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zodiyack · 3 years

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Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff

Song: Rude by Magic!

Words: 1,798

Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.

Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!

Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!

Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."

Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.

You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.

The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.

But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.

Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.

"Billy, stop messing with the tie."

"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.

"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."

For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.

"You're not putting me in that."

"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.

Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"

Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."

However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.

"Hello Mr-"

"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.

Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."

"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.

"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."

While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"

The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.

Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.

The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?

With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.

El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.

Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."

"Mr. Hopper, sir."

"What are you doing on my front porch?"

He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".

"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."

I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-

"Billy, he's just stubborn."

"No, no, I don't think he likes me."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"

"It's been how many years since he's met me?"

"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."

"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.

Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."

Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."

"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."

"I know."

The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.

His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.

"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.

"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"

"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"

"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."

This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."

"It's not like-"

Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"

Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.

He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.

He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").

He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.

He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.

However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.

Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"

"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"

"You son of a-"

"I got Eleven's too."

"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"

"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"

"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.

"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."

Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.

"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."

Bonus:

(after the wedding)

"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.

"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude?

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manjiropie · 3 years

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do whatever is in your mind.

Young Mikey x Reader!

Warn! no warnings today! enjoy!

It's not often Mikey and I have a quarrel. We do bicker here and there, but that's what happens between friends, right?

I've joined Toman for almost a year now– although I've known Manjiro for much longer. I met him through Emma, who is a big friend of mine for as long as I can remember. She was there for me at times when I felt like there was no exit, no light. She's an extremely important part of my life– of me.

I've come to realize that I have been spending more and more time near Mikey, which is not bad, I do enjoy his presence. He may look tough and intimidating but he's just like a mochi: freezing cold on the outside but melting saccharine inside. Now that I'm a part of the gang and actually get to know and participate, I've gotten closer to him. Here and there Mikey invites me out.

"So, it's like a date?" I'd smirk suggestively at him.

"In your dreams." He'd try to hide his smile and he'd look away.

However, there are a few little habits he has that tend to send me on a rage trip. I get mad easily. Things will likely set on fire quickly. It's not that I want to, but my mother is not one of the most patient people in the world and she tells me to cool down. As if.

This last week was the cherry on top.

Mikey had crossed the line. He had pissed me off in every single way possible. He pretended not to listen to me while he was eating. He would answer me in a "oh, I don't really fucking care about what you're talking about!" way. He tripped while he was laughing hysterically at something Draken had said and his pink lemonade was all over my white shirt. He drew in an assignment that was due to the next day for my math class. He told me off for no reason at all in front of everyone in the last Toman's meeting... all of that wasn't on purpose. I am aware of how incredibly short his attention spam is when it comes to not so important affairs. But, fuck, couldn't he just be a little nicer to me? At least during last week where I was having sharp cramps in my fucking uterus? Yeah, maybe he didn't know that because I try not to be so obvious. But when he told us we'd be training last thursday I almost laid on the ground in fetal position and cried for hours. I didn't! I fought and then went home and cried.

Then, this Saturday– today –he invited me to his house to hang out. Emma was with a friend and his grandfather was out of town. When he called me to his house we never did much. We'd watch TV, hang out on the couch discussing stupid stuff, we'd be on our phones... nothing so wow. It was still fun, though.

I wasn't in the best mood to leave my comfy bed but I was way less in the mood to fight him off over the phone. So I slid out of the bed and dressed the first jeans I saw laying on the end of my bed and the oversized Nirvana shirt hanging off my chair (it's actually my dad's shirt, shhh).

I knocked twice on his bedroom's door.

"Come in." He yelled from inside. I open the door and he's laying on the bed, his head hanging off of it and his hair is almost touching the floor. His face lit up and he rolled over so he laid on his stomach. I walk over and sit down beside him.

"What's up with the frown?" I didn't notice I was frowning to be honest. Guess the bad mood followed me here.

I shrug.

"Ugh, don't tell me you're in a bad mood." He whines. "I called you here to chill and you're already angry. What's up?" He lays on his pillow and swings his legs to place them on my lap. I huff and shove them off, getting up.

"You've been treating me like shit the whole week and now you wanna chill?" I say, more calm than I thought.

"I did not treat you like shit this week? When do I treat you like shit?" His tone was one of disbelief and confusion.

"Ah, Mikey. Embarrassing me in front of the rest of gang; spilling your drink on my school shirt, which is now stained; ignoring me or answering like you're bored..." I list them off on my fingers. "I am the one who asks, what's up with you?! God, you're always being so unpredictable, which is good sometimes but not like this! Not to me!"

I flop down on the couch, starting to get tired of this whole thing. Knowing Mikey, I know that he'll not lay down again.

"So you're the only one allowed to have bad days now?" He sits on the edge of his bed and I turn my head around lazily, uninterested, bored, like him.

"You were laughing incredibly loud with Takemitchi and Draken friday."

"You can be so annoying sometimes."

"Oh, I'm the annoying one now?" I stand up.

"If you don't like my company, why did you even come in first place?" He also stands. We don't have much height difference, but he's hardly two inches taller than me.

His voice is calm, like always. Which makes me infuriated. "Fucking hell! Does it hurt for you to apologize!?" My sudden outburst takes him on surprise, and me, too.

"I already apologized, stop whining about it."

"I'm not whining–"

"If you weren't," he walks to his desk and sets a cup that was once beside his bed down. "You would've dropped this matter before."

"You don't give a damn about what I feel, do you, Mikey?"

"What?" He turns around, brows knit together.

"You heard me. You made me have a bad week and the least you could do is apologize, you dumbass!" I stomp to his direction.

"I already did! Why don't you–"

"Shut up or I'll punch you." I say, slightly looking up.

His eyebrows twitch and he slowly tilts his head to the side, like a puppy. "Or what.. ?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" I point to my ears.

He comes a little closer. "You're gonna do what if I don't shut up?"

"I'm going to punch you if you don't stop being a brat." I sneer at him. My blood boiling. The stress from this shitty past week overflowing in that moment.

"Oh, yeah?" I could feel his breath oh my nose.

"What? Are you doubting me? I would." I jerk up an eyebrow. I've never fought physically with him. But it's not like I can't.

"I'd like to see you try." His eyes flicker to my lips for a brief second and my breath fails, making me cough.

"What? Can't punch me?" He amuses.

"Fuck you."

Suddenly I feel an arm sneak around my waist and in a second I'm chest to chest with Mikey. My eyes widen– his were peaceful as ever, although superior.

"Do it." He says, looking down at me.

The way he's holding me is making my head spin. True, Mikey is cute...

"Do what?"

He laughs at my confused expression. "I don't know... what did you say you'd do to me?"

Ha ha.

His hold on me tightens.

"Do whatever is on your mind." He says.

My eyes roam free between his eyes and his soft pink lips. Do whatever is on your mind.

If he knew what was on my mind, would he still allow me to?

"Do it," he encourages me once again, "aren't you the 'oh so brave' one? Punch me, yell at me, do whatever you want to me."

Those words were the last push I needed. My hands find the soft skin of his neck, hidden by his long hair. I pull him close and lock our lips together. I feel him making a little sound, I don't know if it was surprise or relief.

If by just looking at it his lips seemed soft, actually touching it felt like kissing cotton candy or guessing cloud shapes.

He didn't pull back, in fact, he held me with both hands. I have no clue how he did that but it seemed as though all of my worries dissipated as we kissed.

My heart was beating so fast that it made my chest hurt. My head started to pound when I spent a little too long without air. I pull back from his lips and keep my gaze on them as I breathe heavily.

"Hm." He hums quietly, almost dreamily if you'd ask me.

I look up at his face and smile a bit, noticing how his cheeks are pink. I lift an eyebrow up as if asking what he was thinking. He shakes his head and then puts his right hand on my cheek, caressing it. He kisses me again. This time is slower. As though being present in the moment. As if it were just me and him and nothing else.

----------

I hope you guys liked It! It was so pleasant writing this out of the small bits of ideas that I have. Don't forget: my requests are open. You can request anything! Thank you for reading! Oh, likes and reblogs help a lot! If you consider following it'd make me even happier <3

#fuck this is so cute #mikey x reader #young mikey #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey sano #mikey x you #tokyo revengers #baji #tokyo manji gang #tokyo rev #manjiro sano #mikey #tokrev

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wh6res · 3 years

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UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.

"bitch," you mutter under your breath.

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him.

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing."

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done.

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement.

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!"

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.

"do you really want to know why?"

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

#hmu if i missed a warning #yandere doyoung #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #tw swearing #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw knife

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pure-a-tea · 2 years

Note

thank you for all the questions!!! where do you get your inspiration from for your mobile themes, what’s your current favorite song and what would you say your aesthetic is?! 💕💕💕

omg- happily, sweetie!! and thank you for asking me back, i genuinely appreciate that <3 anyways, here are my long, boring-ass answers, lol. you don't have to read this, but i enjoyed writing this for you xx

re: "where do you get your inspiration for your mobile themes?"

i assume you're asking about my tumblr theme on mobile? 'cause if you do, i don't really get a specific inspiration. it's basically my preference for aesthetics. i will, however, explain more about it if you're interested, lol.

. colour theme: i went with a light blue colour (#7b8590) because i personally prefer desaturated colours; pastel-like. not really sure how to describe them, but basically faded colours that aren't too saturated or bright. i just feel like lighter colours are easier on the eyes.

. header: i found the stars and moon gif when i was scrolling through tumblr and i liked it so i thought i'd be nice to use a header with some dynamics to it. when i found that it fit the header size, i thought it looked better when it didn't stretch to fill it, and i actually thought it looked better when it gets a nice border with that setting.

. profile picture: i thought my profile picture was distracting and it was bothering me, so i disabled it. however, i was still looking for something because i noticed that my profile pic constantly shows up on different occasions. so, i chose that picture specifically because it wasn't too strong or distracting -- it gives my profile a nice, softer look. i also chose one with a subject that is close to my heart so it'd be more personal. like a personal blog, yk? and i really love cats, haha.

. bio: i just wrote some general info about myself, not wanting to overshare but still add something about myself. so i wrote my name with pronouns, age, sexuality, and my two fav people out of all of my fandoms. i thought it looked more spacious when i add space between each word and character (for ex. "( she / her )"). there isn't an option on tumblr to add a new line so i divided each subject with a "|".

re: "what's your current favourite song?"

i always find that question hard to answer because i have so many songs that i love, and i can never choose just one, lmao. if you don't mind, though, i will write my current top 5 favourite songs:

i. phantogram - black out days it's been in my top 5 songs on spotify for three years in a row, apparently!!

ii. billie eilish - happier than ever honestly i have so many favourite songs by her, but this one is probably the one i listen to the most. also, she was my top artist on spotify for 2 or 3 years in a row. unintentionally.

iii. the front bottoms - twin size mattress this song can just randomly pop into my head for no reason. and i love it!

iv. mitski - nobody lowkey can listen to this song on repeat and never get tired of hearing it!! and i love mitski!!

v. steve lacy - dark red i relate to the words a bit too much and i've been listening to this over and over ever since my recent breakup.

bonus: billie eilish - nda // arctic monkeys - 505 because they're both one of my fav artists and i've been obsessed with the parts that editors use on tiktok/insta edits.

re: "what would you say your favourite aesthetic is?"

that's such a tough one! because i don't have just one aesthetic, and it usually changed with my moods. for example, many people would probably say that my aesthetic is somewhere in the softcore or naturecore or even fairycore, and that is accurate on some days, but sometimes my aesthetics could be like grunge or vintage or darkcore... sometimes, i even have a dark academia or royaltycore.

funnily enough, my aesthetics could also come in colours! for example, i could suddenly have an aesthetic for everything blue (dark and light separately), yellow (because i have a hufflepuff heart), green (sometimes the nature green, but sometimes the evil/slytherin green). i also always have a place in my heart for purple, and in autumn i have a very strong red/orange aesthetic. one time i got a short pink aesthetic, lol.

ANYWAYS- this is it!! sorry that it's so long and i'm even more sorry that it might be boring, hehe... i really appreciate that you asked, it really warmed my heart <3

hope you have/you've had an amazing day xx

#asks #get to know me #get to know the blogger #personal #puckssbunny #aesthetics #my aesthetics #aesthetic

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quillsareswords · 4 years

Text

Breathing Room

Damian Wayne

Of course the little dog here is basically my sweet baby girl Rogue with a different name (Baby/Babe because I'm sure all of you at home have dogs you'd like to substitute names for), who sends all her love and puppy kisses to all of you! Ugh this was fun to write. So goddamn fluffy I could call Build-a-Bear a competitor.

Reader is a Titan.

Requested:

Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)

"If I die, I'm leaving my dog to you."

Damian turns halfway to give you a suspicious glance over his shoulder. Then, he turns back to the fire place, where he's successfully stoking the flames currently living there.

The animal in question is the next victim of his scrutiny, laying perfectly peacefully on the corner of your blanket that's been left unused on the couch next to you. He points, you nod, he rolls his eyes.

"Awe! What? You wouldn't take my poor baby girl in?" You're borderline incredulous. "Did you hear that Baby? He doesn't love you!"

He scoffs, then pushes himself to his feet and joins you on the couch once more. The little dog lifts her head to look at Damian, almost accusingly.

You pet her gently. "Don't mind him, Baby, he's just jealous because I love you more," you soothe, babytalking the eight pound pooch like the spoiled princess she is.

"Firstly, you aren't going to die, it's only a snow storm," he argues, "and secondly, even if something were to happen, of course I'd take in your large rat."

You gasp and lightly slap his chest. "Damian Wayne!" you shrill. He chuckles loudly. "You take that back right now! Apologize!"

He rolls his eyes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd probably give his spot on the bed to Titus, who's listening to the entire exchange from the giant pillow on the floor. He reaches across you, lays a hand on her little head, and says clearly, "Baby, I am sorry for calling you a rat. You are clearly small not-dog."

You sigh in exasperation and defeat. He laughs, though it's obvious he's trying not to and failing miserably. "What am I going to do with you, you scoundrel?"

His arm lays across your shoulders as you shiver for the second time in the last five minutes. "Well, you can first let me chose what movie we watch since I started the fire for you."

You can't help snuggling closer to him. "Firstly," you mock, "I could have started the fire myself. Secondly, I'll let you pick the movie if you let me pick the genre."

"Deal," he relents.

Two comedies and a horror film later, you hear the front door downstairs unlock, with a roaring chorus of arguing voices behind it.

When Kori and Dick invited you and Damian to a Titans Winter Vacation, you had been a little skeptical. You hadn't been a Titan for very long, and you weren't as familiar as you'd like to be with any of them.

However, you'd known Damian for years, and he insisted it wouldn't be as bad as you thought. He wasn't entirely keen on the idea either, but you'd eventually agreed that it'd be nice.

They'd rented a cabin up in the mountains. It was three stories, with six bedrooms, five bathrooms, two living rooms, a home theater, and a game room. You especially loved the balconies on every level. That provided a truly glorious view of the Smoky Mountains.

Though, when you heard it was six bedrooms, you knew that meant sharing a room. You only really slept alright by yourself or with Damian, so it concerned you that you'd most likely be sharing a bunk bed with Raven, as you and Damian were seventeen. But, because Dick knew you wouldn't be doing anything more than cuddling, he was more than happy to let you and Damian share a queen-size in the loft, directly above Garfield and Jaime's.

To sweeten the deal even further, everyone was in perfect agreement that you should definitely bring your dog. She was very sweet and quiet, and perfectly mannered. You didn't worry about taking her anywhere. It made you feel even better that Damian was taking Titus.

So here you are now, tucked into Damian's side on a plush plaid couch in the loft, Baby curled up next to you and Titus sprawled at your feet, listening to Gar and Raven and Cyborg come shivering in through the front door.

"Holy hell, it's cold as balls!" Gar shouted, kicking off his boots at the door. You were about to call down to ask how town was, but he was already sprinting up the spiral staircase.

Damian sighed, though only loudly enough for you to hear. He thought of the loft in it's entirety as yours, even though the bedroom was an entirely separate room, kept private by a thick door.

Garfield paused by the couch to lean over and pet Babe, which she gladly accepted, before zipping over to the firepalce to warm up.

"How was town?" you ask. Damian grabs the remote and backs out of the movie, which was already rolling credits.

"Eh, it was okay. Grocery store was neat, though. Had a candy section that was lit."

You laugh softly. "Get all the groceries?"

He nods. "Yeah, but their produce section was so confusing."

"Are you sure you aren't just dull?" Damian quips. You roll your eyes and flick his ear as you sit up. "Hey!" he chirps.

"Ha!" Garfield shouts and points boldly, though he looks as though he's about to hurdle the railing behind you. "Damian got in trouble!"

Damian, the tough, mature man he is, flings a pillow toward the green boy with as much force as he can while slouched against the couch back.

"Watch the fire, you dufus," you scold, laughing, as you slide toward the steps with Baby at your heels.

"Ha ha! You got in trouble agaaiinn!" Garfield sings. Then he shrieks, and then there's a green bird diving over the wooden railing and Damian's shouting something that has you scooping up Baby and hustling down the stairs to stay out of his way.

• • •

Your bedroom is dark, and because you both like the curtains pulled away from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the drop of the mountain your cabin is perched over, it is quite cold.

Too cold for your liking, even pressed against Damian's back and Babe curled into the small of yours.

It's been fifteen minutes of listening to Bob's Burgers play on the television over your shared dresser and the collective body heat still isn't enough. So, in a desperate attempt to chase the chill off, you half unwind your arms from his waist, and slide them under the hem of his tee shirt to press them flat against his side and his back.

While you're sighing in relief, he's jumping and sucking in a breath of absolute shock. He all but gasps, "What are you doing with your ice cold hands up my shirt?"

You almost laugh at the tone of absolute offence he's using. "I'm cold! We can't all keep the same core temperature as the sun, Wayne."

"Well Jesus, you could have at least warned me," he grumbles, rolling in your hold to face you.

You fall asleep pretty quickly now, wrapped up in his arms, legs tangled with yours beneath a heavy quilt.

• • •

You're always the first ones up. Well, not always, but for the past four days that you've been on the trip, you both have. It's usually Damian, and only Damian, but you aren't far behind once your main source of heat leaves you alone in bed with sunlight beaming into the room.

You, Baby, and Titus all follow him down the spiral staircase and through the main common room, dining room, and the intermediate stretch between the two staircases and two bedroom doors.

He turns on the coffee pot for the rest of the team while you start the kettle and set out tea bags and mugs for the two of you. While he's still fiddling with the settlings on the machine, you let the dogs out to the small fenced yard off to the side of the huge cabin.

The machine spurs to life just as you're lifting yourself up onto the countertop of the kitchen island. "Are you gonna make pancakes and eggs?" You keep your voice low, considerate of Raven in the room on the left and Jamie and Garfield in the room on the right, all still sleeping.

"I wasn't planning to," he answers, leaning against the counter by the gas stove, where the steel kettle is still heating up.

"But you promised. . ." You just out your bottom lip and tilt your head just a little, soft eyes oh so slowly grinding away at that steel cover he keeps locked around his heart.

After exactly forty two seconds, he caves in. "Did the Happy Bunch even get the ingredients yesterday?"

Your sweet begging facade switches on a dime, now housing a devious glint in your eyes. "Of course they did, I put it on the list."

He sighs, loudly. He lets the dogs in before he goes around the kitchen, gathering all things necessary for the pancake mix you love so much.

It's twenty minutes later when Kori and Dick are opening the basement door and emerging from the hall downstairs, Kori's hair just as unkept as every morning and Dick's shirt just as wrinkly as the night before.

"Sometimes I think you only love me for my pancakes," Damian chides playfully, having yet to associate the creaking hinges with the basement door.

"I won't deny it," you laugh, grinning down at the bowl you're stirring with more dedication than is probably necessary.

"Damian, I didn't know you cook," Kori states, with enough surprise that you're a little taken aback.

He turns to look at her over his shoulder, still dicing strawberries without looking and making your nerves twitch while he does it. "Only occasionally."

"Hey hey, watch what you're doing, boy," you sound a little too much like someone's grandmother, but you're really a little aghast that he hasn't steeled himself yet.

Damian reserves a certain part of himself around most people. It's a part of him you're allowed to bask in only after years of assurance and affection. You wouldn't be so surprised if it was only shown to Dick, but it was Kori he was speaking to, eyes still a little glittery and smile still lopsided and prominent.

In a moment of adoration and maybe a little pride in him, you hum, "Only for me, of course."

To yours and even Kori's awe, he chuckles. "Only when you force me, you mean."

You recover faster than she does, and cover yourself with a laugh. "I wouldn't call you promising me strawberry-blackberry pancakes forcing you, but if you wanna try and save a little face . . ."

Kori turns to Dick, with a look on her face that is silently asking if he's seen the same thing. His eyes flit between her, you, and his youngest brother, before they settle on you. He seems a little less jarred.

"Gezz, what'd you do, (Y/N)? Drug him in his sleep?"

With Garfield's arrival, Damian's smile fades off and he resumes quickly dicing strawberries on a wooden cutting board.

You mumble into your batter, "I'm starting to wonder."

• • •

At 11:15 in the morning on the sixth day, a war commences.

While you and Damian decide to hide out the still-raging snowstorm in your cozy little loft with your faithful hounds, half the team is out in the snow, hurling handfuls of snow that vaguely resemble spheres at one another from behind artificial snowbanks.

Though eventually, you decide the total war out in the front yard is far more entertaining than anything on his Hulu or Disney+. So, you pop a bowl of popcorn and brew your third batch of tea, and sit backward on the couch to watch out the massive windows that take up most of the front wall of the common room.

Over the porch roof, you can watch all the atrocities of battle play out from the safe warmth of your loft together.

Though, some time around three, Damian reminds you that you have plans to drive into town to explore, and asks if you'd rather stay and finish the battle.

An hour later, you and Damian stand at the front door, dressed to brave the weather, having bid your dogs goodbye as you left them in the warm safety of your bedroom.

Damian's hand is on the doorknob, but he seems hesitant. "Are you ready?"

You flip up your hood and pull your scarf up over your nose. "Yes."

He hauls the door open, and with your hand in his, you quickly cross the porch, jump the steps, and make it halfway around to the driveway, when you hear somebody shout, "Civilians! Open fire on civilians, they're both wicked!"

Damian spins on his heel to threaten the entire group, but you beat him to it when you see Jamie, snowclod wound up, aimed right at you.

Silence falls over the battlefield like the snow still drifting down at an alarming rate.

You point a sharp finger at him. "If you do this, I will never forgive you," you declare lowly. "I swear to every god in existence you'll wake up with your head sewn to the carpet."

He stops. Narrows his eyes. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

A moment's debate. You can image the Scarab waving you off with we can take her. But oh, that thing has never seen you with a grudge.

He swivels on his feet and hurls it at Raven, who's been hiding behind the snow that'd been shoveled off the sidewalk that morning.

You take Damian's hand again and make a break for his car.

After the drive to Downtown Gatlinburg and three or four hours spent roaming the streets, you're already talking about living there. In all honesty, he isn't so opposed to the idea of buying a home in the area. You seem so in your element here, and the town and the scenery surrounding you is so breathtaking.

But you know you'd never be able to drag him out of Gotham. Perhaps a vacation home, or maybe retirement.

You decide to stop in to a little cafe in a place called The Village, which is a collection of shops surrounding a lovely courtyard off the main stretch of Downtown.

It's crowed inside, so you decide to stand out by the fountain while you sip your steaming drinks and converse about the little shops you liked best so far. You are particularly fond of a candy shop, and he would very much like to check out a blade shop a block or so down the way.

Your teeth chatter as you talk about wanting a souvenir, something small to keep on a shelf, and finish the rest of your hot chocolate.

"Are you that cold?" his question is simple enough, but his voice is so soft and so drenched in concern it catches you off guard.

You laugh lightly. "I'm okay, just might need another hot chocolate before we set off again," you shrug, jamming your hand into your pocket has he takes the paper cup from you and nods.

"Well, I'm sure that can be arranged." He smiles.

There's something in his eyes, though. It's subtle, in the little wrinkles between his eyebrows, and the redness of his nose and his cheeks. As much as you like the way it looks on his honey crisp complection, it's starting to worry you. Not the blush he gets from the cold's kiss, but the slightly out of character openness he's been exhibiting. You like to think that maybe he's growing out of hiding his louder emotions, for his own sake, but you can't take the risk that it's something else.

He returns to you with an offering of mint hot chocolate. He smiles again when he greets you, and the pair of you set off back toward the sidewalk do a little shopping.

"Hey, Dame?"

"Hm?"

You wind your arm around his elbow with your free hand. "Everything okay with you?"

He turns his full attention on you. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

You take a sip out of your hot chocolate. "I don't know, you've just been acting a little differently the last few days." His eyebrows crease in a worried way, and you get the sense he's disappointed. "In a good way, I mean," you correct yourself quickly, "I just want to be sure it isn't for a bad reason."

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. You turn out onto the sidewalk, and start making your way farther up the street. "No, there isn't anything wrong," he assures. "I can't exactly explain it, which I'm not entirely okay with, but it's been. . . nice, this trip. The land is beautiful, the air is much cleaner than in Gotham, the people here are nice." He turns to face you again. "And you seem a lot more comfortable with the Titans. I'm glad; I'd feared you wouldn't bond with them at all, truthfully, and they're all far more bearable with you around."

You nod as he speaks, eyes jumping past him to the signs on the building fronts every once in a while. There's something he isn't saying, and you know it.

"And. . ." He sighs. "And you."

You pass him a quizzically quirked brow.

His voice lowers and he lays a hand over yours on his arm. "I love you so much, (Y/N). I can't even find the right words anymore."

Your eyes lock with his and you stop walking. Your lips part because your jaw goes a little slack, and your wide eyes reflect all the neon colors of the signs in the window on your right.

It isn't the first time he says he loves you. And you know it won't be the last, but he hardly ever says it so freely. It always behind closed doors in the softest moments, when you're both vulnerable or so drunk on love for one another neither of you can think straight.

You can't remember the last time he's been so open about in in front of anyone else, and it only ripens your concern.

You pull him closer, eyebrows slanting together. "Damian, I'm serious, are you okay?"

Now he's the one with one eyebrow reaching for answers. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry," you blurt, "you know I love you from here clear to Alpha Centauri but you're really starting to worry me."

He laughs at that. Then, his eyes are as soft as his smile, and his hands smooth down the sides of your arms before they rest on your forearms. "(Y/N), I promise you there is nothing wrong with me now that hasn't been for the past seven years. Am I not allowed to let once in a little while, and allow myself a little breathing time?"

You hadn't realized you were so tense until you relax under his touch with the assurance. "Of course you are," you reply after a pause. You take one hand off your hot chocolate to rest it on his chest, coincidentally over his heart. "I just worry sometimes. I don't want anything to happen to you, Dame."

"I know," he says. He gingerly takes the paper cup from you and sets it on the bench you hadn't noticed before. He pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in a warmth like sunshine and a scent that's too particular to Damian Wayne to be mistaken. Your arms wind inside his open coat to the hoodie he's wearing underneath.

A long moment passes in relative silence. Your eyes are closed, ears perked to the drifting sounds of uncaring passersby and the rumbling of passing cars.

"I really want to slip my hands under your shirt right now," you mumble into his shoulder. "But if you tell me not to, I won't."

He grunts.

And for a moment, you ponder weather or not that was a denial. You silently make your choice and close your eyes again.

He leaps under your touch. "Damn it, (Y/N)!"

#damian wayne blurb #damian wayne headcannon #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #teen titan reader

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mikkomacko · 4 years

Text

Dear Daisy 5

Daisy never realized how big the house is until Harry's not there. Without his large personality sitting at the table, or his lanky legs kicked up on the coffee table while he works, or his broad body moving around the kitchen, Daisy feels like she's living in an empty palace. It's gotten to the point that she hates being at the house, but going to visit her family is just as depressing with them now crying over Sterling's departure. Her father's taken up more work with Thomas, hoping to make up for the usual revenue Sterling brings into the family. It's not much seeing as most of her brother's earnings goes into his personal savings so he can afford to marry Stella and take care of her. Daisy tried spending time with her future sister too, but that ended up being even more depressing then staring at Harry's empty couch cushion. So she goes on walks now. She's been putting off walking through the park because it reminds her of Harry now, and she stays as far away from the beach as possible. That really only leaves the town for her to walk through, but she likes the shops so she doesn't mind. She hardly buys anything, but the browsing keeps her mind off of Harry and how much she misses him and if he's okay. Her favorite shop to go in is the local bakery, owned a ran by a man named Robin and his kids. It's nice to sit at one of the tables, picking at a scone or mini pie and watch Robin teach his son's to roll out dough correctly and cut shapes into the pies. The three men are always so happy and carefree, and the feeling rubs off on her after sitting there for a bit.

Today, however, is different.

The bell above the door chimes as she pushes it open, stepping into the little shop and expecting a smile from Richard who's usually behind the counter. He's not there today, and walking up to the counter she realizes that Sam isn't either. It's just Robin, lips drooping down in the corners as he dusts some flower onto his apron. Daisy's smile falls, confused by the unusual gloomy mood in the bakery.

"Oh, hello Daisy." Robin greets when he notices her, offering her a pathetic smile. Daisy rests her elbows on the counter, holding her chin up.

"Is everything okay Robin?"

The man shrugs, shaking his head with a sad chuckle. "My boys left today," he mumbles, "one of them to the Poland, the other Germany."

Her heart falls to her stomach, and she thinks of Harry again. She's so worried knowing he's in France, she can't imagine how upsetting it'd be if he were sent to the front lines. "I'm sorry," she sympathizes, pausing a brief second before deciding what the hell, "my fiance shipped out a few weeks ago."

Robin looks up, a bit surprised as he moves to stand across from her. "Mr. Styles was called out?"

She shifts uncomfortably, scratching her fingernail across the wooden counter to keep her mind off of the war as much as possible. "To France for training and then assignment. I haven't gotten a letter yet informing me of where he's heading afterwards."

One of Robin's hands move over the counter, patting the top of Daisy's comfortingly. "It's tough, but I can't think of a greater man than Harry Styles fighting."

Daisy pauses, looking up at him curiously. She's never heard anyone say anything remotely kind about Harry before. He's always whispered about, gossiped about, but they're all tells of his rudeness or his harsh words. Daisy, having been privy to both, never really questioned anyone's dislike for Harry. But she'll definitely question their compliments for him.

"You know Harry really well?"

Robin nods, moving to untie his apron. "Grew up with his father. When he passed away I tried to keep an eye on Harryand Gemma. Of course that uncle of his stepped in, tried to raise Harry to be a prick like him-" Daisy giggles, never having heard Robin curse, "but good always beats bad."

He hangs his apron up, reaching under the counter for a small basket of oatmeal cookies. He places them on the counter in front of Daisy. "Free of charge, for Harry." He says, smiling softly. Daisy watches him for a moment, thinking that Robin must be a great father. He's kind, compassionate, but also tough. And judging by the two boys she's met in here before, he knows how to raise a good son. It's then that she realizes he's the only one running the bakery now, and while rations for the war have started, bread is always in demand. He'll be getting busy, busier than usual, and he might need help.

"Mr. Robin," she murmurs carefully, waiting for him to look at her expectantly, "if you'd like company or help around the shop while you're boys are away, I'd be happy to do so. Don't have to pay me or anything, I'd just like to get out of the empty house."

Robin's smile is warm and grateful, and he looks around the kitchen as if trying to picture Daisy back there helping him. Finally, he nods. "I'd love to have you Daisy, and I'd be happy to let you take home the tips for the day."

"No that's-"

"It's the least I could do," Robin interrupts, "owe it to Harry and his father."

She knows by the firmness of his voice that there's no room for arguing, and she knows tips aren't very much right now anyway so she won't feel bad for taking money from him. Plus the holidays are coming up, and she'd really like to get gifts from everyone without having to use Harry's money. It doesn't feel right to use it without him there, but then again, nothing really feels right while he's gone anyway.

Dear Daisy,

My training has been completed and I've received my assignment. Luckily for us, I'm staying in France, patrolling Paris in case Germany attacks. I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, it was difficult to find time during the first couple weeks, but you should know that not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. I ache for you, long for you so much it makes me dizzy. Patrolling Paris is wonderful, I've been here a few times, but I can't help but find you on ever corner. In the flower shops, laying among the soft petals. In the warmth of the bakeries and restaurant, beckoning me. Swirling in the air around me, shining in the stars above me. It's not the first city I've found you in and I'm certain it won't be the last.

I know I have so much to say to you. Secrets and truths that have been on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, pleading to be told. Oh how desperate I was on our last night together, aching to tell you everything. Again, I'm sorry, for I'm making you wait. I know you hate me, enough to cry for me, enough to marry me. I was once told my parents hated each other as well, and I had never seen love like theirs.

I hope you're staying warm as the days get colder, maybe planting vegetables in your garden in the back. Pumpkins grow well against the wall of the house and my mum has a wonderful pumpkin soup recipe. I'll dream of you tonight, and maybe every night, in our kitchen with the pretty blue apron around your hips, filling our house with a warmth only you could bring. My radio playing in the background, I'll wish to be sat there with you, argue over how you under-cooked the pumpkin just because I like the color of your pink cheeks when we fight.

Stay safe for me Daisy for I need a home to come home to.

-The Harry Styles x

Cold winds come with fall, blowing into the bakery every time the door is even slightly cracked. Daisy's lucky enough to be on oven duty, staying warm in the back while Robin works the counter. She's been working with him for almost a month now, finally skilled enough to help decorate the Halloween cookies and package them. Robin does most of the baking, but she always helps, and every time she finds a recipe of interest he goes out of his way to teach her to make it. Daisy finds working at the bakery to be quite wonderful. It's a good way to spend her time and she's never been good at cooking despite her mother's hard efforts to teach her. Meredith isn't much of a baker either so Daisy never learned that growing up either. It's exciting, working here. Like she's got a new hidden talent or secret that only her and Robin know.

It's only a matter of time before her mother or Summer starts questioning what she's been doing during the days, and she's dreading having to answer. Some may it find it silly but if she tells them about her new hobby she's afraid it'll lose its appeal. When she's here, everything is simple. She bakes and laughs with Robin, forgetting that men are fighting a few countries over. And if she's feeling particularly lonely, she can imagine that Harry's just at work, that she'll finish her goodies for the day and take them home in a box wrapped with pretty ribbon, body flushing when her husband praises her.

Even if it makes going home even more disappointing, Daisy will enjoy her time in the bakery. She's nearly curling the ribbon on a package of croissants for the girl on the other side of the counter when Robin says he's going to take the trash out back real quick. They were starting to close up when the lady came in, a Mrs. Weathers as Robin had greeted her, and he instructed y/n to quickly wrap her order. She carries the package over, smiling politely at Mrs. Weathers and charging her.

"You're Mr. Styles' fiancee aren't you?" She asks, counting out the coins in her purse. Her green eyes look Daisy up and down (as much as possible with the counter between them) but she looks more curious than judging.

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Weathers hums, accepting her change from Daisy. "Never thought I'd see the day he'd find a wife." Her tone is amused, mixed with a little bit of surprise, and her eyes shine at Daisy with a newfound respect.

"Why's that?" Daisy questions. She knows Harry's not well liked. He's not really liked at all, but everyone has their person. Maybe she's not Harry's person but her family made it so she is. And it turned out to be better than expected. So maybe she actually is his person and she never knew.

"I had a bit of a crush on him myself a few years ago." Mrs. Weathers admits, looking sheepish. "Tried to talk to him on the beach once, maybe get him to take me on a date in that pretty car of his. Barely spoke to me though. Ignored my flirting, even went as far as telling me I was desperate." Daisy cringes at the word. Harry used to hint at her being desperate too, but he never outright said it to her. If he had she thinks she would've hit him.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, feeling the need to make up for Harry's rudeness. "He's got a sharp tongue and an ego big enough to keep his mouth flapping."

Mrs. Weathers laughs, waving her hand. "Don't apologize! It hurt at the time but I'm grateful he's the way he is. I probably would've married him and that would be awful. My husband Terry is the greatest love I've ever known."

Daisy smiles at the dreamy look in Mrs. Weathers eyes, but her chest aches for Harry. He may be rough on the edges, but she knows deep down he's sweet. He has a reason for all his actions, and maybe that's why he's terrible to everyone. A sort of test, wanting to see who cares enough to stick around. Or it could just be him knowing what he wants and being careless. Either way she's proud, knowing she was the one to turn him.

"It just takes him a bit to warm up." Daisy defends, "But I'm the lucky one that stuck around, I suppose."

Mrs. Weathers chuckles, picking up the package and nestling it in the crook of her elbow. "If you say so." She hums, adjusting her scarf and then she's heading out into the chilly air. Daisy stares at the door for a moment, thinking that Harry's actually a lot kinder than Mrs. Weathers and any other person that something bad to say about him.

Daisy's crouched on the lowest porch step, fingers begin to burn as she lights the last of the Jack-O-lanters her and Summer had carved yesterday. Harry had been right about the pumpkins, she grew so many that they were able to save two for soup, leave three on the steps here, and take two back to Summer's house.

Tossing the match to the side, Daisy watches the candle flicker through it's smile. She can't help but notice that this particular face has the same little bunny teeth as Harry, even if it's big smile is nothing like Harry's. Her heart sinks, eyes stinging as she pathetically imagines him. Not exactly sure how long she watches the flame dance, wishing it were Harry's eyes in front of her, she practically jumps out of skin when two hands jab her shoulders. "Boo!"

She almost falls off the porch steps as she leaps to her full height, the hands of Gemma being the one thing to steady her. "You scared me." Daisy says sheepishly, holding a hand to her racing heart.

"That was the point," Gemma teases, "it's Halloween." Her eyes look over Daisy, smiling falling. "And you're not dressed up at all."

Blushing, Daisy picks at the bow around her waist. "I was gonna be a kitten but I haven't had time to draw my nose and whiskers on. What are you?"

Gemma adjust the sleeves of the button up, tugging down the too-small sweater vest and holding her arms open. Her hip pops out sassily, "I'm Harry!" Daisy examines her again, realizing she's wearing her version of the outfit they mocked Harry about when wedding shopping. "I figured you could use a little Harry today, and I'm as close as it gets right now."

Daisy's glad she hadn't done her makeup yet, because Gemma's words send her to tears.

Dear Harry,

I've never been to Paris but I can't help but find comfort in the city knowing you're there. I'm sure it's not exactly what you were expecting for assignment; you've always been a front line man, but I'm grateful the universe is on my side this time.

I grew pumpkins like you suggested and your mother made the best soup for us after Halloween. I wish you could have been at the house with me. A girl came dressed up as a fighter pilot and I thought of how much you'd enjoy that. Gemma came over to hand out candy and stay the night, which was nice. The house is to big without you in it, but for some reason it made me miss you more.

While your secrets make me nervous, I respect your choice to wait to spill them. At first it drove me mad and I spent days like a tornado in the house. I've found a distraction though, one I think you'll be proud of. An old friend of you father's, Robin, has been teaching me to bake. His son's shipped out as well and we've found company in each other's presence. I don't like cooking, as you very much know, but I really enjoy baking. Maybe one day that'll be our routine. You'll come back from the war, safe and sound, and I'll bake lots of desserts for us to devour while you cook our meals. And of course your radio will be on, and maybe I'll make you dance with me. I happen to be a very good dancer when you're my partner, and no matter how much I try to fight it, you'll always be my greatest partner.

Stay safe for me Harry or I'll have no husband to bake for. With all my heart, Daisy o

Rain pelts against her umbrella, ice cold in the November air. It far too late for her to be out here, but at least it's a nice neighborhood. Not as nice as Harry's or Thomas', but still better than the one she grew up in. She doesn't dwell on that thought too long though, because she's still trying to figure out why she came here. Shivering, the red door stares back at her tear filled eyes, daring her to step forward and knock. She wants to, she really does. Wants to go inside, sit next to the wood burning stove she'd sat by with Harry that one time he brought her here. Maybe drink some tea. Maybe wrap a blanket around her frame and cry. It felt too empty to cry in their house. Her sobs echoed and rattled, reminding her she was alone.

Still in her pajamas, she'd thrown on one of Harry's peacoats and grabbed the umbrella from the coat closet, running through two streets worth of puddles. Her soaked socks remind her of that.

Sniffling, Daisy wipes her eyes with the cuffs of the coat, finally stepping onto the welcome mat. Inhaling shakily, she knocks before she can duck out and spend all night crying in the street. Harry would be so upset with her if he found out she was even out right now. He told her not to worry, yet here she was.

It takes minute for the door to be answered, lights flicking on upstairs, and then on the staircase, and then in the living room. Daisy wills herself to calm down, bouncing anxiously as the door swings open.

"Daisy?"

Anne has wrapped her robe around her nightgown, rollers mussed in her hair, and eyes bleary but her eyes widen when she meets Daisy's red rimmed ones. "Oh dear, come in! Get out of the rain!"

She waves her in, Daisy's umbrella dripping water on the rug as she closes it and places it in the rack. Anne shuts and locks the door behind her, immediately reaching to help Daisy out of her son's coat. "I'm sorry," Daisy mumbles, shaking off the damp fabric. Helpless, she watches Anne hang it by the door, bottom lip trembling with surpressed cries.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Anne coos gently, reaching forward to push back her wet hair. Daisy crumbles under the affection, chest aching so bad she thinks it might crack open to reveal her longing heart to the cruel world. "Are you hurt?"

She shakes her head, finally breaking down. Her body shakes against Anne, shoulders hunching as her mother-in-law wraps her arms around Daisy. Anne shushes her, rubbing her hand in soothing circles over her back. "It's okay darling. You can talk to me."

Somehow, Daisy manages to choke out the one thought swirling through her brain. "I miss him so much." It's simple, but the words make her cry even more after finally admitting it. She didn't realize how much she enjoyed being around Harry, how much better he made her days. Being without him is like missing the broth in the soup, the flour in a loaf of bread, the roots of a plant. Nothing feels right and she hates it.

"Oh darling, I know." Anne coos, stroking her soggy hair tenderly. Daisy feels small in her arms, cradled like a girl as small as Kitty even though her feet are on the ground and not around Anne's waist. She thinks back on when she wishes she were as tiny as her sister, innocent to this kind of hurt, and she can't help but think this night was born out of that wish. Maybe the universe started a war, drafted the one boy she may one day love, just because she was being sad and petty. It's stupid, Hitler's not invading previous German land because she wished to be little again. But it does feel nice to have Anne hold her, tell her she understands. All Meredith’s ever done is tell her to grow up, act her age, learn to cook, get married, have kids. Everything she always felt like she could never do.

“He’s really irritating but I want him back.” Daisy murmurs around trembling breaths, beginning to calm down. Anne laughs, whispering an agreement before pulling back enough to see her face. She strokes her cheeks tenderly, motherly.

“Let’s her you dry clothes and a cup of tea, yeah?” Daisy nods shyly, letting Anne guide her up the stairs and into a random bedroom. She digs through the dresser, pulling out a cotton tee and striped pajama bottoms. The same pajama bottoms Harry owns multiple pairs of. “These were his favorites as a boy. Don’t fit him now but I can’t get rid of them.”

Daisy changes into them in the bathroom, recognizing the scent of Harry immediate. He still smells the same today but more manly. Maybe it's that nice cologne he wears that makes him smell older, more mature. But his teen scent is comforting too. The two of them, feeling small but together. It makes her ache a bit more, but she smiles at it. Maybe Harry's thinking about her, smirking as he fall asleep and imagining her crying. Soulmates maybe, reaching out to jab at her throbbing heart. It's a very Harry thing to do, she thinks.

And she continues to think of him when she crawls into his childhood bed, an old record player playing an album he loved as a kid, with her mug of tea on his old nightstand. Buried in his sheets, it almost feels like he's there too. That's how it should be, husband and wife, buried next to each other forever.

#dear daisy #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #one direction #harry styles au #ww2 harry #soldier harry #arranged marriage au #1930s harry

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toziersoneliners · 5 years

Text

Losers! [Chubby Reader]

⛓ | summer |

For some, the last day of school could be sorrowful. However (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a little relieved. She wasn't worried about not seeing her friends until school started up again, Richie was her neighbor and she practically spent all of her time with either Eddie or Bill. Though recently she'd been hanging around the nice boy Mike Hanlon. Though a bit shy, he was sweet and gentle, something (Y/n) wasn't really used to. Though she was apart of the Losers Club and hung around all boys, she was never really a tough girl. Some could have said it was due to her abusive home, but nor her or the boys thought so. If it was really because of her constant abuse, then she'd be strong, not weak. Her mother was the villain in her story, and that woman scared the daylights out of the chubby girl.

(Y/n) feared nothing like she feared her own mother.

Usually you'd see the father being the abusive one, but that wasn't something (Y/n) could ever see happening to herself. Her father, Matthieu Snow, was the kindest man in Derry, Maine. No one could ever convince her otherwise, either.

Despite her horrid home situation, she was often finding herself distracted these days. Her best friend Eddie Kaspbrak had been locked up in his house for a few days, no doubt to the fault of his overprotective mother. (Y/n) was bored out of her mind. While Eddie sure wasn't the most exciting person to be around, she found the boy to be wholesome, reminding her of a lost puppy almost. Like mentioned before, she wasn't strong willed, so she didn't have the guts to show up at the Kaspbrak residence to go and ask to see Eddie. Sonya was terrifying to (Y/n), intimidation making her hesitant to even go near Eddie's house. It was extremely annoying, because she couldn't find Richie either. Her last bet was Mike, but then she'd have to take the risk of bumping into Henry Bowers, something that too, just like her own mother or Sonya Kaspbrak, scared the girl numb.

Instead, she went to find fun elsewhere, by herself. The arcade was the first place that jumped into her precious little head. Though she hated being alone, she knew that a good game of PAC-MAN or Street Fighter could cheer her right up, distract her from her loneliness. She should have known, of course, that Richie Tozier would be at the beloved arcade, training, as he called it.

The arcade was dark, but the neon lights from the various game machines lit up the place like a huge Christmas tree. The only adults to be seen was the owner of the arcade and a few man-children, ones her father would tell (Y/n) to stay away from in the future.

'Whether you marry a man or not, stay away from those boys who still live with their mothers past the age of twenty.'

She could see why, of course. As soon as she was able to understand the complexities of boys, she knew what kind of person she'd want to marry in the future. Whenever she thought about it, Mike ended up coming to her mind, as odd as it may have sounded. She wasn't interested romantically, or at least she didn't think she was. (Y/n) had no idea what love was, and wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. Love, according to some of the girls at school, entailed showing your private bits to every boy who asked, and (Y/n) knew for a fact that she wasn't that type of girl, in fact she was sure that she never would be.

"Fuck!"

The vulgar manner of speaking belonged to none other than Richie Tozier himself. The boy groaned to himself in irritation as he lost a battle in SF, pushing his large glasses up with one finger. He catches a hint of light blue and turns around only to see the chubby girl he'd come to know over the years. Richie wasn't sure what had made (Y/n) a loser, but she was one... a very cute one. He didn't give a damn about her weight, she was too cute and it killed Richie. Her sweaters and ripped up jeans, high top converse, it all made her so... LOSER. It didn't bother Richie in the slightest, damn he'd say he loved her weird sense of style.

He'd wanted to ask her to join him in the arcade just as school let out, but like always she had run off with Eddie. Was it disappointing? Yes. But did that really matter now? Not really.

Richie could guess from her bored expression and no one accompanying her, that Eddie Kaspbrak was indeed locked away in his house. She only ever wandered around when there was no one else from the Losers Club to hang out with. However, she always seemed to find one of them anyway, just as she'd found Richie in the arcade.

He smiles goofily, stepping away from the video game machine and walks towards the shy girl. Sliding his extra coins into his pocket, Richie comes up behind (Y/n) as she was momentarily distracted, staring at the greasy seeming floor of the arcade with slight disgust. She loved the arcade, she really did, but couldn't they make it a bit cleaner?

Sneakily, Richie wraps his arms around her shoulders, scaring the living crap out of her.

"HOLY FUDGE!" She squeaks out, looking behind her only to see the toothy smile of Richie Tozier. She really should have known it'd be him, after all, who'd just come up behind some girl and squeeze them like that?

"Gotcha! Where's Eds?" Richie asks, letting her go. He kind of already knew the answer, but the girl in front of him didn't know that. She huffs cutely, fiddling with the ends of her light blue sweater. Richie was of course the one who scared her, her neighbor.

"Mrs. Kaspbrak won't let him leave the house, so I came here." (Y/n) explains, looking a bit sad. Though she definitely loved all of the Losers, Eddie was by far her favorite. After all, she'd known him for such a long time, what was she supposed to do without him?

"I was going to find Mike, but then I'd have to pass Henry's house and that definitely wasn't going to happen. After all of that I was boredom so I came to the arcade."

Hearing her explanation, Richie couldn't help but flinch. Earlier that day he'd seen Bowers walking around with his dumb goons, Belch and Vic. The freckled Tozier knew very well how scared they made (Y/n), and he had a sick feeling in his stomach telling him that they weren't too far away. It didn't matter though, Richie thought to himself cheerily. He would be there to protect (Y/n), because he was in every way, a man. He'd be damned if he'd let some dumb Henry Bowers scare him off. Still... it'd be good to stay away from the easily irritable teen. There couldn't be any harm in staying inside the darkness of the greasy arcade, right? Sure, it wasn't the best place to hang out with a cute girl, but shoot, she didn't seem to mind either.

"You're still here? I thought you'd at least go home for a nap." She says, snapping Richie out of his thoughts. He lets out a funny sounding laugh, that type of laugh he gave whenever he was nervous but trying to keep a good mask on.

"Yeah well, I might have seen Bowers outside of the arcade earlier, so I wasn't about to leave." Richie says, letting out another weird laugh. She was half expecting him to go back to his game, but he instead grabbed her hand and dragged her away from where they were standing. A soft squeak left her as Richie pulled her down underneath a dusty table, pushing her to the ground while holding a hand to her mouth.

He looked scared, she realized.

She also realized that Henry Bowers himself was snooping around the arcade, eyes glowering dangerously. She, of course, didn't know how long he'd been there, but he seemed like he knew what he was looking for. He didn't happen to see her enter the arcade, did he? A sudden feeling of guilt washes over (Y/n). Richie was just having a grand time before she decided to show up and ruin everything. There would hav been a huge chance that she was completely wrong, but she couldn't help the disgusting, slimy feeling.

The feeling she'd done something wrong.

Whimpering, she pulls Richie closer to her, her eyes wold as she watches the bully stalk through the dusty arcade. The neon lights of the games seemed to illuminate Henry's face, making the experience that much more horrible. He looked... terrifying.

Though he was trying to act brave in front of (Y/n), Richie was sweating, and he was sure she could feel it. His hand that was still covering her mouth was sweating. When he realizes this, he doesn't think much of it. Though he was sure if Eddie was there they'd get caught. The hypochondriac would flip his shit if he saw Richie touching (Y/n)'s mouth, it was, for some reason, a big no no.

Eventually, Henry passes.

Richie grabs his friend by the scuff of her light blue sweater and yanks her right out from under the dirty table, dragging her quickly out of the arcade.

"I'm sure he didn't just follow you into the arcade." Stan says, flipping through his bird book with an uninterested expression. Really, Richie brought out the worst in (Y/n). He brought out her paranoid side, and it was showing obviously right then.

The two eleven year olds were nearly screaming at Stan about their terrifying encounter with Henry Bowers. (Y/n) wasn't yelling like Richie was, and she definitely wasn't cussing like he was, but she still seemed panicked. If it had been just her that came to Stan, he would have believed her and tried to comfort her, but of course Richie was there. The trash mouth was always putting stupid idea into (Y/n)'s mind, and Stan was fed up with it. She was, unlike some of the Losers, a good kid. She got good grades, she was nice, and she was undeniably cute. She just seemed to choose to hang around with the wrong people.

People like Richie Tozier.

"Are you sure this actually happened? Or is this some stupid fantasy Richie put in your head?" Stan questions, rubbing the back of his neck hole looking at the wide eyed (Y/n) and Richie. The two of them were sweating, near tears, and motioning with their hands wildly. It was an odd scene, you could imagine. Suddenly (Y/n) stopped to stare at Stan with a monotone expression.

"Of course it happened!" She exclaimed, her eyes searching for any kind of doubt in Stan's expression. He sighed, pressing a hand down to close his bird book.

"Are you sure, though?" Stan asks, rubbing his eye slightly. He looked, above all, bored. His first day of summer break had been going pretty slow. He knew he was probably supposed to be studying for his Bar Mitzvah, but he wasn't exactly in the studying kind of mood. He had, initially, gotten himself into a better mood when he saw (Y/n), but this ridiculous story, or maybe it wasn't so ridiculous, had put him right back where he started.

She stopped to give Stan a look, that look. In all rationality, (Y/n) was the mom of the group. That look, it was the kind of look a scolding mother would give her young child for coming home too late or something similar. Stan never really payed attention to it, but he guessed that it wasn't just some fantasy Richie had put in her head. She only ever gave him that kind of look when she was serious about something, that Stan knew.

"Stan."

"Alright, I believe you."

"Didn't take too much to convince you." Richie muttered, wiping his sweaty palms on the material of his jeans.

Stan, Richie and (Y/n) had spent their first day of summer break walking around Derry. Running around with ice cream, soda, and several other things. They had caught Bill running around as well, and he had hitched with them too. Besides the encounter at the arcade, there had been no sightings of Henry Bowers or his stupid goons, and all of them were glad.

"I wonder... how long do you think Eddie will have to stay locked up?" (Y/n) asks, looking at Bill and Richie as the sun started to disappear from the sky, leaving the pink cotton candy to float around. Bill, handing her another cone of vanilla ice cream, lifted his lips up in a small smile.

"What? Can't deal with us by yourself?"

Richie snorts while (Y/n) takes a bite of her ice cream, it was her third one that night, but no one in the group was complaining.

"No... I just miss him."

Once again, Richie snorts.

"Hey, Marshmallow."

The Losers freeze.

{I'm reading the book, so things may be different, but I've also watched the 2017 movie, so that's the character design I'm thinking of. Probably not going to go in when they're adults, I prefer the younger version just because. This book is a little bit of an AU, not a lot of major character death happens. Trigger warnings for death and abuse, but it's not really that bad.}

#it #it chapter one #it scenarios #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #stan uris x reader #bill denbrough x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader #henry bowers x reader #beverly marsh x reader #pansexal reader #demisexual reader

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bl4cklabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Live Report: MY FIRST STORY TOUR 2019 Semi-Final at Kobe World Memorial Hall

Disclaimer: Take note that all of these reports were translated by ear, so there is no assurance of accuracy. Because of this, please do not retranslate my work. I am no Japanese or English native.

I am only reposting the relevant MCs from my Twitter thread for archive purposes. Please check my tweets to read more about my thoughts on the show.

Photo by Takashi Konuma | Taken from MFS’ official Twitter

Setlist

不可逆リプレイス

Black Rail

ブラック・スワン

花-0714-(Re:arrange)

monologue

虚言NEUROSE

KING & ASHLEY

mine

君のいない夜を越えて

終焉レクイエム (Acoustic ver.)

Love Letter (Acoustic ver.)

LET IT DIE (Acoustic ver.)

Band session

無告

Missing You

Weight of my pride (Pay money To my Pain cover)

MONSTER

絶体絶命

ACCIDENT

モノクロエフェクター

REVIVER

With You

Encore

THE OVER (UVERworld cover)

LET IT DIE

ALONE

Story about Weight Loss

Hiro: Anyway, this has no relation (to the acoustic session) whatsoever, but didn’t I get super thin?

Kid’z: You did! Tell us more! You really did lose weight! Nob too!

Hiro: We declared during Hall Tour that we’d lose weight within one month, but we couldn’t do it. We made a promise though, didn’t we? I did my very best, you know?? I seriously gave it all I got!!

Kid’z: I’ve been avoiding carbs for a long time, and even tried diligently apportioning my meals and stuff like that. But before I knew it, I was already eating curry!

Crowd: *laughs*

Fan: How much weight did you lose?

Hiro: I dropped 6 kg.

Crowd: Ohhh! *claps*

Kid’z: That’s a lot!

Hiro: Amazing, right? On the contrary, I’ve always been fat.

Kid’z: No, seriously.

Hiro: I lost weight so that I can get fat again. I want to get fat so I lose weight. When I’ve lost weight, I’ll gain weight again. It’s a never ending cycle.

Kid’z: Don’t leave it as it is!

Hiro: I get told that all the time. I mean, I’m gonna gain weight before METROCK again anyway.

Kid’z: Isn’t METROCK great though?

Hiro: Can I say this? Why do they hold festivals at such a season?

Kid’z: Because (the weather) is cool? I once thought Doraemon was the one singing.

Hiro: Who you calling 123 cm tall?

Kid’z: Nobita-kun.

Hiro: I’m not the blue geezer.

Kid’z: He isn’t a geezer!

Hiro: He’s a geezer, isn’t he?

Crowd: *laughs*

Hiro: Generally, we release a CD around spring or summer. Then we start tour around autumn, right? From the beginning of fall, Hiroki starts losing weight. Little by little. Then, year end starts rolling in. By the end of the year, tour ends, it becomes production season, and eating Hiroki comes out. Hiroki enters hibernation, just like any other large mammal.

Kid’z: You need to stock up, right?

Hiro: Yep, so I can get through winter. Then it becomes spring again. METROCK is waiting for me, but I don’t want stocked-weight-from-hibernation-at-its-max Hiroki to be exposed there! Why do I keep getting told I got fatter or thinner every time?! Leave me alone!!!

Kid’z: But you did your best, right?

Hiro: ...Yep.

Kid’z: Good job.

Crowd: *claps*

Kid’z: How about Nob? How are you doing?

Nob: I lost 5 kg.

Hiro: You lost weight only because you were sick, right?

Kid’z: Because his tonsils were taken out.

Nob: I haven’t gotten my sense of taste back up until now.

Hiro: Don’t let yourself lose one of your most important senses!

Nob: Some time ago I had pickles and it was the best.

Hiro: What an old man.

Story about Poor Kid’z (figuratively and literally)

Kid’z: This story has no relation to anything we’ve talked about so far, but you (Hiro) started an IG account, right? During Hall Tour. Since then, you did a lot of things to me, like that game with the paper cups and the 10,000 yen you put inside one of them, which I played along with having good intentions in mind. I chose the right cup and you gave me the bill, but you revealed that there was 100,000 yen in the other cups.

Hiro: Yep.

Kid’z: ...I tried that with a friend. I was caught. 100,000 yen.

Hiro: Eh?? They made a winning move, huh.

Kid’z: I was like, “Oh no, what should I do?? Should I take it back?” I wanted to be able to fool someone, to get a taste of how it feels! So I started turning the cups around thinking I could do it like you did. When it was time for them to pick, my friend chose a different cup, and in my head I was all, “No no no, not that!!!” and eventually they got it...

Hiro: That person probably saw my IG post and thought you were an idiot.

Thoughts on Marriage

After Love Letter, Hiro and Kid'z talked about being excited yet nervous to play the next song, since it's been a while since they last played it.

Kid’z: Speaking of which, the person beside me seems to be nervous!!

Nob: *rubbing his palms on his pants*

Kid’z: Can I do a hand check? *touches Nob's palm* It's all sticky!

Hiro: Eh? You're scared of making a miss again? Like in Yokoari? Higedan. Ah! Speaking of which, Satoshi-kun got married! Congratulations!

H&K: *congratulate Nob*

Hiro: Eh? Official?

Kid’z: This is Unofficial.

Hiro: Ah, sorry. Unofficial. He got married, huh... There's been a crazy marriage rush recently...

Kid’z: Yeah, it's been all over LINE NEWS lately.

Hiro: Right. back number, Higedan, Maple Chogokin.

Kid’z: You're mean for putting Maple Chogokin as last!

Hiro: No no no. *laughs* The marriage rush is insane, right... Right... Insane right...

Fan: Do you want to get married?

Hiro: ...I don't wanna get married.

Crowd: Eh???

Hiro: Do you? Someday, I assume. As for me, I don't wanna get married at all.

Kid’z: *in a teasing tone* Is it because you don't have a partner?

Hiro: *taunting tone* Ha? Ha? Ha? What the hell are you saying, you.

Kid’z: Ah, sorry we had a little quarrel.

Hiro: Let's get a divorce first!

Kid’z: What the hell is this breakup!

Poor Nob

Photo by Takashi Konuma | Taken from Hiro’s IG post

Hiro: Anyway, are we good? You (Nob) still seem nervous. How are his fingers?

Kid’z: They're tender.

Hiro: If I had to play it in a room like this, I'd be pissed.

Nob: *strums a tune*

Kid’z: It's that song!! It's definitely that song, right? Can you do it, Nob bear? Are you alright? You practiced last night without sleeping.

Kid’z: Give him your support.

Crowd: Cute!! You can do it!!!

Kid’z: The pressure on you is rising, huh.

Hiro: *in an old man voice* You can do it! You can do it! You can do it!

Kid’z: Eh? What was that voice? Father?

Hiro: *taunting tone* Ha? What the hell are you saying. Who you calling father, come home and I'll kill you.

Kid’z: Ah, sorry. Father, I apologize.

Hiro: to Nob You okay? Dududadududa~ (T/N: the intro of LET IT DIE) The last song for the acoustic session. Please listen, LET IT DIE.

Then, Hiro crouched down from his seat and kneeled, looked at Nob closely, and so did Kid’z. Nob stared back, aced the dududadududa intro and everybody clapped for him! However, Nob made a mistake towards the very end, playing the last string of notes twice. When they were walking back to the main stage, Hiro put his arm around Nob and teased in a mocking tone, "Hey, in LET IT DIE, in LET IT DIE, hey, during the acoustic set, hey, I was satisfied with the beginning, but in the middle of the song, hey, you made a mistake, right? Even if you were doing so well." When they got back to the main stage, Nob bowed down in apology.

Weight of my pride MC

Hiro: Your voice has been heard! There were a lot of requests for PTP, and in my heart, PTP is my eternal hero. It shouldn't be just us; so that he can also hear your voices, shout as loud as you can Kobe!!! Next song is called Weight of my pride!

Check out their version of the performance at Saitama Super Arena here:

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youtube

モノクロエフェクター MC

Hiro: How are we doing Kobe? I thought everyone in Kobe could handle it, you know? Aren't y'all drinking too much milk tea? Your nipples are gonna become tapioca if you drink too much milk tea, you know? Well, if you're sure you're not drinking too much then you should be able to handle it, so let's all dance together!!

Reviver MC

Hiro: Thank you so much for today! It's been a great day, I'm really grateful. I've always been alone. I've lost so many people I didn't want to lose, and I've let go of things I didn't want to part with many times. I might not be able to change the world with music, but because of music, I met the members, I met all of you, and it made me think that my life was pretty impressive. I want to believe it was my destiny to meet all of you here tonight, so let's keep walking together Kobe!!!

With You MC

Hiro: Thank you so much for today, Kobe!!! After this, the tour will be ending soon. Thinking about it makes me sad, but knowing that you will all be supporting us next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, and even after 10 years makes me feel very grateful. But there's one thing I want to say before today ends: Kobe, I love you!!!

THE OVER MC

Hiro: How was it? MFS' UVERworld. Did I become Hiroki∞? This song was really difficult. The way the lyrics jump, especially during the part before the last chorus.

Kid’z: I didn't learn that note.

Hiro: *emphasizes the difficult enunciation of a line from the song* Unbelievable, I had a hard time remembering it.

Kid’z: The instruments were tough, too. Even Nob was complaining, there were notes he had never seen before.

Hiro: I couldn't match the timing of the lyrics either. I had to enter at an exact time, 3 characters in one second!! If MFS were to do it, we'd go with a lower key.

Kid��z: You say MFS but it's your key, right? Your voice is hella loud you know.

Hiro: It's because if I'm alone, then it's not MFS.

Kid’z: Nah, we were able to match the key, but only you can sing it that high, right? (T/N: They seemed to have raised the key by 2 octaves)

Hiro: You guys thought the cover song was only Weight of my pride, didn't you? You're wrong! We did UVERworld but we received many other requests. There were a lot of PTP songs in the tags. Who else was it... Sheena Ringo, Oral, and King Gnu too.

Kid’z: Weirdly enough, B'z was highly requested too.

Hiro: It'd be weird if I sang their songs.

Crowd: Sing! Sing! Sing!

Hiro: 萎えぇぇ！萎えぇぇ！萎えぇぇぇぇー (T/N: Nae is Japanese slang that roughly translates to “no” or “ugh” in this context) Wait a minute. Change the song.

Kid’z: *offended tone* Huh?

Hiro: Well then, sing a line that starts with A!

Hiro: You're an Ultra Soul Idiot. Do you know any other song apart from Ultra Soul?

Kid’z: Of course I do! Don't you? All of you? I love them more than anyone else, I'm even in the fanclub! こいよ！！

Kid’z: *sings a B'z line that starts with A*

Hiro: Gi!

Kid’z: Gi? *sings a line that starts with Gi* I told you, I can do anything.

Teru: Yu!

Kid’z: Yu? YUME JANAI ARE MO KORE MO SONO TE DE DOA MO AKEMASHOU, SHUKUFUKU GA HOSHII NARA KANASHIMI O SHIRI HITORI DE NAKIMASHOU, SOSHITE KAGAYAKU ULTRA SOUL!

Crowd: HEY!!!

Hiro: Oi, Teruki!! Why did you say "yu"?! You should've let him build up first before making him sing "yu"!! It was too early to make him sing that as the third song!

Kid’z: It felt really good!!

Hiro: Why did you say "yu" so quickly?!

Teru: I just made a mistake.

Hiro: Don't be an airhead!!

Kid’z: I'm really grateful!

Nob’s Redemption Arc

After their UVERworld cover, Hiro asked the audience what they should do next. The crowd started screaming different songs, to which Hiro said "I'm seriously fine with anything." Nob suddenly played the first three notes of LET IT DIE, to which Hiro said, "Ah, from earlier?" Kid'z said, "He made a mistake a while ago, so let's give him another chance." Then Nob started practicing. The crowd screamed, "You can do it!!!" then Nob walked towards the center stage and did a moonwalk. Hiro was all, "You can't do it, you're not Michael Jackson!" then sang a MJ line and howled his signature "Woo!"

Final MC

Hiro: Today was truly an amazing day, thank you all so much. We had such an intense gathering here at Kobe World Memorial Hall. The first Coming Kobe was also held here. We have so, so, so many memories here in this place. Right now, we're still on our way to reaching our dream. From hereon, we don't know if we could make such a big dream come true. We still have a long way there, but we're doing our best every year, making music for everyone and visiting various places as well. Next year, and the year after that, and even after 10 years, it would be nice if we could all make amazing memories together. Thank you so much! We're definitely coming back, Kobe!!

Photo by Takashi Konuma | Taken from Hiro’s IG post

#my first story #マイファス #live #2019 #still sad we didn't get a DVD of the Kobe show #liked it better than Saitama #we could've gotten the MCs and the encore at the very least #sighs #ah well

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hisgirlfriday22 · 5 years

Text

Untangle Me

Chapter One - McGuire’s Pub

.........

"Come on, Molly, you never do anything fun! It's only one night, and it wouldn't be the same without you!"

Molly sighed as she rolled her eyes at her coworker and friend. "That's not true, Hannah. I do plenty of fun things.." She muttered as she continued to straighten up her classroom. Due to the rainy weather outside, she'd been forced to keep her toddlers inside, and they'd practically trashed the room out of boredom. Ahh, the life of a preschool teacher...

"Pffft, sure you do. You work and you babysit. And when you're not watching kids, you go home and watch Netflix, am I right? Don't even try to deny it. Besides, what is one night out going to hurt?" Hannah asked. Her brow was raised as she gave Molly a smug smirk. She was right and she knew it.

Molly sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but she was quickly cut off by her friend once more.

"You haven't even had a night out since you broke up with Asher..."

Molly tensed a bit as she turned to look at Hannah. A hard glare was evident in her eyes. "That's not fair." She said firmly. Molly hadn't had the best relationship with Asher, and though it took so long for her to admit it to herself, breaking up with him had been the best thing she'd ever done for herself. But, it still was painful. She'd spent years with him, and it was hard to just let all of that go.

Hannah frowned at the look on her friend's face. She was regretful of her words, or rather, how she'd put them. She knew Asher was a tough subject for Molly and she should have never brought him up. Still, she knew a night out with her friends was exactly what Molly needed, even if she didn't see it. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you, that's all. You're always doing things for others, but you never do anything for yourself. I think a night out is just what you need. "

Molly sighed as she placed the last stray toy on the shelf. She really just wanted to go home and have a relaxing night in, but perhaps there was some truth in what Hannah was saying. "You know what...fine, I'll go. But just this once, okay? And you have to promise not to harass me about going out again."

A bright grin spread across Hannah's face as she nodded eagerly. "Deal! We're meeting at McGuire's pub at 8:30, don't be late! I swear you're going to have the best time! You won't regret it!"

.....

And so that's how Molly found herself seated at a table with Hannah and Sophie, surrounded by drunk people and loud Irish music. If she was honest, this wasn't her cup of tea and she longed to go home, but she didn't want to disappoint her friends. So, she sipped idly at a glass of wine and took in her surroundings the best she could.

Sophia and Hannah had gotten lost in their own conversation, and though Molly knew they weren't trying to exclude her in any way, she felt like a third wheel and didn't want to butt into the conversation. Using the excuse of getting a second glass of wine, Molly stood from the table and made her way toward the surprisingly less crowded bar and took a seat. She let out a quiet sigh as she pulled out her phone from her pocket and began scrolling through her notifications. She quickly got lost in her own little world until she was interrupted by the feeling of an arm wrapping around her waist.

With a gasp, Molly looked up to see the smiling face of a man about her age, maybe a bit older. "There you are, Sweetheart, I wondering where you'd gotten off to." He said in a thick Australian accent. His bold actions and words earned a look of complete bewilderment from Molly. Who was this man and what the hell did he think he was doing?

"I..." Molly started, but she paused when the man leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"Just play along...The man beside you slipped something into your drink. " He whispered, causing Molly to tense. She did her best not to look at the man beside her or her drink. Instead, she forced a smile and looked up at the oddly familiar man.

"Hey! Just thought I'd wait for you at the bar." She told him. Molly wondered if her face betrayed her confusion, and perhaps her fear. She really hoped not, though she did have a hard time controlling her expressions.

"Good call." The man replied before looking to the bartender. He ordered himself a Guinness before turning his attention to Molly. "And what do you want, Love?" Damn this man was laying it on thick, wasn't he?"

"Oh,um, just water with lime please." She said to the bartender, forcing a smile. She wanted to get away from this whole situation, but it seemed she was rather stuck. If she walked away now, it'd be quite clear to the man who attempted to drug her that she wasn't with the man who was being far too familiar with her for her liking.

Thankfully the man seemed to note Molly's discomfort, so he removed his arm from her waist before reaching for her hand. "Want to step outside a bit?" He asked her in a whisper, to which Molly nodded as she quickly slid off the barstool, not letting go of her water for a moment. She kept a hold of the man's hand as they weaved through the crowd of people and headed straight toward the outdoor seating area.

Molly was apprehensive about going outside with this man, and understandably so. She didn't know him, she didn't know his intentions. Still, he had saved her from something horrible, and though looks could be deceiving, he seemed completely harmless.

As they stepped out into the cool autumn air, Molly let out a shaky breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her hand was still holding on to the man's hand as he led her to an empty table toward the back of the patio.

"I'd let you keep it if I didn't need it." The man teased with a grin as he gently tugged his hand away from Molly's grip.

Molly felt her cheeks burn with a blush and she quickly stuffed her hand into the pocket of her skinny jeans. She cleared her throat and took a seat at the table. "Sorry about that...Uh, thank you for...back there. I should have been paying more attention." She said.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as the man took a seat across from Molly at the table. "It's alright. I can tell your mind is a bit preoccupied. I'm just glad I got to you before you took a sip." He said. His smile faded slightly as the gravity of the situation seemed to hit him. However, his smile quickly returned as he offered his hand to Molly once more. "My name's Lachlan, uh, but my friends call me Lachy."

Molly slipped her hand into his and shook it gently, her smile mirroring his. "It's nice to meet you Lachy, despite the circumstances. I'm Molly." She couldn't help but wonder why he seemed so familiar to her. There had to be somewhere she'd seen him before, though she couldn't think of where. It wasn't really all that common to see an Australian in Folly Beach, South Carolina...

Molly was once again pulled from her thoughts by the sound of a muttered curse. She looked at Lachy to see an apologetic look on his face. "I have to go. My set starts in ten minutes." Molly must have had a confused expression on her face because Lachy gestured toward the door as he continued. "My uh, my band. We're playing next. I'm sure they're wondering where I'm at. Uh...You could come with me if you want? I'm sure it'd be okay for you to stand where out guitar cases are..."

Molly nodded slowly. "Oh, of course. Yeah, you should go." She said, smiling a bit. "I have friends here, actually. And they're probably wondering where I went. I should go find them." She explained.

Lachy gave her a curious look, and Molly figured he was wondering why she'd separated from her friends, but thankfully he didn't question it. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I see. Well, uh, if you're planning on staying for a while, would you like to have a drink after the set?"

Molly hesitated for a moment before she responded with a nod. She didn't know this guy, she really shouldn't be agreeing to spend time with him, but she felt she owed him at least a drink. He did potentially save her life, after all. Besides, she was certain Sophia and Hannah would be in their own little world the rest of the night anyway if they hadn't found guys to dance with already, that is. "Sure, that sounds nice." She said, offering him one more smile.

Lachy's smile brightened a bit as he offered her his hand, which Molly took against her better judgment and the two made their way back into the bar. After a quick 'see you later", they quickly went their separate ways, Lachy heading toward the small stage while Molly returned to the table with her friends. She wasn't even certain they had realized she had slipped away until Hannah gave her an accusing look.

"And where the hell have you been?" She asked her. "You slipped away to get another glass of wine almost 45 minutes ago!"

Molly bit her lip and held up her glass of water. "Uh, long story." She said as she slid into the chair she'd occupied previously.

"Mhmm, and who was that guy you were walking back in with?" Sophia questioned. A sly smirk tugged at her lips, and Molly had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Just a guy I met. He kinda saved me from a potentially bad situation." She said with a shrug before she sipped the cold water. "Apparently someone slipped something into my drink." She held her hand up before her friends could begin freaking out. "Don't worry, I didn't drink any of it. Thankfully he was there."

"Molly, you have to pay attention. That's why it's better to stay with the group you came with." Hannah's voice was edged with annoyance, but Molly ignored it.

"Well, I'm fine." She left the conversation at that, not offering to say anything else on the matter as the sound of Irish folk music began to drift through the pub. Molly turned her attention to the stage, and her eyes widened slightly as she looked at the other people who joined Lachy on the stage. At least two of them seemed familiar as well, and she knew exactly where she'd seen them before.

"Molly, you okay?" Hannah asked, having noticed the strange expression on her friend's face. "I take it you recognize them?"

Molly looked to Hannah, her eyes were still wide with shock. "Why are the..."

Sophie interrupted Molly as she yelled out over the loud music. "They have 21 and up gig at Irish pubs and bars when they tour the U.S. and Canada, we thought it might be fun to go. We see enough of them at work, after all, maybe their adult shows aren't so bad. Oh don't look so put out, it's going to be fun! They sing Irish and Scottish Folk music from what I understand."

"But the damn Wiggles?" Molly asked, in exasperation. That's where she'd seen Lachy before. She'd seen him almost daily on the classroom TV for 30 minutes before the toddlers went down for their nap. The same man on stage, singing the first few lines of Loch Lomond was the same man who pretended to fall asleep in the most random places on her toddlers' favorite tv show.

"Well, their band is called the Unusual Commoners. But yes, three of them, at least are Wiggles." Hannah replied with a snorted laugh. "What, you didn't recognize him earlier?"

Molly's eyes widened again as the girls continued with their giggles. "You look shocked...We saw you step out with him, and no, we didn't think you knew who he was...You should get his number, he's a cutie." Sophie teased. Her words were slurred a bit, which told Molly she'd probably already had more than enough alcohol for the night.

Molly rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. She didn't dignify that comment with a response as she turned her attention back to the stage where the man she'd just spent almost an hour with was singing his heart out and playing the hell out of a guitar. She had to admit, he was good, very good.

"For a Wiggle." She murmured with a small smile as she settled in her chair to enjoy the rest of the set.

#lachy wiggle #lachy gillespie #lachlan gillespie #the wiggles

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