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fariesoiree · 6 months

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caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you.

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.” parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.”

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one, it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately.

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

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sxlver-sweet · 3 years

Note

Hey, can I request Hanma, Mucho, and Senju with a girlfriend who has bimbo energy but can still sniff out someone’s intentions from a mile away and react accordingly? Like she’s girly and cute and sweet and bubbly and still an airhead with common sense and school, but she’ll be uninterested and sarcastic when guys try to take advantage of her. Thank you in advance.

— BUBBLEGUM BITCH <3

|| m.lists || taglist form ||

ROSTER . . . shuji hanma, yasuhiro muto

SYNOPSIS . . . them w/ a bimbo gf who doesn’t take too kindly to disrespect

CONTAINS . . . swearing, suggestive content

NOTE . . . the reason that senju is no longer part of the request is stated here. also, this is my first time writing for both hanma and mucho, so i’m very sorry if this is out of character.

ADDRESSED TO . . . @kuroiza @sanelly @dazaisusedbandages @florssils

lowkey kind of an iconic couple

HANMA is the type to kiss you roughly right after you touch up your lipstick and laugh when the bright color smears onto your cheek. mf won’t even apologize. he’ll just stand there with his chin angled downward and hands stuffed into his pockets while you whine about how mean he is, your expensive heels clacking loudly as you stomp back into the bathroom to fix your ruined makeup.

i also feel like he licks the highlighter off your cheek just to hear you complain, but that’s just me

he had to wear a mask when entering your bedroom for the first few times he visited your home, because the scent of candy and perfume was so strong that he developed a headache and had to lay down. now, whenever he climbs through your window and you aren’t at home, he shakes your perfumes and takes his time smelling all of them as he waits for you to return.

pls the amount of times you thought he was cheating on you because he came downstairs to greet you smelling like perfume

initially, hanma had worried that you would lack an awareness of other people’s intentions. but, soon he understood when he left a store and saw you sitting exactly where he left you, perched on a wooden bench and staring into the frothy, pink drink he’d purchased for you a few minutes ago. a man was towering over you, one hand braced on the back of the bench as he leaned far too close to your face for his intentions to be anything other than disrespectful. still, despite the stranger whispering salacious promises into your ear, you were clearly preoccupied. your tongue peeked from your lips in concentration as you scraped your straw against the bottom of the plastic cup, eyes half-lidded with boredom and face slack with disinterest. after a few more seconds, you abruptly rose to your feet, unperturbed by how the man had to stumble back in order to avoid having his nose cracked by the top of your head. you disposed of the empty drink before returning your empty stare back to your harasser’s, one finger hooking under the lustrous, silver pendant of your necklace and flaunting the name “hanma” in swirly cursive. without another word, you collected your things and headed toward where your boyfriend was watching the scene unfold. upon spotting him, the brilliant twinkle in your eyes flickered back to life and the spring in your step was restored, the name necklace bouncing against your chest as you skipped up to hanma.

maybe he doesn’t have to worry so much, hanma realized as you collided with his chest, your arms cinching around his slim waist as you welcomed him back. you may be an airhead, but you aren’t a total idiot.

don’t even get me started on the unnecessary ego boost this supplied him with 🙄

pls y’all talk so much shit about people 😭 it usually stems from hanma whispering in your ear about how obvious it is that the woman glaring daggers at your from across the room wishes that she could take your place, or how the waiter who just stopped by your table purposefully dropped your spoon so that you would have to bend over to pick it up.

you two are such a powerful combination oh my gOD. most people won’t dare to defend themselves, even if they hear you giggling and see hanma gesturing toward them with unabashed brazenness. the taunting pout gracing your strawberry-glossed lips, the way you flutter your eyelashes with faux innocence, the condescending, possessive air with which hanma places a hand on your knee or squeezes your hip, and the shocked widening of his eyes when he listens to you whisper into his ear with a manicured hand concealing your mischievous smile--pls, the energy

y’all are some bitches, fr😭

he’s definitely gone through your makeup before. you’ll be sitting in front of your mirror, humming to yourself as you blend out your eyeshadow, and hanma will be stretched out on your bedroom floor behind you, the contents of your makeup bag strewn around him as he squints lethargically at the labels. he definitely refers to your highlighter as “sparkly shit,” and, regardless of how many times he paws through your makeup, he will always be dismayed by how many brushes you use.

“don’t you just need… like, three? the fuck are these for? they’re all the same.”

he’ll let you put makeup on him every once in a while, but not without a fight--it’s not because he hates it, though. he just thinks watching you struggle to overpower him is cute. hanma would die before passing up a chance to tease you. the way he surrenders is strategic--his resistance always ceases when you force him onto his back, and he’ll refuse to move from that position. this forces you to straddle his chest, giving him free range to squeeze your thighs or pinch at your ass to startle you whenever you’re tracing his eyes with black liner or carefully applying mascara.

he thinks it’s funny. you do not.

i feel like he also twitches just to see the sheer panic on your face as you tentatively check to see if you accidentally stabbed his eye with the mascara wand.

he’s such a little shit. whenever you blow a bubble with your gum, he always pops it just to see your nose scrunch in irritation. he’s also the type to slip the lollipop you’ve been sucking on from your lips and pop it into his own mouth, leaving you stunned and cheeks burning as you try to process what just happened.

he’ll purposefully withhold kisses from you just to watch you get all worked up. you’ll be clinging to his arm in a skimpy, little dress, doe eyes pleading and red-tinted lips puckered. “give me a kiss!” you whine. when he merely hums in response, you lean onto the toes of your heels, trying to reach his lips. “quit being mean!”

“only if you tell me about photosynthesis.” hanma offers with a taunting grin. you sputter and wrack your brain for the correct response, but hanma is already fully aware that it’s too complex of a concept for you to wrap your pretty, little head around. all he actually wanted was to watch you deflate in defeat, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes and threatening to ruin your eyeliner. only then will he oblige, bowing to press a kiss to your wobbling bottom lip.

whenever you’re out in crowded areas and you start to wander off, hanma will hook a hand around your waist and tug you back, telling you with a coy smile, “i don’t think so, doll. you’re stayin’ right here.” under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t mind if you go do your own thing. however, not only do you have a tendency to get lost in large crowds, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting you saunter off in those little miniskirts you prefer to wear. it’s bad enough that the slightest breeze would be enough to lift the fabric and reveal your panties; but, in a crowd like that, there’s bound to be some moronic deviant who’s fully prepared to utilize the anonymity of numbers in order to feel you up.

he vividly recalls having warned you of such things--the wind, especially--before you left the house; but, you just beamed at him and told him that the forecast said it was supposed to be sunny. figures.

shut up, the contrast between you two is so funny

the expressions on the other gang members’ faces as they analyzed the both of you were priceless. there’s MUCHO, who possesses the muscle composition of an ox, can bodyslam two fully grown men without breaking a sweat, and is known for his generally impassive, intimidating expression. then, there’s you, who’s frivolous and ditzy, constantly clings to mucho’s arm and toys with his fingers as you whine discreetly for his attention, and looks like a fish out of water in those sparkly heels, baby pink romper, and whipped-cream-topped beverage that threatens to fly out of your grasp as you babble to hina about what color you want to dye your hair

all the members just 🧍

but then they watched you stare blankly at some guy who complimented how your ass looked in your bedazzled jeans and deadpan, “why don’t you shut the fuck up?” and then they were like “oh”

as quiet and nonchalant as he is, mucho loves seeing you in your element. most of the time, you assume he isn’t paying attention, but believe me, he is. whenever he sees you bounce around the beauty aisle, starry-eyed and ecstatic as you obsess over how some celebrity just started endorsing your favorite makeup brand, his eyes soften, and the corners of his lips quirk upward in a small, easy smile. if you turn to ask him which lipstick color he prefers, he’ll just place a hand atop your head to ruffle your hair and tell you, “both” before continuing to meander down the aisle at his own pace.

pls he lets you get away with so much. if you’re searching for a gift for a friend, he’ll let you perform swatch tests on the back of his hands, but only if you keep wet wipes in your purse so he can scrub off the products later. on more than one occasion, you’ve drawn a circle on his palm and shoved him out the door, tasking him with purchasing a set of hoop earrings that match the size of the circle scrawled on his skin. he usually just rolls with it, too.

mucho would rather you not accompany him to toman’s meetings--for safety precautions, obviously; and, totally not because of the time you shaved ten years off his life when you almost spilled your drink all over mikey. but, if he happens to allow you to tag along, he’ll ask you to sit quietly with emma and wait. you comply, because although he doesn’t say it, you know he’s exhausted but tolerates the stupid shit you say and the pointless questions you rouse him for in the middle of the night, regardless. he puts up with a lot from you, so doing your best to follow his instructions is the least you can do.

he would be lying if he said that returning from tense meetings to see you dutifully perched upon a concrete flower bed with a cherry lollipop resting on your tongue and manicured fingernails tapping away at your phone doesn’t make his chest swell with fondness. mucho knows it’s difficult for you to remain in one place and not get sidetracked, so he appreciates the effort you make to remain conscious of the requests he’d made from you. plus, there’s just something oddly rewarding about knowing there’s someone voluntarily waiting and searching for him among the sea of black and gold just so they can walk home with him. when you spot him ambling toward you, you hop off the concrete wall to meet him halfway, all doe-eyed and saliva-glossed lips as you pop the sucker from your mouth to innocently offer him a taste.

you’re lowkey killing him, but it’s okay LMFAO

speaking of rewarding, there are certain nights where you’ll offer him a taste of life with a loved one--a chance to experience a different side of you that the rest of the world remains ignorant of. as much as he enjoys seeing you all dolled up, there’s something strangely… domestic about seeing you at rest. your skin soft with lotion and hair dark with lingering water droplets from your shower, the loose strap of your tank top drooping off your shoulder and sleep shorts wrinkled from having been crammed haphazardly into a drawer, white foam from your toothpaste pooling in the corners of your lips as you explain to him the difference between “vanilla lace” and “bare vanilla”--moments like this are ones his brain file away for extra incentives to see things through… extra incentives to do whatever it takes for him to make it to the point where he can freely indulge in the life of domesticity he’s secretly taken an interest in.

sometimes, he feels guilty for basking in the saccharine warmth of what it’s like to be loved, knowing that his morals have been warped by the life of betrayal he leads and that he’s the last person who deserves a faithful, steadfast partner. but, you never give him much time to allow negative thoughts to cloud his mind. when he starts to zone out, you materialize before him, hands sliding affectionately over his shoulders to lock your fingers around the back of his neck as you climb onto his lap. the skin-to-skin contact snaps him out of his thoughts just in time to feel your petal-soft lips press a chaste kiss to his cheek. his eyes will flicker to you questioningly, only to realize that you’re in the middle of lecturing him on what fragrance notes would best compliment him, completely oblivious to the internal conflict raging in his mind.

he cracks a smile. it’s absurd how you’re able to diffuse his pessimism with nothing more than the slightest of touches. the most amusing part is that you don’t even realize you do it. it’s like you just… know. he sighs heavily and allows his head to fall wearily onto your shoulder, shivering slightly as your nails lightly scratch at his back through the material of his shirt. the vibrations from your vocal chords skitter along his temple as you continue rambling on about god knows what, your voice lulling him into a state of tranquility that teeters precariously on the edge of slumber.

he isn’t too keen on going on shopping sprees with you, mostly because it’s difficult to keep up with your scattered thoughts and abundant energy as you dart from shop to shop. the only two reasons he goes with you are to carry your bags and to ensure that you don’t land yourself in any misunderstandings or compromising situations. someone has to keep an eye on you, he reasons. even so, he mostly just parks his ass in the “boyfriend chair” and monitors your surroundings until you’re prepared to leave.

when it comes to getting your nails done, he’ll drop you off and pick you up, but he usually doesn’t stay unless your appointment is only supposed to last about twenty to thirty minutes. it’s fucking hilarious watching the customers and nail technicians gradually become more and more frazzled seeing this linebacker-built-ass man straddling a motorcycle in one of the handicapped parking spaces, eyebrows furrowed against the afternoon sun in an expression that could probably kill if you strayed too close. so, you can imagine their shock when you ignore their concerned warnings and stroll out of the shop, only to go skipping up to him with a bright smile to show off your newly painted nails.

one time, he allowed sanzu to accompany him on one of your dates, wanting his close companion to meet and befriend you early on in case mucho ever needs him to shelter you or take you somewhere. he’d anticipated a number of possible reactions from you, ranging from you holding his vice captain at an icy distance to you finding peace in the quiet, kind aura that sanzu commonly exudes.

what he hadn’t expected was for you to squeal and fling your arms around sanzu’s neck in greeting, thoroughly shocking both the fifth division captain and vice captain. after exchanging a flustered glance with mucho, sanzu stiffly lifted a hand to deliver an awkward pat to your shoulder, only to tense when you swiftly pulled away. as bubbly as ever, you clutched sanzu’s shoulders, ignoring the uncomfortable wiggling of the masked boy as you pleaded with him to let you experiment on his hair and asked if he wanted to go shopping with you sometime in the future. it was only after you complimented his feathery, prominent eyelashes and called him “pretty” that realization dawned on the pair, leaving mucho to chuckle to himself while sanzu delicately explained that he is, indeed, a male. you didn’t miss a beat, quickly apologizing for misgendering him before continuing to promote your desire to braid his hair, regardless.

mucho just watched as you herded sanzu to a nearby bench, laughter still dancing faintly from his lips as you started running your fingers through an overwhelmed sanzu’s platinum locks.

you're certainly entertaining, that’s for sure.

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ptergwen · 4 years

Note

hi val can you maybe write something about the reader being dared to kiss peter/tom/arvin (you choose) since her friends knew that she has a big crush on him, but once she did he seems disinterested after which makes her sad, but what she doesn't know was after she kissed him, he practically runs to his friends freaking out that the girl he's had his eyes on this whole time just kissed him??

kiss and tell

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: like one swear and awkwardness

a/n: yeeee i went with peter! this is adorable :,)

“i can’t!” you scold betty and her annoying smirk. you’re bored at lunch, so liz suggested the three of you play truth or dare. you’d made the mistake of choosing dare. in your defense, betty is the nosiest person in all of midtown, so you thought you were dodging the bullet and guarding your deep dark secrets. how could you have known she’d make you do... this?

“that’s so, like, forward. he’s gonna freak out.” you glance over at peter’s table to see what he’s up to before you possibly scar him. he’s laughing along at a heated conversation ned and mj are having. the way his face lights up, and his eyes crinkle as a smile crosses his features, it gives you butterflies throughout your whole body.

“in a good way,” liz grins her most charming grin at you. it’s not working this time. you roll your eyes up to the ceiling. “i thought you liked him,” betty huffs, gesturing over to peter and keeping her eyes on you. “all you do is talk about how he’s so cute and smart, and his lips look so soft-“ “i never said that!” you look at her with wild eyes. liz bites her lip to hold in a laugh. “the last part, i mean,” you clarify in a murmur.

liz puts a hand on you and pats your shoulder knowingly. “you’ve probably thought it, though. i’ve seen you checking them out.” there have been quite a few times your gaze has landed on peter’s lips, watching them curve while he talks to you about some new science theory he’s excited to share. you end up zoning out and pretending you retained any of what he said. betty puckers her own lips at you.

“you wanna kiss him,” she insists in a sing song voice, resting her chin on your other shoulder. “i’m doing you a favor.” “you’re really not gonna change the dare?” you sigh, your friends leaning on you in support. liz taps your cheek. “so, you don’t wanna kiss him?” “there’s no way,” betty comments from your side. “no, i...” you start, focusing in on peter again.

he meets your eyes across the cafeteria. his smile fades slightly, then a shy one is replacing it, ned dragging him into his and mj’s debate. you turn back to liz and betty.

“i do, but do you think he wants me to?” you ask them both, and they share a you have to be kidding look. “only one way to find out.” liz gives your shoulder a nudge. betty beams at you. “i triple dog dare you now, so you have to.” considering your options, you bounce your leg up and down. you’ll either get the nicest rejection ever from peter or a kiss back. you can handle this.

“ok, i’ll do it,” you decide, betty clapping her hands and squealing. liz throws an arm around your neck. “yay! i love love.” “let’s calm down,” you giggle so she doesn’t get too carried away. you and peter haven’t even established that you like each other. “i’m calm, i’m calm. do you need to borrow chapstick?” she offers, betty simultaneously pulling a tube out of her purse. “or lip gloss?”

you’re appreciating their over involvement now.

“both,” you breathe out, letting them get you ready for your big kiss.

liz and betty send you good luck wishes in a hushed tone while you make your way to peter’s table. mj went to get a snapple, and ned went with her so they could continue whatever argument they’re in. that left peter by himself. it’s almost like this is meant to happen.

“hi,” you greet peter, making him look up at you with raised eyebrows. he notices right away that your lips are shiny, more so than usual. a color that you always seem to bring to his face takes over his cheeks. “hey. you wanna sit?” he gives you a small smile. you return it. “yeah, sure. thanks.” instead of taking the bench across from him like he assumed you would, you find your place next to him.

he doesn’t mind.

“how’s your day been?” you wonder, body turned towards him while he answers. peter scrunches his nose. “kinda busy. i got so much homework in spanish tonight, and i’ve been putting off this essay about...” you do the thing you do every time he goes off on a sort of tangent, watch his lips. lucky for you, that’s the whole point today. “i don’t know. all i have so far is the intro-“

you cut peter off with a kiss. liz and betty cheer to each other the second it happens. peter doesn’t move, only freezes up as you press your glossy lips to his and grab his shoulders. it takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s not kissing back. his arms are stiff at his sides, eyes wide in shock. absolutely humiliated, you pull back, moving as far away as you can.

“fuck, i’m sorry. i should’ve asked you first,” you apologize, voice shaking. you’re already getting to your feet. peter blinks a few times, grounding himself back in the moment. “no, no. it’s okay. i-“ “that was weird, i know. you don’t have to lie or make me feel better.” he furrows his eyebrows, in a way that seems regretful even though you’re the one who messed up. “i’m trying to tell you, y/n. it’s fine. we-“

ned’s voice fills the room, making you snap your head in his direction. him and mj are coming back. you need to get out of here before you embarrass yourself even more.

“i’m gonna go. i’m sorry,” you mumble out, running back to your table, where liz and betty are instantly asking what’s wrong and if you’re alright. peter licks his lips that are now coated in your gloss and clenches his jaw. he’s pissed. not at you, at himself. it’s clear because mj brings attention to it when she sits down.

“what’s up with your face?” she narrows her eyes at him, popping the cap on her snapple. ned elbows peter in his spot next to him. you were just there less than a minute ago. “you okay, dude?” he checks. “no.” peter closes his eyes in frustration. “what’s wrong?” ned kicks mj’s foot under the table so she’ll stop making out with her drink and help him.

“i... y/n kissed me,” peter admits, sounding oddly upset about something everyone knows he’s been hoping would happen. “she what?” ned gawks. “isn’t that a good thing?” mj points out. “you love her.” “like her,” peter corrects and chews the inside of his cheek. “whatever. shouldn’t you want her to kiss you?” she takes another sip of snapple, passing this off to ned.

“yeah...” is all ned says. he awkwardly rubs peter’s back while mj tries not to snort. “that’s not the problem. i didn’t kiss her back, and she took it as me not being into it,” peter shakes his head as he recounts your weird moment. “which i was,” he tells them for the record. ned makes a funny face at him. “so why didn’t you kiss back?” “no shit she ran away,” mj mutters to him. she saw that part.

“because i wasn’t expecting it!” peter frowns at his friends’ reactions and at what he did. “you guys know how much i like y/n. i can’t believe i screwed this up so bad.” mj squints in mock confusion. “i can.” she quickly drops her sarcasm for encouragement after that. “ok, seriously. just go find her and apologize.” “maybe kiss her this time,” ned chimes in.

“if she really likes you, she’ll get it.” mj smiles genuinely, nodding back at your table. ned gives him a push forward. “you got this, dude. come tell us all about it after.” a rush of confidence enters peter from their advice. he’ll fix this. “thanks, guys. here i go.” he shoots up from the table, ned and mj getting back into their debate once he’s out of sight.

betty is hugging you way too tightly when peter gets over there. she goes on about how much peter sucks, overcompensating because she’s the reason you kissed him. you only hum in response. you don’t have the heart to tell her you blame yourself. only liz notices peter come over, so she talks on your behalf. “oh, hey,” she says drily. “hey. can i talk to y/n?” peter gets out, twiddling with his thumbs nervously.

she has to decide if she’d rather go into protective friend mode or let him. from your unenthusiastic responses to betty’s hate rant, she figures you’d like to hear him out.

“come on, betty,” liz takes her arm suddenly, betty trying to pull it back. “what? why?” “i’m gonna buy you ice cream. let’s go.” that’s her cover. peter shoots her a look that says thank you, liz pressing her lips into a line and dragging betty along. betty sees peter standing in front of your table and glares at him, liz walking faster. you don’t get the chance to ask them where they’re going because they leave so fast.

the bench dips down on one side of you, making someone’s prescense known. you’re surprised to find it’s peter. you talk first.

“if you’re gonna apologize, don’t. it was my fault-“ “you never let me finish earlier,” peter interrupts, the hint of a smile on his face. his clammy hand links with one of yours. “what were you gonna say?” you ask quietly, peter threading your fingers together. your heart is racing at the simple touch. “that i like you,” he replies at the same low volume. “and, that i wanted to try again.”

he’s sitting a lot closer to you than you realized. you welcome it, your hands in between you two on the bench. “i like you too... try what again?” you question, although you hope and pray it’s what you think. “kissing,” peter says what you were hoping and praying for. “wasn’t ready the first time.” you’re about to go into cardiac arrest as he rests his forehead on yours, curls brushing your face. a few broken up breaths escape him.

“can i?” he nearly whispers, warm hand still gripping at yours. “yeah,” you agree before your eyes flutter shut. he wastes no time, parting his lips and brushing them against yours gently, you reciprocating. he kisses as sweetly as he is, his free hand on your cheek and fingers careessing your skin. your other hand ends up on the back of his neck. you grin against him, lips detaching momentarily so you can engage him in another kiss.

peter doesn’t hesitate to kiss back this time, nose nudging yours as he moves in more. you tug on some hair at the nape of his neck and laugh into the kiss, reminding him you’re in school. he pulls back with a chuckle, but keeps his forehead on yours and your hands in each other.

“sorry. got too excited,” he laughs out, you leaning into his open palm. “i told you don’t apologize.”

liz and betty joined ned and mj at some point. the four of them are whistling at you and yelling out suggestive jokes. they’re too much. but, to be fair, you owe this all to them.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

Text

A Difficult Question

Word count: 3000

Warnings: continued second-hand embarrassment? 😉 tickling, fluff as always

This is in response to a prompt from @sigyn-laufeyson0609 for a sequel to An Embarrassing Secret. Thanks for the idea friend! 😊 I snuck in a little soft Loki toward the end, just to switch things up a little!

* * *

You had avoided Loki for a solid week after he had revealed he knew about your blog. Although he didn’t seem to find it as strange as you’d have expected him to, you couldn’t help but feel a little exposed. Your writing wasn’t something you’d intended to show anyone, much less the tall, handsome, alien god who made you feel giddy every time he said your name.

Despite your concern that he would tell the others, no one else so much as breathed a word about your little secret. Either they were too kind to say anything for fear of embarrassing you, or he truly hadn’t told anyone else. You hoped it was the latter, although you supposed it couldn’t get any worse than Loki finding out.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, though. The first time you ran into him, other than those brief moments in passing where you ducked your head or turned the other way, you were sitting in the library again, this time actually reading something rather than typing on your laptop. (No way were you risking leaving that out in public again…) Loki had entered the library without your knowledge, having been engrossed in the novel you were reading while sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs. A sudden squeeze to your side alerted you to his presence, causing you to jolt and whip your head around to find the god smirking down at you. He shot you a wink before continuing on to browse the shelves.

Somehow, that brief interaction had eased your anxiety around him. You didn’t really want to stay away from him, after all. And it seemed like he was going to treat the whole situation as a game, which in a strange way made you feel better about the whole situation. You would much rather he use this little secret for some lighthearted flirting versus making a big show about it.

So, you went back to your usual routines, no longer trying to shy away from him. He rewarded you with the occasional poke to the side while passing by you in the hallway, or a quick pinch to the soft skin above your knee during movie night with the team. And, maybe, you started trying to provoke him a little more. Doing little irritating things like stealing the last cookie right from under his nose or changing the channel during one of the rare moments he was actually watching something on the television usually earned you a couple extra scribbles to the belly, or a fluttering of fingers to the neck.

It never lasted longer than a couple seconds at most, though. Most of the time that was plenty for you, just long enough to make your heart beat faster with adrenaline and for heat to prickle in your cheeks.

But not today.

No, today you were really in the mood to be tickled senseless. You were even making sarcastic comments to some of the other Avengers, hoping that someone might just decide they’d had enough of your sass. Although no one else knew you actually enjoyed it, everyone was aware that you were more ticklish than the average person. It was uncommon for the others to take advantage of it, but on rare occasions Thor or Tony would dig their fingers into your ribs to get you to stop talking if you were being particularly annoying. Today, though, no one was getting the hint.

You didn’t see Loki until later that evening, when you stumbled across him in the common room. He was alone, sitting on the couch with his back leaned up against the cushions and his feet up on the coffee table. He had a book in his hand, which he seemed pretty focused on, turning a page every few seconds as his eyes skimmed across the aging pages.

“You’re hovering again,” he observed suddenly, never once lifting his gaze from his book. Startled, you left your position from the doorway and entered the room, taking a seat on the other side of the couch.

“I’ll never understand how you know people are there without even seeing them,” you marveled.

“I’ve told you before – it’s impossible to sneak up on me.”

“Well maybe I’ll be the first someday.” You sat back against the couch, and silence blanketed the room, save for the occasional crinkling of the pages of Loki’s book as he continued to read. You realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to try to provoke the Asgardian to tickle you – you were alone in the common room, and he seemed to be in a state of focus where he would be pretty irritated if you broke his concentration.

You wanted to be subtle, though. You wouldn’t want him to think you were asking for it, after all, and as he was the only person who knew about your secret, you figured he would see through you pretty quickly if you tried too hard. So, you started simple by leaning forward and picking up the remote from the coffee table, turning on the television. You found a program he had previously expressed disinterest in and set the channel to that, settling back against the couch cushions, and turning up the volume.

Loki was silent despite all of this, so you stole a glance in his direction. His brow was furrowed a little, but his gaze was still fixed on the pages of his novel. Need to try harder, you thought to yourself. You cranked up the volume a little more and laughed a little extra loud at every joke. After trying this for a few minutes, you risked another glance in his direction.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

You were starting to get a little desperate. The desire for someone to tickle you had settled itself like a flame in your belly, and it had been slowly building all day long. But you were too proud, too embarrassed to just come out and ask for it. You had to find another way.

You turned your body so you were leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretched your legs out across the couch cushions, your feet only inches away from Loki’s leg. This time, you didn’t even chance looking over at him, knowing he wouldn’t try anything if he thought you were expecting it. You sat still for a maddening amount of time without finding any success in your attempts. You stretched one leg out a little further and tapped his leg with your foot.

Nothing.

You tried again, this time with a little more force. At long last, the trickster looked up from his book to glare at you.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Uhh… no, sorry,” you replied quickly. He turned his attention back to his book, and you turned back to the TV, feeling a bit deflated. Your mood was still gnawing at your insides, though, and you weren’t quite ready to give up just yet.

You waited a few moments, trying to think of another way to get on his nerves. Maybe you just needed to try a different angle.

“So… watcha reading?” you inquired.

“Shakespeare,” he stated without looking up.

“Oh. That’s really old though, isn’t it?”

“’Old’ is a relative term. What you consider ‘old’ is actually quite new for someone my age.”

“Right. Because you’re old too,” you snickered. This got him to look up at you again finally.

“Pardon?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, like you said, ‘old’ is relative. So, compared to me, you’re really old.” You held his gaze, a triumphant grin threatening to spread across your face.

“Yes, I am ‘old’ compared to you I suppose. And yet, you still seem to like what you see.”

Your face flushed hot.

“I- well- that’s not… never mind,” you huffed, turning away from him once again. You heard his book snap shut, the cover making a small thumping sound as he set it down on the table.

“You seem a bit off today. Is there something with which you require assistance?” You glanced up to find his blue-green eyes fixed on you. It was difficult to read his expression – he wasn’t annoyed, but he wasn’t overtly amused, either.

“What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re watching a television show you and I both know you hate, laughing loudly and turning the volume up, and just generally trying to capture my attention,” he listed. “If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you were trying to get me to tickle you.”

“W-what!? Pshh. That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you stammered, folding your arms defiantly across your chest. “Just because I don’t mind it doesn’t mean I would ask for it.”

“I see.” Loki sat back against the couch again, picking up his novel and reopening it to his bookmarked page. “So, you won’t mind if I go back to reading in peace, then?”

“Nope,” you affirmed, popping the P for emphasis. You leaned back into your seat once again, your arms still crossed. You changed the channel to another show you were more interested in so you could try to forget about this whole thing by distracting yourself.

Once again, the room fell silent, with the exception of the voices on the television and the flipping of Loki’s book pages. Your heart sank deeper in your chest in disappointment. You almost had him there – why did he have to go and ruin it by observing out loud that you wanted to be tickled?

“Honestly, y/n, you look as if someone put something sour in your drink,” Loki said finally, placing his book back on the coffee table.

“I’m fine,” you insisted flatly, refusing to look at him.

“I’ve told you before – if you want me to tickle you, all you have to do is ask.” You observed him in your peripheral vision, your stomach swooping at the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“No,” you stated.

“No? No what? No, you don’t want me to tickle you? Or no, you refuse to ask?”

“Just… no.” You pulled your feet closer to your body, sitting crisscross on the couch with your arms still folded across your torso. Loki chuckled, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sound like a petulant child.”

“Do not!” you argued. Loki didn’t respond – he merely held his hand out at you, silently noting that you’d proven his point. You huffed and turned away from him, pretending to turn your focus back to the television.

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, darling,” he sang, scooting closer to you on the couch. “You are hoping to provoke me sufficiently to make me retaliate and tickle you. You’ve been doing so since you saw me from the doorway. Don’t try to deny it.”

Heat was crawling up your neck into your cheeks again, and you squeezed your mouth shut, shaking your head defiantly. He shuffled a bit closer, now only inches away from you. “I’m sorry to tell you, dear, but you’re going to have to ask me properly.” You let out an involuntary groan at that, your heart pounding at the sheer proximity of the god beside you. “Use your words, darling. What is it that you want?”

Your resolve was breaking. This whole exchange was only enhancing your lee mood, and he’d made it clear that you wouldn’t get anything out of him without actually coming out and asking for it bluntly. It was difficult to form the words in your mouth.

“I… erm… could you… uh…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he teased, his smirk broadening.

“Could you… would you, maybe… couldyoutickleme?” The words finally came tumbling out of your mouth, and as soon as you said it you found yourself pinned down on the couch, the god of mischief hovering over you with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Now, y/n, was that really so difficult?” Before you had the chance to tell him exactly how difficult it was, he cut you off by digging his fingers into your ribcage. He knew it was a weaker spot, drawing rambunctious laughter from you as you grasped his wrists. You weren’t really making any effort to try to push him away, of course, but it gave you something to do with your hands. “For someone who wanted this so badly, you’re making it exceedingly difficult with your incessant squirming.”

“I cahahan’t help ihihit!!” you exclaimed, arching your back as his fingers darted down to your belly. He wouldn’t give you the chance to get accustomed to one spot, quickly moving to scribble into your sides or drill his thumbs into your hips. It was exactly what you’d been hoping would happen all day today, and yet still you could barely handle it as ticklish shocks wracked through your body.

“Let’s see, now – where else are you ticklish? I don’t have your little narratives open for reference this time, so I suppose I’m going to have to find out for myself,” he pondered aloud, tone laced with mischief. “Ah! How about here?” Loki slipped his fingers under your arms, causing you to clamp them down to your sides. That didn’t stop him, though, continuing to vibrate his fingers into your uppermost ribs. The sensation made you shriek, throwing your head back and laughing with abandon.

“Nohoho Loki! Not there!” you cried, feebly pulling at his wrists as much as you could with your arms pressed to your sides.

“No? On the contrary, dear, I think it’s a perfectly effective spot.” You twisted involuntarily, accidentally rolling off the couch and face first onto the floor with a thud. Loki was at your side in a flash, kneeling beside you with a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yehehes,” you giggled, heart fluttering at the idea that he was so concerned about you possibly being hurt. You turned to roll onto your back to look up at him, but he pressed down on your shoulder, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked ominously, his fingers moving to dig into your ribcage with renewed vigor. Not being able to see his hands was so much better worse. You tried desperately to roll onto your side but each time he would shift both hands to the newly exposed side, forcing you to roll back onto your stomach to protect the sensitive skin there. “Shall I ‘go in for the kill’ as they say?”

“No! Don’t! Anything but that!” you pleaded, although you both knew your heart wasn’t really in it.

“Sorry, darling, but as I recall, you did ask for this.” With that, his fingertips scribbled into that wretched spot on the back of your upper ribs. You kicked your feet against the floor in ticklish agony, your laughter pitching up an octave. Before long, your laughter grew silent, prompting him to ease up on you and scratch lightly at your sides. You turned to roll onto your back, and he allowed it this time, chuckling at your disheveled state. You took a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving with exertion, and you twitched occasionally when his fingertips found an extra sensitive spot on your side.

Loki’s fingers stilled against your sides, and you frowned up at him, feeling a sense of loss without his touch. He laughed heartily at that, a genuine smile spreading across his lips.

“Silly girl, was that not enough for you? Do you need me to continue?” Before waiting for your answer, he reached down and fluttered his fingers behind both knees. You squealed in surprise, giggles spilling from your lips. Loki sat on your shins to avoid any accidental kicks to the face, shifting to knead at the soft skin just above your knee on your inner thigh. You hadn’t anticipated just how unbearably ticklish that spot could be.

“Wait wait wahahait!! Stahahap!!” you cried, trying desperately to yank your legs out from under the Asgardian.

“Ah, I see I’ve identified a new– what do you call it? ‘Death spot’?”

Your laughter was growing hoarse, and Loki took this as his cue to let up again, getting up off your legs and kneeling beside you. You were exhausted, but the endorphins coursing through your veins made you feel giddy.

“That… that was mean,” you said breathlessly.

“I’ll remind you once again, you asked for it,” he retorted.

Loki stood up and offered you a hand to help you off the floor, which you gratefully accepted. You stood there awkwardly for a moment, not certain what to say. For the first time, you noticed Loki was also at a loss for words; his hand moved to the back of his neck, and he glanced around the room, uncertainty in his eyes.

On a whim (or maybe it was just the residual adrenaline, you’ll never know) you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around the bewildered god in front of you.

“Thanks, Loki,” you whispered into his shoulder. He stood frozen for a moment before finally sliding his arms around you as well, squeezing you tight.

“Anytime, love,” he replied, his voice low and gruff, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. You hugged him for another moment before releasing the trickster and hurrying off to your room, hoping to hide away before you could say anything to ruin things.

And, you can bet, you would be doing some more writing tonight.

Part 3: A Cozy Evening

#ticklish!reader #loki tickle #tickle fic #tickle fluff #marvel tickle #soft loki

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retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

the second time around | jaehyun

title: the second time around pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff, some angst request: “Hi! Here’s a suggestion for a story or add-on to another story you wrote. I really liked moonlight w/ jaehyun! Could you do a follow up with him not seeing her for awhile and him (and her secretly) being pissed about it but wants to reconnect with her but outside of being a customer. Ty and keep up the good work with your writing.” word count: 2.9k warnings: a couple mentions of sex a/n: hmm...the sequel to moonlight...sequels are scary to write but here we are lol. this could’ve been posted last sunday really but i’ve been stalling oof

Despite getting Jaehyun’s number after that night at the strip club, you’ve seen and heard a lot less of him than you’d like. On his end, Jaehyun isn’t so pleased about losing touch either, but you wouldn’t know that with the lack of communication.

Both of you are ultimately busy with your own lives, and it’s not like he can just drop in whenever he wants to visit you. Not just because he’s busy, but also because of where you work. The men keep their visits to the club on a once-a-month basis for a reason—to avoid tipping off any stalkers who’d find out and leak their whereabouts.

You’ve texted each other a few times since your first meeting, and you enjoyed the conversations you got to have within that timespan, but the time between responses kept getting longer—on both of your ends—until things eventually dropped off.

You were unhappy about this, though you tried not to be so obvious about it to the other girls. Getting attached to customers was not a good look. Even if they were handsome and nice and had good dick.

However, Anya was the first to notice your slightly sour mood despite your best efforts to project an unphased demeanor. And, being her usual nosy self, she managed to pry it out of you before you could even think about denying it.

“Don’t stress about it,” she’d told you on the night you finally spilled the beans. She’d wrapped her arms around your shoulders and tipped your chin up, making you hold your head up higher and look at yourself in the mirror reflection facing you. “There will be many more men where he came from. And if you don’t wanna deal with any more men right now, that’s fine too. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, anyway.”

“I’m not stressing over it,” you’d argued, sighing. “We don’t stress over men who aren’t boyfriends, remember?”

Anya grinned then, though you could tell it was the kind of smile you give when a friend is doing something they shouldn’t be—or indulging in something they think is good for them when it’s not. “Duh. But you might wanna start following your own advice if you’re gonna be dishing it out!” And then she’d gone off to do her own thing, probably to finish getting ready for her set later that night or to go bother one of her favorite bartenders.

You’d looked at yourself in the mirror more closely, frowning at the truthfulness of her statement and wishing you had not been quite so easy to read. You’d had a show right after that, which allowed you to take your mind off the mess for at least a few hours. But in the small moments when you weren’t thinking about work or school or anything else you had to do, Jaehyun crept back into your mind like a specter, wanting you to acknowledge him even though you weren’t getting the same.

When you head out to the parking lot after a particularly long night, you slow your steps when you see a man leaning against his car, his cap pulled over his eyes and his head low. In any other scenario, you probably would’ve alerted one of the bouncers, thinking he was some creep waiting until after your stage to try to corner you in a shady area. However, you hold off on calling anybody because you can clearly recognize him even if he thinks he’s being inconspicuous—it’s Jaehyun.

He lifts his head when he hears your shoes on the ground, and his lips turn up into something of a smile.

“If you wanted another dance, you’re a bit late. We just closed,” you say jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Tempting idea, but that’s not what I came here for.” He turns to face you fully now, observing you in your casual, after-work clothes. In the back of your mind, you realize this is the first time he’s seen you outside the context of performing. Then he sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know.” Your familiar irritation rises again. Sure, maybe him coming to see you or you going to see him more often isn’t feasible. A text or a call, though...would be decidedly less effort, and not difficult to do. You’re not sure whether to be more irritated with him or yourself about not trying to reach out again, though you decide to aim your annoyance at him just because you can.

Jaehyun nods to your agreement. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say. “Work is...work. It has its ups and downs. How are you? Busy with the idol life?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah...it just gets…stressful sometimes.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, seeming bothered about whatever’s going on with his job but not wanting to say much more about it.

“I’m sure,” you respond, and you don’t really know what to say afterwards. It’s been a while since either of you talked, and it’s strangely hard to try to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened. Jaehyun realizes this, too, and appears distressed at not knowing how to keep the conversation going with you—and possibly wasting your time.

You nod to yourself and shift on your feet. “Well, the Uber will probably be here soon, so—”

“I don’t know what things will look like between us, but I don’t want us to fall out of contact again,” Jaehyun blurts out, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just...don’t want either of us to leave before we...sort this out, I guess.”

You think to yourself, wondering if this is really worth trying to pursue. You’ve yet to deal with a man with the level of fame that Jaehyun has, yet with such a strict image to keep, which makes things exponentially more complicated. But despite your apprehension, you still want to know where this could lead. After a moment, you say, “Well, if you’re willing...I’d like the same.”

Jaehyun nods and stands up a little straighter, like that response just gave him the energy he needed. “Do you wanna….go somewhere? Just to like, hang out.” His proposition is abrupt, and you didn’t expect it.

“Now?” You check your phone, and it’s 18 minutes past 2 a.m. There aren’t too many places that will still be open at this hour, other than establishments similar to your line of work, but you aren’t in the mood for any more of that tonight. Your driver, too, is only a few minutes away, but you already find yourself with your finger hovering over the Cancel button. “We could.”

Jaehyun goes around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. You get into his car, noting its sleek interior. Once he gets in, he asks you what you want to hear, and you notice he’s looking through his Spotify. You shrug.

“I don’t know. Show me something you like,” you say. You cringe at sounding so disinterested, which makes you realize you might just be a little more upset about being ghosted than you thought you were. You almost want to curse at how this dude is taking you off your usual game. “I mean, I like hearing new music anyway, so…”

Jaehyun starts the car and grins slightly. “Alright, then let me show you the best of the best…” You both end up listening and vibing to a playlist he’s made, which is good. Not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you end up liking most of the songs he shows you, which usually doesn’t happen with other people’s playlists.

Jaehyun ends up taking you to an ice cream place that’s still open this late, to your surprise. The sitting area inside the store is closed, though they’ve kept the drive-thru open for late-night travelers like yourselves who want a quick treat. You don’t question it, though; you definitely won’t pass up a chance for some ice cream.

You end up eating the ice cream while sitting in his car and listening to the rest of his playlist. Neither of you say much other than commenting on the songs or talking about your favorite ice cream flavors or making other non-committal small talk. You kind of prefer it this way, at least for the moment—just listening to the music and watching the headlights and taillights of cars that pass by.

You and Jaehyun ride around the city for a while longer after finishing the ice cream, not intending to go anywhere in particular but just coasting on the highways. It might be an excuse to keep listening to this new playlist he’s put on, or maybe more reason to pretend that awkward period between you never happened. Acknowledging it in a way, but not speaking any life into it.

Eventually, though, it has to arise back to the surface. Jaehyun taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light, like he’s impatient to get somewhere, and you wonder what he’s feeling until he comes out and says,

“I think it was...ultimately my fault for not contacting you more. Or not trying to stay in contact.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” you finally respond.

“It’s just hard to get close to anyone and be an idol at the same time. Sometimes I sabotage myself when I shouldn’t, and…” He trails off, though you don’t know whether he’s searching for the words or has decided to leave his sentence at that.

“You’d rather not be embarrassed by dating a stripper, or something along those lines?” Your tone is nonchalant, though you’re a little bothered by saying it. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to feel some type of way about your job, though you’ve mostly gotten used to the judgment at this point.

Jaehyun seems a bit startled by the statement. “If you like doing it, then I don’t care what you do. You should live your life however you want to.”

“I see,” you say slowly. “Most men I meet outside of the club are not receptive to it, so you ain’t gotta lie if you feel some other way about it, seriously...”

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You told me that day that you liked it, and I believed you. I just think...we should all be able to do things we enjoy without worrying about what others think of it.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you for a moment, and his features are lit up by the street light as it turns green. His face, which is simultaneously painted with shadows and glowing with light, appears to be just as genuine as he sounds. Or maybe this late-night atmosphere just has you feeling more receptive and sentimental than usual. Then he broaches the next subject carefully, steering you back to where the conversation began. “You didn’t text me anymore, either.”

“I figured you’d moved on or something, maybe started talking to someone else…” you reply. “And, you know, if that was the case...so be it. There wouldn’t be a point to chasing someone who wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I am interested.” Jaehyun rushes the words out, like he’s eager to dispel the uncertainty before you get the wrong idea; not that that hasn’t already happened, but still. It isn’t too late to change your mind. “I want to like, know you as a person...not just while being a customer at the club, or something like that.”

You nod, looking at your hands and considering his words. “We can do that...yeah, we can.” Then you hold your hand out to him, a grin playing on your lips. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles too, and takes your hand in one of his. “I’m Jaehyun.”

The conversation after that seems to reach a turning point, like somehow you’ve broken the ice and can finally talk to each other on a deeper level without worrying about the issue that’s been lingering over your heads all night. You think you could talk to him like this for hours if you wanted to, if there was enough time in the world for it.

Unfortunately, though, you don’t have as much time as you’d like, and once it starts edging on 4 AM, you both decide it’s probably best to call it a night. Jaehyun takes you back to your apartment after you tell him where it is.

He parks in front of the apartment complex, and you’re prepared to thank him for the night and get out, but he insists on walking you up to your apartment—something about it being too dangerous for women to walk alone at night.

“It’s not that far.” You laugh, but you aren’t going to argue about it if it means getting a few more moments with him.

Jaehyun follows you up the steps after you both get out of the car. You walk a little slower to prolong the moment, but eventually you have to get up to your apartment door. You also take your time with taking your keys out of your bag and putting them in the lock. And maybe you’re not as slick as you thought, because Jaehyun notices. He laughs quietly behind you, but the sound isn’t low enough to escape your hearing.

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride...and for the ice cream, you know.”

He nods, and one of his dimples pokes out. “You didn’t have to entertain me tonight, but I’m glad you did...so, thanks.”

Both of you linger in your doorway for a few more moments. Jaehyun wants to come in, and you know it, but you also know he probably won’t say it because he technically shouldn’t. His members are expecting him back at the dorm. He doesn’t want to impose, and he didn’t even bring any extra clothes. But you know he wants to come in, and you want it, too.

You tilt your head to the side. “Would it be bad if I asked you to stay?” you say tentatively.

A slow smile spreads on his face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

You open the door wider so he can step inside and take his shoes off at the entrance. You lead him to your living room by the hand. “What do you wanna do?” you ask, looking at him imploringly. You want to be sure you’re both on the same page concerning your intentions.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he echoes, holding your hand a bit tighter. You expect to see lust or some similar desire in his expression and had already figured you might end up having sex again tonight, but his eyes expect nothing from you. He only smiles in the dim light of your apartment and waits for you to make the next move.

You laugh, and it comes out as an airy chuckle. “Well, then...I want to lay down. It’s been a long day.” From your tone, Jaehyun understands that you really just want to lie down and not think about much of anything else right now. He follows you when you lead him into your bedroom and sits patiently on your bed while you go to the bathroom to change into your night clothes. You’re thankful you already took a shower at the club, because you’re not sure you’d have the energy to do all that now.

He’s taken his jeans off when you come back into the room, though he still keeps his shirt on. You get onto the bed and lean over him, hooking your finger into the collar of his shirt, and he looks up at you. “You can take this off if you want, I don’t care.”

“Is this you saying you want to see me shirtless?” He grins, though he readily takes the invitation and pulls his shirt off, placing it to the side along with his pants.

You shake your head good-naturedly, a smile on your face. “I promise it’s innocent…but the view never hurts.”

You peel the sheets back and you both climb underneath them, lying across from each other and looking at each other like you want to say something more but aren’t sure what. There isn’t much light in the room except for the street lights coming from your bedroom window, muted slightly by the blinds.

Jaehyun laughs suddenly, breaking the silence, and you do the same. You’re not sure why either of you are laughing, but you do so anyway, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. After your laughter dies down, he takes your hand from where it’s resting on the pillow and slips his pinky around yours. “I’ll try not to lose you this time.”

You lean a little closer to his face so you can plant a kiss on his lips—just a short and soft touch. He tastes like ice cream, and somehow you know there will be many more kisses like this in the future. “You better not.”

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sunkissedpages · 4 years

Text

breaking curfew [part fifteen] || th x reader

A/N: here it is the last chapter!! thank you guys for reading and being so patient w me throughout this series i rlly appreciate all the support!! also ty @stuckonspidey for the help on this part!! ily sm <3

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, angst

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist

“How’s it look?” Tom asked from his spot on your cabin floor, moving the bag of frozen peas from his eye so you could see.

It was much more swollen than it had been just a few hours ago and already purple around the edges.

“Uh, not too bad.” You winced.

He chuckled. “Thanks for the honesty.”

He put the peas back on his eye and leaned back on his other hand, watching you on your bed with a sort of lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked pointedly, wondering what could possibly be so funny right now.

“Look at us,” he said and gestured at your broken arm. “We’re falling apart.”

You snorted and shook your head. “We’re predictable.”

Tom shrugged and laid back on the floor, sprawled out like a starfish. He looked exhausted, and you knew the black eye had nothing to do with it. He was always so… tense, so energetic, but now… the energy seemed to have dissolved and given way to emptiness.

You could tell he was deep in thought and you wondered what he was thinking about. Was he thinking about you?

“You’re really not mad at Fy?” you asked to break the silence, needing to get out of your own head.

“Nah, I deserved it,” Tom replied.

Despite his response, he had seemed pretty angry at the time. You’d recognized the flush on his face and neck, his set jaw. The tone of his voice when he spoke to you. But here he was denying it.

Neither of the boys had said much else to you about what had happened that morning. You didn’t want to push it, but it seemed like there was something you were missing and they were purposely leaving you out of the loop.

“But, he hit you pretty hard,” you tried, hoping he’d open up a little more.

“I was a shitty friend,” he said, as if that somehow explained everything. “We’re even now.”

He looked away off into the corner of the room and you knew he was done talking about it. You pulled your knees up to your chest and sighed, nestling your head in between them as you gazed at him from the bed.

The silence was charged with tension. Not for the first time this summer you found yourself wishing Tom would be vulnerable with you. Like he had been last night. What had changed in a matter of hours? He was closed off now, with that guarded expression on his face you’d grown so used to. You thought you’d gotten so good at reading him, at seeing under the surface, but maybe that was only because he let you.

What had really happened at breakfast? What were he and Fy not telling you? Then it dawned on you. Had Fy told Tom that you and he-

Tom cleared his throat suddenly. "About Fy…”

“We kissed,” you blurted before he could even finish the thought.

“Wait, what?” Tom bolted upright like he’d been punched again.

“Fy kissed me,” you said again slowly. “He, uh, didn’t tell you about that?”

“No, he failed to mention that,” he muttered lowly.

You bit your lip in regret and slid down onto the floor next to him. “Oh, I thought he would’ve said something about that.”

“When do you reckon he would’ve worked that into our conversation?” he quipped, “While he was punching me or afterwards, when my nose was dripping with blood?”

“I don’t know, I just assumed-”

“Well he didn’t.”

Tom turned away and took a deep breath. You could tell he wanted to say something more, but was holding back. His knuckles scraped against the wooden floorboards as he clenched and unclenched his fist in thought.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” you asked exhaustedly.

He shrugged. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Tom. Are you serious?”

“Hm?” he turned his head slightly, but his face showed disinterest.

You knew his apparent boredom was just a mask, thinly veiling his true feelings, but the familiarity of the expression made old insecurities from past summers begin to creep up in your chest.

“What do you mean what’s there to talk about? I-I don’t...”

“What you do with Fy doesn’t seem like my business. If you like the guy, you should go for it.”

“I don’t like him.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” you said with finality, admitting it to yourself out loud for the first time. “I was just... confused.”

“So then,” he paused and sucked in a breath before continuing, like he wanted to choose his words carefully. “Are you still confused about me?”

“It’s not that simple,” you sighed.

“How so?”

“I know my feelings for you, I just don’t understand where- where they come from.”

His fingers inched closer to yours across the floor and you longed to take his hand. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“And what are those feelings?” His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

A hint of a smile ghosted over his lips. “Yeah?”

“I mean, I haven’t really been hiding it very well.”

“No, not really,” he agreed, laughing when you glared at him. “For the record, I really like you too, y/n.”

Your scowl eased into a smirk. “I know.”

“Damn, I can’t believe you just Han Solo’ed me.”

“I mean, you literally told me that already last night.”

“Shhh,” Tom put a finger up to your lips as he shushed you, “we were having a moment.”

“Oh, sorry, were we?” You cocked your head to the side. “It didn’t feel like a moment to me.”

“Shut up!”

“No, you!” you countered, locking eyes with him defiantly.

He didn’t even blink before taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back immediately, instinctively. You didn’t even have to think about it. It had only been a few days since you’d last felt his touch, but it seemed like an eternity.

His hand slipped from your chin to your neck, bracing you against him as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

You had missed the feeling of his body against yours, and the way he said your name in between kisses. But most of all you had missed his warmth. The way the boy just absolutely radiated heat like a furnace. Whenever you were with him it completely enveloped you and made you want to stay in his arms forever.

You moaned as he nipped at your bottom lip, but you were interrupted by a rapping at your cabin door, making the two of you jump apart like two high schoolers that had been caught making out by a parent.

You cleared your throat and sat up straight, trying to appear nonchalant even though you knew you looked guilty as sin.

“Come in!” you called out.

The door opened and Zendaya popped her head in.

“If you two are done,” she said, “closing ceremonies start in like five minutes.”

“Shit.”

You scrambled up off the floor and chased after your best friend, leaving Tom behind.

“Were you ever going to tell me about that?” she asked. She was smiling faintly as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could tell she was hurt.

“I was,” you promised, “When you asked me what was wrong before parents weekend...” you trailed off.

“It was about Tom?”

“Kinda- it’s a lot. I was going to tell you after this weekend, but after everything happened today I just forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be,” Z scoffed as she nudged you with her shoulder. “And you owe me, by the way. We have a very long drive ahead of us in a few days and I want to know everything.”

“Fine. I’ll even buy you a soft pretzel as a token of my apology,” you said dramatically.

She perked up. “Cinnamon?”

“If you want it to be cinnamon then sure.”

You had almost made it to the caf for the ceremony when you felt a hand tapping your shoulder. You turned, expecting to see Tom who had caught up with you, but it was Fy. He looked uncomfortable, maybe nervous, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” He glanced at Zendaya. “Alone?”

You looked back at Z who was eyeing Fy suspiciously.

“I’ll meet you in there, Z,” you said.

She turned her head back towards you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you glanced up at Fy, “this’ll only take a minute, right?”

He nodded and pulled at the collar of his hoodie anxiously. You followed his gaze back to Z who was still staring him down. Was he intimidated by Zendaya? He certainly wouldn’t be the first man to crack under her intensity, and probably wouldn’t be the last either.

Finally, she broke the stare and forced a smile. “I’ll save you a seat,” she assured you before leaving the two of you by yourselves.

You followed Fy a few steps off the path to a picnic table under a cluster of trees. He seemed content to stand, but you perched yourself atop it instead.

You had a feeling you knew what this was about, but you were hoping you wouldn’t have to face it for at least another couple of days. You’d already had one conversation about feelings today. You weren’t ready for another one.

More than that, though. You didn’t want to hurt him. You knew that you’d led him on in a way, and even though it was on purpose it had still happened. You don’t like to let anyone down, especially someone as kind as Fy.

He still seemed unsure of what to say so you decided to take the initiative. Just rip the bandaid off.

“About our kiss-”

He cut you off. “I think it was a mistake.”

“We shouldn’t- wait, you do?”

“Look, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have feelings for you, but I don’t want to get in the way of whatever it is you have going on with Tom. Any more than I have already, I mean. I, Jesus, I punched the guy. I’ve never punched anyone before.”

“He doesn’t blame you for that.”

Fy looked hopeful for the first time since he’d taken you aside. “He doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “He didn’t really say much about it, but he said that he deserved it.”

“He didn’t.”

“I don’t know about that,” you mumbled. “So... you know about me and Tom?”

“Knowing the background between you, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“I’m really sorry.”

He smiled. “Don’t be. I’m happy for you guys, or at least I’m trying to be.”

You laughed. “Thanks.”

“‘Course. You know I’ll always have your back, y/l/n.”

“Ditto, Ying.”

“And hey, feel free to hit me up if you’re ever looking for a rebound.”

By the time you and Fy made it back to the caf closing ceremonies had already started. The lights were dimmed and Lorraine was onstage with a mic, giving her annual speech.

You spotted Zendaya and both of your cabins on the other side of the room through the darkness and made your way over to them, sliding into a seat between Z and Theo.

They always took place a few days before the campers went back home so the winners of the camp competition could relish in their glory and rub it in everyone else’s faces.

But the ceremony wasn’t only for announcing the winners of the camp competition. Other housekeeping things had to be taken care of as well. Announcements about packing and cleaning cabins were made, classic camp songs were sung, and they always played an “end of summer video” so that everyone could reflect back on the past few months and the memories they’d made. Some campers hated closing ceremonies because they thought they were boring, but you had always loved them.

After Lorraine’s speech one of the other staffers made announcements about chores and tasks for the next few days and then pulled down the projection screen for the video.

You sat back as it began to play and smiled when the title card popped up over a picture of all the counselors that was taken the first day of training. Clips of campers arriving played next and scattered shouts echoed out from campers cheering excitedly for their friends or favorite counselors. You joined in on the shouting when a clip of Zendaya dancing in her lifeguard uniform played and she retaliated when the video showed you in the lake after Tom had tipped your canoe.

Your heart ached in the best way as you watched. All of your campers were featured in the video. Amalia was shown painting some pottery, Eva was learning to ride a bike, Theo was making funny faces at the camera just to be silly, May was playing soccer, and Grace appeared to be making a friendship bracelet with a boy that looked a lot like Will...

You almost choked when a clip of you and Tom played from when you had both still worked in arts and crafts. You remembered the moment vividly. It had been when he was helping you with the pottery wheel before activity time. You had been trying to figure it out for twenty minutes and kept ruining whatever it was you were making with the clay until Tom had finally come over to show you how to use it. You hadn’t wanted his help, but you were hopeless and so you were forced to begrudgingly accept. He’d leaned over you and taken your hands in his to teach the proper technique. His body had been so close to yours, and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating. His necklace had hung in front of your face as he demonstrated too, further distracting you from the task at hand.

And then the camera girl had come in to take some footage for the rewind video and instructed the both of you to stay exactly like that as she got the shot. You were stiff, and completely uncomfortable in front of the camera, but Tom had whispered a joke into your ear to make you laugh, now seen on-screen, a hundred times bigger.

Thankfully that was the only other bit of you and Tom in the video, but there was a hell of a lot more of just Tom. He was the counselor everyone loved, after all. Clip after clip played of Tom flipping into the pool, skateboarding down the big hill, and cliff diving into the lake. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time the video was over.

Lorraine appeared back on stage shortly after to announce the competition results. You knew your cabin didn’t stand a chance at winning, but you were still proud as hell of your girls. Cabin Eleven had started in dead last, and for all you could care, it didn’t matter if they were still in dead last. They had made so much progress over the last eight weeks. Not to mention yourself. You didn’t even recognize the person you had been two months ago, and you’d like to think you were coming out of the summer better off than you had been going in.

“It was a close competition this year,” Lorraine said animatedly. “All of you did so well! But there can only be one winner! And that is...” She held an envelope up in one hand, and used one of her freshly manicured fingernails on the other to break the seal. She slid the piece of paper out and opened it dramatically, reading it with a shocked expression like she didn’t already know who’d won. “Cabin Six!”

Cheers erupted around the caf as Tom and his cabin raced up to claim their prize. You watched him high five a few of his friends as he jogged to the stage and you rolled your eyes. Show off.

Lorraine handed all the kids little plastic trophies and matching medals. Tom looked absolutely giddy as she put the medal over his head and you couldn’t help but crack a smile. The boy liked to win.

“He had the most tally points,” Theo whispered from beside you and leaned over so that you could hear her better.

“Oh yeah, what do those mean by the way?” you whispered back.

The girls hadn’t told you before, but you knew they had to be significant based on how many each person had.

Theo looked around at her fellow cabinmates to see if any of them were paying attention before finally confiding in you. “It was the number of times we saw each person give you the look.”

The look. The girls had described it as the look in someone’s eyes they have when they’re in love. Like they’re under some sort of spell. But surely that couldn’t be right for Tom-

“See, he’s doing it right now.”

You looked up and immediately made eye contact with him. He winked at you. You sunk down into your seat and averted your gaze.

“He’s in loooove,” Theo insisted.

“Shhh!”

“Anything you’d like to say to the people?” Lorraine asked before handing the mic to Tom.

He turned to his boys with a mischievous grin. You thought he was about to gloat or tell a bad joke, but instead he yelled “last one in the lake is a rotten egg!” and took off running.

What followed was pure chaos. His campers tore after him screaming “not fair!” and “cheater!” at their counselor as they ran. The rest of the camp didn’t even wait until Tom’s campers were out the door to follow them down to the shore to watch them jump in.

The scene was something out of a movie. The sun had just dipped behind the treeline, painting the sky brilliant shades of orange and pink. Tom was running toward the water at full speed, stripping his shirt off in the process. You could see the smile on his face even from where you were standing. His campers weren’t far behind him and they were still shouting after him. A mass of people chased after them, whooping and hollering.

You pushed your way to the front of the crowd and watched as he cannonballed into the lake unceremoniously. As soon as he surfaced he was tackled by his campers all jumping on top of him at once.

“Help me! Help me!” he sputtered, “they’re drowning me!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have played dirty!” you said, just loud enough for him to hear.

He caught your eye and grinned. “Is there any other way to play?”

After the crowd dispersed to head to the bonfire you helped Tom out of the lake and onto the dock.

“You guys go ahead and start picking some good songs,” he told his campers. “I’ll be over there in a minute.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. They sprinted off, full of energy, towards the campfire without looking back.

“God, do you remember what it was like to be that little?” you asked.

“Yeah, I do. I was a little prick.”

“You could say that again,” you scoffed.

“Oi, watch it, fanny pack girl.”

“Fuck off, sunscreen boy!”

“That was one time!” Tom protested defensively.

You laughed. “Congratulations, by the way. On winning the competition.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Better luck to you next year.”

“Oh, you’re asking to get tossed back in the lake,” you warned.

“I’d like to see you try that,” he challenged and stood back up.

You positioned yourself like a football player, ready to charge. You ran towards him with as much force as you could muster just to be swept off your feet and slung over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

“Tom! Tom put me down!” you screamed.

“If you say so,” he said and turned towards the water.

“I swear to God, Tom-”

Before you could even finish your sentence you were underwater. Clothes, cast, and everything. You pulled yourself back up onto the dock with your one good hand and flopped down on your back. Tom was hysterical.

You glared at him. “Don’t say it-”

“What was that again about not being able to get a girl wet?”

You smiled back, despite yourself. You’d gone all these summers without having a camp crush. Gone all these years without breaking your promise to yourself, and yet here you were, falling for the boy you hated most. The irony was not lost on you.

epilogue should be out in the next week or so but lmk what you think i always appreciate feeback!!

Forever Tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson@everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician@livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @tommy-holland @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @backalleyblowjobs @gen-tlehoe @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @definitely-not-black-cat @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @starsholland @peterunderoos @fuckyeahomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillianaholland @dinasaur36 @londonspidey @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @murdermornings @honeymoonparker @tomshufflepuff @aikaterrina @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @wolvesofthewinter @mukesnugget @itsjusttor @lovewolfspirit @love-sick-blues

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whattheheehaw · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’m sorry you’re getting shitty anons about this and you’re probably sick of it so I apologise for asking this but I’m genuinely curious what made you start actively disliking zutara? Like, considering how much excellent and insightful content/meta you yourself used to make/write? I get that interests change over time and you’re totally valid!! the anons sending you hate over it are really dumb, but if you’d be ok with sharing, I’d be really interested in hearing why you’ve done almost a complete 180 on the ship? Was is just burnout/end of a hyper-obsession? Or was it some of us in the rest of the fandom that turned you off? Or was it even something about the ship/characters themselves that you changed your mind about? xx

In short, it was a combination of burnout, dissatisfaction with fandom, and disappointment in myself that caused my disinterest for Zvtara.

I got asks similar to this one a couple of times before, but I never gave a comprehensive answer, mainly because I didn't know how to articulate my reasons why I don't like it anymore. But now that I've been out of ZK fandom for a month and have had some time to reflect, I think I can give a much more thorough response. Beware, this is long and I heavily critique the Zvtara fandom, so if you're a ZK shipper, keep reading at your own risk.

My first minor annoyance with Zvtara is that the fandom has a tendency to idolize certain fics and creators. And while there’s certainly nothing inherently wrong about that, I feel like the Zvtara fandom does it to such an extent that it influences the type of content that content creators make in order to get recognition. And to illustrate my point, I’m going to talk about one of the most famous Zvtara fics of all time: Once Around The Sun by eleventy7.

Don’t get me wrong, I love OATS. I think it’s a great fanfic and I think the author devoted a lot of time and effort to make it such an excellent fic. The plot, the development of the characters and their relationships to one other, and the messages about family and love were all brilliantly written. I mean, there is a reason why it’s regarded as the “Zvtara Bible”. This one fanfic had such a profound impact upon the ZK fandom, and I think the biggest impact that came from it is the dramatic influx of post-war Zvtara AU fanfiction.

Because so many people kept reading OATS and recommending it to others, I think there was an overall interest in ZK fics that take place in a post-war setting. And I think that all of the high praise towards OATS made more fic writers start to write post-war fanfics because of this demand for post-war AU.* I normally wouldn't complain about it because more content is more content, but in my opinion, 99% of ZK post-war fics are the same fic but in different fonts.

Like, there's at least 3 of these elements in every ZK post-war fanfic:

Ambassador Katara

An assassination attempt (usually on Zuko's life)

A healing scene between Zuko and Katara (usually Katara heals Zuko)

Aang and/or Mai is pushed to the side or vilified to some extent in order to make ZK happen

A private journey between Zuko and Katara to facilitate #6

S L O W B U R N (that's not really slowburn and more like "I love you and I very much want to be vocal about my feelings but #7 is in this fic" but the love story takes up like 30 chapters so I guess it's a slowburn?)

Zuko's advisers don't want him to get married to Katara because ✨racism✨

Ursa is found

Azula is in the fic because a) she's going to get a healing arc ft. Zuko and Katara and thereby helps them get together or b) she's the villain and thereby helps them get together

ZK wedding happens in the FN

After reading multiple post-war fics back to back, I could tell that the format was pretty much the same across the board, which isn't very interesting for me to read. My only other fic options in the Zvtara tag on AO3 are canon divergence fics which almost always take place during The Crossroads of Destiny or after The Southern Raiders. And to some extent, those stories are pretty much the same too. There's nothing really new or creative going on in the ZK fandom fic-wise, and because of that, my interest in ZK fandom started to dwindle.

My second issue with Zvtara is that it's a very old ship from a very old show. Because there's been 10+ years since the end of A:TLA, every nuanced point about shipping and the show itself have been talked to death.** There's just nothing new to say. It's the same arguments being rehashed over and over again in the tag because there's no other interpretation one can come up with.

For example, there's so many people who talk about why Zvtara as depicted in The Southern Raiders is not toxic and that's great and all, but I (and most likely many others) have read those same points about five times already. And for some reason, each time this happens, people act like someone just discovered the lost city of Atlantis when they bring up their new-but-not-new argument in defense of Zvtara. Honestly, I'm ashamed to say that I'm not exempt from being part of the group of people that reiterate old arguments. I've done it with one of my posts about The Southern Raiders and I've done it again with my Zutara/Omashu parallels post.

There's no new content to really dissect and analyze (especially considering Zuko and Katara are rarely in the same panel in any of the post-war comics), and because of this, people are just restating points that someone else made several years ago.*** And even if someone did have a different interpretation of an episode, their ideas would most likely be shut down because for the past several years, the same interpretation has been recycled through the fandom repeatedly and people are resistant to new perspectives.

This brings me to the third thing that I dislike about Zvtara: the insistence that there can only be one way to interpret The Southern Raiders. For the longest time, I've read take after take that said if Katara decided to kill Yon Rha, it would be ok because that's her grief to deal with and if she thinks that's the best way to mete out justice, then good for her. And again, I'm ashamed to say that I perpetuated that idea in a few of my own posts. I have always thought that "Katara killing Yon Rha is ok" is just a bad take in general, but I didn't want to vocalize that opinion when so many people—so many of the nice mutuals that I made—all shared that same opinion. Taking down a popular opinion of your own ship is completely different from taking down a popular opinion of a ship that you dislike. The Zvtara fandom is the first fandom that I was actually active in and I wanted to fit in so badly with everyone else that I just parroted whatever other people said, even if I didn't agree with those sentiments.

This leads me to my final reason why I don't want to be a part of ZK fandom anymore. I think I established myself as a "meta" person pretty early on and because of that, I constantly felt pressured to come up with new takes on the ship. And when people started flooding my ask box with stuff like "Can you write a meta about your thoughts on the idea that 'Zuko only took Katara on that field trip in TSR because he wanted her to forgive him'?" and "What are your thoughts about antis saying Zuko and Katara are toxic because of TSR?", I realized that I don't need to come up with new takes. People just want me to paraphrase something that 10 other people said about the same exact topic, because if I said what I actually thought about the subject (i.e. there is some truth in what antis say about TSR and it's not as much of a "Zvtara episode" that most people make it out to be), I'd probably get ZK shippers in the replies telling me that I'm wrong because x, y, and z or "you shouldn't tag this as Zvtara".

And that was pretty much how my love for ZK turned into disinterest. I was and still am disappointed that I didn't stick to my personal opinions. For as much as I talk about herd mentality on Twitter, I certainly don't practice what I preach. In all honesty, the only reason why I held on so long to ZK fandom was because I had so many nice mutuals there and we all shared this collective distaste for antis. I think I started to become more anti-Zvkka and anti-Kataang than pro-Zvtara, which isn't what I wanted to do when I made this Tumblr blog.

The thing that made me joke about becoming anti-Zvtara was the fact that some ZK shippers just like to send shitty anons to people whom they've reblogged countless different metas from. Sending shitty anons to people in the first place is wrong, but sending them to people who tagged their posts correctly and did nothing wrong is just disgusting.

*I'm not a fic writer and can't speak for fic writers, but it definitely feels like a lot of ZK fic authors are pushing themselves to write the next OATS, and by doing so, they are proliferating the tag with post-war fics that have very similar aspects to OATS.

**I think that as more people point out the same nuanced points about Zvtara, it diminishes the actual significance of those points. Like, it's hard to explain but the more people talk about the subtleties of the ship, the more those parts become glaringly obvious and I become numb to their actual impact on the characters and the show.

***At this point, if someone wanted to make a new argument about Zvtara, I think they would have to look very closely at every little detail in every single one of their scenes together to find a crumb of new meta material. And speaking from experience, it's not very fun trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Whenever I post a "meta" like that, I feel like I'm reaching to make a point that doesn't exist.

#anti zutara #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

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voidcat · 4 years

Text

– a case of bad luck

2. a deal (with the devil)

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.1k

a/n: society if i could w r i t e,,, anwyays i feel im making mafia dazai ooc? i hope not, ive just began the light novels dsfdg uh yea i'll probs update once a week (depends on how often i can write)

Insisting he leaves you off at the station, you let out a breath of relief for the first time in hours. Unsure he may still be following, you change directions few times, walk fast and use shortcuts only locals of the neighbourhoods know to get him off your track. Just in case.

The next day he doesn’t show up, neither does he the day after. Not knowing how to feel or what to think about this, because there is no way he will let you slide off this easily, you do your best to resist the relief.

And soon later, it blurs back in your head, like smoke dissolving, like a bad dream.

But the unease never leaves. Neither does the feeling of being watched.

Then one lunch break, your eyes get fixed on a spot by the sidewalk and you can swear it’s the same clothes, the bandages, the posture and the look and everything crashes down back on you again. You do your best to linger and change directions as many times as you can on the way home that evening. Nothing goes wrong that night, or the day after or the day after that. If the false of sense peace were to go for few more days, you think you’ll forget all that happened again, too focused on school or whatever your friends recently bringing up.

A bell to mark the school hours ending, walking outside, caught up in whatever you’re discussing and he just stands there, like it’s nothing, like he belongs to his peer group, missing some of the bandages you saw on his face before, clothes not sticking out like you thought they would.

He stands there and smiles your way.

You think, you’ve never wanted to punch someone in your life as you do in this very moment. Just to erase that smile off his face.

In your view, he only gets bigger with each step, the flock of students you’re stuck in only walking towards where he waits and you look around for a way to sneak out but nada! Nothing! And your friends have grown suspiciously quieter than the usual. Stealing glances from one another and from you, the snicker like they’re sharing this little surprise for you.

Shorter than calculated, you find yourself standing right in front of him.

No words on his end and the expecting looks on you make the air tense.

“Hi… Dazai!” You say at one point, fake enthusiasm clear, not that they seem to mind nor realize. “What brings you here?”

“I was just in the city as you see. And decided, what better time to surprise an old friend than now?” The smile vanishes for a moment, the forced school play act making you want to roll your eyes but he puts a hand on your shoulder suddenly, you wince and shake his hand off, and he continues. “So, have you got the time to show me around and catch up?”

“Do I have a choice?” Followed by a dry laugh, you look back to your friends who only seem satisfied, makes you wonder what kind of lie he sold before he got here. His smile grows wider in reply.

You sigh and start to walk by his side, taking a step a second later than him to keep a distance and to see where you’re headed.

“What did you tell them exactly?” your curiosity takes the best of you as you reach a traffic light.

A little ‘huh?’ coming from him, he turns back to glance at you, the sun behind his head makes his height apparent. The short lived look of asking he gives you dies as he tilts his head “I only told them a cliché story, assumed they’d fall for cheesy scenarios such as that.”

Red turns green.

You take a step by his side, no more following behind. “Which is?..”

“That we were old friends with a shared history of potential intimacy and I wanted to take you out now that we are back together again!” He says it like it’s so usual.

The two of you reach the pavement and continue to walk, never faltering.

Letting your eyes linger on him for a while, you turn your gaze back on the streets as the sense of familiarity begins to vanish. “I didn’t take you for the romcom type.” You say at last as you stop.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t spare a glance this time. “I just know someone who likes them.”

The number of people around decrease with each step, the air gets colder –maybe it’s your nerves. The light starts to fade and not a word has been spoken for quite some time. Not that either of you were dying for some get-to-one-another.

When he speaks again, you don’t hear it at first. “Your ability-”

You halt with a stomp of your foot. “I don’t have one.”

He narrows his eyes in annoyance, “Your ability must be based on some form of speech, as Akutagawa served a good example that night.”

The name barely rings a bell in your memory.

“Question is, what kind of speech it requires? Does it rhyme, should commands work, shall it be sang, like a siren?”

“These are all excellent questions, except for one big missing piece…” you answer. The mention of something missing seems to get his attention. “…That I do not have an ability.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he huffs, the ever growing annoyance levels can tell alone you’re pushing the little bit of luck you have.

“Then how did Akutagawa pass out exactly?” hands back under his coat.

“There was blood on him? Maybe he’s sick? He definitely looked the part.” You say as more of a suggestion than an answer.

“The men inside the building. The one with his internal organs out.” Words get colder with each breathe.

Yours fade as his grow colder, “Maybe the other captured guy did it?”

“You don’t sound sure, weren’t you right next to him?” suspicion of a knowing parent hinted in his voice almost, he already must’ve figured it all out that night.

“I…” the pavement looks gray, stones crooked, countless fights must’ve gone through here before.

“I don’t know.” From the edge that connects the floor to the walls, you try inspecting each dull color behind the lifeless filter, not acknowledging him standing there doesn’t feel any safer but it’s preferable to those eyes.

His lips don’t move but the ‘You don’t know?’ is heavy in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t remember!” someone’s yelling reaches your ears. “I just!-“

The yelling was yours, your arms fall back, go back up and you hold yourself, “I was… singing? To calm down… And the rest is just a blur.”

When you look up, he looks as disinterested. You consider yelling, asking for an explanation, what he’s thinking; it’s not that hard to piece it all, you think, but this demeanor rubs you the wrong way. The longer the silence goes, the eerier it becomes, the emptiness of the alley you’re standing in stands out. The lack of people, noise, light, it’d almost crash down on you if it wasn’t soin the open ever since he showed up.

“The words you spoke to Akutagawa. Are they from a song?”

“The ‘go to sleep’ you mean?” you finger quote the lyric, “it’s from Beach Life In-“ you stop with a shake of your head, “it’s from a song, yes.”

When you look again, it feels like an adult waiting for a child to connect the dots in front of them, like you’re the only one in the world who hasn’t figured it out already.

“But it makes no sense.” Hands on hips, eyes focused on a pebble near your foot, “I mean- it’s not like I haven’t sung before?” You turn then, start to pace, a hand on your forehead to push back the few strands brushing against your forehead.

It starts to warm up, or feels like it, each strand of hair just there, existing, leaving its weight on you, tickling, annoying, bothering; suffocating-

He cannot be right, can he?

Sure, self-awareness can change for each person but something so important as an ability shouldn’t be missed that easily… being a stranger to yourself when a stranger figured it out in mere seconds- it’s ridiculous, it simply doesn’t make sense, he must be wrong or confuse you with someone else, how can it be that bad, how can my perception be that bad, what else did I miss if all this is true and happening-

“Despite how the Port Mafia appears,” his voice pulls you out of your head, “ability users is not such a common occurrence. And surely the ability to affect your surroundings, or make people act certain ways is one we cannot let go of.”

I should drink some water, a part of you says when you gulp at his implications, ‘we cannot let go’ just gets out of his mouth and stays right in front of you, in bold jet black letters.

“What you should ask yourself is if you felt anything during all these times of singing…” silence feels enough of an answer, hyped up or not there isn’t much to feel, much to wish for. “Or if the words you snag back then were for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” “What did you feel that night?”

“Typical fight or flight response? Adrenaline, instinct to survive?”

“Stop assuming and start being more confident.” (like that night) a part of you yells, in his voice, though his is devoid of any emotion. You don’t want to learn how he sounds when he yells.

“I wanted to get out.” You try again. “Not to survive but to avoid death or whatever was awaiting me until that.” Sounds more like you, you straighten your back. “I didn’t want to stay any longer to see what they’d do to me so I found a way out.” He almost seems pleasant to hear the change in you, maybe it’s time to surprise him a little more.

“So let’s say,” you start pacing again, less like rambling and more like an animal circling, not a prey but a threat, because that’s what he is, what he has been and will be, “that I have an ability that I can use only when my emotional capacity is at a certain level… why would a mafia executive want me to have a better understanding of it?”

The radius decreasing with each step, you end your steps right in front of his face “what makes you think I won’t use it, right now, on you?” each pause between the words to make it clear this is a threat, no more of the power balance he held over you for too long. Your back to the beginning of the alley, you’re ready, in case he is one of them –if not, he might still have a gun.

He doesn’t falter, not a hair on him moves. Until he chuckles, at you and your words.

The vibration in his voice, nor the laughter reach his eyes.

“There are quite a few reasons why this won’t do, like how you cannot use it.”

The confidence in his voice makes the truth more unbearable.

“And besides, even if you managed to use it, it wouldn’t take me long to stop you.”

“Are you that fast?”

“Are you?”

This marks the end of it, as much as it pains to admit he is right, a part of you doesn’t want it, doesn’t feel the same sense of danger and survival to run away.

And regardless of all the threat he possesses, he doesn’t seem all too willing to get rid of you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn and walk away to the blinking store lights from the street. A second set of footsteps catch up to you in few long strides.

“So what is this then? You’re going to help me use my ability and leave me in debt?” reaching the traffic lights, you step onto the road without batting an eye.

“Why would I agree to something like that?” the car drives by, almost brushing your back. The sun has begun to set already, the colors mixing together.

The wind carries away his words but you catch them just in time: “You have a family and a cat, don’t you?”

You stop and look up. “Not a cloud in sight. Was it a sign of a rainy day to follow?” ignore the implications, don’t think about the faces. “A cloudy day perhaps, I always mix up the tells of the sky.”

“I’ll be around.” And he leaves with that.

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unprofessional-bard · 4 years

Text

Chapter 5 - Red in the Face

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: Mostly fluff but PTSD related events (panic attack).

Summary: An uneventful few months await the reader as her relationship with Joel and a Ellie develops - things take an interesting turn when Ellie stays over at the reader's house.

Word Count: 5.574

Author's Note: Yet another chapter named after a Mad Men episode, I think the name is fitting eheh... And as someone who doesn't drink coffee, I'm leaving what type of coffee Joel drinks to your imagination. Ahh anyways thank you all so much for reading!! 🥰

Enjoy!

Having a cup of coffee in the afternoon became a routine for you and Joel every two or three weeks. Sometimes once a week and with the company of Tommy or (mostly) Ellie, but you'd invite him over either after patrol or on your day off and just enjoy each other's company. You always had the morning shifts and Joel had the night shifts - sometimes you'd be assigned at the same time, but to different places or with different partners. The only thing you two had in common was your day off's, but not once had you two gone on patrol together, until one day Joel noticed how you came across traders on your patrol route more often than him and always brought him some coffee. He felt like he ought to repay that and invite you over for a different occasion other than dinner with the others. He grew quite fond of you in the following months after your first 'coffee session'. It was mid-June when he had asked Tommy to assign the both of you on patrol.

"Why?" Tommy smirked.

"She always comes across traders and brings me coffe, lord knows what she gives up for it..." Joel crossed his arms and stood in front of Tommy as he scribbled something down on his notebook in his office.

"So you're gonna give up patrollin' with me for our beloved Dolly, huh?" Tommy mocked offense as he closed the notebook and pushed it aside, looking up at Joel with a grin.

"She okay with you callin' her Dolly?" Joel raised his brows.

"She's okay with only us callin' her that."

"By us you mean-"

"By god, Joel," Tommy laughed heartily as he got up from his chair. "You can be so oblivious sometimes."

"What do you want from me?" Joel blushed lightly. "She'd break my fingers and shove them down my throat, I don't wanna be on her bad side."

"Yes, she would," Tommy nodded and stood across Joel, snickering. "But have you actually tried calling her that? She likes you, y'know."

Joel had thought on each word that came out of Tommy's mouth: Even if you hadn't admitted out loud, he knew you had a thing for Walt. He had a pretty keen eye for these stuff after all and didn't even bother giving the idea of you being interested in him a chance.

The twist was, his keen eyes will be proven wrong in the future. Twice.

Tommy and Maria were already aware of everything - even Ellie could see the way Joel looked at you, how his attention immediately shifted from whoever he was talking to or whatever he was doing to you whenever you made an entrance. Tommy broke the news of the patrol switch to Maria by saying that if neither of them had asked for it any sooner, I would've done it myself.

What about Walt? Well, yeah, about him...

Walt and Bonnie announced themselves as an official pair not long after your fight back in April. They lasted way longer than any of you had anticipated, which made you lose all hopes of getting with Walt, but it didn't bother you as much ever since Joel and you started going on patrols together. He was with you for a big part of the day and he was somewhat an even better company than Walt.

A few days after your fight, you asked Maria to assign you with Walt for that day's shift.

"Walt?" You called for him, nervous.

"(Y/N)..." His voice indicated that he wasn't hostile, just as stressed to confront you as you were.

"Let's talk?" You rubbed your hands together and he nodded in return, following you outside the gates. You rode on horses in silence for awhile until you reached the lodge lookout.

The both of you moved inside and Walt wrote down your names on the patrol logbook: 23/4; Walt/(Y/N); All clear -W.

You pursed your lips as you placed your backpack on the floor, then sat on a chair at the table. Walt sat across you - he always used to sit next to you, but now he was hesitant.

"Look, Walt," You began. "If I offended you in anyway-"

"No, (Y/N)," Walt interrupted you immediately. "I was being an ass, then in the heat of the moment we both said some stuff, but I hope I didn't cross any boundaries?"

"...No, but, you were acting so strange?" You looked at him, then decided to add: "Even Joel thought you were jealous of us until I told him that you had a thing with Bonnie."

Walt's eyes widened: "He- what?"

"I mean, if I didn't know you, I'd have thought the same..." You studied his face for a reaction, but only got a dumbfounded look. "Walt, look. I know you don't like Joel, but he's done good by me. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been here."

Walt stared at you, a mixed expression made of guilt and embarrassment on his face. You got up and sat by his side when he stayed silent: "I don't know why you don't like him - you don't have to explain yourself to me. I owe him my life and- well, at least be respectful to him. For my sake."

"But, what about him?"

"Joel treats people the way they treat him. He's struggling to fit in - if he sees that you mean well, he'll treat you the same way."

Walt nodded, ashamed of his childish acts, but hugged you tight when you said Come here and opened your arms for him. You both hugged each other, glad that this tension between you was officially over; but you two were never the same after that. Your romantic interest died down in the following months and Walt started spending more time with Bonnie to the point of ignoring you and, well, Joel being made your official patrol partner didn't help the case. You were really curious to find out why Walt didn't like Joel, but you had already said you didn't care and decided to leave it alone.

Despite the awkwardness, the time you spent with Joel on patrol from mid-June til the end of November had made significant improvements on your relationship. At this point, everyone (Tommy, Maria and Ellie being the most) was impatiently waiting for either of you to kiss the other, but neither of you were aware of each other's feelings. Joel didn't want to make a move to avoid ruining what he had with you because, even if you didn't spend as much time with Walt, he still thought you had a thing for the redhead; thus his 'disinterest' discouraged you to make a move of your own. Although you were sure he somewhat fancied you -because, come on, no one can deny the tension between you two- you also didn't want to make things awkward.

But nothing would've been more awkward than what you had gone through on an eventful December afternoon.

Joel and you were about to go on patrol, when Maria caught up to the both of you: "Joel, Dolly, wait."

"What's up?" You asked as you were about to get on your horse.

"Chad was on the Creek Trails a few days back, he told me there were a lot of infected over there," Maria sighed, then gave you an apologetic look. "You need backup."

It took you a moment to understand that Tommy was, in fact, not going to be the backup: "Maria, no-"

"Too late." Maria shut her eyes and looked away when Walt approached from behind her. There he was, only a week and a half later after his breakup with Bonnie, his posture giving away the fact that the effects of the said breakup were taking a toll on him.

The tension in the air was suffocating. You whispered Fuck me... under your breath as Maria told him to ride with either Joel or you, as they couldn't spare another horse. Walt and Joel weren't on bad terms after your confrontation with Walt, but they just stayed away from each other. This was going to be a hell of a patrol.

"C'mon," you forced a fake smile to your lips and beckoned him to ride with you. He got up, sat behind you and grabbed the edges of the saddle of the horse, then all of you rode off.

There was a blizzard on the way, it seemed, for the weather was cloudy and the wind was sharp against your cheeks as you rode through inches thick snow. Focusing on your horse was a good enough distraction, but the road ahead was short. When all of you arrived, you began biting the insides of your lips.

Walt went up first, helping you up the rope and words weren't quite enough to describe your surprise when Walt also offered Joel a hand. He must've been shocked too, for he took a while to grab Walt's arm and pull himself up. Maybe today won't be so awkward after all! After writing down a new entry on the logbook, you listened to the two men as you pretended to go through the pages of the logbook.

"We shouldn't stay here too long," Walt spoke quietly. "Let's complete the route and go back before the blizzard hits."

"Agreed," Joel spoke and turned to you. "C'mon."

You gladly obliged as you really didn't want to be stuck with them in a blizzard. You didn't go through the Creek Trails too often as the route involved a river beside an old evacuated town, but you acted like it wasn't a big deal. Tommy was the first to show you the Creek Trails and it was going well until you reached the river. A scenario similar to the one with Joel right before you reached Jackson played out. Tommy was fortunately informed by Joel about your condition months ago, so he kept things mostly under control. He wasn't unfamiliar with the situation: There were many people in Jackson who suffered the same way you did from PTSD, but still, he never thought he'd see you like that.

It had been almost a year since you took this route and luckily, the current was slow, almost frozen. Going through the town, you all scouted the houses quickly. Everything seemed okay until you reached the supermarket, where Joel heard distressing noises from inside.

"We need a few people to secure the windows here," You said and got in position, rifle at the ready. You and Walt went in first, Joel following from behind.

"Just like the good ol' days, huh?" Walt whispered.

"You mean our patrol days or militarily?" You smiled, to which he replied Both.

Sweeping through the outer aisles were easy, nothing you hadn't done before. But the further you walked in, you noticed the spores beginning to appear: "Masks on, boys."

You pushed open a door slowly, only to be greeted by three clickers and a few runners in the main isle. The whole sweep went quietly for the most part, until a runner saw Joel.

"Joel!" You ran over to him. Joel, startled, turned around and leaned back on the glass to pull his pistol out but the runner was closer than he thought. It directly ran into him, pushing them through the glass and shattering it. You quickly shot the runner, but were horrified at the sight in front of you: The parking lot was swarming with infected.

You quickly hopped over to Joel's side and pulled him up, Walt right behind you. The noise had obviously attracted all the infected toward you all.

"Shit!" You jumped back as there was no place left to escape from the parking lot. Walt began shooting at them, giving Joel time to go inside, then followed you both back the way you came.

"This way!" Joel beckoned as he went through a different door which led to a long hallway. You put down a couple of runners before closing the door and ran to where Walt and Joel were.

"Through here," Joel said and entered a room to your right. He closed the door and the three of you pushed a vending machine in front of it, breathing heavily as the infected made their way into the corridor, kicking and scratching at the door of the room.

"We need to clear them out-" Walt.

"We can't," Joel interrupted him. "There are too many of 'em. We'll come back with more people but right now we gotta get outta here."

"Through here," you called them over to a hole on the wall. "Boost me up."

Joel and Walt made a move and stopped at the same time, Walt letting Joel go first, once more, to everyone's surprise. Joel pushed you up and you pulled yourself through the wall but lost your balance and fell: "Fuck-!"

You landed on your feet but you were sure you sprained -or maybe even fractured- your ankle when you landed and cried out in pain.

"(Y/N)?!" Both men shouted from the other side in panic, Walt quickly getting into position to boost Joel up: "Go, quick!"

"I'm fine," You hissed, quickly looking around the room to find it empty. "It's clear here."

Joel jumped down and kneeled beside you: "You okay?"

"My ankle, I-" You stared into Joel's eyes but with a loud crash, infected filled the room. Without wasting time, Joel dragged you toward a counter to your right and pulled out his pistol again. A great amount of anxiety washed over you - how the hell were you going to get out of this? And where the hell was Walt?!

But you knew you couldn't give into fear, not now. You always found a way out... Even though your ankle ached really bad and it began reminding you of the time when the Hunters-

You pushed yourself up to see how many infected you were dealing with. Relieved to see only two clickers and four runners, you looked over to Joel and he looked at you: "Cover me."

You nodded as he sneaked over to the closest runner and took it down without attracting any attention to himself. He took down the other one as well, but before he could approach the third, Joel stepped on a broken piece of glass and suddenly had four infected running towards him. You shot down the remaining runners before he retreated back to where you were, stunning a clicker with a brick in the meanwhile. You realized, to your horror, that you ran out of ammo at that moment and had to reload, but there was no time. Joel took down one of the two clickers with his remaining bullets, but neither of you could do anything about the last one. Joel grabbed you by the arm and helped you over the counter before the clicker could get a hold of you, but he pulled you with such panick and force, you fell on top of him with a Oof!

Joel must've hit his head - his movements slowed down and couldn't push the both of you away from the approaching clicker. Your ankle was twisted up in this position, which made you whine in pain as you tried to turn around with Joel's knife in hand, but couldn't. You growled and cried out, a buzzing in your ear similar to the stream drowning out the terrorising noises of the clicker as it made its way toward you.

"Joel, get up, come on!" Tears streamed down your face and you watched as he opened his eyes, which widened at the sight before him.

Joel hugged you by the waist, turned you around and pressed you down on the ground, covering your body with his before the clicker reached you.

Thud!

Your eyes were shut tight, the only thing you could hear was muffled voices of Walt grunting and sounds of stabbing as you struggled to breathe. You opened your eyes and looked to the left to see Walt stabbing the hell out of the clicker. You watched with terrified eyes as he slowly got up, mask covered in blood and looked over to the both of you, breathing heavily: "Y'all... y'all okay?"

Joel slowly raised his head up and looked at Walt, then back to you. Your eyes glowed with your tears as Joel stared at them - his right hand was holding the back of your neck and the left one was tight around your waist. Was he really about to sacrifice himself so that you'd survive?

Was he even aware what that would've done to you?

He got off you slowly, still holding you by the neck and turned to Walt: "Yeah- you clean?"

"Yup, I'm okay," Walt coughed and kneeled beside you. "We need to get out of here."

"She's hurt- Can you walk darlin'?" Joel asked, rubbing the side of your neck with his thumb in slow motions to calm you as your whole body trembled.

"I don't know," You whispered and sniffed. You grabbed both men's hands and pulled yourself up, but cried out when you tried to take a step forward, almost collapsing on spot.

"I got you," Joel walked in front of you and kneeled slightly, then Walt helped you up on his back. He grabbed your thighs and adjusted your form, then began following Walt out of the market.

"Joel..." You pressed your masked face against his coat and whimpered, hanging onto him as if your life depended on it.

"We're almost out, Dolly, you're safe," Joel reassured you. Luckily for you all, there were no infected outside but the weather had significantly gotten worse. Walt quickly got up on your horse and picked you up, making you sit on the saddle as Joel hopped on his own horse. You all rode off the way you came as fast as you could, barely making it back to Jackson without a delay.

The three of you took off your masks once you were inside. Joel immediately rushed to your side while Walt was helping you off the horse.

"I'll take her to the doctor," Joel grabbed you and carried you bridal style while Walt nodded and went over to the stables.

"It hurts really bad," You spoke as he carried you, voice cracking but feeling safer in his arms. "I- I think it's broken."

"You're fine Dolly... almost there. Katherine is going to fix you up, don't you worry."

It turned out that you had fractured your ankle and Katherine told you that had you taken a harder fall, you could've broken it altogether. You spent the night at the infirmary after she insisted, Ellie and some of the other kids staying with you for awhile before Katherine asked them to leave you so you could rest.

"You won't be getting rid of me this easily after you're back home!" Ellie had said before she left.

And she was quite right, for she was the one to help you back to your house with Maria the next day.

"Ellie, I'm fine, it's not like I have a concussion and broken ribs..." As much as you appreciated her help, you felt bad for taking up her time.

"You can't walk without crutches and I know for a fact that you're gonna get bored - you could use some company." Ellie sat beside you on your bed after Maria left. Katherine had said that your ankle was going to take around a month to heal and you wanted to bang your head against a wall then, not wanting to sit around. Maria and Tommy offered you to stay at their house a million times but you just wanted to be alone with your thoughts and trauma. You wanted to think about anything and everything and you knew no one other than Joel and Ellie would grant you such opportunity while being by your side. That's how your first day went: Ellie stayed until late hours and Joel visited when his shift was done.

"How're you feelin'?" He asked, standing by the bed where you'd been sleeping before he came.

"Alright I guess," You sighed. "I can't stand sitting around and doing nothing. It's like my first weeks here all over again."

Joel chuckled, then looked at the frame on your night stand, picking it up. It was a picture of you and Kurt in it: "I've been seein' this picture every time I came here and couldn't help but wonder who he is..."

You smiled and turned to your side a little, patting on the bed so that he'd sit down: "That would be Kurt. You could say he was my... mentor or something."

"Oh, right. Was he...?" Joel trailed off after sitting beside you.

"Yeah, he was there with them..." You nodded, remembering the day when you all got ambushed. "Eugene reminds me of him sometimes."

Joel nodded quietly and put the frame down: "I uh, I got one too. A picture of me and my... daughter."

You gave him a surprised look - you already knew his story, but you were genuinely surprised that he actually opened up to you about it after almost eight months. You felt a little guilty about having heard of this story before as he told you what had happened to Sarah. You keept quiet and let him vent, but hearing the story from Joel himself sent shivers down your spine - as if you were hearing it for the first time.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," You said once he finished. After a short moment of hesitation, you slowly put your hand on top of his. "I really am. I can't imagine how horrifying that must've been for you."

Joel whispered a small Yeah and looked away, not moving his hand from under yours and enjoying your small gesture. His thumb moved out under your own and rubbed it gently.

"I wish I could take a photo of you two right now!" Ellie suddenly appeared from the hallway, making the both of you jerk away from each other. She had gone to get something when Joel arrived a few minutes ago: "I wanted to stay here for the night, is that okay?"

Your eyes widened and so did your smile: "You don't have to, sweetie-"

"If I get too bored here, can she come and stay with you for a few days?" Ellie suddenly asked Joel.

"Now, Ellie, don't force her to do something she doesn't wanna do. She's too kind to decline."

You blushed a little at his comment and playfully slapped his shoulder: "Nobody's forcing me into anything, cowboy. Besides, it's your house - if I have a permission to stay, then I'll consider staying."

Joel smiled shyly: "You're right... Ah, what the hell, why don't you come over tonight?"

It was your turn to blush: "Not today, I'm afraid, I just want to sleep here for awhile."

"Alrighty then," Joel dropped his hands on his thighs, then got up. "Just let me know when you wanna stay 'n I'll come pick you up."

With that Joel left, wishing the both of you a goodnight. Ellie changed into her 'pyjamas' and curled up on the bed next to you before pulling the blanket over her body. The only light illuminating the room was the candle in you gas lamps on the nightstands on each side. You turned to Ellie - she seemed to be lost in her thoughts. You two were laying like you did in that cabin, the memory making you smile.

"So, when are you two gonna get married?" Ellie asked all of a sudden.

"Oh shush, Ellie," You squirmed and look away, making her laugh.

"I still cannot believe you two aren't together already!" Ellie spoke excitedly. "I don't know what's keeping you two... Don't tell me you still want Walt-"

"No, no," You blushed, running your fingers through your hair. "Hey, who says Joel likes me anyways? He's clearly not interested in me, Ells."

Ellie's expression turned serious. Looking you dead in the eye, she spoke, struggling not to curse: "You have got to be kidding me."

"What?!" Your eyes widened. You weren't sure if you wanted to hear the rest of what she had to say or not.

"No offense, (Y/N)," Ellie sat up. "I know Joel is blind, but I never thought you'd be as blind as him."

You weren't sure how to react, so you just stared off to the ceiling and thought: Joel was always so sweet toward you. He was patient, careful, gentle and protective... But wasn't that how he always was? You weren't really that special, were you?

"Oh god..." You sighed and covered your face with both of your hands. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, no I was just joking," Ellie rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm fucking serious!"

"Joel always had this silly idea that after all this time you were still into Walt," Ellie explained as you rubbed your face upwards and ran your hands through your hair. "I sometimes force a few words out of him about you and everyone knows that he has eyes for you... except for you it seems."

Your heart felt like bursting: "Oh dear lord, this can't be real..."

"Awh, look at you!" Ellie snuggled closer to you. "Blushing like a teenager, haha!"

"Says you!" You changed the topic and tickled her sides, making her drop to her side. "I may be blind with my own case, but I'm not blind enough to miss my Ellie's romantic shenanigans."

Ellie suddenly stopped laughing, face flushed red: "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Look who's blushing like a teen now," You smiled softly. "I've worked with children enough to see some things you think we can't see."

You honestly didn't have a clue she liked girls the first month you knew her. It all started adding up some time after Joel and her came back to Jackson. The kids there liked you and you liked them - they were mostly young teens who needed mentoring for patrols or with anything. You mentored Dina and Jesse for a while before Ellie arrived and Eugene began mentoring Dina. You saw the way Ellie got nervous around Cat - the way she blushed and stuttered while Cat was more confident around her. Ellie talked to you about everything but her own 'love life' and you never forced her to, whenever you cracked a few jokes, she'd immediately tense up and change the subject. After two or three times, it clicked - she was definitely into girls.

"How... how long have you known?" Ellie asked and got off the bed, turning around and doing her stressed finger gesture.

"Awhile now," You sat up as best as you could and stared at her worriedly. "Ellie, it's okay." She slowly turned around, panick spread across her face. "Are you okay sweetie?"

"No," Her voice cracked after a moment of silence.

You beckoned her back to bed beside you: "It's alright baby, there's nothing to be scared of..." She sniffed and climbed back to bed, finding her comfort in your embrace. "It's okay, Ellie."

"Does Joel know?" She asked quietly as you brushed your fingers through her hair, hugging her.

"No, I don't think he does. I haven't told anyone what I thought, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, okay-" Ellie took a deep breath. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"You'll tell him when you feel ready," You placed a small kiss on the side of her head. "This goes for anyone. Whenever you're ready, you'll tell them."

"But, what if they're not okay with it?"

"Well, fuck them." You smiled when she gave you a look. "If they can't deal with you for who you are, there's something wrong with them, not you."

The words seemed to have an effect on her, for her breathing calmed down and her eyes focused on a spot in your room, probably deep in thought. You two stayed like that for a while, Ellie eventually yawning and cuddling up to you after blowing out the candle on her side.

"Goodnight darling," You kissed her temple and blew out the candle by your side. "Love you."

"Love you too, (Y/N)," Ellie whispered sleepily, then fell asleep in your arms.

You felt like, after that, you had earned Ellie's trust completely. She became more like a daughter to you, which made things between you and Joel a little awkward considering he was like a father to her. You wondered if she thought of the both of you as her parents - if she felt the joy of having parental figures around her with the both of you. She'd come to you whenever she felt down or emotional- or for anything, really. You both had a factor in common which helped you both relate to and understand each other: survivor's guilt. It was upsetting, but you two had each other. You told Ellie what she wanted to hear and vice versa.

By New Year's, she gave you the most precious gift: A masterfully drawn picture of you... with Joel in a frame.

"Christmas comes but once a year!" Ellie chuckled at your reddening face. "I thought you might like this."

"Like?" You laughed. "I absolutely love this- Ellie, you're so talented. Thank you so much, sweetheart."

"Whatcha got there?" Joel leaned forward over your shoulder to take a look at the picture and his eyes widened immediately. "Oh..."

"Right? Isn't it beautiful?" You stared at the picture in awe, cheeks heating up.

"It really is," Joel turned his head to your face slightly, his nose inches away from your cheek. After Ellie had purposefully nonchalantly revealed that your interest in Walt had died a long time ago and that you had said this yourself, much to Joel's relief, he really began thinking on making a move when it was convenient. The problem was, he just didn't know how to, until Ellie came up with a gift idea.

"Did you get something for (Y/N)?" She asked Joel on patrol one day.

"What for?"

"Uh, the word Christmas ring a bell? Well, I found a frame for her, so she can put that picture of hers in it. She always complained about not coming across a frame for it, I think she'll appreciate it."

Joel thought on her words: He had completely forgotten about Christmas - it was his first after many many years, after all. Ellie noticed the thoughtful look on his face and spoke: "You know what? Why don't you give her the frame?"

"I- What?"

"You heard me," Ellie smirked. "I'll get her something else, you should give her the frame instead."

Joel had remained quiet then, but thought about Ellie's offer for awhile and, once he was back at home, an idea presented itself in his little workshop in his house.

"Y'know what?" Joel had given the frame back to her the next day. "You hold onto this, I'm gonna make her something."

And that was what you were greeted with right after you took your eyes off Ellie's gift: "I got a little somethin' for you."

It was a wooden frame, beautifully carved flowers on the corners and the picture of Alpha One in it. Your heart skipped a beat, your breathing coming to a stop, eyes widening at the sight.

You slowly took the frame from him with trembling hands. The happiness you felt was indescribable, did he actually take his time to make this? For you? Your eyes teared up: "My god... How did you get this?"

"You could say a little bandit helped me," Joel smiled over to Ellie, who was watching the both of you with an excited grin spread across her face.

You exhaled with a short laugh, looked between your gift and Joel and then, despite the cast around your ankle, pushed yourself up. His expression turned into a panicked one for a second before you turned around, giggled with tears rolling down your face and hugged him. It took Joel a moment to process what was happening, but he quickly returned the hug and wrapped his arms around your waist: "Thank you, Joel."

"Merry Christmas, Dolly," Joel sighed, content. A genuinely happy smile formed on his lips and his eyes closed unintentionally, finding the comfort he sought for so long in your arms. You felt like, his arms around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder - his body was made for yours, like puzzle pieces.

"Mistletoe!" Ellie suddenly appeared by the both of you, stepping on your seat with the said plant in hand, holding it above the both of you and shaking it.

You pulled away from him, hands resting on his shoulders as you stared at Ellie with embarrassment. Joel, cheeks red like the ribbon which held the mistletoe together, looked away shyly. You bit your lower lip and turned your head back towards him, gazed into his eyes with a soft smile playing on your lips. Your hands moved up to his neck slowly, eyes glowing. This cannot be happening.

Ah, what the hell, just go for it, were Joel's last thoughts before he pulled you close by your waist and pressed his lips to yours. A long overdue, passionate, deep kiss was shared between you two; a kiss that made everyone in the room cheer and clap at the sight.

"Finally!"

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #tlou x reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic

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memoriashell · 4 years

Text

seashells and shores ( and something a bit more )

Characters / Pairing: Fukawa Touko / Naegi Komaru, ensemble class 78; varyingly background / implied ships are sakuraoi / ishimondo / celeschi / naeleogami

crossposted on ao3

Notes: a very late day 3 for @tokomaruweek. beach prompt! yesterday i was feeling a little burnt out so i decided to not write since i didn’t want to put out something half assed. hopefully this being a bit longer helps make up for it! ( and by a bit, i mean i basically doubled the word count compared to what i’ve done for this week so far lmao rip so much for hoping i’d catch up tonight )

rated t for touko's trauma. and also for junko having her tits out. thanks junko.

anyways tw for like trauma, the general self-depricating / self-concious stuff for toko but also like. her trauma w/ water is brought up since it's. beach? and also drowning doesn't actually happen but it is brought up. and touko mentions claustrophobia in relation to her trauma offhandedly once, and again, just generally feeling insecure.

also it's kinda implied that chihiro and celes are both trans thank you!!!

Summary: going to the beach isn't exactly an exciting thought for her, given the fact she has no desire getting in the water.

komaru seems dead set on making sure she makes some memories anyways.

Do you want to come to the beach with us? That is the first text of the morning that she receives, courtesy of Makoto Naegi. Touko considers asking who he means by us, gathers that he probably means some assortment of their classmates, and ( while it is very tempting to say yes ) concludes that she can safely say no. And she intends to do exactly that, but she gets a set of texts that stops her from being able to do so.

touko-chan!!!!

ur coming with us, right?

you should come with us!

itll be fun!

So Komaru would be there too— their...friendship is odd, all things considered. Not that the knowledge of knowing she’d be there makes the offer any more tempting, but she bites her lip and considers what to say. Not that there’s really much of a question, just keep it blunt and to the point as per usual. No point in sugar coating things.

I’m busy. Maybe next time. She’s not that busy, current manuscript aside. Not that Touko intended on ever not being busy. It’s not her fault that Komaru is too dense to take a hint.

awww :(

pls?

if u don’t wanna get in the water, ill make sure they’ll leave you alone. im sure you won’t be the only one that doesnt want to!!

Ah. She might have to ( partially ) retract her statement on Komaru being dense. Had she figured out her reluctance without her even mentioning it, or had that just been a lucky guess? Maybe it was just Makoto’s luck rubbing off on her...

i understand if you don’t want to come

and i’ll leave u alone if u rlly dont wanna come.

but it wont be as much fun without you there :(

Urgh. Yeah, this girl doesn’t understand a thing, does she? She’s probably not even realized the impact her words have on her. Touko grumbles under her breath, but figures she should respond before Komaru sends another text begging trying to convince her.

Fine.

I’m not going in the water, though.

If this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you.

That is a lie. Even if worst comes to worst and Syo feels the need to front for her, she won’t hold it against her. She’s the one who agreed, after all. It’s just one last attempt at offering her an out. To change her mind. Like she should. But Komaru is nothing if not stubborn, so she doesn’t really expect that offer to be taken up on. She starts making a mental checklist of what she probably needs to take with her, doesn’t get very far into that list because Komaru’s response is nearly instantaneous.

yayayayay tnk u touko-chan ily!!!!!! :D

we’ll pick u up k????

ur staying @ the place near the dorms right? see u soon!! ♡♡

Touko grimaces at the butchering of language that is Komaru’s texting ( and ignores her own fluttering heart upon seeing the casual hearts sprinkled in at the end ), and sends back, If you love me, fix your grammar.

The car ride over is mostly uneventful. In that she means she feels like she’s going to have a headache before they even get there and Makoto keeps giving her a sympathetic look. In other words, she’s learned that Komaru and both Asahina siblings should not be left to entertain themselves for the hour-long car ride, but the only silver lining here is that it was only an hour-long ride and hopefully they would be tired out for the ride back.

The highlight of the hour was that even if it’d been a tight squeeze in the backseat, that meant she’d been ( somewhat ) uncomfortably sandwiched between the door and Komaru herself. She’s a little surprised that it doesn’t set off her claustrophobia, but reckons that might just be because it’s too bright to remind her of being locked in a closet. And also because Komaru is generally distracting in close proximity, from the way she’d been halfway sitting on her lap, to the faint scent of what Touko figures to be her shampoo.

She also considers it a victory that she did not dissociate in the midst of that, but probably only because Komaru kept checking on her and apologizing for how close they are: she’d had to bite her tongue several times from saying something harsher than she’d really mean. She doesn't hate Syo, but probably counterintuitive to let them front today: whether they are aware of this, or simply just disinterested in trying to front right now, she is thankful. If nothing else, she would consider this some kind of learning moment. Maybe. Something to draw inspiration from?

Still, once she’s free from the confines of the car, she can actually relax a little— or does for all of two seconds before Komaru has grabbed onto her free hand and started dragging her towards the loud group that she recognizes as her class. Yuta and Aoi had bolted out of the car the moment they’d come to a stop to race to the waters ( she can’t imagine being that athletic and feels tired watching them ). Touko gazes back longingly at the confines of the car and the consideration that she might’ve been able to isolate herself there, but her grip’s pretty tight on her hand. Which is nice, and distracts her from thinking about escaping until it's way too late, and she’s forced to look at the group before her, and—

Slaps a hand over Komaru’s eyes with a groan. “Enoshima, wh-what the fuck, you—” She holds off on the ( derogatory ) word she wants to say, and just scowls at the sight before her. “This isn’t a...a nude beach? Are you t-t-trying to get us in trouble or something?” Granted she’s not technically completely nude, but also more revealing than she should be. Seriously, she would’ve figured that Ishimaru would’ve already told Enoshima off already because what else is he good for ( then again, he is single-handedly the only person who would probably take no real issue with it, or be naively convinced by her that it wasn’t really a problem, so maybe she really shouldn’t be that surprised ).

Enoshima cackles at her. “Don’t be a prude, Fukawa! Or are you jealous? I’m just trying to get a sick tan.” While she’s at it, where the hell is Ikusaba to keep her sister in check? Whatever, that’s not really important, and she refuses to dignify that with a response given that Enoshima probably only wants to get a rise out of her.

Instead, she makes sure to put a decent distance between them before removing her hand from over Komaru’s eyes with a huff. “Urgh, honestly...what on earth m-made her think that was a, a good idea?” She grumbles, glancing around now that she doesn’t have to stare directly at...that.

Actually, now that she looks around, the only seemingly responsible person from their class currently present was Oogami— and honestly, she seems too busy being in love with her girlfriend to count ( if it wasn’t kind of heartwarming, she’d probably be disgusted. Not in a homophobic way, in a general ew PDA sort of way ). As for any else viably responsible: Kirigiri being absent wasn’t a surprise, Fujisaki’s too soft to really keep people in check, Byakuya is...his own entirely separate category, and she would rather die than count Hagakure as responsible in any capacity. And Makoto might be a voice of reason, but she’s pretty sure he’s utterly useless here. Which is probably a horrible sign of things to come, but what else did she expect from anything involving her peers?

“You don’t want to go in the water, right?” Komaru’s voice cuts in through her thoughts, watching her closely before taking her hand to start pulling her along then. “We should set up somewhere to sit, then!”

We? She thinks, but instead attempts to free her hand from her grip and voices, “...Don’t you want to go in th-the water with the rest of them? You don’t have to, uh, to stay with me, you know. I’m not a k-k-kid.”

Her expression looks conflicted. “Well, yeah, of course I do want to! But only for a bit, probably? I mean, it’d be kind of rude to leave you alone since I asked you to come?”

She ignores the way her stomach twists at that, and purses her lips. “Technically s-speaking, Makoto asked first. You aren’t— it’s not rude of you to want...to want to have some fun without me. I know I’m n-n-not fun to stick around.” She knows she wouldn’t want to stick around herself if she had the choice. “It’s not like, like I wasn’t prepared for th-that.”

“Yeah, but— that’s the thing. You shouldn’t be! And I want to spend time with everyone, and that includes you too.” And now she’s sulking. God. Fukawa is about to growl back something she’ll probably regret saying, but is saved from doing so by a much calmer voice interrupting, having overheard their argument.

“Why don’t you go join your brother for a bit? Fukawa-san can join us if she would like to. We have an extra seat.”

Celes looks hot— and she means that in a very literal sense ( mostly ), decked out in one of her usual frilly black dresses. She looks out of place in the hot summer heat. Touko is also not sure where and how she managed to get a table out here ( and tea, apparently, and you know what she’s just not going to question it ), but Fujisaki is already pulling out the extra seat in offering, and she sighs reluctantly. Better this than feeling like she’s holding Komaru back.

“G-G-Go. Or...or I’ll let Syo toss you in the water.” Not really a threat - if anything, Syo would dive bomb into the water with her. Argh, maybe she should’ve just let them front today...

( No, no she shouldn’t have. The only person currently present that Syo would’ve mostly listened to would be Komaru— and maybe Makoto or Fujisaki if they were feeling generous— which is an entirely different set of issues she doesn’t want to linger on. Needless to say, she doesn’t particularly want Syo to cause chaos today )

Touko is saved from having to argue further with her on this because as Komaru opens her mouth to protest, Yuta comes to steal her away, blabbering on about something about a game they should play: and while he’s definitely as oblivious as his sister, she’ll consider that a good thing, just this once. The only words Komaru manages to get in is to ask Toko to keep her bag for her, which she would’ve done anyways, picking it up from where she’d dropped it. She watches them wander off ( and only looks away when Komaru starts discarding the clothes she’d been wearing over her swimsuit ) before trudging over to sit next to Fujisaki, who flashes her a small smile as she types away on her laptop.

“I am surprised you came, Fukawa-san. You do not seem like the type for these activities. You are usually quite disinterested in participating in these kinds of things, in fact. Did something change?” Ugh. This is why Touko hates being around Ludenberg. Because she’s observant, generally only bested by Kirigiri in that regard, and is generally good at picking people apart when it comes to lies and acts and fronts ( though Touko would argue this is from personal experience, and not from being a gambler ). And this fact would have irritated her, quite honestly, if she had not self-sabatoged herself by taking it as an insult, instead.

“I-I-I get it. No one really wants...wants me here. That’s what you meant, right...? You don’t have to r-remind me.” She grits her teeth. If nothing else, when she isn’t busy lying, Touko can appreciate her honesty. The tiny hand that wraps around her wrist stops her from saying anything further, even if it doesn’t take much to wrench her arm out of Fujisaki’s grasp: but she gets the feeling she is only able to do so because she isn’t actually trying to hold on too tightly.

“I’m sure th-that’s not what she meant, Fukawa-san...” Ever quick to play peacekeeper, she supposes. Touko simply grumbles at her and rolls her eyes. “...Especially since not everyone was available today, it’s nice that you were able to join us!”

“Yes, it is a shame. I would have liked for Yamada-kun to have been able to help with my tea, today.” Celes sighs as if disappointed— really? That’s what she’s on about?

Touko does a second look at who is not currently gathered, and denotes, “Is Maizono st-still out on tour...?” She thinks Komaru had mentioned something like that in passing.

“Yes! Maizono-san is on tour, Yamada-kun is at an important convention, Ikusaba-san, she’s...doing some kind of training...? I think Kirigiri-san is supposed to be on the tail end of a rough case, and...” Here Fujisaki pauses to giggle into her hand. “I sh-shouldn’t really laugh at this really, but Ishimaru-kun got sick. Oowada-kun had to force him to rest since he had been trying to work through it and made it worse for himself... or so that’s what I was told.”

Oh, so that’s the reason she hasn’t heard the loudmouths today? She might take back her sentiments on Ishimaru being useless, but he’s on thin fucking ice. Of course the overachiever would get sick during the summer holidays— apparently, she’s not alone in that thought.

“Only Ishimaru-kun would get sick during vacation and still manage to find a reason to not take a break.” Celes rolls her eyes, but Touko gets the feeling she’s amused too.

“So wh-what you’re saying is, uh, is that Oowada’s going to get sick next...right? I guess— we’ll find out if idiots get s-s-sick or not.” Touko quips— which earns a softer laugh from Fujisaki, so that’s pretty good.

Of course, it wouldn’t be like her if she didn’t put her foot in her mouth almost immediately afterwards by asking why they aren’t going in the water: she’s not really surprised because Celes rarely participates in gym ( and coming from Touko that says a lot ), but she was pretty sure Fujisaki wasn’t that self-conscious of herself. Not as much? Not that she really has any place to talk in that regard.

“Well, we already went to the beach at the start of the summer holidays! I’m not really missing out on anything, and it’s probably not my last opportunity to go during this break anyways.” And then, a little more sheepishly. “...Also I’m close to making a breakthrough on this code, I think. I wanted the fresh air, but I don’t really think I can afford to take much of a break right now.”

“She would have stayed on the train if I did not warn her we were approaching our stop, I believe. And not all of us can be like Enoshima. The brazenness of that woman is truly something else.” Touko is not sure if she says that from a place of respect or fear, and honestly she relates. And also doesn’t say any further on the subject because Celes gives her a dirty look.

Her gaze goes back out to their peers— she is pointedly avoiding needing to look at where Enoshima is— and spots Komaru and Yuta splashing around with Aoi and Oogami. Well, it looks like just splashing at least, from where she’s at. And Hagakure, who really just looks like an out-of-place sea cretin with the way his hair floats on the water’s surface, so. There’s that?

( No, she’s not at all envious of the fact that all of them get to have fun because they don’t have crippling fears: the ocean does not instill the same fear of confinement that a cramped bathtub does, but fear— there is still the fear that something will tug her down and her body will simply let herself dragged underneath out of instinct, a fear of something worse if she tries to fight for survival— )

Focus. She can feel the way her breath catches a little, the uneasy way her heart beats and concentrates on calming down. She doesn’t seem to have gotten Syo’s attention yet, nor anyone else’s, thankfully. She’ll just...watch Komaru for now, yeah. It takes a moment to relocate her, head breaching from underneath the water and surfacing like...like one of the sea’s legendary enchantresses. She means that in a wholly respectful way, of course, watching the way she shakes the water from her hair, mouth open in a wide grin while she laughs. Touko doesn’t need to hear her to know that on the sole basis of her appearance— the bright look in her eyes is enough to say she is happily enjoying herself without her.

On that note, hm. Maybe she can use some of that for the basis of her next novel— something about a siren and a lady visiting the sea? Tragic romances are always a hit, aren’t they? Okay maybe a tragic lesbian romance is more self-projection, but that's besides the point. No one has to know its self-projection if people eat it up like anything else that has her name on it.

Or maybe you need to talk to a therapist more often? Syo contributes helpfully, apparently having become more conscious at some point. Maybe her panic hadn’t gone as unnoticed as she thought. Not that they’re wrong, but talking to a therapist isn’t exactly going to help with her gay pining ( unfortunately, she wishes it were that simple ).

Yeah, that’s not something she really wants to linger on, and as if Celes can read her mind, says, “How do you ladies feel about a bet?”

“Pass.” Touko says immediately, because she is arguably far from a smart person, but she is smart enough to know to not take her chances against the ultimate gambler. Celes ignores her.

“You see, I would bet that Komaru—”

“No. We’re leaving h-her out of it.” Toko interrupts, and Fujisaki ( thankfully, like the god sent angel she is, even if she seems too good to be real ) nods her agreement.

“I don’t think Naegi-kun would be really happy if he heard us talking about his little sister like that...” Her reasoning is fair, if nothing else.

“Fine. Do you think Naegi-kun is going to interfere on Togami-kun’s behalf, or help Kuwata-kun?” A painted fingernail points out the trio by the sea. Kuwata seems pretty intent on forcing Togami into the sea, suit and all, much to his disdain. The duo is yelling, probably. On the other hand, Makoto just looks like he doesn’t know whose side he’s supposed to be on here.

In the end, it doesn’t matter because by some luck ( or lack thereof ) Togami manages to trip on a washed up stone and ends up taking the other two boys down with him. The heir doesn’t even look all that mad, really, as Kuwata dunks him back under the water in retaliation: she knows what his angry face is, and that is not it, even if it looks kind of like he’s swallowing a lemon.

Or maybe that’s just her and her sour mood feeling like she’s swallowed several lemons raw because Touko doesn’t know how to make lemonade out of all the citrus life has handed her.

“By the way Fukawa-san, about Komaru—” Celes starts, but is interrupted by Komaru’s sharp yelling, which is followed by the wet feeling of her arms wrapping around her. Touko frowns, pushing her away.

“You’re w-wet.” She states the obvious as she makes a face, not that that seems to stop her. “Are you...you're done going in the water f-f-for now?”

“Mhm! It’s too cold in the water, honestly. You’re nice and warm.” Komaru hums happily, and she grabs a towel from her bag to wrap her up in it before she ends up being the next sick kid. “I was thinking we could maybe spilt a snack...? And then we could make a sandcastle! Asahina-san was telling me about shells she saw earlier that we could use?” Touko bites back a small snort at how childish she sounds.

“Yeah, yeah— let go of me, s-so I can get up...” She agrees, ignoring the curious way Celes’ watches their interactions. She mutters something that passes for a thanks before she leaves ( not that she thinks Fujisaki notices at that point, full enraptured by her laptop screen ).

By snack, Touko realizes that this is more of a way of making sure she eats lunch— Syo had not so accidentally let it slip once that when she gets caught up on things, she has the tendency to skip meals. She bites her tongue on saying that it wasn’t necessary and instead pays for their meal because she can do that, she has the money to spare for that kind of thing: and she knows she doesn’t need to, but sometimes she feels like she needs to make it up to her before Komaru gets sick of their friendship.

And if it comes off like a date, that’s simply just coincidence.

When they return to the shore, Komaru drags her off to an area a little more secluded— she doesn’t really realize this at first, simply accepting her fate to follow along, but notices she can’t really hear anyone else. It helps her relax, feel like she doesn’t need to be so guarded.

( It doesn’t stop Touko from briefly complaining about how sandy she’s going to get because of this, which is annoying. And then immediately shuts up because Komaru offers to let her borrow her clothes, and she has nothing coherent that she can say to that. She eventually manages to spit out a no when it becomes obvious Komaru is waiting for her to say something )

“Well, okay then. You can always let me know if you change your mind.” She says, then, “Oooh, Touko-chan! It looks like there are tide pools over here!”

Komaru leaves her to pick out shells for them to use while she does the dirty work of constructing a sand castle. “So you won’t end up too sandy,” she explains. “And I trust your eyes to pick out nice shells.” She can’t really complain— although she almost makes a scathing comment about the fact that her eyes can't really be trusted when she wears glasses— and just keeps away from the waves for the most part. The water laps at her feet while she lingers around the tide pool, and then returns with the fruits of her search.

It’s...not an awfully constructed sand castle. Well, that’s probably more than a little generous to say. You know, if she was going to compare it to something kids made. As it stands ( or doesn’t, if Touko is being honest ), it’s probably not the most...concretely built and looks like part of the base might fall apart at any moment, but doesn’t say anything as she dumps an assortment of shells at her feet. And then pulls out a towel, so she can sit and watch her work. It feels like there’s another problem with this, but she can’t quite place what it is; it’s probably not important enough to point out.

Going back to the novel idea: maybe it’s not about a siren after all. Maybe it’s about a sea princess instead. A lonely girl drowning in the waters called home, in a lonely castle, and—

“Here you go!” Komaru plops a shell into her hand with no warning and beams at her. “It’s nice and pretty just like you, Touko-chan. So you should keep it!”

She definitely doesn’t almost tear up upon hearing that, swallowing thickly as she bites back a self-deprecating, Are you sure it’s not just ugly like me? Instead, she picks out a small shell from the pile and holds it out to her.

“...H-H-Here. Completely plain and, and average like you.” And cute, but that’s not important. Still, Komaru looks like she’s actually said something of worth as she throws her arms around her neck.

“Thank you! I’ll take good care of it.�� She acts like she’s given her a houseplant or something of actual value, and not a shell.

Stiffly— because she still really doesn’t know how to respond in these kinds of moments, despite being friends for a few odd months now— Touko pats her back and mutters, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is!” Komaru pouts at her. “It is to me. Isn’t that enough?”

She opens her mouth to point out that she’d really just been reciprocating a gesture, but the wave crashing over them interrupts the conversation— oh yeah, she thinks absently. That’d been the other problem that she’d noticed when Komaru had started building, but hadn’t thought it was a big enough issue to point out.

Once she processes that yes, that happens, her first thought is how cold she is now, soaked to the bone. Touko represses a shudder and tries to ignore the fact that she will need to shower later because salt water gets itchy. The second thing that occurs to her, in the midst of this, is that now Komaru is wailing into her shoulder.

“I should’ve been more careful, I’m sorry Touko-chan! You’re okay? You aren’t upset, are you? I thought th—” Touko leans forward to cut her off. Her lips taste like salt, and vaguely reminiscent of the sweet snack Komaru had coaxed her into splitting. She wants to bite down on her lip, a nervous habit, and pulls back before she can accidentally manage to bite the other’s lips instead. The implications of that are a lot more than she’s willing to handle right now, and averts her gaze as soon as she leans back, so she does not have to acknowledge her actions.

That doesn’t stop Komaru from throwing her arms around her a little too eagerly, a grunt at the impact of their bodies colliding. “Too m-much.” Touko manages to wheeze out, and before she can start apologizing again, follows with, “I’m not upset. I should probably just...just buy something overpriced from one of th-the nearby shops since our clothes are soaked now...”

She takes this in fairly good stride, jumping to her feet and pulling her up by her hands. “Can I pick out an outfit for you? It’ll be fun!”

Their ideas of fun are very different quite frankly, but considering Komaru won’t overthink her appearance like she does, thus meaning it’ll be more time efficient. And quite frankly, she’s tired, so she just agrees. On the condition they can just go take a nap in the car afterwards.

Touko doesn’t quite agree with Komaru’s fashion choices, but she picks out clothes that cover up everything that needs to be hidden, so she can’t exactly complain. Nor does she complain when they do less napping and more snuggling in the backseat. Which means on the ride back, Komaru ends up falling asleep on her shoulder. She thinks about how pretty she looks in the light of the sunset.

Maybe she can rethink her next novel being a romantic tragedy.

#tokomaru week 2021 #toukomaru #tokomaru #komaru naegi #toko fukawa #touko fukawa #danganronpa #* zhi writes

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