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remember-the-fanfics · 4 years

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Heathers (Musical) Fem!Reader Insert

-NO JD.- time: 2020

"Martha~!" I said as I sat down at our table, handing her my sandwich, only wanting my fries.

"Thanks (Y/n)! How was your day?" She asked me.

"Well Veronica wasn't in first period so I had to finish out group project alone and she avoided me like a plague. Do you know why?" I said.

Martha was soon coughing on her drink.

"N-No reason!" She said, clearly lying. I stared at her until she craked.

"F-Fine. She somehow joined the Heathers." Said Martha.

"Oh heck no...." I said, sighing. Knowing nothing I could do beside wishing she'll come back to us unharm.

Veronica pov.

"You know (Y/n)?" I asked.

"Yes because She's one of the few people who don't care about The Heathers." Said Chandler, fixing her makeup.

"She doesn't really care for much of anything beside her grades and her friends." I told them.

"But She still choosed this life." Said Duke. "She's a bitch."

Oh God, (Y/n) might murder me...

(Y/n) pov.

"Can't we talk this out now? You shouldn't be rude." I said to Ram and Kurt, who was messing with me, again. I can't miss next class, I have a test today!

"We aren't being rude. We're just showing you a way of life that you're use to." Said Ram.

"So messing with me?" I said. They had me corner and I have not way out. I soon took out my wallet, giving them both 10 dollars. "Leave me alone for the rest of the week." I said, walking off.

'Did she just play them off?'

Thought Martha and Veronica.

3rd person pov.

"(Y/n)?" Said Veronica, knowing her friend has not yet talked to her. "I'm sorry, I wanted to know hey you didn't tell me Kurt and Ram was bothering you too." Said Veronica.

"You can't doing anything about anyway, Veronica." Said (Y/n). "You're a Heather, you now are above it all, remember?" She hissed. Veronica never knew (Y/n) could say a name in such disarray.

"See know, you're the only one that has ever that word, being truly angry." Said a new voice, behind (Y/n).

"Fudge." Mumbled (Y/n), turning around to face the 'Mythic Bitch' as Verinica once said. Heather Chandler, still as (Y/n) remembers, dressed in red.

"But I can promise you that next time would be your last mistake." Said Chandler, stepping closer to (Y/n).

(Y/n) sensing danger, stepped back into Veronica, who was visually tense. All three Heathers now stood in front of her and Veronica.

And (Y/n) did the only sensible thing.

*She ran away.

Veronica never seen (Y/n) run that fast ever.

"Atleast that scared her off for now." Said Duke.

"Come on Veronica, there is a party we have to go to tonight." Said McNamara.

(Y/n) pov.

"Martha, please don't go." I pleaded. "You can't believe that Ram has just changed."

"(Y/n), he invited me. I'm going with -."

"That's not alcohol. Here take with." I said handing her some of my Dad's John Daniel, taking the sparkling juice for myself.

"Thanks." She said hugging me. "You can come, you know."

"Don't do parties but if things go bad, you can come here and we can watch the Princess Bride." I told her, letting her go.

"I'll come here right away if anything goes wrong. Thanks for the drink. Bye." She said before leaving before I sighed, going to my dad to tell him he was out.

-Later that Night-

I was right to say, Martha said he wasn't as rude as he could have been because of the alcohol I gave her.

"Was Veronica there?" I asked.

"Y-Yes but please don't do hurt her." Said Martha, I sighed.

"Not today." I said. "But she will feel me anger soon. Now let's watch that movie."

-3:00 am-

I couldn't sleep, I was angry and I look at Martha, she was asleep on my bed. Luckly I lived in the attic so I had enough room for my bed and a couch with the TV. I sat up grabbing a jacket and my wallet and wrote a note just in case Martha wakes up.

I exited threw my window and there was ladder because one time I jump and sprained my ankle.

I soon was on the side walk, enjoying the coldness on my feet and the quietness of the world. Planing heading to 7/11 for some snacks.

"You know you have no shoes?" Asked a voice of a person, I didn't want to deal with.

"Don't care, I need some snacks." I told her.

"Get in my Jeep. I'll drop you off before heading home." Said Duke, stopping her Jeep.

"Fine but if you kidnap me, I'm gonna be upset." I told her, sitting in the passenger sit.

°°°

"Why are you up at 3 in the morning?" I asked.

"Leaving a party, you?" She said, sounding like she didn't truly care.

"Couldn't sleep so I've been watching TV." I said.

"You're so lame." Said Duke.

"Thanks." I said, not caring.

"You really don't care anymore?" She asked. "Not what people say about you or what they may do to you?" She continued to ask me.

"Caring is for the weak or strong." I said as she parked her Jeep. "Thanks, Heather." I exited her car and ran into the store.

"(Y/n)! Where the heck were you?" Said Martha as I entered the window, with 3 bags of stuff.

"7/11. For snacks.-"

"At 4 in the morning?!" She said.

"Well it was 3 when I left." I said sitting down own my couch. Martha soon sat beside, looking though the bags.

"Sodas, chips, a monster, those tiny bread sticks you dip in cheese, pringles, slim Jim, and shoes?" Said Martha.

"No shoes no shirt no business is an awful rule." I told her. "I wanted to binge watch something on Netflix, now if you want to..?"

"Of course but we have school tomorrow." Said Martha. "How are going to stay awake?"

"I'll get though it, I'm bring snack to school tommorow if we have any left." I said snickering and letting Martha pick a TV show to watch.

-Next Morning-

I was drink the energy drink so I could stay alive and not accident hurt someone's emotions.

"Hopefully you don't run into Veronica today, for her own sake." Said Martha as I leaned on her for support.

"You look like hell." Said Veronica, I just glared at her talking a sip of my drink. "Oh. You didn't sleep?"

"Yeah. Me and Martha had a sleepover last night." I told her, be nice I told myself.

"Less sleep when it came to you?" Said Veronica before she was pulled away by something yellow.

"Bye..." said Martha and I before we headed to cafeteria. There was a female at our table, maybe she is a new student. Me and Martha sat in front of her. She was reading a book but she soon noticed us.

"Oh. Hello." She said putting down her book. "I'm Penny. Nice to meet you." Said Penny.

"Hey."

"Hello."

Martha and Penny soon got in discussion about the book Penmy was reading.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"(Y/n)." I said, busy being on my phone.

"It fits you." She said and I was questioning her motives.

"Thank you?" I said and she laughed.

"Are you not use to getting compliments?" She said. "You're kinda cute."

"I'm gonna go somewhere else now! Bye." I said getting my stuff and running off, not noticing the extra people listening to the conversation.

Hiding in the bathroom was a bad idea on my part but I wasn't think clearly.

"(Y/n)?" Questioned Veronica seeing me in a stall. "What are you doing here?" She questioned, seeing my red face. "Are you sick?"

"Didn't think you would ever sho-. What is wrong with you?" Said Chandler.

"She's red." Said Veronica.

The bell rang and I soon tried to run but someone got the back of my by bag, taking my energy drink.

"This isn't good for you, you know?" Said McNamara, going to pour it out.

"No! I didn't sleep last night so I kinda need that." I said struggling with Duke holding both of my arms.

"So you didn't get your beauty sleep... We will give it back if you tell us what got you so red and hiding." Said Chandler.

"It was the new girl, Penny. She called me cute and I freaked out."" I said and Veronica laughed.

"You really can't handle people flirting with you." Said Veronica, still laughing.

Then I felt Duke's breath on my neck and her leaning on my shoulder.

"You don't say?" She said and because of the other reaction, I was blushing. McNamara handed me my energy drink.

"Thank you." I said taking a few sips, trying to cool my face.

"No problem, sweetie." She said making me cough and choke on my drink.

"Are you trying to kill me?" I asked.

"No. Embarrase you, yes." Said Chandler.

"..." I have nothing else to say and have no clue what to do now. "Can I go now?" I asked.

"Hang on..." said Chandler, she put both her hands on my cheeks and leaned in, getting really closer. "That girl was right tho, you are cute." Said Chandler before backing away laughing. But this time I wasn't blushing because I expected it. I was pissed.

They noticed this.

"What I am I not good enough-?!"

"No!" I yelled getting out of Duke's grip. "No of you are! That the reason I don't worship you like the rest of the school because this is w-what you do. Mess with people!" I said barely low enough not to be yelling.

"(Y/n), calm down before you regret-." Said Veronica.

"You, I'm angry at too." I said.

"Me?"

"Yes! You go off to join the Heather's then I know you wrote that note that Martha got and you didn't even try to help her! She came to me upset and crying Veronica!" I said to her.

"Miss Emotional." Said Duke.

"... Screw staying here I rather be tartey or have dentention." I said heading out.

-Lunch time-

"I'm sorry Penny, I'm really not use to people flirting with me. Sorry if I upset you." I said.

"It's fine, I enjoyed your reactions. Plus you gave me a whole bag of chips and a sandwich." Said Penny, eating the food I gave her.

"So... I kinda made the Heathers and Veronica mad at me." I said.

"Who are they?"

"Why (Y/n)? I'm pretty sure they can get away with murder."

That were the two very different reactions I got.

"Heather are like the Queens of this jungle of a school and our friend, Veronica joined them earlier this week." I explained.

"Oh. (Y/n), you sound very screwed. I advise become homeschooled." Said Penny.

"Yeah but my mom is never home and my dad isn't that smart." I explained.

"Hey (Y/n). Saw you talking to the Heathers earlier today." Said Kurt, as he and Ram sat on both sides of me.

"Thinking you might be moving up in this world, thought I would give you a chance with us." Said Ram.

"No thanks." I said.

"Are you Homo?" Asked Kurt, acting like it 1989.

"Boys, its 2020. Grow up and learn some manners." I told them, trying to get them to back away.

But everything I've tried today seem to fail as the two boys leaned closer, onto me.

"You're just playing hard to get, sweetheart." One of them said. I've been though to much today emotional to deal with shit.

"(Y/n), are they bothering you?" Asked McNamara. I could not see her but seeing was Penny and Martha looked behind me, she was there.

"Yes." I said and the two boys were drag off the seat and away from me to the floor before I could see anything gruesome, or look behind me. Veronica sat beside me and pulled me into a hug and I yawn.

"You okay?" She asked.

"Mmm."

"I'm taking that's a yes. You sleepy?"

"Mmm."

"Okay." Said Veronica. She was warm and I had my eyes closed and I was slowly losing my conscious.

"Shut upp."

"Did she just tell me to shut up in her sleep?" I heard someone, clearly Chandler, say.

I was something really comfortable, more than Veronica. A bed? Martha? I was very confused and still kinda sleepy. My couch.

"Her room is a mess." Said Duke.

"If you don't like it, you can leave." I muttered, sitting up.

"Hey! We didn't have to save you from the two idoits earlier." Said Duke.

"They wouldn't have come after me if they didn't see me with you three." I told them, I yawned. "You know what I don't care."

"You really don't care? If someone messes with you?" Said McNamara.

"I'm to tired to care at the moment." I said.

"You just woke up." Said Chandler earning glare from me and she glared right back.

"And I would have stayed that way if I didn't hear your voice." I said before earning everyone's glares beside Veronica. "Okay, sorry. Just stop staring at me." I complained. Someone grabbed my chin hard making me look at them, Chandler.

"Do not insult me (Y/n)." She said making me and everyone else shiver.

"N-Noted. P-Please let my chin go so I wouldn't have a bruise." I said, but her gripped tighten. Getting a whimper out of me.

"Apologize."

"OKAY! I'M SORRY." I said and she finally let me go. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.

"Did you really have to do that?" Said Veronica, heading over to me.

"She needs to know who is in charge even if we aren't in school, Veronica." Said Chandler, glaring at Veronica who was checking on my forming bruise.

"You didn't need to hurt her!" Said Veronica, hugging me and I accepted the hug, hugging her back.

"Are you questioning me?" Asked Chandler, I could feel her glare on us.

"You can't be serious." Said Duke. "Don't defend her Veronica."

"..." McNamara was quiet for this.

"Get out." I said, letting Veronica go. "Now."

"You'll regret this (Y/n)." Said Chandler. I laughed at this.

"Oh?" I said, getting completely serious, knocking her off guard. "You can mess with in school but in my house, Chandler. This is my territory. So get out."

I clearly scared them, Chandler huffed.

"Fine. Veronica, this isn't over." She said before leaving my room with the other Heathers.

"You should go with them Veronica. I'm going to mess up this deal you have with them."

"It doesn't matter (Y/n)! She just injured you! I know they have their issues with you but injuring you is something else."

"...It's not the first time Veronica." I muttered and Veronica gasped. "There's a story, there was a time where there wasn't any shit between use. Last year of Middle School."

- 2016

I was a bright kid, making people happy and being nice was a thing I was great at. Diffently to my neighbor Heather McNamara, who's been making me call her McNamara since there was 2 other Heathers at the school.

I've hung out with the three of them a few times. They seemed to be nice but they were getting more popular with the other students.

I felt that we were drifting away from each other but me being myself, knew if that what was to make her happy, I was happy.

So I started talking to other people like Martha. Clearly someone didn't like it as I was pulled in a closed off classroom one break period.

"(Y/n)." Said Chandler. "We tolerate you but your just not caring."

I was bullying confused.

"Not caring?" I questioned.

"About your reputation at this school! You've started hanging out with Martha now, like you're wanting to be her friend." Said Duke and I made a face.

"(Y/n)." Said McNamara and I looked her in the eyes. "Don't you see what we've been trying to give you? You could have all the power over these students. You'll be at the top with me!"

"Well below us but above everyone else." Said Chandler.

"Nah." I said.

"What?" Said McNamara.

"You aren't hanging out with the right people Heather but I'm not gonna stop you but I'm not helping." I said before leaving.

But Chandler had others ideas and grabbed my arm and dug her nails into my skin.

"Stop thinking like a fool for once. We are offer you power and popularity and you say no to us?" She said.

"Y-yes?" I told her before she pulled me closer to her.

"You are going to regret this, I swear." She said letting me go and pushing me out of the classroom. I stumbled to get my standing.

"(Y/n) there you are!" Said Martha and I turned to face her. She was dragging a tall lanky girl behind her. "I want you to meet my other bestie, Veronica." Said Martha.

"It's nice to meet you Veronica. I'm happy to finally do so since Martha talks about you as much as her taste in movies." I said.

"Right back at ya." Said Veronica. "Did you get...um injured?" She asked looking at my arm. There was bloody nail marks on my arm let by the one and not only Heather, Chandler.

"I probably scratched it on something, don't worry. I got bandaids in my bag but worry if we get in class on time." I said noticing the time.

-2020

"I'm gonna murder them." Said Veronica.

"Calm down. That's in the past and it would have stayed there if someone wasn't a fool and joined them." I said. "What were you even thinking?! Things with them never end well with the other party." I exploded at her before she pulled me into a hug. I felt she was crying.

"I'm sorry." She muttered.

"Me too."

- NEXT DAY

Veronica had left and I've haven't seen her at school. She wasn't with the Heather's. I sat with Penny and Martha as normal.

"Penny, I've given you enough time to realise that we aren't popular at all. Like being seen with us will lower it for you." I told her and she just giggles.

"I don't really care about that. I enjoy both of your friendships and I love turning your red in the morning (Y/n)." Said Penny. What is with her and flirting with me every morning?

I turn red still being not use to it and Martha laughs at my misery.

"I've never seen anyone who takes a compliment like you, like no one notices your beauti."

"Ahahaha." I nervously laughed.

"So you're the Penny, (Y/n) was talking about." Said Veronica, out of nowhere with the Heathers. Weren't they mad at her? Penny and I turned around in our seats to face them.

"So you've been talking about me? I'm flattered." Said Penny. "But yes I am that Penny, what do you want?" She said with a different tone altogether, making me nervous.

"Back off of what's not yours." Said Chandler.

What? I'm not anyone's.

"Who said?" Asked Penny. "(Y/n) is a single female and fits all I like in a girl."

"W-wait what?" I said.

"Be quiet for me honey please." Said Penny.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I actually listened.

"You can't actually think you'll win against us." Said Duke.

"And if you do win, what are you going to do then? Fight each other? Because I know you incapable of sharing." Said Penny. "I went to middle school with all of you. I know how you've fought over her then and then decided to hate her when she said no to your little plan of popularity."

I'm super happy everyone decided to leave, probably because the Heathers threatened them.

"Stalker much?" Said Duke.

"I was always on the side line but it doesn't matter." Said Penny. She didn't answer the question. "(Y/n) has already said no to the three of you, why try again?"

"I'm confused. You liked me back then?" I questioned.

"It was obvious." Said McNamara.

"To a normal person! I can be dense as fuck when it comes to romance!" I told her.

"We noticed." Said Duke and Penny put an arm around me and pulled me closer earning glares and growles from the others.

"I'm sorry but I can't let you have this." Said Penny before putting a hand on my face and turned me to look at her.

"Penny?" I questioned.

"I know it is unlikely for you to chose me but it wouldn't stop me from trying." She said before kissing me on my lips, stealing my first kiss.

It ended as quickly as it happened because I was pulled away and out of my seat and McNamara had her arms me and held my back towards her.

I looked behind me and at her and she moved her hand to mouth and wipe off was probably Penny's lipstick.

I couldn't focus on what the others were doing, probably yelling at Penny, knowing they couldn't truly harm her physically.

"Are you okay?" Asked McNamara, seeming to know I was in a daze.

"I'm feeling out of it. Probably because the shock of 5 girls actually like me and one just kissed me." I said truthfully.

"Ah... I'm sorry for all of this."

"Me too." I mumbled.

1/13/2020

This has been a year and 2 day long thing. I'd lost interest in it for awhile but I reread it and fixed it and finished it. Clearly it's not done but it felt how this part should end.

Forgiving for what they've caused the other, knowing or not. I know this isn't my normal gender neutral but this is one of my passion of my love of women and before I started doing all my writing gender neutral.

#heathers x reader #heathers #heathers musical #female reader

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hyunsunglix · 5 years

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deadlines | h. jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader

genre: fluff + college au

requested?: no i just love college boys

word count: 2.4k+

a/n: kicking it off strong w my first post on here lol anyway i had a little too much fun writing this AND i even threw in some cameos ... if u catch them u get a gold star so watch out -sam

“this is so hard!” you whine, slumping over onto the chemistry notes you hadn’t bothered to finish. you turn your gaze towards your friend, kyungjoo, who gives you a fake sympathetic look.

“i know, y/n, i know, it’s just so hard for you to sit here for two hours and stare at him-“ she points her pencil at a boy sitting a few rows in front of you- “the whole time.”

“it is!” you defend yourself, although your heart isn’t truly in it, because the boy kyungjoo’s pointing at has caught your attention once again.

he looks like any other student in a typical 8am class- messy hair, sweatpants, hoodie. looking over the lecture hall, you probably would have missed him if you didn’t already know where he sat. which, for the record, was on the left side, fourth row, surrounded by other guys from his fraternity. of course.

as you tune yourself further in to the guys’ conversation, and begin to ignore whatever life advice kyungjoo is trying to give you now, you realize that the fraternity is talking amongst themselves excitedly- really excitedly.

“who are you bringing?”

“chan, your girlfriend is coming right? and minho’s coming too?”

“changbin, you’re going to have a hell of a time getting enough beer for all of us.”

and lastly, “are you gonna do it tonight?” “of course i’m gonna do it tonight; can’t wait any fucking longer.”

a party. of course there’s a party. there’s one practically every friday night, and every friday night, you don’t go. you use the age old excuse of “oh, i wasn’t invited!” but you know nobody needs an invite to a frat party. you’re just waiting for one anyways.

you tell this to kyungjoo as you come out of your dazed state. she laughs at you, telling you maybe she’ll take off to the frat party and have a little fun with someone while you stay in the dorms, staring at the blank chemistry notebook that’s taunting you right now. it seems to get closer, and closer, and closer- until your professor’s voice rings throughout the hall.

your body lurches, and your spine hits the back of your chair almost involuntarily. the sound of it is comically deafening compared to kyungjoo’s quiet laughter, and the whispers of the frat boys just a few rows in front of you.

“for part of your midterm assessment, you will be required to complete a group project- your own presentation, adequately covering a section of one of the units we’ve completed in class thus far. remember, the best way to learn is by teaching. your groups have been assigned at random; if you have any problems with your group members, please speak with me privately. to save time, i’ll be putting the list on the board.”

then, projected onto the whiteboard, is your fate for the next week. you scan the list for your name, your name, your name… for a moment after you see it, you forget if it’s even yours, because all you can see is the name han jisung sitting right underneath it.

y/n. han jisung.

han jisung. y/n.

you reach desperately for kyungjoo, nearly choking her in your own panic. “oh, are you doing electronegativity?” she muses. “i’d be pissed if i had to do that, too.”

“no, i-“ frankly, you don’t even know what section you’re covering; it doesn’t really matter now, anyway, because you’re convinced you’re fucked no matter what. “just look, kyungjoo!”

she manages to stop her gaze from wandering the lecture hall, up and down the aisles like a kid in a candy store, and squints at the board. her eyes blow open the moment she sees your name, but she forces them back and grins at you. “aw, have fun you little lovebird!” she squeals as a member of her own group tugs her away from you. you think you might actually choke her later.

the students are clearly splitting off into their groups, so you feel pressured to do the same- but not before you scout out jisung, and check (and then double check and triple check) to make sure it’s not too weird if you walk straight up to him right now. it’s not. “what the hell were you expecting?” you whisper to yourself as you walk towards the front of the room. it feels like a hike, miles long, and it could be placebo, but you swear you’re a little bit winded by the time you reach his desk.

he beats you to the punch. “hi, y/n.”

“hi, jisung,” you reply, leaning ever so slightly over the tabletop. “who else is in our group?” you try not to let any nervousness show in your voice.

“oh, jiwon is working with us, but she’s, ahem, ‘sick’ today.” the air quotes he puts around the word “sick,” are almost endearing, until the image of a hungover jiwon- kyungjoo’s friend, an absolute doll you’ve had the privilege of meeting a few times- pops into your mind. “oh, yikes.”

“yeah, yikes is about right.” he pauses, shaking his head at nothing, then looks back up at you. “sit down.” he motions to the chair next to him.

you grasp for conversational straws as you take your seat, “so, i heard your frat is having a party this weekend?” dumb question; of course they’re having a party. you know they are.

“yeah, we are!” the tone of excitement he had when talking to his friends comes back, and it makes you smile. “oh my god, y/n, you should come!”

the smile drops off your face, an expression of pure shock left in its trail. “really?”

“i mean, as long as you’re down for it. it’ll be fun; a ton of people are gonna be there.” he gives you a little nudge with his elbow, and you feel yourself falling into his trap. it’ll totally be fun, won’t it? you think to yourself. you take one look at jisung and decide, yeah, it will.

“i’ll come.”

his smile is even wider than yours. “great; it starts at 9, but you can come whenever. and you don’t have to bring anything, just yourself.”

“i’ll probably come with kyungjoo, is that okay?”

“oh, that’s perfect!”

“that’s perfect!” kyungjoo tells you as she adjusts your outfit in the mirror. you would beg to differ, but you keep your mouth shut, because kyungjoo looks stunning herself- so if she thinks you look good, that must mean something, right?

you run your own hands down your outfit’s front. sheer material, sprinkled with baby blue glitter, covers you from your neck down to the middle of your thighs, and its sparkle almost distracts from the delicate white slip dress you wear underneath. kyungjoo passes you your shoes and steps away as you put them on, since they give you quite a few inches over her already shorter frame. “i don’t want to be seen next to you,” she jokes.

you head out of the dorms together, wrapped in jackets to protect not only yourselves, but also the shock factor of your outfits. you don’t want to give everything away just yet, especially not to any of the boys sitting out on their frat houses’ front porches because they think they’re too good for anyone’s parties but their own.

the few people on the front lawn turn a blind eye to you and kyungjoo, so you slip through the door without anyone noticing. inside, the air is heavy with the scent of alcohol and the sound of music. mentally, you start preparing a plan to split up with kyungjoo and search the place for jisung- the idea of not having anyone to attach yourself to makes you jittery, but jisung was the only reason you showed up, really, so you’d be damned if you didn’t find him, you have to find him, but you’re getting a little hot in your jacket, so you start to unzip it- and then you see him.

amongst the lazy sway of the party, his dash through the kitchen and into the foyer is hard to miss. that, and he runs straight into you. as he uses your shoulders to steady himself, he pushes your jacket off. you barely hear it hit the floor- time slows and your senses numb as you watch jisung give you what might be the slowest once-over of all time. “y/n,” he mumbles. his voice proves he’s more drunk than you expected him to be. “i’m glad you showed up.” it’s not a you look good, which is what your heart really wanted, but it’s a start- until it ends.

a wide-eyed blonde girl, someone you recognize as being a few years older than you, comes up behind him. “jisung,” she says, her voice like a siren’s song. he turns slow, too slow for her taste, and so she tugs his arm. “jisung,” she repeats, louder this time. this draws the attention of some of the people in the kitchen, and a boy from the football team comes out. “han!” he claps his hand on jisung’s back.

more people follow, and jisung’s eyes widen as he’s pulled in a dozen directions at once. under pressure, you let go of his hand. you didn’t even realize you had grabbed it, yet you missed the feeling of it as soon as it was gone. kyungjoo slips her hand into yours in jisung’s place, and drags you into the living room. “come on, we’re gonna have some fun!”

your idea of fun at the beginning of the night hadn’t been eavesdropping on the sorority girls’ game of never have i ever, but as time dragged on, you managed to trick yourself into thinking it was interesting- jiwon was there, at least, so you and kyungjoo had an excuse to hang around. eventually, she stood up and left the circle, saying something about getting more drinks for the group. “jiwonnie, can you get us some too?” kyungjoo pleads.

“i thought you weren’t drinking tonight,” you whisper to her.

“change of plans.” she gives you the same look she gives you when you talk about jisung, and you’re forced to nod.

jiwon enters the room again with what must be an armful of beers. she passes one to each girl seated on the floor, then hands one each to you and kyungjoo. you expect her to rejoin the sorority girls, but she climbs onto the sofa next to you. “y/n, i thought you’d be with jisung.”

“yeah, i thought i’d be, too,” you sighed, not meeting her eyes.

“yeah… he’s looking for you, actually.”

you nearly spit out your drink. “what? but he ran off with- with-”

“yuju.” jiwon finishes. “but that didn’t last long, he’s not that into her and she’s not that interesting, anyway. he’s looking for you, y/n.”

she’s begging the question, so you ask. “where is he?”

“outside, on the deck.”

you make your way across the house with the beer that you didn’t need and weren’t going to drink, finally feeling like you had a place at the party. when you spot jisung on the deck, he’s sitting on the railing, a spot next to him that looked as if it had been saved for you- your place.

“hey,” jisung greets you as you climb over the railing, guessing you’re just another sorority girl there to butter him up. but when he turns to look, you swear you can see his eyes sparkle from something that’s not the moonlight. “y/n,” he whispers.

“jisung.” you grin like a giddy schoolgirl, even though you know there’s lipstick staining your teeth and the slightest hint of alcohol on your breath.

“where were you?” he asks.

“i was with kyungjoo. you were with yuju, right?” you hope you’re wrong.

“yeah, for like, a minute. and then i came outside to wait for you.” he waited for you. the thought makes your heart jump, and then sink, as you realize you were the one that kept him waiting for so long, kept him with yuju, away from you.

“how was she?” you want to smack yourself as soon as the words pass your lips. you barely know yuju, all you know is no matter what jisung says about her, it’s going to upset you. your mind trails through dark hallways and crowds of people, thinking about jisung and yuju drinking, talking, laughing with each other, all while you were silent in the living room.

“fine, i guess… but i’d rather have been with you.” he pulls you into his side. you can feel it, you can see it, you can smell his cologne and just barely imagine what his lips would taste like, all while the world roars around you with a vigor that makes you feel small.

“sorry for keeping you waiting.” your voice is so soft you feel like it might get lost in the hum of the night, everything buzzing around you like you’re trapped in a lightbulb on the verge of blowing out.

“it’s okay, i’ve got all the time in the world.” his hand drifts up your side, tapping with his fingertips the same way you would touch a crystal glass. seconds that feel precious to you chip away from your body.

“do you really?” you blurt.

“yeah, do you not?”

“i mean, i wouldn’t say i do.”

“maybe you’ve got a little more time than you think.” there’s a cadence to his voice, which matches how he sways from the drinks he’s had. you look at him, slow, and he looks back at you, slower, with hair and eyes like molasses.

and then he crashes into you, sugary sweet and warm, and you feel yourself melting into him like it’s the only thing you have left to do. it’s the only thing you can think about, anyway, with it sticking in your mind so hard you feel like you’re reliving the same three second every time jisung pushes his lips against yours again. when he finally pulls away, you can barely catch up, leaving you with your shoulders drooping, your eyes half-lidded, licking your lips like there’s still something left on them, and you want it, bad.

“why’d you do it?” you ask, skipping over telling him how much you enjoyed it. there’s no way he doesn’t already know.

“i told myself i’d do it tonight.” he strains to keep his voice slow once again; the world inside his head moving far too fast after kissing you. “couldn’t wait any fucking longer.”

#stray kids #han jisung #han #stray kids imagine #stray kids drabble #stray kids scenario #han jisung imagine #han jisung scenario #jisung imagine #jisung drabble #jisung scenario #stray kids fluff #han jisung fluff #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #skz imagine #skz drabble #skz fluff #🌎.sam

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ygboysygbby · 5 years

Text

Final Weapon

Jinhwan/JAY Scenario

Request: 7 + Jinhwan please for the prompt fic request hehehe

Prompt: “Why do people give flowers? It’s not like you can eat or do something with it, I mean just buy me food.”

“You know what?”

“What.”

“You’re really fucking short.”

“Wow.”

“Stop asking me about which flower should you get for this freshman girl, what’s her name again? Uh… Suhyun? Yeah, that girl!”

Jinhwan groaned. “How’s that relevant to my height?!”

“I just feel the need to insult you that’s all.” You shrugged casually. “Why do people like getting flowers anyway?”

“What do you mean? Giving someone a bouquet of flowers is a great way to show your feelings, you know.” The man replied back with a sassy tone.

“How would I know? It’s not like I’ve been given any before...” You rolled your eyes.

“Ah yes, I forgot you’re one inexperienced little shit.” He stuck out his tongue, mocking you.

“Shut up, midget.”

Being friends with Jinhwan for the past five months had been one hell of a ride. You both met at the university, had a few same classes in both of your schedules, and clicked because one group project. Despite having quite the opposite life, him being kind of the popular guy while you on the other hand, not that much of a social person, you both became good friends anyway. Being friends with the oh-so popular guy, had two disadvantages: One being you got people talking behind your back, not that you really care, but it’s a downside alright, and two being he constantly got into and out of a relationship like he was changing clothes.

Not that him being somewhat of a playboy was your business, but it was a bit irritating that he would date one girl and brag it constantly to you, rubbing it on your face, since you had never been in a relationship before, or he would nag you and ask about what clothes he should wear on the date and stuff like that. But oh well, he was still tolerable, not that he had ever been in a stable relationship anyway. Besides, you out-sassed him, and that was a skill you could use in handling him.

“But seriously though, why do people give flowers? It’s not like you can eat or do something with it, I mean just buy me food.” You laughed. “I’ll be the happiest!”

“Are you looking for a partner or uber eats?” Jinhwan looked at you in disbelief.

“Definitely uber eats. Feeling some Taco Bell?” You said as you turned your back, laying down on the bed.

The guy sighed in defeat as a smile crept on his lips. “Why not.”

“Let’s order some for Junhoe too!”

“Ah, sure…”

The next few days, you went to Jinhwan’s dorm again, to finish the project you were doing last time. The project was due in four weeks, so both of you had scheduled to meet at least three times a week to finish it. But, you being you, you couldn’t work well with an empty stomach, but then again, you have class in an hour, so you decided to just wait and eat afterwards.

And long story short, you finished your “weekly group project session”, or whatever, and your Economy class. You went back straight to your dorm, hungry, planning to just drop your bag and go to the canteen, but then a text notification suddenly popped up in your phone. It was Jinhwan.

“Pizza? My treat.”

You frowned. First of all, it was kind of a weird time for pizza, but meh, you loved a good pizza anytime so whatever. Secondly, it was even weirder for Jinhwan to suddenly ask you to eat with him, moreover, treating you. But then again there was reason number one so…

“Jinhwan?” You called as you entered his dorm room. “Oh, hey June.”

“Hey.” The tall guy greeted back. “Anyway, thanks for the Taco, I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet.”

“No probs! Just let me see some of your poetries again next time!”

“Hold on, you’ve seen his poetry?” Jinhwan suddenly butted in. “This asshole wouldn’t even let me touch the book!”

“It’s because we have Literature class together.” Junhoe reasoned.

“Sure, mate.” Jinhwan rolled his eyes. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.” He whined.

“Is he on his period?” Junhoe laughed.

You shrugged. “See ya, June!”

After ordering the food, both of you finally sat down and talk.

“So what’s this about?” You asked as you took a bite onto your pizza. “Is this about Suhyun cause I—“

“It’s about you.”

“Oh, it’s about— wait, WHAT?!” You almost spat out your food.

“I like you.”

“OOOOKAAY WH—” You coughed. “Are you drunk?! For fucks sake, the sun’s still up!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m just messing around with you, chill.”

The hint of seriousness scared you for a good second, before it confused you. There was no way in heavens that a guy like him would suddenly like you romantically. Jinhwan liking you as a friend was bizarre enough for you. Neither he was drunk or his joke was getting lamer.

“Seriously though, anything you wanna talk about?”

“Do you have any idea what kind of place does a girl like Suhyun would probably like to go on a date?”

You scoffed. “So I was right!” Groaning, as you took another bite of the pizza. “She seems like a very sweet girl, so probably a cafe or an amusement park?”

“Hmm... what about you then?”

“What about me?”

“If someone were to take you on a date, where would be your go to?”

“Cinema sounds fun, but I don’t know, how would I know?!” You laughed. “But movie date really sounds like fun, you should probably ask Suhyun to go out for a movie this week...”

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

“Hey, wanna watch Aquaman this Saturday?”

“Eh?” You looked at your friend in disbelief. “Why? Don’t you hate superhero movies?!”

“Well, I wanna get on the trend, you know? Can’t risk not knowing anything when someone ask me about it.” He shrugged.

“Geez... whatever, it’s not like I got anything better to do.”

“The poster’s finally done!” You said loudly, grinning at your laptop screen. “Are you done with your part?”

“Almost.” Jinhwan said without taking his eyes of his work.

“Guys, can I borrow an eraser? I think I lost mine.” Junhoe suddenly said.

“Here— whoa! You’re growing out your hair?” You looked at the guy in excitement.

He took the eraser on your palm. “Nah, just too lazy to get it cut right now. I’ll probably get it cut next week.”

“It looks good! You should probably keep it for a while.”

“I think you need to cut your bangs...”

“Why?” Jinhwan said as he blew air towards his bangs.

“It clearly disturbs you as you write.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like having your bangs growing out like that.”

Jinhwan didn’t reply, instead he groaned and suddenly stormed out from the room.

“What’s wrong with that guy?!” You said in total confusion.

“I’m so done with both of you...” Junhoe laughed.

The next morning, you texted Jinhwan and asked him about yesterday. You knew the guy could sometimes be a pain in the bum, but if something truly bothered him, you wanted to know. After all, he was still your dear friend and you cared about him.

But after finishing your class, waiting and waiting for him to respond, nothing. It was weird because Jinhwan was always the one to reply text very quickly, and you didn’t even see him outside your class. You wanted to brush it off because you know how moody the guy could be sometimes, but deep down you know you couldn’t.

It was until at ten in nighttime that a text notification from Jinhwan popped up on your phone, asking if you were asleep, telling that he wanted to meet.

As soon as you replied, confirming that you were awake, a knock came from your door. When you opened, you were greeted by the sight of Jinhwan with flowers in a small vase in his hands.

“Eh?”

“I’m sorry, at the end, you probably won’t get it unless I get you flowers...” He looked away. “Don’t worry, this one’s still practical, they’re artificial and you can... I don’t know, have it on your desk or something...”

“Jinhwan I... I don’t get it, you— d-do you?”

“I like you.” He smiled and sighed. “Feels great letting that out.”

“B-But how? I— wha— why???” You couldn’t form a complete sentence.

“Well, I bought you food, took you to see a movie, and even grew out my hair because you fucking said it looks good on Junhoe, but since you’re one tough shell, I guess I have to launch my last weapon.” He puffed his cheeks in annoyance.

“I’m so so sorry...” The guilt started to fill you up. “I— what should I do?”

He shrugged. “Since you have the hots for Junhoe, the answer is probably nothing.”

“WHAT?! No I don’t—“ You stopped when you realized you were literally screaming in front of your dorm room. “I think you should come in...”

“Finally!” He chuckled. “Oh, Hayi’s not here?”

“Be grateful that she isn’t, you know how nosy she could be sometimes...” You said as you sat down on your bed. “So again, I’m not into Junhoe.”

The guy smiled, this time more sincerely, then handed you the flowers. “Well, either way, this is yours now...”

You looked down to the flowers and went silent for a good second, before putting it down on your desk, near the window. You could felt something weird inside your stomach and it was practically killing you. Never once the thought of Jinhwan having feelings for you crossed your damn mind, and now that you were facing the situation, your mind was not prepared for it. But oddly, you didn’t feel bad about it, even stranger, you actually felt somewhat glad that it was him, and not someone else.

“I should probably go now, I’m only here to give you that.” He pointed to the flowers. “I know they’re artificial but take good care of them, alright?” He laughed.

“Wait...”

“T-Thanks...” You looked down. “I’m sorry I have to make you literally spell it out for me.”

He smiled. It was honestly calming seeing him this way rather than his usual sassy self. “Nah, it felt good saying it out loud.”

“Since when?” You asked nervously.

“Around months ago.” He casually said. “Couldn’t recall what time exactly.”

“Does that mean you didn’t actually like Suhyun?”

“I feel bad for using her as an excuse to get to know your dating preferences, but it happens.” He shrugged like it was nothing.

“I can’t believe I’m actually this dumb...” You facepalmed.

“Hey...” He stepped back closer. “Can’t force you to like me back, right?”

He moved even closer, and before actually realizing it, he was already inches away from your face, smiling. You were taken aback, so bad that all you could do was standing still like an idiot. When he moved again, you flinched, as you expected him to attack you, but nothing happened. Looking up, you saw him smiling before kissing your forehead softly.

“But winning your heart, that I can do.” He smirked.

Uh-oh, this is bad.

This is my first time ever writing something on Jinhwan, and honestly, this is fun, considering out of all iKON members, he is the one that I kinda find hard to think about romantically (idk why tho)

I really see Jinhwan as a sassy guy but different kind of sassy than Junhoe, you feel me? 😅

As per usual, I’ll prolly come back here and then fixing up some grammatical errors and stuff :D

Hope yall like this story! 💖

#jinhwan scenarios #jinhwan #ikon #ikonic #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #jinhwan imagines #ikon mtl #hanbin scenarios #junhoe scenarios #donghyuk scenarios #bobby scenarios #chanwoo scenarios #yunhyeong scenarios #ikon reaction

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moonstruckbucky · 6 years

Text

Don’t Stay

SUMMARY: PLZ BILLY HARGROVE ANGST. He makes a mistake by sleeping with another girl because he's scared of how much he's changing for you. And tries to prove that he doesn't want the player life anymore

PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNINGS: Language, angst, angst, angst

He had no idea why he’d done it, had no idea how he even thought he could get away with it. Sara Christensen had a mouth like a largemouth bass, and even he knew word would get around school on Monday and spread like wildfire.

It was why, when you inevitably found out, he had nothing to say to you as he stood on your doorstep after school on Wednesday. You didn’t know what to say either; your head was void of all thought and emotion, but inside your chest, your heart was cleaved in two.

He at least had the nerve to look sorry; in fact, he looked absolutely distraught over what he did. His hair was mussed and his eyes were ringed in red, suggesting he spent quite some time crying over his stupid fucking mistake. A mistake that most definitely wasn’t worth losing you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, hanging head low. He raked his hands through his curly blond locks, tugging at them in distress. “I don’t even have a good fucking excuse. I’m just...so sorry.”

You could tell he was being sincere; you’d come to know him pretty well and you wanted to believe he had changed. In some ways, he had, such as keeping his anger in check. He no longer flew off the handle quite so quickly, choosing instead to take a few deep breaths before proceeding. He didn’t fight quite as often either, and you were proud every time he chose to walk away. However, it was clear that his issues with commitment hadn’t changed, and that broke your heart. Not just for you, but for him as well.

“Okay,” was all you said before you closed the door in his face. Billy’s face crumpled, and the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life exploded in his chest. It was worse than any of Neil’s blows or jabs at how he was a constant disappointment. The one good thing he had in his life was gone, and it was all his fault.

Billy walked dejectedly back to his car, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. The slamming of a door made him look up towards your bedroom window. It was wide open, giving him full access to hear the agonizing wail that left your mouth as you knocked a few items off your desk in rage and heartbreak. It killed him to see you react that way to something he did; he never wanted to see that look on your face as you sat on your bed, crying heavily.

He watched you for a few minutes, his heart sinker lower and lower into his gut, until he felt like a huge creep and got into his car and drove away. He didn’t go home; instead, he went out to Lover’s Lake, where the two of you spent your fourth date, and he’d taken your virginity in the backseat of his Camaro. It hadn’t been exactly how you wanted it to go, but when he asked you to be his, it made it all worth it.

You thought you’d tamed the untameable Billy Hargrove. What a fucking joke.

You woke up the next morning like you had a hangover. Your head was sore, and your eyes were puffy from all the crying into your pillow you did, until you realized it smelled like Billy and hurled it across the room. Your chest felt like it was on fire; you hadn’t imagined heartbreak would feel like this, but you fell for Billy harder than you anticipated. Once he let you in, he made it easy. The Billy you got to see outside of school was a complete opposite to the front he put on for his friends; he was sweet, and genuinely funny, and even a bit cheesy in the horrible pick-up lines he’d murmur into your bare skin was he was in one of his rare goofy moods. He was still possessive as hell, giving other guys a threatening glare if they so much as blinked in your direction, and you never walked without at least an arm over your shoulder or a hand in your back pocket. It was a classic telltale sign that you belonged to Billy, and only to Billy.

Normally you’d balk at the idea of belonging to any man, but you were irrevocably and unapologetically his, and you didn’t mind it in the least, because he was just as much yours.

Well, until Sara Christensen decided she wanted a taste of him.

The name sat bitterly in the back of your head as you sluggishly got ready for school. You’d slept like shit anyways, awake at 4 AM, so you used the extra time to make yourself up as if you hadn’t been ugly-crying into your sheets a few hours earlier. When you finished, you looked normal; the bags under your eyes were hidden by concealer, your red-rimmed eyes lined in eyeliner and mascara, and a pretty shade of caramel eyeshadow coated your lids. For the hell of it, you swiped on some burgundy lipstick. Fake it till you make it.

Your outfit was a pair of form-fitting jeans, your tennis shoes, and a pretty floral blouse. You’d be damned if you let anyone see how truly broken up you were over Billy Hargrove. With this new outlook in mind, you left for the school, arriving thirty minutes before the first bell was supposed to ring.

You sat at a bench outside the school, going over the homework you finished last night before your entire world came crumbling down. You were halfway through proofreading your English essay when Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, and Jonathan Byers sat down around you at the bench. It was a ragtag group, that was for sure, since Steve and Nancy were ex-lovers and Jonathan was the wallflower of the school.

“We heard,” Nancy began empathetically. “We’re so sorry, Y/N.”

Despite Nancy and Steve’s obvious dislike for Billy (especially so for the latter), they were sincerely sorry to hear your relationship had taken a nosedive into a concrete floor. It made your mouth quirk up at the corners, thankful that you had such understanding friends. They didn’t badmouth Billy, no matter how badly they wanted to; they weren’t his biggest fans at all, and the same could be said for Billy, too.

Thirty minutes went by in a blur, having lost yourself in making plans with your friends; a movie night on Saturday was the perfect way to distract yourself from the turmoil warring inside. The bell echoed across the courtyard and you stood up with your friends to venture inside. Out of habit, your eyes scanned the parking lot and they found Billy, leaning up against his Camaro with his arms crossed. You couldn’t really make out the expression on his face, so you averted your eyes and followed Nancy into the school. Fortunately, you had first period with Nancy, and so she stood by you at your locker, glaring off anyone who dared whisper within five feet of you.

When you entered your first period class, all conversation ceased, and your classmates looked at you with a mixture of sympathy, disgust, and humor. Did she really think she could change Billy Hargrove? How stupid can you be?

I heard he actually loved her, then he went and fucked it all up. If you ask me, he’s the idiot.

Nancy squeezed your shoulder as you sat down at your desks, side by side towards the back of the room. You were positive that she was the only thing keeping you from bolting from the room and hightailing it home.

By lunchtime, the whispers and gossip was a constant flurry of white noise. Nancy helped you tune it out, pulling you into a conversation instead about your upcoming English project. She knew you loved the subject, and she kept you occupied by keeping you talking about the book you planned to write about. It helped a bit, until lunch was over and you walked back to your locker to swap out books for the second half of the day.

Billy was down the hall, leaning his shoulder against the lockers and looking every bit disinterested in what Sara Christensen was saying.

You inhaled sharply once you figured out who was latching onto his arm and you had to look away. Nancy glared at him down the hallway, harshly enough that even Billy winced.

“He really has the nerve?” she hissed angrily, tossing another glare over her shoulder. “What an insolent ass.”

“He isn’t listening,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself. You closed your eyes tightly before opening them again. You risked a glance over Nancy’s shoulder and wished you hadn’t. Billy had spotted you, and he was giving you his best ‘please forgive me’ look, an expression you hadn’t seen since the last time he got in a fight after he promised you he wouldn’t.

“I wish it wasn’t so hard,” you said, leaving Nancy no time to respond to your earlier comment. “Seeing him.”

“I know,” Nancy sighed, running a hand down your back. “It was like that with Steve but you just...learn to tune it out.”

As you opened your mouth to speak, Sara Christensen came sashaying down the hall. When her snake-like eyes landed on you, she smirked cruelly.

“How’s it feel to know you’ll always be second choice?” she taunted, spinning gracefully on her heel to address you as she walked backwards. “Billy and I are headed to the drive-in tonight, but I doubt we’ll be watching the movie.”

You huffed angrily and slammed your locker closed, your eyes glaring at her as she turned and walked down the hall. You turned towards Nancy, who was giving you a saddened look.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, letting your shoulders sag. You startled backwards though when a body stepped in front of you. The familiar scent of cigarettes and cologne wafted into your nose and it made your eyes water from the memories it brought forth.

Slowly you let your eyes meet Billy’s. He was chewing on his lip in a way that he knew drove you crazy, but his eyes were broken, lifeless almost. Good.

“Whatever she just said to you,” he mumbled, gesturing vaguely in the direction Sara had gone, “it’s a lie. I’m not into her.”

You scoffed loudly, relishing a bit when he winced. “That’s funny, considering you were into her on Saturday. But I’m glad to know that all of those months together meant fuck all to you. Do us both a favor, Hargrove, stay away from me.”

With that you brushed by him, bouncing your shoulder off of his in what you hoped was a definitive manner. But Billy never was good at picking up hints, no matter how blatant.

“I’m proud of you for that,” Nancy told you honestly as the two of you continued to class.

“Thanks Nance. I think this might be easier than I thought it would be.” She smiled. “It hurts a bit but, let’s be honest here, who’s the real loser? Me or him?”

“Definitely him,” she replied on a laugh.

Once school was over, it was a relief. You’d get a reprieve from the stares and the murmurs and the rumors about why Billy Hargrove would cheat on you, or what you weren’t doing in bed to keep him satisfied. It was disgusting really, the lengths your peers would go to to get a rise out of either you or Billy.

And a small part of you was relieved to hear he wasn’t rising to the bait.

You bid Nancy goodbye in the parking lot, parting ways as she headed off to Jonathan’s car and you to yours. In the back corner, Billy was once again leaning against the hood of his Camaro, only this time, he was arguing with Sara. His booming voice carried clear across the parking lot, and you had to bite back a triumphant smirk when he told Sara where she could shove her propositions.

Even though the two of you were over, you weren’t going to pretend to feel sorry for her. Not one bit.

He met your eyes as Sara stomped away, ever the petulant child who hasn’t gotten her way. Unfortunately Billy could read you like a book, and even from the distance he could see the smirk you were fighting. His expression turned loving as he watched you walk to your car, and he merely nodded slowly in your direction. You didn’t return it.

Once home, that painful wedge that Billy had unintentionally driven into your heart began to shift again. You had no distractions now except homework from the utter heartache that coursed through you. You felt faint as you carried yourself up to your room, quickly explaining to your mother that you weren’t feeling well. There was no Nancy, no teachers, no classes or notes needing to be taken to distract you.

So you dropped your bag on the floor and sat heavily onto your bed, your eyes blurring as they fell out of focus and a fresh wave of tears rose. You didn’t bother holding them back. Rather, you grabbed a pillow and buried your face in it to muffle the sounds of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was to explain to your mother that her predictions about the boy you were seeing were right.

For two hours you hadn’t moved except to change into a pair of pajamas and pull your photo album into your lap. You knew you’d be treading on thin ice by looking at them, but you needed to. A sick form of self-validation for not taking him back after word got out that he fucked Sara Christensen.

With a sniffle you opened the album, flipping past the baby photos that your mom had given you, past the photos at Christmastime, and Fourth of July, and your 8th grade graduation. You choked up when you came to the first set of photos; you’d just gotten the polaroid camera as a birthday gift from your father, and Billy was the first person you wanted to try it out on. The first photo was his hand as he tried to block you from snapping his picture. When he realized you wouldn’t stop until you got him standing still, he gave up and posed for you.

That was the next set, a collection of goofy poses of Billy. Your bottom lip trembling, you touched his face in one of the photos. He was so different when he wasn’t at school or taking insult after blow after insult from his dad. He was a normal teenager.

Looking at your history together only served to make you cry harder; it didn’t make you angry with him, didn’t help you decide it was better to move on. It just made you sad, so incredibly sad that you buried your head in your hands and cried. The photo album slid off your lap, hitting the carpet with a muffled thud, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

God, your throat was sore from crying.

Wiping your eyes as best as you could to hide your upset, you headed to the kitchen and pulled a water bottle out of the fridge. Your parents were on the couch in the living room, engrossed in a movie so they didn’t even hear you creep back up to your room. You sipped at the water as you headed back to your room, gasping aloud and clutching a hand to your chest at the figure suddenly in your room.

“Billy,” you hissed through clenched teeth, closing the door softly behind you. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He was swaying on his feet, and as you got closer you noticed his eyes were glassed over.

“Are you...are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He held a hand up and pinched his fingers together. “Just a bit.”

“You can’t be here.” You crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself from reaching out to him. His presence was causing both great relief and great discomfort.

“‘M so sorry, baby,” he mumbled drunkenly. He attempted to take a step forward and instead face-planted into your mattress. It took all of your strength not to run to his side; you’d always taken care of him when he was drunk. Usually it was after a particularly bad night of him playing the role of Neil’s punching bag.

“How did you get in here?” His arm lifted and pointed at the window. His arm hit the bed with a thump. “You picked the lock?!”

Billy sat up as if he was in slow motion; his face was pinched as he sat cross-legged on your bed, picking idly at the quilt on the bed.

“Had to see you,” he mumbled. His eyes lifted slowly to yours before dropping back down. “Had to tell you I was sorry.”

“I know you are. But that doesn’t mean you get to break into my room whenever you feel like it,” you shot back hotly. Having him in such close proximity was doing terrible things to your self control. You dug your nails into your arms, creating crescent moons into the skin.

“Had to tell you that I-I love...I love you. Had to tell you that….”

You scoffed rudely. “You have a hell of a way of showing it, Hargrove.”

“Please don’t call me that. You only call me that when-when you’re really angry….”

“Because I am really angry! You cheated on me, Billy, thinking I wouldn’t find out but Sara Christensen’s lips are as loose as her vag!”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you….” His voice was thick; the alcohol in his system was loosening his tongue.

“Then why did you?” Honest curiosity was niggling at your brain. This oughta be good.

“I was scared.”

Your arms dropped to your signs in a brief moment of surprise, but you pulled your resolve back together and crossed them again.

“What could the great Billy Hargrove possibly be scared of?” you asked scathingly. He looked up at you, insecurity slowly creeping behind his irises.

“You.”

This time the surprise registered clearly on your face, and Billy took the momentary pause to plow forward, his speech becoming clearer the more he spoke. “I’m scared of you. I’m scared of what’s happening to me because of you. I don’t recognize myself anymore because I’ve changed. Because of you. You got in my head somehow and you made me want to be better. And I….I fucked up because I was scared. I thought I was going soft, falling for you the way I did and so I….and Sara was there and….fuck, I’ve never regretted anything so much in my whole life. I don’t want to be that person anymore, Y/N. The “Keg King of Hawkins”, a manwhore who sleeps with girls and then breaks their hearts. I don’t want to pick fights anymore. You made me like that, and for the first time I actually liked the person I’d become. I want to keep being that person because I know that person actually stands a chance of being good enough for you. But I can’t….I can’t do it by myself. I need you.”

His gaze wandered to you, standing stock-still in front of your closet, your eyes squeezed closed as tears fell down your cheeks. You inhaled a sob as you heard the bed shift, and you felt him before you saw him standing in front of you.

“Baby....” he murmured, reaching hesitantly for you. You opened your eyes, waved him away, and he lowered his arms but remained where he was.

“You....you make it so hard, Billy,” you sobbed. Your hands came up to run through your hair. He was frowning deeply, feeling his throat close with emotion as you all but fell apart before him. “You...you make it so...so goddamn hard to be angry with you! But I should be! I am! Because you broke my heart, Billy. You...you made me trust you and then you turned around and went back to the person everyone told me you were.”

He didn’t bother hiding the flinch from you. Your words stung.

You pushed on. “You hurt me, Billy, so, so badly and I...I can’t forgive you for that. Not yet. I’m....I’m not ready to. I can’t trust you now, and I hate that that hurts me to say, because I should be able to trust you. I gave you everything I had and you...threw it away. You threw it all away!”

You had to fight to keep the hysteria out of your voice. Billy’s bottom lip was trembling and he bit it to keep himself in check. All he wanted was to hold you against him, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a small step back and you felt like you could breathe again for a moment.

“Can I....is there any way you can trust me again?” he asked in a small voice.

You breathed deeply. “I don’t know yet, B.” The nickname brought a small flicker of relief to his eyes. You gestured between you. “This is still too fresh and too painful to really think about that right now.”

He nodded, accepting it because at least you were talking to him.

“I’ll give you all the time you need,” he agreed. “I just needed you to know how important you are to me, and how sorry I am for fucking up and especially for hurting you.”

You nodded once, keeping your eyes averted because you knew you’d go back on your word if you looked at him. He made to step away, but then he was struck with an idea that may or may not get him smacked.

He moved slowly to wind his arms around you and pull you into his chest. You didn’t fight him; instead, you selfishly relished in his warmth and even rested your hands on his sides, relaxing a bit in his embrace. You squeezed your eyes closed when he pressed a firm but gentle kiss to your forehead. Before you were ready he let you go, taking steps backwards to the window he came through.

Your watery eyes met him and he gave you one last longing look before he turned to duck out of the window. You didn’t want him to; you wanted him to stay, curl up beside you on your bed and run his fingers through your hair as you fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

But you needed him to go. If you wanted any chance to heal, he couldn’t stay, no matter how hard your heart pounded against your ribcage, as if it was trying to fight its way out of your chest to be with him.

Because even you knew that it belonged to Billy, and only to Billy.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #bill hargrove x reader fic #billy hargrove/reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 2 #stranger things imagines #request

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goldenscript · 7 years

Text

wrapped around your finger. (m)

pairing: kim namjoon | reader genre: graduate school au / fluff, smut warnings: sub!namjoon, begging, a cock ring, and light bondage. word count: 7,180 description: in which a night of grading papers about robots becomes a night where you get your payback against rival grad student, kim namjoon. author’s note: this is a very, very, very late christmas gift to @jungnoir but better late than never amirite? anyway, enjoy this piece! also, this is probably the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written so... just let me live.... rip.

cr.

For many graduate-level students, there is only one day that truly means the world to them. It’s a day where they’ll be chosen to either teach a classroom or assist said person. In your university, pairs are created for these courses. Many of which are targeted toward impressionable first years but anyone’s welcome to partake in the experimental class. The department of any major -in this case, Philosophy- hears back on your progress at the end of the term, then from there even biggers decisions are made. The research component of any subject is easy, but being able to convey it to a large crowd is what the department heads look for. In all essence, it will make or break you as an aspiring teacher.

Your anticipation only proliferates as the red marks shrink the previous days to the forthcoming circle for the upcoming Winter quarter. And today is finally that day.

With a buzzing all-time high, you find yourself among the select eight in your graduate program. Many of whom are just as excited as you are, even Namjoon but you opt to ignore the silver-haired man just to keep your own buzz going. With some luck you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Hell, maybe you’ll even have Hani as a partner. Or Minhyuk.

Soon enough, Professor Lim enters, and everyone immediately sits straight and leans forward.

The salt and pepper-haired man laughs, “It’s good to see everyone looking so alive today.” Meeting each and every one of your wide eyes as he takes a seat at the head of the crudely formed circle of chairs by Namjoon, he asks, “Is everyone ready to hear the pairs for this year’s Introductory Philosophy class?”

There are nods and murmurs in response. Of course, they’re ready. They’ve been preparing for this since the start of the program.

His eyes twinkle beneath the mediocre fluorescent lighting before he gives a nod, “Alright, well, let’s get down to it then, yeah?” He receives a chorus of affirmations, earning another hearty laugh of his, “The following pairs shall be Namjoon and Y/N…” But the moment he says yours and Namjoon’s name, you can’t seem to register anything else.

Fuck… Out of everyone in the room, it had to be him.

Your colleagues actually look at the instructor with wide eyes, looking between you and your newly appointed partner. The latter looking quite amused at the utter shock washing over your features. Your brows are furrowed and eyes are wide. It’s actually taking a lot for you not to say anything as the eldest man in the room continues to speak like he hasn’t just said the worst thing to strike you.

“Now that I’ve announced your partners for the rest of the year, I expect everyone to work well together,” His eyes flicker between you and Namjoon’s longer than the rest, “This is not only an individual assignment, but a group project. For the rest of your academic careers, you’ll very much be working beside people, even ones you may not like, so try to make this a worthwhile, growing experience for the two of you as instructors and people.”

After a bellowing clap, he meets everyone’s eyes once more, “Everyone has developed a teaching plan, and much of this has constituted the pairs. Between the two of you, I’ve already chosen this quarter’s professor, so just understand that next year you’ll be switching off for the following quarter.” He takes a moment to clear his throat, “Anyway, good luck to this year’s professors, Namjoon, Minhyuk, Simon, and Jeno. And good luck to their TAs!” He then rises, “I’ll get going so get acquainted with your partners and just make sure you’re all ready and on the same page.”

The moment he leaves, the pairs gravitate toward one another -- Hani with Minhyuk, Simon with Kisum, and Jeno with Seungwan. Some of which gave you their own set of sympathetic eyes, but you give a nonchalant shrug before your poker face melts into a meager glare as your cursed partner approaches you with his notorious, dimpled grin.

“Excited for the new quarter, partner?” Namjoon says, stepping back as you rise from your seat, following everyone else toward the celebratory bar. In turn, he follows you, matching your exact pace.

You roll your eyes at him and reply, “Don’t call me your partner, Namjoon.”

“What should I call you then? TA?”

You flash him a more potent glare, brows furrowing and lips frowning, “Not that either. Just Y/N.” Before he can say another word, you turn to him, allowing everyone else to get a far enough distance away before continuing, “Look, we’re gonna be working together for the rest of the school year, and for whatever reason, Professor Lim has paired us together. Whatever you did to make that happen, for God only knows why, just know that this is on both of us to make it successful, Namjoon.”

And with that stupid irritating lopsided smirk of his, he simply says, “I know. Don’t worry… I chose you for a reason.”

As great as Professor Lim is, you still wonder how Namjoon has managed to get the older man to love him enough to set up this arrangement.

Given your history with the teacher’s pet, you truly denounced the idea of having to work with him. Professor Lim knows the extent of your relationship with him - he’s even had to separate the two of you on numerous occasions just to make sure no exercise runs amuck because if there’s anyone in this room that you would rather work with then it’s anyone… but him.

For the past seven years of knowing Namjoon, it’s been a battle of to and fro debates that have always left the two of you heated and repelled against one another. He was always the top student who had a knack for the subject, easily conveying his take on personality identity and the mind-body problem; meanwhile, you were always able to understand the arguments to each of the cases, often putting your own spin and understanding to them. Although whether either of your points were right usually ended up being judged by Professor Lim himself.

In those three years as an undergraduate, you were no strangers to competing against Namjoon. And in some cases, you lost to him. Some losses were severe, others weren’t so bad. But either way, this rocky stance for the two of you as rising top students. This in itself sparked that of a rivalry between the two of you.

The two years to obtain your Master's (MA) meant an incessant amount of aiding instructors and doing your own research for your fields of studies. While he was going with the English emphasis, and you with your own, the small graduate program never kept the two of you that far from one another, much you both your displeasures. Namely, yours.

Now, at twenty four-years-old, the two of you continue to keep this going.

And, in your defense, with perfectly good reasons.

Those days of arguing over a simple topic like Gettier cases have yet to cease. Back then, you two would bicker about it during the lecture when Professor Lim would open the floor for discussion, allowing students to share their interpretations or to ask questions in case anything were ever unclear. And even now without your beloved professor, this notion of public arguing still takes place.

Since the beginning of the quarter, you can’t even keep track of the number of times Namjoon has opened the floor for discussion, allowing the students to discuss their take on the many concepts that come with Philosophy, just to start yet another argument with you. His arrogant, all-knowing smile often infuriating you further as he replied to your answers with a philosopher’s best question, “Well, how do you know?”

You scowl at the dimpled-smiling man, rolling your eyes from your position in the back corner of the room, “You don’t need to question me about this when you have a room full of students right in front of you, Namjoon.”

More like, ‘If you keep asking me how I know then I’m going to kick your ass tonight, you punk.’

“Thank you, Y/N.” His dark-eyed gaze shifts from your cross-legged body, turning to the rest of the class with an inquisitory raised brow, “Well, what do you guys think?”

Nowadays, he’s gotten even more irritating than usual. His need to fight with you somehow augmenting since your undergraduate days.

You don’t mind, per say, but you swear to God he’s going to be the reason why you get high blood pressure when you’re older. Or at least more white hairs at thirty. Whatever is his deal, you just shake your head and continue on your merry way with looking over the notes to this week’s lecture for the students.

Thankfully, the midpoint of the quarter has already melted into week six, and despite free will causing a huge fuss among the conglomerate of perplexed students, the only thing on your mind is getting through the rest of the midterm paper from the week before, not whether free will is compatible or incompatible with determinism.

By the time class ends and you and Namjoon are finished answering the students’ questions about the Frankfurt case and about the midterm paper, you’re both out the door.

He pushes his glasses up, narrowly missing a student, “You’re still coming tonight, right?” The black leather laptop case at his shoulder swings past the influx of students along the way.

You nod, speaking once you’ve both pushed open the double doors of the building, “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Kim.” You both walk down the stairs, the familiar way toward your workshop driving your sense of movements, “I’ll be there at 6.”

He raises a brow at you, “What happened at 4:30?”

“Jackson asked me to look over his thesis before he turns it in.”

“What do you know about nutritional science?”

“Not much bu-”

“There’s no reason to look over it if you don’t know what you’re talking about then.”

A flash of irritation washes over you as his words sink in, constraining you as it always seems to when he’s like this. Like you mentioned before, he’s been more and more argumentative with you, and to say the least you want to put the damn “genius” back in his place--teacher’s pet or not.

“Excuse me,” You release a sharp exhale, aiming your best glare at the silver-haired man before taking a moment to speak, “I can and will look over his paper. He just needs me to proofread it, and I’m pretty damn sure I have the credentials to do that for him.” You make an effort to outpace him now that seeing his is making your blood boil, going as far as bumping his shoulder as you walk past him.

The momentum causes his laptop case to smack against his thigh, eliciting a guttural sound to flutter past his plush lips.

A brow of yours raises as you turn to meet his flushed cheeks, “Are you okay?”

He nods meekly, waving you off with his free arm while the other adjust the strap across his chest, “Just go!” His voice squeaks ever-so-slightly, but he pretends it didn’t happen by clearing his throat, “Don’t be late.”

“Yeah, yeah.” With a wave of your hand, you make your way toward the ramen shop.

Fortunately for Namjoon, you’ve narrowly missed him readjusting himself, letting out a soft moan before making his way back to his apartment.

The buffer from the stupid man that causes you more headaches than you can count was absolutely necessary. Your dark-haired best friend always has an uncanny way of comforting you from the frustrations that your partner often gifts you with. Hell, even as you find yourself a good fifteen minutes later than you planned, you actually don’t care what he’ll say.

You both decide that the office is the way to go, so you enter wordlessly and set your things down. In your hands are a thick packet of papers that Namjoon had you print a few days ago to make grading easier; these are placed beside the keyboard. Pulling up a seat in front of his desk, you open up your laptop and allow the bright, word inscribed sight of the rubric to occupy your mind.

“You’re late.” He states, looking over at you as the frame of his glasses slip past the bridge of his nose. “It’s 6:17.”

“There was traffic,” You shrug, continuing your previous ministrations rather than meeting the dark hues trained on you.

“You said you’d be-”

“I know, but as I told you just now there was traffic. And I got held up with editing.” You probably should’ve said the last part, but a part of you hoped that he’d just let the situation drop. Usually he didn’t mind if you came in late.

“Were you actually helping Jackson with his paper?” When you respond with a nod, he laughs, “Did it take some long ‘cause you needed him to explain stuff to you?”

“Shut up, Namjoon,” You shift your gaze from him back to your computer. The creeping irritation already begins to return, and when you check the clock, it’s only been five minutes since you’ve entered the office. “I’m here now.”

I wonder if that’s a new record.

He mutters something along the lines of “Still seventeen minutes late” under his breath. This time you don’t justify him with a response.

Definitely a new record.

Back to the laptop, you finish reading the paper and begin to type your grade for it. Whatever this student is talking about, it certainly isn’t the given topic. You’ll give them points for some of the reasoning because that alone demonstrates the concept surrounding the topic. Then again, it was also out of pity that you did this because arguing why you aren’t a robot is harder than arguing about the JTB theory like you had in the beginning.

By the time you’ve set it down, red marks marring the white page of black inscriptions, you vaguely hear Namjoon softly call out to you but maybe it’s your own childishness that keeps you from answering immediately or your own desire just to defy him and see what else he’ll say to grab your attention.

Let’s see if he gives me another reason to kick his ass tonight.

He says it again. This time his dark hues are trained on your focused form. You know he’s waiting for you to reply, but you continue to read the next paper, skimming over the name and going right for the very important thesis.

The longer you fall into your own focus, the more his stares remains. At least until he lets out a deafening exhale in the relatively still room.

“Was there something you needed, Namjoon?”

He blinks, nodding immediately, “Right! I wanted -uh- to see how you graded Mijin’s paper. Since we gotta -uh- make sure our scores line up.”

“Right,” You hand him your stack of corrections, turning your laptop toward him to display your analysis. You’re about to turn back to Kihyun’s paper when you hear him release yet another sharp exhale, his eyes darting between both of your screens. “What now?”

“I don’t think you graded this right.”

“Excus-” You stop yourself, setting down Kihyun’s paper to meet the taller man’s eyes. “What’s wrong with my grading?”

“Well, you’re too lenient.” He deadpans, gesturing toward the screens, “Although she grazes through the topic, I don’t think she addresses the prompt. Which, as we both know, is the very basis of the paper. She deserves a lower score than this. Se-”

Before he can turn his laptop screen, you opt to scoot your rolling chair onto his side of the desk. They barely bump against one another, but that alone seems to affect the already sensitive man, earning you a low hiss of pain.

Your brows scrunch together as you look at him, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, b-but anyway,” He immediately points to the screens with his ballpoint pen, “As I was saying, her paper should be at least a seventy. A seventy-six is pretty generous considering she barely has an actual thesis, let alone insightful information.”

“But this is an intro class, Namjoon, and she presents a decent amount of information to pass. She actually talks about what constitutes the logic behind how we might be robots by the necessary conditions alone, an-”

“So, just because she was decent enough to pass we should just give her a decent grade?” He gestures toward your copies. “That’s hardly a good enough argument-”

“As I was saying,” You interject, hoping to coax yourself to calm down, “I think she deserves that high C because she demonstrates understanding of the concepts. Even if she can’t exactly articulate it, she obviously isn’t an idiot to the argument.”

“Right, because the idiot is the one defending her!” He scoffs, pulling off his glasses and setting it beside his cup of pens. “If she understands the concepts then she should be able to articulate it. It’s that simple.”

“I’m the idiot?” You turn away from the screens, completely facing the gutsy man. You don’t even care how much he winces when you bump his chair a little harder than the last time. “Look, we can talk reasonably about her paper and come to a general consensus, but listen here, asshole -- you do not call me an idiot.” You shake your head, “Why do you always question my intellect when we disagree? Do you have a superiority complex or something? Do you like knowing you’re better than me?”

“I- I d-didn’t say that!” His eyes have gone wide watching you unleash your deeply held frustrations. “I mean you just said that I’m better than you but I mean it isn’t like that’s true unless you believe it.”

It takes a moment for what he just said to sink in. Your mouth falls open, battle ready words ready to escape, but you shut it immediately.

“What? Am I right?” He adds, a small smile growing on his lips as he prods further, “Do you really believe that I’m better than you?”

Of course it hits you that the very conversation you’ve dreaded having with Kim Namjoon is happening right now. But you almost find it hard to believe that it’s actually happening. You truly wish it wasn’t so. You’ve loathed the idea of admitting that you think he’s better than you. It’s almost unthinkable. You don’t like to think anyone is better than anyone in any respect, and that people are equal on levels and sometimes people just aren’t on a mutual level so comparing them is actually a little stupid. Like to say a tall kid in first grade can be compared to someone in middle school -- there’s little to no competition.

However… here? You’re absolutely certain that there is competition with the silver-haired man.

You both have had a competitive edge since the start of your time in the university, and you’ve both had the misfortunes of continuing it on seven years later.

Just recognizing this circumstances brings you back to a time when this edge affected you the most. You were ready to transition from an undergraduate to an actual Bachelor’s recipient. Professor Lim, evidently enough, was choosing the top student in the major program and looking for a student to mentor on, and the first person on that list was Namjoon.

Of course you were pissed. You hated the idea of losing out to him, and all his smug glory, but you hated how you could only admit that he deserved it. His work as an undergraduate, specifically with Professor Lim, was too good not to be considered top notch. You came in right after, but seeing the awareness in your counterpart’s worthwhile achievements wounded your pride.

So, you did the only thinkable thing to do. You cried to Jackson. You let loose all the water works that came with coming second to Kim Namjoon, and all the frustrations that came with knowing that he was indeed better than you at the one thing you absolutely adored in school. You were tired and weary, only wanting to cry despite all the alcohol you consumed that night.

Yet one tidbit remained in your mind since that night. Jackson has always been sure to remind you of this one fact about the infamously irritating Kim Namjoon, who was always happy to act like he was better than you, was actually weak for you.

“I promise, Y/N. I swear it.” Jackson nodding erratically, setting down his chopsticks, “I’ve been his roommate since freshman year. If there’s any weakness to Namjoon, then it’s you.”

Although you didn’t understand it then, it’s become glaringly clear that the only one to know it is if you tested it. Would it work? You can’t say for sure, but you were going to try it anyway.

Fuck, please be right Jackson.

“What? Cat got your-”

Without a second thought, thanking your previous assessment of the silver-haired man, you hook a fist around his loosen necktie. Tightening your grip on the black silken material, you tug him in close.

His eyes have immediately gone wide, his body beckoning to your will as he tries to speak, “Y-Y/N, w-w-what are you d-doing?”

You don’t know why the sight of his death grip on the arms of the chair rile you up. Or why his pupils have widened does so either. There are even beads of sweat already threatening to drip down the sides of his face. His mouth can only hope to open and close within seconds because all you’ve done is laugh at his expense.

“What, has the cat got your tongue, Namjoon?”

His lips are so dangerously close to yours, a damn hairsbreadth away, but you don’t do anything but maintain eye contact with him. Even when his dark hues break away and look at your lips, he comes right back.

“I- I don’t know what’s gotten into y-you, but I don’t think you know what you’re doing right now, Y/N.” His voice sounds so weak as if he’s lost the strength in such a dangerous position.

“I think I do, Namjoon.” When his eyes seem to widen even more, you continue with a sultry edge, “Jackson and I talked before I came here. He told me that if there was any weakness to you, then it’d be me. Is this true?”

“Y-yes.”

You blink at how easy that was though you don’t think to deeply on the matter. A switch flips inside you, and you boldly inquire, “Do you want to kiss me, Namjoon?”

“Yes.”

Before he can blink, you lean in and press your lips to his, allowing yourself to taste him and the caffeinated flavor of his soft, supple lips. The very action elicits a soft moan from the back of his throat. His own actions taking over as you continue to let your lips touch one another’s - his chest grazes yours, his lips even switching sides to deepen the kiss.

There’s an innate fervor in his ministrations that seem to tell you that this is something that he’s craved, maybe even yearned for from the way he’s desperately latching himself so artfully to your lips. His tongue even ghosts your bottom lip before slipping inside to explore the caverns of your oral cavity, but when you feel the heat of his hands daring to touch your visage you pull away.

“Wha-,” He blinks rapidly at you. His hands even fall back to his sides as he searches your features for an answer.

You acquiesce with a simple response, “Beg for it.”

He barely manages out a whisper, "P-please..."

It seems the very view of him suddenly submitting to you without another protest sends a burn down to your core. You can’t even stop yourself from smiling, "Louder. "

"Please, Y/N." He says with more conviction.

“Okay, Nam-”

His lips are back on yours, back to attempting to sate his addiction to your taste. It’s like once wasn’t enough, but you don’t mind as his tongue begins to massage the inside of your mouth. He lavishes the nooks and crannies with care attention. His hands even find home on the sides of your face as if scared that this moment may slip from his grasp. Although at this rate, you don’t think you want to go anywhere anytime soon.

You feel your limbs tighten up when you pull away, your own fervor-induced brain hoping to relieve the burn of your core with the girth of his hips. You keep a lock on his tie, rising from your chair to nestle atop his lap when he immediately stops you.

“W-wait! I -um- have a problem…” He admits, staring at you with doe-like eyes.

“What kind of problem?”

“W-well, I -um-,” He looks up to check the door though he has to rise just to make sure it’s locked before he returns to you, “I blame Jackson, just saying.”

“What? Jackson gave you boner?”

He shakes his head immediately, opting to unbuckle his belt and the buttons of his pants before pulling it down with his undergarments. On his hardened members appears to be a black ring all the way at the base, emphasizing the glaring redness.

He admits, “I’ve been -um- wearing it a lot lately, and it’s just been fucking with me. Like, fuck, Y/N… it hurts.”

“Why don’t you take it off then?” You ask, watching as he winces when sitting down.

“I mean I like it, but I wasn’t sure how it’d feel with you on top of me…”

Although you have minimal knowledge on sex toys, you already know the breakdown of this one thanks to Jackson. He just won’t be able to come unless it comes off.

“You’ll be fine,” You murmur, taking a hold of his tie. The black silk gives you an idea. With the newfound knowledge you’ve acquired of this man, you can’t help but take it from him and ask him to turn around. “I’ll take care of you, Namjoon. Just do as I say, and tell me what feels good, yeah?”

When he consents, you fasten the ties around his wrist, tightening the loop and using the excess fabric to properly keep his arms together at his back. You even graze the bare skin of his thighs, watching as they nearly buckle beneath him.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I wanna try something,” You give him arms a tug to separate them, but the attempt is a failure. “You won’t be able to touch me, so you’ll have to guide me with your words, okay?”

“Okay.”

You push him back onto his chair, watching as his member bounces as he does so. When he winces, your fingertips graze his cheek. Your core burns deeper when he actually leans into your touch so willingly.

Standing before his seated form, you smile at him, “So, tell me what you want me to do, baby. Do you want me to kiss you?” You graze his lips with your lips, “Or do you want me to take you in with my mouth?”

You squat slowly, holding onto the sides of the chair for support. It pushes against the wall behind you two, eliciting a small moan from Namjoon’s lips from the impact.

His thighs quiver beneath the ghost of your touch. The cock ring still squeezes his member, leaving is a bright, mottled red with pre-cum daring to drip. Even at the barest graze of your lips, he writhes at the sight.

“Y-Y/N, p-please,” He begs with eyes shut tightly.

“Please what, Namjoon?”

“Please, I need your mouth on me.”

Without being told twice, you do as he asks by immediately taking him in. The taste of his pre-cum reaches the back of your throat, but you don’t mind the taste, focusing on the task at hand. You gently grasp him above the ring, sliding your hand up and down, as your mouth begins to envelope the hardened length. It’s not quite as thick but it’s made up for by length itself. You haven’t even taken him in all the way and you feel his tip reaching the back of your throat. You retract to start back to the top once more.

This alone ripples concentric moans from the writhing man in your grasps. He starts of small and shaky until you get further down and his own moans permeate the open space. Between the guttural chimes, he calls out your name, a beautiful pattern of, “Oh my god, Y/N. Feels so good” on repeat as you continue to bob your head up and down at the top to mid-section and pump the end of his shaft.

The longer this continues, his moans become lost to the back of his throat. Instead of the melodic moans, he elicits a gurgled cry.

You slow down, looking up at him and his pink cheeks, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I want to cum, but I can’t,” He admits, beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his visage and his chest heaves uncontrollably. His eyes have gone wide and his bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth. “It hurts.”

You actually pity him. Of course, you’re no stranger to remorse or sympathy, but you’ve hardly ever found reasons to feel such a way toward him in particular. He’s always been the arrogant asshole who actually basked in your frustration, who lived off it without even blatantly stating so And it’s always been with you. Always. You never understood why, even after Jackson’s forewarning up, until now.

Who knew you could feel so much for a man that has done nothing but make your blood boil over the past seven years?

“Y/N, please,” He actually begs, staring at you with longing, with hunger… with submission.

You can practically feel the defeat from him, and that snaps you out of your reverie. You want to ravage him, to feel him writhe underneath you as he gasps your name. Just the thought of that has you batting your lashes at him, a smile curving on your lips at the unsuspecting man. After all, he’s yours right now, and after all the years of coming in behind him… you’re glad to be the one on top.

“Please what, baby? What do you need me to do for you, hm?”

He blinks at you, his cheeks pinkening underneath your inquisitive gaze. It’s like you’re reading him, and more than likely this is true. “I- I-”

You caress his thighs once more, watching as they quiver, “Should I take this silly little ring off? Taste you maybe? Or do you want to feel me?” You raise a brow at him, “Do you want to fuck me, Namjoon?”

“Y-yes,” He nods, his cheeks darkening now that he’s finally admitted to his biggest desire, “I want to fuck you so bad, Y/N.”

“Really?”

He affirms, watching as you stand to unbutton your jeans and shimmy out of them. His eyes widen as you unhook your bra, dropping it with the rest of your discarded clothing.

“Should I let you fuck me, Namjoon?” You ask, leaning your hands against the leather headrest. “Do you deserve it?”

“Y-yes, I’ve been listening… I’ve been good,” He tells you, trying his hardest not to sound so desperate but you don’t mind. You actually don’t mind any of this right now. No matter how much your core is screaming at you to just sit on his lap and fuck him, you want to push his limits as he’s done with you. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“Won’t regret it, you say,” You tap your chin, biting your lip.

When you release it, you hear him squirm in his spot. Your breasts are right there, just waiting for him to see them bob up and down as you ride him.

“Please, Y/N. Fuck, please. Fuck me. I want you so fucking bad. I’ll do anything.”

“Okay, Namjoon,” You say softly, “Let’s do it right now.”

“R-right now?” He looks down at his red length, glaring at him because of the current situation. You actually wonder what he’ll say. If he’ll actually acquiesce to such a painful request when he knows how badly he won’t be able to come until that bad ring is off. Would he really suffer the pain just to feel you?

“Okay.”

This time you blink, staring at him with wide eyes, “Really?”

He nods, “I’ll do it. I want you, Y/N. Fuck, I’ve wanted you since we were freshman.”

You actually clamber into his lap, unworried about him ejaculating with the comfort of the cock ring constricting him. You definitely want to see how much it’ll take for him to hit his courageous limit. Although you do have to admit you admire his perseverance.

He winces as soon as you ease him through your entrance. Your hands grip his shoulders to keep you steady once you begin moving your hips against his. Your lips find purchase on his to sate the burning on your lips, allowing the lewd smacks of your succumbing desire to fill the room.

It aches you to continue on when you hear him sharply exhale after a particular thrust. Pulling away, you actually ask him if he still wants to continue.

He tries to nod, but he presses a slick forehead against your bare shoulder.

“Fuck, it hurts so fucking back but it feels so good to have you on top of me.”

“Namjoon,” He raises his head to meet your eyes, longing filling the dark hues, “Tell me what you want then.”

“I- I want,” You even touch the crevice of his dimple with your thumb to encourage him, “to fuck you without this cock ring… please.”

You clamber out of his lap and rest on your knees to remove the ring, setting on his desk.

Fuck, does he have any condoms…?

“I have condoms in my laptop case, by the way.” You actually laugh, giving him a nod before locating said bag.

You turn to the leather case on the side table adjacent to you two, finding the familiar foil and ripping it open. Your heart rate is pounding inside your chest at the prospect of what about to happen next, and you can hardly stop yourself from shaking as you ease the rubber material onto his hardened length.

Like before, you climb onto his lap, resting your thighs on either side of his legs and ease him into your entrance until you’ve reached the base of his shaft. With your arms hooked around his neck, you begin to move your hips against his, allowing his girth to fill you up with every thrust that increases after the last.

You pull his lips to yours, losing yourself in the ministrations of the kiss and lavishing his mouth to taste him and the caffeine that still remains. It should be bitter, but he tastes sweet to you like something you’ve craved without noticing until you’ve actually tasted it. And you can’t stop yourself from letting a soft exhale fall past your lips as you shift your hips and find your sweet spot.

He doesn’t even bother hiding his satisfaction as you let out a soft moan when his plump lips suckle the soft skin of your neck. He wishes to create an array of his mark on you, and you let him just to make up for the hell that you put him through with that ring.

After the first one, you say, “Is this better, b-baby?”

He removes his lips from the second mark, nodding, “Yes, it feels so fucking good.” He notes the light sheen coating your forehead and the way your chest heaves, “Are you close?”

You nod, “Are you?”

When you grind harder into him, he lets out a loud hiss, “Yes, if you keep that up I’ll be cumming soon.”

You grin, performing the same ministration, “Good.”

Without another word uttered between you two, you hasten your pace against him, feeling your thighs and your core burn from how much you’re pushing your own body into overdrive. Large puffs of breath are exchanged between you two, and your own attempts at decorating his fair skin goes to waste when you feel a blinding white sensation cloud over vision and wash over your body. It is in that moment when you ride out your high, pressing your head to his shoulder and breathing hard against his half-buttoned dress shirt.

You don’t even have the energy to ask him if he’s close, and you hardly need to because he’s pressing his head against the leather chair, bucking his hips into yours to ride out the last of his own immense high that lasts for a few moments. His eyes shutting along the way.

You actually wake up from your stupor to prod his cheek, “Joon, you okay?” He doesn’t say a word, only blinking to adjust to the warm lights and your visage. You flash him a half-smile, “I thought I lost you there. You good?”

He nods, taking a moment to catch his breath as you slowly climb out of his lap. Your legs protest when you rise, but you stretch your stiff, burning limbs anyway. You have him turn around so you can untie him, and as he gets himself situated, you tug on your undergarments and clothes.

He rises from the chair, removing and tying off the condom before throwing it in his trash can and stretching his own stiff limbs.

You release a yawn before beginning to move your seat back to its original position in front of his desk.

“Um, wait,” He says, zipping his pants back on before taking some nearby Clorox wipes and sanitizing his chair.

You look over at him, “Yeah?”

He throws away the used wipe before pushing his glasses back on, “Well, um… you can… sit by me… I -uh- don’t mind.”

You laugh, tilting your head at him, “Is there something you’re not telling me, Namjoon?” You actually turn toward him this time, “Is there more to what Jackson told me?”

He bites his lips, looking at his desk for a moment before returning your gaze with bright pink cheeks, “Yeah…”

“Do you like actually have some secret crush on me or something?”

He lets out a deep sigh, “Jackson didn’t really say it was that big of a secret… was it?”

You laugh, “I suppose not.” With a small lift of your shoulders, you move your seat back beside the silver-haired man, “I guess you aren’t so bad yourself anyway.”

He doesn’t even bother hiding the smile growing on his lips, and neither do you.

A few hours later have lead you two through at least more than half of those stupid midterm papers, and with less arguments like the first one. Although there were some close seconds, because well, he’s Kim Namjoon.

You feel your eyes beginning to droop as you mark up Yuta’s paper. You hardly hear anything, let alone your companion. Maybe he picked up on that.

He speaks louder this time, but it’s what he says that grabs your attention--

“Y/N,” You look up, raising a brow at him, “I’m sorry if I was being a dick earlier.” His brows are knitted together and his cheeks actually look a little pink, but you make no comment on either.

You’re actually still trying to register what he just said.

Your lips can’t help but pull into a small smile, “Is the great Kim Namjoon actually apologizing?” You set the paper down, leaning closer in your seat, “Are you dying or somethin’?”

To your satisfaction, he actually squirms just a little.

His eyes bore into yours briefly before rolling, his head shakes once, “No, I just- I’ve been a dick a lot so I’m sorry, alright?”

“It’s fine,” You nod, flashing him a half-smile before turning back to the paper. “Wait,” You turn to him, “I have a question.”

He meets your eyes, “Yeah?”

“Did you really convince Professor Lim to pair us up together?”

He lets out a chuckle, nodding once.

“Did you expect thi-”

He shakes his head immediately, eyes actually widening as his cheeks deepen in pink hue, “N-no! I -um- I just hoped we’d get closer. I mean I guess it’s kinda silly to expect anything to happen after this long, but I couldn’t help any of it honestly. I really do like you, Y/N.”

Your nose scrunches, “You have a real funny way of showing it, Joon.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you back then y’know,” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “I’m just a little shitty at this conveying how I feel thing.”

Your mind contemplates the instances you two have shared together. Each one reminding you of all the times he’d work you up, flashing that stupidly cute dimpled grin in your direction before going on his merry way. He never intentionally went too far though. And maybe that’s where you should’ve seen his methods for what they were.

You laugh, waving him off, “It’s fine, Joon. I -uh- I guess I should’ve seen it coming. I mean I guess this explains why you’ve always been so good at working me up.”

“Wait, you like me too?” You give him a shrug, and in response, he says, “Why?”

You give him a shove, laughing as his features remain somewhat confused, “I don’t know if I do for sure… but I think so.” You lean your elbow against his desk, leaning it against your cheek, “I don’t mind seeing what’ll come out of all this… what do you think?”

“Yeah,” He gives you a nod, his glasses slipping as per usual, “I wouldn’t mind that either.”

He leans in close, eyes alight with mischief, “Are you sure you aren’t saying this ‘cuz you like domming me?”

You give him a smack, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Whatever, you’re cute, lil’ sub…” Before you turn back to your screen, you raise a brow at him, “Wait, how did Jackson convince you to wear that cock ring anyway?”

“...No reason,” Your eyes narrow in response, but before you can say anything, he says, “How about I buy you a coffee right now, and we can finish these paper tomorrow night?”

Although you’ve had plenty of spats with the infuriating man, you suppose he can’t be too bad. He seems to know when to back down. And you’re definitely grateful that he knows when to submit otherwise you’d really have to take him down a few notches.

A smile curves on your lips, causing his Adam’s apple to quiver as you reply, “Sure, why not. You can tell me about it another day then.”

#kwritersnet #btswriters #bts writing squad #bangtan bookclub #ot7network #namjoon scenarios #namjoon au #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts au #bts smut #emswriting

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robotblog-blog1 · 7 years

Text

chapter one of ages of earth

It was the last day of school senior year. What was an ordinary ice-cream outing turned into a life-changing spiritual experience. But of course, this isn't even remotely the beginning of the story. But for the sake of this making any sense to you at all, I thought I'd start it here.

Narrator's Note:

This isn't my story. This isn't about me.

My name is Ellen. Ellen Marshall. I'm a wizard. My Earth age is seventeen. My Gūdhal age is over seven thousand.

I was tasked by my Empress to tell her story. Don't worry, it'll all make sense by the end. Promise.

It was late spring/early summer, last day of senior year. Should be easy for this senior, Tatianna Forrest, who had a severe case of Senioritis. Besides, there wasn't really anything left to do in school. There were things that mattered. Like the track team, and getting her pilot's license, and keeping up with friends.

She ran into the morning meeting late. As student body president, a few of the members glared at her but she took her place at the head of the table anyway. Just about every Wednesday, they had these meetings, and today was no exception. Even though it was the end of the year and there wasn't much to talk about.

"Sorry, I'm sorry everybody." She set her bag next to her and caught her breath. "I had to bring Alex to school today, my mom's car broke down."

"It's fine, really. Sit." Nasir, the vice-president, set his hand over Tatianna's reassuringly and she breathed a sigh of relief. Nasir was an attractive bronze-skinned junior, whom many of Tatianna's friends had crushes on. He was kind and honest and also (sadly for Tatianna's friends) very attracted to men.

Tatianna sat and leaned back in the plastic chair. "So what are we even talking about today?"

There was a bit of contemplative silence. "It's the last meeting," Nasir pointed out, and the seven of them nodded in acknowledgment. "We don't really have any plans." Another pause. "I got into Boston U."

Catherine shifted in her chair. "I got into Dartmouth."

Daniel added, "I'm going to MIT," and Amy tacked on, "I'm goin' to UMass Amherst."

The four looked at the three left. Daisha decided to speak up first. "I got accepted to Harvard."

"Yale." Mickey sent a smirk.

They all looked to Tatianna. Uneasy in her seat, she pursed her lips and looked down. Her thumbs twiddled in her lap, a nervous habit. "I'm... I've got no plans for now."

"What?" Nasir sat up immediately. "You're not going to college? Didn't you get into UVM?"

"Yeah, I got into all the schools I applied for." She huffed and looked up. Still, she couldn't meet anyone's eyes. "I can't go to college right now. It's been rough lately, and my family... I have to save up money for college myself. Mom took an extra shift at the diner and Alex got a job at the movie theater just to pay rent, so I don't exactly have money for it." She let out a laugh. "Geez. I sound depressing. I'm not sad I can't go right now," She finally looked around the table, able to catch the sorrowed gazes of her peers. "It's amazing you guys all got into those colleges, though. I wish you all the best of luck."

"Oh, Tat..." Daisha put a hand on the president's shoulder. "You should've told us, we'd've started a GoFundMe or something. It could've been our senior project!" At this particular school, all the seniors had to publish some sort of community service article, whether it be starting a charity or raising awareness for something or simply volunteering at a local shelter was up to the student. Each member of this student body did a great charity, and together they volunteered at a shelter in Boston.

"Nah, it's fine. Didn't want to put you to any trouble." She passed a reassuring smile around, which always seemed to calm the group. "What're you guys doing for the summer?"

For the remaining ten minutes of the last meeting, they shared plans of camping and waterskiing and boating and even going on retreats. Tatianna planned on staying home and spending her days flying and (finally) getting that pilot's license.

The bell rung for the first block, and before they left the seven gathered in a mound of a group hug, all promising to keep in touch and sending well wishes. And then they were gone. The door shut with a final end behind them.

Nasir walked with Tatianna to physics, their first class. It was a day so sunny Tatianna wondered how long it'd take for a teacher of theirs to suggest going outside. She pictured herself on the stone bench just beyond the front entryway, roasting like a reptile under the barrage of the sun.

"You have soccer practice today?" Tatianna questioned, glancing at her friend with a smile.

"No, but I am refereeing one of Alex's." He smiled at his feet. "I can't imagine I won't be playing some later, though. It's beautiful out."

It wasn't Tatianna who answered. "Yes, truly the epitome of weather, a ray of happiness drifting down upon us."

It was Délia, the sarcastic, small-chested mousy friend of the two already walking to class. She's completely unassuming, small and unnoticeable in a crowd but vulgar and loud in private. She-

Narrator's Note:

I'm going to stop now. She's looking over my shoulder at this moment and I don't want to get in more trouble than I probably already will.

"Oh stop that." Tatianna roughed up her short black hair and turned to corner to the wooden door in front of them, reading Alfred Lehrer. "Gotta go Dee. See you later."

Délia waved goodbye and they parted ways. Tatianna and Nasir took their places in the front of the room, as Nasir had bad eyesight and did not have a pair of glasses yet. The teacher sat at his desk on this laptop, not even bothering to look up.

"Laptops are on the cart. Do whatever the hell you want, just don't get me in trouble." He gestured to the black cart next to his desk and continued on whatever he was working on. So the class got up and each grabbed their own MacBook, sitting back down in their seats and moving chairs to giggle with friends and chat about summer and graduation.

The whole day went like that. Tatianna was right about one thing, and that was that the history teacher let them chill outside for the hour class. No one bothered to actually do anything in class. It was perfect.

Tatianna met Délia outside the school that day, to drive around town and get ice cream. They piled into Tatianna's old car, creaking in the wind, and turned the aux up as loud as it would go.

"Who's excited to get out of this hellhole?" Délia leaned out the window as they drove off, raising her arms with a victory, "Whoo!"

"Get down, Dee!" Tatianna grabbed her waist and pulled her back down, turning the steering wheel as she went and almost flinging Délia out of the window. "Down!" She shouted again and finally, her friend sat in her seat. "You give me aneurysms, Dee, you know that?"

"Chill, I'm just having a good time!" She turned the dial on the dash, but the volume wouldn't go any higher. "Mm mm come on now follow my lead mm mm!" She danced in place as Shape of You continued on, blasting out the speakers and into the thick summer air. "Hey Tat, I'm in love with the shape of you."

Tatianna let out a massive laugh. "Miss me with that gay shit," She managed through giggles.

"Hit me with that gay shit!" Délia countered. "Punch me with that gay shit! Murder me with that gay shit!"

Tatianna had no answer for that, so she just chuckled the whole way to the ice cream parlor. The whole five minutes. Cars drove up next to them just to sing and laugh and drive away, a speck or intimate happiness between strangers. The sun hid behind tufts of cotton-ball clouds, and children screamed in delight with something that could only be described as summertime euphoria. Black and white soccer balls sailed through the air, red and white jerseys darted like curving missiles, weaving through each other and creating a beautiful pulsing mass.

"We're here," Tatianna announced, punching Délia playfully on the arm and rolling up the windows. "Get out. Time for ice cream."

"YES!" The smaller one pumped her fists to the sky and tripped over the car door as she got out, laughing some more and standing straight. This was the moment Tatianna felt a premonition; for a moment time dissipated and she saw Délia trip onto the sidewalk and skin her knee. For the fraction of a second she was gone, Tatianna for the first time heard a voice.

"Vitswèth," It drawled out, a deep feminine voice with something ethereal and angelic hidden within it. "You've returned."

But then it was gone. Time reformed and Dèlia jumped onto the sidewalk, stumbling over her own feet. Faster than she realized Tatianna scooped her up and avoided the accident, saving her knee from utter demise. "Be careful," She scolded, but her voice was creaky and quickly she cleared her throat. "Come on, let's get ice cream before you hurt yourself more."

They entered the shop with more excitement. Tatianna tried to ignore the fact that some had just spoken in her head (and whoever the hell Vitswèth was), and instead stepped up to order. Surprisingly the shop wasn't all that crowded, and Tatianna was thankful for that. As much as she enjoyed company, she was hoping to just chill with Dèlia.

But again she stopped short, this time for a vastly different reason. She was struck by the woman at the counter. She was small and buxom, with wildly large black hair pulled tightly into what was maybe a bun? The volume of it made it look more like a giant puffball glued onto her head. Two thick, dense braids trailed down over her full chest and cuffs and rings and a necklace of shining silver accentuated her golden skin, riddled without space with freckles. Her nose resembled a button, her lips ample and slicked with vaseline. Her eyes shone like stars in her head, bright blue and purple and black and white all cracked together in a supernova. Everything she wore was black and loose.

That's me. Ellen Marshall.

Narrator's Note:

I'm not vain. I don't brag. I have insecurities just like everybody else.

But I'm beautiful.

It was Délia who spoke, unaffected by me. "I'll have a large, double chocolate caramel swirl with rainbow sprinkles. Tat?" And she turned to Tatianna as I began to scoop out the ice cream.

"Uhh..." Her tongue had turned to sand. "Medium vanilla soft serve, please..."

"Coming right up," I said, sending a smile and a wink at the both of them. Though I'm sure it meant something drastically different to each. Tatianna flushed bright red, and Délia winked back. The shop was silent for a half a minute, all but the hum of the freezer and the one other group of three who chittered in the back corner. Why was it so empty?

"It's the last day for seniors, right?" I spoke up when no one else would. "At the private school down the street," I added, for clarification.

"Yeah," Délia spoke since Tatianna couldn't. "Are you a senior? You look our age."

"I haven't seen you at our school." Tatianna managed. Délia smirked a knowing smirk.

"No, I'm a junior." I handed Délia's cone over and turned around to the soft serve machine, unable to talk for the twenty seconds it took to ooze out the vanilla. "Any toppings?" I asked as I turned around.

"Uh- chocolate jimmies?" She stared at the ground. I smiled and dunked the cup in a good amount of chocolate sprinkles and handed it over the counter. The red spread to her ears when our fingers touched.

"I'm surprised I haven't seen you around." Délia couldn't wipe that smirk off her face, and at this point neither could I. "What's your name?"

"Ellen. Marshall. Yours?" I stepped to the cash register and paused to face them. Desperately I wanted Tatianna to say something to me, anything.

"Uh- Tatianna Forrest."

"Délia Iwayama."

"I'm surprised I don't know you either." Tatianna began again, speaking through her spoonful of vanilla soft serve. "You're- very pretty."

I smiled a beaming smile. "Thank you, you too. It'll be eleven seventy-seven, please."

Délia covered for Tatianna and handed over the cash. "Thanks, Ellen. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day!" I waved as the two of them left, and Tatianna waved back with an impressively retained blush. The two of them sat at one of the many picnic tables outside, and it took a long while before Tatianna managed to speak again. That was also because of the ice cream being shoveled into her mouth.

"She was pretty," Tatianna managed to squeak out finally. Already she had completely forgotten about the voice in her head.

"She's alright." Délia rolled her eyes, fortunately not caught by her friend. "But I saw you were very... Entranced."

"Oh, shut up." She curled her lip, in good fun. "Did you see her? How could I have never seen her in school? She's got one of the most recognizable faces I've ever seen!"

"Yeah, she's freckly."

"Freckly? Her face is like a constellation of stars!"

At that Délia went blank and continued especially determined on her treat. "We should go to your place after this."

Tatianna got the vibe that Délia wasn't all too fond of the starry woman and took a lick of ice cream. "I got GTA finally."

"Oh, lit. There are my evening plans."

They sat there until they finished their ice cream, the sun still beating down on them as time wore on. Cars raced by, mere strips of color, and inside I watched the two carefully. Slowly, without me to distract her, Tatianna remembered and pondered the voice and the Vitswèth. Délia tried not to suspect all that much and instead used her skill in gossip to keep the conversation going.

No one could stop it from happening. Délia knew what my appearance meant. She just didn't particularly like it.

"You done?" Délia sat up, finished with her cone and waiting on Tatianna. She was feeling awfully impatient, more than usual. She didn't want to hang around that area any longer than she had to.

"Yeah," Tatianna handed over her empty cup with one last scrape and stood. "Why're you so acting so weird? Like not yourself. Too quiet."

"Maybe it was the ice cream." She grumbled. "I forgot to take Lactaid pills today, that could do it."

"That would do it." Tatianna swung her keys around her finger and stepped towards the car. "Why do you do this? You know you get sick from dairy, why do you eat it?"

"'Cause sometimes it's worth it. Like ice cream. And Doritos."

"You're ridiculous."

The car started up with a shudder, and again they turned on the stereo max volume. Délia acted normal (her own normal), leaning out the window like a dog and yelling the lyrics to every song that came on and dancing (thrashing) in her seat. Tatianna was back to normal too, scolding her friend for giving her a heart attack every time she leaned out the window too far and laughing anyway. It was the start of summer and the last summer with all her friends at home. She had to hold onto this as long as she could.

It was all bad timing.

Driving home, Tatianna saw yet another premonition. Usually, the visions were at least a few days apart, more likely weeks, and never had she had more than one in a single day. While turning a corner, time and reality evaporated and she saw; A black truck whipped around the other corner, her blindspot, and crashed right into her driver-side door. And again, she heard the voice.

"Vitswèth." That same female voice, long and urgent like a flatline. "Be aware."

It was gone again before she could reply. Time reformed and Tatianna slammed on the brakes, and that truck flew past. Her chest heaved unsteady, trembling breaths and her heart pounded in her ribcage like it never had before.

"FUCK!" Délia screamed and grabbed onto the windowsill before she could go flying. "What the hell was that?"

Tatianna was frozen in her seat. What was going on? Two premonitions, two of the same voice in her head, in her head-

"Tat, what the hell was-" Délia sat back in her seat, turned down the dial and looked to her friend. She saw the paleness on her face, the fear, and confusion and she knew something was wrong. "Tat, Tat look at me dude- Are you okay? What happened?"

A few seconds passed. Lightly as a leaf drifting through the air, Tatianna pressed her foot to the gas pedal and started down the road. Her house was only a few minutes away.

"I'm freaking out, Dee." She managed finally, with a cough. "You know those- visions I told you about? The premonitions?"

"Mm. Yeah."

"I've had two today." She glanced at Délia and sighed. "Not only that, but I heard a voice. The same voice both times. You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"

"No, no I don't think you're crazy." She soothed immediately. "I told you, premonitions aren't that uncommon, it's not a crazy thing."

"No no, but the voice. I heard a voice. It was a woman."

Délia looked around. The coast was clear. "What'd she say?"

"She called me Vitswèth. Twice. The first time she said 'you've returned' or something like that, and just now she said 'be aware'. What the hell does that mean?"

Délia tapped her foot anxiously and shook her head. "Maybe it was just your conscience, telling you to be aware - you did just almost get hit by a truck."

"No. No that's wasn't it." She turned into her little side street. "Because that wouldn't explain the you've returned, and that name she was calling me." She hit the steering wheel with her hand and swore. "I'm freaking out. What the hell is going on?"

"Hey, it's okay. Calm down, really, I'm here." Délia shifted in her seat and turned her head on the headrest to face Tatianna. "We're almost home. What about this-" She sat up quite suddenly, the seat lurching underneath her. "You can't get premonitions like that if nothing wrong is supposed to happen, right? So let's just stay in all night! I can sleepover if that's all good with Candace."

Candace was Tatianna's mother. "Of course it's all right. She'll be home late because of work. But sure. That's an interesting plan."

Outside, the evening had melted away that sense of euphoria and replaced it with a careful sleepiness. Darkness lazily dripped into the sky, painting it a beautiful array of blues and oranges and yellows. The winding side streets were boarded by full blooming trees, adding yet more color to the mix.

Délia unbuckled her seatbelt before they even pulled into the driveway, and leapt out of the car. Tatianna rolled her eyes and followed her, unlocking the door and letting both of them in. Immediately they were met with loud, needy screeches from the cage in the back.

"Oh, geez-" Tatianna kicked her flip-flops off and ran down the hall, into the living room where her cockatoo resided. He flapped his wings and puffed himself up and chewed on the cage. Hastily Tatianna opened it, extended a hand and the bird crawled up her arm to rest on her shoulder like a pirate.

"I'm sorry dear, we stopped for ice cream after school." She apologized, petting his head and walking back to where Délia was throwing her backpack down, at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey Fajro," She greeted the bird, who purred and leaned into her hand like a cat. "Come on, I wanna see that new game."

Together they bounded up the stairs, anxious to just sit and distract themselves from either the premonitions or the impending change. Tatianna set up the game, Fajro the bird pecked around the room, and Délia sat back and clicked her tongue.

There was nothing really to talk about that night. Alex was sleeping over a friend's house too, and Tatianna's mother was out late. So they blasted Délia's rap playlist on Spotify and aggressively played GTA all night. Once or twice Tatianna left to grab snacks - popcorn, potato chips, and big walnuts for Fajro. Fajro was an interesting bird. He's a large Major's Mitchell's cockatoo, almost reddish in color with white accents on his head and chest. Tatianna had had him for as long as she could remember, and spent all her time at home with him.

"Hey, Dee," She only glanced at her friend and laughed when her car went off a rail and flipped. "What do you think that voice was?"

"I don't know- oh-" She hissed as her stolen motorcycle skimmed a truck. "Close one. I don't know, Tat. You can interpret it your own way."

Downstairs, the front door clicked and opened. The two of them hadn't heard Candace's car pull in since the music was so loud, but turned it down as the door slammed shut. Candace slid off her flats and untied her hair before the girl's voices reached her.

"Hey, mom!" Tatianna shouted, pausing their game and standing, stretching. Fajro hopped onto her shoulder and nuzzled her as they descended. "Dee is staying over."

"Okay." She met her daughter with a hug. Fajro transferred onto her shoulder. "Hello, Fajro. Hello, girls. Have you eaten dinner? How was your day? Sorry I got home so late."

"Oh, it's fine," Délia answered. "I've been keeping her out of trouble."

"Good." Candace chuckled and handed the bird back with a final itch of the neck feathers. "You've eaten?"

"Yes, we've eaten." They hadn't really eaten. At least, not dinner. They'd eaten chips and popcorn and nothing humanly sustainable.

"What time is it?"

Délia checked her watch. "Eleven thirty."

"Oh, dear. You two should be going to bed." Candace glanced towards them and frowned. "Please get to bed soon. You two need rest."

"We're seventeen, mom." Tatianna chuckled. "We'll go to bed, though. I'm exhausted."

Délia opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but her nerves got the better of her and she clammed up. A hand slid through her chestnut brown hair and she bit her lip. Tatianna, on the other hand, seemed all too relaxed as she yawned and scratched her wrist. Her eyes drooped under so much strain in front of the tv, and her muscles ached from sitting so long. The lights flickered in the ceiling. Délia flinched.

"Do you mind if we go to bed now, ma?" Tatianna sniffed and stepped down the short hall, moving Fajro from her shoulder to her hand and settling him back into his cage. With a last smile and a kissy noise, she swept the green cover over his cage and looked to her mom. Candace opened a package of chocolate trail mix and shook her head.

"Not at all, honey. Do you or Délia want some tea?" She spun on her heel, opened the cabinet, and looked to her daughter before she grabbed mugs.

"Dee, you want tea?" She called back to where she resided at the stairs. A, "Nah," echoed back and Tatianna added, "Me neither. Night mom."

"Love you, honey!"

"Love you."

The two girls bounded up the stairs with some residing energy. Délia saved and turned off the game while Tatianna set up an air mattress next to her bed. The windows were dark, pitch black and ominous. Tatianna shut the drapes. She hates the dark. Outside, bats shot across the sky like little winged bullets, their black fur glistening momentarily under the moon's light. There were distant clinks of dishware being moved downstairs, Candace unloading the dishwasher. Tatianna tied her long blond hair up in a loose bun, splashed cold water on her face, and brushed her teeth. Over and over she thought, "everything's fine, everything's fine..."

Narrator's Note:

You probably have no idea what Tatianna looks like, do you? Picture peace, living peace;

A waterfall of naturally bleach-blond hair, falling like pale liquid gold over her shoulders. Lightly tanned skin, devoid of freckles or acne or any blemishes at all, perfectly shaped eyebrows and shapely lips. Her eyes were windows into her soul, green like a newly born leaf, a healthy, pure green that filled you with serenity when you looked upon them. And she was tall, the kind of tall that accentuated her thin, muscular legs, a lean abdomen and long arms. She moved like a queen. And she held herself like a goddess.

Tatianna and Délia laid in their beds silently, staring at the ceiling. Tatianna thought about the voice, the voice, while Délia thought about her mission, the change, and trying to figure out what was possibly wrong. Neither of them knew what the other thought. Even thought they were connected.

Tatianna found herself sifting through thoughts, old dusty files she hadn't dug up for years. It brought her deeper and deeper into a sleep, and in that sleep, dreams opened up.

It was nothing like she'd ever seen before. This was no dream, no hidden message, but rather a smoky riddle, brought to her by one she didn't even remember. It was feeling, raw feeling; she could feel the wind and the rain on her skin, the moistness of the air and whipping of her hair around her head. And it was smell, the musky smell of a rainy day, and it was taste, the sticky, phlegmy taste of an unwatered throat. And it was sight.

All around her were people. Her people. They were tall, all of them, at least six and a half feet, and wore nothing but one cloth wrapped around their waists and chests, though they varied in color and intricacy. Hair was the color of gold and silver and shades of deep chestnut and black, and even some a natural navy or red, or a dark green or purple. And there were voices, too. So many voices. Weaving through each other, entering and exiting her thoughts in moments much too short, incessant in their urgency and turning to shouts in her ear as time wore on.

There was something in the sky. It was darker than the word could ever describe, and a darkness so powerful it would bring a grown human to their knees. The inky shadow of it looming over the world carried something close to a cataclysm, stifling any thought of escaping or fighting.

And there was a flood. This flood held the same asphyxiating puissance in it - if the sight of waves taller than skyscrapers didn't do you in first. Together the disaster tied Tatianna in fear, great fear, and her body paralyzed in place. Run, her brain screamed, run, RUN!, but there was no escaping.

"Where is it?" A voice rumbled the earth, deeper than any cavern and more powerful than any gun or bomb Earth possessed. "Where is it?"

Both the floodwater and the great darkness stopped directly in front of Tatianna, just before she started to scream. The people were all gone. They had vanished or were sucked up by some unknown force, and now it was just Tatianna that stood frozen as stone. And slowly, angrily, the black cloud formed into something human. No, not human- by Tatianna's standards she would call it an elf because she had pointed ears and that would be the only thing she would know how to describe her by. And the floodwaters changed too, but Tatianna did not even know what to call this one because though it did not have pointed ears and in shape looked like a human, it was clear it was not. He, or she, or they, had green hair, long and wavy and down to their waist, and the fibers were excessively decked in shells, and seaweed, and pearls. Their skin was tinted aqua, too, and seemed to never settle as solid skin; instead, it shifted just beneath the surface in glowing rivers of blue and green.

But the woman, the darkness... She cannot be described by words in the English language. Suffocating was her presence, choking and airless as space. Her skin was pale, too pale to be living, like a vampire, and her eyes were as silver and glowing as moons. Her hair was long and straight and black as obsidian. She wore a long cloak of black that dragged and on the ground behind her, ragged and stained.

"Vitswéth." She said, her voice shaking the earth. "You have it. Give it to me."

She stepped forward a bit, after receiving no answer, and at that little bit of movement Tatianna broke from her daze and stepped back. "Get away from me! What are you talking about? What's going on? Where am I?"

The green one chuckled and bared sharpened teeth. "Funny girl."

"I will not answer these questions." The woman crawled closer and closer, her cloak grasping at the ground like mangled fingers. "Where is it? Answer me, girl!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Tatianna barked and stumbled back against the cobblestone, falling backward and hitting her elbow. With a groan, she edged back farther, as far away as she could from those silver eyes.

In an instant, the sky flashed a bright blinding white. Everything evaporated around Tatianna, all but the stone beneath her and the pain in her elbow. The woman in black screamed and turned to dust, the green one snarling and following suit. Tatianna was trembling as she sat up. Never had she had a dream like this. Never had she felt such real pain, such raw sight and feeling and smell and taste in her sleep.

"Vitswéth," The voice said, the same voice from before, echoing like a bell through the empty courtyard. "Vitswéth, oh Vitswéth."

Her jaw shook as she spoke. "Who- who are you?"

A pause. That simple pause resonated such a mournful sorrow, such a deep regret, that Tatianna sunk deeper into the stone. "I suppose... You should not remember. Not yet. They say I am not allowed to show my face yet, either. My dear," Her pace picked up considerably as if she remembered something she was supposed to say. "My dear, Vitswéth, be aware. Be aware and be well. You will return to me soon."

Tatianna woke in a cold sweat. So many thoughts raced through her mind that she thought she'd have a heart attack, but there was one that stuck out so much more than the others:

Her elbow hurt.

#My writing #fantasy #aoe

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murkymuse · 7 years

Text

Title: Having The Faith To Soar

Fandom: Yuri On Ice

Ships: Gen

AO3, Previous

Chapter Two - Practice, Practice, Practice

Hello! I’m Vera Kotova, a self-taught amateur skater. Through an unlikely twist of chance, THE Yuri Plisetsky saw me skating and was impressed enough to call his coach! Now I’ve been whisked away to St. Petersburg so I can train under one of Coach Feltsman’s associates. Meanwhile, the Grand Prix Series continues with the Cup of China! I can’t wait to see Yuri skate again!

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Vera groaned and rolled over to reach for her noisy phone on the nightstand. The screen glared with a notification: Ballet Practice. Vera practically rolled out of bed and turned the alarm off.

Ever since moving to St. Petersburg, she had a very strict schedule to keep. Six mornings a week she had alternating physical training and ballet practice. Of course, she had school after morning practice five days a week. Her favorite time of day was the afternoon when she was able to practice ice skating.

“You might have some potential but you currently lack a solid foundation to build on,” Coach Feltsman had told her, “If you want to seriously compete, training needs to become your life.”

What else did she have in life anyway? A dead father and a mother that barely paid attention to her. Vera would gladly throw her body and soul into the only thing she did have: ice skating.

So, while her sore body longed to sleep another hour or two, Vera quickly got ready and left for the ballet studio. As she exited the apartment building, the sounds of the city – cars, people, seagulls – invaded her ears. The tall buildings and crowded streets were vastly different from the sparse town she’d lived in up until now. It was still a little overwhelming; she hadn’t yet felt comfortable wandering outside her bubble of apartment-gym-ballet studio-school-ice rink.

Maybe if she asked nicely when the season was over Yuri would go with her to explore the city? He did say he’d check in on her progress, even if he hadn’t been specific on when. But with the Cup of China quickly approaching and then the Grand Prix Finals after that… Then Nationals and then World’s… Vera wasn’t expecting to see Yuri Plisetsky again any time soon.

That was okay. She’d work really hard so that next time saw him, he wouldn’t regret giving her this chance.

Vera’s drifting thoughts cut off as she pushed the door open and entered the ballet studio.

The rink was strangely empty and quiet when Vera got there. She checked her phone and realized that she’d somehow managed to arrive a good fifteen minutes early. It was still unusual because this rink was typically open to the public right before the skating class. Maybe someone had booked it earlier?

Vera shrugged, not caring about the specifics, and went to put on her skates (that they were truly hers and not rentals still made her grin). She hadn’t gotten a chance to skate alone in weeks. There was no way she wasn’t going to take advantage of the empty rink.

As she skated out onto the ice, she put her earbuds in and stuffed her phone in her pocket.

Sic mea vita est temporaria, cupit ardenter caritatem aeternam

Vera hadn’t attempted skating Agape since moving to the city. Now she felt a difference in her skating. Her balance was even more stable; her motions were both more fluid and precise. She smiled softly before going into her first jump.

The sound and feel of blades against the ice as she made a perfect landing was beautiful and thrilling. Feeling even more confident, she continued to flow with the music.

Once she and the music came to a still, Vera blinked and realized that she’d gathered a small audience. Coach Lebedeva was standing rinkside with a bemused expression. A few of Vera’s rinkmates were there as well; their faces filled with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. One girl, who had her hair in a high ponytail, had her phone held up to take a video.

“Um…”

Vera’s cheeks felt a little warm; and, she wasn’t sure what to say. However, her rinkmates broke the silence for her.

“That was so cool!”

“I didn’t know you could land an axel!”

“How long did it take you to learn that?”

“Thanks. I first managed it about six months ago. And a few years,” she managed to answer.

Before anyone could say more, Coach Lebedeva clapped her hands to get their attention. “Alright everyone, stretch and get your stakes on. And, Anya, don’t post that video online without Vera’s permission.”

Anya guiltily put her phone down, shooting an apologetic smile, and then went to get her skates on.

Once the rest of her rinkmates joined Vera on the ice, Anya skated up to her, “Some of us are watching the Cup of China at my house later. Do you want to come?”

Vera wanted to say that she’d go but the words got stuck in her throat.

“…I can’t. I have to finish a project for school,” she lied.

“Oh, maybe next time.”

“Yeah.”

The awkward pause was broken as Coach Lebedeva instructed them into edge drills. As it could be expected from a group of pre-teens, the class was an organized chaos. Students laughed and joked while skating in every direction; and, the coach would call out corrections or glide over to help when someone was struggling. Despite all that, practice always seemed to go by quickly to Vera. Soon enough her rinkmates were heading off the ice. When Vera didn’t follow them, the coach gave her a look but said nothing. Vera took that as permission to continue and stretched into the Biellmann position again.

As parents arrived to pick up her rinkmates, she tried not to pay them any attention. However, it was impossible to completely block out the drifting chatter.

“Anya,” the voice was soft and sweet, “How many of your friends are coming?”

Anya listed off half the class. Excited giggles echoed across the room as Anya’s mother began ushering the group toward the door. Vera frowned as she switched the positions of her legs and went into a spin.

It was only after all her rinkmates had left that Coach Lebedeva’s called out, “That’s enough for today. If you practice much longer, you’ll miss the men’s short programs.”

Since the Cup of China didn’t start for another hour, Vera figured the coach was just saying that because she wanted to leave but couldn’t with a student still on the ice.

“I’m coming,” she replied as she skated off the rink.

That Seung-gil guy was about finished with his short program; the crowd cheering as the commentators exclaimed in excitement over the flawless combination he just landed. It was at that exact moment reality suddenly hit Yuri like a freight train.

“Yuri,” Yakov’s voice was distant, “Come on. You’re up next.”

He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. The ground seemed oddly distant and blurred as well.

“Yuri?” A hand lightly placed on his shoulder. Lilia. “What’s wrong?”

Wrong?

Grandpa had rarely been able to come to his competitions but he always watched them on tv. Now, for the first time since Yuri moved up to the Senior division, Grandpa wasn’t sitting at home with the tv on to watch him skate.

A sob was building in the back of his throat. Yuri bit it back as a kernel of molten anger settled in the pit of his stomach. He absolutely refused to breakdown here and now! He could get through this! He could get out there and give one hell of a performance!

He just needed to move.

“Yura.”

He glanced around until his eyes found Otabek. His friend’s expression was as stoic as ever but Yuri knew him well enough read between the lines. There was no pity found in Otabek’s gaze, just the certainty that no matter what Yuri would give it his all. That he would soldier through.

“Davai.”

Yuri took a deep breath and then gave Otabek a thumbs up.

“It’s time,” Yakov said.

Yuri nodded and began walking toward the rink. He had a medal to win.

The next night found Yuri kicking the locker room wall and muttering insults under his breath. He honestly didn’t mind losing gold to Otabek but he lost silver to Seung-gil?! What the hell?!

“Between the gold from France and this bronze, your spot at the finals is secure,” Yakov stated from behind him, “You’ll do better there.”

Yuri glared at an invisible point. “I will.”

Hours later Yuri knocked on a hotel door. It took a minute for it to open and reveal Otabek. Seeing Yuri, he opened the door wider and shifted aside. Yuri walked right in and immediately sprawled on the couch.

“I’ve sat on more comfortable benches.”

Otabek simply nodded before nudging Yuri so that he’d make room. Yuri grumbled but complied. Then Otabek just waited for the rant he knew was coming.

“Yakov didn’t even lecture me! He always lectures me after I skate!”

“He’s trying to be sensitive.”

“Well, it’s weird! I don’t want him tip-toeing around me!”

Otabek hummed in response.

“It’s bad enough that Katsudon and Viktor keep calling to check on me,” he continued with a grimace, “Bleh! I swear if Lilia goes easy on me when we get back to St. Petersburg I’ll kick someone.”

Otabek’s mouth tugged up ever so slightly, unnoticeable to everyone but those that knew him best.

“Not Lilia,” he said.

Yuri gave him an incredulous look. “Hell no! I don’t have a death wish!”

There was a beat of quiet as his word choice sank in. Then Yuri rolled off the couch and ended up face down on the floor.

“The carpet is more comfortable than that stupid couch. Someone should complain to the hotel.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it,” Otabek replied, his voice so flat that it was impossible to tell if he were joking or not.

“Good.” Yuri pushed himself back up and leaned against the couch. “We’re still going to Beijing Zoo before the exhibition show tomorrow, right.”

Otabek nodded. “You’d disown me if I tried to back out.”

“Damn right I would.” His eyes suddenly went wide like he remembered something important. “Oh! Watch this.”

Yuri then pulled out his phone and swiped until he found the video he wanted. Otabek leaned over Yuri’s shoulder as he started the video. It was of a young girl skating with familiar movements.

“The kid you mentioned?”

“Yeah. Yakov’s friend sent the video yesterday,” Yuri answered, “Would you believe she’s only been formally training for less than two months?”

Otabek watched to the end before replying, “Then she has overwhelming natural talent.”

“Right!”

The students were gathering their things and trailing out the door when Vera’s phone started playing Allegro Appassionato in B minor. The teacher gave her a disapproving look but couldn’t say anything since it was time to leave. Vera stuck her tongue out once the teacher glanced away. She then unlocked her phone to see a text:

Vera let out an excited noise that earned her a few odd looks from her classmates. She didn’t notice though as she quickly gathered her stuff and zipped up her coat. Then she was out the door.

The air outside was chill; and, the ground was damp from it drizzling earlier in the day. Vera’s breath turned to mist as she glanced around. It didn’t take long to spot Yuri. He was leaning against the fence with his hoodie pulled over his head and scrolling through his phone.

“Yuri!”

He looked up as she sprinted over to him.

“Didn’t you just get back from China? I watched your programs!”

“We got back a few days ago,” he replied, “Come on. Yakov will yell if we’re late.”

Yuri began walking down the sidewalk; and, Vera had to practically jog to keep up with his long strides. She filled the walk with questions about his trip. While Yuri was happy to answer general questions about China, his replies about the competition itself were short and sharp. Vera fell silent after a few minutes.

It didn’t take much longer for the building to come into sight; its sign had ‘Sports Champions Club’ spelled out around the flag. There were a few people milling outside the entrance but they weren’t dressed to skate or workout. Yuri suddenly stopped in his tracks. Vera stopped a step later and looked back at him questioningly.

“Da-” He glanced at Vera and made an annoyed sound. “Tch. Can’t the reporters let me train in peace.”

Since they had yet to notice him, Yuri grabbed Vera’s hand and started walking.

“We’ll sneak past them and go through the back.”

He led her around the side of the building to an ‘employees only’ door. Either someone had left it unlocked or it’d been purposely left that way for this situation. Whichever reason, they were able to get inside without any issues.

Once they’d passed through a storage area, they entered the main lobby. Vera blinked as she took everything in. It was large but not overly crowded; just a few employees going about their work and a group of men with hockey shirts talking to each other. An employee greeted Yuri and gave Vera a curious look but everyone else ignored them.

They entered the rink then. Only Mila (THE Mila Babicheva!) was on the ice, spinning and jumping as she practiced what Vera recognized as her short program for the season.

“Woah.”

“There you are!” Coach Feltsman shouted.

Yuri joined his coach by the ice, while Vera trailed behind him. He began stretching as he replied, “There are reporters out front again.”

“It’s because you refused interviews after the Cup of China.”

“They can stay out of it,” he replied darkly.

“You won’t be able to dodge them forever.”

Vera, feeling a little lost by their argument, went back to watching Mila skate. How cool was it that she would be sharing a rink with both Yuri Plisetsky AND Mila Babicheva, if only for a day?

Mila’s short program practice run soon ended. She glided over and grabbed a water bottle, listening while Coach Feltsman critiqued. However, she soon spotted Vera and leaned over the rink wall.

“So this is the little kitten you’ve adopted, Yuri,” she said with a wide grin.

Vera blinked. “Kitten?”

“Shut up, hag!”

“I can still lift you.”

Yuri groaned in annoyance. Mila turned back to Vera.

“What’s your name?”

“Vera Kotova.”

“Kotova, huh?” She laughed. “See, she is a kitten.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and went to put on his skates, grumbling all the while. Mila continued smiling after him.

“…Um,” Vera said as she tapped Mila’s arm to get her attention, “You’re my favorite female skater.”

Mila stared at her a moment before shouting, “Yuri! Yakov! We’re keeping her!”

Yakov just shook his head at his students’ antics. “Mila, work on that step sequence again. Yuri, warm up.”

Mila returned to skating, while Yuri finished lacing his skates and went to the opposite side of the rink. Vera stood there not sure what she should do until Coach Feltsman snapped at her.

“What are you waiting for? Stretch and then get your skates on.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

It wasn’t long before she too was on the ice, working on basic drills before she moved on to practicing her jumps. Maybe it was because she had been watching Yuri and Mila practice out of the corner of her eye but a thought suddenly popped into her mind: What if she tried a double?

With that idea urging her on, Vera jumped higher and spun faster. A full rotation… 540 degrees… a full 720 degrees! Vera’s heart leapt in excitement for a split second. Then her blade landed wrong. She tried to counter-balance but it was too late. She hit the ice with a solid thump.

“Ow.”

The sound of blades gliding to a stop echoed in her ear. When Vera looked up, both Yuri and Mila were staring down at her in mild concern.

“I’m okay,” she said as she scrambled up.

“Vera!” Coach Feltsmen yelled from the side of the rink, “Have you been given permission to start practicing doubles yet?”

Vera glanced down guilty. “…No.”

The coach’s frown deepened, while Mila snickered.

“You fit right in.”

Vera blushed at the compliment.

“You botched the landing because your foot was angled sloppily,” Yuri commented.

She nodded and then glanced back over at Coach Feltsman with pleading eyes. “Can I try again?”

He stared at her a moment before answering, “We might as well see if you can manage a half decent double salchow before practice is over.”

#Murky writes stuff #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky #yoi fanfic

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