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quadballz · 3 years ago

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𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓; one

࿔*:･ﾟi.

next: ࿔*:･ﾟii. | table of contents

BOTH GIRLS sat in the lobby of the hospital, (y/n) still flipping through the pages of the book. "So, are there any clues as to who he is?" asked Yasuho as she rested her chin on the other girl's shoulder. (y/n) shook her head, scanning over the pages like she had been doing ever since they had found the man a day prior. "I want to say that he's a Joestar but I can't confirm anything unless we find a family tree or something," sighed (y/n), closing the book with a huff, "plus, once great-great-grandma passed away, my Kishibe-side put that motto in place so I doubt we have any recent information on the Joestars."

Yasuho pouted solemnly as her grip tightened around the two packages of Sesame Honey Dumplings. (y/n) looked at the other girl from her peripherals, with a soft smile. "I'm sure we'll figure out who he is," (y/n) paused to place a hand on Yasuho's shoulders, only for her to whip her head to look at her with a furrowed brow. "What even are the mottos you're talking about?" Yasuho asked while scouring the other girl's face for answers and only receiving a strained smile.

"Well, as a Kishibe, I was told to never trust a 'Jojo' but as a Speedwagon, it looks like I always have to help a 'Joestar'; and as you can tell, there's a 'Jo' in 'Joestar'," she explained to Yasuho who still wasn't too satisfied. (y/n) smiled and stood up, holding out a hand to the pink-haired girl. "Don't worry," she assured as Yasuho took her hand, "I'm definitely going to fulfill my role as a Speedwagon. Even if he isn't actually a Joestar." Yasuho gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat and her ears burn.

After pulling Yasuho up, (y/n) turned away, looking at the passersby without a clue as to why she was doing so. "P-plus, it might take a while, but I'm sure he'll figure out who he is eventually! In the meantime, why don't you take those dumplings to him?" Yasuho looked down at her gift and (y/n)'s lack of one. "Hey, didn't you say you'd get him a get-well gift?" Yasuho questioned, while (y/n) gave a playful scoff. "Yeah, of course! I have it right-" (y/n) froze at the sight of her great-great-grandma's old notebook— she forgot.

(y/n)'s gaze robotically fell onto Yasuho's second box of dumplings. "Yasuho, darling," (y/n) began with a few 'seductive' blinks of her eyelashes and with an arm on the wall by Yasuho's head, "think I could have that second box of dumplings?" Yasuho's brow furrowed as she gave (y/n) a knowing look. "That won't work on me, honey. The other box is for Joshu." (y/n) groaned and put her face in her hands, hoping to cover her flushed expression. And also because, ugh, Joshu existed and she just had to be reminded.

"Ugh. Right. That asshole is here too," (y/n) groaned while Yasuho began pushing her in the direction of the gift shop. Yasuho seemingly didn't have a comment on (y/n)'s hatred for him but the girl was far too nice to ever really have such a strong opinion on someone. "Do I have to get him something?" (y/n) whined while Yasuho gave her a tight-lipped smile, "aww, but Yasuhoo, I don't wannaaaa." "If I had to, so do you."

After a reluctant trudge over to the shop, the two girls found themselves standing in front of a shirt with an out-of-date slogan on it. While Yasuho looked through other clothes, (y/n) looked at it with proud tears in her eyes. "I...I think Mr. Joestar would love this," she said with a smoldering look, "I think it would be good to see him in it as a reference for that character I was telling you about." Yasuho looked at the shirt and back to (y/n) with a raised brow, "oh, c'mon (y/n), don't use the poor guy as reference material."

(y/n) hummed and took one final look at the shirt before tilting her head to the side, a pout on her face. She was really hoping to use him as a reference but if Yasuho was telling her not to, she'd have to listen. Well, at least while Yasuho was around. As she put the shirt back, (y/n) saw a bright pink scarf with sequins on it. In an instant, it was in her arms— a tacky gift for a tacky guy by the name of Joshu.

"Is that for who I think it is?" Yasuho asked while stifling a laugh, "please tell me it is." (y/n) gave her a wide grin before showing it off. "If you must know, it is for our dearest friend Joshu who requires some sparkle to bring back his eyesight." Yasuho doubled over before taking hold of the fabric, "I can't wait to see his reaction." "What's he going to react to? The feeling of the scarf?" Yasuho was reduced to a giggly mess while (y/n) smiled and turned to look through the stuffed animal section.

"I think I'll get Mr. Joestar one of these cuties," (y/n) said aloud once Yasuho's laughter had died down. She had placed her chin on (y/n)'s shoulder while the girl picked up a fluffy blue bear. "Think he'd like it?" asked Yasuho while fiddling with the ends of the pink scarf. (y/n) hummed for a moment before scanning the shelves, spotting a yellow dog with a sailor hat. "Hey...doesn't it kinda look like Josuke?"

Yasuho stared at the puppy with a fond smile, making (y/n)'s face burn— up close, Yasuho was awfully pretty. "You know, that guy kinda reminds me of him too." (y/n) brushed off her thoughts and held out the stuffed animal to look at from afar. While squinting, she somehow saw the guy's face. "Heh, you're right-" Yasuho stepped back, leaving (y/n)'s shoulder uncomfortably cold, "-I think I'll just get him this." Once purchased, and despite (y/n)'s complaints, they were off to Joshu's hospital room.

"(y/n)~ Yasuho~ You've come to visit little ol' me~?"

(y/n) grimaced as Joshu puckered his lips and batted his eyelashes while Yasuho gave him a hesitant smile. "Y-yeah! Just making sure you were okay, haha," Yasuho had mustered out before handing him a box of dumplings, "oh, and I got these for you." "Thank you, my little straw~ber~ry~," breathed out Joshu while (y/n) was on the verge of throwing up, preferably aimed into Joshu's gross mouth.

"As for you my favorite otaku~ Did you get me a get-well-present?" Joshu asked with a pout while she gagged. Yasuho nudged her and (y/n) was left to reluctantly pull out the scarf she had been previously excited to give to him. Sadly, the fool still had his vision so the joke was way less hilarious than she had hoped the exchange would be. "A scarf." Before he could say another word, she had chucked it at him and dragged Yasuho out of the room.

His faint shouts were like music to her ears and the sound of nurses rushing to his room to stop him was like a symphony. "So, what room is Mr. Joestar in?" (y/n) chirped as if she hadn't left her childhood enemy screaming at her in a different room. Yasuho hummed and then pulled a slip of paper with a scraggly set of numbers on it. "326," she replied simply, taking the lead instead of (y/n) who had really only visited the hospital to sit in the lobby and draw people when Yasuho was off hanging with her (now) ex-boyfriend.

When they reached the room, however, it was empty. (y/n)'s brow furrowed as Yasuho scanned the room— she had finally met a descendant of one of the people mentioned in her great-great-grandma's diary and now she lost him. Sure, it wasn't like it was of utmost importance but it had been a great inspiration for her new manga. And now it was all gone. "Dammit!" "Ow." Yasuho and (y/n) shot a glance at the mattress where the mystery guy just so happened to be.

"Holy shit!"

The two girls grabbed at each other, screaming in unison as the guy stared at them from the least expected place. "What in the world are you doing?!" screeched Yasuho as (y/n) remained glued to her side. The guy gave them both a sleepy grin that made (y/n) look away while biting her lip— she'd be lying if she didn't say that the Jo-guy wasn't hot and at that very moment she had been thanking her ancestor for passing down such a motto. Helping him meant staying around a pretty face after all.

"Hey, what's with you?" questioned Yasuho as (y/n) was pulled from her fantasies, "what're you doing down there?" Yasuho was definitely the better of the two for asking these questions. "What? Just what it looks like. I'm sleeping. The people wearing white clothes said I couldn't leave for a while," he replied while (y/n) crouched down and placed her chin in her hands, "what Yasuho meant to ask is why you're under there in the first place." The guy raised a brow from under his mattress, looking between the two girls.

"You mean people sleep on top? How would they put pressure on their bodies then?" Yasuho turned to (y/n) who could only muster half a shrug. "Sounds like a fetish or something," (y/n) said halfheartedly, "I mean, my great-great-grandma's friend said her friend had a thing for mosquito bites." Yasuho cringed just slightly before turning to the guy and holding out a box of dumplings that was smaller than what she had given to Joshu.

"Here, I got you a present. I thought I'd bring you something since you were in the hospital. (y/n) did too." As if on command, (y/n) held out the stuffed animal with a lopsided grin, "it kinda looked like you. Yasuho thought so too." Yasuho smiled in agreement and then started rambling about Joshu, his injuries, and why the two had come to visit while (y/n) nodded intermittently and the guy started to slide out from under the mattress. As he did so, the hem of his pants slowly slid lower and lower-

Four balls.

(y/n) broke out into laughter and turned away while Yasuho grimaced and shut her eyes tightly, crying out for him to stop before any more of his pants could fall off. While her friend had spiraled into mumbling against the wall, (y/n) had turned back around to find him examining the stuffed animal. "Like it?" (y/n) asked as he held it out in front of him, letting its limbs flop around. "Yes," he answered, turning to look at her from over his shoulder, "what is his name?" (y/n) hummed aloud in thought while plopping down onto the mattress.

"Mmm...Rohan is a cool name," she said with a smile, "but it's yours to name." The guy looked at her and then at the stuffed animal, setting it down next to her thigh and letting it flop on its side against her. "I like that name too." (y/n) felt the tip of her earns burn— it wasn't as if he had just flirted with her but she found his actions somehow attractive. The guy had now turned to Yasuho's gift, turning over the box and opening it carefully. "What are these?"

Yasuho had turned back around then with a raised brow, walking up beside him, "never had one? Morioh is famous for them." (y/n) watched fondly as Yasuho began to break into detail about the origins of the Sesame Honey Dumplings; ever since they were little, Yasuho had always had an addiction to them which eventually spread over to (y/n) when they became best friends during middle school. "...there's a special way to eat them. You gotta make sure not to bite with your front teeth."

"Oh, don't forget about chewing with your back teeth on the first bite," (y/n) added while the guy tentatively placed a dumpling in his mouth, doing the complete opposite of what he was supposed to. The black cream shot out from the gap between his teeth she hadn't realized he even had. It was...cute. As Yasuho reiterated what she had been saying, (y/n) couldn't take her eyes off him, especially when his odd-colored eyes glimmered with surprise.

MAN, OH, MAN DID SHE HOPE HE WAS A JOESTAR.

this cuts off at a weird spot but i felt this was pretty long already so yeah...lol

#jojolion #jjl #jojo part 8 #jojo na kimyou na bouken #jjba x reader #gappy higashikata x reader #yasuho hirose x reader #joshu higashikata x reader #rai mamezuku x reader #karera sakunami x reader #kei nijimura x reader

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yarbz · 4 years ago

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cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

#na jaemin imagines #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #na jaemin scénarios #na jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct dream #nct2020 #kpop imagines #kpop scénarios #kpop fluff #kpop #nct smut #kpop smut

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carlycmarathecat · 4 years ago

Text

Speechless

The opening sequence started with an abandoned warehouse, boards filling in the way inside mostly on the windows. There came moving noises and shouts from the inside and out popped our four favorite turtles one by one, Leo in the lead. The dust settled down slowly as they each tried to catch their breath. Eventually, came the half-hearted laughs.

"Okay...that was kinda fun back there." Leo piped up.

"Risky, but yeah, not bad for first-timer, Leo." Raph's arms crossed in pride. Mikey nodded in agreement and looked towards Donnie, already hunched over his wrist device tapping away.

"And you said I couldn't handle leadership." The red-eared slider smirked.

"W-What, I never said that?"

"Not out loud anyhow."

While the older brothers slightly bickered among themselves, the box turtle turned attention towards the middle child of the family. "Donnie? Yo, Donald." He reached to touch the other's shoulder. The softshell in question slightly seemed startled turning towards the baby brother. "Leo did a pretty good job leading us, didn't he? You didn't have that much doubt in him as you did from the start, right?"

Donnie gaped a little before pressing lips into a thin line, giving off a quick nod. He appeared a little pale all of a sudden.

It didn't get past Orange as he collected Purple's hands in his own, "Hey... what's up, bro? You act like you've seen a ghost so suddenly." His brow curved into one of worry, "You can tell us anything, you know?"

This caught the attention of the older brothers as they faced the two younger siblings. Donnie began opening and closing his jaw but hardly made any sounds, slowly reaching to feel his Adam's apple... something wasn't right.

'It feels like fire...why can't I say anything...??'

"Donnie- whoa!" Mikey yelped as the softshell launched forward, hand over mouth as one cough after the other poured their way out in a painful manner. Leo grew in panic, making his way over quickly.

"Mikey, the hell is going on...??"

"He-He won't say anything to me!" Mikey was getting a little scared, "I don't...think he can say anything."

Blue bit his lip hard, "You're not suggesting that...?" But he had to brush it off, for now, turning to his twin who was trying to collect his breathing, tears in his eyes from the coughing fit that kept building up. "Donnie! D-Donnie, just take it easy. Deep breathing, just breathe deeply and slowly, you hear?" The softshell did his best to follow said instructions. "That's it, just like you do with your panic attacks..."

"I'm gonna ring up Pops, maybe he can help!" Raph wasted no time in bringing out his phone to do so.

"Yeah, you do that!"

Donnie eventually got his breathing under control, but it still felt hot to the touch... it was making him dizzy. Leo calling out his name was the last thing he heard before passing out.

It could've been minutes or hours even, but Donatello slowly woke to find himself in the den laid on the couch. He felt something cool and wet around his throat, still felt warm from the inside regardless. He pushed himself into a sitting position...

"Hey, bro."

There was Leo, approaching him into a kneel beside his disaster twin. "Try not to talk right now, you'll end up with another coughing fit. Is there anything you need?"

Now that he mentioned it... Donnie did his best to gesture like he was drinking. Leo nodded in understanding, bringing up a glass of water, ice cubes bobbing about in it. The softshell took slow sips of the beverage and eventually looked towards the slider turtle silently asking;

Have they figured out the problem?

"Well...it should be obvious what the cause is." Leo tried to laugh but it faltered, "At least... that's what I'm hoping anyway..." He felt Donnie's hand slowly take a hold on his own and he squeezed in return. The snapper and box turtles made their way into the den.

"Ah, good. He's awake." Mikey sighed, relieved. "Now remember, Raph-"

"I know." Raph approached the other two, a somewhat frown in the genius's direction. "You've got a pretty bad habit of scaring us half to death, don't you?" Donnie pouted; was he really gonna do this now?

"But the problem's been figured out, right?" Leo wanted to know. Raph and Mikey took concerned noticed how the slider kept hold of the other's hand.

"...Right?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda." Mikey cleared his throat, "The way Draxum described it... that dust we dealt with has a bigger effect on some more than others from the looks of it. And those who have had it say it's like having a fever of 100 except it's within your neck. Just some soft foods and liquids, he should be good in no time."

This somewhat settled relief for Leo. Donnie, however, wasn't sure about not being able to speak for a long period of time.

"And we're all gonna pitch in and do our best to help you get better. The only difference being you won't be able to protest against us." Raph's little joke was answered with Donnie's elbow connecting with his ribcage. "Oof!"

Mikey giggled sadly, "Actions still speak louder than words, you know that, Raphie." Leo would've laughed too, he just felt too glum to follow through.

"It's okay, boys." Splinter entered the room, "I'll take it from here, you're all free to go now."

"Sure, pops."

"Yes, daddy."

The rat turned to the slider, "That means you too, Blue...Purple will be alright."

Leo wanted to protest, say anything but Donnie's hand upon his shoulder and a sad smile aimed at him... Blue sighed in understanding, getting up and slowly following after his other brothers. As Splinter changed the towel from Donnie's neck to replace it with a fresh one, he took fatherly notice how the twin kept his gaze where Leo had walked out.

"Try not to worry about him right now, my son. He'll be alright, you'll see."

Leo paced in the other room while Raph and Mikey were doing their own things to pass the time. How could he have been so stupid, so overconfident, just so... with a grunt of frustration, he grabbed a cushion and tossed it across to the other side.

Raph couldn't help taking notice, "It didn't really do anything to you, Leo..."

"You can say it." Leo frowned, "You both can just say it already, get it over with."

"Say what?"

The slider growled annoyed, "You know what I'm talking about, damn it! I'm the one responsible for what's happened to Donnie! He's like this cause of me! Who knows how long it'll be before he's up and chatting again, maybe to even rub it in what I could've done differently!" He paused to catch his breath after his vent.

"Look, Leo-"

"So what're you saying?" Mikey glanced from his comic, "You'd rather be the one with the hurt throat while Donnie's blaming himself instead?"

Leo's brow curved in concern, "What, no, I'm not saying that..."

"Hey, none of us knew the dust in that house would have that type of effect but we made it through as best as we could. We've at least made it out alive, right?"

His fists clenched tightly, "I know that... but I just..."

Mikey, now marking a spot in his comic, approached his older sibling in blue resting his hands on his shoulders. "Leo, I don't know if this will be any help, but... you shouldn't consider your mistakes as failures but as lessons instead." He smiled, "You at least have an idea what to do for next time we approach a situation like this, again, don't you?"

Leo bit his lip... and nodded. Raph joined in, "And like I said, we all pitch in, Donnie's gonna feel better in no time."

"...thanks guys." Leo embraced both his siblings in a group hug.

Mikey eventually broke away, "So... which one of us should take turns with Donnie first?"

Blue smiled, "I've already had my turn, you guys can decide among yourselves."

The next few days flew by faster than you could blink. Mikey helped out with whipping up soft recipes that Donatello could easily swallow, Raph assisted with telling some of his middle brother's fave stories (preferably ones that didn't involve too much magic). And as for Leo, he simply shared episodes of Jupiter Jim, some of them being Donnie's favorites too.

Purple was eventually able to speak again once the burning in his throat went away, but he and Leo didn't have to share an apology/forgiveness between them; it felt on that day after that mission, they already have both said their peace.

Pictures done by @jadethest0ne 💚

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #donatello #michelangelo #raphael

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lennydaisy · 5 years ago

Text

EPIPHANY // OUTER BANKS

The Outer Banks. Paradise on earth. Well, it is if you can afford it.

Figure 8, home of the portentous and intitled. So detached from reality that you'd have to use their private jets to bring them back down to the ground. If they're not lounging around on their secluded beaches in front of their White House sized mansions, then they're at the country club complaining that their ice-cold lemonade isn't ice-cold enough. We call them Kooks. Guess where I don't live?

Next up, The Cut, neutral habitat of, drum roll please ladies and gentleman... The Pogues. Lowest members of the food chain. You see, it's one island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs. I have two jobs and will still never be able to afford one house, let alone two, but that's life I guess. The Pogues are like those kids your parents tell you to stay away from when you visit the park. Well, now the park has stretched to all aspects of life warranting us to be unwanted and neglected which isn't such a bad thing, that just means we get to do whatever we want, whenever we want.

Right now, however, this is the last place I want to be. Save-A-Lot. One of my two jobs. See how this all ties in?

The continuous, subtly, beeping of the scanner, the bright overhead lights that the same moth has been flying into for a week now, that one cart that you can hear before you see, and this frustratingly itchy, red polo shirt that I'm wearing because it's 'oh-so mandatory'.

It's been reported that a storm is going to hit us in a couple of days, so naturally, the stores been busier than usual, with both Kooks and Pogues. It's like sacred land, all differences get put aside in this very store unless there's a two for one deal at the seafood counter. In that case, no one's safe, not even me, the poor, little employee. I've been slapped with a Tuna Fish before. I don't want to talk about it.

"Can I interest you in some... What are they again? Sea salted chocolate with a crushed Macadamia nut shell and a rich creamy filling, homemade by Mrs Adams?" I squint at the packaging before smiling at the man before me who peered at me, head tilted slightly. Nodding instantly, already knowing the answer, "I don't blame you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

Smashing my fingers on the scratch invested, touch screen register, slapping the side of the machine until it eventually rings up the total, "That'll be $148.98 however, you get the extended family discount, so that makes it..." twirling my finger around the air, attempting the mental math, "10% off $148," I utter, closing my eyes as if that's going to help me find the answer quicker. 'I knew I should have joined the math team with Pope.'

"$134," the man affirms looking at me sympathetically, halting my search for my calculator that is normally taped to the till. I take the mans money, squinting at him, "Okay, I'll take your word for it man but if I get fired, I want a job at The Wreck," handing him his receipt.

"We'll see," he said putting his packed bags back into his cart, "I'll get through to you one day. You can't deny I'm your favourite" I state in a matter of fact, waving him off as he pushes his cart away from the checkout, "Bye Mason."

"I don't hear you denying it," I shout, watching him hurridly pushing his cart towards the door, "Okay bye Mr Carrera, tell Kie I said hi!"

Twirling around in my chair a couple of times, I came to a stop at the sight of a pink calculator, my pink calculator, taped to Mrs Adams till. That Bitch. I sit patiently for her to be done with her customers, waving at the elderly couple as they pass, "See you later Mr and Mrs Graham, have a nice day," I smile.

"Oh you too Mason, you should stop by again, you and your friends were such a delight the last time," Mrs Graham praises tapping her ringed fingers on my counter. Nodding at her request as her husband began to drag her away from me, claiming he 'Wants to be home today not tomorrow,' knowing his wife to be quite the blether.

"What a pleasant young lady. Wouldn't you agree, Marty?"

"Oh yes, very well mannered."

"Listen here, sticky fingers, I know you stole my calculator" My smile instantly dropping as I look upon the thief that I have the pleasure of calling my co-worker.

Mrs Adams is your typical grandma. Tonged hair, thick-rimmed glasses and filled with opinions that are always unwarranted. She has had it out for as long as I can remember, once locking me in the walk-in freezer claiming to not know I was in there despite being in there with me moments before. At least I only have to deal with her a few days a week, I couldn't handle any more than that.

"What calculator?" she questions innocently. Pointing my finger accusingly at her till where low and behold, sits my calculator, "Oh really, what's that then?"

Sparing a glance at my calculator, she shakes her head, nose pointed up, "That's an anniversary gift from my husband. I, by no means, stole your calculator."

I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

Laughing at her alibi, "Are you aware of how much bullsh-", the clearing of a throat interrupts my tangent and I suddenly became aware of where I am again. Mrs Adams raises her eyebrows at me, is she mocking me? Glaring at her one last time as to say 'this conversation isn't over', I timidly spun my chair back around, plastering a smile on my face, getting ready to greet my next customer.

Oh no.

"Hi, Mr Cameron," I greet the man, scratching behind my ear hoping he didn't overhear me. Beginning to scan his items, another figure catches my eye.

Rafe.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, I present the biggest dickhead on the entire island. He thinks everybody owes him something just because his daddy is well known throughout the OBX and has no problem expressing his distaste for anyone who doesn't fit his agenda. He's a cocky, arrogant snob who needs to be knocked off his podium a few inches, or feet.

"Hello, Mason, and how many times have I told you to call me Ward?"

"Clearly not enough for me to listen," I mutter under my breath, passing the already packed bags towards a very accepting Rafe, who snatched them with a scrawl printed on his face, "Your face will stay like that if the winds change" I advise innocently, waving my fingers around my forehead area, "Don't want to get any wrinkles, but if you need some anti-ageing cream, I'm sure Mrs Adams can recommend a few of her favourites,"

"Maybe even get you a coupon," I suggest finishing to scan the last of their items, "Isn't that right, Mrs Adams," I called to the lady over my shoulder how instantly peeped up at the chance to chat with the boy.

"Oh, yes. Come here deary, I'll show you my collection,"

It's no secret throughout the OBX that Mrs Adams is a bit of a renowned cougar, having no problem expressing herself towards any sort of male attention. Mrs Adam doesn't discriminate, so even assholes like Rafe can't escape the clutches of her fondness, but she's harmless... most of the time.

Ward nudges his son in the direction of the lady, who is eagerly waiting for the boy with her creams placed in an orderly fashion before her. Rafe's eyes practically begging for his dad to have some mercy on him only to earn a point in her direction.

"I hate you," he huffs at me, feet dragging towards the ladies till.

Fluttering my eyes with a cheesy smile, "I know," I say before turning to finish Mr Cameron's groceries.

"That's $236 please," I state ringing up his total as he slides his card into the swipe machine, "It'll take a minute, a caveman has better technology than this place." He shakes his head at me, waving his hand slightly, understanding.

"Sea salted chocolate, uh?" he wonders picking up the bar, as I mentally slap myself for forgetting to ask if he was interested, "Would you like to buy one?" I questioned despite already knowing his answer. It's the same one that I've heard all day.

Placing the packet back in its place he shakes his head, "No thank you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

"That's what I'm saying," ripping off his receipt before handing it to him, "Thank you, Mason," he laughs before turning towards his son, who is still listening to Mrs Adams ramble on about why she prefers Olay over Caudlíne.

About to bid farewell to the man, he turns and asks, "I hate to be a bother and I know it's short notice, but would you mind babysitting Wheezie for me on Saturday morning, I know you don't normally work weekends, it's just this storm's going to cause a run-in with my properties and-"

"Of course I will, Mr Cameron," I interrupted his ramble. He looks at me relieved, nodding his head, "See you later, Mason."

"Bye Ward," gross, I'm sticking with Mr Cameron.

Watching as the pair walk past my till I can't help but laugh as I see Rafe slouching away with a tub of Olay Anti-ageing cream. Turning around at the sound, he flips me off, "I'll get you back for this," earning a shoving on the shoulder from his dad, but I can't help but wave cheerily, "Oh, I'm sure you will."

Mr Ward Cameron, my other boss. A few years ago I put up flyers with a tear-off of my phone number offering a babysitting service. Safe to say, I got my fair share of prank calls and when I got a call from someone claiming to be Mr Cameron I assumed it was someone messing with me again, but it turns out it wasn't. He genuinely needed someone to watch his youngest daughter Wheezie and I needed cash, and he does pay generously, especially now considering recent circumstances.

Glancing at the clock that is nailed above the exit I see that it's 2:00 P.M, the best time of my day, getting out of here. Grabbing the key from my pocket, I lock up the till before heading toward the poor excuse of a staff room.

Glancing around the room blue painted room, making sure no one is still on their lunch, I quickly grab my bag and dash over to the fridge. I never, and mean never, condone stealing, that's why I don't call it that. I prefer 'borrowing and then 'forgetting' to give it back'. Sure, I never asked if I could 'borrow' the alcohol that I am currently stuffing in my bag but, that's neither here nor there.

I throw my bag, which I can already tell is going to cause my back hell, over my shoulder. I grab Kie longboard, which I did ask for permission to use, and begin to make my way past the checkouts.

Before leaving, I pivot around, "Hey, Mrs Adams," I called out just to see that she was already glaring in my direction, a bit creepy if you ask me, "Don't worry, you've only got like what, another 6 hours?" acting like I didn't know as I pointed at the clock.

"Oh, and before I forget," I rush over to her counter and rip my calculator off her till. Smiling sweetly at the older lady, saluting her as I leave, "See you next week, Mrs Adams," I laugh, running out the door, jumping onto the longboard.

Let the fun begin.

Now there is something about my friends that you should know. As cheesy as its sounds, we're a group of misfits who happen to fit perfectly together, well almost perfectly, but no matter what we've got each other backs.

Now, where do we start?

JJ Maybank. We've been best friends since the third grade after he got into a fight with some kids who were making fun of me for having a 'boys name', and I haven't been able to get rid of him since. He's the guy who jokingly pushed me off the HMS Pogue only to quickly find out that I couldn't swim. I insisted that it was fine but JJ doesn't take no for an answer and took it upon himself to personally teach me.

He's the most loyal guy I know, willing to drop anything to help his friends. I most definitely developed my kleptomaniac tendencies from him and despite how much I deny it, I have a soft spot for him.

Next, Kiara Carrera or Kie, my best and only girl friend. I met Kie during her first year at the Kook Academy, I had seen her around before, passing out leaflets about how 'we're killing our planet' and that 'the turtles deserve better'.

I was about to go fishing with my dad when I saw someone sitting at the dock, feet dangling in the water. Long story short: she was supposed to meet up with some of her 'friends' but they had sailed away leaving her behind. So, I asked if she would like to come fishing with us, half expecting her to say no, being partly a Kook and all, but she said yes. And now she's one of us, the Pogues. Not sure how her parents feel about that, but there is no denying I'm their favourite. Right?

There's Pope Heyward. I met Pope in the first grade. We were sitting beside each other at assembly and he dared to tell me that my singing voice sounded like cats dying, not that he was any better mind you. I had seen him around the cut a few times, helping his dad with deliveries and after seeing him struggle to carry four bags of groceries, I offered him some help. Of course, being a stubborn 6-year old boy, he delined saying 'I don't need your help, I'm super strong'. Safe to say, two seconds later I was carrying two bags and helped Pope and Mr Heyward with the rest of the deliveries that day.

I got an earful from my dad when I got home, but I didn't care, I'd made a friend that wasn't my brother. They didn't believe me when I said I had a friend called Pope, just brushing it off as one of my imaginary friends. Let's just say they got a fright when my 'imaginary friend, Pope' showed up at the Château.

Speaking of, up next, John Booker Routledge, John B. My twin, fraternal twin. Is 12 minutes older than me and will never let me forget it. My favourite memory with John B was when he fought to the death with our triplet in the womb. Okay, maybe that didn't happen, but you weren't there so, where's your evidence that it didn't?

He's my other half, not my better half because we all know I'm the better twin, and I couldn't live with him and his optimism. He can be irrational at times, but he always has plan A-Z mapped out in his head. I'm currently trying to convince him that we psychic powers, and by currently I'm mean from the day we were born. It's a weird sensation like there's a pit in the bottom of my stomach, and once I get that feeling I know that something's not right. And with a brother like John B, I get that feeling at least 3 times a day.

Might as well introduce myself whilst I'm at it. I'm Mason, Mason Routledge. The better twin. Yes, I too, have a middle name but I will never tell it to anyone because of how utterly embarrassing it is. I have managed to swear John B to secrecy, but I know it's just a matter of time before he blurts it out.

Now I know what you're probably thinking, 'Mason? That's a boys name.' Well yes, you'd be right but really what is a boys or girls name? The reason why I'm called Mason is simple, mom and dad were expecting twins. Twin boys. They had the names planned out as soon as they heard the news. One would be named John B after our dad, Big John, and the other would be named Mason, after our mom's dad. Makes sense, right?. Well, it was until I popped out, y' know not being a boy. But I love my name and I wouldn't change it for the world. My unspoken middle name, however, yes, I would rather that just not be associated with me.

I like to believe that I can hold my own, maybe it's because I grow up in a predominantly male household or the fact that I'm a Pogue, but I don't take peoples shit. My friends and I seem to always have the world against us, but without a doubt, I'd ride or die for them. They're my family.

Seeing the all too familiar hippie van parked at the side off the road brings me out of my autopilot state. Jumping off the longboard, I hurriedly shoved it into the back of the van. Fun fact about John B's van, he never locks it. There would be the fear about someone stealing it, but honestly, it's trashed and smells like weed, no thanks to JJ.

Quickly scaling the fence and as quietly as possible I tip-toed into the under-construction house and up the cement stairs, dodging the dangling wires and leftover pots of plaster.

'I can't believe they got rid of the turtles for this'

I'd know that voice anywhere. Peering around the corner, I spot Kie, hunched over a table reading what I'm assuming is maps for the house. Coming up with an idea, I slowly start to creep towards her, raising my hands just to clasp them down on her shoulders, "And what do you think you're doing?" I say in the deepest voice I can muster.

Jumping out her skin with a squeal, she spins around, hand over her heart, breathing heavily, "Macy, what the fuck? Don't do that," she exclaims, slapping my arm after she realises it was only me.

Unable to stop myself from laughing at her shock, "God, Kie, didn't know you had such a girly scream," I wheeze, arms wrapped around my stomach in an attempt to stop the ache.

Nodding her head pettily, "Yeah okay, you got me," clicking her tongue, but against her best efforts, a small smile dances across her face.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my giggles, "Once you're done with sad girl hours, come out back, I've got beer," making my way towards the open glass doors.

"Caring about the turtles doesn't make me a sad girl," she exclaims as I nod my head understandingly, "You keep telling yourself that," I wave stepping outside, breathing in the fresh ocean breeze.

From under the scaffolding, I see a pair of dangling legs, "Afternoon, boys," I announce, jumping up in an attempt to smack the dangling feet that I now know belong to JJ

"Did you get the goods?" asks John B causing me to hold my hand on my heart, mocking insult, "Do you have no faith in me Johnny boy," tosing him a beer, "Of course, I got the goods."

Holding one out for Pope, even though I knew he would decline, proving my point as he shook his head, "And where did you get said goods?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

Grabbing two beers, I begin to climb up the scaffolding, plopping down next to JJ, handing him a beer which he greatly excepts, "Are you question my morals?" I ask, taking a big gulp of my beer instantly wincing at the lukewarm taste.

"No, no," I hear him say, turning around, occupying himself with the builder's tools.

It a pretty view from up here. The calm crashing of the waves. The way the cold ocean and the warm sky meet for a perfect kiss on the horizon. Imagine living here. Having no worries. Being full Kook.

Glancing at the boy beside me, I see that he was already looking at me. Lifting my eyebrows in question, "You look cute," he cheekily says, picking at the loose thread on my sleeve.

"Very funny JJ," I saying, looking back out at the water, "No, I'm serious. I love a woman in uniform," nudging his shoulder into mine and I nudge him right back, "Hey," he laughs, dramatically falling to his side, "Watch the sweet nectar," holding his can of beer dearly to his chest.

Shaking my head, I turn to see John B scaling the house, jumping up to the peak of the roof, "Hey, please be careful, Johnny B, we don't earn enough to cover a medical bill," I warn sitting my beer beside me, using my hands to block the blinding sun, staring questionably at the boy.

"Oh, but you'd catch me though, right?" he says, now taunting the idea of falling, balancing on one foot with outstretched arms, "And break your fall? Nope," I popped, reach over to grab my can only to grasp the air. Looking at where I know I placed it, my confusion vanishes when I hear the sounds of slurping beside me.

Blinking at the boy, who just peers back at me after tanning my can, crushing it, and letting out a pleasant burp which he so graciously blows in my direction, "Gross, JJ," attempting to swat away the smell. The boy just shrugs, "What were you not done with that?" faux concern covering his face but his eyes glistening with knowing mischief.

"Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump. I'll shoot you on the way down," says Pope, aim a drill in my brother's direction, "You'll shoot me?" John B taunts, holding up a finger gun, "Pow," he laughs as Pope fall back onto the table pretending to be shot.

"They're going to have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," complains Kie, slugging her way onto the balcony, voicing her distaste for the future Kook's beach house.

"Didn't I tell you to come out when you were done being sad?", I direct, leaning my chin against the cold pole, feeling on top of the world as the fresh breeze blows through my hair.

That swiftly changes when Kie dashes towards my feet, tugging the laces on my converses loose as I hastily attempt to lift my feet away from her snapping fingers, "Go away!" I exclaim hugging my legs to my chest, tusking at her antics "God, you're annoying."

My comment doesn't affect her as she blows me a kiss which I can't help but catch, holding it to my heart sending a wink in her direction, "This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtle I guess?"

"Well, I did, but since you've-" I start, but the feeling of my shoe gets tighter distracts me, "...What are you doing?" I question as JJ finishes up my shoes, "You should double knot your laces," he comments, tapping his fingers in a random beat on the toe of my shoes.

Lightly, I begin to flick his hand away only for him to grab my wrist, fiddling with the silver ladybug charm on my bracelet, "Can I have this?" He has asked me this multiple times in the past and the answer has always been the same, "No."

"Can you please not kill yourself?" Kie squints up at my brother, "And don't spill that beer, you're not getting another one," JJ adds just as a sudden gust of wind brushed past causing John B to lose his balance and drop his beer.

Jinx.

"Oh, shit. No!" cries John B, making grabby hands at his fallen beer.

"Of course you did, like right when I told you."

"Smooth."

"Well done, dumbass!"

"Hey!"

The sound of a car pull up to the driveway halts our attack on John B, yelling being heard, "Hey, uh, securities here. Let's wrap it up," confirms Pope, making JJ and I raise to our feet as John B slides off the roof, "Boys are here early today."

Rushing over to grab my bag once my feet are back on the balcony, I lean over the railing squinting, "Gary? Is that you?" I asked, "You know it's me, Mason."

Turning around to look at friends, "It's Gary guys," I smile, "Gary, good to see you, man!" JJ adds and quickly pulls the back of my bag when he sees Gary climb up the stairs, "JJ!"

"You two, are asking for it," Kie laughs as we all rush back through the house, all of us laughing and cheering, running down the stairs, "Go, go!" I giggled as I Gary's attempts to grab me but I duck under his swinging arms, running out to the garden.

"Not much of a hugger man," JJs joke echoing off the empty wall of the house.

Running up beside Pope, I urge him up over the fence, "Come on, Pope, go, go, go," landing on the other side, watching as he lands flat on his face, "Graceful as always Pope," I giggle pulling him back on his feet.

"Come on Pope, Fatso's coming" JJ encourages, suddenly landing beside us just barely missing the hot-headed security who is dangling over the fence, "Come here, you little pricks!"

"Bus is leaving," John B pulls up the van honking the horn, Kie opening the door for us, laughing as we shove each other in. John B wastes no time hitting the gas, driving away from the angry security.

"Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise," Pope laughs as we watch a hopeless Gary chase after the van.

Having an idea, JJ unzips my bag and leans out of the open door, "Come on Gary," he taunts, waving the beer can in front of the man like you would a dog with a treat.

"You're going to give him a heart attack," Kie sympathises but still finds his actions amusing, "You're so close! You can do it. There you go," he tosses the can at the poor man who attempts to dodge it.

"God, they don't pay you enough, man" I laugh peering out the door, taking in the sight of Gray who is wheezing with his hands planted on his knees.

Seeing enough torture for one day, Kie tugs us back in, "That's enough," she says finally feeling sorry for the poor man, sliding the door close.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," reasons JJ, plopping down in the back of the van, now finding interest fiddling with the blunt he pulled from his back pocket.

I lean my head on Kie's shoulder and sigh, "I love Gary," I confess, earning a flick on the head from Pope and a nudge on the leg from JJ

We're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

Prologue: FIN!

What did you think?

I’m really excited to explore Mason’s character and her adventures with the Pogues. I have so much planned for her.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction <3

71 notes · View notes

winchester90210 · 5 years ago

Text

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x13: Slumber Party

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Junk food is had, secrets are exposed, and flings are revealed...

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, one minor make out scene.

Word count: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

The flashback is in italics.

Feedback is incredibly appreciated! :)

A/N: This is one of my favorite episodes! Hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry about the scheduling issue, next week should go as planned. Feedback on this chapter would be wonderful! :)

"Are you sure this thing isn't a slumber party?" Kelly criticizes. You open your locker as your friends begin to bicker on both sides of you. Something akin to petty surround sound.

"I told you! It's a night of female bonding-- a chance for us to get together and talk about what's important," Brenda explains.

"But we're doing it in our PJs," Donna interjects.

"Well, that would make sense unless you prefer to sleep in your clothes," You say, "Bren, I think it's a great idea. It could be fun!"

"Can we invite some guys to come over later? I mean, after we've talked and bonded and everything?" Kelly asks.

"Kelly, I thought what we wanted was an evening to ourselves where we don't have to think about guys, talk about guys, or worry about what we look like 'cause some guy is around. Isn't that what we said?" She nods, rolling her eyes. "So what's the problem?"

"Nothing!" She leans against the lockers, "Actually... there is one thing. I kinda made plans with this other friend of mine, Amanda Pacer. You don't know her, she's a senior, but we have been friends forever."

"So bring her," you suggest, taking out your history book and shutting your locker.

"Well... I know this may sound stupid, but I don't want her to think this is a slumber party... It's not a slumber party, right?"

"Brenda! Kelly, Y/N, and Donna are here to bond with you!" Brandon shouts up the stairs, laden in his all-white Peach Pit uniform. He looked so cute, this "no guy" rule was pointless. Especially when the said guys looked like that. "Hey Y/N/N," he kisses you softly, pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," you mumble. He gives you a hard, dizzying, coffee-flavored kiss as he slowly backs into the front door. You hum against him happily, "I'll pay you to stay, I'm serious. Cold hard cash." He grins, slipping his warm hands under the sides of your jacket, holding onto your hips gently.

"As much as I'd like to, I promised Nat I'd pick up this shift."

"Tell him you have other business to attend to. Like getting me out of this slumber party. Nat'll understand," you plead jokingly. One more soft, sweet kiss and he lets go of you. "Brandon..." he smiles at you adoringly and turns towards the other two girls waiting in the foyer, pretending that they weren't just watching everything you two were doing.

"Have fun, ladies," he swings the front door open and leaves as quickly as possible, knowing that if he stayed any longer you'd actually end up convincing him to stay. As one Walsh exits, another enters as Brenda comes down the stairs wearing a long, plaid nightshirt. But before she's even fully down the stairs, Kelly starts to complain.

"Brenda, this is really weird."

"Kelly, we are going to have fun! Where's Amanda?"

"Oh, she's coming later," She fidgets awkwardly, "She uh, wanted to bring her own car in case..."

"Something better came along," Donna interjects.

"I think this might be a little too down-home for her."

"Kelly, we're not going on hayrides," you cut in.

"Okay, we have chocolate ice cream,vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream!" Brenda announces as you pour the doritos into a bowl. It's a scramble of hands and junk food as you all grab what you want.

"Do you have any other cookies?" Kelly asks.

"Yeah! I think they're in the cupboard," Brenda nods.

"Oh, I love cookies smushed in ice cream!" Andrea beams, "it's the best."

"You ever put popcorn in ice cream?" Donna wonders. The group groans in disgust. "Hey, it's really good!" You hop on the counter next to where Donna is and grab a chip

"Well, there's microwave popcorn in a bowl over there, knock yourself out," Brenda giggles, handing you your bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Thanks," you smile, "Hey, Amanda, what do you want? Vanilla or chocolate?" You glance over to Kelly's friend as you help the girls put together their sundaes, and she's sitting alone at the kitchen table with her arms crossed, pouting.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

"Oh, come on, Amanda. You're gonna make us all look like pigs!" Kelly exclaims.

"You said it, I didn't," Amanda ostracizes. The room goes radio silent, but instead of bumming out the room, Brenda starts snorting like a pig at her while the rest of you laugh and pick up your junk food.

"Donna, that is so gross!" Kelly laughs, watching as her best friend shows vanilla ice cream and popcorn into her mouth all in one spoon. Your cheeks already hurt from laughing, but you couldn't stop smiling.

"I know, but I like it! I don't know why, but I do, okay?"

"This is something you can never do with guys," Kelly smirks, piling on the whipped cream to her sundae.

"What?" Andrea asks.

"Pig out!" The five of you giggle as Brenda turns to Amanda, who's once again decided to remove herself from the group.

"Do you eat on dates, Amanda?"

"Never. But I always order something expensive," her voice is sharp, and she's slumped back in the white chair in the far corner of the room.

"Why?"

"To let them know I'm worth it," she shrugs.

"I knew it was over for me and Steve when I started pigging out everytime we went out to eat," she scoffs.

"He never took you out to eat, Kelly," Donna giggles, and then everyone, (excluding Ms. Grump Pants, of course) bursts out in laughter.

"I am in... sugar shock." Brenda sighs, resting her head on your shoulder as you lean back onto the couch, smushed up against the other girls.

"I feel like I just gained ten pounds," Andrea groans.

"So, what do you guys want to do now?" Kelly ponders.

"Ooh, lets rent Pretty Woman!" Donna suggests.

"Donna, you've seen that movie 300 times," Kelly snickers.

"It's dependable. You know, sometimes I think about running away and becoming a hooker on Hollywood boulevard," she puts her fist up to her heart, fawning, "just so I can meet Richard Gere."

"There's only one problem... you're not Julia Roberts."

"Look, we're not going to rent a movie... or become prostitutes," you tease Donna, "The whole point of this was so we could talk. Andrea, go get your Ouija board."

You settle back down onto the couch after coming very close to crapping your pants because of what you thought was the Ouija board... which just ended up being David Silver sneaking creepy pictures of you guys through the window. You breathe deeply as your heart rate settles down. Amanda checks her watch and scoffs.

"It's after midnight."

"What, do frat boys turn into pumpkins?" Brenda bites sarcastically.

"No, they turn into drunken slobs." You sure made my night," she complains.

"Amanda, you didn't have to come!" Kelly barks.

"What? And miss all the fun? The party games?" She laughs sardonically, "I don't want to leave anymore. Everyone's ruined my night," she takes off her beige coat and throws it on the chair. "It's my turn to ruin their's. Okay everyone. I've got a game if you're up for it. Skeletons in the closet. Everyone sits in a circle, and the person in the middle has to answer all their questions as honestly as possible. The kind of question is up to you, whatever you feel like asking. Of course, the better the question, the better the game."

"Go ahead. Ask me anything," Andrea smiles nervously.

"Why does everybody call you 'Awwwndrea?'" Amanda starts.

"Excuse me?"

"What are you, British? I mean... Awwwwndrea?" Amanda guffaws.

"That is pretty pretentious," Kelly adds.

"Kelly," you warn her.

"It's pronounced both ways. But An-dree-uh is a little boring and common. I like to be different."

"Good answer," you smile.

"So, am I through?"

Amanda studies her carefully, "No. Not yet... have you ever slept with a guy before?" What the hell was wrong with this girl?

"That's... a little personal. But uh... no. No, I have never slept with a guy before. Yet."

"Well, if you could sleep with any guy in school, who would it be?"

Andrea chuckles anxiously, looking down at the ground. "Come on, you guys. I can't answer that..."

"Yeah, you can. You can trust us, Andrea... well," you glance at Amanda, "most of us, at least."

"Uh... I don't know. I guess... I guess uh..."

"Brandon?" Kelly cuts in.

"What?" You glare at Kelly.

"No." Andrea answers, "No. Not Brandon. No... it would have to be Hans Fleischman. He is this incredibly gorgeous lifeguard who pulled me out of the water when I was stung by a jellyfish at Zuma beach last summer." You adjust in your seat uncomfortably while the Kelly snickers in disbelief at Andrea. "Hey, what is this? Brandon is just a friend."

"Wait-- wait a second. Is this the same Brandon that's all over her everyday?" Amanda laughs out, "Sweetie... get a life. You like him. Everybody already knows." You sure didn't. "And he likes her." You don't even dare to look up from your thumbs. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Sure, you encouraged her to answer it but you didn't think it would be Brandon. You would feel weird comforting her, but you still feel weird just sitting there and letting her get harrassed.

"Okay... okay. So it-- it is Brandon." Her eyes well up as she stutters through her words. The room is silent for a moment before you hop to your feet.

"Well, this has been a blast," you huff, "I'm gonna go get a soda. Anyone else have plans to seduce my boyfriend? Kelly? Donna? Hey, how about you, Amanda?"

After Kelly's turn, to which she described her traumatic first sexual experience, and Brenda's where she describes how she betrayed her best friend back in Minneapolis... you were really starting to hate this game.

"Come on, Donna, you've gotta have some secrets," Kelly encourages.

"I don't! I tell you guys everything!"

"If you could go out with any guy in school, who would it be?!" Brenda asks. Let me guess, Brandon?

"Greg Houseman. You know that, she never stops talking about him," Kelly sighs.

"What is the most dishonest thing you've ever done?" You ask, curling your legs up to your chest. She pauses to think for a moment.

"Nothing..."

"Didn't anybody in your family go insane or something? Anything?"

"No... we're all really normal," she shrugs. The thing was, she's right. You've been to her house. Her mother is great, her dad's really nice, her house is perfect... she was completely normal.

"You know what your problem is, Donna?" Amanda prompts, "Your life is totally boring. Anyone who can't dredge up one secret about themselves is either lying or a total zero."

"That is not true," you snap.

"Why, what are you hiding, Y/N/N?"

"Nothing, Amanda."

"Oh, really? That's not what I hear... or what I've seen."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Get in the circle," she smirks, this time deviously. Dangerously. You follow her orders, moving from the floor to the chair.

"What's your favorite movie?" Brenda asks.

"Rebel without a Cause."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Baby pink," you watch Amanda out of the corner of your eye, getting more and more frustrated at the boring questions.

"Oh, come on! You guys are such a drag!" She leans forward, smirking, "What's going on with you and Dylan McKay?" You look at her confused.

"He's dating her," you gesture towards Brenda, "Not me." Amanda shakes her head immediately, as if she knew you were going to say that.

"Do I need to dumb it down for you, sweetheart? What happened at the Bel Age a few months ago, y'know, when you jumped him?"

"What?" Brenda says quietly, her voice breaking. She looks at you as tears start to brim her eyes.

"Bren, wait a second--"

"Did you sleep with my boyfriend?" Your jaw goes agape and you laugh sourly in shock.

"You really think I'd sleep with Dylan?!" A pit of guilt was forming in your stomach as you tensed up.

"I don't know what to think, Y/N! All I know is you two spend an awful lot of time together alone and now I'm hearing that you pounced on him!" she snaps. Oh my god. You couldn't believe this was happening.

"That's not what happened, Bren!"

"Fine!" She scoffs bitterly, "what happened, then?"

"So, I was at the Bel Age a few months ago, Brandon had just gotten the job at the Peach Pit..."

"I don't wanna go home yet," you told him. The Porsche rumbled as Dylan warmed it up. He raised an eyebrow at you as he leaned back.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you want to take me." Those would be words you would later come to regret. Asking a hot guy with a leather jacket and a Porsche to have his way with you? Bold move. Dumb move, too. He could've taken you anywhere. Baja, the abandoned elementary school, anywhere. But where did he take you? The Bel Age hotel.

When you walked in he popped the radio on and you sat down as a Gloria Estefan song played quietly throughout the hotel room. Dylan was over at the wet bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch. Looking back, it was the only time you'd ever seen him drink something in moderation.

"You drink?" He asked, looking back at you.

"I could start," you shrug. And that was the first of many bad decisions you'd make in that hotel room. He grabs a second pint glass, but you weren't paying much attention to him as he clanked around, trying to pour you something that wouldn't make you gag.

He hands you the concoction and sits down beside you, his legs against yours. A little closer than normal, but you didn't think anything of it. Fidgeting anxiously, you began to drink whatever it was he gave you. It was new, being alone with him like that. Sure, you could hang out with him in groups but... just you and him? You tilted the glass back, letting the smooth and surprisingly digestible liquor flow down your throat until there was nothing left in your glass. This stuff was supposed kill anxiety, right? He eyes you up. Peculiarly, but not critically.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah, you could say that." He would continue to fill your glass, and his own, for that matter, all night. He'd put on his Road House VHS tape somewhere in the middle. And you were watching it. You really were. But as the movie went on longer, you got closer. A fairly innocent movie night (the first of many) turned into a night full of regrets.

His hand was on your leg right before the first kiss happened, thumb drawing dizzying little circles on your thigh as he watched the movie. You're sure if you showed any signs of discomfort he would've stopped-- that fact gave you peace in the moment. But the last thing you wanted him to do was stop. So he didn't. And neither did you. It wasn't until later, when his lips were trailing down your jaw, hands pushing your dress up, and his own white t-shirt was somewhere on the floor next to you. That's when it came to a crashing halt. Removing his lips from your neck, he sighed.

"What is it?" You asked. The air between you two was intense, sensitive. One move and he'd be back on top of you, starting the cycle all over again.

"What about Minnesota?" He slides you off of his lap in one swift motion, but his hand was lingering on your hip.

"What about Brandon?"

"Come on, you've seen how he is around you. I don't want to get in the way of that, mess anything up."

"You're not messing anything up. If Brandon was interested he would've made a move already."

Cut to you, current day, girlfriend of the mentioned boy, "Hah... whoops."

"But either way... this is a bad idea, isn't it?" You sheepishly picked up the shirt from the floor and handed it back to him. "So," you cleared your throat, "Friends?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, fiddling with the shirt in his hand. The energy in the room was different then, awkward. Laughable. But friendly.

"And that was it," you finish, "We're friends. Kissing him now would be no different than kissing Donna or Kelly."

"You wouldn't have kissed him if you didn't like him!"

"I do like him. As a friend," you plead, "Bren, I've been supporting you guys since day one, I would never do something to hurt you." You search her eyes for something. A little bit of waivering, forgiveness, pity. Anything at this point. Stupid Amanda and her stupid skeleton game. Brenda avoids your gaze for a moment.

"And nothing's happened since then?" She chokes out. You see her shoulders rise and fall as she takes in a shaky breath.

"Nothing's happened since then."

She lets out a deep sigh, almost out of relief, but tears are still threatening to spill from her eyes "Okay... I guess I understand." As she says that, it's like every muscle in your body lets go of the stress it had been holding for the past few weeks. You really hate secrets.

"Uh, Bren... I have a confession to make," Kelly pipes up from the side of the room, "After you started going out with Dylan I tried to get a date with him." Oh shit.

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou

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bleepblopbloop56 · 5 years ago

Text

The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 3: 2 buttons

Chapter one, chapter 2, ao3

Warnings: slight suggestive content around the end (not too bad), murder/character death

As always @pathos-logical did an increble amount of work on this and everyone should go give her all the love

"Dada!" Logan could hear Patton's protest from the other room, which was quickly followed by the sound of unsteady footsteps that grew louder and louder until his one-year-old had run straight into his legs. He finished buttoning up his shirt before leaning down and lifting the child into his arms. Logan was the last person on earth you'd expect to want a child, and in a way he didn't. Or at least, he hadn't, not at first. About 16 months ago, his best friend had died giving birth to Patton, and all hopes of becoming "Uncle Logan" were thrown out the window and replaced with "dada".

His roommate Virgil walked in the room after the child, a small grin on his face. "The lil rugrat keeps getting away from me!" he laughed, sitting on Logan's bed. "I don't think he wants you to leave." Logan bounced the baby on his hip before handing him down to Virgil, earning a soft "nooo" from the child.

"Thank you for watching him Virgil, I really can't tell you how much you're helping me." Logan shifted his attention back to Patton and smiled, poking his nose lightly. "Dada's gonna be gone for a while, okay?" The baby shook his head furiously, pouting before stretching out his arms and making grabby hands. Powerless to resist that face, Logan picked him up and began to bounce him again.

"Pattttonnn," he sing-songed. "I gotta go, baby, or else I'll be late." He smiled at the boy clutching his shirt while trying to discreetly check his watch to see how long he had till he needed to leave. "Go to Uncle Vee now, okay?" Despite having lived with Virgil as long as he had lived with Logan, Patton had never really latched on to him the way he had Logan, deeming "Uncle Vee" as tolerable but not preferred- probably because of Virgil's piercings, tattoos, loud music, and overall gloomy vibe.

Logan slowly pulled Patton off his shirt and placed him back in the arms of his roommate and friend.

"Fix your hair before you go out," Virgil commented, standing up with the baby and tossing Logan's hair around with his hand. Logan looked in the mirror to see a "messy on purpose" look much more suited to Remy than him.

"What was wrong with how I had it before?" he asked, flinching and covering his glasses when Virgil brought the hairspray to his hair.

"Too neat. If you really want this dude to like you, ya gotta loosen up." Virgil winked at him before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his dark navy shirt.

"This isn't a date, Virgil, this is a meeting between two friends to discuss the loss of… an acquaintance," Logan sniffed, but the shirt remained the way it was.

Patton let out a big yawn, arching his body before settling into Virgil's side. He seemed to have resigned himself to his fate and decided now was a perfect time for a nap. Virgil effortlessly adjusted his hold on him before quirking a pierced eyebrow at Logan. "Oh really? Your ex-boyfriend strolls into your life after you lose your mutual best friend, and now you're meeting up for the first time since the breakup." Virgil walked to the corner of Logan's room where Patton's small baby bed was set up, laying him down gently. "I've seen enough telenovelas to know that this will end with a makeout session in the rain."

Logan rolled his eyes before stuffing his wallet and phone in his back pocket. He leaned down and kissed Patton's head softly, whispering a soft "love you" to the sleeping baby before making his way to the door.

"Be home by 10!" Virgil called playfully, careful to make sure not to wake up the baby.

"I am not a child, Virgil, I do not require a curfew," he joked, smiling back at his friend. He walked out the door and softly clicked it closed as he made his way down his apartment's hallway.

"Is!"

"Isn't!"

"Is!!"

"ISN'T!"

"IS!" Remus shouted over Roman, laughing loudly before kicking his legs out, only to be silenced to a pillow to the face.

"It. Isn't. A. Date!" Roman punctuated each syllable with another whack of the pillow, earning himself a kick in the gut. Amazing how even after twenty years they acted like they did when they were five.

Remus kicked Roman again, shoving him into the floor and also probably leaving a considerable bruise.

"Jesus fuck," Roman groaned, "do you always have to play so rough?" He lifted his shirt to observe the red mark on his stomach, flinching as he prodded at it.

Roman ignored Remus' whiny "It's not my fault! You were trying to kill me!" and pulled himself up, picking through the mess on the floor to look through Remus' closet for anything he could pass off as acceptable fashion. Unfortunately, his twin's taste in clothing was… very different from his own, to say the least.

It had been three days since he and Logan had agreed to meet up, three days since Thomas has been murdered, three days since he'd last returned to his and Thomas' house. It hurt too much to go back now- he needed time.

"Why the hell is everything you wear straight out of a clown's formal wear catalog?" Roman sneered, holding up a neon green polka-dotted suit jacket before dropping it in the trash can. Really, it was a wonder anything was hung up at all, considering the state of the house Remus was currently infesting.

"Shut up and take what you can get!" Remus snapped, coming up and scanning the closet beside his brother. He reached in and yanked out a black pencil skirt before shoving it into Roman's hands. "There, that'll get you some detective D," he leered, wiggling his eyebrows. It took every ounce of self-restraint Roman had to not fucking deck the man in the face.

"I had planned on wearing pants," Roman scowled, thinking of how cold the walk back home could get, but he folded the skirt over his arm nonetheless. After some more bickering and insults, Remus managed to dig up a plain red short-sleeved button-up for him from the bottom of his drawers.

"Do you have any makeup?" Roman called from the bathroom, frantically smoothing out his shirt from where it was tucked into his skirt, trying to keep it from leaving any weird bumps or wrinkles.

"Why the fuck would I have makeup?!" Remus yelled back. ‘Probably for the best,’ Roman decided. ‘Spending another minute in this bathroom might be hazardous to my health.’

"I don't know," Roman complained, stepping out of the bathroom and pulling on a pair of Remus' shoes. "You paint your nails and own a fucking pencil skirt, it doesn't exactly seem like you've fallen victim to toxic masculinity." He very maturely stuck his tongue out at Remus as he took out his phone to check the time. He glanced down, and then again with disbelief. Shit. He'd spent way too much time bickering with his brother, and now he was running late.

"If I'm not back by midnight, don't come looking for me," Roman winked. It was an old joke- they used to say that to each other every time they snuck out of the house for a date or to hang out with friends.

"Aha! So you admit it's a date!" Remus cheered, leaning forward for effect. Roman simply slammed the door in his face and began his trek to the restaurant.

The restaurant was bustling. Friday nights were the busiest for all of the restaurants in the area, especially the nice ones. Roman had picked the place, although the reason he would choose such a nice place for a friendly gathering was beyond Logan.

As per usual, Logan had arrived early and seated himself in a booth near the back of the restaurant. Today, however, he was regretting his punctuality for multiple reasons. First of all, the restaurant's dim lighting, supplied by fake candles and an overly gaudy chandelier, called back to other times he had waited on Roman at some fancy restaurant for date night, and the longer he waited, the harder it was to suppress those memories. Second, the more time passed, the more self-conscious Logan got. After seeing all the men in nice suits and ties pass by, he was starting to regret letting Virgil mess up his hair instead of sticking with the neat slicked-back look he wore on a daily basis.

And third, Logan had been waiting for so long he was beginning to suspect Roman had backed out on him. Just as he was promising himself he'd leave after another five minutes, he saw a man in a red shirt and tight black skirt squeeze his way through the restaurant.

"Hi, I'm sorry I'm so late!" Roman rushed out. His expression went from apologetic to annoyed in a second as he said, rolling his eyes: "Problems with my brother, he can be a real bitch sometimes."

The explanation startled a laugh out of Logan. Roman's exasperation looked so genuine that Logan couldn't doubt him, and… it was nice to see that Roman hadn't changed after all this time. He waved off Roman's worry, who smiled with relief before sitting down and picking up a menu. "Wine?"

Roman giggled as Logan pushed him against his car. Okay, so maybe after a bottle of wine it was… more or less a date.

Logan's hands pulled at Roman's shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing his hands under the fabric. It had been so long since they'd kissed like this- far too long since Logan had kissed anyone, really, and Ethan had never used to kiss Roman like this, like he was the center of his universe.

Logan ran his hands over Roman's stomach, accidently pressing on the fresh bruise. Roman winced and pulled away, pushing at Logan's hands.

Logan backed away immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked seriously, brown eyes wide and sparkling down at Roman with concern. Roman chuckled and pulled up his shirt, showing off the now red and blue bruise.

"Remus," he sighed wearily. "You know how he is." He leaned back in and connected his lips to Logan's, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and dragging him down in a much less heated kiss.

"Can we go back to yours?" Roman asked quietly. This was really what he needed after things ended badly with Dee. Even if they could just snuggle like they used to, it'd make everything seem okay again.

Logan shook his head. "I can't," he winced regretfully. "I have a child now, Ro, and Virgil's still there with us…" He trailed off, fiddling with his glasses. Roman smiled softly and nodded- not pushing, not asking for more. They'd just have to wait.

"I could give you a ride back to Remus' if you'd like," Logan offered instead. "Making you walk home after, ah, that, seems rude." He laughed a little awkwardly, his smile a little strained, but Roman only nodded and pulled open the passenger door he was pushed up against only moments before.

When Roman returned home just before 1 am, it was to find Remus lying dead on the kitchen floor, a golden mask with a deep frown adorning his face. Just like how he'd found Thomas…

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

@cataclysm-al @theteenagetrickster @intrurality-fusion @katie-the-noble-fangirl @whizzie72 @grayson-22 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing 'm-d0ing @winterwonderland7669 @missieluvsmurder @sign-from-god-complex @dragonindigo245 @angryfanboyscreaming @ninja-wizard101 @sombraookami @crystalistrappedintheinternet @imtooaromanticforthis @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @dragon-hair @satanblessi @spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence @skruffy901 @selectivereality

#thomas sanders #sander sides #the murder in the dressing room #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #logince

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