violet a text if she wanted to come down and watch a movie.

Violet had learned early on that Katya despised people who were on their phones while watching movies, but that crafts were allowed, which was probably also why Katya had asked her specifically since Max was out of town. Pearl, Kim and Shangela were all on the no movies list, while Trixie was apparently walking on ‘thin fucking ice’ as Katya herself had said.

“I was a witch once.” Katya smiled, going back to the pink sweater with purple clouds she was knitting, the size of it making it clear that it was for Trixie. “Who doesn’t like a side of blood magic?”

Violet smiled, shaking her head as she turned her attention halfway back to her sketch, her hand doodling flowers along the lapel of the jacket she was working on.

***

“Kiara?”

Aiden was having a perfectly good day until she came over.

It was a little after lunch, the cafeteria serving the chicken he liked. He’d been working on some sketches, fairly satisfied with his progress so far, the days going by so fast.

He was on track to have almost 10 different looks finished by the end of the day when they had to turn them in, and so he was certain that he’d be getting into the Spring collection.

He had been perfecting a sleeve, when his pleasant thoughts had been rudely interrupted by Violet’s voice, as she approached their station to talk to Kiara.

“Hi,” Violet was holding a black portfolio in her hands, her pink nails tapping on the black vinyl. She was wearing a pair of black high waisted pants, a belt cinching in her waist and a long sleeved silk top. “I was wondering if I could see what you were working on for the Spring prêt-à-porter collection?”

“Sure? Kiara looked surprised, but she still grabbed her own stack of sketches, Kiara one of the few designers that still preferred to do everything by hand. “Why?

“I heard that you’re doing a jacket,” Violet put her portfolio down, “and I’m thinking of doing a jacket, so I just want to make sure we’re not submitting the same thing.”

Of course Violet was thinking of submitting a jacket.

“Scared of the competition Chachki?” Aiden was about to reach for his own sketch, his centerpiece for his spring submissions a jacket as well.

“No?” Violet looked at Aiden, her big brown eyes unblinking. “Why would I be?”

Aiden was about to open his mouth to respond when he realized that there was no point, his hand falling down.

That girl was just so incredibly condescending, and he hated her for it.

“Here we go.” Kiara said, gesturing to her sketches, tapping on the 3 versions of the jacket that she was going to submit.

“Hmm.” Violet peered at them, nodding. “Good. We’re not doing the same at all.”

“I showed you mine. Are you gonna show me yours?” Kiara asked, and Violet giggled, pulling out her own sketches.

“Deal,” she said, flipping open the portfolio.

As curious as he was, Aiden decided not to look, burying his head in his own work, now more determined than ever to get that jacket spot.

***

“Babyyy, pay attention to meeee,” Adore whined, tugging on Pearl’s top, attempting to nuzzle into her neck as they were on the bed. Pearl had invited her over for dinner, but the second they’d finished Katya’s famous twice-baked potatoes and garlic chicken (and several bottles of wine), she’d pulled out her laptop and begun working on content for Galactica’s new website.

Adore had never seen Pearl work after hours before. She was slightly shocked to see her do any real work, to be honest, imagining her position at Galactica to be purely schmoozing with brand reps and taking high-profile selfies at fancy events.

“Sorry, I have to finish this shit tonight.” Pearl finished the last of her wine and pressed a quick kiss to Adore’s forehead before going back to her computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard, Pearl actually typing at a surprisingly impressive speed.

“But…” Adore knew she was being a brat, but really, what was Pearl’s rush to finish something this late anyway? Would anyone even be ready to receive it? “Please-”

“Dore,” Pearl sighed, actually looking down at her. “I need to turn it into the site designers before midnight tonight. I thought I’d have time at work, but there was an influencer emergency and you know how those bitches get.”

Adore didn’t, in fact, know how influencers got, the realization that she knew absolutely nothing about Pearl’s work slowly creeping over her.

“I tried asking for extra time, but Fame said no.” Pearl pressed space, her short nails clacking against the black keys of her Macbook. “And unfortunately, eating her pussy right now for a favor is out of the question.” Pearl huffed. “Believe me. I tried.”

“What?” Adore’s hand froze on Pearl’s waist. “You tried what?”

“Eating her pussy?”

Adore sat up, rocking the bed. “Pearl!”

“What? You know that me and Fame used to hook up. We’ve done it for years.” Pearl turned to her with a curious expression. “They didn’t tell you?” Pearl raised a brow. “Huh.” She bit her lip, going back to her laptop. “I thought for sure they would when they were all freaked out about us getting together.”

“They?” Adore asked, trying to keep her voice from getting shrill. “Who is they?”

“Fame mostly” Pearl shrugged, “but I thought Bianca would have had something to say.”

“Wait, so...sorry.” Adore squeezed her eyes shut, trying to clear her mind before asking, “You and Fame used to hook up, and Bianca knew about it?”

“I assumed? I don’t know for sure, but why else would your sister hate me?” Pearl paused typing, a cheshire grin on her face. “I’m delightful.”

Adore could feel her heart pounding in her throat.

“And you… You were gonna...you were gonna cheat on me with her?”

“Cheat? Wha - No!” Pearl closed her laptop, putting it to the side before she turned to Adore, shaking her head. “I’m not cheating.”

“It sure as shit sounds like it.”

“We never talked about being exclusive? So I just figured…” Pearl shrugged, and Adore wanted to hit her. “You’re a really cool girl, and I thought you didn’t care about stuff like that.”

“Well…” Adore’s mind raced. She’d been so ready to get angry, throw an absolute fit, but Pearl calling her cool was having the effect of pouring aloe onto inflamed skin. “I mean...I guess that’s true, we never talked about it.”

“It’s 2014. Everyone who’s not an absolute square is open these days,” Pearl continued.

“Is that… I mean, so…” Adore swallowed hard. “So you want an open relationship?”

“I’m not running around town fucking everyone I meet, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just think like… We know how we feel about each other? So why worry about oppressive hetero-normative rules?” Pearl punctuated her question with a charming smile, and Adore could feel herself melting.

“Yeah, that...makes sense.”

“See, this is why you’re the fucking best.” Pearl closed her laptop and kissed Adore gently, cradling her head, and every last ounce of anger dissipated into thin air.

Well...anger at Pearl, anyway. She’d deal with Miss Goddamn Fame and her traitorous sister tomorrow.

“Don’t you need to work?” Adore asked, pressing into Pearl’s embrace.

“I’ll go in early tomorrow,” Pearl said, moving her lips to Adore’s neck.

Adore sighed happily, lavishing the attention, sure that being with Pearl was worth it.

***

Courtney had gotten to the office before 6 am to prepare for the Friday design meeting--organizing the nearly 400 sketches into categories, making scans and copies and mounting the originals on card stock, each one numbered for easy reference. In the end, she had a tabbed binder for each of the attendees with high-quality copies, just barely finishing by the time Miss Fame strolled in at 9:30.

They’d been at it for awhile now, and what had begun as an orderly review with everyone on the same page had devolved into chaos, tension high as people defended their opinions. She stood in the corner of the conference room, feet already aching in her 4-inch heels, trying to follow the rapid-fire conversation, Raja and Trixie bickering about pant length and Pearl tearing out the pages she didn’t like, tossing them to the floor.

“This skirt on 42 is nice, but it looks complicated. How much would it cost to manufacture it?” Pearl passed a sketch to Bendela, who was the head of the tailoring department.

Bendela examined it closely, before proclaiming, “At least $700.”

Pearl pulled it out of her hands, dropping it on the floor with the other rejects. “Bye!”

“Well, hey now…” Alyssa flipped to the same sketch in her own binder. “Maybe it wouldn’t work for the stores, but it’s still good. Could we save it for a potential runway look?”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Sure, but that’s not what we’re doing today.”

“Why don’t we put it aside and give Jovan some notes for runway?” Trixie suggested.

“That’s literally what I just said,” Alyssa snapped.

“I know, I’m agreeing with you!” Trixie exclaimed, handing her a fresh Red Bull. “Here, have some more gogo juice.”

“I really like this top on 27, but it would have to be a bit shorter to work with the other separates,” Alaska drawled, and Raja nodded, jotting down a note on the corresponding page of her binder.

“Yes, it’s pretty. What do you think, Fame?” asked Raja.

“It would be pretty, if it wasn’t in this disgusting color,” Fame said.

“Non-disgusting color coming right up!” Trixie said cheerfully, scribbling a note on the page.

“Trixie, I do not appreciate your tone.”

“Sorry Miss. You want to see something great? Check out Maxwell’s suit options. Starting on 104. He really outdid himself this year.” Trixie let out a loud chef’s kiss.

“Awww, thanks coach!” Maxwell said.

Courtney shifted, stretching a little, and noticed that Miss Fame had finished her coffee. Relieved for an excuse to move, she slipped from the meeting, grabbing her coat on the way to the elevators. She got Fame’s usual order as quickly as possible, along with her preferred apple cinnamon muffin to have on stand-by in case her blood sugar was having its usual pre-lunch dip, and returned to the 25th floor, shocked at the face that greeted her in the lobby when the elevator doors opened.

“Adore?”

“Courtney! Thank god. This bitch wouldn’t let me into Fame’s office-” Adore gestured towards Roxy, irritated, who gave her an equally dirty look in return, “And I need to talk to her.”

“Well…” Courtney beeped her access card, shooting Roxy an apologetic smile and saying, “Thanks, I got it.”

Once inside, she tossed her coat over her chair and turned back to Adore, who was rattling the doorknob of Fame’s office like a crazy person, pounding on the door.

“Fame? Fame, open up!”

“Adore…” Courtney touched her lightly on the shoulder. “She’s not in there. She’s in a meeting, with like, the whole senior design and marketing teams right now, and-”

“Well, I need to talk to her, right away.” Adore was clearly agitated.

“Are you okay? Can I-”

“No! I’m obviously not okay! I need to talk to her, now-”

“Okay. You wanna wait here until they break for lunch?” Courtney asked. “I can’t really ask her to leave without-”

“No, I want to talk to her. If you don’t want to interrupt, I will. I don’t give a shit about her meeting.” Adore charged forward, and Courtney caught her by the shoulders.

“Wait! Okay, I’ll tell her you’re here and that it’s urgent. Please, just…”

Adore seemed to begrudgingly accept this plan, crossing her arms and sitting on the edge of Courtney’s desk. “Two minutes and then I’m coming in.”

Courtney took a deep breath and made her way towards the conference room, trying not to wring her hands on the way. She was worried for whatever was making Adore so upset, but she also couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little at her demanding attitude. It wasn’t something that reared its head terribly often, but when it did...hoo boy. Spoiled brat Adore was by far the worst version of Adore--petulant, entitled, unyielding. Courtney prayed that she would get through this tantrum without a scene.

Courtney re-entered the conference room, handing Miss Fame her coffee and then turning to a fresh page in her notebook and scribbling out a note, trying to be as concise as possible.

Adore Delano here. Very upset. Needs to talk. Says it’s urgent.

She underlined “urgent” before showing it to her boss, hoping that she wouldn’t get scolded for her friend’s behavior.

Fame glanced at the note and then stood up, clearing her throat.

“I have to go attend to a family matter,” she announced, “but I’ll be back shortly.” She gestured vaguely to the empty chair beside her seat, indicating that Courtney should stay and take notes.

Courtney quickly sat down, pulling over Miss Fame’s binder.

***

When Miss Fame entered her office suite, Adore was there, pacing around. She looked physically fine, which was a relief, but Fame was still concerned, knowing that Adore wouldn’t come to her, not in the middle of the day like this, unless something terrible had happened.

“Hello darling, what on earth is going on-”

“Don’t fucking darling me!” Adore snapped, catching her off guard, and Fame took a deep breath, opening her door to her office and ushering Adore inside before firmly shutting it. For one thing, it would give them some privacy. And for another, it would make sure that no one passing by saw Adore’s messy hair and booty shorts.

“Is anybody hurt?”

“Fuck you!”

Fame sighed, locking the door. If she was going to screech like a maniac, they may as well have as much soundproofing as possible.

“Now, Adore-” Fame began, but Adore immediately interrupted.

“What the fuck do I have to do for y’all to stop treating me like a fucking child?!” Adore burst out, and Fame couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“A child? Since I was at your 15th birthday, I don’t think that’s very fair-”

“Don’t change the subject!” Adore shouted, looking genuinely upset, her hand shaking.

“What is the subject, dearheart?” Fame took a step forward, but Adore stepped back. Fame could feel her panic rising, wondering if something was actually wrong with Bianca, if anyone had gotten hurt. “I think we missed a step here-”

“Pearl! Pearl, is the fucking subject!” Adore jabbed a finger against her chest, Fame looking down.

“Adore!” No one had done that to Fame since she was a child, the action incredibly upsetting and weird.

“Specifically,” Adore poked her, “you,” poke “fucking her.” Adore looked up, her eyes filled with anger. “Is that clear enough?”

“Oh.” Fame’s heart sank, the secret apparently out. The last thing she ever wanted was for Adore to get hurt, but here they were. “How did you…” Fame looked over her shoulder, making sure the door was locked, hoping that Courtney was still in the conference room.

“Look at me!”

“How did you find out about this-”

“Pearl told me!”

Fuck.

“She apparently thought that you’d told me already.”

“Good god.” Fame closed her eyes briefly, cursing herself for not being more explicit with Pearl back in September. “She really shouldn’t have done that.”

“She?!” Adore yelled. “Why didn’t you? Why do you all fucking tiptoe around, protect me like I’m a goddamn infant?!”

“Adore-”

“I’m 24 fucking years old! Half of your employees are younger than me, and I know for a fact that you don’t treat them like delicate little babies-”

“Please. Calm down, I don’t-” Fame held up her hands. “Please.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You want the truth? The grown-up truth?”

“Yes!”

“Me not telling you about my…” Fame made a vague gesture, “history with Pearl. That wasn’t to protect you. That was to protect myself.”

“What…” Adore looked momentarily thrown by this, her anger replaced with confusion, and Fame pulled her onto the sofa, taking the opportunity to grasp one of her hands.

“She’s my employee, Adore.” Fame rubbed her thumb over Adore’s hand, gently caressing it. “We may have had an understanding between us, but…” Fame sighed. “Nobody else would--could understand.”

“You mean like your husband?” Adore shot back, face twisting once more into anger. “I can’t believe you would cheat on him, that you would-”

“I would never ‘cheat’ on Patrick. He knows everything. You don’t need to worry about my marriage. But I mean that if my...Interests came out publicly, it would be very damaging to my professional reputation. That’s what I feared.”

“And you didn’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anybody with things like this, Adore. So instead of telling you, I just...broke things off with her, and made sure she knew how much I love you. That I would be very angry if she mistreated you.”

Adore bit her lip, taking in what Fame had said, her blue eyes misty. “You went behind my back and told my girlfriend to be nice, or she’d be in trouble? Don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

“I’m sorry. It was a bad decision, but it wasn’t because I was trying to baby you. It was...it doesn’t matter. I can see now that I should have told you instead.”

“Yes. But…” Adore sighed. “I guess I understand why you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” Fame said. “Thank you for that.”

She pulled Adore close, hugging her tightly, trying to show how sorry she was. When Bianca had taken custody of Adore nearly ten years earlier, Fame felt like she shared the responsibility to look out for her.

She knew, of course, that sometimes that meant that she was overprotective, and maybe even patronizing, but she couldn’t help it: Adore would always be a sweet baby to her, someone who had been through hell far too young, who deserved to be a bit spoiled and sheltered.

“There’s one more thing I need to know,” Adore said, still chewing on her lip.

“What is it?”

“Does my sister know?”

Fame took a deep breath, tucking a lock of Adore’s fading purple hair behind her ear. “She does. But she’s the only one. Besides Patrick. And now you. And she promised me, swore on her life, that she’d never tell.”

“Hmm.”

***

“We’ll get the results tomorrow, and it isn’t that I’m like, nervous nervous, I just hope I have done a good enough job-”

Sutan smiled as he listened to Violet chat, the fact that she was actually sharing her honest feelings about Galactica’s prêt-à-porter collection feeling like a big deal.

Sutan had asked Violet out for lunch since he was already in midtown for a meeting, the two of them now walking hand in hand around Central Park, Sutan drinking coffee while Violet was sipping on tea. The air was crisp, Autumn leaves covering the ground, the people of New York taking in the beautiful day.

“Sutan!” Sutan felt a pull on his hand, Violet stopping dead in her tracks. “Sutan, look!”

He turned his head, not even registering what was happening before Violet had shoved her tea and bag into his arms, letting go of him to make a beeline towards a couple that were walking a small dog.

“Excuse me-” Violet cleared her throat, catching the couple’s attention. “Can I pet your dog? Please?”

“Of course!”

The couple smiled, and Sutan watched as Violet crouched down on the ground, quickly taking off her gloves and handing them to Sutan so the pug could sniff her fingers.

“Hey there, hello gorgeous, hi,” Violet smiled, her hand soon running over the puppy’s head, scratching it behind the ears. “That’s it, that’s a good boy.”

Sutan tilted his head. He had never seen Violet interact with a pet before, and somehow, he had assumed that she would be either a pet hater or a cat person, but she looked genuinely happy, and completely in love with the dog.

“What’s his name?”

“Dough. It’s his first trip to Central Park, he’s been looking forward to it all week.”

“Really?” Violet looked up, her smile never wavering as she chatted with the couple about the dog. “Oh Sutan, look how cute he is.”

“He’s very-”

“Who’s a good boy?” Violet grinned, cutting off Sutan as she scratched the pug’s chin. “Who’s a good boy?”

Sutan took a sip of his coffee, hiding a grin as Violet’s bag dug into the crock of his elbow. He had never seen Violet so willingly talk to strangers, had never seen her be so overly excited about anything that wasn’t related to fashion. He took another sip, pocketing Violet’s gloves as he watched her play with the dog, a sense of calm washing over him as Violet made Dough chase his own tail.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #adore x pearl #vitan #katya zamolodchikova #violet chachki #aiden zhane #adore delano #pearl liaison #courtney act #miss fame #raja gemini #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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