#other words that make me physically uncomfortable to have just sitting in a textbook | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miyacreampie · 3 years

Text

Lenny sensei's night class has begun!~♡

“Senpai~♡”

synopsis 💭;; Tanaka gets jealous bc some bitch talking to his man.

note 🖋️;; IT TOOK A WHOLE FUCKIN WEEK TO WRITE THIS. WHY DOES WORK ALWAYS PREVENT ME FROM DOING THE THINGS I LIKE? WHAT THE ACTUAL FU- by the way, ‘Isayama Misaki’ is based off of some asswipe I used to know- also, I ran out of ideas at the end, so it kinda cuts of lf at the good part. I apologize to the anon that requested this.

Requested by anon ♡

Male pronouns used

Tanaka wasn't a jealous man. Or at least he'd like to think so.

(Y/n) was pretty popular around campus, so it wasn't a surprise to see a few fangirls here or there. It kinda reminded him of Oikawa—except (Y/n) didn't exactly pay his fangirls any attention. (And he didn't have an ass as flat as printer paper.) But did that stop them from trying to get into his pants? No.

In all honesty, Ryu felt lucky that he had someone like (Y/n) as a boyfriend, although he didn't like the fangirls—who paid him no mind whenever they were together. It annoyed him that they kept surrounding (Y/n) who clearly wanted nothing to do with them, begging him for dates, one night stands, anything.

To say that Tanaka was mildly uncomfortable was an understatement.

🌇🌇

Today was a bit different. Instead of a crowd of women rushing towards (Y/n), it was just one—; Misaki Isayama. The woman (almost) every guy considered perfect. This was...manageable, but what did she want? Well—at least it was only one girl. He had only woken up a little over an hour ago, and wasn't exactly ready for his simps just yet.

“(L/n)-chan, can you help me study for the science exam that's coming up?”

“Just because you're my upperclassman, doesn't mean you can call me that.” (Y/n) said quietly, rubbing his eyes, then yawning. “I'm on my way to the lecture hall though, so maybe after that? I should be fully awake by then..”

Misaki smiled and nodded her head. ��It's a date!”

“No. No it's not.”

🏙️🏙️

Tanaka let (Y/n) lean on him during the lecture. That turned into one sided cuddling from the sleepy man. Ryu thought it was cute how (Y/n) always clung to him when he was sleepy. He was a little sad when (Y/n) fully awoke, and let him go, but it was for the best.

“Oh, Ryu-san. I'm tutoring the rumored ‘perfect woman’, and it's gonna be awkward with just the two of us, so can y—”

“You headin to the library? I was on my way there anyway. I'll join ya.”

The (h/c) haired man nodded, and they both walked all the way to the other side of the schoolyard to the library building. Tanaka even held (Y/n)'s hand to flex on the girls they passed by. Some of the girls were noticeably annoyed or a little angry, which pleased him.

When they finally arrived, Misaki was standing by the door. Upon seeing Ryu, she scowled. But it was only for a second.

“Ah, (L/n)-kun..who's this?”

(Y/n) smiled, oblivious to Misaki and Tanaka glaring at each other. Needless to say, the intense atmosphere went right over his head. “This is my boyfriend..Tanaka. He'll be joining us if that's okay.”

“‘Perfect woman’ my ass..the only ‘perfect woman’ I know is Kiyoko-san.” Tanaka mumbled under his breath. (Y/n) may not have known, but Misaki and Tanaka were always competitive with each other. Other times he wouldn't have cared, but now that (Y/n) is what he's fighting for, he wasn't gonna back down.

“Oh, it's fine.” Misaki said through gritted teeth.

🏙️🏙️

Isayama and Tanaka were left sitting at a table alone, while (Y/n) searched for the science books. They sat in complete silence, but it was almost as if you could hear their thoughts—mentally arguing with one another.

(Y/n) returned with three books, seating himself between Isayama and Ryu. “Okay! Let's get started!”

***

As (Y/n) went on explaining the laws of physics (because Tetsurou used to tutor him), Misaki and Tanaka continued their epic staring battle. The battle ended once they noticed that (Y/n) had stopped talking. He was chewing his tongue in thought, trying to figure out how to pronounce a word.

Misaki didn't notice, but (Y/n) had gone from physics, to microbiology. In less than five minutes.

“Something wrong?”

“How do you say this word again..?” The (e/c) eyed man pointed to a bolded word in the textbook, leaning back a bit so the other two could see.

A suffocating silence reigned over the three of them, but only for about three seconds.

Isayama squinted a bit before she spoke. “Endothelial?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks, senpai.”

Isayama smiled smugly at Ryuunosuke. The said man had a visible tick mark (💢) on the side of his head, symbolizing his annoyance. Tanaka only wanted (Y/n) to call him ‘senpai’—even if they were the same age (if not, then (Y/n) might be older). It made him feel like he was a dependable upperclassman, maybe even a bit turned on in certain situations. But hearing (Y/n) call someone else senpai..made him a little sad.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. As Tanaka reached into his pocket to get his phone, he caught (Y/n) putting his own phone in his jacket pocket. Tanaka turned on his phone to see a message from (Y/n) in his recent notifications.

Pretty boy💖: Go to the bathroom. I'll join you later.

Although he was a bit confused, he got up from his chair. “‘M gonna go take a leak.” Ryu said as he started to make his way towards the men's restroom.

Almost five minutes pass before (Y/n) goes into the bathroom after Tanaka, telling Misaki that he was checking on him. As soon as (Y/n) had passed the first bathroom stall, he was yanked into the second one, the door locking almost immediately after it shut behind him. He wasn't given any time to react before he felt a familiar pair of soft lips violently smash against his own. (Not violent enough to make his mouth bleed or anything. Chill.)

A heated battle for dominance arose between the two, (Y/n) quickly taking the lead as he gently bit Ryu's lip.

They didn't want this to end, but eventually Tanaka had to break the kiss because he couldn't breathe. He stood there, breathless in his boyfriend's arms, not wanting (Y/n) to let go.

“Ryuunosuke..” Tanaka flinched upon his first name being said—even though (Y/n) said it many times before. His reaction brought a smile to (Y/n)'s face. “I love you~..” He said, drawing out the three words in a sing-song voice.

Ryu felt his legs getting weak, and held onto (Y/n) for dear life. (Somewhat out of fear that he might fall.) He wasn't actually feeling like this because of three words...right? “Babe..am I supposed to be kinda horny right now?” It was a bit of a strange question, but hey, it never hurts to ask.

(Y/n) chuckled. “Well, yeah. I might have to carry you out of here once we're done.” His warm smile from earlier didn't falter as he spoke.

‘How can he say something like that so casually? If I say something like that, I'd get d–’ Ryu's thoughts were snapped away when he felt his chest touch the stall divider and his pants being pulled down. He let out a soft moan as (Y/n) stroked him through his boxers.

🏙️

‘What the hell is taking them so long?!’ Isayama got up from where she sat, and went to the men's bathroom. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would see her going in. She opened the first stall's door. ‘If they ditched me, I swear to go–’

“W-Wait, (Y/n)!~ Haa!~♡”

“Geez senpai, you're so wet inside~..♡”

Misaki froze. She couldn't be sure that it was (Y/n) and Tanaka in there—but those were definitely Tanaka's pants hanging over the second stall's door. Now she felt more..curious than angry. Isayama slipped into the first stall, carefully and quietly closing the door behind her, and slowly locking it so it didn't make noise.

Ryu tried to keep his breathing steady as (Y/n) fucked him with his fingers—even though that did absolutely nothing to help his current situation. Hell, he couldn't even process words anymore. The only actual word he could say was his boyfriend's name. He eventually remembered how to speak after about two minutes of being finger-fucked.

He wanted to sound more demanding, but his voice came out more whiny than what he'd have liked it to. “Fuck me already..ya fuckin– Hng!~” It may have been that he couldn't process it, or that (Y/n) had moved at the speed of sound, but Tanaka wasn't able to register how fast (Y/n) pulled his fingers out, and shoved his cock into his still tight hole. He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a choked whine.

“You were saying?~♡” (Y/n) asked, though it sounded more like a demand than a question.

Tanaka wasn't given a chance to answer due to (Y/n) ruthlessly fucking the poor man senseless. His loud whines and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, much to (Y/n)'s pleasure. He wanted everyone to know that he was a taken man. He wanted everyone on campus to hear Ryuunosuke's pleasurable cries.

Hearing the two men fucking in the next stall turned Isayama on to no end. (Even though it was more of (Y/n)'s voice that made her wet.) But she resisted touching herself because she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she masturbated to her rival getting fucked. (A kinda stupid reason, but okay.)

“Fu–fuck, (Y/n)!~ So good..it feels so good!~” Ryu babbled, the words almost incoherent as he attempted to push back against his boyfriend's cock. “More!~ Give me more!~♡” He begged, voice broken and choking on his own breath.

The (e/c) eyed man didn't say a word. As his senpai had politely asked of him, (Y/n) drove his cock so deep into Tanaka that the said man let out the loudest drawn out moan (Y/n) had ever heard from him. If it weren't for the cum spewing from the teary eyed man, (Y/n) would've thought he had hurt his lover. He wasn't entirely sure until he felt Ryu continue to push back against him, desperate for more friction.

“Aww..you're so cute when you act like a bitch in heat, senpai~..♡”

He only got a choked whine in response.

“I'm pretty close anyway..do you want it inside?~♡” (Y/n) asked, pulling the shaky man up to his chest. Again, only a whine. (Y/n) parted Ryu's lips with his fingers, those fingers soon being coated in saliva. “Use your words~..”

Finally, Tanaka spoke, despite his unintentional dry heaving. “Fuck me- please~..”

“As you wish~♡” (Y/n) almost whispered, gripping Tanaka's cock firmly, earning another broken moan from the said man. “You're the only person I'd fuck like this, you know that, right?” He said, as he rubbed the shorter man's stomach.

“Y-Yeah..that makes me happy~..”

Lmao this was like- 80% highschool drama (in a college setting), and the remaining 20% being me getting horny for no reason. Also, I'm aware this made no sense. None of the stuff I write makes sense. :)

The class session is now over!~♡

#tanaka x reader #tanaka x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #anime x male reader #m!reader #x male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #ryuunosuke x reader

790 notes · View notes

nat-seal-well · 2 years

Note

*flops onto your inbox like it’s a fainting couch* I need a Huxley relaxing fic, today has been just dastardly.

I’m sorry your day has been so rough! :( Hopefully this will help, friend 💙💙

(like a) weighted blanket

words: 1529

No warnings! This is all just fluff.

you can also find it on ao3 :)

It’s spring. Actual, real spring. Not winter-spring where the air is still too cold or summer-spring where it’s too hot and practically the next season already. It’s spring-spring, the season of new life in its purest form. Spring-spring means that the air is cool but not uncomfortable, and the sun is deliciously warm.

Freelancer listens to the wind in the trees and birds singing while they relax on the quad of the school campus. There’s a blanket under them, and it’s soft as their hand that isn’t resting on their stomach runs along the fabric. They’re on their back, legs crossed at the ankles, and both eyes are closed because of the light of the sun. Studying had been what they intended to get done today—an open textbook and a notebook, with the page it’s open on only half-filled and highlighted, gives that away. But the breeze is so cool and the sun overhead is so nice, and, well… it didn’t last long.

There’s no point in studying if I can’t keep my eyes open anyway, Freelancer had told themself when they almost dozed off sitting up; justification for their extended break.

Sleep is just around the corner. They can feel their mind floating, hazy and relaxed, when the sound of an object settling in the grass nearby makes them open their eyes. Something is blocking out the sun: a shadow cast by a visitor, who is currently standing over them, slouched with their hands in their pockets.

Freelancer blinks when their eyes eventually adjust to the shade and they recognize who it is. The hunched stance had taken them a minute—it isn’t one they associate with him.

“Hi, Hux,” they greet, forcing themself into a sitting position.

Huxley drops down on the green ground next to them, shoving his sports bag (that’s the thing that they heard first) out of the way. “Hey,” he says with a grin, but Freelancer notices circles under his eyes that undermine his easy demeanor. How much rest did he get the night before? “Didn’t know you were gonna be here. What are ya up to?”

They gesture half-heartedly to their notebook. “Studying… kind of. Well, not really. I gave up on it. Are you busy? You can hang with me if you want.”

All it takes is Freelancer patting the empty space next to them on the blanket to get him to join them. He even kicks his shoes off, leaving them by the edge of the blanket, and flops down by their side with his arms behind his head. “Hell yeah, dude. Got some time to kill before practice later on so I was just gonna go wait somewhere. Not really worth it to go home and come right back, you know?”

Freelancer stretches out right next to him, so close they’re touching. Their leg brushes against his, and they can smell the incense that’s permanently ingrained into all of his clothing. Their proximity would be strange if it was anyone other than Huxley. But physical touch is important to both of them, and they have a sort of mutual understanding. Since becoming friends, it isn’t rare for Lasko or Damien to find one of them leaning against the other, or the two of them holding hands. Or something else along those lines.

...It’s also possible that Freelancer’s a little in love with him, and they take as many chances to be close to him as they can. The fact is something they’ll tell him… eventually. Maybe. Freelancer thinks the attraction might not be one-sided, but they’re too afraid to risk the relationship they already have with him. It’s too important. So for now, they’re content with platonic affection. It’s enough.

“Makes sense,” they say, closing their eyes again. “I’m glad you found me. Sunbathing is better with company.”

They pass a few minutes in quiet. Not silence—silence is anxiety-ridding and stressful. But quiet? Quiet is soft and comfortable. It’s the sweet simplicity of existing beside someone you care about, and not needing anything to fill the space between. Including words. Freelancer loves quiet. They listen to the world around them again, and the sound of Huxley’s breathing. It’s a dangerously potent lullaby.

Huxley’s the first one to say something to interrupt the quiet.

“...Hey, dude,” is how he starts. “This might, uh… sound kinda weird. But can I ask you something?”

Freelancer mumbles, without opening their eyes, “I doubt I’ll think it’s weird. You can tell me anything. What’s up?”

“Do, uh… do you think you could lay on me?”

That gets them to look over at him. He seems tense, almost nervous, which isn’t a look they like on him at all. Huxley’s watching the clouds instead of making eye contact with them.

“...Lay on you?” Freelancer repeats, for clarification.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just like… put your head in my chest. O-or something. I dunno. I’ve just… classes have been sorta rough lately. And the team’s been working really hard. And I’ve been kinda… well, it’s just kinda a lot. And—and if you don’t want to, that’s totally okay! Like, no pressure or anything. Seriously, I won’t mind—”

It clicks in Freelancer’s head, then. They understand and cut him off before he can spiral.

They say, brightly, “Oh. That’s not weird, Huxley. I pretend to be a weighted blanket for you.”

And so that’s how, after a little moving around, Freelancer winds up with their head on his chest and one arm slung around him. They can feel the moment their weight grounds him; he takes a deep breath, probably unaware of doing so, and all the tension he’d been carrying seconds before dissipates. One of his hands rests on their back before it goes up to their hair, playing with it in a way that they’re always craving.

“Thanks, man,” Huxley sighs. “For real. You’re the fuckin’ best.”

“Tell me if I get too heavy, or uncomfy, or… or anything,” they tell him.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” A breeze rolls over the lawn, colder than it should be for the mild temperature. When Freelancer shivers, he pulls the empty side of the blanket over them and then goes back to messing with their hair.

It’s a recipe for a nap. The sleepiness that threatened to find them earlier never really went away, and Freelancer can already feel it creeping in. Huxley is warm, and the green hoodie he’s wearing is soft, and they can hear his heartbeat along with his breathing now that they’re literally right on top of him.

Freelancer moves the arm draped across him until their hand is right on his shoulder. The pad of their thumb finds his sleeve easily, and they run it back and forth over the fabric in a line. Doing so is for themself as much as it is for him; although they know it’s soothing, having caused more than one person to fall asleep because of it before, Freelancer likes how the grain of the thread feels against their skin.

“You’re gonna knock me out.” Huxley sounds like he’s already mostly there. His voice is slow and more of a rumble. While they would like to credit themself with the effect they’re having on him, they know he’s been running on low for far too long. It’s a familiar situation—one they’re too well-acquainted with to not pick up on the signs.

Slouched posture, shadows under his eyes, actually asking for their affection. Usually he’s happy with whatever they give him. And what they give him tends to be a lot. There’s no imbalance to things, though. Huxley gives it back just as often, and Freelancer soaks it all in like a sponge.

“How much time ‘til practice?” they ask.

“Um…” Huxley pauses to do the math. “Like… two hours. I think.”

Two hours is great. Two hours is perfect. Enough time for…

“Set an alarm on your phone and nap with me?” Freelancer wants to raise their head to look at him, but they also don’t want to move. He’s comfortable and content they hate the idea of ruining it already.

Huxley’s heart races in his chest. They can hear the rhythm of it for a moment before he laughs once and says, “I—sure. Hell yeah, dude. That sounds amazing.”

As he digs around in his pocket for his phone, Freelancer sighs and nuzzles into his hoodie. Sleeping is something they have a complicated relationship with, especially if someone else is with them when they’re not awake.

But Huxley’s the exception. He tends to be that way with most things.

Their thumb continues to draw that same slow line along his shoulder, and they let their thoughts drift again. Soon they’re lost to those strange half-dreams, the combination of things their own mind comes up with and the sounds around them, and then even those start to fade away.

Freelancer doesn’t recall the moment where they officially hand themself over to sleep. Who ever does, really? But the last thing they remember thinking clearly is this: that the perfect spring afternoon they have right now is enough, enough, enough.

#redacted asmr #redacted huxley #redacted freelancer #redacted fanfic #if you can’t cuddle with ur pals what is even the point?

87 notes · View notes

vendettaparker · 3 years

Text

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again.

This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop.

Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through.

At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him.

“Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch.

“He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

“Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth.

“How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz.

“Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?”

“She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.”

“I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes.

“Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake.

“Make it a month, I know my worth.”

Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter.

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot.

Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

“Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you.

“And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor.

Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?”

“Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.”

‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers.

“Bring a mop too.”

Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh.

“What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.”

“Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed.

“Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste.

“I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

“Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?”

“Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further.

“I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound.

“Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other.

“You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!”

“Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets.

“You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously.

“I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

“This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—”

“Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement.

“Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach.

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle.

“You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch.

“I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch.

You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss.

“You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.”

You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement.

“Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair.

“Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.”

You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

“Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.”

Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection.

Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features.

“Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

“Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss.

You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense.

“You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned

“You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

“(Y/N)!”

#avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spiderman fluff #tom holland spiderman #marvel #marvel fic #peter parker fic

1K notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Daughter Of Superman, The Adopted Son Of Batman...What Could Go Wrong? PT. 1

Jason Todd x Kryptonian!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.8K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I totally forgot about this one! If you like how cute and fluffy it is, just wait for PT. 2! It gets angsty >:) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

They were pretty lazy teenagers when they weren’t busy saving the world with super speed, strength, and smarts. Even if their textbooks were spread all over his bed they were still too lazy to actually do their homework, instead scrolling through social media apps and trolling all the citizens of San Francisco about the identities of the Young Justice Team.

She glanced up from the advanced calculus textbook and stared at the boy laying across her thighs. “Tim, isn’t your dad hosting a gala this weekend?” he hummed in response, and she asked, “Are we allowed to come?”

He didn’t bother looking up from the tablet he was tapping at and nodded. “Yeah. Bruce already added your names to the list, (Y/N).” a flicker of a smile came over his lips and he added, “Of course I had to wear him down in order to get Bart on the list.”

She looked over at their speedster and grinned. “I’m kinda surprised Bruce actually let you on the list Bart.”

A shocked expression etched across his face and he questioned, “Why do you say that?”

(Y/N) shifted Tim’s head, smiling as he grunted from being moved, and rose from the bed, walking over to the minifridge. She pulled out a soda before jumping back on the bed. “Because between you, Tim, Conner, and me, you’re the one who gets us into the most trouble.” She shifted Tim’s head back into her lap, petting his hair until he smiled.

“I do not!”

“Oh really? Do you remember prom night? It’s been almost two years and they stillcall us and talk about the absolute mess we—well, you caused.”

“That cake wasn’t there when I started running, I swear!” he pointed at Tim. “Tim it wasn’t! You know that!”

The others cackled at his protest, and (Y/N) glanced at Conner. “You gonna bring M’Gann?”

A faint pink tinged his cheeks, and he shifted his gaze down at his physics textbook. “Uh…maybe.”

(Y/N) leaned forward, poking his cheek. “Your heart’s beating pretty fast, little brother.”

He swatted her hand and glared at her. “Shove off.”

She snorted and glanced at Tim. “What about you, Timbers? You going to go with Stephanie?”

“Steph and I aren’t dating anymore, (Y/N).”

“For now. But you two like each other.” She smiled and singsonged, “She’s your first love~”

“What about you?” Tim scowled. “Who’s your date?”

She grunted at him and laid flat in the bed, Bart’s legs under her back. “Are you kidding me? You know my dad won’t let me get a boyfriend, let alone a date to a gala for a night.”

“You’re nineteen, (Y/N). I think you’re allowed to start dating.”

“And my parents help pay for part of my utilities. Does it look like I’m going to do anything to tip that delicate balance of not having to pay for all that?” she sighed. “Dad’s always been that way when it comes to me.”

“Daddy’s little girl.” Conner grinned.

(Y/N) grunted and reached over, shoving Conner off the bed. “Don’t call me that. I am not a daddy’s girl.”

The others laughed at her and Tim quipped, “Yes, you are. You two go on father-daughter dates every month and take pictures to show everyone.” She glared at him and he smiled, continuing, “Maybe we can find a date for you at the gala.”

“You can try. But mom and dad are going to be there. If dad sees me with a boy, he’s liable to lose his mind.” The others laughed again, and (Y/N) rested her head down on Bart’s lap. “I need a dress, Timmy.”

He glanced over at her and tapped a few buttons before showing her the screen. “How does this look?”

(Y/N) took the tablet from him and looked over it, taking in the image of the navy-blue dress. “I like the color, but this is a Cinderella dress. Give me something not as…poofy.” He nodded and took the tablet back, tapped on it, then handed it back to her. “Hmm…too booby.” The other two boys giggled at her answer and Tim sighed, taking the tablet again.

He handed it back to her once more and she looked at the dress. “Mermaid silhouette…sheer side…strappy back…” She glanced up at Tim and nodded. “Got a pair of shoes to match?” He hummed and she grinned. “Then I’ll take it. Thanks Timbers.” He nodded once more, and she nudged Bart. “Oi Allen.”

“What?”

“Don’t run into the cake at the gala, okay? It’ll probably cost more than you.”

“It was an accident! Stop bringing it up!” The others simply laughed at him.

***At The Kent Farm***

“Mom! Dad! Jon! I’m home!” She shut the door behind her and turned, catching Jon who’d launched himself at her. “Kid you’re getting too big to do that.” He laughed at her and she let him down, ruffling his hair. “Where’s mom and dad?”

“Out back with Krypto.” He tugged on her sweatshirt. “Did you bring me anything from the tower, sissy? Did ya? Did ya?”

(Y/N) snorted and rummaged in her pocket, pulling out one of Tim’s crimson shurikens. “Tim gave this to me to give to you.” She handed it to him but held it when he reached for it, “Do not,” she warned firmly, “cut yourself with this or mom and dad will make you give it back after they finish tearing me a new one for giving it to you.”

“I won’t!” he promised and she watched his eyes light up in wonder when he took it. She ruffled his hair once more before walking towards the backdoor.

She stepped outside and saw her dad throwing a ball with Krypto, her mom watching from the back porch; she walked over and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, mom.”

Lois glanced up at her and smiled. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re home early.”

(Y/N) nodded, sitting down beside her. “School let out for the week, and we didn’t have any missions from the Justice League, so I figured I’d spend a few days here instead of cooped up in the tower.”

“I’m glad you decided to come home, hon. It’s always nice when you come back.”

She looked up and saw Clark walking towards her. “Hey, dad.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey sweetheart, how were the boys?”

“They’re good. We did our usual thing.”

Clark sat on her other side. “Collapse on Tim’s bed and lay around like lethargic teenagers?”

(Y/N) snorted and shoved his shoulder lightly. “We were productive young adults. We finished over-break assignments and reports. Well…mostly. Still got that thirty page physics paper I have to write but…I’ll let that stew awhile.”

He chuckled. “Anything else happen today?”

“Talked about the gala this weekend.” She paused. “You guys are coming too, right?” They nodded and (Y/N) laid back on the porch, pulling out her phone. “Ugh…I remember how badly the Wi-Fi sucked out here. I don’t have any service at all.” She looked at her mom. “I don’t how a journalist like you manages to live in the middle of nowhere like this and still stay sane.”

Lois snorted and thumped her leg. “It’s called satellite service. Now c’mon, let’s go inside. Dinner should be done by now.” (Y/N) rose from the porch and they all began walking in when the sound and feel of rushing air came over them. She and Clark immediately spun, ready to defend themselves when they saw Conner hovering in the sky.

His eyebrows were drawn in slight concern. “(Y/N)! We need you!”

She nodded, shucking off her sweatshirt and pants, revealing the blue suit underneath. The crimson cape billowed around her and she glanced up at him. “What’s the situation?”

“We’ve got simultaneous bank robberies all over SF. Bart and Tim are already on the first few. I came to get you.”

(Y/N) turned to her parents. “Rain check on dinner guys.” She turned in the direction of San Fransisco, eyes darting wildly as she viewed her teammates positions. After a second, she nodded. “I’ve got em, Bart’s on the east, Tim’s on south. You take north and I’ll take west.”

He nodded and she shot up from the ground. They were almost in San Francisco when her father’s voice reached her. “Be careful, (Y/N).”

She curled her fists when the bank doors came into view and responded, “Always am, dad.”

***

“The dress looks fine, (Y/N).”

She glanced up at Tim who was smiling at her; she let out a sigh, letting go of the side strap she’d been tugging, still semi-uncomfortable with how it fit. “I know it does. But I feel like it’s still a little…grown up for me. I’ve never had a dress this open in the back or the sides since…ever.” The boys laughed and she smiled at Bart and Conner. “I forgot how well you two cleaned up.”

Bart pulled at both sides of the bowtie and winked at her, while Conner merely grunted, “I still hate tuxedos.”

“You’re definitely going to hate the long hours of your wedding then.” They laughed once more, and the car pulled around the venue.

Tim looked at them and grinned. “Show time, lady and gents.” They followed him out of the limo, grinning at the cameras as they walked inside.

Immediately, the view made her eyes go wide and she gaped. “Damn…this place is…really big.”

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, “I dunno, the ballroom in Wayne manor is bigger, but definitely more expensive.”

Bart shook his head. “Tim, my dude…we live on minimum wage not a billionaire’s salary.” (Y/N) and Conner simply nodded, still dumbfounded at the sheer size.

Tim rolled his eyes and looked around. “There’s Bruce and the others.”

She glanced in the direction he was looking and she saw her parents with Bruce. “Looks like mom and dad are busy chatting.” The others nodded and she turned to Tim. “What exactly are we supposed to do at a gala?”

“Have fun?” (Y/N) heaved a sigh and stared at him until he said, “You dance and drink and eat. That’s all you do.” He waved his hands. “Go knock yourselves out.”

They started to fan out when (Y/N) called out to them. “Wait!” They paused, turning back around. “We should go talk to Bruce and tell him thanks for inviting us.” They nodded and followed Tim over to Bruce.

He saw them coming and turned, holding out his hand to her. “Good to see you, (Y/N). You look wonderful this evening.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment and she smiled, giving his hand a firm shake. “It’s good to see you too, Mister Wayne, you don’t look too bad yourself. Thank you for inviting us to the gala.” The others shook his hand, and she turned to her parents. “Hey mom, dad.”

Lois walked around her and squealed, “You look so beautiful!”

(Y/N) cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks warm as the others smiled in her direction. “Mom…chill out, you’re embarrassing me.” She merely laughed but stepped back over to Clark’s side and (Y/N) looked around. “Bart have you—and he’s already at the buffet table.” Snickers sounded behind her and she sighed. “I’m going to make sure that the bottomless pit doesn’t devour all your food before your guests can eat, Mister Wayne.”

They watched her walk off and when she got over to the table Bart was standing in front of, she saw him shoving food in his mouth. “Oh my god…Bart, what are you doing?”

He turned to her, and swallowed, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “I haven’t eaten anything today,” he licked his thumb clean. “I’m hungry.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and sighed. “Just try not to eat your fingers, would you?”

He snorted and pointed to an appetizer. “You should try the pigs-in-a-blanket. They’ve got this sauce on top that’s just—.”

A low voice cut him off. “They have pigs-in-a-blanket! What!” They turned to see a young man a couple years older than them reaching over. “The old man’s never had something this plain at a gala.” He popped one in his mouth, then turned to them. “You’re Timberly’s friends, right?”

They nodded and (Y/N) gazed, something about him tugging at her mind. “I know you from somewhere.” She stared into his teal eyes and suddenly she remembered where she knew him from; she’d never forget those teal eyes and how angry they’d been. “You’re Jason Todd, aren’t you? Bruce’s second son.”

He grinned. “That’s me. Have you and I met before? I have to agree with you, because you look really familiar.”

(Y/N) glared at him and crossed her arms, spitting. “We met in the Hall of Fallen Titans three years ago.”

Jason’s eyes briefly widened, before they narrowed in amusement. “You’re the one who threw me out the third story window after I kicked Timber’s ass.” He chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about all that, doll. Timmy and I are good now. You can ask the speedster about it.”

She continued to glower at him until Bart leaned over, propping his chin on her shoulder. “He’s telling the truth, (Y/N). Tim told me a while back that he and Jason are brothers now.”

Jason nodded and she finally stopped glaring at him. “Just so you know Jason, I can still throw people out windows.”

He smiled and held out a hand, watching her place hers in it; he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

Bart poked her side and grinned. “I’m gonna go see Tim and Conner. I’ll leave you two alone.”

He wandered off and (Y/N) pulled her hand back. “So, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Jason chuckled. “Oh, I was. I got better. We just made up a story about me getting lost, yadda yadda yadda, I’m not important.” He propped his elbow on the wall above her and grinned. “But what is important, is how pretty you look in your dress.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Is it not?”

“It could be a little better.”

He laughed and she found herself smiling along with him. He nodded towards the balcony. “Wanna get some air?”

She nodded, and they walked out into the night. (Y/N) gazed up at the stars and sighed in wonder. “There’s billions of them out there…I’ve never tried to leave earth and go search for them on my own.”

Jason leaned on the railing and gazed at her. “How come?”

(Y/N) shrugged, leaning against the railing too. “Dad’s full Kryptonian…me and Jon are, to use a less than favorable term, half-breeds.” She paused. “I’m not sure if I would survive like dad does out in space.”

“Won’t know ‘til you try.”

She huffed a laugh and looked at him. “If I’m wrong, I might die.”

“And if you try and you’re right, you won’t be dead.”

She shook her head at him, a smile playing at her lips. “You’ve got answers to everything, don’t you, Jason?”

He grinned at her. “I find that being sharp and witty helps with the crowds, doll.” The music sounded from inside the ballroom, and he stepped back, offering her a hand. “May I have this dance?”

(Y/N) rested her hand in his, feeling him pull her close, his other hand resting on her lower back; it was warm against her open skin and she cleared her throat. “I should warn you, I can’t dance to save my life.”

A cocky smirk crossed his lips and he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “I can take the lead, doll…all you have to do is give it to me.”

“Your flirtations need work too.”

Jason chuckled in her ear, making her shiver as he pulled back. “I don’t think they do.”

“Arrogance isn’t attractive, Jason.”

“Mhm.”

“It isn’t.”

“I heard you the first time, doll.” As they swayed to the music, he asked, “So, how’d you and Nerd-bird become friends?”

“We met through Conner.”

“The clone?”

“My brother.”

“Sorry.”

“He introduced the two of us, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Only friends? Nothing more?”

It was (Y/N)’s turn to smirk and she looked at him. “Are you asking because you want to know if there’s competition?”

He stopped moving and they stood still, her in his arms. “Just want to know if there’s anyone between me and first place.”

She huffed a laugh. “God, you’re something else.” Her eyes found his and she asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Jason nodded and stepped back, holding out his hand. “Where do you want to go?”

(Y/N) smirked and stepped forward, closing the distance he’d created, and wrapped an arm around his waist. His teal eyes widened, and she looked back at the party; no one noticed them, and she turned back to face him, “Up, up, and away.” They flew upwards, and she felt him latch onto her. “Why are you acting like I’m going to drop you, Jason?”

He made a waring noise in his throat. “I have a friend who’s an Amazon, and she is…very fond of throwing and dropping me.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Sounds like we’d get along spectacularly. She likes dropping you…I like throwing you out of windows…”

“That was one time. And you caught me when I was off-guard.”

“Uh huh, sure. You got your ass kicked by a sixteen-year-old and I think you’re just bitter.”

He grumbled at her. “Rub it in, why don’t you, doll.” She laughed and lowered them down; their feet hit the roof and he looked at it. “Wayne Enterprises? Why?”

She shrugged. “Cool tower…nice view.” She took a seat on the ledge, listening to him sit beside her.

He leaned over. “Almost romantic…don’t you think?”

(Y/N) eyed him, seeing a goofy smile on his face; she snorted, shoving him lightly. “You’re cheesy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She glanced back at the water. “You know if this goes anywhere, my dad and your dad aren’t going to be happy.”

Jason snorted, nonchalantly replying, “Doll, there’s a few things I’m afraid of in life. Superman and Batman…are not those things.”

“Is that arrogance or confidence I hear coming through?”

He shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

(Y/N) smiled, then she felt his hand rest on hers, letting him link their fingers; she turned her face to him. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m beautiful and ask to kiss me?”

Jason grinned. “No, this is actually the part where I tell you you’re drop dead gorgeous…can I kiss you?”

She giggled, leaning in, and just before his lips brushed hers, she whispered, “You know I can kick your ass, right?”

He groaned. “Should I mention that strong women really do wonders to me?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and brought her free hand up, curling in his shirt. “Shut up and kiss me, Jason.”

“With pleasure.” His lips met hers, and she felt him bring his hand up, cupping her cheek. She pulled back ever-so-slightly, but he chased her, pressing his lips to hers again. He let go of her hand and brought his other hand up. He lowered her down until (Y/N)’s back was flat against the ledge; the chill from the stone made her arch her back off it, and press into his chest.

Jason pulled away slightly and smirked at her. “Cold?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If you want to keep making out, jokes aren’t going to do the job.” He snorted at her and leaned forward again, intent on kissing her senseless when someone cleared their throat, startling them.

They sat up quick as lightning, turning in the direction of the sound. “I wondered where my daughter had flown off to.”

“Oh my god,” she hissed and covered her face with her hands. “Dad. C’mon…seriously?” Clark stepped onto the ledge and walked towards them.

Jason leaned down, whispering, “Is he going to throw me off the ledge?”

This made her giggle despite trying not to and she shoved him. “Shut up, Jason.”

He grinned at her and rose from his position, standing in front of her father. “Mister Kent.”

“That’s my daughter.”

“Oh, I know it is. I still remember how she threw me out of a building a few years ago. I get teary thinking about it.”

The corner of Clarks mouth rose, but then dipped back down, and (Y/N) stood up. “Dad, I’m nineteen. This whole, ‘daddy’s little girl can’t date’ bit, is getting old.” A hurt look crossed his face and she stepped forward, taking his hand. “To you, I’ll always be your little girl, dad. But sooner or later you’ve gotta come to grips with me dating and having…mature relationships.”

Clark held her gaze, then glanced at Jason who grinned and gave a thumbs up. “Does it have to be one of his kids? I mean if it’s going to be, I like Tim.”

“Ew, gross. Tim’s my best friend.”

“What about Dick?”

“Nice butt, but he and Kori are dating.” She paused and smiled at him. “The only one left is Jason, dad.”

Clark eyed Jason once more, then Jason offered, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m slightly afraid of your daughter.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Jason. I can tell.” Turning to her, he cupped her cheek. “It feels like yesterday I was bringing you home for the first time.”

“Dad…stop…we don’t need sentimentality right now.”

Clark hummed and smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead; he turned to Jason and leveled him with a hard look. “I don’t think I need to warn you about what happens if you make her sad.”

Jason gave him a mock salute. “Chances are I’ll be in ICU after I was thrown out a building.”

“Oh my god. Let that go.”

They laughed, and Clark rose from the rooftop. “I’ll need to get back to the party. Don’t do anything crazy.”

They waved him off and (Y/N) turned to Jason. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

He nodded. “There’s a pizza shop down the block from here.”

“Sounds great.” (Y/N) rose a few feet off the roof when she heard a cough behind her.

She spun around and looked down at Jason. “Doll…I don’t know if you know this…but I can’t fly.”

“Whoops. My bad.” She lowered back onto the rooftop and held out her arm.

He walked into it and wrapped an arm around her waist, then tipped his head to her. “Up, up, and away.”

(Y/N) snorted as she rose. “You’re still cheesy, Jason.”

The grip on her waist tightened as he murmured, “I know.”

545 notes · View notes

lottiebagley · 3 years

Text

Space Girl- George Weasley

Space Girl, show me the stars You know the galaxies of my heart

George Weasley was not excited for his first astronomy lesson of the year. He'd agreed to do the class simply because he needed to fill his timetable and it seemed more enjoyable than history of magic.

That's what he had told Fred at least.

In reality he had opted for astronomy for one specific reason. Y/N Y/L/N. She was a shy Hufflepuff girl and although he had never spoken to her George was absolutely enamoured with her.

So, as he dreaded the lecture ahead he tried to remember that this cloud had a silver lining, and it was a silver lining that was absolutely worth it. This was all confirmed when he walked into the astronomy classroom and saw her.

She was sat at a desk at the back of the room. Her hair twirling round her finger as she studied the open text book in front of her, seemingly unaware of the chaos around her. George noted happily, that none of her friends seemed to be in the class and rather than asking to sit with Angelina and Katie like he had been planning he figured what the hell and went for it.

"Hey, is it alright if I sit here?" He questions, willing his cheeks to not flush red when he looks up at him

"Oh, of course you can George," she nods, moving her stuff to the left to make room for him. He feels his heart leap at her knowing that it was him and not Fred.

"How did you know?" He questions, head cocking to the side to look at her better. He smiles slightly at the bright red flush on her cheeks.

"You aren't that hard to tell apart," she shrugs

"Our own mother can't always do it," he pesters, he's genuinely intrigued how she seemed to know so easily.

"Uh, okay then. You're slightly taller so when you are together I could always work out who was who. From there I just kind of noticed little things, you have two freckles on your neck, Fred has a scar above his eyebrow. Your face is slightly longer, your nose is a little longer and has that cute little bump in it, your hair falls completely differently and your lip has a little curl in it. But the easiest way is that you have a different vibe about you," She rambles like it's the most obvious thing in the world and George himself wouldn't haven't been able to explain the physical differences so well.

He's pretty sure his heart melted on the spot.

"You should tell my mum all of this," he smiles gently, not knowing how to respond and explain that he's never felt more seen in his life.

"Sorry, I'm not a creep or anything I swear. Just observant,"

"It was quite sweet actually," George smiles, biting back a chuckle when her face blushes a bright red. "So, you any good at Astronomy?" He questions politely

"I'm okay. It's probably my best class. I've always known about it so," she shrugs, cutting herself off. She knew that George was a pure blood and probably wouldn't want anything to do with her if he knew she was a muggle born.

"You're a muggle born right?" He questions, she's surprised his tone doesn't sound angry or accusatory like was often the way with pure bloods, instead genuinely interested.

"Yeah," she confirms "my older sister is obsessed with astrology so I knew a lot about it before I got here. It's probably the only subject I didn't fail first term," she admits, George smiles softly. He can only imagine how hard it would be to come to the school with no magical knowledge.

"Look at you now, you're top of the year in almost everything," he points out

"Yeah, Ced helped me find my feet and after I settled in it all made sense," she explains. George knew that her and Cedric were best friends, he was a lot more outgoing and George had never quite understood how their friendship worked but it was no secret wherever one was the other wasn't far behind.

Girl, are you a cancer? 'Cause you make me cry When we kiss or dance in the sky We're dancing in the sky

"Hey space girl," George grinned brightly as he dropped into his seat

"If you've forgotten my name you can just ask you know," she blushes a little, not thinking that the boy she had fancied since second year could actually have given her a cute pet name.

No. The only logical explanation is that he had forgotten her name but after being sat next to her for two weeks now was much too polite to ask for it.

She had told Cedric this and he had laughed loudly, ruffling her hair and telling her that she would do well to remember how beautiful she was.

"I know you're name. Y/N Y/L/N. You're a Hufflepuff, obviously," he gestures to her tie before carrying on "Your best friend is Cedric Diggory and you two are always together. You tutor my little sister in potions. You help Professor sprout with the plants in the green house on a Sunday morning. You like to study in the library, specifically the second table from the back left corner. You never eat carrots but you love peas and you always buy two chocolate frogs at Honeydukes one for the walk back and one for a treat that night. I'm not a creep. I'm just observant," He finishes his ramble with a reference to when she had proved just how well she knew him a few weeks prior.

She sits, slightly astounded as he looks at her like his ability to list off so much information about her that she had never specifically told him shouldn't be a shock.

Her heart melts on the spot and she's pretty sure her crush just became real feelings.

"Why?" She questions quietly, not really meaning for him to hear

"You're beautiful and I like looking at you," he shrugs, turning to the text book in front of him. He notices her eyes still staring at him and turns to look at her "hey, you wouldn't want to study together one night this week would you?" He questions, smiling at the blush that overtakes her cheeks

"Yeah. I'd love that,"

"Amazing, does Wednesday work for you? I could meet you at the library after classes end,"

"Sure," she nods shyly, biting her lip to stop a smile and having no clue the very action makes George want to kiss her senseless.

"I know the table," he grins, chuckling when she blushes bright red before turning back to his book.

Space girl, I saw a lunar eclipse Looked like how I feel 'bout your lips Space girl, the only way that we'd end Was if you were sucked into a black hole

'You'll be fine. Just be your self and if he doesn't love you he is stupid,' Cedric's words ran around her head as she remembered sitting in his dorm whilst he calmed her down and Cho did her hair. She had protested to the couple that it wasn't a date but they had still insisted on helping her get ready during their free period after lunch.

Now, sat in the library she tried to remind herself that George was a lovely boy and wouldn't do anything to make her uncomfortable, he probably didn't even think of her like that.

"There's my space girl, you're looking particularly beautiful today," George is beaming as he approaches the table she's sat at, taking the seat next to her.

"Hey George, good day?"

"It's better now i'm here. Fred hasn't shut up about Millie all day, I mean I know he fancies her and all but seriously you'd think she hung the stars in the sky herself," He complains, not admitting even to himself that Fred would say he was just as smitten for his astronomy partner. "How was yours?" he asks, opening his bag to pull out his astronomy text book

"It was okay, Ced managed to blow up our potion so we have detention tomorrow night," She shrugs

"I'll see you there," He grins

"Why am I not surprised?" she deadpans and he allows his laugh to fill the air around them

"You know me to well," he blushes a little as he says it and forces himself to not stare at the way she bites her lip to stop from grinning. Half wanting her to stop so he could see that beautiful smile that seemed to be all he thought about and half wanting her to bite that lip every time he sees her because something about it was so attractive to him. "Do you mind explaining the constellation we learned about last lesson to me because I won't lie I was very distracted?" He doesn't feel like admitting that it was her that he found so distracting.

"Of course," She grins, unfolding her star map and pointing out the constellation Lyra "So Lyra is latin for Lyre, it is like a stringed instrument basically a harp, and it's associated with the myth of Orpheus," She begins to explain

"The musician guy?"

"Yeah," She confirms, watching as he takes notes of what she is saying "Orpheus was given the harp by Apollo, and it’s said that his music was more beautiful than that of any mortal man. His music could soothe anger and bring joy to weary hearts. Wandering the land in depression after his wife died, he was killed and his lyre was thrown into a river. Zeus sent an eagle to retrieve the lyre, and it was then placed in the night sky and that's the story behind the constellation Lyra. It's best seen in August, and, it kind of looks like a lopsided square with a tail to Vega, it's brightest star," She recites, pointing towards the star on the constellation.

George tries hard to remember to focus on what she's saying, listening intently but he can't help his mind from wondering, instead scanning her face, every small detail, the way her eyes lit up as she talked, the way her lips curl in a small smile when she stops talking and notices him staring at her.

"Distracted again," he admits

"Clearly, you find astrology boring," she teases

"No, I just find you distracting," He admits, his heart melting as she is unable to stop the bright grin on her face. She doesn't say anything, simply grabs her notebook and opens it to the right page

"Copy my notes so you can at least teach yourself the content, the textbook is confusing," she instructs before turning back to her own work. They work silently for the next hour, dutifully copying notes and planning for their essay that's due in next week but routinely stealing glances at each other, blushing when one catches the other.

But I'd still spend my days dreamin' 'bout you Dreamin' 'bout you Tell me how to Stop dreamin' 'bout you

"Were you listening to anything I just said?" Fred questions, waving his hand in front of his brother's face

"Sorry, what was it?" George questions, pulling his eyes away from the Hufflepuff table. Fred sighs, turning to look at what George has been staring at and is not surprised in the slightest.

She is sat amongst her large friend group, despite being shy around people she didn't know she was chatting happily to the group. Cedric on her right, is laughing at the story she seems to be telling and Archie Young, who George hated simply for his obvious crush on her, is clinging onto every word.

"You are so whipped,"

"I know, it's embarrassing. I can't stop thinking about her and she probably only sees me as a friend,"

"Hey, don't say that. She would be stupid to not like you Georgie, besides, she stares at you just as much," Fred reassures his brother, usually he would tease him but he knows that this girl is different, it means something. "I still don't believe that she would never get us mixed up," Fred ponders, in reality he didn't doubt it, if George said she could tell them apart then why doubt him, but Fred wanted a moment alone with the girl.

"I swear to you that she wouldn't,"

"Lets test her," Fred exclaims, jumping up and tugging his twin out of the hall and to their dorm.

They spend an hour getting ready, stealing Ginny's eyeshadow to draw two fake freckles on Fred's neck, stying his hair attempting to fix every minor detail to make them utterly identical.

When they find her, she's hugging Cho Chang before turning around on her own and walking towards the Hufflepuff common room.

"Go hide," Fred instructs, shoving George towards an empty classroom he can watch from.

"Hey space girl!" She turns immediately at the name, mildly confused when the person approaching isn't George.

She had never spoken to Fred before and immediately feels herself becoming a little shy.

"Uh, hi Fred," she smiles as politely as possible. Fred stands with a smirk on his face.

"You fancy my brother," he states, she blushes a furious red that seems to be the final confirmation Fred needs, his moment alone with her providing the answer he had wanted.

"I-uh-he-that-it-" she stutters out, Fred's smirk only grows as she turns impossibly more flustered before sighing "How did you know?"

"Telling us apart is hard, especially when we try, you must really like him to know so quickly. Besides that reaction alone was enough to let me know I'm right,"

"Does he know?"

"He's blind," Fred shrugs, eyeing her as he decides he likes her, she clearly cares for George and that's all that matters to him.

"Right," she nods awkwardly

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you around," Fred grins before turning on his heel and heading back up the corridor to where an oblivious George is waiting.

Girl, are you a Cancer? 'Cause you make me cry When we kiss or dance in the sky We're dancing in the sky

George can't help the wide smile on his face when he sees her. She, like all the other 6th year astronomy students, is sat in her robes on the astronomy tower despite it being 11:45. He picks up the star map from a pile and heads towards her.

She is sat around a corner, almost out of eye line from the class completely and if he hadn't been looking for her he probably wouldn't have even seen her. He sits down next to her, pressing his back against the cold stone wall just as she was doing.

The task was simple, to draw a diagram of the constellations they could see that night with the correct names onto an unlabelled star map and then from 6am tomorrow they had 48 hours to write an essay explaining each constellation they had found, it was their final assignment for the first term of school. George thought that was stupid, why would they do the task that involved sitting outside at night in December and the written exam in the summer when it would have been warmer.

"Hi," she speaks softly, the moonlight made her glow and George could have sworn she was an angel. Her own map was already a quarter full and wordlessly she arranges it so George can copy the notes she's already made.

"Hey, you okay?" he questions, noticing the way she curls into herself

"Just cold," she nods, he flashes her a smile, digging into his bag and pulling out a spare sweater and a blanket, both knitted by Mrs Weasley. He passes her the jumper

"Are you sure? you have it with you so that you won't freeze. I can't take it," she blushes

"No, I'm already wearing a jumper," he points out "I figured I'd bring a spare cause I knew you wouldn't think too," He adds with a smile, she blushes but accepts the jumper from his hands.

"thanks," she smiles, he nods. Watching as she pulls the jumper over her head. Her heart somersaults at the smell of George that envelopes her, his does the same at the sight of her in his jumper that looks baggy and too big, the sleeves like paws on her hands, and the large 'G' sewn into the front making him blush a little.

He wraps the blanket round one of his shoulders holding the other side out for her

"I don't bite," he speaks softly, it's like he can read her mind and knows she's thinking about how close they will be to sit under his blanket together. She blushes and giggles a little and George could die happy having heard that sound.

She shuffles closer, wrapping the blanket around her shoulder and begins to point out the constellations she's already mapped for him, cocooned next to him in the blanket.

They work together for the next twenty or so minutes as she stifles yawns, eventually allowing her head to droop onto George's shoulder when he teases her for stifling yet another yawn.

"This blanket smells like you," she mumbles, he blushes madly but can't help the smile

"Are you warm enough?"

"Bit cold, I'm fine though," she admits, he rolls his eyes at her as she shivers a little and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close to him

"Better?"

"Better," she confirms. She didn't mean to fall asleep but all cozy and warm being held by her crush it was impossible not to.

Not wanting to wake her, George finishes both his star map and hers before dozing off, his head resting on hers. He knew he should have woken her to go back to her dorm but spending the night sleeping with her in his arms was just too tempting.

She wakes up before him, having slept better than she ever had before and feeling utterly blissful in George's arms. That is until she realises she hadn't finished her work, she can't help the beam when she sees George has done it for her. She wants to stay wrapped in his arms but feels it better to leave now so it isn't awkward. In return for completing her work she takes her astronomy notebook that has all the answers to the essay written simply and leaves it on top of his star map, she knew the answers from memory anyway. Not even sparing the doodles and comments in it a thought.

She slips out of his hold, sneaking through the other students who fell asleep and heading back down the tower stairs to the main school, forgetting to take off his jumper.

George wakes up disappointed to not find her in his arms but smiles when he sees her notebook.

I hope you play this song some day And think of Earth Girl who loves Space Girl

George can't help the sigh as he explains to Fred where he had been all night.

"That all sounds pretty good to me Georgie," Fred comments, wondering why his brother seems down after his night with the girl.

"It was, I'd just hoped she'd be there when I woke up," he admits

"Well think about it like this, when have you ever had the opportunity to be disappointed that she wasn't there when you woke up before?" It's Hermione Granger who speaks up, she'd been listening to the twins talk on the sofa next to her and Harry's without really meaning too. It was just more interesting than Harry and Ron's discussion.

"you're right. It's better than nothing. Thanks Granger," he nods in agreement. He begins to flick through her notebook, not to study but simply enjoying the little doodles and her comments.

And then his world stops.

"How many people can you think of with the initials GW?" his questions is almost under his breath but Fred hears, perking up from the puking pastel plans he had been working on

"Just you and Gin, why?"

With no explanation George leaps up, jogging out of the room. Fred look mildly baffled until he sees her open notebook, and sure enough written on a corner amongst drawings of stars and planets is a little 'gw' with a heart next to it. Fred smirks and closes the book, turning back to his notes with a feeling of glee for his brother.

When George Weasley arrives outside the Hufflepuff common room he suddenly realises he has no clue how to actually get in, he stops, slightly out of breath from his sprint staring at the barrels.

"Hey George," her voice makes him jump as he turns to see her and Cedric approaching

"Hi," he smiles, suddenly not really sure what to say

"Well, now I've walked you back I'm going to go and find Cho," Cedric smiles politely at George, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl as she blushes.

"You looking for someone?" she asks politely

"You, actually,"

"Oh, what can I help you with?" she asks, he has no idea what to say "Oh! your jumper, it's in my room. You can come with," she smiles, reaching out and tapping at a barrel and then climbing into the passage that opens.

He follows wordlessly, glancing around the large circular room that is filled with yellows and blacks. She walks a little more confidently than he's seen before and smiles happily to the people who call out to her but doesn't stop to chat with them. He decides he likes it here, not only because it's so cosy but because he likes seeing her so at ease.

He follows her into her circular dorm room and towards a fourposter covered in pillows and blankets, his jumper sitting folded on top of the trunk at the end.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," he admits, it's now or never.

"Of course, what's up?" she questions, sitting comfortably on her bed and gesturing for him to sit down next to her

"I- well- how many people do you know with the initials GW?" he questions curiously, she looks at him, clearly mildly confused.

"Springing to mind just you and Ginny," She answers, not really sure what the point of his question is.

Without thinking for even a second he pulls her face to his and plants his lips on hers, kissing delicately before pulling away. She stares at him, utter shock in her eyes and mouth agape.

"I-I am so sorry. I just- well there were the initials GW in your notebook and a little heart and well I thought maybe you liked me back and then I heard you only knew me and Ginny and I assumed, which was wrong of me- and- merlin- I'm so sorry-" he's rambling anxiously and his hands wring through his hair

"Back?" her question is a whisper and he snaps his head up to look at her

"Yeah. I like you. Kind of thought that was obvious," he admits. His heart flips at the wide smile on her lips before her hands grab his neck and pull his head down so his lips meet hers. She kisses him with passion and hunger and he finally gets to bite down gently on that lip he's watched her bite a million times.

Her arms stay wrapped around his neck as she lies back on her pillows behind her, pulling him with her and not breaking the kiss for a second. They only pull apart when she needs to for air. But the beam on her face and her flushed cheeks make George want nothing more than to kiss her again.

"Wanna go do the essay together?" he questions

"We have 48 hours, we could stay here and cuddle," she suggests, a little timidly but her nerves leave when George grins brightly, kicking his shoes off and rearranging himself on her bed. She takes her own shoes off before climbing into his open arms, her head on his chest as she leans up to press another kiss to his lips.

"I'm keeping that jumper by the way," she informs

"Whatever you want space girl,"

I hope you play this song some day And think of Earth Girl who loves Space Girl I hope you play this song some day...

Masterlist

#harry potter #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #weasley #weasley siblings #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #hogwarts #gryffindor #hufflepuff

535 notes · View notes

potter-imagines · 4 years

Text

Off Limits (Draco Malfoy)

Summary: Y/n and Draco Malfoy have been secretly crushing on one another for quite some time. Draco and his friends notoriously taunt students, especially Gryffindors. So why is Y/n, a Gryffindor, off limits? What happens when a friend attempts to harass Y/n?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Disclaimer: Anyone else on DracoTok ??? Set in fourth year (no mentions of tri-wizard tournament, sorry saving it for later) xx

Warnings: Little bit of bullying (hp edition bullying)

Word Count: 4.5k

“Y/n… are you alright? That was your third cup of tea- you’re going to be jittering out of your seat in Charms!”

Through the bustle of her thoughts a worrisome voice tore Y/n from her daydream. The Great Hall was bouncing with energy. All houses were scarving up their lunch as the chatter filled the enormous room. Y/n sat quietly with her fellow Gryffindor classmates.

Physically she was sitting with her friends but mentally, she was across the table sitting with the bleached blonde Slytherin Prince himself. It was a recurring game between the two. Stolen admiration and stares. Words were rarely exchanged, and neither could answer why. Draco had told her once he wished she was in Slytherin, but otherwise they only spoke together when necessary. She made him nervous, and it was a feeling he didn’t like. He found himself worrying over the unfamiliar emotions he felt towards her. Both being too scared to act on their feelings, it all went unspoken.

Her attention has been drawn on him for the last 20 minutes. She casually sipped on her tea, filling her cup back up each time it grew bare. The warm of the lavender brew kissed her taste buds and slithered down her throat, emanating her body in a hug.

It wasn’t until her curly haired friend placed a hand on her shoulder that she was forced to look away.

Hermione was in the middle of an argument with Ron over who was to blame for Gryffindor losing ten points during Potions. Snape loathed the house so it was no surprise to anyone when he eagerly took points away when Ron’s cauldron exploded and split in two. Hermione paused when she noticed her best friend staring intently behind her.

Y/n sent her a quick reassuring smile and said,

“I’m fine, Hermione. Just thinking.”

Harry was busy rushing to finish his Charms paper before next period. He would add a comment every few minutes but was removed from the conversation for the most part. Ron interjected himself into the conversation as he shoveled a load of mashed potatoes into his mouth,

“More like worrying. What’s got your knickers in a twist, Y/n?”

Y/n winced as she got a full view of his meal in his open mouth. Y/n could hear Hermione gasp as she reached forward to smack Ron on the arm. He gave her a look of bewilderment, clearly not expecting her reaction.

“Ron! Dear Merlin, have some manners.” Hermione’s eyes were wide as she glared at the red head. Ron just shrugged and resumed with his meal. Steam rose from his plate and if she wasn’t so mentally withdrawn, Y/n would’ve been happily digging into the feast. There was not a day that goes by where Hogwarts meals fail to impress.

Although the uneasy feeling building in her stomach did not allow this. It was almost nauseating to be surrounded by the delicious foods. Y/n leaned forward towards the table and pursed her lips. Her e/c eyes looked past Hermione, as if she was invisible, and landed on the rambunctious table behind her. A small wisp of white flashed behind Hermione and Y/n felt her heart leap in her chest.

Her maroon sweater clung loosely to her body. It was Friday so there was no hassle over her neglecting her robes. Rubbing her thumb against the sleeve Y/n allowed herself a moment to wander. She thought of Draco. How it would feel to hold his hand. To lay in his arms and run her hands through his snow white locks. To take late night adventures with him around the castle after hours. To be his rock and hear all the little thoughts running rampant in his head. To be his.

A far off thought, yes but a girl’s allowed to imagine right?

Cautionless the young witch sitting before Y/n whipped her head around to see what was captivating her friend so much. Expecting to see a dinosaur with a shark’s head, as she had never seen her friend so mesmerized, Hermione furrowed her dark brows in confusion as she scanned the scene. All she saw was the annoying table of Slytherin’s and a gloomy, cloudy sky outside the windows. Draco and his friends were loudly talking, Hermione rolled her eyes at his. They never failed to annoy her. Most of the students sitting in the group infuriated her. Pansy was constantly harassing Hermione with her cruel words and bothersome antics. Crabbe and Goyle took more interest in pestering Ron and Harry but they still found a way to get to her as well. Draco was the worst of all cause he seemed to be in charge of all the taunting and hell. Sure, since the start of the group's fourth year in the fall he had laid off, but not completely. Snarde comments were thrown here and there but the intensity had decreased.

The oddest part of it was none of Draco’s wrath was ever placed on Y/n. Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy got their insults in on her daily but never Draco. There were times Hermione caught him scolding his friends in the courtyard for a comment they made towards Y/n and it baffled her.

She hadn’t noticed she was staring- or rather searching- for very long until Pansy’s sharp, hateful eyes caught hers.

“What’d you think you’re staring at, mudblood?” The sneering Slytherin glared dangerously at Hermione. Pansy sat between Draco and Blaise, the corner of her lip lifted as if she was growling at Hermione. Her hands were clutching the wood of the table ready to pounce. The loud conversation died down as the surrounding Slytherin’s and Gryffindor’s listened in, half out of amusement and the other out of fear.

“Are you gonna answer me or just sit there looking dumb with your iditot friends? Huh?” Her thin brows lifted towards the ceiling, intimidation emanating off her skin. Y/n winced in guilt. Hermione was only curious as to what caught her attention and now she was caught in Pansy’s.

“If anything dumb is the most lazy insult you could use against Hermione. If I remember correctly she’s the top of our class and if I can remember correctly, you’re number 36 out of 40. Did I get that right?”

“You filthy little blood traitor, you’re gonna regret-” Pansy had shot up like a predator ready to kill their prey. Y/n was almost certain she saw flames burning in Pansy’s dark orbs. Gasps emerged as students readied themselves for a fight. Ron was frozen in shock, no help at all, only stunned. Harry had only rejoined the conversation when Pansy’s wrath began, making him just as taken back as Ron. Y/n knew this wouldn’t end well but she couldn’t handle Pansy berating her friends for game. Just as the devilish Slytherin threw her leg over the bench, Draco snatched her arm stopping her actions all in one move. A noticeably screech came from her lips from the pain of his grip. Her fists were clenched by her side and her plans were obvious to the whole crowd. By this point, everyone in the Great Hall was watching the mess unfold.

The brunette girl snapped her head to the leader of their group. Her gaze screamed ‘let me go’ but Draco was not about to let that happen.

“Pansy, shut up and sit. You’re not gonna do anything.”

“Draco she just-” Suddenly Pansy was forced back into her seat causing a loud thump. Draco practically shoved her into compliance snarling in the process. If the scenario had been different, Y/n might’ve giggled at Pansy’s befuddlement. Even Blaise was astonished! The tension was too thick for a laugh to lighten any moods.

“I said, shut up and sit down.” His words were final. The girl now coward under his icy stare. If looks could kill, Pansy would be 6 feet under by the hands of Draco Malfoy. The silence was uncomfortable and no one wanted to be the first to make the next move. Shakily, Pansy grabbed her fork and resumed eating, pretending she didn’t just get humiliated in front of the entire school.

Y/n remained focused on Draco, studying his expression. His eye remained glued to Pansy but not in a loving way. The rage in his eyes could be seen from the moon. He was testing her, installing fear in her. When he decided his message stuck, he turned away and looked forward at the h/c witch sitting across from him. Y/n’s body shuttered at his movement and quickly looked to Hermione. A wave of electricity ran down her spine. He felt it too. Draco’s gaze stayed fixed on Y/n unable to tear away. He spent a lot of time staring at her, examining her features, although he took these stolen glances when she wasn’t looking. This time he knew she saw him, the only difference is he didn’t care. A part of him hoped her doe eyes would move back to his somber ones.

“What just happened?” Ron was the first to speak up among the table. Y/n could feel the endless pairs of eyes on her. It seemed everyone was seeking answers.

“I have no bloody clue.” She mumbled. Hermione reached out and tugged on Y/n’s hand, a silent thank you. A small gleam tugged on Y/n’s lips as she squeezed her hand back. Lifting her head she found the familiar pair of stormy eyes. This time, she didn’t look away.

Rain drops kissed the stone of the castle as a storm brewed outside. A continuous thump played on repeat. It was a soothing lull to Y/n as she walked back to her dorm from the library. The last few hours she was cozied into an armchair staring out the window. Her initial intentions were to study but after an hour of skimming through her Potions textbook and feeling more lost than ever, she gave up and lost herself in the weather.

Most students were busy socializing, it was a Saturday night after all. Harry, Ron and Hermione begged Y/n to join them at the Gryffindor party for 4th years and ups but she politely declined. Typically she’d tag along and set aside some time to enjoy herself but for the night, she preferred to be alone. Ever since her odd encounter with Draco and him defending her, she had a difficult time controlling her thoughts. He seemed to be the only thing occupying her thoughts.

The corridors were empty for the most part. A few giddy students tipsy off firewhisky rushed by her. She was approaching the staircase towards the common room when the calling of her name stopped her in her tracks.

Y/n clutched her books to her chest and she turned around. The hallway appeared empty, though the crashing rain made it hard to hear. Y/n wrote it off as her imagination and resumed her walk. Her cheeks were rosy from the harsh breeze sweeping the grounds. She decided on a detour wanting to delay her arrival in the common room. Fred and George would surely convince her to join in the partying and she wasn’t in the mood for that at the moment.

Y/n’s steps clicked against the ground filling the empty void. Bright flames created lighting in the halls guiding Y/n on her journey. Her feet carried her around effortlessly, the destination still undecided.

If it were a weekday, she wouldn’t be able to make it a few feet wandering around this late without a perfect stopping her. She was scolded a handful of times but never written up. Maybe that was because it was typically a Gryffinor or Huffelpuff who caught her. Undoubtedly a Slytherin perfect would waste no time turning her in.

Suddenly a noise caught Y/n’s attention. It wasn’t loud, almost nonexistent but Y/n knew her ears had not tricked her. It sounded like a clank, similar to when she would drop her wand on the stone floor. Y/n peeked over her shoulder but once again, it was empty. Nearly. If he hadn’t stumbled Y/n would have missed him but she didn’t.

The black cloak left the trail. His fast movements to hide caused it to wave back ever so slightly. A tiny look of his bright locks poked out from the stone corner. Y/n smiled to herself as she thought, was he following me?

The happy witch swiveled back around and gracefully continued down the corridor. She pretended to not notice the presence behind her as she led him to a spot, unbeknownst to him. Draco had no inkling that Y/n was on to him. He was sure his hiding skills were immaculate. He had been playing hide-n-go-seek with the house elves since he was a child. His only mistake was calling out to her earlier. He was desperate for a conversation, but his nerves got the best of him. Draco tiptoed a safe distance behind Y/n as she skipped down the wavy path.

She quickly rounded a corner causing Draco to pick up his pace. It wasn’t until he turned the corner that confusion graced his face.

“What?”

Without warning a hand clamped around his wrist and yanked him backwards. A door slammed loudly making Draco whip around to face his attacker. Much to his surprise the beautiful Gryffindor he had grown so infatuated with stood before him. Her h/c hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail but she still looked gorgeous. This was the first time the pair has been so close to one another. She could smell the hint of peppermint wafting off his breath. It reminded her of a potion she had smelled months ago.

Both speechless, the pair stood inches away from each other. Draco’s eyes flickered from her plump peach lips to her eyes, then back to her lips. He was hoping she’d speak first and luckily, that was exactly what she did,

“Why are you following me?”

Draco griminced growing bashful. His head fell down to his chest as he stared at the ground trying to come up with an answer. This was not an emotion he was accustomed with. Never in his life has a blush of red painted his cheeks from the actions of a girl. Especially a Gryffindor girl. He wondered how his father would react then pushed away the thought. Y/n leaned her head down forcing Draco to meet her gaze.

“What makes you think I was following you?”

She gave him a knowing look. He was caught and there was no denying that. Draco took a moment to take in the closet she had shoved them both into. It was a supply closet by the looks of it. There was one window with a small nook overlooking the vast forest extending beyond the castle grounds. A few dusty textbooks, some beakers, empty test tubes, and four old broomsticks. He hadn’t spent much time on this half of the castle. He found himself exploring a lot of new areas of the castle while following Y/n around. It started last year, the beginning of their third year. It was far easier for him to admire her from afar then risk rejection.

“Fine, I’ve been following you. I just wanted to know what you’re up to. There’s about seven parties going on tonight so you can’t tell me you weren’t invited to one.” “I was, but I didn’t feel like socializing tonight. I could ask you the exact same thing.” Draco smirked. He might not be the biggest fan of Gryffindor’s, but her playfulness and ease to serve it right back enticed him.

“Maybe I didn’t feel like socializing either.” Y/n shot him a look of skepticism. He wasn’t fooling you but you decided to play his game.

“But you want to spy on me?”

“I wouldn’t say spy-” This earned a scoff from the Gryffindor. Draco rolled his blue eyes and sighed, “Okay I just enjoy ‘spying’ on you at times. Don’t make me explain it please. You’re amusing. Quite odd too, but amusing nonetheless. I don’t know.”

Y/n could feel the heat kissing her cheeks at his words. If it was any other boy, she would tell them off or find it a bit creepy but she had been crushing on Draco now for years so she couldn’t help the rapid beating in her chest. Draco searched Y/n’s face for disapproval, he thought he had scared her off at this point. Instead, she looked up at him and gave him a teasing smirk,

“How many other girls do you spy on, Malfoy?”

The usual cocky boy was taken aback by her question. The last thing he needed was for Y/n to think of him as some sleaze. In all honesty, he had never taken genuine interest in a girl until he met you.

“Only you, I swear. No other girl in this school has held my interest as long as you.”

“Why did you stick up for me yesterday at lunch? With Pansy… I thought you two were y’know… and you made her stop. Why?”

It was hard to ignore her sadden expression. A pang struck his heart at her brokenness. He wanted to hug her but he hardly even knew her personally. It was funny in a way. He had spent almost two years observing her and taking notes over her actions but had never made a move. Quickly he shook his head,

“I’m not with Pansy, if that’s what you think. She’s quite annoying, can’t spend more than an hour around her without a bloody headache. Not exactly my type.” Y/n giggled causing Draco to smile. It was the first genuine smile he had in awhile. “But I’m not sure. I just didn’t like the way she was speaking to you. She was wrong anyways so why let her get away with it? Not that you needed my help, anyhow. You can hold your ground pretty well, love.”

Y/n’s breath caught in the back of her throat at the phrase. She heard it from her friends but never from Draco. It had a larger effect on her. A small precipitation built in her palms. The closet was becoming crammed with the growing tension between them. For the first time tonight Draco held the confidence and he took full advantage of it. Seeing her frail and shy made his heart melt and long to protect you. It was a feeling that scared him but he was willing to invite it.

“Cat’s got your tongue?” Draco teased the girl like a game of cat and mouse. It was new to him, seeing her wiggle uncomfortably. Lately she has been on the upper hand. Now it was his turn. Her flustered state caused his stomach to do flip flops. She was the most adorable girl he had ever laid eyes on.

Y/n placed her hand on his stern chest keeping a small space of distance between the pair. Draco tried to deny the sensation that rushed through his bones under her touch.

“Shove off, Draco. I don’t like the way your friends treat mine.” She rolled her eyes carelessly. This was an issue she wanted to end. It hurt Y/n to see the way Draco’s friends treated hers. She didn’t like seeing Hermione upset and ashamed over her blood status, which holds no importance in her mind.

“I’m sorry, darling. It’s hard to explain but I can tell them to lay off a bit. They haven’t done anything to you have they?” His hand now rests over her own, still placed on his chest. This was the first time she had felt the warmth of his hand on hers. The butterflies in her stomach were screaming but she resisted their cries. “No, actually that’s the weird thing. I think today was the first time I’ve actually had a conflict with one of your friends. Why is that?” Draco grinned at her confused expression. All this time he spent admiring her from a distance, he never realized how breathtaking she really was up close.

“They know better, I wouldn’t allow that.”

He hadn’t fully processed his words before they slipped. Y/n’s head tilted to the side watching his profile. She waited for a chuckle, for him to admit it was a ploy. Draco’s posture stayed fixed and tense. His words held more weight than one might think. It led onto more and Y/n wanted to hear him say it. Vulnerability was an uncomfortable emotion for Draco and for the first time in a long time, he was scared.

“Why do you treat me differently, Draco? I’ve never heard you say one bad thing about me. You stood up for me yesterday. You’ve been spying on me. You look out for me… why?”

Y/n’s hand slipped away from his and folded near her lap. The tension was as thick as honey. All Draco could think about was the hint of cherry in Y/n’s perfume that was tattooed in his memory. He thought about her all summer long, never able to get the sound of her childish laughter out of his head. Spent hours in his mother’s garden sitting underneath a large cherry tree thinking about her. The only thing he wanted to change about Y/n was to make her his.

Maybe it was the cunningness of the Slytherin in him, he just couldn’t resist the opportunity. Rejection was the last thing on his mind, it was worth the risk.

In a light manner Draco pushed Y/n back a step until her back was pressed into the stone wall and the back of her head against the glass of the window. A small yelp came as Y/n was caught off guard by his sudden movements. Even through the darkness Y/n could make out Draco’s features. He looked assured- not his usual arrogant, high and mighty demeanor. Draco’s hand snaked up above Y/n’s head, giving himself stability as his face neared hers.

His free hand slowly curled around Y/n’s chin, taking his time. Y/n was positive he could hear the pounding of her heart. She reached up and pinched the skin of her arm between her finger tips. Draco stroked her cheek, brushing his thumb to her chin every few swipes. Nope, not dreaming, Y/n thought to herself.

Their eyes locked and Draco sent her a look of approval, not wanting to cross a boundary. She answered his question by closing the gap between them, leaning up on her tippy toes to meet his lips. Her hands slipped around his neck pulling him in closer. She savoured the taste of peppermint and apple on his lips. His kiss was soft, but overflowing with passion. It wasn’t sloppy but smooth, like two puzzle pieces matching up. Y/n’s lips moved with his happily. Her hands found their way to his platinum blonde hair, grazing at his soft locks earning a groan of pleasure from Draco. They continued on for another minute or so until Y/n’s need for oxygen got the better of her.

Pulling away softly Y/n rested her forehead against Draco’s. The only sound filling their air was the two of them trying to catch their breath. Drunk off adrenaline Draco’s eyes lit with glee. The happiness rising in his chest was addicting. Placing his gaze on Y/n Draco felt warmth,

“I really, really like you, Y/n. Even if you are a Gryffindor.”

Little chuckles came from both as they basked in the moment. Y/n was excited to run back to her dorm and share her night with Hermione. Hermione- what would she say?

A pit of worry settled in Y/n as she started to process what was happening. Draco noticed her shift in moods and moved his hold to her shoulders pulling her back a step. Y/n shifted her attention to the window and furrowed her eyebrows,

“What will your friends say? Your parents-” Before she could finish Draco beat her to it. He gently moved her chin to focus herself back on him. She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting on it nervously. Draco smirked at this, her little action driving him mad. Reassuringly, Draco bent at the knees a bit and placed a tender kiss to Y/n’s lips, then her cheek, holding her face in his hands. She was beyond flustered, her cheeks had yet to stop burning since she pulled him in the room. His hair swept against her forehead as he shook his head, “I don’t give a shit about any of them right now. Just you. Please be mine, Y/n.”

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. Draco scanned her face looking for any signs of an answer. He had never officially asked a girl out before so this was all new. She could easily say no and tell all her friends about it and torture him for years. Instead, Y/n nodded ‘yes’ then reconnected her lips once again with Draco’s. He moved to get a better position but just as he did, the closet door swung open causing a ray of light to burst in.

The two separated in an instant, scared shitless over the intruder.

“Well look here Georgie! We were right about all that lip smacking! It’s Y/n and Malfoy!”

“No way!” Soon rough George Weasley popped his head into the closet with a mischievous grin. Fred folded his arms over his chest smirking at the two of you. He was already planning out who George and him should spill the news to first. The endless chuckles began to emanate when he took in the sight.

Annoyed at their presence Draco shot dagger worthy glares at the twins. She shoved his shoulder trying to diffuse his frustration. The twins were her friends after all. Draco shot one last look at the twins before sneering,

“Get lost, Weasels!”

This only escalated the giggles between the twins as they rushed out singing loudly,

“Y/n and Malfoy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-, first comes love, then comes marriage-”

When they got far enough down the hall, Y/n sent a look to Draco. He was annoyed, not mad. Y/n moved towards him, leaning against his chest. The Slytherin Prince gripped her waist embracing her.

“If you don’t want to go back to your dorm yet, I know a spot. We’ll have to take a lot of stairs-” Y/n groaned in response earning a small laugh from Draco. “I know but I think you’ll like it. We can see the stars from up there.” Draco had only ventured up to the Astronomy Tower a handful of times though taking her there seemed to be a perfect idea. She’d love the stars, and it would give him more time to spend with her.

Y/n laced their fingers squeezing his hand. Draco pulled her hand to his lips pressing a chaste kiss to the skin.

“Okay, lead the way Draco.”

2K notes · View notes

rommahh · 3 years

Text

Enough For You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

{This is my first peter fic and theres more to come. I may make a part two of this- it depends though. This work is a complete work of fiction and doesnt follow the mcus storyline of peter parker at all. Just the characters. Anyways enjoy. Much love, R.}

Peter, as smart as he can be, was a complete and utter idiot. He could read an entire textbook on quantum physics, take a test on said textbook, and ace it like it was nothing. That's how intelligent he was. But when it came to the obvious things that didn't take place in the academic world- he was an oblivious idiot.

Y/N has had a crush on Peter since they were in elementary school. Everyone in Peter and Y/N’s inner circle saw how deep in love Y/N was with Peter- except for Peter. Y/N has spent years trying to tell him how she feels but he always just interprets it as Y/N telling him how much she loves their friendship- like the idiot he is.

As senior prom slowly approached Y/N waited for the moment where Peter would ask her to the dance. They both were not dance people but senior prom was so different. Y/N just wanted to spend the night with her closest friends before they all went their separate ways for college. Normally Y/N and Peter went to every dance together, but as prom got closer, Y/N started to worry that he wouldn't even ask her. And unfortunately, she was right to think that.

Ned, Peter, MJ, and Y/N all sat at a round table on their school's campus during their lunch period talking and eating. The conversation of prom came up making Y/N’s ears perk up hoping to hear the words she's been waiting for from Peter.

“So Peter, what are your prom plans?” MJ asked, chewing on some of Y/N’s carrots from her lunch. Y/N looked at Peter waiting for his answer. He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck to ease his nerves.

“I'm actually going to prom with Liz. I asked her yesterday after school and she said yes.” He smiled happily of the thought of him and Liz dancing at prom. Y/N on the other hand felt her heart clench uncomfortably. MJ looked just as shocked as Y/N hearing Peter's words. Ned looked up from his comic book as an uncomfortable silence filled the table.

Quickly, Y/N packed her lunch back into her lunch bag and slung her bookbag haphazardly over her shoulder. Her face was scrunched up as she tried to contain her tears. “Sorry guys, I completely forgot that I have to help Mrs. Anderson with some...thing.”

Rushing away, the group was left to watch Y/N’s figure scurry away from the table. Tom looked at her in confusion before looking at his other best friends trying to figure out what had just happened.

“What just happened? Is she Ok?” He asked getting his stuff ready so he could go and follow the girl. MJ put a hand on his arm to stop him from packing up.

“I think you should just let her be alone for a minute… So you and Liz huh?”

“I- yeah I've had a crush on her for years now. I thought I told you guys this.” Peter’s hands fiddled with the book in front of him. Ned shared a look with MJ making Peter look at them confused again. “Guys, what aren't you telling me? What's going on?”

“Sorry dude, it's not our place to say. You should probably talk to her after school.” Ned replied, patting Peter on the back trying to comfort him. The bell interrupted any further conversation from happening. The trio went their separate ways to class after saying an awkward goodbye.

Peter spent the whole day with his mind clouded with thoughts. He racked his brain for any possible reason as to why Y/N were so upset.

After school, Peter showed up to a Y/N’s house hoping to talk to the girl and figure out why his best friend was so upset. Y/N’s mom gave Peter a small smile when he approached the house, nodding her head to where the backyard was located to say where Y/N was at.

Y/N sat on a quilt made by her grandmother on the soft gras of her backyard. A large tree covered her from the sun that was slowly beginning its descent into the night. She looked up from the book she was reading hearing the sound of footsteps coming towards her. Peter stood there, backpack on one shoulder, hands in both sweater pockets just waiting.

“Hey.” Peter said, setting his backpack down before sitting across from the girl on the soft quilt.

“Hi Peter.” She quietly replied, keeping her head low so she couldn't meet his eyes.

“Can you tell me what happened today? You seemed upset. Did something happen in class?” He asked, his hand reaching out to tilt her face to look at him. She looked at his face, seeing his furrowed eyebrows and watching as his eyes searched her face for any clue as to what was wrong.

“You're taking Liz to prom.” She finally spoke after a moment of silence.

“I'm taking Liz to prom.” He confirmed still sitting there in confusion.

“I wanted you to ask me to prom.”

“Oh.” Y/N stopped looking at Peter, her hands playing with the frayed edges of her ripped jeans.

“Oh? You always ask me to school dances and I just thought…”

“Thought what? Y/N I dont get what you're saying. We did go to past dances together but this is prom you know. I really like Liz so I asked her.” He said still not putting two and two together to understand the issue.

“To be the smartest boy in our school, you are the biggest idiot ever.” Peter scoffed, offended by her comment. “Peter, I love you.”

“What?” Peter was shocked by her statement.

“I've liked you since the 4th grade and I guess I assumed you had started to like me too. I thought you were going to ask me to prom because you- you liked me too?” She looked at him again, face flushed and shoulders tense with anxiety.

“Y/N...I'm sorry but I- I dont like you like that. I didn't know that you did like me like that.” He watched as her shoulder dropped in defeat. Tears pooled in her eyes spilling onto her cheeks. She quickly wiped her face off with her hands. “Please don't cry, i'm so sorry. I still want to be friends though.”

She chuckled at his words. “I don't think we can be friends, Peter. I think it would be best for myself if we weren't friends.”

Her words cut like knives through his heart. He stood up abruptly as anger flooded through his body.

“So we can't be friends now? We've been friends since kindergarten. You are my best friend Y/N and you're going to throw it away over this?” His voice rose as he spoke. Y/N stood as well, anger taking over her as she listened to Peter raise his voice at her.

“Do you know what it feels like to watch someone you love not love you back?” She yelled at him, Peter’s eyes widened in shock having never heard his best friend speak like this before. “Do you know what it's like to watch the person you love have crushes on everybody but you? Do you know what it's like to not be enough? What is it about Liz that I don't have? You don't even know her!”

“You're mad at me for not liking you back? I can't control my feelings Y/N and I'm sorry for that but I don't want to lose our friendship. Please don't do this.” He held her face in his hands brushing the stray tears from her face. She shook her head free, backing away from him. Her hands clutched her arms, folding on top of her chest.

“I'm sorry Peter that I couldn't be good enough for you.” She gave him a small heartbroken smile before grabbing the book she was reading and went inside of her house. Peter watched as his best friend walked away from him for the second time that day. His chest felt tight, hands shaking as he thought about the ending of friendship he held dear to his heart.

Peter dreaded going to school. He spent the whole night being forced awake by panic attacks and non-stop crying. He had never felt a heartbreak like this. He's heard people say that friendship breakups are harder than relationship breakups and Peter can attest to that. Granted he's never been in a relationship, but he's going through a heartbreak he's never felt before.

He got ready for school slowly, relishing in the comfort of his room before exiting out into the living room of the apartment. He gathered his backpack that had been thrown carelessly in the living room out of anger as Aunt May watched him from the hallway before her bedroom. She decided against asking him what was wrong because she didn't want him to become even more upset on his way to school. Her heart aches as she watches her boy frown and wander around with sadness looming on his face.

At school, Ned and Mj waited for Peter at his locker like the group normally does. This time, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Peter walked up to his locker, unlocking it and grabbing his things from inside of it for class.

“Did you guys know she liked me?” Peter asked after standing in silence with the group for a few moments. They looked at Peter in pity before nodding yes. Peter shook his head, upset with himself for never noticing the obvious feelings coming from his best friend.

The group walked to their first period class, Ned and Mj making small talk whereas Peter walking listening in on the conversation. Sitting in their normal seats, they waited for the first bell to ring that determined when the first period would begin.

The door of the classroom opened showing Y/N with arms filled with her textbooks and backpack slipping off of her arms. MJ thought Peter looked bad but Y/N probably looked worse. Her eyes were puffy carrying bags of sleeplessness and her overall appearance looked tired. The Y/N the group knew would come to school always dressed for success wearing the cutest outfits and makeup done to perfection. She wasn't over the top with it but she always looked so well put together. Today, she was wearing leggings and a ratty hoodie. Her hair didn't look like it normally did, her face was bare of makeup.

She moved slowly looking for an open table in the classroom. She saw one in the back of the room near the window and walked over to claim it as her own. Her friend group watched in shock as she walked past them and towards the empty table. Peter’s chest hurt so bad watching her walk past them. Mj and Ned were upset too but they had spoken to her before school and understood her want for space.

“She doesn't have to sit all the way over there.” Peter whispered still staring at Y/N as she settled into her seat in the back of the room.

“It's ok, she just wants space and that's ok.” Mj reassured him, rubbing his shoulder as he laid his head down on the table. He didn't know how he would cope without his best friend or lack thereof.

Lunchtime came sound and normally the friend group would sit outside together if the weather was nice. They've always done this since freshman year. They would sit at the wood tables and share their lunch with each other. Y/N would normally share her fruits and vegetables knowing that her friends packed unhealthy junk food.

Today was different though. Mj, Peter, and Ned sat at the table without her. Her spot at the table is empty leaving an uncomfortable gap at the round table. Y/N found herself seated inside of the library by the window that looked out on the wooden tables she would normally sit at.

Y/N sat in the quiet library crying her eyes out as she watched her friends comfort Peter. She was hurting so bad knowing that she ruined her friendship. She wishes that she never said anything. That she just let Peter be happy with his newfound relationship with Liz. She wanted to be happy for him but she had some resentment towards him. She understood he couldn't control his feelings but she hurt knowing that he never in the years they've known each other he's never looked at her more than a friend.

She wiped her tears from her face, pulling her neatly packed lunch box out of her backpack. She stared down at her lunch, sad that she had no one to share with anymore.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit here?” A voice said from above Y/N. Looking up she saw Bryant, another senior in her class, standing with his lunch.

“Oh- yeah, sure, of course.” Y/N stuttered making room at the table for his things. The table was large enough for the two of them so there was no real reason for her to say that he couldn't sit with her. Bryant was the captain of the baseball team at their highschool. He wasn't like the cliche popular kids at school who stayed within their cliques but he was very sweet and attentive to anyone he crossed paths with.

“Thank you! I saw you sitting by yourself and it kinda looked like you needed a friend.” He commented setting his salad from the cafeteria down along with his backpack that seemed too empty for a highschool seniors backpack. “So, how's today going for you?”

Y/N was taken aback by the boy's boldness. This was her first time ever talking to him and he wants to know about her day? She was baffled.

“I-It's been slow I guess. I'm ready to go home honestly.” He nodded, chewing on his salad.

“I feel that. I wish I could go home after school. I've got prom preparation after school, so annoying.” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “I don't know if you know but my name is Bryant, it's real nice to meet you.”

Sticking his hand out to shake, Y/N grasped it hesitantly.

“I'm Y/N, I think we had english together last year.”

“Yeah we did didn't we. I hated that class, you were awesome in it though.” She blushed at the compliment. “But yeah, I know who you are. You're apart of Peter’s little group.”

“Oh yeah, I was.” She shrugged emotions overwhelming her again.

“Was? You obviously don't have to tell me, but I hope you're ok.” Bryant smiled at Y/N and Y/N was blown away by his kindness.

“Peter and I aren't friends anymore. He's going to prom with Liz and I just thought that maybe he would have asked me.” Bryant felt bad for Y/N. He could see how hurt she was despite her wearing a smile on her face. Y/N wasn't a stranger in this school. She played a large role in academics and actively participated in multiple clubs. The Y/N Bryant saw before wasn't present today and it was sad.

“I know we've just met but I don't have a date to prom either...if you would like to go with me. I wanted to go with Jordan but it turns out he is not actually into very beautiful and athletic boys.” Y/N laughed along with Bryant.

“I would love to go to prom with you as long as we can coordinate outfits.” Bryant laughed some more agreeing with her. Y/N looked down at the lunch before sliding over a few snacks toward Bryant. Y/N still felt the sadness of letting go of her best friend lingering with her but it felt nice to meet someone new. Not someone to replace her Peter but someone to remind her that life goes on and that she'd be ok in the long run.

Weeks have passed since Peter and Y/N’s fallout and it was a weird few weeks. School was coming to an end, cap and gowns were slowly being handed out for graduation and prom posters were posted everywhere.

Y/N was still avoiding Peter at all costs but she apologized to Ned and Mj for ignoring their feelings. She didn't want them to feel like they had to be in the middle of this mess. She didn't want them to feel like she also ditched them too. They understood her, they knew how hard it was for her to remove herself from their friend group for the sake of her mental health.

Y/N and Bryant continued to grow closer. He was a good distraction from her current problems. She also learned that he was bisexual and that Jordan was also on the baseball team who was too scared to come out and go to prom with Bryant. Bryant was someone Y/N didn't expect to befriend her. His kindness made her feel so much better after what had happened.

Peter struggled badly. He had been so happy to finally get the girl he had been pining after for years but seeing Y/N cry because of him hurt so much. It made him rethink his whole friendship with her. Did he really only think of her as a friend?

Peter watched everyday as Y/N grew closer to Bryant, a warm feeling entered his belly every time he saw the two together. It wasn't a pleasant warm feeling, it was a feeling that made him overthink everything he did. It was a feeling that made his face scrunch up and his head fill with sickness. His thoughts became muddled, words not making sense as he watched the two. He was jealous. Did he recognize it as jealousy, no, because Peter was an idiot.

Prom season was hectic and fun all at the same time. People were hardcore prepping for the dance. Money was being saved for the before dance dinner and the stretch limo that would provide a chariot to the dance.

The mall was beyond crowded, Bryant led the way with Y/N pushing through crowds of people to reach the small dress shop they had been dying to go to all day. The small dress shop was locally owned by a hispanic couple who hand made the dresses in the shop. The dresses they had were beautiful, all arraying from different colors, sizes, and silhouettes. Y/N tried on almost every dress in the store that was in her size.

“This is useless, these dresses are gorgeous but I feel like I look so stupid.” Y/N huffed sitting next to Bryant on the velvet loveseat that sat in front of the dressing room. Y/N was near tears out of pure frustration.

“Stop it, I thought you looked amazing in every single one of those dresses. I think you're just too into your own head. What's up girl?” He put an arm around her shoulders laying his head on top of hers.

“I just want to look good. Good like Liz…” She whispered the last part out of embarrassment. Bryant scoffed.

“You're joking right? You two are incomparable people. She's pretty in her own ways just as you are. Are you comparing yourself to her because of Peter?” Bryant exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of the woman who owns the shop.

“Peter likes Liz.” Was all that Y/N could muster, pouting at her own words.

“Here mija.” The woman who owned the shop came walking over to Y/N with a beautiful pink dress in her hands. “I made this a week ago but havent even put it on the floor yet.”

Y/N shook her head furiously, “No I couldn't.”

“No, please try it on and if you like it, it's yours.” The woman insisted on a bright smile playing on her face.

“Its-Its mine?”

“Yes honey, you obviously need this dress more than I do. You need a dress that will make you feel beautiful and I think this will do.”

Y/N tried on the dress watching it flow down to the floor. It was a pretty pink color with flowers at the top. Buttons adorned the middle of the dress cinching the waist and the bottom of the dress flowed to the floor in bunches.

Stepping out of the dressing room, dressed clad on her body, Bryants mouth dropped in shock at the sight of her.

“Holy….” He was at a loss for words. Y/N blushed, turning to look at herself in the mirror, her own mouth dropping in shock.

“...Shit” She finished.

“You look amazing mija. It's all yours, please, you have to wear that to your dance.” The woman begged Y/N. Y/N nodded, smiling at herself in the mirror. It had been weeks since she felt like her normal self. She had spent so many days pondering about why Peter liked Liz more than her. Why Liz got Peter versus Y/N getting peter. But now it wasn't about Peter.

The woman walked with Y/N up to the front of the store, carefully wrapping the dress in a delicate box.

“No boy should ever determine his worth.” The woman said, handing the box over. “You are beautiful and I'm sure Liz is too but you, you are a gorgeous young woman who will encounter many men or women or people in general who will want to be in your life simply because you are you.”

Y/N thought about the shop owner's words as both Bryant and her maneuvered through the mall's crowds. Y/N grasped the corner of Bryants elbow as he carried their shopping bags. He made small jokes making Y/N laugh. He kissed her on the cheek endearingly as she laughed some more.

Unknown to Y/N, Peter stood a few feet away from the couple as they walked by holding onto each other looking like...a couple. That warm feeling reentered Peter's belly, sickness looming over his head making him feel lightheaded. Peter watched the couple walk away with sadness filling his heart. He missed being Y/N’s best friend. He missed their walks through the mall where he would buy her all the pretzels she wanted while holding her bags of useless junk she spent hundreds on. He missed her.

Prom night came quickly after finals finished on campus. Y/N put on her dress and had her hair and makeup done by her mom. Standing in front of her mirror she made sure she was ready to go. Her mother called her to the front door signalling Bryant was there to pick her up.

Bryant showered Y/N in compliments, getting his matching pink tie tied by Y/N’s dad. They both exchanged corsages and boutineers that were adorned by pretty white flowers. They took pictures in the backyard by Y/N’s tree posing in silly poses and in your typical prom poses.

Peter stood outside of Liz’s house filled with dread. He realized that this was not the place that he wanted to be. He wanted to be at Y/N’s house taking pictures, eating her parents food, and laughing about the stupid things they normally joke about. He wanted to watch as Y/N showed off her dress to him. He wanted to be the one to bring her a bouquet of flowers that she would dry up in her journal for safe keeping. But instead he was here, in front of Liz’s mansion, hurting.

The dance was at full blast when Y/N and Bryant arrived- late because Bryant believed being fashionably late was the best type of late. They walked around the venue hand in hand as Bryant showed off all of the things he contributed to the dance. Bryant left Y/N in the flower photo room having been called away to help fix something for the dance. Y/N admired the walls covered in small and large flowers.

“Woah.” Someone gasped from behind Y/N. Turning around she came face to face to a red faced peter. “You look…ethereal, is that even the right word?”

Peter couldn't stop staring at how beautiful Y/N looked. Her dress made her stand out from the rest. Butterflies erupted in his stomach replacing the warm feeling of jealousy he had been previously feeling.

“Oh, hi Peter.” Y/N was filled with nerves as he slowly walked towards her. “How are you?”

“I don't feel too good honestly. I messed up a really good thing I think and I want to fix it. I never realized how much you meant to my life until I lost you. I know that's cheesy but it's true.” He quietly uttered, staring into her eyes. “I don't want us to stop being friends and I think I do like you.”

“You think?” She questioned looking at him hopefully.

“I- yeah I think.”

He thinks. He doesn't know if he likes her but he thinks he does. Y/N shook her head disappointed.

“Peter, I've spent the last three weeks wondering why I wasn't good enough for you to like me. I only just realized that I was good enough maybe not for you but for other people. Since we were kids I always did things in hopes of catching your attention. I joined the debate team because you did. I joined the academic team because you became the captain. I even tried to apply to be an intern at stark industries so I could work with you without even realizing that stark industries didn't have internships. And that spiderman started appearing a lot more after said internship appeared.” She had a knowing smile on her face.

“Oh so you know.” He looked down at the ground embarrassed to be exposed.

“Peter, I know so much about you. I know you better than Mj and Ned that's the whole reason why we are best friends. I know how you like your sandwiches- breakfast and lunch. I know how you organize your school work. I know that you like to specifically request time in the lab in the morning because all of the equipment is freshly washed and you like to first pick at the goggles and coats. Peter, I know you don't like me. You feel bad and miss me but you don't like me.” She walked to him, placing her hands on his cheeks. He melted into her hands.

“But I think I do Y/N.”

“Ok so say you think you like me, I would prefer to have you when you know you like me not when you have only developed small feelings after not having me for a few weeks. Peter, I'm in love with you. I'm in a lot deeper than a few small feelings. I don't want to make you be in a relationship when we are in two very different places.” She sniffled a little one hand coming to stop the tears from ruining her makeup.

“I want nothing more than to be your best friend again but I can't.” He couldn't stop his tears from falling at those words. “I can't go back to being the girl who did nothing for herself and everything for the boy she loves. I need more for myself. I'm going to college and I don't even know how to just be me without you and I need to learn how.”

He absorbed her words, crying free flowing tears.

“I want you to be happy Y/N.” He nodded, she swiped her thumbs under his eyes. She smiled sweetly at him. Placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Y/N gave him one last smile before walking away from him.

Y/N walked away with her heart feeling light. She felt like a burden had been lifted off of her shoulders. Her intent wasn't to hurt Peter but she needed to say what had been in her mind for weeks. She knew he would eventually move on from his slight crush on her and so would she. She would move on eventually, it would be a slow and hard process but it would happen. And she would never fully get over him. She's been in love with him since they were kids- it's all she's ever known. But for right now she was focusing on loving herself and growing into the person she was meant to be- without Peter.

#peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter x you #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #spider man #spiderman x you #tom holland #tom holland x reader

188 notes · View notes

cyncerity · 3 years

Note

Mmmmm.,, thinking about how if Tubbo nommed Tommy and Tommy grew just enough in his stomach to make a little bump.,,

Ok when I asked for sizeshifter Tommy getting nommed prompts, you got the message. You understood the assignment completely, you genius anon. Funnier yet, I had the same thought about Tommy shifting while in someone earlier, so you’re pyscic and also very much pandering to what i like to write and it’s working very well.

tw: vore, cursing

Btw, I took my shitpost idea from this post and made it a full story

“Tubbo, no.” Tommy deadpanned at Tubbo, who looked back at him with puppy eyes. “Tubbo yes!! You actually studied for this and I didn’t and if I flunk another test my dads gonna kill me!” the shorter teen whined. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “Well then maybe you should’ve studied! I’m not gonna help you cheat this, I don’t even know how i would do that!”

Tubbo pouted and gave him a death glare that he ultimately couldn’t hold as long as Tommy could, so he sighed in defeat and started to get ready for school.

*****

School went pretty well for Tommy. He’d been pestered about the test a few more times by Tubbo, but he ignored most of the advances. He was just walking from the class he’d taken the test in to his next class when he got a text from his best friend: ‘meet me in the storage closet by the caf.’ Huh. Odd. Nevertheless, Tommy shrugged and headed that way. Not like he had much else to do at the moment.

He soon stepped into the storage closet, the heavy door closing behind him and shutting him in almost complete darkness as he fumbled around looking for a light switch. He could hear things clattering around him, but every time he reached in the direction of the noise, more noise seemed to come from another direction. What was going on? “Tubbo?” Tommy whispered. “You in here, big man?” Tommy said, a bit louder. No response, except the noises. Tommy could feel himself start to shrink in a bit as his movements became more sporadic looking for the light. “Seriously man, this isn’t funny!!” Suddenly, a loud clap sounded from behind him, scaring him and accelerating the shrinking he had already subconsciously been doing as he shrieked, now a measly 3 inches tall.

Suddenly he felt himself be lifted off the ground as the lights finally came on. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked up to see Tubbo holding him by his shirt collar, the heavy, large textbook that Tubbo had violently shut to make the clap noise now laying closed on the floor, looking smug with himself. Tommy glared daggers at him. “That was a low blow, Tubso.” “Of don’t be over dramatic,” the bigger teen smirked, “I’m just getting the help I need.” And with that, Tommy was tossed up into the air and quickly caught in Tubbo’s mouth. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing!!” Tommy shouted as Tubbo’s tongue lapped at his face. He was unceremoniously pushed into the side of Tubbo’s cheek as he tried to respond. “You just took the test, I’m going in to take the test now, so you can at least help me get some answers.” “You little-“ Tommy tried to finish before he was cut off by a loud swallow.

Tommy felt his legs get pulled down into the tight muscles of the throat. He tried to punch at Tubbo’s tongue to get his friend to spit him out but he only heard Tubbo chuckle as the muscles pulled him down to his shoulders and eventually sucked him in completely. Tubbo left the storage closet once he couldn’t feel Tommy in his mouth anymore and made his way to class. Tommy landed in his stomach with a dull thud as he heard the storage room door close and felt Tubbo start walking. Great. Didn’t this asshole know he had school, too?

Tommy pouted and laid back one of the wet spongy walls and slid down, begrudgingly accepting defeat. Eventually he felt Tubbo sit down, and he heard the lecturer start to speak, before silence once again. Tubbo poked his stomach. Tommy kicked at the wall where he had been poked. “You can’t just eat me and expect me to help you. Prick.” Another poke from the outside. Tommy kicked again.

There was an annoyed scoff from outside and soon the small space Tommy was sitting in practically folded in on itself as Tubbo moved to sit with his knees pressed against his torso. “Oh, fuck off, you dickhead!” Tommy shouted. “I’ll give you the fuckin answers, Jesus, just let up!!” Tommy could practically hear Tubbos smug grin as he put his knees back down and sat normally. Tommy sat fuming, giving Tubbo the answers to the test, waiting for the signal tap that signified his giant friend was ready for the next answer. So as Tommy sat and mindlessly rattled off information, he thought about what he could do to get a little revenge for the impromptu nom session. It was hard to think of something good enough. He needed something that was funny, but inconvenient, and that he could do from the stomach he was stuck in. Something that would piss Tubbo off in a playful way, and nothing that would cause him pain, maybe a bit of discomfort…wait. That’s it, that would work, all he had to do was time it right. The logical and mature side of Tommy’s brain said it was a bad idea: he’d never tried shifting while in a person before. Well, that part of his brain could fuck off for all Tommy cared. He’d never listened to it anyways. ‘Oh, this is gonna be so funny…’

****

A half an hour later, Tubbo finished the test. He was pretty proud of his successful plan to get Tommy to help him cheat, and he couldn’t see himself getting caught. There was no physical evidence of it, and he knew that as annoyed as he knew Tommy was, his best friend wouldn’t rat him out. He even made sure to fill in some answers wrong, it was foolproof! Tubbo leaned back, feeling the minuscule weight inside him, and if he focused hard enough, could even feel Tommy breath. He’d never get tired of how weird that felt, no matter how many times he ate Tommy. It gave him a sort of peace. He felt kind of bad for practically forcing Tommy into sitting in his gut, but it was his fault in the first place! If Tommy hadn’t refused to help him, Tubbo wouldn’t have had to resort to this! And he knew that Tommy would try to reign hell on him for this, but for the moment, he put that thought aside. There wasn’t much revenge Tommy could do from his stomach.

Tubbo soon heard the bell ring. And as soon as he went to stand up, he felt something inside him move. No, not move, grow. Double, triple the size Tommy was when he was swallowed, bigger than anything he’d ever even try to get down his throat, and all within the span of a second. The sudden shock of the change mixed with the uneven and unfamiliar added weight in Tubbos body made him fall backwards with a yelp, landing on his ass and knocking over a chair in the process. He heard some kids laugh at him on their way out the door, and saw other just stare. He could feel his face get hotter from the embarrassment. He not only heard, but felt Tommy laugh at him, the shifters now louder voice making the stomach walls around him vibrate slightly. And, oh god, that was a weird feeling.

Tubbo clutched his gut for dear life as he tried to stand. He grabbed a nearby desk and pulled himself up, doing his best to steady himself. And as soon as he finally managed to get used to the weight, more was added. He felt his stomach stretch around Tommy, more weight being added, making him stumble a bit more before he elbowed himself in the stomach, pulled his hood over his head, and tried to walk as quickly as possible to anywhere private, ignoring Tommy’s laughing fit.

Ten minutes later, Tubbo found a private, hidden area under a set of outdoor steps near his school. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it up to his ear just to be sure that if anyone saw him, they wouldn’t think he was a crazy person talking to himself. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Tubbo yelled, making Tommy laugh more. “Oh, you have no idea how much I would’ve paid to see the look on your face!” Tommy wheezed. “What did you do?” Tommy’s laughter died down as he tried to answer the question. “Well, I think that’s pretty obvious big man. I shifted.” “In me?!” “Well, yeah. Consider this payback for scaring me shitless and swallowing me without permission.”

Tubbo face palmed with his free hand and started to pace, feeling Tommy’s much larger form sway in his stomach and stretch it with every turn he made as he walked. “Ok, ok, fine I guess I deserved that. Just, why’d you have to do it in class? People were looking at me like I was an idiot. And how big are you even right now?” “Cause you are stupid,” Tommy answered part of the first question, but pondered the other. “I’d say a foot tall? Maybe a foot and a half?”

“A foot?!” “Yeah, that’s what I said. Listen, maybe.” “Alright, alright, ok, you’ve had your fun, now shrink so I can get you out of there and we can both go about our days.” Tubbo sighed. “No can do, big man.” Tommy replied simply, as if Tubbo were to have expected that answer. He didn’t. “Why the hell not?!” Tubbo yelled again, sitting on a step, to frustrated to keep pacing. “You put me in here in the first place. I’m now your responsibility, and you did this to yourself.” Tubbo felt a somewhat uncomfortable pressure on the front of his stomach and pulled up his shirt, partially horrified and partially amazed to see the front of his belly pushing forwards, slight imprints from under his skin. Tommy’s hands. Before Tubbo could even get a word out, Tommy finished: “Remember, I’m not stuck in here with you. You’re stuck out there with me.” The pressure released, and Tubbos abdomen went back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be. It still looked somewhat bloated for obvious reasons, the outline of Tommy practically indistinguishable from any other stuffed gut to everyone but Tubbo, but it wasn’t anything his hoodie couldn’t hide. Tubbo made it a point to stand up from the step quickly to try and jostle Tommy, but only succeeded in making himself feel a quick pit in his stomach, making him instinctually hunch over as it stretched downwards to accommodate Tommy’s weight. “Whatever. I’m done talking to you.” Tubbo replied sternly before walking off to his next class, which he was now horribly late for. “Sounds good, but I’m not quite done talking to you yet.” So the next 10 minutes was spent with Tubbo walking to class and Tommy rambling about increasingly bizarre topics in an attempt to irritate Tubbo, and with Tubbo unable to respond without being heard since he’d put his phone in his backpack like an idiot and now couldn’t reach it.

***

He walked into his next class 20 minutes late, and as quickly as possible made his way to his empty chair next to Ranboo, who started giving him weird looks a few minutes after he sat down. Tubbo gave him a weird look, and Ranboo looked back utterly confused and somewhat distraught looking. Tubbo shrugged and went back to his work, trying to pick up what the teacher was saying and drown out Tommy’s nonsense. Ranboo didn’t stop giving him weird glances though, and he seemed to be getting more and more anxious. Tubbo was about to ask him what was wrong when surprisingly Ranboo stood up and addressed the teacher. “Excuse me, I have a really bad headache. Like, it’s hard to concentrate and I’m seeing spots and it’s all around just really awful, can I go to the nurse, please?” He was given permission and was told to take someone with him, roughly grabbing Tubbo by the arm and practically dragging him out of the classroom as fast as possible.

At this point, Tubbo was worried. Ranboo was an introverted guy, there’s no way he’d draw that much attention to himself in class unless it was an emergency. He got even more worried when Ranboo dragged him past the nurses office and into a storage closet not dissimilar to the one Tubbo and Tommy had been in earlier. “Boo, are you alri-“ “Out of curiosity, where’s Tommy?” Ranboo interrupted. Tubbo froze. “Ummm…I don’t know, why do you ask?” He replied, trying not to sound as guilty as he was as Tommy, who had been silent since Ranboo had dragged Tubbo out of the classroom, mumbled to himself. Something about Tubbo being an asshole. “Oh, maybe because once you came in late and sat down I started hearing Tommy. Quiet, muffled, even, but I know his voice. That, and literally no one besides Tommy can talk about absolutely nothing for so long.” Tubbo heard Tommy let out an offended scoff and a “fuck you” at Ranboo, who apparently also heard it. “See, there it is again! You can hear him to, I know it. So where is he? I thought he was in your backpack, but you didn’t bring it with you to the ‘nurses office,’” Ranboo said, putting in air quotes, “so I don’t know where else I’d be able to hear him from.” Tubbo was left speechless again. Luckily for him, or actually rather unlucky, depending on how you look at it, Tommy was incapable of being left speechless. “In here, Ranboob!!” Tommy shouted, punching the front of the stomach walls, making Tubbo let out a hiss of pain as he punched himself in the stomach. Ranboo just stared blankly. “He’s…he’s in there?” Ranboo asked, pointing at Tubbo’s midsection. Tubbo sighed and nodded. Thank god he had to explain this to Ranboo and not some rando who didn’t know that he and Tommy did this regularly. “I thought that no one besides you could hear him when you ate him? I’ve never heard him from in there before.” “Probably because I’ve never been this big in a person before.” Tommy shouted in reply. “He’s a fucking foot tall, Ranboo. He’s making me miserable.” Tubbo deadpanned. “Just returning the favor!” Tommy shouted. “Ok, ok, wait, what happened, I’m so confused.” Ranboo questioned.

Tommy and Tubbo filled Ranboo in on what went down, who had his face in his hands by the end of the explanation, his thoughts clear to Tommy and Tubbo: ‘why do I have such idiot friends?’ “…ok,” Ranboo finally spoke out, “If anyone asks, I have a fever and you two, er, well, Tubbo helped me walk home. School ends in, like, 3 hours anyways, so it should be fine.” Tubbo and Tommy both seemed ok with that idea, so they went back to Tommy’s house, since Tommy’s family was at work, where Ranboo made both Tommy and Tubbo apologize for being assholes to each other, eventually convincing Tommy to shrink back down and finally give Tubbo a break. Tubbo didn’t spit him out though, and from the one sided conversation Ranboo was hearing, it seemed like Tommy was fine with that. Soon enough, all three were taking a nap.

***

At 2 o’clock, Phil got home, surprised to find the front door unlocked. He carefully made his way inside the house, looking for anything that could have been stolen or god forbid a thief still in the house. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until he got to Tommy’s room, where he found Ranboo and Tubbo asleep on a backup comforter they kept around for the two when they slept over. Phil only had to wonder briefly where Tommy was, until his mind registered Tubbo’s hand, which was pressed protectively against his stomach. ‘Wait, shouldn’t they still be in school?’ Phil thought. But he took one look at the sleeping teens and decided he would chew them out later, turning of the light and closing the door.

#Slime this is what I told you about #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #g/t #tw vore #sizeshifter!tommy au #cynwrites #cyncerity

108 notes · View notes

scxrlettwxtches · 3 years

Text

love me, love me not | bang chan

genre: angst, humor, fluff, college!au, female!reader

warnings: slight swearing, not edited ahhh

prompt: argument leading kissing

description: when chan rejected you, you never expected that it would become the catalyst for your love story, rather than the end of it. but, life and a few welcome matchmakers have a way of playing with fate.

word count: ~6.5k+

a/n: hi, anon! im so so sorry for the wait. i totally had a writer’s block while writing this, and im super sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted...i tweaked the prompt ever so slightly, but i hope you still like it! >.< it’s also wayyy longer than i’d predicted haha oops. as always, my ask box is open if anyone wants to be friends! love you all! <3

It took a total of three days and five hours for Chan to realize he might've fucked up.

When the thought first appeared in his head, he dismissed it out of indignation. How could it have been his fault?! He didn't know you were going to confess. He didn't know he was hurting you by jumping around from girl to girl.

"You... you're what?" Chan stuttered, his pace faltering to a stop as he tried to process your words.

"I'm in love with you," you repeated, stopping in your tracks as you turned to face him, your hands gripping the straps of your backpack tightly.

"I have been for years," you said plainly, looking into his eyes with a simple gaze.

Chan stammered, and for the first time, his mouth worked before his brain and he blurted out the stupidest response he could've conjured up, "I already have a date tonight."

You flinched as if he’d slapped you hard across the face, showing visible hurt at his careless words. You were always the collected one, always the person that could flash a smile even in the most uncomfortable circumstances. It felt weird, uncomfortable even to see you waver.

When you replied to him, you had already recovered, your face passive and your voice steady, "I know. I helped you set it up, dipshit," you said with a dry smile.

"Then, why would you say this now?" Chan felt churlishly ungrateful. How dare you tell him now? Right when he finally scored that girl he'd been secretly pining after for days. It had taken so much effort, and you'd know because it was only through your shared internship with her that this date even became possible.

Oh, he was being so callous, so insensitive. And yet, you showed nothing more than a flash of hurt in your eyes, a sign he had clearly missed while he was too busy worrying about himself.

“Because you asked me if I liked anyone, and I didn’t have any reason to lie to you,” you shrugged indifferently before checking your watch, “Oh, you’re going to be late. I’ll walk the rest of the way by myself.”

And without waiting for another response from him, you turned on your heels and walked down your street without the one companion you’ve had all your life. It was lonelier than you thought it would be.

Ever since that day, Chan’s relationship with you had irrevocably changed. He still saw you every day, still walked you to your classes and spent his lunch period with you at the nearby cafe, but a large chasm had opened in your relationship, a divide of unspeakable topics after you’d so bluntly confessed to him and unknowingly sent him into an existential crisis.

“How was the date?”

Speaking of the devil, Chan choked on his chocolate milkshake as you interrupted his thoughts, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" he wheezed, hitting his chest to catch his breath.

You gave him a strange look, clearly sensing his discomfort, but making no moves to resolve the situation as you looked back down at your notes.

“I asked how the date was,” you repeated, scribbling as you jotted down some of the main points from your textbook, “Didn’t you have one? Two days ago?”

“O-oh, right,” Chan nodded, clearing his throat deliberately, “Yeah, it was good, I guess.”

Truthfully, Chan did not remember the date very well. What was her name? Miyeon? Mina? Fuck, was he suffering from early memory loss already? She was quite pretty; he remembered how she looked very vaguely, dressed in a prim and proper manner and carrying herself with grace.

And yet, the one thing that Chan clearly did remember was that he felt nothing.

There was no spark. No instant realization that the girl before him was the one. No dramatic eye contact or k-drama OST to make up for awkward silences.

All in all, it seemed like it was another fail.

You sensed his dejected mood as always, and nudged his still hand on the table, “Hey, it’s alright. Not all dates are supposed to go well. You’re bound to have a few misses.”

“That’s the thing! It hasn’t been just a few misses! It’s been all misses!” Chan bemoaned as he let his head slump onto the table, and he couldn’t ignore the wry smile that crossed your face.

“You just haven’t found the right person yet, and that’s okay,” you chuckled, petting his soft hair. Chan let out an appreciative hum, his eyes automatically closing at the soothing sensation. Your hands felt nice, your pets were always comforting. It would be even better if you’d run your hands through his hair while he--

Wait, what?

Chan shook his head quickly, messing up his soft hair and causing you to pull away, much to his disappointment. What was that? His brain was traveling a mile a minute and the image that flashed in his head--his head on your lap, peaceful and domestic as you pressed kisses to his face while you carded your fingers through his hair--

“Oh, by the way. I’m going on a date tomorrow.”

It was like his dream shattered before his very eyes as you glanced at your nails, the scratching off another fleck of your black nail polish. Chan was genuinely caught off guard by the weird, sickly emotion in his gut as the words you uttered finally processed through his thick brain.

“W-what?” Chan failed to hide the surprise, but he somehow managed to hide the faint sense of disappointment. He shouldn't feel that, right? Friends should always support one another! Friends should always want them to be happy and find someone, right?

He didn't exactly feel those two things at the moment, and the guilt only added to the sickly feeling.

"Who?" Chan asked, trying not to sound bitter.

If you heard the unusual emotion in his voice--which you probably did--you didn't comment on it, "It's the school dance captain, Minho? He asked me out yesterday."

An image of the unfairly handsome, sharp-eyed, dashing dance captain, Lee Minho, appeared in Chan's head. He was the perfect man, of course. Literally Adonis of the modern age. Chan didn’t even know that you and him were friends, much less close enough to schedule dates.

“How do you know him? You’re not exactly the cream of the crop when it comes to dance, or anything physical for that matter--ow!”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your hand back, watching as he rubbed his forehead dramatically, “We have computer science together, asshole. And he’s a good friend of Jisung.”

“Everyone’s a good friend of Jisung’s,” Chan muttered under his breath, still reeling from your harsh attack, “Why does it have to be Minho?”

He hadn’t planned on you catching his latter question, but seeing the raise of your eyebrow and the immediate change in expression to something slightly more guarded, you asked, “Oh? And what’s wrong with Minho?”

Chan stiffened at the defensive question, feeling his blood grow hot. Of course there wasn’t anything wrong with Minho. He was surprisingly warm-hearted, smart, funny, and a phenomenal dancer. There was nothing wrong with him, and yet, Chan felt a red hot jealousy and anger bubble out of his lips as he blurted out:

“I just don’t want you going with him.”

Oh, that came out wrong. That came out so very wrong.

“And who are you to tell me what to do, Christopher Bang?” your voice was cold and closed off, using his full name as you only did when you were furious.

Chan flinched at your tone, feeling more hurt than he thought he would. But, at the same time, he bristled in frustration. You didn’t understand what he was feeling. (He didn’t understand it either.)

“He’s not good for you, Y/N,” he lied, avoiding your piercing gaze as you scoffed.

“Oh?” you sounded rightfully furious, absolutely fed up with the constant back and forth and utter indecisiveness that was Bang Christopher Chan, “And who exactly do you think is good for me? You?”

It was scathing, meant to hurt, and hurt it did. Chan recoiled at your burning words, “That’s not what I meant!” He snapped defensively, his temper rising unusually as your argument began to draw the attention of other customers in the cafe.

Your hands shook as you clenched them into little fists, “Then what did you mean, huh?” You asked softly, eyes lowered to the table.

Chan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out as he struggled to dictate exactly what he was feeling. What even was this? This burning pain in his heart at the thought of you with another, this fear in his mind that he will no longer be your first priority?

You took his silence as acceptance, and you scoffed, trying to ignore the prickly feeling behind your eyes, “I see,” you spoke with an air of finality, and before Chan could speak, you pushed out of your seat, beginning to walk away.

“W-wait!” Chan’s motion was frantic and unthought of as he grabbed the edge of your soft cardigan.

“Channie, it’s fine,” you said simply as you refused to face him, and he was unable to see your expression. Your voice gave nothing away, perfectly neutral and closed off.

“This isn’t goodbye or anything, dipshit,” you continued, standing still as you spoke, “I just have something I have to do. Text me when you need me.”

With that, you yanked your arm away, and the fabric of your sweater slipped through his fingers. Chan was frozen in his position, half ready to stand up and half still sitting. It wasn’t a goodbye, he told himself. You said it yourself. It wasn’t a goodbye.

But why did it feel so much like one?

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Chan looked away from the window, his eyes wide and startled as the woman in front of him gave him a merciful smile as she rested her head on her hand, watching him inquisitively.

“So you are,” she confirmed, absently twirling the pasta around her fork as she continued to study him.

Chan felt his face flush with shame and guilt. It had been almost a whole day since your fight with him, and--unable to study because of it--he decided to drown his sorrow the only way he knew how: by setting up another date. He called the girl he went out with two days ago, Mina, and to his utmost surprise, she agreed to a second date.

But now, Chan was sure that the chance of a third was completely out the window, especially since he was spending much of this date daydreaming.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stuttered out an apology, and truthfully, he was ashamed that his mind wouldn’t stay in one place no matter how much he willed it to, “I’ve just been really busy with work, a-and it’s been weighing down on me.”

Mina smiled at that, a gentle, knowing smile that send to pierce through all of Chan’s clumsy excuses, “I see. So it wasn’t about anyone in particular?”

Chan felt his heart jump in panic. This was probably one of the most mortifying moments in his life, “I don’t believe so?” He said in a questioning tone as he stabbed at his ravioli, playing with it more than he was actually eating.

Even as he lied, his thoughts travelled to another date that was supposed to be happening right as this time. He’d heard through the grapevines that you were going to a cute dinner date with Minho on the other side of town. The two of you haven’t spoken at all since the fallout, which was very uncommon. Not a single text, call, or meeting was exchanged.

Chan wanted to tear his hair out from the frustration. How was it? Were you having fun on your date? Was Minho treating you well? Of course, he would; that was a stupid question. Minho was always known to treat his dates well, even if they didn’t turn into anything long term. He was just kind like that, and--at this moment--he was definitely doing a much better job making you happy than Chan was.

“Hm,” the girl mused carefully, twirling her fork a couple more times before asking innocently, “Are you sure you’re not thinking about your friend, Y/N?”

Jackpot. Chan’s eyes grew comically wide as he choked in his fancy ravioli dish, his face turning red as he quickly tried to drown his throat with water so he didn’t die from asphyxiation, “Y/N?” he stammered, and the image of you from the last time you spoke with him--your face of hurt and betrayal as he snapped at you for no reason at all--flashed in his brain, making him feel yet another coil of burning hot guilt.

Mina nodded serenely, eating as she watched you carefully, “So, I was right?” She asked knowingly, and Chan wondered how long it’s been she’d figured it out.

Nevertheless, he winced and dipped his head respectfully, “I am very sorry,” he said solemnly, and he truly was sorry, “I just...we had a falling out yesterday, and I’m just worried that I might’ve accidentally lost a friend.”

“Oh? Was it that bad of a falling out?” Mina asked, and Chan was almost dumbfounded by how casual his date was at the notion of him thinking about another person during their dinner.

But at the same time, he’d been aching for someone to confide in, aching to sort out the jumbled mess inside his heart, “It was bad,” he admitted, “She was trying to tell me that she got a date, and instead of being happy for her, I sort of blew up in her face.”

“Oh. So it’s bad.”

The blatant honesty was enough to make Chan put his head in his hands, “Yeah, it was bad. Looking back, I’m surprised she didn’t get even more angry at me.”

Mina let out a soft chuckle at his self deprecating words, which made Chan felt just slightly better, “Why did you get so angry?”

Chan blinked, looking up at the question, “H-huh?” If anything, he’d expected Mina to get angry, not for her to start questioning him like a lawyer.

“I mean,” Mina continued, shrugging as she sipped at her champagne, “is Minho a bad person?”

“Not at all. He’s a great guy,” Chan said, almost immediately getting defensive. Minho was a great guy, and he deserved someone wonderful by his side. Someone like you.

“Do you think he and Y/N won’t get along?”

“No!” Chan huffed, growing frustrated by the interrogation but also understanding that he was the one at fault here for ruining a perfectly nice date.

“Then why did you get angry?”

Chan opened his mouth to speak, but as obvious as the reason seemed to be just then, he couldn’t actually pinpoint a direct reason. Why was he so angry? Why was he angry at the prospect of you being happy? Was it because he was just a bad person?

Or, was it because you were going to be happy with someone other than him?

Mina smiled slyly as she watched the poor, unknowingly besotted boy come to one of the most important revelations of his college life, “Well?” She asked, tilting her head expectantly.

Chan swallowed, and his palms felt unnaturally sweaty, as if he were about to perform with his friends on stage. The very thought of it scared him a little, not because it was so undesirable of an outcome, but because of the growing guilt that he didn’t realize it before, and the prospect of fulling understanding how much pain his obliviousness might have caused you.

“I was angry because I wanted it to be me,” he whispered, softly enough that he hoped Mina wouldn’t hear it, but from her smile, she definitely did.

“You wanted to be Minho?” she clarified, almost relishing in the way she was forcing Chan to cough up the buried feelings hidden so deep inside his heart that even he himself wasn’t aware of them.

Chan nodded, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him again, but this time, it was a light, airy feeling rather than a terrifying plummet.

There was a moment of silence before Mina suddenly began to giggle, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Chan looked up, flustered by her actions as he felt his face burn. He was still a little nervous that he’d insulted her by basically confessing to be in love with another person on their date.

“Oh, you’re actually adorable,” Mina smiled, wiping at the corners of her eyes before she took a deep breath, “Do you know, the first time we went on a date, a couple days ago, I actually thought you were cheating on Y/N.”

“W-what?” Chan sputtered, his cheeks growing bright red at the very thought, “Why?”

“Well, I’ve seen the two of you around, and your relationship is almost a known secret around campus,” Mina explained, “Especially once when I saw the two of you at a cafe studying together, and the way you were looking at her...it made even my heart flutter just watching you stare at her. I doubt you were even listening to what she was saying.”

Chan thought back to your study sessions, thought back to every time he’d have you explain a difficult equation or problem. Bizarrely, he didn’t remember a single concept at all, but he did remember everything about you as you were speaking. The way a single strand of hair traced your face and you always had to brush it behind your ear. The way you’d pout if the question stumped you, too. The way you’d sometimes get lost in your own explanation and start talking about a topic so high level that Chan had been lost for minutes already, but he couldn’t bear to stop you because you looked so adorable.

Oh, shit.

“Then,” Chan swallowed nervously, “you agreed to go on that date with me because you thought I was cheating on her?”

“Well, first off, she helped put us together, which diminished the possibility of that being true,” Mina shrugged, continuing to eat, “Also, if it was true, then I’d be able to catch you right in the act and tell her directly.”

Chan felt a little ashamed and unfairly blamed. Of course he wouldn’t cheat on you! He’d never cheat on anyone, much less you of all people. The very notion of hurting you in such a way was practically unbearable.

“But, as we talked that night,” the girl continued nonchalantly, “it became clear to me that the two of you weren’t together, but you also were totally oblivious to how in love with her you are.”

The back of Chan’s throat was completely dry at this point, despite the copious amount of water he’d been chugging throughout this date, “I-I’m not in love with her,” he stammered defensively, “We’ve been best friends for years!”

Mina leveled him an unamused glare, “Oh? You’re not in love with her, but you feel pain at the notion of her being with someone else. You’re not in love with her, but you can only remember every good thing about her. You’re not in love with her, but you look at her as if she’s your whole sun, moon and earth combined.”

Chan felt cornered, his eyes wide at the revelation as he choked out, “B-but if I love her, t-then all this time--haven’t I been hurting her over and over?”

“How so?”

“S-she confessed earlier this week--b-but I didn’t know!” Chan said helplessly, beginning to panic. If this was all true--and slowly, his mind was beginning to process that it very well could be--then he’s caused you unimaginable pain for no good reason. Then he’d rejected you in the most brutal, uncaring way possible.

Mina sighed, rubbing her eyes, “Oh, dear god. You’re actually an idiot. What are you doing here? Go apologize! Don’t turn up empty handed. And don’t expect anything from her. Just ask her sincerely for her forgiveness.”

Chan nodded, already scrambling out of his seat and fumbling as he placed a few big bills on the table, “I’m so so sorry about this,” the apologies spilled out as he bowed respectfully towards Mina, “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…”

“Just don’t be an idiot and try to date the entire student population when the one for you is right beside you,” she retorted dryly, smiling at him, “And good luck.”

Chan ran faster than he ever had before. He ran faster than when his high school class had made him the final runner in the school relay. He ran faster than when he was late to his first job offer in his second year of college. None of those things felt nearly as important as this: the notion of losing you for good.

He rushed to the flower shop that you always spared forlorn glances at, but never spent money on. Apologizing profusely for barging in right before closing time, he bought a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, a collection of roses, lilies, and orchids.

Oh gosh, what if you weren’t home? What if you didn’t come home for the night, but rather stayed with Minho? The very thought caused his stomach to turn.

By the time he made it to your house, his lungs were burning and gasping for air as he rushed to your door. His heart plummeted as he glanced through the window and saw that none of the lights were on, but nevertheless, he pressed your doorbell urgently.

Of course, there was the possibility of saying sorry tomorrow, or saying sorry the day after, but for Chan, they didn't seem like options at all. He had to tell you now, beg for your forgiveness now. If not, he had a feeling that everything between the two of you would be unsalvageable.

No, no, no! You weren't home. Chan peeked into the window again, but the inside was pitch black. You should've been done with your date by now. You should be home, but you weren't. Chan’s heart was racing with fear as he fumbled for his phone. What if calling you made it worse? Oh god, what should he even do?

He just couldn't lose you. Not as a friend, not as a soulmate. He didn't care if he lost his chance with you, he needed you by his side. He needed to see you, he had to fix things—

“Channie?”

Whirling around, his heart seemed to falter as he saw you standing on the street, looking at him with a confused expression. With the dim street light behind you, Chan swore at that moment, you looked like an angel. You were so pretty, dressed up for your date with your hair half up. He swallowed his pride, his guilt, his fear, and he walked towards you clutching the bouquet in his hands.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widened a fraction as you glanced to the side, where Minho was currently walking with you around the pier. His jacket was draped over your frame, even though the night was only slightly breezy, and you relished its weight on your shoulders.

Still, your expression dropped at his question, “I don’t want to talk about him today, Minho.”

“Why not?” He asked, looking around at the sun slowly setting behind the vast ocean as the sky was colored with vibrant reds, purples, and blues.

“Because we’re not exactly on good terms right now,” you muttered, looking down, “Also, isn’t this supposed to be our date? How are you so comfortable with the idea that I’m thinking about someone else?”

Minho laughed, turning to gaze at you fondly, “Well, I can’t exactly change the way you think, can I?” he smiled, ruffling your hair and making you complain with a loud whine, “So the best I can do is to help you get through it.”

You fought the smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and you gently squeezed Minho’s hand, feeling touched, “Thanks.”

“Whatever, dork,” Minho rolled his eyes, “So what happened? Did that idiot say something stupid again?”

“Sort of.”

“Y/N, you are being really unhelpful,” he frowned at your vague answers.

“It was just confusing,” you finally confessed. You’d barely gotten a wink of sleep that night, Chan’s words, his outburst of anger, replaying in your head like a broken record. Why was he so angry? Hadn’t he told you flat out that he had absolutely no feelings for you, crushing your dim light of hope so completely that you’d secretly sobbed your eyes out after walking home?

“Well, if it was confusing for you, I’m sure Chan was just as confused with himself,” Minho chuckled dryly, “What did he say?”

“He...was visibly upset. About this,” you gestured to you and Minho in a helpless manner, almost begging for some sort of clarification.

“Ah, this. You mean us two?” Minho asked, stopping at an empty bench along the pier and deciding to sit down. After all, the two of you had been walking for the latter half of the hour, trying to digest the delicious lunch he’d treated you to.

“Yeah, said something about not liking me being with you, or whatever bullshit he was spitting that day,” you muttered, feeling your blood grow hot just thinking about it.

“Wait, he said that? Chan?” Minho fought the urge to laugh as he tried to make sure he was picturing the scenario correctly. His plan was going better than he’d expected, and Chan had fallen into it without even being slightly aware of it.

You nodded, kicking your feet back and forth as you rolled your eyes, “It was ridiculously uncalled for. You didn’t do anything that warranted that sort of reaction.”

“I can be a bit of a sleeze when I try to be,” Minho pointed out, chuckling when you lightly punched his arm, “So, he said I wasn’t good for you. What’s the big deal? He’s probably just being protective, right?”

“He’s always protective, this was different,” you shook your head. Chan was always the self-sacrificing, putting other people before himself type. He was inherently protective of you just by the virtue of being your friend, whether that meant walking you home every night or trying to make sure that you didn’t forget to eat meals. But that, the anger and almost fear that you felt from him, it felt too raw to just be his protective instinct.

“How so?”

You hesitated before elaborating, “Well, it felt almost like...he was jealous, but that’s ridiculous.”

Minho had to contain the almost giddy laughter that threatened to bubble out from his chest. You two were so oblivious, he felt like a conniving witch trying to put the two of you together. And boy, was he enjoying it.

“Why would it be ridiculous?” he asked innocently.

You leveled a glance at him, immediately sensing something strange about his tone, but not quite being able to identify it, “Of course it’s ridiculous. He rejected me earlier this week.”

“Wait. What the fuck?” Minho snapped, sitting upright immediately, almost like a cat that heard something dangerous nearby, “He rejected you? Outright?”

“Is there something called a lowkey rejection?” You laughed bitterly, “Yes, he full on rejected me. I told him I loved him and he just said he had a date that night.”

Suddenly, this game was significantly less fun. Minho wanted to jab his own eyes out in frustration before going to jab Chan’s eyes out for being so fucking stupid. You confessed, you literally told him outright that you loved him, and he was still stupid enough not to realize his own feelings?! What was it going to take? A good ol’ bonk to the head?

“Okay, Y/N. I’m going to drive you home right now,” he said seriously, and you turned to him, almost alarmed by how urgent his tone sounded.

“Um, why? Did something happen?” You asked, glancing at him in concern.

Minho shook his head, “Nothing, it’s just Chan being a fucking idiot and screwing everything up again.”

Your eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about?”

“Chan loves you,” Minho said, plain and simple, sending your head spinning as you tried to process the three simple words.

In the end, all you could do was laugh, a harsh, bitter sound as you rolled your eyes, “Very funny, Minho. Unfortunately, it’s not a very well thought out prank. He already told me otherwise.”

“He doesn’t even know it, goddamnit!” Minho spit out and you jumped at his aggressiveness, “Look, Y/N. I know this sounds crazy, and I know why you’d probably think I’m just being mean. But it’s true. I know it is. Chan loves you.”

Feeling unfairly placed on the spot, you lashed out at him, a sneer across your face as you retorted, “Oh? How are you so sure, huh? If he loves me oh so much, why is he going on a date with another girl for the twentieth time?”

“Because he’s a fucking idiot, okay?!” Minho groaned, running a hand through his hair, “Y/N, he’s probably beside himself with guilt right now, and I bet you he’s finally come to the realization himself.”

You scoffed bitterly, “That’s a bit late, don’t you think?”

“It is,” Minho agreed, wanting nothing more than to smack Chan’s forehead for being such an idiot. He glanced at you, his expression growing softer as he asked, “But you still love him, don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t, right?” Your voice was shaky as you laughed, feeling the green monster of envy and jealousy coil in your gut as you thought about all the times Chan had unknowingly broken your heart, and all you could do was cheer him on.

“It’s stupid, idiotic, unreasonable,” you continued, kicking your heels against the pavement as you glared at the ground so hard that you were probably burning holes into the cement, “and a waste of my fucking time.”

“You can’t force yourself to feel differently,” Minho pointed out, lowering his temper along with you as he spoke softly, “None of us can. If we could, why would unrequited love or affairs happen?”

“When did you get so wise, Aristotle?” You scoffed, fighting a smile as you ruffled his hair.

Minho swatted away your hands, “I’m trying to be serious here. Look, I bet you Chan is at your front door right now with a bouquet of flowers, anxiously wanting to apologize to you. I would bet ten dollars on it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your smile was almost predatorial, never shying away from a chance to make some fast cash, “Seriously?”

Minho’s smile faltered ever so slightly, and he hoped to whatever god who was listening that Chan was actually getting his fucking act together, “Hell yeah.”

You grinned, shaking his hand as you laughed, “You’re an idiot.”

“Whatever. Now let’s head back to the car so I can collect my ten dollars.”

Your dumb smile faded as you stepped out of the car in front of your driveway, eyes widening as you caught sight of a familiar figure standing on your porch. It couldn’t be. But yet, if your eyes weren’t playing yet another cruel joke on you, it was indeed your best friend, frantically knocking on the door with a bouquet of flowers in the other.

How could this be? How could he have done everything that Minho had predicted? Wasn’t he supposed to be on a date?

All the doubts, the questions, and the fears bubbled over as his name got caught in your throat, “Channie?”

For a moment, Chan genuinely thought that you were merely a figment of his imagination. Why would you be here? Especially with Minho standing beside his car a little ways away and with his jacket draped over your shoulders. Why had you returned?

His eyes widened as you walked closer, and the glow of the lamp light shifted in accordance to your movements. You were real. You were looking at him, albeit with a hint of caution laced with concern, but you were here.

“Channie, what are you doing out here?” You asked, and his heart began to pound with fear and guilt. You were worried about him. Even after everything he put you through, you still cared about his wellbeing.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his lack of response, and you walked cautiously closer, “Chan? Chris? Are you okay--eek!”

Chan’s feet grew a mind of their own, and he rushed towards you in a fit of desperation, crashing into you as he wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders. It was a bit of an awkward position, since Chan was much bigger than you, but he managed to bury his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you as if it was his last chance.

If you weren’t concerned before, you certainly were now. Chan was never the clingy one. Yes, he liked cuddles and he never shied away from a good hug, but he was never like this, holding onto you for dear life.

“Chan, what’s happened? Gosh, you’re freezing. Why are you out here in the cold--” you froze as your ears perked up to what Chan was mumbling, repeating like a mantra.

He was apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--” He whimpered, his fingers tightening around your coat as he hugged you tightly, “Please, forgive me. I was so stupid. I didn’t know.”

You sighed, and you felt the residual bitterness bleed out of your body. Of course you knew Chan wasn’t purposely being malicious, and if it ate him up with guilt so much that he waited by your door to apologize, then that was enough punishment for you to be more than satisfied.

“Channie, I need you to look at me, okay?” You instructed with a hint of sternness, trying to pull away in order to face him. Chan shook his head, but complied all the same, pulling away from the safety of your arms in order to look at you.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Minho rolling his eyes as he got back in his car, mouthing the words “don’t fuck it up again.” Chan grimaced in affirmation. He didn’t plan on it; not in a million years would he ever want to hurt you again.

You gave him a small smile as he finally met your gaze, “Good boy,” you praised, and Chan was unfamiliar with the tremor in his body that your words caused. When was the last time he’d gotten that from anyone? Oh right, it always came from you. Words of affirmation always came from you, and you always knew when he needed it.

The apologies clawed their way up his throat until he could no longer stay silent.

“I’m so sorry--a-about yesterday,” he sniffled, his shoulders trembling as he hiccuped, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to be overbearing. I-I just--I realized how stupidly jealous I was about the whole situation, a-and I didn’t want you to leave me…”

You sighed, reaching up to pet his hair gently, “It's okay, I forgive you,” you said simply, and you did forgive him. There wasn't any point in holding it over his head like you were better than him, “Everyone says stupid things they don't mean, and you had a bad date the night before.”

Chan stared at you, his eyes glossy with unshed tears as he unabashedly admired your beautiful face, your kind eyes, your perfectly kissable lips. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. You were clearly giving him a way out. “Stupid things they don’t mean,” was what you called it.

But he meant them. He was truly jealous. And it wasn’t the right emotion to feel, but they were real. He wanted you. He wanted you beside him.

He shouldn’t be greedy. He shouldn’t bite off more than he deserved to have. It was a miracle in itself that you were willing to forgive him. But at the same time, Chan knew you were as lonely as he was. He wanted to try and fill that hole for you, damned the consequences.

And just like that, Chan made up his mind.

“W-what if I meant it?” He blurted out, studying your face for any micro expression you could give off that indicated you were uncomfortable.

Instead, you looked only puzzled, “Meant what?”

“I was jealous,” he confessed plainly, stepping just a hair closer, and to his astonishment, you didn’t back away. You allowed him into your personal space, slowly and cautiously.

“Why in the world would you be jealous?” You asked softly, ever so perceptive, “It’s not like you love me or anything.”

Chan winced at the reminder of his hurtful words, but he couldn’t avoid them. He could only make up for them by proving that he was an idiot, that he actually loves you so, so much, “I spent all my time trying to find my perfect other half,” he whispered, his words only meant for your ears.

“I was always looking, always feeling incomplete. But, maybe I was looking in the wrong place,” he said, slowly reaching his hand up to cup your cheek. He could practically count your eyelashes he was so close.

“Maybe, the reason I could never find them was because they were beside me the entire time,” he finished cautiously, his thumb brushing against your soft cheek. You let out a soft, shaky breath, and for a moment, Chan feared that he’d ruined everything all over again.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” You said finally, but Chan felt like almost sobbing with relief as you leaned into his touch. Acceptance. Tentative, but true.

Chan smiled, “That’s because you have all the braincells in this relationship, my dear,” he said solemnly, and his heart fluttered as you giggled. Ah fuck, he really was in love with you.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you,” he said again, holding you close as his forehead rested against yours, “I’m not at all experienced with this...dating thing, but I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make everything up to you. I’ll make you happy. I promise.”

You chuckled softly, and let your eyes flutter shut, “We can both learn along the way,” you said before your lips were pressed gently against his, and Chan’s brain quite literally short circuited. the kiss was chaste, innocent, gentle, and it swept him away like the warmest ocean breeze. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you ever closer.

That’s right, both of you had all the time in the world to learn. And everything would be alright, as long as you did it together.

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stayhavennet #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan blurbs #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #skz x reader #skz x y/n #my fics

754 notes · View notes

plant-flwrs · 4 years

Text

house unity // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: this story has taken me so long and i feel like i’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. i love it a lot and you can really tell what i was watching/ doing in each sections lol. for example, the dramatic ending is courtesy of the heart wrenching sylvia plath poems i was reading earlier today lol :’) also i made the reader a ravenclaw because im a ravenclaw and i felt like it hehe. n e way! hope you all like it and pls leave feedback if you have any! like, rb, follow <3

summary: Fred Weasley and you have a bit of a love hate relationship, however, on Fred’s behalf its more love than hate. Dating a Ravenclaw would be a great stride in house unity, wouldn’t it?

(disclaimer: when i describe the differences in the twins i mean the actors! especially since she who shall not be named did not give us much about their physical differences >:/ i found the info from fandom.com so it may be wrong, but i went with it. also, i made up a few things for this story, like the annual Christmas ball)

(8.7k)

-------

You wished you could enjoy some things as easily as your peers could.

You didn’t like most sweets from Honeydukes, you didn’t care for Quidditch, but you especially hated the Weasley twin’s pranks.

In your first year, just weeks after arriving at Hogwarts, you had met Fred and George. You had been unable to answer the riddle to enter the Ravenclaw common room, so you decided to take a walk around the grounds.

You just turned the corner to the courtyard, when a hard snowball hit you square in the face. The sheer force of it made you stumble backyards, and you barely had time to wipe the snow off your face before another one hit you hard in the back. You were unable to keep your balance and tumbled forwards. Your hands braced your fall and scraped against the rough stone harshly. Your palms stained the snow red as they began to bleed. You barely had time to nurse them before another snowball, this time the size of a Quaffle, plummeted onto your head. It pushed you face-first into the snow, and you recovered quicker, not wanting to stay there for any longer. You whirled around, looking for anyone who could have seen who did that. You saw two boys with flaming red hair running away, and you followed them.

You caught them just before they entered the castle, all three of you winded. They were twins.

“Did you see who did that? Was it you?” you had pried, and both of them looked giddy.

“What’d you mean?” the shorter of the two answered immaturely.

The other looked down at your hands and robes, seeing blood still flowing from your palms, and your stained tights. He glanced at his brother, who was still laughing about it all and shoved his shoulder.

“You git,” he mumbled to his brother, “she’s bleeding,” he took your hands in his and tried to wipe some of the blood off, only for it to stain the sleeves of his sweater.

“Oh, gross!” the shorter one exclaimed, backing away from the two of you.

“How did you two do that?” you asked, pulling your hands away from the kinder one.

“Bewitched ‘em,” the short one said arrogantly before his brother could stop him.

“You bewitched them to attack me?” you felt tears stinging your eyes and hoped the taller one wouldn’t notice that too.

“Well, we didn’t mean ‘em to go after you,” the kind one said quickly, trying to rub the blood out of his shirt.

“Yeah, but it was still a laugh,” the shorter one said, nudging his brother’s shoulder good spiritedly.

“Shut up, Fred,” he mumbled, obviously annoyed, “we’re sorry about your hands, we didn’t mean for it to happen, honest.”

Fred watched you silently as you swallowed hard, only able to nod at them, accepting the boys’ apology. You turned on your heal and went to the infirmary, hoping Madam Pomfrey could mend your cuts. You had wiped your tears all the way there.

In your third year, you had been told there would be a Christmas ball. You had been stuffed in a large room with the Gryffindors, and you bumped shoulder to shoulder with a boy who had long dreadlocks.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick stood in the center of the room, a large record player was next to them.

“As some of you may know, there is an annual Christmas Ball here at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall explained, looking sharply at the Gryffindors.

“Professor McGonagall and I have a tradition,” Flitwick said, casting a glance at the Ravenclaws, “of holding a class on how to dance properly at these events.”

“Think of it as charity,” McGonagall said devilishly, “we wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourselves.”

Flitwick stifled a laugh and moved his wand to turn on the music. Loud, old-sounding music blared from the ancient device and you looked confused at your teachers.

“Everyone, pair up!”

An awkward haze fell over the room of third years. None of you knew how to talk to the opposite sex, let alone dance with them. You turned to look around you, accidentally making eye contact with the Gryffindor boy with dreads. His eyes widened when they saw yours, and his friends behind you noticed. You looked at his friends, only to see Fred and George Weasley. You rolled your eyes at the two, but their friend was jolted forwards.

He bumped into you, Fred having pushed him lightly on the back.

“Go on Lee!” Fred shouted, laughing loudly.

People were moving to the center of the room in pairs, and Lee looked at you nervously. He held his hand out to you.

“Want to dance?” He asked you shyly.

You took his hand with worry, nervous about the wicked grin the twins had. That grin always worried you.

You let Lee lead you out to the floor, falling in line with everyone else. You both watched McGonagall looking around for a partner for her to demonstrate with.

Fred’s obnoxious laugh cut through the room, and her eyes landed on him.

“Perfect! Mr. Weasley, come be my partner.”

He groaned and moved forwards, his brother laughing loudly. Beside you, Lee had a wide smile.

“Place your hand on my waist,” she said flatly.

“Your what?” he repeated, his eyes going wide.

“My waist, don’t be daft,” she replied, moving his hand to the right place.

It seemed everyone’s cheeks had gone red due to stifled laughter. Lee bumped into you as he doubled over, not trying to contain himself.

In your fifth year, you were made a prefect.

You were hesitant to accept the position, feeling a bit tied down by the prat status that came with the responsibility.

Wearing your slightly dusted badge, you had never polished it like you saw Percy doing every second of his life, you led a group of Ravenclaw first years up the stairs.

“Right this way,” you shouted over their heads, making sure no one got lost.

“Who had the sense to make you a prefect?” Fred taunted, coming up from behind you and flicking your ear.

You moved to swat his hand away, but he had already jumped back.

“Shove off, Fred,” you shot him a glare and turned back to the children, “the stairs can get a bit confusing, so watch your step!”

Fred watched you admirably, noticing the way your voice changed to a sweet sound when you spoke to anyone but him.

“Yeah, watch the stairs!” Fred shouted, pulling you by your elbow onto a new staircase.

The steps moved away from the first years, taking you and Fred to the opposite corridor you wanted to go down. You looked down and realized how close you were to the edge. Without thinking, you grabbed onto Fred’s robes, pulling him closer to you. He tilted forward and nearly lost his balance, which would have sent you both down. He flung his hand out and firmly held onto the railing, suspending the both of you over the edge for a moment before he pulled you back up. You were close to his chest, still holding onto him until the stairs stopped moving. You hadn’t meant to close your eyes, but when you finally opened them you saw your group of first-years looking at you from the other staircase, seeming absolutely terrified.

You leaped from Fred’s embrace, sending him stumbling back a bit. You marched up the stairs to loop back to the first years and heard Fred calling after you.

“Going so soon?” you heard his laugh echoing off the walls of the room.

For most of your life, your interactions with Fred Weasley were that simple. Maybe once a year you two would spit some insults at the other, and be on your way, not to speak to each other until next year.

However, when you walked into your Transfiguration class, late by a few minutes due to your prefect duties, you felt a punch in the gut when you saw flaming red hair.

The punch in the gut was increased tenfold when you saw that the only empty seat was next to the flaming red hair.

Breathing deeply and sending a fake smile his way, you sat uncomfortably next to Fred.

It would have been difficult to tell them apart, but your observant eye had always been able to. Besides a few odd growth spurts they were prone to, George usually came out the taller of the two. Fred also had a small scar on his left eyebrow.

“Oh hello, prefect,” Fred said lazily, drawing back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.

The bottom of his shirt rose a little and you willed your eyes to not look at the toned bit of stomach that peeked through.

“Weasley,” you said, pulling your textbook out of your bag.

“Looking forward to your new prat duties?”

“More than I’m looking forward to sitting with you,” you pushed your hair behind your ear and out of your eyes, Fred stared at the side of your face.

“Always so charming,” he finally drawled, leaning forwards and tugging his sweater down.

Something about Fred always made you want the last word, the last laugh.

“Only for you, Fred.”

In professor McGonagall’s opinion, Fred Weasley had the littlest appreciation for time of all the students she had taught.

He wasted his time in the common room, in the Great Hall, and in the hallways.

Even during her Transfiguration class.

He was happy to spend his time with what he thought was shamelessly flirting with you, and McGonagall was happy to embarrass him while he did it.

“Mister Weasley?”

Fred turned to look at McGonagall’s severe face. Before he could say any excuse, insisting that you were talking too, she waved her wand at his desk. His book flew open to the right page, and a force that was not his own was pushing his head into the book. His hair fell in front of his face, and you could tell he was fighting against the spell McGonagall was using.

Fred seemed to be tamed by McGonagall after that and didn’t bother you for the rest of the class. On the way out, he held the door open for you. He called out to you in the hallway.

“Good luck with that weird rash, Y/n!” you felt your cheeks burn furiously as laughs sounded off in the hallway. You turned to see Fred watching you walk away, and lifted both of your middle fingers in the air to him.

“So classy!” he called back.

“Shove! OFF!” you yelled, shouting over the now deafening laughter in the hallway.

You were already dreading the upcoming months.

You were right to, for class with Fred did not get any easier.

You traded your thin tights for thicker ones and your light dress shirt for a heavy sweater. Your blue scarf was wrapped tightly around your neck, and you didn’t bother to pin your prefect badge on it these days.

“Miss, y/l/n, you must remember your badge,” McGonagall said as you came into class.

You looked down at your scarf, patting your robes until you felt the metal. Lifting up your scarf and showing the professor the badge underneath it, you gave her a reassuring smile.

She nodded approvingly and waved her hand, you moved to your seat.

Before you could put your things down, Fred was looking at you. You could hear the gears turning in his head, thinking of something presumably rude to say to you.

“Weasley,” you said first, hoping this would inspire him to stop looking at you.

He blinked at you, before smiling and turning back to his textbook.

“Today, we’re going to be learning a vanishing spell,” McGonagall started.

You had already turned to the page before she told it to you, you had read through the entire textbook over the summer.

You heard Fred scoff next to you, but ignored him.

Looking down at the directions in the book, you had remembered your successful attempt at making one of your father’s shoes disappear. He had been so proud of you, he didn’t care that he only had one brown Oxford instead of two.

“How did you do that?” Fred asked, watching as you easily made the rat in front of you vanish.

“Practice,” you said absently, turning your head to look back into the textbook.

Fred began to try the spell himself, his focus on the goblet he had taken from the great hall. He did the right wand movements, but his pronunciation was all wrong. You watched as the spell rebounded off the goblet and hit his tie, making the bottom half of it vanish. His hand flew to his chest, his mouth curved in a disbelieving grin when he didn’t feel the point of his tie.

“Well, bloody hell, that could have been much worse,” he gasped out, pushing his hair off his face and leaning back in his chair.

You couldn’t help the small nervous laugh that escaped your lips, but you were able to stifle it quickly. Fred had noticed your smile and glanced at you, happy to amuse you.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, Fred regaining his composure after nearly vanishing himself. You pretended to read your book, but you had already read the page dozens of times. You wanted an excuse to not talk to Fred.

“Ever going to turn the page?” Fred asked from beside you, and you became very aware of his eyes on the side of your face.

“I’m absorbing the information,” you replied flatly, keeping your head in the book to hide your blush.

He laughed, sitting straight in his seat. He seemed to be attempting the spell again. You bit your lip as you watched him practice, wondering if you should correct him so he doesn’t hurt himself.

He had just begun to say the spell when you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” he glanced at you and your hand on his shoulder, smirking at you.

“Yes, darling?”

You rolled your eyes and felt the urge to gag. Your face crinkled in disgust and Fred smiled.

“Your pronunciation is wrong.”

“Well go on then,” he said, urging you to continue.

“Evanesco,” you said simply, but Fred’s eyes wrinkled in confusion.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he said, turning back to the goblet but lowering his wand, “Evenesco.”

He had replaced the ‘a’ with an ‘e’ sound, but he hadn’t heard it, you supposed.

“It’s ev-an-es-co,” you said slowly, placing your pronunciation on the ‘an’, “you’re saying ev-en-es-co.”

His eyebrows raised, finally understanding. He repeated it to you slowly, and you nodded your head when he said it right.

He smiled confidently, casting the spell on his goblet. The goblet turned foggy, and Fred could wave his hand through it like it was a ghost.

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“This is miserable,” he groaned.

You waved your wand and said the verbal part of the spell, finishing off the goblet. It completely disappeared and Fred let out another groan, rolling his head back in annoyance.

“You’re miserable,” he said to you teasingly.

You looked at him through your lashes, your brows furrowed, “Whatever, Fred,” your face grimaced in annoyance, “I’m just trying to help, your welcome, by the way.”

You pulled your bag onto your lap and began to pack up your books.

Fred let out a sigh like he was going to say something. You turned to him, but he merely shook his head.

“Forget it,” he said, seeming to be at a loss of words.

You stood from your seat the second McGonagall dismissed class, leaving Fred at your shared desk.

“She’s totally into me!”

“She hates your guts, mate,” George said, pulling his lips into a thin-lined sympathy smile.

Fred scoffed and shook his head, his long hair falling over his forehead.

“You don’t get it,” he pressed, determined to make George see.

“She looks like she wants to throw herself into the Forbidden Forest every time she sees you,” George replied, determined to stop his brother from future heartbreak.

“Whatever, just you watch,” Fred said, tossing his Quidditch broom from hand to hand and looking at the massive stands above them, empty for the practice, “in a few weeks she’ll be in one of those seats, cheering me on.”

“He’s lost it,” Harry mumbled to George as he walked past, baffled by Fred’s dazed look.

George nodded hastily, following Harry away from his lovesick brother.

Fred was not often detoured by anyone’s cautionary guidance, so the endless warnings from George slid off his ego like melted butter.

Fred had spent so much time in the last Quidditch match with his eyes glued to the Ravenclaw student section, looking for you, that he had barely hit any bludgers the entire game. Oliver had some tasteful words for him in the changing rooms, but it was no worse than his mother’s screaming.

You were not at the Quidditch match, you never were. You had always used the advantage of the empty castle to go to the kitchens. The elves were the only ones left there, and you liked talking with them. Some times Luna would join you.

It seemed you and Fred were going opposite directions while searching for each other at the same time.

No matter how many cookies Dobby shoved towards you and Luna, you could not get Fred out of your head.

You thought about his arms wrapped around you on the stairs, you thought about the way he could always make your cheeks burn, and you thought of the way his eyes poured into your face like it was the only thing he’d ever seen. You hated him. He was rude, arrogant, and annoying. He ran around your head constantly.

McGonagall had some choice words for Fred that night after the match. The sulking from the loss had been toned down, but the hushed sounds of Oliver’s feet pounding against the floor in his bedroom could be heard all the way from the common room.

“Where is Wood?” she burst through the portrait hole, still in her robes she wore to the match.

“He’s upstairs, why?” Harry replied, looking nervous.

“I need to have a word with him,” she cast a glance at Fred, “and his methods of training his beaters.”

Fred and George both shot from where they sat on the couch.

“What?” George yelled.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Mister Weasley,” she squinted at them, “whichever one of you was looking around at the Rave-” she stopped before she could finish her sentence as if she had an epiphany.

Her pursed lips twisted into an evil looking smile.

“You know, Mister Weasley,” she took a step towards the boys and spoke to them only, “dating a Ravenclaw would show great strides in house unity,” Fred’s eyes bulged out of his head and George was already turning pink with laughter, “perhaps then you could focus on Quidditch again.”

George was nearly purple due to lack of air, and Harry’s mouth was agape in shock as McGonagall whisked her robes and swiftly climbed back out of the portrait hole.

“What is she on about?” Harry asked George.

Fred flopped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. His life was over. If McGonagall could catch onto something like that, couldn’t you? You hadn’t started to flirt back, and Fred was beginning to wonder if George was right about your feelings towards him.

Soon enough, George was spouting everything McGonagall had said before he could catch his breath. He told anyone in the common room how much you hated Fred, and how much he desperately fancied you. Fred figured there was no use to stop him, because once again, if McGonagall could catch on, couldn’t everyone else?

Sunday morning was always rough for you. You pulled your heavy quilt closer to your cold cheeks, hoping for the sun to go back down and the weekend to restart. It never did.

You slipped on a pair of jeans and a tight turtle neck. Still feeling the cold air of the castle seeping through, you pulled on a sweater over the turtle neck. You tugged on some wool socks and pulled the fabric of the shirt as high up your neck as it would go.

You and Luna had plans to go to Hagrid’s hut today, he had promised her some magical flower seeds he had found in his garden. You liked to spend time with Luna, she was an easing presence and you always knew how to talk to her, even if most people didn’t.

You clutched an old muggle novel to your chest, hoping to trap some of your body heat. The hallways were surprisingly crowded for a Sunday morning, and you glanced at your watch, seeing breakfast had just ended.

You noticed that a lot of students with red ties were looking at you oddly. They would see you and smile widely, as if you were a new friend to them. You kept your head down until you met Luna in front of the great hall.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked before she even greeted you.

“What?”

“I just saw Harry, he said McGonagall told Fred to ask you out.”

You laughed, expecting her to do so as well. She didn’t and her face stayed stoic. She began to walk outside.

You were locked into place for a second before you jumped into line with her.

“What?” you repeated.

“Harry told me-” she began, but you waved your hands, cutting her off.

“No, I heard you, but what do you mean? What did McGonagall say?”

Luna had to have finally gone loony.

“He told me that after they lost Quidditch yesterday, she came in looking for Fred, she said he was quite distracted during the match,” she said, looking dreamily at you, “and she said something about how dating a Ravenclaw would be great for house unity,” Luna finished, toying with the tote bag at her side.

“Why did Harry think the Ravenclaw had to be me?” you asked, thinking there was a huge misunderstanding.

“Oh, well,” she said like she had forgotten a large part of the story, “after George heard what McGonagall said, he lost it. Harry said he laughed so hard he cried,” Luna giggled to herself while imagining the sight, “and he told everyone in the common room that Fred fancied you.”

Your face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment. The entire Gryffindor house had been laughing all night because George said Fred fancied you.

You were about to burst into protests, insist that it’s not true, but a gaggle of second years wearing red ties all pointed at you, talking among themselves.

You stepped towards them, making sure your prefect badge was visible. You watched their eyes flash down to the blue pin, and back up at your face, eyes wide. They scurried off and you fell back into place with Luna.

“That was rude of them,” Luna said, looping her arm with yours.

“Yeah,” you said quietly under your breath, your mind cloudy with thoughts.

You and Luna walked quietly out to Hagrid’s. You glanced up and saw the last person you had wanted to see.

Fred and George stood at the point where the path diverged to the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid’s hut, throwing a little flame-like ball to each other, bouncing it off their arms, feet, and chests. A small group of some younger kids had huddled around them, ‘ooing’ and ‘awing’ at each pass.

Fred had a large smile on his face, and the sight of it made your stomach churn with nerves.

You ducked your head down, hoping you and Luna would pass without a problem. You would not.

“Hi Fred,” Luna lifted a hand to wave at him, and the small light fell onto the ground as Fred saw you, “hi George.”

George smiled evilly at the sight of his brother nervously looking anywhere but you.

“Fun looking game your playing,” Luna said, trying to stop to talk, but you dragged her along.

“See you later Luna, Y/n!” George called out to the two of you, the laughter obvious in his voice.

“Why didn’t you want to talk to them? You could have asked Fred about what Harry said,” Luna asked you soothingly, looking at you curiously.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, feeling very overwhelmed, “it’s weird. I don’t even know what happened but the thought of it is so weird,” you paused, trying to grasp the words, “I mean, Fred can’t like me. We detest each other, its fun.”

“Well, do you like him?” she had asked the one question you were avoiding.

Fred had always been a thorn in your side. Ever since you met him he was rude. He never apologized for anything, he laughed, poked, and prodded at you for his own amusement. Yet, whenever you saw his soft-looking hair, you swallowed hard. When he inched closer to you, even just to whisper something rude, you felt your chest tighten. He looked at you, and you could swear he actually cared about what you were saying. Maybe detest was a little strong, perhaps just annoyed.

Granted, he was a teenage boy, and you are a teenage girl, mixed messages are bound to be sent. You thought you had been clear with your messages to Fred, though. “Leave me alone,” nothing bitter, nothing kind, just the wish to be left alone. Of course, Fred did not read your message that way. The enticing message he got was more along the lines of: “I’m going to pretend I want you to leave me alone, but please, don’t. Chase me through the hallways, confess undying love for me, kiss me passionately”. Now, it is entirely possible that Fred’s interpretation was a little clouded by his own wants and wishes, but this did not stop him.

The talk of the castle, for at least the following school week, was you and Fred.

You had never been whispered about, pointed at, or thought of like this. Fred seemed to be enjoying it.

In class Monday, Fred pretended nothing had happened. He swung his arm over the back of your chair and waited for the look of disgust to flash across your face, which it did, and he chuckled to himself.

Soon enough, the whispers and pointing had subsided, and they were replaced by odd looks as if they were disbelieving of something.

Luna found you in the courtyard sitting under a tree and skipped over to you.

“You hadn’t told me Fred asked you out,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “officially.”

Once again, you laughed, but she did not. She sat in front of you, crossing her legs.

“Oh my-” you trailed off, lifting your head to look at Luna, “what’s happened now?”

“Hermione told me that Fred has been raving to everyone about how you’re dating.”

Your eyes were wild with disbelief. You couldn’t have even comprehended what was going on at this school these days.

“Well, no one’s told me that we’re dating,” you said, your voice riddled with annoyance.

In perfect timing, Fred, George, and Lee bounded from the school and out to the courtyard. They were laughing and shoving each other, looking to be having a great time.

You stood from the ground, dusting off your pants and walking over to the three with fury.

“Fred!” you called out to him, and he stopped and turned to you.

A look of fear flashed on his face, but he covered it with something else, was it admiration? Love?

You clenched your jaw and narrowed your eyes, stepping close to him. He tilted his head down to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

Around you, George, Lee, and Luna stood with their arms crossed, watching intently.

Your bodies were almost touching, and your finger stabbed into his chest.

“Who do you think you are?” you said in a hushed tone through gritted teeth.

Once again, Fred’s face fell for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around your waist in some sort of embrace. You squirmed from his touch and backed away from him.

“Who do you think you are?” you repeated, this time louder. George and Lee flinched from behind you.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly.

Your face twisted with confusion, what is he on about?

“What?”

He continued, stepping closer to you.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked earnestly, moving to rub his hand on your arm.

He was trying to flip the script, make you feel crazy.

“Fred, you’ve lost it, really,” you replied, walking back to the tree to gather your books.

“Maybe when you’ve regained consciousness,” you walked back up to him, keeping your distance, “or the effects of whatever potion you took start to wear off, please try to explain what is going on.”

You walked away from them, leaving Fred with a wicked smile.

“Alright, see you later!” he called out to you.

You turned your head to look at him, your hair blew in front of your face but Fred could see your puzzled expression. His smirk grew wider and he turned to George, Lee, and Luna. They looked awfully concerned.

“Oh,” he placed his hands on his hips, “isn’t she great?”

You had gotten to Transfiguration early, your prefect duties switched for the week. You crossed your legs and placed a book on them, reading discretely while McGonagall was still in her office.

Just as she began to address the class, Fred strolled in, hands in his pockets. He slipped into the seat next to you and you bookmarked your page. You scooted your chair in and slipped the worn book into your bag, listening to McGonagall begin her lecture. Monday’s were often boring lecture days in Transfiguration.

You heard the screech of Fred’s chair on the floor, and in the corner of your eye saw him moving closer to you. He rested his elbow on the desk and placed his chin in his palm. He leaned close to you.

“Hello,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You ignored him, dipping your quill into your ink in case McGonagall said something note-worthy.

“What’s ‘a matter,” he paused as if he was thinking of the most annoying thing to say to you, “darling?”

You audibly gagged, and his smile widened.

“What do you want?” you caved, asking him.

“Oh nothing,” he leaned back in his chair, still whispering to you, “just for you to be my girlfriend.”

You went rigid. Your face suddenly got very warm. You lost grip of your quill and it toppled over your ink, sending dark liquid across the desk and onto your white sleeve. You cursed loudly out of reflex and it caught McGonagall’s attention.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/l/n?”

Everyone turned to look at you and Fred in the back of the room, some people smirking. Fred stayed leaned back in his chair, watching you.

“I’m sorry Professor,” you stumbled out, wiping both the ink and your sleeve at the same time, making both things worse, “I just-”

Fred pulled his wand out from beside you and did a simple cleaning spell, you supposed. The ink receded back into its bottle and the stain on your sleeve disappeared. McGonagall watched him intently.

“Very resourceful Weasley, Miss Y/l/n, please don’t disrupt my class again,” she said curtly, returning to the lesson.

You heard a few snickers from your classmates, your face still a deep shade of red. You swallowed hard as you felt your heart beating in your ears.

Fred leaned forward again so his mouth was aligned with your ear.

“What do you say?” he whispered.

“What are you talking about Fred? Why are you doing all this?” you asked, straining to keep your desperate voice in a whisper.

“I’m only having some fun,” he replied as if he hadn’t been making your life a living hell for the past weeks.

You shot him a pleading look, and when he saw your flushed cheeks and watery eyes, his face softened.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on your knee, a knot formed in your throat and shivers went down your arms, “I didn’t mean to-” he trailed off and your jaw clenched. You returned your gaze to the front of the class.

“Listen, I’ve just been,” he paused, searching for the words, “I’ve been playing a sort of prank. On everyone but us.”

His tone was soft and playful as if he were letting you in on a secret. You supposed he was.

You raised your eyebrows, pressing him to continue.

“Well, George basically told everyone in our house that I fancy you, so I wanted to have some fun with it, switch it on them.”

You pressed your eyebrows together, still looking to the front of the room while Fred was inches away from your ear.

“I’ve told everyone we’re dating,” he said plainly, “house unity and all, as McGonagall said.”

“So that was true? What Harry told Luna?” you said before you could stop yourself, happy to finally get answers.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what Harry said, but I’m sure he didn’t leave anything out.”

“Why did George tell everyone that? That you,” you trailed off, feeling the words choking in your mouth, “that you fancy me?”

“Because I do,” he said quickly, and just as quickly moved on, “so what do you say? Want to be my girlfriend-” he paused, realizing what he had just said, “well, my girlfriend of sorts, not like my real girlfriend, because I’m sure you wouldn’t want to, and-” he stopped himself.

This time it was his turn for his cheeks to burn and his eyes to awkwardly avoid yours.

“Why do all this? Seems a lot for a joke that no one but us will laugh at,” you said, trying to ignore his confession.

“I’m willing to go to the ends of the Earth for a joke, my dear.”

Fred was dreadfully serious when saying that, and this became clear within hours.

Walking past the Dungeons and up the many stairs to your common room, you heard Fred call out to you.

“Wait up!” he was breaking away from a large group of Gryffindors, and all of them watched him with a keen eye,

“What, Fred?”

“Hey, that's not a very girlfriend-y tone,” he wrapped his arm easily around you.

You were sure it was meant to be sweet, but it felt a bit imprisoning.

“I never agreed to this,” you didn’t shake off his arm, but you felt inclined to. You were aware of the many eyes pouring into your back.

“I thought we had? Oh,” his arm left your shoulder, and you felt a little colder, “well then I suppose I could leave it all be, go back on my word, humiliate myself.”

His tone was a playful one, and you couldn’t help the bashful smile that reached your cheeks. You knew you had no obligation to Fred, but the whispers and gossip had seemed to subside during this new joke of his. You stopped at the landing, and the group of Gryffindors walked past you, staring at you both. Fred waved them off and nodded his head towards you, smiling.

“Why should I?” you clutched some textbooks to your chest, feeling grateful for the wall it put between you and Fred. He looked down at you, his hair falling into his forehead.

“Well,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, inching closer to you, “as I said, I just think it could be a bit of fun.”

“Fun for you. What’s in it for me?”

“What? Besides utter fame and popularity from being associated with me?”

“Oh shove off, Fred,” you rolled your eyes at him, but once again could not help the smile that spread across your face.

“See? I’m growing on you already.”

“I’m still seeing no benefit for me.”

“Well, I do see where your coming from, but I’d like to raise another point,” he slipped a hand from his pants and waved it casually while talking, “I will indeed pretend like we are dating even if you don’t.”

“So essentially, you would just be flirting with me while I hurl insults at you?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Is that the image you want, Fred?” you teased.

You moved to lean against the wall behind you, and Fred trailed after you.

“Any image is a good one,” he winked dramatically at you.

You shrunk away from him and gagged, sending him into a fit of laughter.

“I hate it already.”

“So you’ll do it?” he asked.

You breathed in, looking at him seriously. His hazel eyes were dark in this light, his hair had gone a deeper red in the lack of warm weather and sunshine. He towered over you slightly, and you looked at him through your lashes.

Shrugging your shoulders, you agreed weakly.

Fred saw the error of his thinking almost immediately. Walking through the hallways with you, he felt his heart soar higher and higher each time you laughed. When you would loosen up, or walk a little closer to him. He was being awfully unfair to himself, making himself think that you had something, some sort of relationship. It was like dangling a treat in front of a dog and wanking it away right when the dog drooled.

He saw the flaming house, and still walked in, looking for a place to sleep.

“Why, hello,” Fred drawled, coming up from behind you in the hall.

You felt his hand snake around your waist, and he pulled you. Your feet twisted from under you and you twirled, turning to face him. Your hair had skewed into your face, and he watched your delicate hand reach up to brush it away.

You looked dazed as if you had a lot on your mind. He smiled down at you and you did your best to reciprocate it.

“Are you alright?” he asked, dropping his hand from your hip.

“Yeah, just-” you took a deep breath in, “just got a lot of homework, been a bit busy with my prefect stuff.”

This was not what was bothering you. You felt a lot of inner conflicts these days, an endless moody and angsty monologue sounding off in your head day and night. You felt odd. You felt odd for agreeing to Fred’s stupid plan. You felt odd for toying with him and yourself. You had disliked him just last month, and now you let him wrap his arm around your shoulder, let him hold your waist. You felt like a traitor to yourself, letting him win you over with a few charming looks. You felt even worse when you thought of Fred’s confession. He had said he fancied you, and the idea of pretending to date him didn’t alarm you for some reason. You hated the feeling of toying with his emotions or allowing him to live out some sort of fantasy. Everything about it made you feel awful.

You didn’t feel as awful, though, when Fred would call out a comment from across the dining hall that would make your cheeks burn and all the other girls swoon. You didn’t feel as awful when he would sit in silence with you by the black lake, keeping you company among the chilling wind. You didn’t feel as awful when he slipped little notes into your bag when you left Transfiguration.

You had enough, one too many genuine looks of admiration. You needed to tell Fred how you felt.

You caught him on his way back from Quidditch practice. He was trailing near the end of the group, huddled with George and Harry. He had some dirt on his forehead, and his cheeks were tinted pink. He smelled of grass and sweat.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around you, wishing you had brought your scarf. Your hair whipped in the wind around you, and you rocked on your feet.

You began walking to him, and when he saw you he smiled widely.

“Hey!” he called out, walking faster to meet you.

“Hi,” you said nervously.

“I’ll meet you guys back in the common room,” he told George and Harry, who glanced over their shoulders at the two of you.

It was dusk and he looked strikingly handsome. You felt like you were seeing him as a different person. He wasn’t the boy who bewitched snowballs to attack you, he wasn’t the boy who laughed at your scraped hands. He wasn’t the boy who shoved Lee at you, and he wasn’t the boy who awkwardly danced with McGonagall. He was the boy who held you in his arms, stopping you from falling over the stairs. He was the boy who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, he was the boy who held you above anything else.

Your mouth was agape as you looked at him, he stood awkwardly waiting for you to say something. You looked at the ground, licking your lips and feeling them dry as soon as the cold air grazed them again.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you said quietly, hoping your voice would fade into the wind and carry you away.

“What’s up?” he looked down at you nervously.

“Fred, I-” he cut you off, placing a hand on your arm.

“You can’t do this anymore?” he looked deeply at you but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

You didn’t want to have this talk anymore, you felt content, suddenly, in pretending. You could both pretend to love each other until it wasn’t pretending. The lines would blur and soon, his kisses would come easily and his hands would have their place on you. You would touch his soft hair and know his eyes only looked at you. But you had already said the words, or rather, he did.

“I just,” you kicked the dirt beneath you, hoping he would finish your sentence again, he didn’t.

“I don’t think its fair,” you looked up at him finally and felt surprised to feel tears in your eyes, you blinked, forcing them to subside, “to either of us.”

You heard him gulp, and his eyes moved to look at the castle behind you. The candles had been lit and the stone glowed from the inside.

“I get it,” he said, removing his hand from your arm.

You looked down at where his hand had been and felt a tear drip down your cheek.

“Fred-”

He shook his head, pulling his mouth into a line. You stopped talking, feeling the words stuck in your heart.

You really wished you hadn’t said anything. You wished you could pretend again.

He walked past you, leaving you in the dusk. You hadn’t meant to, but a sob escaped your mouth. You heard his feet shuffle for a moment, and stop. He walked back to you.

He had finally been able to fall asleep among the fire, and it seemed you had come to join him at some point. He didn’t know when, but looking at you now, it seemed you had been burning for a while.

“What’s got you so torn up about this?” he said gently, stopping a few paces away from you, “Didn’t fall in love with me, did ya?”

A laugh fell from your lips at the same time another sob did. Your shoulders hunched over more, and Fred’s heart hurt him. He walked to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face him, and you both moved at the same time. He pulled you close into his chest and your cheek pressed against him. He smelled, he was dirty, and he was tired, but he still held you tighter than you had ever been held before.

You pulled away from him after a while, coming to terms with yourself in the moment of affection. You wiped your tears from your face with your sleeve, taking a few deep breaths.

“I think,” you hiccuped, feeling it hard to speak, “I think that the pretending was too hard.”

Fred felt guilt wash over him. He felt guilty for himself, because you had said exactly what he was feeling. He couldn’t stand to pretend, to keep himself from gripping your hand, or from kissing you any chance he got. He wanted it all to be real, he wanted this wall between you to crumble into a genuine relationship. He felt guilty for making you feel this way. He felt guilty for pressuring you into this allusion of intimacy. He hadn’t stopped to consider if this would be negative for you, only insisting it would all work out for the best.

As he watched your uneven breathing and swollen nose and eyes, he knew this was not the best.

He breathed hard, forcing himself not to cry as he looked at you. George was supposed to be the sensitive one, but Fred had always been a sympathetic crier.

“Me too,” he replied, his voice sounding far, far away.

You looked at him, feeling terrified. The cold air was moving through you liked you were transparent. Tears kept flowing down your face, and no matter how fast you dried them, you only cried more. Your head felt miles away from your body, so you stepped closer to him, hoping to step closer to yourself too.

“I don’t think I want to pretend,” you croaked out.

He blinked at you, and you saw a single tear fall down his cheek. He didn’t move to brush it away, and it moved slowly. It left a clean mark on his dirt-stained face.

You took a step towards him, covering your hand with your sleeve. You cupped the back of his neck with one hand and brought your sleeved hand to his cheek. You wiped the tear and the dirt away, but your hand didn’t move. You peaked your fingers from your sleeve and they grazed his face. His eyes fluttered closed and your throat tightened as more tears poured from your eyes. Your vision was blurry as you traced his face, moving over his nose, eyebrows, and lips. You stopped to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your palm. You felt the wetness of more tears fall onto your hand, and you bit your lips, holding in a wretched noise.

“Fred?”

His eyes fluttered open, and you realized his hands had found their way onto your waist, he held you tightly.

“Do you want to pretend?” you asked him.

He moved his head from your cheek and kept his wet eyes locked with yours.

“I want you,” his voice was hoarse and sad, but that was all you needed to hear.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

The dusk had turned into the night, and you pulled away from Fred. You looked up at him and swallowed away the tears that remained. You began to walk past him and up to the castle. He followed you quickly.

You were scared. You had safety in pretending, knowing this was all something for fun. But as you looked at Fred now, you saw something deeper. You saw the threat of genuine love and connection, the threat of heartbreak.

Neither of you wanted to go without the other tonight, you had decided. You wordlessly followed him to his common room, and he slipped his hand into yours. You had both ducked into a prefect bathroom on the way there, looking at yourselves and covering your swollen eyes.

He said the password to a portrait of a large lady, and she looked suspiciously at you both.

“Are you two alright? You’ve just about missed curfew,” she said, her voice booming through the staircase.

“Yeah, we’re alright, just tired from practice, is all,” Fred reassured her, and the door swung open. He walked in first, and you followed.

You relished in the warmth of the spacious room, feeling drawn to the fireplace. You walked over to it and sat on a large couch. The room was relatively empty, a few kids hunched over books.

Fred sat next to you, still in his Quidditch robes. He grabbed your legs with his hand and guided them to rest on one of his legs, hanging over it. This angled your body to him, and he moved his arm to wrap around you.

“When did you realize?” he asked, his face lit by the fire.

“Just then, when you walked up to me after your practice.”

His chest moved with a chuckle and you moved your head to looked up at him.

“Well that's a little embarrassing for me,” he said, pushing a piece of your hair out of your face while you gazed up at him, “I've known since I met you.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you said lightly, assuming he was trying to be some sort of romantic and inflating the truth.

“I did,” he said seriously, “I teased you for so long for a reason.”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

“Yes.”

You both laughed, pulling each other closer.

“And because I liked you.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking deeper into him. You felt yourself getting tired and you peered up at him. His eyes were half-closed and his face was drooping.

“Fred, you’re tired, why don’t you go to bed,” you began to move off of him, but he pulled you back.

“Only if you make me a deal,” he said mischievously.

“What?”

“I’ll go upstairs and take a quick shower, but only if you come with me,” he replied.

“I am not showering with you, pervert,” you smacked his arm and stood from the couch, blushing furiously.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, turning it to kiss your palm. You shivered at his touch.

“No, just come lay with me,” he looked up at you, suddenly serious, “I want to be with you tonight.”

Your heart sank to your stomach and you bit your lip. You couldn’t speak, so you nodded your head slowly.

Fred fished his wand from his robes and waved it towards the stairs, performing the counterspell for the stairs. You followed him up to his room, where he put his finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. When he cracked open the door, it was dark and the curtains for the beds had been drawn. He crept over to a chest at the foot of his bed and looked at you before turning to its contents. He pulled out two large pajama pants, both plaid, and two heavy sweaters. He tossed one of each on his bed and took the others with him.

“Here, you can sleep in these,” he whispered to you, and it felt like you would blush forever.

He smiled softly at you before closing the curtains for you, leaving you to change.

“Oi, mate,” you heard someone’s annoyed and hoarse voice, “what took you so long? Practice ended an hour ago.”

“I was talking with Y/n,” you heard the bathroom door open, “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, I’m gonna shower. And don’t wake me up for breakfast tomorrow, I want to sleep in.”

You smiled to yourself, holding the soft sweater in your hands. It had a large ‘F’ on it, and you traced your fingers over it. You slid out of your jeans and folded them, placing them on the floor by the trunk. You slid on the pants he gave you and silently laughed as they easily ran past your feet and dragged on the floor. You folded them at the waist, and they were still too long. You had just slipped on the sweater when Fred slid open the curtain. He watched you fold your shirt and place it with your jeans. His eyes trailed from his sweater to the way his pants covered your feet. He smiled widely and drew you closer to him by grabbing your hips.

You looked up at him, your chests pressed together. He brought one hand up to your jaw, tilting it up to align with his face. His lips parted and so did yours, the air between you becoming a mixture of your breaths. His was minty, he must have just brushed his teeth.

His thumb grazed your bottom lip, and he finally closed the space between you. His neck craned down to you, but when you stood on your toes he was able to stand straight. You pressed as close to him as you could, and so did he. His lips were warm against your cold ones. He felt the many places that had been chapped and bitten, running his tongue over them slowly. You sighed and ran your chilled hands up his sweater, feeling him shiver beneath you. Your fingertips grazed the muscles on his back, tracing every line you could feel.

You pulled away first, sinking down to stand flat on your feet and rest your forehead on his chest.

“I’m so glad we didn’t pretend to do that,” Fred laughed out, pulling you close to him.

You smiled and hugged him, before moving to the other side of the small bed. You both slid under the covers silently, thinking that if either of you said something, things would suddenly be awkward.

The lack of bed only made him hold you tighter, and the two of you fell asleep relatively soon.

You were awoken by the sounds of laughter. The curtains were still drawn, and Fred’s arm was still wrapped around you. Your leg was resting on him as he laid on his back, hugging you close to him. Your head lifted from his chest as you squinted your eyes.

“No, he said he wanted to sleep in, mate,” you heard George say. The door opened and you heard footsteps walking towards it.

“You think they finally told each other?” Lee asked George, pulling on a wool hat.

“I hope so, bloody awful letting Fred think he tricked us,” George said before closing the door behind them.

You smiled and let your head sink back onto Fred. He stirred and pulled you closer to him. Through the fabric of his sweater, you swore you could hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

#fred weasley #fred #weasley #weasely family #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #fred weasely fic #weasley fic #fred fic #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred x y/n #fred x ravenclaw #harry potter #hogwarts #ravenclaw #fred weasley x reader

1K notes · View notes

hotkoyo · 3 years

Text

SFW Howie Alphabet Headcanons

Author's Note: When will my husband come home from war?

Disclaimer: These headcanons are based on how I imagine Howie to be based on the game. You don't have to agree with what I say here as everyone is free to have their own ideas.

𝄥 𝄞 ── 𝄇

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

VERY affectionate. I honestly feel like he grew up surrounded with so much love and now he’s just overflowing with it. Howie is all about showing his love through warm hugs, having his arm around you, swinging your hands as you walk, head pats, you name it. Another one, in my opinion, is words of affirmation. He'd tell you how much you matter to him through words, like quoting lines from his favorite movies and saying "I love you" before you both go to sleep.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Affectionate. Lots of play fighting and cuddling during movie sessions. Singing to Disney songs at the top of your lungs. You guys make friendship bracelets for each other (and he never takes off his). Definitely one of those dudes who drive their best friend everywhere.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

If it’s not apparent already, this dude is a giant golden retriever and he lives for the cuddles. He is born to cuddle, baby. Due to his size, it’s natural that he ends up as a big spoon more often than not but he definitely loves the moments he gets to be the small spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

So domestic, even when you guys just started dating. It’s easy to imagine yourself settling down with someone as warm and comforting as Howie. He would love to settle down and build a home with you and you guys love having conversations about your dream house and how your life would be like in five, ten years. He’s alright at cooking in general but can cook some amazing Chinese dishes that his mom taught him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would be hard for him to get out of a relationship, to be completely honest. He’s one of those people who easily gets attachment issues and finds it hard to move on from a relationship. If he really has to be the one to end the relationship, he would want to talk it out with you and try to end your relationship on a good note. I feel like he’s one of those people who really values respect, even when things aren’t working out anymore between you two.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Howie is a hopeless romantic and while he does have his insecurities, I feel like he would really love to commit to someone. In terms of marriage, it really depends on you. I don’t think his career would hinder him much when it comes to popping the question, to be honest. If he feels like he’s comfortable enough with the relationship and sees that you are, too, I think he’d propose to you when he feels like the time is right.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Howie is a textbook example of a gentle giant. He knows he’s strong so physically, he knows when to hold back a bit. Emotionally, it’s canon that he’s a soft and caring boy through and through and he would never hurt you on purpose.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Ugh, he LOVES hugs. It’s canon that the Yan fam is really good with hugs so if you need a pick-me-up, he’s your man. Whenever you guys are alone, he acts like an overgrown koala because he can’t get enough of hugging you. If hot chocolate is a hug, it’s what Howie’s would feel like. Warm, familiar, and comforting.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He knows he loves you when he does but holds back a lot in fear of coming off too strong. If he feels that you feel the same, then he would say it pretty quickly into the relationship or during a spur of a moment. If it seems that you need more time, he would hold back just so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s the type who’s less jealous and more insecure. His jealousy isn’t going to make him act rashly and put you on the spot. It’s slow and creeping and you might not notice at first because of how well he conceals it but it becomes apparent by the way he starts to act distant.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Warm and gentle. His kisses make you feel so safe and loved and he likes to take the time to show you how he feels through the gesture. He loves to kiss you everywhere but his favorite places to kiss you are your nose and temples.

Also, kiss him on the forehead and he’d melt into a puddle. Another one of his hotspots is at the back of his neck. Kiss him there and watch him sputter as he tries to gain back his bearings.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He loves kids, kids love him. He humors the kids a lot and is a great impersonator so prepare yourself for some improvised skits in front of the kiddos. Can’t say no to the kids, though, so you might have to step in from time to time. Kids treat him like a human jungle gym. Which he actually is.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I definitely see him as a morning person. Also, he’s so fit that you can’t tell me he doesn’t workout every single morning. Probably goes on an early jog and is one of those people who seems so chipper even if it's only seven in the morning.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Have you seen actors with their stage makeup on? There’s no way Howie’s skin stays so smooth and supple without some form of skincare routine. Has his own skincare routine and loves doing it with you together in front of the mirror (while making faces at you). After a good skincare session, he'll sit on the couch or in bed with you cuddled up to him as he reads scripts from his new upcoming projects.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Depending on how much he trusts you, it could be sooner or later. The thing with him is that he keeps things bottled up to himself. It’s hard and it’s tiring and the moment he feels safe with you, the dam breaks and he starts to reveal things about himself.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It’s definitely hard to annoy Howie and even harder to provoke him. He has the patience of a saint and unless something is very wrong, you can always find him just chillin lol.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’s quite sentimental so he definitely remembers your relationship milestones. He remembers a lot of small things about you; like how you like your cereal and your best friend’s name from high school. Some of the details can be fuzzy at times but he tries!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Canonically: The moment you said yes when he asked to be your boyfriend at Luca’s "sister's wedding".

Headcanon: The time you both visited his family in Chicago for the holidays. You were walking home from dinner when the snowfall turned into a snowstorm. It was terribly cold and windy but you both kept on laughing at the situation and you looked so gorgeous with snow stuck to your hair under the waning streetlight that he didn’t even care that he's freezing his butt off.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Isn’t too protective in the traditional sense because he knows you can take care of yourself. More protective of how you feel because of his words and actions so he’s careful in what he says and how he says them because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. Highkey loves to be protected tho. Thinks it's kinda hot.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Puts a lot of effort in his career, obviously. Howie is always so passionate and ambitious when it comes to being a top actor. Relationship-wise, he’s a simp. Dates are mostly casual with him but he puts extra time and effort in choosing or making gifts. All the extra and expensive bits goes into your anniversary dates.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

A lot of times, he leaves his wet, sweaty workout shirts at the corner of the room and somehow always forgets no matter how many times you’ve scolded him. Sometimes doesn’t close or tie snack packages properly so when it's your turn to eat them, they’re often stale. A terrible snorer when he’s had a long day on set.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Quite concerned. He likes to highlight the nice parts of his body through the clothes he choose to wear and tries to follow a healthy diet in general. He worked hard for his body and as much as embarrassing as it is to admit, he loves to show off and be admired for it (especially by you).

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

A strong believer that every person is complete and whole on their own. He believes that every person is their own and just because you love someone, it doesn't mean that your life must revolve around that person. Even so, he is a romantic. So even if he knows that he's complete without you, he does prefer to have you by his side.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He can play the piano really well. Aside from dance lessons, his parents put aside a lot of money to sign him up for piano classes when he was younger. Now, he plays them whenever he’s deep in thought and it’s always relaxing to hear him play.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general, Howie doesn’t like broccoli. Keep those away from him. Please. When it comes to partners, Howie stays away from people who make him feel less. Basically people who put him down for being who he is and liking the things he likes. Narcissists, if you will.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’s a snuggler and he nuzzles into your side a lot when he sleeps. Whether you get too warm is your problem because this dude is Strong™ and won’t let you push him aside that easily. And, God, I hate to say this but he’s definitely a snorer. Not all the time but when he’s really tired.... let’s just say you won’t be getting a decent sleep.

#howie yan #roadkill howie #fictif howie #fictif roadkill #roadkill #fictif #fictif nix hydra #nix hydra #howie yan headcanons #fictif howie headcanons

102 notes · View notes

headheartbellarke · 3 years

Text

JEALOUS | Luke Patterson

Requested by anon: “5 times Luke gets jealous and one time he doesn’t have too. Luke x reader?”

PAIRING(s): Mercer!fem reader x Luke Patterson WARNING(s): angst, fluff WORDS: 2.3k SUMMARY: Five times Luke Patterson gets jealous and one time he doesn’t have to.

A/N: hi! sorry this took so long, lol. school sucks. :/ i promise im gonna be posting more frequently from now onwards! anyway, decided to make y/n alex’ sister, bc i’ve been wanting to try it for a while. hope u like it!! <3 also, song used is carry me by kygo ft. julia michaels.

The first time that Luke Patterson feels that scorching, smoldering rage in the pit of his stomach is when he notices Y/N Mercer stare at his bandmate, Bobby Wilson, for the entirety of their hour-long Literature class.

At first, he doesn’t understand why he feels this way: Y/N’s just as much Bobby’s friend as she is his. Well, not really – Luke likes to believe that he is the one that she is closest to in the band, other than her brother, Alex, of course. Sure, Bobby and Y/N are friends – they say ‘hi’ when they pass by each other in the hallway, she helps him out with his Physics homework when he asks, and he asks her how her day’s been – that sort of friends. They’ve never really interacted more than it was required, and Luke knows that if Bobby wasn’t a part of their band, Sunset Curve, or if Y/N wasn’t their drummer’s sister, those two wouldn’t be friends.

Anyway, he thinks that maybe it’s because they are supposed to be partners, working on their assignment together – and instead, she is choosing to abandon him and stare at one of his best mates, instead. He thinks that maybe he’s mad because she promised him that she would help him out with this assignment, which is particularly hard, and now, it feels like he’s ditching her.

Instead of thinking about why he is so bothered at the fact that Y/N is staring at Bobby, Luke chooses to elbow her instead.

“What?” She whispers, a blush covering her cheeks.

“Can you focus?” He snaps as she rolls her eyes and opens their textbook.

“You’re annoying.”

“Alex, Alex, Alex!”

“Luke, I’m sitting right beside you – you don’t need to yell.”

“There’s something that you should know.” Luke whispers, conspiratorially. Alex, who’s sitting beside him on the couch in the garage where they rehearse, leans forward, intrigued. “What?”

He points at Y/N, who’s sitting in front of Reggie in the opposite side of the room, strumming a guitar – Reggie’s teaching her how to play. Unlike her twin brother, she’s not naturally gifted in music, which is pretty evident from her occasional frustrated huffs, and the obviously off-key tune. Rather, science is her talent, and has always been. The top spot in their class has been permanently occupied by her ever since their first exam as freshmen.

“She!” Luke whispers. Alex furrows his brows. “Yes, I know that she has no musical talent whatsoever –”

“No, no, no. I mean, yes, she doesn’t have that – but you wanna know what she does?”

“I have a feeling that you’re gonna tell me even if I don’t wanna know.” Alex mutters.

“She has a crush on Bobby!” Luke scrunches his face, a disgusted look taking over.

The drummer raises his brows and bursts out laughing. “Really, dude?”

“No, no, no, I’m not lying, okay! I’ve seen her stare at him!”

He raises his brows. “So? She stares at a lot of people.”

“It wasn’t that way, okay? Last week, in class, she was ignoring me and staring at him. Plus, yesterday, when you were god knows where, she and Bobby were having a conversation. An actual conversation! I’ve never seen them talk that much. They were nerding out over Star Wars!”

“Dude, are you…” Alex pauses, looking around, “… jealous?” A smile spreads over his features.

Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks horrified. “What? Me? Jealous? Huh? Me? How?”

Inside, he is panicking. He hadn’t considered this possibility. Is he jealous? No, that can’t be. Y/N – he’s known her forever, and he is supposed to think of her as his sister. He does think so. He’s sure. He can’t – he doesn’t like her. She’s just… Y/N. Sure, he’s always thought that she’s beautiful. And smart. And so, so kind. He’s always admired her. OK, he might have had a little crush on her. But, in a totally harmless, admiring way! (In the way everyone seems to like Winona Ryder these days. Nothing more than that. Absolutely.)

She’s just Y/N.

Y/N, who’s always there for him after he has a bad day. Y/N, who’s the first person he hugs after playing an intense show. Y/N, who’s the only person who can understand his silence. Y/N, who makes sure that he knows that she appreciates him. Y/N, who he knows like the back of his hand.

Before Luke can panic any further, Bobby enters the garage, and Luke notices her attention immediately shift toward him. They exchange a smile, and Luke feels that rage, yet again.

He falls back on the couch, locking eyes with Alex, who is silently watching with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m not jealous.” He says weakly, and Alex nods – but he knows that it doesn’t convince either of them. His friend lays a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “It’s okay.”

By the time the next month rolls around, Luke is positive that he’s jealous: so, he’s resorted to not thinking about it, her or even interacting with her – which is hard considering that she’s always around.

Now, he feels like shit. For their junior year, they are supposed to do a report on a Victorian era novel of their choice, with a partner. He and Y/N were supposed to partners – they had decided months ago and have also done previous assignments together. But now, since he hasn’t even dared to look at her in a month, she’s now doing the report with Bobby, of all people.

As he watches Bobby and Y/N sit next to each other with their arms brushing, he feels that rage again, and curses himself. Could he not have behaved like a normal person? He knows that she is confused as to why he’s suddenly ignoring and avoiding her – she has even asked her brother about it. But Luke had threatened Alex that he would tell everyone about his crush on Reggie if he even said a single syllable.

(Although Luke knows that he would never.)

He sighs, dramatically, and searches for someone else to pair up with, ignoring the way his heart clenches at the realization that he may be losing her.

“Luke?”

He looks up and feels a rush in his veins.

“Are you… mad at me?” Y/N asks tentatively, standing at the door to his bedroom. Her eyes keep flitting between his face and around his bedroom, and he hates the fact that there seems to be an ocean between them.

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, not knowing what to respond. She looks down at her feet, biting her lip and Luke feels a tug on his heartstrings at that. It’s been so, so long and he has so, so much to tell her, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap that he created.

He builds up his courage and says, “Yeah. I was kinda mad at you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and panic flows into her e/c eyes. “What – what’d I do?”

Luke inhales sharply and wonders what he’s gonna say. It’s not like he can say that he was jealous of the fact that she liked Bobby, nor could he say that in the past month he has realized the fact that he may have a tiny, little crush on her and had to avoid her at all costs because she will never like him back and it’s too embarrassing?

He clears his throat. “Uh. It’s because you promised that you would do the English project with me but you’re doing it with Bobby.”

“But I’m only doing it with him because you won’t even look at me! Why won’t you?”

“I… You also ignored me for Bobby the other day?”

She throws her hands up. “What other day?”

“When we were working on the Shakespeare thingy!”

“I was not – now you’re making –”

“Forget it. Just go home, Y/N.”

A look of hurt flashes over her eyes, but she quickly clenches her jaw, and stands straighter, masking her emotions. “Asshole.”

She walks out his door, slamming the door shut behind her.

For the rest of the day, Luke lies on his bed and stares at his ceiling, and when Reggie comes over, he tells him that he’s ruined everything. Reggie lies beside him and asks softly, “You okay?”

“I think I like Y/N.” He whispers.

“We know.”

His lips part and he says in disbelief, “Alex told you?!”

Reggie shrugs. “He didn’t need to. Everyone can see the way that you look at her.”

Luke sighs, too tired to argue.

“Hey. It’s just a date, alright? It’s not like they’re getting married.”

Luke props himself on his elbow. “What?”

“Y’know, Y/N’s really picky –”

“What date?”

Reggie’s eyes widen. “Y-You didn’t know?”

Luke raises his brows, urging his friend to continue. He purses his lips and says, “Y/N and Bobby are on a date right now.”

Instantly, Luke feels as if his world has drained of every colour. Reggie looks uncomfortable, and whispers, “I thought you knew.”

“I, uh, I didn’t. Obviously.” He whispers, falling back on the bed again. His heart physically hurts, and he can feel tears prick at the back of his eyes. Mostly, he feels anger – at himself, and regret.

As jealousy claws its way to the surface, Luke mutters, “I hate Bobby.”

Luke sits cross legged on the floor of the garage, with a Spanish guitar perched on his lap. His hands dance over the strings, trying to find the perfect melody for the song he just wrote.

Writing songs has always been his way of dealing with his emotions, especially when they got too intense. Right now, the situation with Y/N is exactly that.

His eyes dance over the notebook in front of him, and he closes his eyes, trying to forget everything that’s happened in the past couple of days.

“Cause I don't know how we How we got so far, you and me Almost like there's oceans between us, us So I need to know Could you carry me? Back into your heart again Could you carry me? Right into your distant hands Could you carry me? Right back to where we started from Could you carry me?”

“That’s beautiful.”

Luke’s head turns sharply to the side, and of course, it’s her. He clenches his jaws, and says, “What are you doing here?” He hates the fact that she looks so pretty, wearing a beautiful red sundress.

She bites her lower lip, and says, “We should talk, Luke.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

She giggles. “You’ve always been the jealous type.”

He raises his brows, opening his mouth to deny whatever she was about to say next, but she raises a hand to stop him. “Alex and Reg told me. They said that they’re tired of seeing you mope every day.”

“I –”

“Hold on. So, for the past month, you’ve been mad at me because you thought I like Bobby?”

Luke lowers his head, choosing to stare at his open palm instead.

“You ignored one of your best friends for more than a month because you were jealous, and you were too much of an idiot to tell her the truth?”

“Well, you don’t gotta be so mean about it.”

She laughs. “Luke. Bobby and I – we’re just friends, okay? I was staring at him because I really liked his hair. And you have to admit it – it’s nice. I actually asked him for his shampoo, too. But, well, you and him both thought that I liked him. That’s why he asked me out to the movies last day. But... uh, well, it didn’t work out.”

His heart races at the last sentence. “Why?”

“Because I like you, Luke. I always have. I thought I could like Bobby, I really did – but all I could think about last night was you.” She shrugs, and Luke feels like he’s falling. He thinks that the universe is playing a prank on him, but when he sees her crimson tinged face, the vulnerability in her eyes and her fiddling with her hands, he allows himself to feel the slightest amount of hope.

She looks down, continuing, “I, uh, I always thought that you only saw me as your best friend’s little sister. I didn’t ever think that, you know, that there could be something more. So, I kept it to myself and only Alex knew. But, last night, Reg came over and they were screaming for a while, about you and me, so I went to find out what happened, and they told me that you, uh, liked me too.”

Reggie. He must have told Alex that Luke was ugly crying on his shoulder.

“Please say something, Luke.”

He releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I – I feel like you’re pranking me.”

She grins. “No. No, definitely not.”

“Y/N, god, you have no idea how difficult this past month has been for me. I mean, I never realized that I liked you that much until I saw you with him, you know? I always thought that I had a tiny, little crush on you but I never… and I thought that Alex would kill me if I did anything, but he’s been oddly… nice about all this.”

“He’s just tired of hearing me talk about you.”

“Probably. But yeah. I think you’re brilliant, Mercer. And I really, really, really like you.”

She jumps a little, and whispers, “I really, really, really like you too.”

“Do you maybe wanna go to the movies with me?” His wide grin matches hers.

“Only if we watch part two of Father of The Bride.”

“Deal.”

+1.

Luke watches Bobby smile at Y/N, looking at her as if she’s put the moon in the sky. Although, this time, he doesn’t feel the rage. He doesn’t need to, really, with Y/N’s hand wrapped in his, and the ghost of her lips still lingering on his.

requests open! as always, feedback is highly appreciated <33

342 notes · View notes

hanibalistic · 3 years

Text

#FBB2F3 | LEE FELIX.

genre | bittersweet, nostalgic fluff

word count | 2589

warning | none

tag | @fluffyskzclub

note | very easily could have been chan, but i wanted to write about lixie!!!

the paint on the brush splattered on the classroom floor after felix playfully nudged you with his feet. you groaned before regaining your balance, carefully hoisting yourself back on your kneeling position. your glare was paired by his light-hearted snickers.

"lix, either help me or go home," you said as you pointed the colorful end of the paintbrush at him threateningly. you pouted when he stood unfazed, smiling down at you with amusement. "i really need to finish this by tomorrow. everyone is counting on me!"

he took a step back when you returned your attention to the banner-sized canvas, adding more detail to the seemingly finished product. tilting his head, he admired the decorative artwork with both intrigue and cluelessness.

it was something his non-artistic self could have never done on his own, which was why the painting looked so grand to him, but he also couldn't understand why it wasn't finished yet when there was no more blank canvas left on the surface.

you obviously wanted to add more to the painting, but he couldn't see what there was to add that would make it less or more appealing. in the end, it would just look the same to him, so why couldn't you pack everything up so you two could finally go home?

looking up at the opened windows, felix sighed as he watched the orange sun slowly fade back into the mountains. he wanted to go home, but he had no plans to leave you alone at school at this hour, nor did he want you to walk home alone, so supposed he would have to stick with you and your endeavor for now.

"what do you need help with?" he asked as he took his hands out of his pockets and knelt next to you, accessing the painting with unease. "i might mess up."

"you're not touching the painting," you said as you reached over for the plastic color wheel and handed it to felix.

his eyes followed your hands—boxes of paint, a jar of dirty water, a paper of abandoned colors, and a spiky brush. after setting them around him, you reached for your bag on the chair nearby and pulled out your notebook from the thin gap of your heavy textbooks.

felix raised his brows when you leaned over to him, flipping the pages of your notebook before stopping at a messy page. he saw circles and circles of colors, lined up together in a way that looked like detailed instructions but also a disorganized brainstorm map. his gaze moved from the notebook to the color wheel, utterly clueless.

"do you see number three, eight, and twenty-five? mix those colors for me," you instructed, pointing briefly at the paper before dropping it before his knees and turning back to the painting. "make sure they look like the ones in the notebook but a little more vibrant!"

felix nodded as a soft, confused hum of an agreement left his lips. he gripped the paintbrush in his hand, his shaky eyes glancing at the colors on your notebook and the lines of acrylic paint.

a gentle fear shook upon his ground when he was shifting through the colors. he could not tell the difference between the first red paint and the seventh one, but they had different names so they must be two kinds of red. putting his shrunken hand next to his face, felix licked his lower lip with concentration, thinking that if he stared at the colors long enough they would appear different to his eyes.

they did not.

giving up, he glanced up at you in preparation to ask for your advice, but he stopped when he saw that you were putting your utmost attention to the painting. with softened eyes, he decided to bother you at a later time—

"uh, haha, no," you interrupted the trip down memory lane with a sharp chuckle, and you looked up at felix with a sneer. "that was not how it went."

felix tossed his much longer hair away from his face with shy laughter. his short ponytail bounced slightly and his side fringes framed his sharp face. shoving his hands further down the pockets of his coat, he jutted his lower lip out and shrugged, "that was how i remembered it though."

"then you have bad memories," you scoffed, "you kept bothering me about the colors that i ended up telling you to just step aside and wait for me."

"i was not bothering you!"

"yes, yes you were."

"i was–ack! i was being thorough!" he retorted, throwing his arm out and waving his finger at you. there was a flustered smile on his face; he was looking like he could remember everything but was purposefully making things up. your chest felt light seeing it.

"remember how you told me your entire class depended on you to win the class board contest? how, like, they will literally kill you if you mess up?" he exclaimed.

you furrowed your brows in exaggerated horror, placing a hand on your chest and leaning back slightly to further state your surprise. "i never said that!"

"you never?"

"no!"

"was it just me?" felix questioned himself with a scratch of his head, taking shallow breathes of thoughts as he turned away to look around the classroom he once studied in. taking notice of a familiar corner, he raised his hand and pointed at the broken end of the door. "oh, they painted over the wall jisung scrubbed on."

you looked over instinctively and pouted.

of course they would. jisung had written profanities on that corner, after all. you weren't sure why he had done it then, but you remembered watching him get dragged by the ear to the principal's office and grimacing when you met eyes with him. who would have thought he became such an introverted and well-behaved boy now?

"i'm sure they changed a lot of things around these years," you said quietly as you walked through the narrow rows of the wooden desks.

the words jisung left on the wall, the rack of art supplies hyunjin always kept on the top cabinet shelf where the homework was stored, seungmin's neat handwriting being the first thing everyone sees on the blackboard whenever they walk into the classroom, and felix's school jacket he always dumped near the locker for easier access.

they were all gone. the presence of your youth has been erased.

"it has been a while since we came back," you finished off when you came across your old seat and you sat down.

it has been a while since you both came back to your high school, and it has been a while since you two went separate ways to pursue your careers. nothing physical has changed in these classrooms, but they no longer hold the scent of your old friends or the sights of your old classmates.

other people study here now, these classrooms are a foreign home now. as much as that irked you, you had to accept growing up.

felix pulled up the chair in front of you—the desk that belonged to him—and sat down facing the back of the chair. he propped his arms on the top rail and leaned his chin on his intertwined hands, staring at you.

the golden sun glossed over your faces, reflecting a younger light that made you gasp as it deceived your eyes with a newfound nostalgia, manually turning the gears in your head to make you see what you haven't seen in a long time.

felix's hair was black—black, short, and messy. you used to run your hands through them, especially when he was pouting from having trouble with finishing his literature homework. the teacher was the worst, he got unlucky to be stuck with them for a full year. it was thanks to your help, and the longevity of the lunch breaks, that he managed to survive.

instead of the turtleneck and coat, he wore the loose tie he never learned to properly tighten and his wrinkled uniform. his shirt was untucked because he couldn't be bothered. he would eventually fix it up, though, because he was scared of the discipline teacher. but, this was between him and himself only, compared to the discipline teacher he was more scared of you scolding him about his untidy uniform.

(funnily, there was nothing more he would purposefully chase after than your gentle nags back in the days.)

the freckles across his cheeks would be less visible. hyunjin used to have to cover it up for him because he wasn't confident about the way they looked on his face, but you remembered—you remembered how he had told you he loved it when you counted them, touched them, and kissed them as you sat on his lap.

he had told you he loved it.

he had told you he loved you back in high school, and you had said it back.

you remembered. under this blazing sun, the sun that never changed, the sun that only showed you the truth and what you secretly longed for, you remembered that you and felix were once in love.

"ah, this really brings back old memories," felix sighed dramatically with a smile. "we used to talk like this a lot. i remember being so uncomfortable sitting like this, but i wanted to talk to you so i kept sitting like this until the bell rings."

"what?" you scoffed, leaning back on your seat and raising a brow. "you should have just told me."

"i didn't want the ruin the flow of our conversations!" he said, then he propped his face on his fists like a flower. "besides, i used to think i look cool sitting like this, so i always sat like this when we chatted."

you gave him a faint eye-roll. you thought it was lame now, but back then having him turn as soon as the lunch bell rings and hearing your classmates coo teasingly at you two was the one thing you looked forward to in school, that was besides seeing felix, of course.

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you said. "you snatched me."

"i totally did." he laughed.

both of you didn't want to verbally acknowledge the fact that you two had been so madly in love back then that you would rather let silence fall over. it would have been awkward to talk about it after so long, even though you two had been very mature about the break-up and remained as loose friends afterward.

in an attempt to break the silence, you kicked your feet, reached out, and playfully ruffled his hair. felix was taken back by your sudden movement, his eyes widening in panic that you were messing up his hair as his hand immediately flew from his pocket to stop you.

"hey! i spent a long time on this ponytail!" he complained, frowning at your loud giggles at his misery.

"i'm sorry! it's just–" your eyes caught sight of a single run sitting on his fourth finger and you paused. there was a gentle pang in your chest as you tore your eyes away.

regaining your senses quickly, you removed your hand from his hair and sat back down, then you nudged your head over at his hand. "i see you got a promise ring there?"

felix hummed questioningly. he looked up at his hand, still trying to recover from the initial shock of your action, and he sighed with recognition when he realized what you meant. a smile blossomed over his face, a smile so bright and familiar that it made all your forbidden hope dissipate into the hole of your heart.

"yeah, i have a girlfriend," he said, wiggling his fingers. "we have been dating for a year now. i got it for our anniversary!"

you kept the smile on your face. you had gotten over the break-up a long time ago, but when the reality of moving on slapped you across the face like this, your heart churned in distaste anyway. felix was no longer yours, and you were not his—you accept that, you were just a tad bit upset.

"that's good! i'm still waiting for this boy to confess," you muttered with a glare of your eyes as you shifted on your seat. seeing the curious glint in felix's eyes, your thoughts swirled and suddenly your fondness for him faded to the back of your head. you sighed with a defeated smile at the new name in your head. "there is this boy at work–new guy, just a little younger than me–yang jeongin. he is so, so shy."

"i thought you don't like boys younger than you."

"he's an exception."

felix rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "alright. just don't scare him off, you can be intimidating. remember that time when a junior tried to ask you out and he chickened out the last minute–"

"uh, that was because i was dating you back then."

"no, he said it was because you looked like–"

"i know what he said, shut up!" you kicked him under the desk, bubbling a burst of laughter out of him as he stumbled.

after adjusting his position, felix patted his head to fix his hair before he crossed his arms and propped it on the top rail again. he looked at you seriously this time, but his eyes were caring and lovely. after all this time, he looked at you the same way—always, and you loved it all the same.

"does he treat you well?" he asked.

you pursed your lips into a thin smile and nodded. "mhm."

"good."

you glanced at him, wanting to ask your fair share of questions. is he happy? is he loved? is he being held? are his freckles being kissed, or is his hair being combed? is he nagged to take a rest, told that he is pretty? you kept your mouth shut.

the sun was setting into the mountains and the day was changing. the youthful light faded that your current-self once again resurfaced to sight, but just before the last trace of the sun died out in your classroom, you two gazed at each other, and it all went back to the wrinkled uniforms, the tousled hair, the old textbooks, and the shy intertwined hands.

back when felix was the only boy you kept in your heart.

the sun set, the light of his promise ring reflected in your eyes, and you felt a drop in your stomach that you ignored.

"i'm gonna go back and make sure jisung isn't causing a ruckus in the hall," you said as you stood up. "you coming back? dinner is about to start."

felix looked up at you and shook his head. "not yet, you can go first."

you shrugged and left the room with no questions asked. felix returned to the front when you left and he sighed at the worn-out desk before him.

he refused to think about the fluttering feeling in his tummy when you ruffled his hair and when he saw the younger version of you seated in front of him, but he knew for a moment there when he felt it, it was kind and warm, and he knew he missed it somehow.

he missed you, he used to, the only person he had kept in his heart.

tapping his finger, felix rolled his eyes.

"yang jeongin," he clicked his tongue, "pff." and he scoffed.

92 notes · View notes