#since when I started writing her originally… they weren’t in the show… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janovavalen · 10 months ago

Note

Hi can you write a Percy Jackson x fem reader

The reader and Percy do not get along it’s like a love hate relationship.During episode 4 Percy sacrificing himself at St Luis arch the reader breaks down the door and sees him fall.she then jumps after him.When they get out the river they both have an argument about the whole incident.which leads to the reader admitting she cares about him.Happy ending pls.

an: OMG STOP STOP BC I ACTUALLY ACTIVELY SCREAMED AT THIS REQUEST ANONNNNN STOOOOP I LOVE THIS SM IM ABOUT TO WRITE IT RNNNNNRNRNRNRN

✧RECKLESS || percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: as the group go to their next destination they arrive at the arch, annabeth and y/n’s mom’s sanctuary for some time. just when they think they’re safe, things don’t go to plan.

word count: FUCKIN 5878 NO BC IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR THREE HOURSSSSS AHH

warnings: y/n and percy being in a enemies or lovers trope, annabeth and grover being third and fourth wheelers, arguing, near death experiences, slight blood warnings, poisoned percy, a bit of crying? LIKE A TINY BIT, y/n is very argumentative.

as the group made their way to the st. louis arch, they weren’t doing very good. at all.

on their way, the original plan was to get straight to las vegas, but thanks to the monsters and not wanting to take a break, their train got ruined by the mother of monsters.

as they walked into the front entrance of the arch that annabeth and y/n recommended. they had stated that monsters can’t get in and it will give them more time to find some way to get to las vegas a lot quicker than on foot.

‘six-hundred and thirty feet wide’ annabeth started—‘six-hundred and thirty feet tall, both two within an inch’

as they four of them walked fast enough to cause an old lady whiplash, percy and grover listened to the two of them explain their mothers sanctuary.

‘it’s got no internal support. each side is balanced perfectly against one another’ y/n states once more as annabeth nodded along with what she said.

‘the arch is held up by symmetry, it’s held up by math!’ annabeth expressed.

‘oh and it’s earthquake proof’ y/n added to annabeth’s comment, giving annabeth a small glance before they walked down the steps of the entrance into the small museum full of kids on a field trip.

‘it’s also high enough so poseidon can’t ruin it…but i don’t think mom would appreciate his child being in here, so.’ y/n looked over to percy who gave her a tight thin lipped smile before mumbling.

‘nice…’ annabeth and percy looked at the two before giving each other a look to soon squeeze themselves through the group kids.

‘excuse me’ annabeth mumbled to the boys and girls who turned and moved out of the way for the four.

‘this is how you show athena your love, a monument to the power of perfection’ annabeth told.

‘it’s a monument to some other stuff too’ grover added as they looked around and saw other things regarding more olden times, guns, head skeletons of buffalo and other things.

‘your talking about what some humans want this place to be about. we’re talking about what it actually is’ annabeth placed her hand over her own chest while looking at percy and grover who frowned but agreed nonetheless.

y/n rolled her eyes when she saw the amount of ‘skeletons’ and other things that litterd the walls and glass casing all around them. the people seeming to be pleased enough at what they saw to take a picture.

‘it’s sad to know they don’t know what it really means. very pathetic really.’ y/n mumbled to herself as she turned to annabeth. percy looked over at her and blinked before widening his eyes and choosing not to say anything about what she said.

‘whatever…we’re safe here, right?’ grover made sure to comprehend as they walked.

‘no monsters can enter…not even echidna’ y/n reassured grover who nodded nervously.

‘we’re safe’ annabeth added on.

‘great…well since our train exploded! i’m going to see if there’s another one we can get tickets on. we can’t stay here forever.’ grover looked over at the huge plastered picture of buffalo being attacked and hunted by hunters.

looking overly slowly at the three he said once more—‘just because we’re prey doesn’t mean we need to be helpless.’ turning around to leave, annabeth nervously cleared her throat and walked up to him.

‘wait! i’m going to go with you. you two wait here, don’t leave and don’t move’ annabeth ordered y/n and percy who frowned their eyebrows.

‘where would we go?’ y/n asked her with a raised eyebrow. annabeth rolled her eyes and caught up to grover who walked rather fast.

as the two of y/n and percy watched annabeth and grover walk away, percy decided now would probably be a good time to start a bit of conversation to stop the awkward silence.

‘he doesn't like it when people mess with animals,’ he added.

y/n didn’t both turn to his side but acknowledged his voice—‘yeah. i know.’

percy turned to y/n who kept her eyes focused on annabeth and grover even though they were long past the barrier of her eyesight.

‘…why are you so quiet?’ percy mumbled, his eyes looking over y/n’s frame that was unmoving from her standing position.

‘why does it matter?’ y/n turned to his presence now. seeing he was a bit away from here

‘it doesn't it’s just…you know…kind of awkward?’ percy nervously mumbled.

sighing percy didn’t want to really give up on the conversation knowing it would probably be best. the last thing he needed and had the time for was for y/n to snap at him, but it was worth the shot.

‘so, this is your moms place?’

y/n kept quiet and turned her eyes and head another direction from percy who kept speaking. clearing his throat he spoke—

‘be right down just going to the potty’ he said in a girly squeaky voice. this gained y/n’s attention.

as childish and stupid as it was, it was definitely an uplift from the previous mood. she lightly grinned but turned her head.

‘listen…me and you don’t get along and we both know that—‘

‘is it that obvious?’

‘shut up and listen okay?’ y/n sighed as percy nodded shamefully and let her continue .

‘i know you said it all in me and annabeth’s head…mostly mine? that i tell myself that our mother cares because it’s easier that way.’

percy let his eyebrows frown once more as he shook his head—‘i didn’t say that?’ he looked at y/n who turned her head to him and gave him a small look of which spoke—‘really?’

he shrugged it off and continued to talk—‘look ive been a demigod since…’ looking off to the side to calculate he finally came with an answer—‘last saturday. you shouldn’t listen to me.’ he told her as y/n let what he said soak in.

looking off to the side a bit she came up with some idea—plan for him to take, an offer.

‘you know, this is my mothers place. but…a temple is a temple. maybe you can say hi to your dad while your here?’ she explained.

percy seemed to almost take up her offer but quickly denied it. not wanting to really contact poseidon at the moment.

‘no thanks.’ he quickly shrugged off. this came undeniably confusing to y/n.

‘what could it hurt?’ she genuinely wanted her answer but he still shook his head.

‘your think with your mother…i get it, it’s different, it works for you. but my father…i don’t want anything from him. he had his chances—honestly you’ve done more for me in the past free days than my fathers done my entire life. if i have to stick with someone i—‘

trailing off as he caught himself y/n seemed to catch his slight slip up and tilted her head to the side a bit. her eyes looking him up and down before she smirked a bit—‘careful..i think you were about to call me a friend.’

before the beginning of the quest. before all of this. they had claimed in stone, they were and would never see themselves as friends. nothing more nothing less: the two of them simply didn’t see eye to eye. their priorities were set on two different things, and they both knew that.

but, things seemed to have change a bit on one end, and a lot on the other.

percy slightly looked down at the floor below as y/n turned her own head away from his.

‘somewhere around here the Oracle is laughing at us but you know—‘

as she said this percy seemed to feel insanely dizzy and instantly fell to the floor, y/n being there to catch him—‘whoa! percy? what’s going on?’ she asked him, being careful not to bombard him with too many questions given the fact he just fell out.

her arms being slightly wrapped around his shoulders he held onto her as he let her slowly let go of him. percy slightly sat down onto the floor as he caught his balance.

‘hey! what happened?’ grover and annabeth came running immediately when they saw him fall.

‘i think…i think those stinger things were poisonous…’ percy breathed heavily, his breath seeming to shorten on supply.

y/n looked around and it seemed to click for both the athena children—‘i have an idea’ the both of them claimed.

as the two of them grabbed up on percy they found themself in the water that sat in front of the museum. with percy sitting down into it, the other three stood as they scooped and splashed percy from the head down with water.

he sat there and took it as they kept going scoop from scoop, hoping something would happen.

passers walked by and some stood to watch what they were doing and they their were kids sitting in the fountain but none took it upon themselves to stop it.

‘the water cured him back at camp! it should work with poison too!’ y/n found herself quickening her scoops of water while annabeth looked momentarily at her sister who wore a very worried expression.

if anything, she’s never seen her this worried. not for a while. not for percy.

‘you know—i think, i think this is working’ percy grabbed onto y/n’s hand who helped him stand—‘this was a great call’ he acknowledged their idea but only to end up stumbling back down into the water with even more dizziness.

‘or not.’ he breathed out.

‘maybe it needs to be naturally running water for Poseidon to heal him?’ y/n mumbled while she placed her hand comfortingly over percy’s shoulder.

grover looked to annabeth who went to speak but just then they heard crashing and sirens going down just ahead of them. they all went to look and seen a police car being flipped into another car.

‘we need to get back inside!’ annabeth went to pick up percy along with grover but y/n was quick to deny.

‘no we need to keep trying!’

‘ this isn’t working y/n—and she’s coming!’ grover sadly looked at y/n who stressed her expression of worry towards percy who looked up at her momentarily before the two of them looked ahead along with annabeth and grover to see echidna slowly strutting her way over to them with a grin.

y/n breathed out and quickly thought—‘okay look, we’ll take percy inside and we’ll go to the temples alter’ y/n went to pick up percy who grabbed onto her arm and hand as the other two helped to pick him up as well.

‘alter? where is there an alter?’ grover asked, frowning his eyebrows at the two.

‘the highest point—the best view!’

‘okay! but what good is that even going to do us?’ grover stressed once more.

y/n sighed and looked over to annabeth who looked at her and percy.

percy had his grip held tight on her as she equally had the same amount of strength being held onto him to secure him from falling.

‘we’re going to get to the top, and we’re going to ask our mom for help’ she breathed out. grover seemed to stop for a bit along with y/n who was nervous about this plan.

‘ask mom for help? annabeth are you insane?’

‘i thought we didn’t ask for help?’ percy put his two senses in making annabeth look over to him. seeing they didn’t have much time for anymore conversations, annabeth ushered the group to begin walking.

‘come on; we need to keep moving’ annabeth spoke in a hurry.

grover placed percy’s other arm over his shoulder to help balance out their walk and annabeth stayed to y/n’s side.

just as they began to walk and y/n with annabeth failed to walk a bit and happened to stumble behind. echidna began screeching to the two girl who turned and started—couldn’t help—but listen. their expressions becoming more flat, a bit worried.

percy took a heavy notice of y/n’s absence and turned to see mainly her with a saddened expression on her face.

why did she look like that? what was she seeing? what was she hearing? his thoughts raced. seeming to focus on her rather than himself being poisoned.

she let her eyes widen and she snapped out of some trance along with her sister who gripped her arm—‘guys? did you hear that?’ y/n looked over to annabeth who nodded immediately.

grover and percy however?

‘hear what?’ percy asked her with concern. grover shook his head and y/n looked at annabeth who sadly looked down.

‘come on—let’s keep walking—go help percy’ annabeth told y/n who jogged to percy’s side and grabbed only his arm once more.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as the group hurried their way around the people who were mindlessly talking with themselves—completely unaware of the danger that was happening for the demigod children. they kept turning around to make sure their backs were clear.

some people would momentarily look at the group who carried one boy who looked like he just seen a ghost as they had their wet clothes tracing the floor as they walked.

the four of them getting into the small sitting elevator, they sat down—‘what was that back there? what did you guys hear?’ he asked the two sisters, but his main eyes trained on y/n who didn’t say a word. annabeth doing the same , she found her pinky slowly reaching over to y/n’s.

she got the hint and fully placed her hand over annabeth’s. percy looked down at their hands and came with the conclusion.

‘she spoke to you two’ percy breathed. his body was cold, and wet. the poison doing nothing more and adding onto his weakness and cold body.

‘alecto did that with me. back in the museum back in new york’ he recalled. annabeth and y/n still not speaking a word, only looking down and blinking momentarily.

percy didn’t really want to admit but he was becoming concerned for y/n’s mind. what did she hear that was bad?

‘what did she say?’ he asked once more.

just then, annabeth looked up in a hurry and squeezed y/n’s hand who looked up as well—and there she was. echidna.

she stood over the small metal balcony with her moneyed baby right behind her.

just as the doors shut they saw the two horns. y/n let her eyes widen along with the rest of the group’s.

grover gulped but began to talk—‘was that the chimera?’ he looked over to y/n who place she head in her hands and held them their in stress—percy looking over with frowned eyebrows as his wet hair dripped into his eye.

‘i—i think that was the chimera!’ grover worryingly spoke. percy let his focus set on y/n who kept nervously looking anywhere but the group.

‘how did the chimera even get inside here? how did any monster get inside here—‘

‘y/n?’ percy breathed out, his worry building up on y/n who kept quiet. annabeth looked over at her sister who didn’t even look at her either.

‘we’re in a secretary, athena would have to let her in but why would she do that?’

‘y/n!’ percy called out to her once more. seeing her eye finally set up upon his own he hoped they could keep their eyes trained on one another.

‘what did echidna say to you?’ he asked—demanded and answer.

she worryingly looked back down before shaking her head a bit, biting on the inside of her cheek.

‘she said my impertinence ruined our mother pride. and that that, would be our doom.’ she looked angrily over at percy who shook his head.

‘impertinence? what kind of—‘ finally recalling. medusa’s head.

giving y/n the look of knowing she gave him a look as well as annabeth and grover watched them talk.

‘ medusa’s head.’ he nodded while y/n shook her head, a frown setting upon her features.

‘i embarrassed my mother…’

percy shook his head while trying to clear up his running thoughts—‘but—i’m the one who sent the head to olympus? i sighed the note—‘

‘and i went along with it! it embarrassed her…now she’s angry. because of your impertinence, and because i was dumb enough to go along with it, we won’t get any help, we won’t get an answer from her!’ y/n shouted to percy who shook his head.

‘y/n—‘

‘no! annabeth, he needs to understand this isn’t some game, this isn’t camp, we can seriously die out here, and he can’t just go around sending dead body parts to the gods just because?’ y/n stressed even more as percy nervously looked at y/n who avoided his eye contact once more.

‘guys…what are we going to do?’ grover broke the silence as they seemed to be near the top of the arch.

‘she isn't going to help us when we get to the top to have percy’ annabeth expressed to grover who cut her off—‘no i mean what are we going to do about echidna and chimera? they're going to be right being us,’ he exclaimed.

as the four of them looked at each other—percy hoping to catch y/n’s eyes but failed he looked down at the floor.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

‘we’re not going to have much time’ as the group let themselves out of the elevator, y/n getting out first to leave percy with grover and annabeth to help him out.

percy took a hard notice to this but tried to shrug us off—‘they’ll be up here any minute. and if our mother isn’t going to protect us, then we’ll just have to fight it out up here’ y/n finished as they walked up the short amount of stairs to the top.

once they did was when y/n lost her confidence for a second and saw a huge crowd talking among themselves with phones taking pictures and smiles on their faces.

and when percy, grover and annabeth were behind her, they saw the extent of trouble they were in.

‘oh no…we gotta get everybody out of here’ grover expressed with worry as he held onto percy.

percy looked to y/n who seemed to smile a bit with her idea.

running to the fire alarm she pulled it, setting off a loud beep that got everybody's attention.

as everyone slightly panicked and walked their way down the hall with the others, y/n placed her hand onto annabeth’s shoulder and ushers them along the hall.

‘you guys follow the group down the steps—‘

‘what?’ percy hurried to look at y/n who momentarily look at him then back at grover who spoke.

‘no, no—we—were not spitting up’ grover expressed.

‘grover come on!’

‘y/n i’m not leaving you here!’ annabeth spoke to her sister who gave her a sad look.

‘no… no no no no we’re all getting out of here together’ percy breathed out, hoping to get y/n’s attention. once he did he kept their eyes focused on one another.

‘we won’t make it! the chimera is a demigod killer! someone has to stay back to slow her down and buy everyone some time’ y/n walked with her hand on annabeth’s back while they walked to the steps with everyone going down in a hurry.

once they got to them, grover, annabeth and percy turned to y/n who stood at the door to make sure she shut it before they left.

‘okay—once you get downstairs you need get him to the river. and don’t stop. not till you get to hades. not till you have the bolt, do you understand?’ y/n looked at the three before looking at percy, he shook his head in denial.

‘y/n you can’t just stay here and say that and expect me to listen—‘

‘do what i say annabeth! just this once, okay?’ she pleaded. annabeth shook her head with a frown upon her lips, forever going the same.

‘okay go!’ she heard the footsteps of the two right behind and went to shut the door only for percy to speak.

not wanting to let her go he quickly came with a plan.

‘wait!—‘ taking the pen that formed into a sword out of his pocket he held it to y/n who looked at it.

flipping it around to make sure the handle would be in her touch, he held it out to her and spoke once more—‘take this’ he held out to her.

as she went to reach slowly, he waited for her grip to hold tightly onto it—only then did he switch sides, pushing her into the room and closing the door.

‘percy!’ y/n yelled out to percy who made sure the door was locked.

‘percy!?’ grover yelled. the three of them baging on the door as percy breathed heavily, his body weak and pale.

‘percy no! don’t do this! they’ll kill you!’ y/n yelled her voice becoming louder but more weak.

‘posiden never helped me before. he wasn’t gonna start now. i would’ve never made it to hades. but you can. and now you will.’ percy talked to them before he walked away from the foot. their banding never stopping.

‘percy! please?! you can’t do this!’ y/n cried out.

walking towards echidna and the chimera who walked their way to percy who’s eyesight blur more and more. causing him to stumble and his weakened grip on his sword.

‘this is the end sweetheart.’ echidna spoke softly, her motherly tone never wavered. ‘don’t fight it. you’ll only make her angry.’ she warned.

as the chimera walked over to percy he held his sword up higher with determination in his eyes. the chimera began to growl as she went to open her mouth, inside a small orange and red glow becoming prominent, percy swung his sword at the leg of the chimera, making it rawr out in anger and slight pain.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

behind the door y/n banged harder and harder, hoping somehow he would come back and change his mind.

annabeth couldn’t watch her sister be like this—hurt, confused, mainly disappointed. turning sound as she reached into her pocket to grab her own sword that extended, she let it change its form into a smaller pick pocket knife.

‘you two! go now, go to the bottom of the steps and wait outside, police are bound to show up, so stay with them and don’t move! i’ll meet you down there with percy!’ y/n demanded her sister and best friend who shook their head.

‘y/n please—‘

‘annabeth! listen to me! okay? i’ll be okay, i’ll see you guys down there, go!’ she pushed them slightly as they looked at y/n once more who nodded to the two, giving them a slight smile.

annabeth gave one back as she nodded and grabbed along of grover, the two of them making their way down the stairs.

as y/n turned around the let her knife be placed into the middle of the lock, letting it extend, it did just enough to to break the lock and break the metal of the door.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

pulling and pushing its paw up, she pushed percy far into the metal railing of the side of the wall, making him fall and yell out in pain. the chimera snarling at percy. as she walked over to percy once more he laid onto the floor with weak arms and body to see it open its mouth and their in the pit of her throat, fire. being bubbled and arousing through the back of her throat.

‘percy!’ y/n yelled. he turned around immediately to see y/n run towards him and pull him out of the way of the chimera’s fire that erupted through its throat and mouth, spreading and melting the floor below. y/n grabbed ahold of y/n as she pulled him away form the fire.

his grip holding onto her to make sure she was safe and unharmed, y/n quickly checked over percy as he nodded slightly.

in the distance, echidna raised her hand and flexed it towards the floor before them, a huge gaping hole being torn open into the carpet and metal floor. the wind from the highness of the arch blowing into the faces of y/n and percy who held each other.

the chimera roared loudly as y/n went to help percy stand up the two for them made their way over to the chimera with their swords in hand, y/n made her way in front of percy who noticed this and tired to quicken his pace so that he was in front of her.

swinging her sword the chimera dodged it and hit y/n so hard she passed out right onto the other side of the hole.

‘y/n! percy yelled—‘ soon percy tried his turn only to be hit with the chimera’s horns. throwing him back in the walk and down the gaping hole.

the chimera seeming pleased, it walked its way along with echidna to see percy still holding on.

‘y/n! wake up—‘ he grunted.

y/n paid along the side of the carpet ground with her head pounding.

‘so unfair. you never had a chance did you?’ echidna looked down at percy who was praying to whoever that y/n woke up right now.

‘if only someone cared enough about you to provide you with one’ she tilted her head as percy grunted and held onto the metal plate that was the only thing supporting him right now.

‘y/n?!’ he called out once more.

just afar, she grunted and let herself slowly wake up. just as she looked over and grabbed ahold of her sword. seeing echidna shake her head down into the hole she stumbled her way up, the blood on the head running down her eyebrow and down the side of her eye.

‘percy?’ she looked and saw he was nowhere to be found.

putting up all her strength, she stood up and hit echidna across the back of her head with her sword making echidna help out, the chimera turning around to her mother to her y/n had yelled out—

‘percy!’ she yelled seeing him reaching out to her as he fell, she took her jump and went right after him.

the two of them falling down further and further, y/n stretched her hand far enough for the two of them to be holding each other's hand.

as y/n felt herself lose consciousness once more from her injury, percy gripped her hand even tighter, and just as he turned a bit from the air around them, he saw a huge water thing, coming right towards them.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when percy came to. he was under the green water. the small fish and thing around him, he hurried his eyes and head to turn and see y/n not too far from him. her eyes still closed and her hair clouding around her.

swimming out and going to pull her up to the surface, percy felt himself and her go back down a bit—looking to see her foot caught and stuck around something that held her in place.

swimming down a bit to held her foot get unstuck he grunted and strained as the bubbles from his mouth started to flow and go up to the surface. pulling and pulling he suddenly saw something.

something glowing in the green water—‘you are frightened.’ it claimed.

blinking his eyes to see what it was he frowned, but kept pulling at y/n’s foot, his only priority was to get her out.

‘it’s alright percy. your father sent me to tell you, it’s alright.’ he paused a bit at this and looked over at the flowing glow.

‘just breath.’ she instructed. going to do so—he abruptly stopped and went back to pull at y/n’s foot. her head still bleeding and her body still unconscious.

‘your father is here, he’s always been here’ she continued to talk as percy pulled at y/n’s foot.

‘it’s so hard for him to stand back, to see you struggle. it is so hard for us all. but he’s here, and he’s so very proud. trust him. trust yourself. stopping his movements and looking over at the flowing glow, he held onto y/n’s leg who started to shake awake.

her eyes slowly opened and focused to see her and percy and somehow ended up into the water. she looked to see percy looking over at something, following his gaze she saw what he was seeing and frowned.

‘just breath.’ she told once more and when y/n turned down to percy, he breathed in and seemed to be breathing just fine under the water.

looking up at y/n he saw her holding her breath and went right back to pulling her foot with all his might, this time she was there to help. pulling up her foot, percy came with an idea, one that she definitely wouldn’t like.

going up to her, face to face, he placed his hand on her shoulder then soon her neck—if y/n couldn’t speak with her words, she definitely would with her expressions. with one that woke—‘what are you doing?’

he looked down with his eyes at her mouth and she immediately shook her head knowing exactly what he was implying. he looked at her and grabbed ahold of her cheek while she looked down to pull at her foot, her lungs burning and screaming for air.

percy gaining her attention, she blinked the water going in and out of her eyes and she held his eyes with her own. frowning she nodded her head slightly and let percy lean in under the water—his lips setting upon hers he breathed in his air to buy her more time. once they retracted, y/n and percy held eye contact before he kept his hand held on her own.

once he was down to her foot, he tugged as she pulled and soon she was free.

grabbing only y/n, the two of them hurried and swam to the top.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when they got to the surface, they swam to the concrete surface and pulled themselves along the metal rails. y/n got the helping hand of percy who pulled her with the two of his hands.

‘your okay, are you okay? your okay, right!?’ percy rushed to ask y/n who caught her breath and immediately reached up to touch the blood and wound that happened to close up.

looking at percy who half his hand on y/n’s arm and neck he checked her body and she took note of how he was healed as well.

‘percy! i’m okay…im okay’ she soothed him as he slowled his movements and looked into her eyes.

‘you jumped after me…you followed me down not knowing what would happen—‘

‘how could i not percy! how could i not? you are so careless, reckless and so selfish to think nobody would think of you and how you could have died! you left me— us, behind in the staircase to go off on our own and save your mom from the underworld!? how messed up is that percy! she would want to see her son! not two kids who she doesn’t know!’ y/n percy in his chest who stumbles back.

he looked nervously up at y/n trying to grab her hand only for her to slap it away—‘your selfish, greedy, reckless and so so stupid percy jackson! and i’m stupid enough…’ when he heard this he looked at her from the ground to see her slowly shaking her head at percy who looked up at her with hope.

‘i’m stupid enough to be the idiot one as well and jump after you. and i’m stupid enough to have cared so much. too much about you. percy…you can’t do things like that…not now, not even. not as long as i’m alive.’ she felt her eyes water a bit with the amount of worry he put her through when she was behind that door and out of his reach.

percy took note to this and hurried to grab her up and hug her tightly. she arms immediately finding their way around his body and his wrapped along her body as well. the two of them held each other so tightly they forgot about the world around them.

when they let go from the hug that seemed to have lasted forever, sorry nervously laughed. y/n looked confusingly at him with a small grin on her face.

‘so…what happened underwater—‘

‘don’t!’ y/n placed her hands over percy’s mouth who smiled at her as she shook her head in a hurry, her cheeks seeming to redden.

‘y/n!’

‘percy!’ two voices yelled from behind them. the two of them turned around to see grover and annabeth running to them.

‘annabeth!’ y/n happily yelled. as they embraced each other, percy hugged grover who hugged him tightly.

‘your safe’ annabeth breathed out’—but how—‘

‘doesn't matter! what matters…is that we’re together, safe.’ y/n smiled as she turned around to grover and percy. her eyes lingering on percy a bit more which seemed to not go unnoticed by grover and annabeth.

‘come on! we need to get moving’ annabeth held her hand along y/n’s back who walked with her.

as they walked, annabeth and y/n talked amongst themselves while grover and percy walked.

grover noticed how percy’s eyes never left y/n’s form and his focus never left her.

‘so..’ he started. percy let his eyes linger but his head turn to grover before his eyes focused on him.

‘what happened under water?’ grover finished making percy abruptly stopped, pulling grover with him laughed.

‘what—how do you—‘

‘my ears hear many things dude’ he smiled at percy whose face was grew redder by the second.

turning to see y/n and annabeth still walking and talking he turned to grover, turning him around so their backs were friend to the girls.

‘under the water…i found out i can breath. but y/n was stuck so…to give her more air— i had to share my air—‘

‘so you kissed?’ grover interrupted making percy grow red all over—‘don’t say it like that and don’t let her you know! she’ll kill me…she also. happened to tell me she actually cares about me, a lot’ percy smiled at the recalling of what she said.

‘so…she basically confessed she likes you?’ grover added once more. percy looked to the side as he nodded slowly.

‘dude!��

‘grover please! don’t tell her—‘

‘i won’t i won’t!’

percy nervously breathed out before letting go of grover who straightened his jacket.

as the two turned around to see the girl waiting but still taking, grover turned it percy and yelled with a smile—‘so y/n what happened!?’ he ran over to y/n making percy run after him

‘grover!’ percy yelled.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy pjo #grover underwood #percy series #annabeth chase #walker scobell

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skrrts · 4 months ago

Text

& action! (oneshot) mature!

✧ afab!reader x choi san ✧ reader is an unknown actress & san is a popular actor ✧genre: non-idol, show business, strangers, from dislike to interest ✧ word count: 8k ✧ warnings: san’s an asshole in the beginning, rude comments, insecurities, deep kiss with tongue and teeth but it's short, she/her for mc, nickname "pretty girl", mdni!

after countless boring little acting roles, you are finally cast as the female lead for an upcoming streaming series. everything would be perfect, if not for learning that the male lead is none other than choi san, highly praised for his skills but known to harshly criticize and even look down on his female co-stars.

a/n: this oneshot taught me i am not good at writing mean san. i wrote this 2 weeks ago but i didn't like it. now ended up editing the parts i was iffy about. it's a cliche plot of the mean guy going soft for you. i hope it still might be a fun read 🫶 this was inspired by a ranking of "top worst k-drama actors behind the scenes". there are no suggestive scenes but since there's rude/behavior talking, i will consider it mature, so mdni

As a child, you dreamed of becoming a musical artist, standing on stage and singing beautiful songs that made others cry. But reality was always by your side. Your family made just enough to give you a decent, average life, something you were thankful for, and you never blamed them for being unable to afford vocal lessons. Instead, you joined your school’s theatre group, went to college, and started affordable acting lessons in between several part-time jobs to pay for a dream that kept changing. Maybe you couldn’t perform the way you wanted, but there could still be a way to be out there. It was a fool’s dream, but a part of you thought maybe if you just became a successful actress, you could chase your original wish when money was less of a problem and names opened doors.

Of course, you knew it was just as foolish, with hundreds of thousands of desperate souls trying to become the next big name in the acting industry. Your family wasn’t fond of it, but after receiving the long-desired college major in marketing, they gave their blessing, and you were lucky. A small agency was looking for what they called ‘fresh faces, raw and with unique talents.’ You had low expectations when you auditioned because your special skill was singing, but it seemed your dream was still there. The casting manager was in tears when you finished one of your favorite musical songs. A magical moment.

One that was over by the time you signed your contract and faced reality. You were a nobody, and the tiny roles you got weren’t enough to pay the bills. You started working part-time in a higher-class clothing store with brand names every child knew and you likely would never be able to afford if your streak of poor roles continued.

Two years of playing background store visitor, neighbor’s girl, the average student thirsting over the main lead for three seconds never to be seen again, and your biggest hit so far: the quick flirt of a vet who was weak for you before shaking his head remembering the female lead.

There was no doubt, you slowly questioned your own intelligence because why were you doing this? Years after graduation and in an office, as boring as it would be, you already could lead a decent life with a larger apartment that wasn’t smaller than your college dorm and wearing your hair however you wanted.

So what changed? The popular actor who played the vet invited you and five other actors to join a TikTok dance challenge and for some reason, it went viral because people asked who this girl was who pouted so cutely. And when they started to research you, seeing that you were hard-working rather than a foolish girl thinking beauty alone carried it, you were supported rather than a meme.

It all could be so perfect if not…

“You know, I have never seen anyone as dejected about being cast as the main female lead in one of the biggest productions of popular streaming platforms as you. You went from being ignored for too long to getting one of the best big debuts. I mean it, the plot of this is decent, you won’t just play some poor and confused girl who meets the rich lead.”

Yeosang was both a curse and a blessing. He was one of your agency’s managers and in charge of you for years, often complaining how the agency did not give you the role castings they should in favor of their bigger names when he saw the potential in you. Maybe it seemed odd to some, but the former child model had a good understanding of the industry, and you always appreciated his insights and advice. He had come to prefer being behind the stage rather than in the spot light.

On the other hand, Yeosang was awfully honest, sometimes a little too much when you just wanted to sulk while being driven to the table read in the fanciest car they had given you so far.

“It’s because of the male lead,” you muttered, and Yeosang frowned.

There had been a very short-notice casting change of the main lead, and you went from absolute excitement about a well-respected and liked name in the industry to pure horror. Choi San likely had one of the most dedicated fan bases out there, but among actors, it was no secret that he wasn’t shy to speak his opinion. No, there even was an incident where he managed to convince the production company to switch the female lead in the middle, and they had to start over. The writers wanted somebody more classy on the cast, and thus, you only learned about it yesterday.

“You have heard all those stories. He calls you out if you do not live up to his expectations, he will call you out and make the entire filming process a nightmare. It will be the worst three months of my life.”

If you messed this up, that would be it — no second chances for female leads who did not win over the viewers.

It was worse because there was also a rather intimidating scene where they would get close after some incident, and he would make her feel a certain way, lots of kissing and partly undressing. They promisedit was very professionally but … How were you meant to film something like that with a man who would look down at you?

Yeosang snapped his fingers in front of your face, and you blushed.

“Y/N, breathe! Let’s wait and see how it goes. I am sure the casting director considered that or else, as harsh as it is, they also would have replaced you. Being a new name for the larger audience, it would not have been a big deal for them.”

Maybe his honesty was good after all.

“You are right, sorry. Ignore it, I guess I am just nervous.”

Yeosang squeezed your hand. “And that is fine, this is your big chance, and I know you will give it your all.”

You didn’t expect just how many people would be there for the first official reading. While you had already received the script, considering filming was about to start in less than a week, it surprised you how not only the main cast was there but also the makeup team, stylists, and a few people you didn’t know but assumed were in charge of the infamous indirect sponsoring of brands who likely decided if they were interested in wasting money on you.

The story was mostly told from your character’s perspective and suddenly, you understood why they spent an hour on your makeup: fresh but natural, your hair braided over your shoulder, and a casual outfit of jeans, a tank top, and a denim jacket, giving you a confident but youthful look. If they looked at you today and decided you did not live up to their brand’s expectations, that was it for them.

A particular male lead, on the other hand, did not have to try; he looked like a god even without any makeup. Jeans and an oversized white shirt, slightly open to reveal some of his chest, with glasses that made him look elegant, and hair styled back.

The moment Yeosang and you entered, all attention was on you. You smiled politely, as you always did, advised not to act any different from the much more casual and small readings the ‘npc of the acting industry’ usually received.

“Miss Y/N, I am very excited to see you,” said Mister Nam, the leading producer, whom you had already met during the casting process.

You accepted his hand and bowed: “It is nice to meet you again, Sir. I am very much looking forward to working with you.” And like that, you went through a row of people to greet, bow, and thank, even though you had no idea who they were. It was the manners; you were a nobody among somebodies.

The faces you paid extra attention to were Seonghwa, the leading makeup artist for not only the production but also the promotions that would follow, and Hongjoong, the lead stylist. They seemed kind, curious, and outgoing.

Then finally, the one you did not want to see but were meant to pretend to wildly fall in love with for the following three months.

“Mister Choi,” you bowed politely. He was a senior of yours and likely expected the usual treatment. As you looked up, you caught him staring, quite openly, as if making a judgment about whether you suited his aesthetic.

Officially, all those shows were from the female lead’s perspective, but they really just served as self-inserts for the mainly female viewer base who fell hard for the handsome man. There was a small grin on his lips, but he did not even waste a breath to greet you, like he decided in that moment to test your limits.

You managed to keep it together and sat down next to him. The reading was long and unnecessary, mainly the producer talking, with several inside jokes in favor of your co-actor and details already known to those involved. It was almost at the end when everyone was supposed to go and take photos for the press announcement, and they looked at you.

“We do have a small unexpected moment planned, one that actually isn’t in the official script yet but when I found out I could not resist. Miss Y/N is a very talented singer.”

Oh no.

“So we added a scene. We currently have a well-known songwriter producing a few lines for us, and the song will bring some tears.”

“Aren’t we all looking forward to that?” San added lightheartedly, likely noticing how you grabbed your jacket under the table a little tighter. They all laughed.

With that, everyone left the room except you and your male lead, as it was tradition to give the two of you a few minutes to get to know each other. While you were trying to find anything kind to say, this asshole did not even bother. Instead, he leaned closer.

“Listen, pretty girl. I have worked with your kind before. You were lucky and somehow caught the interest of a producer without any real passion, skill, or will to go through this properly. This show will be my last one before I go abroad; I cannot let it flop because you think your face does the job.”

He tilted his head to show you how unimpressed he seemed by you up to this point.

“You better not waste my time. I give you one day. If your acting is shit, you are out. Do you get it? While he is charmed by you, I have worked with Nam before and his moods change like the weather. A good friend of mine would suit this role perfectly, and she and I share great chemistry. She’s just one call away.”

You wished he would just intimidate you to the point where you were scared, but somehow, something in your mind decided to be insane instead.

You spat at his expensive-looking clothes, leading him to yelp and withdraw.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” he cursed.

In your mind, this was it. You just ended your very fragile career, but you were too terrified to act shy now. You had walked into the fire; now you couldn’t hope somebody would save you, so all you could do was… act.

“Talk to me like that again, and I will sue the hell out of you,” you replied, with no lack of hesitation in your voice, perfectly hiding how you wanted to scream or slap yourself.

It was unfair how he could be like that just because he had major successful roles in the past few years.

With that, you grabbed your phone and walked out of the room. Yeosang seemed surprised that you were so quick to return. He expected the two of you would have a proper conversation, as the chemistry was important, but you told yourself you’d just see if you really were cut out for this by faking chemistry that certainly was not there.

“Do I want to know?” he asked, brows furrowed when you shook your head eagerly, leaving.

“I can’t believe she just spat at me,” San replied, sighing at his friend who was slowly fixing his makeup.

“To be honest, I’d probably have done about the same, you know? Why do you always have to be such an asshole? Once upon a time, you were a nobody. I remember your first role, the son of the teacher. You were so adorable, struggling to catch any role until you decided to bulk up a few years ago. Now, you steal the dreams of women and men alike.”

The taller one only leaned back once he was satisfied with the natural makeup again, just gaining a stare from the actor.

“Yes, exactly. People pointed fingers at me, so I proved them wrong by working hard, changing myself, and then actively going for roles. I got cast for my looks AND my skills. Those female leads they give me, they chose them because they are pretty, or ended up going viral for some nonsense not because they enjoy the craft.”

Seonghwa sighed as he slowly stood up: “Sannie, you are far too hard. You know, just because somebody took longer than you and received fewer roles does not mean they did not try.”

Of course, he knew as much, but there just was no way around it. If this drama would be a success, he’d finally be able to leave this market and branch out. San wanted to be remembered as an actor, not the face of some k-dramas of the early 2020s.

“At least, give her a chance. That would be fair, yeah? If she really is such a poor actress as you seem to want to believe so desperately, then I will not be in your way. But should she show to have actual passion and talent, I’ll be in your way, handsome.”

San just watched as the makeup artist walked out, and he looked in the mirror again. He looked great; that was what they all told him. But sometimes, he felt like the look and the roles he often was given — the cold and rich asshole who only warmed up in the last part of the series —somehow it seemed to start swallowing up the one who was once Choi San, the one who dreamed of walking on international carpets.

Such a silly dream.

“Tsk, she will be thankful. I will be a much kinder way out of this before she wastes all her youth only to learn that she is just one of those many stupid people thinking they wanted to be on a screen.”

You looked in the mirror. This was not how you imagined the first day of recording to go. It was natural not to start with the first episode, but the idea to film a major scene as the very first seemed insane.

At least, for two actors who had never worked together before.

Maybe this was the point? Did damn Choi ask that they do this so they could kick you out because there was no way you could play the dreaded separation of the lead characters as your first time with this man?

The makeup was fantastic. You looked like you had cried for days, but your natural beauty was still there, your hair far too pretty for someone who had run through a rainstorm to speak to the one she loved, begging him not to just leave.

“You are beautiful and stubborn. This is more fire than I have seen in any rookie in a while,” Seonghwa hummed, giving you an encouraging pat on the shoulders. Somehow, you started to wonder if he knew what happened the other day.

“Your makeup is stunning. I will give my best,” you promised and watched him give you a playful wink. Your outfit took another half an hour, and you prayed quietly not to get sick because, unlike San who looked like he just walked out of a magazine, your character was supposed to be soaked in rain water. At least that scene would be shot on another day and location.

As you were positioned, you had to wait for a few minutes before San finally appeared. As it was a tradition in dramas, later on, when the male character softened up, it was shown in his hair being less bothered by products, and you could not deny, if not for knowing how he was, you’d think of him as cute.

“Everyone ready? Good, we are starting in five!” The entire set was moving in one big crowd, and you took a deep breath in, exhaling as you looked up.

It was like you were looking at another man.

San’s eyes were so soft, it almost broke your heart, and you had to remind yourself you were shooting a scene. Fuck, he really was worth that damn money, wasn’t he?

“Summer,” his warm hands cupped your cheeks, and maybe it was good how this surprised you, how different this version of that rude guy was was because it was exactly the way the scene was meant to be.

“You are so foolish. Look at you,” he whispered, his big hand brushed over your cheek, and he looked up and down, taking in your appearance. “To run all the way through the rain, what if you get sick? Silly girl, you always get cold so quickly,” his voice was so soft, you could feel the emotion, the worry he put into every word.

“I am scared,” you whispered when you felt his thumb brush over your chin, and you tried to make sure not to fuck up the pace of the scene.

“You were just going to leave by telling your sister to let me know I’d not have to worry anymore. How am I not to worry? You are gone, it’s worse than what happens if we push on… with this. I need to do this with you. Please…”

You thought about how badly you needed this acting role to work. This was your last chance before you likely really had to give up because you were almost in your mid-20s now, and soon roles would get even tougher without a name and fame.

So you begged, and for a moment, there was something hinted behind his eyes like he was actually touched.

You likely just really were going crazy because of how impressed you were about it. Seeing it in person and working with this was different.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he whispered. The camera was zooming in. You started to cry, just as scripted, grabbing his shirt.

“This isn’t yours alone to decide,” you tried to push more energy in because in theory, you were meant to do just that, give him a desperate shove but San’s weight was shifting forward, making it impossible. You were slender compared to him.

“I am sorry.” he breathed.

And then Choi San acted entirely out of script. You were meant to rest your foreheads together, embraced in a deep hug before the scene would zoom out. Instead, he kissed you. The surprise in your face was anything but fake, how your body just sank against his because the arm around your waist tightened, and the way the set fell utterly silent except for the fake rain.

Oh no, he wouldn’t get you with this!

Your arm finally reached out, curling around his neck, and you kissed him back like your life depended on it.

Because it did.

Maybe all of those feelings did lead to helping with this because you needed him to be accepting of you as much as you hated it.

When the director cheered and everyone clapped because the scene was so much better with this unplanned kiss, you could only hear him whisper.

“Come, see me later. I will leave the address in your dressing room,” he removed himself, smiling and walking off with his stylist. This was the only shared scene for the day. All you could do was stare and wonder.

You cursed when you found yourself touching your lip, the sensation of kissing him still on your lips.

San found himself looking at his own reflection in the mirror. You seemed to be quite weak for his natural hair, which was amusing. Every time he went anywhere, whether for a personal event or a public appearance, people always asked him to style it back. Maybe it was because it gave him that particular mature and handsome vibe they all liked, sparking their imaginations. Yet here he was, keeping it down.

He paid great attention to detail. The suit pants went perfectly with matching shoes, but the tight, long black sleeve shirt accentuated every muscle underneath the fabric, giving plenty to look at.

San made a decision. He was simply going to mold you the way he needed you for this to be a success. After the little shot earlier today, he started to have an idea of how this arrangement might work. He’d still rather have worked with someone he knew, but there were worse options, and he had to admit, there was no denying you were pretty to look at.

The address he invited you to was one of his label’s many seminar apartments, a place for their top actors to work with whatever coach they desired. With you still being no big name in the industry, nobody would pay you any mind for showing up here, and he trusted you enough to be somewhat discreet.

He poured two glasses of an alcohol-free drink and looked at the clock. A small frown appeared; San didn’t like the possibility that you might not show up. Why would you reject a private invitation from him? He looked at his watch again, twenty minutes over the time.

“Don’t tell me she’s still trying to make a point? She really doesn’t understand when it’s just a little better to swallow her foolish pride.”

If he was honest, turned tables, he'd probably have done the same...

As he hissed, there was a small peeping sound coming from the door, he had given you the code to enter. San turned around, his head tilting slowly as he watched you enter the loft.

Your hair was down, flowing over your shoulders, likely to deal with all the water styling for your shoot today. This was the first time he saw you wearing a dress, and it suited you well, especially as the neutral makeup highlighted your natural beauty, complemented with the soft green color of the dress.

He couldn’t deny that the little angry frown on your features was endearing.

“What’s this all about? It’s highly unprofessional for the two lead actors of a drama to meet like this. Yes, I still came because …” you paused, seemingly trying to come up with a good defense, but was there one?

“I … don’t care. I just wanted to tell you that. I do not care if you deem me unfit to be an actress. We get told that all the time. This is harder for us than for you. We aren’t allowed to make mistakes; your type, on the other hand, gets away with most.”

San hummed as he listened to you, picking up the two glasses and offering one to you. “Alcohol-free. Now, why don’t we sit down and chat? I agree with you, it’s unprofessional and risky, but I do it for the success of the show if you want.”

There was confusion on your face when you still accepted the glass and watched San sit down.

“After today, I am willing to admit, I see potential in you, maybe even a hint of talent if polished properly,” he hummed, taking a sip from his drink, and pointing to the couch opposite for you to sit down.

He enjoyed all of your reactions, wondering if you were aware just how expressive you were with them.

“I don’t understand…”

Finally, you started to listen and joined him.

“Your character, Summer, she’s all about being relatable and raw. You can capture this perfectly, and your way of showing emotions — not many actors have that these days. However, you need to learn to control them, for them to come out when you need it, not when they want to.”

It seemed you took a sip from the drink just to deal with your confusion. You swallowed while San placed his glass on the table.

“How do you mean that?”

Now, he had no intention of suddenly being all kind and polite. Truths were there to cut so you learned not to do it again.

“You are like a puppy that learned to roll over and play dead, but you’re still wiggling your tail out of control so everyone knows. You need to learn to use your skill of expressing emotions so openly to your advantage, when you want it, and not because you are reacting to your co-actor. You were almost melting when we kissed.”

Your cheeks took on a dark red shade not even the makeup could hide, and San just grinned almost sweetly at you.

“Do you ever say anything nice?”

“I just did. I told you that you have potential and I invited you here. You asked me to give you a chance, your way, and I am willing. I believe if you learn how to guide your talent a little, we can benefit. The viewers have a much easier time connecting with an actress who seems to feel like that, and I need the good views. I will help you be a bit more in control. In two days, we will shoot the scene that likely will go viral if we do it right and decide if the viewers ship us, our chemistry.”

It was meant to be THE kissing scene, the one they would use for the preview and trailers, to convince everyone of their great chemistry, and their characters were meant to be lovers, not seeming lost and confused unlike in the scene today.

“The kiss was promising today, but in that scene, we will actually have to make sure we capture the chemistry on point. No emotional moment occurred to explain why it would be different I will show you how to do it, so that when we shoot it, all will be quick and easy.”

San finally settled down by your side, and he could see how you just stared at him.

“I ask kindly for your permission so that you do not spit at me again,” he chuckled but leaned in close, ensuring you could feel his breath tickling your skin.

“Y/N, would you let me teach you how to play that scene perfectly, so that people may adore us when the episode airs?”

“Fine.”

He was still rude, but the truth was you had come here hoping that maybe the two of you could find a middle ground. San did not need to madly fall in love with you; all you were asking for was a chance. Yes, you knew what you were doing was a little below the belt, but show business had never been easy.

Besides, he was not forcing you. Here he was, asking, and maybe, in a way, you both depended on it.

San still seemed too pleased, but he was relaxing back, giving you another look: “I take it you have studied the scene already. The benefit of us speaking ahead of the record is we can see to adjust it our way. Take it as advice for the future; you are the actor, and you can act in a way that makes those scenes a little more endurable.”

He reached out and played with a few strands of your hair. Maybe this would be a good idea; if you got comfortable with him, acting in those love scenes you were soon going to film could be easier, and you would no longer have to overthink if he was going to trick you.

“Episode five, after Baek and Summer go to the auction to save his mother’s necklace from being sold off, they return to her place. It’s before he intends to run away, so the atmosphere is playful and sensual. Baek admires her beauty from afar before slowly moving over. He places the necklace around her neck, his finger playing with it, and then he loosens her hair, and they kiss, tongue and biting."

Any time San was surprised, you felt a level of satisfaction that you managed to do just that, but quickly, it turned into a pleased smile.

“That’s exactly it. I see you memorized it. The scene is early on, and if we manage to carry over the chemistry there, the heartbreak later will be efficient. Good for us; your outfit is perfect. You just have to tie up your hair, and we can move over to the door and begin right at the start. It will help us if we play through the entire scene. We go through it, but any time you feel uncomfortable, voice it. We can practice and cheat with the perspective, so the kiss is not too awkward but satisfying to the producers.”

You slowly rose, fixed your dress, and cleared your throat as you tied up your hair loosely while walking over to the door. San was right there, relaxing against the door, grinning at you: “Are you ready, pretty girl?”

Really? You hissed a little: “What’s up with the name? Can people not come up with better insults?”

San hummed, shrugging a little: “Not an insult. You are that, a pretty girl. What’s wrong with it? I mean it, but if you want to strictly keep it professional, think of it as a way to warm up. The characters return from the auction, they managed to reach their goal, and now, in a mood of celebration, a couple all comfortable and confident. We have to get in the mood.”

That was fair, so you grinned: “All right then, hottie. Shall we get going?” He wasn’t annoyed at all, more pleased that you got the point, or so you guessed.

You walked to the door, taking his hand as San seemed to inhale before just falling into the role. It was like there was a switch, leaving his personality behind and becoming his character entirely.

“I can’t believe we really did it, seeing their faces when you just jumped up and then did the final bid the second it was about to end,” San sighed in relief as he turned around and looked at you.

It was silly, you looked at him, and your heart was beating a little; this was the most passion you had worked with yet. Not that the other actors had been poor at their jobs, but it felt more routine, like they just got it done because it was written in the script.

You smirked: “Of course, I told you. Never underestimate my talent! I knew they would not see that one coming, but now it’s done. I am glad we were able to get the necklace back. I know how much it means to you.”

Your arms curled around his neck, and you went on your toes to get closer to his face. San’s eyes wandered all over your face like you were the most beautiful person he had ever encountered.

“That is because you truly are the most amazing person I have ever met, Summer,” he whispered and allowed one of his hands to wander up, placing it very gently underneath your chin. Your gazes locked for some time.

“Stay the night?” you whispered, your tone more playful now. Slowly, you let go of him, turning around playfully, giving him an inviting look as you settled down on the couch. Right, Summer was about to take out her earrings. You did not wear any, but you wore some hair clips, so you gently removed them, placing them on the table.

San was watching you, leaning against a door. The two of you did everything extra slow since shooting a scene meant you did it more than once quite often if the camera needed a different perspective and did not always capture it right away on the first try.

As he moved slowly to you, your gaze lowered a little, and he sat down next to you.

“You are starring, Sir,” you teased. This actually wasn’t part of your dialogue, but somehow, it felt natural. Your character was supposed to be a little all over the place but not shy, at least not in this scene. If San was permitted to add as he wished, why not you?

“What can I do? It’s hard not to look at you,” he smiled softly and reached out, brushing over your chin before his gaze lowered, resting on your neck.

San seemed to think for a moment before he slowly leaned back. The moment when Baek would take out the box with the necklace, your co-star replaced it by unclipping the one he had been wearing underneath his tight long sleeve.

“And maybe that is because seeing you in this really is a dream come true,” he whispered, and as he leaned in, you felt his breath tickling your skin, the scent of a perfume you had never smelled before. He gently placed it around your neck. In the show, this would be some kind of elegant piece, but San had given you something long with a metal tag on the end.

Curiosity was fought back to look at it. Your fingers only touched the cool metal chain around your neck.

“But… this is your mother’s. You should keep it…” you tried to insist, but San moved closer.

“My mom wanted it to be on the neck of my future wife, and while we are both too young to think about it just yet, it is right where it belongs, Y/N,” he was so close now that you naturally leaned slightly closer.

The fact he called you by your name was surprising, and there it was again, the moment he did it on purpose. Was it to teach you the lesson of trying to control your emotions rather than being controlled by them or something else?

“I love you, Y/N,” San said so passionately that you needed to swallow hard. It was good that from this point on, the scene was only meant to be carried by acting and no further words.

His big hand moved and pulled the hairband out, allowing your hair to fall over your shoulder.

“You truly are beautiful, you know?” he breathed, and he was close to kissing you now. The camera was meant to capture the teeth and tongue, just to give the viewers some imagination without breaking what was acceptable for an evening show.

“Is it comfortable like that, or should I move a little?” he asked, and his voice was warm and sincere. What was wrong with the guy? Couldn’t he always be so kind and supportive?

“It’s okay like that, thank you,” you whispered, a little shy. San just smiled and nodded as he leaned in.

Your arm carefully moved to rest on his back, and then you kissed him harder than intended. It started slow and soft, but somehow you felt encouraged to show him that you could do this because you wanted to, and the force you used was a bit stronger than intended. You wanted to play with the camera too, capture the tease without too much. Your teeth bit his lower lip, and you gave him a challenging look, your tongues met in a playful dance.

You had his attention entirely. San was grinning and about to depen the kiss a little further than intended based on script but then the door opened.

The two of you instantly froze, and it was hard to say if it was relief or shame, but it was Seonghwa who stepped inside, looking beyond alarmed.

“What are the two of you doing here?!”

Now that you thought about it… you could imagine what this would look like.

“San?!” Seonghwa was strict, and the way he spoke like that with him made you wince.

You were about to sit up, trying to say something when San stood protectively in front of you.

“This was my idea. I thought it would help her relax since we are shooting this scene in two days. It’s tough, being expected to film this kind of kiss with a person that’s an asshole.”

Seonghwa and you both stared at him, and you wondered why that was. Did San never do this before, or was there something else to it?

The makeup artist sighed, shaking his head: “If anyone would have… never mind. We just got a call, and we have to shoot one of the night scenes tonight, so you have to come with me.”

You cleared your throat, fixing your dress again.

“Yes, you should go. Thank you for guiding me through the scene.”

San was looking at Seonghwa before looking back at you, and somehow, he seemed oddly displeased.

As you started to take the necklace off your neck, he shook his head: “Keep it. Think of it as a poor apology gift for insulting you during the table read. I'm sorry for that. I’ll see you on set tomorrow.”

San stepped out without even giving you a chance to say anything. Seonghwa only offered a small smile before he followed out.

As you were alone, you sighed: “Yeosang will murder me if he finds out about this.”

You played with the necklace and finally remembered the tag. As you turned it around, it was a name that said nothing to you until something came to mind. You pulled out your phone and browsed through San’s filmography.

Right, his first role was playing the son of a very popular actress at that time. He only had two scenes, enlisting into the military to be written off in episode three. The name on this tag was of that character. San just gifted you something from his very first set, likely very special if he bothered to wear and keep it after all those years.

“This guy, can he please decide what his personality is like?”

“Hey, Joong, do you think San has the celebrity sickness?” you asked while standing still, watching what the stylist was trying to decide for you to wear for the preview photos.

It had been a strange month. You had barely filmed with San, or at least it felt that way. Most of your scenes had been with the other cast members first, and only now were they starting to focus more on the actual ones with the romantic interest.

However, ever since that day, San seemed different. He was polite, greeted you, and a few days ago, you could have sworn he even smiled at you when you accidentally spilled cappuccino over the expensive jacket that was a product placement.

The man laughed: “I didn’t take you for somebody who uses such words.” He was obviously amused while holding a few blouses against you, trying to see which one he liked best with your hair color.

“I mean, I did read how some actors have it when they find success and then later look back, realizing they have been little rich monsters.”

Hongjoong had once said he enjoyed that you were still quite uncaring with your words around the staff who were not the ones making big choices, and it likely reflected in this moment as well.

“Little monster, you say? Well, I admit that San has changed over the years. I worked on some previous projects with him, but I wouldn’t say it was fame. You see, San had to work really hard and change quite a bit to get where he is now. He’s not the height producers want, and he used to be a very soft personality. When he was rejected for a really important role after first being announced as the pick, he sat down, bulked up, and changed to the way he is now. I do not think he has celebrity sickness, but show business does change people, not always for the better, especially if you do not have somebody to keep you grounded. You see, his best friend moved abroad after college. He was the one who always balanced him, but these days, San spends a lot of time alone. How do you like this one?”

You had gotten used to going with Hongjoong’s outfit recommendations and Seonghwa’s makeup guidelines. You were about to be a lead actress for the public, and even your social media had to match it.

“I think I like the mint one,” you said, more lost in thought and aware of Hongjoong’s little grin.

“It’s your color. Now, how about we say this set is the most relaxed I have seen him in a while, yes? Anyway, it is getting late, and I know the actors are meant to go out and have barbecue together today. Half of the filming is done now. You work hard and should relax a little. Get some rest tomorrow. In two days, we will take the most beautiful photos.”

The stylist winked and sent you off. All you could do was sigh as you pulled on your thin jacket again. You wore jeans and a blouse gifted by a brand, your hair up in a modern bun, and delicate earrings finishing the look. Underneath, the gifted necklace was hidden. Everyone else was likely already there, and you realized how you were the only one without a car or a driver. Now that filming was going well, there was no reason for Yeosang to be by your side the entire day.

“Need a ride?”

San’s voice made you look up, and for a moment, you thought you might be imagining it. His hair was undone, glasses sat on his nose, and he had a very lazy smile on his lips. The jeans and oversized hoodie with a jacket on top were quite different from the always very styled actor you knew.

“I… would like that, thank you,” you cleared your throat. He nodded and led you to his car, which was parked not too far away. To your surprise, it was also quite on the average side, but then it made sense. If you were famous, you would likely try to keep some privacy.

San waited for you to get in and get comfortable before he started to drive. You were silent until the first red traffic light forced the two of you to stop.

“Do you have celebrity sickness?” you blurted out and did not dare look at him, sinking into your seat when he laughed softly.

“Do you think so?” he asked, and you were relieved to see he was taking this incredibly dumb question with a humor you hadn’t expected. He was tapping against the wheel, and eventually, you dared to peek over. To your surprise, he actually seemed to be thinking about it.

“You were an ass when we first met. Sure, I am not really the super-experienced actress, but it was a bit too strong,” you mumbled.

“Maybe I did. Wooyoung always kept me grounded, but when he moved abroad, I guess I just got so used to showbiz, I forgot what it meant to be me or to show any compassion toward people who likely started acting for the same reason I did: dreaming to play a specific kind of role, a stage, or maybe go somewhere. Then, it takes somebody bold to call it out so you wake up and realize it.”

Your gazes met briefly before his focus returned to the road ahead.

“I did mean it. I am sorry I was like that, but I am thankful you dared to point it out. It won’t make up for it, but I will try to do better now. I actually contacted some of those I worked with to apologize. I don’t really think they will answer me back, but who knows?”

If he really did that, San must have gotten over a lot of pride. Even if you felt sorry, doing something like that was surely not easy.

You drove into the parking lot, and he just leaned back. “I guess you were my cure, Y/N,” he replied with a gentle smile, and the two of you stared. For a moment, it was almost as if he wanted to say or maybe do something, but you just got too nervous, opening the door of the car.

“We should go.” Before he could say anything else, you were out of the car and rushing off.

Everyone seemed surprised to see San so relaxed and wearing such a casual outfit, but there wasn’t much time to think about it. You were seated between some other cast members, and all you could do was glance over at him now and then, noting how he smiled and seemed more at ease.

Hours flew by, and before you noticed, everyone slowly excused themselves. Tomorrow would be your first free day in over a month, and you couldn’t wait to sleep in.

San and you were among the last to leave, and as you stepped outside, the night was much colder than expected. Before you could even joke about it, the weight of a leather jacket rested on your shoulders.

“You shouldn’t get sick,” he mumbled, then suddenly took your hand, walking you back to the car. It was hard to say why you let him; maybe you had gotten used to his spontaneous actions after filming several scenes together that felt quite similar.

The walk to the car suddenly felt long, and he was swinging your arms like some middle schoolers in love. He turned his head to look at you.

“Is this okay with you?” he asked, as if remembering to check in with you. It was sweet and innocent, and he almost looked troubled, fearing you might pull your hand away. You tapped a finger against your cheek, pretending to think about it before laughing.

“I guess. You still have a few weeks before I get so famous you’ll have to hide me,” you joked. Somehow, his expression told you he had thoughts about it, but those likely did not matter. Maybe he would tell you next time.

“I shall make the most out of it then, and for all else, people do love the story of two actors who played love interests admitting they fell in love on set… in theory. So, what if, once filming is wrapped up, you’d go out with me?”

“Somebody is getting bold,” you replied without thinking, cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you. But then, you thought about it. There was no denying that you had grown fond of him, enjoyed working with him, and treasured his little gift. The way he looked at you made you feel certain ways, but you couldn’t say exactly what it was just yet. Not to forget, the rough start.

Then, maybe you needed to be the one now guiding San, to find himself back again.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing where things might go between us.”

That was all he needed to hear. You saw it in the way he looked at you and nodded.

“There won’t be any rush. I think I might reconsider the importance and urgency of my plans for a little while now that I’ve refocused on what really matters.”

San looked up at the cloudy sky; the stars were never visible from here.

You let him be, and the two of you just enjoyed the small walk before you got back in the car. Your apartment was quite close, and soon, he was standing in front of your building.

“Thank you for driving me and, you know, being nice,” you chuckled.

“Thanks for healing me,” he winked, but there was no obvious tease in his voice.

You exhaled as you got out of the car, leaving the door open as you turned around to look at San.

“I will see you the day after tomorrow for the photoshoot. Sleep well.” You flashed him a final smile before stepping back.

“You too, pretty girl,” he answered, his eyes not leaving you even as you closed the door and headed toward your tiny apartment.

But then … You turned around on your heels, walking back to the car, and as if reading your mind, San was opening the window.

You looked at each other playfully as you grinned: “Maybe you would like to come upstairs and have a cup of water, handsome?”

San laughed, turning off the engine. “I like the sound of that.”

#san x reader #san x you #san oneshot #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez au #ateez writing #choi san x reader #sn tag #mature tag #reis writes

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magics-neptunes-things · 11 months ago

Text

I've got McCabe

Hi guys :)

So this is a request from here (never been so quick in my life) and I've never write with Katie before so I hope it would suit you all!

Enjoy :)

TW : Love fight, swearing, Nothing else I think

______________________________________________________________

Being Katie McCabe’s girlfriend is something you cherish in everyday life. Everyone knows her reputation on the football fields, and you will never deny the truth of this, but Katie obviously has good sides to tip the scales and drive you crazy about her.

Your little bickering comes mainly from her Irish origins of which she is very proud, while you are just as proud from your Scottish origins. You certainly don’t have a team as strong as England or even Ireland, but your talents have allowed you to be spotted by Arsenal for many years and this is where you still play today. Needless to say, where you met Katie.

For today, you don’t know exactly when your mutual teasing started. You have learned over time to respond to Katie when she starts teasing you, not wishing to leave her the last word every time.

The problem today is that neither of you seems to want to admit defeat. What started out as childish games is nicely being transformed into something else while a certain mutual annoyance is being felt on both sides.

Your teammates must have felt it, Leah grabbing Katie during the lunch break while you almost get kidnap by a Beth Mead apparently more than happy to show you pictures of her puppy. You can’t say that it didn’t work, you are literally a fan of this little cutie.

But after the lunch break, when the training started again, it only takes a little teasing from Katie to start again. And again, you don’t want to let it pass, there’s no reason why it’s always you who gives up, after all.

The limit is exceeded just at the end of the training, while Katie asks you to please go store her dumbbells with yours. Already having yours to carry and a ball in the other hand, you answer her that she only has to get up to do it herself. "Well, at least Ruesha would have done it for me." This one, it hurts.

You remain frozen a few seconds there before turning slowly in the direction of the Irish which seems to realize despite everything what she has just said. But Katie doesn’t add anything, just looking at you from the mattress she’s sitting on with wide eyes. "Fuck you, Katie" you mumble coldly before disappearing from the room. The idea of throwing the ball you hold in your hand on her head would have been tempting and you admit to having thought about it for a few moments. But you weren’t alone and it was out of the question for you to provoke a real scene with violence to the key. "Mate..." sighs Leah once you leave the room. "Wha' " grunts Katie without looking at the blonde. "That was a terrible comment" "Shut up" In truth, Katie knows very well that she has crossed the line and she is very uncomfortable. Hurting you is never her intention, she has always been very careful with her behavior with you, treating you like a princess on a daily basis. Except when she decides to test your limits like today. It never went that far though. Leah answers nothing, content to follow the brunette to the changing rooms to go shower and change. Katie frowns when she sees that you’re not there anymore and your stuff either. "She left. Alessia brings her home. And you’re definitely going to sleep on the couch tonight" Kyra informs her before going to take a shower. The information squeezes Katie’s heart, you live together, so it makes sense to travel together. But she particularly likes to see you in the role of HER passenger princess.

It’s with her mind elsewhere that Irish showers and changes, taking her time in seeking the best solution to fix things. However, it’s difficult for her to know what to do since she doesn’t know what treatment she will be entitled to once she arrives home.

Are you gonna yell at her? Ignore her? Are you even going to be there or will she be allowed a simple post-it on your fridge informing her that she just has to go to hell?

It’s not in a safe state that Katie gently open the door to your house. The living room is empty, but your sneakers are carefully placed on the shoe cabinet of the entrance, informing her of your presence at home. But you’re not in the part of the living room that she can see from where she is.

"Babe?"

Only silence answers her, which doesn’t particularly surprise her. You’re stubborn too and usually Katie liked that about you. But not today.

Sighing, Katie drops her bag at the entrance and walks a little further into the house. She finally finds yourself sitting at the kitchen table, apparently completely absorbed in your readings. Yes, because in addition to your training and games, you’ve been doing correspondence marketing studies. Just in case.

"Are you still angry?" Katie tries to get closer to you.

But you just answer her that a breath of the nose, without looking up from your book. If only she knew you couldn’t concentrate for more than ten seconds. You were really hurt by her remark, even if you think (hope) that she doesn’t think about it for a single second. What could be worse than being compared to her girlfriend’s ex by the principal concerned?

"Babe please, can we just…"

"Don’t fucking touch me McCabe!"

You jumped on your legs as she approached you, ready to put her hand on your arm. In your heart you obviously appreciated that she tries a reconciliation and that she tries to catch up, but it’s still too early for the moment. Your hands tremble with anger when you go to lock yourself in your room, slamming violently the door behind you.

********

"I don’t know mate, she seems really upset. She surname me!"

Katie walks around your backyard, whispering softly on the phone so you don’t hear her. She tried several times to knock on the door of your room but you never answered her, worse you even blocked the handle of the door so that she could not join you.

Leah, on the other end of the phone, has to admit that she is impressed by the strength of character with which you stand up to Katie. But Katie is still her friend and she obviously wants you to make up.

"At the same time, you compared her to your ex. Anyone would have taken it badly. I would have probably killed you."

"I know, Lee. But I can’t go back to the past, what do you want me to do?"

"Apologize?"

"She won’t listen to me, she won’t even let me in the same room as her."

"The good news is she didn’t strangle you" Leah comments with amusement.

"Not yet" answers Katie with a gloomy air.

"Let her calm down a little and in the meantime prepare an apology in good form"

"What do you mean?" asks Katie, mechanically looking up at your bedroom.

"Go get her some flowers, make her a candlelight dinner… what you know will please her."

"I have another idea" ended up answering Katie after a few seconds of reflection.

********

The night has fallen for a little while when almost timid blows are again thrown against the door of your bedroom. You sigh as you hear Katie’s voice rise from behind the door.

"I know you’re still very angry with me, but can you meet me at the livingroom please?"

You roll your eyes without answering, sitting on your side, back to the door. Now that the anger has dissipated, you realize that you were also hurt by the Irish comment. So you decide not to go. At least that was before you got a message on your phone.

Katie 🍀❤️ Baby please?

You let out a big sigh before you get out of bed. With your hands in yours (Katie’s) training pockets and your face frown, you finally leave your room. After moving the chair you had placed under the handle so that she could not enter.

When she hears your bedroom door open, Katie almost teleports to you.

"Can you close your eyes?"

"I’m not in the mood, Katie" you grumble in a low voice.

"Please" she whines.

You stare at her for a few seconds before sighing again and obeying. You let her take both hands to train you to the living room, stopping in the free passage left by the two sofas installed in the living room. Without letting go of your hands, Katie whispers

"You can open them"

You blink twice to regain clear vision and remain speechless in front of what was previously your living room. Katie installed cozy plaids and cushions on the sofa, she lit your fireplace and decorated the room with many Harry Potter goodies. You’re a fan of it, defending your house, Ravenclaw. Needless to say, the one you share your life with is from another house, which you confirmed when you forced her to take the test. Needless to say which one. (Slytherin)

On the coffee table Katie prepared bowls with several snacks and cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Everything looks like one of those photos that are on Instagram. Well, almost. Because in these photos, there’s not Katie McCabe looking at you with as much apprehension as if you were a bomb ready to explode.

"I’m sorry I was stupid like that and I hurt you. I didn’t think about it and you have no idea how much I blame myself. I should never have said that when I haven’t thought about my ex in forever and even less since we’ve been together. I mean, of course we see each other when we’re training on the national team, but that’s it. She has nothing to do with you. I’m so sorry, Baby, I swear."

Katie rambles a little bit and you get to see the nervousness behind her clumsy speech. And it makes you feel terribly tender. Realizing that she still has your hands in hers, Katie gently pulls on it to draw you a little closer to her.

"I’m not just angry. What you said is hurtful, too, Kat."

"I know" she whispers, dropping one of your hands and putting hers gently under your chin. "But I don’t mean a word of it. No one can match you."

Your gaze in her blue eyes is enough to convince you of her sincerity and despair at the idea that you may not forgive her. It’s that side of Katie that you fell in love with as well, that part that she shows almost nobody. Katie is a loyal and attentive friend, which people know as well. But she is also a tender woman who enjoys cuddling with her girlfriend. You.

"I love you so much" she adds after a few seconds, pressing her forehead against yours. "Please, forgive me."

"Okay" you end up answering softly.

Her smile is so great of joy and relief that you can’t help but smile back.

"But on condition that we watch the first film" you add, pointing to the television with a nod.

"Anything you want."

Katie hurries to make you settle into the couch, perhaps doing a little too much by hurrying to bring a stool so that you can put your feet on it. But you let her, amused by her behavior. She then runs to dim the light in the living room, hands you a cup of hot chocolate and a glass of water if « the chocolate is too chocolate ». She tenderly wraps you in a plaid, asking if you want a cushion and arranges the food bowls so that you have everything near you.

"Are you missing something?" Katie asks, looking closely around her.

"Yes" you answer with a smile.

"What?"

"You."

Bowing an eyebrow, you lift a corner of the blanket in which you are wrapped so that she comes to settle next to you. What she does smiling, even accepting that you shift to allow her too to put her feet on the stool with you. After making sure again that you didn’t miss anything, Katie launches the film and you gently lean your head on her shoulder when she puts her arm around yours.

Ten good minutes passed when you look up at Katie’s face, lit by the lights of the television.

"Babe?" you call her gently, making her look off the screen.

"Yes?"

"I love you too."

A soft smile is born on her face and you would swear that it will remain there until the end of the evening. Including when she leans over you to kiss you right now, then every other time during the movie.

Katie McCabe may be a fool, but she’s your fool.

________________________________________________

So… Katie McCabe is a Slytherin, what do you think? 😂

#woso x reader #woso imagine #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine

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nyxshadowhawk · 6 months ago

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A Retrospective on Harry Potter

Why did I like it in the first place? What about it worked? Where do I go from here?

I have decided to give up Harry Potter.

J.K. Rowling’s reputation now stinks to high heaven. At this point, she is quite indefensible. And even if that weren’t the case, she is not someone that I would want to associate with anyway. Meanwhile, the internet has not only turned against her, but against Harry Potter itself. An innocent question on Reddit, about which Hogwarts Houses the ATLA characters would be in, got downvoted to oblivion. Innumerable Tumblr threads insist that fantasy fans should get into literally anything else (suggestions include Discworld, Earthsea, The Wheel of Time, and Percy Jackson). And now that Harry Potter is no longer a sacred cow, there has been a recent slew of video essays that rip it to shreds, attacking it for its poor worldbuilding, unoriginality, and the problematic ideas baked into the original books (like the whole SPEW thing), etc. Those criticisms always existed, but now they’re getting thrown into the limelight.

It pains me to see such an ignoble downfall of Harry Potter’s reputation. If Rowling had just kept her damn mouth shut, Harry Potter would have aged gracefully, becoming a beloved children’s classic. I'd still plan to introduce it to my own kids one day (after Rowling dies and the dust settles). It’s not surprising that not all aspects of it have aged well, since it’s been more than twenty years since its original publishing date, and everything starts to show its age after that long. I acknowledge that most of the criticisms of the series that I’ve seen lately are valid, and I’ve read plenty of better books. And yet, when I return to the books themselves, even with the knowledge of who JKR really is inside my head, I still really enjoy reading them! There’s still a lot about them that I think works!

None of the other things I’ve read have had as collossal of an impact upon my identity, my values, and my own writing as Harry Potter. It’s hard to move on from it, not just because it’s something I enjoy, but because I have to literally extract my identity from it. I don’t know who I’d be without Harry Potter. I don’t know what my work would look like without Harry Potter. I don’t know how to carry it with me as just another piece of media that I like, as opposed to a filter for who I am as a person. So, with all that in mind, I have to ask myself why I liked Harry Potter so much in the first place. If I’m going to move on from it, then I have to be able to define and isolate the things about it that I want to keep with me. Something about it obviously worked, on a massive scale. So what was it?

It’s not the worldbuilding. The worldbuilding is objectively quite terrible, especially in comparison to that of other fantasy writers who knew what they were doing. At best, it’s inconsistent and poorly thought-out, and at worst it’s insensitive or even racist. Is it the characters? The characters are, in my opinion, one of the stronger parts of the story. But I felt very called-out by one of the many online commentators, who said that anyone who identifies with Harry is too cowardly to write self-insert fic. (I do not remember who said it or even which site it was on, but I distinctly remember the phrase, “Reject Harry Potter, embrace Y/N.”) The reason why people get so invested in Harry Potter’s characters is because they’re easy to project upon, and it’s possible that my love of Harry comes more from over a decade’s worth of projection than anything else. The incessant arguments over characters like Snape, Dumbledore, and James Potter ultimately stem from the fact that these characters do not always come across the way Rowling wanted them to. As for the writing itself, it’s decent, but not spectacular. Harry Potter is something of a sandbox world, with less substance than it appears to have and a crapton of missed opportunities, making it ripe for fanfic. For more than ten years, I’ve been doing precisely that — using Harry Potter as a jumping-off point to fill in the gaps and develop my own ideas, some of which became my original projects.

So what does Harry Potter actually have that sets it apart? Why are people so desperate to be part of Harry Potter’s world if the worldbuilding is bad? What, specifically, is so compelling about it? I think that there’s one answer, one thing that is at the center of Potter-mania, and that has been the underlying drive of my love of it for the past decade and a half: the vibe.

Harry Potter’s vibe is immaculate.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not actually a product of any specific trope, but rather a series of aesthetic elements: The wizarding school in a grand castle, with its pointed windows and torches and suits of armor, ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases, its Great Hall with floating candles and a ceiling that looks like the night sky, its hundreds of magically-concealed secret doorways. Dumbledore’s Office, behind the gryphon statue, with armillary spheres in every single shot. Deliberate archaisms that evoke the Middle Ages without going as far as a Ren Faire: characters wearing heavy robes, writing with quills and ink on parchment instead of paper, drinking from goblets, decorating with tapestries. Owls, cats, toads. Cauldrons simmering in a dungeon laboratory. Shelves piled with dusty tomes, scrolls, glass vials, crystal balls, hourglasses. Magical candy shaped like insects and amphibians. A library with a restricted section. A forbidden forest full of unicorns and werewolves. That is the Vibe.

There are five armillary spheres just in this shot. They are unequivocally the most Wizard of tabletop decor.

There’s more to it than just the aesthetic, though. The vibe is present in something that writers call soft worldbuilding.

There’s a phrase that writers use to describe magic systems, coined by Brandon Sanderson: hard magic and soft magic. Sanderson’s first law of magic is, “An author’s ability to solve problems with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” A hard magic system has clearly-defined rules — you know where magic comes from, how it works and under which conditions, how the characters can use it, and what its limitations are. Examples of really good hard magic systems include Avatar: The Last Airbender and Fullmetal Alchemist. If the audience doesn’t understand the conditions under which magic can work, then using magic to get out of any kind of scrape risks feeling like the writer pulled something out of their ass. It begs the question, “Well, if they could do that, then why didn’t they do that before?”

You may come away from that thinking that having clearly-defined rules is always better worldbuilding than not having them, but this isn’t the case. Soft magic isn’t fully explained to the audience, but that doesn’t matter, because it isn’t trying to solve problems — its purpose is to be evocative. Soft magic enhances the atmosphere of a world by creating a sense of wonder. If your everyman protagonist is constantly running into cool magical shit that they don’t understand, then the world feels like it teems with magic, magic that is greater and more powerful than they know, leaving lots of secrets to uncover. Harry Potter, at least in the early books, excels at this. The soft magic in Harry Potter is what got me hooked, and I think it’s what a lot of other people liked about it, too.

The essence of soft magic is best summed up by this scene in the fourth film, in which Harry enters the Weasleys’ tiny tent at the Quidditch World Cup, only to find that it’s much bigger on the inside. His reaction is to smile and say, “I love magic.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of it. You don’t need to know the exact spell that makes the tent bigger on the inside. You don’t need to know how Dumbledore can make the food appear on the table with a flick of a wand, or how he can make a bunch of poofy sleeping bags appear with another flick. You don’t need to know how and why the portraits or wizard cards move. You don’t need to know how wizards can appear and disappear on a whim, or what the Deluminator is, or where the Sword of Gryffindor came from. You don’t need to know how the Room of Requirement works. Knowing these things defeats the purpose. It kills the vibe, that vibe being that there is a large and wondrous magical world around you that will always have more to discover.

One of the best “soft magic” moments in the books comes early in Philosopher’s Stone, when Harry is trying to navigate Hogwarts for the first time:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 8

Many of these details don’t come back later in the series, which is a shame, because this one paragraph is super evocative! It establishes Hogwarts as an inherently magical place, in which the very architecture doesn’t conform to normal rules. Hogwarts seems like it would be exciting to explore (assuming you weren’t late for class), and it gets even better when you learn about all the secret rooms and passages. The games capitalized on this by building all the secret rooms behind bookcases, mirrors, illusory walls, etc. into the game world, and rewarding you for finding them. The utter fascination that produces is hard to overstate.

Another one of the most evocative moments in the first book is when Harry sees Diagon Alley for the first time, after passing through the magically sealed brick wall (the mechanics of which, again, are never explained). This is your first proper glimpse at the wizarding world and what it has to offer:

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad....” A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 5

What works so well here is the magical weirdness of wizardishness juxtaposed against normalcy. Eeylops Owl Emporium is just a pet shop to wizards. A woman makes a very mundane complaint about the price of goods, but the goods happen to be dragon liver. Broomsticks are treated like cars. All of these small moments contribute to the feeling of the wizarding world being alive, inhabited, and also magical. It gets you to ask the question of what your life would be like if you were a wizard. What do wizards wear? What do they eat? What do they haggle over and complain about? What do they do for fun?

In Book 3, Harry enjoys Diagon Alley for a few weeks when he suddenly has free time, and we get to experience the wizarding world in a state of “normalcy,” when he isn’t trying to save the world. He gets free ice creams from Florean Fortescue, gazes longingly at the Firebolt, and engages with delightfully weird people. He’s a wizard, living a (briefly) normal wizard life among other wizards in wizard-land. And that is fun. It’s so fun, that people want that experience for themselves, enough for there to be several theme parks and other immersive experiences dedicated to recreating the world of Harry Potter.

One of the greatest things about Universal was its phenomenal attention to detail. You can hear Moaning Myrtle’s voice in the women’s bathroom, and only the women’s bathroom. The walls of the Three Broomsticks have shadows of a broom sweeping by itself and an owl flying projected against the wall, so convincingly that you’ll do a double take when you see it. Knockturn Alley is down a little secret tunnel off of the main street, and that’s where you have to go to buy Dark Arts-themed stuff. It’s really well done.

Another thing that contributes to the vibe, in my opinion, is that the wizarding world is slightly macabre. They eat candy shaped like frogs, flies, mice, and so forth, and they have gross-tasting jellybeans. In the film’s version of the Diagon Alley sequence above, there’s a random shot of a pet bat available for purchase. In the third film, when Harry is practicing the Patronus Charm with Lupin, the candles are shaped like human spines. In the first book, this is Petunia’s description of Lily’s behavior after she became a witch:

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 4

I remember reading this for the first time, and it just kind of made intuitive sense to me. I suppose it fits into the “eye of newt and toe of frog” association between magical people and gross things, but somehow it works. Unfortunately, this is retconned later with the knowledge that wizards can’t use magic outside school, but before that limitation gets imposed, the idea of Lily amusing herself by turning teacups into rats seems like an inherently witchy thing to do.

That association between magic and the macabre shows up elsewhere, as well. In The Owl House, Luz’s interest in gross things is one of the things that marks her as a “weirdo” in the real world. When she goes to the magical world of the Boiling Isles, weird and gross stuff is absolutely everywhere. That world’s vibe leans more towards the macabre than the whimsical, but it works because you sort of expect the gross stuff to exist alongside the concept of witches, and that they would be an intrinsic part of the world they inhabit. You don’t question it, because it’s part of the vibe.

(The Owl House is one of the few things I’ve encountered that has a similar vibe to Harry Potter, but it’s still not the same vibe. In fact, The Owl House outright mocks the expectation that magical worlds be whimsical, and directly mocks Harry Potter more than once. The overall vibe is much closer to Gravity Falls.)

The Harry Potter films utilize a lot of similar soft worldbuilding with the background details, especially in the early films that were still brightly-colored and whimsical. For example, the scene in Flourish and Blotts in the second film has impossibly-stacked piles of books and old-timey looking signs describing their subjects, which include things like “Celestial Studies” and “Unicorns.” When Harry arrives in the Burrow in the same film, one of the first things he sees is dishes washing themselves and knitting needles working by themselves, taking completely mundane things and instantly establishing them as magical. In that Patronus scene with Harry and Lupin, the spine-candles and a bunch of random orbs (and the obligatory giant armillary sphere) float around in the background. One small detail that I personally appreciate is the designs on the walls above the teacher’s table in the Great Hall, which are from an alchemical manuscript called the Ripley Scroll:

It’s all these little things that add up to produce The Vibe.

Obviously, much of the vibe is expressed very well in John Williams’ score for the first three Harry Potter films. The mystical minor key of the main theme, the tinkly glockenspiel, the strings, the rising and falling notes that mimic the fluttering of an owl, the flight of a broomstick, or the waving of a wand. That initial shot of the castle across the lake as the orchestra swells, as the children arrive at their wizarding school:

If you grew up with Harry Potter, just looking at this image gives you The Vibe. The nostalgia hit is definitely part of it, but The Vibe was already there, back when you were a child and you didn’t have nostalgia yet.

In my opinion, only Williams’ score captures this vibe — the later films, though their scores are very good, do not. But the soundtrack of the first two video games, by Jeremy Soule (the same person who did Skyrim) absolutely nails it. This, right here, is Harry Potter’s vibe, condensed and distilled:

youtube

This is why I feel invalidated by the common advice “just read another book.” I have read other books. I’ve read plenty of other books, many of which are wonderfully written and have left an impact on me. But there’s still only one Harry Potter. To date, there’s only other book that has filled me with a similarly intense longing for a fictional place, and that is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. That book deliberately prioritized atmosphere over everything else in the story, and actually lampshades this in-universe. The Night Circus has a plot and it has characters, but it’s not about its plot or characters. It’s about the setting and its atmosphere. It swallows you up and transports you to a fictional place that is so evocative and so magical that you just have to be part of it or you’ll die. And even then, The Night Circus has a different kind of vibe from Harry Potter. In this particular capacity, there’s nothing else like Harry Potter.

The thing is, I don’t think Rowling was being as deliberate as Erin Morgenstern. (In fact, given many of Rowling’s recent statements, I question how many of her creative choices were deliberated at all.) She was throwing random magical stuff into the background without thinking too hard about it, which works when you’re writing a kids’ story, but stops working when you try to age it up. Actually, scratch that — soft worldbuilding is definitely not just for kids! The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system, for crying out loud, and Tolkien is the original archmage of worldbuilding. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that prioritizing atmosphere over meticulousness is bad worldbuilding. That is a valid way to worldbuild! Not everything needs to be clearly explained, not everything needs to make sense. The problem is that Harry Potter doesn’t balance it well. Certain things do have to be explained in order for the magic to play an active role in the story (and the setting of a magic school lends itself to that kind of explanation), but no rules are ever established for the kinds of magic that need rules. When you begin thinking about the rules, you’re no longer just enjoying the magic for what it is. At worst, you begin running up against the Willing Suspension of Disbelief.

It wasn’t actually the “aging up” of the story that did it in, per se, but rather, the introduction of realism. The early books were heavily stylized, and the later books were less so. A heavily stylized story can more easily maintain the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. That’s why, for example, you don’t ask why the characters are singing in a musical — you just sort of accept the story’s outlandish internal logic, and the inherent melodrama of it doesn’t take you out of the story. Stylized stories are more concerned with being emotionally consistent over being logically consistent. The later Harry Potter books changed their emotional tone, but without changing the worldbuilding style to compensate.

In addition to the more mature themes and darker tone, Harry Potter introduced more realism as it went, but Rowling did not have the worldbuilding chops to pull this off. There’s the basic magic system stuff: When you begin thinking about it too hard, something like a Time-Turner stops being a fun magical device, and starts threatening to break the entire story. Then there’s the characters: Dumbledore leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the first book is an age-old fairy tale trope that goes unquestioned, but with the introduction of realism in the later books, it suddenly becomes abandonment of a child to an abusive family. The exaggerated stereotypes of characters like the Dursleys become tone-deaf. The fun school rivalry of the House system is suddenly lacking in nuance. And then there’s the shift in tone: The wizarding world that we were introduced to as a marvellous place is revealed to be dystopian. You start thinking about how impractical things like owl messengers are, you start wondering if Slytherin is being unjustly punished, the bad history appears glaringly obvious, the quaint archaisms become dangerously regressive. Oh, and the grand feasts are made through slave labor! The wizarding world suddenly feels small and backward instead of grand and marvellous. J.K. Rowling’s bigotry throws it all into an even harsher light.

This is why I’ve always preferred the early books and films to the later ones. There’s a lot of things I like about the later ones, but they’re not as stylized — they don’t have The Vibe. Thinking about things too hard is just a necessary condition of adulthood, but it’s still possible to tell a dark, mature story that is highly stylized. I really think JKR could have better pulled off that shift if she was a more competent worldbuilder. But it is painfully obvious that she did not think things through, and probably didn’t understand why she had to. In her defense, she did not know that her story would end up being one of the most scrutinized of all time. As it stands, her strength in worldbuilding was in the softer, smaller, deliberately unexplained moments of magic that were there just to provide atmosphere. And there were less and less of those as the books went along.

Pretty much all the Harry Potter-related content released since the last film — including Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Legacy, Magic Awakened, and that short-lived Pokemon Go thing — have been unsuccessful attempts at recreating The Vibe. In fact, the only piece of supplemental Potter content that I think had that Vibe down pat was the original Pottermore, back when it was more of an interactive game. And of course that got axed. That was right around the time things started going downhill.

Some of the art from Pottermore’s original Sorting quiz.

So what now? Well, that’s the question.

I think I can safely say that The Vibe was the reason I liked Harry Potter. It’s the thing I still like the most about it. I’ve spent years chasing it, like an elusive Patronus through a dark wood. If I can capture and distill that Vibe, and use drops of it in my own work, then perhaps I won’t need Harry Potter anymore.

I'm gonna write the story that I wish Harry Potter was, and when I'm a famous author, I won't become a bigot. I'll see you on the other side.

134 notes · View notes

auras-moonstone · 1 year ago

Note

Hey,

Can you write a mini story of Jack and the reader. And can the trope be a fake dating for the media. Also can you the reader as an actress as well. And during their fake dating fling, they developed their feelings for each other but weren’t that sure to admit. So Jack calls it off and starts dating another girl. Later on, he realizes he still has feelings for the reader. And you can write the ending, please surprise me!

hi! i love this trope😫 hope you enjoy it🤍!

lost in translation — jack champion

word count: 2,944

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jack are working on a rom-com together and are asked to fake date. feelings bloom and jack calls it off, breaking y/n’s heart and, as collateral damage, their friendship.

author’s note: this is me claiming my love for louis partdrige (he’s so pretty😫) and lynn painter (read her books she’s amazing)

Y/N HAD ALWAYS BEEN A BIG ROMCOM LOVER, SO WHEN SHE GOT THE ROLE OF LIZ ON THE ADAPTATION OF BETTER THAN THE MOVIES, SHE WAS ON CLOUD NINE. She met Jack (the boy who was going to play Wes, her love interest) on the chemistry read and the director instantly fell in love with their dynamic, and that’s how they got the role.

During the shooting, Y/N and Jack developed a close friendship. But the fans of the well-known rom-com book started shipping them even when the content the community managers shared was very scarce—just a few pictures of them on their breaks or during the filming, and some bloopers. The whole media kept talking about them, about how good they looked together, how their chemistry transcended the screen; and so the people involved in the publicity of the movie made a decision.

“You want us to what?” Y/N asked dumbfounded.

“To fake-date. The press tour is about to start, and we think you two dating can really boost the excitement for the movie” the head of publicity stated. “We can’t actually make you do it, as it wasn’t originally in the contract, but we think this is a great idea. The people love you”.

Y/N looked at Jack, who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since the suggestion. “Jack? What do you think?”.

“Can we talk about it? Alone?” he asked to the man in front of them, who reluctantly nodded before leaving the office. “I honestly don’t know shit about publicity, but if they think it’s going to help, then we should do it”.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Jack nodded “It’s you the one who doesn’t seem sure”.

“I don’t have a problem with fake dating you, I just don’t want our friendship to become weird or anything, because I value it a lot” Y/N told him. Jack’s heart broke, knowing how hard it was for her to establish friendships after her old friends started acting weird and became more interested in the events she could take them to rather than in her well-being and life. He knew he was one of her only real friends and now felt bad she had been put in such a spot.

“Hey, no. It won’t, it’ll be just like when we were filming, right? Just that we will do it in public” Jack tried to reassure her, pulling her into a hug.

“Okay… let’s just promise that if we get uncomfortable or if it’s becoming too much, we’ll be honest with each other and call this thing off, okay? Our friendship is way more important that the publicity” she said, looking him in the eyes.

Jack smiled, and showed her his little finger “I pinky promise”. Y/N laughed, wrapping her pinky with his.

And so their fake relationship began, not knowing that no promises could stop the feelings that were meant to evolve.

THEY COULDN’T REALLY TELL THE EXACT MOMENT EVERYTHING CHANGED. The shift in their relationship was so natural and gradual that they almost didn’t notice.

Everything was done more often—dates, kisses, hand holding—, physical touch seemed to be a need now—it could be just intertwined fingers or his arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers around his waist—, longing glances when the other wasn’t looking, eyes drifting to each other’s lips everytime one of them was talking. They even had dates out of the public sight—even though none of them called it a ‘date’, they simply convinced theirselves it was a friendly hang out. They slept at each other’s houses, waking up the following day with Jack’s arms draped around her waist while her back was pressed against his front or, their personal favorite, Y/N’s head on his chest and arms around his torso while Jack’s was wrapped around her shoulders pressing her more against his chest.

So yes, it was so slow and felt so natural that it took them time to realize they had fallen for each other. Both of them had completely different reactions—while Y/N decided she was going to take a risk and confess her feelings, Jack’s fears blinded him. It’s not that he didn’t want to admit his feelings, but everytime the option of confessing crossed his mind the words she spoke came to him: “I just don’t want our friendship to become weird or anything, because I value it a lot”. Y/N had been so scared of their friendship being ruined because of the fake dating thing, Jack knew keeping his feelings hidden was the best option. But also, he couldn’t keep hurting himself and that was exactly what he was doing by pretending to be her boyfriend when he wanted it to be real.

Friday came around, meaning it was their sleepover day. They had just finished eating the spaghetti Y/N made, and were about to choose a movie to watch when Jack decided to speak up at the same time Y/N opened her mouth to confess.

“Oh, sorry. You can tell me” Jack told her. Y/N shook her head, signalling him to go ahead. “I have been thinking and I think we should call the fake dating thing off”.

Y/N’s mouth was open, yet no words came out of it. She had been thinking for days what the best way to express her feelings for him would be. She had a whole speech planned and was now left speechless.

“Oh… okay, if you feel is the best thing” she faked her best smile, while trying not to fall apart right in front of his eyes. “I just… need to ask, is everything okay? I mean, this is very sudden”.

“I just feel this is becoming too much, and you said we should be honest with each other” he simply answered.

Y/N nodded playing with the remote control in her hand. It was clear, he felt uncomfortable being her fake boyfriend because he only saw her as a friend. “Right, yeah. Thank you for telling me, then. We should talk to the head of publicity tomorrow. The press tour is almost over, so there shouldn’t be any problem”

“Cool” Jack nodded. He should’ve felt relieved that she took it so well, but instead, he felt sad. Maybe even disappointed in the fact that she didn’t fight the decision. And he also felt angry at himself for expecting so much of her part when it wasn’t her fault that he had fallen for her and she didn’t feel the same.

Jack had wanted to save their friendship so bad, he didn’t realize that the conversation had been the first crack in the glass.

Y/N REALLY DID TRY TO NOT LET THE CIRCUMSTANCES INFLUENCE THEIR FRIENDSHIP, BUT THEY WERE SLOWLY DRIFTING APART. The texts were becoming less frequent and drier, the hang outs were brief and filled with awkwardness and so were their conversations.

The publicists thanked all the gods that the press tour was over, because they had never seen two people have less chemistry than Jack and Y/N. It was so hard for everyone to comprehend how two people whose eyes used to spark when they were around the other suddenly became lifeless.

But their breaking point came a few weeks later, it was the thing that made them stop talking for good. No more texting at all, no hanging out—alone or in public—no conversations, no looking at each other, no interactions at all.

Y/N was watching a movie with her friends, Millie and Louis, when Millie suddenly gasped. Y/N and Louis laughed “Mills, if you are with your phone while we’re watching a movie at least be discreet” the girl said, but Millie didn’t laugh or apologise, she just stared at her with saddened eyes, which made Y/N frown. “Is everything okay?”.

“When was the last time you opened social media?” she asked, while Louis took her phone to see what she was looking at.

Y/N saw him clench his jaw, which made her feel more confused “Um, I barely use my phone anymore, just to text… why? You’re scaring me, guys” she laughed nervously, trying to take a peek at the phone but Louis hid it quickly “Lou, give me the phone”.

The boy sitting next to her shook his head “It’s not the best idea”.

“Tell me what is going on, please. You’re making me anxious” Y/N’s voice was almost begging.

Millie sighed “It’s a picture someone took of Jack… he’s with a girl. They are… holding hands and exiting a restaurant”.

“Let me see” Y/N said extending her hand, but Louis just refused to do it. “Louis. Phone. Now”.

“Come on, Y/N/N, don’t be a masochist” Louis told her.

“I’m just going to see it on my phone later, so what you’re trying to do is useless” Y/N pointed out.

Louis sighed in defeat and gave her Millie’s phone. Y/N stared at the picture—Jack was looking as gorgeous as ever and her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She missed him so fucking much, she hadn’t heard his voice in days (now she knew why, he was too busy). And then her eyes trailed to the girl holding his hand. She was very pretty—tall, long legs, blonde, muscular, stylish—and Y/N couldn’t help but compare herself with her.

“Stop it, I know what you’re doing and just don’t” Louis said, turning the phone off. “You’re gorgeous and way too good for him. It’s his loss, and he doesn’t deserve you”.

Y/N broke down for the first time in weeks, her feelings had been bottled up and the glass that held them inside finally exploded. Louis quickly put his arms around her, and Millie joined them in a heartbeat.

“I still have the fucking premiere” she cried harder when she remembered “What if- what if he goes with her? I can’t go”.

“Are you kidding me? You’re not going to miss the premiere. You work so hard for this! It’s your favorite rom-com and you are the main protagonist!” Millie said. “This is your dream. And you’re not going to let this ruin it”.

“I know, Mills. But I won’t be able to handle it. He’s going to be there, and even if she’s not there, I know he’s with her and looking at him knowing that will kill me” Y/N said, brushing away the tears. “Besides I can’t face that alone”.

“You’re not going to be alone. I’ll go with you” Louis offered.

“You actually had a great idea for once!” Millie exclaimed, making Louis roll his eyes and Y/N let out a little laugh. “Lou will be there for moral support, and you won’t feel alone. But you are definitely not going to miss your premiere”.

“Thank you, guys. I love you”

JACK’S MIND HAD BEEN A MESS LATELY. Y/N stopped responding his texts, it’s been two weeks with no signs of her. He would’ve been worried if he hadn’t seen the instagram stories her friends, Millie and Louis, posted with her. So it didn’t take a genius to realize she was ignoring him on purpose, and he didn’t have a clue why. He missed her so much, it was driving him insane. Jack wanted to go back to that night and take back everything he had said, they still would be fine if he hadn’t opened his mouth.

Jack thought that by cutting off the deal, they would go back to being friends and his feelings would have eventually faded away. He even started dating a girl he meet at the gym, but Y/N lingered on his mind all day, every day. And when the day of the premiere came, his eyes searched for her figure as soon as he arrived to the red carpet.

Jack’s smile widened when he saw her. She looked absolutely breathtaking—as always—but then his smile fell when he realized she was with someone else.

“Can you at least be a little less obvious?” Kate asked.

“Sorry” Jack apologised. “Thank you for coming with me, even after our breakup”.

“It isn’t a break up if we weren’t really together. It was just a couple of dates to benefit the other. You needed to get your mind off her, I needed to get my mind off my ex” she answered. “Although I have to say, I don’t know if me coming was the best idea”.

“Maybe not” Jack said, stopping for a picture “I just couldn’t face it alone”.

“He’s with her” Y/N said to Louis, faking smiles as the photographers flashed their cameras at them.

“I know. I’ve been feeling his stare ever since we arrived” Louis replied. “He’s totally jealous, I can feel it”.

Y/N shook her head “You’re speaking nonsense”

“Nope, I know what I’m talking about. And I get it, you’re looking incredibly stunning and you have an eye-candy with extremely good bone-structure on your arm”

“And with a big ego” she added with a laugh. “Let’s go, eye candy”.

“Don’t you need to take pictures with him?” Louis asked in a whisper as they approached Jack and his date.

“Yeah” Y/N sighed, chest tightening as they reached them. “Hi” she greeted, looking at Jack—who looked beyond handsome—and then set her eyes on the girl next to him. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you”.

“Kate” she greeted with a smile “And we both not that’s a lie” Kate laughed, surprising her. “It’s okay. Just, take the pictures and please, for the love of god, talk to each other!”

“Hi, I’m Louis and I’m very confused” the tall boy next to Y/N spoke up. “But I agree with the last part” he added, then looked at his friend “I’ll see you later to see the movie, okay? Let’s go…”

“Kate” the blonde girl reminded him as they walked away.

The two teenagers looked at each other, not knowing what to say. “We should… pose for the picture maybe?” Y/N broke the silence.

Jack nodded nervously “Yeah, yeah”.

He put his hand on her waist, and they both tensed. It had been so long since they were this close, their skin felt like burning and their hearts were beating at a dangerous rhythm. They only posed for a couple of seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. But once it was over, the awkwardness came back.

“Let’s go inside, our dates are waiting” she spoke up.

They entered the place, but as Y/N began to walk away, Jack’s hand grabbed hers making her stop in her tracks. “No. We need to talk first”.

“Jack, the movie is starting in a few minutes”

“A few minutes is all I need. I—we—can’t go on like this” Jack said. “I’m sorry. If I’m being honest, I don’t know exactly what I did, but I’m sorry for not trying hard enough to save our friendship”.

“That’s the thing, Jack. It isn’t your fault, it’s all on me. I’m the one who drifted apart because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings” Y/N let her guard down, willing to be completely honest. After all, their friendship was already dead.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked confused.

“I love you, Jack. I- I wanted to tell you. In fact, I planned on telling you during our last sleep over but-“

“But I called our deal off” he finished, cursing himself.

Y/N nodded “I understood that acting as my boyfriend was too much for you, because you only saw me as a friend. But I just couldn’t go back to being just your friend, I tried for a while but it was really hard. And then, you started dating her and… it killed me. I just couldn’t talk to you knowing you had someone else”.

Jack shook his head, wanting to laugh at the situation “The reason I called it off is because I fell for you, Y/N/N. I didn’t think you felt the same, and I knew how important our friendship was to you. I wanted to protect it, but instead I messed it up”

Y/N looked at him with her mouth open, and then laughed drily “Really? All this time we felt the same thing and we ruined it because we got lost in translation?” she said in a tone of disbelief “And now it’s already too late”.

“What? Why?” Jack asked surprised. “I still love you… you don’t love me anymore?”

“Of course I love you Jack, but you have a girlfriend”

“Kate is not my girlfriend. She never was” Jack told her.

“I saw the pictures, Jack”

“We went to a couple of dates, we both needed to get our minds off the people we loved. But we stopped once we realized how silly it was, we’re just friends” he explained. Jack took one step closer to her until her back touched the wall behind her “I love you and I want to be your boyfriend… that is if you aren’t dating Louis”.

Y/N laughed, her smile now impossible to erase “No, he came as a friend”

Jack smiled in relief “So…”

“So, boyfriend, we should get inside, our dates are waiting” Y/N said, a teasing smile on her face.

Jack laughed “Can I kiss you first?”

“I’m begging you” she said, grabbing the collar of his suit to push him down. Their lips met in the middle and they both smile through it “I missed this, I missed you”.

“God, I missed you too. You have no idea” he said, kissing her harder.

“Hey, this is a family friendly place” Louis’ voice interrupted them “Get inside, love birds, your movie is about to start”.

Jack and Y/N looked at each other with lovey smiles and, hand in hand, they entered the theatre to see the movie that brought them together.

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jack champion fluff #jack champion x reader #jackchampion #jack champion imagine #jack champion oneshot #ethan landry #louis partridge #millie bobby brown #better than the movies #liz buxbaum #wes and liz #wes bennett #jack champion fanfic

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writingsfromhome · 4 months ago

Text

Things to Learn II

A/N: I kind of love writing these characters? tsm for the love on the original I’m glad I got to dive back into their story again. I’m starting a taglist so if you’d like to be on it give me a shout :)

Part 1 / 2 / 3 /

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Harry rushes out of the toilets so he doesn’t miss the opening scene and nearly crashes into someone standing around the corner.

“Sorry!” He says as he tries to rush on by.

“Harry!?” The person calls his name.

He stops in his tracks and takes a look at who he just bumped into. And of course, it would be her.

“YN,” he swallows the lump forming in his throat. “Hi-uh what are you doing here?”

“Watching a movie?” She raises a brow. Still the same attitude as before.

“Oh! Right. Yeah. Me too-“

“Which movie are you here for?”

“The Planet of the Apes reruns,” Harry points to the door he so badly wants to walk through. As much as he wanted to stand here and talk to YN, have her attention all to himself, he wanted to watch the movie he came here for more.

“Well I’m here for that new romcom but Raina ditched me to go to that riverbank bonfire bullshit everyone’s talking about. But I hate smelling like campfire afterwards plus I already bought popcorn-“

“Didn’t that movie start 15 minutes ago?” Harry notices she’s standing in front of the poster. Why was she hovering outside?

“Well yeah because I’m wondering if I should be the loser inside watching a romcom by herself.”

Harry doesn’t know if he should be offended—he regularly watched movies by himself during the summer when he had nothing else to do. But then he realizes YN and her opinions weren’t something he took offence to ever since he put down his intellectually superior flag.

“Well I’m here with Caleb if you want to-“

“Bloody hell I was waiting for you to get the hint,” she brushes past Harry and he trails behind, confused.

“You wanted to watch Planet of the Apes?”

“No! I just didn’t want to watch a movie by myself. And you were supposed to invite me.”

“Oh,” these were the social rules Harry often missed. It was sort of nice having YN spell it out for him. “You could have just said-“

“Shh,” she shushes him as they enter the theatre.

Harry was pleased at the way Caleb’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of YN.

“I thought you were going to the toilet?” He whispers loudly.

“I was but she-“ Harry cuts off as someone in front turns around with a dirty look. The movie hadn’t even started.

YN sits beside Harry and begins snacking on her popcorn. She hogs the armrest and he lets her, and when she pulls out her sweets and offers it to Harry and his friend they end up swapping most of their snacks. Despite being distracted at first he has a really fun time with the two of them.

Outside in the lobby after the movie is done, YN hesitates after throwing out her trash. It looks like she was wondering if she should stick around or not.

“Thanks,” she finally tells Harry. “Let’s not do this again though.”

“You joined us,” Harry reminds her. She eyes both him and Caleb.

“Yeah, exactly?” She says with a hand on her hip.

“I’m j’saying we weren’t the ones ditched here,” Harry says before he could stop himself. Her pleasant expression falls and Harry can see Caleb concentrate on something far away. Coward.

“Firstly I was invited to join the party but like I said I don’t like smelling like campfire. Secondly, just cuz I told you I was ditched doesn’t make you-“

“Um, I gotta go.” Caleb pipes in from behind. Both Harry and YN turn to him and he almost shrinks. “My ride is here um…”

“See ya later,” Harry cups his hand and Caleb bolts out faster than a cat seeing a dog.

“You were saying?” Harry turns back to YN.

“Look,” she points to the other theatre, the one she’d been standing in front of when Harry bumped into her. “The next showing starts in a bit.”

Harry stares, trying to figure out what she was asking.

“We could watch it?”

“I thought we shouldn’t do this again?”

“Shut up,” she starts walking away.

“Isn’t this illegal?” Harry catches up to her. “I don’t even want to watch this movie.”

“Actually you do,” she grabs his arm and pulls him up the stairs even though he’s following her anyway. Harry tries not to focus on the exact part of his arm she’s touching but it feels warmer than usual. “And secondly nobody is going to kick us out. It doesn’t even matter, do something illegal once in a while.”

Harry follows along with her and they end up having a lot more fun at the second movie. He actually finds it funny and it reminds him of watching these during the holidays with his sister and mum. YN leans her head on his shoulder during an emotional scene and Harry feels like he’s made of clay until she takes it off and laughs at the next scene.

“You had fun, admit it!” YN says as they walk out of the theatre. It was close to midnight now and Harry was planning on walking home.

“Maybe!” Harry doesn’t.

“Liar,” she skips ahead of him. “Secretly you thought my romcom was a lot cooler than your Ape movie.”

“Planet of the Apes, and you enjoyed that one.”

“I’m not denying it,” she shrugs. “C’mon I know you’ve got a sister don’t you watch romcoms with her?”

Harry seems disturbed by the idea, “Not that sort. We watch holiday ones during Christmas but-“

“Oh my god like the Holiday?”

“Yeah I’ve seen that a billion times. And there’s one with Keira Knightley-“

“Oh I bet there is,” she nudges him and Harry blushes. “She does seem your type.”

“Yeah and you probably love Jude Law in The Holiday.”

“Well yeah he’s alright,” she pouts her mouth and doesn’t finish her sentence.

“No way,” Harry laughs. “It’s not Jude Law.”

“You know who’s peng? Tom Hardy. There’s a man I’d watch in a romcom over and over.”

“What?” Harry didn’t know who that was but now he was curious.

“Yeah. You should look him up. Anyway, my ride’s gonna be here any minute so I’m staying here.”

“Oh. Yeah right.” Harry thought they were walking home together but she stays near the closest bus shelter. “Well bye.”

“Bye,” she waves him off.

He doesn’t think he’d see her again that summer. But the next morning she sends him a text saying it was fun and he should come over some time to broaden his romcom education. He thinks she’s joking but the following Tuesday she shows up at his house with DVDs and Percys and although Harry’s mum is surprised to see a girl friend at the house, she orders them pizza and his family gives him the den all to themselves.

After watching two movies back to back and feeling sick from all the junk they’ve consumed they lay on the floor. As evening falls through the wispy curtains of his front window Harry asks YN about her summer and uni. She’s cagey and likes to turn questions around on him but it’s nice talking to her like that with most of her guard down. It almost feels like they’re friends.

***

YN shows up at Harry’s house after dinner. His butt is glued down on his sofa ready to settle into a night of playing video games but the ringing at the door interrupts him.

“Harry!” His sister calls out from somewhere. He was closest to the door and on his way there he peeks through the curtains of the den to see a familiar head of hair. In a cap.

“Hey!” She walks right in.

“Hey…” Harry looks at her get-up: a tanktop and gauzy skirt paired with the trainers she always wore.

“Oh YN,” Harry’s mum pokes her head down from the staircase. “You haven’t been around in a while how are things?”

“Hi Mrs. Styles.” YN was always the perfect angel in front of his parents but his mum was right, it had been a couple weeks since she came by. “I’m good! I’ve been working a few shifts at the shop I do summers at. I had the day off I’m trying to convince Harry to come out with me.”

She was, Harry thought. And she had a summer job?

He’s reminded that no matter how much closer they got, she was always somewhat of a mystery.

“Oh where are you heading out?” Harry’s mum walks down a few steps and sits down.

“There’s a get-together of some of our school friends. Harry never shows up to these things so-“

“Harry,” his mum joins in. “You should go!”

“I never even said no, jeez!” Harry grows flustered.

“But he was totally going to,” YN says to his mum. She laughs and Harry feels peer-pressured.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

“Well be safe,” his mum gets back up. “Make good decisions.”

Harry glares at YN when his mum clears the area and she smiles sweetly back at him.

“Oops.”

“For the record I don’t want to go.”

“Exactly,” she smiles. “Now where’s your room we need to put you in something better than that.”

He was in very comfortable sweatpants and a tee. By the time he was leaving he was in was a short sleeved button-up layered over the same tee and shorts he didn’t even know he owned. She’d forced him to take his glasses off and wear contacts then ruffled his hear with gel and she’d been so close every one of Harry’s senses had been hyper-tuned to her. YN had been oblivious.

“I can’t find my phone,” Harry pats his pockets down as they go downstairs.

“Just leave without it! We’re gonna be late!”

“Can you just call it?” Harry’s halfway up the steps. “I can’t leave without it.”

YN rolls her eyes and calls it. It rings from the den and she walks towards it.

“Seriously?” She walks back out. “You never changed my name?”

Future Prime Minister YN with a heart. It had stayed the same since their group project.

“I guess not,” Harry suddenly feels even more self conscious.

“You can keep the heart,” she goes into his contacts after holding his phone up to his face.

“Hey I never said you could go in!”

“Shush!” She smirks as she updates her name. “There.”

“You don’t want to change the photo?” Harry asks and sighs at her new name: HRH 💖

“No time. Let’s go!” She pushes him out the door.

“I’m going I’m going!” Harry closes the door behind him and they set off down the road.

“You’re so lucky your mum’s so chill,” YN says as they walk.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks.

“My mum thinks I’m at Raina’s watching movies or some shite. Your mum actually like, encouraged you to go out. She didn’t even give you a curfew.”

“Well I never do this,” Harry replies. “What is this anyway.”

“Another bonfire-“

“Does Raina do those like every week?” Harry remembered something about this that night they bumped into each other at the cinema.

“No,” YN says, offended that he would criticize her friend in any way. “The guy she’s seeing right now knows a guy. They do them like a couple times a month. If they did it every week don’t you think someone would catch on?”

Harry shrugs.

“Anyway, you have a decent closet why do you always dress so…boring?”

“I don’t dress boring,” Harry shoves his hand into his pockets. “I’m just comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” she points out.

Harry eyes her outfit again, she looked nice and her legs looked particularly nice in the skirt. Harry looks up in the silence he’d just created to find YN staring at him with a raised brow.

“Had a good look?” She punches his arm.

“Ow,” Harry rubs his arm but he deserved it. He’d been oggling. But ever since she’d gotten into his face to run her gelled fingers through his hair, and the cloud of her shampoo or perfume whatever it was closed in around him he’s having a hard time not glancing at her every opportunity.

“Have you got anyone you’re seeing?” Harry asks.

“Nope,” she pops her p. “With uni starting I didn’t really want to let a guy distract me and fuck with my feelings.”

“Wow,” it slips out of Harry’s mouth.

“What?” She narrows her eyes. “And we’re going right here.”

They turn the corner and she asks Harry again what his reaction meant.

“Nothing. I’m just surprised you’re not having a summer fling or something.”

“God Harry, do you think I just date boys to get off or something? I’ve barely had a boyfriend-“

She cuts herself off.

“What?” Harry missed what happened.

“Nothing.”

“Aw c’mon you can’t say ‘nothing’ now,” Harry pushes. After knowing YN this long, she was still scary, but he’d learned where and how to poke at her to get more answers without getting his head bitten off. “You’ve dated plenty of guys.”

“For someone with his nose in a book all the time you claim to know a lot about who I’m dating.”

“It’s hard not to miss what everyone’s talking about.”

“So you believe all the rumours? In that case it’s probably true you cried your first time.”

“What?!” Harry flushes. “Who said that?”

“But rumours are true right?”

“Fine. You just always had one of the football blokes nearby I just-“

“So you just thought I dated the whole team?”

Fuck, Harry realizes he’d screwed up when she starts to speed walk away. He’d spoken before thinking about what it might sound like from her end.

She starts to walk ahead and Harry fastens his pace to catch up. He reaches out and clasps her shoulder. “YN wait I’m sorry. I didn’t think-“

“Whatever,” she brushes his hand off.

He felt awful. He tries again, grabbing her arm this time and she comes to a stop.

“I’m sorry!” He says again. “Just forget I said anything.”

He’s surprised to see her teary eyes when she turns to him.

“What?” She snaps. “Never seen a girl cry before?”

“No I just—I didn’t mean to make you cry-“

“Oh you didn’t make my cry don’t worry,” she huffs. “I just hate how everyone in school always judges me based on their own fucking insecurities.”

Harry pauses, it was true. And he knew YN was only as cutting as she was so she could be taken seriously—so nobody would walk all over her just because she was a girl. He shouldn’t have made that comment, he knew that. He knew better but apparently he still had things to learn.

“I shouldn’t have judged you like that,” Harry mumbles. “I knew better.”

Her mouth parts slightly, YN wasn’t expecting Harry to say a combination of words that actually sounded better than an apology. She forgives him, but she doesn’t let him know.

“Well…you can make it up to me.” YN threads her arm through Harry’s. At first he doesn’t quite know what to do—despite their budding friendship YN rarely showed any affection or even friendliness in public. This was different.

“How? That sounds a bit sinister.”

“You’re going to get drunk with me. I’ve never seen you drunk before, and I want to be able to have embarrassing pictures of you to use next time you make me upset.”

“No way!” Harry unthreads his hand, regretting the decision a little.

“So you’re just gonna go to a party and watch everyone else drink? Your mum would be disappointed!”

“Trust me my mum doesn’t want me to get drunk,” Harry corrects her. “And I don’t drink for a reason. It really doesn’t take much to get tipsy.”

“Really?” YN eyes him. “But you’re tall.”

Harry shrugs, suddenly his heart thuds in his chest as he catches sight of the smoke of the bonfire. This was real—he was actually going to a class party with YN as his company. He had no friends there. This wasn’t his scene. What was he thinking?

“Have we got to do-“

“We’re going,” YN takes his hand and drags it the rest of the way. “We’re going to uni next year and you’re not going to be a party virgin.”

“I’ve been to parties!”

“What? D&D parties?” YN snorts. “You’re going to an outdoor party with drinks and getting drunk. I want you to let loose. Show everyone Harry the nerd is kind of funny?”

“Kind of?” Harry tugs her hand back. “You snorted at my jokes a couple weeks ago.”

YN looks back at him and Harry’s breath is momentarily caught in his throat. The light of the bonfire reflects in her eyes that crinkle at the corners as she looks at him. She has an amused smile fixed on her face. She’s relaxed completely, unguarded.

He wanted more of that, he realizes.

“Oi it’s about time!” Someone notices YN and waves her down. Harry’s forced to follow. “Brought a date did you?”

“Not my date,” YN rolls her eyes.

The group, amongst whom most had been in a lot of his classes, simply stare at him expecting a name or something. Blimey, he realizes nobody recognized him. YN did a good job with her makeover.

“Good,” one particular bloke—tall with a shaggy overgrown mop of hair peels away from the group and slides his arm around YN. She distances herself in one languid move and continues on.

“Are you lot alright?” YN asks. “It’s Harry?”

“Hey Harry,” a few of them say with a removed friendliness. They still couldn’t place him. Harry would have been offended if this wasn’t the last summer he would see them all.

“Okay?” YN turns to Harry with her eyebrow raised and a joke in her eyes like they were on the ins of something together. It warms Harry’s chest with a gentle ease.

“Harry,” shaggy-hair says. “How d’you two know each other?”

“I’m gonna show Har to the drinks,” YN continues ignoring the guy. Harry’s dying to know who that is. “Anyone seen Raina?”

“She was over there a little while ago,” someone motions towards the fire.

This satisfies YN enough. She turns, “Drinks

“Yeah,” Harry feels lighter being here knowing nobody really recognized him. Like he could be anyone. Maybe he was getting a taste of what being at uni would feel like. He liked it.

He asks YN who that guy was when they get enough distance.

“Oh him? We went out a few times, hooked up at a couple parties. He seems to think that means I want him around at any given moment but he’s a bit clingy.”

A bit was an understatement but Harry stays quiet.

“He looks old.”

She laughs, “Yeah maybe cause he’s 21?”

“What’s he doing with a bunch of teens?” Harry asks, puzzled.

“Oh Har,” YN pats his shoulder and laughs. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Just one drink,” Harry insists.

But after downing the disgustingly hoppy beer YN hands him Harry starts to feel even better being here. Nobody recognizes him, he has YN keeping him company (after she goes to Raina for a bit and comes back grumbling about her new boyfriend), and the energy at the party starts to really take off as someone turns on a playlist and people really start to mingle.

“So you excited about uni?” YN asks. They’re both sitting on a large rock. Yn has her knees tucked into her and her cheek rests on top. She seemed down after coming back from Raina.

“Yeah!” Harry says. “Finally get some bloody freedom, away from this place.”

“This place?” She slides her cheek across her knees to look at him. She looks beautiful, Harry thinks, before sliding his eyes away. It was still hard for him to maintain eye contact with her despite all the evenings they spent together.

“School. These people.”

“Hey they didn’t even recognize you today,” she chuckles. “I did a good job.”

She reached out and brushes one of his curls. Harry inadvertently leans in closer to her.

“I look the exact same,” Harry scoffs.

“No without those big ass glasses you actually look different.”

“Call me Clark Kent then.”

“Clark Kent.”

Harry looks at YN with an are-you-serious expression and she laughs.

“I didn’t actually mean to call me Clark-“

“I know,” she says softly. “I’m trying to annoy you.”

“That’s not hard to do.”

“Hey!” She punches him lightly. “That’s mean. You’re mean when you’re drinking.”

“No I’m not,” was he? He was just being himself here.

“No…you’re not,” she agrees. “But you’re honest. Anyway, you’re living on campus right? That’s lucky.”

“Why don’t you?” Harry asks.

“I can’t,” YN turns her face away again. “I’ve got to stay at home. Things are…complicated. So I’ve just got to commute.”

“Do you think we’ll hang out at uni?” Harry asks and then flushes as he realizes he said it out loud.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t we?”

Harry shrugs. “We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“Look at us now,” she leans into him, nudging his shoulder, and the warmth of her pressed into him is a balm to his melancholy. “We’re not gonna have the same labels in uni. Nobody knows us. We just get to be ourselves.”

“I hope so.” Harry says. “Should I get another drink?”

“Really?” YN sits up. “You want another?”

“Yeah!” Harry suddenly feels energized. “Why fucking not?!”

“Alright!” She hops off and he follows. “You also swear a lot more when you drink. It’s funny.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes immediately.

“Don’t be, I like it.” She says and Harry’s heart skips a beat. He floats the rest of the way to the drinks.

He downs half of another beer before he’s recruited to do a keg stand. He’s pretty sure it’s YN’s pretty-boy that jostles him into that crowd. He’d never done one before and YN tries to pull him away but tipsy and brave he gets instructions and allows two strangers to hold him up while he drinks what feels like the equivalent to the Thames.

The boys standing around cheer him on when he stands back up with the longest time out of everyone tonight. If he was anything, Harry was a winner. And he feels powerful: he’s actually seen and celebrated tonight for doing something as stupid as a keg stand. Why didn’t he do this more in school?

“Make way for the goat!” One of the guys shouts.

“You’re all wankers!” Harry shouts. “I just owned you all!”

“Harry,” YN’s hand clasps his and while he shouts celebrations back to the guys he’s dragged away by her.

“It’s Harry right?” A girl he’s never seen before stops YN on her trek to get him far away from the drinks. “I’m Marva.”

“Marva!” Harry pulls his hand from YN and shakes Marva’s. “Nice to meet you…Mara.”

“Yeah nice to meet you,” she smiles. “You’ve got really nice eyes.”

“Thank you Mara. You have really nice teeth.”

“Fucking hell,” YN mutters then louder she says, “Sorry Marva we gotta go. Maybe you can catch up with-“

“Okay I just wanna say that was sick what you did,” Marva points to the keg.

“I’m king of the keg,” Harry says and YN mumbles something to the side but Harry’s too swept in winning, in getting attention from this beautiful girl, to hear.

“Yeah, uhm could I get your number?”

“Uh,” Harry tries to remember his number but it doesn’t come to him. He should remember his number. Why isn’t it coming to him?

“Or I could give you mine?” She says after Harry stands there silently for an uncomfortable minute.

“Yeah,” Harry hands his phone over but his mind keep trying to push through the slosh to remember his number. Soon enough he’s walking away with YN again. “Why is my number? It’s a set of numbers…”

He’s mumbling, an anxious feeling creeping up his chest as he tries to remember.

“Hey,” YN finally allows him to stop. She senses the panic rising in him and lays a hand on his chest. The buzzing stops immediately. “Harry look at me.”

Harry looks down at YN, she was one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. He wishes he could hold her face for eternity. He would live in peace.

“Hello?” She snaps her fingers. “You’re not blinking are you alright?”

“Probably not!” Harry laughs. “I just got hit on by a gorgeous girl did you see that?”

“Yes,” she rolls her eyes. “She was impressed by your ability to drink upside down. What a catch.”

“I am a catch,” Harry motions to the water behind them. “I’m a fish in the sea.”

“Oh my god,” YN laughs. “You’re ridiculous is what you are. That’s a river I thought you were smart.”

“I’m cool now.”

She brushes his hair again, “give a nerd a new hair style,” she drags her hands over his eyes, “put him in contacts,” she continues tracing her hand down his face to his chest, “put him in new clothes-“

She cuts herself off when Harry grasps her hand against his chest. He was sure she could feel his heart racing inside.

They stare silently at each other, the darkness cushioning them on either side until it feels like they’re the only two beings in the night. Like they’re drifting in the dark, tethered only by hands and gazes.

Harry tilts forward, YN doesn’t move back. So he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers, they’re as soft as he imagined. They’re the best lips he’s ever kissed.

Maybe he imagines it, maybe it was a drunk fantasy, but for a brief second she presses her lips against his; she closes her eyes and kisses him back.

The next second, she’s shoving him backwards and scrambling away. Her look of shock and betrayal cuts right through the fog in his brain.

“What the fuck?” She shouts. “Did-did you just fucking kiss me?”

“I’m sorry!” Harry feels his heart in his throat, why did he think she would ever want to kiss him? She was YN, he was just Harry. “I don’t-I’m not I-“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She wipes the back of her hand against her mouth, adding assault to injury. “Why would you do that?!”

“YN,” Harry stumbles forward but she peddles backward. It’s another punch added, almost deflating him entirely. “I didn’t mean—I’m drunk I’m sorry-“

“Being drunk isn’t a fucking excuse,” she spits.

“I know! I’m sorry!”

“Goddamnit! You’re just like every other asshole of a guy. I thought we were friends! But of course you get drunk and try to kiss me-“

“It’s not like that!” Harry tries to tell her. He was just braver drunk but he’s been in love with her a long time. After hanging out this whole summer he just thought they had a moment there. He read the signs wrong; apparently a bookworm could read wrong.

Maybe he would never be good at this whole people thing.

“Then what?” YN seethes. “Then why the hell—why did you try to kiss me Harry? You don’t even like me why would you kiss me?!”

“I…” he doesn’t know what to say. Of course he liked her. He more than liked her; YN changed his life and he’s starting to like who she makes him be.

But nothing will make this situation better. And the worst part is he feels her slip away, right through his fingers. It’s like one of those jelly toys from when he was a kid; the harder he gripped the easier it slipped away.

“Get fucked Harry,” YN swears. She turns and leaves. She leaves him and he doesn’t think she’ll ever come back.

When the rush of adrenaline subsides Harry empties the contents of his stomach. With his head swimming he picks himself up and finds his way out. With a final glance at the party he’d just felt king of, he spots YN tucked into the body of shaggy-hair and his stomach turns. Why did he ever think she’d want him? Girls like her didn’t end up with guys like him. Why did he ever come to this stupid party in the first place and get drunk? This wasn’t him. Uni or not, maybe he was never meant to change all that much.

***

Harry looks around his half of the dorm he’s just finished putting together with a proud smile. At last the day had come, he had successfully escaped the shackles of school and all its taunting and made it to the uni of his choice. Despite only being a 1.5 hour train ride from home Harry chose to get the full uni experience and live on campus. His life was going to change, he could feel it.

That is, until his roommate walked in.

Messy hair, backwards baseball cap, crewneck and baggy jeans and massive headphones on. Harry already types him in his mind—how the hell did the dorm board pair the two of them together?

“Aw marra,” he holds his hand out sideways and Harry clasps his hand and lets his body gets tugged into his roommate’s bony shoulder. “Harry right?”

“Yeah,” Harry tries to find his balance again. “Roderick?”

“Just Rod yeah,” Roderick throw his duffel bag onto the bed and points behind him. “Give me a hand with the other bags?”

Harry wasn’t much for lifting heavy things but he didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with someone he’d be living with the next year. So he goes.

“When did you get here?” He asks.

“Last night,” Harry wanted to get in before everyone else and avoid the crowds of people. He knew it would be a good way to meet others and make friends—his sister told him the first week was when you made most of them, but he did what we wanted.

Rod barely hears him as they get the last of his bags. “It was packed to shite trying to get in here. Where’d you come in from?”

“London,” Harry answers.

“And you’re staying here? On campus?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to do the commute everyday. Felt like a waste of time.”

“Yeah that’d be crazy.” His roommate agrees.

“What about you?” Harry remembers to ask.

“Sunlun,” he replies. Harry hadn’t heard of it, and reminds himself to look it up later. “I was right ready to lose it driving here. My mam drove me-“

“Oh is she around?” Harry asks.

“No,” Rod laughs. “I’m not starting school trailing after her. But I promised her I’d have a meal with her after moving my—hey you should come!”

Harry has a hard time keeping up with Roderick, despite having longer legs than him he walks as fast as he talks and he talks with an accent that takes a minute to filter through for understanding.

“I couldn’t-“

“No you’re coming,” Rod claps Harry on the back. “She would love seeing that my roommate’s someone like you.”

Someone like you, what did that mean? But on some level Harry knows just by comparing Roderick’s outfit and Harry’s slacks and spotless crewneck.

Harry has no choice but he gets a free meal out of it. Roderick’s mum is sweet and by the end of the meal he understands his roommate a lot better, knows everything about where he’s from—Sunderland, and is invited to “drop by for tea” anytime he’s up north.

Roderick invites Harry to a get-together for first years happening somewhere off campus but Harry feels sensed out and tells him he was calling it a night. Rod looks disappointed but leaves without him. Harry almost feels disappointed in himself. He was supposed to have a different life being in uni, but he didn’t want to make old mistakes and try to be someone he wasn’t.

***

Freshers week is both invigorating and exhausting for Harry as he tries to navigate all of the personalities and social groups without falling back into his usual ways. He attends the talks and the tours, one in which he meets Mikey who was also planning on joining debate club. Harry goes to mixers and breaks so much ice he’s sure he could get a part time job as an ice sculptor.

Harry also attends the workshops and he meets a few more friends there, but mostly when he signs up for clubs he’s interested and goes to their mixers he finds people he clicks with very easily. He doesn’t spot Rod once or anyone else he would have known from school.

On Thursday Harry heads to Newsroom Society Club which was a fancy title for the uni’s reporting club. He has a few new friends he’s made, Florence from one of the workshops and Gabriel who lived in the same hall as Harry as well as Mikey. They were all interested in being part of reporting—the newspaper or the podcast.

Harry stumbles into a projector when he spots her.

“You alright?” Gabriel grabs Harry’s jacket to hold him steady. All eyes are on him as the slideshow on the wall tips off balance and he’s bright as a tomato.

“Yeah I didn’t see that there,” Harry lies.

“Kinda hard to miss,” YN pipes in from where she stands.

Looking at her reminds Harry of the summer. It felt like a dream looking back on it, how they became friends and then quickly drifted off after he stupidly misread her cues and tried to kiss her. Although it was one of the few times he had gotten drunk and he was out of his depth when it happened. But YN had avoided him after that. He knew they were going to the same school but he didn’t think he’d see her this early on.

Harry’s new friends eye YN, assuming she was being rude just because. But when Harry acknowledges her they settles down.

“YN. Hi.” Harry waves awkwardly.

“Harry,” she says coolly.

“You’re here for the paper?”

“The show actually,” YN nods. The girl she’s talking to touches her arm and motions she was heading elsewhere.

“Oh me too,” Florence pipes in. “I’m Florence by the way.”

“I’m Mikey,” his other friend says as if Flo opened a gateway to YN. “I’m also interested in it. Not sure if I’m staying though.”

YN eyes his friends and returns her gaze to Harry. “Neat. I’m YN.”

“You two know each other?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah,” Harry says as YN says “Unfortunately.”

There’s an awkward beat as the group tries to figure out if she’s joking it not. When her lips curl into a small smile and they take the cue to laugh. It amazed Harry how well YN could command a group. Even now.

“Are you going for any other clubs?” Flo continues asking YN.

“I was thinking tennis, I used to play.” YN says and Harry’s surprised to hear that. He’s reminded he didn’t know her much—he never really got to know her that well despite all the time together. She was a closed book on a lot of things. “How about you?”

“Yeah I’m thinking of joining the volunteer committee!”

“Yeah what do they do?” YN asks. “Obviously volunteering but like-“

She doesn’t need to correct herself any further as Flo launched into a onboarding speech about volunteer committee. And Harry’s mesmerized by YN as she listens to Flo attentively, it’s different to the way she interacted with him or Mikey or a lot of people. When she feels him staring her eyes flick up to meet his and then back to Flo. She does it again and he takes the hint, looking away.

He flushes remembering the summer, how things started so well and ended so terribly.

YN ends up sticking to their group as the club organizers gather everyone to do a small introduction of the Newsroom Society. When it ends and they’re left to mingle Harry’s friends ask him what they were going to do for lunch.

“I’m easy, we can go anywhere.”

“I wanted to catch the fencing match they have going on at 2,” Gabriel says. “I might stay behind-“

“Let’s just do the caf.” Harry decides.

Florence turns back to YN who’s with her friend again. “Hey we were gonna grab lunch in the caf would you want to join? Both of you?”

YN meets Harry’s eye and an awkward energy sizzles between the two. It happens so quickly.

“Soph?” YN asks her friend.

“Eh,” she shrugs. “Okay. I’m Sophie by the way…”

Introductions are made all over again and YN and Harry are left herding the crowd from behind at the end if it.

“Hi,” Harry says as they fall into step.

She eyes him first before responding, “Hi.”

Silence as the group ahead chatters away.

“How’ve you been?” Harry attempts small talk.

“Fine.” She replies without returning the question. Harry gets the hint and grits his teeth. It was frustrating knowing she had glued herself shut and it would require a tool he didn’t have to get her to open again.

At lunch she continues to gloss over anything he says and talking with everyone enthusiastically but him, making him feel like he was in secondary all over again.

“We should do this again,” Florence suggests. “You guys are fun.”

Harry thinks Flo just liked having girls to talk to since most of the friends she’d made so far had been Harry and his.

“Yeah,” Soph agrees. “Maybe we’ll all make the Newsroom Society. Flo I think I’ll come to the volunteer thing with you next week just text me when it is.”

Somehow Harry’s friends intermingle with YN’s and by the time classes actually starts he’s seen YN socially more often than he had in secondary.

“YN,” Harry catches her walking out of their international business course. He’d found they had two classes together despite deciding different majors.

She glances up at her name and upon seeing Harry continues walking.

“Hey YN,” he walks ahead enough to stop her.

“Hey. What?” She asks.

“Can we talk?”

She raises a brow.

“C’mon,” Harry turns and hopes she’ll follow. She does. He leads them to a seating area for students in the building’s courtyard. “We should talk.”

“About?”

“Us.” Harry fidgets. “Look, I know what I did last summer wasn’t right. And being drunk wasn’t an excuse. I…I misread the signs and I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to betray your trust like that and. Yeah. I’m really sorry. If we’re gonna hang out and be mates, it’s weird when you’re always mad at me.”

She stares at him for an uncomfortable period and Harry can’t hold eye contact the whole time.

“How many times did you practice saying that?” She asks with a straight expression.

He laughs, “A few times.”

Like the sun after a thunderstorm, her smile slowly brightens the rest of her face as it stretches over her face.

“For the record, don’t ever try to kiss me ever again.” YN lists on her fingers. “Secondly, there will never be signs between us as anything more than friends so just…don’t look for them. We’re just friends.”

“Got it,” Harry mock salutes.

“I’m not done,” she holds up three fingers. “Thirdly, it’s nice seeing you be less…secondary Harry.”

“What?”

“Y’know like, bookish awkward nerdy Harry. You’ve actually got friends, I saw you at a couple parties. It’s nice!”

“Oh,” Harry didn’t think YN thought about him at all. He thought he went back to being a nobody but she was still noticing things about him. Things he thought only he had picked up on.

She was right—he felt more himself the longer he was at uni. It wasn’t easy but he found it easier to make decisions about people and friends, emotions and conversations when the pressure to fit into a box fell away.

Of course, Harry still struggled connecting with his roommate. After declining his initial invite to a party Rod mostly kept to himself and sometimes Harry was asked to give him privacy a few hours some evenings. Harry usually obliged, wanting to still be friends with Roderick.

One of the parties YN saw him at must have been one Rod invited him to. It was the first time he’d really spoken to him since that first day. And Harry had gone to the party just to reduce the friction with Rod. It went over well, he’d even chatted up a girl.

“Anyway,” YN hitches her bag onto her shoulder. “My next class is much later in the day so I’m gonna find a place to crash until then.”

“When is it?”

“Like, 5?”

“Shit, you commuted for our 10 and have to stay that late?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It was the only way I could fit both classes into this semester.”

“D’you…” Harry reconsiders the rules she’d given him. He didn’t think this was breaking any. “D’you want to come go my dorm? You could…nap or something.”

Her face lights up, “Wait really?”

“Yeah?”

“Um yeah? If that’s alright if-“

“Yeah,” Harry’s pleased to be able to offer something that’s made her light up. “Yeah c’mon. My roommate should be out. My next class is at half past 1 though.”

“That’s enough time for a nap,” YN says as she falls into step beside him.

“You don’t have to leave.” Harry tells her. “You can stay while I’m in class.”

That’s how Harry finds himself walking out of his dorm quietly so as not to wake a sleeping YN. She had knocked out soon after getting into his sheets, and he’s thankful he’d just washed them over the weekend after accidentally spilling tea all over them.

He felt bad that she had to commute for nearly 2 hours and stay the whole day for an evening class. He gives her an open invitation to use his dorm as a hotel when she wanted. She’d corrected him it was more like a motel, and then said his bedsheets smelled surprisingly nice for a motel.

Harry has a smile for most of his walk to class.

Near the end of class his phone vibrates with a text.

Roderick: there’s a girl sleeping on your bed?

Shit, Harry didn’t think he’d be back before him.

Harry: that’s just YN, sorry hope you don’t mind.

R: nah I just wasn’t expecting it lol

H: she’s just crashing

R: she single?

H: what happened to the girl you were hooking up with last week?

Despite not talking a lot, Harry still had the lowdown on who Rod was hooking up with because of the revolving door of girls.

R: mate. That was last week.

Harry rushes back from class but to his surprise he finds YN sitting in bed braiding her hair while Rod leans against his desk explaining something about Sunderland.

“Oh hey Harry,” YN says when he walks in.

“Hey,” Harry tries not to sound too out of breath. “Uh I see you two’ve met.”

“Yeah. YN’s pretty cool, where’ve you been hiding her?”

“I’m not-“

“Ew,” YN cuts him off. “Do they not teach manners in Sunderland?”

Harry watches, for the first time since he’s met him, Roderick stammer and look uncertain.

“Anyway,” YN gets off the bed and adjusts her clothes. “Thanks for letting me crash.”

Harry watched Rod get a hold of himself and YN put her bag back together again. That was the privilege of being so beautiful, she could shame guys like Rod into behaving themselves.

“See you Friday?” YN tells Harry. They had a Newsroom Society meeting. Harry ended up making the cut for the paper along with Gabriel and Flo. YN had made it for the podcast and this week was when they first got assignments.

“Yeah,” Harry says. YN walks past him, squeezing him arm and walking out.

“Marra,” Rod blow the air out of his cheeks. “She’s….something. You should invite her to the party Friday if she’s on campus.”

“Yeah I’ll ask,” Harry says. Weird how the tables have turned, he thinks. Here he would be, inviting YN to a party.

***

Harry doesn’t get a chance to catch up with YN until after Newsroom. He asks her if she was doing anything afterwards.

“Nope,” she rubs her temple. “I have a Saturday shift to work so I was just gonna head home after this.”

“Oh.” Harry says. He forgot she worked. “I was gonna invite you to this party-“

“You?” She points to him and laugh. “You’re inviting me?”

“Erm yeah?”

“I love it.” She says seriously.

“Yeah,” a smile tugs at his lips. “I know. But if you’re busy-“

“Oh no. I’ll show up to a party you’re inviting me to, where is it?”

Harry gives her the place. She tells him one of her friends was trying to get here there too.

“Whatever, I’ll just suffer the consequences tomorrow. Although I’m not dressed for a party at all.”

Harry eyes her hoodie and jeans. Even he knew YN dressed up more for parties.

“Too bad you’re not a girl,” she sighs. “I could just borrow something from your closet.”

“How about the friend you mentioned?”

“She lives a town over so she commutes. Wait, let me see your closet maybe we can make something work.”

“Don’t you make fun of my closet?”

“No I make fun when you wear it. It might look hot on me.”

The idea of YN looking hot in his clothes forces the blood to rush to his head and he has to take a few deep breaths before trailing behind.

Rod’s nowhere in sight when they get to his dorm. Harry unloads his backpack and splays out on his bed, tired from the day and really not wanting to go to any parties.

“This could be cute,” YN unhooks a plain white tee from his closet and throws it on his bed. She picks up a sweater and a short-sleeved button up. She holds them up to her and instructs him to turn around while she tries it on.

Harry’s so tired that turned around he ends up falling asleep, half his body still dangling off the bed.

While uni was really fun for him, and getting to explore different sides of him and learn a whole lot, it was a constant rotation of something. Sometimes he wondered if he should drop a class or a club just to give himself some breathing room. Or sleeping room. But Harry wasn’t a quitter. Instead he was tired a lot of the time and felt like he was constantly catching up.

“Hello,” Harry’s woken by a vigorous shaking. YN peers down at him, lashes long and coated in mascara probably. Her lips are painted a deep pink and she’s put her hair down.

“How did you…” Harry blinks at her.

“I had some makeup in my bag, I just touched it up while you slept.” She sits down beside him. “Now what are you wearing and when are we leaving?”

“I’m just wearing this,” Harry motions to his jeans and hoodie. She raises a brow. “Wait what are you-“

He notices what she’s wearing. His white tee that hangs loose on him has been tightened into a single point on YN’s ribcage, baring her midriff. She’s kept her jeans on but somehow despite only swapping out one item of clothing she looks magnetic.

“Wow.”

“I know right,” she gets up to allow him the full picture even though he didn’t want to ogle any more. “I just went with one of your tees, used a hair tie to style it. I’ll wear my bomber on top. And you can change your hoodie at least. You’ll look like a slob in that, it’s not going to impress any girls.”

“What if I don’t want to impress any girls?”

“Don’t forget I caught you flirting with Sophie last week.” She warns him.

It was embarrassing, Soph had been talking through one of the articles they were assigned to think about for Newsroom and it had turned flirty when Sophie started teasing him. Harry had recently felt more confident in the girl department and he’d flirted back until YN had dropped into the conversation pretending to gag at Harry.

Harry wondered if Sophie would be at the party. He should have texted her to ask.

“Let’s not talk about that.”

“I would actually love to talk about that,” she grins. “But I do want to head out. So wear this and let’s go.”

She throws Harry a crewneck and taps her foot. When she doesn’t make a move to look away he changes in front of her and doesn’t meet her eye.

“You’ve got a tattoo?” YN sounds surprised as he gets his arms into the crewneck.

“Huh?” Harry realizes she’s staring at his ribcage. He forgot he had a tattoo, not often looking at himself naked in the mirror. “Oh yeah. Caleb and I got it for our 18th before we went to uni. He’s moved to Canada for uni so-“

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you.” YN says in a quieter voice than usual. Harry’s hands are still trapped in his sweater, halfway to his head, when she steps closer and traces her hand over the numbers. Her hands are cold and unexpected and he gasps.

“Sorry,” she looks up at him but he can barely look at her. She was touching his bare torso. “Was that cold?”

“Yeah,” Harry clears his throat.

“Any others?” She asks.

He shakes his head, his voice sticking in his throat. He couldn’t move, he was too busy concentrating on breathing.

He slowly pulls his jumper on the rest of the way and only when they head out does he feel safe enough to talk. He tells YN how he planned on getting more tattoos eventually, once he figured out what he liked. It was a bit scary being so permanent but he liked the way he could express himself or hold memories on his skin.

They talk about it until they reach the dorms the party was at.

“Catch you inside,” YN says as they enter. “Don’t get too drunk.”

“Never again” Harry shouts after her. She waves without turning around.

He thought they would hang out here together but he finds himself wandering the dorms until he spots Mikey. He becomes absorbed in Mikey’s group of friends and forgets he’d been here with YN.

At some point Harry finds himself the centre of attention of a girl from his intro to biology class. Mary. She’s cute with a shoulder-length brown hair and animated eyes. When she smiles at Harry he feels his heart flutter.

“What about weirdest?” She asks Harry. They were talking about their shared interest in cults.

“Raelian,” Harry responds. “Have you heard of them?”

“Ooh no tell me about it,” she shuffles closer to him in the stranger’s room they were talking in. Harry had been nursing his drink for the last couple hours and he’d nearly made it look like it was done.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he ignores it. When it goes off again Mary raises her brow.

“D’you need to get that?”

“I dunno,” Harry pulls out YN flipping him off on screen. He still hadn’t changed her photo.

“Harry!” He hears his name shouted from the hall just as the call ends.

“Is somebody actually calling you?” Mary furrows her brows.

“I don’t-“ his name is shouted again but louder.

The two of them shuffle to the hall and YN’s unmistakable face comes into view.

“Harry!” She says in a loud and happy tone. “I found you!”

“YN,” Harry glances at Mary nervously. She seems concerned. “What happened?”

“What didn’t happen amirite?” She elbows him. “Anyway. I don’t feel well and I am going home.”

“Drunk?” Harry scratches his head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’ve got like nearly 2 hours on the train.”

“And?” She shrugs. “I’ll sleep it off.”

“You can’t do that.” Harry insists.

“Well good thing you’re,” she points her finger into his chest and tilts forward. “Not the boss of me. Oh hey. We haven’t met!”

She spots Mary beside him and she bows to her.

“Heh. Harry. And Mary.” YN points between them.

“D’you need help?” Mary asks. “With her?”

“I don’t need help!” YN shouts. “I’m cool. I’m fun. I’m totally alright.”

“You’re really not,” Harry grits his teeth. He was finally hitting it off with Mary and of course YN had to go and get drunk and ruin it.

Technically he did invite her to the party though. Did that make her his responsibility? Harry wasn’t too sure about that sort of thing.

“I did an amazing job at Ring of Fire,” YN slurs. “Phe-nnnnn-omm-enal.”

“I am going to get her out of here,” Harry tells Mary. He twists his mouth to the side and hopes he looks as sorry as he felt. “I invited her so…”

“That’s alright! That’s what friends are for right?” She smiles. “I’ll see you in class?”

“Yeah!” Harry nods. “I’ll see you.”

With a final exchange of smiles Harry grabs YN by the shoulders and gets her out of the building. The whole time she talks about random things from the night that Harry couldn’t care less about.

“YN why did you get so bloody drunk,” Harry says outside his building. It was a co-ed so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for both of them to go in but Harry wanted to sneak her into his room.

“I didn’t mean to,” she says. “I wasn’t even gonna stay this long.”

Her voice pitches down and she becomes droopier in Harry’s arms. His arms hurt; he should use the gym on campus more often.

“What happened?” Harry continues to entertain her.

She doesn’t say until they reach his room. He prays Rod would still be at the party and breathes a sigh of relief when the other side of the room is empty.

“Sit here,” Harry places YN on his bed and finds a water bottle for her. “Drink.”

“I can’t, I need to piss.”

Harry groans. “Why didn’t you say earlier?”

“I forgot,” she whispers. “Sorry.”

He points the toilets out to her and leaves the door open a crack so she can find her way back. Her mascara’s running when she gets back.

“Were you crying?” He asks.

“No! I tried to take this stupid stuff off.” She sighs. “It really is waterproof.”

Harry shakes his head, YN was a right state and he didn’t really know what to do. She’s always the one in control and in command. He remembers his sister using makeup wipes but he didn’t have any. He improvises with kleenex but she complains that it hurt. He tries dousing one in water but the makeup barely budges.

“Just let me sleep in it,” she complains.

“And get it all over my bedsheets?” Harry shakes his head. “No way.”

“Oils,” YN leans back in his bed anyway. “If you’ve got oil. Or balms. Whatever.”

Harry rummages through the room and manages to find a hair product his sister bought him with oils. He puts some on the kleenex but YN is snoring in bed by the time he gets up to her.

“C’mon,” he taps her face. “Did you seriously fall asleep already?”

“No,” YN cracks an eye open. “I’m up.”

“Good. Here use this.” He offers her the wipe but she whines until Harry gives in and helps her wipe it off. It makes his heart race and he tries not to breathe her in too much. Despite smelling like a brewery, underneath that she smells like YN. The one he knew last summer.

“You can’t sleep in my bed with this on.” Harry complains. Who knows where those jeans have been.

“M’not sleeping in my underwear,” she mumbles. “You wish.”

“Trust me I don’t,” Harry didn’t even sleep in his underwear. “I’ll give you some sweatpants. Please change into them.”

“You’re the worst,” she whines. But does as he says, moving like a sloth. She peels off his tshirt and slides into his sheets and Harry avoids looking at her in her sports bra. At least it wasn’t a lacy one.

She was just a friend. They had both made an agreement. Friends slept in the same bed. He’d probably shared a bed with Caleb before—this was fine.

Harry creeps under his sheets and tries to keep space between YN and himself but she tucks herself into his side and is out like a light.

***

Harry wakes to a shock of cold on his thigh. His eyes rip open and he yanks himself away from the freeze.

It takes him a moment to register YN giggling beside him.

“What the fuck!” Harry groans and turns on his back. At some point he’d turned towards YN and they’d probably slept facing each other. It was better than any other alternative he figured.

“Sorry,” she says without sounding a single bit sorry. “I just had to do it.”

“I literally let you crash in the same tiny bed as me and you repay me like that!?” Harry says to the ceiling. Sleep still tries to pull him back in but he fights it—with YN up he probably wasn’t going to get any more sleep.

“Okay no I shouldn’t have done that sorry.” She apologizes. “You wouldn’t happen to have like paracetamol or-“

“It’s in the desk drawer—what are you—ow!”

YN had started climbing over him as he answered and nearly kneed him between the legs.

“Sorry!” She whispers. Harry glances at his roommate to find him sleeping in his bed. He hoped Rod was too drunk to notice YN in his bed when he came in.

Harry decides to just get up then and eventually he walks YN to the bus terminal both of them full on caf coffee and breakfast. She was going to cut it close for her shift but she didn’t seem to care.

“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” YN says as the bus comes into view. She doesn’t look him in the eye as she says it and he can barely look at her saying it. “You didn’t have to and you did.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry says, equally uncomfortable with YN’s vulnerability.

“I saw an ex,” she meets his gaze. “I didn’t think I’d run into him after all this time. That’s kinda why I drank more than I intended. I wasn’t supposed to inconvenience you—hey, weren’t you talking to some girl last-“

“Yeah,” Harry hoped Mary wasn’t too weirded out by YN. “It’s fine. I’ve got class with her.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she slaps her hand to her forehead. “I hope I didn’t make things weird. I owe you.”

“It’s alright,” Harry finally meets her eye and realizes it was alright. He could be friends with YN and maybe this could work. “It’s what friends do.”

“Really?” She asks.

He nods. “I’ll help you home from any party.”

“Awww,” she wrings her arms around Harry’s neck and he takes a step back to steady her. He forces his brain to think only friendly thoughts, and not how steady his hand feels on her lower back or how nice her hair smells, as he returns the hug. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

She leans back and pats his face. “You’re growing up so much. Look at how much nicer you are.”

Harry blushes and she laughs at him as she runs to catch the bus. He watches the bus wink out of sight and sighs.

It was in part thanks to YN he’s grown so much, she forced him out of his shell and pointed out all the ways his intellect can get in the way of being a nice person. And being out of school helped the rest of the way; Harry’s contemplative on his walk back home.

***

“What about orange juice and biscuits?” Mary asks.

Harry thinks about it before shaking his head, “No. it doesn’t make sense.”

The two were having dinner together in the caf. Ever since the party last month they’ve spent more time together in between classes. They weren’t dating but there was a heavy chemistry between them. Harry didn’t realize, Mary was just waiting for them to make the first move.

“Crisps and jam?”

“Why?” Harry scrunches his face imagining the weird food combination. Mary was reading off an article she was reading when he sat down at her table.

She shrugs, “Apparently it’s moreish.”

Harry liked Mary a lot but he sometimes felt he paled next to her, like if he asked her out and she really got to know him she might not like him as much. So he kept her at arm’s length.

“What’s more-ish is the bile coming up my throat thinking of that.”

“A lot of these are pregnancy cravings!” Mary says. “What do we know?”

“Who’s pregnant?” Flo asks as she sits beside Mary. Mikey joins the table too.

“Nobody’s pregnant,” Harry corrects. “We’re just reading an article.”

“No actually, the computer science prof that everyone hates is pregnant. She’s not teaching next semester anyone who’s interested should take it then.” Flo informs the group.

“Can you imagine?” Mary turns to her. “Being so hated that the one semester you’re not teaching there’s a massive waiting list on your course?”

The group begins to discuss this particular prof and Harry fades into a listener. Mary catches his eye a few times and sends a bright smile his way and Harry keeps it tucked within.

Now a couple months into uni Harry was starting to find a rhythm that he was able to ride. He had more friends than he’s ever had, regularly went to parties and hung out with them, Rod and him were good friends by some way of YN, and uni challenged Harry’s brain in a good way.

Him and YN didn’t hang out very much but he often saw her at parties, in the Newsroom, or if he came back to his dorm while she napped. If had become part of their regular schedule for her to use his dorm to nap and Harry was more than happy to let her. Rod was too—even happier than Harry sometimes.

“Are you going to the Halloween thing Harry?” Mikey asks.

“Huh?” Harry had zoned out. “Uh I think so. Yeah. Why not?”

“Awesome,” Flo says. “We should go together.”

“We’re not doing matching costumed Flo,” Harry says for the tenth time this month.

“Why not?!” She cries. The table becomes noisy again as they argue the same thing they’ve argued since October started. Harry feels at home.

***

Just finished my mid-term, Harry texts Mary. We should celebrate with drinks later.

Yeah after I finish mine later today, would love to. Mary texts back.

Harry smiles at his phone and switches chat to YN.

Are you still at mine?

She doesn’t reply and Harry figures she’s either sleeping or maybe writing a mid-term. He knew she had one later this afternoon—the same class as Mary.

Uni turned out to be a small world, he’d found a few people he already knew in these halls and somehow new friends and old acquaintances had all mingled together.

The good thing was now that he regularly wore contacts and started putting in some effort in how he looked, a lot of his old classmates either walked past him with no recognition or spoke to him like they weren’t the reason he had one friend in secondary.

It still took some adjusting to: here he was, bottom-rung at his old school, asking someone at the top rung if she was still sleeping in his bed. It was mad.

Harry turns the key of his door and freezes at what’s before him.

His roommate Roderick sits on his bed with his back to the wall and someone looking very much like—no it was YN because her jacket lay on his bed, straddling his lap. YN and his roommate were making out.

“What is this?” Harry asks when his senses return. “What’s going on?”

“Oh hey Har,” Rod looks past YN. He was so casual, Harry felt a little crazy at thinking this was a big deal.

“Oh,” YN turns and unhooks her legs from around Rod. “You’re done your exam. How was it?”

Were they insane it was he just a prude? Harry’s roommate was making out with his friend. That regularly crashed in his room. Has this been going on for a while?

“Good. Fine. YN can we talk?” Harry asks.

“Sure,” YN climbs off the bed and fixes her lipstick whilst passing the mirror. Harry nods to the hall and she steps out. “What’s up?”

“What…what’s going on there?”

“What? Rod?”

“Obviously!”

“Oh my god Har, it’s nothing serious we were just making out.”

“For how long?”

“I dunno? Why do you want to know?”

“No like how long have you two been hooking up?”

“We were just making out today why’ve you got your panties in a twist?”

“So this is the first time?”

“No…we made out at a party last week. Anyway I was just studying on your bed after getting a nap in and he walked in. It got flirty, one thing led to another-“

“I’m not comfortable with this.” Harry clenched his teeth. He didn’t know why but it felt wrong they were doing this in his room. After he��d opened it up for her to give her a break from the constant commuting. What if things go sour between them and Rod takes it out on him? What if she ruins the vibe of their dorm?

“Harry,” YN lays a hand on his shoulder with a serious face. “You know I’ve kissed boys before. Done even more than-“

“This isn’t a joke,” Harry brushes her hand off. “I don’t feel comfortable with you doing…that in the room.”

“So now you’re deciding who I can see-“

“No!” Harry shouts a bit too loud and someone on the other end of the hall looks up. “No. You know that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t care who you hook up with YN. Just not in my room with my roommate. Do whatever you want with him at parties but not in my room. I don’t care what you do. Just…not in my room.”

Harry shuts up once he realizes he’s repeating himself. He hopes she understands.

“Fine.” She does her classic move. She shuts down. “I’ll be a devout virgin in your room. Outside I’ll be the wild child I am.”

“YN don’t twist this,” Harry sighs. “Why do you do that?”

“I’ve got an exam in a couple hours.” She opens the door. “I should go.”

“Already?” Rod says as they walk in.

“Harry’s made a request about us,” YN shoots him a look and Harry wants to take that look and throw it back at her. He was going to break it to Rod differently knowing how tenuous the balance of their friendship was. But now she’s just dropped it like a bomb in the middle of their dorm.

“What?” Rod looks at Harry.

Harry flushes but he tries to look at Rod when he tells him, “I think it’s weird you two making out here. You can do that anywhere just not here. My roommate and my friend…it’s weird.”

Rod blinks, Harry thinks he’s zoned out until he shrugs. “Nee bother. I respect it Harry. I’ll catch you out there then YN.”

YN looks between the boys, her hands holding her bag are curled into fists and with one last angry look to Harry she exits the room.

“Doesn’t look like she’s too chuffed with you man.” Rod pipes in from behind.

She wasn’t chuffed with him half the time, Harry was now used to it.

***

The Halloween party is packed like sardines and Harry considers leaving. Mary had come down with a flu and she’d also been avoiding him the last week. Gabe said she’s probably tired of him not doing anything about their mutual crush, Flo thinks she needs space, and YN says she found someone new to fantasize about but Harry thinks the last one is mostly to get under his skin.

Ever since that day in his dorm YN’s gone back to being bristly with Harry. It doesn’t bother him most days but it does frustrate him on a few.

“Harry!” A familiar face waves him down. The party was in off-campus student res and it was decorated like somebody had gone batshit on Amazon. Just walking toward Sophie, Harry had gotten a faceful of smoke, fake cobwebs, and bubbles for some reason.

“Soph! How’s it going?” Harry hadn’t seen Sophie since she quit Newsroom a few weeks ago. With midterms and club deadlines clashing she decided she couldn’t do both and left the club.

“So much better,” her brightened eyes and large smile fixed on her face clued Harry in that she’d already started drinking. “But I miss the Newsroom crew. How is everyone?”

“We’re fine—you know you could still hang out with us? We’re around.”

“Ugh I know,” she sways towards him. “But I feel like I hardly have time to be social. Social. Does that sound weird—so-shul?”

“I think you’re a bit drunk Soph,” Harry points to her cup.

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “What about you? You don’t even have a drink!”

“I…I was gonna go get one.” Harry lies. He was actually gonna go home.

“Okay! Someone had shots going.”

She grabs his hand and it tingles. She races around until she finds the half-empty vodka and demands Harry do shots with her. He nearly chokes on it and coughs uncontrollably which sets Soph off.

“Are you alright?” She slaps his back harder than she looks like she could. “You need a chaser hold up!”

She disappears behind the table and pulls out lime wedges from god knows where. She instructs Harry how to do it even though he didn’t want any more but she doesn’t relent.

The second time is a lot smoother but Harry realizes he really did not like vodka either.

“Soph! Har! You two know each other?!” Roderick suddenly walks in on them, crashing the two with an arm around both. “Small worlds!”

“Hey Rod,” Soph’s glow dims a little.

“Now what kind of hello is that? And what are you supposed to be?”

“Scream queen right?” Harry asks as Soph says “Scream Queen duh?”

Rod frowns and takes his arms down. “Well I can make you scream, qu-“

“Alright,” Harry and Soph eye each other. Harry has been to enough parties with Rod to know what level of drunk meant what level of no filter. And it was best they left him alone now. “We’ll see you around mate.”

“Thank you,” Soph whispers in his ear as she loops her arm and they walk away.

“What’s going on with you two?” Harry asks. He’s learned enough to know Sophie soured at the sight of him.

“Really?” She asks.

“Really—what?”

“Him and YN were hooking up a few weeks ago. He was just…ekgh.”

“That’s not a word,” Harry laughs.

“I know!” She throws her hands up, one of which holds a knife.

“Alright,” Harry holds his up. “It’s a word.”

She throws her head back and laughs, then wields the knife against his throat.

“Woah, Soph.”

“It’s fake!” She laughs again.

“Yeah thank god,” Harry lowers it and she tumbles into him with the pressure she had put on it.

“Oops,” she smiles up at him. “Hey how d’you know Scream Queens?”

Blood rushes to Harry’s head as she looks up at him through her lashes. Soph was beautiful—she always had been. But tonight she looks particularly beautiful. It could be the vodka. But he wanted to kiss her.

“I watched it over the summer with…” Harry had watched it with YN. This was YN’s friend. Maybe he shouldn’t kiss her.

“Hm?” She inches her arm up and loops it around his neck. Her head tilts to one side and Harry feels the vodka flood his brain while his blood rushes another direction. “You’ve got really nice eyes.”

“So do you.” Harry barely gets out.

“Our babies would have amazing eyes.” She says with complete seriousness. Obviously she was drunk.

“Yeah. Uhm,” Harry tries to push her away. He does, or he tells himself that. But when she stands on the balls of her feet Harry felt it was rude to not meet her halfway. Not press his lips against her strawberry-flavoured plush ones. It felt amazing.

“D’you wanna go somewhere?” She whispers in his ear.

Harry doesn’t want to. He just wants her to shut up so they can keep kissing.

He leads her gently to the wall and continues kissing her, displaying what he’s learned in his two months at uni. And the noises she makes does unspeakable things to Harry.

“C’mon!” She urges to him. “Surely one of the bedrooms are free!”

At the thought his mind clears for a single moment. Should he be doing this? Was his first time really going to be at a Halloween party with Soph?

“I don’t have any-“

“That’s alright!” She tugs him back to her. “Let’s just see where the night takes us.”

“You’ve got to lose the knife though,” Harry says against her lips.

She laughs and tucks it into his back pocket. “Okay?”

Her laugh scatters away the remaining rational thought and he follows her wherever she takes him.

***

“Alright team,” the head of Newspaper stands addressing the crowd. “This has been an incredible year of reporting. I think we’ve done a fantastic job and I want to commend you all on your efforts and time lent to our humble club. Our final edition is going to print today, and the year’s final episode releases this Friday. So do give it a listen. Next year we’ll be back invigorated with more stories to tell. Have a great holiday all!”

Harry’s eyes roam the room, feeling content at being part of this hard-working group.

Despite only a semester on the Newspaper Harry felt really bonded with everyone. The team was big, split into print and podcast and yet despite not knowing everyone, the passion for stories and reporting was palpable. Especially release weeks.

Over the semester Harry had gotten even closer to Florence and Gabriel, it made Newsroom feel even more collaborative. And they often grabbed a bite after Newsroom or they would sometimes go to Gabriel’s and play video games. YN would join occasionally.

YN, only being a first year, was often frustrated being sidelined by seniors. Her friends often heard about it after particular Newsroom meetings. Still, YN on the podcast team made waves and Harry knew because her name was often on a lot of projects or on the lips of a lot of seniors. It made him proud to be her friend, often it reminded him of how he used to think about her. But Newsroom was a perfect example of how they both had separate strengths and how they flourished in each of them. He’s glad he realized that last year.

Harry’s eyes continue to dart to the door, checking his phone. It was weird y/n didn’t show up today when she should have. Especially the final meeting.

When the group goes for dinner in the caf Harry spots their friend Sophie.

What started as hooking up at Halloween ended in a few other hook-ups over the last month or so. Each time Harry felt incredibly guilty but Soph was really nice to him and nice to kiss too. Plus, Mary had stopped hanging out with him without another word and he wasn’t exactly sure what he did for that. So he’d given her space.

“Y/n wasn’t at today’s meeting, shame.” Flo says to Soph. “D’you know where she is?l

“No, that’s strange. I saw her earlier today?” Soph looks at the group.

“Me too,” Gabe adds. “She’s around.”

“Yeah it is strange,” Harry comments. “She’s usually on time, or at least sends us a text if she can’t make it.”

“I hope everything’s okay,” Flo scrunches her brows.

“I’m sure it is.” Sophie reassures her.

She turns to Harry with a secret smile, one hand sliding onto his thigh. “Any plans after this?”

“Oh!” Harry startles as her hand slides higher up his thigh. This was so…public. “Maybe. Uhm. Soph can we talk?”

He’d wanted to talk to her all week but had been so busy with exams. He thought about it a lot and really didn’t think sneaking behind y/n’s back with her friend was right. Especially after he asked her not to hook up with Rod in his room and she stopped.

Sophie shrugs and follows him off to the side.

“We need to talk,” Harry starts, he waves between both of them. “About this.”

“Yeah?” Sophie asks.

“Yeah. And. About Y/n.”

Sophie just notices the serious tone to Harry’s voice. She stops playing with her hair and stands taller. “Okay. What about her?”

Harry takes a deep breath, trying to articulate his thoughts. “I’ve just been thinking with us being her friend, she doesn’t know about us. I don’t want to sneak behind her back give her another reason to have trust issues—she’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” Soph agrees. “Y/n’s strong. She’s got like, that tough quiet strength she just exudes it always. I admire that about her.”

Harry nods, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Exactly. She’s really loyal to her friends, and I don’t want to screw anything up. I just…don’t think she’d approve of this.”

Sophie’s eyes soften with understanding. “Oh.”

“What?”

“You…care about her don’t you?”

“Well uhm yeah she’s my friend I-I yeah-“

“Like care about her.” Soph cuts off Harry’s stuttering. He felt like an idiot.

“Uhhh…”

“Be honest,” Soph curls the side of her mouth. “It’s not like we’re dating I don’t like care if you do.”

“Yeah fine. More than I probably should yeah,” he sighs. “But she’s made it clear we’re nothing more than friends. And I’m fine with that but we go way back and she’s helped me though a lot. I just don’t want to lose her. As a friend. But you’re a really great person too Soph I don’t want to lose. And I don’t want it to get complicated here.”

“I get it,” Sophie shrugs. “But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Or a secret. We’re just having fun!”

“Yeah I just don’t want to jeopardize anything.”

Unbeknownst to Harry and Sophie, y/n enters the caf then and spots the two before spotting their usual table. She heads towards Harry and Sophie first, curious as to why they were separated in what looked like an intense discussion.

“Fine. I get it!” Sophie continues.

“I’ve screwed up with her enough.” Harry says as y/n gets within hearing distance. “I hate feeling like I’m walking on egshells around her.”

“YN’s a tough cookie,” Soph agrees. “I’d be scared to be on her bad side.”

“I’ve been on it. Kinda made my life hell. It’s like facing a lion with just a stick.”

“You poor thing,” Soph touches Harry’s cheek and laughs just as her phone vibrates. “Oh that’s Emmy hold on.”

Harry smiles as she steps away but it dies as y/n steps into view.

“Oh y/n…how long-“

“Walking on eggshells? Didn’t realize being around me was such a burden-“

“No y/n that’s not the-“

“Save it Harry,” her eyes flicker with hurt.

“No seriously!” Harry tries to explain. “I wasn’t saying it like that!”

“You compared me to a fucking lion!”

“Let me explain-“

“After everything I told you about me I thought we got each other Har-“ Y/n cuts herself off as her throat closes with tears. She was not the type to cry in front of anyone, especially a boy. She waits for the feeling to subside. “It’s pretty clear where I stand. And by the way, talking me down isn’t going to make you look good with Soph.”

“Y/n please,” Harry feels her slipping away again and he envisions taking her by the shoulder and giving her a good shake. He hated when she did this, like the tides at a beach she retreated so quickly all he was left with was sand. She never left enough time for someone to grab her.

“Just…whatever Harry.”

With that she turns on her heel and walks away, the noise in the caf suddenly comes roaring in on either side of Harry. He wants to turn the volume dial all the way down and run after her but he knows neither are possible.

“What was that?” Sophie reappears.

“She heard the wrong end of our conversation.” Harry says with dread. “I didn’t mean for her to hear it like that. She must think…I don’t even know what she must think.”

“Mmm,” Sophie squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “Just give her space. I’ll ask her what she heard and explain don’t worry. She’ll come around.”

Harry wasn’t so sure.

***

Harry watches as Mary enters the bar and looks around. For a moment he can just be another bloke seeing Mary for the first time wondering what she’s like with her cropped hair and animated brown eyes. He feels his heart picking up speed the longer he watches her—he can’t believe it took him this long to ask her out officially.

Although it wasn’t entirely his fault.

Harry didn’t think Mary would ever be interested in him on a deeper level—he definitely wouldn’t date himself. And when Mary began to make excuses about hanging out last year, Harry took that as a big glaring sign he was right, instead of just asking her outright.

Then there was the tryst with Soph. And the fallout with y/n who cut him out of his life like she was scissors through wrapping paper. Harry acted like it didn’t hurt him but it did; after all the time they spent together he didn’t know how y/n could be so cold with people she called her friends. She didn’t even care about his explanation.

But Harry’s sister had given him an earful one night during Christmas break, about dating the girl he was really into and not being such a coward. It took him a whole month to work up the courage but on Valentine’s Day he’d asked Mary to be his. It was cheesy but she loved it. They’d hung out a few times and last week Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. He was officially in a relationship!

Mary catches his wave from the front and she breaks into her toothy smile that squeezed his heart every time it was directed his way. Falling in love made the whole world feel soppy. Harry’d never experienced something like this; in a world of learning and achievements this was one he felt really proud to get to.

“What are you smiling so hard about?” Mary teases as she reaches him. Harry kisses her and keeps her hand in his as they sit.

“Just this girl, can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Must be a lucky lady,” Mary grins. She was head over heels too.

“Nah I think I’m the lucky one.”

“God,” Mary pulls her hand away and presses them to her blushing cheeks. “You’re damn charming when you want to be Harry.”

That wasn’t a word anyone would ever use to describe him. Yet Harry feels over the moon to hear it. Here was proof he was changing—he was finally growing up.

The new couple have a few drinks with their food, they talk about school, friends, and the upcoming Easter Break.

“I’m heading home too,” Mary was originally from Liverpool. “My mum’s sister’s coming in from Australia for Easter. She’s got these little rascals I haven’t seen in years so I’ll have to see how big they’ve gotten now.”

“Are those the rascals who stole your Taylor Swift poster?”

“Signed poster,” Mary corrects him. “And yes. As payback because I caught then stealing their dad’s smokes. It’s been 3 years and I still haven’t gotten that back.”

“You really think they kept it?”

“Well we’re gonna find out,” Mary grinds her knuckles into the palm of her other hand. “I’m older and stronger now I can take them.”

Harry laughs, he loved seeing Mary when she was joking like this. Otherwise she was a bit like him when it came to studying and being serious.

“Well you’ve got a boyfriend now. I’ll make the trip if it means getting that poster back.”

“Would you!?” Mary reaches out to him. “That’s actually so sweet.”

Harry’s chest fills with warmth as she kisses him, and that sparks a different hunger. They pay their tab and head out hand in hand back to his dorm.

Rod isn’t in and they take advantage of that.

Roderick and Harry had continued their friendship despite y/n disappearing from his dorm. They’d gotten to the point where Harry declined a couple parties and Rod didn’t take it personally, and Harry actually helped Rod out with some of his studies. They worked out together and there was a better balance.

He did see y/n at parties sometimes. A couple times with Rod too. He tried to talk to her the first couple times but she always danced away just as he got to her. So he stopped trying. She was frustrating.

“Hey,” Mary kisses his jaw. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” Harry had gotten lost in his head again. “I think Rod’s gonna be back soon-“

“Oh,” Mary sighs. “Okay. My roommate’s a shut in, too bad we can never go to mine.”

“If I asked him to not come home he wouldn’t,” Harry realizes Mary wanted to cross some bases too late. He really should stick to being in his body more often. He should have messaged Rod as soon as they headed here.

“Maybe next time,” Mary smiles sweetly. She wipes the side of Harry’s lips with her thumb, that’s when he realizes she was wearing lipstick. It was a subtle colour but not as much when it’s smeared on her chin. Something about seeing it like that feels endearing to him.

“Until then,” he pulls her back to him and kisses her hard, she responds in kind. Just as Harry slips his hand below her tee the doorknob jiggles. He sighs, “Fuck.”

“It’s alright,” Mary whispers below him. “That was fun.”

He peers back down at her, her lipstick is even worse but she’s looking up at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. Note to self show Mary how much I like her, Harry realizes.

This time he uses his thumb to swipe at the smudged lipstick. She smiles at him like he hung the stars.

***

Harry would have taken the train home last night to avoid the crowds but it was his last day with Mary before being apart for 2 weeks and he wanted to make the most of it. So now he pays the consequences with a packed train and barely any leg room.

The guy next to him plays some video game on his phone, the person across from that guy is already napping with her mouth open. Harry waits to see who takes the seat across and his heart drops when they finally take the seat and look up at him.

“For fuck’s sake,” she mutters.

Y/n. Of course it would be her. She’s cut her hair since the last time he saw her—now she has a fringe and he’s pretty sure layers with how much they flick outwards from her face.

“Y/n,” Harry greets her. This was going to be one long train ride. Although he wasn’t sure what she was doing here—did she move on campus this semester?

“Harry…” she says with a studied coolness.

“Nice to see you.”

“Is it?” She asks. “Look I’ll just find another-“

She gets up but Harry’s faster. He stretches out his long leg to block the corridor. She’s stuck within the 4-seater.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you in,” Harry says with a small smile. She would be forced to sit in front of him, he would finally be able to get her to talk.

“Harry don’t be so immature move your leg.”

“That’s your seat just take it y/n.” He motions to it.

“Harry!” She tries to climb over it but Harry just raises his leg and it throws her off balance. She nearly falls backwards but Harry springs up fast enough to balance her. That’s how he finds himself standing in her personal space, one hand on her lower back and the other clutching her arm.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Get. Off of me.” She replies.

He lets her go and she actually sits back down. Harry glances around and flushes as he realizes everyone around them had started staring.

“Nice hair,” Harry tries again as the train leaves the station. By then they’d been sitting in silence for at least 15 minutes.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Y/n brushes her bangs.

“So are you on campus now?” Harry continues casually.

This both surprises and irritates y/n. Usually he was very sensitive to when she was being a bitch to him, but now it seemed he was getting some enjoyment out of talking to her despite her attempt at staying cold; something had changed with him.

“No.” She answers as clipped as possible.

“So you’re taking the train home today because…”

“God Harry,” y/n sighs. “I had my last exam and stayed out too late. Now stop asking me questions like I’m in a bloody interview. Leave me alone!”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing the last couple months,” Harry grumbles. The look she gives him could cut him in half.

She studies him, what’s changed she wonders. He still didn’t meet her eye completely but he was challenging her a lot more. She wouldn’t have minded it as much if she wasn’t recovering from a killer hangover.

“So won’t be hard to continue.” She glares.

And that’s how the remaining hour or so is spent sitting across from his friend or ex-friend, whatever. In silence. Apart from a few glances her way he buries his nose in his book and texts Mary as she boards her own train.

Of course, they get off on the same platform and when Harry’s mum catches sight of y/n she insists on giving her a ride home since y/n was just going to take the bus. The two of them sit in silence as Harry’s mum asks them a dozen questions. The ride ends with an invite for dinner and a non-committal yes from y/n.

“You guys get into a fight or something?” Harry’s mum asks as they drive to their home.

“Or something,” Harry mumbles.

“It was like the the bloody DMZ in here.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s just y/n being y/n.”

“I saw her a couple weeks ago at M&S,” Harry’s mum continues. “She didn’t look so good I offered her a ride but she said she was waiting for her sister to finish her shift. D’you know what’s going on with her?”

Harry thought about it but couldn’t think of a single thing. Y/n kept her cards very close to her chest.

“No. She doesn’t share much.”

“Well do you ask?”

“No but even if I did she would just shut me out,” Harry suddenly feels defensive.

“It’s still nice to be asked,” his mum says. “Knowing someone cares enough.”

Harry looks at his mum, the words she’s saying makes sense. But it surprises him to hear them and realize just how much it made sense. How come he’s never realized that?

Maybe he was a shittier friend than he realized.

So Harry gives it a few days and shows up at y/n’s house. This time he knew exactly where to find her.

“You are?” One of y/n’s brothers answers the door. He was a couple years older than them.

“Harry I uh-is y/n home?”

“Maybe,” his brother continues to scrutinize Harry until he squirms. “Wait here.”

He waits for an eternity, sitting down on the stoop while he does. Finally the door opens behind him and y/n joins him on the stoop.

She’s in a blue sweater and pyjama pants. Harry’s surprised to see little powerpuff girls all over them. His sister used to watch that Friday evenings.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just want to talk y/n,” Harry had practiced looking her in the eye. Just talking to her like a friend. He looks at her now. “You’ve been icing me out for months now it’s unfair. Sophie told me she told you what we were talking about, how you walked in when it sounded wrong and you’re still mad about it?”

She stares at him for a beat before sighing.

As she exhales she grows smaller in front of him until she’s drooped over, her arms circle her knees, and her head rests atop them—she’s the size of a pumpkin.

“I’m not mad at that,” she admits. “Sophie explained you didn’t mean it like that. I was more offended just at the fact that you two were talking about me. But I didn’t realize you two were close…”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that-“

“That,” she cuts him off. “Is mostly why I was upset with you. You made such a big deal that I was hooking up with Rod meanwhile you were banging one of my friends? Behind my back?”

“We weren’t-I wouldn’t say bang-“

“Doesn’t matter Har!” Y/n sits up again and Harry feels the clouds break for a sec as she uses his nickname. “That wasn’t a great way to find out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry didn’t know. Or he did: he didn’t think him and Soph were going to be more than a one time thing and when it was, he was ashamed a bit. He didn’t think he would go to college and have a casual relationship as his first one. It wasn’t something he necessarily wanted public knowledge.

“Maybe I was scared. I dunno. I just know I’m really sorry.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds, Harry hears the hoover turn on in yn’s house.

“Why’ve you got to be so fucking honest for,” y/n finally says with a sigh. “Makes it so hard to be mad at you when you’re all sincere and vulnerable.”

“Sorry,” Harry repeats.

“Stop it!” YN exclaims.

“Fine!” Harry’s heart pounds. “I don’t give a fuck about how you felt. Happy?”

Y/n freezes and slowly turns to stare at him. A smile ever so slowly tugs at the corner of her lips. She almost looks proud?

“Harry!” She grins. Then she punches him square in the bicep. Then gasps. “Have you been working out?”

Harry had been; in between class and clubs and dating, he started working out last winter with Rod.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me y/n,” Harry jokes and y/n snorts. The two look at each other at the sound of it before bursting out in laughter.

“I don’t know where that came from!” Y/n says through laughter. “I literally snorted!”

“You sounded like Peppa Pig,” Harry also has tears in his eyes. He missed hanging out with y/n.

Once they get ahold of their laughter Harry bumps his shoulder into hers. “It’s nice you’re talking to me again.”

She looks like she wants to say something to Harry, her eyes grow intense as she fixes onto him, her chin wobbling, but then it passes. Harry ignores the spark of disappointment.

“Yeah we’ll see.” She says with a half smile.

All was right in the world again, Harry thought.

He should have known, though, being friends with y/n would never be that simple.

TAGLIST: hmu if you want to be added

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #college!harry #ya harry styles #enemies to friends #idk #harry stylesxreader #things to learn #harry styles series #how the HELL has it been over a year since part 1 #HOW #nerd!harry

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agent-cupcake · 11 months ago

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 1 - Puppet Loosely Strung

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Running away to join the circus doesn’t go exactly as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, murder, generally dark content

Word Count: 13.9k

Disclaimer: I don’t read the manga or watch the anime. This is based solely on OPLA Buggy because Jeff Ward.

Some quick notes before we start: This is what I've been working on this since October. Originally it was going to be one really big one-shot posted at the same time, but it's big enough that I can justify posting it as a series. I'll add warnings as I go, but this is not a happy story and there will be explicit content later on. The reader character might not be somebody you see yourself in, I had a very specific image of what character I had in mind while writing. To me, reader fic is more of a sort of play acting rather than "oh that's literally me" but I know that's not everybody's cup of tea. A lot of this is cope fic and it shows. When times get rough the porn gets rougher, right?

I had help writing this from an individual who is very dear to me. Flashbang wouldn't exist without her, especially since she was the one who gave me the clown brain rot. And then there has been the hours of brainstorming and spitballing and watching Jeff Ward shows/movies as she continued to feed my addiction. Thank you, my love, and also damn you because this wasn't what I needed.

New chapter every Sunday. Enjoy~

“Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

Around you, they were so confused

That a faulty man could have so much fun”

All it took was a little doubt. Through logic or confusion or wishful thinking, you could be convinced that the insignificant person who had parasitically driven you around for the past however many years was a stranger, and now they were gone. Everything that had ever happened fell into incomprehensible dust, and every thought you ever had belonged to somebody else. A cycle of a million memories you didn’t recognize spun through this foggy place, none of them real, none of them familiar.

Logic, confusion, wishful thinking, or unconsciousness. An endless dream of nothing at all. But as soon as you became aware, it was awareness that those thoughts happened in the past tense, crushed inward by the unrelenting force of existence, and you were shoved back into a body. You—not the real you, the stranger you, the one made of heat and fury and pain, the one you couldn’t recognize—were gasping and thrashing in ignorant confusion, coughing out the sickening taste of blood in your throat.

Everything, all of it, hurt. And that was all that existed.

Until it wasn’t.

Your panicked thrashing made you realize that you were upright, your body straining painfully against the various chains keeping you pinned against the wall in an X. The position put nearly all of your weight on your shoulders and left your head to sag heavily to the side, making the terrible, dizzying headache that much worse. Having suffered more than your fair share of them, you knew that this headache was from more than an uncomfortable position or your old injury. A hot throbbing pain radiated out from the back of your head, shooting little sparks down your spine. It hurt bad enough that nausea formed a tight, heavy ball in your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you forced your eye open, fighting the urge to cringe away from the light as it rolled this way and that. Colors and lights were nothing more than a nauseating smear, but at least you could see.

Little by little, you became aware of yourself. From far away, you had a vague recollection of leaving, of nerves, excitement, and then of danger. But… no, why weren’t you at home? Doom settled in its rightful place as you realized exactly how little you remembered or knew, slotting into the spot of coherence and reason. Despite the pain, you fought against the shackles holding you in the uncomfortable position, irrationally desperate to be free of them.

“There she is! Finally,” somebody said from your left. His voice hit like a hammer to the back of your aching head. You strained to look at the speaker, he sounded close, but you couldn’t turn your head far enough to make up for your limited vision.

Luckily, he didn’t stay out of sight for long. The man’s boots were loud and deliberate as he slowly moved out of your literal blind spot. To your ill-adjusting eye, he was not much more than a blur of white and red and blue, his big smile smudged as you rapidly blinked to focus. A little shock of meaningless recognition in your brain saw the makeup and red nose and said ‘clown’, but the sheer ridiculousness of that made you even more sure that this wasn’t real.

“Not a fun way to wake up, is it?” he asked. “Keep breathing, let it drain back and cough it out. Trust me, it’s over quicker that way.”

The question you tried to form was, “Who are you?” but all you could manage was a heavy groan followed by a fit of painful coughs, wheezing raggedly in between. Each desperate convulsion rattled the chains and caused the wood to creak, but did nothing to free your bound limbs. The man seemed bored by it, annoyed he had to wait for you to get ahold of yourself.

Since he hadn’t immediately helped you down, you could only assume that he was the one who shackled you in the first place. Strung you up against a wooden board of some kind in a room you didn’t know. Cramped and windowless, it reeked of paint and sweat and sawdust and sweet salty rot—a unique smell that didn’t help your nausea. Clutter stacked up against the walls. Dense, humid air pressed against you like a heavy coat, paradoxically chilling. Probably because of the fever burning beneath your skin, slicking you up with sweat, soaking into your clothes and the bandana you kept wrapped around your head over the left eye.

Breathe. You focused on your breathing. Panic wouldn’t help you.

“You done?” he asked. Without any other choices, you turned your head to shamefully wipe your face off on your sleeve before nodding. “Great. Well, now that you’re awake… Welcome!” He threw out his arms with the flamboyant manner of a showman with the greeting, but they wilted right after, his big smile dropping a bit. “Or, at least, that’s what I would say if you hadn’t let yourself in and stolen the opportunity from me.”

That was bad. Very, very bad. You jerked in an awkward, uncoordinated burst, physically reacting to the danger he presented.

“No, no, don’t leave on my account,” he said, waving his hands and getting closer as if to stop you. “Oh wait, you can’t! Hah! Yeah, ‘cause of the chains.” He smiled affably, like it was a harmless joke, standing close enough for his gloved fingers to skim along the chain wrapped around your neck. “I guess you’re not going anywhere, huh?”

You didn’t respond, barely daring to breathe when he was so close. Smiles and melodrama aside, his blue eyes were oddly dead, fixed on you without the slightest bit of humor. And then it finally came back to you, the vital thing that you should have known, that you would have known if you weren’t strung up and suffering such a crippling headache. The makeup, the nose, the hat—

“You’re,” you began to say, but your voice was hoarse and weak, you could barely get it out when he was looking at you so closely, so intently. You cleared your throat, wincing at the metallic taste. “You’re the-that pirate captain Buggy, like on the-the poster?” Right! The clown guy, the red-nosed pirate. You were looking for him. So this was… good, wasn’t it?

He gave you a flat look, clearly not sharing your weak enthusiasm. “Yes. I am that pirate captain. Buggy, the Genius Jester? The most feared pirate captain in all the East Blue?” He turned with a dramatic flick of his coat, messing with something that had to flash silver before you realized it was a knife. “The man destined to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Yes. I am that pirate captain. And,” he paused, checking to make sure you were paying attention, “a very busy, very important man. I’ve got, oh, ten minutes or so for you to decide how this is gonna go. So let’s get straight to it.” He turned back, pointing the knife at you. “Who are you, and what are you after?”

The accusatory tone of his voice took you aback. “Nothing… I’m not anybody,” you stammered out. “And this… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

Buggy, to your surprise, relented after a second of considering your appeal, nodding understandingly.

There was no transition from his look of sympathy to raising the knife and aiming it at you. By the time you realized he meant to throw it, you barely had a chance to yelp. The blade took a loud, thumping bite into the wood beside you. On your left side, of course. Where you couldn’t see it. You could feel it, though. The air displacement ruffled the fine hairs around your ear. If you had flinched in that direction, it probably would be in your skull. With your dizzy head aching and confused, you had no regulation to your fear or discomfort, your breathing dangerously unsteady and tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

“Let me try a different question,” Buggy said before you could collect yourself, pulling out another knife. “Who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody! I swear, nobody else. I was just…” You didn’t know what to say. It was all you could do to breathe the thick, heavy air and fight down the tide of nausea.

“Just what?” Buggy asked, leaning in with raised eyebrows to show that he was listening intently. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to come up with the right words. Thoughts churned through the thick sludge in your head, getting stuck or lost or confused.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the stumbling apology coming out more naturally than anything else, an attempt to buy time while you organized your thoughts. “Please doh-don’t…. I’m so ss-sorry.”

Buggy sighed, standing up straight and raising his hand to aim.

“Nonono, please d-” You yelped louder this time, flinching away as the knife streaked through the air and stuck not even an inch away from your right cheek. You exhaled a pathetic little sob, whatever you were bound to shaking with your body.

“Listen, honey buns,” Buggy said. “Drop the act. Stop the whining. I caught you, red handed, sneaking into my lair.” He pulled something out of his pocket. Not another knife, but a piece of paper which he unfolded, holding it up for you to see. His wanted poster, creased into sixths from the way you folded it to keep it close, to keep it hidden. “I found this in your bag. You know who I am, and you know where you are. You have to, so let’s do away with all the theatrics, okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly in the hope that it would appease him.

“Right now, this is a conversation,” Buggy said, gesturing between the two of you. “A light interrogation, really. But if you keep being uncooperative and wasting my time, it’s gonna go from being interrogate-y to being torture-y real quick. You don’t want that, right?” Although he was unmistakably threatening you, Buggy’s tone was more natural than before. There was a bluntness to it, an honesty. Men like him didn’t idly use words like torture.

You sniffed, trying very hard to calm yourself down. This was a misunderstanding, so you just had to convince him. Simple as that. He would understand. You would make him understand.

“Right,” you agreed.

“Fantastic. So,” he loudly clapped his hands together, “who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody, I promise… I’m really sorry I broke in,” you told him, speaking slowly so your words didn’t catch. “I just wanted to meet with you.”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the hair hanging out from the sides of his hat swaying as his head tilted curiously. “You’re a fan?” he clarified. “That explains why you’re so pathetic. Well I hate to break it to you, but there’s a reason I only hold meet and greets after shows.”

“No, that’s not why! I-I want to join your crew,” you said. “I came to ask you to let me join your crew.”

He blinked twice, staring at you with obvious disbelief. “Excuse me, what?”

“I want to be a pirate,” you told him, louder. “Please. Please let me join your crew.”

Buggy’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the rippling shift of incredulity, befuddlement, skepticism, and then amusement in his eyes. That emotion burst outward into a loud laugh, making you flinch. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked. “Ask to join my crew?” He looked at you again, laughing even harder. “I don’t know what’s funnier—that anybody would send you to spy on me, or that you’d think I would consider hiring you.”

“I mean it!” you argued, humiliation and desperation seeping into the thousand other discomforts of your position. This wasn’t at all how you wanted this to go.

“Sweetheart,” Buggy said condescendingly, “even assuming I believe you, this is a pirate crew, not an afterschool club.”

“I know. I know what pirates do, I know what you do,” you told him. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Please, please, just give me a chance.”

He nodded, turning to pace as he thought about it.

“Okay, let’s say that I buy this… this act of yours,” Buggy said. “Do you have any experience? Maintaining ships, reading maps, loading cannons. You know, basic stuff.”

There was a line you had prepared to answer this question, one that would paint you in the most charitable light. You remembered that, but you couldn’t remember the line. All you could give was the truth. “A little.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Thought so. What about specialties? Unique skills? Any sort of talent that I can use in my show—anything at all. I mean other than,” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “that. We don’t need another one eyed midget. They’re surprisingly common.”

“I’m not a midget,” you told him, nerves fading to incredulity.

Buggy stepped back to size you up before seemingly conceding the point with a shrug. “And the eye?” He covered his left eye to illustrate. “Is that for a bit or something?”

Your stomach twisted with a familiar lurch. Disgust. Shame. Phantom light in the dark. “It’s not.”

“How’d you lose it?”

“I didn’t… lose it.”

“It’s still in there?” he asked excitedly, stepping forward and reaching to remove the bandana. “I have got to see this.”

“No, please—please don’t,” you begged, trying to wriggle away from his hand. Pinned to the board with your hands bound above your head, there was nowhere to go. “Please don’t, please-”

“Come on,” Buggy said, indifferent to your pleas as he pulled the sweat soaked fabric off of your left eye. “How bad could it be—AH!” He yelled in horror, jumping away as if you’d bitten him.

The bandana hit the floor, leaving your ruined eye and its jagged scar exposed. You couldn’t hide. All you could do was flinch back, turning your head away. “I’m sorry,” you said, ready to continue apologizing before you realized that his shock had immediately dissolved into raucous laughter. “Why are you… why are you laughing?” you asked, pulling desperately against the chains.

“I got you good,” Buggy said, his laughter subsiding. “The way you reacted, I thought that you’d be completely deformed. A real sideshow. But this…” He grabbed your chin, forcing it to the side so he could get a better look. “I couldn’t charge for this.”

“Please stop,” you begged, shaking off his grip and staring hard at his shoulder.

“Ohhh. You’re really embarrassed about it.”

You didn’t say anything, focusing mostly on fighting the tears.

“Okay, alright, yeah,” Buggy said, stepping back. “I think I’m starting to get why you would risk life and limb to beg me for a job. You grew up as a cute girl in a shithole town like this. A big fish in a little pond, as they say. Then, suddenly, BAM, you’re deformed, and, sure, they all say that it was tragic, but the truth is that they can’t stand to look at you. Even the people who loved you, the people you trusted, think you’re a freak. They abandoned you. So, without any other options, you come to me, pleading for me to give you a place amidst your fellow freaks. That about it?”

You didn’t say anything—what could you say to that?— which Buggy seemed to take as confirmation, nodding thoughtfully.

“Well, go big or go home, right? As far as a starlet’s breakout role, you couldn’t go any bigger. Thing is, I’m not really looking for new acts. Not to mention your abysmal audition.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking you up and down again.

You could feel your chance slipping away. Just like that. Go big or go home, that’s what he said.

“Please, Captain Buggy,” you begged, staring him in the eye despite how disquieting it was, despite how your skin crawled from exposing your left eye to somebody. Addressing him properly, at the very least, got his attention. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I’ll learn, I want to learn how to be a pirate, how to perform, all of it, everything. And if I can’t, I’ll do laundry and clean and cook, I have lots of experience with that. I don’t care what you ask me to do, if you let me join your crew, I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life.”

Buggy didn’t respond right away. You thought—hoped—that it meant he understood how serious you were, but his expression gave you nothing. There wasn’t much light in the room in the first place, but somehow he found enough to shine unnervingly in his pale blue eyes. Somebody with a bright red clown nose shouldn’t have been able to look so intimidating, but the way he studied you burned with an uncomfortable intensity. It had been a while since anybody looked at you so frankly, so openly, without disgust or pity.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“Why…?” you repeated, confused.

“I get that you want to leave this place, and I even buy into your whole wanting to be a pirate thing, but, you know, aside from the obvious,” he gestured to himself, “why should I believe that you really want to serve me? You’re young and cute…ish, don’t you want freedom and empowerment and all those other things girls go on and on about?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I?”

A moment of quiet that wasn’t quite silence but twice as heavy passed before a slow smile began to spread over Buggy’s face, and then—of all the bizarre, uncomfortable responses he could have—he laughed. “Oh, you’re broken, aren’t you?” he asked, clearly overjoyed by the revelation. “Well, I’m sold. I’ll have to start you on probation just in case you’re secretly up to no good. But, after that, you can audition for real. I’m sure I can find something you’ll be useful for.”

His reaction gave you whiplash. The word ‘broken’ was obviously bad, but everything else was good. You had succeeded. Only, you didn’t know why. You were still trying to decide if being called cute-ish was a compliment or not.

“Hey, just one more thing, okay?” Buggy asked, tapping your cheek. Standing mere inches away, he smiled a rictus grin. It wrinkled his eyes, but they were without life or pity or mercy. “If you’re lying to me about anything, I’ll carve some symmetry into your cute little face. You’ll thank me for it too. You won’t want to see what the guys will do to you after I toss you out there.”

“I’m not lying,” you said softly, shrinking back. “I promise.”

“Great!” Buggy said, his demeanor immediately cheering up. “Let’s get you down.” He walked behind the board you were strung up on, and you let out a shaky exhale. “Brace yourself,” he called. You had no idea what that meant, or how you were supposed to brace yourself when there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. “Three… two…”

He undid the lock, and the chains keeping you bound to the board went slack. You dropped hard, your limbs as heavy as lead. Luckily, your head was too light to feel anything when you hit the ground with a dull thump and the loud cacophony of rattling chains, spinning and blank and utterly empty. There was a suspended moment of floating, lighter than air itself. And then you were blinking rapidly and nauseous, pain shooting up your arms and knees.

Buggy dropped a key in front of you, metal bouncing on the old concrete.

“Unfortunately we didn’t bring any real props with us, so I had to improvise,” he said. With numb fingers, you grabbed the key and worked it into the locked cuff around your wrist. “You lucked out, if this were the real Wheel of Death, you’d be blowing chunks!” He paused, looking down at you. “Can you hurry this up?”

“Sorry,” you said. Your shaking hands kept missing the keyholes, but you finally got the last lock on your ankle open. The cuffs hadn’t broken skin, but your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, ugly bruises already developing. You’d had worse.

“Alright, upsy daisy,” Buggy said, crouching down to take the key away and grab the only chain you hadn’t gotten out of—the one around your neck.

It acted as a noose, giving you no other choice but to lurch upward with an unappealing choking sound, your head spinning all over again, the weightless itch tingling all the way down to the base of your spine. You stumbled forward, unintentionally falling against him.

“Holy shit,” Buggy exclaimed, helping you stand up straight with a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t know girls came in fun size. Legally, at least. Are you sure you’re not just like… the maxiest midget?”

“‘m dizzy,” you muttered, swaying despite his support.

“That’s not really… Ah, whatever. Hey, at least if you fall, you don’t have that far to go.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you finally said, which was mostly true. Breathing slow, steady breaths helped, and then you shook your head a little. The bump on the back of it throbbed painfully, and you’d have bruises on your knees the size of apples, but you would survive. You were still trying to get control over your body. It was heavy and unwieldy, although part of that must have been the exhaustion.

“If you need to vomit, make sure to aim away from me,” he said. That was about all the warning you got before he decided it was time to go, dragging you along behind him like a dog on a leash.

You realized you were leaving your bandana behind, your left eye uncovered, and reared back, trying to stop him. “Wait, I have to grab my-”

“No time,” he said, talking over you and tugging again at the chain.

There was nothing you could do but stumble over your own feet to keep up with him as he led you through the cluttered and dark storage area. You felt a tiny bit of relief that you were still in the familiar decaying buildings northside. The old warehouses were dark, dank, and dingy. Easily defended and difficult to navigate, perfect for criminals to hide out in. You knew them very well, and that helped orient you.

"As I’m sure you noticed, I’m running a bit of a skeleton crew here. The rest aren’t coming ‘til the grand finale,” Buggy said, leading you into the main warehouse space by the chain around your neck like it was completely normal. The awful smell of rot and decay was only compounded by a sickly sweet, chalky scent you didn’t recognize. Gray sunshine flooded in through the broken windows around the high ceilings, piercingly bright. “And after that, we’re gonna blow this town.”

You didn’t respond, growing even more skittish. The two of you drew the attention of the people scattered around. Some were lounging, others were training. All of them turned to look at you, watching with the dark, focused stare of hungry dogs. Colorfully dressed, very dangerous dogs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an introduction to make!” Buggy called in a loud enough voice to fill the large space. “Crew, new girl. New girl, crew. Make sure to give her a nice, warm welcome." None of them spoke or reacted, watching you with varying degrees of hostility. Buggy pulled you forward a few steps so he could whisper to you. “See that guy?” he asked, pointing to a bald man with square features and an especially dark glare. “That’s Ivo. He was the one who caught you. To be completely honest, I think he’s still a little angry that he didn't get to keep you. If I were you, I’d try to stay on his good side.”

“How?” you asked, your uneasy stomach sinking further, but Buggy was already preoccupied with something else.

“Oh, hey-” he called, flagging down a woman who was leaning against one of the steel supports. You stumbled behind him, holding the chain around your neck to ease the pressure. “Crina, I have got a very important job for you.”

The woman slowly looked from Buggy to you, giving you a weighty once-over with dark, kohl-lined eyes. Her clothes were different from the rest, draped with beads and loose and layered in shades of purple. Beneath the mystique, however, you felt the same hardness you recognized in all the pirate’s faces. “You want me to look after the little rat,” she said with an accent you didn’t recognize.

"God, it’s like you can read minds or something,” Buggy said, laughing. “Anyway, yes. Make sure she doesn’t get up to anything naughty while I’m gone. In fact, don’t let her out of your sight.”

“With all due respect,” Crina said, “why not just kill her?”

“Because I don’t want her dead,” Buggy snapped, suddenly irritated. If Crina was surprised or off put by the abrupt change of his mood, she didn’t show it.

“Of course, captain.”

“I thought I saw some cages over there,” Buggy said, gesturing vaguely and forcing the chain into Crina’s hand. “Stick her in one of those. In the back, away from any prying eyes.”

“A cage?” you asked.

“As fun as it is to see you all chained up,” Buggy said. “I worry that it might send the wrong message. Out of sight, out of mind—I don’t need you distracting my crew. They’re planning a very big surprise party. If you behave, I might be able to find some time for you later. Sound good?”

You nodded, almost surprised by how good that sounded. He ruffled your hair before turning away, barking orders to some of the men.

“Let’s go,” Crina said, pulling your attention back to her. “We have our orders.”

The cage Crina put you in, one out of several bolted to the floor in the corner out of the way from the main space, had just enough room for you to sit slouched, or lay curled on your side, meant for big dogs or small humans. There was a market for both, and you knew that this warehouse had likely housed both.

The old, dilapidated buildings had been out of use for a long time, as long as you could remember. Barley Village had been originally built to be close to the mineral deposits, but as those dried up and industry trended towards the water, southward expansion left all of the old buildings empty and rotting. There was always talk about tearing them down, but it was only ever talk. One time you were told that some people wanted to keep the buildings available to people who wished for some privacy. But when you asked your dad if that was true, he got angry, telling you that was a lie, that he would never let that happen. He said it would just be too expensive to take them down, and that there was really no point in it.

But he also told you to never, ever spend time northside. Of all of the rules he gave you, that was the only one you ever truly disobeyed. You had no idea how many times you had gotten in trouble for playing here, climbing up rusted stairs and crossing the support beams up by the ceiling, using rocks to knock out the jagged edges of broken glass from the windows so you could go onto the rooftops. Your health problems made it difficult, and sometimes impossible, but you were patient. Plus, that had been before the accident, when your coordination was still good.

Back then, you didn’t worry about the many dangers that lurked here, and you certainly didn’t believe you could be hurt. You were too entranced by the world you created for yourself. The only thing you worried about was the beatings you earned when you got caught. Dad used to tell you that if you kept disobeying him by going northside, you’d wind up locked in one of these cages—or worse. It took you a while to think of the word, because it wasn’t funny, but it also was. Ironic. It was ironic.

You couldn’t even imagine what kind of reaction he would have to what you had done now, what punishment you would earn. It would be bad. You knew it would be very bad.

Better not to think about it. Falling unconscious after being hit on the head was the most you had slept for the previous two days. It was the level of exhaustion that you could be staring down the business end of a sword with indifferent, sleepy eyes. Being locked up was bad, very bad, but you were content to lay listlessly on your side.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you weren’t entirely conscious when somebody kicked the front of your cage. “Hey, wake up.” Your physical response was to startle, jolting you awake enough to flinch away from the violence. But it was only Crina who crouched in front of the cage. “I have food for you. And medicine for the headache. I’m going let you out, and I suggest you don’t try to run. If the guys get a hold of you, I won’t stop them.”

“I won’t run,” you told her, your voice hoarse, your eyes fixed on what she had brought. A bowl of something that looked like stew and a bottle. More than food, you wanted water. Crina undid the lock and you shuffled out of the cage. Your head spun just as badly as it had when you dropped onto the floor earlier, your vision crawling with darkness and stomach heaving unhappily. She was right about the headache. It wasn’t a pain you ever got used to, no matter how many days you spent laid out from one. After an uneasy moment, you sat on the floor, grabbing the water and eagerly uncapping it.

“Hand,” Crina said, holding out a glass bottle. You allowed her to shake two capsules into your palm, tossing them into your mouth before taking in a blessedly wet mouthful of water. It soothed your tongue and throat like a salve, although you knew your stomach wouldn’t be quite so happy to receive anything. The stew’s scent alone made your stomach clench and churn with equal parts hunger and nausea. Slow. You had to take it slow.

“Thank you,” you told her, picking up the bowl. She’d brought a wrapped sailor’s biscuit to eat it with. Not very appetizing, but you hadn’t eaten much more than you slept. It could have been saw dust and you would have been grateful.

“I have your bag,” she said to fill the silence as you ate, pushing the limp canvas towards you. “They took anything that looked valuable, but your clothes are all there. They need to be washed. I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

Since your mouth was full, you nodded your thanks.

“While you eat, I’m going to talk. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Crina said. “You don’t strike me as the talkative type.”

She didn’t say that in an accusatory tone, but it still caused your heart to skip with anxiety. The fear had to be irrational, it wasn’t as if you had lied to Captain Buggy, so what did you have to worry about? Besides, only the guilty feared scrutiny, that was a favored line of your dad’s.

“There’s a man in town asking if anyone has seen a girl. Petite. Missing an eye. Mentally unwell. He’s concerned that she might have gotten lost somewhere,” Crina told you. “From what I gather, her father is a pillar of the community. They’re all very worried.”

You averted your gaze, anxiously pulling your hair to cover your left eye. Of course Randall would be looking for you, although you had hoped you would have more time before he noticed your absence. It didn’t matter that you left in such a way to raise as little suspicion as possible, or that you were an adult, or that you didn’t want to be found. Your dad asked him to be your keeper while he was gone, and Randall did as your father said. Everybody did.

“Finish your food,” Crina prompted. “It’s worse when it’s cold.”

Right. You started eating again, your movements mechanical. She said nothing, and you had nothing to say.

“Everybody has their reasons for turning to piracy, and they’re not always pleasant,” Crina suddenly said. “Unless it interferes with my own business, I don’t care about who you were and why you ran away. It was a stupid choice, I think you know that. I won’t try and convince you to leave. Buggy seems to like you, so you wouldn’t be able to go anyway. But you need to understand that there will be consequences. The life you had before, no matter how terrible, did not prepare you for the life you’ve thrown yourself into.”

You stared hard at the bowl, thinking about that. It was true, you had to accept that you had blindly stumbled into a world you knew nothing about. But what choice did you have? The things that led you to this point were arranged like the rusty, creaky rungs of a ladder scaling the side of a building. Climbing up had always been the easy part, it was the inevitable descent that gave you trouble. You had to go slow, one rung at a time, blindly feeling with your toes, holding on with sweaty fingers, not looking up and not looking down because once you were on the ladder, you could only keep going. The first rung was spotting the Buggy Pirates, which you only did because you were sulking around the docks after seeing your father off on his trip. You only recognized the crew because your dad kept track of pirate captains with significant bounties. You only had the courage to sneak away from your house because dad was too far away to stop you. You only had the ability to scope out Buggy’s temporary hideout because of how much time you spent northside when you were younger. Those things all connected and followed so naturally and you didn’t know if fate existed, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t have wound up here on your own volition. It wasn’t a choice you made, it was the only way to get down from the roof that you had been stranded on for so long.

“I’ll give you some advice,” Crina continued, her tone lighter, “and I suggest you listen. You’re young and pretty, and you wouldn’t be the first to try and use that to get an advantage. It might work for a while, but men will get bored and your looks will fade. Before long you’ll be spat out into a cheap whorehouse with a couple of children you can’t afford and a hell of a rash.”

The whiplash from your thoughts to the conclusion she had drawn made your stomach twist with disgust. “No,” you said. Was that what she thought of you? Even if the idea was utterly ridiculous, shame rolled uncomfortable through you. “I would never—I could never ever do that.”

“Don’t be naive,” Crina said, rolling her eyes. “The boys you’re used to are disgusted by that scar, but the kind of men you’ll meet from now on won’t be. If your low self-esteem dictates who you let between your legs, you’ll find yourself in the gutter. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t sleep with men to get an advantage if that’s an option, only that you must be smart about it.”

You pulled your hair forward again, shaking your head clear of what she was saying. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the assumption that men would be repulsed by your scar—which they would be, you knew that—but that you didn’t have it in you to invite or manipulate male attention. In so many ways you were already ruined, but to stoop down to letting other men touch you would be too far, it would destroy you.

“Assuming you live past tomorrow night,” Crina continued, “get a knife and figure out how to use it. The men aren’t going to accept you as a member of the crew until you prove yourself. So if anybody gets too close, you prove yourself with blood.”

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt me?”

“I think you look like an easy target,” she said. “And I know you have no concept of self preservation or defense.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, frowning. You had made it this far, after all. That was more than anybody would have thought of you.

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “The tablets I gave you are for treating pain, but imagine if they weren’t. You didn’t so much as ask me to clarify what they were.”

You opened your mouth to argue, and closed it, shame squeezing your throat. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“It might not matter anyway,” she said, “depending on Buggy’s reasons for keeping you.”

“What do you mean?”

Crina gave you a long, pitying look and you could tell there was something she wanted to say, something she was holding back. Eventually she shrugged. “That is between the two of you.”

You wanted to push for more, confused by the cryptic answer, but you didn’t. You could tell by the hard look on her face that she wouldn’t tell you anyway.

“One more thing. The most important thing,” Crina told you, leaning close so she could whisper. “Never, ever mention the captain’s nose. In fact, never mention noses at all.”

“His nose?” you repeated softly. “Is it… is it real?”

“What did I just say?” she asked sharply. “He killed a few of the last new recruits for saying something that sounded like nose while he was in a bad mood.”

“He… killed them?” you asked.

“Buggy is a very temperamental man,” she said, leaning back. “Try not to get on his bad side.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him.”

“I do, actually. God knows why. Are you finished?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come on then,” Crina told you, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “There’s running water on the other side. I’ll keep watch so you can clean up.”

Although birds called and the breeze carried all sorts of noises from Barley Village, none of it really reached the northside. A solemn graveyard hush settled heavy between the wreckage of ruined buildings, drafty even in broad daylight. No ghosts hid in the shadows, no historical tragedy marred its name, but there remained the haunted imprint of people who were no longer around.

Before setting you on your task of the day, Crina had given you a dress of hers to wear while your own clothes dried in the sun. You swam in it, but a sash at the waist made the fit look somewhat intentional and the long sleeves hid the ugly bruises cuffing your wrists. That, combined with having slept the previous night and most of the day, left you feeling oddly refreshed. Sure, all of the sleep had been in a cage and the only ‘bath’ you had was a couple of minutes alone with a spout that spat freezing water and a washcloth, but it was better than yesterday. Better than the day before that too, save for the bruises and big goose egg bump on the back of your head.

Despite the headache, you were glad to be given something to do. The task wasn’t difficult. Busywork that kept you out of the way. Checking to ensure that everything which would be loaded on the ship was documented, organized, and ready for transport. It wasn’t entirely unlike what you had done in the past and, you imagined, would be doing in the future. It was, however, the opposite way around. The goods were obviously looted, you were creating a list to know exactly what and how much of it had been stolen.

Vinegar, oil, wax.

You used the end of the pen to scratch beneath your bandana, which Crina had kindly retrieved for you. Sometimes the scar got itchy, like it had when it was healing.

Twine, needles, thread.

There was a particular smell to supply crates like these. Something to do with the place they were stored, or where they were made. Even now, years since you had been on a ship, it was overwhelmingly familiar. It made your stomach ache and chest clench, although you weren’t sure which quality of the scent was so unsettling.

You scratched the scar again.

Vinegar, oil-

Wait, you had already done that. Annoyed, you crossed out those words and crouched down to get into the next crate. Rope. It was coiled in tight loops like a huge snake, coarse beneath your fingers. Anything that was strong enough to endure the fury of the sea had to be coarse. Good rope was vital on a ship, you knew that even with your limited experience. Touching it reminded you of the time your dad tried to show you how to tie knots, and then subsequently had to treat your rope burn.

What would he think when he returned? Retired Marine or not, he was deeply involved with northside business and law. Missing supplies, missing daughter. Sometimes you felt an acidic sort of pleasure when imagining his reaction to your absence, but usually it was just dread.

Or worse. Prickling paranoia. You could run, for a time. But that was all it was. Running. He used to be a Marine, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you. When you were younger, the thought gave you comfort.

But you didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. Not ever again. You stared very hard at the rope, desperate to put those thoughts out of your mind.

You stared and stared and stared and-

Somebody grabbed you around the bicep, dragging you to your feet and forcing you back to reality. Yelping in fear, you were nearly knocked back down from the bloodrush dizziness of standing up too fast, saved only by the crates.

“Good god, girl,” the unfamiliar man said, taking a step back, clearly put off by your reaction. “Are you deaf or something? I hollered at you three or four times. Were you sleeping?”

Putting a hand to your racing heart, you looked from him to the still open crate and the notepad you had abandoned mid-task. You had no idea how long you had been sitting there. Long enough for your foot to go numb, prickling with pins and needles now that you were standing up.

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

“The captain wants to see you. It’s urgent,” he said. When you didn’t immediately respond, still orienting yourself, he sighed impatiently and grabbed your elbow, physically dragging you away. You stumbled to keep up, trying very hard to avoid falling. “If Buggy asks why you took so long, you better tell him it was your fault.”

“I will,” you said to appease him, attempting to shake off his hand before realizing that it was pointless. “Please slow down.”

“Not my fault you’ve got stumpy legs,” he said. “Keep up.”

The unfairness of that stung, but you didn’t have much choice. You had a feeling that he’d keep on pulling you along even if it meant dragging you across the ground.

“Where are we going?” you asked, embarrassingly out of breath.

“There,” he said, nodding to one of the waterfront buildings. At least it was close. You never strayed so close to the water, the buildings were too squat to make for fun exploration and too exposed to give cover.

The pirate released you when you got to the door, leaving you winded and scared. You adjusted your bandana and tried to catch your breath. “Don’t forget to tell him it was your fault it took so long, not mine,” he said, opening the door.

“I won’t,” you promised, the words papery thin on your dry tongue.

You were in trouble. You had no idea what you might have done, but there had to be something. Why would you be summoned like this otherwise? A very bad feeling pressed against your sternum, but you forced yourself to walk forward. The door shut behind you. Inside, the air was dark and cool and wet, sending a little shiver down your spine.

Buggy stood in the middle of the room, the only place where the sun found its way between the mangled teeth of glass and steel that used to be windows, his own little spotlight amidst the ruins. There were three other men on the edges of the light, their backs to you. One of them was bound. You did not like this.

“There she is!” Buggy exclaimed, inviting you forward with his arms spread wide. “Come on, don’t be shy. Especially not after keeping us waiting so long. Your friend over here could hardly handle the suspense.

Rocks and broken glass crunched beneath your feet as you approached them. Once you got close enough, finally, you could see the faces of the other men. One was the square-featured, angry man Buggy called Ivo. Another, a man you didn’t know. And the third, the one bound with a busted lip and developing black eye—

Randall called your name, trying to escape and rush to your side. Ivo grabbed him, pressing the blade of his knife against his throat.

“See, I told you, they’re working together,” Ivo said, glaring at you. “She tipped him off. No doubt this place will be swarming with the law before long.”

You stood completely still, staring at Randall with the steadily rising tide of panic sloshing in your stomach. After everything you had done to misdirect him, the note you left to beg he didn’t follow, the trouble you had put yourself through to keep from being seen, he was still here.

“Are you okay?” Randall asked, looking you up and down frantically, concerned in a way he never had looked before. “Did they hurt you?”

“I told you, she’s fine,” Buggy said with a grin. “I mean, yeah, Ivo over there did give her a little knock on the ole noggin—a love tap, really—but the eye was already like that when we found her.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Randall said, glaring at Buggy.

“Shut up,” Ivo said, pressing the knife close enough to Randall’s throat that it broke skin.

“No, no, let him go,” Buggy ordered casually, waving his hand. “He’s not gonna do anything stupid.” He threw an arm around your shoulder. “Not when I’ve got her.”

Ivo reluctantly complied, releasing Randall. He watched you intently, and you knew what he was thinking. How could he save you?

“Ivo over there thinks that the two of you are working together,” Buggy told you, smiling. His arm was heavy around your shoulders, oppressively so. “He thinks that we should kill you both.”

“I’m not—I wouldn’t,” you told him.

“And see, I wanna believe you. I really do. But he’s not talking, and,” Buggy ran his finger over your right cheek, reminding you of his threat from yesterday, “I’m starting to worry you’ve been lying to me.”

“I’m not,” you said, ice cold dread dripping into your veins a drop at a time. You fought your discomfort and forced yourself to meet his eyes, hoping he could see your sincerity. “I promise I’m not.”

“Then how did he find this place?”

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“She used to hide here when we were kids,” Randall answered. “I thought she ran away, not that you freaks had kidnapped her. If I had known I’d find pirates here, I would have come armed.”

“Is that true?” Buggy asked you, pulling you even closer. Close enough to be embarrassing, to give the wrong impression, especially when he was stroking your cheek with a sort of affection that didn’t mesh with the danger in his blue eyes.

“I told you it is. Let her go, clown!” Randall shouted. His voice was loud enough to echo, and harsh enough to make you wince. That sort of rage wasn’t one you expected from him, but it was familiar all the same.

“Oh, wow,” Buggy said with a laugh, looking up at him. “Is that jealousy I hear? She didn’t tell me she was leaving behind a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said softly, your insides twisting at the thought.

“Really?” Buggy asked. He shrugged, and looked at Randall. “If you’re not doing this because you want to have sex with her, why are you here?”

“I am a dear friend—both to her and her dad,” Randall answered. “He asked me to look after her because she… She’s not in a sound state of mind. And she’s the only family he has left. Without her, he’ll have nothing.” He grit his teeth. “Take me, kill me if you’re that thirsty for blood, but let her go. Please.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but she came here all on her own,” Buggy said, releasing you to approach him instead. “She begged to join my crew, got down on her knees and told me that she would be happy to serve me for the rest of her life. It was the most adorable thing.”

“No,” Randall said, his face twisting with disgust. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask her yourself,” Buggy invited, stepping aside and sweeping out his arm. All eyes landed on you like a spotlight. Blood rushed in your ears, and you felt dizzy with it, ready to pass out on the spot. When you looked at Buggy, he smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s true,” you said.

“No. That is impossible,” Randall said. “This is insane. You are mad, you cannot make decisions like this for yourself.” You stared at his feet, your hands balled into fists. You were not crazy. You were not. That had to be true. “Whatever hysterics brought you here, give it up. These are pirates.”

“I’m a pirate too,” you declared, your hands forming fists at your sides. You weren’t crazy, or mad. You were thinking very clearly, more than you had in a while.

“No, you are your father’s daughter,” Randall insisted, loud enough to make you flinch. “Can you imagine the agony he would feel hearing you say that?”

Your breathing was too fast, rapid enough to make your head spin. You kept shaking your head, tears flying off of your cheek, but you couldn’t recall when you had begun to cry. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care…? This bastard has already gotten into your head,” Randall said. “He has poisoned your broken mind with his lies and manipulations, please don’t let this go any further.”

You shook your head again, but there was nothing you could think of to say. You didn’t want to talk anymore, you just wanted this to be over.

“Believe me, as much as I would love to claim otherwise, I had nothing to do with this,” Buggy said, raising his hands innocently. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Think about what would drive a girl like this into the arms of a pirate. A broken heart, maybe? Was that your doing, lover boy? Did you break her heart? Make her feel like she wasn’t good enough?”

“Keep your big goddamned nose out of our business, clown,” Randall said.

The other pirates audibly gasped, and you could feel the sudden zap of tension in the air. Buggy’s taunting smile froze in place, his posture icing over like a statue. And then, a second later, he was rushing at Randall, burying his fist in the other man’s stomach. Randall crumpled onto his knees with a heavy grunt and you waited for something else, something worse. Crina said that Buggy had killed over jokes about his nose, and, right then, you believed it.

Nothing happened. You watched, frozen, as Buggy breathed in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it, and then he raised a hand.

“New girl,” he called, snapping to beckon you closer. You obliged, rushing to his side. He didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same. “Are you ready for your big moment?”

“What?”

“Your audition! I thought of the perfect act for you. Kill him.”

You looked down at Randall, he was clearly still in pain, his eyes watering as he looked up at you. “I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head again.

“You can and will. Assuming you want to remain on my crew. Otherwise I’ll kill him and you’ll have to explain to daddy why prince charming was here in the first place.” He held out his hand towards Ivo. “Knife.” When he got it, Buggy flipped the knife handle first, holding it to you with a flourish. “You’re up, babydoll.”

“She won’t do it, clown,” Randall said through grit teeth.

“Of course she will,” Buggy said. “For me.”

As if moving through the dusky haze of a dream, you took the knife, wrapping your sweaty hand around the grip. The way Buggy smiled in response made your heart flutter, something to cling to amidst the horror and disgust. It didn’t feel real anymore. How could it be real?

“I don’t know what to do.” Were those your words? Your voice?

Buggy laughed. “Of course you don’t,” he said, circling behind Randall. “C’mere, I’ll help you.”

Randall was shouting and pleading, but Buggy had grabbed a fistfull of his hair to keep him from escaping.

“You’ve gotta hold him still,” Buggy told you. “Like this, see?”

“-don’t do this, please. You can’t… I love you!”

You got a fistful of Randall’s hair, making him cry out in pain. There was no pleasure in the sound, only a roiling sense of disgust. It would be better when he was dead, and then he wouldn’t be in pain.

“God you’re short,” Buggy said as he adjusted you into place, right between him and Randall. “You’ll be better off going for their ankles.” He wrapped his hand around yours, getting a good grip on the knife and holding it still.

“-when he gets bored of fucking you. That’s all pirates do, rape and murder. You’ll never be one of them, you’ll just-”

“Start on one side and move to the other, easy as that,” Buggy said comfortingly, resting his chin against the side of your head.

“-he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?”

Moving slowly, through a dream, you put the knife on the left side of Randall’s neck. It was no different from what a butcher did, really.

Breath in. Pull. You instinctively locked up at the sound of Randall’s screams and the resistance of his flesh, but Buggy forced your hand, pulling the blade deep into his neck and then fast to the side. The knife got caught part way through, stuck in something hard. You tried to saw through it and Randall made an inhuman noise of agony. Buggy had to help you unstick it, to follow through until the knife slashed that horrifying scream short and then there was just a sort of gurgling sound and you didn’t know if it was because he was still alive or if it was an automatic process.

There was so much blood, and it was hot, burning you. For some reason, you hadn’t anticipated the messy scarlet spray. From the deep slice came more blood. More, and more still. Randall’s heavy, limp body dropped onto the floor into a puddle of it, although you weren’t sure when you let go of his hair. Buggy released your hand, but you didn’t drop the knife, holding it in a death grip as blood streamed like red veins down your hand and wrist, down the blade and all the way to its tip before dripping to the dirty floor. The tang of iron filled your lungs. You shook all over, all the way down inside, your bones and organs shivering. It was your heart. It pounded frantically, like butterfly wings. And your breathing. Wheezing, gasping, gurgling like Randall’s had before he fell.

Your mouth opened to exhale, but there was nothing there. No air, no words. Nothing. Your cold gaze turned to look at Buggy, confused as to what you were supposed to do next. He had led you this far, but now you were lost. He smiled, and laughed, and took the knife away from you, tossing it to the side where it clanged and slid away.

And then he folded you into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and steady, and he was so warm. He smelled of gunpowder and salty sea air and greasepaint and the natural warm scent of his skin. You clung to that, breathing in deep to excise the scent of blood.

“Congratulations, babydoll,” Buggy told you. “Looks like you just got the part.”

The first firecracker went off not long after the sun had gone down, kicking off the surprise party with an especially loud zip and then a bang and a bursting sizzle. “It’s a surprise party,” Buggy told you, his face illuminated by the flash of red. “As in, the people who live here are going to be so surprised by the party I’m throwing for my crew. Get it?”

A chain of firecrackers followed the first, a show that the pirates set off amidst a barrage of explosions, lighting up the sky with brilliant colors and smoke, making the earth tremble beneath your feet. They acted as distraction and lure, drawing people further into the town and inviting the ship that had been lurking nearby to enter the harbor.

And after that came the chaos.

Many things happened that you were aware of, if only passively. Leaving the northside and then Barley Village, waiting at the dock, and then boarding the ship as men and women in colorful attire flooded the yard, overtaking the few armed guards. You were told to sit on the deck and wait, so you did. Aware of it all—noxious sulfur and smoke filling the air, thunderous claps of explosives, popping gunshots, screaming voices, roaring fires—but uninvolved. There was a sense of great quiet. Not outside where things were loud and violent and scary, but inside. You were very quiet on the inside. Far away from everything and everyone else.

Blood flaked off of your skin, caking beneath the nails when you scratched your arm. It would have been nice to wash it off, but you didn’t know where you would go for that, and you didn’t want to get up.

“Yoo-hoo, is anybody in there?”

A gloved hand waved in front of your face.

You let out a hoarse scream, nearly tipping backwards from how violently you startled. It didn’t take long for you to realize how overblown the reaction was, Buggy’s laughter made the point quite clearly.

“What was that?” he asked, almost laughing too hard to get the words out. He stood above you without his coat and hat, although he kept the striped headscarf, and a bottle tucked under his arm.

“You scared me,” you told him, a hand on your racing heart.

“That noise you just made though,” he said, still laughing. “It sounded like one of those scream-y fireworks.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Your fault, not mine. I was trying to talk to you, but you just sat there. I thought it was your eye that didn’t work, not your ears.”

“I guess I… zoned out a little.”

“No shit. Ah, that was good,” Buggy said as his laughter subsided. “I had no idea human beings could even make sounds like that.” Letting out a big breath to settle himself, he sat down next to you. Very close, far closer than you would have, almost touching. “Kinda makes me wonder what other kinds of sounds you can make.”

“I know, it’s annoying,” you said, staring hard at the deck. “I’m sorry.”

Buggy laughed at that too, shaking his head. “You really have no clue, do you?” he asked. “Is it weird that I’m into it?”

“Into what?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I… don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, and that’s okay,” he said with a mocking sort of indulgence, patting your head. “Anyway, I had a little business in town and snagged this from some rich guy’s house.” He held up a bottle by the neck and swished its contents a little for effect. “We’re going to celebrate.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there?” you asked, the first coherent question that came to your mind as it scrambled to make sense of what he had just said.

“Between you and me, this,” Buggy said with a confidential hush, gesturing to your burning town, “isn’t my thing. It’s a reward for my freaks, gives ‘em an outlet to express themselves artistically. I prefer a more… performative platform. True art deserves a spotlight and an audience.” He waved that away, smiling. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

“Me?”

“You really impressed me earlier. I mean, yeah, your technique needs polish, and you’ve got no stage presence to speak of, but you displayed raw talent. I really think you have a shot at success, sweetheart. Stick with me, and I’ll make something out of you yet.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, shying away from thinking about earlier. The praise though, that was heady. That made you feel warm.

Buggy popped the cork off the bottle, taking a drink straight from it and smacking his lips appreciatively. “You like sweet things, right?”

“I-”

“You’ll love this then. Here, try it.”

You eyed the bottle he was proffering to you warily. Alcohol was something you were familiar with, but you could count on your fingers the number of times you had actually tasted it. “I don’t know…” you said, trying to think of ways to reject drinking without seeming ungrateful.

“You’re a pirate now, so you’ve gotta learn to drink like one,” Buggy told you, pushing it into your hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sniffed the open lip, surprised by the sweetness. It didn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as you feared. Not like what your father drank. Maybe it would be okay. Trying to avoid embarrassing yourself, you tipped the bottle back just like he had. That was a mistake. It didn’t smell like alcohol, but you could taste it—feel it, even. Panicked by your body’s natural response to expel it, you swallowed as much as you could, coughing out the rest. Red liquid drooled down your chin, staining the dress that was already ruined with dried blood. Buggy laughed. A little at first, and then a lot.

Flushing, you wiped your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that. That was hilarious,” Buggy told you. You looked away, even more embarrassed. “Your face was priceless. You threw that back with the confidence of a real fire-hazard, saggy skinned, dead eyed alcoholic. You were so serious about it too, and then… Good lord.”

“I didn’t know!” you said, trying and failing not to sound shrill.

“It’s okay, you’ve got me to help you now. Try it again, but don’t be so greedy. Baby sips.”

“No, thank you,” you said, holding the bottle back to him.

“Drink. That’s an order,” he said, pushing it back to you.

That gave you pause. “Do you mean that?” you asked.

He nodded, urging you on.

Your shoulders drooped in defeat. Trepidatiously, you took a small sip. At least you didn’t hack it back up this time. While the taste was sweet, the burn was not. It rose up like smoke into your head, you could feel it.

“What if I get drunk?” you asked.

“Oh, you’re going to get drunk, captain’s orders,” Buggy said with a grin. “I can’t stand watching you sit around moping about killing that guy. Besides, you’re a pirate now.”

The little ball of anxiety deep in your gut doubled. This was wrong, you knew it was. Or maybe you were wrong, and Buggy was right. You didn’t know.

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you muttered.

“As long as you don’t jump into the water or shit yourself, you’ll be fine…” You looked at him, horrified. “Joking! C’mon, I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I? You’ll be fine.”

The way he laughed made you want to believe him. He was your captain now. You nodded seriously and, steeling yourself, took another drink. And another.

“See? It’s good, right?” Buggy asked, holding out his hand for the bottle.

You licked your lips, cleaning up the lingering sweetness. “It is. Thank you,” you said, unable to keep yourself from admiring the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the view unfortunately obscured by his cravat.

The perverse thought took you by surprise. Was it the alcohol? Already, your head was spinning, your thoughts a little more disorganized. It wasn’t like the quiet, empty feeling of before. It was warm and distant, it made your shoulders relax, the anxiety and uncertainty of before fading. This was a good idea, you already felt so much better. When he passed the bottle back, you didn’t have to be prompted to imbibe, chasing that feeling.

“I don’t mean to pry, but when that guy back there mentioned your dad, it really seemed to get to you,” Buggy said. “What, did daddy not love you? Or maybe he loved you a little too much.”

You didn’t want to talk about that. You didn’t want to think about it. You took another big drink.

On the horizon, the town was utterly ablaze. As the night grew darker, the flames rose higher. Which building was burning so brightly? It belched thick, black smoke into the night sky. Who was in it? Anybody you knew?

“Don’t wanna talk about it, hm? That’s fine,” Buggy said, stealing the bottle back. “With any luck, my freaks’ll kill him tonight, eh? Then you’ll really be free.”

“He’s gone right now,” you said, your words soft and slurring together. “Out of town.” What would he think of the smoldering ashes? Would he believe you had perished in the flame? Somehow, you doubted that. He would know what you had done. There was no chance of freedom, not for you.

“That’s even better,” Buggy said.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to him, both in confusion and disbelief. “How?”

“Because, babydoll,” Buggy told you, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were paying attention. “It’s good to have somebody to hate—somebody to prove wrong. He tried to convince you that you’re crazy, he tried to keep you from ever being yourself. That pain and anger made you weak. But you’re not weak anymore. Tonight, I showed you how to be strong. It’s not enough to tell those assholes that they’re wrong, you have to prove it to them. That’s what tonight was about, right? You proved to your dad, to everybody, that you’re stronger than they thought. And, hey, you proved it to me, too. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind.” He threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “I like you, kiddo. A lot.”

“I like you too,” you said, relaxing into the little side hug, very aware of every place his bare arm met your bare shoulders and neck. The alcohol had stoked a nice blaze in your stomach and chest, making your head spin in a way you didn’t mind that much. Smoothing the colors, softening the air, making you want to lean into his touch, made you crave more of it.

Buggy pulled away, leaving the bottle in your hands. You felt a little cold without him.

“You know,” he said, smiling at you. The far off flames glinted mischievously in his eyes. The flaring reds and oranges highlighted his cheekbones too, defined the sharpness of his jaw. You were caught off guard by how viscerally you reacted to the thought that he was handsome, your filterless mind caught in an endless loop of focusing on the fact. “Burning down this shithole is nothing compared to what I will do. The towns I’ll raze to the ground, the treasure I’ll steal, the shows I’ll put on. Now that I’ve got a crew, I’m gonna put on a show like nobody’s ever seen. The biggest, flashiest, greatest show ever. Everybody will be screaming my name, recognize my face. I’ll shine so bright that they’ll have no choice but to love me. ”

Buggy’s intensity made you smile, you couldn’t help it. Alcohol had created a cloudy burst of affection within you, or maybe it was just the floodgates of tension finally collapsing, letting out something that would have otherwise been smothered. Either way, it was as intoxicating as the drink itself.

“Are you laughing at me?” Buggy asked, his tone filled with steel. You looked to see his dark expression, his narrowed eyes.

“I’m not,” you said, confused by his rapid shift in demeanor. “I’m… I’m happy. I’ll do anything to help you.”

He relaxed. “Well, you’d better start working on your act.”

That made you laugh, a dizzy, bubbly sound. “I can’t do an act. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“There has to be something. Let me think… Can you sing?”

“I used to, a little. But not for a really long time.”

“Come on, let me hear it.”

You were drunk, you knew that for a fact because in no state of sobriety would you offer to sing in front of another person. But, right then, bubbling with alcohol and protected by the darkness of the smoky night sky, you felt invincible.

“Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning? Slash his…um… something, something, captain’s daughter. Toss him in… to… the dirty water…” Whatever coherence you held onto unraveled into a fit of drunken laughter at the awful rhyme. “I’m sorry, I think… I think I forgot some of the words.”

“Seems like you forgot the tune too,” Buggy said, wincing dramatically. All that did was make you laugh harder. “Hold on a second, let me wipe the blood out of my ears.”

You swatted his shoulder, although your attempted indignance probably wasn’t very convincing when you were still smiling. “Don’t be mean!”

“That’s a bold way to treat your captain,” he told you, but he was smiling too.

“Please don’t be mean to me, Captain Buggy,” you said, speaking slowly to emphasize how serious you were.

“Beg me again.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, waving it off in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “Anyway, I’m being nice right now, especially after that performance. The critics would eat you alive for that one. So, singing is out. Clearly. What else have you got?”

“Oh! I know a, um, a rhyme. A joke.”

He looked at you skeptically. “Really?”

“What is that s’posed to mean?” you asked.

“You don’t strike me as somebody with… How should I put this… A sense of humor?”

You frowned.

“Alright, alright, quit pouting and tell me,” Buggy said impatiently, waving you to continue.

You cleared your throat very theatrically, sitting up as straight as you could manage.

“There was a young lass who thought

Very little but thought it a lot.

Then at long last she knew

What she wanted to do,

But before she could start, she forgot.”

Deflating, you laughed, surprised at how clearly you had delivered the words. Especially considering how long it had been since you heard them.

Buggy didn’t look nearly as impressed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clean limerick before,” he said. “And now I know why. I mean, what’s the point of limerick without the ick.”

You blew a raspberry at him. “Fine, you do one.”

“Okay, but you have to prepare yourself,” Buggy said. You nodded encouragingly.

“There was a young plumber named Lee

Who was plumbing his girl by the sea.

She said, ‘Stop your plumbing,

There's somebody coming’

Said the plumber, still plumbing, ‘It's me.’"

Belatedly, you gasped, your hands covering your mouth. That shock dissolved into giggles. “That’s, oh, that’s… that’s dirty.”

“Aw, was it too much for your delicate sensibilities? Now that you’re a pirate, you’re gonna hear a lot worse than that. A looooooooot worse. I hope your unspoiled ears can handle it.”

“I can!” you insisted, taking a big drink to steel yourself before setting the bottle aside. If you were going to be a pirate, you had to stop getting so flustered. “More. Please.”

“Okay, okay…” Buggy cleared his throat. “A hooker roaming the East Blue,

Once filled her vagina with glue,

She said, with a grin, ‘Well, they paid to get in,

And they’ll damn sure pay to get out, too.’”

You laughed loudly, as much at the joke as the taboo nature of it. You laughed, and then giggled in a bubbly, drunken way that you knew was too loud and embarrassing. “That is icky,” you told him. “Jeez, that’s…” Your faux seriousness dissolved into a fit of giggles again and you leaned against him for stability. “What would you even do?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like a sticky situation,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. That, of course, sent you into another fit of giggles.

“I’m sorry, I’m…” you said. “I think I’m drunk.” You looked behind yourself at the town, the glittery haze of joy buzzing in your head fading at the sight. It was horrific, wasn’t it? And here you were, laughing like a fool. You couldn’t really comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if you could acknowledge that it was terrible. “Is it okay?” you asked, looking back at him imploringly. “Everything that happened tonight… I thought I would feel very different after, but I don’t. It almost feels like it’s not even real. You ever get that? When things happen but they feel so impossible that you get confused?”

“If you can think that clearly,” Buggy said, “then you’re not drunk enough. Bottoms up, babydoll.” You smiled at his use of the pet name and the fluttery feeling it gave you. What else could you do but oblige, tipping the bottle back like before. Only, unlike before, you kept it all down. There wasn’t any real burn, just more sweetness, more warmth.

And then there was nothing left.

“Woah,” you said, lowering the empty bottle and wiping your mouth. “‘s all gone.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dizzy sort of laugh. “I dunno…” you said, closing your eye, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m…” Already things were getting even more fuzzy and foggy. Fabric stuck to your flushed skin, the salty air drying across your chest and cheeks. “I feel… very…”

Making an upset noise in the back of your throat, you pushed your hair back, catching the bandana and pulling it off so you could feel the breeze on your whole face. That helped. Drawing in a deep breath, you looked at him, trying to focus. Only, the second you saw him, all you could do was smile. His eyes were greedy about the light, sparkling with it. Even with the nose, Buggy was handsome. That was not something you could tell him though, not at all ever. Unfortunately you had forgotten what you were saying in the first place.

“Very… what?” Buggy asked. “‘Cause if you keep trying to be a buzzkill, I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Were you a buzzkill? You couldn’t remember what you had said or done to earn that title. It was hard enough to comprehend what was happening in the moment. “Like what?” you asked.

“Like… this!” Buggy said, using the sash around your waist to pull you closer so he could tickle your sides. You jumped and squealed, the bottle rolling out of your hands as you tried to fight him off.

“No no no, don’t,” you cried, trying to escape. You were being too loud, moving too much, acting like an idiot, but you didn’t have enough control to stop.

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

It was true, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, letting it out in panicked little bursts. Time had a bizarre elasticity to it, everything hitting you at once and fading just as fast. Laughing, sobbing, begging him to stop. It was easy to catch and hold onto one of his hands, but that left the other one free. And if you tried to catch that one instead, you had to release the first. There must have been a better way to do it, but you felt as if, bit by bit, particle by particle, the world was separating, the hot and humid air splitting, your limbs becoming loose, your capacity for rational thought dissipating like mist.

Lacking any sort of control and with a completely undeserved sense of invulnerability, you tackled him. Buggy let it happen, still laughing. At least he had stopped.

“God, it’s like being attacked by a drunk, one-eyed toddler,” he said. “What are you gonna do, whine me into submission?”

“Don’t be mean,” you said seriously, your words ruined by something wavering between a laugh and a sob, or maybe it was just the drunken slur.

“You attacked me. If anything, I'm the victim here.”

“No! You started it!”

“Hold on, are you… crying?” Buggy asked incredulously. “Aw, you poor thing. I mean, you were laughing so much, how could I have known you didn’t like it?”

“I don’t!” you insisted.

“To be clear,” he said. “You don’t like this?” He attacked your sides, not tickling so much as just teasing, but to the same effect. You yelped and sat up squirm away, swatting at his hands.

Rather than laugh like before, Buggy groaned, his hips bucking up against you. A loud, harsh gasp left your mouth, your entire body going rigid from the liquid heat of friction, your thighs squeezing around him. At some point, your skirt had ridden up, your panties being the only barrier left. You didn’t think you had ever been as acutely aware of how achingly empty, electrically tingly, as you were right then.

Bad. Very bad.

“Oh, there’s another fun noise,” Buggy said, laughing as he propped himself upright with his arms. “I can’t believe that got you.”

“No,” you said quickly, dizzy from the intensity of your reaction and how close the two of you were. You could smell him, the sweat, the musk, the salt, the greasepaint, the gunpowder. You could see the glitter in his makeup, the fire catching in his eyes. “It jus’... surprised me.”

“Is that why you’re shaking?” Buggy asked, rubbing your exposed thigh, the fabric of his glove catching the sensitive skin.

“I’m… um…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to organize the drunken slush of your brain. Being so close to him, feeling his body against yours, sent deviously tantalizing tingling sparks through you. And guilt. It was wrong, he wasn’t doing anything to invite those feelings, you were just being weird and drunk and embarrassing and you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. You’d have to tilt your head a lot, although the stubble would be more hazardous than his nose. The last time you kissed someone, you were both young enough that you didn’t have to navigate facial hair. And then there was the matter of the makeup. You tried to imagine what you might look like after, the slash of red and imprint of white. Maybe they’d mix into pink. You tried to force yourself to focus on something else, but you couldn’t meet his eyes either. Nervous and confused and filled with a million different feelings you had no name for, you squirmed again, thoughtlessly adding to the anxious feedback loop of heat and need and intoxicated emptiness.

“You know, sweetheart, this reminds me,” Buggy said, “there’s still the matter of your physical. It’s standard procedure for new crew. We could get that over and done with while you’re… lubricated.”

“What’re you… talking about?”

“I’ve gotta make sure you’re fit, healthy… Clean of anything you could pass on to the forty or so people you’re gonna be stuck with in an enclosed space for weeks at a time.”

“How d’you do that?”

“You’ve been to a doctor, right? It’s kinda like that. I know it can feel a little invasive, so it might be better to do it while you’re drunk.”

“What…” you started to ask, but then Buggy shifted, his hips pushing up against you. The fresh wash of warmth it sent into your core scattered your mind, and you lost the already tenuous thread of thought. Your eyelashes fluttered, although you weren’t sure when you had closed your eye. “Umm…”

“Well, first,” he said, answering the question you hadn’t asked, “you’d have to take off your clothes. Then relax while I have a little look-see. It’s important that you stay as still as possible. I’ll have a hard time finishing if you can’t stop squirming around the whole time.”

“Do you really have to?” you asked, your brow furrowing. It sounded embarrassing. But maybe if it was him, you didn’t mind? Your dad did all of your past medical check-ups so it wasn’t inherently wrong. But the thought of Buggy seeing you without clothes wasn’t exactly nice, you could only imagine his disgust. That was bad.

“Depends on if you’re serious about being a pirate or not,” Buggy said.

“I am serious!” you exclaimed. Your hands went to the sash around your waist to pull the bow free. If you did it quickly, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed.

“Woah, wait. Holy shit,” Buggy said, “are you seriously—” He cracked up laughing, making you freeze. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”

“You’re… laughing,” you said, your fingers falling with the slow sink of humiliation.

“You really were going to strip for me, out in the open and everything.” Buggy laughed harder, rocking forward. “I didn’t expect you to be so eager. Hey, if you really wanna get naked, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I don’t, I just… I thought…” you said, pulling away from him and trying to get onto your feet to get away, embarrassment lighting the worst sort of fire within you.

“Woah, calm down, it was just a joke,” Buggy said, his laughter fading. “You’re absolutely plastered, if you stand up, you’re gonna fall right back down.” You didn’t stop, resolute to get onto your feet and put some distance between you and him. “I won’t catch you.”

“’m fine,” you told him.

You finally got your footing and braced against your knee to lurch upright. For a second, you were standing up and weightless. And then you were nothing.

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #opla x reader #buggy x reader #my writing #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #buggy the flashy fool #lmao all of those come up when you type buggy that's cute #flashbang

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hp-hcs · 1 year ago

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(Fine, I’ll do it my damn self: part 5 of my silly lil mlm stories <3)

tmr is just babygirl i don’t make the rules

Watercolors (Chapter One) — tom riddle x male! artistic! hufflepuff! reader

he could manipulate and possess me thus irreversibly changing my trust in people despite it never being mentioned again and i would thank him

yk, i absolutely love chamber of secrets, but who starts a new diary (obtained under questionable circumstances) with ‘my name is’?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tom Marvolo Riddle had been stuck inside of his diary since he was sixteen years old.

The diary itself, inside, was a perfect replica of Hogwarts, the boundaries stretching out well into the Forbidden Forest. Perfect, except for the fact that it was made solely of parchment and ink, and was completely devoid of color or life.

Tom hated the color of parchment.

The diary passed hands many times over the five subsequent decades. First there was the pathetic, sniveling man—the Malfoy sycophant—who all but groveled at Tom’s feet (metaphorically, of course).

Next was the littlest Weasley, the redheaded girl who bored Tom to (again, metaphorical) death. He could only pretend to be interested in how Dean Thomas held the door open for her so many times before he wanted to bash his head into one of the walls.

(He tried, once. The parchment just ripped and left him with a nasty paper-cut on his forehead. Tom missed the red of blood. Now, he bled only black, dripping ink.)

Then, Harry Potter, the boy fated to defeat him, (or whatever) who turned out to be really quite sweet. As a last fuck you to whom he became in the future, Tom aided Harry in coming out to the littlest Weasley’s mother.

That’ll show Lord Voldemort, the dipshit, Tom thought gleefully.

Eventually though, even lovely Harry became more distant, his newly rediscovered godfather being the rightful center of his attention. Tom supposed he might have been jealous of the acquitted Black in another life, but after fifty years of loneliness he understood the yearning for living, breathing friends rather than just paper that writes back, as Little Weasley once called him.

Then, out of nowhere, came the Hufflepuff boy with a tin of watercolors and an eye for the overlooked.

The first thing this wondrous creature made for Tom was a little stone cottage, complete with a warm hearth, a garden of pumpkins and berries, and an idyllic curl of smoke from the chimney. The cottage sat near the edge of the forest, wonderfully secluded and alive.

Tom had watched as gentle sweeps of a brush, suspended in midair, created a home. One that existed in both the physical diary and the hellish paper prison Tom resided in.

Everything existed.

The warm, brown thatched roof, the colorfully patterned bedspread, and even a fireplace.

When the masterpiece was complete, Tom, although he would never admit it, gorged himself on the garden’s sweet huckleberries and sour raspberries. Afterward, he explored his new house, even going so far as to stick his hand into the flames of the fire.

(They weren’t real. They felt like nothing more than a faint warmth against his skin. Disappointing, Tom supposed. But probably a safety hazard.)

Then he curled up in the big bed, under the vibrant bedspread, and closed his eyes.

For the first time in fifty years, Tom slept.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Two

i need you all to know that the original title for this was “Tom Riddle is a man-whore(crux)??? (NOT CLICKBAIT)” so-

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #tom riddle #tmrhp #tom riddle x male reader #horcrux #no but seriously if tom didn’t hate muggle stuff so much i’d say that he could hit me with his car but yk he DOESNT OWN ONE #x reader #tom riddle x reader

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apolloscastellan · 4 months ago

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Never quite buried | loss of my life chapter 4

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig x FemaleTennisPlayer!reader

Summary: Your life had always been divided in two: before you met Tashi and after you met Tashi. The second you had laid eyes on her for the first time you knew you had been changed. You were soulmates, meant for each other Nothing could ever tear you two apart, or so you had thought. You could've pinpointed the junior U.S. Open as the night that changed everything. Now you have to juggle your hate-love relationship with tennis with your love-love relationship with Tashi and the two guys who you can't seem to stay away from. Tennis, after all, was only one of the most fucked up relationships of your life.

Warnings: challengers spoiler, challengers content warnings, super minor character death, terrible mother figure, use of y/n, polyamory.

Word count: 6.5K

A/N: Please let me know what you think bc my motivation is severely lacking rn, i feel like i'm writing into the void

series masterlist | prev | next

Tashi remembers perfectly the day your retirement from singles hit the news. It was all everyone could talk about. First, it was the statement on your social media. A well thought out paragraph about your struggles with continuing to enjoy tennis the way you used to and deciding to take a new route, it ended with a promise for more and better news soon. Then it was the teasing posts from Adidas, the “she is not done just yet” and the “love conquers all”. It all came to a peak with the release of the pictures of you and Patrick. Both of you wearing matching Adidas apparel, practicing in the private court you had in your backyard. The chemistry between the two of you was obvious to everyone who saw them. There was a glint in your eyes that no one had seen since you went pro. She knew the smile you were giving Patrick all too well, it used to be reserved for her.

Her and Art, who had just very recently reconnected, sat on his couch for hours watching the tennis channel, waiting for updates. The relief they felt when it was announced that you were not quitting because you were fatally injured, as everyone had originally thought, was short lived. Neither of them spoke as the commentators showed the images of you and Patrick. Practicing, giggling, getting closer, him giving you that teasing smirk they both knew, you throwing your head back laughing, him beaming at you when you weren’t even looking, both of you focused on the ball, kissing… They both thought about turning off the TV, hitting some balls to work out how they were feeling, but then you were introduced into the set, a vibrant smile as you walked in, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt too big to be yours. The Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy logo only confirmed the obvious. You shook hands with everyone, sitting on the sofa they had reserved for you.

“Y/n Y/l/n, thank you for being here” the older man said, over the clapping of the crowd.

“Thanks for having me!”

“What a day it’s been for all of us, tennis fans. You’ve had us on the edge of our seats! First we mourned, now we’re celebrating… Please tell us why did you do this to us?”

“I am so sorry! I am, I really am” you laughed as the man teased you, God how they missed that laugh. “I have a flair for the dramatic, I must admit, and I am, in a way, saying goodbye to my career as I know it. It’s the start of a new chapter, and it’s really exciting, but it is also a goodbye and it felt right to give it its proper moment. I didn’t realize so many people were going to be so upset about it.”

“Why the switch? Why decide to give up singles completely?”

“I wasn’t enjoying it anymore, it was painful and I had started dreading every second of it. Fortunately, I am in a position where I can decide I don’t want to keep doing something that is bringing me down, so I took advantage of it. I didn’t want my stubbornness to completely ruin my love for tennis. I thought I could step back, maybe take up teaching and try to find that passion again. I was going to quit regardless, so this playing doubles thing happened at just the right time.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about that! You’ve decided to become a full time mixed doubles player with Patrick Zweig, who is a challengers player, somewhere in the two-hundreds. You are currently ranked number one in the world, how does this happen?”

“I think rankings and numbers can be misleading sometimes. Sometimes a player is not playing their best because of external reasons, or simply because they are not meant to be where they are. I think me and Patrick are meant to play together, I really do. And if you can’t trust anything else, trust this: I am really competitive and I hate losing, I would not put myself in a situation like this if I really thought we couldn’t win.”

“From what I’ve heard Zweig and you are committed to each other both on and off the court. You’ve never been open about your private life in the media, and he is the first boyfriend you’ve ever made public, what’s different about him?”

They couldn’t take their eyes off you as you let a bashful smile spread on your face.

“I mean… Everything. I am pretty possessive of my privacy and we still don’t plan to share everything we do, but the truth is that I have never been open about any boyfriends because I have not had any serious relationships since I went pro. Patrick and I will be playing and training together so I thought it was bound to come out, so to me, I'd rather have that happen on my terms. And I do think Patrick is very different to all relationships I’ve had before, in the best way possible”

Art swallowed, refusing to look at Tashi when she turned to watch him. He didn’t deserve to be jealous. He knew that, if he had treated you right, you would still be together. That knowledge didn’t change how he felt.

“How does that happen? How does one manage to make the Y/n Y/l/n fall in love with them?”

“Well, me and Patrick met each other a while ago, at the U.S Junior Open, actually. He won it, I got second, we hit it off instantly. But it was one of those situations where it’s never the right time, you know? We kept missing each other, we were in relationships with other people, and we ended up drifting apart when I went pro. And then, funnily enough, we bumped into each other at an Adidas party about a year ago, and the rest is history.”

Art couldn’t bring himself to be angry when the TV shut off. He turned to look at Tashi who stood there with the remote in her hand, not looking at him.

“I’ll see you in ten in the court. We need to work on your serve.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, grateful for the excuse to take his feelings out on the ball. To think about anything that wasn’t your smile as you talked about Patrick. He didn’t say it out loud, but he knew Tashi felt the same way, the sudden urge to train had not come out of nowhere.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

You look down, shaking your head as Patrick crashes his racquet repeatedly against the floor. The umpire’s voice ominously announcing the score. You raise your face back up when Patrick gets given a penalty. Art walks nonchalantly back to the bench, you can feel Tashi’s smug grin beside you. You make eye contact with your husband and shake your head, he rubs his face with both hands, then nods. As much as you both don’t really care to win this tournament, he knows you’ll be angry if he just lets it go, gets angry and in his head and lets Art have it on conduct alone. So he sits back and waits, ready to be better, to prove himself to you once again, like every time he steps on the court.

Earlier that week. New Rochelle, New York. August 18, 2019:

Tashi is working, writing stats on her computer when she sees Patrick walking towards her from the corner of her eye. She rolls her eyes as he stops behind her, pointing at her screen before he speaks:

“He’s not bad, I played him at a few of these things when I did singles.”

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be practicing to not humiliate your wife before she carries you through the U.S. Open?”

“I just finished, thanks for caring.”

“Wonderful” she says, not a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Hey, come have a cigarette with me, I have to talk to you.”

“Yeah I don’t smoke, and I’m not talking to you.”

“Neither do I. It was just an excuse.”

She looks back at him, unimpressed, but he doesn’t let up. He stands there, staring at her until she gives in, closing her computer and standing up. Patrick is not sure what he is doing. He probably shouldn’t be doing anything at all, if he’s honest with himself. But he has dug a hole too deep to jump out of now, so he is going to follow through. He is doing this for you, he reminds himself, no matter how angry you’ll be with him at first, he is doing this for you. They find an empty alley and look back at each other, Tashi waits for him to speak, he takes his time collecting his thoughts before he does.

“I’m gonna propose something to you and it’s going to make you angry. It’s going to make you very angry,” he can’t help the smirk growing on his face, her expression doesn’t let up. “I want you to be our coach next season.”

“What?”

“Our coach is retiring, we need someone else. I want you to be our coach from next season on.”

“Does she know you’re offering me this position?”

“No, not yet. But she will, and she’ll agree with me.”

“You know that’s bullshit. Plus, why would I want to coach you guys? I already have a highly successful athlete under my wing.”

“Yeah, but even if he wins the Open and completes his career grand slam, Art’s still gonna retire as someone who was really, really good. That’s what you guys will have done together. But imagine if you could get your hands on us. Imagine if you could make us great. You’d go down in history. We have a couple more seasons. We still have a couple more good seasons and I need you to bring it out of us. What do you think?”

He doesn’t expect Tashi to slap him, turning his face completely, although he really should have. He mumbles a curse under his breath.

“How fucking dare you?” she sounds angry, too angry for his stupid proposition. “You want me to give you my best piece of advice? To coach you? Ok, quit.”

Patrick can’t even begin to think of a response, the murderous gaze Tashi gives him fixes him to the spot.

“Quit right now, right fucking now, quit.”

“What are you talking about?” he is too shocked to be offended.

“You’re dragging her down. She should’ve gone down in history as the best ever player. She would have broken records. She should have been good enough to beat the men, and she is what? Going around playing mixed doubles with you? It’s pathetic. Quit, and maybe she’ll have a chance at being an ounce of what she should’ve been.”

“You’re fucking joking”

And now Patrick is angry too. Because he is tired. He is so tired of the endless comments and judgment. He is tired of being blamed for ruining you and your career as if it hadn’t been your decision. As if it hadn’t been your idea. As if he was capable of ever doing that to you. As if he hadn’t begged for you to think it over a million times before you took a step that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. As if he hadn’t been the sole reason the world of tennis hadn’t lost you completely. As if he didn’t try harder than he had ever tried to be enough for you and make sure you never resented him or regretted being with him in any way. The thing that makes him the most angry, though, is that it’s Tashi. And how dare Tashi, the woman who had abandoned you and ruined your love for tennis in the first place, blame him for something she had pushed you to do. Something that was nobody’s fault but hers.

“You must be fucking delusional if you think for just one second that I would ever, ever, ask her to give up on her career for me. You know whose idea it was to play mixed doubles only? Y/n’s. She thought of it, she asked me to do it, she orchestrated every single little detail. And you wanna know why she did it? Because she hated tennis. She was going to quit. She couldn’t stand the thing she loved the most anymore. And you wanna know what made her start to hate tennis, even though her love for it never wavered before, not even with her borderline abusive mum who only loved her for her talent in it? You, Tashi. You did. You ruined tennis for her. So get the fuck off that high horse you continue to ride everywhere, because if there’s one person here to blame for ruining her career, it’s the one I’m looking at.”

He is out of breath when he finishes speaking, and he doesn't know what to do. He has so much shit he wants to throw at her, so much resentment for all that she had put you, and him, through. But he can’t say anything else, the second Tashi’s expression falls, even if it is only for a moment, he can feel his heart shatter inside his chest. No matter how much he hates Tashi, how much he resents her, he loves her. He loves her so much it hurts deep inside his chest, like an ache that is so present he had almost forgotten it existed. But looking at her right now, he feels it, pulsating all through him, and he knows, with a certainty he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before, that he will never not feel this way about her.

“You don’t know what you’re saying” her voice is stern, but Patrick knows her too well to believe her tone.

“You hate me” it’s not a question. “And you hate her too. Me, for having her. Her for having the career you deserved. And it’s driving you crazy, because as much as you hate us both, you also love us. And as much as you love Art, you hate him too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You hate him because he is just Art, that’s all he can ever be. He will never be me, and he will never be her. And as much as you love him, just Art will never be enough for you.”

“I don’t know what gives you the right to speak about my marriage…”

“The same thing that gives you the right to speak about mine. Does Art know about Atlanta?” he cuts her off.

The pure, unfiltered shock on her face lets him know he has caught her off guard. She did not expect him to know about it. She collects herself quickly, but she doesn’t say anything.

“You keep saying you came here because Art needed matches, but I think you came for something else.”

“You think I came here for you?”

“And for her” he says nodding. “I’ve been signed up for this tournament for months, there’s no way you didn’t see my name in the participants list.”

“You think I came here, to throw it all away for you?”

“Maybe you just wanted to see us…”

“I don’t need to see you to know that you look like shit, and she should get as far away from you as soon as possible.”

She starts to walk away, decisively.

“I’m going to beat him,” he says, it stops her in her tracks, she turns her face to look at him. “If we both make it to the final I’m going to beat him.”

“Even if you did, it wouldn’t change anything.”

“It would break him, you know it would.”

She shakes her head and starts to walk away, too exasperated to come up with another hurtful retort about his failed career. She jogs after her, catching up with her pace almost effortlessly. He grabs her arm, makes her stop walking. He pulls up a piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans.

“My number, in case you change your mind about the coaching… Or about seeing us again.”

“I won’t.”

He nods, shrugs his shoulders. Then, he watches her put the note in her pocket. He smiles.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Patrick hasn’t looked away from you even once. You know even though you are looking into your lap. You are hyper aware of every single person around you. Most accurately, you are hyper aware of the woman next to you and the two men playing against each other. You play with your ring as you feel Tashi tell Art to focus. When you finally meet Patrick’s eyes he doesn’t smile. He raises his left hand and kisses the ring on his finger without breaking eye contact as the umpire announces the start of the next set. He crosses paths with Art as he makes his way to the other side of the net but he doesn’t move his eyes from you until he is getting ready to serve. You know then, with absolute certainty, that he is doing this for you.

Atlanta Open, Atlanta. July 18, 2011:

Even though Patrick and you both know why you are sitting in the stands during practice time instead of walking around the venue, or actually practicing, you are still shocked when you see Tashi and Art walk into the court. Your hand reaches for Patrick, holding on to his thigh as if on a rollercoaster that is suddenly going down. You both try to look composed and careless, but you don’t know if you are doing a good job. Art and Tashi do the same, pretending they can’t see you, even though you are the only other ones there and you stick out like a sore thumb. Patrick and you talk to each other, although neither of you would be able to recall anything said during your conversation, and share the fries you had bought before walking over. You pretend you just casually stumbled to sit there for a snack, that you hadn’t checked the schedule to figure out what time and what court Art Donaldson had for pre-match practice. Art hits the ball like he hasn’t been able to hit it in a while, grunting as his racket made contact with it. Tashi looks at you for a second, then back at Art. She nods, satisfied. You want to run away, want to erase that satisfied smirk from her face and your memory. But you stay glued to your seat, hand in your boyfriend’s thigh, heart pounding, and you take the way they ignore you like a punishment.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

The wind is relentless, the trees hitting against the window making repetitive thwack noises that remind Patrick of the sound of the ball hitting the racket. You have been answering emails and making calls to finish preparing things for tomorrow, the U.S. Open, and whatever lies in store for you both after that. Patrick knows that you’ve been messaging potential coaches and though the guilt pit on his stomach keeps growing, he can’t bring himself to say anything to you. He hopes you haven’t set in stone anything, because he is still delusionally confident that Tashi will accept his offer. He knows he should help, whatever you are doing affects him too, but he is too nervous to do anything productive so he just lays around, throwing a ball against the ceiling, or the wall, or whatever he can find. After the third time the ball slips from his hand too early or too late and hits you, you stand up and point to the door.

“Leave, right now” he makes no attempt to move. “Patrick, I mean it. I’m working and I know that you are nervous but you’re stressing me out so go down to the sauna, or get a drink or something that’s not going to make me ask you for a divorce or have to spend the rest of the night finding a place to hide your body.”

Patrick smiles as he stands up. He picks one of the keys from your bedside table and walks over to you, kissing your head before making his way to the door.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, love you too. Leave now, please.”

He giggles all the way down the elevator. He doesn’t feel like drinking, which means he doesn’t feel like making a fool of himself tomorrow for getting drunk the night before a match, especially not in front of Art and Tashi. So he walks around until he finds the sauna, maybe that will help him calm down. But as he gets naked and opens the door he can’t believe his bad luck. Although there is a white towel covering his face, there is no denying the naked man sitting right in front of him is Art Donaldson. Patrick doesn’t think there’s a world where he wouldn’t recognize him, no matter how much he’s changed from that scrawny blonde boy he once knew like the back of his hand. He thinks about turning around, walking out, pretending he never saw him, and finding something else to do for the night. But there’s no way Art hasn’t heard the door opening, and Patrick has never been one to run from conflict, not really. So he steps forward, lets his mind get a little bit caught up in the past, sue him he hasn’t seen this guy in years, and opens his mouth:

“Can you do me a favor? Can you not like, demolish me tomorrow?” He says it with the inflection of a pick up line, and before he can even finish his sentence Art is pulling the towel away from his face and looking at him like he already knew that it was him standing at the door, even before he said anything.

They are both smiling as Patrick pulls the sauna door closed and walks toward Art. He is acting far more comfortably than he feels, but if he stops to think about what is actually happening he might start shaking and poop his pants, which would be a terrible thing seeing as he isn’t wearing any. He gets way too close to him, and raises one of his legs on the bench, dick fully on display. Art makes a valiant attempt pretending he doesn’t look down.

“Hey, congrats on being a Phil Tire’s Town Challenger finalist.”

“Yeah, you too” Art says, looking forward to not have to look at Patrick, who is smiling far too wide for the situation they are in and the past that they have.

“Hopefully the wind dies down by tomorrow and we can have a fair fight” Patrick lets himself pretend this is normal, like they are two competitors getting ready for the final, maybe even pals catching up after not having seen each other in a while.

Art doesn’t let him have a second of the little fantasy he’s made up in his head, though. He slides down the bench, getting as far away from him as he can without looking like he is actually running away.

“C’mon, can we talk?” Patrick says, and his voice sounds pitiful even to his own ears.

“Can you put your dick away” Art’s voice is stern, but he looks him in the eye for the first time since he walked in, so he counts it as a win.

“This is a sauna,” Patrick scoffs, putting up a fight so Art won’t notice he’d do anything he told him to. “Look, we've been here for a week and we haven’t said two words to each other. It's just… it’s silly, man. It’s dramatic. I mean, really, why are you so angry with me?”

He sits down, obeying Art and covering his dick. Art is finally looking at him, really looking at him. It has the same effect it did back when they were kids, Art looking at him makes him feel brave. He can’t stop himself from rambling on.

“Look, I don’t buy that it’s because of Tashi, I don’t think it’s because of what happened to her. And I hope it’s not about Y/n, because you have no right… So, I think, maybe, you’re just really disturbed by the fact that they could’ve been into someone like me. Both of them”

“Tashi liked you when we were teenagers.”

“Sure, but I just got married to the girl you said was the love of your life.”

“I ended things with her.”

“And you regret it every single day of your life,” Patrick knew, because it was the same way you and him felt about him and Tashi, “and you know that Tashi does too.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We both know that if Tashi had been a little more brave back then, she would’ve never taken either of our numbers. If she had been a little bit more honest with herself, she would’ve swept Y/n away and neither of us would’ve had a chance with either of them.”

“That still happened when they were teenagers. When we were teenagers.”

“Huh” Patrick looks thoughtful. “When they were teenagers…”

Atlanta Open, Atlanta. July 18, 2011:

You slip out of your room in a t-shirt that is definitely not yours and the first shorts you stumble across on your way to the door. You can’t sleep and Patrick’s soft snores, which you often find endearing, are getting on your nerves. He doesn’t stir, even as you close the door softly behind you. You don’t know what you are doing, or where you’re going. You take the stairs down, needing to move your body for a little bit. You walk outside, feeling like no matter how hard you breathe in there’s not enough air in your lungs. You lay your weight against the brick wall of the hotel. You get your breathing under control after a couple minutes of staring at the sky trying to look for constellations you don’t know the name of anyways. When you turn around, to go back inside the hotel, you realize that right next to where you were standing there’s a window to the hotel’s bar. There, sitting down, nursing a glass that you can only assume contains something strong, already staring at you, is Tashi Duncan. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you let your feet guide you inside. Then, instead of going up the stairs like you should, you take a right turn and walk right into the bar. Tashi finds you immediately, having been looking at the door. You don’t understand what you’re doing, but before you can think about it you are sitting right in front of her. You haven’t looked at her this up close in years. You search, but you can’t find many differences. She looks exactly like the girl you knew with her hair a little shorter. You wonder if it’s the same on the inside, if the million secrets you knew about her still hold true. If you could still tell which of her smiles were fake, or when she was about to cry but was trying to hold it down.

“I heard you gave up,” she whispers after a minute of staring into each other’s eyes.

“I quit singles, I didn’t give up,” but you can tell she doesn’t really believe you, so you scan her, trying to find something else to talk about. Your eyes lock on the ring in her finger. “That’s a gorgeous ring.”

Your fingers find your own ring instinctively. You don’t know if you’re trying to make sure it’s still there, or if you are trying to ask your dad for strength. Her gaze lowers, first to your ring, then to her own.

“It’s his grandmother’s.”

You nod, you know what that means. Art had always talked about wanting to propose to his future wife with his grandmother’s ring. Back when he fantasized with you about it, it was your hand that ring ended up on. He always talked about taking you to the residency so you could meet his grandmother, completely sure she would love you and give you her blessing immediately. You think of your own sentimental family ring, unsure you would ever be able to trust anyone enough to carry it, no matter how much you loved them.

“How is she?” you ask, more out of politeness than anything else, you never got to meet her, after all.

“She died. Stroke”

You grimace, knowing the feeling of losing the one person who truly believes in you too well. You look around, trying desperately to find something to say, you will your brain to remember the million icebreakers and conversation starters you had been forced to memorize for the awfully boring networking parties your mum used to throw for you. You come up with nothing, so you look back at her and lean over the table and she imitates you. Your faces inches away from each other. You feel drunk even though you haven’t had a single sip of alcohol all day. You don’t question it, Tashi always made you feel like you were going crazy and a little bit drunk. It must be that what pushes you to say what comes out of your mouth next:

“I miss you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she leans further over the table, getting impossible close to your face without touching it. Then, when you are completely sure she is going to tell you to go fuck yourself and leave her alone, her hand makes her way to the back of your neck pushing you towards her until your eyes meet. There might be a million things that have changed since the last time you did this, but kissing Tashi Duncan feels exactly the same as the first time you did it. It feels like coming home.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

“You’re right” Art says finally, leaning his back against the wall. “I do find it disturbing.”

“There’s no need, man. Lots of girls were into me, but only one of them wanted to marry me. I’ve always thought that was not what I was for, so I don’t know how I did it.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Patrick feels his entire skin burn with the way Art looks him up and down. He curses in his head the years they’ve spent apart and the secretive, mature person Art has become, he can’t read him like he could. He can’t tell if he is teasing, or trying to humiliate him. He can’t tell if he’s angry, or just as desperately sad as he is.

Atlanta Open, Atlanta. July 18, 2011:

You don’t know how but you and Tashi have stumbled onto a hotel room that you don’t recognize. It’s much bigger and fancier than yours so you assume it’s hers. You want to ask where Art is, if he is about to walk in on the two of you making out on his bed, but the way she is kissing you makes you forget about everything. You roll onto the bed, hands on either side of her face as hers roam your body freely. It’s too much and not enough simultaneously and you moan and pant on her lips. It’s everything you’ve always dreamt of and you can’t help wanting more. More of her and her body, of her lips, more of her heart. You try to not be greedy, take what she gives you, and soon you’re seeing stars and rolling over, breathing with difficulty.

“That was…”

“Yeah” she mumbles.

“So… What happens now?”

“What do you mean what happens now?” she seems confused as she stands from the bed, walking around until she finds your clothes.

“We just had sex,” you say, obviously.

“Look, we shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake.” She throws your t-shirt at you, you put it on slowly.

“A mistake?” you’re getting angrier by the second, but you don’t want to yell and alert whoever is sleeping in the room next to this one.

“Yeah, we will act as if nothing happened.”

“What about Art?

“He doesn’t need to know,” you shake your head as you finish putting on your clothes.

“That’s fucked up.”

“Do not act as if I was the only one who cheated! Aren’t you and Patrick dating?”

“I never said that! You can’t just run away from everything you refuse to accept. You haven’t talked to me in years!”

“Yeah, and it should have stayed that way.”

“One day you’re going to wake up and realize that everything you’ve refused to accept all your life is catching up to you, and by then, it might be too late.”

“Get out” she says, instead of replying to what you said, you don’t need to be told twice.

You manage to hold back your tears until you are standing in front of the elevator. You’re fully sobbing when the doors open, revealing a very confused Art. You see him step towards you, but you refuse to let either of them continue breaking your heart. You step backwards, then turn around. You run until you find the stairs. By the time you make it back to your room you look like a mess. You knock on the door, you must have left your key in Tashi’s room but you are too upset to care about that or waking Patrick up. His entire face changes when he opens the door. Worry taking over his expression.

“Y/n, what happened? Where were you?

You fall onto his arms, sobbing. He leads you in, closing the door behind you. You don’t speak until you’re both seating in bed.

“I saw Tashi… And I… We…” you don’t say anything else, but you don’t need to, he understands.

He holds you through the night. The next morning, you forfeit the tournament and go home.

New Rochelle, New York. August 23, 2019:

“Honestly, I thought you’d be happy I was in the draw” Patrick is not ready to let it go, to shut up and walk away from Art, he doesn’t know when’s the next time he’ll be able to talk to him again, so he runs his mouth. “I mean, you’ve always wanted to beat me in a tournament, and two weeks before the open… It’s the perfect confidence booster.

He settles on cocky because he doesn’t know what else to do. He has never been very good at being vulnerable, not with Art, and no amount of therapy is going to make him start now, when he can see how done he is with him from a mile away.

“I know what you’re trying to do right now,” Art smiles.

“I’m not trying to do anything, Art,” but he doesn’t know if he’s telling the truth. “This is a challenger, I don’t need to play mind games with you.”

“Right, you don’t give a shit.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that…”

“We both know that you have a considerably higher stake here than I do.”

“Do I?”

Art laughs, but there’s no real humor to it. Patrick does too, trying to conceal the way he is sure his entire body is shaking.

“Oh, fuck… Where do you get your swagger from, man?” Patrick can tell, from the way Art is looking at him, that this is the part that’s going to hurt, he doesn’t try to stop it. “I mean you come in here swinging your dick around like I’m supposed to be afraid of it but do you realize how embarrassing it is that you are here right now?”

“Not quite as embarrassing as you being here,” Patrick has never known a way to back down, so he stirs the pot.

He’d rather have Art yelling at him or humiliating him than not talking to him at all. His therapist would not be very proud.

“I’m just stopping by, man. You would live here if it wasn’t for her” there’s a pause, suddenly Patrick wants to take everything back, run away with his tail between his legs, but it’s too late. “You know, I’ve always tried to figure out what happened to you, but the more I thought about it the more I realized… It’s what didn’t happen. You never grew up. You still think you can talk to me like you’re my peer because we came from the same place, because you’ve managed to stumble into some of the same competitions. But it’s not about where you came from in tennis, Patrick, it’s about winning. And I do, a lot. And you only do because you tricked Y/n into playing with you. But one day, she’s going to wake up and realize she wasted her entire fucking life in a pathetic man who thinks he’s the shit because he won the junior U.S Open a trillion years ago. And then, you’ll be left with what you deserve: nothing.”

“You’ve never beaten me,” he says, as if it’s what matters out of everything he said.

He says it because if he focuses on what Art said about you, he might cry. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of Art, not right now. He doesn’t have enough willpower to fight him, like he knows he should, like he did with Tashi.

“So what? I haven’t beaten most of the guys who play in these things, or the ones who only make it into the big tournaments playing doubles. This is a game about winning the points that matter.”

“I don’t matter?” he doesn’t know why he says it, or what he is expecting to get in return.

“Not even to the most obsessive tennis fan in the entire world,” his voice is monotone, tired, Patrick wants to crawl out of his skin.

“We’re not talking about tennis.”

“What the fuck else do I have to talk to you about?”

“I wanted to come in here to wish you good luck, Art,” he says, and he means it.

“That makes no sense,” Art scoffs, looking away, he’s talking to himself more than Patrick.

“I wanted to say that I’m looking forward to it, I miss playing with you,” he is being vulnerable, but he knows Art won’t believe him, which is probably why he says it in the first place.

“Yeah,” he nods his head and he looks amused, but Patrick can see right through him, he’s about to finish him off. “Well, I don’t miss playing with you, man. I’m too old for it.”

As soon as the door is closed behind Art, Patrick lets himself drop onto the bench. He tells himself he is not going to cry. There’s tears running down his face by the time you open the door of your room to him. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to, you understand.

#challengers x reader #challengers #art donaldson #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #annie writes challengers #patrick zweig x art donaldson x tashi duncan x reader #patrick zweig x art donaldson x Tashi Duncan #loss of my life series

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7ndipity · 9 months ago

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Since you've written members confessing to their crush and reader accepting it, how about when she doesn't 👀? Dating them would include a lot of spotlight, lack of privacy, crazy fans etc. Since they are rich and popular while reader isn't, all these reasons led her to reject them. Can you please write headcanons about it?

I know requests are closed right now. But can you please write it when they are open?

Tysm 🫶🫶🫶

You Reject Their Confession

Ot7 x Reader

Warnings: angst, not proofread

A/N: Meant to post this last night, sorry. I kept the way they confess the same, so if you haven’t read the original hc list, you can check it out here for more context.

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. Nothing could be worse than seeing your expression fade from shock to awkward sadness, and knowing what was coming.

You were very kind to him, explaining that although you cared about him deeply, you only saw him as a friend.

He tried not to show his disappointment, playing it off as no big deal, “It’s just a crush”, but he could feel his heart crumbling in his chest.

He would likely try to keep his distance for a little while, but you had become such a central part of his life, he didn’t quite know what to do without you around. Things would slowly go back to the way they were before between you, but it would take some time…

Yoongi:

He’d known it was a long shot, so he wasn’t exactly surprised when you turned him down, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

It almost made it worse in a way, finally knowing, hearing you say that you’d had your suspicions about his feelings towards you, but that you thought it was better if you just stayed friends.

Following your conversation, he acted as if nothing had happened. He almost hoped that you were so tired that night that you wouldn’t even remember what’d happened, but of course you did.

When you ask if he’s okay a few days later when you see him again, he lies and says he’s fine, but you can sense the protective wall that’s gone up between you, one that hadn’t existed between the two of you in a very long time.

Hobi:

He’s devastated. As much as he knew there was a possibility you might reject him, he had really thought you would say yes.

You tried to let him down easy, saying you weren’t looking for a relationship, and what the two of you had now was better, considering his life and career.

He let you talk, but he didn’t really hear any of what you said. He’s just trying to keep it together till you leave, and then he would crack.

You tried to carry on as friends, but you could sense the invisible fracture it created between you, subtle enough that no one else noticed it, but you did. The smiles were forced, the playful touches suddenly missing. You were still there next to him, but he felt like he’d lost you.

Namjoon:

Of all the ways he thought of this going, he really didn’t expect you to get mad, but once you did, he suddenly understood perfectly.

Of course you’re upset. If your roles were reversed, he would be upset that you’d kept something like this from him for so long too. So he just sits and lets you talk or yell for as long as you need.

After you finish speaking, he just kinda nods and excuses himself, pulling away like he often did after you fought, but this time there would be a strange sense of finality.

The two of you probably wouldn’t speak for a while. He really doesn't want to lose you as a friend, but you would both need time to process everything and move on.

Jimin:

He knew as soon as he finished speaking what your response was going to be, he could see it in your eyes before you slowly started to shake your head.

He sat quietly as you tried to explain to him why the two of you wouldn’t work out, both of you trying and failing to fight back the occasional tear.

He can’t help but notice that your reasons don’t include whether you have feelings for him too or not, but he chooses not to ask, not sure if he wants to know, because it would just make it hurt more.

You might avoid each other for a while, afraid of making the other feel awkward, but ironically, once you do hang out again, it feels oddly comfortable, any potential awkwardness quickly dispelled as you settle back into your old habits.

Taehyung:

Since he never exactly hid his feelings for you, he’d had the sinking suspicion that you were aware of his crush and just playing dumb for the sake of your friendship, but your expression after he confessed confirmed it.

He tried to act unbothered as you tried to explain your feelings, but it was still crushing nonetheless.

Things mostly go back to normal between the two of you, but it takes a while. There’s still the occasional longing glances and or lingering touches, but they get fewer over time.

His feelings probably never fully go away, but he pretends for the sake of your friendship. He’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.

Jungkook:

He’d known it was a long shot, he really had, but that didn’t mean it stung any less to hear you say that you didn’t want to be with him.

He would probably ask if there was any chance of you changing your mind in the future, but you tell him no, not wanting to string him along on the possibility of ‘maybe’.

You wouldn’t talk for a long time, almost to the point that you fear you’ve lost each other, until you run into each other again at a party or something, and start to fall back into your old dynamic almost immediately.

It’s not quite the same as before, not as close or relaxed, but it’s enough for you both to feel content.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @whitefoxgirl @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

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senelope · 1 year ago

Text

wish i'd never met you (s. gojo x f!reader)

famous!gojo x reader ; 7.4k words ; angst / smut ; minors dni

You dream of stage lights and sold out shows. But all your voice provides are little jingles – for cat food advertisements. All of that changes – in the best and worst ways – when you meet Satoru Gojo, who owns the life you can only fantasize about. And, someone who knows a thing or two about bringing your fantasies to life.

The sky was dyed with a dusty pink hue as the sun set, and yet another work day came to a close with you frustratingly slamming your laptop closed. Yet another disappointing melody.

How were you supposed to be a famous artist if you couldn’t even finish a song first?

And that wasn’t even the job you were at. To pay the bills, you pick up odd jobs here and there, most recently being a freelance voice actress for an up and coming organic cat food company. Meowmy! You’d screeched in a high-pitched voice until the co-founders – famous idol turned business woman Nobuko Takada, and her manager, a large man named Aoi Todo – were happy.

“You wanna come to our surprise birthday party?” asked Nobuko at your last recording session, winking, sending the invitation to your phone, which vibrated in your back pocket.

“Oh, happy birthday,” you said, sliding your headphones off and walking out of the recording studio.

“Not hers,” Aoi said, when you were standing beside them in the recording studio. The lights from the machines hurt your eyes; you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night trying to write new songs you hoped would either go viral or get you an agent. “It’s for my brother, Yuji.”

“Yuji Itadori?” you asked, brightening. Takada was a well known idol, so there did stand a chance that her manager was related somehow to the famous martial arts actor who was currently taking social media by storm.

Aoi brightened, making the burly man look far more approachable. “That’s him.”

“Hey,” began Nobuko, excitedly. “Weren’t you looking for a replacement performer? Since Gojo canceled at the last minute?”

You gasped at the name drop. Satoru Gojo was a media sensation – a down right superstar. Starting off as the bright center to a boy band named Honored Ones, then establishing rockstar success with his chart-topping album The Honored One announcing his solo career debut. He’d next taken the acting world by storm, and with his martial arts abilities, was also known to be Yuji Itadori’s mentor, Satoru himself having been the one who scouted him while on a trip where he also scouted the reserved Megumi Fushiguro as a soulful singer.

But you didn’t want to give in so easily. And especially without hearing a contract mention or a price quote. You had to look after yourself alone, so you had to prioritize yourself first.

So you cleared your throat, and asked what they’d pay you. The price that Nobuko said made your eyes bulge, especially when you registered the even higher price that Aoi said immediately as Nobuku finished. She tilted her head in Aoi’s direction.

“Nevermind, then. What he said,” she said, sliding her giant designer sunglasses over her wide golden eyes. She tightened her ponytails after stretching. “We’ll send the performance money soon as you walk through Aoi’s penthouse.”

You gulped. This wasn’t the first-time the wealthiest of your clients reminded you of their overflowing pockets. “I’ll see you there. Do you want covers, or originals?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she said, not looking at you as she began to leave, Aoi right behind her, holding her purse and car keys.

“Do whatever you want.” The duo left, and you decided to spend the remaining half an hour you had in the studio – it charged by the hour – on trying to record new original songs you might perform.

But, by that time, the sun was setting and you had no worthwhile melody to show for it.

Looks like covers it was. Oh, well. Satoru wouldn’t mind if you covered his songs, right? Plus, he wasn’t even going to be there. At least you were used to belting his songs in the shower, so not much time would go to memorizing and practicing. And it had the added bonus of having absolutely nothing to do with cat food. What more could a girl ask for?

Satoru didn’t have the bandwidth for this. His manager was talking about how he had to stop his homewrecking tendencies – in fact, keeping up with hiding them was costing them all the royalties that still came in from his debut. But how was he supposed to do that when the men and women who caught his eye just deserved his touch, regardless of what shone on their ring finger. Oh, whatever.

“Alright, Suguru, I got it,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “You’re ruining my appetite. I needa be hungry for Yuji’s birthday bash. I gotta eat lots of it. I mean, I chose the cake personally.” He reconsidered. “Well I told Todo what to order –”

“You’re not going,” Suguru said, flipping his smartphone – the newest electric blue one of the folding line Samsung came out with in collaboration with Satoru – closed with attitude. “But I still am. It’s your punishment.”

“But I’m performing,” Satoru said, sputtering. “C’mon, Suguruuu!”

“Canceled with Todo this morning. You are going to spend your evening crafting an apology statement for sleeping with both of Jogo’s wives. His current and his ex!”

Satoru snickered. “They married him for his money anyway. I was the one gracious enough to give them some of this co–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Suguru said, waving his hand. “You have a reputation. I don’t need you reminding the public of it so soon before the announcement! So no more fooling around. With anyone.”

Satoru felt any drop of joy he had from remembering about defiling Jogo’s ex and next disappearing. Of course, he had to be reminded of his obligations.

When he and Suguru had been young and dumb and had signed the first contract that allowed them to break their boy band contracts and do what they wanted to do then – debut Satoru as a solo singer and Suguru as his manager. They had thought they were older and wiser – but apparently, they weren’t mature enough to think ahead to what a ten year representation contract might mean. No matter where you wanted to take your career – Satoru opening a performing arts school where he was one of the main instructors, and Suguru opening his own management studio – you couldn’t.

But – they’d finally managed to negotiate something. The absolute last thing that Satoru wanted to do. But what choice did he have? He had to free both himself and Suguru. And besides. He’d ignore it for as long as could, until the day he couldn’t, whatever day the higher ups decided was the day of the life-altering announcement.

He pouted, trying to remove all thoughts of the horrible thing from his mind and focus on the matter at hand.

And, as predicted, Suguru weakened. He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. If you finish writing the apology and get it to me by the time the party ends, you can come. No performing though, too late to change our mind. And please. I’m begging you – no scandals! The only ‘sweet’ thing your lips better be on is a frosting covered fork.” Suguru said, sounding like a tired father and a stern teacher at once.

Satoru cheered, jumping up and down while Suguru rolled his eyes and said something mean about his monkey-like-behavior.

“I’ll shove a banana up your ass,” Satoru said, ceasing to a slow stop, but still smiling. “If you call me a monkey one more time.”

“All I said is that your fans shouldn’t go to the zoo if they’ve been to your concerts anyway,” Suguru said, smirking.

Satoru flipped him off as he left Suguru’s office to head home.

His media trained ass was going to have to pull out all the stops for this apology. Yippee , he thought bitterly.

Near the end of this hard, hard work, while editing his apology statement to fit the character requirement for Twitter – Suguru required him to construct the apology in several different mediums, from a tell-all Youtube apology script to a buzzy headline for the publishing company they’d sell the letter – he thought of his canceled performance.

He’d actually been looking forward to it, but that was more so because he missed having an audience. His world tour had ended a few months ago, and he and his ego missed the crowds yelling his name, sold out stadiums full of people begging for him to meet their eyes just even once.

“Who’re they gonna get as cool as me,” he remarked to himself irately, blowing a strand of his silver hair out of his eyes. The competitive feelings that suddenly filled his body fueled him to finish his apology assignment in the nick of time, wrapping up medium after medium. He’d now get there just after his probably-shitty-and-ugly-replacement started their performance.

The sounds of a familiar bouncy bassline fills the halls of Todo’s very excessively decorated penthouse. Animal print shag rugs, tacky gold statues of dogs in suits, and shiny glittering chandeliers, to name a few characteristics that leave Satoru’s more fine tastes wanting more decorum. Courtesy of his upbringing as the heir to an old-money family whose bloodline was as old as Japan itself.

It was his newest single, the one that was topping charts. Except, instead of his deep, raspy voice, rang a sweet, sultry one.

“ You don’t love me / you just steal my clothes / live in my house ‘cause I can’t say no, ” the voice sang, having apparently reached the catchy chorus.

And when he finally reached Todo’s rooftop terrace – where the performance was taking place on a circular neon blue stage with Tokyo’s skyline as a backdrop – he finally saw the voice of the absolute siren singing his song.

You.

“ When we fuck, shit it feels like love / feels like love, and it’s so messed up ,” you said, swaying to the beat with your eyes closed as you sang the song with a softer, more sorrowfilled intonation than Satoru had felt comfortable voicing. Your eyelashes fluttered as you opened your eyes, and it was almost like your gaze and Satoru’s were paired like magnet poles, meeting the second your beautiful lens revealed themselves.

Satoru’s heart stuttered to a stop for one fateful second. And he reeled it back into beating, because never in his life had Satoru ever struggled to breathe when meeting someone new. Especially not a girl who stole his song.

You weren’t expecting your idol to treat you so frostily. The entire night had been a whirlwind of events that felt as if they’d been written straight out of your dreams – compliments upon compliments, someone had even ordered you a bouquet, recording deals with both big and indie studios – except for how Satoru Gojo was looking at you.

And that was if he did! He didn’t even look at you when Yuji – who had loved your performance for his surprise birthday bash – introduced the two of you.

“Great choice,” Satoru had said, staring at a spot above your head. Being so damn tall, he looked down on you, but didn’t even meet your gaze from his ‘honored’ height.

“T-thanks,” you had said, too nervous to say anything more. He was feeling some imperceptible emotion that led him to ignore you for the rest of the conversation that you, Yuji, and he were in; you were basically just a spectator. And Yuji, bless his ignorant bright eyes, didn’t see how talking about last year’s Met gala bathroom antics would leave you – the least famous person in this room – out of the conversation.

It wasn’t till a handsome man with waist length raven hair inserted himself into the conversation that you were acknowledged.

You thankfully held back a starstruck gaze when you met eyes with your teenage crush, Suguru Geto. Of course, you were no longer the girl you had been when the boy band’s bass player with feline eyes had charmed you – mostly because you refused to be like every other girl who favored the leading singer Satoru – but it took real strength to hide that past.

“And who’s this beauty?” Suguru questioned, meeting your eyes with a sparkle in his eyes. You flushed immediately.

To your surprise, Satoru answered with your name, shocking you with the way your name fit on his tongue.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Suguru said. “So you were the siren singing Satoru’s song.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Satoru blurted.

Everyone looked at him. You were the first one to twist your head to meet his crystal blue eyes, their icey wide depths freezing you to your spot. It was an entirely different feeling to meeting Suguru’s warm, dark eyes.

“No, you didn’t,” Yuji said slowly, thick eyebrows furrowing.

“I thought it,” Satoru said, crossing his arms.

You ignored his response, and tried your best to gracefully thank Suguru.

“I was your biggest fan,” you gushed, unable to finish your gratitude without singing a song to your youthful infatuation.

“Were you?” Suguru said. “I guess you’ve come full circle. I’m your biggest fan now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Satoru impatiently tapped his foot.

“Listen,” Suguru said, reaching in behind his blazer, and coming out with a thick, cream colored card. He passed it to you. “Keep it on the low, but I’m starting my own studio. And I want to sign you.”

You gasped. All the blood in your body traveled either to your cheeks or to your head. You were shocked beyond measure.

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Thank you so much,” you said, clasping your hands together while your face uncontrollably contorted into one signaling exceptional gratitude.

“I’ll train her personally,” Satoru suddenly said, just as Suguru’s mouth opened. His manager gave Satoru a look as he made a face, something between confusion and disbelief.

“Just like me!” Yuji said excitedly, before anyone could object.

“Um, are you sure, sir? Are you not, well, busy?” You wished to ask if he even liked you in the first place, for he hadn’t made any indication of enjoying your presence. But this was the more socially acceptable way of asking.

“Not nearly enough to resist instructing the next generation!” He said, in a familiar cheery voice you were used to hearing on talk show interviews and conventions.

Well … You decided to forget about his earlier treatment of you, hoping it was a fluke. After all, this was Satoru Gojo. Biggest star to grace the stage since rock artist Yoshinobu Gakuganji, the worldwide phenomenon of the generation before. You would be a fool to turn down his mentorship.

And so, you shot him your brightest smile. You had high hopes, and you hoped that this was the beginning of the rest of your dream life.

Satoru was blinded by your beauty. He had done his best to resent you, his replacement, the new talent. Especially after he had heard you singing his song better than he could have ever dreamed. But, he knew that the harder he tried to force his hate, instead, the harder something else would grow.

Namely, his cock.

Even though he had promised Suguru no scandals, that the only thing that would be in his mouth today was cake – he couldn’t help but want some other sweet cake to devour. Yours.

He couldn’t help it. Anyone he deemed on his level – usually after some more dramatic reaction, which in this case happened to be an immature resentment towards you that hardly lasted even a few minutes – he wanted to nurture, to own, even.

It of course took Suguru’s entrance and observation for his initial frostiness to dissolve.

“And who’s this beauty?” Suguru asked, reminding Satoru that not only had you sung his song the way it should’ve been recorded all along, you were also gorgeous to boot. All your lines and all your curves drew out a figure he wanted to memorize with his hands. Or maybe his tongue. At least his eyes were lucky enough to try.

So, to his surprise – and apparently yours, too, judging by the way your mouth adorably parted and your eyes widened – he answered with your name. He resisted saying anything more that could – and would – be a giveaway to the new direction his thoughts were going in.

“I’ll train her personally,” Satoru suddenly said later, further surprising himself, and Suguru too, judging by the questionable look his best friend gave him.

“Um, are you sure, sir? Are you not, well, busy?”

Sir? Well, fuck him, then.

“Not nearly enough to resist instructing the next generation!” He said, in his favorite voice to use when charming audiences.

And that’s when you blinded Satoru with a wide smile. Your sweet lips trembled shyly as you met his eyes, and he resisted the urge to lick his lips. He chose to smirk instead, which makes you redirect your gaze to your toes. He made you nervous, huh? What a sweet little thing. How could he have chosen to hate you? You were just what he needed – an innocent, new sparkling talent for him to sharpen and shine. He imagined your rise to stardom, and imagined how everyone would look at his latest, sexiest protegee. How everyone would cheer when he kissed you, when the nation’s favorite man laid his lips on the newest national sweetheart. He didn’t think about the arrangement to come at all. His cock pulsed as blood rushed to his crotch, and he hoped his buttoned blazer hid his staining erection.

“I’ll have Suguru text you the details,” Satoru said flippantly. “I have my own recording studio at home. We can practice there.” Suguru rolled his eyes, but got to work immediately, whipping his work phone out and texting the number you spelled out since you didn’t have a business card of your own. “I’ll see you then.”

The week that sandwiched your first meeting and your next flew by quickly for Satoru; a Vogue photoshoot followed by recording his surprise appearance as a celebrity judge on a cooking show filled the early half of his week, the latter half consisting of chemistry readings for the pilot of a new drama where his role hadn’t been decided yet, so he had to perform multiple different combinations of the scripts.

By the time your bright and bushy tailed excitement greeted him, though, he was tired. And he guessed it was plainly evident.

“Are you alright?” you asked sweetly. “I could get you a coffee if you’re tired?”

“Aww, no, I couldn’t have the new talent fetch me a coffee!” He laughed brightly. “I’m already more awake now that you’re here.”

“You’re such a charmer,” you said, rolling your eyes, and crossing your arms, directing Satoru’s attention to the furrow of skin between your breasts deepening. He sucked on the top row of his teeth, imagining digging them into the soft skin there, leaving bruising bite marks on the silky spheres. “Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No, just you,” Satoru said, grinning. He flicked your forehead gently. You giggled. Satoru wished they’d already been recording; he’d have loved to have trapped that delicious little sound into a few seconds long audio clip. What a cute lil alarm noise that could’ve been.

“Sure, sure,” you said, turning away from him, though not before Satoru saw the edges of your flushed cheeks. “Where do we start?”

Satoru came close behind you, grabbing the hand most on top of your crossed arms. He pressed his palm to the top of your skin, his heart pounding as he did so. He moved your joined grasp to rest on the center of your chest. He smelled your shampoo scent as he leaned down to talk near your ears. The jut of his plush bottom lip brushed against your ear with every low vowel.

“Breathe,” he instructed. Your chest rose slowly as you sucked in air according to his instructions, and fell with a faster speed as you exhaled. Some of Satoru’s bangs tickled his forehead as your breath rushed out. “Repeat it, but slower exhale. Control it. Then, I want you to hold a note for as long as you can. Whatever one you want.”

You listened, and did so immediately. “What a good girl,” he told you. Your voice wavered, and he wondered if the beat he felt through your hands from your chest was your heart skipping a beat, or your voice straining to stay steady.

“T-thank you, sir,” you said. Satoru wondered if your words were respectful – or teasing. He was hoping too much, he realized, and he stepped away from you, releasing the heavy tension the moment held, lightening the mood in the room immediately.

“You’ve got a clear voice, and strong lungs,” Satoru said, turning away from you as he adjusted his pants without you noticing. “Impressive.”

“Thank you again!”

He laughed, petting your head with soft pats before he realized he was lifting his hand to do so. He rolled with it. “No need to thank me. Call me Gojo-sensei if you respect me that much,” he said, winking.

Now you laughed, another sweet, addictive melody for his ears. Your giggle now had a companion in his mind’s radio. “Okay, Gojo-sensei. What’ve you got to teach me? I’ve had enough of your compliments.”

“Oh, really? Not fond of praise?” Satoru asked, teasing.

You bit your lip. “That’s not what I –” You giggled again, making Satoru grin. “I’m excited to learn, Gojo-sensei.”

Oh, gods be damned. He shouldn’t have asked for it. But he had. Now he had a long list of other things he wanted to beg you for.

He cleared his throat, wishing it would clear his dirty mind too. He had promised to teach you. So he redirected his efforts, and tried his best to redirect his blood to his brain. Worked somewhat, but the tingling desire between his legs as the two of you spent the rest of the day – and well into the night – talking and singing and writing together.

Satoru hadn’t been this happy writing music in so long, and even wrote something he was confident was his best work yet throwing ideas with you. Maybe he needed to spend more time as a solo musician before completely redirecting his talents to acting and instructing. No, he’d done enough to establish himself as a singer. He wanted to expand what he was known for, and solidify even more his reputation as the greatest performer of today.

You were the future. You’ll be a shining star, he thought, one that blinds everyone with your brilliance.

“Thank you,” you said genuinely, turning your head away from him as you packed up for the day. He realized belatedly that he’d accidentally spoken aloud. Gods, he hadn’t complimented someone like that in ages. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

“I thought you were Suguru’s biggest fan,” Satoru said, teasing you, squinting his eyes, unable to help himself from reminding you of your words that still had him jealous. He was used to being the favorite. And even if Suguru was his best friend – he wanted to be your favorite.

You sighed. “I … I have a confession.” You put down your now packed bag. You looked back into Satoru’s eyes.

“What?” He leaned forward, hovering closer to your face as the two of you sat next to each other on the couch in his office, having moved there long ago. Oh, he was so curious …

“ You were my favorite,” you blurted. “I just wanted to be – not like other girls.”

Satoru couldn’t help it. First he was shocked. Then, once he realized your logic, he started to laugh. So hard he even brought a few tears to his eyes. You whacked him on his arm.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

But as you went to bring your arms back beside you, Satoru caught your bunched up fingers in his much larger hand. He squeezed your fist. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Satoru Gojo was your favorite. Him, and nobody else. Oh, he was so glad.

Your face burned as Satoru reminded you of your little white lie. That Suguru was your favorite, a lie you’d shared with many others when the topic of their band arose.

That burn didn’t compare to the one spreading across your cheeks and up your neck from your chest as Satoru laughed.

And that burn didn’t compare to the one roaring in your heart as Satoru squeezed the hand you’d used to hit him jokingly.

Neither of those hot feelings compared to the burning fire between your legs when Satoru used the hand he was holding to pull your face close to him. His left leg pressed against your outer thigh, sending another flash of heat to your core even at the slight contact.

His breath ghosted over your lips, and your eyes met. The hungry look in his pale gaze conveyed the message. You’d have to be the one to bite the bullet he’d loaded. And so, heart straining from the combined joy of your past and current Satoru Gojo obsessed self wanting this moment to never end, you kissed him.

Instantly, Satoru transformed. From the first gentle contact of your lips, he was a perfect gentleman for all of three seconds, trapping your bottom lip between his. But once he began sucking, he couldn’t stop devouring you like a man without any decorum. He inhaled you as he kissed you, bringing you close to his body, tangling his arms around your back as he sank into the couch and you fell down with him. You twisted your body to lay more comfortably against his, realizing too late that that would mean unimpeded contact between your cunt and his cock through your clothing.

The two of you gasped at the combined warmth, which made your teeth clink against each other.

“You want me that bad?” you asked, shocked by the sheer size of his wanting. The absolute hardness that pushed against you, almost sending you to a mental institution by how his cockhead just about pressed against the crotch of your jeans to catch your clit temporarily when he shifted. You moaned as if to punctuate your observation.

“Ah,” Satoru breathed, his hands flying to cup the round curves of your hip. Your top had ridden up, and so his palms were touching bare skin. He squeezed, electrifying your sensation of his touch as he pawed at your softness. “I think you want me just as bad, baby.”

He slid his hands up from from hips to your waist to your chest, groping them like they were clay he wanted to mold to the shape of his grasp. He palmed them once more before lifting your shirt and ridding you of it.

Your breasts wobbled when they were subsequently freed from the confines of your bra, and you watched Satoru lick his lips hungrily.

“But don’t worry, baby,” Satoru said silkily. “I’ll take real good care of you.” He kissed you sweetly to prove his point.

Then immediately dirtied his mouth when he took a mouthful of tits to his teeth, biting down gentle enough to not hurt but hard enough to make you moan. You stretched your neck out, throwing your head back.

“You made me so hard,” Satoru said, breathing heavily as he removed his mouth from your right breast, a string of spit connecting the two. It popped when he got far enough. “How do you plan on fixing that, hmm?”

You whimpered when he reached his hand down to feel your cunt through your jeans. Your clit pulsed, and you knew Satoru could feel it like a heartbeat. He wasted no time in ridding you of your pants, and you lifted your hips to help with the removal of your panties right after.

“Oh, ‘Toru!” you cried out. Satoru had immediately started to explore your secret spot, parting your folds and using his fingers to collect some of your slick. He sucked it off his hands, and you got wetter, something you thought was impossible judging by the shine you had seen gathered on his thick fingers.

You trembled with desire. “Satoru. I want it. Please!” You found yourself begging.

“I’m not quite sure what you want, sweet,” Satoru said in a sing-song voice.

Whatever restraint might’ve been keeping your mouth clean snapped. “Please, give it to me now. I want your cock inside me, now. Please!” You were near sobbing, especially as Satoru continued to play with your cunt by pressing against your clit in a rhythmic manner.

“Bad girls don’t get to tell me where my cock goes,” Satoru scolded, slapping your bare pussy. You let out a wild cry.

“Satoru, please,” you whined, pressing yourself into him even more. He flipped the two of you to create some space between your crotch and his. He threw your bare legs over his shoulders after ridding himself of his pants. He didn’t even return his fingers to your cunt, which made you sick with nostalgia for the mere seconds earlier when he was playing with you so deliciously.

“Oh, darling, I know you want it. And you should know, I really want to just put it in right now – god, I do – but you have to wait…”

You closed your eyes, tilting your head back against the cushions.

“Aren’t you going to ask why you’re a bad girl?”

“Why am I one?” you asked, giving in, opening your eyes. You saw Satoru’s bright, mischievous gaze, sparkling with delight as you responded just the way he wanted.

“ Sir.”

“Why am I a bad girl,” you said, gulping, “ sir – Satoru?”

“Aww, because you didn’t ask me what I want,” he said, cooing.

You pleaded to him, begging to know what he might want to do with you. Anything would do – the burning between your legs was an uncontrollable wildfire, and there was only Satoru who could put it out.

“I want the same thing, silly,” Satoru said, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. “Was just’ teasin’ you, yeah.” You shivered as his silver strands tickled the sensitive skin there. You yelped when he nipped at a spot there, before immediately cooling it down with his tongue tracing over it, leaving the tingling spot cool and wet.

But there were other wet tingling spots for Satoru to pay attention to.

He began fingering you in earnest, the motions of his fingers making squelching noises fill the room of his office. How lewd! You almost had forgotten where he was making you this weak. But who needs the bedroom?

“You’re so sexy,” Satoru murmured, crooking his fingers just so. “Makes me want to ruin you.”

“Ahh, Satoru!” you screamed. “Please, please, do whatever you want. I just wanna – ugh!” You were babbling nonsense as something built inside of you, like blocks laid atop each other to form a steep tower.

“So sexy, screaming for me. Trembling for me like this,” he said, using his other hand to press against your bare stomach to feel your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling of it all.

Something was building inside of you, yes. And it was about to topple and break in just a bit, judging by just how hard your legs were shaking atop his shoulders, the skin of your thighs sticking and unsticking against Satoru’s sweaty chest.

“Look so pretty coming apart on my fingers,” Satoru cooed, looking down at you with hazy, lidded eyes. His bright blue eyes were darker than usual by the dilation of his pupils, and honestly, the absolute adoration in his genuine gaze – of course, combined with his fingers – sent you over the edge.

You couldn’t even say a word as the strongest orgasm you’d ever felt knocked the wind out of you. You shook and you shook and you shook with waves of pleasure. It was pure euphoria.

If that was just from his fingers, then …

Satoru seemed to have the same question. “What’re you gonna do when it’s my cock instead, pretty baby?”

Like a broken record, you couldn’t help but beg again once you regained your breath control and the shaking had subsided.

“I’m gonna kiss you real hard,” you said, looking at his bitten red lips, shining with your combined saliva. Oh, god. It was hitting you, really, that you had done that. You were the one kissing Satoru Gojo. You were the one finger fucked by Satoru Gojo. And now –

Satoru took off his jeans, then his boxers. Whatever train of thought you had crashed and burned as you dropped your jaw. Of course the most beautiful man in the world would have an equally beautiful cock, thick and arched, precum coating the pink tip like frosting begging you to take a lick.

“So,” Satoru said, his voice getting a little more serious. “You still want this? If you say no, we can pretend this never –”

You arched up to kiss him square on the mouth. Hell to the no – why would you deny yourself heaven? Parting, chest heaving, you trailed a finger down his muscled abdomen and then down his pale happy trail, stopping right as your finger approached his fat tip.

“Fuck me, Satoru,” you said, earnestly.

Satoru kissed you gently before aligning himself with your vagina. He slotted it at your folds, and then just like that, his tip was slightly inside you, easily gliding in with how wet you were. He shook a little, and inhaled in a deep breath. Every little movement of his hips, no matter how intentional it might’ve been, rubbed at your skin down there. You can tell Satoru was doing his best to hold back, doing his best to stop from savagely thrusting into you and splitting you open with his monster of a cock.

But you want him to. You couldn’t take it anymore. You tilted your hips, and again, because of just how wet you were, he slid in halfway quite easily. He whispered your name, his voice breaking roughly at the end.

You stared up at the expression of ecstasy on Satoru’s face. His eyelids drooped. His shiny spit slick mouth parted.

“You’re inside me,” you said slowly, bringing your hand to cover your face. Satoru moved it away, and instead kissed you, the movement pushing his thickness further into you. You groaned as your walls strained to accommodate him. “Fucking me.”

“N-not yet,” Satoru said, voice hoarse. He pushed all the way into your tightness. You screamed, he groaned. “And not even now.”

“It’s enough, it’s enough,” you said, eyes starting to water. “I’m going crazy.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathed, when you clenched tight around him. “I’m makin’ you crazier. Now.” He lifted himself out of you, and thrust back into you with a thwop.

Slowly, after that first thrust, his actions became faster and smoother. Satoru showed you no patience, no gentleness, no matter how much he had wanted to and had been planning on it. He fucked you roughly, like you were two animals rutting. You called out his name again and again, no plans of stopping even as your voice grew rough with use.

Just as you were about to cum – your walls were fluttering around Satoru as if to signal – Satoru pulled out of you and came on your stomach, flinching as warm stickiness pooled and dribbled down your waist.

That was the first time you fucked Satoru Gojo. And that was not the last.

Moving forward, the two of you were insatiable. The weeks leading up to your album release party was filled with debauchery.

You blew Satoru in the recording studio Suguru rented to record the tracks; Satoru was supposed to supervise. But of course he’d rather cum on your chest. So, supervising soon turned into lewd moans and sticky thrusts that the impressive sound system captured. Satoru was careful to delete the footage – and of course, who would know he’d saved a singular copy on a flash drive just for him to listen to – just you, and you didn’t mind.

And even after the album release party – at the after party held in the most packed club in Tokyo – the two of you couldn’t hold back. When everyone had gone to the dance floor, and just you and Satoru remained in the closed off lounge area, he pulled you into his lap and slid his cock into you, crumpling your short mini skirt to your hips and pushing aside your thin thong. Being aware anyone could come back any second, Satoru fucked you while he covered your intimate connection with his leather jacket draped over your thighs and dragging on your sweaty skin. When the two of you heard voices coming closer, once even hearing Suguru’s drunk laughter come too close for comfort, the two of you stilled under the jacket. Even in that moment of cessation, you could still feel Satoru’s cock inside you, so hot and pulsing. Satoru’s gasping breath was a treat for your hearing, and his swirling hips underneath you were a treat for your cunt. Thankfully, when Satoru and you came, the music in the club was loud as it had been since the start of the night, even louder if possible at the peak of the night, and so the two of you could groan in earnest. Plus, when the two of you got home that night, there was no stopping Satoru from taking you in every which way he desired. It was crazy how no matter what you two did, he was never tired of you. Never!

Until one random day, a Tuesday you didn’t think was anything remarkable except for the fact that Satoru hadn’t wished you a good morning like he usually did. You were walking down a busy street in Shibuya, in dark clothes, with a mask and sunglasses hiding your face now that you were an up-coming celebrity. Then you overheard the gossip that would irreversibly change the course of your life.

Did you hear? Satoru Gojo is going to be marrying a descendant of the royal Japanese family, Princess Utahime Iori. What a fairytale!

You stopped in your tracks.

Like a crazy person, you reached for the person who said that, frantically grabbing onto their shoulder. Believably freaked out, they flinched away.

“S-sorry. I’m just, so, so shocked by what I accidentally overheard,” you said, trying to appear normal. “What did you say?”

“Oh,” said the stranger girl, feeling more amicable now that you’d explained yourself. “You know that famous singer-actor-everything? Satoru Gojo? He’s getting married to royalty! I mean, he basically is, too–”

“Is this for real?” You weren’t sure if this was as false as the rumor that Satoru had a foot fetish. He had a variety of kinks, but not that one.

“Uh-huh!” said the girl’s other friend. “They just did a press release! Satoru’s quitting the performing industry to be a family man, and Suguru’s officially opening his own studio! They even signed that new singer that’s blowing up right now,” she said. Hearing your name didn’t shock you, compared to how this news felt like. Like a bucket of ice water, like a brick to the face, like something violently wrenching you out of your head and straight to reality.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said, gulping back tears. You turned away from them, and immediately hailed a cab. At first, you intended to go home and cry your heart out. But quickly, you knew that you had to talk to Satoru first.

The entire drive, you sat tensely, your stomach in knots. What could Satoru possibly say? There was a fucking press release, apparently. What explanation was there? You hoped he had one. You weren’t sure you would react rationally otherwise.

The knot in your stomach tightened further when you saw how many cars were parked around Satoru’s place. Getting in without attracting attention would be difficult, but thankfully, you guys had been fooling around enough for you to know exactly how to do so.

Before you knew it, you were in Satoru’s bedroom (sans the mask and sunglasses, which you’d put away in your purse). Sitting in the dark, like, again, a crazy person. This man was making you go crazy! You called him, and when you went to voicemail, you sent him a text asking him to come up to his room, praying that he’d see it. Anymore stress and you’d start sprouting gray hairs.

His door creaked open, and the lights came on in a flash.

“Woah!” Satoru said, jumping back. He quickly entered the room again, closing the door shut behind him. “When’d you get here?”

“I texted you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “What’s going on?”

Satoru looked at you with an indecipherable expression. He loudly sucked on the top row of his teeth. Then, he spoke. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“I didn’t ask what’s wrong, I asked, what’s going on,” you said, crossing your arms. “I heard something about a press release.” Your tone was flat.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, giving you a tight smile. “So you heard.”

You didn’t say anything. You wanted him to do the talking.

“It’s no big deal, really,” Satoru said. “It’s an arranged marriage, so we can keep seeing each other–”

“Wait,” you said, flabbergasted. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Why wouldn’t I be? We – hold on. You cryin’?”

You didn’t realize that tears had pooled in your eyes and were now streaming down your face.

“Sweetheart,” Satoru said, in a voice entirely unfamiliar to you. Everything about the man in front of you now was unfamiliar to you, actually. “We were never official. So, I don’t understand –” You slapped him across his face, as hard as you could. Before you knew it, you were punching his chest while you crumbled into sobs, not even speaking a real language besides wails and cries. Surprisingly, he let you hurt him.

Eventually, though, you stopped. You were utterly deflated. You felt like a fool. But you had to know, right? That it was going to end this way. Suddenly, your mind flashed back to the innocent days of being a fan and seeing headlines in gossip magazines – and the occasional think piece – about all the notches on Satoru’s belt.

“You’re right,” you said, flashing him the same tight smile he’d given you earlier. You closed your eyes, purposefully missing his reaction. No matter what he had done, you still didn’t want to see him hurt – or worse, not hurt at all. “We were never official. So let’s end whatever this is.” You took a deep breath, and once you felt steady in your stance, you opened your eyes.

Again, that indecipherable expression.

But, when he spoke, you quickly realized what it might signify.

“Alright. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you at the wedding, then,” he said.

It signified this: he didn’t care. At all. This meant nothing to him, compared to what it meant to you.

Your heart crumbled as much as you had earlier.

All along, he didn’t care…

“Goodbye, Satoru. I’ll see you around. Let me know what you want for your wedding present.” You wouldn’t be a crazy person any longer. You pulled your sunglasses and mask out of your bag, and walked out of Satoru’s room. And, effectively, Satoru’s life.

In the cab ride home, you had one thought and one thought only: I wish we’d never met. What a grand, impossible wish. Almost as impossible as having had this relationship with your celebrity crush, you reminded yourself. This was fated to never be. You should start to accept it, and focus on your career.

Afterall, you thought, strengthening your resolve. What better way to show Satoru that you didn’t care – than to flourish without him in your life. Suddenly, you remembered your original dream. Stage lights and sold out shows. Not a silver-haired blue-eyed cocky motherfucker who knew just how your body ticked.

You wish you’d never met him, but it was better that you had. Because now you could show him – no, scratch that – show the world just how committed to your dreams you were. Just as Satoru had said oh-so-long-ago, you were the future . Satoru was old news.

Just like he’d said, huh.

You’d be a shining star, one that blinds everyone with your brilliance.

For your sake, you had to be.

i hope you enjoyed! this is also on ao3. and i have a hella long author's note on there. lol. header is from kukkoro knight (manga). xoxo penelope

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 26 days ago

Note

(I wish I could ask this in a video with GamingMagic13’s editing style, but I don’t have the energy for that.)

People say that, after Antibug, Chloé’s redeeming qualities started to show through throughout Seasons 2 and 3 because Thomas Astruc didn’t contribute to those episodes of those seasons as if he wasn’t on the writing team for every episode for those two seasons, including the ones showing Chloé’s redeeming qualities.

It’s not “Thomas left so the other writers started to make a redemption for Chloé, but then he came back and threw it all away”, it’s leaning more towards “Thomas, along with other writers, wanted to waste our time with Chloé pity parties for two seasons and trick people into feeling bad for her, which worked on plenty of reactors, and then yank the rug out from under them just for the sake of pulling a rug out from viewers” whether it’s the truth or not.

Also, do you get the feeling that, if people weren’t harassing Thomas and his family over Chloé’s “abandoned redemption”, Chloé wouldn’t have been made into evil incarnate to spite people?

Considering that the hiatus between Seasons 3 and 4 started towards the end of 2019, had to continue throughout 2020 due to the COVID pandemic with only the New York special to keep us busy in September 2020, and then finally ended shortly after 2021 started, that would have been plenty of time to rework scripts, because we know he was also on the writing team for every episode of Seasons 4 and 5 alongside 2 and 3, to made Chloé more and more unlikeable while propping up the male adults to spite Chloé fans, like several episodes of Teen Titans GO! and even this show are guilty of.

Whether all of this is true or not, I think it all lines up too well for too many other outcomes.

The "Thomas Astruc was able to completely rewrite the plans for this character and no one stopped him" take has always been a little wild to me especially since Chloe never showed meaningful improvement in canon. In fact, now that we've seen her story play out in all it's disappointing and time-wasting glory, you can even argue that Despair Bear was straight up telling you what we were in for since it's the same plot, just on a smaller scale.

As far as I know, there is no evidence for this "Chloe was rewritten" conspiracy. At the very least, no one has sent any my way on the multiple occasions when I've asked for it. Astruc is a credited writer for pretty much every episode involved in the Queen Bee arc and, while head writers have a good deal of power, they often don't have supreme power over their shows. This is especially true when it comes to kids shows since those have a lot of restrictions on what they can do. While I cannot speak French, I've been told that this class involves one of the writers talking about the multiple darker version of Chat Blanc that were rejected, leading to Chat Blanc being a season three episode instead of a season two episode like they originally planned.

These shows are products that are being sold to buyers who do have the power to reject the product and the writers work for a company. In most cases, they can be stopped!

There's also the fact that this is Astruc's career that we're talking about. You're arguing that he purposely messed with his reputation and screwed up the writing in the show that he's most well-known for in order to get back at online randos instead of just blocking them and moving on with his life. That's an insanely hard sell for me. Unintentional bad writing is a much easier explanation especially since he has nothing to gain from people disliking the Chloé stuff. This wasn't situation where Astruc needed to tank the show to get out of writing it. If Astruc left the project, then Miraculous would go on without him. While he came up with the initial idea, Zag owns the property.

Unless someone has hard evidence that Chloé was changed to spite fans, I am never going to buy into this conspiracy theory. Her bad writing is too in line with the show's other issues. Remember, this is the show that gave us Derision, everything about Lila, and Gabriel getting an 'ascends into the light with a smile' ending while his son sat the fight out and remains in the dark. Is Chloé really meaningfully worse than any of that?

I'd say no and, if you agree, then why do you think that she's so special? I've previously called her a canary in the coal mine and that's going to be my read until someone gives me evidence of something else. She was your warning sign that the writing was never going to be very good. I don't think she foretold just how bad it would get - that's why I kept watching - but her story showed that these writers were only good at short-form content and sucked at long-form content. In fact, Chloé's story is arguably better than a lot of the long-form stuff that the show gave us in season four and five. At least Chloé's story logically flowed together even if it was massively disapointing!

I also don't consider Chloé's season four and five writing downgrade to be all that telling because, once again, it's not unique to her. The class gets a similar downgrade in quality, going from "we'll help Marinette with her confession plans when she asks, but this isn't a major thing to us" to "we live for Adrienette and will make our own plans for Marinette to confess and force them on her/try to force Adrienette to kiss." It makes the entire class feels more shallow than ever.

Gabriel also gets a downgrade with his writing going more over-the-top than ever. We have things like him locking Adrien in a cell and using Adrien's amoks for no obvious reason even though Gabriel is supposed to get an ending where he dies totally at peace and ascends into the light. Totally nonsense choices just like the choice to make Marinette's inability to speak to Adrien because she's anxious into a full-out trauma response.

These are just a few of the many, many, many writing downgrades.

If you truly believe the Chloé conspiracy, then I'd strongly encourage you to watch at least the first of the videos I'm about to link and see if you notice similarities. I have all of them set to the specific, relevant timestamps in case you don't want to watch a massive video to see what I'm talking about because they all talk about more than the conspiracies that arose in these fandoms when the writing got "bad" (especially the last one. The conspiracy gets a very brief mention. I really only included it because I wanted three examples and just went with ones big enough that someone else had done research on the topic because it's not an area of fandom that I've ever waded into).

I'm linking these videos because I wanted to give you more than me just saying "this kind of thing happens all the time when media gets bad." Watching just a few minutes of each of these should give you the context you need assuming the timestamps work:

youtube

As you can hopefully see, the Chloé stuff is nothing new. So many pieces of media do something disappointing and then fans create conspiracies for why it happened, refusing to accept what is most likely to be the unfortunate truth: the writers thought they told a good story or, at the very least, they did the best they could within the confines they were working with be those confines monetary, temporal, and/or the limits of their own skills. That doesn't make the bad writing okay, you're fully valid in being upset, but there's also no need to create a conspiracy theory around it. It's probably not that deep. This shit happens all the time, especially in larger fandoms.

This is why I often give the advice of, "don't trust your mental health to stories that you have no control over." Is not that fandom isn't fun, I've just seen this shit before and I always feel bad for those who get involved with it. I've luckily never gone down the conspiracy rabbit hole, but I have gotten really upset when other fans continued to like a show that was bad, actually, and got a good deal of catharsis when most of the fandom woke up after the final was terrible. That still wasn't a good experience for me, though. It was not a healthy mindset to be waiting with baited breath for total strangers to agree with me that this random show was bad. I'm much better of bashing it with those who agree that it's bad, moving on when I'm no longer having fun, and letting those who like it be wrong (that is both a joke and real advice. Don't waste your time trying to change people's minds on something as insignificant as Miraculous. Just let them be wrong.)

#marcmarcmomarc #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #the chloe conspiracy #btw I picked those videos because I'd seen them before and remembered them talking about this topic #This is not a list of fandoms I've been in #I love that my confession at the end tells you so little because there are so many shows I could be talking about #Which is once again why I have a hard time buying the conspiracy

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ink-and-blood-goddess · 1 year ago

Text

The Gentle Giant (Bane x Reader) Part I

Requested by Anonymous- Hi could I request for Bane 😀. Something Angsty and smutty as you can. We're reader is a quiet meek person and stuck in the chaos of banes gothem. Bane sees her getting attacked and helps her, to her surprise. Bane is still mean and scary though and when he has to protect her a 2nd time he decides to keep her with him she is terrified but even though he is rough and mean he starts showing is soft spot for her and things get hot from there.♥️♥️ What ever you can come up with I'm sure will be great no pressure if your not feeling it.

A/N-First off, I like to say I’M SO SORRY to the person who requested this over a year ago. I got around to writing this and using most of my time off to get this done. Originally, I was going to post this as a preview of the story, but instead post part 1 of this fanfic. I also went absolutely overboard when got towards the middle part of it. So, for right now I’m going to post this as two-part fanfics and later on when I finish the whole thing, I’m going to post the whole entire fanfic in post as I originally intended for.

Part two may take much longer to write since I need to catch up on other requested fanfic, so that I don’t fall behind much further that I’m already am.

So, please enjoy reading part 1 of this and I’m so sorry again for taking this long for this to written.

Warnings: Choking, hair pulling, lots of language, and violence

Citrus Scale: 🍑

W.C+: 11.2K

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Gotham City. A place you called home. Or it was until a mysterious figure by the name of Bane took over. You weren’t born in Gotham, but moved to the city for your job and a fresh start in your life.

When growing up, you were very quiet and only spoke at appropriate times. Your parents weren’t bothered by how you kept to yourself and never pressured you about it either. This became very useful when the city went to shit.

Winter came after a month when Batman went missing. You’ve never caught a glimpse of who this Bane was or what he looked like. All you have to do was survive this fucking chaos. But this was very difficult with all of Gotham’s criminals running around the entire city. The only time you went out for supplies was at night. Sure it was dangerous doing it, but during the daytime hours, it was even more dangerous. So nighttime it was.

As the winter sun began to set, white flurries of snow started to fall upon Gotham. The snow never seemed to stop day or night. Covering the empty and silent streets. It felt completely dead and desolate once Bane’s reign began over the city.

All the rumors you’ve heard of this mysterious man prosecuting and judging those who’ve done wrong to the city and then showing no mercy towards them. It’s true that the justice system of Gotham was fucked up and a miscarriage to society of the people of Gotham. You don’t give a shit towards the justice system at all, since this whole thing began and Batman being out of the picture.

Besides that, you didn’t know who to trust during this time and never will if you can’t survive with another person going against your throat. However, you’ve managed to get a message to your parents, telling them that you’re alright making it out on your own and doing what you need to survive. That was the last time you spoke to them, before communication to the outside world was cut off from the city.

Now you were on your own. It’s been two and a half weeks since your last supply run and your stash is getting really low. Due to winter coming in, you’ve been going through your food and drink rations faster so that they don’t go to waste. You were well stocked on other supplies for another two to three more months, but food and drinks (mainly water) were the most important things to get.

Once the sun finally set for the night, you began to gather your belongings before going out. You always wear your heavy winter coat, long knitted scarf, gloves, and boots during the winter time to keep warm and safe during your nightly supply runs. Before you swung your backpack onto your shoulders, you double checked to make sure that you’ve got everything for tonight.

Flashlight (with extra batteries of course), three bottles of water, two boxes of granola bars, some extra pairs of clothes, and a fully stocked first aid kit. You then double checked yourself to make sure that you’re all bundled up before going out into the cold, snowing weather. The last two things you needed to take with you were your can of pepper spray and baseball bat.

Those were the only weapons you’ve carried around with you since who didn’t know how to use a gun and never will.

You don’t usually use your pepper spray when you go out, but kept it on hand just in case. Your baseball bat was of more use for you, because it was aluminum metal instead of wood. Does all lot more damage than with the pepper spray can on full blast.

Now that you’ve got everything ready for tonight, you checked one last time before heading over towards the door. As you reached the door, you couldn’t help but look at yourself in the mirror. You were all bundled up in your winter coat that went down to your knees, all zipped up with the faux trimmed hood resting behind your head. The neon striped black knitted scarf neatly wrapped around your neck to protect from the cold weather. Black winter gloves protecting your hands from getting frostbite from the snow. Finally, heavy black leather snow boots tied safely around your feet and ankles.

Normally, you would go out like this during the winter time either to your workplace or when you go out into Gotham City itself. But now, things have changed for everybody including yourself.

Now you have to carry at least two objects with you, in order to defend yourself from the fucked up criminals that are walking freely on the city streets and underbelly of Gotham. Still looking through the reflection, you saw yourself holding an aluminum metal baseball bat in your hands and a XL can of pepper spray peeking out from the right side of your coat pocket.

Everything is completely different now. It affected you the most when it all started. All you have to do is survive and fight for yourself. That’s all that matters now.

After several seconds of looking at yourself in the mirror, you turned back towards the door. Your apartment’s door was heavily locked up. Three deadbolt chains rested tightly in between the wooden door frame and the wall.

Originally you had one deadbolt chain when you moved in, but after a couple of break ins you asked your landlord to add two more so no more break ins would happen again. Two deadbolt locks and one standard locking door knob. The two deadbolt locks were already there when you moved into the apartment.

Lifting your hand up to the top chain, you felt your heart begin to pound inside of your chest. It always does this whenever you have to go out for supplies at night. Then you started to calm yourself down, as you finally placed your hand upon the top chain. Slowly you began to undo the chain from the sliding lock and then let go after it was out of the sliding lock. It swung back and forth for a moment until it stopped. Then you went down to the next deadbolt chain and undid it. After that you went to the last one. You were hesitant at first at removing it, letting your thoughts run wild. Shaking them away, you placed your hand onto the final deadbolt chain and slowly pulled it away from the door.

Once it was removed, you then went to the two deadbolt locks and twisted them open to the side. Finally, you slowly unlocked the door knob. Placing your hand onto the knob, your heart began to race again, but it calmed straight down.

It’s just a supply run. Nothing else. Just get what you need and you won't get hurt or killed tonight, you told yourself in thought. You then slowly turned the door knob and began to open the door at a slow place. The hinges creaked open against the wooden door frame. Thankfully it wasn’t loud enough to be heard from down the hallway.

Poking your head out of the doorway, you looked down both hallways twice to make sure that the coast is clear. All clear, you told yourself. Slowly, you pulled your head back in and then stepped out quietly, placing one foot in front of the other. After you were finally out of the doorway, you turned around to close the door slowly and steadily. It quietly creaked against the door frame and gave a silent locking noise after it was fully closed.

Once you removed your hand from the doorknob, you tucked your hand into your coat pocket for a moment, until you found the keys for the door. Grabbing a hold of them tightly with the palm of your hand, you made sure that they didn’t make any noise. One by one, you picked out the keys for the two deadbolts and the door knob and twisted the keys into each lock. After locking the door knob, you placed the keys back into your coat pocket and padded it down. The keys made a muffled jingle sound inside of the pocket.

Placing your hand back onto the door knob, you tugged on it hard and pushed it a little at the door. It was all locked up tightly now. Nobody was going to break into your place at all. Looking down the hallways one more time, you head down the right side of your floor towards where both the elevators and stairwell are located.

Ever since this whole chaotic justice system started over a month ago, about half of your apartment complex and most of the other residents on your floor became very skittish and violent with one another, even towards you. You did your very best to avoid them at all costs. The only person you still trusted was your landlord. Mr. Asher helped you out when you moved in on your first day in Gotham City. He was always there for you whenever you had a problem inside or outside of the complex. You completely trusted him with every fiber of your being, when this whole fucking chaos started, with everybody on your floor going after you and trying yo break in to kill you. He warned if anybody either on the floor or the entire building comes after you or goes near, he’ll kick their sorry asses out into the cold.

And after that, nobody else on your floor and the entire building ever threatened you again. It was dead silent as you walked down the hallway, except for some muffled talking either from the people inside or from their TV sets. You couldn’t really tell if it was one or the other. The muffled talking got more quiet as you walked away, the elevators came into view.

Not many of them weren’t working anymore after several fires broke out from the floors below and inside the shafts themselves. They were tapped off and had scorch marks melted into the steel work. The only one left working on your floor was the middle left.

You made your way over to the only working elevator and pushed the down button arrow on the panel. From behind the steel doors, you heard the mechanism start up. Since it was the only elevator left working in the building, you and the other residents have to be careful using it.

The elevator finally stopped as it reached up to your floor. The small ding sounded and the sliding doors opened up in front of you. Before stepping in, you looked over your shoulder one more time to make sure that you were all alone and nobody was following you out. Looks like it was clear to go now.

As you’ve entered onto it, it slightly moved but stayed in place. Once you were inside, you quickly turned around, reaching out with your hand, and pressing the Lobby button on the control panel. The button lit up as the elevator dinged again and the doors closed. Then after a few seconds, it began to move downward in the elevator shaft.

Why did this ever happen, you kept asking yourself over and over a thousand times by now after a month that everything went to shit. Bane or whoever he was, taking over the whole city in just one night. Prosecuting those who go up against the new justice system of Gotham. You always knew that the whole justice system was totally fucked up once you moved here.

Without any word or sightings of Batman, who was going to take down this Bane guy anyway? Not you of course. You’ve only heard rumors and talk, but never really seen him up close in person. You are quite small, but average height for yourself.

However you taught yourself self defense. It was the only thing to do since Batman wasn’t here anymore to save everybody in Gotham.

You snapped back to reality when you noticed that the elevator stopped. The light screen above the button panel for the floors said L on it. It meant that you finally arrived at the ground floor or the lobby area of your apartment building. The doors opened for you.

Taking another deep breath, you stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby area. After you got off, the doors closed right behind you.

The whole lobby was completely trashed. Every piece of furniture was either destroyed or turned over onto their sides. Trash cans turned over and bags were scattered everywhere in each corner. There was also graffiti sprayed on every wall and window. Several of the lobby windows were blown out. Thousands of shattered pieces of glass were littered all over the lobby. Half of the lobby lights that were still working, lit up the shattered glass pieces on the floor. Making them look like dozens of tiny fallen stars.

Looking outside through the broken windows, the snow started to come down harder and the wind began to pick up. Feeling a shiver go down your spine, you moved yourself forward so that you don’t waste time tonight. You could hear the shattered glass crunch underneath your winter boots.

Rather than going through the front doors, you instead go out one of the blown out windows. Once you’ve stepped outside onto the lightly snow covered sidewalk, the cold night wind blew through again.

Another shiver went down your spine, as you felt the cold night air touch your half covered face. You felt the snowflakes land upon your half covered face. Melting one by one as they touch your cold skin.

Instead of just standing around, you had to continue on with your task to get more supplies. Looking around the empty streets and roadway, you headed down the left side of the street you were on. Usually you went the other way to get your supplies for the next week or so when this whole thing started, but after a whole month went by you had to result in other measures given the situation.

Originally you had gone down to the supermarket around the corner several dozen blocks on the other side of your apartment building complex. The manager and several of the store employees started to hand out needed supplies such as buckets of food, cases of either bottled water or gallon jugs, and other such needed things.

That’s until looters and the freed criminals took advantage of it and started to take/loot everything from the store shelves. All of them completely cleared out every single item from the whole store and other places around that area.

There was nothing left in that store or anywhere else in the other stores in that area. You never went down there again after they took everything out. You yourself were doing fine with the supplies that you had already. Unfortunately you went through your food and drink stash faster than originally anticipated.

It was supposed to last for another week or two, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Word had gotten out from a few people that live on the same floor you’re on, that there was another supermarket down the other way that hadn't been looted at all. Fully stocked up.

Hoping it was still untouched by looters, you decided to go there anyway to get what you needed to last the next two to three weeks if possible. Looking around while walking, you couldn’t help but feel displaced by everything here.

You were at work the day it happened. Just sitting there at your desk in your shared office space at the computer when the building began to shake violently. The only thing to do was to take shelter underneath your desk, until everything stopped shaking.

Later, you and everyone else found out there was an explosion at the Gotham City football stadium. The whole field was gone in a matter of seconds. That’s how it started. There was a live TV broadcast coming in from the stadium on every single channel. An announcement came through loud and clear when the silence finally broke.

It was about true justice being served at last and prosecuting those who don’t follow along with the justice system. You didn’t know what the fuck was going on and who was talking during the speech. He announced himself as Bane. All that you can remember from that day forth was that deep raspy voice. The very first time you heard that voice sent chills all over your body. Then it all went to shit.

Bane’s soldiers raided almost every single building in the city. Looking for those who didn’t serve the justice system the right way and got away with it. Most of the buildings including your apartment complex were spared from the ordered raid.

After that, you took matters in order to survive this new world of justice, but you have to be careful in doing so. As you continued to walk down with the snow still falling, there were distance gunshots going off followed by a car engine roaring. Echoing off of the buildings and dying off seconds later.

The wind picked up and a cold blast came at you. The cold air made you stop in your tracks and lowered your head down. Feeling it blow past your half covered face and making your skin turn ice cold. Once it died down again, you continued walking on the half snow covered sidewalk.

It was rather tricky walking upon an ice covered surface and you walked at a slow and steady pace. You hated the winter time, even in the city now. All you had to do was bundle up, keep yourself warm, and not stay out too long in the fucking cold. Always trying to be very careful during the winter season, even now with everything going on.

After finally stopping at the last curb, you looked all around the area and at last landed your eyes upon what you were looking for. The safehaven you needed your supplies from: the supermarket that one person talked about.

It looked untouched from looters and criminals. No broken windows, no missing shopping carts, no graffiti sprayed on every single piece of the building, and of course nobody else around to stop you.

You couldn’t help but smile a bit that you made it here by yourself and nobody else got in your way. This is your one chance to get in, take what you can carry out, and get the fuck out of there before something bad happens or something much worse: Death.

You became afraid of dying either in your apartment from an intruder or on the city streets when this whole thing began. You didn’t want your parents to grieve over your body and make them suffer for the rest of their lives.

Since it was still dark out and the snow was still falling down, you had to act fast and get what you came here for. Looking around to make sure that nobody else was there hiding in the dark shadows or going to be attacked, you dashed off the curb and ran across the street as fast as you could

Your heart began to race, as you ran straight towards the glass sliding doors of the market building. Your backpack bouncing against your back. As you were getting closer and closer to the store doors, you began to slow down to a speed walk.

You were out of breath by the time you got to the closed doors and had to stand there for a few seconds before you could do anything else. Your heart went back to a normal pace, as you were catching your breath.

Placing your one gloved hand onto the freezing glass, you squinted and looked through the door into the store. Completely pitch black darkness. Not very visible from either side of the glass, because you were fogging up half of the glass with your covered mouth, temporarily blocking your vision from your hot breath.

Time to act now and fast. You quickly shrugged off your backpack with ease. You still held onto the bat just in case. With a quiet, crunchy thump onto the half snow covered sidewalk, you quickly opened the zipper, dove your free hand into it, and felt around the bottom to find the heavy duty flashlight.

After a few seconds of feeling around, you’ve finally found it and pulled it out. Closing it up now, you lifted the backpack up and slung your arms back through the shoulder straps. Now it was time to go inside.

The only way to go in was through the front, since you don’t have time to check other places to get into the store through such as back or side doors or even windows you can get through. So front doors it is.

You crouched down to where the lock was located on the metal door frame. With some help of the still working light above you, it illuminated the crack for you to see a bit better.

From the looks of it, the security deadbolt lock wasn’t engaged into the slot. This made it much better for you since you didn’t want to break in through the doors.

You quickly and quietly placed both the bat and flashlight onto the ground, placed each of your fingers into the door crack, and began to pull it open. You yourself didn’t have much strength when it comes to pulling or moving heavy items around. With doors it was more work to do, even with just yourself doing it.

As you keep on pulling and pulling, you feel the door start to slide open. It was a huge struggle at first to pull the doors open with your small, meek frame. It felt like they were stuck into place because of the cold weather coming in.

Until you felt a small jolt as you continued on pulling the doors and they started to glide open more easily. A sigh of relief washed over you and the heavy pressure from pulling open the metal framing lifted off of your shoulders.

The doors settled into place for right now. You then picked both the bat and flashlight as quickly as possible and headed inside through the now opened entrance. Making your way inside, you walked very slowly and softly so as to not create any echoing footprints on the floor.

You couldn’t believe your own eyes as you held the flashlight out in front of you. Aisles upon aisles of everything you can find in a store. Each of the shelves you saw in front of you were completely left untouched.

Nothing was out of place and nothing wasn’t missing either. You felt your heart flutter like a bird locked in a cage, by looking at all this unlimited supplies. But you have to act quickly now and take as much as you need with you back.

Looking around with your flashlight beaming brightly in the nearly darkened space, you spotted a row of stacked shopping carts near one of the emergency exit doors in the far corner of the building. You quickly walked over to where they are and grabbed one that was closest to you. Moving it back and forth for a few moments to check to see if it was in good working condition.

None of the four wheels were squeaking or going in another direction. Grabbing a hold of the handle, you began to push it towards the aisle where the bottles of water were kept. You placed the bat inside so that you can one hand free, while your other one held onto the flashlight.

You then turned a sharp right down the aisle and found where the water was. There were single served regular to XL bottles all across the top to middle shelves in the aisle. The only ones that you really needed the most were the 2.5 gallon jugs. You only used them for cooking, washing the dishes, and drinking as much as you needed to. About half of the residents in your complex have a tendency to overuse the water heaters, they have a tendency to shut off on their own if they hit their breaking point. The only time you need to use the water in your apartment is for the shower only. Saves you a lot of trouble so that you don’t have to overuse the water all the time.

On the bottom shelf towards the floor, you spotted the water jugs that you needed the most. The bright side is that they came in a pack of four instead of two. Halting the cart to a full stop, you got down onto your knees and grabbed the pack towards the front of the bottom shelf. The two handles on the pack made it a lot easier to grab ahold of and lift it up.

But it wasn’t quite easy when you were lifting it up from the floor. With the weight of the water including the four 2.5 gallon jugs made it feel like you were hoisting up a fucking boulder from a mountain side of all things. At least your small frame of a body could handle this sort of thing for only a few moments.

You had to place your foot on top of the under rack of the cart to keep it from moving as you were loading the four pack onto it. The pack slightly shifted the weight of the cart now, but you’ll manage to push it as long as you can.

After it was loaded into the cart, you bent down again to grab another four pack of water from the bottom shelf and then placed that one on top of the other pack. Now you were all set for water for the next several weeks to another month or two. There was other supplies you needed to get and you had to act fast.

Grabbing a hold of the cart again, you pushed with all your strength you had and turned a sharp left at the end of the aisle. The remaining supplies that you needed to get were batteries, toothpaste, sanitary pads, canned food, candles, matches, a couple of flashlights, pain meds, snacks, and a new radio.

Your heart was at a steady beat as you wheeled around the empty aisles of the store, grabbing what you needed. The more you filled up the cart, the more it became difficult to push around. Besides, you were going to take it with you anyway since you needed a way to get the supplies back to your apartment. There was a service elevator towards the back of the lobby where the parking garage is located, because it had more room to fit into than the regular elevators themselves.

The only thing left to get was a new radio. The one that your parents had given you when you were moving out, shorted out on you when you were trying to tune into any of the radio stations that were still on the air. It was very unexpected the way it had happened when it sparked and started to smoke. Besides it was old anyway and there was now way of replacing any of the parts now since they’ve melted together in one pile.

Electronics were located towards the back of the store and you made your way over as quickly as you could. The sooner you grab one, the sooner you can get out of here. Once you’ve turned the corner of the electronics aisle, you went straight down until you’ve found the boxes of radios. Halting the bugging into place, you shifted the flashlight forward to look at what radios they’ve got on the shelves.

Towards the top of the shelves, you’ve found one that looked useful enough for you. Reaching up on the tips of your boots, you managed to grab one of the boxes that was closest to the edge of the shelf. As you wrapped your fingers onto the top of the box, a sudden noise caught you off guard.

Without warning, the box slipped from your grasp and fell on the floor with a soft thud. Oh fuck. Somebody or something was coming. No time to act in self defense. You needed to find a place to hide in the store, until what or who leaves. You grabbed the bat from the cart and within seconds your flashlight was shut off.

Quickly and quietly, you made your way through the aisle and straight towards the back of the store. The only place that you could hide in was behind the pharmacy counter. It was tall enough to hide you until it was safe to come back out.

You pushed through the doubled hinged swinging door and then ducked behind the counter. Tucking your knees against your body and resting your head upon them, you hold onto your breath so that you don’t give away your hiding place. Both your flashlight and bat rested at each of your sides.

Then the sound of footsteps came into view, followed by the sound of voices. “Man, look at this fucking place. It’s jammed packed with all these goodies. Just for us.”

The first voice sounded male that was almost older than you. You listened carefully to what was happening right now. You thought that nobody else knew about this store other than the few residents on your floor talking about it.

“Once we take everything on this side of the city, we’re going to own this place and everything in it.” The sound of laughter soon came after, echoing off of the ceiling everywhere. “Fuck yeah. The boss’s going to be over the moon about this. No more scrounging around for rations.”

A second male voice, but sounded a bit younger. There were only two of them. No chance of sneaking out. Just to sit tight and wait until they both leave so that you can get out of here with your much needed supplies.

“Hey, let’s check around and make sure that EVERYTHING is here and report back to the boss about our search,” the older one chuckled a bit. This is not good. You left your supply cart out in the open, with the radio box still on the floor. They’re going to notice that you were going to take those supplies with you.

No way you were going to sneak past them. You’ll get caught within a second if they ever spot you. All you have to do right now is just to sit tight and wait for both of them to leave. It wasn’t going to be easy though since you have to hold your breath, not to make any noise that’ll alert them.

You heard their footsteps echoing off of the high ceiling of the store, making you feel like you were trapped between a rock and a hard place. It sounded like they were going through each of the aisles, checking to see what was still there on the shelves. Sooner or later, they’re going to notice several items missing from their spots and inside of the cart you were using just now. Hopefully they don’t see it and the stuff inside.

“Hey, come over here quickly. Found something” Too late. The running of footsteps soon came after. “What is it? What did you find,” the second male voice sounded out of breath. “Looks like somebody came in and tried to take this stuff with them,” you heard the shuffle of the items you were taking being moved around in the cart.

“Oh yeah. Then why’s this shit still doing here in the store if it never made it far enough to the front doors,” the second male sounded agitated now. “If they wanted these so badly, why didn’t they take it all with them.” His voice is getting more aggressive with his tone. “I mean come on man. All this fucking shit in this place is all ours for the taking and nobody elses’ for them to take.”

The first male sort of laughed at him and his laugh echoed. “Because you fucking idiot. They didn’t make a run for it at all. Instead they’re hiding out somewhere in here” You heard the rattling of the box that the radio you dropped is in and being tossed to the other male. The second male scoffed at the first.

“Whoever they are, they can’t hide any longer. Not even from us.” You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and a lump form in your throat. You didn’t know what to do now. Your whole body began to shake badly. The last thing on your mind was being caught red handed.

“Come on. They couldn’t have gotten far,” their footsteps resumed and both started to walk back around the aisles. Now instead of leaving, they were looking for you. Why did it have to happen tonight? You started to blame yourself for leaving the comfort of your completely safe and warm place. But you can’t blame yourself right now. You’ve made it all this way out here just to get supplies and you weren’t going to take any chances. Giving up is not an option for you now. It’s time to get out of here.

After coming out of your thoughts, the sound of their footsteps suddenly stopped. Complete silence, but something didn’t feel right about it. You took a deep and quiet breath in. Exhaling through your nose a couple of times, you lowered your knees back to the floor. They felt sore from the way you sat on the floor.

Rather than standing back up to look, you instead decided to crawl. Lowering yourself onto your side, you made sure that you didn’t bump anything that was behind you. Grabbing both your bat and flashlight once again, you started to crawl very slowly towards the swinging door. You held a steady breath as you crawled along the carpet floor. Your heart was at a steady beat, but felt like it was beating faster.

As you neared the corner of the swinging door, you made sure to tuck both the bat and flashlight beside you just in case something goes down. With a slow and steady breath, you looked through the large opening underneath the swinging door. Nothing much to see, except the streetlights outside the store faintly bleeding through the front windows.

Looks like the coast is clear now for you to come out of your hiding place. Quickly, you scooted back a bit to lift yourself back up from the floor. As you were grabbing your flashlight, something felt very off. Like the whole atmosphere in the entire room changed. Holding onto your breath yet again, another lump formed in your throat. You began to crawl much slowly now, not making any sort of startling noise. As you neared the corner of the swinging door again, you felt a mysterious dark shadow looming over your crawling form.

“Well looky looky here Charlie. It looks like we have a mouse in our house.” All of a sudden, you’ve felt a large hand grab ahold of your hood with a fucking strong grip and pulling you out of your hiding hiding spot. The only thing that escaped from your throat was a high pitched scream. It echoed off of the high ceiling as you were being dragged out of your hiding place.

It felt like you were being tossed like a rag doll across the store floor as you were being pulled out. You slammed into a shelf that was near and got the wind knocked out of you. Crouching over with your arms hugging your padded sides, you knew that you were totally fucked now. You were grabbed again, but this time your hood was pulled back from hiding your pale face.

You had no other choice, but to look up at who caught you. The one that was holding you by your hood had a medium build, that almost reminded you of an MMA fighter. He had on military type gear such as the vest, camo pants, and combat boots. Underneath the vest was an olive green pullover hoodie. On his hands were a pair of black winter gloves where the fingers on the gloves were cut off.

The other one stood across from you, leaning up against the front of the pharmacy counter. He had the same gear on, except he had on a black pullover hoodie that looked bigger than him. He had a smaller build than the other one. Both his arms were crossed and had one leg crossed over the other.

Both had dark hair with undercuts. You couldn’t really see either of their faces since they were halfway covered with some face coverings they use to keep cool out in the deserts. Their skin looks pale, but it was hard to tell from the faint light coming in from outside. The most disturbing part was their dark eyes. So dark they almost looked possessed.

Your whole body froze as you looked into their eyes. Fear began to fill you with awful dread creeping its way into your heart. There’s no escaping now.

“So. What do you think you’re doing?” The one that was holding onto you by your hood sounded agitated when he asked you. You had no other choice but to answer his question. “I was,” those were the first two words that popped out of your mouth. Your voice was low, almost like a whisper.

“I was getting supplies,” you spoke up more so that both of them heard you loud and clear. It felt like holes were being bored into you from their stares. “For who then,” he asked again, but it sounded like he was gritting his teeth together.

“Are you stealing our shit to give to other people or taking it all for yourself,” he spat, lowering his face to yours. You could almost feel his hot breath on your cold skin through his face covering.

You swallowed hard. The fact he’s much closer to you, it was making you more afraid of him. More and more fear began to flood your entire body. Still, you have to answer him or else you’ll be killed.

“The supplies are for me. I was running low and needed to replenish my stash.” His hot breath ghosting your cold skin. You could feel that he was getting more angry with every second. With a sudden jolt, he grabbed you by your hair that was held up in a ponytail in a tight grip. You let out a painful gasp, with your mouth gaping open. You can feel his thick fingers digging into your scalp.

“Then why are you fucking stealing from us then,” he hiss straight into your ear as he got much closer now, “this is our territory you little bitch.Why did you ever come here? There are other places in the whole fucking city you can raid.” You felt him dig his finger nails deeper into your scalp.

The pain started to increase more and more when he was digging in. “Most of the other places were emptied out,” you gasped, as you tried not to move much while he held your ponytail in a tightass grip, “this was the only place that had the supplies that I really needed. That’s all I’m here for.”

“Please,” you started to beg now, which was the only thing to do, “just let leave with my stuff and I’ll never come back here ever. I’ll leave you two alone and I won’t ever talk about this at all either. Please just let me go.” You said with a shaky breath.

With a sharp, deep breath, he pulled your head back with a sharp jolt and dug much deeper into the roots of your (H/C) hair. You let out a painful cry as you could feel him pull your hair out almost.

“I don’t think so, little princess. You’re coming back with us,” he said as he got much closer to your face. His hot breath fanned more of your skin, making it feel like it is about to melt. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes. Fear began to fill your whole body.

“Terry,” the younger one spoke up at last, clearing his throat out, “do you think that’s a good idea man? What if she’s lying about what she said and probably in a group with other people? They’ll know if she doesn’t come back and they’ll come looking at the last place she was at. Eventually they’ll come looking for us if anything happens to her.”

Terry? That’s the name of the fucking brute that’s holding onto you by your hair in a tight grip. Then Charlie must be the younger one when his name was called out earlier. They could be related to each other or just comrades in their group. Either way you have to get out of here now and fast.

You could feel his breath getting hotter and hotter as his breathing increased rapidly. “She’s not with anybody else,” he hissed as he turned his head towards Charlie and away from you. His hot breath left your skin quickly and it grew cold once again.

With quick thinking, you had to move your hands slowly into your coat pockets to find the XL can of pepper spray. You remembered that it was in the pocket on the right side of your coat.

Without making any sudden movements, you very slowly reached into the pocket with your one hand, while the other one held it open a bit. Your fingers touched the tip of the can at last and then your palm snaked its way down onto the canister itself. Grabbing a hold of it now, you slowly pulled it out of the pocket and moved it to the other hand.

It took only a second or two to find the spray trigger on the cap and place two fingers on top of it. Now all you have to do is wait to push it.

“If she was with somebody else, we would’ve known when we got here. Either way, she’s coming back with us and the Commander would know what to do with her.” He sounded very serious. Whoever this Commander person is, they’ll kill you for stealing their stuff from their now claimed territory.

“She needs to know not to fuck around with us at all and get away with our goodies. We just can’t let her go. She needs to be taught a very big lesson.” That was your que to get ready to run as soon as you push the trigger on the pepper spray can. You ready yourself.

“Okay sweetheart, you’re-” as he turned his head back towards you, you quickly lifted the canister up, pressed the trigger, and sprayed it directly into his eyes.

He let out a long yell once it hit him straight in the face, lifting his tight grip from your ponytail, and went to cover his face with both hands. The spray would temporarily blind him, making your escape much easier to get out of this fucking place.

Quickly, you shrugged off your backpack, sprang up from the floor, and ran like a bat out of hell as fast as you could. You could hear the asshole that grabbed you crying out very loudly in pain from the pepper spray that was making his eyes burn. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, IT BURNS. I CAN��T FUCKING SEE. MY EYES WON’T OPEN,” his voice echoing off of the ceiling, making it bounce everywhere.

“GO AND GET THAT FUCKING BITCH, BEFORE SHE ESCAPES!” Shit. You have to get out of here faster before you get caught and won’t be able to get away from them again.

Thinking very fast, you decided to run in a zigzag line through the aisles, in order to confuse the other one. Your heart started to race again in your chest, as you made your way through the aisles. Both of your feet picked up more speed as you made sharp turns towards the end of each aisle, making your way back to the front entrance of the store.

Passing the last aisle, you’ve found your way back to the front. You felt relieved now, knowing that you were going to get out of here alive. Knowing that you had to leave behind both your backpack and supplies behind, but the only thing you care for the most is your own life.

As you drew closer to the front doors and were about to run through them, something grabbed ahold of your scarf from behind and tugged on it with a very powerful grip. You were once again thrown across the floor and collided with one of the shelves that was near the front.

When your back slammed straight into them, you felt a sharp pain build up like a raging fire and it spread across your body, making you cry out in pain. Then you felt your throat grabbed ahold of, as your scarf was pulled away to expose your pale neck. Slender fingers wrapped around your throat and began to put pressure upon it.

“Do you think that we’re going to let you escape from us? Guess again little bitch, you’re coming back with us either way,” as the pressure on your throat began to increase more, you looked up to see it was the younger one, Charlie, holding you by the throat this time. The street lights casting upon him made him more menacing looking in the darkness of the store. His dark eyes looked like two black coals searing in complete anger.

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach, knowing that you’re totally fucked now. “Besides, I’m going to have so much fun with you after what you did to my older brother and making you pay for it.” He said, with the utmost glee in his voice.

Older brother? Shit, you’re doubled fucked now. Nothing comes out good when messing with either older or younger siblings, especially the asshole types. Besides you can still take him on, since you still had the pepper spray can in your hand and it was still full too.

Slowly you lifted your arm up, with your fingers ready at the trigger. Before you could press the trigger and spray him straight into his eyes, he grabbed ahold of your wrist with his other hand. He tightly squeezed his fingers around it with painful pressure. He narrowed his eyes at you, looking more menacing.

“You think you can do that to me, like you did to my brother? Guess again princess. You don’t get away with shit like that and think you could forget all about it.” His grasp around your neck started to get tighter and tighter, making it more difficult to breathe. You felt your airway starting to close up and began to gasp for air like a fish out of water.

Your chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace, making your heart beat faster and faster like a rabbit. You began to wheeze as the air disappeared from your lungs.

“It’s time for you to fucking pay up princess,” he loosened his grip around your wrist and grabbed the pepper spray from your hand.

“Eye for an eye,” he said as he pointed the cap towards your eyes, ready to pull the trigger. Tears began to flood your eyes again and fell down your cheeks. You tried gasping for more air, but your airway was completely blocked off.

Your vision was blurring away as it got difficult to breathe anymore. This is how you were going to die.

“Well well, what do we have here,” asked a heavy, raspy voice. You felt your heart skip a beat or two when you heard it. The voice sounded menacing, but in a calm way. So calm in fact it was more gentle than rough when it spoke.

Your captor’s eyes went from aggressive to complete fear when he heard the voice too. He widened his eyes, almost to the point of bugging out of his skull. It was almost like he knew who that voice belonged to. Quickly, he spun around to face the hulking figure that stood there in the shadows.

“BANE,” he said with a shriek once he turned around. In the process, the canister slipped out of his hand and dropped to the floor with a metallic thud. His other hand left your throat in a hurry, relieving the pressure from it at last.

You bent over, hacking and coughing air into your lungs. Even when his hand left you, you could still feel its harsh warmth on your bare skin. Almost choking a couple of times, you started to breathe normally again.

Looking up with tears still streaming down your face, you see your capture dropping to his knees and starting to crawl over towards this ‘Bane’ figure. “B-b-b-b Bane, wh-wh-what are y-y-y-you doing i-i-i-in this district,” he stuttered out. You could tell that fear filled every inch of his body.

The figure let out a long, raspy sigh as he looked down upon your capture crawling towards his feet. It looked like he was going to beg for forgiveness from this hulking being.

“I was taking a nice stroll through the snowy weather. Patrolling through the streets of my new domain, until I heard a great commotion coming from here,” he cocked his head to the side. From the sound in his voice, it sounded like he was somewhat agitated. “So do pray tell. Why are you doing here?”

There was great silence for a moment, until you could hear stammering coming from the person that held you by your throat. “W-w-w-we were ch-ch-checking out th-th-the place,” he swallowed hard, while trying to make eye contact.

“We?” He asked in a calm tone. “M-m-m-my older brother an-an-and I,” he continued on stammering, “our leading commander told both of us to go check out our new piece of territory. We came in here to check on the goods, to see that everything was still in place before taking over.”

Then your captor looked over his shoulder towards where you still were, “then the both of us caught this little bitch hiding out in here and tried to take what’s actually ours.” Afterwards he turned back towards the figure.

The figure sighed another raspy breath, almost sounding like he was disappointed. “Caught her? Then why did she escape from you,” he asked another question, but getting more agitated with his words.

You could tell now that your captor is shaking like a leaf in the wind. Becoming more afraid of this Bane figure. “We did have her. My brother was holding onto her by her hair and talking about the consequences of trespassing into our territory and not to steal our shit. Apparently, she had a can of pepper spray hidden somewhere on her and sprayed my brother with it in his eyes. He couldn’t see anything and was defenseless. He told me to go and get her. That’s what I did. I caught her before she could escape through the doors. I was going to teach her a valuable lesson about what she did to my brother.”

It sounded like he was making himself and his older brother sound like victims rather than criminals and making you look like the bad guy from his perspective. No. Only you were the victim here and both of them were the actual criminals.

A sudden loud noise caught you off guard, making your heart jump a bit. You turned to look over your shoulder to see what was happening, until you saw an arm coming around the corner of the shelf, with the fingers wrapping underneath it. Coming into view, it was the older brother/your other captor. It looked like he got some of the spray out of his eyes, but not all of it. Pepper spray is very powerful shit for self defense.

“Fuck Charlie, what’s taking you so fucking long? We have to-” He stopped dead center in his tracks as he noticed the hulking figure too. The figure moved his head upward and turned towards where your other captor was standing. He inhaled a very sharp breath when the figure looked over to him now.

“Ah, you must be this gentleman’s older brother then.” He said, as he shifted in his place a bit. “Bane,” he said as he stepped an inch or two to get a closer look, “what are you doing here in our territory?” He asked with a hint of fear in his voice.

“Territory?” He asked in a more curious tone this time. Your other captor nodded his head. “Yes. Since everybody who stayed in this part of Gotham City abandoned it, our whole crew decided to take it all for themselves, including my little brother and me.”

You could feel there was tension in the air now, as the hulking figure standing in front of all three of you shifted his shoulders and crossed his arms. “What makes you think that this is yours,” he doesn’t sound amused now.

“There’s nobody else here anymore. This is all ours now for the taking. We deserve all of this.” He said with much glee in his voice. He wasn’t wrong about any of that. Ever since the city was taken over, most of the residents of Gotham have either fled the city or gone someplace else to take shelter, because of the criminals that Batman have put away are loose once again.

“Deserve this?” Bane asked as he tilted his head to the other side. He was getting more agitated with his raspy breathing and starting to lose some of his patience little by little. “No. You don’t deserve any of this. You’re nothing but rats infesting wherever you go and where you shouldn’t be.”

“We are not rats,” he said through his gritted teeth. “We belong up here, not in the fucking sewers hiding out like there’s no tomorrow for us. I am done hiding in the fucking shadows and so is my little brother. Both of us don’t want any more of this.” At this point, you could almost feel his blood boil through his skin.

“Done hiding?” Bane asked as he began to move forward with heavy footsteps, “I have hidden in the darkness for the longest time myself. I was born into it and molded by it. The darkness may be a cruel, twisted, and unforgiving place. But for myself, I find it very peaceful,” he said as he gave out a raspy chuckle.

As Bane got closer and closer with his heavy footsteps, you could feel your back to tense up, just by looking at him. You could barely see what he looked like since there wasn’t enough light coming in through the outside.

He stopped in front of your captor, overtowering him with his tall build. You could hear his breathing increasing rapidly, as Bane stood inches in front of him. Craning his head upward just to look at him. Even after being sprayed in the eyes, fear filled them as tears fell down his face. His whole body trembling were he stood.

As you kept on breathing in more air into your lungs, Bane turned his head over slowly and looked down where you were on the floor. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes through the half lit entryway, they looked more calm than menacing.

“Dear one, did these two hurt you in an ungrateful manner,” he rasped, asking you in a very polite voice. You felt tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes again and a wincing sob escaping through your lips, as you took a deep, painful gasp of air into your lungs.

“Yes,” you squeaked out like a little mouse and felt your heart drop a bit in your stomach. Bane gave out another raspy sigh, but this time sounded more angry and disappointed. He then turned his head back towards your captor and gave him an angry glare. Your captor swallowed very hard and could hear his breath shaking through his lips.

“I’m very disappointed with you,” Bane said, as he placed a large hand upon his throat. Your captor shuddered when Bane placed his hand upon his throat, as more fear filled his entire body. It was trembling completely at this point.

A slow crunching noise began as Bane started to squeeze his hand upon your captor’s throat and within seconds it started to increase more and more with each squeeze.

Your captor began to gasp as pain started to shoot through his whole body. Both of his hands shot up to where Bane’s is and tried to pry it off of him, but with no such luck. He gasped more and more in pain as the sound of bones crunching got louder.

The sound almost made your stomach turn, wanting to vomit just hearing it. The younger brother started to scramble at the distressed sound of his older sibling being hurt.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY BROTHER,” he shouted at the tops of his lungs as he charged towards the hulking being chocking the life the out of his own flesh and blood. He leapt onto Bane’s back and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Not wanting to watch any of this unfold before you, you mustered the courage and what’s left of your strength to run back to the other side of the store. At first you had difficulty getting up off of your own feet, but eventually made the effort from going to a crawl and into a full on sprint. The blood flow rushed back into your legs, giving you back into feeling them once again.

Instead of zigzagging through the aisles like you did the last time, you ran in a straight line all the way back towards the pharmacy where you hid before being found and caught earlier.

The rush made your heart beat faster again as you reached the back of the store. You dov back behind the counter of the pharmacy and found your flashlight still laying on the ground where you left it. After you quickly grabbed it off the floor, you crouched back down into a sitting position with you hugging your knees again with flashlight in hand. It felt like your lungs were on fire, as it was still painful to breathe in air after being nearly choked to death and were about to be sprayed in the eyes with your own self defense weapon.

Farther away, you could hear the comotian of the two brothers and this Bane person. It was very hard to tell if this person is the real Bane or an imposter of him since you don’t know what he really looks like in person. Then the sound of crashing made you break from your thoughts, as you could hear shouting.

“LET GO OF MY BROTHER YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE,” the younger one screamed at the top of his lungs. Another crashing sound made your racing heart jump against your ribcage. It was louder than the last one. You decided to cover your ears, to muffle out the noise of the fighting.

With your hands over your ears, you could hear your rapid heartbeat rushing to them. You could also hear a slight ringing inside them. Properly from being thrown around a couple of times in the last fifteen minutes.

More shouting and crashing sounds, making you more jumpy than normal. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to block everything out of your mind. Your breathing became more rapid as the fighting increased more and more between the two brothers and the hulking figure Bane.

Another crashing noise came, followed by some more shouting. The shouting was too muffled to hear, with your hands still covering your ears. Besides, you didn’t want to know or find out. Then you heard the sound of running footsteps, disappearing into the distance. Complete silence now.

After a couple of seconds, you slowly opened your eyes back up and then removed both your hands from your ears with a shaky breath. Mustering what’s left of your strength, you lowered your legs back to the floors and slowly lifted yourself back up.

At first you were a bit wobbly, but managed to stand up straight. Your breathing was turning back to normal, but your lungs still hurt a bit.

With your flashlight in hand once again, you slowly walked back to the entrance of the pharmacy and peeked around the corner. Nothing. Looks like you’re all clear.

Quickly, you dashed through the double hinged swinging door and went straight for your backpack you left behind before getting caught again.

As you were about to grab the handle of your backpack, the sound of heavy footsteps made you stop in your tracks as they made their way towards where you were. You scrambled backwards, accidentally tripping over your own feet and fell backwards towards the floor. A white, hot sharp pain surged through you again after landing onto your backside.

Lifting your head up, your eyes widen in prue terror to see the hulking figure coming straight towards you.

You started to crawl backwards at a fast pace and slid across the smooth floor without slipping. You felt your back arch up when you backed into the counter, pressing up against the smooth surface.

At last, the figure’s heavy footsteps stopped several feet in front of you. A lump formed inside of your throat, as your eyes laid upon this large being standing in the darkness.

“Ah, there you are, little mouse.” He said with a small, raspy laugh, “you are in no danger anymore. Those two ungrateful gentlemen are now gone”

It was quite difficult to see what he actually looks like through the shadows. With your flashlight still in hand, you decided to flip the switch on to illuminate the figure in front of you. Pressing your thumb against the switch, you flicked it up and the flashlight came on once again. As the bright light illuminated the darkness at last, your jaw dropped as your eyes widened more at the sight of the hulking figure.

He was tall. Quite tall in fact that he practically overtowers your own height. You were roughly in-between 5’4” to 5’5” in height. From his stature he looks almost six feet tall. He wore what to be military or military type gear such as the vest, but no weapons were on him. A long, winter coat covered his broad shoulders down to his knees. His pale skin glowed within the light, giving off a warm feeling. The one thing that caught you off guard, was his mask.

The mask covered most of his face, wrapping around his clean shaven head. A long leather strap tied around his bald scalp, pressing against the skin tightly. It almost looks like those muzzles for dogs, but this one is designed very differently.Whatever the situation was, it looks like it was especially designed for him.

The one and only thing that made him look so normal looking were his eyes. Bright and beautiful blue eyes. They looked so calm and collected, as they shined very brightly in the light. It was like there was no darkness inside of them, making you feel almost safe.

You felt your heart flutter like a bird inside of your chest, as you continued to look at him. His large chest raised and fell slowly as he looked down upon you.

“It’s quite all right now. You have nothing to fear little mouse,” as he began to move slowly towards you, you felt your body tense up again as your back arched up against the smooth, wooden counter.

He stopped dead in his tracks just several feet in front of you. Still looking down, he lifted his hands, wrapped them around the shoulder straps of his vest, and tilted his head to the side.

“You still don’t trust me, little mouse?” He asked in a calm manner. You shook your head. Trust him? After what you’ve been through tonight, he wants you to trust him. Though he did save your life, but still, you don’t completely trust him after what he did to the two assholes.

He sighed heavily and slowly closed his eyes. After a moment or two, he opened his eyes back up, removed his hands from the shoulder straps of the vest, and then lowered his hulking body down into a crouching position.

You backed up a little more, with the back of your head nearly pressing up against the counter. Though he was just several feet away from you, it felt like he was much closer. Even with the light still trained upon him, you got a more detailed look of his face.

“Then you better listen, little mouse. Don’t go wandering about this place all by yourself. Many unknown dangers lurk everywhere, even in the darkest corners of the world. Best not to do it again. You may never know who or what may find you.”

The way he said that was somewhat true. Walking by yourself around Gotham city was dangerous enough even before the city got overtaken during the purge. You were always very careful when you were all alone, while walking the streets at night. Still, you could almost feel yourself trembling before this massive human being, even when holding up a flashlight just to look at him.

“Well then, it’s time to be off,” he said as he began to stand back up. He dusted himself off, turned his back towards you, and started to walk away. “Oh and one more thing,” he stopped to look over his shoulder back at you, “it’s best not to meet like this again, because what I’ll do will be very unpleasant. Is that understood, little mouse?”

“Yes,” you said in a quiet voice and nodded your head. “Good. Best to get out of here while you still can and take what you need. Safe travels home” He turned his head back and continued on walking. The sound of his heavy footsteps faded as he walked away from you. Soon after, the footsteps were gone and so was he.

At last you breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed yourself. You sat there for a moment, thinking about what just happened this night. You were afraid at first that you were going to be killed and never see your parents’ faces again.

But if it weren’t for Bane, you wouldn't be alive right now. You thought more of what he just said to you before disappearing, about him doing something very unpleasant if the two of you ever met like this again. You may never know. Not until the next time the two of you crossed paths.

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To be continued in part 2

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