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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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Like The Stars Hold The Moon

Written By : @katnissmellarkkkk

Prompt 59 : "Katniss dad is a victor, he won his hunger games and is a mentor. Peeta is reaped for the games and Katniss begs her dad to help him win the games. [submitted by anonymous]“

Hi! It feels like there’s so much I need to say here and I can’t remember any of it now! This is obviously–if you read the summary, which I assume you did and that’s why you’re here hahaha–an EFE prompt. It was submitted by an anonymous person, so I don’t know specifically if this is what you wanted but I really hope this is good enough that you’ll be fulfilled?

I don’t think there is much more to say? I hope everyone who reads this has a good day! I wrote plenty of this on Easter so I’d like to thank Jesus for rising again. And I feel like the prompt alone is a sufficient summary but just so you know, this heavily features Katniss, Peeta (obvi), Haymitch and Katniss’ father, Hunter (I named him, that’s not canon, I know).

This fic I likely going to be a three-shot with an opportunity for a sequel three-shot. Oh and also, thank you to the anon who sent the prompt!

Oh and this got really long, so I’m just going to submit the first part on here and then I’ll add a link at the bottom to continue reading on AO3. I’ve never done this before so I don’t know if I’m doing it right?

Okay, if you read all my talking, bye now!

Rated T for the canon violence.

At the reaping for the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, Matty Knick drew out the names of a ”very special boy“ and ”a very special girl“ from the reaping bowls. She read them off in a bright voice and matched the sentiment with an out of place perky smile. The girl’s name was Heather Branch.

And the boy’s was Hunter Everdeen.

Of course, everyone knows the story of Hunter Everdeen.

Year of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games.

"So Hunter,” Caesar Flickerman leans toward the victor, absolutely electrified, and says, “tell us, tell us. How excited are you for the games this year?”

The camera focuses in on gray eyes, the color of a storm cloud or a cleanly polished knife. Dangerous and hard and cunning.

Or protective and frightful and angry.

Or warm and loving and kind.

“I’m about as excited as I always am, Caesar,” he shoots back, not a trace of even so much as a smirk on his face. Not even so much as a lift from the corner of his mouth.

And still, the crowd of Capitol idiots burst out in laughter, as if they just heard the funniest joke in the world, as if this was Hunter’s desired response to the words.

As if the conversation wasn’t about teenagers—and some as young as twelve—killing other teenagers.

“And what about you, Haymitch?” Caesar asks next, segueing from one aggravated man to another.

“I’m looking forward to the free drinks,” Haymitch says while tipping back dark gold colored liquid into his mouth. Almost as an afterthought, he gestures wide and sloppy to the crowd, igniting cacophonous sounds from the population once more. “And of course, the social interaction with all you lovely people.”

No one in the audience recognizes the insult. No one understands the blatant sarcasm at their expense.

Here in District Twelve though, we do. As exemplified by Peeta’s laugh, vibrating against my back. “Shh,” I hush, laser focused on the enormous television screen before us.

“Daddy’s not speaking anymore,” Prim reminds me from the other room, where she’s currently flipping through a magazine our father sent.

“Well, be quiet before he does,” I snap, elbowing Peeta when he rolls his eyes now. “Stop it, I haven’t seen him in weeks,” I complain, fixing him with a fierce glare.

“I know,” he murmurs agreeably, gently kissing my temple. “But he’ll be home in a few days.”

As if they could hear our exchange from inside the television box, Caesar turns his attention back to my father. “Hunter, how excited are you to get home to District Twelve?”

At that, his eyes genuinely light up with ferocity. “I’m counting the minutes,” he replies, but still manages to keep his tone cool. He adamantly refuses to give away his true emotion to even a single soul in the Capitol. It’s his way of withholding power from their greedy, glitter covered hands.

But I see the change in him. Prim, from her position against the doorframe, sees it. I’m positive my mother, who’s watching with our brother from the comfort of our house sees it as well.

Our father’s eyes are now alive again, the permanent frown his mouth resides in on every televised appearance loosens a bit, his brows aren’t knit so closely together any longer.

Caesar Flickerman sees the change too evidently.

“Look at those silver coins!” He bellows, gesturing for the cameras to put my father in a close up now. “They just lit up like the stars when talking about home. Tell me, Hunter Everdeen, how’s the family back in District Twelve?”

At that, my father makes a considerable effort to transform his entire expression into a mask of indifference. “They’re good,” he states evenly, his tone clipped. Making it blatant to even the airheaded Capitol citizens that he refuses to speak publicly about his family.

“Because you’re not property of the Capitol, baby,” he told me once, while on a walk in the woods. “You’re not anyone’s property.”

“What about you and mommy?”

“You’re our responsibility, but not our property.” He’d knelt down to my height, which happened to be the shortest in my second grade class. “Property implies ownership, Katniss. And no one owns you. No one owns you or your sister. Remember that for me. And never let yourself forget it.”

“You’re daughters are both old enough for the reaping, am I right?” Caesar presses further, and my sister and I automatically sigh. Knowing the response that’s bound to come.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks, as he still remains completely clueless. I shake my head instead of offering an explanation though, leaning further into his chest.

Peeta won’t understand. He was raised in town by merchants—the owners of the bakery, to be specific. He’s never understood the fierce protectiveness, the instantaneous fury, the irrational tunnel vision, that appears when a victor’s child is mentioned entering the games.

Peeta’s never even met my father. I’m not impatient by any stretch of the imagination to put the two of them in the same room, to watch my father chew my boyfriend up and devour him alive, to abide by his rules and regulations that will surely come with dating.

He doesn’t know Peeta and I have even so much as shaken hands. I’ve never so much as left him even the slightest hint. Not even when I’ve accompanied him to the bakery for the occasional trade with Peeta’s father, the baker himself.

Like both Prim and I predicted, our father is now on edge, his breathing uneven and his nostrils flaring. “Yes. Both my girls are of age,” he says after a long beat, his tone hard and jagged.

Caesar though is either oblivious or is extraordinarily practiced at appearing obtuse. “Well, wouldn’t it be something if either of them were chosen for the games? Am I right?” He directs his questions to the audience. “Don’t we all love a family story?” His words elicit cheers and hollers and a murderous glint in my father’s silver eyes. The camera only catches it for a moment’s time before quickly flitting away, towards the much more enjoyable image of the Captiolites chattering like chipmunks at the very idea.

And suddenly I feel Peeta’s arm tighten around me, the vision of me—the only person in the world he’s certain that he loves—being taken away from our home here in Twelve and tossed into an arena with kids twice her size, too much for even his naïve mind.

“Don’t we all believe in Mr. Everdeen,” the talk show host continues to push and I feel my typical annoyance with the odd man bleed into anger. “I mean, he brought home Mr. Abernathy here.” And with one single hand gesture from Caesar, the entire interview’s focus re-centers on Haymitch.

And unlike my father, he doesn’t even miss a beat before replying.

“Barely,” he mutters with a last swig of his drink, cleaning the glass. “And he was stingy with the gifts.”

Next to him, my father relaxes a bit. Haymitch always brings out a bit of levity in him, even on his worst days.

After all, in my father’s eyes, the paunchy drunk is a symbol of hope.

Haymitch is the only person my father’s ever brought him. He’s the only other living victor inside the confines of Twelve.

Not to mention his closest friend.

And my surrogate uncle, I note, a bit ironically. Haymitch and I have a far different relationship than he has with anyone else in my family but he’s always been there, has known me since the day I was born, often has dinner at our house, rain or shine, no matter how much he annoys my mother, and he’s an irreplaceable member of my family.

The audience is still riled up from Haymitch and howling with laughter—a bit too much, in my opinion—but my father can’t let the subject of his children go before adding one last sentiment.

“Don’t worry, Caesar. If either of my girls are reaped, trust me,” he states, louder and far more pronounced than anything else he’s said the entire interview. “They will be the victor. There’s not a tribute in the arena that would survive against my girl.”

For as long as I can remember, my father had taken me to the woods. He sometimes claims the first time he looked down at me in my mother’s arms, at a mere two days old, he saw a familiar hunger in my eyes.

Not a hunger for food. District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest in the country of Panem, but luckily, my family is one of the richest.

Unlike my schoolmates, I’ve never once had to worry about having enough to eat for lunch. My parents never worried that we’d starve to death or that Prim and I could be taken from their grasp by authorities. They never worried about supplying us with whatever we needed—they gave us more than we ever could have wanted—and they never had to fret that we’d be sent to the mines for work one day.

No, we were far too wealthy and far too famous for any of that.

But my parents had a far different batch of worries to keep them up at night. Not about food or finances or anything remotely common in Twelve.

No, they had to worry about cameras peaking into the privacy of our home and photos being taken without our knowledge and my face or Prim’s face being splashed across every magazine and newspaper in the country.

They worried about the almost insatiable thirst the Capitol seems to have for more family dynamics among the victors.

Especially after the recent back-to-back sibling victories led the hunger games to higher ratings and revenues in the Capitol.

When I was a child, my mother coached me to never go into town without my father by my side. Which sounds easy enough, until my father’s extensive vacations to the Capitol are taken into consideration. For as long as I can remember, my father would leave at random stretches of time, for weeks on end. To go play puppet for a population so dumb, so completely isolated from the rest of the country, that they took his anger for sarcasm. They took his bite as charm. They believed his glare was an act, was part of his appeal, when in reality my father had rebelled against performing for the last twenty-seven years.

When he was gone, our lives became strict. Bedtimes came earlier, curtains remained drawn day in and day out, our mother never wanted to sing or dance or even so much as smile with her husband gone.

But when he was home, sunshine peaked in our windows again. It danced on the floor and it swept us away with its gentle affection.

There was music and laughter and sweets and toys. He never returned from the Capitol empty-handed. He brought back expensive jewels for our mother, he built me and Prim a fancy treehouse in the backyard, put up a large, golden swing-set, went as far as purchasing as many cakes and breads as he could hold from the Mellark Bakery.

Peeta’s parents bakery.

Since I was two, further back than I can even retain, my father would take me out to the woods, would hold my hand and tell me old stories of District Twelve’s past, detail insane urban legends, teach me about plants and berries and trees and the direction of the wind.

And for as long as I can remember, I idolized him. He was so confident and so charismatic and so kind. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. It felt like an honor to me that I received far more his end of the gene line than my mother’s. She was regarded as a beauty in her youth, but he was one of the most magnificent people in the country. Having his coloring and the same silver eyes felt like a special gift, awarded every single time someone marveled at how similar we appear.

But my father was gone often and the unpredictable lengths of his stays in the large, foreign city was one of the only constants my family ever knew. So it really came as no surprise when my mother phoned the cabin only minutes after Caesar’s interview was over.

“I’ll get it,” Prim says flatly after a moment, throwing a sardonic glance at me and Peeta on the couch. Now in a much different entanglement than we had been while watching the talk-show.

“Thanks,” I murmur unintelligibly against Peeta’s mouth, before closing my eyes in pleasure.

“Don’t strain yourselves,” she can’t stop herself from tacking on the end.

“We’ll try not to while you’re still here,” Peeta murmurs cheekily, moving his lips downwards, towards my neck, right onto my pulse point. I let out a somewhat ridiculous squeak in response.

“Hello?” Prim says lightly into the receiver, already knowing it’s our mother. No one else calls this phone, inside this hidden cabin, located in the woods surrounding Twelve.

The woods in which officials fenced off years ago. The woods in which it’s illegal to enter. The woods in which my father has taken me to hunt for families less fortunate than ours since I was a small infant.

It’s not a typical cabin found in the outskirts of Twelve. No, ordinarily a cabin out here—a cabin anywhere in Panem, really—is nothing more than a broken down shack. There’s normally nothing other than an unsteady foundation, a freezing damp floor and an unlit fireplace.

But somewhere along the lines, in the years before I was born, my parents resurrected this place from the depths of despair and expanded it, rebuilt it, refurnished and redecorated and turned it into a vast, warm, safe second home for all of us to run away to when we felt the need.

Prim listens into the receiver for a long moment before she sighs deeply and beckons me. “Katniss, can you?”

Instantly, I break away from Peeta’s embrace, cupping his face and pulling him back from my collarbone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I scramble off the couch, my anxiety abruptly spiked. “Did something happen?” I search Prim’s eyes as I take the phone from her but, to my utter relief, all I find there is blatant, unmasked disappointment.

I already know what my mother is going to say before I put the phone to my ear. “Hi?”

“Hi, honey,” she murmurs, her voice both strained and higher than typical. Which indicates she’s trying to put up a front for us right now, when she’d rather be moping in bed. “Your father just called. Evidently Effie Trinket informed him he has more scheduled commitments to fulfill before he can come home.”

I deflate, already prepard, knowing this was coming. Isn’t it always coming inadvertently? My father has never been home when he was scheduled to be in my life. No matter the holiday, the birthday, the emergency or event, the Capitol demands that they comes first to him. Not even my birth could upstage his commitments. He wasn’t allowed to return home to Twelve, to meet his firstborn child, until his press events were done and over with.

It’s no wonder he refuses to put on show for those people.

“Okay,” I mumble after a moment, not even convinced my mother is even still there on the other end.

“It’ll be alright,” she says, as positively as she can. “He’ll be home as soon.”

“Yeah.” I try and fail miserably to match her tone. I inherited my father’s ability to act. Or inability, that is.

There’s the faint sound of crying in the background, and my heart aches a bit. “I’m sorry, honey, I have to go check on Archer,” she apologizes as a way of saying goodbye.

I make my way into the kitchen as soon as we hang up. Prim is standing by the counter, staring at the same magazine our father sent three weeks ago.

Peeta comes up behind me then, his hand rubbing my back in comforting circles. “Your father delayed again?”

I nod silently, as my eyes focused on my little sister now. She’s trying her best to hold back the upset that’s threatening to take over.

And without hesitation, my instincts to protect my family from anything and everything painful kick in. “Prim, it’s okay. It’s probably only going to be another week before he’s back,” I console, stepping closer to her small frame and touching her back.

It’s all the initiation she needs before spinning around into my arms and clinging onto me tight. “He’s never around,” she cries into my neck—I’m not much taller than her—as her shoulders shake with tears.

I feel Peeta’s eyes on me, measuring my reaction to Prim’s words. He’s heard me cry the same thing time and time again, he knows the familiarity of this scene better than anyone should.

“He tries his best, Prim,” I whisper thickly into her long, blonde hair. She’s fair and light, like our mother. Like a merchant or peacekeeper. Looking at my little sister, you’d never consider her to be the daughter of a man from the Seam.

But you’d easily believe that she was a girl raised in Victor’s Village and I suppose that’s what counts. Where we were raised and not where we could have been, if things had gone different.

“He’s never really going to be ours though,” she weeps and I don’t have words to comfort her now. Because she’s right.

Our father will always belong to the Capitol, first and foremost.

And not even his children can upstage that.

Prim leaves not long later, to head home to Victor’s Village and more than likely curl up with our mother for the night. They’ve both always been so alike, so much softer and more hopeful than me. I half expect every trip of our father’s to double in time, if not triple. After a lifetime of disappointments, I can’t help but prepare myself.

It’s not that they’re weak for believing. It’s that I have too much Hunter Everdeen in me. I have too much pessimism crawling inside my bones to ever fully trust that he’s really coming home until he’s already stepped off the train in Twelve.

Too many hours of my childhood were spent, wearing fancy stockings and warm, fur-lined coats, standing at the train station, only to welcome a load of cargo and no father in sight. Too many times were phone calls answered in tears. Too many night spent crying, clinging to my father’s hunting jacket, so disoriented by the hazardous schedule in which our lives were ran, waiting for my father to phone, waiting for him to walk through the front door, waiting for him to sneak up on us in the middle of the night or pull us from class on a school day.

That was the true constant in my life. Waiting for my father to finally come home, knowing every moment we shared was on borrowed time. Knowing that he’d never truly belong to us. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to hear my mother’s bedroom door slam and lock, waiting to hear Prim cry or Archer wail, waiting to see that defeated glint in my father’s slate gaze.

I close the cabin door behind my sister now, knowing with confidence that she’ll make it home alright, even with the sun currently setting in the faded blue sky.

Our father never took Prim hunting like he did me, never brought her out to the woods and taught her to shoot a bow and arrow, never showed her how to trap and kill an animal. But even still, the path from the cabin to our home in Victor’s Village is imprinted in our brains, like a birthmark or tattoo. We’d be able to find our way to and from, even if we were sleepwalking.

As would Peeta. Considering this is the place he spends the majority of his time.

Considering this cabin may as well be his permanent address.

And if it weren’t illegal, it very well might be, I think to myself wryly as I walk over to where he’s leaning against the doorframe now.

“Hello,” I greet again, hopping onto my tiptoes and kissing his lips lightly.

He grasps my hips, smiling against my mouth. “Don’t you have to get home too?” He hesitantly asks, his desire to keep me here bleeding through every caress of his fingers, as they trail underneath my loose shirt, sliding upwards and causing an electric current to ripple through the core of my body.

But I just shake my head at his inquiry, moving my mouth from his to kiss down the side of his face, underneath his jawline.

“Mmm,” he moans after a long moment, before suddenly putting a few more inches between us. “Are you sure your mother won’t miss you?”

Peeta’s always been considerate of my mother. Too considerate sometimes, if I do say so myself. Bordering on obsessive.

He is obsessed with keeping her approval, with never crossing any invisible line, with never even so much as mildly exasperating her.

I suppose it’s only natural though. She is the only parental figure he has in his life.

I’ve never been too enthusiastic to introduce him to my father and he’s never pushed the issue too far. Hunter Everdeen is a practical legend around Twelve—and beloved across the entirety of Panem—but he’s the reason, I’ve always privately felt, that I was isolated from all my classmates.

Sure, I’m already not the most friendly person to start with, in anyone’s book. As Haymitch never hesitates to tell me. But there was already very little chance of me making friends in school anyway. Being the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games’ child dropped the chances of play-dates or sleepovers drastically. My father trusts no one. Not with his children.

And I didn’t mind for the most part. I’m too like him to enjoy people much anyway. This whole notion was much harder on Prim, who adored her fellow classmates and easily endeared herself to them as well. But no matter how darling my little sister may be, nothing changed our father’s mind and when he was set on something, it was practically written in stone.

I can’t even imagine how Peeta must feel, having to live in fear for the entire last year of our little secret being exposed. I may be nervous about how my father will react, but Peeta has to be outright petrified.

“My mother will be fine,” I murmur, rolling my eyes as I lean back against the wall now. “She’s got Prim and Archie to keep her sane until my father’s home.”

Peeta chuckles at me, a mirthful smile in his eyes. “And you got me,” he teases, tapping my nose with his finger.

I giggle in a way I withheld until Prim left. I wasn’t about to give her ammunition to mock me later on. “All to myself,” I add, matching his expression now. “For unlimited hours of the day.”

“That’s my girl, looking on the bright side.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s me.” I’m the exact opposite of an optimist. I prefer expecting the worse and setting expectations low. Maybe it’s a learned behavior but, at least that way, I’m not crushed like my mother when things don’t pan out the way I want.

Peeta mistakes the look on my face to be one of hidden disappointment. “You’re father will be home soon, sweetheart. They can’t keep him in the Capitol forever.”

“Can’t they?” I mumble, not expecting an answer. Before he can offer one—because Peeta is nothing if not a fixer—I quickly segue to a new topic. “Where do you think you’ll go when my father does come home?”

He just shrugs the question off though, completely unbothered. “Anywhere but home,” he says simply, his stunning blue eyes clear as the sky they remind me of.

“Anywhere but there,” I agree, my smile twisting into a grimace.

A year ago, when I was barely fifteen, President Snow—Panem’s true Gamemaker, my father always said—demanded every victor extend their stay in the Capitol, even after the games ended that year. He gave no outright reason and my father was cagey to speak on the subject, but in the end, the president’s word was law and there was no room for argument. President Snow can demand of us whatever he wishes.

It was a cold, dreary autumn that year, with early snowfall, which was the leading cause to the significant increase in accidents and injuries. My mother, the born healer, had more patients than she could handle, and even while training Prim as her assistant, she required my help. I was to head to town and purchase a list of herbs from the apothecary shop her parents still owned. The people who disowned her, who had little to no interest in her after she married a man from the Seam, victor or not. The people who never cared to meet their own grandchildren, to acknowledge our existence even as we passed right by their shop, in their plain sight.

I was dragging my feet the entire walk there, already with a sour taste in my mouth, when I heard the loudest wail my ears had every registered. When I heard sharp words being screamed out, when the sound of a boy sobbing filled the air.

And my instincts took over, my every sense focused on finding the hurt and helping them, altogether forgoing the trip for my mother’s herbs.

I followed the commotion to the bakery’s backdoor. Right through the open threshold, it was crystal clear, the baker’s wife—the witch, as many of the kids at school referred to her—had beaten her youngest son senselessly.

He’s in my year, I’d realized abruptly, staring with an agape mouth at his bloody face. His eye was swelling and his nose and lip were smeared scarlet and the only thing that crossed my mind at first, was I recognized him as the blonde boy with the colorful notebook, who could never meet my eyes and always wore long sleeves.

Of course, I snapped out of the daze after only a moment. The witch turned and caught sight of me, snapping that no Seam brat was going to get any free handouts from her and to scatter before she called the Peacekeepers.

Something about the unmasked prejudice against the Seam, a place where people in Twelve had next to nothing and were seen as lesser than the merchants, jolted me into action.

“Get your hand off him!” I’d demanded, using my entire body weight, just as my father taught me, to push the door open as she tried to close it in my face. “Let him go or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

At that, I heard an ugly laugh and the door flew open again, my exerted force throwing it back into the wall.

“I’m serious, child,” she snaps, her blue eyes narrow and her mouth in a snide smirk. “I will call the Peacekeepers to remove you from my shop-”

I didn’t even let her finish. I wasn’t one to be messed with. Not when I just witnessed something awful firsthand, not when I had it in my power to do something.

I knew then I couldn’t bring my father home. He was owned by the president and the Capitol. To an extent, we all were. And I knew I couldn’t stop the games from happening or the possibility of my name being pulled from the reaping bowl. I couldn’t always make my mother come out of her room or even out of her bed, when her illness struck bad. And I couldn’t stop my siblings from crying for our father at night.

But I knew that day in the bakery, I had the power over Mrs. Mellark and I wasn’t going to let her get away with hurting her son anymore.

“Call them,” I dared, not an ounce of insecurity in my voice. “Cray is an old family friend.” He was actually indebted to my father, who’d kept the man’s secrets for too many years to count. But family friend rolled off the tongue more effectively.

“Head Peacekeeper is now making friends in the Seam?” She spat in disbelief. “No wonder this district is so rundown.”

She laughed humorlessly, but my focus was pulled towards the boy. He was covering the left side of his face, as if it hurt too badly to release. As if he was trying to stop his eye from swelling, stop his nose from gushing blood. As if he could hold his now split lip together with nothing more than the palm of his hand.

The sight hurt my heart to see. It burned a fire inside of me that only a true injustice could set alight.

“My father is Hunter Everdeen,” I snapped in the woman’s direction, not even basking in satisfaction when her face drained of all color. The idea that a scrappy little girl with olive skin and dark hair was the child of the most powerful man in all of Twelve struck a cord inside even the witch. “Still wanna make that call?”

The woman’s face was caught between anger and shock when I glanced at her again. And I hated her for it. I hated her and every single person in this district who hurt their kids, who took out their grievances on them, who made them cower and quiver in fear. Who raised them to be afraid of those they loved in a world already so awful.

I know I live a privileged life but, deep in my bones, I know even if things were different, my parents wouldn’t have laid a hand on us. Even if we were so poor I had to take tesserae, even if we were starving to the point of no return, even if we were practically homeless in the Seam, my parents would never hurt us.

“Leave,” the witch spoke then, but her voice was void of all emotion.

“Not without him,” I refused, my eyes planted on the wounded boy in front of me. The boy who was doing everything to avoid looking me in the eye, too busy covering his battered face.

I heard a sound caught between a groan and a shriek, before a cutting board was tossed across the room. “Just go!” She shouted at her son, causing him to flinch severely. “Just go with her!”

On her order, which sounded more distraught than angry, the boy had stormed out the back door and into the chilly evening air, still covering his face desperately, still looking utterly ashamed.

But he waited for me to catch up with him. He waited for me to guide him away from that awful woman he was forced to call his mother.

He didn’t flinch when I touched his arm nor when I took his hand. And when I led him away from the town and towards the village, he followed me without complaint.

Actually, he followed me without a single word.

I realized this just as my house came into view. “You never told me your name?” I whispered, looking up at him gently.

He had tears leaking from his eyes that he was doing his best to ignore, the bleeding on the left side of his face had barely even lightened up, his eye was swelling bigger and bigger, and yet, he chuckled a little at the question. “I’ve been in your class since kindergarten, Katniss.”

I felt my cheeks burn pink, even under the darkening sky. “I know.” But I still peered up at him, curiously waiting for him to tell me.

“It’s Peeta,” he finally answered, maybe a bit satirical.

“Peeta Mellark,” I suddenly recognized.

“Mhmm. Figured you’d pick up the last name.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s printed across the bakery in huge letters?”

“Oh.” He chuckled at my ignorance, causing my blush to deepen.

And I realized immediately how much I liked the sound of his laugh. How I liked being the reason for the sound.

My stomach did a complete flip at the notion and my ears abruptly felt hot, but I tried to push all this away, needing to get him to my mother.

“Wait,” he halted before I could even reached the front door. “Is your mother in there?”

I shot him a confused look. “Yeah, of course? Who else-”

I didn’t even get a chance to finish though. “I really don’t want anyone else to know about this,” he pleads, his eyes looking as frightened as they did with the witch.

“Peeta-” I start, opening my mouth argue, to convince him to go into the house and let my mother treat his injuries. To let me get him help.

But one look inside his desolated, defeated, terrified eyes and I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t put him through any more than he’d already gone through. Not when he’d eventually have to go face the witch again at home.

“Okay,” I whispered, and I felt him squeeze the hand I didn’t realize I was still clutching. “Let me take you somewhere else. And I’ll try to fix you up myself.”

I wasn’t a healer like my mother and Prim. I was a hunter, just like my father, just like his very name, through and through. But I had witnessed enough of what my mother did—my father had forced me to witness enough of what she did, in case I ever needed the knowledge—and I was confident I had the expertise to help him.

My decision was validated by the relief in Peeta’s eyes, by the visible exhale he expelled from inside. He was ashamed, I realized, of his abuse. He was embarrassed to let anyone know what was happening behind closed doors.

I guided him by the hand outside the village, through the Seam—a place in which he’d never been before—and to the fence line.

“Isn’t it electrified?” He asked, his grip on my palm tightening. I liked the sensation for some reason. I liked the way his big hand felt wrapped around my small one. I liked how he wanted to hold onto me in the darkness.

“Nope,” I say, and let out a proud giggle. Or maybe a nervous one. Whenever I think back to this night, I can never tell.

“How do you know?” His blonde eyebrows knit together, still afraid in a way I’d never had to be. My father had taught me everything there was to know about the woods from a young age.

“Listen,” I urge softly, leaning my ear towards the fence.

He cranes forward too, waiting for the buzz of electricity to fill his ears. Only, just as I knew, it never does. Because it never has. The fence’s electricity was shut off long before we were even born.

I watched as his face registered the silence, as he realized and trusted I was right. And I beamed at him, before showing him the way my father slips beyond the fence and guiding him through the trees, towards the cabin, buried deep inside the woods.

It took an hour to find, not because of the blackened sky, but because Peeta’s face hurt so badly that his gait was slowed. But I remained patient, even though that was never my strong suit either. I waited for him to pick up the pace, to be ready to move, to find our way through the tall green trees. I pulled all the branches I could see out of his path, used the moon as our flashlight and didn’t complain once when he stumbled along the way.

By the time we got to the cabin, it had to be past Archer’s bedtime. My mother would be worried sick for me, but I soothed myself that she had plenty on her plate. I’m her firstborn. The child she understands the least, the one who’s like her husband in body and soul. I knew I was probably near the bottom of her worry list.

The very first thing I did when we entered the cabin was order Peeta to sit down in the dining room. I gathered my mother’s first aid kit from the bathroom, wet a rag in cool water and I got to work cleaning the blood from his face.

“This has to be gross for you,” he murmurs after a long stretch of silence. His eyes betrayed how self-conscious he must have felt.

Trying to alleviate his anxiety, I pretended to shrug it off. “My mother cleans wounds all the time. At our kitchen table, no less.”

Peeta made a noise that indicated he didn’t buy my act of ease. “I heard at school that you run from the sick and injured.”

I raised my eyebrows at the comment. No one at school talked about me. No one knew me well enough to. People stopped trying to get close to any of Hunter Everdeen’s kids years ago.

The longer I stared at Peeta in disbelief, the more he seemed to lose confidence in his statement. “Maybe I didn't hear it,” he finally amended. I brought the damp cloth back up to his face again as a reward, tenderly wiping away the blood, before using the clean side to set against his swelling lid, hoping to offer some pain reduction there as well. “Maybe I saw it,” he added sheepishly.

I furrowed my brows, even more perplexed by the elaboration. “Saw it?”

“When Leaf Barker tripped and broke his knee in Physical Education last year? You were almost green when you bolted out of the gymnasium.”

His words conjured up a vague image. Still though, something about this felt odd to me.

“How do you remember that better than I do?”

At that, Peeta shrugged. “I guess, I notice you sometimes?”

“What do you mean, sometimes?” I pressed, none of his words suddenly making a bit of sense.

“Why did you stick up for me tonight?” He abruptly segued, his expression shifting into something of defense, like he’s trying to deflect.

But I’m not one to be deterred. “I wasn’t going to stand there and watch your mother hurt you,” I stated, my voice remaining firm. “Why?”

He continued to walk around my question. “Is tonight the first night you ever noticed me?”

I pulled my hand and the damp cloth away from his wounded face, reaching in the kit to grab a white cream I’d seen my mother and Prim both use on swelling before. “Yes,” I finally replied, because I don’t know what else to say. That I saw him glance at me sometimes and then watched as his eyes flit away? That I noticed how he doodled in math class, because he found the subject boring? That I’d seen him lift a sack easily over his shoulder at the bakery and watched him beat almost every upperclassmen at wrestling, even while three years their junior?

None of that seems even remotely relevant to mention.

“When was the first time you noticed me?” I shot back, still being careful to apply the cream with only the lightest pressure to his battered eye.

“Kindergarten,” he instantly blurted out, his tone simple and bold.

I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before chuckling, catching the joke. “Funny.”

“I’m serious,” he refuted, peaking his good eye open, the sky meeting a silver dollar as our gaze locked. And I see that he is serious somehow.

“What?”

“The first day of kindergarten,” he continued, after a long beat of me just staring him. His confidence had wavered once again and he was looking a bit regretful that he’d put this out in the open. “You were wearing a red velvet dress and brown stockings. Your hair was in two braids instead of one and your ribbons matched your dress. The teacher asked during music assembly who knew The Valley Song and your hand shot right up. She put you on a stool and you sang it, clear as day, for everyone to hear. Even the birds outside stopped to listen. And from that moment on… I was a goner.”

I just continued to look at him in disbelief, unable to put the pieces of what he’s said together. Finally, I whispered, “you’re telling the truth?”

“I’ve had a crush on you for forever,” he admitted, his singularly open eye giving away his nerves at the admission. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I know you didn’t even know my name until tonight but I just wanted to say, in case we never have the chance to speak again-”

“Stop,” I cut him off, my mind already about to explode. “Stop, um…” I refused to look at him as I spoke, furiously staring down at my lap. “I need more time to… process this.”

He had a crush on me since the first day of kindergarten? He’d heard me sing and from that day forward he held a hidden candle for me?

And he never once worked up the courage to talk to me?

Dozens of moments suddenly race through my mind.

Cerulean blue eyes finding me in a crowd countless times and then pulling away as soon as I meet them. The time I wanted to play a stupid game at recess and a stocky blonde boy volunteered to be team captain, and then picked me first. The stunning drawing I found in my locker last year on Sweetheart’s Day, that I was convinced was put there by mistake, though it bore a striking resemblance to the doodles on Peeta’s notebook.

And before I could stop it, I felt myself begin to shake with nerves.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, seeing my frightened reaction. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… I didn’t know if I’d ever get the opportunity to tell you again-”

“Shhh,” I hushed, picking up the damp cloth once more. “Let me take care of your face. And then…” I hesitated again, unsure what to say in this situation. I had exactly zero experiences to compare this to. “Tomorrow we can talk more.”

Peeta nodded amicably, staying silent for the reminder of my ministrations. I felt a terrible pang of guilt for not responding the way he’d probably hoped, but there was still a part of me too stunned to even fully register the confession.

I was an outcast. I’d never fit in with the kids at school, neither town or Seam. I don’t look like the merchants and I’m too rich for the Seam folk. I would have been alone all the time at school if it weren’t for Madge Undersee, the mayor’s daughter who sat with me at lunch and partnered with me in class.

How could anyone have even noticed me to be anything other than strange? I barely spoke, even in classes where I knew all the answers. And I hardly participated in games or gossip. I had a father who insisted most days on picking me up himself from school, not allowing me to walk home alone like the other kids.

But the look in Peeta’s eyes was earnest. He wasn’t playing some elaborate trick on me, he wasn’t trying to coerce me into confessing something as well so he could humiliate me. He was being genuine in every way I could tell. And I had my father’s senses.

The same senses that helped him win his hunger games.

A new thought struck me out of the blue. Peeta seemed too kind and too considerate to have a mother who beat him like this. He doesn’t fit the profile of the kids in the community home, brought there by even less abuse than I witnessed firsthand tonight.

The insane urge to get to know him more, to learn more about this complete stranger who I went out on an impulsive limb for suddenly surges through my brain.

It wouldn’t be a good idea, I told myself. He’s a merchant and I’m the daughter of a victor. Two titles that seem not far apart in theory but are miles away from the other in practice. And I’m not experienced with people the way he is. I don’t know how to make friends or how to maintain them. I don’t know what he expects from me but it’s surely more than I know how to give. I don’t know what to say in a situation like this. Haymitch always tells me I’m as romantic as dirt.

But is that what I want to be? I asked myself as I finished fixing Peeta up. Do I want to be romantic? Do I want to be that girl who holds her boyfriend’s hand in the town square and kisses him under the moonlight? Do I want to put an embroidered ribbon in my hair and wear an expensive dress from the Capitol to go to the Sweetheart’s Dance? Do I want to sneak in through my bedroom window at the crack of dawn so my father won’t know I’ve been out all night?

If I could learn to be romantic, would I want to be?

And naturally, the answer I’ve always known automatically seeps through my brain. No. I’m not like my mother and Prim. I’m practical by nature, rather than fanciful. I’ve never truly obsessed about falling in love or fawned over even the most incredible looking men on the television.

But something held me back now. Something inside me said that answer, the truth I’d always known, is suddenly not entirely accurate anymore.

Because I find that I did want those things I just described. I did want to have someone to hold, someone to laugh with, someone who conjured up that same flip in my stomach as Peeta did earlier when he laughed.

I wanted the same kind of love my parents had. The kind of love that brought them both to life, despite the horrible circumstances they’d both separately endured. I wanted the kind of love that they showed me was possible, even in a world as bleak and as inhumane as Panem felt at times.

I only realized how long I’d been silent, contemplating my inner desires, when Peeta offered a minuscule smile and stood up slowly to leave.

I opened my mouth to speak but when his eyes met mine, every thought in my head was magically wiped away. I had nothing to say, nothing that could be of any sort of consequence, that could mean anything in comparison to his confession.

“I should head back to town,” he murmured, trying to appear nonchalant. “Face my mother. Hope she’s in a better mood now-”

But I couldn’t stand the idea of him returning to the witch, the idea of going to school tomorrow and acting like his words weren’t still spinning around my brain, the idea of even sleeping soundly tonight.

“Peeta,” I called just as he was about to reach the front door. “Wait!”

He turned towards me, looking puzzled by my outburst. “What’s wrong?”

And I don’t know what came over me. I still can’t place what made me—a girl who had never been decisive a day in her life—fling myself across the room and smash my lips onto his.

He didn’t respond at first. I caught him too completely by surprise. His lips hung there, frozen, as mine pushed against his, with too much force and an overload of desperation.

But I felt an incredible stirring in my chest, an odd sensation that felt akin to a giggle amplified.

And when he finally recovered from the shock of it all, his hands both came to rest on either side of my hips, his mouth began to move against mine, his knees bent to reach my height with more success, and the stirring turned to a fiery spark. I know he felt it too, as the kiss was swiftly disturbed by his wide grin.

“Don’t go back home tonight,” I gasped out, looking up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

His gaze melted as he took me in, he head bobbing in agreement without even needing to consider my request.

“Okay,” he’d whispered with a dazed smile, his blue eyes impossibly wild and sleepy at the same time.

His expression, his spirit somehow, was contagious, and I found myself somewhere stuck between a laugh and a blush when I replied.

“Okay.”

After that night, Peeta rarely went back home. I had called my mother and let her know I was staying at the cabin, but intentionally eluded telling her that the baker’s son was joining me. We’d spent the entire night talking in front of the fire, making each other laugh. The bashfulness I felt from my unexpected kiss stayed in my gut, causing me to bubble up with embarrassed laughter every so often.

But instead of that making things awkward, it cut the tension pretty smoothly. It was only months later did Peeta confess he’d felt just as nervous and just as shy about spending time with me. He was charismatic, I realize even that first night. Ironically funny. He was nice, in a way I rarely have found anyone to be. And, the more time went on, the more my desire grew to stay close to him. The more often I was around him, the more painfully I missed him when we were apart.

It was only a matter of time until my mother found out—not least of all, because my siblings accidentally caught us kissing in back of the school, a month to the day we first spoke.

I always imagined she’d be strict on me, the firstborn, when it came to dating. Especially in the world we lived in. Especially with my father’s position. I truly thought she’d forbid a relationship until I was of age. Maybe I was wrong about her. Or maybe she just saw how I looked at Peeta and understood that I wasn’t just being careless or rebellious. That whatever magnetic connection I felt towards Peeta wasn’t just an ordinary school-aged fling.

To my surprise as well, my mother seemed to take on a very similar stance to me when it came to Peeta and my father. Keeping the news of this entanglement from her husband’s ears was almost her idea.

“What are you thinking about?” Peeta asks me now, bringing me back to the present moment. His fingers tickle my neck as they brush my hair back behind my ear, touching one of the satin green ribbons weaved throughout my loose braids.

“You,” I reply coyly, shooting him a sly glance as I slip past him to head back towards the kitchen.

“Me?” He calls in mock disbelief. He trails up behind me, catching me by the waist and swinging me into his arms without warning.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, automatically wrapping myself around him as I try to steady my balance midair.

“What, baby?”

“Put me down, baby,” I mock, pressing my nose to his now, rubbing them together.

“I like holding you though,” he whispers, like he’s confessing some huge secret.

“Until your arms gets tired-”

“That was one time, Katniss.”

“I’m just reminding you,” I say with an air of superiority. “You don’t always appreciate holding me.”

At that, his demeanor falls a little. “I do when I realize I won’t be seeing you much in a few days.”

I feel my heart sink now too. As excited as I am at the prospect of my father coming home, after weeks apart, I always have to be a little more careful upon his first days back.

He always likes to spend time at the cabin and go for long walks in the woods upon his return. Spend more time in nature than the indoors, stay far away from people outside our family, sleep under the stars by the lake. The Capitol is apparently luxurious, but in my father’s own words, it is void of any true or natural beauty. Everything is artificial, man-made, concocted and orchestrated. There’s nothing that compares in his mind—or mine either—to a cool breeze on a sunny day spent in the meadow where the dandelions grow tall.

“But I’ll still see you in school?” I say, though my voice comes out as more of a plea. Peeta doesn’t always like to attend school these days, not when he knows his parents can easily track him down there.

His father, the baker himself, took the ambiguous loss of his youngest—his favorite—son particularly hard. It was only a matter of weeks after I intercepted his mother beating him that Peeta definitively decided to sever ties with majority of his family.

I’d like to say he made the choice all on his own but that’d be a lie. I watched as the physical bruises on his skin healed, as he began to peel back emotional layer upon layer to me, as he slowly told me what really had been going on in the Mellark’s family home. And I can’t say that I was impartial to his decision to cut the connection to a mother with a bruising fist and a father who closed his eyes and let it happen.

“Delly’s parents usually make me go to school so…” He shrugs it off, like it’s of no consequence, his arms hoisting me higher against his chest.

But I feel a sudden wave of gratitude towards the Cartwrights. They may be a little too jolly for my liking and their daughter, Delly, maybe can’t take a hint to save her life, but at least they always watch out for Peeta’s well-being. At least they cover for him when his mother come sniffing around and they feed him what they can afford and force him to attend class, where I’ll be able to see him.

“Good,” I murmur, at peace now. My father will be home soon and Peeta will be safely tucked away with his best friend.

I lean down and kiss his nose sweetly, reveling in the tender moment. His lips follow my lead and begin to plant themselves across my chin, underneath my jaw, causing me to squirm and squeal at the sensation.

“So,” he murmurs against my throat. “We have the entire place to ourselves, for the whole night, huh?”

His audacious smile elicits my own. “At least.” My father’s delays usually mean a minimum of two days.

Within a minute, Peeta has me on my back, against the softly quilted bed of my upstairs room. He takes his time helping me out of my clothes before I hurriedly shove his off, impatient and hungry.

He, of course, finds time to crack a joke. “Good thing Archie is too young to come here unchaperoned. Or else we’d never get the chance to do this.”

I roll my eyes and shove his mouth off my collarbone, utterly disgusted now. “Talking about my baby brother is one sure way to turn me off, Peeta.”

Archer, my three-old-brother, was an unexpected surprise, to put it lightly. My parents were done with two girls. My father joked him and my mother were both already set with one clone each, but alas, the year of the Seventieth Hunger Games was a year full of shocks.

A few months before the games that year, the coal mines—the industry Twelve is known for—exploded. Right in the middle of the afternoon, as everyone was obliviously going about their day.

It was a close call for many and one more reason my father is beloved around these parts. If he hadn’t been at the right place, at the right time, if he hadn’t volunteered to go with Prim and her class on a field trip down to the mines that day, there was a chance that no one would have noticed the gas leak.

It was too late to do anything by the time my father pointed it out, but his warning and the fact that people in Twelve take his word very seriously, managed to save the lives the inevitable explosion would have otherwise cost.

Through the outpouring of gratitude, and the overwhelming media coverage my whole family was abruptly bombarded with, my parents made the decision to pull me and Prim from school for a while, to hole up in the remodeled cabin, where no one could find us because of its illegal location.

I’ve never ask and I don't ever want to know when my parents conceived Archer. But about nine months after the vacation from the world, my mother gave birth to a little boy who looked identical to me and my father.

“Sorry,” Peeta whispers with a chuckle, collapsing beside me. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He moves to kiss my stomach, to trace circles on my hips like he always does. But I shake my head, a different request—or more like it, demand—on my mind.

“Tell me the story of how you first fell in love with me?”

Peeta rolls his eyes. Very dramatically. “You mean a year ago?”

“I mean in kindergarten,” I say with a smirk and then let out a shriek of surprise when he pounces on me, his lips attacking my neck.

“Aren’t you tired of that story yet?” He asks, his voice edging on exasperated.

“You never tire of a classic.” I give him a pout, knowing he never refuses me anything when I pull that trick.

I’m right, as per usual. “Fine,” he relents, but his eyes tell me that he enjoys telling this tale more than he leads on. “Come here.” He holds open his arms and waits for me to crawl into them, to settle against his chest.

I lay there for a long moment, my pointer finger running up and down the center of his bicep, as my ear rests against his heartbeat, patiently waiting for him to begin.

“It was the very first day of school. You were wearing a red, velvet dress…”

Read the rest on AO3

#katnissmellarkkkk #prompt 59 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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phlox238 · 3 years

Text

i wrote a pretty long rymin fic and half of it is min being anxious and getting advice from a lesbian at a gay bar,,, it sucks but here it is anyway

2.5k words this is the most ive ever written

"So," The girl began, gesturing wildly with her hands. "You think you're in love with your best friend, who you've known since you were born, and you're in a band and traveling across Canada and the USA with. What did you say your name is?"

"Oh, fuck." Min-gi sighed, letting his head rest in his hands. "This is weird, isn't it? I barely know you."

"Nah, I just thought that, if we're going to have a slightly drunk chat in the back of a gay bar, then we should know each other's names. I'm Eryn, and you?" Eryn stuck out her hand, the many bracelets she wore on her wrist clanking together.

Min chuckled a little, then took her hand and shook it. Her dark skin was warm, which was surprising, since this part of the bar was near freezing. "Min-gi. But you can call me Min."

"Awesome. So, tell me about it, Min." Eryn tightened her ponytail, leaning forward on her arms.

"Tell you what about it? There's so many things that I could say." He was so caught up in this gay crisis stuff that he hadn't even considered stopping for a moment to really think about it.

Eryn shrugged. "Whatever you want to say. Get stuff off your chest, just let it out, if you want to. There's like, nobody else back here. Doesn't really matter, right? I'm not judgy."

"Okay...well, he has a girlfriend, first of all; has had many of them. So he's not into dudes." Min crossed his arms.

"Hey, he could still be. Just because he dates women doesn't mean he's straight. Could still be into guys. Don't give up hope just yet, okay?" Eryn laced her fingers together, as if she was planning something. The dark lighting of the bar didn't help anything.

“Damn,” Min rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know you could like both.”

Not without laughing at him first, Eryn started to explain. "Oh, wow, you really are new to this, huh?" She chuckled a little more, shaking her head. “That’s okay. There’s a lot of different ways to love people, you just gotta figure out what works for you. Oh, also; it isn’t just both. There’s the genderqueer people, too, don’t forget about them!” She smiled.

Min didn’t quite know what genderqueer meant, but he figured he could find out later. He was asking too many questions already. "Damn...how do you know all of this? I only realized I was, er, gay, like six months ago." Min marveled at her, the same way a nerd at school would marvel at the 'cool kids.' And honestly, she really looked like one, with her ponytail and undercut, her yellow, patched leather jacket, even the flashy jewelry she wore.

It made Min want to start dressing differently. Dressing cooler, like Ryan, like Eryn. Maybe he could.

Eryn grinned wider. "Oh, you know. It's just things you pick up along the way. I've known that I'm lesbian for a long time, since I was like 11. And I'm 21 now, so that's a long time. Lots of experience." She shuffled a little in her seat, taking another drink of beer. "Anyway. We're getting off track, aren't we? Keep talking, man."

Min laughed, a real laugh. "Okay, okay. A year ago, we, er…" He reached desperately for an explanation for the train, but decided that, just maybe, he could tell her. Really, the worst that she could think of him is that he's a drug user. "Can I tell you something? It's going to sound absolutely insane, probably, but I just. Need to tell someone."

She looked concerned, her dark brown eyes wide, but nodded anyway. "That's real ominous. But sure, go for it."

"Okay. So. Stick with me, here. A year ago, him and I got on a train, right? But then, there was another train door within the train. We just...went into the door. Well, the bastard threw my keys into it and then ran in, so how could I not follow?" Eryn was looking at him intently like she understood. Min could tell he was pretty drunk by now; he'd never be able to open up to someone this much sober. But that's okay. More than okay, really.

"It gets even weirder from then on. Ryan- that's his name, by the way- and I woke up on a giant, infinie train in the middle of nowhere. Gotta be pretty unbelievable, though. You probably think I'm on drugs." Min sighed.

Eryn was silent for a moment, but it was obvious she was getting ready to explode. "Dude, no fucking way!" Yep, there it was. "I got on that train! When I was eleven. I was super conflicted on my sexuality, had a shit ton of internalized homophobia as a result of having homophobic family. I felt like a disgusting person. So I got on the train, and it actually helped me through it." She'd completely lit up when Min mentioned the train. Looked like she was going to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

For a moment, Min was speechless. Soon, though, he regained his voice. "You're kidding," was all he could muster.

"Nope." Eryn's grin nearly reached her ears. "Did you have someone to help you along, too? There was a white cat named Samantha for me. She was French, for some reason. But I miss her."

"Oh! Yeah, Ryan and I had a floating, talking bell named Kez. Weird, right?. I miss her, too. Wonder how she's doing." Min thought for a second, completely and utterly relieved to have met someone else to share an experience with. Then something clicked. "Hold on...I might have met this cat you speak of. Yellow eyes? Uh, blonde...hair?"

"Blonde hair? Well, she didn't have that. But yeah, yellow eyes, French accent." Eryn nodded. They were silent for a moment.

Min chuckled, suddenly getting the urge to continue on with their story. Telling someone about the train would feel wonderful. "We had a lot of...issues...regarding our friendship, at the time. That's why the train picked us up in the first place." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "The train did help us. But we had a lot of weirdly intimate moments on it, and that's where my sexuality crisis started. Like, there was a car where we had to perform a song with each other to get out of it, and of course I got stage fright right before it. I left him alone on stage. Again." Min paused, the guilt almost making him feel like he was living through that moment again.

Eryn nudged him. "And? That doesn't sound intimate. What happened next?"

"I hid in the bathroom. So he came in, and at first he was angry, but I was having a full on anxiety attack. We sat in the bathtub, hip to hip, knee to knee. It was weird, but nice. He helped me calm down. And like...in our last year of Highschool, I gave him a shirt with our band name on it. In that bath tub, he had it with him. He kept it. Said he'd never done a show without it." Min laughed, but there wasn't much humor about it. "Man, I wanted to kiss him so bad right then and there. But I didn't."

Eryn had a soft look in her eyes. "I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty damn gay to me. Maybe he's just dating other people to distract himself from his crush on you, who knows! All I'm trying to say is, don't give up on this, Min. You two have something going on, I don't know what, but it could blossom into a relationship." She patted him on the shoulder, then took another drink of her beer.

Min did the same. "What if he's not gay?" His voice was small. "Worse, what if he's homophobic? I don't know...fuck, it's terrifying. I could lose him because I'm gay."

"Well," Eryn paused for a moment, "you could try and subtly bring it into conversation. Maybe, like, bring up a celebrity who's gay. See his reaction." She gestured with her hands a lot, Min noticed.

Min nodded. It seemed simple in theory, but he knew he'd manage to fuck it up somehow. The logical part of his brain knew Ryan wouldn't leave him for being gay, but at the same time, there was this voice in the back of his head. Irrational thoughts, irrational fears; that's all it spoke of.

"Thank you. Really. It's been nice to talk about this, especially with someone who's been on the train. That thing is...a freak of nature. Maybe not even nature, I don't know. I'll try that with him, too." Min said finally, after some silence. Eryn laughed.

"Yeah, it absolutely is." She smiled widely. Eryn glanced around, her eyes finally landing on the only visible clock in this part of the bar. Her eyes widened. "Shit, I should really get going! Sorry. I told my girlfriend I'd be back around now." She, out of nowhere, gave Min a hug. It'd been a while since he'd hugged anyone, he realized, and it felt nice. Although, very unexpected.

Min hugged her back, sort of awkwardly. They separated soon after.

"That's okay. Again...thank you, so much. I should get young too." By now, it was almost 11 pm, and he figured he should leave as well. Ryan should be back at their apartment soon enough.

Min was about to turn and leave, but Eryn stopped him.

"Hey! How about we exchange phone numbers? This was a good chat, eh? I'd like to stay in contact." Eryn searched her pockets for a pen and some paper, but only found a marker. "Can I, like, write it on your arm and you can do the same?"

Min knew Ryan would tease him over it, but oh, well, he made a new friend. "Yeah, that's fine." He laughed, offering her his arm. She quickly scribbled her number on it, and honestly, it was barely legible. But he could read it, somewhat.

He then wrote his number on her arm, they exchanged goodbyes, and were on their way. Min dreaded returning to Ryan, who would definitely start to go on and on about his girlfriend, and just prove to make Min feel worse about his stupid crush.

But maybe, just maybe, Eryn was right. Maybe things would finally go his way for once.

•••

Min's walk home was quiet (as quiet as New York can be at night) and cold, it being the middle of November. Snow was just beginning to fall. Being outside Eryn's words stuck in his head like glue. Talk to him. As if he could do that. The idea of even just mentioning anything close to being gay made anxiety rise in his throat like bile.

He couldn't. Probably.

Before he could think much more on it, he was home. Home. Back to the decent one bedroom apartment they'd scraped up all of the money in their pockets to buy. Back to the scent of cigarette smoke in the air, back to the strange stains on the carpet in the hallway. Most importantly, back to Ryan. No matter how much resentment Min-gi might hold to him for having a girlfriend, Ryan usually made things better.

He walked up the stairs and down the hall to apartment number 202, ironically. Unlocked and opened the door to find it dark inside save for a single lamp. Min walked in, curious, just to find Ryan curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. That really made him anxious.

"Hey...Ryan? You good, man?" Min sat on the empty portion of the sofa, near his head.

Ryan stirred, rolling over onto his back. His head was resting a bit on Min's thigh, and it felt kind of nice.

"I dunno…" He mumbled. "She broke up with me."

"What?" Min looked down at Ryan, surprised. "Lisa? You're kidding."

"Nope, not kidding." Ryan laced his fingers together over his stomach. "The thing is...I'm like, kind of relieved that she did it? How fucked up is that?"

Min tilted his head in confusion. He really wanted to run his hand through Ryan's hair, but that was a really inappropriate thought for the moment.

"She, uh...said some things. When she broke up with me." He sighed. "Called me a fag." Ryan laughed, like he found it funny. Min didn't.

"Dude, what? Why?" Min's voice was a little shaky, for no other reason than that they were talking about gay people.

Ryan sighed. "Take a good look at us, Min." He brought his forearm up to cover his eyes. "We're two dudes, living in a one bedroom apartment together. We do everything together. Of course she's gonna think there's something going on."

Min felt like he was going to fucking disintegrate. "U-Uh...and that's a bad thing?"

"I mean...no. It just kind of clicked that...maybe she's right. Maybe I am gay." Ryan sat up, his back facing towards Min. He didn't look back. " I always assumed that I'd be straight, but this...it makes sense. None of my relationships have ever worked out. With women."

Min reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Ryan...it's okay."

Ryan looked back, now, and his eyes were watery. Min frowned.

“How could it be okay?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “It’s just another reason for people to hate me. For my parents to hate me. Hell, maybe even you.” By the time that he finished talking, his voice was almost inaudible.

"No!" Min almost shouted, jolting forward. "No. Ryan, I could never hate you." Fuck, how was he supposed to tell Ryan he's gay now? Part of him wanted to shout it out impulsively, but the other part, it just wanted to keep hiding. Because what if something goes wrong? What if Ryan's in love with someone else? All what ifs. He really needed to stop.

Min inhaled deeply. Here goes. "This is gonna sound really coincidental, but...I'm gay too."

Quickly, Ryan turned around to face Min. His eyes were wide behind his glasses.

"What? No fucking way. You're kidding." Ryan was leaning forward, using his fists to prop him up.

Min shook his head. "No...I'm not. I was gonna tell you soon anyway, but now seemed like a good time." He scratched his head awkwardly.

Then, Ryan launched at him, hugging him. Arms wrapped around his neck, knees touching Min's thighs, the whole package. Min was sure he'd die with how flushed his face was; but thankfully, he didn't.

After what felt like a while, Ryan finally spoke.

"I love you." He mumbled into Min's shoulder.

Min paused. "In a gay way, or…?"

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, you idiot." He shook his head in amusement.

"Good. That's...great." He hugged Ryan tighter, finally letting himself run his fingers through his hair. It was soft, just like he expected. "I love you too."

#rymin #infinity train #infinity train book 4 #ryan akagi #min gi park #infinity train season 4

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Bakugo x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff+small amount of angst

⤷ Word Count: 5307+

⤷ Warnings: Drunk reader, cursing, also reader+Bakugo will be aged up (early 20′s, cause no underage drinking in this house!)

⤷ Synopsis: Bakugo doesn’t have any feeling for you. You’re just one of his shitty friends and that’s it. He’s only picking you up from a bar after your breakup because you drunk called him and not because he’s worried you’ll get hurt. He doesn’t feel his heart pang when you say you want him to drive you to his apartment, not yours. He doesn’t completely turn beet red when he sees you change into his clothes.But, as much as he denies it, Bakugo realizes he loves you when you cry to him drunkenly , saying you wished you had a lover as sweet as him

This fic is for the @bnhabookclub Bingo Event! Here’s my masterlist to see all my work for this event! Also this was actually inspired by @shoutogepi HC of Bakugo and Kirishima taking care of their drunk s/o! I honestly loved this headcannons so much, and they really inspired me to write a more angsty sort of spin on it. Here’s a link to her post (I also explicitly asked her if it was alright to take inspiration from her headcannons, just in case!)

Bingo Slot: Realized Feelings

Bakugo stepped his foot deeper into the gas, the engine in his car roaring as it zoomed through the dark streets.

Damn you and your shitty decisions.

He had been woken up in the dead of the night to his phone ringing annoyingly against his bedside table. Your caller ID of “Cute Shithead” was shining brightly against his face, his finger immediately taking the call.

He had to admit, he was a little annoyed for you calling him so damn early in the morning, but hearing your voice immediately melted any irritation. By the way your words slurred together, you sounded completely wasted. That alone could turn him into a worried frenzy, but the tone of your voice sent ice down his spine.

You sounded so lonely, so defeated, as if you had lost all hope and were giving up.

He rammed his foot again into the gas, following the directions to the club you said you were at as closely as possible over the roar of his engine.

He was just being a decent friend and helping you out, he told himself. There was no other reason why he was helping you...it wasn’t because his heart practically dropped at the sound of your voice, or how he felt his chest tighten when you said “Please come get me Katsuki”

Or that you had called him, not anybody else, to come and get you. It was all platonic-he had to keep telling himself that.

He hastily pulled into the parking lot, his car swerving into a spot a little too haphazardly. He yanked the keys from the vehicle, closing the inky black door with a thud as he looked at the building in front of him.

A bright, Neon green sign lit up the roof, a line of club goers filtering through as they waited for the bouncer to allow them in. It was pretty late in the night-2 am to be exact-so more people were stumbling out of the club than actually going on.

Bakugo quickly began to walk over to the establishment, his body weaving through drunken couples clambering to their cars or taxis. He was searching everywhere, helplessly trying to find your face in every person he saw.

Where the hell were you?

Bakugo turned to his side, looking at the asphalt that lead into the club. There were parking spots right there, all empty, probably for Ubers and Lyfts to come pick up people who had ordered them. THere were a few people sitting on the curb, waiting for their rides as they sat on their phone or blabbered drunkenly to their friends.

But then he spotted a familiar body, their shoulders slump down in exhaustion, their eyes downcast in defeat. He quickly made his way over, knowing exactly who that body belonged to.

“Shit y/n, the hell are you doing here by yourself-“

He quickly bent down, looking at you square in the face.

You gave him a weak smile, your eyes so full of relief and sadness he felt his heart ping from your expression.

He had to admit- you looked like a wreck. Your once meticulously curled hair was frizzy and in shambles from dancing, your makeup splotchy in places and black coating under your eyes.

HIs calloused hands wrapped around your waist, his other arm gently pulling your free hand around his neck for support. He felt like he was moving a ragdoll-you complied with each of his movements, your body resting against his as if you depended on him

“Well, I did have some f-friends… with me…” your murmured out, your voice thick from sleep deprivation and alcohol.

“And the hell are they?”

“-they left a few hours ago…” you slurred,” I said I’d stay… a little longer”

Bakugo began to walk you to his car, the walk more like a stumble as he tried to guide you on your wobbling feet. He felt his insides heat up with an intense flame of rage, licking up and consuming his insides. How the hell could your ‘friends’ just leave you? THis was nothing like you, to be so impulsive that you became incredibly vulnerable in public. Something was seriously wrong with you, something you had to be going through.

“Shitty friends for leaving you like this.” he replied gruffly, making no attempt to hide his obvious anger. “Are you okay? Did anybody try and do anything funny to you?”

He was worried, he had to admit that to himself- you were clearly in a wrong headspace in a pretty sketchy place. Anything could go wrong, and he wanted to make sure that nothing happened.

Not because the idea of you dancing with another guy makes him want to punch a wall.

Or trying to lure you to his apartment made him want to yell and break that imaginary mans jaw, in order to keep you safe in his arms.

Nope-strictly platonic.

You scoffed at the blonde's words, a harsh chuckle spilling out of your chapped lips. “Of course Bakugo, everybody here wants to grope the girl who looks like she’s been crying all day-

“I’m fine-really”

Somehow, even with your slurring words and clouded mind, these words were the first sober syllables you had uttered.

But- if you were fine, you wouldnt be going to a club this late at night. You would have been smart enough to at least stay alert, not completely wasted, and you definitely wouldn't be by yourself. Your werent fine, and Bakugo knew it, because you werent being you.

He was impulsive, irrational, and went with his gut feeling, even if it was a stupid or dangerous idea. You on the other hand, were like his better half: calm yet forceful, a commanding tide to soothe the volcanic eruptions of his anger.

But now you were different, a choppy whirlpool of emotions that were locked away deep inside you, the effects changing your once calm and rational demeanor into something saddened and desperate.

Bakugo gave you a long look, his red eyes slanted as he tried to read what was on your mind.

He stopped your two’s trudging, finally being in front of his car.

A protest was dying to spill from his lips, to retort and fight back the obvious lie you had just uttered. But something in your tired voice made him falter, making him feel more empathy for you than frustration

“Okay then…” he sighed, “let’s get you home,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

It was unnervingly quiet.

Bakugo had the music off, worried that the thumping bass would aggravate any possible headache you had as you curled up in the seat beside him, your high heeled shoes long forgotten on the floor of his car.

He drove much more smoothly than before, his eyes desperately trying to focus on the road. He wasn't used to this kind of you-he missed your smile, and the way you would joke and laugh with him. Of course he would act like he didn't like it, giving you snarky comments and off handed insults that would only push you even more to joke with him.

Now he felt like he was next to a shell of you- you were there, right next to him, but- You weren't there. Your smile, your spirit, your light- it was being blocked by some darkness inside you.

“Are-are you mad at me Katsuki?”

You finally spoke to him, making Bakuo’s eyes wide and his heart stop in his chest.

Why did you sound so timid?

Bakugo continues to glue his eyes on the road, his voice gruff yet uncertain.

“The hell I’d be mad at you for?”

“I don’t know…” you replied softly, “you just sounded-mad”

Shit- now he felt guilty, making you feel worse than you probably already did. It was just that he was worried, and sometimes his emotions came out quicker than his words. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you out of all people could act like this.

“Well, I’m not mad at you-I’m just-“ he sighed, trying to find the words.

“- the hell were you out that late? The club scene isn’t your thing”

You shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him, cuddling yourself in closer to your body.

“I thought I told you-” you answered sadly, ‘I got dumped”

Bakugo blinked a couple times, the shock vibrating throughout his body. He knew you had a boyfriend, apparently Shindo Yo, the damn pretty boy of another hero agency. You were his closest friend after all, so he dealt with the news as best he could, but Bakugo has never liked the guy. He always chalked it up to him being protective over you as your friend, but the way he used to feel so angry and so frustrated whenever he saw you hold hands or hug made him want to scream. A small amount of happiness filled up his chest by hearing you say you were single, instantly making him feel guilty as he saw how distraught you were.

“The hell-“ he gulped out quickly, “what for?”

“Dont know..” you sighed, your face contorted in a grimace, “he-he said he needed to focus on his career-and that-that I was going to stop him from achieving his goals-”

Bakugo instantly felt anger erupt in his chest, his hands becoming clammy against the leather steering wheel.

“Wait-that dickwad, Shindo Yo, right? The damn extra won't amount to nothing, the hell he-”

He was rambling, the spiteful words spewing from his lips. He just couldn’t understand why your piece of shit of a boyfriend would dump someone as amazingly kind and caring as you, and go as far to say such awful words. It made him incredibly furious, and all he wanted to do was confront your now ex and give him a piece of his mind for causing you to act this way.

He was surprised though to hear your voice interject him, your tone stern yet pleading.

“Bakugo, can we not talk about it? Please?”

He wanted to kick himself for being so inconsiderate, an embarrassed blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Shit-I-okay,yeah”

The car ride continued in silence, Bakugo staring at the road in conflict, you cuddling yourself into a small ball on the leather seat.

It continued for a few minutes, until Bakugo broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Want me to drop you off at your place?” He asked gruffly, looking at you slightly from the side.

He noticed you shift, turning to look at him with large, pleading eyes.

“Can-can we go to your place instead?” you squeaked out, almost as if worried by his response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound mean earlier….I just- always feel so safe and warm when I go to your apartment, Katsuki”

Bakugo felt his heart quicken in his chest-you called him “Katsuki”, his name. Something in you saying that made him feel hot from flusteredness, but then you said you felt safe with him...he had never been more thankful for the darkness of night, because he knew his face was completely red.

He gulped, trying to build up the wall around his emotions you were trying to knock down. With each word or truth that spilled from your sleepy, drunken mouth, he found it harder to keep his feelings at bay. He took a deep breath, his clammy hands readjusting on the steering wheel.

You two were just friends.

He didn’t like you like that and you-you probably didn’t either.

He needed to be Bakugo, your best friend, your rock in hard times, not Bakugou, the blushing mess next to you that was concerned with his own feelings.

He clicked the turn signal on his car to the right, taking the route back to his home instead of yours as he sighed.

“-Fine.”

Bakugo pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, the bumpy street roads now turning smooth as he fit his car through the metal gate and settled into a parking spot near his apartment.

He turned the key of the car, killing the roaring engine as he stepped out of the car, the closing door as a soft thud as he commanded you to “Stay inside”.

Your sluggish head instantly perked at the statement, unable to understand what he had meant by that. But your body felt too tired, mentally and physically, and too weak to even protest. You stayed there, cuddled into the seat as Bakugo opened the door of the passenger seat, his arms outstretched as they tucked themselves under your body.

“Wait what are you-“ you asked sluggish, your eyes barely open as you wrapped your digits around his arms.

“I’m picking you up”

HIs tone was calm and forceful, as if this was a completely normal occurrence between the two of you- which it wasn't.

You instantly blushed at the prospect, excuses already forming on the tip of your tongue.

“You don’t have to, I can-“

“I could barely walk you to car and that was in flat ground,” he retorted back, I’m not gonna walk you up stairs-”

“Just let me do this”

He stated a little more softly, his voice gruff and low as he picked you up off the seat as if you weighed nothing to him. Your hands instantly latched onto his neck finding comfort by burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Shit-why you had to go and be so cute?

His grip around your body tightened, making sure you felt secure as he walked you up the plight of steps to his apartment.

Something about this felt so surreal- your warm body against his, his hands wrapping your thighs, the way your hair felt against his cheek...these were all sensations that left his heart pounding.

All of this seemed to frustrate him as much as it brought him joy-he shouldn't feel any of these tingling sensations around you. He shouldn't feel weightless and giddy, or terrified he'd do the wrong thing around you all the time. It bothered him to know end, and made him feel so frustrated.

But the most frustrating part was the fact you were oblivious- that you had this secret power over him and you didn't even know it.

He finally stepped foot in his apartment, setting you down gently as he ruffled through his pockets for his keys. His hand was still wrapped around your waist, giving you some stability as he opened the door with a slow creak, ushering you inside.

You stepped inside, feeling somewhat out of place- you had been here countless times before: parties, get togethers, the meet up place before you would hang out with the Bakusquad….so why did it feel so strange?

The room felt more intimate in a way-you had never been here without someone else, usually Kirishima.

And youd been here at night, but never this late, and the fact you had asked to sleep over- well, everything just felt so new and raw.

Thankfully Bakugo broke through your rapid thoughts, his vermillion eyes looking down at you with slight worry.

“You good? No needing to throw up or anything?” he asked gruffly.

God he felt so close- you could practically feel his heat radiating into your body still, making your cold digits beg for his touch.

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughts, a small “Mm-mm” and a shake of your head the only thing you could muster to do.

He led you over to his room, passing the small kitchen and bathroom as he did.

“Then you need new clothes- get you out of that clubbing crap”

Your mouth instantly formed into a pout, your eyes looking up at your best friend.

“It's not crap-its pretty”you corrected him, your tone playfully hurt.

“More like tight,” he replied snarkily, “ how do you even move in that thing?’’

You were about to quickly retort back that he should wear the dress and find out, but then a sudden image of Bakugo wearing your skin tight dress at a club made you instantly double over in giggles.

Bakugo gave you a questionable look, his red eyes almost judging your drunken, laughing form.

“I just keep it down with my hands silly,” you said in between giggles, your body flopping onto the plush comforter of his bed. Now you felt a little more at ease, as if the courage of alcohol had kicked into your system yet again.

Bakugo shook his head, his blonde locks swaying at the motion as he quietly said ‘Giggly ass drunk” under his breath. He began to rustle through his closet, trying his best not to stare at your form laying across his bed in such a body accentuating dress.

You hadnt seemed to notice Bakugo's rhetoric or dilemma, a soft smile gracing your lips stiill. Your propped your body up on your elbows, your tousled hair pooling against your skin.

“so what amazing little number are you gonna put me in now?”

“-This,”

You felt cloth instantly hit you square in the face, as if Bakugo had thrown it over his shoulder-most likely on purpose.

Usually you would attack the asshole for doing something like that, but you just felt too tired to even throw an insult back. Your lips pouted out once again, a small whine escaping your throat as you ripped the shirt from your face.

Bakugo grinned slightly at you ,finding your expression adorable as well as funny. He watched you inspect the shirt, the fabric as dark as your dress.

“You would think interning with Best Jeanist would have left some fashion sense in you,” you spewed out, your face clearly distraught by the shirt he had given you.

He rolled his eyes, his grin now turning into a grimace.

Was drunk you really that picky over a shirt?

“That was 5 fucking years ago, and I only interned with him cause he was one of the best,” he tried to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grown warm from your drunken disapproval. But his fiery personality kicked in, his tongue beginning to stutter over his words. “- just throw the goddamn shirt on before I let you sleep in that shit you call a dress”

“Or I could sleep in my underwear, there's other alternatives,”

your words flew out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, a triumphant grin on your face as you saw how beet red Bakugo became.

A giggle escaped from your lips, the sound ringing softly against his ears.

“Dont worry Katsuki, Ill wear the clothes,” you gave him a soft smile, cuddling the clothing to your chest.

He blinked a few times, trying to get his heart to settle back into a steady rhythm.

This wasn't real.

You didn't make him nervous.

You were just his best friend- you being in his room, in a pretty dress, making flirty remarks didn't affect him.

You were drunk-you weren't yourself right now- so why did he feel so hopeful? And for what?

He quickly spun on his heel, turning around before you could catch the glowing in his cheeks.

“Whatever-just call me if you need help” he threw over his shoulder, his hands closing his bedroom food with a loud slam.

Bakugo sat himself on the couch in his living room, his hands resting on his face, his elbow connected to his legs.

The hell was going on with him?

As he was brooding over his conflicted emotions, he heard the door of his room click open, and it seemed all his feeble attempts to slow down his heart went out the window.

There you were, clad in his black tshirt, the fabric pooling around your thighs and making your arms look tiny in the flowing fabric. You must have been wearing the shorts worn from under your dress, but still- he got a full view of your beautifully plush thighs, making heat rise to his cheeks.

Strange sensations filled his stomach, that tingling butterfly sensations filling his stomach-

The hell was wrong with him?

“For your clothes being so bland, they are pretty comfy…” you smiled up at him, his heart quickening at the small gesture.

You walked your way over the couch, resting your body opposite him, giving ample space between the two of you as you sighed in content.

“I could go to sleep right now”

Bakugo snorted, his arms wrapping against his chest as the heat continued to rise in his cheeks.

“The hell your not-”

You instantly pushed yourself up, cocking your head at Bakugou in confusion.

He had to admit it to himself- your looked-cute-, sitting there, your legs crossed with his shirt wrapped around your frame, your eyes wide and hair a mess.

He could get used to seeing you like this-

But shit he couldn't-didnt-think like that. You were his friend, nothing more.

“What do ya mean?” you asked “You were complaining about me two minutes ago, wouldn't you want me to go to sleep?”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes looking down at the floor.

“Sure but-I'm not letting you go to sleep with all that shit on your face-”

Your hands instantly went to touch your face, your digit scrubbing against the skin.

“Huh?-Oh”

You looked down, and there on your hand was your foundation, a tiny bit too dark as it had mingled with your bronzer and highlighter, black running against your skin like tire streaks on a road.

How did you not even feel that was on your face? How drunk were you?

The thought of you being so intoxicated you forgot you had makeup on seemed like the funniest thing ever, giggles dribbling out of your lips.

“Oh my god, I forgot!” you laughed, chuckles wracking through your body.

Bakugo simply shook his head, unable to contain a smirk from gracing his lips. He got up slowly, walking over to your side of the couch to offer you his hand.

“Alright cmon-you giggly ass drunk,” he smirked, his lungs tightening as you gave him a smile of your own, your smaller hand slowly taking hold in his larger one.

You leaned into his body, already accustomed to him being your support- he would at least admit it right now...you were cute

He walked you over to his bathroom, his digit flicking on the light switch.

It was a little small, with enough room to hold two people inside. He gently pressed you against the wood of the cabinet, his hands grabbing your waist as he hoisted you on to the counter.

Any other day you would be embarrassed by this sudden closeness with your best friend but something about this felt bitter sweet. It had been so long it seemed like since someone had truly cared for you, being there by your side and making sure you were okay. It felt comforting to have Bakugou near you, but you knew this wouldnt last. You were drunk and feeling broken-is was just his obligation as your friend to get you through the night. Once you sobered up, itd be back to the way things were-bitterly lonely.

As you muddled in your emotions, your feet dangling against the cabinets, Bakugo was rummaging through in the cabinet next to you, emerging with a bottle of makeup remover.

You cocked your head at the bottle, the liquid inside an artificial yet soothing blue.

Why did he have that?

Bakugo stared down at the bottle in his hand, his red eyes quickly glancing at the writing on the side and setting it down on the counter, now rummaging for a cloth.

“This shit should work-”

Your hand grabbed the bottle, now inspecting it in curiosity.

“When did you get this?”

“Remember last time you came over,” he asked over his shoulder,” when the power went out in your apartment and you said you had to do your makeup?”

You simply nodded your head-you remembered that day. You had planned to go and watch a movie with your boyfriend-ex, and the screening was at exactly 12 am since it was premiering. You had wanted to look at least a little decent, but fate had gone against you and destroyed that plan halfway into putting on your makeup. So you had of coursed called Bakugo, who grumpily obliged to let you use his apartment.

Bakugo’s hands gently took the bottle from yours, his hot skin brushing against yours as he applied the liquid to the cloth. His frame fit snugly in between your legs, your inner thighs brushing against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Well, You left it-”

He simply stated, everything in his being trying to keep his tone leveled as he began to wipe your skin clean of the events from the night.

You had never seen Bakugo be so gentle- he was taking his time, focusing on one small area and then moving onto the next. His strokes were even and light as air, not digging into your skin or forceful in any way.

“And- and you kept it?” you gulped out, your eyes searching his own vermillion ones.

Bakugo was scared, terrified even-he didnt want to look you in your eyes.

Would he do something he regretted if he did?

He was trying to control himself, to fight everything in him all night to not let you catch on to him, to not let you or himself see his true emotions...he was getting too tired to fight, and he was scared that he’d let something slip that he didnt even know about himself yet.

“Well yeah, I wasn't just going to throw it away,” he answered,” I figured you'd come and get it,”

He paused, his hand faltering against your skin for the smallest second. Maybe-it wouldn't hurt to say something...you were drunk after all, you wouldn't remember most of tonight probably….

“-also,” he gulped out, his heart beating in his chest, “ Its nice to have reminder of you here too,”

Your eyes instantly widened, the wind knocked out of your chest, constricting almost in pain.

Why did that make you feel so-so fluttery inside?

And why did it hurt so much?

Maybe because it almost sounded like-Bakugou may care for you? More than just a friendly way?

No-it couldn't….he was your best friend….but god, it felt so good to be cared for, to actually feel wanted-

And of course had to be by someone you knew you never had a chance with.

Your shoulders began to shake, realizing how much you must have screwed up-you lost your boyfriend, was humiliated by him, and then humiliated your own self by losing control.

Bakugo was the only one you had truly could count on-he was the one person you called, and he had shown up to get you. He had tried his best to keep you comfortable, went out of his way to keep you safe, his best to keep you happy…

How long had it been since someone had been this caring to you?

Your shoulders began to shake, the weight of everything crashing down on you, tears spilling across your cheeks like rain droplets outside a car window.

How did everything turn out so wrong?

Bakugo instantly noticed your change, his body instantly panicked and worried.

“Shit-y/n, you okay? Whats wrong?” he asked, his tone desperate as he set the cloth down and wrapped his hands around your forearms, securing you as wave after wave of tears racked your body.

He wrapped you into a slow hug, his warm palms placed firmly against your back as you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck.

He felt so warm and safe, your noise buried into the soothingly sweet smell that was him.

“Katsuki I-I-Im sorry, I didnt mean to-” you blubbered out, trying your best to apologize over your heightened emotions.

Bakugo had no idea what to do- was this just something you did when drunk? He had no idea why you had started crying, and he hoped it wasn't something he did- but telling by how in pain you looked and how quickly you welcomed his embrace, this was something he didnt do and couldn't fix-at least not quickly.

He continued to hold you tightly, his hands beginning to become clammy against your back.

“Dont say sorry-Your fine, just- tell me whats wrong,”

He felt your hands ball his shirt in your fists, your chin digging deeper into his skin.

“I wish I could find a guy as great as you,”

Shit.

Bakugo’s face turned beet red, his arms stiffening at your words- when he asked what was wrong, he didnt mean something like that.

But the truth comes out when you're drunk, and Bakugo fully believed in this saying…

Did that mean-you liked him?

He couldn't deny it now- it was too hard and everything was against him at this point.

Just the small prospect of being your lover made Bakugo’s heart quicken, the little sentence you just uttered destroying the wall he had kept to protect himself from the truth.

He liked you.

Alot actually.

He scoffed, trying his best to remain calm as he cradled you in his arms.

“Im not as great as you think I am,”

He felt you cuddle yourself even deeper into his neck, your hair tickling his jawline.

You seemed to be calming down as Bakugo had had a mental crisis….your sobs were now sniffles, and you werent breathing as hard. But you still were cuddled deep into his body, as if using him to block yourself from the outside world.

“No you are, you really are…”you sighed quietly, “ even if you are an ass sometimes, you are very kind and sweet-

“I just wish I could date someone like you,”

Shit.

How could he even say anything after that?

How was even able to respond?

He wouldn't-Bakugo decided to hold you quietly, as if you never said anything...but those words were echoing inside his head.

God- you could date him in a heartbeat. But, reality kicked into Bakugou- you were drunk, and just got dumped. You were just starved of touch and affection from that.

There was no way sober you would have said something so revealing as this- you saw him as his best friend, nothing more and nothing less of that. You wouldn't jeopardize your relationship by saying something that could mean the end of your friendship.

Bakugo felt the tightness of your body loosen, your breathing now regular, something so different from a few minutes ago.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly, almost timidly as he waited for a response.

Nothing.

Bakugo sighed, a small, tired smile playing on his lips

“You fell asleep huh?”

Bakugo playfully rolled his eyes as your quiet demeanor spoke the truth for him.

His hands found themselves placed against your back, wrapping against your body once again so that your legs were around his waist, his arm supporting you as he carried you back to his room.

Maybe in the morning you would remember this...maybe not. He was conflicted- a part of him hope you didn't, so your relationship could resume as normal, but- something in him hoped you remembered. And hoped you wanted to talk more about it- because if you felt the same way and meant it, he wouldn't mind to see if you two could be more than just friends.

He pecked a look at your sleeping form, your smushed face against his shoulder making his heart fill with warmth.

“Shit-if only you knew...I would date you-

“even if your a giggly ass drunk,”

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ssa-sugar-tits · 4 years

Text

queen of hearts // chapter four

summary: y/n y/l/n was crushed when she found out about maeve donovan. heartbroken, she left her entire life behind. what happens when she becomes the most prolific serial killer the bau has ever seen?

prologue + series masterlist & taglist

content warnings: swearing, angst, implied/mentioned sex, restraints, blood, head injury, kidnap/hostage, alcohol, gunshot, murder

a/n: reader is a psychotic murderer. this is purely a work of fiction and if you or someone you know are experiencing homicidal urges, seek professional help immediately.

The room was filled with tension and an overwhelming sense of despair but no one said a word. No more hellish arguing, no irritatingly random facts, not even discussion to solve the case. Everyone worked on their angle of the case and despite the fact that no one would dare admit it, they all somewhat hoped that Y/N wouldn't be caught. Some hoped more than others but deep down they all felt a twinge of it. JJ walked into the room and spoke, startling the team and ripping them away from their thoughts and guilt.

"I've given a picture of her to the media, it's being circulated."

It pained her-- almost physically-- to have to hand over a picture of someone who'd been like family for so many goddamn years. She felt that she was betraying Y/N and that made her feel indescribably horrible.

"Now what? We just wait?" Morgan seemed to be the only one that really did want to stop her. Maybe he was angry that he hadn't seen the signs. Maybe he was angry that his best friend had just... left. Maybe he was angry that she lost herself so much. Maybe he blamed himself.

"What else is there to do Derek? Call me bad at my job- Hell, call all of us bad at our jobs but we can't profile her. Admit it, we're all biased. Too biased to think straight but there's no way we can give this case to another unit." Emily had always been so close to Y/N and was able to open up to her. Something she couldn't bring herself to do with most people. But you weren't most people, were you? Even with what Y/N could be doing, Emily doesn't have it in her to hate her. The sadness she was feeling must have shown because JJ squeezed Emily's hand and gave her a weak smile. And for the millionth fucking time, everyone stayed silent. Not even Spencer was saying anything and he is not the type to stay quiet this long. Believe it or not, that was actually one of the things Y/N had loved about him. Everyone rolled their eyes or cut him off but she loved to listen to him ramble. To everyone's surprise, she was always genuinely interested in what he had to say and that was one of the first things that made him fall in love with her. She never invalidated him or called him strange. Sometimes when she had a nightmare or experienced anxiety she'd even ask him talk to her about a random topic so she could focus on his voice until she calmed down.

"Your voice is like... honey. In my ears." Spencer wanted to scream with emotional torture building up as he remembered how she'd laughed when she said that and how he'd had smiled at her with nothing but adoration and love.

"That seems unsanitary Y/N."

"You're such a smartass."

"Am I?"

"Definitely. But it's ok. I love that about you. I love you."

"I love you too."

She'd planted a sweet kiss on his lips before laying her head on his lap and listening to the rest of his topic rant. Still basking in the memory of Y/N, a sharp pain entered his hand and he realized he'd dug his crescent nails into the palm of his hand. And in that moment, he couldn't help but think about how much he'd love to be holding her hand right now.

"Guys!"

They all turned to Garcia, the source of the exclaim, who was walking in with Hotch.

"A bartender downtown says he just saw a woman matching Y/N's description leave with another man."

"She's chosen another victim? Here?" Rossi asked with confusion written on his face. "Up until now she's only killed 2 people per state and knowing the BAU has been called in, why is she staying here?"

JJ stepped in,

"This place is special to her, she has history here. Y/N must have an endgame but what is it?"

"The profile says she'll take as many people as she can with her. Probably suicide by cop."

Derek had accepted the situation. So why did that hurt to say?

"Rossi will go to the bar and talk to witnesses. Reid and Prentiss, stay here with Garcia. JJ and Morgan, PD is surveilling the radius around the bar and setting up roadblocks, come with me to help them."

"There's no way I'm staying here." Spencer objected.

Stay here and do nothing? Like hell.

"Neither am I, what the hell Hotch?"

"Reid, Prentiss that's an order. You're not going."

They both started to argue again but Hotch had already left. JJ and Derek followed and Rossi stood up with to leave for the bar. Apologetic looks were shot at Spencer and Emily because they all know why they have to stay behind. They're the two closest to her, the two that wouldn't be able to keep their emotions from affecting them on the field. And with that, off they all went.

Y/N's POV

The second you get to his hotel room, your lips crash against the handsome stranger. Your next victim. He pushes you against the wall and you moan loudly. His hands roam your body and you pull back.

"Hey... Go lie on the bed and wait for me."

Panting and staring at you with lust, he complies. Of course he does.

For God's sake. This man doesn't even know your name.

To be fair, Spence didn't even know Maeve's last name. And he still chose her.

You walk over to the eager man on the bed. Your hot breath on his neck, you lean close and whisper to him.

"We're going to do things my way."

He moans and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at him in disgust.

"Yes ma'am."

Taking out a rope, you tie him up and you know he thinks you're just a kinky slut. That's what they all see, isnt it? Suddenly something roars inside of you. Forgetting your usual routine, you pick up the lamp on the bedside table and smash it against him. Crimson stains the bed and you drop it, shocked by yourself. Yes, you've done worse. But it isn't the act that's sending regret and nausea through your body, it's that you're devolving. You're losing control.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Starting to panic, you take the unconscious man and check for a pulse. He's still alive.

Giving him a shower (much to your disdain) and change of clothes, you put his arm over your shoulder and walk out of the room giggling as you pass one of the housekeepers.

"Baby, you're such a lightweight! Let's get you out of here."

The housekeeper barely gives you a second glace but when she enters the room of the man you've taken, she starts to scream and you know you're running out of time.

Run. Drag him. Just hurry the hell up.

Finally at his car, you take him to the small studio you own downtown. No one can find you here. It's been yours for nearly a decade and you aren't stupid enough to have told anyone about it or put it under your name. Granted, you'd never thought you'd have to use it to hide out from the feds, it's still useful. After taking a look at the brightly colored wall in your basement, you feel a sense of sudden pain race through your veins. You used to be normal. You used to have a life.

The man is chained up, gagged, and bleeding but you can't even remember doing anything to him. What you need is numbness. They thought the other bodies were bad? Wait til they fucking see what you do with him. Pain shoots through your skull again and you wince and fall to the ground.

"Fuck. I- I need a drink." you stammer to no one in particular but yourself.

A wig and sunglasses make you look different enough from the woman being circulated to take the bus to a nearby gas station. Walking down the liquor aisle of the store, you hum a song to yourself and let the AC blow on your skin. Vision blurred, you bite your lip and taste the unmistakable strong metallic taste of your own blood. Still humming that fucking song. The song you'd danced to with Spencer in your living room before you'd made love for the first time.

"You cannot be serious!"

"Y/N! I can't dance."

"Oh come on. How bad can you be? Seriously, the songs going to end and it'll be too late."

"Yes, that's what I'm hoping for."

"Psh. Don't tell me Doctor Reid is scared to sway around a little."

"Shut up."

"Make me." you laughed.

With one playful look, you dared him to shut you up in the most passionate, sensual way he could. But instead he put his warm hands on your hips and swayed to the song. You melted into his touch and your breaths synced as you laid your head on his chest. His heart beat was steady and calming. One hand reached for yours and intertwined before twirling you and pulling you back in to dance. He'd held you until it was over and brought your chin up to his face. The kiss was so intense, so loving. He tilted his head and pulled you tighter to get as close as he could to you. His tongue met yours and your mouths bathed in each other's taste. Running a hand through your hair, you'd started to unbutton his shirt. He'd been taken aback at first but then picked you up and placed you in the bedroom ever so softly. Placing gentle kisses all over each other's bodies and undressing for the other, you made raw, breathtaking love for the first of many times.

"Hey lady! Get out of the way!"

"W-What?..." You tremble and realize you're crying on the floor of the aisle.

"I said get out of the damn way, some of us got places to be."

The man is clearly batshit drunk. Probably here to buy his next fix. Shaking and letting yourself actually feel your emotions, you stand and use the wall to balance yourself. The man that yelled at you curses to himself as his phone rings and he picks it up.

"Hell do you want? Thought you were still mad about Andrea."

Andrea? Mad about Andrea. Another cheater. Another liar. Right? It has to be.

Before you can process what you're doing-- how irrational it is-- the gunshot rings through the store and everyone turns to see the man before you on the ground, screaming and spitting blood. A mix of a laugh and a sob escapes you and you scream.

"Everyone on the fucking ground! If I see any cellphones, I'll shoot you just like this dickhead. Got it?"

Frightened people drop to the ground and you start to yell, incoherent bullshit again. You smash the freezer glass behind you and open an expensive bottle of bourbon.

You practically whimper having to take deep gasps in between words, but in a somehow still confident, fearless tone.

"Now let's have some fucking fun."

But what you didn't know was that the cashier in the front had sent a text 5 minutes earlier.

Call 911! The girl from the news, the Queen of Hearts. She's in the store.

What you didn't know was that the woman that recieved the text had called immediately.

911, what's your emergency?

What you didn't know was that the BAU was on their way.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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oingo233 · 3 years

Text

Rapture is a Boy (3)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior? And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warning: angst, cuss words, self-doubt, angst, cheating, angst (but not as much as there will be later mwhahaha)

Authors note: I try to keep my writing(self inserts) gender, body type, ethnicity and house neutral/not specified. If I ever slip up please let me know so that I can change it.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Word Count: 3k

Part Three

****After All This Time, There is No Love****

The common room walls seemed to pulse with the vibrations of the song, every ear in the room being invaded with music, cheers, laughter, and somewhere for some odd reason, screaming. Screams of joy of course. The party was alive and everyone had large smiles and butterbeer slipping through giggles or being shared through a kiss. This party would surely be talked about in the weeks to come.

But I was having a harder time of letting loose, and it would seem Lily is too. For our very reason for throwing the party could not make it, so what the hell was the point? Remus was off studying, James was off studying, so we had no lips to lock with our own, no body to dance and grip to, no one to have fun with in the way we wanted to tonight. Lily was sipping on a butterbeer, staring at the portrait with me, hoping they’d walk through.

“Ladies...” A hufflepuff named Paul collided into our sides, looping his arms around our shoulder. Lily to his right, I to his left. He was staring drunkenly at the portrait with us, his eyes going large and then small, as if he was searching for something. “What are we doing?” He chuckles to himself.

“I mmmeann seriousllyy, if-if you’re waiting for a snnog anny onne here will step up. Lilyy that is, she’s sinngle. I’d snnog you though (y/n) but Remmuss might tear mee apart-a-apart me.” He slurs, leaning in close to my face. “Pre,’ He mutters to himself “pretty,” he laughs again and saunters off, swaying his hips to the music, declaring he’ll chug another jug of butterbeer. I look at Lily and she stares back at me, mouth open and my own fighting a smile. Before we know it, we’re cackling like the bunch of witches/wizards we are.

“This is the worst, mission failed! M’ sorry Remus couldn’t make it,” Lily says, huffing hair out of her drink. The fire burning only brought out the red of her hair, she looked apart of the flame herself. I see why James was in love with her, she got her wits, charm, beauty, and kindness. So why would he miss this time to be with her? Does Peter really need the whole lot of them?

“mmmh,” I agree wordlessly, “M’ sorry James couldn’t.” She sighs into her drink, cheeks burning and she looks up at me.

“Me too.” She mumbles. I’m taken aback to say the very least. I was always just teasing, I mean I had a hunch sure, but for her to really admit it. Well, I’m not proud to say that I stood there like a daft cow for roughly 5 minutes before she groaned and bumped her shoulder into mine. Hiding her smile and embarrassment with a final swig of her drink.

“I- you- James?” Is all I can seem to get out of me, shock makes ya useless it seems. She nods slowly.

“Yes, I thought you knew already.” She shrugs, turning towards the raging crowd of drunk witches and wizards.

“Well, yeah..” I shrug just as cooly and she laughs, pushing me with her arm again.

“Stop, you did not because Remus doesn’t know, and you tell him everything.” She points out, but soon regrets it as my smile grows wickedly large.

“(y/n)!” But I was already half way through the portrait, muttering to myself just loud enough for her to hear.

“Remus! Remus, I’ve got to tell Remus!” I’m laughing hysterically as she chases me through the corridors, our robes trailing behind us like a little sea of black rolling by our angles.

“No! Please, don't!” She yells after me, both of us out of breath by the time we reach the same corridor as the library. “I’ll hex you...” She glares at me as we walk swiftly up to the library doors. Now, of course I would never ever snitch such a thing to anyone. This is Lily’s long kept secret and when I had my unrequited love for Remus she didn’t go blabbering it to him or anyone else, so of course I would return the favor of silence. My plan was to simply lead her to James, where they can now confess their undying love for one another after the secrets already out. But she didn’t know this.

“You won’t hex me Lily dear, you’re not that against James knowing. Why don’t you tell Remus yourself, or better yet, James!’’ I exclaim, smiling to myself for my own genius. God, Remus will be in more of a shock than I, all the boys will, no one more than James. She tilts her head in disappointment directed at me, we raise our hands and together we open the doors.

We are first greeted with an indifferent glance in our direction from Pince. We smile at her and nod our heads in her direction, then walk slowly (as in I’m matching Lily’s pace which is practically the march of dread) to the table the marauders usually sit. The table has all of our names scratched into the bottom.

I wish Lily would walk faster because I was bouncing to see Remus, he quickly apologized to me once again for being dismissive and it led to quite the kiss (or two) and left us with some unfinished business. We turned the corner of a large bookshelf and where we were expecting to see the boys, we instead saw no one at all.

“Where are they?” I ask Lily, she shrugs beside me, just as confused. Though her shoulders are slumped with either relief or disappointment, from the look on her face I can tell it is a mix of both. “Come,” I say wrapping my arm around her shoulder, “They’re bound to be here somewhere, yeah?” She mumbled back a yeah to me, and together we searched the entirety of the library.

But it was a waste of time. Hardly anyone was there, and certainly not the loud (yes, even when they study) boys we came here for.

But we did find someone of interest, walking back along the corridors we found someone perched by the window, staring out towards the forbidden forest, towards the shrieking shack. Lucy. Lucy is girl by the window. She looked worried.

I swallowed my pride and my anger. It’s irrational, I told myself, my emotions talking, not fact. I did all of this just to take two step towards her and ask a simple question. But the answer was anything but.

“Are you okay? And before you lie to us, you should know that we genuinely are good listeners and I like to think quite non-judgmental and-” Though I swallowed so much, I could not swallow my stress ranting, the one that spawns when I am put in uncomfortable situations, such as this one. A curse truly. But thankfully Lily cuts me off.

“Yes, so uhm... are you?” Lily asks. Lucy doesn’t even turn to us, she bites her lip and continues to stare out the window. We almost go to ask again, thinking she hadn’t heard us. But she starts speaking, her gaze never leaving the shack before her.

“I guess it’s always good to talk about our problems,” She laughs to herself, “Remus tells me that, says bottling things up only make it worse. I’m worried about him actually. Remus, do you know hi-” Her words fall short as she turns around and sees the expression on my face. Remus. She is worried about Remus, my boyfriend. Why was she worried? Why was he not in the library where he said he would be? What does Lucy know that I do not?

Why does she care about Remus enough to sit and stare out of a window for hours? I quickly came back the conclusion that Remus was lying to me, about where he was, and who he loves. He has been cheating on me.

I stager backwards and Lily grasps my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

“Are you two friends?” She asks, without venom or even a quiver in her lip, but I felt like my world was crashing down. I was thankful she asked the question because I wouldn’t have been as composed.

“Yes, er- sort of, closer than friends actually” She smiles to herself like she just said the sweetest thing. But it was just another stab to the heart, another hand constricting my throat. Not very convincing Lucy, I think to myself. Lily squeezes my hand again and goes to lead us away but Lucy begins to speak again.

“You’re (y/n) right?” She knows me. She knows me? I nod numbly and Lily quickly says goodbye for us, and rushes us away. She partly carries me through the portrait, I trail lamely behind her, not able of thought. She trudges us up the stairs to her bed where she promptly lets me sit and breakdown.

“Lily...” I don’t get to finish the sentence before she pulls me in for a hug, I didn’t realize how hard I was crying until my sobs made our shoulders hit into one another. She hugs me tighter, running her hands through my hair. Shhhsing me softly, and whispering sweet things in my ear.

“I love him, I love him so much,” I cry out, fisting her shirt in my hands. I think I feel her wipe away a tear of her own. God, I must be such a mess to make Lily herself cry. But I am a mess. I feel as though my very home has been taken away from me. This boy I gave my heart to, this boy I gave my very own body and love to, was giving it all to someone else. I confided in him, I trusted him, hell I’d even die for him. But he was playing me, he was using me. I have been loving a stranger.

“He doesn’t love me...”Is all I can mumble to myself again and again, rocking in Lily's embrace. We lay there until sleep takes us. None of the girls wake us up whether I belonged in Lily's bed or not, they noticed the way my face seemed blotchy and I was frowning in my sleep. But more than that they saw the tired look in Lily’s expression, and the rage hidden deep within.

I woke up to the sound of rustling clothes, and parchment. The sound of the girls dormitory coming alive, and everyone preparing for the schools day ahead. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to lie there until I grew the strength to face my worst fear. Until I grew the confidence to walk out there, to love myself again when I felt anything other than beautiful or good. I felt disgusting, what was wrong with me that would make Remus feel the need to be with another? No, I didn’t want to get up until I was healed, until time would reverse itself completely.

But nonetheless I got up, because Lily was worried and Lily was watching and Lily was there to hold my hand and reassure me that I was wonderful, and worthy of love. That it was Remus. My Remus. Lucy’s Remus, it doesn’t matter. I love him, I still do. After all that happened, I wish love was something I could tear from me and leave behind, but it was at first a beautiful flower in my heart and now it is just a dead weed stuck in cracks. I will never be able to get it out.

Lily silently sits me on the edge of the bed. She fixes my hair for me, and wipes at my cheeks, and gives me a tissue. I blow into it, she throws it out. She kisses my cheek and waits for me to get dressed.

At last, we make our way through the sea of students and staff to the great hall. The laughter of fellow students makes the lump in my throat all that much larger. My hands begin to shake and so Lily holds it within her own.

“Look at me love,” She says, “Remus does not deserve ya after the shite he pulled. Ya need to talk to him love, you need to break up with him yeah? Feel the freedom in your new single life and get out there. Paul said he’d snog ya, yeah?” I know she was trying to make me feel better, and it almost worked. Almost. But I was still very much in love with him, I don’t know if I can move on. After knowing Remus so intimately, how could I? Nonetheless I swallow my despair and nod slowly to her. She lets go of my hands and we walk straight to the Gryffindor table. Straight to the boys.

My heart swallowed itself whole when I caught sight of Remus. He looked tired, exhausted even. His skin pale, and he looked in pain. The other boys didn’t look any more alive, but they were laughing with one another, though in a more sedated way. Remus was in his own world, reading a muggle book I gave him a while ago. He promised he’d tell me all about it and that we’d find a way to watch the muggle movies when we can. We never will.

My sadness is suddenly replaced with an intense anger. With rage and hurt I walk right up to the table, I stand behind Remus. The other boys look up at Lily and me with easy smiles, but they drop as they soon further dissect our appearance and with it our mood. Sirius goes to wolf whistle as if he was excited by the fact one of the boys were about to get hounded into, but Lily raises a hand and stops all sound at the boys part of the table.

I clear my throat. He is still reading, he smiles to himself as he reaches a rather humorous part of the book.

“Remus,” I call, my voice sickly sweet, it seems to shock Lily. She begins to walk back, not wanting to be in the middle of the spitfire. But the boys seems to soak in the scene with amusement. Remus hums in response, and puts his thumb near the edge like he does when he is about to finish a line and then close the book, but I was above waiting now.

“Could you Remus, for 5 seconds perhaps give me more attention when I speak to you than some fucking book. It’s like I’m talking to a godamn wall!’‘ I lose my temper near the end, and now half of the table was staring at us. Remus doesn’t even bother to mark the page, he places the book down and whips around to me with wide eyes. The boys no longer looking humored at all, everyone is giving me odds looks. I’ve never once acted this way with Remus, all our previous arguments were resolved rather quickly.

“Great,” I smile too big at him, then turn to the boys. Every word dripping sarcasm and fake calm. Remus only frowns more, his eyes darting across my face and than to Lily searching for an answer.

“Now, could you all leave us be or are you going to be obnoxious flies on said wall while I speak to my boyfriend for the little amount of time I have managed to grab his attention?” I grit out every word, as if fighting my anger, I did not mean to be so hurtful but I am very hurt myself. Did the rest of boys know about Remus cheating? Instead of leaving, they stare at me in shock, after some time of staring James goes to ask why I am being so rude but I cut him off.

“You know what?” My voice cracks, I am losing my resolve. With every second I spend staring deeper into Remus’s eyes my anger fades into sadness. A great sea of sadness. “Never mind, I am being rude. All of you can continue to ignore me completely, Remus, my love,” My voice cracks once again and I will my anger to come back so that I may do what I have to next. “You keep reading that book of yours and for the love of god don’t stop for anything, I mean don’t ever stop because what on earth could be of a more pressing matter? And boys, keep your sweet asses locked in place because I do always forget how much of fucking arseholes the whole lot of you are!” Remus stands up abruptly and caresses my forearm, he wishes for us to talk somewhere more privately but I jump back at his touch.

My lips curl up in a snarl “We’re over Remus! You cheat! You fucking liar!” I yell loud enough for the whole of Gryffindor table to hear, my anger has run from me completely and now nothing is left but Remus’s eyes staring deep into mine.

His eyes, as they well up with tears and dart around the room. His eyes growing red and defensive at all the people looking back at him. His eyes meeting mine once more, his mouth falling open and closing again. He goes to speak, but at last, I watch as he can’t hold the tears back anymore. He rubs aggressively at his eyes, and rushes out of the great hall. His friends racing after him, not before Sirius shoots me a dirty look and James questions Lily with his eyes.

And then it was done. The students begin to whisper behind hands and poke their fingers in our direction. The great hall filling up once again with chatter and gossip, I feel the color drain from my face and every feeling I previously had becomes overtaken with grief. It is over. I have lost him. After all this time, there is no love.

Lily catches me before I fall. She is now the one to rush me through the doors of the great hall, but we are stopped short. Stopped by the sound of horrible, horrible sobs and 3 boys trying their hardest to silence them. To comfort him. No pain in that moment would come to compare to the miserable feeling I’d carry around after that night. After seeing him lying there, body racked with sobs because of me.

Sirius looks up, he looks as though he is in pain as he bounces his leg and runs a hand through his hair. He looks around, anywhere but his broken friend. But then our eyes meet.

He begins to walk over to us, Lily stands as my guard. But nothing could protect me from the onslaught that is an angry Sirius Black...

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess @1975weasley @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain@nicodoesntexist

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bellamybellamyblake · 3 years

Text

Six Years (Part 3)

Pairing:

Past/Eventual Bellamy Blake x Fem!Kane!Reader, Platonic!Octavia Blake

Summary:

Octavia knew who she was now, but you couldn’t figure out what the hell you’d become.

Warning:

so much mf angst, themes of addiction and depression, self-destructive behavior and a tiny bit of comfort in there

Word Count:

2k (i got a little ~carried away~ lol)

A/N:

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. i wasn’t happy with the og thing i had down so i literally just rewrote the whole thing in a few hours and it’s sm better than it would’ve been. me holding off posting this did wonders and i’m more confident in it too even tho i kinda think i suck at writing but also kinda don’t idk my self esteem varies wildly

Merry Christmas Eve Eve to those who celebrate ❤️

the gif (and all the other ones) are not mine and i take no credit for them

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@shipshipshipau

The girl with aqua eyes - although now they were more of a spotted gray - had only seen one moment of weakness from you. It would be the last time Octavia had seen you, and you, her.

“We’re surviving!” She had started shouting, as if she believed that set in a lower tone, her words would be construed as lies. “The human race is surviving! That’s what matters!”

“He wouldn’t be okay with this, and you know it!” Your voice broke involuntarily as it rose to match hers. You shook your head as you tried to desperately stop the ache in your chest as you brought her - probably dead - brother up. Tears clung to your eyelashes, waiting for you to blink so they had permission to fall. Your throat had been closed for a while now, and the rest was merely a weak cry. “If this is the price that we have to pay...maybe we shouldn’t be.”

You’d never know if it was the crack in your demeanor or your choice of words, but either way, her eyes softened when you spoke.

“Look at me.” You did as told and she gripped the back of your neck in one hand, pulling your forehead so close it almost came into contact with hers.

The air changed as Octavia came alive under the monster she wore for armor. Her mask coming off allowed you to let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You would begin to regret not smashing the helmet to bits while it was off and vulnerable.

“You have to stop listening to them,” She said. “It’ll tear you apart. It’s better they get to live to hate us than die slowly and love us-”

“They don’t deserve this either, O-”

“We bare it, so they don’t have to. You’re the one that told me that. You can’t back out on me, now. I can’t do this without you.”

For so long you were okay with her needing you to do the dirty work. Besides the first time - when you did it together - she’d give the sentence and you’d see it through. Every single time, it felt like it was killing you more than them, but that didn’t matter, did it? If you weren’t going to do it, who would?

It was the last thing Octavia had asked of you and you had no intention of letting her down.

Bellamy didn’t know what he would see when they finally dropped him down into the bunker, but it definitely wasn’t that. Surrounded by more death than he was prepared for, he couldn’t help himself to not move his gaze around the arena. The fences between him and the living reminded him of the cages the Mountain Men held him in. The walls were stained deep with crimson, leaving the dull concrete behind it unrecognizable. He looked to the blonde at his side, and they asked each other the same silent question:

What the hell happened down here?

His whiskey shaded orbs kept moving, albeit reluctantly. They stopped on Marcus Kane, who looked so much older than last time. His hair and beard were inches longer and grayer than the natural brown he used to have. He was so pale, it was unnerving - almost as if he was close to death. They connected eyes briefly and that’s when the younger saw the deadly weapon held to his neck by the hands of-

No.

Your back was facing him, but it didn’t matter how long it had been, he’d never miss you. The locks that adorned your head were longer too, almost to your waist. The natural shade was faded though, like you had aged twenty years instead of six. He watched your shoulders heave and your hands start to shake as Kane talked to you.

He couldn’t pull his eyes from the impure red that dyed your skin and clothes.

While you were distracted, he chose to act, protecting Marcus from his own flesh and blood. He didn’t miss the gears in your head turning as your gaze landed on him. He saw your eyes sink into a trance of recognition and a deep sort of longing overtook your senses. The melancholic need you had tried to numb for half a decade came back in full force and held no mercy.

You remembered how he always smelled of the forest after the sky wept. You remembered how sure but gentle his touch was on your skin. You remembered how his remarkably soft lips would feel when they pushed against yours as they begged for more at every turn. You remembered how it felt to be wrapped in his arms, listening to his heart thump as he assured you everything would be alright, even if he didn’t think it would be.

Was that gone forever, now, too?

Bellamy noticed something else, though; something he didn’t recognize. Something he’d never seen before.

Something that scared him.

It had been hours since and neither of you had bothered to find the other. Getting everyone out was a great distraction for him. Talking to his little sister, whose eyes seemed to hold the same thing yours did, was another. She had explained to him and Clarke that Wonkru had deemed her Bloodreina and you, Ripa. So, no, nothing as special as death from above or the red queen or the commander of death, but death, nonetheless.

People have done well not to forget that.

When Clarke told him you still hadn’t come out and no one had seen you, however, he didn’t have a choice anymore.

The halls were those of nightmares, spirits lurking around every corner and it was cold and empty. He knew the lights were kept low to save power but it felt almost purposeful, like they were meant to scare you. To tell you not to act out or some kind of monster would jump from the shadows and make you pay.

But he didn’t know if it was you or his sister.

A chill slithered up his spine.

If someone told him this wasn’t real, he’d do anything he could to believe them. He wished that he was seconds away from being shaken awake by Raven or Monty, and they would tell him it was just another nightmare. He wished he was still on the Ring, praying ignorantly to anyone that would listen that his family on earth were still okay.

Breaking him from his thoughts, a yellow lamplight caught his attention. At the end of the windowless corridor, it shone out of a slightly ajar door. Using every ounce of strength he possessed to not walk away, he pushed it open. It cried at the motion, diminishing any and all remnants of silence that swallowed the floor.

His eyes found you catching yourself from falling caused by a failed attempt at standing. A half empty bottle of whatever works in one hand, the other one holding you up against the bed frame. The high-pitched creak pulled your attention to the front of the room with a furrowed brow and he allowed himself to take in your appearance.

A wrinkled, cotton shirt sat on your chest and it was a different one than before; faded white and thin, yet cleaner than the other one which was colored with blood. Your hair was damp - the result of taking a shower - but lazily tied back in a half-assed effort to get it out of your face.

You stared at each other for a minute. A million things were hitting your slow-moving thoughts at once, too much for you to even try to comprehend. He finally took one step towards you, parting his lips to say something but no sound came out. He was stumped, hundreds of words flooded his mind but not a single one sounded good enough.

Nothing he could say would make what happened in the arena okay.

It was unbearably painful. There he was, finally right in front of you, and you had no idea what to talk about. No idea what to start with, end with, bring up, discuss, laugh about, cry about, scream about. Nothing was good enough to say to the man that kept you alive for such a long time, such a long time ago.

Too long ago.

You inevitably broke the silence, though your words came out cracked and in a slur. A defensive and humorless scoff left your lips, an effort to cover up the discomfort. Or it was because you were too drunk to shut yourself up. “You gonna say somethin’?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

You didn’t know why, but you hoped he’d sound different. It was childish and irrational, but you hoped that you could say you both changed too much and he would have nothing to hold against you.

Because no matter how far away it seemed, sometimes you could still remember what it felt like to be that innocent seventeen-year-old that hadn’t lived yet; what it felt like to be that girl who still couldn’t stand her father. To be that girl who sprained her ankle within ten minutes of being on earth for the first time. To be that girl who hadn’t made a friend aside from Clarke and Wells in her whole life. That girl who had just kissed a boy for the first time.

The girl who was loved and not lost yet.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Where the hell did she go?

That made the room spin, and you had to blink a few times to make it stop, taking a seat on the thin mattress. You took a drink, making the liquid slosh from the base to the neck of the bottle and back again. When it settled, you rested your head between your shoulders as you heard him say your name. It bounced off the walls in the room, hitting each one again, and again, and again like it was a bullet waiting to find its target. You had wanted the word to fall from his lips for so long that you’d forgotten what it sounded like. You had forgotten what he sounded like, and you fucking hated yourself for it.

Then you realized he said, “Ripa,” and those four deadly little letters crushed your throat and stole the air from your lungs.

That name hadn’t felt right from the start, but it was what you had been simultaneously promoted to and reduced by. The only person who refused to call you that over the years, was your father. For two thousand days, he made sure to steer clear of it.

That’s not who you are and I know it, even if you don’t.

A sudden and hauntingly raw sob escaped, and you knew his eyes were on you in an instant.

“Don’t call me that,” You begged, meeting his gaze for the first time since he entered. Breath picking up, you were practically terror-stricken at the idea that all you were to him now was a murderer. You vigorously tried to shake the thought away, squeezing your eyes shut as everything that kept you numb seemed to vanish into thin air. “Y-You can’t-Not you too. Please, not you.”

Bellamy’s hand brushed your cheek and tears rained freely. You immediately leaned into the familiar and delicate warmth and you really fucking hoped this wasn’t your mind playing a trick on you.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” When he spoke this time, his words sounded choked too. His other hand cradled the back of your head as he pulled you into his chest and just...held you. “It’s okay.”

It was like you were standing at the edge of a building, teetering the edge before accidentally falling. Only, before you could plummet to your death, someone caught your hand, and it occurred to you that you really wanted them to pull you back up.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

Your voice was just so, so weak. Beaten down and broken.

“Never.” He said it with so much confidence and finality, you almost had to convince yourself it was real and not a dream. “I promise.”

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smilingleoo · 3 years

Text

He tells Y/N he kissed a girl when he was drunk- PJM Drabble Pt.2

Request: can u do a part 2 of He tells Y/N he kissed a girl when he was drunk plsss🥺 i love your writing so much

Warnings: slight angst

Author’s Note: thank you! I love writing for you guys 🥺 hope you like it, I did it with a happy ending this time. Too much angst for me lol. Enjoy!!

Pt.1 Pt.2

————

He was devastated to say the least.

A month had gone by since your breakup and it was killing him. The boys had demanded an explanation for his sloppy dance moves, cold expressions and aloof attitude. They were concern and extremely worried. They hadn’t seen you around lately and, mostly Yoongi, had suspected that something was not right between the both of you-“I cheated. Remember the night we went out to have some drinks because of the award? I might have drunk too much and...I made out with another girl. I returned home and blurted it out.”

Namjoon was the first one to react, of course, telling him he had been irresponsible and irrational. Jimin knew it, had known it since he left the apartment you both shared, and blamed himself for it daily. The next one to scold him was Min Yoongi, surprisingly. He was a little bit more subtle but straightforward anyways-“Y/N did everything for you, Jimin-ah. Why?”

Jimin had asked himself that question too. He hadn’t found a proper answer yet, and he feared he never would. Did he really wanted to kiss another person so desperately? Either way, he had lost and he doubted you’d give him a second chance-“I don’t know...I wish I had an answer to that.”

“I’ve talked to her”-Taehyung added-“She’s doing well. She told me she had a hard time getting over you and that maybe she’s rethinking everything. Maybe you should talk to her, Jimin-ah.”

A slight punge of hope punctured his chest as he fished for his phone, browsing through his contacts until he stopped on your name. The letter shone brightly on his screen while he analyzed his movements, every breath he took calculated and cold. Should he call you? He opted for the safer choice and decided that sending you a message would be more appropiate.

Your screen flashed automatically when Jimin’s text arrived. His name was still saved with a cute heart and a pig since both loved eating so much. Even though you had made it your priority to forget him, Jimin was always stuck in your constant daydream. You though about him and his stupidly charming smile or his adorable way of taking care of you. He had loved showing you off to the other members, bragging about how awesome you were and how flawless you looked every second of every day.

You still loved him, of course.

But your pride was just so damn big that you had buried those feelings deep within your soul. Until now.

Hello, Y/N. How’s everything going?

Hi, Jimin. Everything’s fine, hbu?

Your finger pads began sweating as you watched how his contact name had ‘typing’ underneath. You tried to distract yourself by scrolling through other social media but, as soon as he finished the text, you clicked on it.

Everything’s fine too. I was wondering if we could talk. I know we ended our relationship a while ago now but I’d like for us to have a proper chance to talk things through. I won’t insist if you don’t want to...I just thought it’d be nice.

You hesitated, thumbs fidgeting over each other while trying to form a coherent response in your head. What should you say? You knew that if you turned him down, he wouldn’t bug you anymore. At first, it sounded nice to finally forget about Park Jimin for once but, after some serious consideration, you weren’t sure if that’s what you’d prefer.

I guess we can grab a coffe someday.

His response came in right away.

Great! How about tomorrow?

Yeah, I’m free. Same place at 17 O’Clock?

Same place at 17 O’Clock.

()

The beige coat hung lossely from your shoulders as you warmed up your freezing hands with some leather gloves you had purchased some month ago. You knew Korea’s winter could be extremely cold, but you had underestimated the temperature just a little bit. It was too late to realize, though, and the chilling wind made nothing to sooth your stoic limbs.

A small smile crossed your lips as the little coffe shop you had visited so much with Jimin suddenly appeared. It was as cozy as it had been before; snuggled in between two giant building that doubled it in height. The twin windows on either side of the main door radiated a yellow-ish light from within inviting you to step in, order a warm cappuccino and relax from the heavy thoughts that had been running through your mind the whole day.

Jimin was there when you gathered up enough courage to jump inside the shop. He had booked your usual spot further into the room, with enough lightning to see each other’s features but also dim to have that intimacy that you’d only felt with him. Something in your stomach sprung when his eyes spotted yours from miles away. He waved his hand slightly while a silly smile accompanied his invitation. You felt clumsy all of a sudden, as if your legs had forgotten how to properly walk, and you stumbled through some empty chair before finally plopping down in front of him.

You noticed he had ordered your usual drink and a fuzzy feeling took over you senses when you realized how well he knew you-“You look beautiful”

You stiffened.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just...I didn’t mean to be disrespectful-”-he mumbled.

“Don’t worry”-you chirped in-“You weren’t. You look great too. How’re the boys doing?”

“They’re as annoying as ever”-he chuckled-“They miss you, though. I miss you...”

“I miss them too”-you-“I miss you too.”

Jimin couldn’t believe what he heard but he played it cool, he needed to know your emotions for sure. The date went on; treats being bought, laughs being shared and memories being built once again. You couldn’t believe how much you had missed being with Jimin and he for sure couldn’t get a grasp on it too.

“I think we should go”-he laughed-“The lady over there has been glaring at us for more than ten minutes straight. I think she might want to kick us out.”

“I noticed her too!”-you exclaimed as you hanged your purse over you shoulder-“I though I was being paranoic.”

Although you knew you needed to part your own ways, you just wanted to stay a little longer with him. You wanted to freeze time just a while longer to appreciate properly the man by your side. His freshly dyed hair glinting under the fading sunlight accompanying that faint pink blush from the day’s cold breeze and his beautiful smile. Everything about him was so delicate yet sharp and you just could describe the image as an absubrd contradiction.

A paradox.

“Do you have more time?”-you blurted out-“Maybe we can go for a walk, there’s a park nearby.”

He checked his phone-not really looking for anything since he would have complied anyways-and nodded afterwards. The walk towards the park was quiet yet it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. The streets were busy, as usual, but Jimin made it feel as if the both of you were the only ones on Earth.

Jimin guided you through and archway made by still trees intertwining their branches like the hands of young lovers. His pale hand was dangling by his side, urging you to take it on your own, but you weren’t sure.

Not until he spoke.

“I can’t live without you, Y/N”-he mumbled-“I tried to but it’s impossible. I’m lost without you and I can’t fathom the image of you being with someone else. It’s selfish, I know. It’s selfish because I want to see you happy. You deserve to be happy. But I want to be the one whose responsible of it. I want to be blessed with that opportunity. Please, I know I’ve let you down but I promise I’ll work to be the best for you. I love you.”

His eyes became watery mid confession but you found it endearing rather than annoying. How his voice cracked or how his lip shivered contributed to his purity and honesty, so the uncertainty of being lied to wasn’t even there.

“I...”-your voice came out as a soft yet firm echo-“I can live without you.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. His heart cracked and his hopes vanished from his insecure soul. Had he caused you so much pain?

“Y/N please don’t-”

“I can live without you, Park Jimin”-you continued-“But I don’t want to. The time we weren’t together gave me space to think things through. I became a whole new person; I could indeed get to know me better. I’ve always been so devoted to other, never being true to myself and my desires. This time I had to just be with me made me realize I can be selfish and it doesn’t need to be entirely wrong. Because right now, I want to kiss you and I want to be with you. I want to be selfish and let my pride fall for once. Because I love you and you make me happy and I deserve to be happy.”

“Then be selfish”-he sighed-“An fucking kiss me.”

His lips were soft-softer than you remembered-like falling petals of a blossoming rose or shining clouds on a sunny winter day. They reminded you of warmth and comfort. His limbs found heir way to your waist, tugging you closer to his chest. Your pressed one palm over his cheek while the other tangled itself in his soft locks.

You never wanted to let go.

He never wanted to let go.

Not again.

Not anymore.

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts army #bts x y/n #park Jimin #bts park jimin #jimin fanfic #bts jimin #park jimin x you #park jimin x reader #bts requests #bts scenarios #jimin fluff

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hcywards · 4 years

Text

jealous — topper thornton

summary: as much as he said he wasn’t, topper thornton really was a jealous guy.

words: 2k+

t/w: mentions of cheating, swearing, mentions of drug use, underage drinking

note: so a large part of this is with the pogues, but like the other half is w topper, and i feel like that’s an even balance. also this is kind of long, and it makes up for the fact that “you’ll be fine” is incredibly short, but it’s pretty shitty and i hate it sooo

Being the Pogue princess dating the Kook prince’s best friend was difficult in itself, with both Y/N and Topper feeling like they were betraying their families by doing the one thing they’d always been taught not to do. And, for Y/N, it was made even more difficult by the fact that almost all of her friends were guys, and the Kooks hated that.

They’d never cease the questions of was she cheating on him, which only seemed to be doubled when word got out that Sarah Cameron had cheated on him with one of the Pogue boys she spent so much time with. According to them, it was John B’s fault Sarah had cheated, and he could probably quite easily trick another Pogue into cheating, too.

Which meant that, every time she hung out with her friends, Topper had to be there to make sure neither Rafe nor Kelce said anything about it, which made things a lot more awkward then they had to be. After all, what girl wants to hang out with her boyfriend, his ex and her ex at the same time? If you do, you’re probably insane.

This was how it came to her having to sneak around to hang out with her friends alone, no matter how much more suspicious that might seem. It was better than the alternative, because it wasn’t as if she was actually doing anything wrong.

So, she slipped out of her bedroom early in the morning, leaving Topper still sleeping there from the night before, a note scrawled onto the Post-Its she kept on her nightstand that read “I’m w Kie”. And it wasn’y as if that was a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

It was seven am when she reached the Chateau, and Pope and Kie were the only ones awake, lazing on either side of the couch and talking. They looked up as Y/N walked in, greeting her with grins and whispered “hi”s — JJ was asleep in the room next door, presumably. And with a girl at his side, no doubt, though she’d be ushered out the second he woke up. She knew the pattern — it’d been nearly two years since they dated, and he’d had a different girl almost every other night since then.

Y/N glanced to the door he was behind and smiled fondly, rolling her eyes at her best friend.

“Topper not coming?” Kiara asked curiously.

Y/N shrugged. “I knew Sarah and JJ were, so I told him I was just hanging out with you.”

Pope frowned slightly, but didn’t voice whatever he was thinking, and Y/N wandered into the kitchen to get a beer. She came back in with three cans, and tossed the other two at her friends casually.

“I don’t drink before seven at night, Y/N, you know that,” Pope stated.

Y/N shrugged, “Suit yourself. Give it to whichever one wakes up first.”

Those words, coincidentally, were the words John B swung his door open to, Sarah trailing along behind him. The group grimaced, well aware of what had probably gone down before they went to bed, and Pope tossed the beer can to John B, who caught it easily, leaning against the wall and cracking it open.

Sarah seemed more at ease than usual — presumably because her ex wasn’t there, sulking and making the atmosphere at least ten times more uncomfortable — and leant into John B’s side happily.

“What’re you peasants planning on doing today, anyway?” Y/N joked, grinning. The rest of the group rolled their eyes, all immediately giving her their quickest retorts.

“Just because you have a rich boyfriend doesn’t make you royalty, Y/N,” Pope responded.

Kiara nodded in agreement, adding: “Yeah, and he’s an ass, so. . .”

“He’s not!” Y/N insisted. “He just hangs out with the wrong people, is all.”

“Right,” Kiara scoffed. “You are aware he tried to drown John B, right?”

Y/N sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that, but, in all fairness, JJ was hitting on Sarah.”

“And he’s ‘not jealous’,” Pope snorted, quoting what he said every time Y/N asked why she had to bring him along when she went to see her friends. Y/N rolled her eyes, wondering whether her boyfriend actually did believe he didn’t get jealous, because it was obvious to everyone else he did — but, then again, Topper could be oblivious to the most apparent of things quite often.

Y/N knew that first hand, having not been able to get him to understand that she liked him even with the most obvious of signs and having to tell him outright once she grew fed up of hinting at it.

Hours passed by quickly, a large contrast to the way they did when Topper was with them, and Y/N found herself soon remembering why she loved hanging out with her friends away from the Kooks so much. However, her mind was long from Topper and the Kooks when the sun began to set, and she was entirely focused on talking to JJ, John B and Sarah, Pope and Kie already having head home because both of them had shifts in the morning.

“—Yeah, and then the cops started chasing us, and JJ was this close to being caught when Y/N tripped him up and made the cop fall over, too,” John B recounted, howling with laughter by the time he’d finished his exaggerated story of one of the group’s many escapades.

Y/N laughed with him, eyes squeezing shut as she guffawed — and that was probably why she didn’t notice her boyfriend approaching them, the anger burning up his body increasing tenfold with every step.

He should’ve known this was going to happen, he was telling himself, he should’ve known a Pogue was going to be dirt just like the rest. After all, if Sarah Cameron was a cheating liar, how could he put that past the people so infamously below her? The people he’d always been told he couldn’t trust?

However, with the anger, there was also the hated side of upset — because, was he not good enough for her? Did he think those Pogues could treat her better than he could? Was that why Sarah left?

Getting cheated on the first time hurt, yes, but now? Getting cheated on for the second time, and both of the other partners being in the same group? God, that felt worse than anything Topper had ever experienced, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t just angry, like Kelce or Rafe would’ve been. Why did he have to question himself? He wanted to be able to tell himself that if she cheated, that was on her, not him, and he couldn’t have done anything to stop it, but he wasn’t.

He practically tore JJ off of the hammock next to Y/N, glaring and ready to beat the shit out of him. JJ just frowned, confused, and that only angered Topper more — had Y/N not even bothered to tell them they were dating?

That thought was completely irrational, of course. Everyone in the OBX knew that Topper and Y/N were dating, because it wasn’t as if they kept their relationship very private, and, being the island’s so-called Romeo and Juliet (or the star-crossed lovers, as they were often referred to as), they were often the gossip of the town. And, besides, he’d been to the Chateau with her plenty of times before, and they’d kissed in front of the whole group plenty of times, too.

However, he wasn’t exactly in the mindset to be thinking rationally at that point in time — having just gotten back from spending the day with Rafe, he had had an unhealthy amount of crack, and could barely think at all.

He pulled JJ so that they were face to face anyway, though, and his words came out a threatening growl: “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Pogue?”

Y/N frowned, standing up and trying to tug Topper off of the boy — that, however, was seemingly impossible. “Top, what are you doing?”

At that, he whirled to face her, and suddenly Y/N was cowering underneath his stare, all of the anger that had seconds ago been directed at JJ now aimed at her. “What do you mean, what am I doing? What the fuck are you doing, Y/N? I thought you said you were with Kie? Not sucking up to your ex!”

Y/N laughed, and Topper’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t move — he could see the way JJ moved to get between them when his anger heightened, and he hated it.

“It’s not fucking funny, Y/N,” he spat, “I should’ve known you would be a whor—"

“Before you say anything you don’t mean,” Y/N interjected, “I wasn’t doing anything with JJ, Topper, and you should know that by now. We broke up because we’re more like siblings, and I’m not in to incest. And he was literally just lying on a hammock with me, so can you calm the fuck down?”

Her voice was surprisingly calm, and it was an immediate soother for Topper, who released the front of JJ’s shirt reluctantly, giving him a warning glance as if to say ‘if I catch you anywhere near her again, I’m going to put your ass underground’, and let his girlfriend drag him off to her car.

He hated the fact that jealousy was still burning in his gut, and he hated the fact that JJ had the audacity to laugh about it as they left. He didn’t act on that anger, though, and just continued trailing after Y/N, well aware she might just kill him if he did anything but that. He got in the passenger side when she shoved him towards it, and sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking like a spoilt child.

Y/N could’ve laughed at him when she jumped into her side, but she didn’t, because Topper was an asshole when he was high, and she didn’t want to get into an argument neither of them meant.

“Topper, I wouldn’t cheat,” she stated, starting the car even though she knew she probably wasn’t in the right mindset to drive, either. It wasn’t as if she’d never driven drunk before, and she knew what she was doing. Besides, she didn’t want to have the conversation she was about to have in front of the other Pogues.

He glared at her as he responded: “Why’d you lie about where you were, then?”

“Because if I told you the truth, you’d come with me, and all of us find it uncomfortable when you’re there,” she answered truthfully. “You know, with Sarah and John B.”

Topper ran a hand over his face. “Look, I’m sorry, Y/N. I just-- after Sarah, I guess I’m a little more suspicious than usual, and I love you so much, and I know that, like, all of the guys on this island think you’re hot, so you could easily get with someone who isn’t me.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t though, Topper, okay?” Y/N stated as she drove away from the Chateau. “That’s what you have to remember. I wouldn’t.”

Topper nodded, smiling, and the pair sat in silence for a minute before Y/N spoke up.

“You know, you always say you don’t get jealous, but you’re always jealous,” she commented absentmindedly, thoughts going back to Pope’s words that morning.

Topper frowned. “No, I’m not.”

“Right, so that’s why you were about to get into a fight with JJ?” Y/N asked sarcastically, “Because you weren’t jealous?”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I am a little. But it’s not my fault all the guys want you, okay?” Topper responded.

Y/N just laughed, pulling the car to a stop in her driveway. Topper’s hand moved to get the door handle, but she caught his arm before he could manage, and she pulled herself over onto his lap, pressing her lips to his in a messy, passionate kiss. He kissed back quickly, hands moving to her waist to pull her closer.

As she pulled away, gasping for breath, she whispered: “I’m yours and only yours, Topper Thornton, okay?”

He nodded, smiling. “Okay.” With that, he was pulling her in for another kiss, grinning against her mouth as he did so.

God, he was so in love with her.

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@thorsangel @dpaccione @ceruleanjj @thatsonobx @spilledtee @supremestarkey @babypogue @sadcupofcoffee @sacredto @poguemacking

#topper thornton #topper thorton imagine #obx imagine #obx x reader #topper x reader #topper thornton x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx #popcsheywards

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floralseokjin · 5 years

Text

;slightly jealous (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

⟨gif credit⟩

You’re slightly jealous but mostly annoyed...

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader genre/warnings; domestic, fluffy, smut, some minor ass stuff, and i mean minor, jungkook’s hair 🥵, just jungkook in general 🥺 words; 2,560

more﹆chapter index

“I’m firing her.”

Jungkook laughed loudly at your dramatic statement. Looking up at you shirtless from where he was slumped on the bed—long given up on taking the rest of his clothes off. “No you’re not.”

“I am.” You insisted, kicking off your heels. One hit the closet door and you sat with your back to Jungkook, perched on the edge of the mattress.

He sat up, sighing softly as he undid the zip of your dress, helping you out without you even having to ask. “For flirting with your boyfriend?”

Okay. Now that he’d said it out loud it did sound a little over the top. Not that you’d admit that though. “Babe, I’m pretty sure that’s not a valid reason.”

“Inappropriate behaviour.” You were stubborn.

You heard him snicker before you were encased in warmth, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. “I love you. You’re silly.” You hummed. Not in agreement. It was just because he was nosing the crook of your neck. Felt good. “And drunk.”

“Fine.” He had you there. You were acting irrational because of the amount of vodka you’d consumed. But that was only because someone new at work had quite blatantly been flirting with him while you’d gone out for drinks. The store you were manager at did get togethers once every few months and you brought along your boyfriends/girlfriends/friends. It wasn’t everyone’s scene, but those who came enjoyed. You’d invited Sungha to be nice. You hadn’t realised she’d grow an uncontrollable lady boner for Jungkook.

“Maybe I can’t fire her but I can give her all the weekend shifts. That’ll teach her.”

You boyfriend laughed again, it rumbled in your ear. His hair, that could probably do with a trim by now—unless he was planning on growing it even longer, which didn’t surprise you—tickled your jaw line. “I must say, this is kinda flattering. Never knew you were so passionate about me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, would you like it if you had to watch someone flirting with me all night?” And shamelessly at that. At one point you’d gone to the restroom and had come back to find her in your seat. There she’d stayed. It was as if you hadn’t introduced him as your boyfriend not two hours previous.

“She wasn’t flirting with me all night.” He felt you stiffen in his grip and thought better. “But no, I wouldn’t.” You kept quiet, lost in your own head. “Hey.” He nudged. “Come on, face me.”

You listened. Ended up straddling him in the middle of your bed. Arms loose around his neck. He squeezed you against him. “You’re not too bothered by this, are you? You know I’m not interested in her in any way, right?”

His voice was gentle. You felt warmth spread over you. “I know. “ Of course you knew that. “I’m just annoyed more than anything. It’s the principle of it all.” God, you were off again. “I’m her manager and she’s only been there five minutes.” Jungkook listened sincerely, nodding in agreement once you were done. You stole a kiss before grumbling. “She was so obviously into you.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing your noses together. “I did look good tonight. That’s what happens when you have a really hot boyfriend, I guess.”

You snorted. “Be quiet.” As if Jungkook could ever be full of himself. You knew he didn’t think like that at all, but he always did such a good job at cheering you up.

It was his turn to kiss you now. He was naughty though. Slipped some tongue in. Distracted you for a moment. “You are hot though.” You agreed quietly.

“You’re hotter.” He squeezed your ass to emphasise. You would think after all these years together your attraction for one another would simmer down. Not in a bad way. It had just been six years and you could still get tingly from one single kiss. The power of Jeon Jungkook.

You shifted in his lap, letting his mouth make sloppy work of your neck. “She’s working next weekend.”

He groaned. Not for why you thought. “You being all stern like this is turning me on.”

“Yeah?” You smirked as he lifted his head. “Tomorrow you can finally build that shoe rack for the closet.”

“That? Not as sexy.” You went to whack his chest but he gripped your wrist, attaching your lips again. He whined in your mouth. “You made me hard.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Genuine question.

“Mm. Have a few ideas...” He noticed your raised eyebrow. “For real? You’re not too drunk? Too tired?”

“I’m merry,” you corrected, much to his amusement. “And sucking dick doesn’t take much effort.” You pushed at his shoulders and he willingly fell back.

“I can’t get all the pleasure,” he insisted as you began to hastily undo his fly. “Let me

go down on you.”

“After.” You dismissed.

“Let’s save time. Sixty nine. Wait.” He looked perplexed. “I didn’t mean for that to rhyme.”

You laughed but nodded your head. “Okay.”

His eyes lit up. “Okay!” He wriggled to the correct direction of the bed, jeans and underwear off in a flash. Naked before your eyes.

You were a little slower. Standing up to shimmy out of your dress before bouncing back on the mattress. Kissing again without taking a breath. His dick in your hand as you began to jerk him off, and your ass in his. He squeezed and pulled before giving it a light slap. “Great ass.”

He complimented you like he hadn’t had access to it for years, making you giggle before you felt him tearing at the lace of your underwear. Impatient. Horny. You clambered out of them, your grip on his cock loosening, but he couldn’t take anymore teasing anyway.

“Jump on,” he commanded. Voice uneven. You hadn’t even had a chance to take your bra off yet, but oh well. Needs must.

You didn’t know who started first, but rather frustratingly you did know who finished first. Probably had to do with the fact Jungkook really knew how to work it in this position. Nothing made him happier than a face full of your pussy. His words. And with his dick in your mouth, maybe you were a lot more sensitive than usual. Sensory overload. It was a whole other level of intimate, and you just fell victim to it.

“Knew you’d cum first,” he gleed, mouth all wet and sticky.

Yours popped off his cock to land an insult before going back for more. “Dick.”

He chuckled. “Yeah that’s what you’re sucking right now.” Lightly spanking your ass, he blew cold air along your core. You jumped. A surge of hot, needy want shooting straight through you.

“No, wait!” He panicked, when you slid him from your mouth again. Misreading your movement. “Was just messing around. Oh.” He exhaled, realising what you were doing now as you got out of his grip and moved down to his lap. “Shit. Okay. Thought you were tired?”

You gripped the base of his dick, angling it to your entrance before pushing down. “Want it,” you said, moaning at the feeling of him stretching you out.

He moaned back and you felt him try to sit up a little before he gave up, moaning again when you began moving. He gripped one hand to your hip, unable to stop gliding his hips with each thrust downwards. You leant forward, hands on top of his thighs for leverage, and you just knew he had a great view of your ass. You moved quickly and determinedly. Making rhythm with the squelchy, wet noises coming from between you.

His other hand ran up your spine until he couldn’t reach anymore. “Jesus. What’s gotten into you?” He chuckled in disbelief, breathing laboured. “Slow down. You’re gonna make me cum.”

You moaned. That’s exactly what you wanted. You raised up a little, his hand now at your ass, cupping the roundness, before his thumb slipped between the cheeks. You jumped at the sensation. All hot suddenly. “Mm. This fine tonight?” He asked with a low murmur.

You nodded, realising he couldn’t see you so you tried your best to make some valid noise. “Uh huh.”

You moaned when he applied pressure to the sensitive rim, circling it with a skill he’d had much practice with. He really couldn’t resist anything to do with your ass. In any way, shape or form. “You make me feel so good, baby.” He got out between shallow breathing. “Spoil me. I love you.” Voice sweet with a confession he’d uttered a million times before.

“L-love you too,” you stuttered out, noticeably slowing down now because you were too overcome with pleasure. He moved, thumb leaving you for his hand to hold your middle. Clutching at your stomach. Any skin he can reach really.

“Not fair. I wanna touch you more.” There was a pout in his voice, and before you could even think about replying, he was up. Bare chest against your back. Strong arms around your middle, clinging you to him. “Wh-at are you doing?” You gasped, his dick now lodged inside you deep. You were both slick with sweat, and it just felt so damn good.

He used one hand to unclasp your bra, pulling it down from the centre. It fell against your middle, and he kissed your neck in a frenzy. “I’m taking control now.” He managed to whisper, squeezing one of your breasts, and then you were on your back.

You didn’t know how it happened so fast. You didn’t recall him leaving your body, or when he pushed back in. Dazed. But he had, and it felt amazing. His thrusts fast paced and powerful.

“Oh. Jungkook–!” You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck because that’s all you could do. Cling desperately to him. Your legs followed, tight around his middle.

“Feels good?” His teeth were bared, voice tight as he kept fucking you relentlessly. He grabbed your thighs, hiking your legs up further. The mattress groaned, your body ramming into it harder every passing second.

“Mmmhmm–!”

You were loud and free with your noises now, not caring a damn, because this was what it was all about. This kind of pleasure. And you knew no one else would be able to satisfy you like this. This was the power of years together. Jungkook and you were so in tune that you were one person when connected like this.

He grunted after a few minutes, pace turning uneven. “I’m not gonna last any longer. ‘Specially with you moaning like that.” As he said that, another moan dragged from your throat. “Fuckk.” His face fell into the crook of your neck. He was panting, brow soaked with sweat, and you knew you needed to put him out of his misery. Your pleasure meant the most to him and he wouldn’t give up until he was certain you were fulfilled. Even if he was close to passing out.

“I already came really good thanks to you,” you whispered against where you thought his ear was. “It’s okay. Cum in me, baby. You know you want to.”

He choked on his whimper, coming undone almost instantly because of your words. Hips jerking as he spilled inside of you, until there was nothing left and he couldn’t take anymore. He slid from you naturally, growing flaccid.

“You’re evil,” he whined after he’d come to, turning his head to look at you. You could just make out his face behind all that tousled hair.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Since when has asking you to bust a nut inside me been evil?”

He yawned, chuckling as he rolled off you, slipping an arm under the pillow to prop his head up. “It’s evil. So is jumping my dick when I wasn’t prepared. It’s a wonder I didn’t cum the second you pushed down on me”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t’ve minded. Wouldn’t be the first time...”

“Cheeky,” he chided, and you scooched closer to him, a grin on your face. He kissed you and pulled back, running some hair behind your ear. “You okay now? Green eyed monster gone?”

You grumbled. “I wasn’t jealous.” He looked at you with one of those looks. One that told you he thought you were talking shit. “Okay. Maybe slightly.” Like you said, more annoyed than anything. Sungha was still working next weekend. No amount of good banging would distract you from that conclusion.

Jungkook smiled at you softly, hand now on your cheek. “As if I would ever want another woman as much as I want you.”

“Cheesy.” But you couldn’t help your own smile.

“That’s me.” He yawned again, arms in the air as he stretched. You watched him for a moment before he realised. He knew what was coming before you even began saying it. You still did though.

“You need to cut your hair.”

“Shut up.”

He really would not have it. It wasn’t like you hated his long hair. Actually, you loved it. Wish he’d grown it sooner. But he still needed regular trims. You were sick of waking up in the morning thinking you were sharing the bed with Bigfoot.

He went to kiss you but you blocked him with your hands, giggling as he tried to barge his way through. “Hey!” He complained. “Let me kiss you woman!”

He grabbed a hold of your waist, tickling you, and just like that you began shrieking, wriggling about, trying to get away from him. “No, wait! Stoppp,” you yelled, trying to push him away. “Jungkook, stop. Seriously!!” He was rubbing his face against your cheek, stubble on his top lip tickling you even more. “Stop! I’m getting your cum everywhere.”

The amount of times you had to wash your sheets because of “accidents” was getting frustrating. He understood that too. And as much as he loved doing laundry (yeah, you didn’t understand it either...), he didn’t love it that much. He stopped instantly, landing a kiss on your cheek.

“And who’s fault is that? If you weren’t such a cumslut...”

“EWWW.” You roared, pushing him away again. “Shut up, that will never be sexy!”

You two had this thing together. It was weird, but then again you both weren’t exactly normal. He would find something utterly cringeworthy said in porn, or you did—maybe you both did—and you would laugh about it together for days, sometimes even weeks. You’d come out with it at random times, with the sole purpose of making the other laugh. Although you did admit, tonight your reaction was... over the top, to say the least. You were drunk after all. No. Merry!

“Shhhh,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “You’re yelling the whole place down. We have neighbours, y’know...”

You settled down, giggling softly together before you began to grow sleepy against his body warmth. Of course he had to disturb you. “Got enough energy to get to the bathroom? I need a piss.”

You whined. “Gross.”

“How is that gross? It’s a natural body function.” You stayed quiet until he had to nudge you. “C’mon. We need to get ready for bed.”

“Fine.” You huffed but didn’t move.

“I’ll carry you.” He sang softly.

And he did.

Written 2019. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:flll

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kumeko · 3 years

Text

A/N: For the @mirkozine! I love her so much, ahhh, and want more of her and Hawks interacting (and probably annoying the shit out of Endeavor)

…

Mirko had been to a lot of dinners. It came part and parcel with the job—fundraising galas, retirement parties, celebratory meals after a mission well done, she’d had them all. So it was utter confidence that she knew that she’d been to funerals that were more cheerful than the night out she was having. Who could have known that have drinks with the number one and former number two hero was going to be this depressing?

Then again, she hadn’t really expected a riot from Endeavor. He was only comical in the accidental ways, like how his giant frame hunched over to fit into his seat in this crowded bar. They’d even picked a corner seat for all three of them, somewhere he could spread his legs a bit, and still he looked ridiculously big, like an adult sitting on a child’s chair. His serious expression only made it worse.

No, the one that Mirko had some hope for had been Hawks. She glanced at the man seated to her right. His usually wild hair was gone, leaving him with what looked like baby chick fuzz. A perpetual smile graced his lips and she was used to it being the only warning before he gave one quip or another. Yet there were none of his usual light jokes, nothing to keep the mood going tonight. No, instead Hawks was more interested in finding the bottom of his beer bottle than anything else.

Though, that was starting to look more and more appealing by the moment. When she had thought of celebrating the end of her physiotherapy or even the modest success of Shigaraki not destroying everything known to man, this hadn’t been what she’d imagined at all. Maybe getting drunk was the only way to get through this meal.

Endeavor looked at her strangely and Mirko raised a brow. Before she could ask, he frowned and asked, “You’ve been to better funerals?”

“Huh?” Mirko’s eyes widened. Had she accidentally said that aloud?

Unperturbed, Hawks laughed. It was rougher than usual, almost gravelly, and she wasn’t sure if it was because his vocal cords were also singed or if his new defeatist attitude was even affecting his body now. “What funeral was this? I missed out.”

Mirko clenched her teeth. At this point, she might as well commit. If these two bozos wanted to act weird, they could do it on their own time. “Yeah, I have. Even All Might’s retirement was more cheerful than,” she gestured at their table, “whatever this crap is.”

Hawks snorted, not all ashamed. She should have known he wouldn’t be. Taking another swig, he shrugged. “Well, this is our retirement, so I guess it’s on par. Glad to know I’ve beaten All Might at something at least.”

“Retirement?” Maybe her ears were more damaged than she’d thought.

“That…” Endeavor slouched slightly, an action that somehow made him look even more comical. Even his constant flames looked dimmer than usual. Regret coloured his voice as he slowly replied, “I owe you both for your sacrifices in this matter and I know that meal cannot make up for any of that—”

“It’s not something you owe me for,” Mirko retorted immediately.

“Hey, it’s not like we’ll get thanked otherwise. Well, me at least. You’ll get thanked plenty.” Hawks laughed self-deprecatingly. He looked smaller without his wings. “Sure, it’s not a fancy retirement watch, but I’d rather have the drinks anyways.”

“Are you serious?” Mirko growled, the last of her restraint snapping. It was a miracle she hadn’t punched either of them till now.

“What?” Hawks shot her confused look, stopping before he signaled the waiter. “You’d rather have the watch?”

The spoon in her hand snapped and it looked like she was going to have to pay for damages. Again. Teeth bared, she growled, “What do you mean, retirement? You want to quit? Speak for yourself!”

“What?” Hawk’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? After all of this?” He gestured at her prosthetic legs, at his burned head. At the scars and mangled limbs they’d earned after the raid. “You’re barely able to walk, let alone run.”

“I don’t see anything that’s stopping me,” she replied, her lip curling in challenge. Leaning forward, she sneered, “What, you telling me you can’t do anything without those wings of yours?”

For once, Hawks was stunned speechless, and she felt an irrational amount of pride at that. Endeavor, on the other hand, gave her an approving nod. Relief flooded his voice. “That’s good.”

Immediately, her blood boiled over again. The gall of him to feel relieved! What was it with top heroes and their smug confidence that if something went wrong, it was their fault? All Might had been equally as annoying and Mirko was going to stop this right here, right now. “I’m not doing this for you!” she snarled, turning her ire to him now. “Cut the crap with all of this guilt shit, this is just what a hero does.”

Startled, Endeavor blinked at her owlishly. “I…”

“I should have known this would happen.” Mirko leaned forward and snatched the beer out of Hawks’ fingers. Finishing it in three large gulps, she slammed the bottle on the table. It was time she taught these top assholes a thing or two. Standing up, she growled, “The fu—”

“FREEZE! THIS IS A STICK UP!”

A woman screamed. Slowly, Mirko turned to the front, where six masked thieves burst into the bar, each of them holding guns. One of them was pointed as the cashier, the rest of them pointed at the guests. Around them, people cowered in their seats in various states of terror. Mirko twitched. “Are. You. Kidding. Me.”

Hawks whistled, turning to Endeavor with a smirk. “Attacking the place you’re having dinner. They’re not taking you seriously at all, huh, Mr. Number One?”

Immediately Endeavor’s flames shot up and Mirko leaned away before she got roasted. “I’ll be back.”

The second those words left his mouth, he was out of his seat and flying at the wannabe thieves. In mere seconds, he incapacitated two of them, his thick arms wrapping around them and knocking them against each other so hard that they knocked each other out.

Mirko didn’t stare for long before kicking into gear. Her legs were slower than she’d like, unable to keep up with her reflexes. Shoving away her chair, she dashed forward before someone grabbed her hand, jerking her backward. Whipping her head around, she glared at Hawk and his offending grip. “What?”

He wilted slightly at her glare, though she wasn’t sure if that was another joke. “Scary!” Not letting go, he gestured at Endeavor who was dropping the two robbers and rounding onto the third. “He can handle this without us. You’ll only get in the way.”

“Again, speak for yourself moron.” Mirko yanked her hand away, not wasting even a second on his words. “Some of us are heroes.”

Pushing down on her prosthetics harder than her doctors would have liked, Mirko bounded toward the front. Endeavor had grabbed the third thief, leaving the other three for her. Those were the odds she liked. “Who’s first?”

“What the?” Startled, the closest thief aimed his gun. His neatly trimmed black bangs looked like they covered his eyes, but maybe he didn’t need to see to use his quirk. He fired two bullets in rapid succession. “Stay back!”

“That the best you got?” she goaded as she nimbly dodged the bullets. Sure, her legs were slower than they used to be, but they were still more than enough to defeat a total amateur’s reflexes. Closer now, she leapt onto a table, knocking over a vase onto a man’s lap.

“Weren’t you in rehab?” Another robber gawked, confused.

“Not anymore!” A plate cracked under her foot as she somersaulted forward. Her left leg hit the first robber with a hammer-like strength, knocking him to the ground. Her prosthetic shattered from the force. Well, she had wanted to replace the damned thing anyways, it wasn’t designed for combat at all. Mirko stumbled as she landed, falling forward.

“I’ll get you for that!” the other robber shouted. She pulled out a set of knives, tossing them at Mirko with pinpoint accuracy.

The knives grazed her cheek and ear. Mirko felt the sharp sting of a cut and she licked her lips. “Not if I get you first.”

That was the only warning Mirko gave before rolling forward onto her hands. Her right leg swiped at her opponent’s knees, knocking her down to Mirko’s level. There was a time when Mirko had been fascinated with wrestling and she had never been more grateful than now for that knowledge. Quickly, she wrapped an arm around her opponent’s neck, forcing her into a chokehold.

“You,” the robber gasped.

“Me,” Mirko agreed, tightening her grip until the woman passed out. By now she was certain Endeavor must have finished the last of them.

“Let her go,” a cold voice ordered.

Or not. The number one hero was slow today.

Cold steel pressed against Mirko’s forehead followed by the click as a gun’s safety turned off. Not bothering to loosen her grip, she looked up to see the other end of a barrel. A man stood in front of her, desperation colouring his face. With a smirk, she tightened her chokehold. “What?”

“I’m not kidding!” the man in front of her growled. Whatever intimidation he was hoping for was lost as his voice cracked at the end.

“Neither am I,” she replied, tightening her grip again.

The woman gasped before croaking, “Let…go…”

Mirko grinned ferally. “Only if he gives up.”

The last robber glared. “Not happen…ing…”

As his voice trailed off, he collapsed, revealing a smirking Hawks behind him. He winked at her. “You looked like you could use the help.”

Looked like he remembered who he was and it was about damn time. Mirko was almost willing to overlook the insult. Almost. “Not really.”

Letting go of the woman, Mirko rolled over onto her side and pushed herself up to a seated position. By now Endeavor had tied up four of the robbers up, trussing them up like a turkey. That had always been her least favourite part of the job and she was more than willing to let him grab the last two and finish the job.

“Your leg is shattered.” Hawks idly observed as he crouched next to her.

Mirko snorted. “Did you lose your eyes as well as your wings?”

“Nah, just…I know a good mechanic.” He smiled this time, an oddly honest expression from him. “They can fix you one that’ll last a little longer in a fight.”

“Is that so?” She raised a brow.

“Might even make you faster,” he added, glancing at her right arm. The prosthetic was cracked but still in one piece somehow. “At least you didn’t break all your limbs.”

It was as close to an apology as she’d get from him and definitely more words than she’d wanted in the first place. Mirko held out her hand, allowing him to pull her up. “You’re not on fire, so we’re both a step up.”

“Literally.” He slung her arm around his shoulder, supporting her weight.

It shouldn’t have sounded as funny as it had. Mirko laughed.

“What’s funny?” Endeavor asked, back with them now. He glanced at her, frowning. “Your leg is broken. I didn’t need your help.”

“So?” she challenged, her jaw set and shoulders squared. Considering she was only standing because of Hawks, it probably wasn’t giving the image that she’d hoped for, but whatever. It was the intent that mattered. And she was certain her expression was more than enough to get that across.

Endeavor stared at her for a long moment. She glared back. Finally, he turned off his flames and looked away. “Our food’s getting cold.”

“Is that really a problem for you?” Hawks quipped, laughing.

She guffawed. “From number one hero to microwave?”

There was no way to tell if Endeavor really understood her point. Maybe she’d find her patrol routes oddly cleaned by him, find her villains neatly bagged, and the man still giving her guilt-ridden lunches and dinners.

Well, even if that was the case, it was fine. Mirko had plenty of time to beat it into him. Even more so when she finally made it to the top hero spot.

#mirko #rumi usagiyama #hawks #enji todoroki #endeavour #keigo tamaki #bnha #fanfic

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

stuck between a rock and a hard place | s.u.

after one fateful night, stan uris finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place when him and his friend like the same girl.

word count: 5,428

warnings/included: pining, love triangle, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “could you write a bill denbrough, reader, and stanley uris love triangle? maybe where they’re always trying to one up each other for her attention? ty”

“I don’t get what you see in her.” Stan was eyeing y/n from across the cafeteria while Bill droned on for what must have been the fourth time that week about how amazing she was.

“Wuh-well, you wouldn’t under-st-hand.” Bill shook his head. He wasn’t about to try to convince his friend how amazing she made him feel. It was just how he felt.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t get it.” Stan squinted at the girl’s figure. Sure, she was pretty, but looks aren’t everything. “And I don’t get why you insist on sending her things anonymously.”

“If yo-you liked some-someone, wuh-wuh-wouldn’t you want t-to sh-show them?”

Stan’s gaze which was previously fixed on y/n switched to Bill. He gave him a glare because he didn’t understand. “If I liked someone, I would tell them,” he scoffed.

Bill could see where Stan was coming from. The only issue was that he was just too nervous to tell y/n, let alone talk to her. The two shared chemistry and a study hall period together but Bill still hadn’t found an excuse to talk to her. He also hadn’t found a way around his stutter. He wanted his moment with her to be perfect; no stutter, no embarrassment; just the two of them sharing a mutual conversation about whatever… and her finally realizing he’s the perfect match.

He shrugged at Stan’s remark. So, what if his friend didn’t understand? That only meant less competition.

“Hey guys!” Beverly drew both boys’ attention away from Bill’s crush. “There’s a party tonight. Whatd’ya say we all go together?”

“Count me the fuck in!” Richie was the first to reply, enthusiastically at that.

“I have a test tomorrow.” If Stan had a nickel for every time the Losers wanted to do something irrational, he’d be loaded.

“All the more reason to get drunk off your ass.” Richie Tozier had a grin on his face that there was no use wiping off.

And if Stan had a nickel for every time the Losers had convinced him into doing something stupid, he’d be stupid loaded.

The party was at who-knows-where’s house serving who-knows-what.

“Stanny! Stan the Man!” It was Richie Tozier, the convincer himself. He slurred Stan’s name and tripped his way over to the corner Stan was huddled in. “Yougottatrythis.” Richie’s words were incoherent and if he hadn’t been friends with Stan for so long, or were shoving a red solo cup full of something Stan didn’t want to know was in, Stan may have never guessed what his friend was trying to say.

“No thanks—”

“C’monnn.” Groan. “Don’t act like you’re above us, just cos yer sober.” Richie gave him a mopey look that Stan was sure was just another way to mock him.

‘Stan the Man’ did eventually take the cup. Not because he wanted to, but because of the way Richie was jerking it so much, he was afraid some of the contents may spill on his shirt, which he just pressed. Curiously, he brought the plastic cup closer to his nose so he could examine the contents inside better.

His nose twitched at the scent.

It reeked of stale beer, vodka, and was that someone’s mom’s wine?

And although the thought of drinking alcohol before an important day was tempting… Stan knew better. Making an appearance at a lame party rather than studying would be the worst of his crimes tonight. He held the cup away from his face, as far as possible, and started watching the morons around him.

They were drunk to their stomachs; happily grinding against each other to the beat of the music that blasted on the radio. They wouldn’t remember this night if they tried.

Stan, however, would remember. He would remember every detail of this boring party, where no one talked to him; where there’d be throw up in the pool to clean out the next day; where the cops would show up in an hour because the houses next door called in complaints. And Stan would be able to pass his Algebra test with ease the next day while everyone else would be using what was left of their braincells to remember how to factor an imaginary number.

“Hey!” Oh god. It was y/n. What was she doing next to him? The two barely knew each other. In fact, if Bill hadn’t taken a liking to her, or if Stan weren’t friends with Bill, he doubted he’d even know of her existence.

“Hi…” Stan looked skeptically at the girl who was practically throwing herself at him. “Do you need something?”

y/n only hummed in response. She was swaying to the song playing in the background, but her movements didn’t match the beat at all, and she looked just as wasted as the rest of the room.

“Do you speak English?” Stan’s eyebrows furrowed. He leaned down to meet her height. His eyes widened with surprise when she, once again didn’t reply, but wrapped her arm around his neck. Her touch was velvet and she smelled like roses.

Until she opened her mouth.

The potent stench of that cheap alcohol potion, Stan had briefly been intrigued by, hit his nose. He wanted so desperately to get away from her—pass her on to Bill, or something. But she placed a sloppy kiss on his lips just in time.

He’d been embarrassed to admit that was his first kiss.

You were supposed to have your first kiss with your girlfriend, or the girl next door, or best friend. Not with a stranger at some raunchy house party you were dragged to by your idiot friends. And certainly not with the girl your friend liked. But here Stan was, breaking all the rules.

There was something encapsulating about her cherry lip gloss which was smeared from when she kissed him and the way she stumbled terribly because of her inebriated state. Maybe Stan did understand.

y/n’s arm was still wrapped around his neck and her lips were dangerously close to his. He thought she was about to go in for another kiss until words made their way from her lips.

“Take me home?” Stan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This girl who he’d never met before was taking a chance on a total stranger to take her home, trusting that he wouldn’t kidnap or murder her.

“I don’t even know you.” Stan tried his best to look bored when, in reality, this offer was tempting.

“Pleaseeee.” She was now clinging to him for dear life. “I think all my friends left me.” Her pouty expression was the final catalyst to Stan’s reaction.

“In that case… How could I say no?” It was as if his whole personality flipped a switch. His once stone cold and albeit, annoyed, features washed away, revealing a kindhearted guy only the Losers really got a chance to see.

A drunken giggle left her lips and y/n’s arm removed itself from Stan’s neck only to find itself tightly coiled around his arm. This was y/n’s signal for Stan to start making his way through the crowd in order to search for the front door. A task the boy already knew would be horrible.

He started awkwardly shifting and contorting himself just so he wouldn’t have to feel the sweaty bodies surrounding him. He also made sure not to lose y/n, but that task served pretty much impossible due to how fixed her grasp on his arm was.

It didn’t take long for Stan to finally reach the front door (which was somehow trashed). Thank god his shoes, and none of the other items on his being, for that matter, had come into contact with sticky liquid or bodily fluids. But the doorknob was covered in a substance that made Stan visibly cringe when he touched it.

“God, what do people do here.” y/n, still lazily hanging on was about to open her mouth. “I don’t want to know,” Stan said, quickly, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

A laugh so pleasant it made puppies look like beasts fell from y/n’s perfect lips. The longer Stan spent with this girl, the more he found to like about her.

A crisp breeze blew its way to the two of them and Stan wondered how it was this cold already when just last week it reached the seventies. The transition from summer to fall always bewildered him, no matter how many times he’d experience it.

“How far did you park?” She grew impatient and Stan couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he wouldn’t even want to stand. Fortunately, he could see the hood of his car peeking out from behind a someone’s Ford.

“Only a few more steps.” Stan reassured. His pace picked up and before another complaint could slip out of y/n’s mouth. “Oh, look at that, we’re already here.” He opened the door for her, but she didn’t budge. “Are you… gonna get in?” Stan waited rather impatiently for the girl who was lollygagging in front of the open door.

Wordlessly, she turned to face him and held her arms open and Stan understood.

Even though he sighed, Stan still picked her up and placed her gently in the passenger seat of his car.

“Such a gentleman,” she mumbled into his neck before he parted from her. Stan couldn’t help but smile at the remark.

It took awhile for him to find her address. y/n was too out of it to form any coherent sentence besides “you must be the coolest guy ev-ur” and what happened to be the lyrics to Highway to Hell. But after (uncomfortably and frantically) rifling through her purse, after asking where her house was and y/n only pointing to inside her bag, Stan had found the tag of the purse marked with her address in pink sharpie also signed with a heart.

Neither said much on the drive there. Stan was inexperienced with talking to drunk girls, besides Bev, and y/n looked like she was inexperienced with talking. Nonetheless, he tried to make the best of it. He turned on the radio to his favorite station and let the songs carry him through the night.

“Thanks—thank you.” y/n said once Stan had arrived at her place. He walked her up to the porch; her figure stabilized by his arms. Her eyes burned holes through his under the moonlight and Stan was rendered speechless. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She started to sway again like she did at the party, but there was no music to dance to.

“You’re welcome.” Stan had finally mustered the courage to say, but he scolded himself internally for how lame he probably sounded.

“Well… goodnight.” y/n giggled drunkenly before her lips grazed his left cheek softly. It blossomed pink once she touched him. Could it even be considered a touch? It was so light, almost feather-like, and if Stan weren’t watching her like a hawk, he would have missed it.

The door shut with a slam and he cursed in his head for doing this to Bill and he cursed in his head the next day when his mind drew a blank on his functions test.

This was just great.

He scratched his head, as if that would somehow release the numerical knowledge he needed in order to at least get a sixty percent. Alas, it did nothing but relieve the itching on his dry scalp.

He silently racked his brain, yet nothing came. The only thing that came to mind were the events of last night. Are you kidding?

The bell rung.

Stan looked down at his paper only to find his name written neatly and compactly on the line reserved for it in dark lead and a measly ten questions out of the twenty answered. He pressed his lips together so hard, he thought they may bruise. Everyone else was already out the door, except for the slower kids in the back who took their sweet time.

“Uris.” The hairs on Stan’s arm stood to attention when he heard his name being called. He looked around to find the classroom was empty except for him and Mr. Burgess.

“Yes?” Stan looked up to the authority figure and he was wondering if he should pathetically ask for extra time on his test during another period or if he should turn it in as is.

“Don’t you have another class to get to?” Mr. Burgess was patient, but there would be another round of students filing in any minute now.

“Yeah.” Stan stood up and gathered his things. He was hasty but took enough time to put each item in their designated place. “I didn’t get a chance to finish.” Stan was aware third period was now replacing the empty seats and he lowered his voice.

“I see…” Mr. Burgess eyed the paper, both front and back, and then set it on a stack of papers from Stan’s class. “You can finish tomorrow. Either come in early or stay late.”

And at that, Stan was on his merry way to Mrs. Baker’s World Civilization class- or would be. He stopped dead in his tracks when his path crossed y/n’s, a detail he never noticed. Her hands were covering her face to hide the blush that quickly raced to the apples of her cheeks. She was admiring something in her locker, but he couldn’t tell what. One of her girlfriends was standing with her, sharing the same giggles and same look of awe in her eyes.

Stan soon found out her blush was the work of Bill Denbrough’s when the Losers met up at lunch. They were sitting together like they always did, too engrossed in conversation to worry about what the lunch ladies’ specialty was today.

“I h-h-hope y/n luh-likes wh-what I g-guh-gave her,” Bill said all too suddenly.

“I’m sure she will,” Beverly reassured.

“What’d you get her.” It was hard for Stan to contain the jealousy that leaked from his words and instead of a question it sounded more like a demand.

“W-wuh-well usually I ju-just stick a skuh-skuh-sk-hetch in there or-or flow-flowers or something st-stupid an-and sm-small.” Bill cleared his throat as if that would rid him of his speech impediment. “Bu-but thi-this t-t-time I told her-”

“Did’ya sign your name?” Richie inquired. Usually he wouldn’t be interested in this sort of sappy stuff, but he was eager to see the development between Bill and his crush—rather, if Bill would ever grow the balls to reveal himself as y/n’s admirer.

Bill swallowed and kept silent.

“So, no.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”

Bill gave his friend a skeptical look. He was confused. While Stan was usually the most passive aggressive of the group, he was never this… insolent. But he shrugged off the countless possibilities for why Stan was acting this way.

“Are you ever gonna tell her?” Richie seemed about just as annoyed as Stan was.

“Wh-when the t-t-time’s ruh-ruh-right.” Bill looked to both Stan and Richie sternly, but the two knew better than that. When the time’s right.

Yeah right.

Stan thought back to the scene at y/n’s locker from earlier. The morally sound thing to do would be to tell Bill. Tell Bill how y/n and her friend gushed at the sight of what was inside of her locker. Tell him how y/n’s knees were practically weak while she hid her face furiously with the sleeve of her shirt.

But nothing came out of his mouth. In fact, his mouth never opened. Stan stayed quiet for the last fifteen minutes that the Losers all had together. He stayed quiet as he stared at his salad and thought of y/n.

The y/n who was in an inappropriate state when he took her home. The y/n who was his first kiss. The y/n who was Bill’s crush.

Stan sat on this fact for a while.

He was at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed, and nose scrunched, while thinking this ridiculous inner conflict over. Something in his gut told Stan that Bill was never going to tell y/n how he felt. Bill Denbrough was not someone you’d label a coward, but god, when it came to girls, he was a pussy. On the other hand, there was something else that twisted his insides in another manner, telling Stan even if Bill never told y/n how he felt, that doesn’t mean he should swoop in either.

Stanley Uris was in a pickle.

His lips, once again, pressed against each other tightly, so tight he could feel bone. The mental wheels in his mind were turning, but no matter how far they spun, he still reached no conclusion.

An hour had passed when Stan finally looked at the analog clock that stood on the edge of his desk.

“If I tied a noose around my neck, I bet I’d come to a better conclusion,” Stan said darkly under his breath. He was still staring at the clock. It was getting late, but Richie Tozier would say that’s just when the fun’s starting.

Personally, Stan liked getting a head start on his bedtime routine. The other Losers made fun of him for it, but it kept him sane. He stretched, still sitting down and a yawn left his mouth. He padded his way to the bathroom just across the hall so he could brush his teeth and then change.

When his head full of curls hit his wrinkle free pillowcase and his arms pulled over his comforter to his chest, he assumed all thoughts of y/n would be gone. He would go to sleep, leaving the unconscious to take over his mind and body and he would forget.

He would forget the flowery scent that lingered on his shirt that night because she pressed herself so close to him. He would forget the feeling of her fingers that swept against him in the gentlest way and he would forget how he ever longed to feel them against the rest of him. He would forget that she kissed him—twice. When he would wake, he would have no recollection of that night and for all he knew, he’d never been kissed.

But Stan woke up to the burning want—no. The burning need to tell y/n how he felt. He knew he’d only known her for a fleeting moment, and it was absurd to catch feelings for someone you barely knew. But telling her would be the only way to ease the funny feeling in Stan’s stomach which seemed to be in knots lately.

At least that’s what Stan told himself as he walked up to y/n’s locker during the five-minute passing period they had between second and third period.

Luckily, y/n was there, and he wasn’t just about to confess to a slab of metal. She was chatting up the same friend from yesterday and the same glow lit up her eyes as she was explaining something to her.

“Isn’t it so thoughtful?” Stars replaced her pupils and she ran her fingers over the inked piece of parchment that was slipped into her locker from today.

“There’s no name,” her friend deadpanned. She, too, was looking at the note with y/n. But instead of fawning over the piece of work, she stared unimpressed—bored, almost.

“So?” y/n huffed. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“I think it would count more if you knew who it was from.” Stan wanted to smirk and tell Bill I told you so as he overheard their conversation.

“Yeah but—” y/n’s friend was waiting for her to finish but she stopped once she recognized the boy in front of them. “Hi!” She smiled at Stan and it was now his turn to say something.

“Hello.” He looked between y/n and her friend to which her friend then spoke up.

“I guess I’ll be going now.” And then three became two.

“What’s up?” y/n was oddly cheery considering it was eleven a.m. on a school day.

Where should I start?

Stan looked to her awkwardly and scratched his shoulder. He then noticed the piece of paper that most likely Bill had slipped in her locker that morning. It was a landscape drawing of Main Street, but there was a hidden message written within the building signs. Stan couldn’t quite make out what the message said, but he was sure it said something along the lines of: my heart beats for yours. Something Stan would never understand.

“Can you make this quick? Or maybe you can tell me at lunch?” y/n offered. The drawing was now out of sight—either back in her locker or tucked away in her backpack which was slung over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you at lunch.” Stan felt his toes curl in his shoes and his heartbeat quicken under his skin.

y/n nodded and walked off. They didn’t need to say goodbye to each other because they’d be meeting each other in an hour, give or take.

y/n would be sitting by herself at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. Stan spotted her easily because ever since that night it was as if the image of her was ingrained in his brain.

“I’ve been on the edge of my seat ever since you came up to me at my locker,” y/n admitted. There was sort of a shyness that carried itself through her voice that Stan didn’t recognize. She was different under the influence. Confident. Bold. Affectionate. Different. But here she was, in front of him; hunched over, exposing her insecurity of the situation. The fact that she had told him she was anxious for this moment was big for her.

“Really?” Disbelief marked Stan’s face. Girls didn’t usually jump at a chance at Stan and Stan didn’t usually jump at the chance at girls. His studies took too much time away from his social life and the Losers proved to be enough social interaction for him, no matter how many times they’d encouraged him to get out there.

Bill, Stan, Eddie, and Richie were all hanging out in Bill’s room. Richie leaned against the cracked window while he smoked and Eddie sat next to him, taking puffs from his inhaler similarly to how Richie took breaths of the cigarette. He was cautious of the secondhand smoke he feared would enter his lungs. Bill was busy messing with his new record player.

“Record players are so old.” Eddie’s nose scrunched when The Cure started playing but no sign of malice could be detected from his voice.

“Sh-sh-shut up.” Bill laughed and joined the other three, crossing his legs as he sat.

Stan faintly recalled him then going on about y/n and he could sense the others internally groaning with him.

“T-today, her h-h-hand brushed uh-against mine when we were g-getting beakers… ff-for our lab.” His lips curled into an even bigger smile just thinking about it. But he was always smiling at the thought of her. He was now laying on the hardwood floor. His fingers were laced together and stretched behind his head.

It was just a simple interaction, but Bill remembered every detail. He felt his body transport itself to dream world.

Bill was sitting at the lab table with his two other partners—a football player named Jack and a blonde girl named Stacy. He knew as much about them as they knew about him and it wasn’t in his plans to make buddy-buddy with the two. He took the cue to leap from his stool when their teacher announced that one person from each group gets supplies and y/n y/l/n was the designated supplies-getter.

Hastily, he walked over to the cabinet where the beakers were stored. There was already a crowd of unenthusiastic students lined up to get their share and luckily, they cleared the air soon enough. It proved no difficulty for Bill to reach the top shelf, as he had done many times before, but he found it hard to breathe once another, smaller, hand came into contact with his own. Her nails were filed perfectly and painted a deep shade of blue that were chipped to infinity, reminding him of Richie. A silver band hugged her ring finger that felt cold compared to the rest of her hand that pressed against his.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, and Bill gladly stepped aside.

“You can be a sap sometimes, Big Bill,” Richie said, shaking Bill from his daydream.

Bill rolled his eyes and sat up. He wasn’t in the mood to make a jab at Richie, but it would’ve done him good. “I-ih-t’s called having a h-h-heart. You sh-should t-t-t-try it sometime.”

“Oh, it hurts me that you think I’m heartless.” Richie sighed and leaned a little too close for Eddie’s liking. “You don’t think I’m heartless, do ya, Eds?” He started making kissy faces before he doubled over into his lap.

“Shove off.” Eddie pushed him so his side was pressed into the floorboard as he continued to laugh.

“Wuh-wuh-what ab-out you Stan?” Bill turned his attention towards Stan who was listening quietly. His back stood straight, and he hadn’t changed his position since he sat down.

“What about me?” Stan wondered. He was sure this conversation was going to lead into some sort of back and forth girl talk that he had no business being apart of. It wasn’t like Stan wasn’t attracted to girls. He just hadn’t found the right one yet.

That was, until now.

The sound of her backpack unzipping made his ears perk. She was digging for something Stan couldn’t see. Maybe if he was at a different angle…

“You did this, right?” She shoved the neatly folded drawing from earlier in front of his face.

“Wait, what?” Stan looked at her incredulously and took the paper in his hands. Carefully, he unfolded it and smoothed the wrinkles out—not like there were many. He studied his friend’s work. It was obvious Bill had put great effort into it; into liking y/n. To take his credit would be a new low, even for him.

“You’re the one who’s been putting stuff in my locker!” y/n insisted. “I wasn’t really sure until a few nights ago…” Her eyes broke contact from him, all the sudden becoming nervous. “You know… When you took me home?” She faced Stan again and this time Stan was too nervous to look at her.

“No,” He finally said. He wasn’t looking at her so he couldn’t see her confused expression. Stan passed the paper back to her.

“No?”

“I mean…” Stan was wondering how to word this. He didn’t have all day, but he also didn’t know how to get himself out of this dilemma.

How do you tell someone you like them, but you’re not their secret admirer—your friend is?

“I’m not the one who’s been sending you stuff,” Stan said smoothly. Like that.

“You… aren’t?” y/n’s voice started to falter but was soon swallowed by a chuckle. “Well, this is embarrassing.” She haphazardly shoved the parchment into her bag only for her to smooth it out later in the day when she got home.

“No, it’s not.” Stan’s monotone voice served no reassurance for y/n, no matter how much she wanted to hear those words. But she didn’t say anything, only cocked her head, prompting for him to continue. “I’m not the one who’s been putting stuff in your lockers but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

y/n’s already tense muscles relaxed at this, but she was still left with a problem.

“I was so sure of it,” she said in a mumble so low Stan almost didn’t catch.

“What’s wrong?” Stan asked. “I like you. Don’t…” Embarrassment crept up the back of his throat as the next sentence spilled out. “Don’t you like me?”

y/n nodded but didn’t say anything. She readjusted herself on her seat, robbing him of an answer.

“Do you remember what happened that night?” Nothing bad happened. Nothing even remotely, as Richie would put it, hot, happened. But it was the night that changed everything.

“Yeah.” y/n sucked in a deep breath as she remembered.

y/n hadn’t planned to get so drunk off her ass that she couldn’t walk. In fact, y/n hadn’t even planned to go out. But there she was, on a Tuesday night. Her friends had left her to suck the skin off each other’s faces and y/n had become a little too good at beer pong.

Whoever was in charge of the alcohol had no taste buds, but she needed all the liquid courage she could get, because tonight was the night. Tonight, was the night y/n y/l/n was going to face Stanley Uris.

Of course, she had known of the boy. She’d gone to the same school as him ever since she could remember. It wasn’t until this year when she was aware of his existence.

He usually stayed behind the scenes; his nose burrowed in a textbook whenever she saw him alone and when she didn’t, he was usually hanging out with the same group of friends from middle school.

Lately, however, something about him just seemed to make sense. The idea of her and him together made sense. Coincidentally, her infatuation with the boy had picked up around the same time anonymous drawings and knick-knacks had found their way in her locker.

Was it so wrong to believe that it was destiny working its magic?

Or maybe the belief of Stan being anonymous was just the workings of her silly little school crush.

Either way, she took the chance; finding the perfect time to fall into his arms. If she had confessed to him any earlier, she would’ve gotten an unwanted response.

“Can I ask?” y/n started, but Stan knew she was going to ask the question afterwards anyway. “Do you know? Do you know who’s been sending me the stuff?”

Stan swallowed. He swallowed so hard his throat burned. He didn’t want what they had to end like this.

What they had. They didn’t have anything.

“Bill Denbrough.” He looked down even though he had nothing to be ashamed of. “Do you like me or do you like the person who’s been sending you the stuff?” Stan asked. It was a fair question. An easy question. But y/n, for some reason, couldn’t tell the difference between the two.

It was clear as day that Bill Denbrough and Stanley Uris were two different people. y/n just couldn’t fathom Stan not being her secret admirer—as cocky as it sounds. For two months, she’s imagined him as the one sending her landscape sketches and confessing his love for her. Her heart couldn’t help but fall into an endless pit, also known as the void.

“I guess I just thought of you as the person sending me the stuff,” y/n answered honestly, and an odd sort of sadness washed over Stan when she said that. They were truly stuck in a catch twenty-two and he still failed to understand how he got there. “Do you like me?” The question was ridiculous, but it was reasonable for her to ask.

“Yes,” Stan said, but he was hesitant. His mind couldn’t help but track back to Bill and the countless times he had swooned over y/n. Stan may be the one telling her how he felt but he wasn’t the one who never failed to stutter her name in conversations and make googly eyes at her from across the room.

What Stan had felt these past few days was what Bill felt these past years.

If y/n were stupid she would have accepted Stan’s answer. She would have given him his third kiss right then and there and proclaimed they were dating as they left the lunchroom. But she wasn’t stupid. She was anything but.

“I really like you.” Stan swore this was something she’d said before, but it wasn’t. It was new. It seemed as if everything was new. “Or… liked you,” y/n spoke again, and maybe the rose-colored glasses she was wearing were coming off.

Stan nodded. He knew what this meant and stood up from his seat. There were only five minutes of lunch left when he looked at the clock that hung from the brick wall and he was going to make perfect use of it.

“Good news.” Stan walked up from behind Bill who was sitting with the rest of the Losers. He ignored Beverly’s where were you’s and took a seat facing his friend. “y/n likes you back.”

#it 2017 #it2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #stanley uris #stan uris #stan uris x reader #stan uris x reader fluff #stan uris x reader angst #stan uris imagine #stan uris fanfiction #stan uris fic #stan uris fanfic #stan uris fluff #stan uris angst

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colorsicantsee · 3 years

Text

Seblaine- Present Day (June/Year1)

Para: All's Well That Ends Well To End Up With You

Rating: PG-13..

Pairing: Seblaine.

Sebastian: @colorsicantsee

Blaine: @twoblueheartslocked

Time: Year One: Present Day- June. About a month after- I Don’t Wanna End It When We’re Only Just Beginning; Part ONE and Part TWO.

Location: Brooklyn, New York

Info: Sebastian knows how lonely Blaine can get when he’s gone so he surprises him with a trip to the Animal Shelter. Blaine makes a new friend and starts to think he might not be giving enough of himself to his wonderful person.

Warnings: This particular para includes- Brief mentions of sexual situations and mentions of past abuse. This rp as a whole mentions past abuse(Physical, mental and sexual), possible unwanted sexual situations, anxiety, depression, negative body image, drug use, alcohol use, cussing, death(parents).

Extra Warnings: (This RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Title taken from-Taylor Swift- Lover

NOTES: Some canon events remain in place while others have been changed. Some things may even be out of order. You can consider this sort of canon divergent AU. A few changes are that Blaine’s parents are different from the show (His mother is Filipina), he didn’t cheat on Kurt or date Dave and Sebastian is younger than Blaine. Feel free to send a message if you have any questions!

Under Cut for length. As usual the para’s are mostly unedited.

Sebastian’s POV:

Things had been okay. Sebastian was getting his school work done and hadn’t touched alcohol in months. Blaine was going to work and therapy sessions regularly. The two of them had been comfortable and open with each other and things were just...calm. Calm was a feeling that Seb hadn’t known for a long time. Even when he was a teenager and spent his days hanging off of Blaine’s words and soft touches, his emotions felt so dizzy and intense. Calm was nice, it was welcome and not something he had known he craved for years.

Though Seb felt some sort of small slice of peace, he wondered if B felt the same way. Of course he knew that his boyfriend was happy and satisfied with their relationship and the way things were going. He knew that Blaine was, to be cliché, fighting an uphill battle mentally. The other man had been through a lot in his young life and Sebastian accepted that. He understood that some things took time to fix and it wasn’t his sole responsibility to stitch up B’s sadness. That didn’t mean he couldn’t help, couldn’t hand the other man the tools.

Sebastian wasn’t sure where the idea had come from. Maybe he had heard Sarah McLachlan croon from an elevator speaker, maybe it was the grey, grumpy cat that hung around the chip aisle at his local bodega. But, it had popped in Seb’s head that maybe Blaine might benefit from a pet. He had personally never had one, but he had always wanted a dog. He didn’t think he could ever take care of anything but he knew that B would be a natural.

Seb picked up the phone and shot the other man a quick text. He had made an appointment at the animal shelter nearest Blaine’s place; This Saturday I have a surprise for you.

The day arrived and Sebastian wouldn’t give in to any of Blaine’s questions or distracting bribery techniques.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

They had arrived at the large brick building and he watched his boyfriend’s face as he figured out where they were.

“Before you say anything, I’m paying all of the fees. I’ll take care of the pet rent, too. I also wanna get everything else you need for you new pet”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine felt good. If someone had told him a month ago that he’d feel this good after having one of his worst, irrational panic attacks he’d have mirthlessly laughed in their face. Yet here he was, feeling the best he’d felt in a long time. It was almost alarming. A big part of him was so scared that it was all going to go to shit at any second now, that he’d fall apart and panic over nothing once more and he’d have to beg Seb to help him calm down with reassurances that he already had to begin with. He hated those thoughts, hated that a big part of him still couldn't grasp that he deserved this happiness and that nothing was going to take it away.

On the other hand there was another part of him that knew he deserved it, knew that things were finally falling into place for him and that he was finally living the kind of life he thought he’d be living when he was a teen. Sure, he still hadn’t ventured out to Sebastian’s apartment in Manhattan yet and a few of his classes were still online, and he was still overworking himself to make up for his guilt over taking Cooper’s money afraid that his big brother might think he was slacking off or didn’t appreciate the loan- even though once he turned twenty-five his parents trust would come through and he’d be okay. Still, he was happy and he wanted to cling to the good feelings and hold them close to his chest in case he ever forgot or to remind him when he had bad days.

He’d been taking his medicine as he should. And even though there was nothing wrong with it he had stopped drinking wine with his meals. He wanted to encourage Sebastian and he’d noticed a difference in how he felt when he woke up in the morning. No more dull headaches or shame over what he might have said while tipsy. He’d been meeting up with his friends more- Sam and David were both surprised when he’d reach out to them to invite them to lunch or even just video games in his apartment. He hadn’t realized how much he was actually neglecting them and it took feeling better to see his errors.

He’d even been trying to call Cooper regularly though his brother was always suspicious when he did so. And of course he’d been spending time with Sebastian. It was like the two of them had just fallen into place with each other, like they just fit and should have always been this way. And as cheesy as it sounded, Blaine was no stranger to cheesy, they just felt meant to be. And that made Blaine feel all the more happy.

His happiness was edged with nerves and excitement as he sat in Sebastian’s passenger seat and his boyfriend drove them to his surprise. Seb rarely drove, but he had picked him up and had been mum about what they might be doing. Blaine had even pressed a playful kiss to Seb’s favorite spot in his neck to try and get an answer, but all that did was get a wicked grin and a promise for maybe later. Blaine settled for holding Seb’s hand and trying not to let his brain overwork itself with what it might be. As they pulled up to a big red bricked building with the worlds Animal Rescue in big white letters across the side, Blaine’s heart did a flip as well as his stomach. He turned to look at Seb who had prepared an argument.

“Seb, that’s too much money! I can’t take that!” But once Seb had his mind made up there really was no changing it. He took a deep breath and let his boyfriend lead him into the building, the sounds of dogs barking echoing off the walls and into his ears. Blaine had always wanted a pet growing up, he’d had a puppy when he was very young, but his father proved to be allergic and he was such a busy kid he found it hard to be there for his canine friend. He still remembered his sniffles as his mom and him dove away after dropping him off at his new home. Sure, Blaine was still just as busy, but he had his own space now, and the thought of having something to come home to instead of an empty, lonely apartment sounded wonderful. Sebastian couldn’t just live there.

He was nervous as the person whose name tag read Matthew showed them around and explained how adoption worked. And when they asked Blaine if he’d like to see the dogs or cats first Blaine surprised himself by asking for the cats.

“I’d like to see the cats, if that’s alright?” Matthew smiled and led the two of them into a room where about a dozen cats were free to roam. It was a playroom of sorts, set up to look like trees and leaves. He’d never really seen a place like this before, most of the cats were sad looking and locked up in cages. He found out soon enough that all of the cats in here were kittens and it was better to let them roam and play together. Blaine sat down in one of the chairs so as not to scare them away but was a little overwhelmed by all the darting fluff and every time he’d settle on one, they’d run away in a blur of white or grey or orange and flip themselves onto one of their playmates. He was just about to ask to see the adult cats when he felt tiny paws on cheek. He looked up and was met with a pair of too large orange eyes in the tiniest black furred body. The little thing was batting at his cheek as if saying- hey, hey I’m here, look at me! It was so small and tucked into one of the little fake leaves that stuck out from the wall, that Blaine had completely missed it at first glance.

“Hey there little one.” Blaine said softly, and reached out to gently pull it into his arms. The kitten instantly stuck his face into Blaine’s and nuzzled against him before batting at one of his curls. Matthew spoke up- “That’s Soot, she’s about six months old, yes, I know she looks so much younger. But, she was born here. She’s been adopted twice and both times she was brought back. It’s a shame. The first person said it was because her child had accidentally stepped on her because she was too small, and the second one said that his girlfriend didn’t want a black cat because they were “bad luck” and feared if she got out she’d be sacrificed or something. She’s naturally tiny and no one seems to want her. If you ask me they just weren't the right fit for her, and their loss because Soot is the sweetest kitten here. And I think she likes you.”

No one wants her? Blaine’s heart squeezed at the thought of someone hurting this sweet little thing and he had to blink back a swell of emotion as she lifted her head and stuck her nose against his lips as if to kiss him! Her head bobbing like she was drunk. She was probably just smelling him but it almost broke his heart in two and he knew that he wouldn't be leaving without her. She had already snuggled into the crook of his arm and was purring so softly, the vibrations tickling Blaine’s arm. The sensation instantly calmed him. He was half in love already. And even though he was worried about taking Seb’s money he looked up at his boyfriend pleadingly, the words getting stuck in his throat, his eyes bright. His voice was shaky and his emotional display would have embarrassed him if he were really thinking about it, but all he could think about was her cold little paws pressed against his arm, her tiny claws kneading him slightly.

“I-I do. I mean, I want her. Please, Seb?”

Sebastian’s POV:

Seb had had a feeling that Blaine was going to visit the room where the cats and kittens were kept. From what he understood, cats were pretty low maintenance and despite what people might say, could form loyal bonds with their owners. Plus, B wouldn’t have to take a cat down the many flights of stairs to go outside at random hours of the day. A cat could watch itself while he worked and went to school and even if he ever spent the night at Sebastian’s.

Blaine’s eyes lit up when they walked into the room covered in acrobatic leaves and man made branches for the cats to climb and lounge on. Sebastian crouched on the floor next to where his boyfriend sat and observed the tiny creatures wrestle and bathe themselves. The older cats that were awake in the cages meowed and pressed their wet noses against the bars trying to get Matthew’s attention. They were probably looking for some new food, he thought to himself.

He hadn’t even caught the moment that the little black ball of fur ended up in his boyfriend’s arms. It seemed as if the two of them had known each other for years, the little thing was emitting little trills of pleasure as it worked its claws into his sleeve. B’s eyes were glossy when the attendant mentioned that Soot had been returned a few times. Sebastian bit his lip and knew that this was the one.

“Of course. This is the whole reason we came.” He smiled at his boyfriend and reached over so the kitten could sniff his fingers. Sebastian looked up at Matthew, “Where do we fill out the papers and pay the fees? She’s ours.”

Soot was loaded into a cardboard box with little holes poked in the side. She didn’t like it and kept poking her black nose through and basically screaming at them to let her out. Blaine filled out all of the paper work with giddy energy and Sebastian handed over his card for them to swipe. He hadn’t been worried about how much it would be but she was surprisingly cheap since she had been brought back a couple times.

Sebastian wrapped an arm around Blaine as he clutched the noisy box in his arms. He sat in the passenger seat smiling as he gently held onto his new pet’s carrier. They drove around for a few minutes before they found a pet store.

“Don’t be shy in here. There’s no limit.”

Blaine blushed and began to protest.

“You need litter, a cat box. Food, she obviously needs some toys, too. Don’t forget about a water dish.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s heart fluttered against his ribcage, a feeling he couldn’t quite place fell over him when he heard Sebastian say ‘She’s ours’. She was theirs now. They had done something big together. He let out a little laugh and fought the urge to pull Seb into a thank you kiss right in front of Matthew. He nodded, barely believing that he was actually going to get to take a living creature home with him and as he signed the paperwork and Sebastian paid he felt even happier than he had when the day started and that was saying something considering he didn’t think he could feel any happier. Instead of something terrible throwing a wrench into his joy he’d been gifted the most adorable thing.

Blaine settled back against Sebastian’s comforting arm as his boyfriend drove away so they could shop for her. She sat on his lap in her little cardboard crate, screaming for attention and slipping her tiny little paw out through the holes before shoving her nose through it. She did this over and over again. Blaine pet her nose and her paws to calm her, but didn’t let her out for fear that she’d get lost in the car. He was so excited, he couldn’t wait to share his apartment with her. Wondered if she’d like his music, or if she would sit in the window and stalk birds, wondered if she’d cuddle up on his pillow as he slept. He realized then that the thought of Sebastian having to go home and leave him alone for the night later on wasn’t as hard to stomach as it had been the day before. Of course he hated that part. When Seb couldn’t stay because of early classes or whatnot. He wanted his boyfriend there all the time, he felt safer and more whole, had gotten used to letting Seb’s arms be around him, letting his hands touch him without tensing up and he loved it, but maybe, just maybe, with Soot in the picture he wouldn’t stay up too late wishing he wasn’t alone. Maybe she’d help take the edge off his nighttime loneliness away.

The store welcomed animals so he was able to put her little crate into the cart Seb had gotten for him and he was thankful, couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her out in the car. He was still nervous about the cost, animals were not cheap and he was on his own now, Cooper’s year of “free” rent was pretty much up and almost all of his extra money went into his apartment and food. He knew he was lucky, most college kids had to stay in dorms or be extremely well off to make it like this. But when Cooper had helped get him out of his horrible situation with Kurt, a dorm wasn’t an option. They both knew Blaine couldn’t handle all of those people around him, couldn’t handle a stranger in his room. His severe anxiety wouldn’t let him. Maybe luck wasn’t the right word actually considering, but either way, Blaine got to live alone and that money added up. He hadn't gotten a pet in the first place despite desperately wanting company that couldn’t hurt him over the last year and a half because he couldn’t afford it. It was like Seb had read his mind, finding thoughts that Blaine himself didn’t really think of often.

“Seb, this is all going to add up. Are you sure?” Seb was sure and Blaine had to really look at him before he let himself put anything in the cart. He meant what he said. He’d help. And Blaine would find a way to come up with vet money so he could get her fixed, he’d find a way. Even though he had a feeling Sebastian would try and help with that too. Over the next half hour he and Seb had managed to get her about twelve new toys ranging from mice to a wand with a fish on the end to a scratching post with a fuzzy heart hanging off of it. She had a giant bag of food meant for kittens under a year old, a food bowl, water dish, litter box, and a little red collar with a bell so small Blaine was sure he’d never hear it. The total was too much, and Blaine instantly felt like a bad cat dad because he wouldn’t have been able to afford that if he were doing this on his own. But when he voiced it Seb shook his head and reminded him that this was a present.

On the way back to his apartment Blaine made the appropriate call to inform his landlord that he’d gotten a cat and that he’d bring in the money first thing. He tried not to cringe when he was told the deposit price. It’s a gift, Blaine. Let him do this for you. He made it through the call without much resistance, the landlord seemed hesitant at first, but since they didn’t have a no pet policy she had no choice but to let him do it. The two of them set up the little apartment before letting the little lady out of her crate and Blaine made sure the bathroom door was shut so she couldn’t go hide there. He wished he had a door to his bedroom, but it was so small there weren’t many places she could go. She let him put her new collar on without struggle, pressed her forehead against his cheek and squirmed to be let down. She sniffed around the room, and made her way across the small apartment, poking her nose in everything before settling on her food, took a bite, then a drink and then promptly darted across the living room floor and dived right into the scratching post and busied herself playing with the fuzzy heart hanging off of it. He couldn’t help but laugh from his spot on the couch. They were quiet for a moment as they watched her play.

“I think I’ll keep the name. I mean look at her, she looks like a soot spot against the wood floor. It’s pretty perfect.” He paused, his eyes glued to her little body. She was playing so hard, it was like she hardly noticed she had been taken to a completely new place. She seemed at home, and when Blaine clicked his tongue against his teeth and said her name softly in a high voice, she actually came over to him and rubbed her scent all over his hand and leg, she went and did the same to Sebastian before once again darting and diving. This time at once of the little mice. She flipped onto her back and she rabbit kicked it before doing it all again, her micro bell tinkling as she moved. Guess he could hear it after all.

Blaine was fucking obsessed.

“God, I can’t believe no one wanted her. “ He finally turned his gaze to Seb and reached out to take his hand, linking their fingers together. He scooted so he was close to him, his hand sliding up to his chin to bring his face down to his before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He did it again, his own lips slipping into a small, bright smile.

“Thank you. You have no idea how happy this has made me. I-I didn’t think… well, I didn’t know I needed this. I still feel like it’s too much money… But, I’m gonna accept it, she’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian helped Blaine unpack all of Soot’s new toys. He helped set up the cat box and insisted on pouring the litter even though he had never done it before. I mean, how hard could it be? A giant puff of grey dust surprised him and made him cough and flail a little bit. The scene had made Blaine laugh, though and that had made the mess worth it.

Soot seemed to fall into an easy playful mode immediately. She looked like she had always belonged in the apartment. The two of them watched her, laughing at her ridiculous belly flops and wobbly jumps.

“I think the name is perfect. She’s like a little smudge.” Sebastian pressed in closer to Blaine’s side. He could not only see his boyfriend’s happiness but he could feel it radiate off of him. Sebastian felt pleased. B now had a little companion to warm the lonely nights he had to be away, to hold on to when he felt upset.

Blaine never had to come home to an empty apartment again. Seb thought that that sounded great, his own empty apartment felt cold and haunted at times. Not literally, of course (he’d fucking move.) but by the past. The stench of vodka would sweep by him when he felt bored. Sometimes his sheets didn’t feel clean enough, seemed matted with bad nights and past lovers. He was thankful that Blaine didn’t have to experience that, that he could walk into the tinkle of a little jingle bell and the flash of orange eyes looking for their food bowl to be filled.

Sebastian shook his thoughts away and focused on the kitten again. “I’m glad. You guys are a perfect match.” He pressed into the kiss, he could feel Blaine’s smile against his lips. Sebastian loved that feeling.

“You’re welcome.” He wanted to insist that the money didn’t matter but didn’t want to come across as braggy. Sebastian found that his careless feelings about spending offended some people. He used to not care, would swipe his card with a smirk and casually mention his big purchases. Seb had grown so fucking annoyed by himself after he started getting cleaned up. He had become better and knew that B spent a lot of time worrying about money. Sebastian found it better to just let that part of the conversation go. “Always glad to help. I wanted to do this.”

“Do you think she’ll tucker herself out soon?”

Blaine’s POV:

“You wanted to make me the happiest man ever? God, you’re so good to me, I really don’ t know that I deserve it.” He smiled up at Seb after their shared kisses, relishing in the simplicity of the moment. He wondered if Sebastian ever thought of getting a pet himself, he wondered how big his apartment was. Sure, it was New York, but as he knew, Seb had money and his parents never taught him to shy away from it. Did his home ever get lonely too? Blaine had never even been there before. Had a hard time imagining himself there, letting himself be touched or kissed there, or undressed and bare. Because it wasn’t a space of comfort that he’d built himself. And spending too much time in Manhattan was difficult for Blaine to think about, sure, he knew how to avoid Kurt, knew his spots, knew Rachel’s spots. He’d known how to avoid Seb for three years before this too. But there were so many memories attached to the place, bad ones. Spots where Kurt would drag him and then humiliate him. So many places to avoid. It was also the place where you and Seb reconnected, he reminded himself. You managed to go to that Warbler party, you could totally go to his apartment.

God, everything with them really had happened just so fast. Both times they’d been together and Blaine knew, without a shadow of doubt that Sebastian was the only person he’d ever want to touch him again. He still tensed up sometimes, still loved that Seb showed his hands before reaching for him even though they’d done so much together, it helped him. He still got nervous before intimate moments. They’d had sex a couple more times since he’d panicked and he loved every minute together. He trusted Sebastian and only Sebastian with his body and even more, his mind. He knew that he always had trusted him and maybe that meant that he could trust himself to be intimate in a new place. Sebastian’s space. The man had just given Blaine an incredible gift that he otherwise couldn’t afford and had uprooted himself to spend all of his free time over here, in a shitty small Brooklyn apartment in a shitty neighborhood. Blaine felt he needed to give him more. Why was the thought so hard?

He looked over at the kitten, Soot was still hopping around, her little paws making the daintiest sounds on his scuffed wood floors as she jumped and landed on her feet. Little Soot showed no sign of stopping, but then again, from what he knew about cats and the countless animal videos he’d watched over the years to cheer himself up the creatures seemed to play hard and then promptly pass out like a loaf of bread.

“I don’t know, she’s going pretty hard though.” He reached out and grabbed the stick with the fish on the end and she instantly started to chase it. She grew bored when Blaine wasn’t fast enough on wiggling the string and pounced over to a new mouse, and as the two of them laughed at her, she visibly started to slow and then she sat down on her tummy, hiding the mouse under her little body and then she tucked her paws under her chest like they were cold, then her eyes started to close and she was purring loudly as she fell asleep, her head pressed into the scratching post mat.

“Well, I guess there’s your answer… I mean, could you imagine falling asleep that fast? And we’ll never be that fucking comfortable.” Blaine chuckled, looking back up at Seb in amazement, his smile so big his cheeks kind of hurt from the happiness.

And there it was- the tiniest bit of clean litter dust clinging to Sebastian’s cheek and it reminded Blaine of the snowflake that had clung to Seb’s cheek that nerve wracking, miserably bittersweet New Year’s Eve night on a Manhattan rooftop, six short months ago. The night that had set this whole relationship back into motion. The night that un-paused their story and dusted off their beautiful and imperfectly perfect book cover and set them back on their path. He sometimes wondered what would have happened if he didn’t accept, how bad off would he be now? He took a deep breath and reached out to brush his thumb over the spot. His skin tingling as he brushed it away. It wasn’t as pretty as a snowflake, but the way it had gotten there had made him laugh and he wanted to hold onto this moment just as close as the snowflake moment. That night could have ended them in further disaster, but Blaine had taken a chance because Seb had done the same and had reached out.

They had come so far since that night and yet it felt like they’d always been here. The four years they spent apart were the worst ones of Blaine’s life, and while it wasn’t just because they were apart, there were many factors, but not being together was a big one. A mistake that had cost them greatly. As he leaned against his boyfriend now, in this moment, he knew that he’d made the right choice in accepting Seb’s invitation after that night. He bit his bottom lip, his smile taking him out of his what- could- have- happened memories and putting him back in the now because Seb was here and there present day choice had gotten them this far. The ‘what ifs’ didn’t matter anymore.

“You had cat litter stuck to your cheek.” He tried to laugh but his voice came out a bit breathy. “I know you can’t stay tonight, and I’m okay with that, I’ll have great company and it’ll feel a little better here. But, you don’ t have to leave just yet do you?” He felt selfish even asking, he knew Seb had a lot of studying to do and that he studied better in his own place without distraction. “I mean, just for a few more hours? We don’t have to do anything big. We could just hang out? I can make us dinner and we could watch one of your trashy shows you love so much. Just for two hours even, maybe by then she’ll be awake and I'll have some entertainment.” He tried to keep his tone teasing, but Seb had done so much for him today and he didn’t want him to go yet. So he laughed and then swallowed, working himself up for his next question.

“And maybe soon, um, like in the next month or so I could, well, maybe spend the weekend at your place? I could make you your first home cooked meal in your actual house. You could show me your favorite spots around your part of town, I mean, we’re always here. Your place is just as important as mine.” He gave a smile showing he meant it, his thumb tracing over Seb’s long fingers in a comforting rhythm to the sounds of his cat's sweet purrs. It may have seemed a simple request, but it was a big deal for him and Seb knew that because Blaine had never asked to go before, and Seb had never asked him there either. They both knew it would be a task creating a new comfort space for Blaine to be in and for Seb to share his life. But their relationship was more than this apartment and this part of New York, it was everywhere and Blaine wanted to show that.

It was out there now and he found he didn’t want to take it back.

Sebastian’s POV:

“I wish I could just imagine what it felt like to fall asleep that fast.” Sebastian shrugged his shoulders and watched the peaceful scene. “Your floor is a mess. I guess you better get used to it. There’s probably no need in picking it up, right? It’s really taking a lot for me to just...not start picking all of those mice up.” He laughed, “maybe we should get a tote or something for all of this crap.”

Sebastian could sense the change in Blaine’s honied eyes. He thumb brushed against his cheek, reminiscent of a snowy New Year’s Eve. He would have felt mortified for having fucking cat litter on his face if it weren’t for the look on the other man’s face. Blaine looked hopeful and was looking at Seb like he was the most perfect thing his eyes had ever fallen upon. Normally he’d say something sarcastic or witty but no words fell from his usually silver tongue. God, Blaine could make him feel so much better with just a glance of those damn eyes, the color of dead leaves, chrysanthemums, and sun tea. Seb swallowed the lump in his throat and tried for a sly smile, but instead his just for B grin spread across his face. “Of course. We can do whatever you want.” He cleared his throat, “Umm. I can make a pot of coffee when I get back and dig into my schoolwork.”

He was a little taken off guard when Blaine mentioned visiting his place. Sebastian could swear that Blaine could see his thoughts painted across his forehead or something. Maybe it just came with knowing somebody for so long or maybe Sebastian didn’t have as good of a poker face as he thought.

“We can do that. There’s no rush.” Sebastian laced his fingers with his boyfriend’s. “But, what will we ever do without Ms. Katy Perry watching over us like our very own gay Goddess?” He laughed and pointed at the candy colored poster on Blaine’s wall. “I don’t own anything quite that colorful. Just imagine like...an updated version of the apartment in American Psycho. God, that’s a terrible description isn’t it? But, my father did hand pick it after all so I suppose it’s on brand.” He took a breath,” all jokes aside, I’d love that. Now, what were you planning on making for dinner? I’d ask if you need my help but we both Know I would start a fire or cut my finger off or something.”

Blaine’s POV:

“It’s alright, Seb.” He shook his head and gently squeezed his boyfriend's hand. “I promise at bedtime I’ll pick all the toys up. I think I have a small container up in my closet that I can use until I can get something better. And the next time you’re here they won't be spread out like that, I just wanted to give her options for her first day here.” Of course Seb was worried about the little tornado of toys around his miniature apartment. Adorable.

Blaine noted the way Sebastian cleared his throat, his voice a little wobbly and emotional as he told him they could do whatever he wanted and he wondered if it was because he was thinking about the night they reconnected too. Seb was looking at him adoringly with his big grin, the one that only Blaine really got to see, and big green blue eyes that told him he’d done something right. He looked up at his boyfriend, and gave him a relieved smile as Seb relented and said he’d stay. He wanted nothing more than for Seb to always look at him that way. It wasn’t something he was used to, maybe years ago, but now, he had the chance again and he wasn’t going to let it drift away. And maybe wanting him to stay was selfish, but Blaine was never selfish and today he wanted to be.

“You’re right, what will we do?” He teased as he thought over what he had to cook in his small refrigerator. He laughed over the American Psycho quip because of course Seb’s house was sophisticated and plain. “I guess I’ll just have to decorate your house up with various pop stars, won’t I? I’ll make sure there’s an extra pop of fluorescent pink just for you. I’ll make sure your fairy lights are a delightful shade of purple. You can pay me back by keeping your axes in your car for the night.” He paused, giggling at their jokes before pressing another kiss to Seb’s lips. “I’d really love to be there, too. Let me go see what I can put together.”

Blaine didn’t have much, but he had ground turkey, pasta and cheese, red pepper flakes and some bread from the deli so he put together a simple spaghetti and meat sauce with a little bit of a kick and made his own garlic bread. Over the next three hours they sipped on coffee and iced water and watched one of Seb’s terrible reality shows while Soot snoozed away, exhausted from her busy day. And after the dishes were cleared and they were settled back on the couch they kissed and giggled and messed around a little bit. They didn’t get too serious, but their lips were swollen by the end of the night and Seb let Blaine put his hands all over him- teasing and touching until Blaine was sure Seb went home for the night completely satisfied.

After he’d gone, Blaine sent Sebastian a photo of all Soot’s toys cleaned up and tucked under the little coffee table so she could get them out when she wanted; See, all clean! To which Seb sent a photo back of his homework spread out in front of him, yet another cup of coffee just visible in the frame; Yes, looks so much better! And a bit later, in bed, right before falling asleep, Blaine sent Seb a photo of Soot curled up next to him against the wall by his head. Blaine angled it to show the empty space where Seb was absent; The only thing missing is you. <3. A bit later, Seb sent one of himself back, lying in bed, his chest exposed, with a little grin on his face. The spot next to him empty; Ditto. Your spot is waiting.

And then they fell asleep with declarations of I love you’s and wishes of goodnight’s from both of them.

/fin.

#Para: All's Well That Ends Well #Seblaine #twoblueheartslocked #colorsicantsee #para #seblaine canon divergence

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fantastic-bby · 4 years

Text

One Month

Pairing: (F)Reader x Youngjae

Word count: 4.3k

Genre: Fluff | Romance | Non-Idol!AU | Soulmate AU

Summary: While you’ve completely given up the idea of soulmates and love completely, Youngjae’s convinced that he can change your mind. Although the only thing he has is your long friendship, he’s willing to spend a whole month trying to win your heart...

Warnings: -

It’s ridiculous. That’s what you thought. There was no such thing as ‘strings’ or ‘akaito’. You had been through way too much pain to even think about the possibility of a soulmate. The dream of finding your soulmate had been crushed one too many times, and you had concluded that they just simply didn’t exist.

That thought also made you feel bitter whenever you saw couples in the streets. You wondered how they were so lucky to actually be compatible when all of your previous lovers had failed to be compatible with you. You were convinced that no one could change your mind.

Youngjae thought otherwise.

“She just doesn’t believe in soulmates,” he sighs just as Coco jumps onto his lap.

“Does she not believe in soulmates or does she just not want a relationship?” Mark asks as he hands Youngjae a mug of tea.

“Could be both.” Another sigh leaves his lips as he looks down at the steaming beverage.

Mark sits himself next to him, “How are you so sure about this anyway? Have you ever asked her directly?” He sips his own drink as he watches Youngjae.

“I’ve known (Y/n) since we were in college. I’m always the person she comes to when her boyfriends break up with her.” Youngjae pauses to run his hand through Coco’s coily fur. “She hasn’t dated anyone since her last ex. Apparently, she’s completely given up the idea of love and soulmates completely.”

“But you’re sure that she’s your soulmate,” Mark adds. He nods.

“Hyung, every time I see her I get this feeling - it’s like my heart could probably pop out of my chest and fly towards her!” He almost spills his tea when he throws his arms up into the air; his hands scrambling to steady the cup.

“If you spill that; you’re cleaning my couch,” the older man jokes. “Talk to her.” His statement makes Youngjae turn to him. “If you want her so badly, make a deal with her or something. Ask her to give you…” Mark trails off as he tries to plan it in his mind. His face lights up, “Ask her to give you time. See if you can convince her to believe in love again.”

“Doesn’t that make me sound like a dick?” Youngjae questions.

Mark hums for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re giving her a challenge. She’s gonna challenge herself to not fall in love with you, but when she does, she’ll fall harder than she realised.” It seems like a foolproof plan. Youngjae’s known you for six years. He knows you better than anyone else and he’d bet that he knows you better than you know yourself.

He stays at Mark’s apartment for a bit longer, planning what Youngjae should do in order to win your heart. They’ve concluded that showing up at your apartment in the middle of the night would not only be irrational but it would also annoy the hell out of you.

“Find some time to talk to her,” Mark says. “You guys have those monthly movie nights, right? Bring it up to her then.” His suggestion implants itself into Youngjae’s mind. The man carries the thought with him as he heads home, leash in hand and Coco running by his side.

“Doesn’t seem like a bad idea, right, Coco?” Youngjae looks down to face his tiny dog. The maltese only turns her head to look up at him, tongue hanging out of her mouth as she pants. “Yeah, you don’t think it’s a bad idea,” he concludes as they continue with their walk home.

As he walks, Youngjae wonders why you’ve never felt what he’s felt. He’s so certain that you’re his soulmate, but it always felt like something was missing. Every time he sees you, it’s like a glass of ice water on a hot day. Whenever he touches you, his entire body buzzes with joy. It just makes him wonder why can’t you feel it, too? Or if you do, why don’t you say anything?

He honestly thought he was crazy when he first met you. Youngjae just saw you as radiant and beautiful, but you always seemed to see him as a friend. So, that’s what he was to you; your best friend. He considered telling you what he felt on the inside when you were graduating, but Youngjae was discouraged whenever he saw you with one of the engineering students.

“Do you even think she would agree to it?” He questions Coco as he walks into the lift of his apartment. Coco sits patiently and looks up at him, tilting her head. “She would...right?”

»»————-　　————-««

“Pizza?” You suggest as you lean over your counter, phone in hand and eyes watching Youngjae.

“I’m fine with anything,” he shrugs as he pulls a bottle of soju out from your fridge. “Wine, soju or no alcohol?” You click your tongue as you think about it. You could skip the alcohol and avoid the possibility of a hangover in the morning - which could save you stress from work - or you could just have wine and drink the night away with Youngjae by your side.

“Fuck it; wine. My boss is driving me nuts.” Youngjae says no more as he puts the soju back in to grab the large bottle of red wine and places it on the counter.

He rummages through your cabinets to pull our two wine glasses, “What did he do this time?”

“He promoted that asshole in my office who’s only been working there for a year! I worked my ass off for four years, flew to Shanghai on my own last year because Kayla was sick, I got the company three different projects in the past two years, and Jason gets promoted because his daddy’s the CEO! Youngjae, he doesn’t even know how to use the editing software. He’s part of the editing team and he doesn’t know how to edit jack shit.” When you’re finished with your rant, Youngjae chuckles as he slides a glass of wine towards you.

“Why don’t you make friends with him and convince him to promote you?” he suggests nonchalantly.

“He’s an arrogant asshole who pushed my coffee out of my hands the other day in front of the office,” you deadpan. Youngjae’s face contorts into a grimace.

“He’s lucky none of us work with you or he’d get some sense beaten into him,” he chuckles.

“Can’t you just bring Jackson to the office one day? He doesn’t even need to do anything, he just needs to stand there and flex. Jason would piss himself the moment he sees Jackson’s big ass muscles,” you jokingly say.

“I’m not going to send my friends to your office just to scare them,” Youngjae snorts.

You let out a whine and pout, “I was just joking. But all jokes aside, I really wanna-” You imitate the action of strangling someone, aggressively shaking your hands back and forth while he laughs at you.

“Violence is never the answer, (Y/n).”

“Wouldn’t you know.” You turn to him and raise an eyebrow, silently reminding him of that fight he got into when you were still in college.

“Wh- We were twenty-two!” He scoffs, “That guy was drunk and he probably would’ve hurt Yugyeom!” You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow at him. Youngjae’s nose scrunches up in annoyance as he grumbles, “Okay, fine - I was jealous! Was that what you wanted to hear?”

You roll your eyes, “Why would you be jealous? We were just dancing.” You pick up the wine bottle and your glass, turning around to make your way to the living room.

“Because I was in love with you.” You freeze in your tracks. You slowly turn around, seeing Youngjae’s eyes trailed to the ground.

“W-What?” You watch in shock as he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

“I’ve been in love with you since we first met,” he confesses. “A-And I don’t know how you haven’t noticed at all in the past six years.” Youngjae’s looking at you now; soft brown eyes holding so much desperation that you can’t help but feel guilty.

“Y-Youngjae,” you place the glass onto the counter and rest the palm of your hands onto the smooth marble surface, “You know I don’t date anymore. I’m…” you turn away from him, not liking how vulnerable you suddenly felt. Usually, it wouldn’t mind that Youngjae would see this side to you, but now, it felt different. “I don’t believe in love anymore. It scares me.”

He rounds the counter and stands in front of you, “I promise I would never hurt you. Please, if you just give me a chance, I’ll prove to you that maybe love does exist.” You eye him skeptically. How could he change your mind? But more importantly: how have you been so unaware of his feelings towards you? “I bet I could make you fall in love with me in one month.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You maintain your skeptical gaze, your arms crossed over your chest. It would be an interesting bet to see if Youngjae could play his cards right to make you change your mind. He also knows that you’re not the type of person to turn down bets.

“What would be in it for me?” Your question makes him smirk.

“If you don’t fall in love, I’ll make you dinner every night for a whole month.” You cock an eyebrow at the tempting offer.

“But, what if I do?” you tilt your head curiously.

“If you fall in love, then we get together,” Youngjae tells you. You think over the bet as you stare at him. “It would benefit both of us if you do end up falling in love, and I’ll prove to you that love isn’t all that bad.”

You purse your lips into a straight line. You’re sure that you could win the deal. After all, you’ve managed to go through a friendship with Youngjae without falling in love with him. “Deal.”

“The month begins tomorrow,” he smiles.

»»————-　　————-««

Date One

Youngjae: Are you busy tonight?

(Y/n): Nope

Youngjae: Let’s go out. Wear something casual. I’ll be there by eight.

You stare at his message. You were preparing yourself in being adamant on not falling in love with him - actually, you were just convinced that he would be unable to change your mind. After the years of heartbreak and betrayal by your past lovers, you just couldn’t believe in the idea of true love. Dating was scratched out of your life by the time you were twenty-two and the idea of marriage was tossed out the window on your twenty-third birthday.

Though, you were curious on just how far Youngjae would go in order to win your heart. So, by seven you were already getting ready. You look through your close, opting for just a crop top and a pair of denim shorts. The summer was starting to make the temperature rise day-by-day and you were certain that even at night, it was still going to be quite warm.

You hear the doorbell to your apartment ringing right as you’re grabbing your bag from your bed. You head out of your bedroom and open the door to see Youngjae nervously standing outside of your apartment. He quickly changes his stance when he realises the door is open and smiles,

“Shall we?” You step out of your apartment and follow by his side.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You question, glancing over at him.

“It’s a surprise, but you’ll love it.” Youngjae turns to you with a smile. You raise an eyebrow as he leads you out of your apartment. “It’s walking distance, but that’s all I’ll tell you,” he says when he sees the questioning look on your face. Your mind wanders to the possibilities of where he’s taking you while you both walk. It’s only when you see it that it hits you.

“The Summer Funfair!” You gasp loudly and turn to him. Youngjae has his usual bright smile on his face as he nods. He pulls out a tiny pouch filled with tokens that he had bought a week prior for the fair. When you saw that there was going to be a funfair nearby your house, you failed to leave Youngjae in the dark about it. You had bugged him about accompanying you halfway through spring when it was announced.

“You kept saying you wanted to check it out, so I thought that I could bring you here for our first date.” There’s a pink tint to his cheeks as he speaks. For the first time, you realise how cute he looks when he blushes. Youngjae pulls you through the large floral decorated gates, the two of you immediately being enveloped by a sense of joy and excitement. Children run past you, couples hold hands as they wander through the fair and Youngjae hopes he can hold yours.

You turn to Youngjae, “Can we ride the pirate ship?” Your finger points to the large ship that swings through the air in the distance and your best friend swears he feels his entire soul leaving his body as he watches it.

“(Y/n), y-you know I don’t handle heights well,” he gulps.

“Youngjae, please,” you pout. “You can’t tell me that you bring me here but we can’t ride the pirate ship.” You cross your arms over your chest as Youngjae stares at you with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. He lets out a deep sigh before nodding. You let out an excited squeal and grab his hand, dragging him straight to the ride.

All he can think of, though, is the feeling of your hand in his. Youngjae feels that familiar buzzing sensation that he gets every time your skin touches his as he looks at the way you’re completely oblivious to how he’s watching you.

When you reach the line to the fair, it seems that lady luck is by your side since there’s barely a line. Youngjae feels his stomach sink when he realises that means, “We can sit at the very back!” You turn to him with sparkling eyes. Your excitement is the only thing that keeps him from backing out and he chuckles before nodding awkwardly.

Youngjae watches the ship swing all the way to the top, stopping as it hangs upside down and he can’t help but know he might throw up. He’s lucky he skipped dinner since he knew you’d want to buy food at the fair instead. He watches as you bounce on your feet, waiting for your turn as more people line up behind you.

“(Y/n), I’m not so sure about this…” he trails off when the line starts moving forward.

“Youngjae, you’ll be fine,” you reassure him as you hold onto his wrist once again. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole thing, okay?” He stares at you before realising there’s seriously no way out of this and allows you to pull him towards the ship.

»»————-　　————-««

“(Y/n), I really don’t think I can go on another ride,” Youngjae whines as you continue to pull him through the fair.

“Let’s take a break from the rides, okay?” You turn to him. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the relieved look on his face. The grumble of his stomach is audible to you and his face immediately flushes red. “Let’s get something to eat before your stomach hurts,” you take his hand and drag him through the crowd once again.

You stop at one of the stalls selling corn dogs and see Youngjae’s face light up. He steps forward to look at the menu, turning around to notice that you’ve disappeared. He stands a bit taller to look for you in the crowd, seeing you standing in front of a game stall with wide eyes. Youngjae lets out a chuckle - how could he have forgotten just how quick you are when you see something that catches your eye.

He buys two corn dogs before walking towards where you are, “What are you looking at?” Youngjae asks when he’s standing beside you while holding one of his hands out.

“That,” you point towards the large panda plushie.

“You were staring at that for five whole minutes?” He questions as he takes a bite out of his corn dog. You nod silently as you by your own. “I’ll win it for you.” Youngjae holds the corn dog in between his teeth as he goes up.

“Shoot all the cans down and you get to choose your prize,” the venodor tells him. He gestures to the sign sitting on the wooden counter reading “four tokens”. Youngjae digs into his pocket to pull out his tokens - all the while with the corn dog still in his mouth - before handing it to the man who hands him the toy gun.

You stand by his side, munching away at the snack in your hands as you watch him shoot the cans. You glance over at Youngjae, your mind filling with amusement at the sight of him with a toy rifle and a corn dog hanging from his mouth. You pull your phone out of your pocket and quickly snap a photo of him.

“You better win me that panda or I’ll send this to your friends,” you threaten playfully as you wave the phone in front of him. Youngjae gives you a warning glare before successfully shooting down the last can. A surge of joy washes over you and you start bouncing on your feet as you watch him hand the gun back to the man.

“The panda plushie, please,” he says as he finally pulls the corn dog out of his mouth. The vendor turns around and you can feel yourself filling with more excitement as you watch him pull the massive panda plushie off of the shelf. You start bouncing on your feet as the panda comes closer to Youngjae who takes it from the man, thanking him with a smile before he turns to you, “Ta da!”

You take the large plushie from him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth to stop yourself from smiling too wide - you’re still smiling anyway. “Thank you, Youngjae!” You hug the panda to yourself with one arm while you open your other arm at him. He can’t stop his own smile as he hugs you, his right hand held out behind you to keep the mustard on the corn dog from accidentally touching you.

When he pulls away, he’s still smiling, “Do you like it?” You nod ecstatically. Youngjae’s smile grows, his arm stays wrapped around your shoulder as you start to walk once again.

“What ride should we go on next?” You wonder out loud, causing him to pull his arm away from you.

“Please not the roller coaster,” he groans. You look between him and the loop-the-loop in the distance before grabbing his hand and dragging him straight there.

»»————-　　————-««

Date Two

“Movie night?” you question when you see Youngjae standing outside with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a plastic bag held in the other. He nods, a small smile pulling on his lips. You let him into your apartment and take the bag from his hands.

“There’s a whole bag of popcorn in there and two cans of sprite.”

“I’ll put the popcorn in the bowl,” you tell him, “go ahead and choose a movie.” Youngjae obliges and heads towards your living room. When you enter the living room with a bowl of popcorn, he’s already chosen a movie. “Zootopia?” He nods as he presses play just as you plop yourself on the spot beside him.

“You haven’t seen it, but you promised me a few years ago that you would. So, now I’m gonna make you watch it,” he hums.

"Are you turning me into a furry?” you narrow your eyes at him accusingly. Youngjae bellows with laughter as he shakes his head.

“I just know you’ll like it.”

»»————-　　————-««

"Are you crying?" Youngjae looks at you, stunned. You turn to him with tears streaming down your face and point at the screen,

"H-Her crying made me sad." He feels his insides soften and he coos before opening his left arm. You cuddle into his side without much thought and rest your head against his chest.

"You're so cute," he chuckles and glances down at you.

"You get amusement out of my crying?" You glare at him accusingly. Youngjae stares at your glare before doing something he's hesitated with for years; he leans down and kisses your forehead.

"I just said you're cute - nothing else.” You look up at him with cheeks flushed from the gesture. Youngjae only smiles at you softly. You look into his brown eyes and feel butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“That’s weird,” you think out loud as you turn away from him. He hums questioningly but you shake your head, “I-it’s nothing.” You’re more confused than ever at the thought of Youngjae being the person who makes you feel the way you do. Throughout the rest of the movie, your mind is occupied by how he’s treated you.

“Are you okay? You seem a bit distant,” Youngjae asks as he turns to look at you. You’re snapped out of your thoughts and nod quickly.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him. He gives you a weird look but doesn’t question further and instead, stands to bring the empty bowl into your kitchen. Once you’re alone, you continue to think about Youngjae - or more specifically, his actions. The night ends with you bidding him goodbye at your front door where he waves as you close the door. You lean against the door and think about it further.

Maybe Youngjae would find your heart easier to win than you thought.

»»————-　　————-««

Date Three

You step into the cafe with wide eyes. “This cafe is so cute!” you gasp when you look around at the white walls decorated with fake vines hanging from the ceiling.

“I told you you’d like it,” Youngjae chuckles as he watches how you admire the entire cafe. He loves to watch how excited you get around cute things. “Go ahead and sit down first, I’ll order for you.” You oblige, heading off to one of the tables by the large window that outlooks the street. You sit down and watch as Youngjae lines up at the counter.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s trying to win your heart when you can’t help but admire his efforts. Youngjae truly is a gentleman. Whether or not you failed to pay attention to him throughout the years of your friendship was something that you debated over silently. Youngjae returns to you while you’re still lost in thought, the sound of his placing a tray on the table being the reason you come back to reality.

“I got you macaroons and iced tea,” he says as he places the tall glass in front of you. Youngjae takes the plate off of the tray as well as his own drink before moving the tray aside. You coo when you see the macarons.

“They look like little kitties.” You pull out your phone and snap a quick photo of the cutely decorated macarons before gingerly picking up a mint green one. The cat face and ears are drawn on with chocolate and you almost feel bad for eating it because of how cute it is.

“(Y/n), you can’t just stare at it forever,” Youngjae chuckles when he sees your hesitation.

“I can’t just eat it, it’s so cute,” you pout and turn the dessert around to show him the cat face. “Would you eat me, Youngjae?” you move the macaron around him as though the cat was talking to him. He swipes the macaron from your hand and pops the whole thing in his mouth. A smile grows on Youngjae’s face when he sees your gobsmacked expression. “You’re so heartless.”

“If you don’t want to eat them, I’ll eat all of them.” His hand hovers over the rest of the macarons threateningly and it causes you to slowly pull the plate closer to you.

“Nuh uh, I’m not going to let stone cold Youngjae eat all of them.” You decide against looking at the macaron since you know you might feel bad again - you honestly don’t know why you do - and pop it into your mouth. The moment you bite into it, the sweet and citrusy flavour of it envelopes your tongue.

“You’re adorable,” Youngjae chuckles, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tries not to smile too wide at you. You face contorts in confusion at the sudden statement. “You were doing that happy dance you do whenever you eat something you like.” Your entire body freezes and you’re surprised when you feel flustered.

You silently take a sip from your drink to avoid saying anything. Youngjae lets out another chuckle but decides against commenting on your flustered state. You look away from him and out the window, desperately trying to make your blush go away as quickly as possible. He watches with a small smile on his face. He’s made you flustered before, but he’s never made you this flustered.

"Anyway," you clear your throat, "what's your plan for the whole month?"

"There is no plan," he states. You give him a confused look. "I'm just going to treat you like I always do. I know you better than anyone else, and I'll use what I know to win your heart."

"You sound pretty confident in yourself, huh?" you tease. Youngjae smiles before reaching over to take your hand in his,

"It's because I know I do." You look down at his hand that's holding yours so gingerly, his thumb running over your knuckles. You watch as he suddenly stands and rounds the table to sit at the empty seat beside yours.

Youngjae leans towards you and kisses you. You swear there's a switch inside you that flicks the moment his lips are on yours because you know,

You know you didn't love him this way before.

56 notes · View notes

uswnt-owns-this-homo · 4 years

Text

Babe- (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

(Little bit of background:

Reader lives in Orlando and plays for the Pride. She and Emily are usually the goofy ones of the team and are known as the wonder twins. The team is in Orlando for the upcoming SheBelieves Cup in this)

The girls had all come around and I was tired. So very tired. It had all started out as a little funny idea. Practice had been rough, Vlatko feeling out everyone and pushing you, trying to prepare an Olympics worthy team. Everyone had been a little scuffed up, leaving the field incredibly sore, hopped up on Advil and the thought that there would be an open day tomorrow.

Which is how I’m in the situation I am currently in. Everyone's dancing, having a few drinks, overall not a terrible time. Except for one thing. Emily Fucking Sonnett has shown up 2 hours late, a, as much as I detest the idea, decidedly okay-looking women on her arm. Now, this normally would not be an issue. But, normally, you wouldn’t have a huge ass crush on your best friend, your partner in crime. Yeah, try to explain your irrational jealousy and overall bitchiness to Saucy Sonnett without letting that slip. I gag slightly as I see the girl, Ashley? Sam? I don’t fucking know, pat Emily’s cheek, slipping her other arm around the small girl’s waist. I’m not drunk enough for this shit. And with that thought I go for another drink, only to run into Mal.

“Hey, y/n, I’ve been looking for you. How you holdin’ up, bruiser?”

Ah, the all too popular nickname your teammates had come up with.

“Mal, that was one practice, and how was I supposed to know Ash was going to try and prank me??”

I reach around her for the rum I have stashed in my cabinet, grabbing it and getting the coke from the cooler. She rests her hand on my shoulder, giving me her patented mal-pugh-puppy dog-eyes.

“Okay, but seriously, how are you, know it can’t be super easy,”

I wince and throw back half of my solo cup, looking into it and swirling the alcohol heavy drink around.

“Well, I’m doing just fine, maly paly, how about yourself?”

She rolls her eyes and leads me into the living room, filled with our national teammates.I lean my head on her shoulder, trying to hold back semi angry, semi sad tears.

“Man, I’m trying to help your ass, you gotta do something about this, we’ve all seen how y’all look at each other,”

I shake my head, scoffing.

“Mal, she obviously doesn’t. She brought Brooke or whatever the fuck her name is, didn’t she?”

Mal just shakes her head, giving my head a pat and walking away to go find Rose or Emily or someone. I sit in my corner and nurse the rest of my drink, trying to avoid looking at Sonnett.

Periodically people come over to talk to me, trying to convince me to go talk to Sonny. It’s not until Megan staggers over for the third time that I snap.

“Dude! She obviously doesn’t like me like that! I thought she did but she doesn’t, she literally brought another girl to the party, and if that doesn’t spell, ‘hey don’t really like you y/n’ then I don’t know what does!”

I’m crying by the end of my small explosion, something any of the team rarely sees.

“Okay, bruiser, we’re gonna get you some water, maybe some advil, and then we’re going to go talk this out with Rose, and then we’ll see how you feel, okay?”

In any other setting this would be comical. The small 5’6 Megan Rapinoe trying to coax a 6’2 goalkeeper somewhere. I just nod and let her lead me wherever she decides to go.

I end up in my bedroom, dressed in my boxers and a sports bra, with a bottle of water.

“Okay, y/n Pinoe said I should talk to you cause’ you’re all depresso expresso bubs,”

I choke out a laugh, rubbing my face with my large hands and turning to face Rose.

“Look, Sonny said not to tell you, but I’m tired of the both of you dancing around each other and being all up in denial, so… Sonny brought Tessa to try and move on I guess? I dunno her head works kinda weird. So, my semi plan is that we can all get up in a group, play some truth or dare, and then she picks truth, or you do, and then confess, and it’s a love story for the ages,”

I must still be drunk because that doesn’t seem like a half bad idea. I slowly nod before I get up, heading to the door. I glower at Rose as she grabs my arm.

“Hey, don’t think any of us would complain, but you should probably like cover the abs, Sonny might just die if you don’t,”

“Oh, huh, didn’t notice it I guess,”

I quickly put on a tank top, a palm tree with ‘suns out guns out’ printed on it.

Me and Rose both leave my room, heading to the living room where everyone is already sitting on the couches and chairs in a circle. Ash pipes up, grinning wildly.

“Rosie Posie already told us we’re playing truth or dare, and must I say… Bring it BITCHES!!”

Everyone laughs and we have a small arm wrestling contest to see who goes first. Allysa groans as I slam her hand into the coffee table.

“Okay, okay, Ali, truth or dare?”

The game goes well until it’s Emily’s turn to ask and she turns to me.

“Y/n, Executive Frat Daddy Jr, truth or dare?”

Fuck, fuckity fuck fuck! Can’t risk truth, but dare is going to suck ass. Fuck!

“I’mma go with dare, Son, let’s see what you can cook up,”

She sits with a pensive look on her face for a few moments, her hat slipping down for a moment before she pushes it up.

“Okay, I’m going to give you a choice. You can either let the group call the person you’re interested in, ooorr… you can drink this the rest of this vodka,”

Oh no. this is a bad. A bery bad.

“Yeah, no way I’m letting these asshats call whoever, so I guess we’re chugging this bitch,”

Em whistles, her arm around the girl she brought. Why the fuck can’t I remember her name? I take the bottle, which is a little more than half way full, and twist off the cap.

“Let this go down in history as the night that y/n y/l/n defied death!”

I nod at Ash, thanking her for her full support of my dumbassery.

“Wait, if I’m draining this then lets raise the stakes. I’m completely confident in my ability to not vomit with this so, if I do, I’ll let y’all call my mystery person!”

Everyone cheers and I throw up a quick fist before I get to chugging. I get about ¾ of the way through my half and my stomach starts to roll. Aw hell nah, we are not calling Emily. No fucking way. I last a few more chugs, leaving about an inch or two at the bottom of the bottle before my stomach really starts to roll.

“Oh fuck, she’s gonna barf!”

I run to my bathroom, clipping my foot on the coffee table, and sprawling myself on it.

“Shit, shit, pick her up! Y/n, when the hell did ya’ get so heavy,”

I groan as they stand me up and help me to my kitchen sink. I get to it right as the half handle comes back up, along with everything else in my stomach.

“God, that’s rank, remind me why you picked this Sonnett?”

“Dude, I thought she could hold her liquor, or that she’d pick the other option!”

I groan as I finish retching. I stand up and sway lightly, trying to walk to my fridge to get some water. I take a swig and straighten up.

“Okay, listen up bitches! Since I did a piss poor job at the dare, y’all are gonna call mystery person of interest,”

Everyone clambers to get to my phone, which I hand to Ali. She raises her eyebrows at me and I just nod. She dials Em’s number and puts it on speaker, setting it on the coffee table.

Em’s eyebrows furrow and she grabs her phone. Her face screws up a bit.

“Yeah, that’s real funny Ali, lets actually call the person now, kay?”

I just look at her.

“There you go. Now, I’m going to go lay down before I ruin any other relationships, I’ll catch y’all at team bonding tomorrow,”

I throw up a quick peace sign before I book it to my room, closing the door and sitting on my bed, peeling off my tank top and laying down before the tears start to leak out of my eyes. I hear someone at my door and huff.

“I told y’all she didn’t feel like that, I’ve had a rough night, I’d like it if you’d leave me alone,”

Someone chuckles softly.

“Well you didn’t tell me that I didn’t feel that way so I’m going to wager and say that I’m fine to come in?”

Oh shit. Of course it’s Sonny, I know better than to try and walk away from something that big. I quickly rub my eyes and nose, trying to smooth down my hair slightly before I go open the door.

Emily’s eyes widen as she glances at my stomach.

“Oh, whoops, Rose told me to put the shirt on, my bad”

I go to grab the shirt and she stops me, putting her arms around my waist.

“Dude, I thought I made it obvious by coming up here that I’m interested in you as well, have been since college pretty much. And don’t worry about the shirt, I really don’t mind at all, hotstuff,”

I whip my head to look at her instead of the wall.

“Bitch wait. We will be coming back to hotstuff, but more importantly... You are not telling me that 1) you had a crush on dumb college nerd me and 2) we’ve wasted this much time? I would’ve killed to get your attention in college!”

She chuckles and shakes her head.

“I guess we’re both dumb lesbians then… well, in that case, would you like to go out with me after the cup? I mean only if you want to, we can definitely go back to mutually pining.”

I shake my head.

“Yeah, no, don’t think so. Well, since you’re already here, would you like to stay over so you don’t have to drive back to yours? Or I can drive you back, I don’t know how much you’ve had to drink, or I can sleep on the couch it’s totally fi-“

“Dude, we’ve literally roomed together for every camp and tournament, I’d love to sleep over,”

I shrug and we both go about getting ready to sleep. I grab her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that she left over for these exact occurrences. We both brush our teeth and then sink into my bed.

I leave about a foot of space between us, not wanting to weird Emily out, but she just huffs, grabs my arms, and pulls me to where they wrap around her waist.

“You gotta chill, we’ve been doing this for years, now we just get to enjoy it and know that we’re interested, okay?”

I nod and tighten my hold, thinking about all it’s taken to come here, and how good it feels now that we’ve sorted everything out.

I wake up to a mouthful of hair, which isn’t a new experience when waking up next to Emily “I shed more than a German Shepherd with a skin condition” Sonnett. There’s both a pounding in my head and at my door. I groan as the night comes back to me, tightening my hold on Emily’s waist. I try to gently move away from her, but only get the tightening of hands and a low, drawn out whine.

“Fuck whoever decided to come and get you, I want to cuddle,”

I chuckle, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead and picking her up, carrying her bridal style to my front door and opening it.

“Hello, this is the y/l/n household, how may we help you on this fine day?”

Ashlyn looks up from her phone and lets out an uncharacteristic squeal when she hears Emily.

“Oh my god! Y’all totally fucked right? Who am I asking, of course you did! Well the whole team is waiting downstairs so maybe freshen up and don’t keep us waiting? Today’s a beach day and we’re all stuck waiting on your sorry asses,”

She goes to rush downstairs, presumably to tell the whole team about Emily and I. I quickly grab her by the shoulder, promptly dumping Em on the ground.

“Oh fuck, sorry babe, my b.”

“Now, you, we did not, as you so crudely put it, ‘totally fucked’. Em stayed here last night after we figured some stuff out. So, go tell the team we’ll be down in like 10, thanks,”

She quickly nods as I help Emily up, lacing our hands as we go into my room. I quickly give her one of my hoodies, some shorts she’s left over, and a spare bathing suit she has left over as well. I let her shower in the master, going downstairs to shower and then change into a floral print shirt over a black bikini with swim shorts. By the time I get out of the shower, Emily is waiting in the living room, a small cooler packed with beer and water.

“Thanks babe, we ready to go?”

Now, this term of endearment is not new. The blush that spreads over the usually pale cheeked Sonny is though.

“Wait, are you really blushing over babe? I’ve called you babe since junior year of college Em! This is definitely going to be used to my advantage,”

She just shrugs and mumbles something.

“What was that emmy? Can’t hear you over the blush, babe”

She smiles and grabs my hand.

“If you could hear, I said ‘you didn’t mean anything by it before, or at least I didn’t think you did, so yes I did blush over it,”

I feel a giant grin slip onto my face and I tuck her under my arm, both of us grabbing any last minute things and heading downstairs.

The team is all waiting on us and we quickly head to a little place in town to get some breakfast. We all pile into a corner booth, me and Emily squeezing into the corner. Ash and Pinoe are almost vibrating with excitement and Megan pretty much screams at us.

“Okay, y’all are gonna tell us all the juicy deets about y’all doing the hanky panky last night, right?”

I start to crack up and Emily puts her hand on my shoulder. I gasp and motion for Emily to explain.

“Well, after you crackheads left, I went upstairs to try and chat with bruiser here and she was crying and so she answered the door almost nude and then we established that we’re going to go out after the cup, and then we went to bed, and that’s it,”

Ash and Pinoe both boo and the rest of the team just nods. I put my hand on Em’s hand under the table and she laces our fingers together. The waitress comes and we order food, eating it quickly and then heading to the beach for a fun day in the surf.

It’s been two weeks since me and Emily officially got together and it’s been pretty great. The first game of the SheBelieves Cup is tomorrow and me and Emily are both lounging around my apartment, trying to mentally prepare. We’ve discussed coming out to the fans a quiet a bit and decided that if they ask, we’ll tell, but not until then. We’ve talked more and are now officially girlfriends, and we’ve gone out for breakfast almost everyday, driving to training together, and spending the evenings with each other or the rest of the team. The rest of the night goes by pretty quickly, Em and I playing some video games and watching last years semi-final game against England in the World Cup to prepare. We fall asleep at around 11:30 wrapped up tightly in my bed, Emily laying on top of my chest, my arms around her waist.

Today’s the day. The first day of the cup, and my start for the USWNT in one of the most important games in the cup. Vlatko told me that I would be starting and I’m pretty sure my eyes popped out of my head. Emily is also starting, so we’ll get to play together. The team meets at the Exploria stadium and we all start to individually warm up. I have my airpods in and am in the middle of some volleys with AD when Emily runs up to me. I turn off the music and look at her, smiling at the small shine in her eye from her love of the game.

“Okay, so, I had a grand idea, and Rosie Posie agrees, so does Ms. Kelley,” “Okay then, what’s the grand idea that has popped into your head, Ms. Sonny?”

She grins really big.

“Well, someone mentioned that they need people for press after the game, and I may have volunteered us two, and then I thought, why not kill two metaphorical birds with a metaphorical anvil, or however that goes, and maybe we could tell people tonight?”

I laugh at her phrasing and go to hug her.

“I mean, sure, Em! We’re both getting a start, we’re on home turf, why not? Let’s do it babe!”

She laughs and runs back to the defenders. I turn to AD and she grins at me.

“I’m sure you know it, but, you break her heart and every one of them is going to ruin you,”

I chuckle.

“Yeah, I know. The day I hurt her is the day they take out my ankles,”

We chat about AD’s fiance for a bit while we volley, and then the game is set to start.

Me and Sonny stand beside each other for the anthem, our hands brushing as we stand facing the flag. The team gets into a quick huddle before the game, and everyone looks to me to do a pre-game pep talk.

“Okay y’all, all I really have to say is let’s go out there, bring the boom, show them what team USA’s all about, eh? We got this, we did it in the world cup, we can do it again. Let’s do this!”

Everyone does our pre-game chant and we all take our positions. I slap Em on the shoulder as I go take my place in goal and she winks at me.

The games goes great. We win with two points over England, and no serious injuries. I mean, Toby did get a bit of a hair pull, but Chrissy took care of that. The team is back in the locker room, celebrating and getting ready for post-game stuff. Me and Sonny get a drink and then go to do press. We walk out of the tunnel and over to where they need us, taking a couple seats in front of the interviewer.

“So, y/n, Emily, how does it feel to both start, in your guy’s home stadium?”

“Well it’s not really home yet, at least not quite for me, but it’s pretty amazing, we all played so well, and just had a really nice game,”

I nod along with what Emily said and smile as the interviewer turns to me.

“What about you y/n? How do you feel about tonight?”

“Well, I didn’t have many shots on goal so I’d say it was pretty rad, uh, we all were really connected and on top of things, it was no easy game, for sure, but I think we just brought it,”

“Now, fans have been speculating for years, and it’s fired up again in the past couple weeks, but are you dating anyone, y/n? They seem to have picked up on something!”

I glance at Emily and she nods, grinning.

“I mean, yeah, I’ve recently started dating someone, so if they picked up on that, they must really be in tune with us,”

The interviewer leans in closer.

“Any specific people, any specific things to say?”

“I guess I just want to say that she makes me really happy, and I’m glad I get to train with her and play with her almost everyday!”

I grab Emily’s hand and kiss it before placing it on the table, winking at the camera, thinking about how lucky I am and how glad I am that I threw up on my dare.

#emily sonnett #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnett imagine #uswnt #rose lavelle #ashlyn harris #ash ali and reader are bros #pinoe ships them #megan rapinoe #ali krieger

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