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reds-ramblings · 3 years ago

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Apple Doesn't Fall Far - Part 4

Jake's P.O.V.

It's been almost two weeks that I've been in East View and I'm not any closer to figuring out what happened to MC. I've revisited all the places she used to go. I keep hoping I will run into her on the street or in a restaurant or even on campus but it's as if she never existed. Honestly, if I hadn't met her and spent that night with her I would question whether or not she was even real.

The first week of my new job is almost over. It is my first actual teaching job and I've enjoyed it. I've met so many bright young kids. The most surprising of those kids being one of the youngest in the program, Grace Carter. She's incredibly smart. I'll admit on her first day when she got a perfect score on the computer knowledge test I was convinced she had cheated but after speaking with some of the other teachers I believe she really is that smart. Suddenly there's a knock on my office door pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Come in," I call out and the door opens revealing Gracie standing there with her laptop.

"Mr. McKnight, can you help me with writing this program? I keep getting errors in the coding." She says.

"Sure. Let's see what you got." I say motioning for her to come in. I'm surprised she needs help considering she's usually ahead on everything.

"I'm doing the assignment where you have to write the program in python to calculate how many months it will take to save enough money to buy a house." She says sitting down and putting her laptop on my desk.

"Gracie we haven't even gotten to this assignment yet. You're working really far ahead."

"I finished everything from this week already and I just want to learn as much as I can while I'm here." She says

I lean forward and push her laptop closed causing her to give me a horrified look. "When's the last time you ever just acted like a kid?" I ask her.

"Umm, I don't know." She shrugs her shoulders.

"Well, this can wait. There are no classes today so today you get to act like a kid." I tell her.

"Why?"

"Because I spent years of my life doing nothing but sitting behind a computer. It's not a fun life especially for a kid. Come on," I get up walking towards the door. "There's an ice cream shop on campus and I'm taking you there." I'm not sure why but I felt instantly drawn to Grace the first time I met her. For some reason, I feel like we were destined to meet each other. Maybe it's because she just needs a positive role model in her life like many of the kids I mentor.

We get to the ice cream shop on the other side of campus. Gracie walks up to the counter looking at all of the flavors.

"You can get anything you want." I tell her.

"Really?" She says with wide eyes.

"What can I get for you." The lady behind the counter asks and I nod at Gracie to order.

"Two scoops of cookies and cream with hot fudge and strawberries." She says and I can't help but give her a shocked look. "I know everyone thinks I'm weird for eating strawberries with cookies and cream but it's my favorite."

"And for you sir?" The lady asks me.

"I'll have the same," I say. This time it's Gracie's turn to look shocked. "I wasn't giving you that look because I thought it was weird. I was giving you that look because that's my favorite too."

We get our order and sit down at a table in the corner.

"What got you interested in programming?" I ask curiously.

"Well, it's something I've been interested in as long as I can remember. I've always been interested in both the hardware and software of computers. My mom even let me build my own computer but it took a while to persuade her. She says I get all this from my dad but I wouldn't know I've never met him." She says with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"I'm sorry, Gracie. I've never met my father either so I know how it feels to always wonder about that part of you."

"Does he know you exist?" She asks

"He does. He was engaged when him and my mother got together. When my mother found out she was having me he decided he didn't want anything else to do with her or me. He refused to acknowledge me and he even refused to let me have his last name. Once I became an adult I decided I didn't want to know him. I do have two younger sisters by him and we have become pretty close over the years." I'm not sure why I am telling this kid my life story but it just felt right.

"My dad was apparently some wanted criminal. My mom refused to tell him about me and she refuses to tell me who he is. She's afraid I'll look for him and she's right I definitely would. I know I am named after his sister but I don't really know anything else." She sighs and I can tell she's trying hard not to cry. "I often wonder what he would think if he did meet me. Would he like me? Would he be happy I'm following in his footsteps or would he try to talk me out of it like my mom does? I hope he would like me and be proud to have a kid like me. "

"Gracie, you're an amazing kid. I don't think there's anyone on this planet who wouldn't be proud to call you their daughter. If I'm ever lucky enough to have a daughter I hope she's like you." I try to reassure her. Hearing her talk about the father she never met breaks my heart.

"Are you from here Mr. McKnight?" She says obviously wanting to change the subject.

"You can call me Jay and no I'm from a town in Germany named Colville. What about you?"

"I live about three hours away in Bellview."

"Oh wow. You're pretty far away from home. I bet your mom is worried about you being so far away at your age." I say.

"Yeah she almost didn't let me come but my aunt helped me talk her into it."

"Is she going to be able to come to parent day Saturday?" I ask hopeful that I get to meet one of the people responsible for creating this brilliant child.

"Yeah if she can get off work in time she will."

"Alright, we should probably head back." I grab our trash and walk over to the can to throw it away.

"Now will you help me with the assignment?" She pleads.

"Do you really want to spend your day off coding?" I ask raising my eyebrow at her.

"Yes!"

"Ok fine. I'll help you."

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

Marabella's P.O.V.

The house is so quiet and I don't know what to do with myself without Gracie here. I've been sitting here on the couch flipping through the channels for what feels like hours.

"Oh come on you have to stop moping around." Anna says throwing herself on the couch beside me.

"That's easy for you to say. I've never been away from Grace for more than a few hours." I say grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to my chest.

"It's just a few weeks it's not like she's actually gone off to college." She laughs.

"Ugh, I don't even want to think about that." I groan.

"You know, you could take this opportunity to start dating again. I haven't heard you even talk about a guy in years."

"And you won't hear me talk about any."

"You can't possibly still be hung up on Grace's dad." She says with a disgusted tone.

"I'm not hung up on him." I roll my eyes. "I just don't want to be with anyone else."

"Seriously Mara?"

"So anyways parent day is Saturday." I say needing to change the subject.

"Are you going to be able to get off work to go?" She asks.

"I hope so. I have to work but I am going to try to leave early. The first few hours there's a meet and greet with the teachers. I really want to be there to meet this Jay McKnight guy Gracie hasn't stopped talking about."

"Oh, does she have a crush on the teacher?" Anna asks.

"I don't know if that's what it is or if she just idolizes him. He took her out for ice cream. I'm not sure how I feel about this. He told her she needed to stop spending so much time behind her computer and needed to enjoy being a kid. In a way, I'm thankful for that because you know how she is with that damn computer. You just hear all these horror stories and I'm trying not to be creeped out by the guy before I have a chance to meet him." I say trying not to sound too overprotective.

"Maybe he's just trying to be a good role model? She doesn't have a father so I think it's good that she has some sort of male figure in her life."

"Yeah but he's also encouraging her to do all the things I try to keep her from doing." I groan

"We've been over this you have to let her live her own life." She says taking the pillow I've been hugging and smacking me with it.

"In case I can't get off work in time will you drive down there and I can just meet you when I get off? I would feel better knowing at least one of us could meet him and see what kind of person he is." I ask

"Sure I can do that. Who knows I might meet my next husband while I'm there." She laughs.

#duskwood #duskwood community #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #iamjake #duskwoodfanfic #jake duskwood #jake x mc #Apple Doesn't Fall Far

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

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Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura imagine #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #dabi #bnha fanfiction #bee.writes

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n0wornever · 4 years ago

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Big Reputation - Luke Patterson x Reader

Can u do a luke x reader where luke pretends to be a bad student (helps with his rockstar reputation) but is actually really good at school subjects. The reader has been having trouble in a class and luke is recruited by the teacher to tutor her?

I LOVE THIS IDEA I’M SQUEALING, THANKS ANON, I hope you like it!

“Y/N, I’m sorry...there isn’t much else I can do to help you dear,” Ms. Clementine said, staring up at the girl with wide eyes. “All my tutoring sessions are booked up for the next week or so, but I will try to definitely get you in the next time around?”

The girl nodded, sliding her test with bright red F spilled across the top back into her hands. She had failed another math test and she was certain that her mother was going to go ballistic as soon as she walked in the door and showed her the most recent mark she’d received. She really did try to focus this time, but her brain couldn’t seem to calculate the formulas correctly no matter how hard she tried.

“The good news is, is that we still have several other homework assignments and three more tests coming up, you have a lot of time to make up your grade.”

Y/N tried to gather her burgeoning negative thoughts as she forced a smile onto her face. She held the paper to her chest as she paced quickly toward the door. As her eyes turned toward the open hallway, her path was blurred by a vision in all black.

She recognized the boy in front of her, Luke Patterson. His band had recently made their big break and opened for a late night show at The Orpheum and ever since, the school had been buzzing about the band members. He was in three of her classes, and although he seemed very charismatic on stage, he sat pretty still in class. She did take note that his posse was absent from this course, and they were rarely ever seen away from each other. Her eyes fell to the rings resting against his knuckles that were pinched in a soft fist and his chain that rattled against his black cargo pants before her view shifted to his face.

Luke studied her with cautious eyes, his lips pulled straight across in an emotionless gaze. She quickly pointed her attention back toward the door and started walking faster. As she finally hit the open doorframe, a voice called her back inside the room.

“Y/N, wait just a moment please.”

She spun around on her heels, eyes falling on the teacher’s beckoning hand. She walked slowly up to her desk, keeping her distance from the brooding student that stood to her left. Ms. Clementine pointed at Luke with a smile before addressing her again.

“Y/N, you know my star student Luke Patterson... right?”

Star student? She questioned internally. It wasn’t that she had ever thought that Luke was dumb. She took notice to how quickly he finished exams and how often people asked to be paired with him for group work, but she assumed it was always to schmooze him for tickets to the next Sunset Curve show, not to raise their grades. Luke’s lyrics were always ripe with rebellion, so the idea of the eyeliner-clad, angst-driven teen being anything more that sticking to the status quo in terms of high school academia.

The older woman pointed between the two students, that knowing grin still laid on her face.

“I have an idea that may help both of you,” She said as she tapped her pen against the wood desk below her.

“Y/N you do need help with raising your grades...”

Y/N shifted her weight to her other foot as she listened to her teacher talk, refusing to make eye contact with the boy she could already feel staring at her.

“And Patterson over here needs a stellar recommendation letter to get into that ivy league program.”

The girl’s eyes shifted over to him, his falling toward the window. Ivy league? She wasn’t even sure that Luke would go to college with the band taking off. Y/N’s eyes fell onto the reddish hue that took over the boy’s neck as he continued to refrain from making eye contact. Y/N looked back over at her teacher, who shook her head at the boy before shifting her eyes back to the girl.

“So I think that it would be a perfect plan for both you and for Luke here,” The boy’s eyes fell back toward the conversation at hand. “Is for him to be your new tutor!”

Luke opened his mouth seemingly to protest, but Ms. Clementine placed her hand up, silencing him.

“Luke, I would be able to writing a glowing review of the extra time that you took to help a fellow student, and Y/N here could pass my class with flying colors with your assistance!” The woman clapped her hands in glee as she spoke.

Y/N’s gaze crawled over to him again. His eyes were firmly planted on the floor with his fists now tightly wound at his sides. The room went silent for a moment as neither student replied. Y/N looked back over to her teacher with pleading eyes and the older woman turned to the boy. As she was about to speak, Luke’s head perked up and he nodded.

“Are you free at 3 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays?”

The girl swallowed hard, unable to formulate her next thought. Instead, she simply nodded in his direction. His gaze swirled around her face for a moment before her gave her a quick smile. If she would have blinked, she’d probably had missed it. But it’s quick presence still sizzled enough to warm her cheeks.

“Cool, I’ll meet you at the library then, starting today.”

With that he stuck his hands in his pockets and moved toward his desk. Y/N turned to the right to thank her teacher before scurrying out of the classroom. Her brain started spiraling the moment she entered the crowded hallway, her eyes searching for her best friend Grace.

She saw the girl leaning against the stairwell in front of her, scrolling through her phone. Y/N practically ran to her friend, almost taking her down to the ground as she grabbed the girl’s arms as she reached her. Grace looked at her wide-eyed with a smirk on the left side of her face sliding forward at the nervous state Y/N presented back to her, hands. shaking at her sides as she released her grip on her.

“What is up with you, incredible hulk,” Grace asked, rubbing up and down on her arms.

Y/N pulled her into the less rowdy side hallway in a huff. The girl pulled her taller friend behind her, leading her to the outdoor plaza in the middle of the school, Grace giggling as she trailed along. As they made it to their final destination, she leaned against the window as she crossed her arms at her chest, waiting for her best friend’s urgent answer. Y/N took a second to catch her breath before talking.

“I,” She took in breath of fresh air, pointing a finger toward her awaiting friend. “Ms. Clementine assigned a new tutor to me to help with my grades.”

Grace rolled her eyes “That’s what all this fuss is about?”

Y/N shook her head, leaning next to her friend. She turned to face her with wide eyes.

“My tutor is, Luke Patterson.”

Grace’s mouth gaped open, staring at the girl. She pushed off the wall and walked in front of her friend.

“You mean Sunset Curve’s Luke Patterson?” She tapped her finger against her chin. “Huh, I never took him for a scholar.”

“Me either,” Y/N whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Why are you so nervous? You two barely know each other...” Grace asked with an eyebrow raised.

Y/N sighed loudly. She knew that she barely knew him, but that’s exactly what made it so nerve-wracking. She was okay hanging out one-on-one with people she knew quite well, but the second she was left alone with a stranger she froze like an icicle in the middle of December.

“Exactly Grace! I don’t know him, you remember the last time with that group project?”

Grace nodded, letting a little giggle escape her lips “You mean when you almost had a panic attack on Reggie’s kitchen floor because he asked you what you thought about the slideshow he created?”

“EXACTLY,” Y/N was shouting at this point, running her hands through her hair.

Grace looked at her friend with a sympathetic smile. She moved back over to the window to sit next to her, the girl’s head falling onto her shoulder.

“It will be okay love, you can text me at any moment you’re feeling anxious, and excuse yourself to the bathroom. I’ll stick around for an hour after school just to make sure you’re alright.”

Y/N took a deep breath, mumbling a thank you in her best friend’s direction and Grace placed a kiss on the girl’s head.

Y/N headed over to the library exactly five minutes before three. As she walked in, she waved at the librarian that often let Grace and her avoid the cafeteria by turning a blind eye as they ate their sandwiches in between the stacks. Finding an open spot by the window, she set her bookbag on top of the empty table. She took out her textbooks and sank down, finally let herself rest against the chair.

At exactly 3 p.m., he walked in. He met her gaze with wide eyes, shaking his head at her. She tilted her head to the side as she watched him speedwalk toward her. He grabbed her book off the table and tapped against the hardwood.

“Nope, too public, come on.”

She stood up and grabbed her bag, throwing it over her shoulder, rushing to keep up with him. She followed him down the narrow corridor toward the bathrooms. She furrowed her brows in confusion as Luke turned to her. He pointed at a door on the lefthand side and then stepped forward to push it open. The small stairwell led them down to the basement where a lot of the archived newspapers and anthologies were stored. Y/N could smell the books as soon as she entered the room, letting her eyes closed as she breathed in their scent.

Luke slammed her book down on the table near the film reading machine and smiled sheepishly at her. She moved toward the other side of the table and sat down without another word. Luke eased into the chair across from her, leaning his head against his fist resting on the table.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

She turned to meet his eyes, biting down on her bottom lip. “Is this where you kill me?”

Luke’s face broke out into a full smile at that point, unable to hold back the full-blown cackle that racked through his ribs. She watched as his head fell back as he laughed, letting a small smile fall onto her lips too. As he rose to meet her eyes again, the smile stayed.

“You’re funny, huh?”

When she didn’t answer, he spoke up again. “I don’t want people to getting the wrong idea.”

“What, that you’re a secret genius? How terrible!”

She shrugged, pursing her lips as her shoulders rose. Luke’s jaw locked as he looked at her for another moment, a smirk rising to the right side of his face.

The silence hung a bit too long and Y/N knew her cheeks were growing redder by the minute. She shifted her focus back to the textbook below her.

“So, where do you want to start?”

She forced her eyes to meet his again and his regular scowl was back in rotation. He placed his pencil behind his ear, looking off into the corner of the room for a moment before holding her gaze again.

“Next week’s quiz is the last one on chapter 9, so let’s start there.”

She nodded at him, flipping the book open and diverting her gaze to the pages of text. She heard his voice ask a question over her head.

“What’s the most difficult question for you on the last homework assignment?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, if she was honest, she’d say all of it. But she knew they only had an hour a day, three days a week. So she pulled out her marked up piece of notebook paper. She tried to hold it close to her to hide the red from his eyes, but she knew the marker ran through the paper. She gave in and laid the paper flat on the table, and pointed to the fourth problem in the first row.”

“Probably question D, I don’t even remember her talking about this ever??”

He leaned over her shoulder, looking at her paper. She tried not to think about the woodsy aroma of his cologne that wafted close to her as he did, trying to focus her attention the paper shaking in her hand.

“Ahhh no, that’s a tough one.”

He leaned back over to his side, pulled out his red folder and brought out the same worksheet. She watched as he looked over his work before turning to her again. He looked over to her paper and read over the equation she had written. Y/N let her eyes gaze over to the clock on the wall, not wanting to watch as he realized how terrible she really was at math.

“You literally made the tiniest mistake,” he said with a chuckle.

She turned her head and looked at him, his crooked smile directed right at her. She look of confusion fell into a pout as she tilted her head at him. He pointed down at the paper and walked her through the entire problem. As they reached the end, Y/N fell back into her chair with a groan.

“You’re literally telling me I just forgot to carry the 1?” She said as she nervously gnawed at the end of her pencil.

He squinted one eye as he braced for his next statement. “Afraid so, that seems to be the only issue with your process.”

She lifted her head to the ceiling, shaking it as she laughed angrily at herself. As her gaze fell back to the table, she saw him already looking at her with a strange look, his eyes were wide and the line across his forehead sat tensed.

“What?” She asked, letting her hands rest on the table.

“You’re a little too hard on yourself.”

That statement sent a shock through her system. His soft eyes and worried gaze was galaxies beyond what she expected Luke Patterson to be like. Her eyes fell to his hand where his fingers anxiously tapped against the table. He was waiting for her to respond. She pulled herself together, meeting his eyes again with a forced grin pulling at her lips.

“No, it’s just that....I’m just really bad at math.”

Luke peered over to her paper again and her heartbeat rose. She watched as he scanned all the bright little dots and checkmarks before returning his eyes back to her face.

“No, like a lot of this stuff is really easy to fix.” His hand moved to point at a problem. “You just get to about the middle and slip up a bit, which derails the final answer. Totally fixable, you’re on the right track.”

She shook her head at him “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He let out another laugh, eyes crinkling at the impact. “Did you expect me to be terribly mean?”

She paused for a moment, word vomit spilling out from her mouth without giving her a warning.

“Honestly? Yeah, a little bit.”

Luke brought his elbow up to the table, letting his cheek rest inside his hand. He let a small smile spread across his face as he looked at her, biting down on his bottom lip.

“I do love to prove people wrong, so I’m going to take your wide-eyed look of confusion as a compliment.”

She immediately dropped her gaze, giggling down at the table. She looked back up and his eyes were on the stacks, monitoring the collection of old papers that lined the shelves.

“You know, I don’t think it makes you less rock and roll to be good in school,” She finally said, her tone coming out in a soft whisper. “You don’t need to hide in the basement of the library.”

His gaze pointed back at her and she immediately stiffened. She had pushed too far, she thought as she looked at his pensive face. But a smile fell onto his cheeks quickly after, sending a sigh of relief though her.

“You’re probably right,” He admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m not necessarily hiding anymore with you here.”

The left side of her mouth rose as she held his gaze. The two sat in silence, staring dreamily at one another for a moment. Finally Luke broke the silence by clearing his throat and looking at toward her worksheet again.

“Ready to try another one?”

She let her eyes fall on his side profile for a moment before responding.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She waited to hear that chuckle again before looking down at the paper in front of her again.

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#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfiction #jatp #julie and the phantoms

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 4 years ago

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Jealous | Draco Malfoy (prompt request)

Request: yes, by anon. Anon requested the following: Hiii! Could I please request a Draco Malfoy x reader with prompts 5,14,15 ? Fluffy 🥺🥺with a hint of angst if you can X)

Word count: 3,342

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader

Note: My requests are still open, but before you request from the prompt list, please check out the updated version. Thank you so much!

Draco Malfoy was a little bit possessive when I came to his group of friends. He had troubles with trusting someone, and getting attached to them, but when he did, all his insecurities came out. His trust issues were paired with the constant fear of losing those people, but instead of telling them how he felt, he chose the easier way and hid his feelings and fears behind the mask of an arrogant son of a bitch. He was overprotective, but supportive, jealous and hot-headed, and on top of them, stubborn as hell. Only a few people were willing to give him enough time to prove that he was actually a nice person, who was only misunderstood and troubled when it came to talking about feelings or letting his guards down. He was popular, but not for what he really was. He was well-known for being a bully, an arrogant twat, an overdramatic troublemaker and the biggest hater of mudbloods. Only his closest friends knew the real Draco Lucius Malfoy, and he was fine by that. He always thought quality was way more important than quantity. He might have thought of himself as someone who was hard to read, but in reality, it wasn’t that hard. Not for Theodore Nott. Theo was his third closest friend, being behind only Y/N Y/L/N and Blaise Zabini. While Draco went to Blaise for the fun things, like pranking the Golden Trio, throwing a secret party in the Room of Requirements or just chilling somewhere with a bottle of Fire Whiskey, he chose Theo for be his emotional support and moral compass. And he gladly took up this role, especially because he had a gut feeling that his dear friend developed deeper and more serious feelings towards their one and only Miss Y/L/N.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Theo asked Draco one day, when they were sitting in their Common Room, working on a DADA project together. Theo found him staring and smiling at Y/N, who was sitting at the other side of the room with her friends, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, doing each other’s hair and makeup. The girls told them in the morning that they were tired of only wearing their uniforms and boring hairstyles, and they wanted to look like themselves again. The boys didn’t understand them, but they came up with the sad excuse of having too much homework and studying, so they didn’t have to participate in their afternoon program.

“What?” Draco asked him, but never turned his gaze away from the girl, who was sitting on the ground in front of Pansy, getting her hair curled. Theo chuckled and turned his attention to their friends as well. He saw why Malfoy was so fascinated by her. Y/N was one of the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts, if not the most. Her hair was always shiny, her makeup natural but immaculate. She had an amazing style and she always smelt like jasmine and vanilla. But it was her smile that so many boys fell for. It was beautiful and bright, could make everyone’s day better.

“You know what I’m talking about” he rolled his eyes and turned back to his book “Dray, you’re in love with her”

“No, of course I’m not” he tried to deny, but the blush on his cheeks said otherwise. Draco sighed at the sight of Y/N in her spring dress and curly hair. She looked amazing, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had her eyes on someone. They had known each other for years, she was still nice to him when he was an annoying rat at first grade, and she was one of his real friends. They spent so much time together, it was literally impossible for Draco to imagine his days without her. He saw her getting a crush from time to time, but they passed just as quickly as they came. He even saw her falling in love with Adrian Pucey, and he was by her side when they broke up. It was a mutual decision. After a year and a half of complete confusing for Draco, he felt relieved when she said they decided with Adrian to stay just friends, because they weren’t working as a couple anymore. Draco knew from then that it wasn’t just a friendly love anymore. He knew why he was always so moody and needy during the time of their dating. He hated to see him holding her hand, hugging and kissing her in the corridors. He realised he wanted to be the one who did those things to her. If he learnt only one thing from his father, it was how to treat a woman right. He was Lucius still surprising Narcissa with flowers and dates, just to keep the smile on her face. He saw the love they had, even though what his family’s secret was. And he wanted that. Draco wanted to put a single white rose on her desk before class, just to see that beautiful smile on her face. He wanted to hug her in their sleep, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and hear her giggle when he tickled her. He wanted to kiss her perfect lips and show her how much she means to him.

“Than I guess you don’t mind that George asked her out after Potions today” Theo said, knowing very well he hit a nerve with that. If it wouldn’t have been enough that someone had the audacity to ask her out before Draco finally get the courage to do that, it had to be a Weasley. He was well aware of how Draco felt towards them, and how he wanted only the best for her. He said so many times, that she deserved a pureblood Slytherin who could identify and maintain the lifestyle she grew up with. Theo knew Draco was actually talking about himself, and he was sure he was the guy who could actually make her the happiest, but it wasn’t his place to get them together. They had to realise on their own how they were feeling. He knew the unspoken rules of both families, how they preferred another Pureblood, preferably a Slytherin marrying their only child, but Y/N never really cared about blood status. She knew they were all equal, some of them not fortunate enough to be born in a rich family.

“He did what?” Draco almost yelled, and his sudden outburst of emotion brought the girls’ attention to their table. Y/N looked at him with raised eyebrows, asking him without words what the hell was going on. He only shook his head and sent a small smile toward her. He felt sick by the single thought of a Weasley having an arm around her.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Theo laughed and leaned back in his chair. He watched Draco’s face with an amused look. It was funny to see the always pale boy with red cheeks and even more furrowed eyebrows. Draco looked at his friend with an annoyed expression and picked up his quill. He wanted to deny it, but the feeling was too strong. He just recently learnt what jealous really felt, and he was battling with that feeling. He hated to admit that he got a soft sport for someone, and how he got jealous. He was jealous of someone else having Y/N’s attention. Not because he was needy or insecure. If he was sure about someone’s unconditional love, support and loyalty, it was her. He just didn’t want someone else to realise how amazing she was and for them to steal her away from him. He just didn’t want to lose her to someone else. She was his peace.

“I’m not jealous” he murmured and from the corner of his eyes, he checked her. She was looking at her dress in the mirror, twirling around to see how the dress hugged her body. Draco felt the oh so familiar warm feeling in his heart when he saw her. He didn’t care what she was wearing, she looked absolutely amazing in everything. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Theo to go back studying, Y/N skipped to them with a huge smile on her face.

“Hi, boys” she greeted them sweetly and stood by Draco’s side. He took a deep breathe, letting her sweet scent fill up his nose “So, I have plans for now, but Pansy and I were wondering if you two wanted to go the Hogsmeade tomorrow, to buy some things for Blaise’s surprise party”

“What about Daphne?” Theo asked, hoping the girl had other plans. They never liked each other, and only tried to get along, when they were with their group. Y/N laughed, and assured him it would only be the four of us. The boys looked at each other, both of them thinking the same thing. Maybe they could turn the shopping into a double date at the Three Broomsticks. Theo wasn’t the only one who caught on the secret glances, the moodiness when Pansy was talking to another boy. Draco knew very well Nott fancied the Parskinson girl, but was too intimidated to ask her out.

“Sounds good to me” Draco smiled at her and put his hand on the small of her back, stroking it with his thumb. He smiled even bigger when he saw the light blush on her cheeks “Maybe we could get a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks?”

“Amazing idea” she bleamed at them “Alright, I have to go now, or I’ll be late, but we’ll discuss the details later”

“Bye, darling” Draco said with a soft tone and watched as she hurried out of the Common Room. For a second he forgot where she was heading. For that second, he was happy and warmed by their small encounter.

“Bye, darling” Nott mocked him in a teasing tone. He would have laughed at him, if he wasn’t already making plans in his head for tomorrow. The four of them always had the best time, and he was really looking forward to spend some time with Pansy and watch how his friends were acting around each other, like they weren’t secretly already in love.

“Shut up” Draco throw a ball of paper at him and turned back to his essay. He wanted to finish it, so he didn’t have to worry about it and rush back from their day together just to finish it in time for class.

——

Draco wanted to stay in the Common Room and wait for Y/N to come back, but he had Quiditch practise so he had to leave. He tried his best to shut her out of his mind during practice, but it was impossible after he saw Y/N and George in the courtyard, sitting together and giggling at something. Draco couldn’t erase the picture from his memory, and his anger got the best of him. Flint shouted at him several times to get his shit together and focus on the game, but he couldn’t. He wanted to go back and punch the Weasley boy in the face for being so close to his girl. Unfortunately, it would have been weird, considering that she was only his in his mind. The way she giggled and how interested she looked by George hunted him during practise. His stomach dropped at the thought of someone else having her. Draco was glad when Flint said they should cut their practice short due to raining. He wanted to be back in his dorm room, sulking over how much of a coward he was for not making a move on her. And now, he had to watch her falling in love with someone else. Again.

He was rushing back to the Slytherin Common Room, basically running down the corridors, when he saw Y/N and Weasley standing under the arcade, still talking about something. He felt like he was stabbed, when he saw Y/N wearing George’s jacket. He slowed down his steps, watching them waiting for the rain to stop. He waited for something. He couldn’t tell why he was being a masochistic. Maybe if he saw them kissing, or holding hands, it could have helped him to move on. But it never happened. He heard the Weasley boys quiet voice thanking her for meeting up and a quick goodbye before he rushed through the courtyard. Y/N adjusted the jacket on her shoulder and took a few quick steps, but Draco was fast in her heals. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he just wanted to let out everything. He wanted her so bad, and he wished that he was what she wanted, and not someone else.

“Y/N” he called after her. She stopped in her steps and turned around. Y/N arched her eyebrow, wondering what Draco was doing outside in such a bad weather. He hated when his hair got wet, and he hated it even more if one of his expensive shoes got dirty because of the mud “What are you wearing?”

She was surprised by the envy and anger in his voice. Draco never talked to her like that before. She never gave him reason to. He was just fine a couple hours earlier when they were talking about their Saturday plans with Theo and Pansy, so his sudden mood swing confused her.

“Uhm” she played with the sleeve of the jacket, not being entirely sure what to say “It started raining and I was a bit cold, so Georgie offered me his jacket so I don’t het sick”

“Georgie?” He basically spat the name out of his mouth “Now what? Are you two giving each other bloody nicknames?”

“What the hell got into you, Draco?” She asked. Y/N knew that Draco found the Weasley twins the least annoying out of their family, and something laughed at their pranks “It was a nice gesture”

“A gesture to get into your panties” Draco almost yelled. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t even mad at George for being a man enough to ask her out. He was mad at himself for being scared of his own feelings.

“Fuck you, Draco” she scoffed and turned around to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Y/N groaned. She was annoyed by him, and didn’t want to deal with his possessiveness in the pouring rain. Her clothes and hair was all wet, and she was craving for a hot shower and some more comfortable clothes.

“No, fuck you” he was now shouting. He was done with hiding his feelings and seeing how every boy at Hogwarts could have had her, because she was single “Fuck you for liking every boy more, but me. Fuck you for not noticing how hard I’m trying to get your attention. Fuck you for not seeing how much effort I’m putting into this whole thing just to make you see what’s right in front of you” he was pouring his heart out in the rain. It could have been one of the most romantic things, if they weren’t at the verge of arguing, and they weren’t shouting at each other. Draco dropped his head with a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to see the disgust or hate on her face “I shouldn’t be jealous, you aren’t even mine”

“What are you talking about?” She was more confused than ever before. Her heart skipped a beat with every word that left Draco’s mouth. She hoped his feelings were true. She wondered how he could be so blind all this time. How he didn’t see the way she looked at him? How he didn’t feel her hugs were always longer and tighter when she hugged him? How could he not tell he was her soft spot? “Draco?”

“It doesn’t matter. I hope your date was fun” his words were soaked with envy. Y/N’s eyes widened what he said. Date?

“What date?” She laughed a little bit “I only met Georgie because he needed help with something. He has a huge crush on this Hufflepuff girl, Annah, and asked me to give him some good date ideas”

“You were never supposed to mean this much to me” he said like he didn’t hear what she just told him “I was never supposed to fall so hard. But you know what? I did and that’s the truth” Draco looked at her with hopeful eyes. Maybe they could have a chance “Don’t you see, Y/N?” He laughed dryly. It was pathetic how he was being a softie. He hated how vulnerable he felt, standing in front of her, wearing his heart on his sleeve, confessing his love to the girl who was probably thinking of him just as a good friend “I don’t want anyone else to have your heart, kiss your lips, or be in your arms, because that’s only my place”

There it was. All words said. No taking them back. Draco finally felt proud of himself for being brave enough and facing his emotions and feelings.

Y/N bleamed at the words. He said what she wanted to hear from him for so long. Her heart was beating in her throat and she felt like no breathe would have been enough for her. She couldn’t say anything. Her words were stuck in her. How could she say something as beautiful as he did? Those were a little bit harsh words, but meant more than the most beautiful love poem in the whole world.

“Kiss me you twat” she laughed and took a step closer to Draco, who was still in shock after just confessing everything that he felt. He couldn’t even understand what she asked him, because his mind was numb. He saw her lips moving and feeling her sweet scent in his nose again, but he couldn’t tell what he was supposed to do. Y/N caught him off guard when she grabbed his jumper and pulled him into a kiss. At first, he didn’t kiss back. His body couldn’t understand a single thing that was happening right there, and he just stood there. But his brain switch back on again, when he felt her pulling away. He dreamed of this moment so many times. He tried to imagine how soft her lips were and how she tasted. He always imagined if she tasted like her favourite peppermint gum. But he never thought their kiss would be like this. He melted into her lips and his heart skipped every second beat. Draco had his arms around her small body, keeping her close, not letting her go. He wanted to stay like that for eternity, with the girl of his dreams in his arms, kissing her and feeling her heartbeat against his chest.

“You know” he murmured in between kisses “I wanted to beat the shit out of that blood traitor, when he…” he couldn’t finish his sentence, because Y/N put her hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Of course you wanted, boo” she cued at him with a funny expression “You can tell me more about how you wanted to, but for now, let’s go back to the Common Room and just cuddle”

“Can I have more kisses?” He asked in a childish voice and wide eyes. She found him the most adorable, yet sexiest man ever. She rolled her eyes and took his hand happily.

“Of course” she giggle, and they ran to the Common Room hand in hand, laughing at each other for almost slipping and falling to the ground. Draco was the happiest, and was ready to show the whole school he was the lucky man who had Y/N Y/L/N’s heart, and they were more than welcome to stay away from his girl if they didn’t want his father to hear about their sad excuse of flirting with her.

#Draco Malfoy #daddy draco #draco fanfiction #Draco Malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy one shot #Draco Malfoy imagine stories #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy x Slytherin reader #jealous Draco malfoy #prompt list request #tom felton #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfictions

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laviefantasie · 4 years ago

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Not A Fan | Luke Patterson

Mini Series

Pairings: Alive!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: What happens if Sunset Curve loses their sound after their bandmate’s betrayal? Will a certain shy songwriter be able to help Luke Patterson, known narcissistic rockstar, find his inspiration before Sunset Curve’s new demo is due?

| MASTERLIST |

| PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE |

Loud screams were heard from the band’s rehearsal studios as the staff of the recording label tried to get the door opened without success. A loud crash was heard followed by an angry grunt, making the security staff break the door’s handle to open it.

The sight that greeted them was an angry-looking Luke Patterson beating the crap out of Bobby Wilson, Sunset Curve’s rhythm guitarist, while Alex Mercer and Reggie Peters tried to pull them away from one another.

To say everyone was confused was an understatement.

The security staff snapping out of their confusion to run to pull apart the bandmates, although the brunette didn’t seem willing to stop punching the dark-haired boy.

“It’s done, Luke!” screams Bobby once he is set free, “There’s nothing any of you can do! It’s over! They’re my songs now!”

With an angry grunt, Luke tries to set himself free from the guards’ hold making Bobby run out of the door.

Alex and Reggie staring at the way he left with hurt in their eyes. Bobby Wilson had stolen Luke’s songs, the ones that hadn’t yet been recorded by Sunset Curve, and gone off to Convington’s Records.

He had stolen all of Luke’s feelings and the band’s hard work to make a name for himself, not caring about the many years of brotherhood he was throwing away.

“Wha...What do we do now?” Reggie questions softly.

The songwriter lets out an angry scream as soon as the guards let him go, pacing around the room with many emotions running through his body. Betrayal being the one that stands out the most.

“I’ll... I’ll just write new songs” Luke states, “Better songs. Ye-yeah, I’ll write better songs”

The other two boys look at one another with uncertainty, both knowing this cut them all deeply in different ways. Especially, since they considered each other family after everything that had happened with their own.

Meanwhile in Los Angeles, Y/N was walking through the halls of Los Feliz High School with Julie Molina by her side. Since the loss of both of your mothers, you both had lost interest in music. Julie being able to reconnect with her love for it through her mother’s former band demos. You didn’t have the same luck as your dad wasn’t truly supportive of it.

Meanwhile, you continued to avoid playing an instrument or even singing softly in the car. It just didn’t feel right anymore, not without her. Though that didn’t stop you from writing songs, although you always said they were just poems.

Poems that helped you expressed everything you felt without actually having to say it.

The curly-haired girl was trying to convince her best friend to sing at Mrs. Harrison’s music class, afraid the girl was going to lose her spot on the music program for refusing to even play an instrument.

Either way, Y/N didn’t care.

You were ready to be kicked out of the program so your friends could stop trying to push you to sing. You couldn’t do it, you had tried.

“Y/N/N” calls Julie softly as you open your locker, “I know it’s hard, but you have to sing today. Mrs. Harrison was very patient with the both of us but I don’t think she can wait much longer”

Before you can asnwer the Molina, Flynn appears on the curly girl’s side with a big smile on her face, eyes shining brightly as she shows you both what she had opened on her phone.

The Band is Back!

Los Angeles’ very own Sunset Curve comes back! Rumor has it the band is coming home to reunite with their roots in hopes of inspiration for their new album.

We all know that after Trevor Wilson, a.k.a Bobby, left the band our favorite boys fell off the radar, but now they’re back and they’re coming home!

We certainly cannot wait to see what they have in store for us.

Julie smiles excitedly over the article the braided-girl shows them while you simply roll your eyes. Sunset Curve was everyone’s favorite band of the moment, the eighteen-year-olds being revolutionaries with their rock music and 90′s looks.

Even better, they were old students of Los Feliz High School. Their music was good, but honestly, Y/N didn’t see what made them so captivating other than that.

So as Julie and Flynn gushed about the returning superstars, Y/N concentrating on getting the books she would need out of her locker. Her e/c eyes falling on her dark blue songbook at the end of her locker, hesitating you shake your head before closing your locker.

You didn’t need that anymore, no need to torture yourself by having it near you.

Reggie and Alex kept their eyes on Luke as the boy once again ripped a page out of his songbook in anger. Right now they were on their tour bus on their way back home, hoping that being back where it all started helped their brunette songwriter finally come up with something.

So far, the lead guitarist hadn’t been able to even write a single verse. Somehow, Bobby’s betrayal had messed him up in more ways than he had realized, making it hard for him to write something.

“UGH”

Luke throws his black songbook across the bus, almost hitting Reggie in the head. The bass player looks at his best friend with disbelief.

“Sorry, Regg”

Both bandmates look at the boy in worry as he goes to grab his songbook, neither knowing how to help him. Bobby had crossed the line when messing up with the brunette’s songs, if there was something that was very intimate for the Patterson boy it was his songs.

It had been a low blow from Bobby.

Before Alex can open his mouth to try and make his best friend feel better, Reggie’s eyes catch sight of a place he had missed after they had left two years ago to follow their dreams as sixteen-years-old against their parents’ approval.

“Guys!” He calls getting closer to the window “It’s Los Feliz!”

Both missing members run to Reggie’s side to look at the place where they had fallen in love with music for the first time and where they had met one another. The sight bringing smiles to their faces.

Before anyone can say something else, Luke is already screaming at the driver to stop.

“Let’s go say hello, boys”

You were skipping your last class before the music program, deciding you needed the time to decide what you were going to do. Were you actually ready to finally give up music completely?

With a sigh, Y/N opens her locker to grab her dark blue songbook. Staring at it with a troubled look, so concentrated in making up your mind that you don’t notice the three teenage boys that are running your way with their eyes set on one another.

It is not until you fall to the floor with a loud thud that you realize you had been walking while staring at your songbook, proving once again that not watching where you go is never a good idea.

“Oh shi- Are you okay?”

You look towards the voice finding yourself staring at bright green eyes, in confusion you look towards the other two boys behind him recognition flashing across your eyes as you’re reminded of the article Flynn showed you that morning.

You’re about to open your mouth to say you’re fine, but the brunette that’s kneeling beside you covers your mouth in a fast move.

“Please don’t scream!”

You frown with disbelief before biting his hand, making him take his hand off his mouth while letting out a grunt of pain.

“First of all, it’s not polite to cover a stranger’s mouth” you snap before standing up, “Second, I wasn’t going to scream. As unlikely as it is, I’m not a fan, all I was gonna say is that I was fine”

Luke stands up with a frown on his face, looking towards his best friends in confusion before turning to look at you once more.

“Not a fan?” He asks with disbelief, “We’re Sunset Curve”

“Tell your friends” Adds the one with the leather jacket.

You roll your eyes, “I know who you are, my best friends love you”

Luke lets out a scoff before pouting at you, Alex trying -and failing- to keep a smile off his face at Luke’s obvious tantrum over you not being a fan of the band.

Reggie giving the teenage girl his own pout as he realizes the same thing. Alex being the only one who finds the situation amusing.

With a sigh, the h/c girl looks at her things on the floor rushing to grab them. Making sure to throw her songbook inside her backpack before looking towards the band once again.

“Thank you for the fall” you smile sarcastically towards the brunette boy, “Hope to not see you again, boy band”

You continue your way towards the library hoping to catch some sleep before having to go to the music program, ignoring the looks you’re giving by the boys.

“WHO YOU CALLING BOY BAND, SHORTY?”

You roll your eyes as you hear the band’s lead singer scream after you before you disappear from their view.

Luke scoffs at your disappearing figure muttering angrily under his breath about the fact you were not a fan, kneeling to grab his own songbook that fell during the fall only to find a dark blue one instead of her black one.

Staring at it in confusion, the songwriter turns to his friends before realizing you must’ve taken his own songbook by accident. He’s about to run to try to catch up with you when curiosity gains the best of him.

Opening the blue songbook, his green eyes catch sight of an interesting title: Finally Free. Reading through it he cannot help the smile that grows on his face, Alex and Reggie soon appearing by his side as soon as they see their best friend’s eyes shined brightly in a way they hadn’t shined since Bobby’s betrayal.

The three read the lyrics with disbelief. The song was absolute killer, with the right melody they were sure it could be a hit. Maybe, just maybe, he could help you finish it.

But how could he find you again?

#julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson x oc #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x reader #luke jatp #jatp #sunset curve #Luke Patterson x reader

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mrslilyrogers · 5 years ago

Text

Fall into Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Awkward and cute reader ahead! Nothing but sweet and soft fluff :)

Summary: What’s an awkward scientist like you gotta do when you develop a crush on America’s national treasure, Captain America? Recruited by Bruce and Tony themselves to work at the Avengers Compound, you try your best to keep your cool. But how could you when Steve is always popping up to help you?

Author’s notes: It’s my birthday today!! Yay!! And to celebrate, I want to share this super fluffy piece I wrote for @hopingforbarnes 250 writing challenge. Thanks for letting me participate! I got the prompt, “This is why I fell in love with you” which will be in bold below. I absolutely loved writing this and being a fan of chick flicks, I went with that vibe. I hope you guys enjoy and please, let me know what you think! Reblogs are very much appreciated :D

There he was sipping his cup of coffee, one hand holding today’s newspaper as he read. You thought it was beyond adorable that he insisted on getting actual newspapers delivered to the compound when he could literally read it from a tablet. You even offered to install the apps for him but he declined, saying he was too old for it. And in that moment you just knew, with his winsome smile and his deep blue eyes, you were utterly done for. So there you were, surreptitiously stealing doe-eyed glances at him from your perch by the kitchen counter, your laptop propped up on the island. His eyebrows were knitted as he brought the newspaper down, jotting his answers for the crossword puzzle. When he beamed at himself, you knew he got it right. Cute, so damn cute.

“Ugh,” you groaned at your own patheticness. When his head shot up to look at you, you immediately cleared your throat and looked to your laptop, ignoring the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“Y/N, you okay there?” Steve asked, pencil in mid-air.

“Yep, just working on something!” You replied a little too cheerfully, your gaze not quite able to hold his. You were always this way with him, tongue-tied, flustered and all fidgety. It was embarrassing.

Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together! You have two PhDs under the age of 30. Unfortunately, that was also probably one of the reasons why you were so freakin’ awkward but you really didn’t have to dwell on that now. Shaking off that snide little comment from the back of your mind, you continued your pep talk. You’re a badass scientist, graduated at the top of your class, and working with the Tony Stark and the Bruce Banner, your freakin’ childhood heroes! He’s just a 100 year old man! You’ve got this.

You looked at him with a bright smile on your face, straightening your back to make yourself seem taller. More Confident. Mature. Womanly. Typing into your laptop, you pretended you were in the midst of a scientific research that would change the world. Except, it came up empty, the screen completely and irrevocably black. Oh, shit.

“Ugh, Y/N. I think your laptop is turned off,” Steve awkwardly told you, pointing at it with the pencil in his hand.

“Oh, yeah. Well, uhm, yeah it is… so, ugh, gotta go and charge this,” You flashed him a quick smile before you scrambled to your feet, your chair creaking as you pushed it back, grabbed your laptop and ran out of there as fast as you could. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Steve watched you, a perplexed look on his face. When you nearly stumbled out the door, he almost got up to help except you shot up faster than a speeding bullet. An adoring smile crept up his lips. Cute.

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It wasn’t always like that. It all started when the science geniuses offered an advanced intensive program at the university where you were finishing your second doctorate degree. It meant extra work and more late nights but you didn’t even think of that, you had jumped at the chance from the second you heard of it and the rest was history. You aced their classes with flying colors and by the time you graduated, they had already offered you a full-time position at the Avengers compound, to assist them with whatever scientific endeavor they needed. You would become their resident biochemist/engineering physicist, equipped with your very own office and given free reign to create, tinker or even upgrade their weapons and computer systems.

What you didn’t expect was how cozy living in the Avengers Compound would be. You thought they were a bunch of stuffy soldiers and spies with no time to deal with regular people like you. But as soon as you were introduced to the team, that all changed.

They had all been in the common area when you first arrived. The men along with Nat were huddled at the TV, concentrating on some sports game as they drank their beers while Wanda and Vision were laughing and cooking in the kitchen. It was all so surreal, your jaw had dropped to the floor. Who knew the Avengers could be so domestic?

“You’re starting to drool, kid,” Tony commented at your side, immediately stopping you from staring. You mumble out a sheepish apology, your cheeks starting to flush. He flashed a smile at you before turning his attention to the team, “Everyone, listen up,” he shouted at them, clapping his hands twice before continuing, “This is our newest scientist, Y/N! She’ll be working with me and Bruce mostly, helping us with weapons and equipment so be nice! Piss her off and you’re toast,” he teased, winking at you. You didn’t think you could get any redder than you were at that moment. You let out a nervous chuckle, giving a little wave to everyone,

“Hi! Don’t worry, I won’t do that. I don’t think I can even if I wanted to, look at all of you!” you joked and looking at their smirks and empty faces, you realized just how inappropriate that was.

“Not that I would want to of course! I mean, who would wanna kill the Avengers?” you continued to your own mortification, your mouth running on its own. You could feel prickly sweat down your back and you suddenly wished there was a hole that would just swallow you right that instant. Letting out a huge exhale, you tried again.

“Uhm, what I mean to say is that I’m very happy to be meeting all of you and I’m glad that I’m given a chance to work here and help in any way that I can.” you finished sincerely albeit sheepishly, shifting your weight between your feet and hoping you didn’t totally muck up their first impression of you.

Black Widow’s narrowed eyes eased up, arms still crossed at her chest, she gave you a little tilt to her chin as she smirked, “You’re adorable,”

You let out a huge sigh, beaming at everyone. Captain America nodded at you as if to say ‘well done’, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Damn, if that man didn’t spell out dreamy.

Tony finished the introductions and once you’ve shaken everyone’s hand, he was already moving, directing you to your designated room to drop off your bags so you guys could finish off your tour early and get to work. You were just about to carry your duffle bags, ready to drag your suitcase across their pristine marble floor when Captain America appeared by your side, “Hey, you need some help with those?” he asked, looking at your luggages. You had almost completely blanked when he stood so close to you. You could hear Tony’s voice getting softer and softer as he walked ahead, talking as he went. You nodded, not able to find the voice to speak. When he draped both duffel bags over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, and pulled the handle of your suitcase higher, you objected, “Let me at least get that,” you tried to grab your suitcase from him but he swiveled it out of your reach, already moving to follow Tony. “It’s fine. This is nothing,” he said, smiling down at you.

“Thanks Captain. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep up with him,” you replied, shyly smiling back at him and pointing at the man walking in front of you. He chuckled before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you’ll get used to it. And just call me Steve,”

Tony suddenly turned around as if just realizing you weren’t following at his heels. “Would you look at that?” He teased when he saw both you and Steve lagging behind him. “Chivalry’s not dead,” shrugging, he continued on, prompting Steve to shake his head at his friend.

When you both arrived at your room, You tried not to gawk but Tony Stark was definitely not cheap. They let you take it all in, practically feeling your excitement off your skin. Steve dropped your bags off on the floor before turning to take his leave,

“Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys for dinner,” his voice cut you out of your wonder.

“Thank you, Steve,” you beamed at him before he left the door.

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” he replied, flashing you a genuine smile. You watched his retreating figure out the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest.

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You had been working for the Avengers for two months now and you must admit you had easily become friends with all of them, jokes and easy conversation flowing with everyone except for one. Steve freakin’ Rogers. Oh, you were friends with him, you talked but the easiness was only one-sided. Every time you had a conversation with him, you felt your heart leaping out of your chest. Every single smile from him sent butterflies to your stomach. It was becoming a problem, your school girl crush making you look less professional and on top of that, you just knew the spies figured it out. Why else would Nat and Clint suddenly make up excuses and leave you and Steve alone again for breakfast?

You tried to ignore the fluttering of your heart as Steve made his coffee. Acting as normal as possible, you reached for the flour on the highest shelf of the cupboard, your hand coming up short. Uh-oh. Maybe, if you could just go on your tiptoes, you could get it, right? Wrong. You had been dead wrong. You wiggled your fingers, hoping you didn’t look like an absolute idiot. Oh God, have I been reaching for this too long already; past the point of asking Steve for help? If you turned around now and asked him, wouldn’t it be too awkward? But if you suddenly changed what you were going to make just because you couldn't reach the flour, wouldn’t that be too petty? Oh god, why do you have to overthink everything when he’s around?

Steve suppressed his laugh as he leaned on the counter, watching you struggle. How long was it going to take for you to give up? You were so different from any woman he’s met since waking up in the future, always so happy and cheerful with no guise whatsoever. You were a breath of fresh air, real, and so unlike all the other spies and agents he’s worked with, with their cold manner and calculating eyes. It didn’t take long for him to trust you. He considered you his friend and now, you were just beyond adorable. A crooked smile formed on his lips as he waited some more, enjoying the show far too much, his eyes involuntarily moving down to check your ass out in your sleep shorts. When he realized what he was doing, he blushed, and immediately straightened up to help you.

A huff fell from your lips as you decided, enough was enough. You turned around, ready to call for him, when you came face to face with his solid chest. His familiar masculine scent warmed your senses as blood crept up your cheeks. “Got it,” he said, holding the jar between you, a playful smile splayed on his perfectly luscious lips.

You cleared your throat, your eyes on his lips as you tried to find your voice. “Thanks Steve,” you replied just a little too breathily.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he smiled softly down at you, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair. And just like that the romantic atmosphere was ruined. It was just on your part. Again.

______________________________________________________________________

Months later

You were dancing carefree to the beat of the music blasting from your headphones as you cooked your dinner. It was late, you were sure everyone had gone to sleep so you were safe to boogie and shake your hips while you celebrated. You had finally figured out how to calibrate Black Widow’s newest weapon. It took you the whole night for the finishing touches, making you forget to eat but it was all worth it. You were on a high as you piled the pasta on to your plate, grabbing the still-too-hot garlic bread from the oven too early, making you wince as you put your thumb between your lips to lessen the burn. You didn’t hear the tired chuckle from the doorway when you shook your hips to turn around, refusing to let the scalding garlic bread shake your mood. You let out a tiny squeal when you saw Steve leaning against the doorway, decked in all his Captain America glory minus the mask.

“You’re back?” you shrieked, a hand flying to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart, thanking god you didn’t drop your plate. “You scared the shit out of me,”

Steve had the audacity to look ashamed as he straightened. “Yeah, sorry about that, couldn’t help it. Please don’t stop on my account,” he teased, laughing, before a wince escaped his lips.

“You okay?” you immediately dropped your plate on the table and walked over to him, losing your nerve to even get embarrassed when he clutched his rib.

“It’s nothing, doll,” he replied, shaking his head, a faint flush casting over his cheeks as the endearment slipped.

You couldn’t help but be taken aback too. His voice had been soft and unconvincing unlike his usual steely, determined self. You laid your hand over the one still clutching his waist.

“What happened here? Are you hurt?” Concern seeped into your voice as you looked at him worriedly.

“It’s fine, really. It’ll heal fast,” he stepped away from you, making light of his injury. He didn’t know how to deal with anyone fussing over him.

“Let me see it,” you said, your voice firm for once in his presence, putting your hands on your hips.

“What?” he chuckled again, poorly hiding his hiss.

“Come on, Rogers, I’m a doctor. Let me see it,” you nodded to his injury, determination steeling your stance.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he said, “Yes ma’am,” and gave you a mock salute.

“But didn’t you say you weren’t this type of doctor?” he continued, teasing, as he unbuckled his utility belt.

“Don’t get sassy on me now, Rogers,” You rolled your eyes until he started to peel off his uniform, then you lost your breath. You felt your cheeks flush at the forced intimacy of the situation, your resolve withering as you shifted your weight between your feet, crossing your arms at your chest. Should you even watch him take his top off? You didn’t want to look like a creep so you focused on the wall behind him.

When you heard him wince, your eyes shot back to him as he struggled to lift it over his head. Your hands moved of its own volition, gently helping him. Once that was over and done with, you looked up at him, his chest panting.

“May I?” you asked, your slightly shaking hand gesturing to his undershirt. He nodded and you let your hands lift his shirt off gently, but what greeted you made your jaw drop open. The skin on his right rib was marred with a big dark patch of purple and blue, almost appearing black. Around it, littered lighter and smaller versions of it, a few cuts here and there. On his arms, his pecs, on the side of his jaw that you didn’t even notice awhile ago.

“Steve, what the hell! This isn’t nothing! Can you even breathe properly?” You asked worriedly, running your hands over the cuts and bruises.

“Yes, Y/N. I told you this is normal. This happened just a few hours ago, it’s already healing. I’ll be fine,” He once again explained to you stubbornly, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Sit down, you need to put ice on that and I need to clean your wounds,” You rushed off to get the things you needed before pulling up a chair beside him. He watched you as your hands worked practically over his injuries, pride swelling in his eyes. There was a strange fluttering in his chest that he didn’t dare acknowledge. He wouldn’t admit it to himself but he only objected more to your ministrations because it made you double your fussing.

“All done,” You cheered to yourself as you started tidying up.

“Congratulations to you,” he replied jokingly, moving to help you before you swatted his hand away. “Stop, just keep that ice on your rib,” you told him seriously, getting up to bring back the first-aid kit to the cupboard and throw all the used up cotton. He was the worst patient there ever was, complaining and whining all the way through.

“Yes, boss,” he deadpanned, loving the blush that tinted your cheeks.

“Hey, have you eaten dinner already? You hungry?” you asked him, washing your hands.

“Dinner? Y/N, it’s 2 am, how have you not eaten dinner yet?” This time it was his turn to be indignant.

“Well, I was working,” you replied matter-of-factly as if it was the most normal thing in the world to forget to eat.

“Jesus Christ, I ended up taking down a terrorist base camp and I still had time for dinner,” he huffed, furrowing his eyebrows.

You scooped up a plate for him anyway, making sure to double the serving. When you dropped it in front of him, you noticed he had put his shirt back on again much to your displeasure. What can you say? The guy was chiseled like a greek god. It didn’t hurt to look at him.

You both started to eat in peace, the awkwardness settling in. You had no idea why he wasn’t talking. He was usually cool as a cucumber while you were a blubbering mess.

“So how was--”

“I didn’t know--”

You both started at the same time causing you both to pause then laugh heartily. When he winced and clutched his rib again, you quickly apologized before he shushed you. “You go first,” he said, drinking water as he tried to hide his pain.

“Do you want to get an x-ray? Make sure there’s no broken bones?” You asked, worry seeping into your voice again.

“Doll, I told you. This is normal for me, part of my job.”

“But I thought you said this was a simple covert mission, no fighting involved. They should’ve added more guys to go with you,” you frowned at him which made him chuckle lightly, his heart flipping in his chest at your concern.

“That rarely happens. Really, you should see the other guys,” he made a joke of it to calm you down. Unconvinced, you smiled tentatively at him, thinking if you should still push the subject when he steered you to a different topic, asking about your work. You had explained to him animatedly about the progress you’ve made so far that you didn’t even notice how easily you guys had flit to different topics, talking about any random thing that popped into your minds, smiling and joking like it wasn’t almost four in the morning.

When you went back to your room that night, you snuggled into your blankets, giggling. You had finally been able to talk with Steve without acting like a love-sick teenager. And it was everything you thought it would be.

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After that night, you guys formed an unspoken ritual. Every time you were working late and forgot to check the clock, Steve would bring you food to your lab, reminding you of your much needed dinner break. The first time it had happened, he walked in on you snacking on some m&m’s while you continued to work. He had groaned and lectured you on about how m&m’s and any form of chocolate was not considered dinner food. So after that, he took it upon himself to make sure you had something substantial to eat, often bringing his own cooking. You had talked about everything and nothing, some deep conversations that could only be shared through trusted friends while others had you both laughing deep from your belly with tears brimming your eyes. There were times when he had been relentless with his training too, even the rest of the team had left him alone to it, and you had to drag him away. Those days you had to remind him there was no war anymore and a little break was fine. You dragged him to watch movies, listen to music he had missed and, tried out those hole-in-the-wall types of restaurants where people wouldn’t recognize him.

Steve had just gotten back from a mission with Sam and Bucky. Both boys grunted as they sat at the kitchen table, clutching their drinks.

“Man, I could really use a shower right now but I’m too tired to move,” Sam quipped, massaging his neck muscles.

“I’m gonna order us a pizza,” Bucky said and eagerly whipped his phone out. Ever since he got off the ice in Wakanda, he’d been obsessed with all the “new” technology he’d been catching up on. He sure didn’t look it but he was a science geek at heart. Often going to you for help with everything he’s missed. The guys both looked to Steve questioningly, expecting him to butt in. He usually had a lot of input after a long mission. They were greeted by silence as he had his back to them, retrieving the first-aid kit from the cupboard. When he continued to ignore them as if he hadn’t heard anything they had just said and walked to the direction of your lab, both Sam and Bucky looked at each other, knowing smirks on their faces as they nodded their heads. America’s golden boy was whipped.

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Tony and Steve had been arguing in their usual banter at the lab. The super soldier looked like the worn out parent between the two while the genius billionaire gloated at his misery. Steve was wearing a black long-sleeved sweater that did nothing to hide his muscles despite its regular fit. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him from your station with Bruce, the two of you working quietly with an occasional chuckle or two thrown at the bickering men in front of you.

Bruce cleared his throat when he caught you staring far too long at the golden-haired adonis, not paying attention to the question he was asking. You quickly averted your gaze and asked,

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” you felt your cheeks warm as he looked at you with an endearing smile.

“I said, could you please pass me that sample?” He pointed at your hand clutching the petri dish.

“Of course!” You replied, handing it to him before hiding behind your laptop to record the results of your experiment.

“Will you quit acting like a grandpa for just a second and ask Sharon out? You guys clearly hit it off at the last mission. I don’t know what the hell is taking you so long,” Tony muttered as he tinkered on.

You and Steve’s eyes snapped to each other, almost as if on instinct, before you quickly lowered yours and hid your hurt behind your laptop screen. Bruce didn’t miss the subtle exchange and tried to distract Tony off from the subject but still, the man was oblivious.

“Tony, would you just quit it?” Steve complained exasperatedly, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m just saying, Cap. You’re a hundred years old, you aren’t getting any younger, pal,” he continued on.

Before Steve could say anything else, you made a show of stretching out of your chair.

“Oh boy, I need some coffee, do you guys want any?” you asked as cheerfully as you could, looking for an escape.

“Oh you just read my mind! Didn’t I say she was the best?” Tony asked rhetorically, his hand gesturing to you as he looked at the men in the room. You missed the way Steve’s eyes had softened when they landed on you. The only reason he was even here.

“I could use one right now, angel. Thank you!” Tony continued, using the nickname he had given you since you started working here, giving you a quick smile before going back to work.

“I could use one too, thanks.” Bruce nodded at you.

“Alright. How about you, Steve?” you turned to him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as he looked at you, an endearing smirk playing on the corner of his lips while he shook his head no.

“I’ll go with you, help you carry it.” He said, already standing up.

“What? Pssh. No. It’s fine, I got it.” You dismissed him playfully, leaving the lab as fast as you could, a weight in your chest as Tony continued to berate him into asking Sharon out on a date.

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You decided to get Steve coffee anyway. You knew he was only being a gentleman because he didn’t want you having a hard time carrying all of it back to the lab. Grabbing some snacks too, you made your way back, a tray balancing on your hands when you heard Tony scream your name. Uh-oh.

You opened the door to see Bruce and Steve laughing their asses off while Tony looked at you with murder in his eyes. “Did you just hack my playlist and change it all to spice girls?” he bellowed over the music, hands on his hips. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. It was supposed to be a prank between the two of you. He said you couldn’t hack into the system he created and you just had to prove him wrong. You thought you had put a timer on F.R.I.D.A.Y to just change it when he was alone. Guess you weren’t as good a hacker as you thought you were.

“Sorry,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“You don’t even look sorry. You could at least tell me you saved my old playlist,”

Uh-oh. “I think so?”

“Oh, come on!” he whined.

“Sorry, but you questioned my hacking skills!” You replied indignantly.

“Because you’re not a hacker!” he emphasized each word, making you giggle.

“I really am sorry! Look, I’m sure if there’s anyone here who could get it back, it’s you.” your sickly sweet voice belied the trick you still held up your sleeve.

“Damn right, I could,” he replied arrogantly, typing into his hologrammed board as he gave instructions to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

You sipped the coffee in your hands, hiding the smirk on your lips. Bruce thanked you for the wonderful prank and you gave him a little curtsy in return as he grabbed an extra cinnamon roll, still smiling. All the while Steve looked down at the tray, his insides warming at your thoughtfulness, you had brought him his favorite yogurt and fruits knowing he’d prefer those over the sugary treats. He was suddenly pulled out of his reverie when Celine Dion’s haunting voice rang out, almost making him spit his coffee out of his mouth as he burst out laughing, watching Tony’s face get flushed. He turned to you as you carelessly threw your head back, laughing. Anyone who could take Tony down a peg, he admired, and knowing that it was your brilliant mind that had the genius sputtering in annoyance made him love you even more.

“Oh doll…” he exhaled. “This is why I fell in love with you.”

Everyone in the room suddenly stilled. Tony’s audible, “Oh” popped in the background making Steve screw his face up in confusion. What the heck? He saw your eyes widen, your cheeks turning beet red. Oh crap.

He said that out loud, didn’t he?

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #hopingforbarnes250writingchallenge #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x awkward!reader

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terrm9 · 4 years ago

Text

Father’s Day

Ethan makes sure to celebrate the Father’s Day with his daughter. (Ethan X Chiara X Matilda)

Words count: 4 000

Warnings: two swear words, fluff

Author’s note: I don’t know what happened here guys. I am so sorry, this fic lacks plot and point, depth, quality, this truly is one fluffy piece of shit. I had a good feeling about it when the idea appeared in my brain and then I started to write and nothing seemed right. And I just kept telling myself ‘just keep writing and it will start making sense. It will get better’... and suddenly the fic is finished and it still doesn’t make sense. I was so close to not posting it, but then I thought that sometimes mindless fluff can make my mood better and so maybe it can do some good to you too. Love you all and I promise I won’t be angry or hurt if you hate this:D

Also Ethan is ~47 in this fic, if you thought I wouldn't mention his graying hair, I am sorry but I did

Also also, I didn't find the strength needed for a proof reading this and so I didn't proof read it. If you see a mistake, please pretend you don't see it

The sun was long set at the time Ethan stepped into the apartment and even though he rationally knew that it was late, he couldn’t quite give up on his hope that maybe Matilda was still up. On the days like this, when more patients came in than out of the hospital and there was so much of a paperwork that he has to bring it home with him, there is nothing Ethan loved more than to put his daughter to sleep and then spend a nice quiet evening with Chiara.

But of course, Matilda was fast asleep – judging by the silence filling the whole apartment – and so Ethan was looking forward to skipping to the part of sharing an evening with his wife.

Chiara didn’t notice him as he stepped into the living room, her nose slightly crinkled as she was filling some papers spread on the dining table, white earpods in her ears.

Looks like I am not the only one to bring work home with me today.

Ethan stopped in his tracks for a moment, just inhaling the familiar scent of Chiara and home and absorbing the picture in front of him. Even after alsmot ten years since he met her for the first time, even though she was his wife now, someone he woke up next to every morning, Chiara still – always – managed to knock the air out of his lungs. How her smile only gained more brightness through the years and how she looked almost like a girl with her hair braided on one side.

Had he been an artist, he would call her his muse.

But he was just a man, a doctor with any artistic words stuck in his throat and so he just kept staring at Chiara and thought, inspiration, that’s what she was, because even the most rational of men could get inspired.

„I can feel you standing there,“ Chiara exclaimed suddenly, putting the earpods off and turning to him with that bright smile.

„My apologies,“ he smiled faintly and crossed the distance between them to give her, what Chiara called ‚a proper greeting‘. He kissed her softly and it only took the feeling of Chiara’s warm body under his hands to ease the tension in him almost completely.

„Matilda missed you tonight,“ Chiara murmured into his chest, not willing to break their embrance.

„As I missed her,“ Ethan sighed. „Did you have an eventful afternoon?“

Chiara chuckled at that, parting from him at last to switch her phone off and leave the work on the dining table.

„Just the usual. The teacher asked them to draw themselves in the future and she couldn’t decide which version of that future she should draw because she wants to be everything.“

Ethan could imagine the conversation very well. Matilda, at the age of five, knew exactly what she didn't want to become when she grows up - a doctor. She kept shifting between wishing to be a travel blogger like her aunt Kyra or a photographer like aunt Alicia. After a weekend spent in Providence, she proclaimed that she could also imagine being a cable repairwoman like grandpa, because grandpa has the coolest coworkers that came over and let her eat chocolate cookies and watch football with them. And if by any unfortunate coincidence she should become a doctor after all, she would definitely be a surgeon like uncle Bryce, because he actually cuts people and that's much more interesting than her parents' job. All they do is talk about the patients.

„I promised her you would take her to school tomorrow. You have rounds in the morning but I can taker over,“ which would only be a service for you, she thought to herself. „That would certainly make her feel better.“

„Was she that sad that I didn’t come home earlier?“

"Oh, she was more sad about the Father's Day program at her school – you know, the one where kids and their dads go together - but I explained her why you had to miss it."

Ethan furrowed his brows, confused for a while.

"Why do I have to miss it?" he asked as he picked Matilda's stuffed llama from the floor.

"It's the Wednesday when you are at the conference in Seattle."

Ethan put the toy on the couch next to Til's favourite blanket and sat down before responding, his voice carrying no sign of hesitation.

"If there's a Father's Day program at her school and she wants me to be there, I'll be there."

Ethan knew all too well why he was so persistent on being there.

He wished he didn’t know, but he did.

Because he knew what it felt like to spend so many of his Mother’s Days programms with his teeth gritted, wishing it could all just end.

He could still remember the first Mother’s Day without Luise, how his teacher walked into the class and told them that they would create nice postcards for their moms and how Ethan’s classmate pointed his finger at him and said: „And what is Ramsey going to do? It’s not fair that he doesn’t need to do anything for the whole hour.“

It was the first time Ethan punched someone.

There was no way, no way, that he would allow his daughter to feel any of those feelings.

His thoughts were interrupted by Chiara, now sitting right next to him, a soft concern visible on her features.

„Alan and Naveen would go with her, you know. She wouldn’t be alone.“

„I am her father.“

„And you are also an author of the study this whole conference is going to be about.“

Ethan knew Chiara was right, just as he knew that she was doing this not because she didn’t want him to attend the programm, rather because she respected and supported his career.

But her arguments were of no use. Ethan’s mind was made up and he only wondered if this is what it felt like, all those years ago, when he pushed Chiara away in order to support her career. The idea of putting career first was making him uncomfortable and all he could do was to think, how did Chiara see it all those years ago?

Or rather, how did he not see it back then?

He had no answers, only his gratitude that she stayed and showed him the world through her eyes.

„Aurora is just as much of an author as me. She can handle the conference without me just fine. You can go with her.“

„Me?“ Chiara asked incredulously.

„Sure. They don’t really care which Dr. Ramsey will come.“

Ethan aged well. More wrinkles circled the corners of his eyes and the grey hair on his temples were not an optical illusion anymore (and Chiara has never found him more handsome than now) and his gaze changed too, the cold blue of his eyes almost forgotten, as his eyes were warm and soft almost all the time he was with his family.

Ethan aged and changed and yet there was a thing that didn’t change in the slightest in these last years. His insufferable stubborness.

And so Chiara knew that he won’t change his mind and that there was no point in trying to and while it warmed her heart to see how in love with Matilda Ethan was, the study was important to him.

Obviously not important enough, however, and Chiara decided not to push him any further. Instead, she asked curiously.

„And what are you going to perform? What if Matilda wants to do something crazy?" Chiara raised an eyebrow.

"Of course she won't want anything crazy. What if it were my father and Naveen taking her?"

Chiara laughed wholeheartedly at his question, because for someone so brilliant, sometimes Ethan was desperately clueless when it came to people around him - and what they were willing to do for their daughter.

"Please, this is Naveen and Alan you are talking about. Matilda could say she wants to sing Hakuna Matata and they would come dressed as Timon and Pumba."

"Ah," Ethan exhaled, obviously only now realizing that Chiara was, indeed, right. And singing - or dancing, for God's sake - was not part of his plan. "Well, she can play some basic compound on the piano, she has learned some already. And I could accompany her on the cello."

Chiara choked on the water she was just drinking, turning to look at Ethan so swiftly, his brows furrowed in a concern for her neck.

"On a what now?"

“A cello. I thought you knew that I used to play the cello as a kid.”

“Of course, but the as a kid part is important. I mean, I played a piano as a kid and now I couldn’t play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star if my life depended on it.”

Ethan laughed, wrapping his arm around Chiara in a half-hug and had to bite his tongue not to tell her that maybe Matilda could teach her, as she already could play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star exceptionally well.

“I might have stopped playing actively when I was ten, but I found a certain sense of serenity in music – and playing – for a long time after that. I-,” Ethan stopped himself, mulling over his next words. It was not like he didn’t want to tell Chiara anything, but talking about his years at med school was not something he did often. “I befriended a music shop’s owner back in Baltimore. He was a nice guy, barely older than me and so very different. He had musical instruments for sale there and as we became closer, he let me borrow the cello and play a little in the back of the shop. It became a thing that helped me clear my head when school became too stressful and it also helped me not to forget how to play. I think Matilda’s level on the piano is very close to what I can remember with the cello.”

Now all he had to do was to find someone who would borrow him the cello.

*** *** ***

Ethan always found it amusing, how his mornings with Matilda differed compared to Matilda’s mornings with Chiara.

He made sure to wake her up earlier than usual, so that they could cook breakfast together and have some time to spare.

Chiara – the person that hated mornings more than eggplants – did all she could to stay in bed for as long as possible. She would rather prepare Matilda’s breakfast in the evening and run to the school than wake up before 6 AM.

And it seemed like Matilda realized this difference quite soon, for all the times Ethan came to wake her up, she knew she could ask him to join her in bed for a few minutes.

"Hey, little Rookie," Ethan whispered, softly stroking Matilda's curls out of her forehead so that he could press a gentle kiss on it. "Time to wake up. We don't want to be late for school."

The little Rookie nickname was first used when Til was perhaps one year old and it made her giggle so hard Ethan kept using it. Chiara found it extremely funny, always pointing out that Matilda was nothing if not Ethan’s exact copy – and she was right. With her big blue eyes and long curly dark hair, there was no doubt that she was Ethan’s daughter. Not that the similarities ended in her physical appearence – she was phenomenally subborn for a five year old (to which Ethan always argued that she could as well inherit that from Chiara) and sarcasm was her second language. She also might have used ‚fuck‘ once or twice and Ethan knew it’s not Chiara she heard that from.

You should call her little Terminator, Chiara always teased and partly, she was right.

But there were many traits and marks of Chiara in their daughter, marks not so visible but unmistakely hers. How Matilda’s smile was always bright and warm and sincere, something only Chiara could pass on. How she came home one day from school and asked Ethan if he could make cupcakes with her, because her classmate loves cupcakes but his parents are too busy to make them for him and so she would love to bring him some to school. How she appreciated the most common of things, like sun shining because it makes her skin warm and also rain falling because she can jump in the puddles. Her genuine curiosity and open heart and just her general need to make people around her feel good.

That was all Chiara’s mark and Ethan loved his two girls so much it sometimes still surprised him. That he was capable of such love.

It also made him want more sometimes. More people to love that much.

„Snuggle time, please?“ Matilda smiled, her eyes still closed and Ethan was prepared, he knew this request would come and so he didn’t even need to check the watch to know that he could lay down next to her, the tiny bed making his position rather awkward.

He snuggled Matilda from behind and between her slow stirs as she began to wake up and his soft kisses put on the back of her head, he whispered how excited he was to attend the Father’s Day program with her.

*** *** ***

Ethan didn’t even need to try hard to persuade Matilda that a piano-cello duet would be better to perform than a dance. She liked the idea from the beginning and after going through her music sheets with Chiara, she happily exclaimed that they could try to learn Hedwig’s Theme together. Her eyes were bright and full of excitement and Ethan knew the decision was already made, because he couldn’t resist that face.

And so they performed and for a girl who was five and her father, who was almost fifty, they did a great job. Seeing Matilda’s pure, unadultered joy and excitement and so much gratitude that her dad could be there with here, was something Ethan would consider one of the best moments of his life forever.

Tillie was almost jumping up and down with the happiness as they watched her classmates and their fathers or grandfathers or mothers in some cases or maybe even uncles perform their numbers. She was clapping hard after every single one and she kept waving at everyone, her smile so wide Ethan thought for a while that she resembled Bryce more than anyone. The thought made him chuckle, because Matilda would love to hear that, as Bryce was her hero and possibly the best person she could spend her sleepovers at.

Ethan could hardly say that he enjoyed being surrounded by so many people, but he sincerely did enjoy spending the day with his kid. He didn’t regret choosing making a fool out of himself in front of bunch of kids instead of the conference. He almost forgot about the conference altogether until Aurora’s call interrupted the bustle full of laughter around them.

She only called him to let him know that all went well and she was off to have a lunch with other diagnosticians that helped with the study.

"Yes, alright. I'll see you on Monday. Good job, Aurora," Ethan put the phone back into his pocket and turned to Matilda.

"I am sorry you missed the conference because of me, dad."

Ethan knelt down so that he could face his daughter, the very same blue eyes he knew from mirrors, looking back at him, wide and curious.

He smiled softly, kissing Matilda's forehead before responding.

"I am not. No conference is that important, and just between the two of us," Ethan lowered his voice and put his best serious face on, causing the mischievous sparks ignite in Tillie's eyes "Conferences are so boring. You saved me from a torture."

She giggled and threw her arms around Ethan's neck, squeezing him as hard as a five years old could.

"Now let's go, I think there's an ice cream that needs to be eaten."

"But daddy you said ice creams are sugar bomb!"

Ethan chuckled at her shocked expression - not sure is it was a genuine one or an act - and took her little hand into his.

"I'll pretend I don't see you eating it."

Matilda squealed and before her ‚no sugar in this house‘ dad could change his mind, she stormed off in the direction of the ice cream truck.

Before she could reach her destination, however, she stopped in her tracks and tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, pointing at the little girl sitting under one of the trees – alone.

„That’s Dorothy! She is my best friend.“

Yes, Ethan remembered Matilda mentioning Dorsey, her best friend, quite often, but he never got a chance to meet her before. The girl was tiny, much smaller than Matilda – which inherited Ethan’s significant height, too – her hair almost white and her eyes similar to Matilda’s, big and blue but not even close to being as bright.

„She doesn’t have a dad,“ Matilda added, her voice much less excited now. „She didn’t want to come here but her mom has to be at work.“

Ethan’s heart tightened at her words, the description of Dorothy’s situation reminding him of his own when he was a kid way too much.

„Why don’t you go and ask her to join us for an ice cream?“ Ethan smiled at Matilda faintly.

Before he could as much as blink, Matilda was gone and in the very next moment, both girls were back, smiling up at him, his own kid widely and Dorothy very shyly.

„Hello, Dorothy,“ Ethan knelt down and smiled at her encouragingly. „I am Ethan. It is my pleasure to meet you, Matilda talks about you a lot.“

„Hello,“ Dorothy muttered, not meeting his eyes and Ethan noticed she was holding Matilda’s hand.

Without any other word, he stood up and led both girls to find an ice cream truck, only half-listening to what they were talking about – enough to recognize that Dorothy was much more open when talking to Matilda, but not enough to register particular words.

Maybe that’s why Matilda’s next question took him off the guard.

„Right, daddy? I was just telling Dorsey that you could be her dad, right? And I would be her sister!“

Ethan’s eyes widened and before he could find the right words – gentle but also firm enough to explain that that’s not exactly how these things work, Matilda spoke again.

„She could come over anytime and we could have sleepovers like the ones I have with uncle Bryce or grandpa and we would play together and I could borrow her my toys, right?“

Ethan nodded and smiled, of course Dorothy is always welcome to stay at our place, and let the topic go, because there was nothing wrong about his daughter having best friend that would come over.

Thirty minutes later, all three of them sat at the grass and ate their ice creams and it was easy to forget the previous converstaions.

*** *** ***

Until he came into his office, a week after the Father’s Day and found Chiara waiting for him, her arms crossed at her chest and her expression unusually stoic.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Chiara spoke.

„Matilda’s teacher just called.“

„What?“ Ethan stepped closer, automatically reaching into his pocket to make sure his phone, wallet and car keys are there and he is ready to leave and pick up Matilda at any moment. „Is something wrong? Is she in trouble? Sick?“

„She is absolutely alright,“ Chiara shook her head sligthly, her face unreadable – something that scared Ethan more than her visible anger. „She just called me to let me know about the rumors going around Matilda’s class these past few days. She thought it would be better if I found out from her rather than from other parents.“

„Rumors?“ Ethan asked, utterly lost and confused.

It took all the willpower Chiara had not to let her facade slip and keep her expression neutral. But teasing Ethan was one of her main hobbies, even after ten years, and so she tried her best.

„Apparently, Matilda and Dorothy Wilkins told everyone that they are in fact sisters. They have different mommies but the same dad – no other than the famous Dr. Ramsey,“ now, it was really hard not to laugh. Ethan’s whole face paled and the confusion was quickly replaced by recognition. „The other kids shared the news with their parents and now those parents talk.“

Ethan didn’t know that Matilda told Chiara about her idea of Ethan becoming Dorothy’s dad the very same evening she shared it with Ethan himself and even though Chiara tried to explain why that idea is not going to work the way the wished it would, Matilda was stubborn. Meaning, Matilda adopted Dorothy as her sister anyway and didn’t mind sharing her dad with her.

„Fuck,“ Ethan whispered, pacing around the office, not really looking up at Chiara.

If he did, he would catch her grinning.

She cleared her throat quickly and added: „Some of the parents came to tell the poor teacher that they appreciate how civil the mothers of Matilda and Dorothy are about the whole thing and that it must’ve taken much strength of our spirits to put out kids into same school.“

She couldn’t anymore. The first chuckle escaped her and when Ethan’s eyes met hers, the mischievous sparks were dancing on full display in her irises, her smile wide and so amused.

Ethan exhaled a sigh full of relief and rolled his eyes and when he looked at Chiara again, she was laughing softly, badly trying to cover her laugh with the hand over her mouth.

The bizarreness of the whole situation and his wife’s reaction made Ethan laugh too and he slumped down on the couch, pulling Chiara with him.

„We should give some kind of explanation, right?“ he whispered when they both calmed down.

„Oh, I don’t know. I am the civil one,“ Chiara smirked smugly. „And with a strong spirit!“

Ethan laughed again at that, thinking about how any kind of rumors about him and Chiara startled him in the beginning of their relationship and how over the years, Chiara managed to teach him to just let people talk.

„She really wants that sibling, huh?“ Chiara broke the silence, poking his side softly.

„Yes, she does,“ Ethan nodded.

„And you would...want that too, right?“ Chiara asked again, this time much more seriousness in her voice.

Both Chiara and Ethan were decided to adopt a child back in the days they believed they would never have their own. After Matilda was born, they didn’t really talk about it anymore – they felt too blessed, too lucky that they’ve gotten her and they were happy.

But the thoughts of adoption never truly left their heads and Chiara knew that especially Ethan considered the option often. She could see him talking to Matilda when she asked for a sister or a brother for her birthday, she saw the dreamy smile as they spoke about little kids.

And it was not like she was against the idea of adopting a child – quite the opposite. She grew up with two siblings and her brother and sister were one of the best parts of her childhood. She wished she could give Matilda the same feeling, the same love she recieved at her age. She just felt like she would be asking for too much, like it would be selfish to want another little human that would make them happy, when they already had one.

Those thoughts were not rational, but they were there and they slowed her decisions down.

„Yes, I would,“ Ethan nodded after a long while, looking straight into Chiara’s eyes.

He would never push her. But he wouldn’t lie either.

Chiara nodded and leaned in to press a soft kiss on Ethan’s mouth, pouring her emotions into it, her excitement with the idea just as strong as her anxiety.

Deep down, she knew that the decision has just been made. That no matter how openly they talked about it or expressed themselves, all three Ramseys wished to share their love and happiness with another soul.

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x matilda

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lexosaurus · 4 years ago

Text

Everything Was White: Part 12

[see all chapters]

Read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

---

The alarm was blaring.

Danny recognized the noise immediately. But his eyes were still slow to open, his arms were slow to turn off the offending sound, and his brain was slow to recognize that the white ceiling above him was just his bedroom ceiling.

His body was numb. Nothing felt real.

He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and unlocked it. The screen was too bright, but he didn’t care. He’d been through worse. What was a little eye strain to him, really?

There were text messages, but Danny ignored them. The government likely already read them first, so if they were important, Danny would probably have woken up back in his cell rather than his cozy bed.

Ghosts like Danny didn’t get to have comfort. He was unpredictable. Dangerous.

“You’re a feral beast.” Operative O’s deep voice rained down on him. “You need to be trained.”

Danny opened the Twitter app only to be faced with a crushing amount of notifications and his name on the top of the trending list.

He should have felt nervous. Anxiety should have gripped his stomach. But...it didn’t.

He felt nothing.

Numb.

He clicked on his name and scrolled through the tweets. As he suspected, that damn video of him at the PHP littered his screen.

Protests have begun to break out near the health clinic Phantom is attending. [image]

I don’t understand, why doesn’t he just fly into the building or something? Can he not fly?

Is phantom over?

It’s so gross how people feel the need to harass a teenager trying to recover from trauma.

imagine being a teen trying to get emergency mental help and then THAT walks into ur class

What the fuck did the government do to him?

He was numb.

Nobody knew what really happened in there, and Danny wanted so badly to keep it that way. And the worst part was, he thought that if he just forgot about it, tried to move past it, then it would all go away. And no one would ever know.

Except Vlad did find out. Somehow, Vlad had managed to get a hold of classified government files about Danny, and if what he had implied was true, then he had learned everything.

And if Vlad knew, then…

No. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Danny knew from the moment he’d stupidly revealed himself that his life was not his own anymore. He knew that he was going to be nothing but a government possession from that moment till the day he died.

He didn’t deserve to get upset over this.

He pulled up a blank tweet and started typing. His movements were robotic. Stilted. But one slip-up, just one reason for the public to get suspicious, and Danny knew that some seedy corner of the internet would pounce on the opportunity to dig deeper into Danny’s life than he was comfortable with.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Thank you everyone for the support. I’m back home with my family and am healing.

Before he could question what he was doing, his finger was already pressing send on the tweet. He watched as almost immediately, notifications popped up in his inbox.

But he didn’t open his notifications, he didn’t look at the replies. Instead, he closed the app and shut his phone off.

He didn’t care anymore.

Maddie knocked on the door and asked him a question, and he responded with the right answer for her to leave. He got up and started his new morning routine of sitting in the shower for ten minutes, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast before leaving for six hours of mandatory therapy.

He stared out the window, watching the morning traffic pass by him. He couldn’t remember if he shampooed his hair or if he just sat under the scalding water. But it was fine. He was just a government-issued robot now. Whatever.

There were people lining the highway when Danny pulled into the PHP center. They were shouting different things, holding different signs, their cameras armed and ready as soon as the GAV came into view. The police were there, making sure no one escaped into the parking lot, and there were therapists waiting outside.

They didn’t know. They had no idea what Danny had gone through, why he was there.

And it didn’t matter. Not to them, not to Danny, not to the police or the news stations filming the scene or to the government or Vlad or anyone else.

Danny wasn’t in charge of his life anymore.

He was only here because the government had decided he could stay free.

For now.

The therapists escorted him into the building. Danny felt hollow. Sick.

No, he was fine.

Maddie hugged him, told him to have a good day, that she’d be back to bring him to more therapy after, and Danny nodded. At least, he thought he remembered to nod. He might not have, though.

There was a window in the lobby. A white van was parked along the street.

The APC news van.

Jazz was right. Danny was just being paranoid about the white van outside of their house before. He was so stupid.

Even if it wasn’t a news van, what would it matter? He didn’t control his life, what would he care if they finished him off in some back alley? What would it matter if they snuck him into their van and held him captive for the rest of his life in some damp containment cell?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny spaced out for the morning meeting. He couldn’t remember if he managed to read off his paper for the other teens. His voice wasn’t working today. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything was numb.

They had art therapy today, run by a tall, lanky man with sandy hair and a clean-shaven face. He told the group to paint what they were feeling today, to channel their emotions onto their blank sheets of paper.

But Danny felt nothing. He had nothing to give.

He must have stared at his paper for too long, because the therapist tried to talk to him, ask him if he was alright, if he was having trouble with the exercise.

Danny didn’t respond, instead choosing to pick up the green paint and squeeze some of it directly onto his paper, rules be damned. It was too dark, so he grabbed the white paint and smeared it into the green. The color still wasn’t right, but Danny didn’t know enough about art to make it right, so he just kept spreading green across his paper. A dash of yellow, then some white, more green.

Time was up. His paper was green.

“Good job, Danny. What do you think?” the therapist asked.

Danny stared at the paper, studying the streaks of yellow within the brush strokes. “It’s not the right shade of ectoplasm.”

The day continued with more emotion-managing lessons and group activities but Danny didn’t care and nobody could understand that. He was done with this, he was tired, it didn’t matter.

It was lunchtime, and Danny had no appetite. It felt like he had just eaten breakfast. His stomach was still full, but he had a sandwich sitting in front of him that he needed to eat or else they would tell his parents.

Danny held the sandwich between his fingers. It looked like sandpaper.

He didn’t want to eat it.

The therapist was looking at him. She was probably talking to him too, asking him questions about his day. But Danny ignored her. After all, didn’t he need to eat this lunch? How could he possibly eat and talk at the same time?

The teens were talking around him, but Danny blocked them all out too.

They were noisy.

It was like they weren’t even there.

Danny wasn’t human. He didn’t care.

But you do care.

He didn’t.

He was numb.

Eat up like a good little dog.

I’m not a dog.

Something inside him snapped, and he yanked on his cold core, channeling all his energy to his fingertips. His fingers tingled out of the tangible field, and the sandwich fell to the table.

“Whoa!” The blonde girl jumped, her eyes trained on Danny’s transparent skin.

“Danny?”

There was an audience. Danny had forgotten about them. His core faltered, and the power faded from his fingertips.

He should have felt embarrassed by this emotional display. He should have felt horrified that he’d allowed himself to act so inhuman and disgusting in front of these innocent bystanders.

But he was still numb.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was bored.”

“That was sick!” the brunette boy chimed in. “You can do that on command?”

“Usually.” Danny’s gaze flickered over to the therapist, who was giving him a strange look. He turned his attention back to the fallen sandwich.

Maybe he would get kicked out of the program for this. For being too dangerous. That would probably be for the better. Then he could go free into the world. No more schedule, no more therapy, no more dissecting his emotions or talking about his trauma.

Who cared about his trauma, anyway? Certainly not him.

“So you still have your ghost powers, then?” the blonde girl asked. “People were saying online that you lost them. The government took them or whatever.”

Danny brought his hand up to his face, willing his fingers to fade to invisibility. “They’re locked. But...I...they’re there. I’ll get them back.”

He would get them back. He needed them.

Especially now.

Which was how he found himself sitting quietly outside his mother’s door. Waiting. He should have knocked probably, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He didn’t know why, he knew he should just go back to his room, go to sleep, stop bothering his parents about this, but he needed his core back.

His mom would understand. She was a ghost biology expert, right? She would get why he needed his core back now.

He raised his fist to knock, but he must have already knocked before because the door opened, revealing his mother dressed in teal pajamas on the other side.

“Danny?” She frowned, her brows pulling cautiously above her eyes. “What are you doing up, sweetie? Everything alright?”

“I, uh—” His voice was scratchy. He broke eye contact, staring down at his lap. “My—my core.”

“Something wrong?”

He licked his lips, his mouth dry. “I need it back.”

“Sweetheart,” she said in a patient tone. “We talked about this.”

“No. you talked.”

She sighed. “Danny, it’s nearly eleven. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“No. No. I need it.”

“I told you, hun, your core and body need time to heal properly first before we make any drastic changes to your physiology. Just give it a few more weeks, alright?”

“Weeks?” Danny’s voice rose in alarm.

“I promise it’ll be all worth it.”

Static rang in his ears, and a steel claw clutched at his stomach.

His mom didn’t understand. Why would she? She was human. Humans would never get it. She didn’t understand.

“No, I can’t…”

“Danny, you need to trust me. Your body needs to rest.”

“You don’t understand.”

She regarded him for a moment before opening her door fully. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk, then. You can tell me why this is so important to you.”

Danny peered inside the door, at the surprisingly average-looking bedroom before him. He could go in, tell his mother just how wrong he felt cut off from his core, how he was being blackmailed by Vlad, how there was a distinct record of every detail of what the Guys in White had done to him, how he had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable in his life.

But he wouldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. There was no way he could put it all into words. He was a ghost, she was a human. He couldn’t explain this to her.

Skulker and Vlad may have forced his revelation, but they gave him more secrets than he could ever have dreamt of handling.

Danny turned away. “It’s fine. Good night.”

“Hun…”

“Night, Mom.”

There was a tense silence before Maddie finally relented. “I love you, Danny.”

“You too,” he said reflexively. The words tasted sour on his tongue.

She didn’t understand. If she truly loved him, she would give him his core back right now, but she didn’t.

No, he was just being paranoid. This was just his Obsession talking. He didn’t need his core, he was just as much human as he was ghost. So what if he had to be a little more human for the next few weeks? Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?

To just be a regular human?

Maybe that was what his mother wanted. Maybe that was why she was postponing removing the chip. Maybe she was too afraid to see her son as a monster. A ghost.

But that was crazy. She loved him.

She was telling the truth.

His parents accepted him.

---

“You seem quiet today.”

Danny leaned back against the sofa, his arms crossed and his eyes looking anywhere but at the blonde figure sitting before him. The stress ball sat untouched on the table next to him.

He didn’t feel like doing therapy today. He didn’t want to talk.

His mom was human, his therapist was human. No one was going to get it.

“What’s on your mind, Danny?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He was fine. There was nothing to talk about. Even if there were things to talk about—and there weren’t, this was all just his Obsession going haywire—it wouldn’t matter anyway because he was defenseless and the government was going to kidnap him again. It was only a matter of time.

“You finished your first week with the PHP group today, right? How has that been going?”

“Fine.”

“Can you tell me about some of the activities you’ve been doing?”

“I don’t know.”

She sat there for a moment, as if giving him time to elaborate. But Danny wasn’t going to elaborate. He didn’t feel like talking today.

He looked out the window. The leaves had changed color, the ripe greens fading to yellows, oranges, and reds. In another few weeks, the ground would be littered with fallen leaves.

Summer had barely just begun when he was dragged from his house, drugged, and locked away. And yet, even though his entire world had come to a halt, time still moved on.

The clatter of the therapist’s clipboard falling on a side table jolted Danny out of his musing. He flinched, his eyes snapping over to see the therapist rising from her chair.

She stretched her arms behind her back and walked over to the closet. “You know what? It’s been a long day. Wanna play a game?”

“Um...are we allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not.” She grabbed a box out of the closet and placed it down in the center of the room.

Danny peered at it in confusion. “Jenga? Of—of all the games out there, you’re really gonna make me...make me get on the floor for Jenga?”

“Oh, come on, it’s fun.”

“You must throw some wild parties,” he remarked, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he slid off the couch and slowly scooched himself towards the middle of the room. As long as he didn’t have to explain why he was two seconds away from ripping his own core out of his chest, he would go along with whatever game she threw at him.

The therapist carefully tipped the box upside down, sliding the lid up to reveal a tower of multi-colored wooden tiles jigsawed together.

“So here’s our marvelous tower,” she said. “You can reach that alright?”

“Yeah.”

“So normal Jenga rules. We switch off trying to remove a piece without causing the tower to collapse. Except, for this game, after you remove a piece, you’re going to pick a card from this stack—” She pointed to a deck of large cards set up next to the Jenga tower. “—and then answer the question on the card that’s the same color. So if I take a purple tile out, I’ll answer the purple question on the card. Got it?”

Danny glanced between the cards and his therapist’s eager face. He was fairly certain Jenga never involved a set of cards before.

Maybe he’d forgotten the rules. It wouldn’t have been the first time his brain had betrayed him. “Am I being quizzed?”

“Don’t worry.” She pushed up the sleeves of her blue cardigan. “They’re just basic therapy questions. Nothing too bad.”

No. This was a trick, wasn’t it? To get him to talk?

He wasn’t going to fall for it. “I thought we weren’t—weren’t doing that...today.”

“The questions aren’t too deep. Honestly, I mostly just use this game as an icebreaker for new clients. But Jenga’s pretty fun all the same.”

He must have still looked too suspicious, because she threw him an easy smile and went, “Here, I’ll go first.” She carefully nudged a green tile out of the stack and drew a card. “Okay, so the green question on here says, ‘Describe yourself in three words.’ Well, I’d say I’m kind, I think I’m rather nerdy, and I’m a bit of a cat lady.”

That...wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would be an easy game.

He doubted any of the questions asked him about his core. Maybe he could loosen up a bit, go along with this icebreaker game, if only for an hour before sinking back into his internal panic.

“Cat lady?” he tried.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised that’s never come up! I have two at home.”

Right, his therapist had a life outside of therapy. Outside of his problems.

But it wasn’t like he knew her name. At this point, it was just too embarrassing to ask. Maybe she had told him that she had cats, and he just couldn’t remember. Maybe he would forget it again tomorrow.

Whatever. It was fine. He couldn’t care about things he didn’t remember. “Uh…” Danny pushed a purple tile out of the tower. “So I just pick up a—um, a card?”

“Yup, and read the purple question.”

Danny looked down at his card and rolled his eyes. “Oh, figures. ‘If you had superpowers, what would they be?’ Well, I’m dead. Does being dead count?”

She laughed, her voice light and airy. “Of all the questions, huh? Okay, let’s modify this a bit. If you could only keep one of your powers, which would you take?”

“Probably intangibility,” Danny said, his lack of hesitation surprising him.

“Oh? Why?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Where the chip was. “It’s the most useful, isn’t it? I can just...you know...I have no physical stuff in my way. I can just phase through any—anything I need. Or—no. Almost anything.”

Not shields. Those could still trap him.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to pry further, just offering him a kind nod and a “that makes sense” before pushing out another Jenga tile. “Blue! Alright, my question is, ‘What is your favorite feature about yourself?’ Hmm...that’s a bit tough, isn’t it? But I think my favorite thing about myself is my hair. When I was a teen, I used to straighten my hair, but then when I got to college, I stopped doing that and just let it be. Now I quite like my curly hair. Okay, your turn!”

“Okay.” Danny leaned over and pushed a red tile out of the tower. “Okay...my quest—question is…‘What is your biggest hope for your future?’ Oh...”

He did want to be an astronaut. But that was before, when he was still human. And then he was caught between thousands of volts of ecto-electricity and that future vanished right before his eyes.

What did he want to do with his life? What did he hope would happen?

He wanted his core back. He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable for much longer. His chest felt like it was tearing itself apart, he needed to—

Breathe. And answer the question.

What did he hope for his future?

“I don’t know. My future’s kinda...ruined, isn’t it?”

“Try to think on a smaller scale.”

“I…” Danny ran a hand through his hair. He wanted his core back, he wanted to be Phantom, he wanted to protect Amity Park. But he couldn’t say that. It made him sound too ghostly. Too inhuman.

Humans didn’t have these kinds of otherworldly desires. She would think he was a freak if he told her. She wouldn’t know how to react.

“I want to finish PT.”

“That’s a good goal to have.”

“Your turn.”

Humming, she nudged a tile out of the Jenga tower and flipped over a card. “Okay, my question is, ‘What is something you were worried about when you were younger?’ Let me think…oh, here’s one. When I was young, my older sister moved out to live with her boyfriend. It was really scary because I had never lived without her, but we kept in touch and everything turned out okay.”

“I haven’t either. Lived away from Jazz I mean. Like—like for real. But she’s going to college next—next semester. I think she, uh...deferred a semester.”

“And you know, it’s common to feel worried about a sibling moving out. Periods of transition in life can be the most stressful for us, but it’s important to recognize that things will be okay.”

Danny looked down at the carpet. “I guess.”

Some days it felt like Jazz was the only one truly on his side. He was a lab rat, too well known and too hated to ever have a future, forever condemned to a vicious cycle of evading people like the Guys in White and Vlad for the rest of his life. Jazz was leaving him in a few months, his friends would follow in a few years, and in the end, Danny would be alone.

But he was fine with that. He’d accepted it. It was just his life now, there was nothing to say about it.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“Yup! Go right ahead.”

Danny removed another tile. “‘How do you think others view you and why?’” He paused, throwing the therapist a bitter look. “This is rigged.”

“Not rigged, that’s just a very lucky pick.”

“Lucky to who?” Danny groaned.

What was with the universe finding new ways to torment him?

“Humor me,” the therapist said patiently.

Danny glared at his card, tapping his fingers against the edge. It wasn’t like the public opinion of him was exactly a secret, but it still hurt. Constantly. Like some scab he kept telling himself to ignore, but ignoring it was impossible because the public would never leave him alone.

“Not good,” Danny muttered. “People hate me.”

“Being in the public eye is very stressful for anyone, but to be unique in your way adds on an entirely different layer. People are afraid of the things they don’t understand, and that makes them forget that at the end of the day, you’re still a person.”

“Yeah.” Danny’s eyes were trained on the colorful tower before him, which was starting to blur as the prickling behind his eyes increased. He ducked his head and blinked, hoping to save face before it was too late.

“That doesn’t mean everyone feels this way, though. But sometimes it can feel that way to you because the ones who are the most afraid, the most hateful, are the loudest voices in the crowd. But remember, Danny, you won that court case for a reason. You have more people on your side than you think.”

“I won it for now, you mean. I don’t...I don’t think…” His voice failed, and he pressed his fingernails into his palms. He took a few shaky breaths. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Danny. Why don’t we talk about the case for a minute?”

Tucker’s words echoed in his head, how it was televised. How millions of people all around the globe probably tuned in for it, or watched streams online, each person with their own opinion of him.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now.

“No,” he said. “Can we—can we just continue the game?”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then that’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Alright.” She pushed a block out of the tower. “So...alright, my question is, ‘What memory do you treasure the most?’ To that, I think fishing with my dad as a child. He was a big support for me when I was growing up, and I really valued our times fishing together as important bonding moments for us.”

Danny nodded politely, trying his best to not appear like he was counting down the seconds until therapy was over.

He could feel his emotions building inside him, threatening to topple the carefully constructed dam guarding his secrets. This was such a simple game, these were such simple questions, so why did he feel like he was failing?

He pushed out a Jenga tile—a red tile—from the tower and grabbed a card, scanning the questions until he found the red one.

What are you afraid of?

The words echoed back to him, and he pushed the card away. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to read those words or hear her voice because saying the question would mean he would have to talk and he only agreed to this stupid game to get out of talking.

There was so much he was afraid of that he had no right to be afraid of. Because he deserved this. Getting revealed was his fault, he was being reckless. He deserved all of it.

The experiments with the Guys in White. The pain, the way his skin was torn apart. How they threw him in a vat of ectoplasm the next day to heal, and how the ectoplasm entering his lungs made him feel like he was drowning because even though ghosts didn’t need to breathe, he still used those organs reflexively as Phantom. But he was in too much pain and his brain was too hazy to fight back. He could only sink into the darkness.

The red bag. The way it tasted, smelled, how it haunted him every day and how he revisited those moments every night in his dreams. How he would wake up each day and the drawer on his nightstand would be shimmering in the morning sun, as if tempting him to open it up, grab the bottle inside, let it help just for one day. It can take the edge off, he can be functional. Who cares if he’s cheating? It’s just for a day...

The public. The people. Their judgments, their words. How he was, on a molecular level, so vastly different from them. How he could never be the same. He would never have a normal life, he could never have a normal job, a normal family, normal friendships, ever again. There would always be something there, something alien between them.

Even between him and his best friends. There was just something... different ever since the portal accident. It had brought them closer together, sure, but in other ways it had also driven an invisible wedge between them. Because Danny would always have his powers, he would always be a half ghost, and there would always be things now that Sam and Tucker would never understand.

How much would change now? Now that he was in the public eye, now that he’d gone through government torture? Now that his brain didn’t work the same?

And his core. His humanity. Why were his parents so apprehensive about it?

What are you afraid of?

Why wouldn’t his parents let him down into the lab? What were they hiding? They said his core was damaged, but it had been months since he was ripped open. His surgical damage had healed, his broken bones were back to normal, and even though his nerve endings in his chest and spine were still fried, they had been slowly mending themselves too.

Ectoplasm healed faster than human physiology. His core should have been fine by now.

What was the truth?

“They accept me,” Danny said automatically.

“Who does?”

Who accepted him?

Sam and Tucker did.

His family…

Did they?

“I don’t know.”

“You have people in your corner, Danny. Your parents, your sister, your close friends. They all care about you. We’re all here for you, even if those loud voices in the public tell you otherwise.”

But if they cared...

“Then why won’t they let me have my core back?”

“Your core?”

“My powers. My ghostliness. Ectoplasm.” Danny let his eyes flair to emphasize his point.

If his therapist was scared of his otherworldly display, she didn’t show it. Instead, she continued to look at him with her neutral expression, free of the judgment he’d come to expect from people since the accident.

And for some reason he couldn’t explain, that irritated him.

“You mean the inhibitor chip?” she asked.

“Yes. They told me it was because my core...it was damaged but—but it doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t...”

“Have you talked to them about this?”

Of course he had. They kept repeating that his core was damaged. And they were probably right—for a time, at the very least. But that was months ago.

Why hadn’t they scanned his core recently? Shouldn’t they be happy to learn it was healed? Shouldn’t that make them relieved?

What were they afraid of?

What are you afraid of?

“Do you think it would be helpful if I talked to your mother about this?” asked the therapist. “As a way to introduce the topic? She likely doesn’t know how much it’s bothering you.”

But that didn’t make sense either because Danny brought his core up every day. His parents knew how much it was bothering him. They had to have known, right?

So why were they doing this to him?

What were they hiding?

What are you afraid of?

---

Danny tried to remember a time where walking from his living room to his kitchen didn’t require a list of steps to be taken beforehand—a time where he could just get up and walk. But those memories were far too distant now.

And besides, this was his reality now. A reality where something as simple as walking made his head spin.

He shouldn’t dwell on the memories of how easy it used to be for him, he shouldn’t have snapped at Jazz for getting a cup of water for him because he knew the glasses were too high to reach from his wheelchair, he shouldn’t allow this irrational anger to overtake him every time the creeping anxiety of his future as Amity Park’s ghost hero came into question.

He just needed to focus on where he was now. Curled up on his couch avoiding his parents.

Everything felt wrong this morning when he woke up. For a moment, he had managed to convince himself that he was just being paranoid. That it was just his damaged nerve endings freaking out as normal. That once he took his medication, his problems would go away.

But they didn’t. He still felt wrong. His chest still felt wrong.

It was manifesting in other ways too. He couldn’t walk as long today at PT. His physical therapist told him it was just a bad day and that his body was probably just tired from his busy week. But Danny knew that wasn’t right.

It had nothing to do with him being tired. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t anxious.

His core was the problem. His parents were the problem.

He tried asking about his core again on the way home from PT, using conversation techniques he went over with his therapist at the end of their last appointment, but Maddie just brushed him off. Said they would talk about it later.

But then later came and...she didn’t.

Danny tried asking his father, but he brushed Danny off too. Said Danny needed to focus on healing first.

But how was he supposed to heal when he was missing half of himself?

He felt wrong. So wrong. His body was too bound by gravity, it was too empty, it wasn’t listening to him.

He pressed his palms into his forehead. His hands were clammy. Shaking. Speckles of cold touched them—or was that his tears? Was he crying?

No.

He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?

The government had him in a cage. They tormented him in ways he would rather die than live through again. But then it ended, and he was freed. He was allowed to go home, he could live his life as a legal person again.

Except, he wasn’t free. Not at all. He was still trapped here in Amity, in his house, in his body. He had no control. Not over what he ate, when he slept, where he went, what he could say, what he could think.

Half of him was still locked up tight with no hope of escape.

His water glass was empty. It would have been too embarrassing to ask someone to help him, but he was so thirsty and dehydrated and he just really needed this to work. He needed his body to respond to him. For one moment, please, just let his body respond.

Gripping the water cup in one hand and his walker in the other, he tried to stand, to walk over to the kitchen sink. But balancing everything was so difficult, his body was still fatigued from PT, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it but he just needed to try.

But he couldn’t do it in the end. The cup slipped out of his hand and tumbled onto the carpet, thankfully saved from shattering on impact by some last shred of luck the universe decided to pity him with.

And now Danny too was on the floor because he couldn’t bend down to pick the cup back up like a normal person, and he didn’t want to call for help, and he couldn’t use any of his powers, and he felt so trapped. So helpless. So vulnerable.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was too stubborn and he was too useless.

A tear splattered against his hand, and he gripped the floor, his body trembling.

“Stop crying. Stop it.” he hissed.

He was weak.

Plasmius, once nearly his equal, had so severely overpowered him the other night. It was embarrassing. On the hierarchy of ghosts, where was he now? At the bottom with the blob ghosts?

But those ghosts could still fly. They could still turn intangible. Things that Danny couldn’t even do.

Hell, he was so weak that even the Box Ghost could defeat him now.

“Stop crying.”

He crawled back to the couch, the thought of getting water abandoned on the floor along with the last semblance of his dignity. Another tear fell from his cheek, and he desperately tried to ignore it, ignore his dry throat, ignore the pain in his chest, ignore his core and the Y-scar on his body and his new place in the ghost hierarchy as lower than dirt, ignore everything. Just focus on getting back to the couch. Shut down, go numb.

He was fine, he was okay.

He just needed to push through this. Just toughen up, quit whining. Life wasn’t fair. So what if he was now just a regular human? Hadn’t he been human for the first fourteen years of his life? He needed to suck it up.

Dragging himself back onto the safety of the couch cushions, he pulled one of Jazz’s throw blankets around his body and pressed a pillow into his face.

Never in his life had he been so tempted to scream, to curse, to finally let the last brick fall and allow hell to break loose. But his parents were in the basement, Jazz was upstairs, and he was fine.

He was fine.

---

Huge thank you to tumblr user and writer @imekitty for proofreading this chapter. She’s amazing and I owe her my life.

And as always, thanks for reading!

---

#danny phantom #everything was white #chapter 12 #my writing #fanfiction #phiccs #danny has A Bad Time

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warpriest-writings · 3 years ago

Text

Red eyes on Grandmother's grave.

Sticks broke under her feet, running as fast and hard as she could but it felt like running through jelly, her feet caked in heavy mud.

“Someone! Help me!!! Please!” She cried out but couldn’t hear her own voice.

Before her was the pair of sharp, red eyes out in the middle distance. She couldn’t make out a face; she wasn’t even sure if the eyes were attached to anythin, just floating there, haunting her. Those hungry, starved eyes that wanted to devour her. The eyes just hung there as she sat there frozen.

“What do you want!?” she screamed out, but again her words came out silent.

The sharp, red eyes narrowed, then rushed towards her as a hand reached out at her.

With a difficult, almost pained, inhalation of breath, Patsy woke with a startled jump, accidently knocking her kitty out of bed.

She gasped, “Bean! Come here. Mweh, mweh.” She made kissy noises to her large Maine Coon. Rubbing her fingers together as she did so attempting to soothe Bean and entice her to come back into the bed. Not that Bean needed much convincing; no one in the Desoto household could remember a single night that cat hasn’t slept in Patsy’s bed. By the time she got Bean back in bed and started petting her, Patsy had almost entirely forgotten her nightmare about the...was she running? Regardless, after several minutes of kitty snuggles, she checked her phone, loathing to discover that it was 5:53, merely thirty minutes before her alarm would have gone off anyway.

Of course, she wouldn’t have been lucky enough to wake up from her scary dream at a reasonable 1:17, or even a moderate 3:32. Good, god given times in the early morning a girl could go back to sleep too. Patsy sighed and entered an anxious state of contemplation, debating getting in the shower now and getting that out of her morning routine or laying there, blissfully enjoying the time before she had to get up for real. An absolute miserable time that went on in her head until her alarm went off. Ah, yes, neither productive nor relaxing. Thank you, Anxiety.

Getting out of bed with a less than encouraging groan, Patsy began her morning routine. Feeling emotionally and mentally exhausted by 6:45 AM, Patsy walked briskly down the stairs while putting her long and bouncy kinky hair into a ponytail.

“Morning, Mom!”

Her mom, Elana, looked back at her as some toast popped out of the toaster, “Hey, Sweetheart!”

Joseph, her dad, poured two cups of coffee before handing one to his wife as she handed him the plate of now buttered toast. “Hey, Pats. Finished your homework last night?” Giving Elana a quick kiss.

“Course, Dad,” she said, silently beaming that her parents were still happily married after nearly sixteen years; it was more than could be said about several of her friends at school.

Her mother was the manager at a local small diner, it was a nice little place, near enough to her school that Patsy would usually walk there at the end of the day and hang out with her friends or finish her homework before her mom’s shift ended at six when the night manager came in. Her father worked from home, and studied. Technically, he was still a student at the University of Illinois, but he worked a lot of sub contracted programming and coding jobs on the side. Once she asked him why he was still in college and his reply was, “Sometimes people are just...nervous about getting out there, and sometimes you just so happen to be very good at filling out grant applications. Your momma has a steady job that takes care of us, and my work on the side makes sure we stay in the green.”

“Need a ride to school today, Pats?” her dad said, snapping Patsy out of it.

“I’m good; I kinda want some time to just think,” she told him.

“It’d be nothing, it’s getting colder out and I love driving my babygirl to-”

“Joseph,” her mother interrupted.

He backed down, “Alright, alright. Letting Pats be all independent.”

“Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll have breakfast at school today, I’m going to get going,” Patsy said.

Joseph began reaching into his pocket, “Need money?”

“I’m good, I still have twenty from helping out at the diner.”

“Now hold on, that’s your money. It’s our job to feed you,” he said, and offered her a five, “Take it, and make sure you grab an apple or an orange or something those school food scientist freaks can’t turn into half-baked prison sloop."

Patsy nodded, “Okay, okay.” She took the money, then gave her dad a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “Love you, mom. Love you, dad.” Then grabbed her backpack from a kitchen table chair and made her way to the door, only partially catching what her dad was saying about Patsy being braver than he was for voluntarily eating school food.

From her house it was roughly a twenty-minute walk to school. Normally, she would have jumped at the opportunity for a quick ride to school, but her mind was still preoccupied by that dream. Most of it was lost, faded just beyond her consciousness’s reach. Those red eyes; Patsy could still see them crystal clearly in her mind. She could almost feel them on her back now. Patsy shuttered at the thought.

As she walked she barely heard the wizzing of bike tires until they were right behind her, lost in her thoughts Patsy made a sound reminiscent of an “Eek!” and jumped off to the grass beside the sidewalk. The biker slowed to a stop, “Miss. Pascala, are you alright?”

He knew her name? Patsy looked at the biker, as she had been largely looking at her moving feet up until that point and the fact that from her perspective the biker was right in front of the morning sun, she had to squint and couldn’t really make out his face, “Uh, yes. I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Hmm?” he took off his helmet, revealing quite the head of curly locks, “Miss. Pascala, a little out of it this morning?”

As her eyes adjusted she suddenly realized, “OH! Mr. Morales, sorry. It was all sunny, and I was kinda lost in my thoughts, and I’ll just stop talking now.”

Her history teacher looked at her with a bit of a raised eyebrow, “I shall see you in the third period, Miss. Pascala, have a pleasant walk. Homework is due by the end of class.” He awkwardly coughed and rode off, quickly moving into the bicycle lane of the road.

Sometime later, after what is by all rights and definitions a poor excuse of a breakfast that would send Mr. DeSoto into a rambling state of disbelief that this was the best that taxpayer money could do for feeding America’s youth, as well as Patsy’s first hour math class (math first period of the day, she was convinced that the school gods hated her) and her second period economics class where they learned..something, Patsy was sure of that. She remembers taking notes and everything. There was a presentation with slides and everything, so they must have learned something...So after econ was her history class with Mr. Morales.

She liked Mr. Morales, more than her math teacher that’s for sure. “Math is the language of the universe.” She was taking English and French and frankly didn’t feel like she had time for a third language course. Mr. Morales was different, he got swept away with the subject sometimes and seemed to have a real love for it.

“We can learn much from history, but the people who made it weren’t trying to teach morals, and they weren’t thinking about just how important that what they were doing took place in 1776, or during the first or second half of the twelfth century. The past is made up of the actions of people who were concerned with living their lives, and if what they were doing was the right thing to do, or the right thing for them.” Mr. Morales said on the first day of school. He was also just a bit odd. His thick curly hair, a trait he described as indicative of his strong greek heritage, was peppered ever so slightly. Otherwise he held onto his youth remarkably well. looking closer to mid twenties rather than late thirties.

After the class ended, Patsy went up to her teacher, “Uh, Sir, excuse me.”

Mr. Morales looked up from his tablet from which he often powered through novels, “Hmm, yes, Miss. Pascala?”

“I was just going over that pop quiz you handed back today and I would have gotten one hundred percent if you didn’t mark my answer for question two wrong.” She said,

He set his tablet down, “That is usually how people do not get full marks. Allow me to double check that.” He held his hand open.

Patsy handed him the paper, “You see, I’m certain the correct answer is B and I’d like to get full credit.”

“Third century B.C. Yes, you are correct. I’ll be sure to update the gradebook and parent portal to reflect this. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss. Pascala, I imagine I marked everyone else who answered as you did as incorrect as well.”

He handed her back the quiz after remarking her score and immediately wrote a note he then stuck to his computer monitor.

She excused herself and left with a bright smile, making her way to her next class, and then on and so forth with her day. As she was heading towards her computer typing class after lunch (which was not notably better than the breakfast, it is a wonder that these children survive long enough to eat microwaved ramen in college dorms.) She accidentally bumped into the Principle as she was turning a corner.

“Ooft!” She said, feeling like she walked into a lumpy brick wall.

Principal Robertson cleared his throat and looked down his nose at the young lady, “It is not becoming to run down the hails and blindly around corners.”

He had been the principal at her school for well over fifteen years now, and he seemed to live for it. Participating in school spirit events and playing along with the dress up days, at least he did last year. No one wanted to really mention it but over the summer he lost a lot of weight and his skin got paler...greyer was almost more accurate. Hushed rumors said he was diagnosed with some cancer or another but refused to stop working while on chemo and Patsy wasn’t sure what to think of it all. Looking down at her now she wasn’t feeling very comfortable.

“I, uh, I really need to get to class.” Patsy said

The sickly Principal sighed a heavy breath, “Just slow down.”

“Right, of course. Thank you Mr. I mean, Principal Robertson.” With that she took off, carefully walking not-to-quickly.

Passing around the next corner and with her computer lab in sight Patsy let out her own sigh of relief. The bell ringing just steps away, “Whyyyyyyy?” Patsy said in a hushed, exasperated tone.

She quickly rushed into the room and to her seat, hoping maybe she wouldn’t be marked late. The class lesson began and she got to work with her typing program.

“Hey, Patsy,” Her friend Abby said, “Think your mom would give me a ride home after her shift at the dinner?”

“Course, Abbs.” She replied, “You getting anywhere with these?”

“Not really, my hands know the keyboard but my words per minute is garbage.” Abby said.

“My words per minute is fine, but I have to force myself to type the way that we’re supposed to. It doesn’t help that at home I always just type with my pointer and middle fingers.”

“You type a lot at home?” She asked, “Are you writing something?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, “No! of course not...I just look up a lot of random stuff when I’m bored.” She must never know.

Abby raised an eyebrow, “Mhm, right.”

Over the intercom the school receptionist called out, “Pascala DeSoto to the Principal’s office, Pascala DeSoto to the Principal’s office.

Abby winced, and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

She tried to return it, her thoughts were racing. Surely she wasn’t being called down to the Office for accidentally bumping into the Principal in the hallway was she? Why wouldn’t he just take her there right after she did it then? Maybe it wasn’t about anything she did at all. Oh God...what if her dad accidentally started another grease fire trying to make home fries? What if Mom got into an accident on her way to the dinner? Her mind was a beehive that someone just punted halfway across a football field.

The receptionist must have noticed the worry on her face and gave her a very sweet smile, “Don’t worry about it too much, Sweetie. Just keep your chin up and remember none of this will matter in ten years.” Reassuring words, either her parents were fine or she was just as unsure why she called down Patsy as she was herself.

Bracing herself mentally, Patsy opened the door and pushed it to the magnetic door stopper that held it open.

“Closer the door behind you, Miss. DeSoto.” Principal Robertson said.

Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip, she wasn’t sure why she was feeling so destressed over this. She hadn’t done anything as far as she could remember or mentally justify. She closed the door, getting a last glimpse of Mrs. O'Riley, the nice receptionist.

Run! Every nerve in her body screamed out but she moved forward to sit in the chair opposite Principal Robertson at his desk anyway. He spoke up; she only saw his lips move, the words not landing correctly in her ears.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Could you say that again?” She asked.

His brow furrowed, “I do not care for repeating myself, Miss. Desoto.”

She sank in the chair. “Sorry.”

“And do not mumble. Speak clearly or not at all!”

Patsy sat back up in her seat in shock, “Principal Robertson, I don’t think you’re allowed to speak to me like that.”

“Do not speak back to me, you’re the one in trouble here.” He said venomously.

Trembling she stood up, “I need to go.”

He got up as well, “I think not, DeSoto. You’ve been hiding really well, tricked everyone but not me.” He licked his upper lip.

A full body chill ran through her entire being and oddly, in retrospect she felt, Patsy really wanted her kitty Bean there. She said, “Principal Robertson, you can’t be serious right now!? Think….think about your wife!”

Robertson frowned hideously, “That bint isn’t important.” He smiled, which was so much more disturbing to the young lady, “not like you, DeSoto, you have been worth all of my effort and patience.”

He reached out for her when the door opened, “Principal Robertson,” called out an all too reassuring voice, “I was wondering if you had the chance to look over those field trip papers I….” His hand less than two inches away from her, Patsy’s whole body was trembling but she couldn’t make her legs run.

Mr. Morales stood in the open doorway, his eyes moving quickly from Patsy to Robertson. “Miss. Pascala, behind me.” He said putting himself between them.

The Principal scowled in frustration, “I’m not entirely sure what you think you are doing, Linus. You are acting like I am some sort of threat to the girl.”

“This doesn’t look good, James.” Mr. Morales replied.

Robertson scowled deeper, and Patsy in that moment of fear and confusion thought his scowl pulled unnaturally at his skin.

Mr. Morales raised his hands defensively, “What are you?” Striking a serious tone with his voice that she had never heard from her history teacher before. It was a cold voice that set her skin on edge almost as much as Principal Robertson had.

Before her eyes the late fifties Principal of clear declining health grabbed Mr. Morales and threw him against a glass case containing various trophies for academic and sports accomplishments. Patsy left out a loud scream and Mrs. O’Riley’s own scream wasn’t far behind.

Later the police officers that responded to the Receptionist's call would ask Patsy what happened next, and she told them the truth. It all happened so fast she wasn’t sure what exactly happened. Mr. Morales, who had bruised ribs, and some cuts from the glass but was thankfully otherwise alright, shouted something that didn’t make sense to her at Robertson and the Principal ran off. She didn’t get to hear what Mr. Morales told them but they questioned him for a good long while.

School was cancelled early and parents were furiously calling the school board and the district for answers. There was a warrant issued for Robertson, and some people were threatening to pull their kids altogether. No one wants their kids to go to the school where the principal threatened a fifteen year old girl and assaulted a teacher.

Superintendent Wilkens sent a parent portal wide email that a warrant was formally filed against Mr. Robertson and the police had opened an investigation. In addition to Resource Officer Thomas three more Iron county police officers would be stationed at the school for security and rest assured that school would be open again Friday.

“No, no...this is ridiculous. My daughter was threatened by that man.” Patsy’s dad said to the Superintendent’s secretary. “Don’t put me on hold! ….Yes, I believe that you do have another call coming in. I….” he sighed heavily, and tossed his cellphone into the living room sofa.

“Sweetheart.” Elana said, putting her hands tenderly on Joseph’s shoulders.

“We worked with that man in the ice cream socal last year, Laney.”

Just out of their sight, sitting against the hallway wall Patsy hugged Bean. Now more than ever the tridactyl kitty gave her some comfort. She kept replaying it over in her mind, Robertson’s face looked so...uncanny valley. Elana had tried to reassure her that it was just her mind playing tricks on her, wanting to think that he was somehow less than human because of how he was acting.

Her phone buzzed, touching the wall it tapped rapidly and loudly and Patsy reactively tried to grab it before her parents noticed.

“Pats? Babygirl, I thought you were laying down.” Her dad said, walking over to her, flipping the hallway light on. “Well, I thought you were scrolling through your phone, pretending to be laying down.”

She gave Bean a little squeeze like when she was littler, “I tried, but I couldn’t take a nap.”

“It’s okay, Pats. How'bout I make up some of my famous root beer floats?”

She slowly nodded, “That would be good.”

“Come on, Patsy.” Elana said, “We can sit at the table while your father makes us a feel better treat.”

She got up and walked over to the kitchen table, Bean closely trailing her like always. “Hey, think I could maybe sleep in your guys' bed tonight?”

Elana quickly glanced at her husband, the pair of them sharing a whole conversation in a moment.

“Of course, Pats.” Her dad said, “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

“It’ll be like when you crawled in my bed when you were little after a nightmare woke you up.” Elana said.

Her father was scooping ice cream into three tall milkshake glasses as Patsy pulled Elana into a hug, “Thank you for being my mom.” she said softly.

Elana returned the hug, remembering the first time Patsy told that to her and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She was Pascala's mom, there wasn’t any doubt of that. She didn’t give birth to Patsy though. Her birth mom and Joseph’s first wife passed away when she was less than six months old, an oncoming driver didn’t stop at the red light as she was going through the intersection on her way home from work. Elana was her birth mother’s best friend and Patsy’s godmother. After the funeral she just kept helping Joseph out with Patsy, eventually moving in with them. Joseph and Elana married when she was seven, but she had really always been her mom.

As frustrated as he was with the situation, Joseph did his best to cool down and help Patsy feel better, telling his corny dad jokes he spent hours and hours looking up at his computer desk.

He spent almost a half hour that night checking and double checking that every door and window was locked that night, as well as making sure their security system was armed. Unlike Patsy, who almost couldn’t sleep without Bean snuggled next to her, Elana found the heavy cat overly warm but she gritted her teeth through it for Patsy’s sake.

The next morning, Thursday, the day after her high school Principal threatened her, assaulted a teacher and just disappeared. She woke up to the smell of her dad making eggs, over cooking them. Elana always made them a little runny. Everything seemed to run by a little slowly. Like she had been jerked out of a deep daydream and couldn’t pull herself entirely out of her own head.

Around noon she and her mom were watching a cartoon as Joseph entered the room on the phone, “I see, well, thank you, Linus. Yes? I’ll ask her now, we were planning on going to the diner for lunch anyway.” He pulled the phone slightly away from his face and turned to the pair on the sofa, “Pats, Mr. Morales is out of the hospital. He asked if it would be alright if he met us at the diner today.”

She let out a huge sigh of relief hearing he was out, that meant he was okay, “Yeah, that sounds good!”

Joseph put the phone back to his face, “She’s okay with it. We’ll see you there at one. Yep, bye, it was good hearing from you too. And...thank you, Linus.” he hung up and put his phone into his pocket. “He said the superintendent pushed the school’s opening back to Monday, I guess we angry few can make a difference.”

Elana pulled her legs onto the sofa and sat cross legged, turning towards him, “That’s great! I think that’s what WIlken’s should have done from the start, but hey. So we’ll be eating with Patsy’s english teacher?”

“History teacher.” Patsy said, correcting her.

“Linus is also one of my work associates, but yes. He just wants to check in with Pats.”

She nodded, “Alright, I’m going to take a quick shower before we go.”

She gave Joseph a quick kiss on the cheek as she left the room, her husband replacing her spot on the sofa.

Patsy gave her dad a big hug. “So Mr. Morales is alright?”

“Some cuts and bruises but he sounded alright, he didn’t talk about himself much.” Joseph said.

Before long they were sitting down as Margret, one of the servers at the diner, was bringing over a pot of coffee for Joseph and Elana and a Shirley temple for Patsy. “Hey, Patsy.” the retirement age waitress said, “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m okay, Margret.” She said, putting on a cheerful voice.

“That’s the spirit, I’ll be sure to bring you over the biggest slice of cake.” She said

“Yay cake!”

Elana laughed a little, “We’re going to wait to order, Margie. We’re waiting on another person.”

The older waitress nodded her head slightly, “Sounds good, Laney. I’ll be back in two shakes with your refreshments.” With that she was off to serve some of the other customers, or guests as corporate would like they be referred to.

The three of them chatted while they waited for Mr. Morales, while they did Patsy’s thoughts drifted to the bizarre notion that when you see someone you only ever see at school, or school related events that when you see them out and about in everyday life the person is suddenly almost unrecognizable. Like in those children sitcom shows where someone says “Wait, you mean teachers don’t live at school??” or something else mildly insulting to the audience about their perceived intelligence. Still, Patsy wondered if it was going to be super weird seeing Mr. Morales not just outside of school, but on purpose outside of school. He normally dressed in clean but not ironed dress pants and some sort of long sleeved shirt, either a button up or a sweater; would he be wearing a rock and roll band t shirt and shorts? What if he wears his curly hair in a manbun outside of work? The horror.

It was almost a disappointment when Mr. Morales showed up in tan dress pants and a blue sweater, as well as a sling that held his left arm, some bandaging on his cheek with some purplish bruising around its edges.

“Linus,” her dad said, “Glad you could make it.”

“We’re both just so grateful for what you did yesterday.” Elana said as her husband scooted further into the booth, making room for him.

“Oh, I only did what any good samaritan should have in the situation.” Mr. Morales said, sitting down. “Ah!” He smiled at the pot of coffee sitting on the table, “May I? I’m afraid I skipped my usual morning cup...come to think of it, skipped most of my usual morning routine today.”

“Go ahead, refills are free.” Patsy said.

“Are they?” He asked with a smile, awkwardly pouring himself a hot cup.

Margret returned, prompting her mom to say that they’ll probably need a few minutes for Mr. Morales to decide what he wants.

“Oh, go ahead.” The teacher reassured, “ I know what I want, a short stack of pancakes, and two pieces of bacon on the chewier side.”

“Oh, alright!” Elana said, “Brunch it is then, I guess we’re ready to order. Patsy, you go first.”

Patsy put in her order, a belgian waffle with strawberries and a lemon poppyseed muffin. Her father ordered the same as Mr. Morales, but he wanted his bacon crispy. Elana ordered two sunny side up eggs and some toast to dunk in the yolk. With that Margaret took off again.

“It just seemed so...out of nowhere.” Patsy said, suddenly.

Surprised, Elana reactively gave her a side hug, “No one ever expects these sorts of things to happen, Sweetheart. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

“Principal Robertson wasn’t...normal, right?” She asked, addressing her teacher.

Mr. Morales avoided her gaze, looking down into his coffee.

“Pats, Robertson wasn’t the man we thought he was, or he changed or something messed up.” her dad said.

“You saw his face too, right Mr. Morales, you asked him what he was.”

Her parents, worried for Patsy, then looked to the teacher they invited out.

“Miss. Pascala, I don’t know what had gotten into him, or what had become of him. That certainly wasn’t the man I have worked with for over two years now, but rest assured. He wasn’t some abnormality, he was a man, a man who revealed himself to be quite the monster.” Mr. Morales said finally, just as their food arrived.

To her parent’s relief, Patsy dropped the subject. They ate and her dad asked Mr. Morales how she was doing in his class.

“She is an ideal student” he told them, “Attentive, curious, she has a mind for nuance, and seems to genuinely want to understand why people did what they had done in the history lessons.” Which unfortunately made her quite uncomfortable, like she was in a parent-teacher conference all of all of a sudden.

As Patsy began to withdraw into herself, Elana asked her, “So, Patsy, is there anything else you’d like to do in town today before we head home?” She hoped to bring Patsy back to the surface of her own mind.

“Huh?” Patsy asked, she heard what her mom said, but her brain hadn’t really processed it yet. Something it usually would do about a split second after someone repeated what they said to her. “Oh, uh...well I was hoping we could go swing by grandma’s grave?” She stated her request with the inflection of a question. Her grandma wasn’t buried very far from where they lived. However, she knew that her dad always had a hard time going. He stayed in the car when they visited her grave a couple weeks before school started.

Joseph swallowed hard, but nodded, “Of course, babygirl.”

Mr. Morales raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t realize you had family buried here. I was under the impression that your family moved here from Louisiana.”

“We did, but Joseph is from here originally, we moved back here after his mother got sick.” Elana explained.

Mr. Morales turned his gaze back to his coffee, “I see.” Patsy could see his eyes darting swiftly like he either realized something or was thinking very swiftly. She felt like she could relate. “Miss. Pascala, Joseph, Elana. Please do not take me for overreaching but I’m not sure it is safe for the three of you to go to a location like that right now. If Robertson is following you it would be quite the place for an ambush.”

“Linus, don’t speak like that in front of my daughter.” Joseph said, something of a warning in his voice.

“No, dad, it’s alright.” Patsy said, “Mr. Morales, do you really think it’s a bad idea to go to the cemetery?”

Mr. Morales looked to Joseph, who wore an expression that clearly said “Be careful how you say things.” He looked back at Patsy, with a small sigh, “I think, perhaps you should at least wait under after school starts up again Monday? Thank you all for this lovely meal, but I think I should be going. This should cover my food.” He swiftly got up and pulled his wallet out and with just his right hand awkwardly pulled out some bills. Leaving forty dollars on the table as he took off.

“I think you scared him.” Elana said simply, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

They ultimately didn’t go to the cemetery, to both the annoyance and relief of her father. In fact they stayed in for the rest of the day. Watching TV, playing a popular kart racing game which Joseph began quite smuggly. Only to lose to his daughter because of an npc driver launching a nuclear option that blasted him back to third place less than half the track away from victory.

Patsy told her parents that she felt comfortable enough to go to bed in her own room that night, and Elana made chicken parm hero sandwiches. All in all the day drifted by quickly after their lunch with the odd Mr. Morales. It was almost 10 at night when she finally told her parents she was going to bed, and they reaffirmed their own tiredness from the day and wouldn’t be up much longer themselves.

Of course, Patsy wasn’t really going to bed.

She stayed up for hours, just to be sure they had actually fallen asleep. Her dad. Patsy disarmed the security system and left the house, heading straight for the cemetery. She had to see her grandmother’s gravestone. Something about how Mr. Morales reacted just didn’t sit right with her. It had to be around 1:20 in the morning now and it was very dark and while it was brisk out during the day her fingers quickly started going numb and she could see her breath.

The ground of the cemetery was hard and bumpy from thawing into wet muddy ground under the sun during the day. Patsy walked through the cemetery at a brisk pace, wanting to get to her grandma's grave and back before her parents could wake up to find out she snuck out of the house...or worse she was taken by Robertson. The made her stomach clench up, and she began regretting this whole idea. There was a rustling in the bushes and she began to sprint, she felt like running home and forgetting all of this but she was painfully aware she was heading right towards the grave.

She came to a quick stop, looking down at the engraved stone. Ellinore DeSoto, 1961 to 2017. She knelt down, tears building in her eyes. Deep down she knew coming here now was a mistake, her grandma wouldn’t want her sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, especially not under the current circumstances.

She sniffled, alright she got to the gravestone and proved exactly nothing. Time to get home as fast as she possibly could and swear off stupid impulsive decsions forever.

The wet smacking of lips that made her skin crawl.

“Pr.principal Robertson?” She tentatively asked, standing up and turning towards the gross sound. Her eyes widened in grotesque terror as she looked at the swollen thing that only scarcely held the appearance of her principal, the purplish grey skin stretched uncomfortably tight as the creature smiled wider than nature as she knew it allowed.

“Pascala Desoto,” It still spoke with Principal Robertson’s voice. “So courteous of you to come to me, now we may continue your...disciplinary measures, young lady.” The creature stuck out it’s purple tongue which extended down past its belly.

Patsy wanted to run, scream, anything, but her legs refused to move. Her body frozen. It walked up closer to her, and it’s foul breath was like a thick miasma that made her lungs clench up and burnt her throat, she couldn’t even tremble in fear.

“Speechless, DeSoto?” It leaned in and inhaled deeply by her hair, it chucked out as it spoke, “Yeeheeehesss. Your flesh will do, your form will do.”

Over the creature’s shoulder Pascala saw another, and the ghoul’s smile turned into a scowl. Apparently it noticed him as well. It wrapped it’s unnaturally large hands around her, its index finger on her shoulder and its pinky on her waist. Turning to face him it snarled out, “This is my Witch, get your own.”

The man stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight, the beams catching on his glasses, “Let her go, Corpse eater.” He held a revolver in one hand, and an old medieval looking sword in the other. His arm wasn’t in the sling anymore and he didn’t look injured at all.

“Morales, I knew I should have crushed your throat when-”

Her teacher cocked the pistol and aimed it right at his head.

“G...go ahead. I am not something you can kill with a bullet.” The ghoul said smugly.

“In your state it will hurt, it’ll be a whole world of agony.” Morales said, calling the monster’s bluff.

It took a slight step back, balking out a grunt in some fear. “We can split her! I don’t need her blood!”

Patsy’s eyes widened at the suggestion.

“Don’t worry, Miss. Pascala. This thing won’t harm you...and survive.” His voice was cold again, and she couldn’t help but feel an intense fear. Maybe from the slight tremors she felt through the ghoul’s hand, but somehow she knew that this thing that used to be her Principal was terrified.

“I can’t go back to the corpses people bury, they poison them, and every time I feed I whimper in agony for years, only to need to feed again, the cycle is torture! Have mercy!” The ghoul begged.

“You do not want my mercy, Corpse eater. It is at the end of my sword.” He began walking forward.

The ghoul released Patsy and pinched her throat, “Another step and I’ll break her neck!”

Reactively she reached up at the monster’s finger’s “I don’t want to die!” she sobbed, were she in a more clear headed situation she may have realized she can move again.

Mr. Morales paused, scowling back at the hellish beast.

“That’s right! You...you have a fondness for her, your student, HAH! So long as I have her in my grasp you won’t risk harming her.” The ghoul grinned hideously in it’s little victory.

Her history class teacher inhaled sharply, then said, “If you are going to do something, now would be the time!”

Principal Robertson the ghoul frowned, “What are you playing at?!”

Out from the bushes a large orange cat ran up much faster than Patsy had ever seen in her life and pounced on the ghoul’s forearm, clawing and tearing at it. The ghoul released her and she dropped, quickly and frantically crawling into an upright sprint several yards away from the monster.

Bean used the ghoul as a springboard and sprinted over to Patsy. The Ghoul was screaming and clutching the wounds the cat had left on it, as Morales lunged forward and with a clean swift strike cleaved the monster’s head from it’s shoulders.

Patsy’s breaths were short, and she pulled Bean into her arms as she tried to calm down. Morales wiped his blade off on the grass before sheathing it and steeping over to his student as he holstered his gun.

“I’m sorry, Miss. Pascala.” He said, “Are you alright?”

“What, what was that!?” She asked, looking at the ghoul’s limp body.

He paused, like he was unsure he could answer, “...Is there any world where you could accept that this was all a bad dream?”

She shook her head, “No, I have nightmares all the time, this is real.” Patsy looked at her teacher and gasped, she tried to step back but only fell backwards. “Those eyes!”

Mr. Morales sighed, and pulled his glasses from his face. His eyes were a hungry deep red. “Please, Miss. Pascala, I mean you no harm. You have my word, my oath as a man who has spent his very long life guiding the minds of the youth, and protecting everyone who I find in need of help.”

She tried to steady her breath, with Bean in her arms she felt much bolder and confident, “Those eyes, I’ve seen them in my nightmares, I trusted you and you’re another one of those things!” She pointed to the ghoul.”

He was taken aback, and gestured at his face, “You’ve seen these eyes in your dreams? Miss. Pascala, I assure you I am not a corpse eater.” He grabbed his lip and pulled it up, revealing a long and sharp fang. “I am a vampire, and amazingly you seemed to have augured my presence in your dreams.”

She stared at the fang with wide, slightly horrified eyes. “...Huh.”

“Huh. That...is a first.” The Vampire said, “I imagine you have questions, and you deserve answers. Especially if you refuse to accept this night was just a bad dream.”

She nodded, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, trust me I’m trying. Still here, next to my vampire history teacher.”

“Very well, Miss. Pascala. This ghoul was hunting you because you are a Sorceress, and whoever gave you that cat was as well. Seeing as how that animal is a Familiar, your Familiar.” He said, “Monday, come to my class after school, and I will tell you more. For now just go home, you’ll be safe there with the cat. I need to clean this up before anyone comes by and finds it.”

It was be a difficult thing to believe that Patsy would just accept things at that, that she would just go home and enjoy her long weekend with her folks, and she could just scratch Bean behind the ear knowing she was some magical protector her Secret Sorceress Grandma had given to her as a little kitten. That she could be nearly eaten and just go back to bed. All that can be agreed upon is that Patsy got out of bed the next morning around 10:30, that she took a shower and had slightly runny scrambled eggs for breakfast. Another thing that can be certain is that Patsy would never doubt what happened, what she saw and what she heard, and that the story of Pascala DeSoto, The Sorceress of Illinois had only begun.

End Chapter

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#Red Eyes on my Grandmother's grave #wip #paypal

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myriadofunchartedworlds · 3 years ago

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Bring Your Son to Work Day [WIP]

This was a snippet of a fic I never finished but I really liked the idea of. Enjoy.

“One request. I only had one request.” is what Buck wakes up to. Groaning at the sudden onslaught of pain somewhere in his torso as he moves his arm to rub at his eyes, Buck quickly aborts the movement. Right, broken ribs. Fun. And a mild concussion too if the pulsing bass line his brain is throbbing to seems to be any indication.

He suddenly realizes where he’s at. It’s not like he isn’t used to the familiar sterile scent of antiseptics, the too bright lights and the really awfully bland interior decoration.

One look at the bracelet wrapped around his wrist and yup, any doubts he has about where he’s at disappears. He’s at the hospital. AGAIN.

“-times do we have to hammer it in your head to be careful? Are you trying to gain a loyalty card to the hospital? Or are you just trying to send me to an early grave? Buck? BUCK. Oh my gosh. Are you even listening to me?” As Maddie’s speech reached a crescendo, so did her voice. Buck couldn’t mask the flinch he made at how her screeching made his headache even worse. “M’ddie k’p it d’wn. ‘cushn. Shhhh. Sleep time n’w.” He clumsily tried to cover her mouth. “Sorry. I forgot about your concussion,” Maddie whispered. “But no, no sleeping. You gotta answer some questions first.” “But m’tired,” he whined. “Promise m’kay. C’ncussion protocols l’ter.” “Sorry sweetie. You know the drill. Can’t escape protocols or what kind of a hospital would we be,” piped in a cheerful voice. Buck lazily turned his head to the side to see a smiling nurse dressed in colorful scrubs patiently standing on his bed side.

“Ugh fine.” Buck dutifully answered all his questions and the nurse patted him on the shoulder before leaving him with Maddie.

“C’n I go b’ck t’sleep now?”

“Fine. But you’re not off the hook.”

One week. He’d been on medical leave for a week and he was going out of his mind. At first his ribs hurt enough that he was happy enough to binge all the episodes of How It’s Made again. And then he started to feel better so he decided to do a thorough spring cleaning…which might not have been the best idea since it aggravated his ribs and pushed his recovery period from two weeks to three. Great. Nicely done, Buck. Now we have two weeks to kill…again. What was he supposed to do for the next fourteen days.

Eddie tried to help, sending Carla and Christopher his way after Zoom classes everyday before going back home for dinner; but that still left his mornings and evenings open and Buck was B O R E D.

So on day 12 out of 21 of his mandatory leave, Buck found himself lying on the floor by his dining table, after reorganizing his spice rack by color and shade, wondering if anyone had ever been committed to the psych ward for going insane out of boredom. He heard his phone ping quietly beside his head. Blindly grabbing it, Buck unlocked it to find a new message from Eddie.

Work Husband: Athena dropped by today and said that the LAPD was doing a special junior ride-along program for the kids this summer.

Think Christopher would be up for it?

Work Wife: Have you met your son? He’s gonna vibrate out of his seat when you tell him that he gets to help Athena catch the bad guys for a day.

If anyone’s reluctant, it would be you.

Work Husband: Fine. Maybe I’m the one with concerns.

Ride-alongs can be dangerous you know? We never know what kinds of scenes they’d be called to.

And it’s Christopher.

I want to keep encouraging his independence but…

Work Wife:I’m not an idiot, Eds. Don’t forget I was more concerned about summer camp than you.

I get it okay? But I’m also sure that they wouldn’t have opened up these junior ride-along slots if they didn’t modify the program to be child-safe.

Besides, you and I both know that Athena would make sure that Christopher rode with her.

And if that’s not possible, you can bet your ass she’s gonna threaten his partner within an inch of their life if a single hair on his head was harmed.

Work Husband: Did you have to send me a novel?

But fine, fine. I’ll talk to him about it at dinner tonight.

We’re still good to crash your place later?

Work Wife: Absolutely. Please take me out of my misery for a few hours.

Work Husband:Drama Queen. Take this time to find hobbies. Maybe take up knitting or something.

Work Wife:I tried that when I hurt my leg, remember? Ended up spraining my fingers and almost stabbing myself with the needle.

Work Husband: What am I going to do with you, Evan William Buckley?

Work Wife: Go back to work, Eds.

And don't middle name me, Jose Edmundo Santiago Diaz Y Åström.

Work Husband: How did you even find that out?

It was abuela wasn't it?

Stop turning my own familia against me.

Gotta go. Just got a call.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Buck reconsidered knitting. It would be fun to prove to Eddie that he wasn’t completely a disaster. Scrolling back up the chat, he tried to imagine Christopher in a ride along and couldn’t stop the smile growing on his face. He just knew Christopher was going to love the experience. Maddie did when she went with Athena. A ride-along. Huh. That’s not such a bad idea. He’d be in the cruiser all day, have an experienced police officer with him at all times. He’d get to see a different side to the calls they responded to, maybe even fulfill his fantasies of solving a crime. That should cure his boredom.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Buck picked himself up of the floor and practically skipped to his laptop to download the ride-along forms. This was going to be great. ——— This was going to be a disaster, Athena thought, staring in horror at the form that was dropped onto her desk. There, mocking her was the title “Ride Along Request Form” and right below it, “Evan Buckley”. There was no way she was going to let Buck do a ride-along. “There’s no way I’m letting Buckley do a ride-along,” Athena immediately told the program head. “Boy gets into enough trouble as is, and has a vigilante streak too. There’s no way I’m bringing a danger magnet along with me.” “I just thought that you’d prefer to take him since he’s from your husband’s firehouse. But I can pass it along to Mercado. He hasn’t had a ride-along in a while.” “Oh hell no. My problem isn’t who he’s riding along with. It’s the fact that he’s doing a ride along. If this is really happening then he’s riding with me. God knows that I’m our best chance of keeping Evan Buckley in one, non-law-breaking piece.” “Great!” Sergeant Choi chirped. “He rides with you tomorrow.” Great. Looks like tomorrow’s going to be a “Bring Her Son to Work” Day. “The Lord have mercy on us all.”

#J writes #9-1-1 #Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #Athena Grant #or is it Athena Grant-Nash?

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madsthewordclown · 4 years ago

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Four Walls | Sokka

warning: just lots of fluff because I wanted to

pairing: sokka x reader, modern au

summary: Quarantine is stressful, but Sokka’s a pretty great roommate to be stuck with.

Y’all, this is my first fic I’ve ever written and I apologize in advance, and thank you for bearing with me.

“Traditionally, you’re meant to cook the noodles.” Sokka pretends not to hear you. Or maybe he really can’t hear you over the loud crunching of uncooked penne. There’s an empty jar of sauce on the table across from where he sits, crunching down dry noodles like its chips. You walk over to get a bottle of water from the fridge and notice two of your reusable milkshake straws sitting in the sink. Looking back the jar of sauce, you shudder.

“Traditionally, the noodles aren’t meant to be whole-grain,” Sokka answers finally, as if the situation he is in is completely normal. The box of pasta now sits empty on the table, and he’s grinning from ear to ear. “How was work?”

“Fine,” you answer. “Can I ask why you didn’t just boil the noodles? Weren’t they awful?” You know you’re deflecting about work, but it’s not a big deal. The restaurant had only just started to reopen, and you only got one or two shifts a week, but dealing with customers felt more grueling than ever. You knew Sokka missed having something to do, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“Cooking them is too much work, Y/N,” Sokka replies matter-of-factly, “and they were awful, but I had to finish what I started.”

Quarantine is not treating either of you well. For you, the strain manifests itself much more quietly; you haven’t been sleeping very well, and you get headaches more frequently than normal. For Sokka, it’s this. You don’t know how much orange juice he’s consumed straight from the carton, but it can’t be good for his teeth. Drinking tomato sauce can’t be too good, either, although he somehow manages to maintain his good looks nonetheless.

“Katara called while you were gone,” Sokka mentions as you plunk yourself down in the chair across from him.

“She did?” You frown. You and Sokka didn’t get too many calls from his sister or any of your other friends anymore. When quarantine started, you had frequent group calls and virtual game nights, but over time, they kind of fizzled out. You missed seeing everyone’s faces. While Sokka was a great friend and a great roommate, you couldn’t help but wish you were all under the same roof.

“Yeah,” Sokka continues, standing up and picking up the empty pasta box and jar. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt; it may be fit for a Midwestern dad, but at least he put on a full outfit today. Quarantine hasn’t exactly required it. “She’s scheduling a movie night for this Saturday. You’re off work, right? I tried to see if you sent me your schedule, I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss it.”

“Yeah, I only worked today and then Friday this week,” you say excitedly. “Is everyone joining?”

“Suki can’t make it,” Sokka shrugged, walking across the kitchen to rinse out the jar, “but Zuko and Toph will be there. And Katara and Aang, obviously.”

You kick your shoes off under the table and feel the tension in your feet ease slightly as Sokka turns on the faucet. Your shift was busy, considering the circumstances. You yawn. “What movie are we watching?”

“I don’t know, some indie film she and Aang found,” Sokka says, turning off the water and bending down to put the jar and box in the hot pink recycling tub you keep under the sink. Katara had brought it in one day after learning that Sokka didn’t recycle. You could still hear her telling him off about plastics in the ocean. She had been very pleased when she saw your small collection of reusable grocery bags. Good guys recycle, Sokka. Right, Y/N?

“What’s with the outfit?” You can’t help but say. You notice that Sokka is wearing tennis shoes without socks along with his vacation ensemble. He grins at you again, blue eyes sparkling as he begins walking toward the door to his room.

“Setting trends, Y/N/,” he laughs, “get with the program.”

You wake up at four in the morning, again. You know before you’ve even opened your eyes that you are awake way too early; it’s happened at least three times in the last two weeks. You slowly peek your eyes open and pick up your phone, flinching as the bright light hits your face. 4:08. You sigh.

You slowly pull yourself out of bed and easily leave your room without needing the lights, but the main room is more difficult. You have no clue what you and Sokka have left out on the floor in the last few days. You put one arm straight out in front of you to detect obstacles, and curse to yourself about leaving your phone on the nightstand.

You carefully walk by what you think is the couch and swing your arm none too gently to find it. To your surprise, you hit something that definitely isn’t the couch.

“Ow!” a voice cries out. You let out a scream, and jump back, falling on the carpeted floor with a thump. “Whoa,” Sokka says, and you feel relief flood over you. It’s just Sokka. You try to let your heartbeat slow down. “Are you okay?”

Sokka must have gotten up and found the light switch. You see him in the corner of the room, his hair pulled up, and wearing his same Hawaiian shirt, but with basketball shorts. An even more atrocious outfit. You laugh to yourself as you continue to get your bearings. Sokka makes his way over to where you sit behind the couch and offers a hand to help you up. You take it.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you say shakily as he helps you to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka says sincerely. “I didn’t think you’d be up. Could you not sleep?”

You shake your head. Sokka doesn’t press; just nods. “What were you doing in here?” You ask.

“Same thing, but it’s probably because I drank too much coffee after dinner.”

“How much coffee is too much?” Sokka just shakes his head slowly.

“Too much, Y/N.” He looks at the ground for a moment. “Want to watch a show or something?”

It becomes a routine for the next few days; watching shitty cartoons and soap operas with Sokka whenever you wake up in the night. He’s somehow awake every time, and you try not to dwell on it. You’re not one to talk. It’s nice, sitting with him and watching something that lets you not think for a while. That’s your problem; overthinking about anything and everything. You get to forget about work, where a customer coughing sends you into such a spiral that you have to spend ten minutes in the back room to calm down. You’re looking forward to it when you get home from your Friday shift.

Sokka is in his room when you arrive, close to 11, even though your shift was meant to end at 10. You pull your shoes off as soon as you’re in the door and drop your purse on the floor, not even bothering to get to the kitchen table or couch before you’re lying on the carpet and staring at the ceiling. You don’t even hear it when Sokka comes out of his room and stands over you.

“That bad, huh?” He says simply. You try not to notice the sympathy in his eyes, or the way his brow softens when he looks at you. You just nod your head and try to block out the echoing yells of an angry mom that you served earlier, and the mere $25_ _you brought home for tips after hours on your feet, working in a pandemic hellscape.

Instead of trying to coax you up off the ground, Sokka disappears into the kitchen, the counter obscuring your view. You can hear him open and close a cupboard before he reappears, a bag of Doritos in hand.

You can’t stop the shocked look on your face as Sokka slowly sits down next to you and then leans back on the floor. The bag of chips crinkles as he opens it and sets it on the floor between you. You wordlessly take out a few chips and start snacking. Even though Sokka has only been your roommate for a few months, you’re still impressed by how perceptive he is. He always seems to know what to do to make you feel better. You feel bad that you can’t do the same for him.

Sokka talks about his latest project for his online summer class. It’s something to do with engineering, and you try to listen, but he gets to talking so fast and excitedly that you can’t keep up. You don’t understand most of what he’s saying anyway, but you like listening to him talk. Katara says he can’t shut up, and most of the time she’s right, but you like his passion.

Between the two of you, you manage to finish the whole bag of Doritos. You can tell your air conditioning has shut off again when the blistering July heat begins to creep in, and that’s when you make the executive decision that it’s time to get off the floor. You turn to your side and are surprised to discover that Sokka is looking at you, and he’s not talking. You don’t know when he stopped, but you already miss it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sokka whispers, so quietly that you almost wonder if he said it at all, but he’s looking at you for an answer, his blue eyes boring into you.

“Yeah,” you answer equally as quietly, your voice hoarse after lying silent for so long. You bite your lip and let your hand fall between you and Sokka. You ask something you should’ve asked a while ago. “What about you?”

Sokka glances away for a moment and sighs. “I just miss people, you know?” You nod. He continues. “We haven’t seen Katara in, I don’t know, two months? I know we don’t always get along, but I miss her, and I know that she has to be careful, we all have to be careful, but that doesn’t make it less hard, y’know?

“And it’s not just our friends, or even my dad or anything. Just people. I miss being around people, and not having any sort of outlet, you know? Just four walls.”

“And little-old-me,” you add jokingly. Sokka rolls his eyes.

“Four walls and you,” he amends. You try to ignore the rush you feel when he lets his hand brush against your own.

“Want to watch a show or something?”

Saturday night can’t come soon enough, and when you come out of your room after your shower, you’re surprised and excited to see that Sokka has gone all out with the movie night. The movie has to be streamed on the computer, so Sokka has his laptop set up on the coffee table, ready to go. You smell the popcorn he has popping in the microwave.

“Ready for the best quarantine movie ever?” He greets, then jumps as the popcorn begins to pop almost aggressively in the microwave.

“Of course,” you reply, hopping yourself over the back of the couch and pulling the throw blanket there over yourself. “I can’t wait to see everybody. It’s been too long.”

Sokka is careful not to burn the popcorn and even goes as far as to dump it out of the bag and into an actual bowl for the two of you. He comes over and takes a seat next to you; you’ve both opted for sweatpants, as you both tend to do even though it’s the middle of summer. It’s not like you’re leaving the house, although Sokka still complains about the heat sometimes.

You hop onto the voice call with the others at exactly 8 o’clock. Zuko is already there, of course, as well as Katara and Aang. It only takes Toph a few seconds to join after you.

“Hi, guys!” Katara exclaims, waving at her camera. She’s already pressed up against Aang’s side on the sofa in their apartment, and he’s leaning his head on her shoulder. Their huge white dog, Appa, can just barely be seen at the bottom of the screen, laying across their laps.

“Hey, Katara!” You respond excitedly, leaning in closer to the camera. “I miss you guys so much!”

“Hey, Sokka, how’s your class going?” Zuko asks. Immediately, Sokka begins a tangent about whatever his latest project is. Zuko matches his enthusiasm with talk about his screenwriting class.

“Nerds,” Toph mutters, crossing her arms. You laugh.

“You guys ready to start the movie?” Zuko says. Aang gives a thumbs up into the webcam.

“Flameo, hotman.”

The movie is, of course, frequently interrupted by you and your friends’ commentary. Sokka has had to shush you multiple times, as you keep leaning over and whispering dumb observations and jokes in his ear. You aren’t one to take any movie too seriously, and this indie film is no exception. But you don’t think Aang would appreciate your comments, since he looks like he’s about to tear up as he leans into Katara before the movie is even halfway through.

“Sokka, you look pretty cozy,” Katara giggles suddenly. You didn’t realize it, but now that you were paying attention, you could feel Sokka’s side pressed up against you as you both leaned in to better see the laptop screen. You can see now that his arm is draped over the couch behind you.

“What? What’s happening?” Toph asks, and Zuko starts to laugh a little bit. To your surprise, Sokka doesn’t pull away.

“I am, thanks,” he says, trying to be nonchalant, but still letting a sheepish smile sneak past his lips.

“Okay, then,” Katara smiles, refocusing on the movie. Your heart flutters a bit as you remember where you are. With Sokka. Your roommate. Who you don’t need to have feelings for, but you think you might be doing it anyway.

You feel your eyes getting droopier as the movie goes on, and you don’t really pay attention anymore. Before you know it, you can’t seem to get your eyes open anymore, and the sounds of the movie and your friends’ laughter fades away.

You wake up to the sound of laughter. The movie is gone, and the screen is entirely taken up by your friends’ faces.

“Oh, look,” Zuko says, “sleepy head’s finally awake.”

“Shut up,” you groan. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until the moment, and you hadn’t realized that you had fallen asleep… on Sokka. Your head rested on his shoulder, and his right arm was around you. One of your hands was resting on his lap. Your friends started laughing again, and you jerked your hand away, but didn’t quite sit up. You still felt too tired for that.

“Well, we should probably go,” Katara said finally, although Aang was already definitely half asleep on her shoulder. Zuko and Toph muttered something similar, and everyone said their goodbyes. Sokka reached with his left arm to exit the call but left the laptop on.

You feel Sokka gently grab your hand as your eyes start to drift shut once again, sleep too tempting to refuse. You feel him lean down and whisper in your ear, always careful, “Is this okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, and you feel him breathe a sigh of relief as he rests his head on yours. It would always be okay. And you didn’t need to talk about it yet, although you’d have to eventually. For tonight, though, while the world raged on, it was just you and him, and the four walls of your apartment. And while the months of quarantine seemed to stretch on forever, you knew you had someone to hold on to.

#sokka x y/n #sokka x reader #sokka fanfic #atla #modern au #atla fanfic #atla sokka #sokka #kataang #fluff #sokka fluff #fanfic #avatar: tla #avatar

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lordseochangbin · 4 years ago

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The1: Seo Changbin

FLUFF and ANGST

a/n: since its my one year on tumblr i really wanted to write a changbin fic hehe so @0325stay and i worked together on this beauty <3 thank you for helping me write this

You were finally leaving. Your hard work paid off and now you were on your way to working with one of the biggest companies in the music industry, JYP. It was time to make a name for yourself as a producer.

The company was kind enough to pay for all of your expenses for this work trip and now you were seated in first class, wine glass in hand in your own private room on this flight. Making you even more excited to work for them and see what they have to offer.

9 hours later, you were woken up by the flight attendant to tell you that you were about to land and outside, you were welcomed by the thin clouds that separated the sky and the beautiful city down below.

Though it was night time, you were in awe at the sight of the colourful city lights, and the lit up buildings. You weren’t used to this. This was your first time flying alone internationally.

The plane landed smoothly and you grabbed your stuff and exited the aircraft. Making sure you thanked everyone on that flight and when you felt that Seoul air hit your face, you knew you made it. This was the start of your career.

It was a while before you could grab all your luggage and go through the gates, but when you did, it was packed and you had a hard time finding your ride.

You searched and searched, until you finally found the sign. A big poster that had your name on it with JYP Entertainment’s logo that was being held by a man that was just waving it around, hoping that someone would approach him.

“Hi! I’m Y/N… I’m guessing you’re my ride?”

The man looked at you up and down and then put the poster down. He gave you a warm smile and extended his hand out to you as he introduced himself.

“I’m Changbin and yeah I am. JYP sent me over to take you to the hotel and I brought you some dinner as well.”

Changbin took the heavy bags from your arms and guided you all the way to the car. You got in the front seat and whipped out your camera. Excited to see the views during this ride and capture every moment since you knew this was only temporary.

He started driving through the quiet roads then into the busy cities where you were surprised to see the city still so alive at 2am. People were singing, laughing, dancing, just hanging out with friends under the bright lights.

Click, click, click. That’s all Changbin heard throughout the ride. He was confused since he thought you were going to live here, but he didn’t want to bother you with all these questions. There was something about you that just immediately caught his attention, but he didn’t know what it was.

Maybe it was the way you found everything so fascinating, or maybe it was just because this was one of the very few times he was going to be around someone who was from a different country. He didn’t know just yet.

When you two finally reached the hotel, he hopped out and grabbed your bags. Checking you in under the company’s card and then bringing up your bags to your room. Also handing you your dinner and then saying his goodbyes.

“Good night. I’ll be back by lunch to pick you up for work… Sweet dreams”

But before he shut the door, he asked one more question.

“What’s your number? You know, so I can call or text you before I pick you up.”

You exchanged numbers and then he shot you a smile on his way out. You already knew you two were going to get along, there was just something about him.

The morning came and you slept like a baby because of how tired you felt from travelling. You were only awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. It was Changbin. You overslept and now you had a little less than an hour to freshen up.

You rushed yourself. All your clothes were already scattered, your bathroom was a mess, and you were starving at this point. You ended up hitting corners of furniture from trying to hurry your process up.

Knock knock, the door went. Your hair was a mess and you were only finished with half of your outfit. It was your banana pajama pants paired with some cute shirt you found. Along with one shoe on. You opened the door and you found Changbin just waiting there with coffee in his hand and a small breakfast bun he picked up along the way.

“Well…good morning.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes when he saw you rushing with your frizzy hair and half done outfit but, he sat down comfortably on the chair and just talked to you about your schedule today. From the meeting, to the company tour, then the meeting of the groups, and then to the actual work that was to be started.

You didn’t hear most of it though since you were too busy panicking about how you were going to present yourself today. You just started babbling about your thoughts and Changbin just listened. He found it cute how you babbled when you were nervous and the bed head hair just made his day.

He handed you the coffee and the breakfast bun, telling you to hurry up and then threw the company employee pass at you as you both drove off for work.

Once you both reached the company, Changbin introduced you to everyone, but they all seemed way too busy to notice you fully. You didn’t mind though, you knew they were all busy with promotions and they needed to perfect everything they did.

Changbin gave you a tour of the company, and little by little, you found himself opening up to you. At first, he seemed like a snob, but when you got to know him, he was like a bubbly little kid that was always trying to play. He went from trying to act tough and in charge to skipping down the halls of JYP saying hi to everyone he knew.

Then after a long day of meeting most people and looking through all the rooms, it was time to start work officially. Changbin opened the door to a dainty size studio, just enough room to fit one. You thought he was going to leave you once he dropped you off, but he pulled up a chair and sat down real close to you.

“Aren’t you going to leave?”

He rested his chin on his hand and shook his head. He just told you he was curious with how you do your work. So, you started setting up your program, linking all the pads, and finding the right channels to use. You worked fast for someone who didn’t have much experience working professionally and Changbin was impressed with you.

You just did your thing while he sat and vibed on the side. You barely noticed him while working, but Changbin noticed every small detail about you. From the way you found the rhythm and beat you wanted just by tapping your foot and fingers furiously, to the way you smiled to yourself after finding the right tones.

He sat back and enjoyed how you worked and was thinking about if he should ask the boss if he could work with you on this track. And to his luck, he got the boss’ approval to work with you and was assigned to be your guide for your whole stay.

From there, Changbin would come pick you up every morning, drop you off every night, bring you food whenever you asked, or just randomly throughout the day. Every single day, he’d bring a surprise. Whether it was a small treat from the street food vendors, or a little toy he thought you’d like. Changbin was always handing it over with a smile, and after a week, he was already giving you hugs like you two had been friends forever.

On your days off, he would still be there for you even when he didn’t need to be. He’d send you a good morning text then ask you what your plans were for the day because he wanted to personally take you around the cities. Sometimes even bringing his group along, but then telling them to leave because they got too annoying.

Changbin took you to see the regular tourist spots and paid for everything, even though you told him no. The man wouldn’t let you pay at all. Even when he took you to his favorite shopping mall, everything you touched, Changbin would pay for it. Not even looking at the price. You got kind of mad at that, but he would always say “It’s okay, we’re friends. Let me treat you.”

That’s how your first 3 weeks in South Korea went. You were with Changbin for almost 24 hours a day, just working side by side, and him not leaving your side at all. The only time he’d leave was for rehearsal, but then he’d come straight back to you. All sweaty and tired, but he kept his bubbly self around you and talked to you like you’ve been close all your life.

He’d tease you non-stop, he’d hug you whenever he got the chance or even just place his head on your shoulder while he watched you work. Changbin was slowly attaching himself to you, slowly taking a liking to you, but he wouldn’t admit it just yet. He just kept it quiet and tried to see if his feelings were real and if you felt the same way.

At the studio, Changbin stared at his phone while you worked on the last track of the album. The occasional deep breaths and sighs showed your tiredness, and he knew it was about time for a break. He knew how badly deadlines could get to a producer’s head, so he wanted to take you to the one place he always found himself on times like this.

“Y/N?” He said behind your ear, slowly taking off your headphones making you turn your head to face him.

“What’s up?” You replied, but before you got an answer, Changbin heard nothing of your protests, grabbed your hand, turned off your computer, and dragged you out of the studio.

“Changbin!! What are you doing? I just started-”

“And we’ll finish it tonight...Right now, you need a break, and I know just where to take you”

You simply rolled your eyes as a smirk grew on Changbin’s face. Of course he knew where to take you. At this point, it seemed like he knew everything about you.

As Changbin drove you to the spot, you watched the city lights light up and took photos again. You wanted to keep everything in memory knowing that this was only temporary. The city, the studio, Changbin. All of it would be over soon.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your attention as his hand met yours. “Do you mind grabbing the bag from the back, we’re almost there”

Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity of Changbin’s plans. Where was he taking you? The guy was full of surprises.

Outside, you heard the sounds of a peaceful river along with the sounds of jet skis rushing against the water. You turned your head to be welcomed by the calming sight of the Han River.

You weren’t able to take your eyes off the beautiful view and you just stood there in amazement while Changbin held your hand to lead you to the spot he was taking you to. You couldn’t help but admire the bright bridge that stretched out ahead of you leading to the beautiful city of Seoul.

The night sky was filled with the large moon and clouds that had planes flying through. It casted over the two of you and as the perfect weather chilled in, you and Changbin set a blanket to sit on.

“This is beautiful” You mentioned, making Changbin smile as he watched you cherish the moment. Again, he heard the clicks of your camera and just giggled at every picture you took.

“Changbin! 1 ,2, 3 Smile!”

He smiled as bright as he could and gave you multiple poses so you could remember him in every way. You probably took over 10 pictures of him and when you went to show him his pictures, Changbin scooted closer to you and threw an arm over your shoulder. He wasn’t looking at the pictures, he was only looking at you.

His heart raced just by sitting beside you and listening to you talk about something you were so passionate about. Everything you did now was just adorable in his eyes and he was hoping that this feeling would never stop.

“Changbin, aren’t these nice?”

Changbin heard nothing and kept looking over at you. He was finally admitting to himself that he was catching feelings for you. There was no view- even in a place like this- that could top the beauty that he saw in you.

When you noticed he hadn’t responded, you turned and waved your hands in front of him.

“Changbin? Helloooo” You giggled as his eyes grew wider. “Yeah, yeah let me grab the drinks” He coughed out, grabbing the bag from the car.

“Were you admiring the view?” You asked, propping yourself with your elbows as you laid back.

“Yeah, yeah totally” Changbin replied, though the only view he found himself admiring was you.

Handing you a drink, Changbin sat by you before asking “Are you still stressed about tomorrow? The evaluations?”

You sat up next to him before grabbing your drink and taking a sip. “A little, I mean everything’s still not finished and I only have tonight but I definitely needed some fresh air… thank you Changbin”

“It’s no big deal I mean really-”

“No Changbin, thank you for everything.” You interrupted, laying your head on his shoulder.

Changbin must be crazy. Could you hear the constant thumping of his heart or was that just him?

As you two finished the drinks, break time was over and the two of you made your way back to the studio. You were now filled with a sudden confidence and faith in the success of your album and Changbin was now a man that had a heart for you and only you now.

Once the two of you were back at the studio, it was time to work again. Changbin stayed on his phone ready to help while you buried yourself in the unfinished tracks.

Time passed by quickly as you got your tasks finished one by one, and the small snores heard from behind you made it evident that Changbin had fallen asleep, honestly you would’ve as well. Everyday, for the past few weeks, Changbin had stayed with you until he dropped you off at night, despite his busy schedule and you could never wrap your head around why.

With a click of your mouse, everything was finally saved on a flash drive. Your first album was completed… You did it.

You squealed in excitement. Jumping up from your seat and shaking Changbin’s shoulders to wake him up.

“Changbin! Changbin I finished it!” You exclaimed in excitement as Changbin got up.

“You finished it!” Changbin repeated after you, also jumping up and down with you. You pulled Changbin into your arms and held him close to show him how grateful you were for all his support.

“I seriously couldn’t have done this without you”

Changbin looked into your eyes full of joy. You seemed so happy in the moment and he was happy for you too, but then it was like his emotions took over his body. He couldn’t help but to smile, close his eyes, and lean in closer to you.

You just watched him as he closed his eyes and watched his lips only a few inches away from yours. In a panic, you whispered his name hoping to catch his attention but, he only leaned in closer and his lips slightly brushed against yours, but you stepped back in time.

“Um..” You let out, the tension in the room increasing as Changbin opened his eyes.

“Y/n I-”

“I have to go… prepare for tomorrow’s evaluation. I’ll see you tomorrow, get a good night’s sleep and all” You quickly said as you gathered your things and left the room.

Changbin didn’t plan on getting a good night’s sleep. In fact, he couldn’t sleep at all. He couldn’t believe that he just tried to kiss you and now he was tossing and turning in bed.

The sound of your alarm made you leap out of bed and head to your closet. Today was the day. It was time to show off your hard work. Your muscles tensed at the fact that you were finally presenting your work to a line of producers and managers.

After getting ready, you waited outside for Changbin. It seemed like the perfect day, as if nothing could go wrong. That was until Changbin showed up and you suddenly remembered last night.

He pulled up in front and when you sat down inside, you both could feel the awkward tension between you two and to try to relieve that tension, you said hey, but he said hey at the same time too. Only making the awkwardness visible between you two.

You looked at him hoping he would say something more but he never did and that’s how it went the entire drive. Just pure awkward silence.

Once the two of you arrived, you got out of the car, hoping he would come along, but he didn’t. “You’re not coming?” You asked.

“Nah, I’ll wait for you. Good luck” He said as he stopped the engine and started playing with his phone.

You said thanks and took a deep breath as you saw Changbin go back on his phone. This was the only time Changbin wasn’t going to be beside you when you were playing music and you didn’t know how to feel except nervous and uneasy.

As you walked into the room, you felt multiple pairs of eyes follow you to the stage.With a press of a button, your new album started playing and to your surprise, everyone seemed to enjoy it and you finally got a pass to release it. Your hard work paid off and you felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulder.

But with that pass, you knew that it was the end of your stay. In the contract, it stated that when you got your pass to release your music, it was time to go home. The only problem was that you didn’t know how to tell Changbin since the flight was already booked and your stuff had to be packed by tonight.

In a hurry, you ran to Changbin’s car, only to see that he had already fallen asleep, so you opened the door and woke him up.

“Hey! They said my music was good and-”

“Congrats!” Changbin said, already starting the car and getting ready to leave.

“Wait why are we in such a hurry?” You asked.

“I’m a little busy with promotions tomorrow so I have to practice tonight, is that okay?” He asked.

You were hoping the two of you could celebrate tonight, but if he was busy with promotions he probably didn’t care about you leaving tomorrow anyways.

“Yeah.. that’s fine” You said before getting an email about your ticket home.

“Alright, I promise to see you tomorrow, then we could celebrate. I knew you could do it, so tomorrow, just wait for me, okay?”

Changbin leaned over to give you a hug, not knowing that it was going to be the last one he would be able to give you for a while. He smiled and you two did your special handshake and then he drove off after dropping you off at the hotel.

You quickly went up and packed your things. Sort of wishing that your last night would’ve been spent with Changbin, but that was okay. You two spent so much time together during your stay, he almost forgot to go to rehearsals some days.

Even though he wasn’t here, you were still pretty happy about your music being released soon. You couldn't wait to go home and see your friends and family because you knew they’d be proud of you.

“Hey Mom,” You said on the phone. “Yeah! They said I can come back tomorrow… I can’t wait to see you too.. okay I’ll be safe.. bye”

The next day, Changbin had coffee and a roll in hand. He felt bad that he couldn’t be with you yesterday so he wanted to make up for it even though he was busy with practice today, but once he got in your usual studio, he noticed that all of your things were gone.

An employee passed by so Changbin decided to ask what happened and that’s when he found out. Your contract was done and you were already heading home and he could do nothing to stop you from leaving.

They mentioned that you were already at the airport, just waiting for your flight and when he heard that, his hands balled up in a fist and he felt his heart drop. He didn’t even get to celebrate with you let alone tell you about how he finally felt about you after these few weeks together.

Changbin quickly rushed through the hall to leave only to be stopped by his members. They were all getting ready to practice one more time so they could perfect everything, but he pushed them to the side because the only thing on his mind right now, was you.

“Yo Changbin where are you going?” The rest of the guys asked him.

“I have to go,” was all he said, nudging them aside.

“Hyung!” Felix called after him. It was no bother, Changbin was already out the door and nowhere to be seen.

He frantically grabbed his phone from his pocket, wanting to call you and tell you everything that he wanted to say before, but he noticed an airplane fly above him. Changbin still tried calling you and texting you, hoping you were still seated in the airport, but then he noticed he had one unread message left in his notifications.

Y/N: Bye Changbin. Thank you for everything, I’ll see you soon :)

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molanran · 5 years ago

Text

blueming - choi beomgyu

summary: pre relationship au! m/n is a tired college student that falls in love so easily. beomgyu is the cute barista that he falls for.

word count: 3k

now playing: blueming – iu & i’m so pretty - nature

notes: first in a series

m/n stumbles into his least favorite coffee shop exhausted, with a migraine, clutching an ice pack, and a gloomy disposition, wondering why everyone is so happy. it's not his fault, honestly it's not.

it's minju's.

she dragged him out last night to go shopping, which ended in disaster. he tripped over jewelry laying on the floor, got pushed into a wall and got slapped in the face, hard. not only that, but he got awoken by freaking justin bieber of all things and the starbucks across the street from his study hall is closed, and now he has to run all the way across to the other side of campus just to get a cup of freaking coffee.

wait, he also got knocked out after being hit by a trombone at orchestra practice.

he's internally yelling at minju in his mind before deciding to actually let her know how he feels via a strongly worded text message (she'll probably be fuming that he woke her from her sleep but he's too angry to care) just as he reached the front counter. still pounding away at his phone, he grunts out his order, dropping the exact amount of money for his venti-frappucino-with-three-espresso-shots. yeah, he's definitely not having the best morning.

"sorry, could you repeat that?"

m/n looks up, ready to glare viciously and direct his bad mood at the barista who obviously pays no attention... but instead gapes at him because the barista is actually really cute and damn maybe he's already got a crush. and, oh shit, he's the guy who minju tutors sometimes on weekends.

the barista (beomgyu, m/n remembers) stands there with an uncomfortable smile, awkwardly standing there behind the counter. (m/n would be lying if he said that wasn't one of the cutest things he's ever seen.) "your order?"

m/n gapes a little more before regaining his composure, a polite smile gracing his features. "yeah - right, sorry. um, a venti frappuccino with three espresso shots." he pushes the coins forward, waiting awkwardly.

beomgyu smiles again, this time an actual smile gracing his features (m/n will never admit that he swooned a little), appearing amused if anything. "right," he quickly scooped the change up before yelling behind him. "yein! large frap, three shots!" he registers m/n's change and hands m/n his drink. "thanks for coming to golden swirls! have a great day, m/n-ssi."

m/n blushes because beomgyu actually knows his name and he may or may not be screaming inside because of it. someone behind him coughs, interrupting his inner emotions and m/n is so glad that he's not in high school because he so has a schoolgirl crush.

"thanks- i'll be going-" m/n runs out of the door before he could embarrass himself further, almost dropping his coffee as he goes and accidentally knocking his laptop bag that's swung over his shoulder into the wall outside. he looks at beomgyu through the large window, watching how he serves the next customer before quickly heading off towards his next class.

not even ten seconds later, he's managed to almost break his laptop, spill his coffee over a random stranger and he just wants the ground to swallow him up. his patience has run thin and he finds himself swearing because of how awful this one morning has gone. fuck today, fuck his life, just fuck

most of the time, m/n's lucky to have minju in his life. they share an apartment together with minju running a home business as a pastry chef, she helps him with all of his assignments and they've known each other forever. but today, he really hopes that he has awoken her from her sleep (he doesn't want anything horrible to happen to her, he loves her too much) because it's her fault that he's injured. (maybe not completely her fault, not that he'll ever admit it.)

after getting back to the apartment and telling her of his god-forsaken awful day, she has the audacity to laugh.

she laughs so hard that she ends up falling off the couch, her makeup smudging which he's sure she'll be upset about. he doesn't really appreciate that she's laughing and he thinks that maybe he should take photos or a video because she laughs like a horse on crack. he chooses the third option which is attempting to make her spontaneously combust with the power of his glare.

"what the actual fuck." if anything, she laughs even harder and starts rolling around on the floor. he grabs a nearby throw pillow and launches it at her.

(she retaliates, flipping the couch over and them sitting on his back, she tries suffocating him with a surprisingly lethal fluffy cushion.)

after she stops attempting to strangle him and they put their living room back to the original state, they return to their previous conversation. but he immediately wishes that she's still attempting to murder him, because she is smirking. (he's so going to be antagonized for another week)

"so what basically happened, is that you publicly humiliated yourself in front of a cute guy and now you've turned into a weeping willow." she almost bursts out laughing again after her summary, instead pinching his cheek.

m/n immediately recoils, covering his face with another throw cushion. "yes, thank you for reminding me of the possibly most embarassing period of my life."

"you could've been worse. you could've spilled coffee on him, you could've fallen flat on your face as soon as you walked through the door." she laughed while he blushes even harder than he thought possible. (leave it to minju to bring up previous events.)

"i hate you," he manages to squeak out from underneath the pillow, curling in on himself.

"i love you too," she pats his head affectionately. "now i'll order some chinese food and we'll spend the whole night watching cheesy rom-coms while i try to cheer you up with some horrible puns and jokes."

(m/n cracks a smile because he honestly couldn't ask for a better best friend.)

after finally managing to finish his music assignment and edit another three essays as well as helping minju with baking cupcakes, m/n skypes kangmin. kangmin (the same person who chose to go in china instead of staying in seoul, the traitor) has been the third member of their group ever since the beginning of elementary as well as the exact reason for m/n's sexuality crisis. (which may or may not have included a temporary relationship and a lot of making out.)

it's not like m/n can hold it against him, but of course he still wonders why all of his friends have to be so damn good looking and adorable.

kangmin, unsurprisingly, doesn't answer the phone the first time but the second time yejin had picked up the call. yejin was the last member of their group and was the most creative and independent of the bunch. she was the first person that m/n had met that he loved within the first five minutes of meeting. of course, sometimes she was over-dramatic and hyperactive but it didn't really matter, she was still one of his best friends.

"hey m/n!" yejin smiled, flashing her pearly whites. "kangmin is currently busy working on that huge programming or digital project that he got a week ago."

yejin faces the camera towards kangmin, showing him with his head in buried in his hands. there were papers strewn all over the desk while his computer was closed. she subtly takes a picture of his distress before tapping him on the shoulder. kangmin's head snaps, a grimace present until his eyes lands on m/n's face appearing.

"m/n!" kangmin yelled, snatching his phone off yejin. ignoring her rude remark, he positions the phone in a way that both yejin and himself appear on the screen while still being close enough to hear. "sorry, i love you but this stupid piece of code is giving the biggest trouble ever and i just can't take it anymore."

he groans dramatically in his hands while yejin rolls her eyes at him, patting his head fondly.

"you'll be fine." she coos at him, rubbing his hair affectionately. "what's up m/n?"

"i may or may not have met someone..." m/n trails off, laughing at their reactions. yejin starts clapping excitedly and squealing while kangmin's head snaps up with a bright smile on his face.

"who is it? it's not that creepy guy in orchestra is it? if it is, you could do so much better.." yejin rants, not stopping even when kangmin covers her mouth with his hand.

"and i may or may not have also embarassed myself in front of him." yejin shuts up straight away, both her and kangmin starting to giggle.

"how bad was it?" kangmin inquires, a cheeky glint in his eye. "falling-flat-on-your-face-bad or peeing-your-pants-because-you're-so-nervous-bad?"

"neither,"

stares.

"maybe worse,"

more stares.

"it was clown-at-kangmin’s-eighth-birthday-bad."

long story short, kangmin’s parents had hired the wrong person and accidentally hired a drug dealer who tried to convince the kids that the cocaine he brought was sherbet.

kangmin’s parents were mortified at the time but kangmin continues to tell the story whenever he gets the chance.

m/n eventually ends the call because yejin and kangmin are laughing so hard at him and, god, why does everything with him have to be so complicated and embarassing? (he may also have rejected the next two calls, accidentally)

minju, being the absolutely amazing best friend that she is, is so much more helpful than his other two friends. meaning that since she's already laughed at him, she's moved on to the point where she decides that she's going to be a helpful friend.

(m/n shudders at the thought. last time minju decided she was going to be a 'helpful friend', he ended up in the hospital for two weeks and failed two assignments.)

unfortunately, minju turns out to be his only option to call when he sees beomgyu again at the shop.

"please, please, please, come here right now. starbucks is closed, beomgyu's on shift and i need someone here to make sure i don't embarass myself."

turns out, this is the one time that minju isn't available.

"you should've asked me before. i'm too busy. i've got to juggle six different pastry orders and they all have to be done in a couple of hours because i'm catering for a wedding."

well, fuck. m/n looks inside the coffee shop again, noticing that this time beomgyu is looking back at him. beomgyu smiles and waves, while he leans against a broom. m/n can't help but smile back, pocketing his phone and walking through the door.

as soon as he's in the door, he sees the broom that beomgyu is leaning on slips and makes him fall over. he rushes over to beomgyu quickly, helping him back up. beomgyu blushes a bright red while m/n helps him back over to the counter despite being told numerous times that he's fine.

"seriously m/n-ssi, i'm fine." beomgyu giggles. he fucking giggles and suddenly there's a hand on his arm and somehow all the oxygen has left his lungs and why is it so suddenly hot?

"are you sure?" m/n asks again, checking for any injuries. beomgyu nods again, walking awkwardly back behind the counter.

"venti frap, three shots right?" beomgyu's eyes shine, a small blush coating his cheeks. m/n nods, handing over his coins.

beomgyu scoops them up but accidentally drops a few on the ground. after all the coins are picked up, yein suddenly appears by his side with a coffee in her hand.

"smooth move, casanova," she nudges him playfully, before handing the coffee to m/n. beomgyu blushes brightly, moving over to start cleaning the counter.

"thanks, i guess." m/n says awkwardly. "i'll see you later, yeah?"

he runs out the door, waving to them as he goes. he's a few metres away from the coffee shop before he does a happy dance because he didn't embarass himself in front of beomgyu.

(this doesn't erase his bad luck however. he manages to keep his coffee intact, but someone else spilled their coffee on him, he got attacked by a rabid cat and chased by a group of dogs on the way home.)

the next time m/n sees beomgyu, it's in the comfort of his own home.

but that doesn't mean, he's ready to face his crush.

m/n's woken up by minju's banshee scream, her high pitched tone filling his entire room. he wishes his first instinct was to cover his own ears but no, his first instinct is to get up and make sure the bathroom door is closed. (every time minju screams, the large mirror in their bathroom 'mysteriously' breaks. and the money that pays for it 'mysteriously' comes out of his own wallet.)

he walks into the living room and he knows he looks like a mess.

his hair is strewn everywhere, making him look like he just got zapped with lightning. he's wearing a plain white shirt but he's only one inside while the other half is wrapped around his shoulder, exposing his lower body. he's also wearing his rainbow briefs while he's got kittens on his socks.

m/n's barely got his other arm in the shirt before he hears a cough behind, where he's met with beomgyu's blushing face.

beomgyu looks like he's trying so hard to look away, he's got his face hidden behind one of his books but his eyes are visible at the top, (it certainly has nothing to do with the way his nose starts to bleed a little) while minju doesn't look much better herself.

she hadn't bothered to brush away her bangs and instead was trying to pour herself a cup of coffee, a large yawn escaping her lips.

"we, meaning me, wants you to make us breakfast," minju speaks like she doesn't know that she just embarrassed m/n in front of his crush. (to her credit, she probably doesn't. she occasionally leaves their apartment half naked because of her tired stupor.)

"uh, r-right." m/n stutters, running back to his room, locking gazes with beomgyu before his door swings shut.

minju eyes him weirdly as he goes. (usually he'd yell at her to stop being lazy and do it herself but he seemed to be too stunned to do anything. she'd have to bring beomgyu around more often.)

"is he okay, minju?" beomgyu puts the book down.

"he'll be fine," minju yawns again, wrinkling her nose. "i've already accomplished my duty as a best friend by bringing you here." she ignored beomgyu's questioning gaze, bringing her mug to her lips.

m/n walks out of his room, looking more presentable but also looking like he was going to cut a bitch. (in every case, minju.)

"give me that," m/n swiped minju's mug from her hands, taking a deep gulp of her bitter coffee. he ignored minju's scathing remark and turned to beomgyu, unstartled. "will pancakes be okay, beomgyu-ssi?" his voice took a much softer tone than when he spoke to minju.

"yes please, and i'd rather you'd just call me beomgyu, m/n-ssi." beomgyu smiled.

"then i would insist that you'd do the same, beomgyu-ah." m/n smiled, shooing minju out of his kitchen and getting the ingredients out.

minju huffs and takes a seat next to beomgyu, crossing her arms.

"are you ready to carry on, beomgyu-ah?" minju asks, wiping her face with a wet wipe.

"gimme a sec," beomgyu rests his head on his arms as he watches m/n move around in the kitchen.

m/n's got his headphones in his ears as he hums delightfully, flipping pancakes with ease. he dances his way around the kitchen, pulling out syrup and strawberries and eating utensils, preparing breakfast with a soft smile on his face.

beomgyu can't help but watch the other male with a dumb smile on his face, not looking away even when there's a steaming hot plate of pancakes in front of him.

"i hope you like them," m/n smiles, taking out his left headphone. he fucking smiles at beomgyu, who feels his entire being heat up. (beomgyu tries to ignore the way his heart pitter-patters in his chest. that traitor.)

when beomgyu takes a bite, he moans in delight. m/n pretends to not notice, shoveling his food in his mouth. (his blush totally does not give him away.)

"so m/n-ah," minju starts, taking back her mug and refilling it. "when's your next class?"

"i'm free today. my chemistry professor called in sick so he just emailed everybody their latest assignments. i'm going to die." m/n cringed, taking a sip of his water.

"i bet physics is looking pretty good right now, huh?" minju had a triumphant look on her face.

"people who take physics usually don't have a life, or friends." m/n flicked her forehead, distracting her long enough to steal her coffee again. "no offense, beomgyu-ah."

"none taken, m/n-ah." beomgyu shrugged his shoulders. "what do you study?"

"i'm making my life hard by majoring in dance with a minor in chemistry." m/n put his two thumbs, his entire being oozing with sarcasm. "commuting to two different campuses four times a week, what fun."

"that's like me!" beomgyu's eyes were a little wider. "i'm a vocal major with a minor in physics. moving between the two campuses is such a pain."

"does that mean you know soobin-hyung? i think he's a vocal major as well?" m/n asks.

"bunny-hyung?" beomgyu's eyes glaze over in realization. "he takes care of me, you know, being one year older. does that mean you're friends with yeonjun-hyung? he still owes me twenty dollars."

"soobin-hyung owes me fifty!" m/n almost yells. "but it's okay because he buys me lunch every other day."

"oh my god, they're perfect for each other." beomgyu rolls his eyes, stabbing his pancake with his fork.

"they're disgusting. i hate seeing them meet up, like they haven't seen each in a million years when in reality it's been like four hours." m/n agrees, wrinkling his nose.

minju looks between the two males, wondering how they could be so oblivious towards one another.

"they're idiots. idiots who hopelessly crush on each other." minju complained under her breath. she held up her phone, pretending to use it as a mirror, only to snap a pic of m/n and beomgyu interacting with each other, bright smiles on both of their faces.

m/n briefly looked at her, a weird look on his face.

"you'll thank me later." she smiled innocently, tapping her phone with a wink.

#beomgyu #choi beomgyu #txt male reader #kpop male reader #txt x male reader #kpop x male reader #fluff #beomgyu x male reader #choi beomgyu x male reader #male reader scenario #txt #male reader insert

154 notes · View notes

nodusomnis · 4 years ago

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title: brilliance of land pairing(s): tsuzuru minagi & reader characters: tsuzuru minagi, reader, citron, sakuya sakuma, masumi usui, itaru chigasaki, izumi tachibana, omi fushimi synopsis: even the land can be admired by the sky, too. word count: 6.7k

@emilycollins00 ‘s entry: Morning! ^^ Uh, I'm getting a bit shy suddenly! I really love your edits and writting style! and I was hoping I could ask, if you had time of course and wanted, a TsuzuruxmatureUnistudent!reader? as,Tsuzu starts getting selfconcious around them but doesn't connect dots and some member mention it or make fun! It doesn't have to end in kiss/confession, I wanted to see how they would react in the situation. Maybe it's a little too vague...? in any case, thanks in advance, keep up the good work!

a/n: My apologies for taking me this too long to write. I was too caught up in the moment that it took me ages to finish this LMAO on the same note; the premise provided me an inspiration, so I was so avid to write for this 😅 well frankly, the other reason was because I was busy with my online classes, too. So I do apologize for making you wait this long 🙇‍♀️ anyhow, thank you for loving my edits and writings 😊💖 I’m truly grateful! Thanl you for requesting as well! I hope you like this one. Enjoy reading! 💛

Tsuzuru’s recent bearings had him befuddled quite a lot in these past few weeks, which affected the performance in his classes, and mostly during their practice for the forthcoming spring troupe’s next play. He was altogether aware of how he’d easily become strained and a stuttering mess when confronting someone sometimes. However, the action he presents you doesn’t correspond to the individuals he has interacted with before. Rather, it was unfathomable for his intellect to bring in the answers he desires to know. Prior to these inexplicable emotions unfurling in his chest, he hasn’t endured these sorts of sensations that were surprisingly pleasant, yet with a smidge of pain blooming in the depths of his heart. If he were to ask as a scriptwriter to describe the feeling he’s experiencing as of late, Tsuzuru would effortlessly say that it was similar to a beautiful flower blooming in its perfect season, yet has thorns adhered in its stem.

It’s so poetic that he, himself, was even surprised to muse about such things.

It’s true that at the beginning of your rendezvous, he was tense and tripping over his words. He could not even look at you straight in the eyes for his timidity reining over him. But he already reckoned the reason; it was only natural of him to do that toward the people he has yet to meet before. And now that he has known you for about almost a year, he guaranteed that the shameless behaviors of his would launder and was comfortable to be around you. But to his dismay, it only reverted to him.

In university, it was inevitable to see and cross paths with you. After all, you are his classmate in one of the subjects he’s taking. More importantly, you two are seatmates, so how can he avoid you? And if ever you detected his preternatural actions, it would alone incite your suspicions and inquire what problem he has to be so apprehensive around you. And if you are, then he doesn’t know how he will explain it because he, himself, does not know where to begin with. He has no notion as to why he's being like this anyhow.

Well, to be honest, he got comfortable, but those unpleasant emotions only came back as though it brought him back to your first meeting.

It was hell for him, and he won’t deny it.

He could not concentrate on their lessons as he would occasionally glance at you and noticed himself that his head was over the clouds for staring at your face for too long.

Most of the time, when the two of you were in your breaks hanging out in the library or any facilities with fewer crowds, his actions seemed to be so limited that he felt like there were shackles wrapped in his wrists and ankles, restricting his every move. Furthermore, his answers were deliberate that it would take him quite a long time to answer the questions you had asked him. The only reason he can hand over is that he doesn’t want to screw himself up in front of you, especially since he refused to give you comments or suggestions that won’t be of any help at all.

For what it’s worth, he wants everything to be perfect, which he wasn’t like that toward someone even to his friends—well, except to his scripts by all means. But for some reason, whenever he was with you, adrenaline would rev up, and the torrents of rush would drive him in frantic that Tsuzuru sorely knew it would only make the situation worse.

Therefore, that winds up to him being so darn lame in front of you by tumbling over his words excessively rather than usual. He was getting restless and reckless at the same time. Not to mention, he would invoke a disaster in your environment by tugging someone and spilling their drinks or foods by accident. He was so foolish for being like that when he didn’t intend to from the get-go. The only thing he has done was a mere contradiction of the actual situation that he covets.

Damn, he was so ashamed of his recent demeanor that Tsuzuru wishes to vanish into thin air, or the ground would just split up into two to eat him fully. Every time he recalled his upsetting blunders had him wishing to melt to where he was standing at this exact moment.

In spite of not knowing his newfangled emotions, he does somehow remember when these feelings sprang up.

It was the time when he spotted you in the school’s field, leading your classmates with your current project for the upcoming event of your program. He discovered that you were the leader of your group and appointing them to a task they have artistry in so it won’t be onerous for them to manage their positions. There were some instances he’d pass your classroom and then would take a peek, only to discover that you were working with the arrangements for the forthcoming event until the sun would set on the horizon.

He could vividly see how zealous you were in your task and doing your best for your group mates. It wasn’t a hurdle for him to recognize when he’d witness the way your eyes would glisten every time you found a lead, followed by the corners of your lips bending into a smile like a child getting an ice cream. With just that one simple smile, Tsuzuru couldn’t help to form a smile as well and feel the warmth starting to swell inside his chest. It was like a scene in the films he has watched, a scene that will seize your attention and will never forget even if time goes by.

It was picturesque for him. He couldn’t get rid of that scenario until now.

And that's when he mostly paid attention to you.

“Tsuzuru. Hey, Tsuzuru!”

“E-Eh?” The mentioned guy has awakened from his trance after hearing his name being called. “A-Ah, (Name)-san. Sorry for spacing out like that.”

You scrutinize him for a brief second before eliciting a sigh. Face brandished with worry about the guy “Why are you saying sorry? It’s only natural for you to be engaged in woolgathering like that, considering you’re a student, a part-time actor, and a scriptwriter, too. It’s justifiable that it would take its toll on you. If there’s anything I can assist you with, don’t be shy to ask me, okay? I’m always here to help you.”

Tsuzuru hastily whips his head to the side as he feels the heat soaring to his cheeks and heart hammering fast from seeing your bright smiling face once again. He was thinking about your smile not too long ago, and you’re already attacking him like that. He’s not prepared!

If only you knew what he’s thinking about… and yes, it’s somehow important to him, he figured.

“It’s nothing, really. But I appreciate the thought,” Tsuzuru assures you before deflecting his attention back to his book.

Both of you are in the library as it was your lunch break for today, and it’s your duty as a library assistant to be present in the place. Tsuzuru utterly knows that he likes to evade you at all costs since these idiosyncratic feelings will abruptly overflow like water breaching the walls of a dam once his eyes catch sight of your form. However, despite recognizing the consequences, he still dared to visit the library. It seems like there was some alien voice in the back of his head, whispering to him to go, just for him to see your lovable face.

He has no idea why he acquiesced with it as though his entire existence was being enchanted by an unknown. For that reason, he is now in the library meeting with you like he normally does, and the sensation of apprehension washes over his being again.

“You know, you’re acting odd these past few weeks. You’re getting more jumpy than necessary, you see.” As soon as he hears your claim, Tsuzuru nearly chokes on his own saliva and falls off his seat. He tries to keep up an undisturbed facade, but his attempt was all in vain once his eyes locked with yours.

“I-I am?” Once the words slips out his mouth, Tsuzuru urges of slapping his face so hard for asking a stupid question that is already obvious.

“You’re good at looking after people, but when it comes to yourself, you can’t.” A light chuckle tickles through your throat as the scriptwriter merely shows a bashful look because it was a fact. It was insurmountable for him to dispute your remark.

His grip on the pen tightens as he senses the weight of your stare on him. Because of that, Tsuzuru feels the sweat gradually emerging on his temples as he is positive that you are inspecting his gestures and expression to figure out what was troubling him. You’ve always been like that. Trying to scrutinize him as possible, for you can lend him a hand with the heavy burdens he is bearing. Although he never asked or confided in you about his problems sometimes, you were quick to determine what it was, and before he knew it, you were already there beside him and awaiting him to confide to you.

“(Last name)-san.” Both your attention diverts to a familiar girl walking toward your way. Tsuzuru realizes that it was one of your classmates he has seen during your scheduled meetings.

He doesn’t understand why you were so ardent of helping him out when you have other personal concerns as well? Tsuzuru couldn’t help but be culpable for boosting the baggage of your onus. That being the case, he was compelled to return the benevolence you had given him, too.

“Enomoto-san, have you discussed it with the program chair?” you immediately ask once the said girl approaches you.

“Yes. Currently, we’re reviewing the expenses we had for the event. The program chair wants to note every material we used and bought.”

“Is that so?” you say with relief as though your load has been alleviated. “Then, we should recheck the preparations and the venue we’re going to occupy. I will later make a list of the materials and give it to the program chair. Anyhow, is Suzuki checking the technical equipment?”

Your classmate nods in response. “Yes, he’s with Hiyori-kun. By the way, (Last name)-san. The program chair’s asking for your presence in the faculty room. She needs to discuss the guest speakers coming next week.”

Tsuzuru merely listens to your exchange. Seeing you working this up-close had made him admire your diligence and the way you carry out your responsibilities as the organizer and leader at the same time. You do your duty with calm and confidence, as though you’re already a professional working in a certain industry. Tsuzuru doesn’t have those outstanding qualities for which he envies you for having the poise when confronting someone. If he’s in your position right now, he knows for sure that he will be scatterbrained and couldn’t utter a sentence without stumbling over a word.

Even in your part-time job, you handle the customers with discretion and decorum. You would not forget to show them an amicable smile and talk to them with a careful articulation that would eventually convince them and give you their trust. No wonder why some customers would often call your name and greet you with enthusiasm like you were friends for a long time. After all, you’re an approachable and trustworthy woman for them to just scorn.

You two sure are opposite to one another. You’re like the sky, and he’s the land. You’re unattainable, yet so exquisite and bright. And as for him, he’s just a land who would keep looking at you from below, but won’t get tired from admiring you in the meadow.

“Ah, Tsuzuru, I should go ahead. I have to do some important matters to take care of,” you notify him, to which he snaps out from his musings again and sloppily nods his head.

“Sure. Take care, (Name)-san,” he says, moot in his voice.

Staring at him for a moment, you shove the thoughts away and grin at the chap. “Well, see you later. And don’t forget what we talked about, okay?”

With your last giggle, you saunter toward the counter to inform the librarian about your leave. And subsequently, you skedaddle from the library with your classmate.

As the spring troupe’s practice went on until the clock struck to nine, Izumi dismissed the practice for them to take a rest and continue tomorrow. The members agreed and sat down on the floor to regain their normal breathing and have their usual meeting after every practice. Sakuya was the first one who initiated the discussion about their performance just recently. They looked back at their mistakes and gave each other’s advice on how they will improve their acting for their specific roles.

While they are in the middle of their analysis, the sudden ringtone of a phone had paused them from their doings and looked to one another to ask if it’s theirs. Tsuzuru instantly knew that it’s his due to the familiar ringtone. Therefore, he rummages through his pocket and takes out his phone to see who the one is calling him at this hour.

As soon as he saw your name, his senses had woken up from the weariness he just had from the practice.

“I-I’ll just take this call,” he says to his fellow troupe members. Tsuzuru takes a breath before accepting the call.

“H-Hello, (Last name)-san.”

“Hi, Tsuzuru! I apologize for calling you at this hour. Am I not bothering you?” you worriedly ask.

“No. A-Actually, we just finished our practice. So, why did you call?” Tsuzuru feels his throat getting parched by the minute the call goes on. Everyone was quiet, even Citron, who would start a noise around and spout some words they don’t understand. He doesn’t know why their eyes are on him, seemingly scrutinizing and eavesdropping to your conversation.

“About that, I was just wondering if you’re free next Saturday. I want to invite you to the after party of our program’s event. So… are you?”

After hearing your sudden invitation had rendered him mute. His jaw slackens, and his eyes blink a few times before processing the message into his brain. And not only that, his loud beating heart is resounding in his ears that he’s not quite certain if you’re still talking on the other line.

“Hey, Tsuzuru. Are you still there?” Thanks to your voice, it broke him from his stupor and for showing a ridiculous face in front of the members.

“Y-Yeah. I-I’m free next Saturday.”

“Sweet! Then see you tomorrow. Don’t take it back, okay?” Tsuzuru replied yes, and you cutely chuckled, which isn’t good for his poor heart.

“That’s a promise! Anyhow, if you don’t mind, can you reserve me a ticket for your troupe’s next play? I’m looking forward to watching it.”

“I’ll tell the Director about it. I’ll give it to you as soon as she gives me the ticket.” Once he said that you squealed in excitement out of the blue. And that alone shocked the scriptwriter, and his heartbeat only intensified.

“Thank you so much, Tsuzuru! I’m excited about what script you have written for this. Watching your scripts getting converted into plays sure does make me overwhelmed and happy for you. I really love your scripts, Tsuzuru. They are beautiful.”

Your sudden adulation left him stunned without failure. It appears that time had slowed its tick, and his cognizance was only directed to the dynamic thumping of the organ in his chest, making it harder for him to breathe. And there’s this funny feeling in his stomach that is like a feather being slowly rubbed across his belly. It tickles, yet he wants to feel it more. Above all else, he’s sensing himself wallowing in the warmth engulfing his body, like he’s bathing in the warm rays of the sun in the morning, kissing his skin with its golden light.

“Well then, I guess I need to go. I still have to do my homework,” you say, almost whispering. “I hope you have a good night.”

Tsuzuru suddenly felt his heart drop at your announcement, and the tingling sensation in his stomach instantly vanished.

“Sure, (Name)-san. Good night, as well.” Once both of you said your farewells, Tsuzuru ended the call, and a sigh escaped his lips, knowing the fact that he won’t hear your voice for this evening any longer. He does admit, hearing your voice during calls makes him feel at ease for some reason.

“Are you okay, Tsuzuru-san? Your face is red,” Sakuya remarks, causing him to look at their leader with confound.

“What are you talking about, Sakuya?”

“Was that (Name)?” Citron follows a query. With just a mere mention of your name had Tsuzuru felt the flow of heat ascend to his face and couldn’t constrict himself from answering with his usual stutter.

“Y-Yeah, she only asked if I’ll be available next Saturday.” Upon his response, Citron abruptly hollers and jumps on to his manzai partner.

“Oh! Is this a date?!” When he announces it aloud, Sakuya’s face instantly reddens, and Itaru whistles in amazement, whereas Masumi charges at him with a frown etched on his face.

“How dare you be the first one to be on a date before me?” Masumi’s voice was baritone, glaring daggers at him in proximity.

Tsuzuru doesn’t know where to begin since his mind is becoming clouded with embarrassment, and more importantly, he refuses to confront his fellow troupe members, for he knows that they will take the information erroneously. Particularly Citron, who has a penchant for misunderstanding the story he has heard. Then, everyone will believe him with his incredulous disclosure. Although Itaru knows that it’s the contrary of Citron’s word, he will still ride on it and teased him about it just for his own amusement.

That being the case, his vengeance for the salaryman was to give him an arduous role through his written scripts.

“It’s not a date!” Tsuzuru exclaims, abstaining the two who were surrounding him and interrogating them with their folly. “(Name)-san only invited me to come to their event. She’s one of the organizers.”

“But it’s still called a date if a girl invited you to a special event!”

“What kind of mind do you even have to assume like that, Citron-san?!” Tsuzuru rebuts to the grinning foreigner beside him.

“This is unforgivable.” Masumi hauntingly closes the gap between him and the scriptwriter. The frown on his face does not seem to dissolve despite clarifying the misinterpretation Citron had announced.

“I told you it’s not like that!” He asserts and then looks over at Sakuya and Itaru who are watching him being swarmed by the two. “A little help here, Sakuya, Itaru-san!”

Hearing Sakuya’s name being called had snapped him out from his stupor and drew his attention to the poor bloke who’s being crowded by their two fellow troupe mates. As Sakuya was about to lend him a hand, Itaru, who recently finished his quests, adheres him in his place by putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Eh, Itaru-san?” The leader confusedly questions. But the aforementioned guy only presents him a whimsical smirk before casting his fuchsia irises on the interrogated university student.

“We should leave him be. This is a good opportunity for our dear scriptwriter to experience romance once in a while,” the salaryman says, voice hinted with mischief.

Tsuzuru hadn’t misheard what the oldest had said to Sakuya. In honesty, he heard it loud and clear despite Citron’s and Masumi’s annoying voices reverberating throughout the practice room. That alone incites the foreboding that he has, and his lingering irritation for the two only heightens due to Itaru’s provocation.

Asking for help from the working man was the worst decision he had made for now. He had forgotten that he can be immature from time to time, albeit that he’s already an adult and has the authority in their troupe. It’s supposed to be him who would manage and mollify everyone from their mess at his age. However, it wasn’t. Itaru is also one of the pain in the asses to deal with, and to his misfortune, Tsuzuru was the one who fell in the position that was supposed to be Itaru’s.

He couldn’t even clean the mess in his room and not eating a proper meal sometimes. Tsuzuru doesn’t know why he was the one cleaning his room even though it wasn’t his. Well, he couldn’t help himself because it’s already in his nature to look after others first before him, especially that he's been taking care of his little brothers in most of his life. Hence, he has grown to carry it wherever he goes, and despite that he refuses to do it, his instincts tell him otherwise.

“Good luck with your date, Tsuzuru. You have our blessings. It’s now your time to show your charming side to her,” Itaru encourages with his shit-eating grin that did nothing but exhaust and aggravate him.

“Itaru is right! You also have my blessings!” Citron enthuses as though he was his mom, congratulating her son for his breakthrough. “You should give him your blessings, too, Sakuya.”

“E-Eh… Do your best, Tsuzuru-san! I give you my blessings, as well!” Sakuya says, quite frantic, which Tsuzuru doesn’t know if he’s afraid or ecstatic about his situation.

“I refuse to give my blessings,” Masumi emphasizes with obstinacy in his tone.

Tsuzuru knows full well that his efforts to clear the misunderstanding will only pass through their ears and tease him further. That is why he surrenders from his attempt to defend himself and just let them do what they please. He refuses to exhaust himself to a greater degree by simply convincing them with the truth. It will merely drive him insane.

The closing night for the second play of the spring troupe has come to an end. It was an absolute success in which everyone congratulated each other and knowing the irrefutable fact that the audience loved the play and the actors performing on stage. The cheers and applause were indeed delightful to hear. Their hearts were pounding in rapture as their smiles grew wider by the second they heard the ovation of the audience. They can even witness the merry faces of their director and their manager behind them. It was an eye-tearing experience. Despite they already knew the feeling of success during their debut show, the second is still the same as they had known of.

Once the curtain had closed and said their gratitude to everyone, you congratulated them and gave them a bouquet as your present for the cast in the staff room. The director was happy to see you as always. You never missed watching their troupes’ performances, even if your initial purpose was to only watch the spring troupe’s play because of Tsuzuru, who you knew, for he is your classmate.

However, you had grown to love the other troupes, for they have their own charms that drew your regard to each one of them. They have their aptitudes and themes that you’d never get tired of watching everyone shining and sparkling on the stage with their content smiles and sense of devotion to acting their roles with perfection and thrill. It was a magnificent view for which you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring the Mankai Company’s troupes.

They are charming in their own way.

The director invited you to their after-party in their dormitory, which you gladly accepted as you were timid to decline her humble invitation. Moreover, you have been celebrating with them every now and then when you have nothing else to do for the day.

As you had figured, Omi was the one who cooked the food for the party, and being the kind and considerate person he was; he cooked their favorite dishes and treats. Although he’s a guy, he has this cooking skill that you surely commended. His talent for cooking and baking anything amazes you. Whether the dish is foreign to him, he’ll cook it with the same delicious taste just as his usual cooking.

“Good evening, It’s nice to have you here, (Last name)-san,” Omi greets you as he puts a plate of dishes on the table.

You smile and return the greeting, “Likewise. Your cooking is amazing, as always.”

“(Name), I’m happy that you joined us for the after-party!” Citron says with excitement while pushing Tsuzuru toward you.

“Citron-san, what are you doing?!” complained the scriptwriter, struggling to free himself from his hold. But the mentioned guy solely flashes him a grin that Tsuzuru swiftly notices the underlying meaning behind that smile of his. He suddenly felt his stomach churn, having a bad feeling about this.

“Tsuzuru’s script is amazing as always, ne?”

“By all means.”

The only reaction that Tsuzuru dispensed was to blush at your compliment and stare down at his feet for you not to see the pink hues spreading across his cheeks. Even though you’ve been giving him credits ever since the start of their debut, he’s still not used to you suddenly blurting some beautiful words to him. It wouldn’t fail to make him on edge and as if his heart was going to burst in his chest.

In all honesty, it’s a delightful feeling but really not good for his heart.

The party commences. Everyone was talking about their hurdles before the outset of their second show, particularly Masumi and Itaru, who didn’t get along well at first. But their relationship had progressed when the adult visited him in their school and tried to understand one another by playing a game.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their humorous circumstance. In the end, they didn’t understand each other, but their relationship had developed.

As the conversation went on, suddenly, you became the next subject of their discussion.

“We learned that you invited Tsuzuru to an event!” Citron pipes in, causing the said man beside him to let out a sharp intake of breath.

“W-Why are you suddenly including that in the conversation?!” Tsuzuru frantically says, seeming to reprimand the foreigner.

“Eh? But I wanna know if it’s a date or not.”

With that, Tsuzuru’s face starts to color in a bright shade of red as the director gives you two a surprised reaction. You were quite astonished as well if you say so yourself. Well, there’s no point denying it since you did invite your classmate to come to your program’s event. But one thing that grabbed your attention is why he’s asking if it’s a date or not. You don’t blame Tsuzuru if he’s getting embarrassed since you’re equally embarrassed as he is.

“I told you countless times already, Citron-san! It’s not a date!” That’s when Tsuzuru’s last thread of patience snaps. He hadn’t intended to shout at his manzai partner, but considering that he’s making the atmosphere awkward between you two is something that he will never have the patience with.

He recognizes your confusion and discomfort with the current situation. He feels obligated to tell you a sincere apology, but the words he wants to tell across seem to attach in his throat. His mind is getting hazy by the minute, making it difficult for him to recompose himself in this dire plight.

“W-Well, if you take it into consideration as a woman and man, it does seem that I’m saying it will be a date in a roundabout way,” you chuckle with a grain of humor in your voice. This immediately catches their attention and presents you with bewilderment written on their faces.

“I told you it’s like that,” Citron laughs, feeling satisfied upon knowing that his hypothesis is true.

Unbeknownst to you, your answer was the last straw for Tsuzuru’s heart to explode. His heated face only increases its temperature, which he assures that everyone can notice that he is blushing.

Why are you always attacking him unannounced like that? If you’re often like this, it will drive him crazy.

“Heh, Tsuzuru looks like he wants to be splashed by cold water on his face,” Itaru teases before he takes a sip on his drink, not removing his apparent diversion toward his troupe mate.

Sakuya, who heard the older’s comment, merely grabs a cold water and hands it to him. “Your face is red, Tsuzuru-san. Are you okay?”

Tsuzuru doesn’t know what to do anymore. Being with his troupe mates is surely gonna be the reason why he has white hair growing on his head at such a young age. Sakuya’s not helping in the situation, too. He’s too gullible for his own good in which everyone is taking advantage of, particularly Citron, who loves to tell stories about his adventures that are not even true.

He’s not really okay. He just wants to flee from the place and go to his room to rest.

“You know, whenever you’re around, Tsuzuru’s getting self-conscience!” Citron chirps, which makes you bewildered at the particular word he said.

“Self-conscience?”

“You mean self-conscious,” Itaru corrects.

“Yes, that’s it!”

“I am not!” Tsuzuru instantly defends, but the two ignore his complaints and tease him further.

You haven’t had the slightest idea why Tsuzuru’s becoming self-conscious when there’s nothing to be in the first place. Recalling the scriptwriter’s recent strange bearings only affords you an idea from your question of why he was suddenly becoming uneasy when you were with him. And on top of it, his habit of stuttering became worse than the original. Now you piece all the confusions you had together.

So he’s getting self-conscious? But why? You don’t understand.

“Remember the day when you and (Name) went to the mall to buy some school supplies? I was there, too! I saw that you were being fidgety and stuttering a lot! It was hilarious to witness you like that, Tsuzuru!”

“Ah, now that reminds me,” Itaru begins. “I saw you on the terrace, calming yourself and even taking a breath before you answer a phone call back then. At first, I thought it was one of your bosses in your part-time jobs, but I discovered that it was only (Last name).”

“Then, that means he’s really self-conscious!” Citron asserts.

Tsuzuru’s tongue-tied, doesn’t have any words to say in this exact moment knowing his troupe mates had seen him in those shameful moments of his with you. He can’t dispute since it’s all the truth. Even he was bewildered by his actions as of late. He has no idea how to describe his current situation. It was making him perturbed and left him with tons of questions that he was desperately seeking to know.

Now that his troupe mates had given him the answer to his quaint actions, he accepted the words they had pointed out. There’s no room for him to be defensive, considering the answer he was seeking to find out is already there. Furthermore, he has no escape from this embarrassing situation. You already heard everything that he doesn’t want you to discover.

His troupe mates certainly are troublesome fellows.

“Tsuzuru,” you call his name to get his attention. However, it seems that he hadn’t heard you as he didn’t move in his spot. You elicit a small sigh before attempting to slap his cheeks gently with both hands. It didn’t take you seconds to pay you his heed.

“(N-Name)-san?” he stammers, surprised to see your face up-close and holding his cheeks with care. You beam him a gentle smile.

“Let’s talk,” you softly say before retracting your hands from his cheeks with a smile still intact on your visage. Tsuzuru felt his stomach twist, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He utterly knows that you’re going to talk about today, which is why he’s preparing himself for the worst. It will be reasonable if you’re going to avoid him after this. After all, the recent occurrence a while ago is indeed uncomfortable and embarrassing.

Everyone is quiet. The atmosphere is still. No one spoke, even Citron, who’s fond of initiating a commotion in the dorm with others. The director’s only looking at him with a worried face, and Masumi is still the same as ever, looking at Izumi with heart-shaped eyes, not even bothering with what occurred earlier.

He envies his roommate’s ignorance with this circulating tension around them. It must be nice to be so carefree.

“Where are we going?” he manages to ask despite his parched throat.

Upon his query, you direct your gaze to the director. “If you don’t mind, can I borrow Tsuzuru for a bit?”

Izumi blinks her eyes before answering you in a bit of a panic. “S-Sure, we don’t mind.”

You say your thanks and signal to the scriptwriter to follow you to the courtyard.

The journey toward the yard was disturbingly restrained. Only your footsteps and Tsuzuru’s were the one thing you can hear. You didn’t mind the silence since afterward, the two of you are going to talk about today.

You don’t even know that Tsuzuru’s fidgeting and his whole being is getting wallowed in the sea of his anxiety. His fear of cutting ties with you is something he can’t take. After all, you’re the only woman he has befriended this close with whom he can share his problems and rants about his life. And just because of his troupe mates being a busybody, it will estrange your relationship with him.

Once the both of you step into the courtyard, the fresh breeze of spring season whirls through your bodies and affords you a sense of tranquility. You continue to walk as he follows you to the center of their dormitory. The scent of the flowers planted by Tsumugi wafts through the air, which surely helps Tsuzuru to relax his stiff shoulders.

As you two reach the center, you halt your steps. Tsuzuru mimics your action, and a dreadful feeling eventually washes over him. His repose because of the calm ambiance of the garden was only a fleeting moment of his because his apprehension came back to him once again.

“Hey, Tsuzuru,” you say; your voice is still the serene one that he had known, almost subduing the abnormal beating of his heart. You turn on your heels to face the man. “Am I that intimidating for you to be self-conscious around me?”

Tsuzuru breaths in, recognizing the playfulness in your voice. Your famous smile didn’t seem to disappear as it was still the same smile you wore every day. It baffled him for a second. He assumed that you’re going to give him a serious look with no smeared of jocularity in your eyes. But it was all the opposite of what he presumed.

“E-Eh?” That was the only reaction he could give. He was still in the process of understanding your words.

Your grin expands before letting out a giggle. “So that’s why your behavior is strange these past few weeks. It’s because you’re self-conscious around me.”

Your friskiness had Tsuzuru’s face to blush and lips to tremble in shame. No coherent words are available for him to say. He remains still in his spot as he simply watches you laughing at his embarrassing acts.

When he paid his attention to you, it seems that you’re too far away for him to reach. Every time he saw you from afar, it looked like you were sparkling in his eyes. Your smile that couldn’t be tarnished, your confidence that he admires, your etiquette in various circumstances, and also your benevolence that isn’t exclusive for just one; it’s for everyone.

Everything about you, Tsuzuru adores. And knowing that you two are the exact opposite, his chest would unwillingly wrench. It pains him to look at you because he's completely aware that he’s out of your league. You’re too bright for his dim light.

“(Name)-san,” he subconsciously calls you, and it catches your attention in an instant. You wait for him to speak, and Tsuzuru wants to retreat. However, his melancholic musings are encouraging him to do it. “If you only know how I greatly admire you as an individual. It’s like you’re too far from me and I can’t reach you. You’re like the sky that is so bright, too beautiful, and pure for me. Me, as a land, doesn’t want to tarnish your beauty. My position was to merely admire you from afar. I'm too way out of your league. There are so many who want you, people who are well-known, and have more recognition than me. They’re the ones who have the right to be beside you, unlike me, who’s dull and a complete nobody.”

Tsuzuru looks up to watch the stars glimmering in the night sky. After that speech of his, both of you didn’t utter a single word as you let the silence engulfs you two. Distinguishing his impression of you had rendered you stunned, as you hadn’t expected him to give you such regard.

Tsuzuru shifts his body, inserting his hands in his pockets while not averting his gaze from the sky. “We’re completely opposite, (Name)-san.”

You purse your lips, jaw clenching since Tsuzuru was not giving credit for himself. His degradation makes you upset. You do appreciate how he sees you in high regard, but you dislike it when he’s self-deprecating when there are things and qualities that you admire him for. He doesn’t know that he’s much better than you are. He’s too blind to notice the wonderful qualities he has.

“You see,” you say as you stare at the view above. This time, Tsuzuru diverts his notice to you. “The land is much better than the sky itself. The land gives life to all the living things; providing animals and humans with shelter, growing beautiful trees and flowers with its soil, a place where people can freely walk to, magnificent landscapes that are breathtaking to capture, and especially nature that is essential for our survival. Isn't it similar to you, Tsuzuru? The land is an all-rounder; it has many attributes that it can provide. And you, you can do almost everything, even everyone is aware of that. Your troupe mates can spell it out for you if you still doubt yourself. They even called you jack of all trades, aren’t they?”

You tear your gaze away from the sky to peer at Tsuzuru, whose eyes are wide. Afterward, you shoot him a smile, assuring him that you’re sincere to the words you had said.

He’s too speechless to give you a meager response. He feels his chest fluttering in glee and as if someone’s caressing his heart to feel so fuzzy inside. Tsuzuru will be lying if he says he’s not happy to hear your words, because the truth is, he’s elated to the point he wants to leap in ecstasy and hug you right here, right now. But Tsuzuru still has the decency not to breach that boundary. Therefore, he controls himself from caging you in his arms.

“I-I…” Tsuzuru had strived to speak, but to his dismay, the shock was too much for him to recover immediately.

You let out a hearty chuckle. “That’s the brilliance of land, which is why you need not degrade yourself like that. You’re perfect in your own way. Further, you have so many things you can offer. You’re not out of my league. We’re only the same. I admire you because it’s you, and you admire me because it’s me. We have our own abilities, so there’s no such thing as inferior and superior between us. We’re equals. Moreover, you have this unique potential that many don't own, so don’t neglect it. Be that as it may, okay?”

With that, Tsuzuru couldn’t help but smile at your encouraging words. You sure know how to uplift his spirits. And he’s glad to know that your relationship won’t get estranged because of his pain in the ass troupe mates. He really felt relieved.

“I really adore you, (Name)-san,” he declares before tilting his head upwards.

“I admire you, too, Tsuzuru.” You look at the sky, as well. Then without hesitation, you grab his hand.

Tsuzuru flinches at the warmth of your small hand on him. That’s why he hastily snaps his head to you, only to see you grinning at him so cheekily. Comprehending that you're holding his hand makes him flustered and unable to think. His heart is strenuously beating against his rib cage that he's compelled to rip away his hand from you in order for you not to notice his violent heartbeat.

But in spite of it, the other him is melting in your touch and refusing to let go of your hand, especially because your warmth is transporting to him, which makes him calm and feel comfortable like his home.

Therefore, Tsuzuru squeezes his hold on you and shows you a sheepish smile, fending off the worries and shame that’s intruding on his mind. Those emotions aren’t needed in this heartfelt situation with you.

Both of you look up at the sky at once and savor the moment that was given to you by God.

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