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calpalirwin · 3 years ago

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Better Now

Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.

A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.

“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”

“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.

“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.

“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”

“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.

“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”

“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.

Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”

“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”

Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”

Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”

She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”

“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”

There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”

“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”

Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”

Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”

Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.

She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”

“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”

“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”

“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”

“Not in a band, huh?”

“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”

“That’s gotta get lonely.”

“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”

She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”

“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”

“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”

“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“The fuckin’ worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”

“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.

“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”

“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

~~~

Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.

She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”

She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”

She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.

“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”

He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.

There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”

“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”

“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”

“Unfathomable.”

“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”

“Lucky you.”

He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”

“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”

“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”

He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”

She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.

~~~

Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.

When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.

“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.

“It’s done?”

“It’s done!”

“Well, hit play! C’mon!”

For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers.

“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.

“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”

“And other times?”

“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”

She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”

~~~

7 Months Later

Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”

“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”

“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”

“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.

“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @kaitieskidmore1 @wiiildflowerrr @heartskippeddabeat

#better now #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #5sos #calpal irwin

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radiorenjun · 4 years ago

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I Don't Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn’t stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Warnings: mental breakdowns, heartbreak, rejection, major angst, arguments, flashbacks, physical injuries, fighting, underaged drinking, panic attacks, mentions of death, slight mentions of druGS? I swear this series is getting closer to an end oml

• Wordcount : 8.4k

• Masterlist here!

• Chapters: XIV, XV

Jaemin scanned the empty science lab, his hand on the doorway as he poked his head into the room like a small bunny peeking into the bushes. His eyes lit up when he found your distressed figure sitting on your assigned table, brows furrowed and tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as you flipped through the pages of your book with one hand and writing on a piece of paper in the other.

He chuckled, realising that you had forgotten to do your homework again and had decided to finish it fifteen minutes before the bell rings. ‘Typical,’ he thought fondly, taking a small step into the lab to lean his body against the doorway, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets as he continued to gaze longingly at you.

‘I never realised how adorable she looks whenever she’s focused like this,’ Jaemin couldn’t stop the giddy smile slowly stretching across his lips as he examined your state. You were in like your own personal bubble, one that only Jaemin, at that moment, could see. You were so close to him, but not close enough for his heart to reach.

Feeling someone’s gaze on you, you stopped writing and looked up to see the familiar brown haired boy staring shamelessly at you. You didn’t know if he was shocked to see you look up at him, but if he was, he was definitely good at hiding it. “Why are you standing there and staring at me like a creep?” you asked with an exhausted sigh, straightening your back in your chair before going back to writing without another glance.

“You’re the only one in this room,” Jaemin replied shortly, his expression remaining unfazed by the fact that you had caught him staring. Though the way his heart skipped a beat told him otherwise. “That still doesn’t give you a reason to stare at me like some kind of stalker,” you mumbled back monotonously, flipping a page from your textbook and sparing a small glance at the boy standing a few feet away from you.

“It’s a free country, y/n. I’m just looking at you,” he shrugged, standing up straight to walk closer to you, stopping right in front of your desk to look down at your paper. “Well, do you mind? It’s really distracting,” you leaned your head against your palm, rubbing your temples with your fingers as you tried to concentrate on finishing what’s left of your essay paper.

He ignored your previous statement and leaned over to see that it was the essay assigned last week, his brows raising in amusement as he chuckled softly. “You always forget to do your homework,” he stated with a soft, almost inaudible tone. You took a silent breath, unconsciously gripping your pen tighter as you wrote. “Yeah, nothing much has changed, really,” you responded with a small shrug.

Jaemin stood there, silently watching you jot down the lines you highlighted in your textbook on the piece of paper in the empty lab room. The atmosphere was tense, but yet again, it was almost comforting. You two didn’t know what to say to ease the tension but you both knew that you felt comfort in each other’s presence. And that was alright for you.

But you both couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity at that moment. The feeling of Jaemin looking down at you curiously giving the both of you some sort of deja vu.

“Y/n!” Jaemin exclaimed, running up to you from across the classroom with a bright smile stretched across his face. “My mom gave me some lunch money. Accompany me to the cafeteria!” he whined, stopping right in front of your desk, plopping his hands on the wooden surface harshly, startling you in the process as you let out a loud yelp.

“Jaemin! You startled me!” you complained, hitting your best friend’s shoulder playfully. Jaemin laughed, whacking your hands away from his arm before grabbing your hand gingerly, bouncing excitedly in his stance. “Come on! I really want to get those mozzarella sticks before they run out!” he whined, attempting to pull you away from your seat but you held him back.

“No! Why do you need me to come with you,” you whined, letting him continue to tug your wrist playfully as you hold your ground. “I need moral support!” he whined, mimicking your childish tone as he continued to pull you out of your seat. “But I don’t want to go,” you replied, dragging out the vowels at the end of your sentence.

“But why?” Jaemin stretched out the ‘y’ as he stopped pulling you, keeping your hand in his as he pouted at you, giving you his signature puppy dog eyes that almost made you give in. “Nope! Not this time! I’m not going to fall for it!” you quickly tugged your hand out of his to cover your eyes and bury them in your arms as you leaned your body against the table to hide your face from his.

“Oh come on, y/n. Please?”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew that he had moved to stand right in front of you, fingers intertwined together and puppy dog eyes ready to bore into yours in case you raised your head up. “No! You can go by yourself!” you shook your head against your arms, laughing at how ridiculous the two of you were acting at the absurd situation.

“Please? I’ll even share my mozzarella sticks with you, pinky promise!” Jaemin pleaded with a hopeful tone.

Truthfully, ever since your teacher had decided to separate the two of you and placed Jaemin in the seat across the room. He started using recess as a way to make up for the time you spent in class giving silly looks at each other in between lectures. In conclusion, he just really wanted to spend more time with his best friend.

“No!” you huffed, burying your face deeper into your arms before hearing a small groan from your best friend. “You’re 11 Jaemin! You can go to the canteen yourself!” you told him, rolling your eyes at his childishness. “I know, but it isn’t the same if I go down the cafeteria without you,” you felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently as he nagged once again.

“Come on! You’re not even doing anything in the classroom,” he whined, making you look up at him with a deep frown of your own, bottom lip jutting out as you mirrored his expression. “You don’t even know what I’m doing,” you stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms on the table and laying your chin on it before averting your eyes away from his.

“Oh really? What are you doing then?” he asked in a sassy tone, crossing his arms against his chest. “I’m not telling you,” you blew a raspberry at him, giggling afterwards as he gasped dramatically, his face contorted into an offended expression. “Why not?” he frowned, giving you a deep pout as he crossed his arms against his chest.

“Because I said so!” you grinned mischievously, watching as your best friend continued to nag at you, shaking your shoulders aggressively. “Fine! I’ll tell you,” you groaned in defeat, pushing his hands away from you with a small huff. You pulled away to sit up straight in your chair, revealing that you were hiding a small pile of papers filled with your messy doodles and handwriting.

“I’m making letters for everyone!” you beamed, showing him the letters you have written so far. Jaemin picked up one of the papers, his pupils dilating when he saw that you have written letters for your family and relatives. “I want to finish them today while I still have the energy,” you explained, gesturing at the colourful markers and pens scattered on your desk.

“You didn’t write a letter for me?” Jaemin frowned jokingly, putting the paper down on your desk. You frowned, remembering that you haven’t written a letter for your best friend yet. You thought about it for a moment, scanning your desk before your eyes lit up as an idea popped into your head. Noticing the way your facial expressions change, Jaemin was about to clarify how he was joking but he quickly shut his mouth when he saw you reaching over to your pens.

You grabbed a bright yellow sticky note and began scribbling and writing with the colorful markers around you. Jaemin hovered over your figure, trying to take a look at whatever you were doing. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t see anything you were doing with the way your body basically covered his sight of the small paper. You were too busy with decorating your sticky note to notice how Jaemin had scooted closer to you to try to take a small peak.

“And done!” you exclaimed, sitting up quickly, startling Jaemin. His breath hitched, realising that if it weren’t for his reflexes, the back of your head would’ve knocked against his chin. “What do you mean ‘done’?” he asked, furrowing his brows in confusion as you quickly peeled the sticky note off of the pack and sticking it to his forehead eagerly.

He flinched at the sudden contact, wincing slightly when he felt your palm make contact with his forehead. “There! I wrote you a letter!” you stood up, putting your hands on your hips as you looked back at him with a proud expression on your face. “What did you just make me?” he asked, pulling the sticky note off of his forehead, cringing slightly when he felt strands of his hair sticking to it.

“A letter, just like what you wanted, right?” you giggled as Jaemin examined the yellow paper. There were small random doodles of weird symbols and smiley faces all over the paper, letters written in different coloured markers in the middle of the paper. “To my Jaemin, thank you for being the best friend I never asked for but always needed! Please continue to feed me and be my friend until we grow grey, old and wrinkly.” was written in your typical messy handwriting.

“’Please continue to feed me’, I knew you were friends with me for my food!” he pointed a finger at you with a wide smile across his face. Despite the fact that he kept accusing you for being friends with him because he always shares his food with you, deep down, you both knew he loved the little letter you wrote for him in a span of three minutes. And he was more than happy to stick by your side until the end.

“Are you just going to keep standing there like a creep until the teacher comes?” Jaemin snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Jeno’s voice nearby. He blinked, standing up straight when he realised that Jeno had taken the empty seat beside you, looking at him with a raised brow as you finally finished your homework with a click of your tongue.

“What?” Jaemin blurted out, his gaze averted from Jeno’s deadpan expression to your unfazed one as you stood up abruptly, ignoring the two boys to walk up to the teacher’s desk at the front of the class. “You’re really trying hard to get her back, huh?” Jeno asked with a soft hum, leaning his cheek against his palm with a heavy sigh. “I’m not getting her back, I never even had her in the first place,” the words felt bitter in Jaemin’s mouth. But he knew it was the truth.

“She’s really ignoring your presence, huh?” Jeno hummed, fidgeting with his phone. “I don’t blame her, really. I was kind of being inconsiderate when she kept saying no to me,” Jaemin bit his lip, feeling his heart sink to his stomach as he recalls how uncomfortable you looked whenever he tried to desperately talk to you or ask you to start over. “Everyone has their own limits. I don’t blame her for acting like this.”

“So what? You’re just going to lay around, stare at her like a creep without making a move?” Jeno asked, looking up at his best friend. Jaemin’s tired eyes never left your figure as you began talking to one of your classmates, slipping his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he let out a longing sigh. “She needs a little more space, I don’t want to fuck things up even more than I already have. I’ll just make small moves. I don’t want to force her,” he explained rather hesitantly.

“I don’t want to overwhelm her like I did back then. Especially after the party,” Jaemin licked his slightly chapped lips when his mind wandered to the kiss you two shared at the party, his heart racing at the memory. “I just want her to stop hurting because of me,” he confessed with a sigh, looking down at the floor with an almost hopeless expression.

“Haechan really did slap some sense into you, huh?” Jeno chuckled, his expression softened when he realised how Jaemin was acting slightly more mature than he was before the party. “No shit, he almost punched me on the face,” Jaemin let out a small laugh, shaking his head profusely as he recalled the second time Donghyuck made him get his shit together.

After Renjun had left, Donghyuck walked in to scold the hell out of the younger boy. Donghyuck almost punched Jaemin across the face when he heard that y/n was in another room with her mind jumbled up, he scolded Jaemin for moving too quickly. “Get your shit together, Na Jaemin. Don’t you get it? She’s never going to stop hurting if you keep pushing yourself back in her life with no warning!” never left Jaemin’s mind.

“All you’ve done is complain and whine and drag yourself in situations that you’re both not comfortable in. What the fuck? You keep saying you want to ‘make things right’ but all you’ve done so far is make her uncomfortable. You’re pushing each other away even more, you dumbass. Stop whining and complaining about it and actually do something right for once, Na Jaemin!”

“She didn’t give up on me until I snapped. I’m not giving up on her until she snaps either,” Jaemin shrugged, glancing up at the clock to see that he should be heading to his own class right now. Jeno furrowed his brows in concern, “and if she does?” he asked quietly, taking a quick glance at you before turning back to his best friend.

Jaemin sighed, shrugging in defeat. “Then I’ll finally get a taste of my own medicine.”

“Hey, someone just placed a rock on your desk.”

“Wait what?” you furrowed your brows, turning your head to see that one of your classmates had come up to you, pointing at your desk casually. “Someone just came in and dropped off a rock on your desk,” your classmate repeated with a small laugh, an amused expression taking over their features as you became even more confused.

“A rock?” you furrowed your brows, a feeling of deja vu overcoming you at the mere mention of it.

“A rock? Are you kidding me?” Yeeun, the girl you were talking to, spoke incredulously, crossing her arms against her chest. “What the fuck? That’s so random,” she laughed, turning to see your baffled expression. You turned to her with a speechless expression before walking over to your own desk with your friends following right behind you.

“Listen, if you don’t believe me just go ahead and see for yourself,” your classmate rolled her eyes at Yeeun, pointing at the small object on your desk right in between the messy area of your books and pens. “This looks like some weird omen, you know. Like those weird horror movie get ups,” your classmate commented with a light chuckle.

“Wait, you were actually serious?” she exclaimed with a laugh, looking at your classmate who shrugged simply. You stared at the stone sitting innocently on your desk, taking a step closer to pick it up in one of your hands. “It appears they drew something on it,” your friend pointed out, tapping her finger on the underside of the rock

Your eyebrows raised slightly, flipping the rock around to see that the person who gave you the rock had drawn small hearts with different colored sharpies. There was a yellow small smiley face in the middle, the little smile on the drawing was sending sparks into your heart when you realised there was no one else in the world who would even think of giving you a random rock unless it was Na Jaemin himself.

‘Copycat’, you thought to yourself with a small chuckle, feeling your heart jump at the small gift. You turned to your friend, attempting to hide how flustered you were feeling with a casual expression. “Did you see who came in and placed this here?” you asked, bouncing the rock in your hands casually as if you hadn’t already known who had given you the rock in question.

“Unfortunately, no. I did catch a mop of brown hair running out of the classroom, though,” your classmate grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at you teasingly. “I’m assuming the tables have turned with Mister Hard-To-Get, huh?” Yeeun teased, nudging your side with her elbow, giggling along with your friend. You almost broke into a smile at the mere mention of the boy. But the empty feeling in your heart wasn’t having it.

“Look at you, being pined over by your long term crush slash childhood best friend. I would celebrate if I were you. Hell, it’s also the team captain himself! I’d be over the moon if I were you,” Yeeun gushed, looking at your classmate who nodded eagerly in agreement. “He totally likes you back now. No guaranteed, you’re out of the friendzone now, I’m so happy for you!”

You frowned, sighing as you shake your head. “I don’t think so. Plus, you know very well I’m over it,” you sighed, pulling your bag from your chair and tucking the rock in one of the open pockets. “I know, I know. But shouldn’t you be happy? You’ve been pining him since high school started and you were whipped as fuck. Now that you finally have him chasing your tail, shouldn’t you be over the moon?” your classmate asked curiously, furrowing her brows.

“You’re not wrong. I mean, come on, y/n! Maybe Jaemin actually changed his mind about the stupid ‘going against fate’ bullshit. You should definitely give him a chance! You’ve been giving him a taste of his own medicine but don’t you think you two should stop pushing and pulling each other away and finally be the power couple I always imagined you to be?” Yeeun whined, nodding along with your classmate who gave you an affirming smile.

Yeeun was always one of those students who found the whole drama between you and Jaemin entertaining. She was rooting for the two of you to be together. She believed that you two were perfect for each other and you two just needed to talk things out. Yeeun always loved seeing you being so whipped for your soulmate that she, like many others, failed to see that it was also hurting the both of you.

“This isn’t some weird k-drama, Yeeun,” you chuckled, shaking your head as you stood up straight, looking straight at your friends with a gloomy smile across your face. “Plus, I kind of need a break from simping on him. I’ve been a devoted simp for two whole years, it’s time for me to stop. God, I must have been so annoying. Honestly, if I were Jaemin, I would’ve removed my tattoo in a heartbeat,” you laughed lightly, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly as you zipped up your bag.

You noticed the smiles on your friends’ faces have faltered at your words, making you realise that you spoke a little too much. Coughing to clear up the tension, you let out a small laugh. “Sorry, what am I even saying?” you chuckled to yourself in disbelief, rubbing your face in frustration as you let out a tired sigh. “Are you okay, y/n?” Yeeun asked, genuine concern spreading over her features.

You hummed, nodding before giving her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine. I guess I’m just really tired, right now,” you lied, giving them a small thumbs up. “I’ll go wash up, excuse me,” you gave them a small nod, looking at the concerned expressions on their faces as you attempt to give them what seems to be a smile before walking out of the classroom.

Tired, huh?

Occasionally, Jeno would invite Jaemin out to go cycling around on Saturday mornings to get his mind off of things or to simply hang out. And today, Jaemin couldn’t be more grateful to his best friend for forcing him to go out instead of staying all cooped up in his room playing overwatch with Donghyuck all day.

“Wait, I ran out of water,” Jaemin informed, showing Jeno his empty water bottle before putting it back in his bag. “Oh, there’s a small convenience store. You can buy something there. Did you forget to bring your wallet again?” Jeno asked, pointing at the small store a few buildings away from them. “Shut up, I don’t always forget to bring my wallet,” Jaemin chuckled, leaning his bike against the pole near them as he wiped the sweat off of his brows.

“Sure, buddy. Go get your water so we can get going. My mom’s making her special stew tonight,” Jeno shoved Jaemin playfully with a laugh, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “Okay, okay. You want anything?” Jaemin asked, waving his wallet in the air with a wide grin. Jeno shook his head, waving his hand at the younger boy. “You’re broke enough, I’m not going to make you even more poor than you already are,” he joked, earning a pout from Jaemin.

He huffed before jogging off to the convenience store, telling Jeno to watch his bike while he’s gone, missing the small thumbs up the black haired boy gave him in return.

Jaemin pushed open the door, giving the cashier a small smile and an awkward nod before walking down the aisle to find himself a drink. Scanning his eyes through the aisle, he spotted a familiar figure at the corner of his eyes as he walked past the snack aisle at the corner of his eye. Eyes widening when he realised that it was you in your sleep deprived glory.

You were wearing one of the hoodies he had gifted you for your 16th birthday, your eyes were half-lidded as if you were on the brink of falling asleep on the spot. A hand rubbing one of your eyes as the other holds on to the large packet of flaming hot cheetos against your chest. Jaemin felt his throat getting dry at the sight of you, his heartbeat beginning to pick up its pace as he felt the urge to come up and talk to you.

He gulped, standing in the middle of the aisle in complete shock as his mind tried to decipher that you were here. Alone. With him. Why were you here so early in the morning? Usually you would be asleep in bed until noon or until he would stop by at your house to wake you up. A frown appeared on his lips when he realised that he hasn’t actually stopped by at your house willingly in so long.

He always dropped you off in front of your porch but whenever your mother offered him to come in for lunch or dinner, he would often politely decline and make up some random excuse on the spot to prevent spending any more time with you. Jaemin realised the only time he actually came to your house was for your family’s monthly dinners or group projects.

‘Wow, I was that much of a jerk?’ he thought to himself bitterly, feeling guilt and regret ball up in his chest.

He turns his head up to look at you, his heartbeat picking up its pace when he saw how content and relaxed you look. He realised he never actually took the time to admire you, even in your most comfortable state. He should know, especially how the two of you have known each other since you were still toddlers.

‘Should I go up to her?’ he pondered.

‘It wouldn’t hurt to try to talk to her, right?’ he looked down at his watch, eyeing the time displayed on it before looking out the window, spotting Jeno scrolling through his phone right across the street from the store as he waited for him. ‘A small conversation wouldn’t hurt, right?’ he sighed before looking up back at your figure standing a few meters away from him.

He watched you walk to the ice cream bar without a care in the world, opening the lid silently as you scanned the cold machine. Biting his lip nervously, he picked a random water bottle from the aisle before slowly coming up to you. Swallowing down his nerves, he cleared his throat before letting out a small “y/n?”

You turned, eyes widening in surprise at his unexpected figure standing before you. “Jaemin,” you didn’t even realise the words left your mouth until he shot you an endearing smile. “Hi, I didn’t expect to see you here,” you let out a puff of breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Hey, what are you doing here so early on a Saturday?” Jaemin asked, putting his hands behind his back, his hand wrapping around his wrist as he leaned towards you slightly.

“I just wanted some snacks,” you replied in a quiet tone, your voice hoarse as if you had just woken up from your sleep. You gestured to the bag of chips in your arms, making Jaemin nod, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ in response. You bit your lip, “what about you?” you asked rather hesitantly.

You both knew the answer to this, considering how Jaemin always rants to you about the silly things he and Jeno would do every Saturday on their morning cycles together back when you were still on speaking terms. But you couldn’t take the awkward silence settling in between you if you didn’t try to keep the conversation going.

“I was just cycling with Jeno and ran out of water, ” Jaemin shrugged, standing up straight as he cocked his head at the direction of one of the windows, causing you to turn your head to see your friend standing not far from the store, standing beside two bicycles while fidgeting with his phone. “Oh, I guess you two are still going on your Saturday morning dates,” you chuckled, rubbing your left eye with one of your palms.

“You really need to stop calling them dates,” he frowned, jutting out his bottom lip slightly at your words. “I mean, I’m not exactly wrong, aren’t I?” you snickered, feeling your body ease up with how smooth the conversation was going, the awkward tension decreasing with every passing second as you scanned through the row of ice cream tubs and popsicles.

“I’m actually surprised to see you awake at this hour, you’re usually asleep until noon,” he commented, taking a step forward to look through the ice cream bar with you. “What are you talking about? I’ve always been awake at this hour, though,” you raised your brow at him, pulling out a raspberry flavored popsicle, inspecting it before putting it back down, running your hands through the plastic wrappers.

“Really? That’s a surprise,” Jaemin’s eyebrows shot up. Back when the two of you were still in good terms, Jaemin would often call you before 11 AM just in case you had something to do or somewhere to go to ever since you were 15. “Yeah, I figured I can just do a lot of things if I wake up earlier than planned,” you shrugged.

“Wow, getting up early at your own will? It’s good to hear that you’re using your time more productively,” Jaemin exclaimed with a smile of disbelief. You bit your lip, nodding in response. “I guess so,” you mumbled back with a small shrug. Truth be told, back when you were still devoted on pursuing Jaemin, you never woke up early despite being told off by your parents multiple times. You just wanted to wake up to the sound of his voice every morning to start your day off as happy as you can be.

At times like this, you wished that he didn’t stop giving you morning calls. Come to think of it, when did he stop calling you every morning? When did you grow used to his absence even when he was just right there in front of you?

Noticing how silent you got, Jaemin took it upon himself to change the topic, his eyes scanning the room before landing on a watermelon flavored popsicle. “Hey, remember when we used to eat these as a kid?” Jaemin asked with an enthusiastic smile, a hopeful glint sparkling in his eyes as he raised the popsicle up at you, hitting you with a wind of nostalgia.

“Oh yeah, you used to ask your mom to buy you the whole stock back then,” you chuckled, grabbing a popsicle of the same brand that was supposed to be Melon flavored. “This really brings me back,” you smiled, turning to Jaemin who gave you a boyish smile. Oh how the littlest things can bring back such unpleasant memories.

“Nana!” you exclaimed, waddling over to the football court once you saw Jaemin walk out of after school practice. As usual, you were waiting for Jaemin to get out of practice so he can drive the both of you home. And being the considerate person that you ironically are, you decided to buy popsicles from the market nearby your school for your friends (mainly Jaemin but you felt bad midway for not buying them so you came back and bought your friend some too).

Jaemin turned to you with a heavy sigh, wiping the sweat off of his hair with a damp towel as he and his friends watched you come up to them with a large plastic bag in your hands. “Hey guys,” you greeted with a small smile, earning small waves and hey’s in return. “So I bought some popsicles for you guys while you were in practice,” you opened the plastic bag in front of them, watching as their exhausted expression morphed into an excited one in an instant.

“Dude, you really didn’t have to,” Jeno said as he watched Haechan, Chenle and Jisung dig their hands into the bag you were holding. “Don’t tell her that! If you say that she won’t buy us food again next time,” Haechan hissed, smacking his friend on the arm as he handed Jeno a popsicle of his own. “Haechan!” Jaemin barked, giving the older boy a death glare.

“He’s not wrong though, ‘Nana’,” Chenle snickered, mocking the sweet tone you used when calling out his name, patting the boy’s back to ease him up. “I don’t mind being broke. My wallet loves treating you guys,” you waved it off with a soft laugh, waving your bag in front of Jaemin, gesturing for him to grab one of the two remaining popsicles left in the plastic bag.

Jaemin gave you a pointed look, raising his brow as if he wanted to tell you off. Giving him an innocent smile you waved the bag in front of him. “Come on, it’s gonna melt, you know.” Jaemin’s eyes were filled with exhaustion and the slightest bit of annoyance, but nonetheless, it never failed to send small needles into your heart.

“You really should stop wasting your time and money on these things,” Jaemin sighed, shoving his hand in the bag and pulling out a watermelon flavored popsicle. “I like hurting my wallet. Plus, you guys looked like you needed something refreshing. I’m just doing you guys a favor,” you giggled, pulling out the last popsicle in the bag and throwing the bag in a nearby trash can.

“Bless your kind soul, y/n,” Jisung groaned, putting his hands together as if he was praying. “She’s a keeper, Jaemin. You sure you ain’t gonna drop the whole ‘I hate soulmates’ bull crap?” Haechan asked, nudging Jaemin’s sides as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively with a bite of his popsicle. “Coming from the guy who bites his popsicles, I think you should keep your opinions to yourself,” Jaemin snapped back, ripping the wrapper open with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

You kissed your teeth, feeling your heart ache in your chest at his cold tone. Shaking the disappointment out of your head, you gave them a lighthearted laugh, waving it off before tearing off the wrapper of your own popsicle. “Leave him alone, he’s going to change his mind sooner or later,” you mused, earning a soft scoff from Jaemin beside you.

“How endearing. Can’t wait to rub it in your face when that happens, Jaemin,” Chenle grinned, giggling at how the older boy’s frown grew deeper with every word. “Y/n, let’s just go home,” Jaemin sighed, tightening his grip on the saddle of his bag as he attempts to suppress his annoyance. “See you guys tomorrow,” Jaemin turned away from you and his friends, waving at them.

“Wait for me!” you exclaimed, pulling the strap of your bag closer to you as you ran after him.

“Look they’re even having the same flavored popsicle. Isn’t that cute? Couple goals,” Haechan snickered, pointing at how the two of you were having the same watermelon flavored popsicles. You looked down at the icy dessert in your hand, you didn’t even realise that you had the same flavor as him. You couldn’t help but let out a small ‘oh’ in response.

“Hey look Jaemin, we actually-”

You looked up and paused midway from finishing your sentence when you saw Jaemin walk towards the trash can with his melting popsicle (which he barely touched) and dumped it in with no hesitation. His expression is stone cold and void of emotion. “Y/n, let’s just go,” you could hear the way he gritted his teeth through his words, causing your heart to drop to your stomach. Your friends didn’t dare to comment anything else about you and Jaemin.

For the way you were trailing after him like a kicked puppy had caused them to wish that they actually kept their mouths shut.

“Y/n?”

“Oh, yeah?” you snapped out of your thoughts with a small hum, turning to look at Jaemin who was giving you a concerned expression. “Are you okay?” he asked rather hesitantly, noticing how the comforting glint in your eyes vanished the moment you snapped out of your thoughts and averted your gaze back onto his face. You opened your mouth to say something but quickly closed it when you felt your mouth getting dry.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” you nodded, averting your eyes down at the ice cream bar, dropping the popsicle back into the machine and closing it. “I’m going to go now. My mom’s going to start wondering what’s taking me so long,” you lied, avoiding eye contact as you gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you at school, Jaemin,” you dart your eyes to his for a brief second before looking away and walking hastily to the cashier.

Jaemin watched you disappear around the aisle with a disappointed expression on his face, a lonely feeling balling up inside him when he realised you must’ve remembered something he did in the past to make you go so abruptly. He missed you. So much. So damn much.

He longs to talk to you again. He longs to spend more time with you without having any awkward tension like the old days. He wants to talk to you about his favorite video games and hear you rant about the shitty things a certain character did in the movie you recently watched. But he couldn’t.

And now he finally understands how you felt throughout all these years. And the only thing he could do was to keep going, he knew that if he stopped, he didn’t know what else to do with himself.

Jaemin was getting tired. Your high school graduation was less than 7 months away and so far, he has not made any progress in getting closer to you. Unless you count the awkward small talks the two of you had made the past few weeks, but asides from that, there wasn’t any improvement in your relationship it was almost laughable.

He didn’t know how you managed to be so patient with him when he was going crazy with every single day, but yet again, the thought of it made you appear even more admirable. He found himself longing for your presence even more. Hell, he even missed the little things you do when you’re around him.

The way your smile glowed up the entire room whenever you see him, the way your voice was filled with adoration whenever you call out his name, the way you would come up to him with arms wide for a big hug (even though he had never reciprocated your affections back then) whenever he was in the room.

He missed that. And his heart ached at the fact that he took your affections and kindness for granted. All he wanted to do was to talk things out. And he was going to talk it out whether you want to or not. You needed closure. You both knew that. And he was done avoiding it.

You were in the library doing your assignments, your brows furrowed in concentration, your tongue sticking out slightly at the left corner of your lips, your head leaning to the side slightly. Jaemin almost felt guilty for planning on disturbing you while you were in your protective little bubble, but there was something drawing him to you with every passing second.

Taking a deep breath, he eased up his muscles before gathering his courage to finally walk up to you. The atmosphere getting heavy with every step he took, and it felt like gravity was pulling him down as his his anxiety spiked up with every ‘tick tock’ the wall clock makes. Suppressing the urge to gulp down.

“Hey.”

You froze, your hand pausing from writing as you slowly looked up at him, internally wishing that it wasn’t who you think it was. “Hi,” you breathed out, your eyes fixating on each others as you recognize the familiar sad glint in his eyes. You knew that whatever he was going to do wasn’t going to be good, not with that hopeless look in his eyes.

“Can we talk now, please? About us?” he bit his lip, his voice going quiet despite the fact that you were the only ones in the library at that moment. There was a pregnant pause between you as you took in his words, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to come up with a reason to leave. But alas, the half written paper on the table between you and Jaemin was enough for you to realise that there was no escaping in this.

You didn’t know what else to say other than the small “now?” you squeaked out. Jaemin gave you a determined (but also adorable) nod, gripping the saddle of his bag tighter against him. “I’m done avoiding the topic. We kept avoiding this talk for the longest time, so let’s just talk this out casually,” he took in a deep breath nervously, watching your expression closely.

You looked down at your paper, biting your lip before kissing your teeth, flipping the pen in your hold so you can click the tip to distract your nerves. “Why do we need to talk about it though?” you muttered under your breath, feeling his eyes boring holes into your skull. His pupils dilate at this. “Y/n, we can’t keep pulling and pushing each other away. We’re graduating soon, we need to talk about it eventually,” Jaemin sighed.

He felt his heartbeat increase with every word that spilled from his mouth. He was getting all worked up as he watched your expression grew dim at the mention of talking about you. Why were you so eager to avoid the topic at all costs? Why won’t you try to give him a chance? Why won’t you give this a chance? Why don’t you want to try to fix this? Jaemin was confused. Confused with his feelings and confused about your situation.

“What if I don’t want to talk about it?” you tightened your grip on your pen, your eyes gazing down at the carpet floor. “I really don’t want to talk about this, Jaemin,” you closed your eyes for a small month, taking in a shuddering breath as you sense the atmosphere getting thicker between you. “But I do. Please, I just want to talk about what’s going to happen to us,” Jaemin bit his lip, his eyes desperate for yours to look back up.

“Jaemin. I’m telling you in the friendliest way possible, I really don’t want to talk about this. Please respect that,” you sucked in your lips nervously, tapping your pen against the paper hastily. Jaemin was starting to get frustrated, “what’s the harm in talking like two civilized human beings?” he unintentionally snapped at you, his sharp tone causing your eyes to shot up at his face in surprise.

You furrowed your brows at how he’s getting so riled up about something this simple. But then again, how do you explain to your soulmate that you don’t want to try and fight for a relationship that never existed in the first place? Can he really blame you for being cautious? Can he really blame you for giving up on the two of you this time?

“Can’t you just respect the fact that I don’t want to talk about it?” you retorted in a tone of disbelief, sitting up straight when you realise that Jaemin was getting angry for no absolute reason. “Well you didn’t respect the fact that I wasn’t into you either back then and look how that turned out!” he snapped back, words spilling out of his mouth as his heart raced against his chest.

“Y/n, I didn-”

“Fine. You wanted to talk right, so let’s talk,” you leaned back against your chair, letting out a defeated sigh as you rubbed your temples in distress. Jaemin kissed his teeth, his eyes glancing at your exhausted figure that mirrored his own. He took a deep exhale before pulling the chair right across yours so he can sit down in front of you.

He licked his lips nervously, knowing full well that you were silently gesturing him to go first with the exhausted gaze you were giving him. Taking another deep exhale, he poked the insides of his cheek with his tongue as he tried to decipher what to say. He muttered an almost in audible ‘fuck it’ when he decided that he was just going to say whatever came to heart.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes twitched in slight interest, your pupils looking up at his nervous figure. His eyes staring deep into yours, exhaustion and sadness glossing over his pupils. “I’m so sorry for everything. The music box. The whole talking shit behind your back, embarrassing you in front of our friends and family whenever you tried to give me affection, the sudden kiss at the party, making you uncomfortable, everything. I’m truly, truly sorry for everything,” he took in a deep breath.

“I-I don’t even know where to begin with this so I’m just going to say whatever comes to mind,” Jaemin clenched his fists in an attempt to calm his racing heart, taking a deep breath before letting it out and giving you a serious expression.

“At the party, on your birthday when I found out we were soulmates. I suddenly felt like I was forced to like or love you because we had matching tattoos. I didn’t want that kind of pressure on me, and it wasn’t easy when our parents constantly nagged us about it,” he confessed, pulling on the cuffs of his black jacket as he looked down at his hands wordlessly.

“But no one was telling you to love me now, Jaemin. You should’ve just taken this chance to enjoy my absence, I was a nuisance to you,” you mumbled out without hesitation, your cold tone sending small needles into his heart. “But can you blame me if I already have? Whoever created us made this whole soulmate system so that we can love each other, I realise that now,” he bit his lip nervously.

You stared at him for a small moment, your eyes meeting as Jaemin tried to decipher what you were thinking behind your unreadable expression. “You don’t really love me Jaemin,” you stated with a heavy sigh, leaning your cheek against your knuckles, your elbow propped up on the table. “Don’t give me that hope, Jaemin. You don’t like me like that, you just think you do, you don-”

“You can’t just assume my feelings like that, y/n,” he cut you off, using the same monotonous tone you were using against him. He lifted his hand so that it was laying on the table his heart racing at the small distance your hands had when he did so. “You’re one to talk,” you mumbled under your breath, letting out a small huff afterwards.

“Look, I was hurting a lot back then. Now that I’m willing to accept the fact that you’ll never like me back the same way I liked you, you came up to me and tell me you ‘like’ me,” you raise up two fingers as quotation marks, a sad frown stretching across your face at the mention of him loving you. “After what? Two years? Two years of treating me like garbage?”

“I was selfish,” Jaemin admitted. “I still am, I admit it. But you were selfish too back then! You wanted this so bad and for so long, why won’t you just take the chance so we can put this all behind us and start over now that I’m willing to give this-to give us a try?” he pointed at the two of you to emphasize on his words, a dull ache beginning to appear in his left wrist.

“Don’t you get it? I’m tired, Jaemin. I’m so tired of getting hurt all the time. I’m just so damn tired. Do you really expect me to forgive you for all the things you did just because I finally did what you ask and step out of your life?” you snapped, straightening your posture.

“I didn’t know you were hurting. Hell, I didn’t even know you felt that way. You could’ve just told me and then maybe we could’ve figured something out,” Jaemin rambled on, running his hands through his hair in distress. “Really Jaemin? Really? Would we actually ‘figure something out’?” you huffed incredulously, rubbing your forehead as you began to feel your sadness slowly morph into anger.

“I don’t know if you can recall but back at the dinner party with our family. I don’t think you bat an eye when I was on the verge of sobbing my eyes out in front of you. Hell, you didn’t even talk to me for weeks afterwards!” you exclaimed, clenching your fists on the table, feeling your heart ache in your chest at the sour thought. And the fact that the look Jaemin was giving you was fairly similar to the cold expression he gave you that night wasn’t helping either.

“I was just annoyed. We both needed time to sort out our thoughts, you know. I didn’t mean for things to get this far and fucked up!” Jaemin shot back defensively, raising his hands up to emphasize on his words. “Well apparently you didn’t mean a lot of things but it happened anyway, so what am I supposed to do, Jaemin?” you couldn’t help but raise your voice slightly out of frustration, eyes glaring daggers at him.

“Give me a chance to start over? Give me a second chance? I don’t know if you noticed but the tables have turned. I get it, I fucking get it now. I know how you feel whenever I treat you like shit and ignore you, I really do. I just want a second chance.”

This discussion was just going worse than Jaemin had thought. You two were just plain out getting your pain and frustrations out, thus heating up this argument even more. Thank god the librarian was nowhere to be seen, you both know full well if they caught you yelling at each other, you two would definitely be kicked out in an instant.

“I’m not having this conversation anymore, Jaemin,” you groaned, rubbing your face against your hands, groaning into them before standing up abruptly and picking up your stuff hastily. “Leave me alone, Jaemin. Please. I just want some time to myself. Time to think about how we ended up like this,” you sighed, avoiding his eyes as you shoved your paper in your bag carelessly.

“No, you give up on me back then. Now I’m not giving up on you,” Jaemin shook his head in determination, standing up as well to stop you and keep you from leaving so you two can talk more. Jaemin was then taken aback when his desperate eyes met your own cold ones, anger glossed over your pupils as you let out a small grunt.

“Well I gave up now, didn’t I? I think you should, too,” you hissed back, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you tugged your sweater down and smacked the eraser shavings from your drawing session earlier. “Then can you stop it?” he asked, his voice wavering. “Can you just stop looking at me as if you don’t like me anymore?” he pleaded, his voice becoming small. So small, it was almost inaudible.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” you frowned, feeling a lump gather in your throat, your eyes watering as you walk past a hopeless Jaemin.

“You hurt me so much. I’m starting to et why you hated this whole soulmate system.”

OH DEAR GOD THIS WAS JUST P A I N F U L TO WRITE. THIS TOOK ME TWO WHOLE WEEKS PLS.

anyways, here’s something to celebrate my official return to this damn blog. I almost gave up on this blog but my fear of letting people down always got the best of me so enjoy!

T A G L I S T : @candiednickles @itlittlefangirl @cherrym4rk @gotoartistprofile @d-nghyck @kingjvngins @aconeptun @chaeshii @lixseu @morks-watermelon @12am-musings @cherrystay @lowkeyviv @btm-taeyong @gothmingguk @luvlyjaemin @cowward @smileyyuta @cakelyn @uncovermenow666 @comically-sleep-deprived @wtfhaechan @xcherrybbyx @wishing–butterfly @wordsgodeep @astroboy-lele @sweetmoonlight9 @chwenchew @stuckwithhyuck @yunoelea @angelrenjunie @dae-chan @jenseoull @marklexleaf @yasmini24 @cloudreads @sptegami @mango-bear @dumplingley @bereavedswallow @etherealbyeol @247byun

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#NCT-WRITERS #neowritingsnet #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #jaemin x reader #jaemin angst #nct dream jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x you #nct jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct x you #nct dream x you #nct angst #nct u x reader #nct 127 x reader

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escapewriter · 4 years ago

Text

Lover

pairing : vernon x reader

synopsis : love makes you do crazy things, except this wasn’t really crazy for him. he’s just a man in love who’s willing to do it all for you.

genre : fluff, like a lot of fluff, humor

word count : 3.6k

warnings : none

posted : 2/17/21

a/n : ty ty to @woozisnoots for beta reading. i really needed it or it would’ve sounded so awkward so tysm alex <3 and HAPPY VERNON AND SEOKMIN DAYYYY. tell me why this took me almost a month to write even though its like... eh. neway, I HOPE YALL ENJOY, it has that princess and the frog vibe.

TAGLIST : @vibecheckvernon @beomiebear5 @lightoflife @skylions-den @noniesgirl @woozisnoots

won’t let me tag : @pandora1834

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pieces of love masterlist // playlist // main masterlist

‘Letter 355’ was written in big letters on the front of the envelope. You sat on the bed as you tore the sealed flap open. Vernon has been writing you small notes ever since your 6th year anniversary. This is the first real letter you’ve gotten because before, it was simple post-it notes, and as your 7th year together approaches, you can’t help but wonder what he has planned this time.

You took out the paper, unfolded it and scanned his messy handwriting. You smiled as your fingertips touched the ink on the paper. You began to read:

Ma Belle,

I hope you will have a wonderful day today. Are you surprised you’re getting a letter instead of a post-it note? You probably are lol. Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the messy handwriting, I had to leave early this morning and didn’t have time to write neatly, or spell correctly so if you see some typos, you didn’t (cue the clown emoji).

Also, a heads up, I may be returning home late due to the guys wanting to hang out, so if you need me, call me. And yes, I’ll text you if I have to stay at one of their apartments and I’ll text you when I leave. I know the drill ;)

Please be safe today, and you know MY drill don’t you? It’s the exact same thing I said above, HA! So, text me when you leave the house and when you arrive at work. I can’t wait to see you again (even though we live together). I love you Ma Belle. Just 10 more days!

Love, Vernon

You smiled at the nickname he had given you as you felt the familiar rush of fireworks erupt in your stomach, hugging the letter close to your chest. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have a man like Vernon. He took time out of his day for almost a year just to write you a letter every morning so you could wake up happy. He is an absolute crazy man for doing this.

You folded up the letter and carefully placed it back in the envelope. You went to your desk, grabbing the photobook on the shelf and opened it, seeing where you kept all his notes for the past year. You flipped to a page and inserted the letter in an empty slot. You closed the book and placed it on the shelf once more, looking at it as you thought about how he was capable of doing something like this for a whole year, who knows what he has planned for your anniversary.

Vernon has a lot planned actually. He is going to keep writing you letters every morning before he goes to work, but on the day of your anniversary, it’s going to be a little different and he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

He walked alone, glancing into the stores that he passed as he waited for the call. He turned around and began to head back to where he came from before, feeling the buzzing of his phone. He looked at the screen and answered.

“Hey Shua, are you guys done?” He bit his lower lip a bit, hoping they got what he had asked for. He heard his friend sigh on the other end of the line.

“Hell yeah we got it.” Letting out a breath of relief, he nodded as he listened to Joshua tell him to return back to the car so they could go and eat. Hanging up, he walked quickly back to meet up with his friends.

He could not wait for the day to come.

You saw ‘Letter 360’ taped to the refrigerator when you reached the kitchen to prepare yourself breakfast. You had only received small notes like before ever since ‘Letter 355’, so you were a bit taken aback because you simply thought that he wrote a long letter due to his busy schedule that day. You weren’t sure what to expect of this though as he told you the night prior that he would be home before dinner.

You tore the flap of the envelope and took out the paper, quickly unfolding it as you began to read his messy handwriting:

Ma Belle,

Did you sleep well last night? I hope so because then I’ll feel bad for not being able to be there with you to make you feel better :( But!!! I hope this will make your morning a bit brighter if it wasn’t already. Inside the microwave are some pancakes that I made Mingyu bring for me because I would’ve burnt them. But they’re probably cold so you have to heat it up. There were 4 in total but I was hungry and ate one hehe.

Anyway, I’ll see you in a few hours, Ma Belle. Stay safe at work and text me! I love you!

Love, Vernon

You felt the warmth creep up in your chest as you grinned, rereading the letter again. Although this made you incredibly happy, you couldn’t help but think about what you could do better for Vernon in this relationship. You never want him to feel as if he was the only one putting effort.

After making a quick decision, you put the letter back in the envelope and brought it to your room, placing it in an empty slot of the photobook. You went back out to the kitchen and heated up the pancakes Vernon had mentioned, deciding that you will make a small trip to the store after having breakfast.

Unknowingly, you walked down the same path Vernon had the day he went out with his friends secretly without telling you. You passed multiple stores as you racked your brain for some sort of idea on what to get him. You already had your anniversary gift planned out for him, but that’s a secret that you have been keeping from him since day one. You just hope he doesn’t go searching for the photobook.

You walked slowly, glancing into stores to get some sort of idea before stopping in front of a jewelry store. You hesitated knowing that Vernon never wanted you to spend so much money on him, but look at where you are. You decide to tell him it’s an anniversary gift instead of just giving it to him tonight so that way he wouldn’t get mad at you. Yeah, that’s a better plan.

As you enter the store, your eyes immediately go to the locked glass cases of beautiful jewelry. Maybe you should’ve thought this through because you had no idea what to get him. Looks like guessing is the best bet for you.

You made it home from work just before Vernon got home. Quickly, you went to your room and took the box out of the bag and placed it behind the photobook. You disposed of the bag, making sure that Vernon wouldn’t spot any evidence of the fact that you spent a lot of money on him.

You were now in the kitchen, looking to prepare something for dinner before the front door opened with your boyfriend coming in with bags in his hand. You smiled and quickly met him at the door, grabbing a few bags before kissing his cheek.

“You bought dinner? I was planning to make something for you.” He smiled warmly and led you to the dining room, placing the bags on the table. He quickly kissed your cheek before holding one of your hands.

“Ma Belle~” The teasing sound of his voice echoed in your ears as you smiled widely, shying away a bit before you felt the tips of his fingers move your head to face his again, “You don’t have to cook for me tonight. Let’s just relax and enjoy the food I bought, how does that sound?” You stared into his hypnotizing eyes, the warmth in your chest rising as you nodded your head with a smile.

“Okay! Let's get some plates!”

You woke up to an empty bed, confused as to why Vernon wasn’t next to you. Sitting up straight, you looked at your night stand, searching for the familiar post-it note or envelope. You thought that maybe it was something similar to the letter 5 days ago where you found it taped to the fridge.

You stretched out your arms, yawning in the process as you heard your phone buzz on the table. Unplugging it, you opened your messages and spotted a familiar name. Boo Seungkwan.

‘You home?’ You didn’t know why he was texting you at this time, he was usually asleep. And he knows that it’s your anniversary with Vernon today, so you were confused as to why he was asking if you were home.

‘No. I’m with Vernon.’ Obviously you lied to try and get out of any sort of event he may have planned just so you can eat a small breakfast and get ready for the day. You just have to find Vernon’s note.

‘Bullshit. I’m with Vernon right now.’ Your eyes widened, a scowl appearing on your face as you questioned why Vernon was with Seungkwan instead of you. ‘Why are you with Vernon? Where are you guys?’

On the other side of the phone, Seungkwan was panicking. He knew that you weren’t with Vernon because Vernon was with Joshua setting up everything for your anniversary.

He looked around the room, thinking of an answer to come up with before Chan walked in, “Seungkwan? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be distracting them for Vernon?” He tossed his phone to the younger, eyes filled with fear and uneasiness. Chan read the messages and laughed, “Vernon will kill you if you don’t pull this off. Good luck!” Seungkwan groaned as he decided to just show up at your home and keep you occupied.

You stared at the messages, expecting him to answer but received nothing. You sighed and just locked your phone, mind now set on looking for the letter. Every step you took to look into a room, your fingers were crossed in hopes that you would find any sort of evidence that Vernon has left for you. Plopping onto the couch, you thought that maybe he just forgot to write today, but it didn’t make sense since he wrote everyday for a whole year without forgetting. Even in previous letters, he would count down the days until it was your anniversary. It just didn’t make any sense.

You heard the doorbell ring, an ounce of hope in your heart as you thought that it could be Vernon. He has a key to the house. You sighed and got up from the couch as you went to the front door, unlocking it with a click and opening it.

Your eyes met Seungkwan’s and it immediately turned into a glare. “I thought you were with Vernon, hm?” He grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck.

“I lied.”

“I can see that.” You stepped to the side, making way for him to enter your house. You watched him sit on the couch as you closed the door and locked it. “What are you doing here, Seungkwan?”

“Uhm— Did you eat breakfast?” You saw his hands wipe down against his jeans, a nervous habit he had that you picked up on throughout your years of friendship.

“No I didn’t. And you avoided my question—”

“You haven’t eaten?” He stood up abruptly, determined to keep you distracted until lunch time, “Come on, lets cook some breakfast for you!” He turned towards the kitchen with you following closely after him after rolling your eyes and just letting it slide, thinking that maybe Vernon put him up to this.

Seungkwan sighed in content after finishing up his food, his eyes moving to meet your hard ones. “Seungkwan,” His eyes went to look around the room, just as long as they weren’t at you, “Seungkwan, stop avoiding eye contact.” He looked back at you, his lips pursed and throat feeling dry. “I have so many questions, but I won’t even bother at this point.” You shook your head and took your plate and his, bringing it to the sink and began to wash them.

As you were washing, you heard your name fall from his lips, “I can wash them, you have to go get ready.” Your head shot up, eyes looking to the side but your head staying in place.

“Get ready how? Where are we going?”

Seungkwan got up from his seat and stood next to you, “Don’t play dumb. Do you want your letter or not?” Your eyes lit up, nodding as you turned off the water and quickly went into your room to wash up and get ready.

“Thank you Seungkwan!”

You sat in the car with the radio gently playing in the background. A comfortable silence fell upon you and Seungkwan, who was in the driver's seat. You remembered to bring your gift as you looked at the large bag sitting on the floor between your legs. You checked the time on your phone, seeing that it was almost lunch.

“Wow, if Vernon planned a lunch, I’m glad you ate most of the breakfast food.” You out the window, giggling with Seungkwan.

“That was the whole point of me eating all the food. I had to keep you busy for a few more hours.”

You sighed and nodded your head in understanding, turning your head to look at the side of his face, “Where are we headed to anyway?”

He glanced away from the road to look at you for a split second before lifting up his hand, his pointer finger placed on his lips as he made a ‘shh’ sound. “It’s a secret.”

“Well can you tell me if it’s far? I kind of want to take a nap.”

“Go for it, but don’t get mad when I wake you up.”

Your eyes fluttered, feeling the cool breeze against your skin as goosebumps rose. You opened your eyes, seeing your boyfriend standing next to you with the car door open. He flashed his gummy smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “Ma Belle~”

You looked down at the floor as you placed your hand in his, stepping out of the car with your bag and present in hand. “Where have you been Vernon Chwe?”

You smiled cheekily at him to which he shrugged with a teasing smile, “I’ve been doing things.”

You began to smile, looking at your interlocked fingers as he led you to a familiar area. You scanned the place, seeing the light of the sun reflect off the little lake that you knew all too well. Your hand tightened in his grasp causing him to stop walking and to turn to look at you, “What’s wrong?” You pouted, puppy eyes boring into his as he smiled softly.

“You took me here? I thought this place became private property and people weren’t allowed to be here.” He laughed softly and brought up his hand, placing his pointer finger against his lips.

“Shhh, we’re not.” Your eyes widened as you hit him with your bag and he laughed, “I’m kidding, I talked to the owner and they were fine with it, come on, let’s go.”

He brought you over to a picnic setup, the tall tree providing you shade that can cool your down from the scorching sun. You both sat down on the blanket, looking out to the lake with the mini table in between. You sighed in content, your eyes never leaving the shining lake, “Vernon this is incredible. I’m so happy you were able to get us in here.” You looked over at your boyfriend, a smirk on his face as he held up the missing letter.

“I know you’ve been wondering where the final letter was but I don’t know if I want to give it to you just yet.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “You have to eat with me first and then I’ll give you the letter, okay?” You smiled and nodded your head happily, the thought of what could possibly be in the letter consumes your mind.

You finished your food with a toss of your napkin to the plate, your eyes immediately going to Vernon who was laughing softly. “I know what you’re going to ask, but first let me open my gift, please?” He pouted in which you rolled your eyes in response.

“Fine.”

You handed over the bag, biting your lip out of a nervous habit, watching him take out the tissue paper and spotting the box and photobook. He took out the photobook, looking at you with an unsure expression before opening it. Raising his eyebrows, he found every note he has written to you, and next to it is a note you have written in response.

He took a deep breath, flipping through all the pages, trying to be as slow as possible just to tease you, but no luck, “Vernon you can read it at home.” You whined next to him as he slightly glared at you,

“Hey, I just want to appreciate you.” Still, he listened and put the photobook back in the bag and then took out the box. He opened the top carefully and stared at the piece of jewelry laying inside.

He head lolled to look at you, another pout on his lips, “I told you not to buy me anything expensive.”

You giggled and nodded your head towards the bracelet, “Dig a little deeper Vernon,” He rolled his eyes at your remark of quoting the song before taking out the chain. He turned the small heart-shaped charm over and found your name next to the words ‘Your Evangeline’ engraved in it.

His grip on the chain loosened as he handed it to you, holding out his arm, “Put it on for me?” Quickly you wrapped it around his wrist and locked it in place, beaming with happiness. “I love this, I just— it’s beautiful.”

“Can I read the letter now?” He sighed in defeat as he failed to stall everything a little while longer.

“Way to ruin the sentimental mood.” He handed you the letter, watching you bounce in excitement as you prepared to rip it open.

“Wait! Read it up there, next to the lake. Pretend I’m not here, like how you would read any letter in the morning, okay?” You nodded standing up and scurried over to the lake, thinking about how weird it was that he asked you to read it at this spot. The thought left your mind the second your eyes scanned ‘Letter 365’. Your heart pounded in your ears as you ripped the flap open and pulled out the paper. You began to read:

Ma Belle,

Happy 7th year Anniversary! Can you believe it has been seven years we’ve been together? It feels so amazing. I’m sorry you had to read this through a letter, but I feel like writing it out conveyed my feelings better than when I just wing it. So, I hope you prepare yourself because this is going to be a ride full of cheese and cringe.

I remember our first date here. It was very cheesy and seemed too extravagant for a first date, but we have known each other for a few months before I asked you out, so I call it a success. Anyway, I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw the little fairy lights light up just at the snap of my finger. You said it looked like fireflies and reminded you of Princess and the Frog. Anyway, getting back to the point, the point is, this little lake holds a place in my heart because it was all those months of me silently pining after you to finally be able to take you here, it made me realize that I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Oh! Which reminds me of our first here, when we danced to the soundtrack of the movie. It’s random, I know but I don’t think you remember that. You probably won’t remember me proposing to you either, would you? Turn around Ma Belle :)

You slowly turned around, the blanket and picnic table gone, all that’s left in front of you is Vernon down on one knee holding up a small box displaying a beautiful ring. The arm holding the letter drops, your free hand coming up to slightly cover your mouth now agape. From his shaky hands to his beaming smile, the love you had for the man in front of you intensified.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “So, do you remember now?” The water in your eyes that have been threatening to spill finally let go as you nodded your head, “Ma Belle~” That damn grin on his face made your knees shake, “Will you be my Evangeline and marry me?” Your legs collapsed, your knees hitting the grass as you hugged Vernon tightly, whispering ‘Yes’ into his ear.

The amount of love you felt in your heart took over as you cried silently against him. He pulled away, laughing softly as he wiped your tears and brought your hand up, slipping the ring onto your ring finger. “Hansol Vernon Chwe, no wonder you wanted to open my gift first.”

He shrugged, looking into your eyes with that same teary smile before leaning in and placing a soft yet meaningful kiss on your lips. In that magical moment, you knew that this is all for you; he is all for you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#caratwritersclub #newskynet #seventeen #seventeen oneshot #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen au #vernon #vernon chwe #svt vernon #pieces of love #HAPPY VERNON DAY #HAPPY SEOKMIN DAY

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arhvste · 4 years ago

Text

KOZUME KENMA - WORK OF ART

request - could it be possible to get a kenma fic/scenario where his gf or girl crush is an artist and often draws him- probably hides it n testu or someone finds it and shows him so now they go on lip dates where kenma just plays his games and she draws him just like extra fluffy if you can I love kenma so much 🥺🥺🥺 if it’s too much then just something fluffy with ken ! thank you!

warnings - none

an - thank you for the request anon i just know kuroo the little shit would show his best friend all the drawings he finds 😈

classes were boring enough as it is but learning about the history or hiragana? what was the need?

sitting by the window seat, you had the obvious choice to stare outside the glass as class dragged along but you hardly found yourself looking outside at the window. instead, you would look and admire a classmate of yours.

kozume kenma.

he was one of the prettiest boys you’d ever seen. even his actions were so delicate and gentle to which would encourage the light butteries in your stomach to flutter a little more while you watched him. it wasn’t long before you found yourself sketching the bleached haired boy.

you were an avid artist with a beautiful talent. drawing kenma seemed a little out of your comfort zone at first. when you noticed you’d been sketching him for a few weeks you tried to consciously stop yourself, you didn’t want to feel like a creep who would just stare and draw someone. these sketches captured the boy’s calmness perfectly though and you found you couldn’t help yourself but continue, even deciding to add more detail into particular pieces you liked.

you told yourself that you were just using him as inspiration. you weren't infatuated with the boy, just inspired. no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself of this though, you found yourself enjoying drawing him more than anyone or anything else bringing you to the conclusion that yes, maybe you were perhaps a little smitten with him. not that you’d ever let him find out though.

your sketch book was littered with an assortment of drawings. some finished down to the smallest detailed and others half done, lazily sketched and yet to be completed. kenma took up most of the occupation of the pages though. surrounded by statues, flowers and other pretty things you often drew kenma as the centre piece for all your pages.

the drawings you skillfully created depended on your mood and kenma’s mood on the day. some days, kenma would be struggling to keep his concentration on the lesson going on in front of him, other days he’d be almost interested and looked as if he was putting more effort into his work. your most favourite days, were ones where kenma was lazily interested in the lesson. he would often propt is chin under his hand, eyes prettily fluttering occasionally while trying to stay awake (probably sleep deprived from excessive hours of gaming) and he would sometimes even use a thin black bobby pin to pin his long hair out of his face to stop his field of vision from closing in tempting him to fall into a slumber in the midst of class. those days were your favourite. he looked extra pretty.

today just happened to be one of those days as you gazed at kenma who at this moment had his hair messily pinned out of his face, eyes drooping every so often with the setters head dropping ever so slightly every time he felt the weight of sleep too heavy to handle. one hand placed under his chin, keeping his head from completely falling onto the desk and the other weakly holding his pen as he attempted to keep up with the classes notes.

you wanted to draw him in this moment really, but you did happen to feel bad for the blonde. he was obviously struggling to keep his head clear enough to focus so you decided now was a good opportunity to step out of your comfort zone a little.

“kozume-san? you whispered ever so gently.

kenma’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of his voice being called. he tilted his head in you direction and blinked his twinkly golden eyes at you

“hm?”

“d-do you want me to uh keep up with your notes for you?”

kenma’s eyes softened at the sound of your gentle voice.

“why would you want to do that l/n?”

“i can see you’re struggling to stay focused. we sit near the back and the teacher isn't interested in looking in our direction. you can catch up on a bit of sleep - o-only if you want though you don't have to!”

you knew you were blushing now. maybe you should’ve just minded your own business but in a split second you knew it was all worth it.

kenma gave you a small but genuine smile. fuck. it was so pretty. he was so pretty. his smile wasn’t blinding no, more of a gentle angelic glowing light that warms ones heart. the rare sort of golden light that can only be captured in a small time window each day and only through clear skies. you had made kozume kenma smile and you knew you were right to have stepped out your comfort zone.

“you’re observant. its much appreciated l/n, thank you. let me know how i can repay you after.”

his soft voice heavy with sleep sent the butteries in your stomach to go off in a frenzy. his delicate hands handed you his class book and he blushed so lightly it wasn't even noticeable at the subtle contact of your fingers brushing past each other.

he gave you a gentle nod as he laid his head down gently on his desk and gave into the strong craving to fall into a sleep.

drawing and writing were two things that came naturally to you. you were able at completing both tasks at a quick speed but you did it so flawlessly. you took a shy pride in your notes and classwork as you did with your drawings. both aesthetically pleasing to look at, but full of appropriate and useful content.

writing kenma’s notes alongside yours wouldn’t be a problem to you.

however, this would cause one in the unbeknownst future to you.

class ended about 50 minutes after you had encouraged kenma to have a small sleep. classmates were closing their notebooks and packing up their things. you gently tapped the sleeping setters shoulder with notes in your hand.

after a few taps the boy slowly lifted his head and gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. your heart melted at the sight of his eyes flickering while adjusting to the light. the slightly darkened sun depicting his eyes as gold speckled pools of honey, his nose scrunched up as he allowed his body to wake up. was there ever a time this boy was ugly? he seemed to be attractive doing everything, it wasn’t fair.

taking the book from your hands he nodded and gave you a shy smile.

“thank you, l/n. please tell me how i can repay you”

“oh! please don't worry about it! you looked like you needed a recharge i’m just happy you were able to do just that.”

“you’re a kind person l/n. but don’t hesitate to let me know if you ever need a favour.”

and with that, the setter packed up the few papers he had been resting on and then slightly bowing at you before heading out the door most likely to get ready for practice.

you smiled to yourself and headed out your classroom to leave for home knowing you had done a good deed for the day and you had happened to have your first direct interaction with the boy you’d been delicately sketching for the past couple of months.

“kenma! you’re 2 minutes and 38 seconds later than usual! we can't afford to have the brain of the team slacking.” kuroo teased his best friend with an irritating smile.

“was talking to a classmate. she helped keep me up with the class notes.” kenma spoke boredly as he set his bag down so he could change into his gym clothes.

“notes eh? offended you wouldn't just ask me for help. this feels like betrayal.”

kenma rolled his eyes at his friend’s childish behaviour and dug through his bag to look for his clothes.

“the offer was there so i just took it. besides, l/n’s handwriting is much more eligible than yours.”

“ouch. are they as detailed though?”

“probably even more.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“look for yourself.” kenma shrugged nodding towards his schoolbag.

kuroo wandered over to kenma’s bag and pulled the classwork book out.

“uh yeah i guess these are pretty ne- oHOHO what do we have here?”

kuroos eyes danced over the pages, a shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“i hate when you pull that face what’s wrong with you?” kenma’s disgusted face looked up at kuroo who looked like he was having an internal field day.

“l/n eh? i think someones got a little crush on you kenma.”

“what?”

kuroo turned the book around to show the pages to kenma who’s eye widened.

there was the pages you had littered with beautifully depicted drawings of kenma.

both boys were silent as kenma’s eyes scanned over the pages.

“no reaction? personally i’d be flattered if someone drew me that much and with such good detail too.”

kenma was still processing all the drawings as a million possible reasons for why you’d drawn him so much ran though his head.

did you think he was attractive?

was it a crush like kuroo had teased?

did you just need a reference and he just so happened to be there?

were the drawings actually him or were they just someone scarily similar?

“sooooo... you gonna talk to her then?”

kuroo smiled teasingly at the now blushing setter.

“i’ll just give this back to her. it’s obviously personal and she might even explain herself when she sees that i have her book.”

kuroo shrugged and put the book back in kenma’s bag.

“i think it’s cute kenma, take my advice, you should take the opportunity to get to know her a little, she's obviously interested in you.”

kenma snorted at his friends words slightly as he begun to follow him out the changing rooms and into the gym to join the rest of the team.

“ironic the relationship virgin is giving me advice.”

kuroo could only roll his eyes and laugh.

“to think you’d be the one to get a girl first, in my defence i’m too busy for relationships.”

“okay mr docosahexaenoic acid, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

you had just arrived home and you felt the weight of the day lift itself off of you as you threw your shoes off and dropped your bag to the floor in your bedroom.

you bag tipped over with some of the contents spilling out causing you to huff but get up and pick it up anyway.

then you saw it.

your heart dropped.

“fuck.”

‘kozume kenma’ was written on the front of one of your classwork books. how had you been so stupid in getting them mixed up.

you began to panic and think of solutions to this fresh dilemma.

“maybe i should just tell him that i just like him nows a chance? no that's stupid why would i do that? i’ll just tell him it’s a model that just looks similar to him. no, that’s not believable is it? fuck it. i’m moving country.”

you screamed into your pillow but then stopped when you remembered something.

kenma was in practice right now. there’s no way he could’ve opened the book and bothered checking the work right? why would he bother doing that?

you checked the time on your phone. 3:28pm. you still had a while until practice was over. that would be more than enough time to go into the changing rooms and swap the books before anyone notices. and even if he had opened the book already, when he saw his book was back in his bag, you could easily play it off as if he had dreamt the drawings up as he would’ve just woken up and still been drowsy.

you wasted no time grabbing your shoes and the book to sprint out the door. school wasn’t too far from your house, a 17 minute walk to be exact. your legs started to ache at the sudden intense action of you sprinting like your life depended on it. well, your life did depend on it. if kenma saw them and thought you were weird, what were you to do then? dropping out of school seemed like the most reasonable option.

finally reaching the gates you caught your breath. getting to school was a 17 minute walk but a 9 minute run. once you gathered your thoughts you quietly approached the gym to peek inside. there the team were training and focused on the court. going in through the front of the school and walking through the halls to get to the changing rooms through the back way, you gripped the book tightly as you got to the boys changing rooms.

a quiet prayer was muttered before entering. the changing room was surprisingly clean and didn't smell like over sprayed deodorant and excessive sweat like you’d imagined. you let out a sigh of relief as you scanned the room for kenma’s stuff before noticing it at the end of the room.

“just in and out.” you muttered under your breath as you walked swiftly over to the setter’s belongings

digging through kenma’s stuff proved to be quite stressful. you were so focused on not getting caught, you failed to noticed the door separating the gym and changing rooms open.

“uh l/n?”

you jumped and turned your head to the owner of the voice.

there stood a slight sweaty and tired looking kenma who had offered to return to the changing rooms to grab one of yaku’s extra kneepads.

“uhhh i can explain.. our books got um mixed up and i uh well -”

“you’re talented you know.” kenma gave you a small almost ghost smile.

your face instantly heated up at the small praise the boy had given you.

“w-what?”

“the drawings. i must say, i was surprised when i saw them but, you have talent y/n and... i don’t mind if you keep drawing me...”

kenma’s shy persona caused the last part to come out so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

“i’ll keep that in mind.” you smiled as you approached kenma to give him his book back.

he muttered a quiet thanks and went through his own bag to fish you out your book to give back to you. the tension was awkward but not heavy enough to drive either of you away instantly. both of you holding back in anticipation waiting for one of you to talk.

“so um, do you wanna maybe go out sometime? you don’t have to.”

your eyes softened again as you shyly nodded.

“i would like that kozume-san.”

“kenma. call me kenma.”

months had passed since then. you found you had things in common with the setter and found his neutral presence calming. he wasn’t too loud or in your face but he also wasn’t completely extroverted to the point where you’d sit in awkward silence like people often assumed he was like.

you had met his team and family and they all welcomed you with open arms eager to get to know the girl who had drawn kenma not only on paper but drawn him out of his comfort zone gently.

the two of you weren’t big on going out on dates. you would both often opt to stay in and enjoy each other’s company. kenma would game and you would draw, the two of you engaging in soft and relaxing conversation. kenma would never admit it out loud, but he loved the days where you would draw him. he would act like he was too immersed in his game to notice you sketching away but he felt a sense of pride in him whenever he noticed you using him as your model.

you had grown more confident in yourself and often allowed kenma to see your drawings. you decided since you were using him as your reference, the least you could do was show him how you portrayed him and every time he would compliment and praise you for your work.

“you know i’m glad i felt extra tired that one day you offered to do my notes.”

you hummed and looked up at your boyfriend.

“yeah? i’m just gad you weren’t weirded out by my book.”

kenma offered a gentle smile at you.

“weirded out? i was taken aback but not weirded out. i was ever so slightly flattered even. thank you for seeing some sort of beauty in me.”

brushing his hair out of his face you smiled softly as you leaned closer to his face to whisper your final words before pressing a delicate kiss to his lips.

“no, thank you for being a work of art.”

#kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma x you #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

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e-milieeee · 4 years ago

Text

four ways to say i love you

Summary: It’s the little things—such as waking up at five in the morning to cook for him or lending her a coat when she’s cold—that mean the world.

Because Marinette loves her partner very, very much, and she’s so lucky that he feels the same.

Notes: I was initially going to do one side of the lovesquare, but all sides are equal and therefore have all four sides in this oneshot :) Post reveal, established relationship. A commissioned piece for @mlbforblm—there’s plenty of talented artists and writers who still have slots, so make sure to commission!

Or read on AO3

Adrien is brushing his teeth when Ladybug comes crashing through his window.

He’s a little later than usual today, still decked in his Ladybug pajamas that he’s so unashamedly proud of. He has tied his bangs back with an elastic band, and it sits like a little tree on top of his head, water still dripping from his face.

“And here I was, thinking you’d be ready to eat breakfast,” she tsks playfully.

He grins back. “Sorry, M’lady. Plagg turned my alarm off.”

His smile is, as usual, contagious and in a way that can’t help but to smile back. Ladybug returns to his room and takes out the box from her bag, where she’d painstakingly prepared breakfast for him at the expense of a shattered bowl and spilled jug of milk. It’s still warm to the touch, thankfully, and her slightly rough landing in his room hadn’t messed it up too much.

Adrien joins her a couple minutes later. He has taken the hair tie out, but his bangs fall softly over his eyes like it does when he’s Chat Noir, and Ladybug wants to run her hands over it so to feel just how soft it is. She refrains herself, though, as they both settle cross-legged on the ground where she has laid their breakfast out.

His mouth drops open. “Wow,” Adrien marvels. “When you said you were going to make a feast, I thought you’d fry an egg or two and slap it between some bread and that would’ve been it. This is… can you describe food as gorgeous? Because this is gorgeous.”

“Just because that’s the only thing you can cook doesn’t mean it’s all I’m capable of,” she sniffs, but underneath, Ladybug preens at the compliment.

It’d taken a lot of effort, and Ladybug had collected the ingredients the day before and planned every single detail before going to bed. Then, at five in the morning, she dragged herself out of bed looking and feeling like a zombie just to prepare it.

There are four egg rolls drizzled with homemade sauce, then sprinkled with dried seaweed and sesame. Next to that are neat cuts of green onion cake, made from absolute scratch (she burned herself in the process of deep-frying them). Inside the longest container are fried fish, the ones her mother had prepared the night before. Finally, the leftover mooncakes from the Lunar Festival are in the little box, tied with a red bow. Marinette had spent careful care on that one.

“Miso soup,” Ladybug tells him as she hands him the thermos. “Uh… I think I added too much paste and it’s too salty, so you might not want to drink that one. And…” She opens the last box, where a variety of fresh-cut fruit awaits. “For health reasons, there are fruits. Oh! Also a cheese platter for Plagg, but he’s still asleep, so he can have it later.”

Adrien is positively beaming when she unpacks everything. “You’re the absolute best,” he gushes.

“Couldn’t have you starving on your diet, right?” The nonchalant act can only go so far when she’s grinning so wide. “I’m just hoping it tastes as good as it looks.”

“It’ll taste good just because you made it.” He throws her an exaggerated wink, then immediately reaches for his chopsticks to dig in.

Ladybug watches him take a bite out of green onion cake. He chews, swallows, eyes lighting up. “This is amazing, and I promise I’m not just saying that because my diet’s forced me to eat boiled chicken breasts with no seasoning of the past week.”

She giggles. “Just let me know when you want me to bring you breakfast.”

He places a hand on his chest. “I can’t believe Ladybug’s my personal delivery girl. Do you offer lunch services as well?”

“Only for you, kitty.”

His grin is worth getting up for at 5am.

***

Marinette is freezing at lunch break, but they’ve agreed to eat outside, so she sucks it up. At least the lunch she’d packed for her and Adrien is warm.

It’s late autumn now, and the last couple of leaves cling to otherwise bare trees. She regrets the outfit she picked—cute, but not practical. Especially not in this weather. Looking at Alya bundled up in a hoodie and combat boots, Marinette really regrets the dress.

The noodles in the thermoses are slightly soggy, but the flavour is still there. They chat for a while—about upcoming tests, about projects and the end-of-the-year field trip that is still months away, and everything is lovely. Lovely, but cold.

Halfway through, her noodles emptied, Adrien notices her shivering. “Are you cold?” he asks, eyes growing wide in concern.

Alya halts her conversation with Nino as well. “Wait, Adrien’s right, you’re wearing a dress. I’m chilly and I have a sweater on.”

Marinette, who has refrained from speaking for the past couple of minutes in fear of her teeth chattering too loudly, manages to shake her head.

She gets a scrutinizing look-over by Adrien before he makes his verdict. “This isn’t going to do,” he declares firmly. Then, with one fluid movement, he shrugs his own sweater off and drapes it over her shoulders.

“Oh, he’s smooth,” Alya remarks with a wicked grin.

Smooth, indeed. The jacket is wonderfully warm, and, with a content sigh, Marinette slides her arms through the sleeves. There’s also the faint smell of his cologne and it’s so very him that she can’t help the smile that crosses her face.

He opens an arm in a beckoning gesture and Marinette happily settles into his embrace.

***

Because of his father’s strict rules, it’s much easier for Adrien to come by as Chat Noir after school, which he does almost everyday. Sometimes it’s between his schedules, sometimes it’s after, late into the night when both his father and Nathalie believe he’s asleep. Marinette always listens for the thump on the skylight, an indication that he’s there. The trap door is always left unlocked for him, so she only needs to wait as he climbs down the ladder.

It’s nearing nine when he comes this time. She sits at her desk finishing up the rest of the notes when the door creaks open and Chat Noir climbs down.

“Evening,” he greets. “What—ooh, you brought croissants for me.”

He zeroes in immediately on the food that Marinette had, admittedly, prepared for him. Between Adrien’s schedule and that godawful diet his father insisted putting him on and his time sprinting across rooftops and fighting akumas, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t fainted from lack of nutrition. Marinette has made it her personal goal to make sure he’s properly fed, and she ensures there’s a snack waiting for him every time he drops by.

Half a minute later, he’s munching enthusiastically on the food and Marinette can no longer focus on the rest of her notes. She sorts them out—there’s at least four pages that she’d copied in her neatest handwriting—and then hands them to Chat.

“Here,” she tells him. “You missed both physics and mathematics today because of the photoshoot, so I copied the notes from class and re-organized them. I also added a review section from last class so it’s easier to figure out just where we are since the two lessons are connected. And…” She shuffles through her desk once more, producing the textbook. “It’s on page one hundred and twenty seven to one hundred and twenty nine, if my notes don’t make sense. You can study here, if you’d like. My parents won’t be coming back up anyway, so we should be left alone for now.”

The last time her mother had walked in on her and Chat doing homework together, she’d been understanding. Understanding, but skeptical. It had been awfully hard to explain why Paris’ superhero was lounging in her room like he lived there—and much harder more awkward to explain that Adrien was one hundred supportive of her friendship with Chat after her father had become defensive that he had ulterior motives.

Chat takes the papers from her. “You’re absolutely unbelievable,” he tells her, eyes shining in a way only his can. “Seriously, Marinette, have I ever told you?”

She pretends to count on her fingers. “Let’s see… only about six times today. Why? He shakes his head, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. In one fluid movement, he leans down to pluck the textbook from her hands and plants a quick kiss against her cheek in the process. “What would I do without you?”

“Go hungry, probably? Start lagging behind in all of your classes?” Marinette tsks at him. “God, you’re right. What would you do without me?”

Chat’s laugh is wonderful and full and happy. “Then aren’t I lucky to have you.”

***

The akuma strikes at midnight.

Marinette, about to change into her pajamas after just sending off Chat Noir, curses to herself. She’s tired and not in the mood to transform, but when Chat comes crashing back down from the skylight urgently, she knows she has no choice.

“Akuma!” he informs her, as if the tremors outside could be caused by anything else. “It’s close to here. We should be able to take this one quickly.”

“Why is Hawkmoth even awake?” Marinette grumbles, but transforms nonetheless. Chat waits patiently on the side, though he’s drawn taut, prepared to scramble into action the moment she’s ready. Then they’re climbing out of the skylight, into the light, where the akuma has begun its rampage. The once-quiet night is ripped apart with panic and terror.

The akuma is relatively easy to deal with: a little girl, apparently inspired by Frozen, is decked in full Elsa, wielding similar powers. She covers the streets in ice, a snowstorm whirling around her, as spirals of icy sculptures rise and fall.

Both she and Chat have icicles hanging off them by the time Ladybug purifies the akuma. Even after she releases the Miraculous Ladybug, the cold from the girl’s powers haven’t seeped out of her bones. Judging from Chat’s chattering teeth, he feels the same.

Despite her watch reading 12:32 and the next day hailing as a school day , they stop by at a 24-hour-cafe for hot chocolate. A couple minutes later, seated on the rooftops warming their chilled hands, they’re huddled against each other and staring out at the gleaming cityscape.

“Another successful take-down, m’lady?”

Ladybug laughs as he raises his cup for a toast, and she obliges and bumps her own against him. Hot chocolate sloshes over the lid, splashing onto her suit. She flicks it off. “What a team we make, huh? Now, if only Hawkmoth would get the memo and stop creating his akumas so late. Why is he even up now? Say, do you think he has a life outside of being Hawkmoth?”

“He probably wants to catch us off guard in the middle of the night. Remember that one time we got woken up at three because there was an akuma attack? Plagg wanted to tape my mouth shut so I couldn’t transform.”

Ladybug groans. “I did really bad on a test the next day because I got three and a half hours of sleep—I fell asleep halfway through the test! It’s— ugh. He’s so annoying.”

“There’s one good thing about midnight akumas, though,” Chat points out.

She takes a sip from the hot chocolate, which, during their conversation, has cooled down to just below scalding. “A good thing?” Ladybug echoes. “Name one good thing, chaton.”

He nudges her shoulder. “You, m’lady. It’s nice just being alone like this without anyone else, right?”

Then, like he’s said nothing out of the ordinary, Chat goes back to drinking his hot chocolate with infuriating nonchalance.

Ladybug finds herself smiling. “You know,” she tells Chat Noir. “You’re ridiculously good at this. Where do you even get the inspiration to say these things?”

“You.”

“You are completely overdoing it.”

“You love me, admit that.”

“No.”

“So you would get up at five in the morning to make breakfast for just anyone, Bugaboo?”

Ladybug relents. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Chat Noir’s laugh rings crystal clear throughout the night, loud against the crisp air. Ladybug wants to trap that laugh and hold it close to herself. She can’t help but treasure it, after all: it’s a sound that chases away worries, soothes fears, and she thinks she's so, so lucky to hear it everyday.

“I love you,” he tells her when his laughter dies down. “Don’t forget that, m’lady.”

Ladybug leans her head on her shoulder. “I love you too,” she replies quietly. “You better not forget it, either.”

Notes: Here’s my fics masterlist!

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #marinette #marichat #ladrien #ladynoir #adrinette #fluff #post reveal #established relationship #mlbforblm #my writing #mlb fic

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atsunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Semi Eita x Reader

Rated: SFW — Angst, cursing, traffic accident, injury descriptions, slight mentions of anxiety and post traumatic stress.

Word count: 2070

Author notes: and here is the second part of our F.L.Y collab. I want to thank all the girls from Knights of the coconut and in particular, both @mooshua and @neonghxst who were pretty patient with me and helped me a lot throughout this process. You guys are amazing and I can't thank you enough. I guess that's all. Please enjoy your reading!

F.L.Y Masterlist

If this can no longer resonate/ No longer make my heart vibrate/ Then like this may be how/ I die my first death

He felt suffocated as the breath hitched on his throat.

Staring at his hands, the male recalled how said limbs brought the best time of his life:

A setter position at Shiratorizawa Volleyball club.

A desk job at the public department.

A promise as a rising star along his band, under a label with a contract too good to be true.

Roaming through his memories, he remembers that every single one of his achievements were accompanied by lights:

The reflectors on the court.

The white lamps from his office.

The blinding lights from the stage.

Once had he everything he wanted. Now it was all out of his grasp — And lights, very similar to the last ones, now plagued his thoughts.

After all, he remembers when they blinded him before the car came crashing onto his body. Chills ran down his spine every time he recalled how the headlights of the vehicle were the last thing he saw before blacking out.

All it took was one second and then, a month at the hospital that turned into a lifetime of pain — it took only an accident for his life never be the same again.

"Maybe this is what they call first death" He muttered to himself, the words tasting bitter in his mouth as he took on his surroundings.

The constant tapping the secretary made on the keyboard left his nerves on edge and, added to the sterile scent hanging on the air, it felt like a reminder of the folder that sat heavy on his lap. In addition, the curious, pitying, eyes trained to his figure did nothing to soothe his anxiety.

Well, it's not everyday you see a rockstar sitting in a clinic waiting room, after he almost died, the man mused in distaste.

"Semi Eita?" The voice called from the door across the lounge. There, a male stood eyeing him as he made his way to the office.

The room was spacious, with a desk, cabinets, a stretcher and some anatomic models. A typical physiotherapist office, he guessed — not like Semi had ever been into one before, though.

"Make yourself comfortable, Semi-san" The brunette said as he organized some papers on the desk surface "I see it's your first time here. I'm Ennoshita Chikara, the physiotherapist who will take care of your condition from now on" They both shook hands as Semi sat on the chair. He cursed internally as he felt no force on his right hand.

"So, what brings you here today, Semi-san?" Ennoshita asked, eyeing Semi's right hand.

The grey haired male gulped before handing the folder to the physiotherapist.

"Here, this is the medical report. Shirabu-sensei made sure to specify everything regarding my hand." The brunette hummed before taking it. Semi couldn't muster up the courage to talk about his condition.

"I know, Semi-san. But I need to hear it for the history taking and you may know acceptance can help you through the recovery process" The apologetic tone made him sick.

"I don't want to talk about it. Could you please just proceed with the therapy?"

"Look, I know it's a sensitive topic but—" The therapist was interrupted mid sentence when Semi stood. The chair screeched on the floor at the sudden movement before the male tried to snatch the folder from the other.

Tried.

The paper sheets scattered on the floor, since he couldn't take a proper grip on them.

Tears of frustration welled up on his eyes, as he murmured a meek apology only to storm out of the place.

Semi Eita felt the pitying eyes following him all the way back to his house.

At home, he felt in peace.

No sympathetic gazes and no condescending words. Just him alone with his own demons.

I need a bath. And a beer, the gray haired man decided as the weak hand carded through his hair locks. He flinched at the touch, feeling how dull it was — tactless, even. Just a bundle of flesh and bones hanging from his wrist. Nothing like it used to be.

Ignoring the pang on his chest, the man walked through the corridor. By his left, he saw a shining glass door and immediately, a sensation of longing crawled up his spine and clawed at his heart. He opened the tinted surface, entering the room.

The music studio was the same way he left on the accident day: the gray hoodie thrown over the chair, the paper cups of coffee scattered over his desk and the Moleskine with the lyrics he wrote that night. They resembled three months of hard work and the whole place, a sanctuary built of his dreams.

Too bad the room now felt like his own private purgatory.

Running his index finger over the notebook's leathery spine, memories invaded his mind. Regret gnawed on him even though he wasn't at fault — well, who would have predicted that going to get cigarettes late at the night would end up in a near-death experience? Who would've guessed that, on the way back to his condo, a drunk fucker would hit him with his car and vanish from the scene, without calling an ambulance?

If the medical help came sooner, would things be different? He often wondered, even though he knew it couldn't be helped. His friend, doctor Shirabu, said the damage on his arm was too extensive with a chance of recovery little to nonexistent. His heart stopped beating when he heard those words.

Looking back at it, Semi Eita regretted getting out of his house for such a trivial thing. Before, the musician had his dreams to push him through. Now, all he had left was a medical report — written in a horrendous handwriting, if he may add — stating that patient Semi Eita suffered a minor brain damage and multiple broken bones that caused a lower motor neuron syndrome with wallerian degeneration on the median nerve of his right arm — he didn't understand a shit about the medical terms, but he knew it was bad. Well, it's not like paralysed fingers in the form of 'the hand of benediction' could be a good outcome of an accident.

Benediction? More like a curse, he scowled.

Snapping out of his internal turmoil, brown orbs wandered over the music studio, eyeing all his equipment, as the man drowned on the nostalgic feeling.

On the far corner of the room, white tiles smiled at him — Though, it wasn't a sign of sympathy: in the far corner of the room, the black piano was smiling in mockery, as if it laughed at him, knowing his condition.

You'll never play again, The piano said

"I know!" He retorted.

Your career is dead, the piano chanted.

"I know!"

So pitiful, it snickered — and that was the last straw before despair washed through his body.

Semi spotted the electric guitar by his left. Grabbing the instrument by its neck, he threw it at the other. The wooden body crashed onto the keyboard, the ivory keys agonized at the violence.

Not that he cared, though. He was hurting a lot more than the piano did.

And the tears running down his face were proof enough of it.

Absorbed in his self-conscious state, he didn't see you entering the room, eyes roaming over the mess he made.

"Oh my, Eita!" And his body crashed into yours, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Eita, love" You said softly, testing the waters.

"Get out" He pleaded weakly, both of you still slumped over the carpet of his studio. Your boyfriend stopped crying long ago, but sorrow still covered his face.

The sight was heartbreaking.

"You know I won't" You said, holding him tighter.

"[Name], get the fuck out!" He said an octave louder, pushing you away "The last thing I want now is your pity. And I don't want you to see me like this, either" Ever the proud man he was, hatred laced his voice — and even though you knew it wasn't directed at you and that he didn't mean it, it still hurted.

"I won't leave you. And I don't pity you" You sincerely stated.

"So why the fuck you're looking at me like this?" Hazel irises squinted at you, the hands clutching your shoulder tightened their grip — the hold on your right felt a lot more stronger.

"I'm worried" And then, he laughed.

Hysterically.

Almost scaringly.

"Why waste your time, huh?" You tried to retort, he beated you to it.

"Why bother with a failure for a boyfriend, hm?"

"Eita"

"What's left to you, huh? I bet you're leaving me now that my fucking career went downhill and I won't be famous anymore" The venom of his words scorched your ears.

Throwing insults at you, Semi didn't measure his words and nor did you measure your actions. A second after, all the two of you felt was the stinging flesh.

Of your hand.

Of his cheek.

"So you'll just sit here and cry?" You grabbed him by the collar, eyes boring into his "Shirabu himself said there was a chance. Are you giving up this easily?"

"Shirabu said there was a slight chance" He corrected you, saliva was sprayed over your skin when he screamed at your face.

"And you'll just take it, giving up without a try?" You were so done. The Semi you knew wasn't a spineless man who gave up so easily.

"You don't know how it feels!" He cracked again, the cry went past his mouth, wavering on the air. Your features softened as your hands moved upwards, cradling his face.

"I don't" The words came ragged "But please, don't give up without pulling out a good fight. You're not acting like yourself"

"It's just so hard. You don't get how empty I feel" The man before you was nothing like your Eita.

"For fuck's sake, Eita. Try the surgery and if it doesn't work, wait for the physical therapy results. If it still doesn't work, learn to play with the other hand, goddammit" You leaned onto him, joining your foreheads "Just don't give up. Back to our Shiratorizawa years, you said you wanted to rely on your own strength to show you abilities, because you desire to do things were always too strong. You prided yourself for being free when showing off, then why are you letting this situation hold you down?"

"It's hard. It's like I'm dying, but feels much more worse than that" Words came in a whisper, still reluctant to consider the options.

"But did you die? Did your talent die?" You lightly shook his body, trying to infuse some energy into it "Did you, all of sudden, forget how to make music?" And he saw determination painted in the hue of your irises.

"But—" He tried to argue.

"No buts, even if you can't play in the band, you can still be a producer. Don't let life reap your art away from you" You pleaded, hoping your words could somehow touch him.

Peeking into his face, you observed its features softening as you felt his muscles relaxing under your palms and your boyfriend reciprocating your loving touches.

Your heart was finally at ease.

"How come you always know what to say in the right time, even if it's cliché as fuck?" Eyelids covered the orbs you loved so much as the words were spoken in a serene mode.

Semi Eita felt peace.

You tucked the broader body inside of your arms, caressing the lean muscles of his shoulders.

"There's a reason why, other than my pretty face, I'm your muse" He playfully scoffed at you, tightening the hold on your waist.

"Who said you are?" You ignored his words, paying attention to the hair locks under your chin "[Name]?" He started uncertain.

"Hm?"

"You're right. Guess if I didn't die in the accident, it's only fair if I don't let my life as an artist go away either" His soft-spoken words meant everything to you.

Relief washed over you as your heartbeat increased in your chest. But the most important was how you could feel Semi's heart beating again.

I'm in my workroom, it's my studio/ The waves go darkly by in a throe/ But I'll never get dragged away again

Taglist: @anseoo @keiijiis @inarizakikoukou @deerixiie @bristil @maramalademadara @thedreadthreadanomaly @catharsisbabey @aprettyfruit @ttsukii @chasekudo @kenmashoe @daijoubuyuki @krusty-cheetahs @ohmythatmiya

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f1bbe3 · 4 years ago

Text

Thank God You’re not a Pervert!

In a world full of soulmates, Asahi felt some sort of relief, just a little. On one hand he won’t have to court someone, the universe already did it for him! On the other, he had to meet them. And oh how he dreaded that day. During his time off from volleyball, the poor boy did nothing but worry. Less sports meant less distraction, which meant more time looking at his inner forearm where the words “Oh! Sorry!” were permanently stamped in his soulmates handwriting.

His whole life, Asahi has felt bad about his mark, even to the point where he started hiding it in middle school. He used everything: gauze wrap, bandaids, long sleeves, always holding a book to his chest, keeping his arm to his side at all times—everything! That plan worked out well until he met Suga in his first year at Karasuno. The team was in the club room, getting dressed before a big game. Asahi is a very careful man, he was able to hide it for months, but every strand of caution tape ends eventually.

An upperclassman, one that Asahi never talked to much outside of practice, was always bothered by the mystery of his mark. We all have them. I mean, how bad could it be? So what else could a senpai do but help, right? And who else to help conspire but Suga?

It was a mediocre plan, really; one made on the way to the club room. It's a surprise it even worked. As soon as Asahi raised his hands behind his head, reaching for the collar of his shirt to remove it, they struck. Upperclassmen grabbed his torso so he wouldn’t run, and suga went to work with the bandages. After a slight struggle, the dark ink was out in all its glory.

Asahi hung his head, waiting for the laughing that he convinced himself would follow, but it never came. Instead of gawking and trying to cover their sneers, his teammates...smiled. The third year that he thought would give him hell for sure, was pushing down his sock to show the “Ewwwww!” on his ankle. Two second years showed their “But, why?” and “I didn’t mean it like that!” marks. The game played after that marked the first day he felt relieved to show his mark; like he wasn't so odd after all.

That’s not to say he didn’t have his doubts sometimes. There was the occasional “What did I say? Did I hurt them? Oh God are they gonna hate me!?” to which Daichi reassured with the logic that they wouldn’t be his soulmate if they couldn’t handle him. That idea always soothed Asahi, even today, at the training camp barbecue. Teams from nearby schools gather to compete and practice. He should’ve been focused on Suga trying to steal bits off his plate, but the tall man couldn’t help but be caught up with all the strangers around him. What if one was the one? He subconsciously straightened his back and relaxed his shoulders, trying to make a good first impression on someone who probably wasn’t even there.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Entering a club your last year of high school probably wasn’t a good move on your part, especially if you’re managing the rowdiest boys in the entire Tokyo prefecture. They all deserted you to fend for yourself in this mess of teenage athletes and your only saving grace was Kuroo. You internally thanked him for seeing your obvious unfamiliarity with this sort of event.

He led you through the crowd, stopping periodically to yell at Lev, tell Kenma to eat, or brag talk about you and introduce you to his friends. You know you should be paying attention to names and faces, but you can't help but drift off just a little. Thinking about your unfortunate soulmark—to say the least—your brain musters up the possibility of your fated lover being here among you. That tiny bit of hope is enough to give you a shred of a confidence boost. You look around at the sea of jerseys and testosterone, trying to find someone who looks gross enough to match your mark.

Switching your cup from hand to hand, your eyes dash around the area before clashing with another pair sitting at a table with his team. A dark, deep brown; the kindest eyes a human could have. A flush of butterflies quickly takes over your stomach and throat, but you turn away just as fast. He's the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, yes, and that feeling is definitely new, but he just doesn't match your mark. He looks too sweet; not douchebagish enough to match your mark.

Seemingly reading your mind and ignoring it, Kuroo says goodbye to his friend (Bokura, or maybe it was Bokuto?) and guides you to the table. You make eye contact with the brown eyed boy again, you hold it until he looks away just as the other table members see you coming.

Kuroo introduces you to the table, who you now know as the third years of Karasuno. You try to ignore the gaze on you from the boy, Asahi, as you take your seat in the middle of him and Daichi. The conversation glides from your first year managing, to Yaku's surprisingly strong grip, to the similarities between Yamamoto, Tanaka, and Noya, who joined the table once they saw you.

Between the not-so-subtle glances at Asahi, you get caught up in Kuroo’s story of how he and Kenma met and realized they were soulmates. You get so caught up that you reach for your cup without checking that it’s yours. A hand reaches out from beside you and lightly pushes your wrist from bringing the drink any closer to your mouth.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

“This is mine.” It comes out more apologetic than Asahi wanted it to, but doesn’t correct himself when you turn to look at him and quickly reply.

“Oh! Sorry!” You say it faster than your brain can process what he said, and when it clicks you both freeze.

It takes a total of three seconds of eye contact for Kuroo to realize what he just saw. He stops mid sentence, motionless, waiting for either of you to say anything. His shocked expression brings the table’s attention to you and Asahi. Lev’s cut short laugh signals the next table to look and eventually the entire camp is at the edge of their seats.

But a revolutionary moment can’t last forever and Asahi’s team can’t wait to meet their ace’s soulmate. Tanaka, Noya, and Hinata immediately bombard you with questions as Suga tries his best to control them. As the three wrestle to get closer to you, Noya yells out, asking where your soul mark is. It’s enough to snap you out of your surprise and you stand up from the table.

The whole camp watches as you stand behind your seat and begin to unbutton your jeans—

“OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH OF THAT (Y/N) JUST SHOW US YOUR ARM OR WHATEVER AND GET IT OVER WITH!” Kuroo yelled, trying his damn best to block Lev’s view. You only roll your eyes and glance at Asahi, who looks like he’s about to die from embarrassment, but he doesn't look away. As you start to push down the hem of your pants, you can hear his breath hitch, and you move your hands away to show your mark. Every boys’ (and Yachi’s) face goes red as they read the “This is mine.” printed on your pubic bone in Asahi’s handwriting.

‘DAMN ASAHI YOU GOT LUCKY!” Tanaka howled, initiating a roar of laughter across the yard. You fix your jeans and sit back down next to Asahi, who is too sheepish to look at you. After the laughing dies down and you get your fair share of congratulations, your soulmate leans into you and apologizes for your mark being so promiscuous. You laugh and turn towards him fully.

“I always thought my soulmate was gonna be gross, thank God you’re not a pervert!”

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ihatetosayitoldyouso · 4 years ago

Text

august

masterlist

content warnings: some cursing? mentions of alcohol and drinking

word count: 5,189

Chapter 1

I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try.

He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. And I know that’s a cliche statement, but in this case, it was one hundred percent true. He walked past me with a gait that both intimidated and intrigued me. He walked as though he knew he would never falter, never trip, and never fall. He had a jawline that looked as if it were chiseled by Zeus himself. His curly brown hair fell right above his eyes, not completely masking his bold eyebrows. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes. The more I looked at them, the more I got lost. They were a deep hazel, with specks of green and gold, that could surely be seen from space. His hands were encapsulating, as if they had a magnetic force emitting from them, pulling me towards him. The way he briefly touched his beautiful lips with the tips of his fingertips did something to me I couldn’t explain.

I realized I was staring and quickly tried to pull my attention back to the book I was reading, but I continued to glance up at him. He walked by me, close enough that I could feel the slight breeze he caused to blow past me. It vaguely smelled like cedar, cotton, and- was that vanilla? I looked at him briefly before he walked completely out of my eyesight and let myself dream for a second. Who was that? And why have I never seen him before? Okay sure, campus is about 40,000 people large, but still. He was in my vicinity now, so surely he had a class around here.

Okay, that was enough daydreaming. I tried to inhale his scent once more before checking the time. My watch said 12:36 pm which meant that my next class was in twenty-four minutes. I spread myself out on the ground by the tree I was at and continued to read. Today was the first day of my Criminology class, so I wasn’t too nervous about getting any studying in beforehand. Plus, the class was huge, so I didn’t need to worry about getting called on to answer a question if I didn’t want to. I checked my phone before getting up and making my way to class. It was a beautiful day out, as if that boy- excuse me, man, I saw earlier created the perfect environment for him to walk in. The sun was shining but there were just enough clouds speckling the deep blue sky. The trees were a vibrant green, going perfectly with the freshly cut grass. It felt impossibly perfect, considering it was the middle of August. Shouldn’t it be excruciatingly hot? But no, the breeze felt perfect on my warm skin and didn’t cause a chill as I picked up the pace into the Behavioral Sciences Building.

As I walked through the glass door, I felt the chill of the AC hit me as soon as my foot graced the tile floor. It immediately sent a shiver down my spine, similar to the one I felt earlier when that immortal in human form glided past me. I felt myself lose focus and completely miss the elevator I planned on using. I shook it off and pretended like walking to the stairs was what I had intended all along. I opened the door to the corridor and began ascending the stairs that seemed to never end. I checked my watch one more time, to assure that I was still on time, and I was actually ahead of my own extremely strict schedule. As I reached the floor I needed, I took out my phone to scroll mindlessly while I waited for my professor. Of course, I was here before anyone else. My mom always told me “on time is late and early is on time,” so I always made sure to be early by her standards: at least fifteen minutes before any event was supposed to start. But not for parties. I promise I’m not that much of a nerd. Maybe.

Anyways, I took a seat in the third row, close enough that I could see the front without straining my eyes, but not so close that I would be able to eyefuck my professor throughout the lecture. Not that I would. But I’ve seen some try. I don’t understand why people have a professor kink, but to each their own I guess. I stuck my nose into my twitter feed and waited for time to pass. About thirty seconds later, I heard the door open. I expected to see another student, but instead I saw the God that had graced my presence earlier. I tried to stop my jaw from flying open, but I failed miserably. Trying to play it cool, I tucked my hair behind my ear and started to organize my things for class. I looked up at him, seeing that he was already, was he? Staring at me? But I managed a meek smile and basically whispered the word “Hi.” His mouth moved and he spoke the word “Hello” before taking a seat at the front of the class. This kid was the professor? What was I supposed to do? Not stare at him the whole class? I just decided to keep my head down and try to focus solely on moving around my things, whether purposeful or not.

About fifteen minutes passed and as more students strolled into the lecture hall, the man I am definitely not staring at, began to write his name on the large whiteboard at the front of the class. “Dr. Reid.” Hmm. Sounds pretty formal. I instantly began to wonder if he was going to be a hardass and to dread the drudgery that I may encounter throughout this semester. I was taking six classes with a course load that could make a grown man cry. Or in my case, a 19-year-old girl. I do my best to pay attention throughout the lecture, rather than staring at the beautiful man in front of me. The class’s material genuinely interested me, but I couldn’t get over the fact that this man, who I thought was a (gorgeous) student, was my professor. He looked too young to be a professor. Far too young to be a Doctor. How quickly was he able to get his degree? Or maybe I’m just terrible at guessing ages, which I usually am.

Before I got too lost in thought, I heard a firm voice come from the top of the room. “Hello everyone. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I will be your Criminology professor this semester. You can call me Spencer, Professor Reid, or Dr. Reid, I really don’t mind. Before we get started today, I want to tell you all a little bit about me.” He clears his throat and leans back on his desk, laid in perfectly in the center of the room, and I see his dress pants crease slightly. I shake myself in desperate need to pay attention to the words he was saying, rather than his legs, which I could only assume were as perfect as the rest of him. I tried not to aim my gaze around his waist but it seemed to land there all on its own.

“I have a full-time position at the FBI with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They allow me time off on Mondays and Wednesdays to teach, which is how I’m here today” He chuckles lightly. “We work on serial cases and the occasional kidnapping case across the country. We use our knowledge of human behavior to analyze the serial killers we chase down. It helps us understand why they do what they do and what their next move might be. I’ve always found human behavior extremely interesting, which is what brought you all here today I hope.”

He walks around his desk and gathers a large stack of papers in his hands. Oh god, those hands. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins were so prominent, it should be illegal to have hands that attractive. I, once again, caught myself before he made his way down the middle of the row of seats, handing a small section of the papers to the student sitting at the end of each row. He made his way to the third row and handed me a portion of the papers. I took the stack from his hands and briefly looked up and found him looking right into my eyes. My breath hitched as I tried to focus myself and not fumble the papers everywhere. I collected myself and took a syllabus for myself and passed them down my row. Soon enough, I found myself looking back at him as he handed the rest of the syllabi out, hopefully not drawing attention to myself. He walked back down the steps and placed himself at the front of the lecture hall. “I understand that the majority of you will find it strange that I am handing out physical copies of the syllabus, but I have always preferred hard copies to digital ones, and I believe that should apply to students as well. In fact, direct mail requires twenty-one percent less cognitive effort to process than digital media, suggesting that it is both easier to understand and more memorable. Post-exposure memory tests validated what a cognitive load test revealed about direct mail’s memory encoding capabilities. When asked to cite the brand of an advertisement they had just seen, recall was seventy percent higher among participants who were exposed to a direct mail piece than a digital ad. Long story short, handwrite your notes.” A small wave of laughter settled over the class. I found myself smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, staring at Dr. Spencer Reid. How am I supposed to focus when he looks like that? I guess I’ll have to figure it out.

The rest of the class went smoothly. The handsome professor went over the syllabus and his expectations for us in his class. The clock struck 2 pm and I found myself writing down the reading assigned for tonight. Reading? Who assigns reading on the first day of classes? No matter, I read the beginning of our textbook ahead of time, so I didn’t find myself too worried. I stuffed my papers and my journal into my bookbag and tried not to stumble as I gathered my things to walk out of class. I walked past the man I had been trying, and failing, not to stare at for the entirety of the class period. I smiled a small smile and softly said “Thank you” as I walked out the door. He smiled back and waved softly as I melted into the hallway.

I had three classes on Mondays and I always tried to end my day as early as possible, so I walked back to my on-campus apartment; Criminology was my last class of the day. Yes, I start my day earlier than 8 am and I can probably be classified as certifiably insane. At least, according to my roommate’s standards. As I entered the cramped apartment, I found my roommate, Amber, asleep on the couch, a tv show playing softly on her laptop. I laughed at the sight of her, limbs everywhere and mouth agape, wondering how she could sleep like that in the middle of the day. It didn’t matter, she knew what worked best for her. She was one of the most accomplished people in our class. She majored in Political Science and International Studies and she seemed to ace every class with ease. I was in awe of her in that regard, as well as her ability to nap at any time and anywhere. We met each other last year in our Freshman Honors lecture and we had been attached at the hip ever since. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as close and safe with a person as I did Amber. I trusted her with all of my secrets and she trusted me with hers. I was extremely grateful to have her in my life.

Scoffing at Amber, I made my way to my bedroom and sat my stuff down in the corner of the room. I jumped onto my bed and began to scroll mindlessly on my phone. About fifteen minutes passed before Amber barged into my room. “Amber!” I jumped, embarrassingly startled by her entrance, “Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” she started, “but now I’m not. Funny how sleeping works like that.” I roll my eyes at her. “Anyways,” she continues, “I heard there was gonna be a big party tonight in honor of the first week of classes and I was thinking we would go!” She bounces on the balls of her feet, smiling innocently at me.

“Amber, you know I don’t really party” I say.

“I knowwwww but… I thought I could drag you out tonight?” She clasps her hands dramatically. “Please? I just want to have some fun with you before we’re both consumed by homework. Please? I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She smiles her stupid smile again.

“Okay fine, I give in.” I say and she jumps up and down.

“Thank you Y/N!! You won’t regret this!” She says as she exits my room. I sure hope not, I think to myself as she closes the door. I go back to scrolling on my phone before setting it down to take a nap before getting ready to go out tonight. I never stay up late so I needed to prepare myself if I was going to stay out all night. I know Amber will want to get drunk and party until at least 5 am, and I wasn’t about to abandon her just to get a good night’s sleep. This could be fun, right?

---

I stare at myself in the mirror as I put on my tightest fitting dress. It was a red bodycon dress that I never felt especially confident in, but tonight I felt pretty good! I put on a pair of simple black heels to go with it. Normally I would wear something more practical, like shorts and a crop top, or something a little more moveable, but Amber insisted we go all out. “If this is the only party you’re going to this semester, you need to look your best! Why not?!” I couldn’t argue with her, she was right. I might as well look good, who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone tonight. I hadn’t had a real relationship since, well, ever. I was never one to put myself out there. I always focused on my studies and I worked part-time jobs whenever I could. Relationships and romance were never a top priority for me. Sure, it would be nice, but I could live without it. I had much more important things to tend to. Amber was helping me forget about all of those responsibilities tonight, which I admit, was a nice feeling. I sat down at my desk to finish my makeup and touch up my hair before I presented my look to Amber. I stood up, smoothed out my dress, and walked out of my bedroom, doing a dramatic twirl for her. “Ooooh, GIRL! You look hot!!!” She squealed and I smiled wide as I bounced over to her.

“So do you!! Bitch you always look good, how DARE you!” I said teasingly as I dramatically fawned over her. We grabbed our phones with our ID’s (real and fake) and some money tucked in the cases of them, not wanting to carry much else with us. I double-checked to make sure I had everything put away and everything with me that I needed. Amber stood in the doorway, checking her wrist as though she was checking the time, silently telling me to hurry up and that I was worrying over nothing. I sighed, “Okay, okay!” and ran out the door behind her. I triple-checked that we locked the door and followed Amber down the stairs of the apartment complex.

We made our way down to the lobby and out of the building’s front doors, the temperate climate and humid breeze hitting us as we walked to the edge of the street. Amber and I turned our heads to see our Uber approaching from the left and I double-checked to make sure that the car was definitely ours and that the driver inside matched the picture from the app. Amber always told me that I was too skeptical and cautious, but I don’t think that’s even possible, being a woman in the twenty-first century. An Uber driver could be a kidnapper or a serial killer, who knows! As soon as I verified the Uber’s identity, Amber climbed over to the far side of the car as I trailed behind her. I sat down on the covered seat and looked over as Amber gave the driver the location of the bar we were headed to. A feeling in my gut started to arise but I wasn’t sure what it was. Probably just nerves, I told myself as I took a few deep breaths and looked out the window. I tend to get nervous about almost any event, regardless of the severity of the situation. Amber asked the man sitting in front of us if she could play some music from her phone and he obliged. She proceeded to put on “Party in the U.S.A” by Miley Cyrus and I looked at her and grinned. This was always our going out song. We danced in the back of the car and sang obnoxiously loud in preparation for the night.

We finally arrived at the bar in which one of the biggest parties in the school was happening. Honestly, I’m more into house parties, but the only house parties here are the ones happening in frat houses and I am not down for getting drugged and harassed by rich, white, republican frat guys. We paid (and tipped) the Uber driver and made our way into the club. The line wasn’t long at all, considering most people had gotten there as early as socially acceptable to maximize their partying time. The bouncer let us through (thank GOD because I spent enough money on that fake ID) and we danced our way through the crowd and to the bar. We met up with a group of friends from our shared freshman year English 101 class and proceeded to get a round of tequila shots. One round turned into four and into ten. One could say I was officially wasted. I don’t normally party, but when I do, I party hard. Go hard or go home, right? Thanks to my not-completely-ruined inhibitions, I made my way to the bartender and asked for a large glass of water. “Party-pooper!” Amber slurred as she grabbed my shoulder for leverage.

“Hey! I just don’t wanna be super hungover tomorrow. It’s literally-” I hiccupped and giggled as I stared into Amber’s eyes, trying to gain some semblance of solidity in my footing, “It’s literally only Monday. I have three classes tomorrow and I always start my days earlier, you know this! I don’t wanna be drunk at my 8 am lecture!” I basically yelled at Amber’s face because the music and bass were so loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.

“Okay, okay!” Amber shouted back at me, “Take a seat at the bar lame-o! I am gonna dance with that cute guy over there and maybeee you and I won’t be leaving together.” She pointed to a tall, blonde-haired man who was smiling and staring at Amber. She waved a flirty hand at him and started to walk away but her hand lingered on my shoulder.

“Amber!” I grabbed her wrist before she walked away, because I was not standing up right now. “Just… Be careful, okay? Text me if you do leave with him because I do not want anything happening to you. And I expect you to update me with texts with your location when you leave and if anything else happens okay? I love you, you know that right?” My fears were sobering me up quicker than the water was.

“I know! I love you too, silly. I promise I will be careful. I’ll make sure I know he is who he says he is before we leave and I won’t let him drive, we’ll take an Uber or something, okay? I don’t even know if I will leave with him, I was just thinking about it.” She paused for a second. “Thank you for caring about me, Y/N. I really do love you.” She smiled at me and I smiled back as she walked away to go dance with the handsome stranger across the floor.

My happy feelings dwindled for a moment as I sobered up and realized I was no longer a part of any group. Mine and Amber’s friend group had dispersed across the bar and the dancefloor, all trying to go home with someone. I would make that my mission too but frankly, I was too drunk to be completely aware of the goings on around me. I took out my phone and pulled up the Uber app, ready to go home. My plans changed when I looked around me and saw a familiar face at the very end of the bar. Dr. Reid? Why is he here? This bar is mainly occupied by college students, plus today was a huge party day, it didn’t make sense. Against my better judgement, I found myself standing up and walking towards him. I tried my hardest to walk straight and keep my eyes focused. I didn’t want to make my first real impression with him, one of me being blackout drunk. I downed the rest of my water before making my way to him. “Professor?” I questioned as he stared off into the distance.

“Oh! Hi. I’m sorry, what was your name again?” He asked nervously. Why did he seem nervous? I don’t think I ever told him my name. In fact, I barely think I even said hello.

“Oh, it’s Y/N.” I smiled at him. Normally, I would extend a hand to greet someone of authority, like him, but my hands were clammy and probably dirty from being in a bar like this. I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird. He looked down, expecting me to extend a hand as well, I assume. He looks back up and meets my eyes.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He says.

“You too.” I say and smile. We’re both quiet for a moment and I look around, trying to think of something to say. I’m so awkward. I take a deep breath, in hopes that it would spur a thought or initiate something to come out of my mouth, but it doesn’t.

“You look very nice.” He says and I come short of shaking my head in surprise.

“Thank you! My friend insisted we dress up tonight.” I laugh softly and smooth my dress down with my hands. Should I compliment him too? Would that be weird? “Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” I continue, “why are you out at a student bar tonight? I assume you knew about the party happening?” I don’t know where the confidence came from for me to ask him a question, but I was curious nonetheless.

“Um,” He chuckles and looks at the ground for a moment. “My friend and I were out with our coworkers and he insisted on coming here afterwards. I mentioned the parties that are thrown during the first week of classes and he couldn’t resist, I guess.” He nodded his head to point me in the direction of a very handsome man, dancing with a woman who couldn’t be much older than me.

I laugh and turn back to him. “Are you not the partying type, Dr. Reid?” I don’t know where these conversational skills were coming from. I had a hard time opening up to people my own age, much less authority figures.

“Not really. I mostly teach, work, and go home, to be quite honest.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Please, sit down, you don’t have to stand. I’m sure those shoes aren’t really meant for standing.”

“Thank you.” I laugh at his comment about my shoes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say they’re the most comfortable pair I own.” I take the seat next to my professor. “And me too, for the most part. My friend kinda dragged me out here tonight.”

“And where’s your friend now?” He questions. I point to the far corner of the club, where Amber was grinding on the man she was telling me about earlier.

“She’s a little more outgoing than me.” I laugh and ask the bartender for another glass of water. I can tell he’s looking at me from the corner of my eye. Why does that make me so nervous? I instinctually start to bite the nails on my left hand. I barely noticed I had started doing that, so I didn’t expect my professor to notice it at all.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and I pull my nails away from my mouth.

“Um, I guess so? I don’t go out too often and new places and people tend to make me anxious, I guess.” I look down at the bar and the glass in my hands.

“I get that.” He says.

“Um, do you mind if I ask how old you are? I’m sorry if that’s a little bit out of nowhere, I just remember you introduced yourself as Doctor this morning in class, and I initially thought you couldn’t be much older than me.” My curiosity got the best of me, I suppose.

“Uh, I’m 28. I have three PhDs in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” He rattles the list off as if he says it every day.

“Woah, what are you, like a genius or something? How the hell did you get three PhDs before 28?” I cover my mouth almost immediately. “I’m sorry for cursing, I don’t know, is that not appropriate?” I blush and look down again.

He chuckles, “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. And I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute so, yes, I guess technically, I am a genius.” He smiles at me and- is that a smirk I see?

My jaw practically flies open. “Wow, I guess I’ll have to try extra hard in class to impress you.” I find my courage again and look into his eyes. I almost immediately get lost in the swirls of gold and green. I find myself blushing again and somehow more words leave my mouth. “Would you, um, like to go talk outside? It’s really loud in here and my throat is getting sore.” I begin to stand up after he nods. I look for Amber and as soon as I make eye contact with her across the room, I mime typing on my phone as a signal for her to text me and that I’ll text her with whatever I’m doing. What am I doing? Am I going to talk to my professor and leave? Or am I going to leave with him? No, I can’t even think about that, that’s ridiculous. Whatever, Y/N, just worry about getting outside of the bar.

I push the heavy wooden door of the club open, exiting while Dr. Reid follows. I make my way towards the edge of the building, the music muffled by the walls. I lean up against the stone wall of the building and fiddle with my phone in my hands.

“Is this weird? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt but, you’re my professor. Do you normally talk to students at bars or was this just a weird coincidence? Or is this not weird, considering we’re not too far apart in age, I guess, and I mean, we’re both adults, right? I’m sorry I’m rambling I just feel awkward I guess I’m not sure what to say, um…” I cut myself off and look away, trying to find solace in the air around me.

He laughs again. Why is his laugh so attractive? “No, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice to have a conversation every once in a while, even if it’s with a student. Even if it’s outside a college bar. I don’t find much time to talk about topics that aren’t serial killers or behavioral analysis.” I jump as he uses his hand to bring my face and my eyes back to his. What was that? “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t want you to feel nervous or like you can’t talk to me. I really do enjoy talking to students, and just other people in general. Most people don’t enjoy talking to me so it’s nice when I find someone that does.” He blushes. Wait, he blushed? Why are his cheeks turning red?

“Well, I enjoy a good conversation too. And it’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to touch me, I guess.” I pause for a second. “Why wouldn’t someone want to talk to you? You must have so much knowledge to share, being a genius and all.”

“I guess that’s why,” he begins, “people find my rambling to be annoying. I want to share the knowledge I have, but that’s not always what constitutes a good conversation in some people’s opinion.”

“Well, not in my opinion.” I say boldly. I feel sober but drunk at the same time. Sober me would definitely not be having this conversation in the first place. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel… grounded. And focused. But I feel tipsy, like this conversation is affecting me the same way as alcohol. Maybe I shouldn’t think too much about it. You’re blowing it, Y/N. Blowing what?

He smiles and looks down at the ground. I find myself reaching my arm out and placing a finger below his chin, gently nudging his head back up to look at me. He looks surprised. I quickly pull away and begin to play with my hands again. I check the time on my phone: 5 am. Has it really been four hours? It barely felt like fifteen minutes. “I should probably get going soon, I have class in, holy shit, three hours, and I would like to get at least a little sleep before then. It was really nice officially meeting you, Dr. Reid.” I begin to make my way back to the entrance of the bar to find Amber and get us both home.

“Please, call me Spencer.” He says and turns as I start walking away. I pause my movements.

“Okay. Spencer.” I smile and disappear into the bar.

#m #mari writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #august

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rokutouxei · 4 years ago

Text

together through the fog

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | 1770 | T

Born frailer than your average pureblood vampire, she's doomed to need fresh human blood—not just rouge—to survive. Drinking from them will cost more than just blood: and she doesn't want to make them pay that price, especially not the one she loves the most. What decisions are you free to make when you don't really have a choice—and how is Theo going to convince her that staying a little longer isn't so bad if he's with her?

chapter 1 of 3

One of the most important rules of being in the art dealership industry is to make good connections. No amount of great art at hand will amount to much if the dealer does not have the appropriate connections to get these art into the proper hands. Of course, wealthy patrons are always much appreciated, for the invasion of the new art into the eyes of the more conservative aristocracy is one way to usher in the new dawn, but there are other types of connections that have to be made—and that is, to those who are not only interested in the art, but are also willing to lend a hand in the sharing of this art to the rest of the world.

Theo has a lot of clients. In the handful of years he has spent in the industry, he has collected his fair share of interested patrons and sponsors for the artists. Favoritism is of no use in this world. But if one were to ask—it would be easy for him to say that his best, perhaps his favorite, client, was a Comtesse that lived at the outskirts of town.

Rich, born of old money, in a large mansion where she lives alone, besides perhaps her singular, nosy butler. They’ve known each other for a few years now, after having met when they were much younger, and they have become, to some degree, friendly with each other, not only with regards to his work. Make no mistake—she is not his friend for superficial reasons like appearance or wealth. It’s that she has a great eye for art—and a big heart for it as well.

“Theo! it’s been a while since you’ve come around.”

Her greeting comes instantly as the door to her study opens, Theo being ushered in by her butler, Sebastian. She’s sipping from a teacup in front of a fireplace, bundled up under blankets—even when it isn’t too cold outdoors yet.

“You know how the industry is,” he comments, as he settles on the seat across her, setting down the framed painting gently on the soft red carpet of her study. Once Theo’s own cup of coffee is poured, the butler leaves the room, the door closing with a silent click. Theo does not miss the expression on the butler’s face before he disappears. He turns back to his friend, gauging. “When I saw this piece I had an inkling that it would be to your taste.”

She chuckles, a little embarrassedly, putting down the teacup on its saucer. “Now, now. You make it seem like the kind of art I like is on the predictable side.”

“I wouldn’t say predictable, but you do have a taste.”

She nods. “Oh? I had not even noticed. Maybe you watch me a little too keenly, Theo.”

“Just for work,” he quips back with a friendly smile, as he uncovers the painting he has brought with him.

Theo was right—the painting is to her taste. It was a painting of a morning through the frame of a window, overlooking a snowy mountain. The gentle texture of the brushstrokes from the view outside made the snow falling seem so real, delicate and soft, and the thicker, rougher ones along the inside of the room made it feel closer, a little warmer. By a yet-unknown artist, of course, and she contemplates hanging it along the main hallway of the mansion, making sure it will catch the eye of anyone who will pass by, hoping it would spark something.

And then the dizziness returns.

There was no doubt Theo noticed her spacing out during their little conversation, but there is only so much she can do in hiding how unwell she’s been feeling. She had instantly sighed in relief when Theo was guided out of the room—as now she can clutch her head freely and whine a little in the throbbing inside of her skull.

But it’s okay. At least she has the paintings.

The one thing she can do.

It doesn’t matter if she isn’t going to last long, not anymore. But at least, if she can do something for the things she loves… maybe it will be worth it in the long run.

Theo has always had his wits around him, particularly in terms of being observant. While he’s not infallible, the little things generally do not escape him, and he makes sure he stows them away in the back of his head for safekeeping.

Theo was 25 when she first wrote to him about it

She wrote: How would you feel about it if I were a vampire?

This really didn’t surprise Theo as awfully as it ought to have. There was one particularly intriguing rumor that spread around town about her family. Whether or not the people knew, had a clue, or if it were just the result of their imagination, is beyond him, but there have always been rumors about her family being a family of vampires. Of course, it is easy to shrug off: the human imagination is an interesting thing, and with the rise of rational science throughout the past few centuries, vampiric lore has simply fallen out of favor. Besides, this kind of rumor is unsurprising when the area’s oldest and longest living aristocrat families live such a secretive, mysterious life outside of the rare social events they decide to engage in.

Theo had the same thought process, of course. He had written back rather amusedly, saying that even if she were a vampire, it would not change the fact that she was a good friend of his. No fang or lost blood will get in the way of my fondness towards you, he had written.

Fondness—fondness is too simple a word for what he feels towards her.

But what matters is that she had written back, in her small, delicate handwriting: Well, then it is my pleasure to tell you that I am.

That was just three years back, but it feels like a million years ago. He had not given it much thought then. He had not given it much thought as of late.

Until now.

Until today, really, sitting across her in her study watching her space out as the tiny sharp tips of fangs protruded out from where her lips can no longer hide them.

If she was not lying to him, then that’s alright.

But there was no denying that look of desperation hiding in her eyes, as she tries to focus on something else in the room other than him.

He turns before the mansion’s main door gets shut behind him, turning to the butler with seriousness in his eyes.

“Sebastian, I have a question I have to ask you.”

She had met Theo when he was much younger—he was 18 at the time. And she… Well, greater vampires age a little differently than humans do, but she must have looked about 16. Her parents had brought her to an exhibition that day. it was part of her training—much was needed for an eternally-living vampire to be able to fit into human society without standing out too much.

Her interest in art was another thing altogether, though.

While her parents had gone away to talk with their acquaintances and other friends in the gallery, she had decided to walk around to enjoy the paintings that were on display. She grew up surrounded in art—part of the privileges of being born into the aristocracy—and these weren’t new to her, but some of the paintings… felt different. They were painted in different ways, looked at things in different lights. They piqued her interest. She wanted to get to know them more and-

She met Theo.

Theo was one of the youngest art dealers present during the show, which had been overseen by the company he was working with. She is still not entirely sure what had drawn Theo to her at that time—perhaps it was their seeming-similarity in age—but that day, they had made good friends, talking about art and paintings and the life of an artist. She wasn’t an artist herself, but the discussions had made such an impact on her that afterwards—they had exchanged addresses, and promised to write to each other.

That now feels like a lifetime ago.

How long ago was that, even? Surely at least a decade past. Time is a fickle thing for creatures like her. A decade is no more than a human’s millisecond. In a few more centuries, she will have forgotten everything about this little life, maybe even this mansion in the outskirts of Paris. The oldest of her family have been alive longer than humans would expect.

But not her.

It seems… unnatural, but she was born sickly, frailer than your average vampire. On occasion, she catches what is perhaps the vampire equivalent of a flu—weakness, fatigue, body pains, fever, and dizziness. Of course, this is curable with a good drink of blood, as is most things for vampires like her, but there is a catch—drinking it fresh from the source is always the better option. She would need bottles and bottles of rouge to recover from one “flu”, but fresh blood—

Fresh blood is different.

Drawn straight out of the vein, still warm from flesh…

That would cure her in minutes.

Too bad she has gotten a little too fond of humans.

Ah, how can one not, when you spend most of your life watching them struggle to live when death knocks at their door so soon after their birth? Humans have a strength she cannot comprehend. One she wishes she had. So she’s sworn to never drink out of a human ever again; even if it is at the cost of her health. She can acquire all the rouge she needs to recover. She cannot replace a random human’s short meaningful life at the cost of eternity for her own convenience—and she does not have the heart to drain one into death, if to spare them from the curse of living throughout perpetuity.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, they say.

She clutches her chest as the coughs overtake her, so strongly she is thrown to her knees onto the ground. Her butler rushes to her aid, but does not make it before she collapses onto the floor with a thud.

She doesn’t want to drink from humans anymore. And especially—not from the one she loves the most. But maybe this time she doesn’t really have a choice.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikevam theo #ikevam #fic #together through the fog

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yikesharringrove · 4 years ago

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I love your trans Stevie au so much! I was wondering were Stevie and billy already together when she came out or did they get together after?

I’m gonna write the big fic I have planned for mtf stevie, so I decided to explore something different than what my plan is for that one

modern

Under the cut for some very brief transphobia and a mention of self harm/vague intonations of suicide, Billy talks about his dad (nothing is graphic, but still thought I’d warn)

Billy figured he would be the talk of the damn town he stomped out the Camaro and into the school like he owned the place.

He thought everyone would stare at the vintage muscle car, thought girls would whisper behind their hands as he walked down the hall.

And as he looked across the parking lot, he got a taste of what he wanted, saw a few curious glances to his California plates.

But then a sleek black BMW pulled into the space next to his, a beautiful brunette girl getting out of the driver’s seat.

It was like a hush fell over the lot.

Everyone stared at her as she walked into the school, head held high, shoulders back.

Billy followed her into the school, watching her closely.

Her hands trembled as she opened her locker, carefully placing textbooks inside.

He wanted to know what her deal was.

He leaned against her locker.

“You new here, too?” She looked over at him, smiling weakly.

“In a way.” He held out his hand.

“Billy Hargrove.”

“Stevie Harrington.” He took her hand in his, made sure to smirk just so.

“You think you could help me find my first period? I just moved here, and didn’t manage to get a tour before the first day.” She flushed a little.

“Um, can I see your schedule?” She scanned over it.

“Oh man, you’ve got Andrews for English. She was a nightmare. I had her two years ago.” Billy furrowed his brows.

“I thought you were new-”

“Harrington’s a fucking tranny!” Stevie’s reaction was immediate.

The second the shout came from down the hall, she slammed her locker shut, shoving Billy’s schedule at him.

“Have a good first day.” She practically ran down the hall.

Billy looked back at the group of rowdy guys, all laughing as Stevie darted down the hall.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Billy stomped up to them, shoving the one that yelled against the lockers. “Don’t fucking say that!”

“Dude, that’s fucking Alex Harrington. He like, disappeared last year. He’s a fucking tra-”

Billy didn’t let him finish the sentence.

Punched him square in the nose.

“Don’t ever fucking using that word. You’re fucking disgusting.” He glared at each of the guys in turn. “If I fucking see, or hear, or get any kinda wind of y’all fucking with her, I’m gonna break all ��a your noses.”

He smirked as they fucking cowered.

Yeah. Bow to your new fucking King.

He found Stevie back at her locker a few minutes into the lunch period.

He leaned on the lockers next to hers again.

“This place fucking sucks.” She gave him an odd look. “Apparently y’all have to eat in the cafeteria. At my old school, I used to eat out on the football field.”

“Yeah, we don’t really have a football field.” She closed her locker quietly. She was fidgeting with her hands.

“You don’t got a lucnh?”

“I, uh, I usually buy it. But I don’t really wanna, wanna face everyone in there.” Her voice was small, and she was avoiding eye contact.

“I could bring you something. Or stand in line with you, or something.” She looked up at him, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Is this a joke?”

“No?”

“Or like, like a prank?”

“No. I’m really offering.” He tried to keep his face open, wanted her to trust him.

“Um, I guess it would be okay if you stood with me.” They set off down the hall. “But you don’t have to sit with me, or anything.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She huffed a laugh.

“Did you hear what Tommy yelled this morning?”

“Yeah, I did. Punched him out for it.” Stevie stopped in her tracks, whirling around to look incredulously at Billy.

“You what?”

“He shouldn’t’ve said that.”

“Billy, he wasn’t lying-”

“That’s not what I meant. He shouldn’t have used that specific word, and he shouldn’t’ve fucking outed you. It’s your choice if you want to be out or not.” Her eyes were even fucking bigger than usual as she looked at him.

“I mean, I don’t really have a choice in a town this size. Especially because, because everyone knew me before.”

“Still, it was fucked up. And that wasn’t okay.” They began walking again.

“Um, thank you, Billy. I was wondering who busted Tommy’s face. He’s gotta big mouth. Gets punched a lot.” Billy laughed, and was delighted to see Stevie give him a little half smile.

The smile was gone when they reached the cafeteria.

But Billy stayed in line next to Stevie. She insisted on buying him a cookie, but he split it in half when they found a table in the back corner of the cafeteria, nudging part of it over to her.

She was tense all through lunch, waiting for something to happen.

Billy reached across the table, taking her hand.

“You’re really brave. You know that, right?” She bit her lip.

“I’m so fucking scared.”

“I know you are. And honestly, it makes sense you’re scared. But I’m here for you, and if anyone gets fresh, they can fucking catch these hands.” She laughed softly.

“Thank you. I really don’t think I could’ve made it today without you.” She took a shaky breath. “You know, I came out to my parents a few years ago. They were, it was bad. And I had to, you know stay in the closet. And at the end of last year, in like, Novemner I, I went through some stuff, and I just, I snapped. I tried to hurt myself. And I think it really opened my mom’s eyes that, that I wasn’t faking. So she talked my dad into letting me transition.” She was playing with her napkin.

“Thank you for telling me.” Billy squeezed her hand. “We moved here because my dad got arrested. And he wanted to come start fresh.”

“Do you, can I ask why he got arrested?”

“He broke my collarbone. Pushed me down the porch stairs. Our neighbors saw.”

“Billy, oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not really, but I just wanted you to know. I get the shitty parent thing.” She smiled at him.

“Would you, would you want to come over? After school?” Her cheeks were a little flushed.

“I’d love to.”

Stevie had neglected to tell him that she lived in a fucking mansion.

Billy stared at it as he parked behind her.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell me you were loaded?” She blushed.

“Um, I kinda forget you’re not from here. That you don’t already know all my business.”

She led him upstairs to her bedroom. It was immaculately clean, but so very plain.

“My mom was real serious about designing our whole house. She’s in the process of redoing my room right now. I mean, I didn’t really mind, but I think she’s trying to make amends, really show me she accepts me.” Billy sat down at her desk as she made a home for herself on the bed.

“That’s pretty cool of her.”

“Yeah. She’s trying. My dad still calls me Alex most days, though.”

“Do you mind if I ask you why you picked Stevie?”

“Um, Stevie Nicks, actually. I just really respect her and I always liked the name.”

“God, my mom loved Fleetwood Mac. She had all their albums on vinyl, and we’d listen to Tusk, and just like, scream it.”

“Your mom sounds nice.” Billy smiled tightly at her.

“She was.” Stevie’s eyes went wide.

“I’m sorry.” Billy shrugged.

“My stepmom’s not too bad. And my little sister’s a hoot. She’s such a little spitfire, you two would so get along.” He sat back in the desk chair, looking at the things on her desk.

There was a jar she had written on with gold sharpie. It had a few bills and was about half full of change. Curling handwriting spelled Pussy Fund. Billy snorted when he saw it. He held it up to her.

“Pussy Fund?” She laughed.

“I was gonna call it the Coochie Collection but that felt a little crass.”

“That felt crass?” She laughed again.

“My dad’s insurance covers hormones, but nothing else, really, so I’m saving up for confirmation surgery.” Billy dug through his pocket, found three wadded bills, slapping them through the little opening in the top of the jar. “Billy, wait, you don’t have to-”

“Oh, come on. It’s three bucks. You’re my only friend in this damn town. Gonna support the garbage outta you.” She beamed at him.

He phone chimed.

“Oh, hell yeah. It’s hormone o’clock.” She pulled a black bag out of her backpack. She rifled through it, loading a syringe. “Okay, I’ll be back.” She closed the bathroom door softly behind her.

He peaked at the contents of the back. She had a few pills, needles in sterile packaging, antiseptic wipes, sanitizer and latex gloves. Billy stood up to look at the little bottle of clear liquid, estrogen.

She smiled brightly when she came out of the bathroom.

“How long have you been on hormones?” She cleaned up her little bag.

“Um, since January 6th. So just about nine months now. I was just on blockers for a while, and then they introduced the estrogen. And I though giving myself shots was gonna be a big nightmare, but I actually kinda like it.”

“I think that makes sense. It’s helping you.”

“Well, and I feel like everything changed so fast, like looking at pictures from before, I look so different. It’s like my body was just waiting to catch up to my brain.”

“I think it was. Just needed a push in the right direction.”

“Plus, I was always kind of a pretty boy. Like, once I figured out how to do my makeup, how to soften some of the edges, it was pretty easy to really feminize my face.” She stood in front of him, showing her a picture on her phone. “That was from like, last October.”

It was a nice selfie, and she looked quite similar. In the image, Stevie’s hair was shorter, but still closer to her shoulders.

But Billy thinks there was a huge difference between the Stevie in the picture, and the Stevie right in front of him.

Her cheeks were fuller now, her eyes brighter. Her hair was long, bu it was also way thicker.

She just looked so much fucking happier.

“You look a lot happier, now.”

“I am. A lot happier.” She was quiet, swiping through a few more old photos.

“I’m happy for you.” Billy reached out for her, touching her waist softly. “Would you, would you want to go on a date sometime?”

She took a step back.

“Look, you can say no, and I’ll still happily be your friend, I just, I like you a lot, Stevie.

“I um, I don’t know.” She sat heavily on her bed. “Last year, I was dating this girl. We had been together for like, a few months, and I really, I really loved her. So I came out to her, and she, she called me a freak, and disgusting, and stuff.” She was hugging herself, looking the floor.

“Is that one of the things that made you snap?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to date, that’s okay, Stevie. Focus on yourself. I’m still your friend.”

“I think, I think I do want to date you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I mean, you already know all my baggage. And I’ve known you for like, ten hours.”

“Don’t pressure yourself into something if you’re not ready to date.”

“It’s been almost a year, Billy. And I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy in that year.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Yeah, I wanna go on a date with you.”

And then she did the cutest little wiggle, moving her hips like she couldn’t contain her excitement.

“Friday night? Pick you up at eight?”

“Better make it seven. Things close early around here.”

“You honestly might be the only good thing about this fucking town.”

#yikes writes #tw transphobia #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #trans steve harrington #trans steve #trans!steve harrington #trans!steve #mtf!steve #mtf!steve harrington

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