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unpopularwiththepopulace · 3 years

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Michael Riedel vs Bernadette Peters – the Broadway Battle of 2003 and beyond

My previous piece gives a fairly comprehensive look at Bernadette and Gypsy through the ages; though there is at least one aspect of the 2003 revival that warrants further discussion:

Namely, Michael Riedel.

Today’s essay question then: “Riedel – gossip columnist extraordinaire, the “Butcher of Broadway”, spited male vindictive over not getting a lunch date with Bernadette Peters, or puppet-like mouthpiece of theatre’s shadowed elite? Discuss.”

It’s matter retrievable in print, or even kept alive in apocryphal memory throughout the theatre community to this day that Riedel was responsible for a campaign of unrelenting and caustic defamation against Bernadette as Rose in Gypsy around the 2003 season.

While “tabloids may [have been] sniping and the Internet chat rooms chirping”, when looking back at the minutiae, none were more vocal, prolific or influential in colouring early judgment than the “chief vulture [of] Mr. Riedel, who had written a string of vitriolic columns in which he said from the start that Ms. Peters was miscast”.

He continued to find other complaints and regularly attack her in print over an extended period of time.

Why? We’ll get there. There are a few theories to suggest. Firstly, how and what.

Primary to establish is that it perhaps would be foolish to expect anything else of Riedel.

Also an author and radio and TV show host, Riedel is best known as the “vituperative and compulsively readable” theatre columnist at The New York Post.

He’s a man who thrives on controversy, decrying: “Gossip is life!”

The man who says, “I’m a wimp when it comes to physical violence, but give me a keyboard and I’ll kill ya.”

“Inflicting pain, for him, is a jokey thing. ‘Michael has this cruel streak and a lack of empathy,’ says Susan Haskins, his close friend and co-host.”

And inflicting pain is what he did with Bernadette, in a saga that has become one of the most talked about and enduring moments of his career.

From the beginning, then.

Riedel started work at The Post in 1998.

His first words on Bernadette? “Oddly miscast in the Ethel Merman role,” in August of that year on Annie Get Your Gun. It was a sentiment he would carry across to his second mention six months later (“a seemingly odd choice to play the robust Annie Oakley”), and also across to the heart of his vitriolic coverage on her next Merman role in Gypsy.

Negative coverage on Bernadette in Gypsy started in August 2002 when Riedel discussed the search for trying to find a new American producer for the show. It had initially been reported in late 2000 that a Gypsy revival with Bernadette was planned for London, before it was to transfer to Broadway. To begin with, Arthur Laurents was “eager to do Gypsy in London because it hadn't been seen in the West End since 1973”, and he “wanted to repeat [the] dreamlike triumph” he said Angela Lansbury’s production had been. But economic matters prevented this original plan, leaving the team looking for new producers in the US. Riedel suggested that Fran and Barry Wiessler step up as, “after all, they managed to sell the hell out of "Annie Get Your Gun," in which Peters…was also woefully miscast.”

He also quipped: “Industry joke: "Bernadette Peters in 'Gypsy'? Isn't she a little old to be playing Baby June?”, calling her “cutesy Peters” and again a “kewpie doll”.

Bernadette here seen side by side with the actual Baby June of the 2003 production – Kate Reinders.

Other publications to this point had discussed her “unusual” casting. Which was fairly self-evident. In contrast to being a surprising revelation that Bernadette Peters was not, in fact, Ethel Merman, this had been the intention from the start. Librettist Arthur “Laurents – whose idea it was to hire her – [said] going against type is exactly the point,” and Sam Mendes, as director, qualified “the tradition of battle axes in that role has been explored”.

It was Riedel who was the first to shift the focus from the obvious point that she was ‘differently cast’, to instead attach the negative prefix and intone that she was actually ‘MIS’ cast. According to him then, she was unsuitable, and would be unable to “carry the show, dramatically or vocally”. All before she had so much as sung a note or donned a stitch of her costume.

So no, it wasn’t then “the perception, widely held within the theater industry,” as he presented it, “that Peters is woefully miscast as Mama Rose”.

It was Riedel’s perception. And he took it, and ran with it, along with whatever else he could throw into the mix to drag both her and the show down for the next two years.

As to another indication of how one single columnist can influence opinion and warp wider perception, just look to Riedel’s assessment of the show’s first preview. It is typically known as Riedel’s forte to “[break] with Broadway convention, [where] he attends the first night of previews, and reports on the problems…before the critics have their say”. This gives him “clout” by way of mining “terrain that goes relatively uncovered elsewhere”, and it means subsequent journals are frequently looking to him from whom to take their lead – and quotes.

At Gypsy’s opening preview then, he reported visions of “Arthur Laurents [charging] up the aisle…on fire”, loudly and vocally expressing his dissatisfaction with the show as he then “read Fox [a producer] the riot act”. Despite the fact that this was “not true, according to Laurents,” the damage was already done, with the sentiment of trouble and tension being subsequently reprinted and distributed out to the public across many a regional paper.

News travels fast, bad news travels faster.

And news can be created at an ample rate, when in possession of one’s own regular periodical column. This recurring domain allowed plentiful opportunity for attack on Bernadette and Gypsy, and Riedel “began devoting nearly every column to the subject,” which amounted to weekly or even more frequent references.

As the show progressed beyond its first preview, Riedel brought in the next aspects of his smear-campaign – assailing Bernadette for missing performances through illness and accusing Ben Brantley, who reviewed the show positively in The New York Times, of unfair favouritism and “hyperbolic spin”.

The issue is not that Bernadette was not in fact ill or missing performances. She was. She had a diagnosis at first of “a cold and vocal strain”, that then progressed more seriously to a “respiratory infection” the following week, and was “told by her doctors that she needs to rest”. So rest she did.

The issue is the way in which Riedel depicted the situation and her absences via hyperbole and “insinuating she was shirking” responsibility. He went further than continual, repeated mentions and cruel article titles like “wilted Rose”, or “sick Rose losing bloom”, or “beloved but - ahem-cough-cough-ahem - vocally challenged and miscast star”. He went as far as the sensationalist and degrading action of putting “Peters' face on the side of a milk carton, the kind of advertisement typically used to recover lost children,” and asking readers to look out for “bee-stung lips, [a] high-pitched voice, [and a] kewpie doll figure”, who “may be clutching a box of tissues and a love letter from Ben Brantley”.

It was quantified in May of 2003 after the show had officially opened, that “out of the 39 performances "Gypsy" has played so far, [Bernadette] has missed six – an absence rate of 15 percent.”

As an interesting comparison, it was reported in The Times in February 2002 that “‘The Producers' stars Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick have performed together only eight times in last 43 performances due to scheduling problems and health concerns,” – an absence rate of 81%.

Did Riedel have anything nearly as ardent to say about the main male stars of the previous season’s hit missing such a rate of performances? Of course not.

Riedel arguably has a disproportionate rate for criticising female divas.

One need only heed his recommendations that certain women check into his illuminatingly named “Rosie's Rest Home for Broadway Divas.” Divos need not apply.

Not that he was unaware of this.

In 2004, Riedel would jovially lay out that “Liz Smith and I have developed a nice tag-team act: I bash fragile Broadway leading ladies who miss performances, and she rides to their rescue.”

Donna Murphy was the recipient of what he that year dubbed his “BERNADETTE PETERS ATTENDANCE AWARD”, when she began missing performances in “Wonderful Town”, due to “severe back and neck injuries and a series of colds and sinus infections”.

This speaks to his remarkably cavalier and joyful attitude with which he tears down shows and performers. “The more Mr. Riedel's work upsets people, the more he enjoys it.”

He knows he yields influence – it was recognised he had “eclipsed Ben Brantley as the single most discussed element in marketing meetings for Broadway shows” – and he delights in his capacity to lead shows to premature demises through his poison-tipped quill yielding.

When it was reported Gypsy would be closing earlier than had been planned, he made mention of “hop[ping] around on [its] grave” and debonairly applauding himself, “I suppose I can take some credit for bringing it down”.

His premonition from the previous year’s Tony’s ceremony was both ominous and prescient, when he predicted the show’s failure to win any awards “could spell trouble at the box office”. He was right. It did. The 8.5 million dollar revival closed months before anticipated and failed to return a profit.

Multiple factors can be attributed to Gypsy’s poor success at the Tony’s, but it’s clear to say Riedel’s continual bashing leading up to the fated night throughout the voting period certainly didn’t help matters.

His suggestions to do with Bernadette’s performances were not helpful either.

After alleging Laurents as the director of the 1991 revival “practically beat a performance out of” Tyne Daly when she was struggling with the role, he proffers that to improve Bernadette’s success, “it may be time for [Laurents] to take up the switch and thrash one out of Peters”.

Great.

It was irresponsible and unrelenting commentary that did not go unnoticed.

His “ruthless heckling of beloved Broadway star Ms. Peters” was deemed in print “his most egregious stunt so far”.

Vividly, in person, Riedel was accosted at a party one night by Floria Lasky, the venerable showbiz lawyer, who “grab[bed] Riedel’s tie and jerk[ed] it, nooselike, scolding, ‘It was unfair, what you did to Bernadette’”.

Moreover, the wide-reaching influential hold Riedel occupied over the environment surrounding Gypsy was tangible in the fact his words spread beyond just average readers, and even unusually “started seeping into the reviews of New York's top critics”. Riedel himself, as the “chief vulture”, was indeed what Ben Brantley was referring to in his own New York Times review by stating how the production was “shadowed by vultures predicting disaster”.

Even more substantially, the “whole Peters-Riedel-Brantley episode” became its own enduring cultural reference – being converted into its very own “satiric cabaret piece, ‘Bernadette and the Butcher of Broadway’”. All three parties were featured, with Riedel characterised as the butcher, and it played Off-Broadway later in 2003 “to positive notices”.

But penitent for his sins and begging for absolution Riedel was not. “Riedel saw nothing but a great story and a great time,” and for many years after, he would continue to hark back to the matter in self-referential (almost reverential) and flippant ways.

In 2008 as Patti LuPone won her Tony for her turn as Rose in the subsequent revival, Riedel couldn’t help but jibe, “Not to rip open an old wound, but I'd love to know if Bernadette Peters was watching”. (He neglects also to mention that “Mendes’s Gypsy was seen by 100,000 more people than saw Laurents’s and grossed $6 million more”.)

More jibes are to be found in 2012 as he reported on the auction after Arthur Laurents’ funeral, or even as recently in 2019, as he asked, “Remember the outcry that greeted Sam Mendes’ Brechtian “Gypsy,” with Bernadette Peters, in 2003?”

As with in 2004 where he points to the “pack of jackals who have been snarling” about Bernadette’s failures, this brings up the canny knack Riedel has of offloading his views to bigger and detached third party sources – thus absolving himself of personal centrality, and thus culpability.

If there was an outcry, HE was its loudest contributor. If there were snarling jackals, HE was their leader.

Maybe Riedel’s third person detached approach to referencing matters was intended to be a humorous stylistic quirk for those in the know. Or maybe it was his way of expressing some inner turmoil over the event.

In some rare display of morality and emotional authenticity, Riedel would at one point admit “I find it kind of sad and pathetic that the high point of my life supposedly has been about beating up on Bernadette Peters”.

Fortunately for him then, a degree of absolution was eventually achieved in 2018, where Riedel visited Bernadette at her opening night in Hello Dolly in 2018, with the intention of ending their “15-year feud”. He “got down on one knee at Sardi’s and extended his hand,” with Bernadette reportedly yelling “Take a picture!” while he held his deferential and obsequious position on the floor.

So if eventually this “feud” has some kind of circular resolution and Riedel was glad it was over, why on earth did it begin in the first place?

One notion is that it was simply another day on the job. Riedel is a man who sees Broadway as “a game for rich people”. Positioned as an “an industry that brought in $720.9 million in the 2002-2003 season”, it is “not a fragile business”, he remarked. As such, he “[could not] fathom the point of donning kid gloves” in covering it, and reasoned the business as a whole was robust enough to weather a few hard knocks. “Thus, Riedel can coolly view Bernadette Peters as fair game, as opposed to, say, a national treasure”.

More to the point, he was a man in search of words. During the season in question, Riedel was “one of just three New York newspaper columnists covering the stage” – a “throwback to a bygone era when…Broadway gossipmeisters…such as Walter Winchell and Dorothy Kilgallen ruled”. Now at the time, as the “last of a great tabloid tradition”, Riedel presided over not just one but two columns a week at The Post. As a result, he was in need of content. “One of the reasons I've become more opinionated is I just have more space to fill,” he admitted. Robert Simonson hypothesises in his book ‘On Broadway Men, Still Wear Hats’ that Riedel may have consequently picked “the thrashing of Bernadette” as his main target simply because “it was a slow news cycle”. Options for ‘titillating’ and durable content were scarce elsewhere that season.

And after all, if Riedel would later cite Bernadette in an article concerning the Top 10 Powerhouses of Broadway in 2004, saying even despite a few knocks or bad shows, “she’ll bounce back” – surely there was no real damage done.

If her career wouldn’t be toppled by his continual public defamation and haranguing, what was the harm?

Feelings? Who cares about feelings or Bernadette’s extremely complex and personal history with the show stretching back to when she was a teenager.

It was just part of the territory, there was nothing personal in it.

Or was there?

Maybe there was something personal in Riedel’s campaign after all.

He makes a curious comment while discussing ‘A Raisin in the Sun’ in 2004. The then incoming star of the show, rapper P. Diddy, had invited Riedel to dinner, and he makes judgement that this was “a smart p.r. move”. Then he ponders, “you do have to wonder: If Bernadette Peters had broken bread with me this time last year, would her chorus boys have to be out there now working the TKTS line to keep "Gypsy" afloat?”

Might he be going as far to suggest that if Bernadette had indulged him in a meal, her show might not have suffered so, by way of him being more inclined to cover it with greater lenience?

It may seem that way, at least in considering how Riedel reviewed P. Diddy’s performance thus after their dinner: “Riedel pronounced himself impressed. ‘He could have forgotten his lines or had to be carried offstage. He didn’t do anything terrible, he didn’t do anything astonishing.’”

Seemingly all the rapper had to do was remember some words and remain physically onstage, and he sails through scot-free. That’s a rather different outcome, one could say, to being absolutely eviscerated for what became a Tony nominated effort at one of the appreciably hardest and most demanding musical theatre roles in existence.

Though perhaps it’s hard to tell if that was really his insinuation from just one isolated comment pertaining to lunch.

This argument might be fine, if it WAS the only isolated comment pertaining to wanting Bernadette to have lunch with him. But it isn’t. Riedel continues to make a further two references over protracted periods of time to the fact Bernadette hasn’t dined with him.

One begins to get the sense of him feeling desiring of or somewhat entitled to such a private lunch with the lady he’s verbally decimated for years, and a sense of bitter rejection that he hasn’t been granted one.

“If Tonya Pinkins doesn't win the Tony Award this year, I'll buy Bernadette Peters lunch,” he simpered, and later, “I invite Bernadette to be my guest for lunch at a restaurant of her choosing. She can reach me at The Post anytime she's hungry”.

The embittered columnist in this light takes on now the marred tinge of a small boy in the playground who doesn’t get to hold the hand of the girl he wants in front of his friends, so spends the next three years pushing her over in the sandpit in revenge.

Moreover, the last statement makes undeniable comment on Bernadette’s troubled relationship with food, body image and public eating.

So now not only so far has he insulted and mocked her physical appearance and played into all the usual trite shots calling her a “kewpie doll”; suggested Arthur Laurents violently hit her in order to elicit a better performance; continually publicly harassed her regarding a show that strikes close to the nerve with deep personal and psychological resonances due to her mother and childhood; but now he’s going for the low-blows of ridiculing her over her eating habits.

Flawless behaviour.

Maybe it’s far-fetched to suggest a man would have such a fragile ego to run a multi-year public defamation campaign after so little as not getting his hypothesised fantasy of a personal lunch date. But then again, this was the man who “left Johns Hopkins University after his first year because of a broken heart.” (“I was in love with her; she wasn't in love with me,” he said.)

And also the man described as “an insomniac who pops the occasional Ambien,” living in a “small one-bedroom” that is “single-guy sloppy”, who has “been living alone since a four-year romance ended in 1996”.

The man whose own best friend called “cruel” and with a “lack of empathy”.

The man whose own sister answered that “well, yes,” he’s always been mean; and after being picked on as a kid for “being the small guy and the intellectual”, he grew dependent on using “his verbal ability to beat someone” and put himself in positions of defensive impenetrability.

See, writing Riedel-esque, vindictive and provocative conjecture is no especially challenging or cerebral task.

Riedel may well see his approach to ‘journalism’ or reporting as “all fun and games”.

But I for one am not laughing.

One final aspect to address when considering Riedel’s reasoning for the depth of his coverage on Bernadette demands attention of how he gets his information. His own personal opinions and motivations aside, crucially he depends on insider providers for insider details. Perhaps somewhat alarmingly then, “leading Broadway producers themselves are among his sources”.

“Half of Broadway hates him. The other half leaks to him”, John Heilpern titled his 2012 Vanity Fair profile on Riedel.

As such, in frequently taking his lead from “theater folk, usually with an ax to grind”, Riedel acts as the mouthpiece to bring secretive backstage reports out front. High-up, influential characters are thus able to funnel their agendas into public view, while keeping their identities hidden.

Notably, it was raised in the above article that Riedel’s “merciless running story” regarding Bernadette in Gypsy “was fed by none other than its renowned librettist, Arthur Laurents—or, more precisely, by Laurents's lover”.

Contrary to the smiley picture below between members of the show’s creative team and it’s beloved star, it was no secret that Laurents did not like Mendes’ 2003 revival. Laurents told Riedel that “Sam did a terrible disservice to Bernadette and the play, and I wanted a Gypsy seen in New York that was good… You have to have musical theater in your bones, and Sam doesn't”. In fact, Laurents admitted the only reason his 2009 book ‘Mainly on Directing’ came into existence was because of how much he had to criticise about the show – it grew out of the extensive set of notes he gave Mendes.

Additionally, it was no secret that Laurents’ lover, Tom Hatcher, demonstrated both a desire and capacity to influence Arthur’s productions. As well as being the driving force for the 2009 Spanish-speaking reworking of West Side Story, Hatcher had intense investment in Gypsy specifically. Patti LuPone writes in her memoir, “From his deathbed, Tom had told Arthur, ‘You have to do Gypsy, and you have to do it with Patti’. It was one of his dying wishes”. Laurents himself, in corroboration of this, explained Tom’s reasoning – “he didn't want the Sam Mendes production to be New York's last memory of Gypsy”.

The allegation in Heilpern’s profile might be hard to prove from an outsider perspective. But given that neither were happy with Mendes’ production and both actively took steps to ensuring it would be superseded in memory, it is not completely implausible.

Overarchingly, as much as Riedel’s writing may benefit FROM insider sources, it is said he does not write in benefit OF them. For instance, although friends with Scott Rudin in 2004, an animated (nay threatening) warning from Mr Rudin asking Riedel to “back off” from “slamming” his show, Caroline or Change, seemingly “had no impact”.

That’s not to cite total impartiality or exemption from personal connections and higher up influences colouring his reports of shows. Theatre publicist John Barlow would describe that sometimes “if you ask Michael to kill [one of his pieces], he will, if it’s someone with whom he does business”.

But it would be remiss not to mention that his influences and sources stretch beyond just the big wigs. Amongst his other informants too are the more lowly, overlooked folk like “the stagehands, the ushers, chorus kids, house managers, and press agents… the guys who build sets in the Bronx”. Basically, for anyone who’ll talk, Riedel will listen.

“Michael Riedel doesn't work for the producers or the publicists; he works for the reader,” one publicist said. “Sometimes we're glad of that, sometimes we're not-but at the end of the day, that's the reality.”

Sometimes he’s nice, sometimes he’s not – but the world goes round.

Through all that’s been explored, it should be stated how painful and injurious it must be for individual performers or shows to fall upon the unmitigated, maiming force of being on the wrong side of Riedel’s favour. The way he approached coverage on Bernadette is deplorable from an emotional and personal standpoint. Some would argue that it was too far and crossed a line and was most definitely unfair. Others would say it was justified. It’s hard not to sound petulant as the former, or heartless as the latter.

While his actions may indeed be abrasively wounding in isolated (often plentiful) cases, it’s unreasonable to say Riedel’s intentions would be to cripple the Broadway industry as a whole. There are those who purport that Riedel in fact “keeps Broadway alive with his controversies”. His words may not always be ‘nice’ but it’s difficult to argue they're not engaging.

Many are quick to criticize or react impassionedly to him and his columns; but few are quick to stop reading them. And Riedel “knows that the most important thing is being well read”.

Hence it is understandable why Riedel is appraised as “the columnist Broadway loves to hate”. Through his enthralling and stimulating bag of linguistic and dramatic tricks, Riedel knows how to keep the readers coming back. “He’s lively, and he makes the theater seem like an interesting place,” one producer did reason.

“There are times when no one's going to care about Broadway if you don't have a gossip angle that focuses on the backstage drama,” opined George Rush, the Daily News gossip columnist who was once Riedel's boss.

Perhaps it is logically and principally then, if somewhat cynically, a matter of believing “it's just business” and knowing how to “play the game”.

As Riedel himself would rationalise, “It’s all an act. You gotta have a gimmick, as they say in Gypsy.”

It may not be pleasant, but in a world increasingly dependent on sensationalistic and clickbait-driven engagement, it’s probably not going to change any time soon.

Well then, if he can live with the toll of the position of moral tumult his column puts him in, so be it.

That he described his mind as being “constantly on the next deadline”, saying “I always think about the column”, and likening writing it to “standing under a windmill”, where “you dodge one blade, but there's always another one coming right behind it”, may be some indication that he can't. At least not wholly easily.

I’ll leave that to him to figure out. Off the record.

39 notes · View notes

a-monsters-love · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can please request some spicy headcanons for Tamaki, Hawks and Shoto losing their virginity with a fem reader ? Thank you!

Oh man yES, ahh I love these boys, I will do my best for the ✨spice✨

[Master List]

Amajiki Tamaki (Sun Eater):

boi that anxiety

Realistically it would take a long term relationship to get to second or even third base

He understands sexual desire but god if it only makes him feel more anxious

You need to become his wall

Literally

Instead of him putting his head into a wall he will start putting his head against your head or shoulder or back (idk how tall you are)

He LOVES your body

Claims you’re soft in all the right places

Loves the way you feel pressed into his embrace not that he could ever admit that

With that in mind

It would start with just embracing him

You’d offer your lap and play with his hair

He feels safe in your embrace

The two of you are cuddling

You’re both facing each other

You’ve pulled him into your bust like it’s a pillow and start playing with his hair with your arms wrapped around each other

And then it happens

Your breath hits his ear

You move slightly to adjust

It happens

You feel his grip tighten around you, forcing you to stop moving

“Maki? Are you okay?”

He’s hidden his face and you can feel the heat radiating from his blush

“I, uh, well… I d-don’t know…”

You’re obviously confused

Then you feel it

“We can stop if-“

He cut you off with a sudden burst in confidence and has you on your back while hovering over you

“I-I don’t want to…” His eyes slowly glance over you

Your shirt is loosely pulled down your shoulder exposing your collar bone and the top of your breasts and racked up your stomach slightly exposing your skin

His face was beat red

Yours was heated

You reach up for his face and pull him in for a kiss

When you start touching him something snaps

He’s almost feral with need for you

He has no idea what he’s doing

You have to tell him what to do

If it’s your first time too you MUST tell him when you like things

Greedy for how you taste

He’s needy

Praise kink

JeSUS THE PRAISE KINK

You must tell him that he feels good or what he’s doing is great etc

Will eat you out like you’re his last meal before death

*Ahem.*

Will 100% ask you what you need during/after

He will not know how to look at you afterwards but will cuddle tf out of you

Takami Keigo (Hawks):

So, on a real note

He probably didn’t lose his V card until after he got his own agency

He was raised and monitored by the HPSC since he was 6, I highly doubt they gave him the time

As much as we all agree he has a rut I doubt having one would make a difference in him popping his cherry

He got his agency at 18 and rose the ranks to being a top ten hero by age 20

So I high key doubt he had time to relax and take care of his sexual needs until about 20

The boi also doesn’t actually have friends

He wasn’t raised to make friends, only connections

Realistically you were probably a sidekick at his agency

You found him attractive sure but knew he never gave himself ‘personal time’

You made it your mission to give him the break you knew he deserved

You’d finish all his paperwork that didn’t need his signature

You’d manage to help make sure all the documents he’d have to submit daily would be quick and easy to go through

You’d kick him out of the office to make sure he went and got lunch

You bring/order him lunch when he refused

You kick him out to go home early when he could afford to

At first he didn’t notice

After a week he was confused

After a month he’d start to understand

He’d take time to thank you and make sure you were doing well with all the extra work you decided to take on

The first time he complimented you and your work you blushed a shade he didn’t even know you could get

It was over for you

He made it his goal to see that again

It started with flirty comments

Then he took you on a date

He researched everything he could on dating and what is ‘required’

He was aware of sexual intimacies

He had a sex-Ed class with the HPSC

What he wasn’t prepared for was having to use that education on someone he cared for (not that he’s ever used it before)

He watched you work at the office one day after doing his research like a predator would watch a prey it’s been stalking

Without realizing it he started fantasizing about how your thighs would feel in his hands

How your bust would taste

He wondered what you’d look like under him

He was curious to know what you’d sound like crying out his name

“-wks? Hawks?” Your voice calling him snapped him out of his perverted fantasy

His face blushed brightly as you stared at him with an eyebrow raised

“Can you come look at this for me?” You pointed to your computer

He nods and goes to stand up but quickly sits back down with his legs crossed “N-No I can’t, can you send it to me?” He give a nervous TV approved smile

Did he just stutter?

You give him a once over and he refused to make eye contact with you

You smirk when you see his ‘problem’

“I guess I can just take it home tonight” you shrugged nonchalantly and give him the side eye, “You’re welcome to come help if you’d like.” You crossed your arms under your bust making it more eye catching

He just nodded furiously

Never had he ever finished paperwork so fast

He nearly crashed into your patio’s sliding glass door like a concussed bird as he arrived

When you let him in he smothered your face with kisses as he kicks off his shoes and sheds his jacket and goggles

They were messy and needy

His usually accurate hands fumbled with the fabric of your clothing

You walk backwards and usher him to your room

You only pull away from the sloppy make out session when you fall back on your bed and pant for air

What he’s actually doing doesn’t hit him until he sees you under him

Clothes disheveled, skin and bra exposed, blushing and panting from his attention

A nervous blush set in on his face

You cupped his cheek, “Is this your-“

He nods before you can finish the question

What a cute baby

You didn’t press him any further but helped him with the clothing removal

You told him you can stop at anytime

He refused every time

The whines this boi makes when you first touch him

He’s a quick learner

You make suggestions and he quickly finds out how to please you

Before you’re even close to finishing you’re nearly certain that he wasn’t a virgin

Nearly

He seems to get harder when you praise him

He has the stamina of a god

He makes sure to memorize everything about your body

Memorizes what makes you cry and melt in his grasp

Stays inside you when you both finish

Buried his face into your bare breasts afterwards

Makes happy noises as he dozed off to you combing your fingers through his hair

Happy birb

Todoroki Shoto:

oh man

This fuckin’ guy

Realistically never cared for the topic

Not that he doesn’t feel the urge but just thinks nothing of it

He probably never realized he even liked you until someone pointed it out

Similar to Hawks he never really got the opportunity to think of such matters

Also same as Hawks would research the shit out of the topic

Boi didn’t know the word for ‘concert’ you really think he’d know shit about dating at first?

*ahem*

He’d take you on dates

He’d realize quickly how much he likes touching you

Touch starved babe

He’d go out of his way to touch you after he noticed how much he likes it

He’d initiate holding hands

He’d hug you randomly

Lay his head on yours or your shoulder or lap

One day he’d hug you from behind as you were doing something in your room

He’d wrap his arms around you under your bust

You’d smile and look up at him

You’d adjust yourself to holding his arms but you’d rub against him just right

Then it happens

The shock of the situation would cause him to freeze

You can feel his temperature control go haywire

“Sho?” You’d ask quietly

Then you’d feel it

To be fair it would be low key stabbing you

N E WAYS

You’d blush loudly

He’d blush and bury his face into the crook of your neck

You’d make a soft noise in surprise

He’d only get harder and more embarrassed because of said noise

You’d ask if he wants to do anything about it

“What?” He asks

I swear this boy doesn’t understand real life you can’t change my mind

You’d whisper what you meant

His grip on you would get tighter

He’d agree

He had a basic understand of how it works

You’d sit him on your bed and you’d sit on his lap

The two of you would make out and remove articles of clothing

The best at unhooking a bra clasp out of the three

Calm externally

Internally freaking out

You can tell by the crazy fluctuation in his temperature

“We don’t have to if you’re not ready” you’d say pressing your forehead to his

He smiles softly and kisses your collarbone

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready but I want this”

You blush loudly at the comment

He moves you so that he’s hovering over you

You pull him into you and run your hands down his muscular frame

He’s surprised at how easily he melts in your touch

Like Hawks he’s a quick learner

Makes a point to ask if you like how things feel

Could get off on just making you feel good

Uses his quirk unintentionally to make you feel good

Leaves marks all over you without meaning to

Low key wants to mark his territory subconsciously

Kisses all the marks he’s left in the end

Does everything for aftercare without being asked

Pulls you into his chest and smiles into your hair

Snuggle bug

598 notes · View notes

aizawabby · 4 years

Text

LILY (m)

Pairing: Yakuza!Tamaki Amajiki x florist! Reader

Plot: your flowers were the one thing you loved the most in your life... well it’s in the top ten so you bet your ass that you would scream at anyone who would dare to ruin and it didn’t matter if the person was the biggest mobster around.

Genre: mafia au, florist au , NSFW 18+

word count: 6k

Warnings: slight sub/dom play, soft dom Tamaki, explicit smut, oral(f), vaginal penetration, creampies, mirror sex, choking, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), light spanking, mentions of sucking dick, multiple orgasms, praising ish, fat cock Tamaki, dirty talk, slight mention of blood (I was listening to auralescent while writing the smut)

Disclaimer: this is my first time writing explicit smut so pls if I didn’t any mistakes or need to improve any where pls let me know! Also the art work above is not mine nor do I own any of the bnha/mha characters.

A/n: hello~ this is my first fic in this blog, I really hope you guys like!! I’ve been planning it since a month and got way to lazy to complete it :(

ko-fi

The hot rays of sun burn your skin as you walk out of your flower shop for the 10th time today to display your flowers letting them get sunlight. Regretting not putting on sunscreen before leaving home, you whipped the sweat off your face and smiled at the aesthetic you created in front of your flower shop.

It truly was beautiful.

Satisfied with your work you were ready to go back into the air conditioned store. As you neared the glass door, a loud thud noise that came from the background making you flinch. Praying as you turned around you hoped that whatever caused that thud had nothing to do with your flowers and it was just the neighbors cat, Ginger, who had once again jumped over the garbage bin and toppled it over.

You sighed in relief when you saw that your flowers were still intact. Just when you were about to go back a man with a white cloak tripped over your vases not paying attention while running ruining all your hard work.

The man laying on the ground looked at your angry face and seemed like he was about to cry, but you didn’t care right now. You were furious, all your hard work has gone to waste just because one person didn’t pay attention to where he was going.

Getting off the ground he noticed how you were about to start to scream at him, quickly got up and started apologizing.

“Look here sir, apologizing isn't going to do shit for my flowers nor is it going to clean up this mess so I suggest you t-” just as you were about to finish your sentence you felt him grip your wrist and pull you into your store.

‘What the hell’ you thought as you looked up at your captive, he pushed you on to a corner wall where no one could see you, his one hand on your mouth keeping you from making any noise while the other was near your head trapping you from the outside world.

If you weren’t being kidnapped in your own store you would’ve been very much aroused by the situation.

Having let your only staff member go on their lunch break, leaing you alone with your captor was not helping your situation either. Even if you scream for help no one would come to your rescue.

Your captor must have felt your gaze as he looked your way and then looked away once again a blush creeping on his cheeks.

What the hell? Why is he blushing

You continued to study his features so that you will be able to memories them in case he decides to do something, only if you were left alive.

damn he’s cute

You watched him as he kept shifting his gaze from you and the window, curious to what he was eyeing, you peered your eyes out the window to see some pro-hero, whose name you couldn't remember, along with some police officers gathered together holding a piece of paper which seemed like a sketch, showing it to civilians that walked past them.

Since your hearing quirk wasn't going to help you get free you thought it might be useful to hear what the heroes were saying.

“Have you seen this man?” one of them asked “please if you do call the police station right away”. The hero held out a picture. It was your capture.

Holy shit

You let out a quiet gasp at the information discovered, your capture hearing the sudden noise turned towards you once again, his gaze unreadable.

He masked his emotions so you wouldn't be able to tell how nervous he was staying within such close proximity with you. Something he learned pretty early, since in his line of work showing any type of emotions was a weakness.

The sweet smell of your perfume that was helping calm his nerves, was making him lose focus on the tasks at hand. Finding an opening to escape without the pros seeing him.

God how did he want to bury his head is the crook of your neck a- his train of thoughts broke as he felt you try to wiggle out of his grasp.

He glared at you, eyes dark and menacing seeding chills to your spine, he was about to lean closer when the pro-hero left their post and started walking towards their new location.

‘That was close’, he thought

He freed your mouth and placed it on the hand on the other side of your head trapping you. “W-who are you?” you managed to say, he looked you in the eye “Suneater,”.

Thank god for the wall that was supporting you because you were sure that you would've fell on the floor because how much your knees had been wobbling out of fear and being so close with this very handsome man who happens to be the biggest mafia leader of Tokyo.

You blankly stared at him as the headlines from several news articles popped in your head about the man holding you captive, opening your mouth to say-no to beg for your life, this is definitely not the way you imagined yourself dying.

“I” you breathe out watching as the man leaves from his spot, freeing you.

‘is he getting some torture weapon? Is this because i screamed at him omg me and my stupid big mouth’ as your mind filled with gruesome thoughts when all of a sudden cough broke your trans, you whipped your head to the noise almost getting whiplash from the sudden movement.

It was him.

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his head hung low looking at his shoes as if they were much more interesting than you. He rubbed his palms together and was saying something under his breath. It almost seemed like he was...shy

What the hell is up with this guy?

“I… um… i am sorry for that” wide eyed and mouth agape you watched the man who once looked so frightening you nearly passed out from fear was now stumbling on his words as he apologized to you.

‘God i need to talk to my therapist after this, if i get out of this’

He lifted his head, his eyes barely noticeable as they stayed hidden due to the length of his hair. “I… I am s-s-sorry for putting you through this mess. I-it's just because, you see I didn't mean to, it's just that” he paused, he looked as if he were about to cry. What does one do in this situation? Do you go and console him for kidnapping you in your own store?

Confused, you stayed still, scanning him to look for some weapons he can use on you, eyes stopped at his trembling hands.

He’s bleeding

Once again mumbling something under his breath he continued “ you see, some people are looking for me, a-and because of some… things, that's why i ended up bumping into you, i-i didn't mean to knock down your flowers, you see i was just in such a hurry and needed a place to hide that i brought you here” he explained his situation.

He looked back at you waiting for you to respond,

“Are you gonna kill me?” he looked at you even more panicked than before almost like he was disgusted at the sheer thought “oh no no no no” he frantically moved his arms telling you no.

“Good, because i know how to fight” you lied, but seeing how scared he is you began to question whether this man actually was the notorious yakuza you heard about on the news.

Maybe he was the weak twin no one knew about

Your legs finally regained their strength and you leaned off the wall, and walked past Suneater as you disappeared in one of the rooms in the back of your shop.

“Are you coming?” your head peered from the room as you waved your hand at him to come.

‘What are you doing?!? Inviting a yakuza in your safe place’ you thought, while one part of your mind told you to run, the other told you to stay you were conflicted.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard Suneater enter the room, without turning around, you pointed at the chair, “sit” said a little more sternly than you wanted to. Confused at the sudden change in your demeanor, he raised an eyebrow at you, why did you want him here with you when you knew his truth. Anyone with the slightest of common sense would call the police right now, yet you stayed calm.

“Look” you turned around, tiered “ if your not gonna kill me then let me help you with your injury”

‘injury? What injury?’

He looked down at his hand feeling a sting. There was a deep cut, most likely from when he knocked over your flowers ‘oh’ his palm was covered in blood.

He sat down at the designated seat waiting for you, closing his eyes letting the sweet and earthy smell of the flowers fill his nostrils, calming his senses.

* * *

“Hey did you even listen to a word I said?” Tamaki lifted his head from his palm, “hmm?”. The spiky red head grunted, rubbing his hands on his face tired of his boss being so distracted.

“What’s gotten into you, man?” he questioned, Tamaki innocently looked at him as if he did nothing.

Truth was he was bored, he knew the plan they had went over it a millions of times heck he was the one who made it in the first place.

“Nothing Kirishima, I heard you, ” he said, moving his gaze to where he was looking before, Kirishima followed the direction in which he was looking and spotted you.

You were out in the scorching sun, moving huge pots of flowers around the front of your store.

Grinning he looked back at his superior “why are you looking at me like that” Tamaki said, not liking the way Kirishima smiled at him, he knew something.

“You got a crush don’t ya boss?” Kirishima proceeded to repeatedly poke his bosses arm, annoying him.

“fuck of” Tamaki flustered, turned around avoiding Krishima’s graze, maybe he did have a small crush.

“hey boss” Kirishima scooted his chair closer to Tamaki “after our mission why don’t ya go get her number hmm? Who knows you might even get a date” he said grabbing his bosses shoulder and shaking it as he told him to man up.

* * *

He broke out of thoughts feeling the pads of your fingers linger over his palm.

“Is this okay?” you kneeled in front of him, placing the safety kit on your lap concentrating on the task at hand.

“Y-yeah” you looked up, worrying that you might have hurt him accidentally, instead of seeing him wince in pain you were faced with a blushing yakuza.

Not knowing how to react you quickly lower your gaze and continue working on the task at hand.

“You're good at this,” he was the first to speak, breaking the silence.

“Huh, oh yeah i guess,” you let out a nervous laugh, “I used to volunteer as a nurse in hospitals back when I was in college, at one point in my life i wanted to become a doctor or nurse, to help people like pro-heroes did but then i lost interest in the subject and started to like other things so i opened up a flower shop,” you bit your lip realizing you might have over shared, “sorry that was to much wasn't it?” he smiled.

Shaking his head no, he looked at you warmly making you feel weird inside. As the two of you continued to talk, you learned more about him, nothing too personal but enough to make you feel like maybe just maybe you were starting to become friends.

“Alright all done, Tamaki” giving him a bright smile as you got up. He looked at his bandaged hand, smiling “Thank you, Y/n”. He got up from his seat, bidding you goodbye after apologizing for the inconvenience he caused, and walked towards the front door.

“Wait Tamaki!!!” you ran towards the front door hoping he hadn't left already, opening the door you called out for him once again, he stops and turns to look at you, confused as to why you called him.

“Y/n? What happened, are you okay?” he waited for you to catch your breath “yeah i'm fine i just,, i wanted to give you something” the tips of your ear started to burn as you felt a blush creep in, you handed him a purple lily.

Dumbstruck at the present he stayed quiet, smiling shyly as he reached for the purple flower, his fingers grazing you for a second, blushing he thanked you for the gift “ but why?” he asked, finally gaining the confidence to look at you.

You were smiling softly, a light blush spread on your cheeks “it reminded me of you,” you looked at him “and it's pretty like you” you said mentally cursing at yourself for voicing your inner thoughts, and for blushing harder.

Before the tomato looking man could say anything else, you ran back into your shop waving him goodbye.

* * *

Six months ago today, you were ‘kidnapped’ by the notorious Suneater. Your life hasn’t changed much since, you still wake up everyday at 8 am, you still drink the same type of coffee, and you still come back home at 8 pm.

But there was one thing that was significantly different, everyday at noon Tamaki would present himself in front of your store.

At first, it started with him coming to your shop, waiting outside debating whether he was coming in or not.

You would stay in the back of your cash register, listening to him mumbling to himself “common just go say hi that’s all you can do! Common just like you did with kirishima” you giggled.

But without a word he would leave. Disappointed you waited for the next day, maybe then he’ll talk to you.

The next week, he finally came in the store, (with the push of a spiky redhead) he wandered around before picking up a single rose, and came to the cash.

Ever since that day, he started to come more often and stayed longer talking to you about everything and nothing.

Slowly, his visits at the store became more constant just like his presence in your life.

“Are you here to buy something or to see me?” you winked at him going in the store, leaving a flustered indigo haired man behind.

He followed you inside, taking a deep breath calming his racing heart.

“Do you like me?” you asked casually as you picked up boxes from the front desk. Eyes wide Tamaki looked at you and gulps nervously before speaking “I-um I...w-well actually”

‘Fuck was I that obvious?’ He mentally screams at himself.

You laugh at his panicked expression “I’m just kiddin Tama, you don’t need to worry, come on help me with these boxes” you say grabbing his hand drawing circles trying to calm him, but it didn’t. It made him even more red and made his heart beat so fast he thought it was going to come out of his chest.

And sometime along the way, you had begun to fall for him too.

* * *

Breaking you out of your day dream you felt a strong grip on your shoulder, you grabbed the intruders hand and twisting your body as fast you could ready to attack.

You lowered your hard after seeing your crush.

“Not bad, Y/n” he showed you the bag of food he was holding “you’ve improved I’m impressed” Tamaki said pressing his hand on your lower back pushing you towards the front door of your apartment complex.

Oh yeah you had also started to take self defense lessons from Tamaki once he found out about your bluff about knowing how to fight. From that day he took it upon himself to teach you how to defend yourself in case you were abducted by another Yakuza.

“Didn’t you have a meeting today with the Kyoto group?” you opened the door to your small apartment where you guys would often hang out “how did it go” you asked taking off your shoes.

“It was alright i guess, they wanted to make a deal” he spoke calmly and went to set the table for the two of you. You hummed at his answer without further questioning him because nothing good ever comes with dealing with the Mafia.

The two of you silently enjoyed the Takoyaki brought by Tamaki.

“Can you pass me a napkin?” you observed as he manifested a tentacle thanks to his quirk and handed you a napkin.

“Hey Tama” you rested your chopstsicks on your place, resting your head on your palm looking at him as he was midway of putting an octopus ball into his mouth, he hummed in response telling you to continue.

“With your quirk you can manifest everything you eat right?” nodding he put another ball into his mouth “so can you…” you wiggled in your seat regretting what you were about to ask, but you needed an answer it was a question that kept you up during many sleepless nights.

Confused at your sudden shyness he lifted an eyebrow at you, this was very out of character for you since you were usually pretty blunt “c-can you make your semen taste like chocolate?”

Tamaki choked on his food, spitting it out looking at you with a horrified face, you scoot closer to him waiting for his answer. Unable to look at you in the eyes he raised his head looking at the ceiling rubbing his hands on his face trying to calm the rush of heat he was feeling. “Taaaammmakii” you whined, tugging on his arm like a child begging him to answer you, he looked at you opening his mouth but then closing it going beet red.

“Ohhh did you do it” you giggled as he blushed even harder and hid his face in his hands and you laughed harder.

* * *

“what are we watching tonight?” Tamaki walked into your living dressed in gray sweatpants and a black shirt sitting on your sofa, poking you with his left foot.

It wasn’t often that you got to see Tamaki dress so casually due to his job most of the time he would wear expensive suits (which made him look very hot) but there was something about him dressing down that made your heart flutter.

It was nights like these you loved the most, nights when you do nothing but stay up all night watching movies still you passed out cuddling against Tamaki.

“hmm I don’t know” pouting as you looked through your nail polish wondering which color you should paint them next. Tamaki smiled and pointed towards the purple bottle.

“Then how about” he scanned through the list of shows and movies “this” he said finally stopping at Avatar the last air bender.

While one would expect Tamaki’s attention to be at the screen in front of him watching the show he picked out it wasn’t. He was much more interested watching you paint your nails. He watched as you stuck your tongue out while concentrating on not to make a mess.

She’s so cute

“didn’t you go for lunch with your friends today?” He asked his eyes glued to the tv, mouth slightly agape.

“oh yeah I did, it was fun” he hummed and laughed at something Soka said. “My friends kept asking me if we’re together yet” you laughed at the memory of your friends teasing to finally confess your feelings for the man.

“then why don’t we” not paying attention to what he was saying he continued to watch tv.

Wide eyed he looked at you when it finally hit him you looked back at him in shock from the sudden confession“i ..i mean if you want you haha” he panicked.

Grinning as you got up from your spot on the floor you climbed onto his lap. Tamaki’s face burned a deep shade of red as he tried his hardest to sink his head into the couch wanting it to swallow him whole.

“Hey tama look at me” you brought a hand to his cheeks caressing it softly, making him look at you as you leaned onto him giving him a kiss.

“I like you” he breathes out as you pull away from the kiss smiling at each other “will you go out with me?”.

You rest your forehead on his, catching your breath you nod “yes I will” he holds you tighter holding your body next to his never wanting to let you go.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his lips brushing up against yours, you nod “i'll be mad if you didn't”

He captured your lips in a delicate kiss. The kiss slowly escalated, becoming more rough as he pushed his tongue in your mouth. His wet muscle exploring every nook of your mouth as you submit to him, soft moans erupt from your throat as he grabs your boob giving it a squeeze.

“Oh fuck” he moans grabbing your hips pressing it harder on his crotch as you continued to grind against him.

“Someone’s excited” you smirk against his neck making it, as you grab his clothed dick gasping at size. He was big.

Stopping your movements, he stared into your eyes softly, his hand coming to caresses your face “ are you okay with this if not we don’t need to go further” he reassured. Smiling, you took his hand and kissed it, “I want it Tamaki, I want you.”

He pulled your shirt over your head throwing somewhere in the room, eyes lingering on the lace white bra. His hand was quick to go back on your breast, squeezing it with such an eagerness that just made you wetter by seconds. Taking off the bra, he grabbed your left tit. Soon, your nipple was engulfed by his mouth, he eagerly sucked it letting the tip of his tongue roll around, making you release another moan as you grab his hair pulling him up attaching his lips with yours.

Tamaki’s tongue was back in you, eyes closed as he enjoyed the warm and sweetness of your mouth. He held your hips, lifting you up heading towards your bedroom.

Amajiki hovered over you, smiling softly, he leaned in sealing lips with yours; peppering your skin with his soft kisses and marking you all the way to your breast. His hand finally finding the soft flesh, he gave it a squeeze as his lips came in contact with your areola, you let a breathy moan as his tongue worked on teasing your erect nipples while his other hand massaged the other in pleasurable manner.

He lifted his head from your chest, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to your aching core. Spreading your thighs open, kissing the soft flesh slowly, he teasingly nips at your inner thigh marking you, ignoring the place you wanted him the most.

You grind your hips in the air, hoping it will get his attention, you whimper as he rubs circles on your clit over your underwear finally feeling some relief, you feel the cold air hit your wet core as he slides it off your legs.

“You’re so wet, bunny” he hummed in approval as he twirled his finger in your wetness, content that he was able to make you feel this good. “I bet you taste good too ” he murmures, his eyes darkening with lust, he props your legs into his wide shoulder.

Unable to wait any longer to taste you, he lowered his face to your folds, the feeling of his mouth on your lips, moaning as you pulled his hair telling him to continue. He moaned into you sending vibration to your core, he squeezed your thighs to signal that he understood, he ran his tongue along your dripping slit and plunged his tongue past you lips and shallowly thrusting it inside until he was lapping up your juices with fervor while you arched your back as you moaned his name “you taste so fucking good, bunny” he moaned as he grinned his hips on the mattrest revealing his arousal.

Addicted to the slight bitter but sweet taste that he continued to eat you with more force.

“Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck” your legs trembled.

He knew you were close, slowly he slipped the first finger in, your walls warm and welcoming clenched his finger as he pumped it in, adding another right after. His mouth finding your clit, sucking the sensitive bud, sending pleasure coursing through your body.

“A-amajiki don’t stop” your toes curl at the sensation of his fingers curling inside you, you breathlessly moan your mind going blank as pleasure takes over. Pulling on his hair as his mouth works on your clit while his fingers work their magic, overwhelmed by the pleasure you felt from your lower stomach tightening, “Amajiki… i'm gonna-” before you can finish your sentence you feel the third finger slid in, you roll your eyes back feeling your walls stretch “Oh god, Tamaki”

Tamaki grinds his hips harder at the sounds coming out of your lips, his rock hard cock twitch in sweatpants “fuck” he groaned into your heat fingers slicked with your juices as he worked them in and out of you and lapped your sweet juices with his tongue “I love when you say my name,”.

“T-tama” you moaned bucking your hips on his face in search of release. Only a few moments later you came hard, with his face between your thighs and into his mouth. Your vision blurred as felt Tamaki continue to eat out even after cuming so hard. “Amajiki” you tried to get out of his grasp telling him that you’re too sensitive, he didn't move. He stayed there till you felt another wave of pleaser hit and you came into his mouth.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling as you felt euphoria, you watched Amajiki get up from his position between your thighs, get up to kiss you, you tasted yourself on his lips moaning as you felt his boner poking your inner thigh.

He pulls away from the kiss, whining at the loss of contact eyes following him as he gets off the bed. You watch him as he takes off his sweatpants revealing his black boxers which had a wet patch at the tip of his dick, drooling at the outline of his fat cock you imagined having it in your mouth fucking your troat till you became sore.

You get on your knees and start to crawl to where Tamaki was standing, pulling his briefs down until you were met with his painfully erect cock. Licking your lips you looked at him “can i suck your dick” he grabs your chin giving you a peck on the lips “sure, but not now” he says as he backs you up on the bed, laying you down as he starts to nip at your jaw “i wanna be inside you first” he whispers in your ear.

Tamaki separates your legs with his knee, placing himself between your thighs, stroking his dick as he brushes the head of his cock your wet centre. “Amaji-ah” you feel his tip rub against your entrance, but then backing away with flushed cheeks “baby… do you have any condoms” he rubs the back of his neck. It was moments like these where you would question how this man was a mafia leader.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you pull him on top of you kissing him, “its okay im on the pill” you say kissing his face. He aligned himself with your dripping core, his length sliding against your folds and getting coated by your arousal. You shudder, hearing him grunt as he inserts his tip in, stretching you out. He then thrust his length in you, grunting as he felt your wall squeeze around him, once completely in he stayed still letting you adjust to his size, since he was on the bigger side.

You moaned, biting his shoulder as you felt him stretch out your walls, you felt full. “ oh no baby are you okay?” Tamaki cooed still inside of you as he whipped tears from your face “should we stop? Does it hurt?” It wasn't the first time that he had to pull out because he was too big during sex, as he got ready to pull out, you wrapped your legs around his waist kepping him in place “Tama i-its okay, it doesnt hurt, you’re just big” you kiss his cheeks giving him a okay to move as you grip his shoulders” as he slowly began to move.

“Fuck youre so tight baby, you feel so f-fucking good” he let out a groan thrusting even deeper in you.

“Holy shit, your pussy feels so good” he moans in your mouth, picking up the pace. Your mouth drops open and you watch his brow furrow as he slips deeper into you, and fills you up. He continues to push until he finally bottoms out, he pants out a heavy breath that he's been holding out. Your eyes flutter but you fight to keep them open, and your arms wrap around his torso to grip his back.

“oh god Amajik” you moan, hips moving to match his thrust “feels so good”

“Yeah?” he pants out, moving at a steady pace, and you nod in response.

Admiring how he looks on top you, lips pink and swollen from your kisses parted as soft moans and grunts pass them. His eyes dark, looking at you with insatiable hunger that told you that he was holding back.

“Amajiki harder” you whimper, “fuck me harder.”

He pauses for a second, studying your face to make sure he was hearing this well. His breath stuttered before he let out a shaky breath.Then his hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold and he started snapping his hips as hard as he could into yours.

Your eyes roll back at the force of his hips slapping against yours. His nails dug into your supple skin and it stung but you didn’t bother to care because the feeling of him stroking along your sensitive walls was too overwhelming.

“Fuck baby” he gruffly let’s put “you’re making me feel so good”

Clenching around his words, you feel more of your juices coating him as he fucks you harder into the mattress.

“You like it?” he pants “ is my cock making you feel good, baby”

You nod. You couldn’t speak properly, not with the way his hips seemed to increase their speed and hit you deeper with each thrust.

“Use your words, bunny” he grunts into your ear. He releases your hips in favor of gripping your thighs, pausing to shift onto his knees and have a better handle of you and angle his hips just right. “You love it don’t you? You love it when I fuck you with my cock?”

“Yes” you moan “i love it, i love your cock”

“Your close aren’t you? I can feel the way you keep clenching around my cock,”

“Oh god I’m close tama, don’t stop” you say when the thrust abruptly stops when he pulls out of you, and you whimper in shock and desperation. But he doesn’t allow you a second to question him before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you onto your stomach lifting your ass up. He spanks your ass and you squeal in surprise but it morphs into a moan when he shifts your hips to position himself behind you properly. He’s slipping inside you with ease, and you’re back where you left off.

Trailing a hand from your back, all the way to your head he gripped your hair, pulling your head back to capture lips with his.

His mouth on your neck kissing his way to your ear, nibbling on it before he continued spewing filthy phrases in your ear that had you whining in blinding pleasure.

“You're taking it so well, baby. Now be a good girl and cum on my cock” he pants in your ear.

His hand finds your engorged clit, rubbing vigorously as he snapped his hips faster. Your mouth dropped open but no sounds came out, your voice was gone as you felt the pleasure rapidly increasing and the heat in your tummy growing larger and larger until it finally exploded.

“oh tamaki” you moaned “ fuck, I’m cumming.” You called out his name breathlessly as if it was a mantra as you felt yourself come undone all over him.

Amajiki groaned, fucking you through your orgasm, chasing after his own. After a few deep thrusts he stops and gripping your hips as he feels himself shooting his release in you.

He stays inside for a while and you feel him kiss on your along your spine, whispering soft nothings. He pulls out leaving you feeling empty.

Unable to move your body, you let yourself fall into the mattress resting your head on your pillow.

“Tired” you hear tamaki leaning against the headboard of your bed. He pulls your limp body making you hover over his lap, your back against his chest “but i'm not done with you baby” he bites your shoulder, rubbing the head of his cock on your entrance lubricating it with both of your juices.

“Yeah that’s right watch yourself as I fuck you” he says starring right at you through the mirror. You watched him as he slipped himself inside you with ease.

He held your hips keeping you in place as you watched his length disappear in you with each hard thrust.

“Oh my god” your moan feeling the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot. “Are you gonna cum baby?” Amajiki grunts going faster, you nod grabbing his thighs to help you steady as you start to move your hips to match his pace as you feel your 4th orgasm approach.

“Look at you bouncing on my dick like a good little slut” he growled in your ear, his hands wrapped around your throat choking you “come for me slut” with a couple more thrust both of you came undone.

Breathing heavily as you calmed from your high, you got off his lap and sat beside him leaning on the headboard.

You looked ahead seeing both of your reflections in the mirror; cheeks flushed and swollen lips.

Tamaki turned towards you smiling as he caressed your face leaning for a kiss.

“You're amazing, you know that?” you smiled at him, finding him adorable in his fucked out state.

“So are you,” you said, returning the kiss.

Tamaki gets off the bed and goes to the bathroom to get something to clean both of you up. You manage to keep your eyes open, smiling as you see Tamaki’s naked butt as he leaves the room. Reaching out your hand imagining to squish it.

You close your eyes letting the sleep take you over when you something cold on your inner thighs opening your eyes only to see Tamaki cleaning you off.

You feel the bed dip from Tamaki’s weight, you turn around laying on your back facing your lover. Smiling at him you wrap your arms around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck inhaling his sent mixed with sweat and sex.

“You're gonna be sore tomorrow” he places a kiss on the crown of your head “don't blame me for it though it was you who wanted it” he tries to mimic your moans from earlier. “Shut up” you say playfully slapping his chest he let out a low chuckles holding you tighter ready to let sleep take over.

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random-tinies · 3 years

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Crowza - 2

Hey, I’m on AO3 too! It’ll be the first thing updated when I finish a chapter from now on, but only by like, a few hours. :P I’ll be updating this fic on the first of every month so you guys know when to expect it next. This was sitting in my Docs almost done for weeks and I finally sat down and went “I’m writing the rest of this.” and did it, so here’s chapter two!

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AO3 Link

Sunlight filters through the branches and leaves of the old oak. Phil lifts a wing over his face, grumbling about how the sun is always at the perfect angle to blind him every morning. Of course, he does this song and dance every spring. He’s not exactly an early bird, which is why he never blocks it. It helps him get up in the morning.

The tiny bird hybrid resigns to his fate and sits up, blinking blearily at his old home. A torn picture of his boys hangs on the far end of the hollow. He grins, happy to be greeted by their faces. The photo had been yoinked last year when it fell out of Tommy’s jacket during one of his more daring excursions. Always so chaotic, that one, Philza chuckles to himself as the thought crosses his mind. Good memories.

He walks to his stash of nuts and jerky and various other bits of food he collected and preserved the autumn before migration. He crafts a quick granola bar, thanking his lucky stars that chocolate is so easily preserved, and enjoys a sweet homemade breakfast. Pleased chirps escape him as he basks in the perfect simplicity of it all.

Today is full of plans. A lot can happen in a few months and Phil needs to make sure there’s no new predators in the area that might get the jump on him, so he’s going to patrol the area. His territory needs to be safe. He’s always very careful about going about this. It’s rare, but if humans decide to start building near him, he’d need to know.

That and he needs somewhere to get coffee. He’d think that centuries of drinking the stuff would convince him to invent a tiny coffee machine, but why create something that will break eventually when he can just sneak into a human’s house and borrow enough to last him a month of two? Of course, he won’t be borrowing that much today, but the next time all three boys leave the house, he’s certainly going to stock up. Today, he just needs a little pick-me-up.

Phil walks to the edge of his home and ducks under the branches protecting it from outsiders, then hops up them like a staircase to get the best vantage point to take off flying. A low mist hovers over the pine forest, the sun’s rays burning away at it and painting the morning in brilliant hues of gold. Phil launches himself into the air, powerful flaps disturbing the mist and sending him high above the trees. The sky above is void of clouds as he spreads his wings and coasts. The air he breathes chills his lungs but the morning sun provides a warm contrast to the feeling. Appreciation for the peace fills his chest as if it were something physical.

Spring truly is his favorite season. The crisp scent of pines and melting snow permeates the air. A few shy birds send their song up, declaring their presence to the world. This is home, this is where he loves to be, where he longs to be every winter when he has to migrate south. Occasionally, a crow joins him in the air, lazily flapping in the soft breeze.

Phil casts his eyes towards the ground, watching for any stray movements. He’d heard of mountain lions moving into the area from Kristin. They’re fleeing the forest fires west of them, she’d said. She thought maybe they were the cause of the odd feeling she has and Phil was inclined to agree, but you can never be too careful. Eventually, after finding nothing, he flies to the humble house his boys call home.

When the birdman reaches the cabin that houses his boys and nothing is amiss, he decides to land in a nearby tree and rest. The sun had climbed to about midday and he has yet to find anything that would tip him off. He fluffs his feathers as a chill sets in, the branches and needles of the tree warding off the sunlight, and takes out some squirrel jerky he packed for lunch. Perhaps it simply isn’t time to find this ominous omen Kristin gave him and he’s jumping the gun.

The door to the home opens and two people step out. It’s the blonde and brunette from the previous day. Philza watches them as they talk about something with low voices. It’s a bit odd to hear the youngest one talking so softly. Tommy’s usually boisterous and loud, throwing banter back and forth with Wilbur and giving the occasional sibling shove.

Philza hums as he takes another bite of jerky. When he goes on his coffee run inside the house, perhaps he’ll look for any clues. The thought that something could be wrong with them twists a knot of worry in his stomach. A chill goes down his spine as he realizes he hasn’t seen Techno out and about these last few days. He forgets any plans to raid the house later and throws all caution to the wind. Oh Ender, please let him be okay and not deathly ill or something.

Tommy and Wilbur climb into the red pickup next to their house and drive away. Phil immediately swoops down out of his tree and soars the short distance to the old cabin, flapping to slow himself so he can land quietly. It was his saving grace that they like to decorate the windows so he doesn’t crash into them all the time. He flap-hops around the house until he finds a window cracked open and slowly opens it further so he can crawl inside. It’s harder to find open windows further into the season since so many bugs come out.

He listens hard and looks around for any movement, staying stock still.

Nothing, the house is silent, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

He carefully steps in further, wings poised to take off at any given moment. The inside is just as cozy as the outside. The walls are decorated with photos of the trio, of a family Philza has watched grow up over the years. It’s surprisingly clean, the hand-knitted rainbow blanket folded over the back of the old leather couch. It smells like pine smoke and coffee, and bacon. Phil would find it funny if he wasn’t so worried for Techno at that moment. He hops about the living room, making his way towards the kitchen. If he can’t find anything here, he may as well get some coffee.

There’s nothing amiss on the coffee table. Phil’s claws leave tiny indentations on the softwood as he walks across it. The lamp next to him offers a little bit of light but he can see fine with the natural light coming through the windows. There’s an ad for an animal shelter in the newspaper, a comic making fun of teenagers with phones, news of the new president, and an article about a pipeline being built sometime next year. The birdman frowns at that, making a mental note. He’ll need to put an end to that before it ruins his home. He shakes his head. Right now is not the time! He needs to see if there’s anything wrong! His gaze gets caught by the fashion magazine open to a page on robes and turns a few pages, admiring the modern clothes that differ so much from his own- Oh right! Techno!

He flaps into the kitchen and trots across the counter towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. Today is circled in red with the word “ADOPTION” in messy, bold lettering. Adoption? Techno and Wilbur aren’t married, right? They can’t adopt children, right? Confusion replaces the worry in his mind but he shrugs. As far as Phil can tell by all the clues, Techno isn’t in any danger and it’s safe to get some coffee from the pot on the counter opposite of him. He hops over and crouches on the edge, dipping his rabbit-skin waterskin in and filling it full of the delicious drug.

There’s a cough from upstairs in the attic and Philza nearly jumps out of his skin. His feet slip on the edge of the pot and his wings flare out to make up for the sudden loss of balance. The mug next to him falls off the counter and shatters on the linoleum flooring with a loud crash. Oh god, oh fuck. There’s no way Techno didn’t hear that. The bird hybrid quickly reaches into the pot and retrieves his waterskin and swiftly flies back to the window, heart pounding.

He knows he’s leaving a few feathers behind, but it doesn’t matter as long as he himself doesn’t get caught. He can hear the telltale creaks of a ladder as he takes off into the open air again, inhaling deeply and landing back in his tree. What was he thinking?! Going to check on one of the beans?! He put himself in unnecessary danger just for some person he got way too attached to!

From the safety of his branch, Phil watches Techno shut the window he’d made his escape from. The piglin hybrid seems fine, no hint of any severe illnesses. The cough didn’t even sound that bad, like he was just clearing his throat. That was too close. He can’t let it happen again. Phil takes a swig of his coffee and flies off to keep scouting out his territory. I’m going to give myself a nice preen tonight, he thinks as he coasts over the trees. That nearly gave me a heart attack.

He goes back to doing his routine check-ups and patrolling around his territory, promising himself he would do better to keep himself safe. Surely he’s not losing his edge, right? Surely not…

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justlistenuniverse · 4 years

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Chad x Ryan Headcanon

So, I rewatched the High School Musical movies, and my brain won't shut up about Ryan and all the possibilities. I mean, the movies don't really show a lot of the characters outside of Troy and maybe Gabriella, but I have a lot of ideas. Since I can't be bothered writing a fanfiction right now, these little plot points should do it. (There's a little Chad/Ryan in there and a lot of me ignoring canon)

Sharpay and Ryan are really close, even though she keeps using him, and he knows it, but he hasn't had friends outside of his sister for a long time, and he kind of profits from her reign of terror, so he lets her do it.

When she ditches him in the summer, Ryan starts realizing how lonely he really is. He loves his school, and his classmates are fine, but thanks to Sharpay's attitude and him tagging along, all he gets from them is a sneer and people calling him Sharpay's lapdog (which is really not fair, she has Boi)

He spends a lot of the time he now has alone, walking around the Lava Springs grounds, maybe booking one of the rooms for a small dance rehearsal.

Then Gabriella invites her along to the game, and Ryan is suspicious, but he also doesn't have anything better to do, so he tags along and lets Taylor and Gabriella tell him all about the game. It's the first one this summer, but there's another one planned, and they are hoping Troy might make it to that one, even though Chad is their best player.

He loves playing Baseball. He forgot how fun it was, ho he used to get so excited for practice, and his games before he decided that Theater would be a more realistic career choice for someone like him and dropped out of the team. Sharpay dragging him along and commanding all his time might have weighted into that decision, too. He tries hard not to think about him leaving Baseball behind, which also meant him leaving his friends behind (but he can't help some memories playing in his head as he watches the boys warming up on the pitch)

Gabriella offering him up as a choreographer, shouldn't feel this good, but he's always loved dancing and coming up with choreographies for his favorite musical numbers. There could be worse things than training the Wildcats for the Star Dazzle Award.

He hadn't been planning on playing, not really, but he does, and the game is the most fun he had in weeks. His muscles apparently remember his Baseball games just fine, and he feels a little bit of hope growing inside of him. Maybe he won't have to be alone all summer long.

When his team loses the game, all that hope is gone. The past hours will probably be the only fun ones he'll have this summer. He won't be training the Wildcats, and he definitely won't make some friends now. But then Chad tells him he will at least try to dance, and everyone gets really excited about the prospect of taking part in the talent show, so Ryan allows the hope back in.

They invite him for post-game fries, and hanging out with all of them makes him realize how starved he really is for social interactions after years of just Sharpay. Gabriella drags him along to her house, where they all watch a movie, but it all feels so unreal that Ryan is sure he'll wake up all alone tomorrow.

Even when Chad and Gabriella and some of the others program their numbers into his phone, that feeling won't leave him.

He does not wake up without friends, though

There are a couple of texts from Gabriella, and a picture of an article about Ryan and his Little League Team Chad dug up on the internet and might be freaking out about (Ryan did remember that article. It had praised him as a rising talent of the Baseball league. His mom still has it framed in her office).

Ryan skips breakfast and instead goes and books his favorite rehearsal room after he steals/consults his new possible friend's working hours to find a convenient time for rehearsal.

He tries out a couple of ideas by himself and then finds Kelsi to ask about the Song she wrote. They make a surprisingly good team once she stops being afraid of him.

Gabriella finds him on her lunch break, and the two of them talk over Sandwiches. Taylor eventually joins them. They find out all of them have the same favorite TV Show and make plans for a joined binging of season one at Gabriella's place since she owns the box set.

Talking with them is so easy, some of the anxiety in Ryan calms down. He even waves at Chad and Zeke when they come in for their afternoon shift, and they smile and wave back.

The anxiety gets even better when all of the Wildcats turn up for their first rehearsal, eager to learn the dance moves Ryan came up with

There's a lot of laughter, something that rarely happened once Sharpay and him started rehearsing for school plays. Ryan loves it.

Chad is a surprisingly good dancer when he puts his mind into it. Jason is a hopeless case, but he's weirdly enthusiastic, and Ryan offers him extra training after work.

He gets a text from Zeke the next morning, inviting him for breakfast in the kitchen. He gets cookies, and Martha shows him that she already memorized most of the chores, which is truly amazing. He relaxes enough around them to make sarcastic comments and tease Chad.

Rehearsing is a lot of fun with them. It's also chaotic and loud, but Ryan really doesn't mind. Even Jason gets into it after a while.

They keep inviting Ryan to hang out with them after work or when they are on break. Eventually, it becomes a common occurrence for him to come walk into the kitchen. Common enough that Mr. Fulton doesn't blink anymore whenever he tries to be awful to them but can't because Ryan will quietly glare at him (He wouldn't need too. Mr. Fulton likes him, but he's slightly scared of Sharpay and follows her every word)

Taylor and Martha join him for his yoga classes.

Gabriella, Taylor, and he have that binging night. The next day, Taylor needs a triple shot espresso to function, and Gabriella nearly falls asleep on the job. Ryan walks into a wall; he's so tired, but it was definitely worth it.

His mom notices the difference in him. Sharpay doesn't. It stings.

Chad asks him once why he doesn't play Baseball at school. "We could use someone like you on the team," Ryan tells him that he wants to concentrate on acting and dancing as much as possible. He doesn't tell him that he never really noticed how much he missed the sport.

Chad nudges him and laughs. They keep throwing a Baseball back and forth.

Ryan does get dragged into the second employee Baseball game as well as a couple of smaller ones. He's always playing against Chad because both are super competitive, and it makes for a good match.

Chad and Zeke try t teach him Basketball, but he doesn't really get it. Jason offers him one on one lessons for his extra dance training.

It takes a while for Ryan to notice how happy he is now that he has so many people to talk too.

He also noticed how hurt everyone is because of Troy's behavior, Chad and Gabi most of all. He tries to apologize to them for his sister, but they wave him off. "You are not your sister, Ryan. You shouldn't be taking the blame on you." (He nearly tears up)

Then, Sharpay manages to exclude them from the talent show, and Ryan feels like his world is crumbling around him. Gabi texts him that she broke up with Troy. Chad calls him later that night, and they talk about how weird this summer is. "But honestly, I am glad we are friends now, Ry. You are kind of awesome."

Hatching a plan to get back at Sharpay is easy once Kelsi comes rushing into the kitchen, telling them how Troy turned Sharpay down. Taylor immediately calls Gabriella, and the four of them come up with a plan. Ryan is an expert on everything Lava Springs and Sharpay, Chad and Gabriella know Troy better than anyone else, and Taylor is a fucking genius. The others love the plan.

He finds himself driving Kelsi over to Gabriella's house for a song rehearsal, and he stays to watch her sing, She looks less perky than usual, more exhausted. But she still has that spirit that keeps pulling everyone in, and when she smiles at him, he knows she'll be okay again. He is happy about that.

Ryan feels guilty about playing Sharpay like this, but he still has her voice in his head, degrading him in every way possible without telling him he sucks. Kelsi tells him it's gonna be okay.

When the big evening ends with Troy and Gabi back together, and the award in Ryan's hand like the exaggerated apology it is, Ryan thinks he's dreaming.

For a short moment, Ryan thinks the team will ditch him now that they got Troy back, but they don't. They introduce him to Troy like he's the second-best thing that ever happened to them, and Troy makes an effort to get to know him. There are no rehearsals anymore, but basketball games, lazy baseball practice, impromptu dance battles with Martha, and more text conversations than Ryan's phone has ever handled.

Sharpay starts making amends, She comes knocking on his door, and they talk. She writes apologies to Troy and Gabriella and Kelsi and delivers them personally. She grumbles all the way through writing them, but she smiles when they accept.

They invite her to hang out with them, too, and she fits the group well. There's a blush on her face when Zeke presents her with cinnamon buns, and she starts holding his hand. Ryan just smiles, glad his sister might admit her crush on the boy now.

Work at Lava Springs becomes more relaxed for the Wildcats after Fulton calms down. They get treated like everyone else, and while he's still strict on their break times, he lets them have more fun now.

The end-of-summer-party Sharpay organizes is a hit. She plans to make it a standing event for employees from now on, no matter who they are.

Then their Senior Year starts. Everything is the same, but also kind of different. Ryan grew a lot over the summer, and his friends helped him be more self-confident in a less arrogant way.

Sharpay mellowed out a bit, too. It's partly because of the Wildcats accepting her into their group, partly due to her affection for Ryan and also because of Zeke spending a lot of time with her. Ryan might have caught them in the Evan's private kitchen once, both of them giggling as Zeke showed her how to make the cookies she loved so much. He didn't tell anyone.

But then, Sharpay starts to fall back into her old ways some weeks into the school year. She snaps at Ryan, ignores Zeke, flirts with Troy, and tries to make Theater all about her again.

Ryan doesn't know what's happening, and neither does anyone else. Zeke is a sad puppy all the time, and Jason spends a lot of time trying to cheer him up.

However, Ryan is still quite settled. He visits all of Chad's games, Basketball and Baseball, and cheers his friends on. He tells Martha to audition for the cheerleaders and is her biggest fan once she gets in. Martha, Taylor, and he still do Yoga together twice a week with an instructor Ryan pays. When his dance class takes part in a competition, he gets cheered on by his friends. He and Gabriella have a standing movie night once a month, with brownies and whatever TV Shows they love. He and Kelsi still work great together, writing and choreographing the graduation musical, and they love to hang out outside of the show, too. There's not one day he doesn't get hundreds of text messages.

His favorite text convos are the late-night ones with Chad and Gabi. They eventually morph into late-night-dinner-visits. Sometimes, Troy or someone else will join them. The Diner staff has a booth for them, and they have usual orders.

Sharpay gets a PA. Ryan doesn't like Tiara. She makes him feel like he's worthless all over again, and there's a cold aura around her despite her playing nice. Gabriella tells him to keep an eye on her if she keeps making him feel that way. Taylor says he's far from worthless.

Chad tells him about how scared he is once it becomes clear that Troy might not be as set on the U of A as everyone thought. They met when they were five, and they did everything together since. The only difference would be Baseball and Golf, and that's why the summer was so hard for Chad. He can't imagine himself without Troy by his side. He doesn't know who he is when he's not Troy Bolton's best friend. Ryan isn't sure what to say, but he holds Chad when he starts to cry, and he promises him to help him figure out who he is.

Ryan is the third person Gabriella tells about the program at Stanford. Her mom and Taylor both think she's acting childish, and she needs someone else to help her make a decision. Ryan holds her hand and carefully tells her that h thinks she needs to talk to Troy. He also tells her not to worry about the show, because that's not a problem she should concern herself with right now. Her future is calling, with an incredible opportunity, and he doesn't want her to regret missing out on it.

Sharpay finds out about the program and tells Troy about it before Gabriella can. Ryan gets so angry, he yells at her. He doesn't understand why she's trying to ruin everyone's Senior Year. She hisses at him to grow up and leaves the house.

Gabriella invites all of her friends to her house and tells them she'll graduate early and leave. She clutches Troy's hand so tightly her knuckles turn white, but he lets her. And then she's the center of a huge group hug. Jason grabs Chad, and they drive off to get them drinks and snacks, turning the whole meeting into a little goodbye party.

At one point, Ryan finds himself standing next to Zeke on the balcony. Zeke confesses that he had been planning on asking Sharpay to be his prom date, but she broke up with him before the first posters popped up. Ryan has seen a lot of heartbreak lately, and Zeke might just be the worst. He can't do anything but listen, though, and Zeke gives him a sad little smile when Ryan drops him off at his house.

Sharpay tries to win him for whatever plan she has, but he refuses. He's busy with school and the show and sad about Gabriella leaving, and he won't betray his friends.

Kelsi tells him she's gay one morning when they sit at the piano in one of the music rooms and figure out the words for a song. She only told her parents and Jason so far. Ryan offers to take her to prom as friends because he hadn't planned on going with a romantic date anyway.

He wonders when he became the person people trusted in, but it feels good to have them trust him, and he knows he can tell them everything, too.

Rehearsals are less fun now. They still want to do the show, and they work their asses off, but Gabriella was more critical for the group dynamic than anyone had realized. They miss her like crazy, and seeing Troy act like a heartbroken puppy gets frustrating. They also have to deal with a sad Zeke, who has to watch Sharpay throw herself at Troy at any possible time. It's not easy.

Late-night-diner-visits are just Ryan and Chad now. They are both comfortable in the presence of each other, but Gabriella is missing even here. When she tells them she won't be coming for prom and the show, they all get even more depressed, even when Gabi says she will be back for the graduation celebration.

Troy leaves to get Gabriella back. He doesn't tell anyone until he's left the state, only sending a group message when there's no way of getting him back. His dad calls Chad and then Troy, ranting about how he should have said something so he could've gotten his parent's car, which would've been much safer for a trip like that. Nobody is surprised at Troy's actions, though.

Prom without Troy and Gabriella is a little weird, but still lots of fun. Ryan dances with Kelsi and Martha and Taylor, and even Chad. Sharpay doesn't show, which makes Ryan worry. When he comes home late at night, he finds her curled up in his bed, fast asleep. He slips under the blanket and pulls her close, falling asleep with his sister in his arms.

Sharpay is already awake when he opens his eyes the next morning, sitting on the bed in an old pair of pink sweatpants and one of Zeke's shirts. She's always well dressed, and the fact that she isn't right now tells Ryan that this is serious. He waits for her to speak first.

She tells him about the Julliard chatroom she's been frequenting nearly every day since the summer. How she chatted with lots of people on there, all of them having the same dream. How she started to panic once she read some of their resumes and realized that her own resume had a lot of leading roles but also that understudy part of the spring musical from a year ago. She doesn't have a plan B, Julliard was always her first choice, and she can't let that go. So she started to push them all away and focused on getting herself a more significant role in the show. Flirting with Troy had already been a habit, Zeke would have held her back. Ryan is her twin, but it's only one scholarship, and while neither of them needs it, this scholarship is tied to the last free spot at Julliard. She tells him how she had never felt so alone, and that she's missing hanging out with them. She even misses Gabriella, and she doesn't like Tiara. "Nobody is that nice all the time, Ryan! Even Gabriella had her bad moments when she was around me."

Ryan hugs her tight and makes her Pancakes and smoothies. Then he texts Zeke.

Zeke turns up on their doorstep twenty minutes later, still in his PJs. Sharpay all but jumps into his arms, crying into his shoulder as he holds her. Ryan leaves them be and retires to his room to text Chad and Gabriella, only coming out when it becomes clear that they have to leave for the show.

He gets to drive Sharpay's car for the first time ever because his sister refuses to let Zeke's hand go. He accepted her apology, and while he told her he would need some time to fully forgive her, he did kiss her softly. The two of them look a bit ridiculous with Zeke in his PJs and Sharpay having changed into a hot pink tracksuit, but Ryan's happy for them.

Gabriella texts him that her mom is driving her and Troy back to East High, and to please get her a ticket. He promises her he'll put her mom on the guestlist.

East High is pretty empty. It's a Saturday, and the show won't be starting until much later. The time before is for making sure everything is okay, going through the whole thing once, warming up their voices and muscles, and trying to get rid of any complications they might get. Sharpay apologizes to all of them and explains her behavior, which leads to Ms. Darbus telling her how she should have just said something, and Kelsi would have written her a different storyline, something more substantial. Chad tells her he'll make her life a living hell if she treats Ryan like that ever again, but then he hugs Sharpay, and she smiles and lets him.

Ryan quietly admits that he send applications for Sharpay to some other schools where she can study acting. Sharpay kisses him on the cheek and says he should've told her.

Troy texts Chad that he isn't sure if he'll make it in time, so Kelsi pulls Rocket aside to help him go over the Song again.

Sharpay finds Tiara in her wardrobe, showing her real face. The conversation unsettles her much after the whole emotional morning, and it takes Ryan a little while to calm her down again.

The show is chaotic but good. Ryan enjoys every single minute of it. To everyone's relief, Troy and Gabriella make it in time for their first Song, which allows Sharpay to kick Tiara of the show, and the rest of them to breathe easy.

He never doubted Kelsi would receive the scholarship, but hearing that they decided to take him on, too, is surreal and incredible, and he doesn't think Sharpay hugged him so hard in years.

They throw an After Party right there in the Auditorium. There are music and drinks, and their parents stay to mingle. His mom tells Ryan that she already got a two-room-flat in New York, and he asks Kelsi to be his roommate so she won't have to worry about housing.

Chad is still a bit upset about Troy's choice, but he tells him he'll be okay as long as Troy keeps in contact with him, and Troy swears Chad'll be annoyed with him by the end of the first term.

Gabriella has to go back to Standford the next day, but this time around, it's okay. Troy still mops about, but now that he choose a University that won't be all that far away from her he's better.

The rest of the school year goes by in a rush of exams and presentations. Ryan spends a lot of time on the living room floor, surrounded by notes and Sharpay, maybe even Zeke.

Graduation day is fantastic and awful at once. Ryan cries. Everyone cries. They take more pictures together than is probably healthy, and Ryan is already picking out frames for his favorite ones mentally.

Most of them still have a few weeks before they'll have to leave, but Taylor has to leave early, and so do Ryan and Kelsi. Gabriella will be staying a bit longer since her Semester won't be starting until Troy's does.

Ryan's last night is spent at the diner with Chad, Gabi, and Sharpay. Sharpay offers Chad to room with her since her parents had gotten her a flat near Campus, and she knows that Chad would just have stayed at the dorms for the first year. It's a surprise, but Chad accepts happily, and Ryan feels they will work well.

All of their friends gather to see Kelsi and Ryan off. Ryan gets hugged so much he starts to believe he won't be able to stand up without a pair of arms around his body. Gabriella makes him promise to text her as often as possible, Sharpay cries and says she'll be visiting him a lot, and Chad hugs him tightly enough to bruise a rip.

Ryan loves Julliard. It's competitive and loud, but it's also passionated and flashy. He's surrounded by people who are just as taken with the showbusiness as he is, and while it's a bit hard to make genuine friends, he manages.

Kelsi gets a girlfriend, and the three of them have movie nights at their apartment.

Sharpay does visit them quite a lot. She brings Chad with her once, and Ryan spends the whole weekend showing his friend the city. Chad absolutely loves New York, and Ryan invites him for an extended stay during their next break.

It's in his second year at Julliard that Ryan finally accepts the fact that he is gay. He thought he might be bisexual, but after a couple of make-out sessions with cute guys and no attraction whatsoever for any girl in his classes, he nods and sighs. There are no tears or break-downs. Instead, Kelsi gets him his favorite Milkshake, and they celebrate.

Telling his family is easy. His parents have never been judgemental about sexuality, and Sharpay just shrugs and tells him not to steal her boyfriend. Ryan laughs and tells her Zeke would never leave her on his own free will. When he calls Gabriella, she says she'll love him anyway, and Troy teases him about crushing on cute actors. (Turns out Troy himself has a crush on Jensen Ackles, which they bond over).

He tells Chad in person when he visits him at Chad's Uni. Chad is silent for a while, and then he nods and admits that he thinks he is bisexual himself. They get drunk and have a long discussion about sexuality.

Ryan visits all the games of Troy and Chad in New York. They always get him tickets, and he will cheer them on loudly.

His third year is so stressful, he nearly misses one of Chad's games. He's landed a leading role in a Julliard production while choreographing a smaller show on the side and is swapped with course work. He barely has time to sleep and eat. Kelsi's the same, their apartment filling with dirty dishes and clothes. But he finds Taylor standing at their door an hour before the game starts, and she presents both of them with tickets.

Despite constantly texting, they have a lot to talk about. Taylor and Chad broke up shortly into their first year of University, but they are still close to each other, and Ryan kind of admires them for it. She tells him all about her new boyfriend and gushes with Kelsi about a movie they had watched recently.

The four decide to go out for Pizza after Chad finds them, freshly showered and grinning brightly from winning the game. He looks incredibly handsome and relaxed, and Ryan finds himself staring at him more than once.

It takes one more visit for Chad and Ryan to finally kiss. It's January, and they are sitting on the roof of Ryan's apartment building. Wrapped in blankets, and with warm cocoa, watching the sky. Later, neither can tell if one of them started it or both leaned in at the same time, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters are their lips meeting softly, Ryan's hands in Chad's hair, and Chad's fingers searching for warm skin. It's slow and sweet, and it goes on forever.

Long-distance is easier for them than they expected. They've been friends for nearly five years at this point, and they spent three of those apart. Now, they call and text more, and visits get a bit more frequent, but both are willing to work hard. Kelsi says it shows.

Telling their friends and families isn't a big deal. Gabriella squeals so loudly, Ryan is sure he'll get tinnitus. Troy calls him to say he'll hurt him if he hurts Chad, but also to call him if Chad's an asshole. Sharpay hugs them both, and threatens Chad with detailed revenge plans should he hurt her brother. Their parents invite the pair for dinner.

Graduating from Julliard feels as unreal as leaving High School, but Ryan has already secured his first job as a choreographer for a dance show, and he's happy.

Sharpay moves to New York and brings Zeke with her, who landed a fancy bakery job and still dreams about opening his own one in the future. He starts a YouTube channel, and Sharpay gets cast for a Broadway production.

The invitations for Troy's and Gabriella's wedding don't surprise anyone. Chad is Troy's best man, and Gabi asks Ryan to be the ring bearer. It's a beautiful wedding. Ryan cries.

Chad moves to New York two years after graduating college, signing with the Knicks and asking Ryan to move in with him. They made it work so far, and while both their schedules are packed, they also make it work when living together.

The ten-years-reunion of their class takes place in Lava Springs. They kept in contact with most of their friends from High School, so nothing is really a surprise. Some of the other people are surprised at seeing Chad and Ryan kiss, but Nobody says anything.

Bonus:

Kelsi wins a Tony for her very first musical. She works with Ryan on another stage production, and both of them get an award.

Chad stays with the knicks, and Ryan keeps cheering him one while wearing his High School Trikot. Tumblr loves them, and they get listed as one of the Top 15 Power-Couples, even though none of them are sure why.

Zeke and Sharpay break up two more times before she proposes to him. He never opens a bakery, because his YouTube channel picks up so much he doesn't need too. They move into a place with a bigger kitchen.

I have no idea what Troy does, but whatever it is, he's happy.

Lava Springs somehow gets to be where their whole group meets up once a year for a weekend. Mr. and Mrs. Evans are glad to welcome them, and Mr. Fulton likes to tease them about the Star Dazzle Award.

Chad proposes to Ryan a year after gay marriage becomes legal in all fifty states.

Ryan loves it when Chad kisses his temple, while Chad practically melts whenever Ryan plays with his hair

418 notes · View notes

buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Anybody - N. Horan Imagine

NOTE: I sincerely appreciate everybody’s patience with me getting to requests. Sometimes its just nice to take a lil break and write a niall amnesia fic, ya know? anyways, here’s another requested imagine (i combined two because they were vv similar), enjoy!

“You’re telling us you’re still single?” The girl scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

It made your cheeks flame up incredibly and your stomach turn in guilt. Normally, this conversation would not have you so antsy or defensive if it had not been for Niall’s presence beside you. The idea to share lunch with the cast one day and have Niall tag along was entirely your idea, so there was nobody else to throw blame on. You were happy Niall agreed almost immediately to your proposal, despite knowing the repercussions if either of you somehow clued that you were together in front of your friends and especially in public.

Your lifestyles were definitely a commonality in your relationship. The constant interviews and public appearances were what led to the two of you introducing one another. You both had a disposition for complimenting people greatly, but had a difficult time taking them to heart. Your first meeting could be illustrated with the two of you gawking over each other’s work and red cheeks, with the subtle flirtatious remark thrown in. But it was the impetus for the exchanging of numbers, and a couple of dinners and intimate nights shared in the bedroom.

More importantly, it led you here at a restaurant surrounded by your costars for one of Niall’s favorite television shows and the man himself. He claimed it to be one of his favorites before he even met you, which you still doubt to be the truth, but you never pushed him for validity. The question from your costar, who could also be considered one of your closest friends, left both you and Niall stunned for a moment.

“Oh, come on. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“You’ve got guys crawling over you all the time.” Another chimes in. You could not argue his point; it happened every time you stumbled across a male fan of the show, over twitter direct messages or blatantly in response to something you posted online. Even during interviews some male hosts would flatter you in the objective to get in your pants, in spite of how clear you made your interests to be platonic.

“So, I can’t be independent and say ‘no’?” You raised your eyebrows, feeling inferior to your colleagues. Unlike them, having a public relationship was off of the table.

“You can. But admit it, you could literallu have anybody, Y/N.” Your friend looks around the table, earning many nods of agreement. You wish every day to wake up and just have the world know your secret. But it did not work like that.

Your publicist immediately refuted the idea of publicly dating when you mentioned your affair with the musician. She went ballistic, claiming you were insane to just post a picture of the two of you to your socials with the mindset of “whatever happens, happens”. It would lead to speculation, which will lead to a closer eye on the two of you and your every move, she argues. Her demands made you want to keep your mouth shut about your fear of being mobbed by cameras off of the red carpet before this conversation. She went on to say the longer you were “available” in the eye of the public, the more popular you would grow. Teenage boys would fawn over you, their girlfriends would google you to see what the hype about you was and hate-stalk you, which would result in a larger following.

Having that disappear all because you were off of the market would make your numbers plummet and lose grip of your male demographic. You were nearly tuning her voice out by this point, until she pointed out that Niall was probably in the same boat. Girl’s loved him; guys were fuming over him. Bigger album sales, followers for days, until the announcement that one of the world’s biggest heartthrobs is officially taken.

You informed Niall about the conversation later that day. And as much as he wanted to say it was bullshit, he could not. It was true. He had attempted many times to present the relationship reveal presentation to his manager and publicist, but both shut him down the moment he began to speak. As of now, both of you were bound by contract to keep your lips shut.

Niall’s aura screamed its independence, so there was no speculation circling him lately about a possible affair. You however, were fresh meat. The new, hottest thing one of few top, trending shows. Everybody wanted to know your whereabouts and who you we’re hanging around with everyday, all day. And it never really seemed to stop.

The night your followers on various media platforms doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled in a matter of hours was when you needed to turn off all receiving notifications. Messages, mentions and questions were flooded to your phone at such a rapid rate that your phone froze. If a photo was even published online of you hugging a man, you would be interrogated about it for the next five interviews following that day.

Recently, the man in question has been your co-star in the series, Ryan. It was clear in the show that your and his character had major chemistry, but outside of the set, Ryan acted like more of a brother figure than anything. He would scare you whenever you turned random corners in the studio, ruffle your hair and bicker with you at any opportunity.

Many gossip news sources were asking both you and your co-star if the relationship between your characters was the same on-screen and off-screen. But it seemed the countless amounts of “no’s” you both delivered immediately after the question was asked was not enough. The other day, a video of him handing you a water bottle with a smile gained thousands of views overnight, as well as theories that you two were hiding a relationship from the public. It could not be further from the truth, but you and Ryan knew it was useless to comment otherwise.

In fact, everybody around you was discouraging the idea to cancel the rumors. All except one person, who always seemed to be cheering you on in your worst moments. And by the eighth week and hundredth photo of you and Ryan allegedly “confirming” your relationship, you had enough.

You stormed into Niall’s apartment with hot feet. You passed by him and paced his kitchen, while he sat up from the couch. Turning down the volume on the golf match playing on the television, he ventures after you and into the kitchen, finding you scavenging his fridge.

“Hang on.” You held up a finger, before retrieving a cold bottle of booze from the fridge. Niall eyes you carefully in your haste to grab the bottle opener already accessible off of his kitchen island and pop the bottle cap off the drink and down half of it. While you guzzle down the drink, Niall gulps, licking his lips.

Chugging a beer, as weird as it sounded, was one of the hottest things Niall had witnessed you do to date.

“Okay,” you slammed the near empty bottle down, taking a deep breath of preparation. “Go ahead.”

“What happened?” He already knew the answer, but it could not hurt to ask. He figured if it bothered you too much to speak about it, you would deny answering. But, considering he was the only person who allowed you to rant to him, you were not going to throw away the opportunity to do so.

“More shit about me and—” That’s the farthest you could let Niall peek at your day before a familiar ringing noise sounds in the kitchen. Niall releases a sigh as you collect your phone from your back pocket, seeing who was calling.

“It’s Ry—”

“Take it. It’s okay.” Niall assures, without you even having to ask. You nod, promising to be quick, though he knew it would be at least twenty minutes before your attentions could turn back to him. That is, if another article was not sent to you about the situation.

“Hey…yeah I saw…” you eye Niall strolling out of the kitchen, his bare back and tense muscles prominent from your view. “Uh huh…” you murmur, before you and Ryan are venting about your day to one another. All of the interrogations at interviews, the photos people had snuck while touring the set, and the trailer for the newest episode that was just dropped. The trailer went viral within two hours because your editors and marketing team decided to include the kissing scene your two character’s shared in that episode along with the montage of other points. By the time you had ended the call, you found Niall showered and lying on his bed. The television in the living room was black, a sign that the golf match ended much earlier.

“Hey…sorry about that.” You mumble, crawling into his bed beside him.

“It’s okay…I assume you don’t want to talk about your day?” He inquires, looking down as you wind an arm over his stomach.

“W-what makes you…”

“I mean, I don’t want you to waste your breath or anything. Judging by the earful you gave Ryan it must’ve been juicy.” Niall remarks through his teeth.

“I was just—”

“Because why waste your time talking to me about it, right?”

“Niall! Stop!” You yell, allowing a heavy silence to fall in between you two. You take your arm away from his middle and sit up, brows scrunching. “Why are you acting like this?” You ask, tone quieter.

“I…don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m just…I’ve been in my head a lot lately. Thinkin’ about lots of things.” He huffs, turning his gaze down to his legs.

“Like?”

“Like…us.” He answers, face solid.

“What about us?” You hesitate with a trembling voice.

“Well, more like how there isn’t an us.” Niall mumbles, voice gravelly. “To everyone else, anyway.” He breathes, trying a smile but with no avail. The sight delivers a brutal sting to your heart.

“Niall…”

“I know we can’t tell anybody; I know.” He rushes out before you could remind him. “But shit, can we at least act like they do when you’re here?” Your lips part, but fail to generate the right words. “Because right now it kind of seems like I don’t exist when Ryan calls and—and when I ask about your day first but he interrupts, it seems like I can’t get a sound out of you after about it. And damnit, Y/N, I want to hear about it! All of it! And having to listen through the walls just to know you’re okay…”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“I see what everybody else does. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.” You nod, biting your lip to hold back tears much like Niall was doing judging by his crackling voice. The only reason you really spilled your guts to Ryan was that he was in the same exact position you were in, so he would understand you the most. But that was not entirely true. Because right in front of you sat Niall, who was hiding just as much as you were for the same exact reasons.

“I’m…I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Yeah,” Niall sniffs, “who could blame ya? Ya never have time to ask.”

“And that’s not right.” You shake your head, bringing your body up to straddle his lap. After swinging a bent leg over both of his, and situating yourself over his thighs, you stare into his eyes with a shameful gaze. “It should never be like that. I should tell you about my day, and ask you about yours and…I’m sorry, Niall. I’m so sorry I haven’t.”

“It’s okay—” He tilts his head down, but your hand grabs a hold of his chin scraggly with hair and lifts it back up.

“No, it’s not.” You decree. “To be honest, the reason I never really talk about it is because…I thought it wouldn’t matter to you?” At your admission, Niall’s eyes bulge. The feeling of his warm hands flying to your hips calms both of you to an extent.

“Why would ya think that, love?”

“Wouldn’t you be annoyed hearing me rant about some guy people think I’m dating?” Niall nods his head, understanding your point.

“I suppose…but I’d be angry with you. I’d be on your side.” Niall guarantees with a firm squeeze to your sides. It makes a giggle bubble up from your throat, and a smile crawl up to his lips at the sound of it resounding against his bedroom walls. After bringing his hands in yours and lacing your fingers together, you say, “I’m sure you would. You’d hold me…pleasure me…sing me to sleep.” You smirk, watching Niall grow flush beneath you at his noticeable methods of affection.

“Ryan can’t do any of that.” You bite your lip.

“Damn right he can’t! You’re mine.” Niall looks you up and down, pulling your chest closer to his.

“And I’ll start taking that into consideration more. Now, how about I pleasure you this time to start?” You raise your eyebrows.

“I like the sound of that.” His hand starts to reach up to comb through your hair, but the boisterous rings of your phone interfere once again. Niall heaves a breath and sits back, all while you roll your eyes and reach out for the phone.

“Hey, Ryan.” Niall looks up at you, expecting in less than a second to be off of his lap. But he is rather surprised at the feeling of your hand reaching up to tug the loose sweats down off his waist. “You mind if we talk tomorrow? My boyfriend and I are kind of in the middle of something.” You answer with a smirk, watching Niall’s eyes grow right before you. Ryan’s screams of puzzlement could be heard by Niall as you dragged the phone away from your ear and ended the call. And soon, your grip made its way back to Niall’s boxers with a devious smirk on your lips.

“Now, where were we?”

407 notes · View notes

snakeboistan · 3 years

Text

Just Out Of Reach

My exams are finally over so have some touch-starved!Nagisa

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E

AO3 LINK

Shiota Nagisa was a loner. He always had been for as long as he could remember.

When he was in elementary school, he was the weird kid - the strange girl-boy that hardly talked and no one could understand. His male classmates thought that he was too girly to take part in their games or join their conversations and whilst his female classmates didn’t mind his appearance that much, they knew better than to associate with him lest they too fall victim to the taunts and sneers that followed him everywhere, or the relentless bullying that inconvenienced him every breaktime. However, he didn’t mind - friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford anyway (his mother didn’t approve of him spending time out of the apartment, away from her). He would have his own fun by sitting himself down in his school’s library and bury his head in a book, getting lost in worlds that weren’t mean, or cold, or judgemental. Or he’d sit on a bench in the school playground, homemade lunch in hand, and observe his peers hug and high five and laugh together, whilst ignoring the strange pang of something that would curl in his stomach, wanting more than ever for something he could never have.

Even during his first year of Junior High, when he met the red haired genius of a delinquent called Karma, he didn’t let himself indulge in what normal friends would do. Sure, he felt comfortable around the first friend he’d ever had (though the unnatural comfort was often overshadowed by the awe and admiration that he was allowed in the company of someone as brilliant as Akabane Karma) but Karma had his own walls, his own issues and lack of trust, so there was always that unspoken distance between them, that slight tenseness that lingered between every (very) rare arm that was slung over his shoulder. Though they walked side by side, it was never hand in hand. Though they spent every free minute together there were never any fist bumps or high fives or hugs (Nagisa wondered if Karma even knew what hugs were). Karma kept to himself and so did he - they both had boundaries that the other respected.

Until, Karma left. And he was alone again.

And as much as he said that he didn’t mind it - as much as he told himself that he was used to it ever since he woke up that one day and his father was nowhere to be found, the shouts and screams of his parents having their nth argument ringing in his ears even though his house was pitch quiet for once - it hurt. So when he was sent to E-Class with his head hung low and the voices of his former classes whispering their disgust trailing after him, he looked at the grenade in his hand and knew that he had nothing left to lose.

(So why did Koro-Sensei save him? And why did it feel so good? )

(And why did that mucus-like membrane shrouding him make his chest heat up with a feeling he’s never felt before?)

It was during their lunch break when it happened.

Nagisa was sitting by cross-legged at the base of a tree, reading an article about an upcoming superhero flick, whilst a group of his classmates were throwing, hitting and bouncing a ball in a game that Yada had called ‘don’t let the ball touch the ground’ but Kimura dubbed ‘the floor is lava for the ball and not us’ (he’ll let the jury decide which title was better) when he heard some rustling above him followed by groans.

“Okajima,” Maehara whined, “you hit it too high.”

“I’m sorry okay,” Okajima said, “I didn’t mean to get it stuck in some branch.”

“Don’t worry,” Yada smiled at him, “I’m sure that we can get it down if we stand on each others shoulders or something.”

“I don’t know,” Kataoka frowned. She looked up, making sure to cover her eyes from the sun, at the cursed branch, “it’s pretty high up. It’s safer for us to go and get a ladder.”

“No need,” Nagisa said. Unbeknownst to them, the moment Nagisa had gotten whiff of what had happened, he jumped up and, as silent as a serpent, leaped nimbly from branch to branch until he reached the one with the ball. He carefully plucked it from where it was nestled in a groove before making his way back down again, all just before Kataoka spoke. He threw it into her hands.

“What the- how the hell did you even do that?” Maehara’s jaw was dropped, frantically looking between the ball and the branch it was (he swore) a second ago.

“How did no one even see him?” Okajima whispered.

“Thank you, Nagisa,” Kurahashi beamed with the intensity of a thousand suns and threw her arms around him in one of her famous bear hugs, laughing in that usual bubbly way she always does. Nagisa freezes mid-flinch, almost petrified at the sudden contact. An unfamiliar warmth starts to spread across his chest. It was nice and almost comforting, drowning him with bright yellows and gentle goldens - making him feel like he was special. It took everything in him to not melt into it, a keening noise stuck at the base of his throat.

When his mother touches him, he feels the sharp talons of her nails digging into his skin. When she pecks his cheek or forehead, he has to stop himself from wincing at the way cyanide seems to burn him where her lips leave. In all honesty, he’d rather the sharp slaps and objects flying at him, at least those forms of pain where only physical and didn’t leave a confusing sense of dichotomy where his emotions that craved for the positive contact to linger battled where his fight-or-flight survival instincts screamed at him to scrub every single atom of her off of him. Touch was something he could neither afford nor understand.

If he wanted warmth, he’d wrap himself up in scarves and throw on soft jumpers; if he wanted to feel safe, he’d make sure to do everything he can to not trigger his mother into another eruption; if he wanted contact then he’d find his old plushies buried deep in the confines of his closet and embrace them in hopes that it would be enough. For him, the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling that void in his chest was when words of affirmation would wash over him (it’s no secret to anyone that compliments can render him unable to function)(but can you blame him when compliments to him are as rare as painite?).

When Kurahashi let go of him to go regale Yada with stories from a nature documentary she watched the night prior, he’s still stock still, dumbstruck, from that momentary embrace. He wanted her to come back so that he could feel it again. He wanted to feel her arms around his body like a safe little cocoon. He wanted to submit to that sunshine-like comfort and never get out of it. He craved that warmth so much it hurt him - why did it hurt so much?

It made him feel so wanted . And lov-

Is this why people hold hands all the time?

Later that night, he crushed one of his stuffed animals against his chest as he wrapped his arms around his body. He wondered why his pillowcase had wet stains on it when he woke up the next day.

(He ignored the answer that gnawed him at the back of his mind)

The second time he felt it was during a ‘completely necessary class bonding sleepover extravaganza’ (as Fuwa had put it) at the Nakamura household. With the blonde’s parents out of the country to visit her older brother, she had her entire house to herself - a house that was miraculously large enough to house twenty-seven teenage assassins in training (as well the phones that contained ‘Mobile Ritsu’).

“I still don’t understand why we can’t watch anime,” Fuwa pouted from her position on the kitchen island, her One-Piece-themed-socks-clad feet kicking up and down as she took another spoonful from the bowl of snickerdoodle cookie dough she had nicked from Hara and swallowed it, “it’s practically a staple for every good sleepover.”

“Because, Fuwa,” Nakamura drawled in reply, her own hands busy pouring popcorn into bowls, “none of us want to see you go full otaku during our relaxing evening.”

“It’s nothing against you Fuwa,” Nagisa had cut in quickly, having had made eye-contact with Isogai and Hara as the three of them were washing and drying the baking equipment they were using (“‘You know we have a dishwasher right?” Nakamura had called in amusement) and their combined parental instincts had deemed it necessary to extinguish anything that could potentially start something (and knowing this class, mountains can be made out of molehills as quickly as Koro-Sensei can fly from continent to continent), “it’s just that we think it might be a good idea to have more variety tonight. Next time we have a class movie night, you can choose anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to that, Shiota,” Fuwa pointed her spoon at him with narrowed eyes before sliding herself off the table and sauntering off towards the living room.

“She’s not going to get sick, eating all of that raw cookie dough, is she?” Nakamura asked, staring at the doorway.

Hara smiled at her, “don’t worry, we made the dough edible.” She gave Nagisa a head pat with a slightly soapy hand, “you can finish with that bowl you’re drying and help me bring these trays to the living room, ‘kay Nagisa?”

Nagisa nodded bashfully, trying to hide the redness that blossomed over his cheeks in reaction to Hara’s hand making contact with his scalp.

"What do you mean 'we should watch a horror movie'?" Isogai asked his friend.

"Exactly that class prez," Maehara grinned at the brunette, "you can't have a sleepover without a few screams."

"Nor can you have one without anime but here we are," Fuwa grumbled to herself.

"But what if people get scared?" Isogai asked, as always being the Ikeman he is and thinking about others. Bless him.

"That's the point," Nakamura chirped, "it's the perfect bonding exercise. Nothing can bring together a group of rag-tag misfits like fear."

"But-"

"Don't worry," Nakamura said, "we have Karma and Hazama with us. I can assure that whatever we see on the television will be nowhere nearly as scary as them."

"True that," the class sighed as the two students in question gave eerie, self-satisfied smirks.

"Not to mention that we're all assassins in training," Okano said, "no evil spirit or crazy murderer would stand a chance against us."

"And if they do, we can just sacrifice Terasaka to them," Hazama piped up, not even looking up from her book.

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Yeah, Hazama," Karma smirked, "as if they would even want him."

"OI AKABANE, WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!"

"Hey, Nagisa," Kayano turned to her friend as Karma stuck his tongue out at Terasaka, "what kind of horror movies do you like?"

“I don’t know,” Nagisa replied, idly tracing the outlines of the cartoon sushi pieces that patterned his pyjama bottoms, “I’ve never watched any horror movies so I wouldn’t know what is good.”

Maehara grinned at them from under the hood of his Pikachu onesie, “Then have no fear, Nagisa. As a movie connoisseur-”

“I thought that title was reserved for me?” Mimura raised his hand with an arched eyebrow.

“-I would be more than happy to educate you, my young padawan-”

“-I’m pretty sure he’s older than you,” Okano pointed out.

“On the art of Horror Movie Binge-athons,” Maehara declared, ignoring the interruptions and pointing at the blunette in a very Fuwa-esque way.

So that was how Nagisa found himself on one of the couches, two scream-fests later, sandwiched between Karma and Sugino, watching the end credits of The Ring. From his perch, he watched in interest at the horror-struck faces of his classmates below.

“Dude,” Kimura breathed out in fear when the screen turned black, a shaky hand attempting to comfort a very visibly distressed Okajima, who had the athlete in a bone-crushing hug from behind as he hid behind him, “I am never going to answer a phone again.”

After a full ten seconds of silence, the smartphone that was lying in front of him lit up, and the Sonic theme song ‘Gotta Go Fast’ cut through the air like a knife. Kimura jumped about a foot in the air, screaming, whilst the others around him did the same. Muramatsu and Yoshida, clung tighter onto Hazama, yelling about how they were too young to die whilst Okajima and Okano began praying to the gods.

“Karma, stop it,” Nagisa sighed without even looking at the redhead next to him. When Karma smirked and ended the call on his phone, thus terminating the ringing, he turned and raised an unamused eyebrow at a snickering Nakamura who was filming the entire scene on her own phone. The blonde winked at him and raised a peace sign.

“I know what we should watch next,” Yoshida said after a while and took the remote. He began to scroll through the movie suggestions on the screen, “Coraline.”

“Isn’t ‘Coraline’ a kids’ movie?” Kataoka furrowed her eyebrows as she eyed the cartoonish movie poster on the television.

Coraline was not a kids’ movie. It was a horrific abomination of nightmare fuel dolled up with pretty colours and a talking cat. At least with the other films they had watched that night, he was able to stand - jump scares don’t really work on someone that’s constantly on edge and no CGI generated creature of the supernatural could terrify him as the very real harpy that he shares a roof with. At most he stiffens up or just trains his eyes onto the kernels of popcorn that get sent flying whenever Okajima gets particularly frightened. He usually just tries to deconstruct the story from a logical standpoint, making sure to point out to himself the plot-holes to enhance the fact that it’s nothing more than fiction (instead of making these comments out loud like Sugaya and end up having a brigade of throw pillows assaulted onto him). However watching The Other Mother, who spoke with a honey-sweet tone but had that distinct aura of ‘threat threat threat’ made him feel more chills than watching the disfigured Samara Morgan crawl out of a television and murder people and whilst the revelation of her true colours weren’t completely unpredictable, it didn’t and the fear and acid crawling up his stomach.

‘You may come out... when you've learned to be a loving daughter!’

‘How dare you disobey your mother!’

It was after watching that vile woman drag Coraline into that dark chamber and locking her inside it when he couldn’t take it. His frozen facade and almost petrified posture just broke. He lurched, fumbling for the blanket draped over his legs and pulled it up so that he could cover his head and buried himself under it. With his knees drawn up under the covers, he focused on controlling his breathing and trying to steady his shaking hands and starting-to-blur eyes in an attempt to push away the unpleasant flashbacks hissing around in his head like a viper. Suddenly out of nowhere, he felt a hand gently circle his wrist. He tensed, heart rate speeding up in a panic, before his skin registered the familiar feel of polyester - the material of Sugino’s red sweatbands (wait, does he even wear them to sleep? ). When he had physically relaxed, the- Sugino’s hand slowly and carefully - giving him ample time to pull away - moved his own and away from his legs and then interlocked his fingers between his. The skin on skin contact at the base of his fingers had caused the same warmth he had felt with Kurahashi spreading across his entire arm, stopping at his chest and swirling around like a mixture of comfort and elation, like he had just drank a cup of steaming milk tea. He steadily curled his own fingers downwards, letting the tips press down against the baseball-lover’s knuckles. The only response he got was a tight squeeze in return - not hard enough to sting but still grounding in a sense.

Okay.

He was okay, he can do this.

It was during the climax of the film, when Coraline confronts that button-for-eyes-wearing she-devil, when Nagisa abandoned all inhibitions and pulled on the hand intertwined with his own, simultaneously pulling Sugino down and bringing himself up so that he could wrap his arms around the black-haired boy. His uncharacteristic actions even shocked himself but all of his usual anxiety’s of forcing his problems on others were pushed back by the voice in his head saying ‘safe safe safe get closer closer ’. With his eyes squeezed shut so tight they almost hurt, he felt something wet roll down his cheek and so he tightened the hold he had on his best friend. Sugino reciprocated, one of his own hands gently cupping the back of his head, fingers burying past silken blue hair, so that he could very lightly bring the other’s face closer and tuck it underneath his chin. Now normally, Nagisa would have combusted with embarrassment at being so close to another student, especially in such a public setting like this, but right now he felt like nothing more than some primal urge begging him to soak in as much of that embrace as possible. To be selfish for once and just stay as close as he can even if it means he dies there. To let himself be vulnerable for a change. The movie, those memories they all washed away and he felt nothing but safe….

The next morning he woke up with his head on someone’s shoulder, a fluffy blanket raised upto his chin. He blinked the haziness out of his eyes to find himself in front of inky locks.

“You alright there, Nagisa?” Sugino looked at him with a smile. Oh he was already up. That’s new.

Nagisa’s eyes widened, his face erupting with redness as the events of the previous night replayed in his inner-theatre like those epic fail compilations Karma likes to laugh at. He jumped back to the other end of the couch, as far away from Sugino as possible.

“Oh god, Sugino, I am so sorry,” Nagisa whispered as loudly as he could without waking up his still snoozing classmates, “what happened last night was so weird and I put you in such an awkward position and I’m super sorry I swear that will never happen again and you must’ve been so embarrassed honestly you should've just pushed me off when I fell asleep I really wouldn’t have minded this was so weird and-”

“Nagisa, chill,” Sugino moved closer and placed a hand on the rambling boy’s shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards with slight amusement, “it’s cool. It’s normal for people to get scared during horror movies - it’s kind of the reason why they were made, you know. Besides if you looked really distressed and if I couldn’t do anything to help you then why are we even friends.”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts,” Sugino cut in, “you’re always ready to help others so don’t be surprised to find otu that others want to help you.”

Nagisa sighed. He looked up at the other boy with a slight blush, “well, um, thank you. For that. It was really nice of you.”

Sugino’s hand squeezed on his shoulder and he felt that familiar thrill shoot down his arm as the taller smiled, “no problem, Nagisa.”

(“Next time we decide to do a bonding activity,” Fuwa says during breakfast as she’s munching through a honey dripping pancake, “we should all go camping.”

Collectively the class shuddered, their minds being filled with visions of Fuwa holding up a chainsaw on full speed and running around like a mad woman, of fire enveloping a forest and demolishing a once peaceful campsite and dark grey mushroom clouds puffing out like an ashy eruption, “no thank you.”)

For some reason he finds himself in these sort of situations more and more. Like when he feels himself clinging closer to Okano when she bridal carries him up the mountain after he had injured his leg during a training exercise (which is interesting because normally being in such an unmasculine position would make his insecurities flare up like crazy); or when his arms tighten around Karma so much that it feels like their bodies are going to fuse together when the red head piggy-back carries him during a race; or when he just sighs in contentment when Maehara slings him over his shoulder instead of flailing around like he usually would when the brown-eyed boy declared that he was studying too hard and ‘offered’ to take him karaoke singing with everyone else.

In the back of his mind, he feels like the amount of affectionate touches he receives have almost quadrupled in size - there hasn’t been a day where he hasn’t gotten either a head pat, friendly noogie or side hug. There was even a tickling incident that led to his male classmates dogpiling him (because in 3-E the A in PDA can also mean aggression).

No one comments on it though.

It’s almost like Irina-Sensei’s comment about the students of 3-E having ‘some creepy hive mind’ is actually true.

(That comment actually lead to the class planning via group chat to speak in monotonic unison in front of her for an entire half an hour just to mess with her. It worked.)

“I still don’t understand why you people like drinking this leaf juice,” Fuwa scrunched her nose at the ceramic cup in her hand. Due to the pleasant weather, Kanzaki, Kayano and Okuda decided to have a tea party and Nagisa being the tea lover that he was was more than happy to accept their invitation.

“Hey,” Kayano glared at her, making a shooing gesture with one of her hands, “Group four only.”

“Kayano,” Nagisa said firmly, “she can stay if she wants.”

“But she’s disrespecting the tea.”

Nagisa shook his head and sighed whilst Kanzaki giggled into her cup.

“Listen Fuwa,” Kayano rounded on the female otaku, “whilst I stand by the statement that pudding is the closest thing to perfection humanity has ever created and I would sell this entire class for a lifetime supply of pudding cups without a second thought (“Say what now?” Nagisa backtracked), a cup of nice warm tea can truly heal your soul. It’s science.”

“That is true,” Okuda piped up, gently pushing her glasses up, “a cup of hot anything in your hands mimics human warmth which is said to have calming properties. So it basically means that warm drinks can mimic the need for human care and touch.”

‘ Well ,’ Nagisa blinked, thinking back to the mountain of tea bags that reside in his bedroom’s dustbin, ‘ that explains a lot. ’

“So if you guys ever feel too single,” Fuwa laughed and gave them double finger guns, “you know what to do.”

Whilst the rest of his company gave responding giggles, Nagisa felt a tug on his elbow and let it go limp to allow the greenette sitting next to him to tug it downwards. When he felt her link her pinky with his he turned to look at her to see a sunny beam directed straight at him.

And he smiles back.

Because he’s not alone anymore.

#assassination classroom #My writing

47 notes · View notes

hyuniepot · 3 years

Text

the butterfly effect. || chapter one

chapter word count || 3,214

genre || thriller, angst, drama

members || mark lee, na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, zhong chenle, park jisung

warnings || mentions of death, implications of depression

pairing || fem!reader x jaemin || slight fem!reader x mark

synopsis || you never thought you’d be able to play with fate so easily, especially not through some shady app. but you suddenly must say goodbye to what you know and hello to a new world where everything seems perfect.

a/n || reposting this chapter because tumblr made it glitch out for some reason ;-; praying everything works out this time!! as always, send me a message or an ask to be added to the taglist.

You used to be scared of butterflies.

Yes, the thought of it is silly, but you were. You didn’t like bugs at all, the pretty ones included. The thought of them crawling on your skin made you ill. But there was one thing you loved, and that was your friend, Mark. And unlike you, Mark loved butterflies. So when he asked you to go to a butterfly exhibit with him, you sucked it up and said yes.

And you realized that day that butterflies were beautiful. They were harmless, and you giggled as they landed on you, excitedly showing Mark as you conquered your fear of them. Mark helped you conquer a lot of your fears.

And ever since he left, you felt more fearful than ever. Losing him made you realize how fragile life really was, and you hated it. You hated feeling like everything was on the verge of being lost.

“You good?” you jump at the sound of Jaemin’s voice in your ear. You blink, realizing you had completely zoned out. You were sitting next to him on the bus to school. You quickly glance out the window once more. The butterfly you had been admiring was gone.

You nod. “I’m okay. Just tired.” you respond.

Jaemin grins and grabs onto your hand. “Okay. Just checking in.” he says softly. “Um, we’re all gonna get food after school if you wanna come. It’s just a really nice day, it’d be a shame not to go out in it, you know?”

Truth be told, you had been feeling weird lately, and going out with your friends (or, to be more accurate — your boyfriend and his friends that you were friends with by association) was probably what you needed. “That sounds nice.”

The bus had arrived at school. Jaemin stands and picks up his bag, letting you out in front of him. You exit the bus and you’re met with the warm air enveloping you, the sun hitting your eyes and making you squint. Jaemin exits the bus as well, his frame blocking the sun from blinding you. He puts his arm around you, and you grab onto his hand out of instinct.

“Hey guys, got room for more?” you feel another arm around your shoulder.

“Hyuck, no. You’re gross.” Jaemin groans, rolling his eyes.

Hyuck gasps dramatically. “That’s mean. You didn’t even consult with your girlfriend first.”

You smile. “Sorry, Hyuck. But I’m only interested in Jaemin.” you tell him.

Hyuck removes his arm from your shoulder and crosses his arms. “What a low blow…” he mutters. Hyuck was your childhood friend. He grew up with you and Mark. He was like a happy virus, and you weren’t sure if you would have survived losing Mark if he hadn’t been there for you.

You giggle. “Sorry to break your heart.”

“You’d think after months of being rejected he’d give up, but he’s a trooper.” Jaemin adds.

Hyuck rolls his eyes this time. “It’s only because you guys are gross and kissy-kissy in public. We’re in school,” he says, moving away from his spot next to you. He puts himself in between you and Jaemin. “Leave room for Jesus.”

“Oh my god, Hyuck,” you laugh. “You are so annoying. You’re lucky you’re my best friend.” you tell him.

Hyuck grins and sticks out his tongue, turning down a hallway as you guys pass it. “You’re damn right you’re lucky,” he calls. “I’ll see you guys later!”

Jaemin shakes his head, laughing. “He’s such a weirdo. Love him, though.”

You reach your locker and lean against it. “He is. You learn how to deal with him after so long. I’ll meet you outside the entrance doors after school. Do you guys know where you’re going to eat?”

Jaemin leans up against the locker next to yours. “Nah, not yet. We’ll figure it out before the day ends.” he tells you. “You have a good day, alright?” he pecks your cheek.

You smile. “I will.” Jaemin gives you one last grin before turning and continuing down the hallway.

[12:39 p.m.]

“What kind of weird shit do you read at night?” Naeun asks, scowling at Jiwoo.

“It’s not weird!” Jiwoo cries, turning her phone screen towards the dark-haired girl. “There’s real proof!”

“What are you guys talking about?” you ask, taking a seat next to Naeun.

“Apparently there’s an app that can change your fate,” Sungyeon speaks up, holding back a laugh. “Jiwoo found it.”

Jiwoo turns her attention towards you. “See! You’ll believe me, right?” she turns her phone to you.

You furrow your brows and decide not to answer her question. You read the article she had pulled up.

According to the 13-year-old who downloaded the app, ButterFly, his wish came true a mere 3 hours after sending it into the ButterFly HQ. The young boy wished for his cat to come back to life, who had been dead for nearly a month. A few hours later, a cat showed up at the boy’s window. It was identical to the one the boy had.

ButterFly, a self-proclaimed life changing app has been growing in popularity as people hope to change their past. But the real question is, does this app really change a life or is it simply coincidence?

“Jiwoo…” you say softly.

“Come on,” she whines. “I can’t be the only one who thinks it could actually be real!”

“I’m afraid you are.” Sungyeon tells her, taking a bite of her food. “It’s just a coincidence. The only success story they have is something so… normal.”

“If they want to impress me, they have to come up with something way more exciting than a kid finding his cat.” Naeun says.

Jiwoo pouts, turning off her phone. “But… it’d just be so cool if it was real.”

“I agree, but an app should never be trusted for something like that. Plus, if an app had the powers to change the trajectory of someone’s life, wouldn’t the butterfly effect happen?” you asked.

“She’s right,” Naeun says. “Fate is not something to play around with.”

Dejected, Jiwoo surrenders and turns her attention back to finishing her lunch.

“What is that again?” Sungyeon asks. “The butterfly effect?”

“The idea that even tiny changes can make huge and unexpected changes,” you explain. “Like a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a typhoon.”

“Hmm,” Sungyeon hums. “That’s interesting.”

“Yeah, like if Jiwoo was born as a boy, maybe she’d be dating you and you’d be a millionaire for some reason.” Naeun takes a drink from her water bottle.

“What?” Sungyeon cringes.

“Hey, what’s that face for?” Jiwoo cries. “I think I’d be a cute boy.”

You laugh and shake your head as your friends continue to playfully banter about who would be the cutest boy in a parallel universe.

[3:30 p.m.]

You stand by the entrance doors, rocking back and forth on your heels. You try not to look too awkward as you wait for Jaemin and his friends. You wave to Naeun as she leaves, and are relieved when Jaemin appears a few moments later. He immediately spots you and makes his way to you, smiling. His friends, Jeno and Renjun walk behind him with Hyuck, loudly talking about something.

“Hi,” Jaemin says. “Did you have a good day?”

You grin. “It was fine. How about you?” you start walking away from school, taking hold of his hand.

“It was good. I have some annoying homework, but…” he trails off.

Renjun suddenly runs past you, turning around with a disgusted look on his face. “Hyuck, for the last time, I will not hold your hand!”

You turn your head to see a pouty Hyuck. “I just wanted to fit in!”

You laugh and roll your eyes, turning your head back towards the sidewalk in front of you. You all make your way to a nearby restaurant. You sat next to Jaemin in a booth and Jeno, Renjun, and Hyuck all squeezed into the one across from you. You all ordered drinks.

“Oh, Jaemin,” Jeno says, picking his bag up from the floor. He pulls out a notebook and hands it to Jaemin. “Thanks for your notes.”

Jaemin nods. “No problem.”

“Jeno,” Renjun says, shaking his head. “You’re never gonna learn if you keep copying Jaemin’s notes.”

Jeno shrugs. “It’s not like I do it all the time,” he says, defending himself.

“You borrow my notes, too, though… so Renjun kinda has a point.” Hyuck says, leaning back as the waitress sets his drink down in front of him.

You pull out your phone as the boys argue yet again just to see what was happening on your social media. It was mostly random tweets and posts from people you knew, but there was something that caught your eye. It was a promoted post from ButterFly. It had no likes or anything, despite being promoted to your Twitter timeline. And it wasn’t just one. After a few scrolls, you saw another ad from the app, just with a different caption. You saw another one before shaking your head and exiting the app. You opened Instagram, just to be met with the same ad.

Don’t be afraid. Having the chance to change your fate is much more fun than you think.

The caption sent chills down your spine. It didn’t sound like something that should be promoted. You clicked the link the ad provided, but it simply took you to the app store. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. You wanted to download the app, but something was holding you back.

Jaemin nudged your shoulder, making you jump.

“Huh?” you ask. Everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Do you want something to eat?” Jaemin asked.

“Oh,” you look at the waitress next to the table, notebook and pen in hand. “I’m okay.” you reply.

The waitress nods before turning around and entering the kitchen. You stand up from your seat at the booth. “I need to go to the bathroom.” You shoved your phone into a pocket on your bookbag and rushed to the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you, walking to the sink. You looked at yourself. You looked tired, disheveled. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling you had felt since waking up. You could barely even describe it. It almost felt like dread, but it was more of an unexplainable sadness. Not even being with your friends seemed to help it. You turned on the water, splashing your cheeks with cold water. How had you been so enchanted by the ads of that app that you had become completely oblivious to what was going on around you?

You dried your face before you heard a small knock on the door. “Hey, are you okay?” You opened the door and saw Jaemin. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, sorry…” you say, stepping out of the bathroom.

“You’ve been acting… strange today. No offense,” Jaemin says.

“None taken,” you sigh. “I know I have. Everything just feels off today, I don’t know why.” You tell him.

Jaemin puts his arm around you and you both begin walking back to the table the others were at. “It’s okay to feel that way… I think everyone does. It just sucks to watch you feel so sad.” Jaemin says. He sighs. “I really hope you start feeling better soon. I miss hearing your laugh.”

You smile. “I miss it too,” you say, reaching the table. Jaemin scoots into the booth and you follow after. You try to ignore the horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach and have a good afternoon with your friends. You ended up starting to feel better. You stole some of Hyuck’s food after panicking and not ordering some of your own. You laughed at everyone’s jokes and dumb arguments, and before you knew it, an hour had passed. You all decided to stop being a bother and leave. You waited outside as everyone paid; Jaemin offered to pay for you since all you got was a drink.

“Are you heading home?” Jeno asked Jaemin.

He nodded. “I’m gonna walk this one home and then head home myself,” he said, resting his head on yours.

Jeno nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Renjun and Hyuck also waved goodbye. They were all going to Jeno’s. You went your separate ways, and as much as you loved them, you were glad to be alone with Jaemin. Your house wasn’t too far, but even if it was just a few minutes, you were glad to be with him.

“Are you just gonna go home and do homework?” you ask.

Jaemin nods. “Yeah… it’s probably gonna take some time.”

“Sorry baby,” you say. “I’ll facetime you once my mom gets home,” you tell him.

Your mother worked late, so you were in charge of looking after your younger brother, Jisung, until she got home. He was only 2 years younger than you, so it’s not like it was hard, but you still felt obligated to keep tabs on him.

“You don’t have to,” he says. You both walked through your driveway and to the front door. “But if you want to, however… I would love it if you did.” he grins as you open your door.

“Well, then expect a call later,” you say, grabbing both of his hands.

Jaemin leans in and kisses you, and for a second, it feels like everything is okay.

“Gross!” a voice yells. You jump away from Jaemin and turn around.

“Jisung, your sister and her boyfriend are smashing their faces together again!” Chenle, who was standing in the kitchen, yells. Jisung’s pokes his head around the corner.

“Shut up, Chenle.” you say, grinning. “You’re not a child, kissing isn’t that weird.”

You step inside, taking off your shoes and setting your bag down. Jaemin steps in behind you and walks to the kitchen, putting Chenle in a headlock. “You little jerk,” Jaemin teases.

Chenle giggles, trying to get out of Jaemin’s arms. You walk to the living room where Jisung had gone, continuing his video game. “How was your day?” you ask.

“Good.” Jisung says, eyes still glued to the TV.

“That’s good,” you look back to the kitchen and see that Jaemin has released Chenle, and is now talking to him. “Do you have homework?”

Jisung nods. You watch the TV, and watch his character die. Jisung sighs and sets the controller down, turning to you. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Can you try and get it done before Mom gets home?” you ask.

Jisung nods. “Yeah… Chenle and I have the same homework so we can do it together, I guess.”

You nod and go back to the kitchen. Talking to Jisung sometimes felt like talking to a brick wall. “I better get going.” Jaemin says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You walk him to the door. “I’ll see you.” you grab both of his hands again, never wanting to let go. Jaemin kisses your cheek and turns.

You bite your lip. Why was this horrible feeling back so suddenly? “Hey, Jaemin?” you call after him. He turns back around.

“I love you.” you say, almost too softly. For a second you weren’t even sure if he heard you, but he gives you that classic smile, the one that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

“I love you too.” he blows you a kiss before walking away.

[9:41 p.m.]

You sat down on your bed, freshly out of the shower. Since Jaemin had left, you helped Jisung and Chenle with their homework, did your own homework, and facetimed Jaemin for a bit while he did his. And then you took a long shower in an attempt to clear your head.

You look around for your phone, finding it hidden in a blanket on your bed. You answer some unread texts and then open Instagram again. You’re met with the same ads from before. Your heart drops.

Without thinking you click the link again, pressing download. It downloaded in no time. Your thumb hovers over the icon of the app. The moment you muster up the courage to click on it, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.

You jump, startled, but get up and open it.

Your mother’s exhausted face greets you. “Hi sweetie. I’m going straight to bed, so… goodnight. I hope you had a good day.”

You smile, shakily exhaling. “Today was fine. Goodnight.” you say, not wanting to delay her sleep anymore.

She gives you a warm smile before going to her room. Before you close your door, Jisung appears from the staircase nearby. “You going to bed?” he asks.

“Uh,” you open your phone, looking at the time.

ButterFlyHQ

Greetings. What is your name?

You ignore the notification. “No… but I’ll probably be in my room for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, okay… well… goodnight then.” he says, going to his room which was right across from yours. He closes the door without another word.

You press your lips together and shut your door as well, laying down on your bed. You opened your phone and clicked on ButterFly.

1 Unread Message

ButterFlyHQ

Greetings. What is your name?

You hesitantly enter your name. You regret it as soon as you responded — maybe you should’ve used a fake name.

ButterFlyHQ

Hello, (y/n).

What do you wish to change?

Wow, straight to the point… You think.

You wonder what you should enter. You try to think of the most outrageous thing you could think of, something completely unimaginable. Something that would surely trigger the Butterfly Effect.

There were things you actually wanted to change.

You wanted your mother to stop being so stressed.

You wanted Jisung to be happy.

You wanted to stop feeling so insecure about you and Jaemin’s relationship.

You wanted Jiwoo to finally pass trigonometry.

Okay, the last one was a bit dumb, and actually imaginable. And then you thought of the most impossible thing.

You

I want my best friend to come back to life.

You almost laugh as you sent the message. But your faint smile fades at the immediate response.

ButterFlyHQ

What is your best friend’s name?

This was suddenly feeling too personal.

You

Mark Lee.

ButterFlyHQ

Understood. We will try our best to meet your request.

You stare at your phone. Now what? You turned your phone off and set it on your nightstand, plugging it into the charger before laying down and staring at the ceiling.

Great, now some random stranger knows some girl thinks an app can bring her friend back from the grave.

When you got the chance, you were gonna chew Jiwoo out for bringing that app up. You get under the covers and close your eyes, trying to sleep. But your mind was racing. You finally feel yourself drifting, your mind finally giving you some peace.

Your last thought before you finally fall asleep is Jaemin. You just wanted to be with him again, his arm around your shoulder, his fingers lazily intertwined with yours. You felt yourself smiling before finally falling asleep, unknowingly saying goodbye to your last normal day.

66 notes · View notes

vs-redemption · 4 years

Text

Worthwhile (Endeavor x Male!Reader)

Requested by: @dyceaverruncus

I was a little nervous to write this at first, but I ended up having a lot of fun with it. I hope it turned out the way you hoped! It was my first time writing for Endeavor and my first time writing for a male reader.

Living with a man like Enji Todoroki was a far cry from what you’d call domestic bliss. He was stubborn as a mule and had an irritable demeanor that most people just could not tolerate. The dark misdeeds of his past were enough baggage to drive anyone away and his bristly personality should’ve been the final nail in the coffin that contained his love life. There was one redeemable trait that stood out though, and that was Enji’s desire to change and be a better man. As far as shining heroes went, he was definitely a work in progress. He had a long way to go before he was on par with All Might, but the changes he was making in his everyday life had not gone unnoticed. Being a lower level employee at his agency had allowed you to see him trying to have more interaction with his fans and be more personable in interviews. Apparently you’d watched him a little too closely because you had ended up falling in love with the huge idiot.

At first, you dismissed your feelings as nothing more than a crush. There was no way the number one hero would even notice a guy like you let alone take you on a date, even with all of his personality flaws. He was strong and muscular while you were admittedly a bit squishier around the middle. You felt pretty sure you weren’t the type of guy he would go for. Your chances seemed to diminish even further after getting into a few heated arguments about the due dates for some of his reports. Most of your coworkers would apologize and take the blame when he missed a deadline, but you took too much pride in your work for that. For better or worse, you never hesitated to print off an email or make a phone call to prove you hadn’t made a mistake. You would’ve thought your actions would put you on his shit list, but it turned out they had the opposite effect. Enji started coming to you personally with requests and eventually started asking you to join him for lunch to go over his reports.

The lunch meetings progressively turned into lunch dates without either of you really noticing. Enji’s questions became less about the work you did at his agency and more about you and your personal life. At times, he’d regress to his old self and you’d have to call him out for being overbearing or controlling, but this never seemed to stop him from wanting to spend more time with you. His pride prevented him from doing anything that made him vulnerable though, so you were the one that had to bite the bullet and finally ask if you were boyfriends or not. Getting him to admit that you were was like pulling teeth, but it was well worth the struggle once he wrapped you in his huge arms for the first time. It turned out you should’ve never worried about your weight being an issue either because the man could not keep his hands off you whenever you were alone, and you’d nearly melted the first time he’d mumbled out how much he loved how soft you were.

As your relationship with Enji continued, he slowly began to open up to you. And once he really felt comfortable, he surprised even himself when he asked you to move in with him. It was a rocky transition to say the least, but you both managed to fall into a comfortable routine after a while. You’d first gone into the relationship with reservations about yourself, so it came as a shock to find out Enji had a few insecurities of his own.

“Look at this!” he bellowed while slapping a newspaper article down in front of you one morning. There was a picture of him on the first page that had been taken after he’d apprehended a villain the day before.

“You’re on the front page,” you point out with a shrug. “Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“I told them not to use that picture!” He turns away and stomps over to the refrigerator to grab the breakfast shake you’d prepared for him.

“Why?” you pull the paper closer to get a better look. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just…” He growls in frustration and you worried he might lose his temper and set something on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s just not flattering at all!”

“What?” You felt a little amused as you watched him get flustered. “What do you mean?”

“It must’ve been the angle of the camera,” Enji snatches the paper off the table and tosses it in the trash. “My thighs practically take up the whole picture.” You turn to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry to break this to you,” you tell him teasingly, “but your legs are massive. It has nothing to do with the angle of the camera.”

That had been the completely wrong thing to say because it sent Enji into a fiery rage ending with him storming out of the house to go to work without so much as a goodbye kiss. You never thought he’d be that self-conscious about the size of his thighs but you stored the information away for later since you were not above using it to your advantage. It definitely came in handy later that day when Enji returned home with an attitude just as sour as when he’d left.

“This place is a mess!” he shouts after just walking in the door, “What have you been doing all day?”

“I’m sorry,” you say even though the look on your face wasn’t very apologetic. “The house looked like this when you left this morning. I guess you didn’t notice.”

“You could’ve tidied up or something!” He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “This is unacceptable behavior.”

“Excuse me?” you stand up to confront him head on. You snatch the dirty t-shirt off the back of the couch. “You’re the one who leaves their laundry all over the place. Today was my day off and I didn’t want to spend it cleaning up after you.”

“How dare you talk back to me like that!” Enji puffs up his chest to try and look more intimidating.

“I’m your boyfriend, not your child,” You remind him flatly. “I’ll talk to you however I please. And if you don’t start treating me with a little more respect, there are going to be consequences.” Enji seems to hesitate for a moment after that.

“What kind of consequences?” he asks cautiously.

“How about I post all over the internet about your reaction to the newspaper this morning?” You suggest with a shrug, “or tell everyone that the number one hero is incredible enough to take down any villain in the country but can’t seem to throw a single pair of his dirty underwear into a hamper?”

Enji’s face was priceless. He definitely didn’t want to back down, but he also knew you weren’t bluffing about posting his embarrassing secrets for the world to see.

“You wouldn’t,” he says with false confidence.

“You feeling like testing that theory?” you walk up to him with a mischievous smirk. Enji furrows his eyebrows before letting out a sigh and shaking his head.

“Fine,” he mumbles under his breath, “I’m sorry.”

You told him he could prove it by throwing a load of clothes in the wash. He didn’t really appreciate that, but knew he’d lost the fight this time and couldn’t really complain. He also understood that his temper caused him to act inappropriately sometimes, so he was thankful that you had both the strength and patience to keep him from going back to the person he used to be. He always remembered to reward you for holding your ground during an argument too by offering to clean up the dishes after dinner and giving you extra cuddles at night so that neither of you would fall asleep angry at each other. The life you both lived couldn’t exactly be described as domestic bliss, of course, but there was a balance between the two of you that made every moment worthwhile.

#Enji Todoroki x reader #endeavor x male reader #Endeavor x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #My hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my writing #writing requests #Cindy's Writing

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

Text

How to be a Dad 101

Chapter Three - A Single Red Rose

Jasonette July Day 4

Masterlist

He knew his brothers were wondering what on earth was up with him, but he also couldn’t bring himself to care in the least. Jason left them behind without a thought, telling Marinette to direct him to wherever she was staying.

Jason felt restless. The image of Marinette dangling from the ladder, seconds from death, it had burrowed into his mind, sending him more and more panic. He knew she was okay - she was standing right beside him. But the what-ifs were enough to drive him mad.

A large part of him was balking at the fact that he cared so much. What was so special about this tiny French girl?

They barely spoke on the way to the hotel, and after he’d watched her get in safely, he found himself perching on the rooftop of said hotel, safeguarding it from nonexistent threats. Up there, he had entirely too much time to think.

The intensity of his emotions right now was concerning to say the least, but he hadn’t felt so close to losing himself to anger since the first few months after coming back to life. Seeing Marinette safe seemed to be the only solution to the condition, but it wasn’t sustainable. He wasn’t a big enough asshole to force himself and all of his emotional minefields on her but he couldn’t pull himself away just yet.

Jason would never pretend to be any sort of saint, but he knew that Marinette deserved someone better than him. She had an entire life waiting for her in Paris, and doubtlessly a whole host of perfect, non-homicidal men just waiting for her. It wasn’t fair or kind to her to encourage anything more from their acquaintance. She was too delicate to be faced with the things that life threw at him daily, too precious.

If he were truly a good man, Jason would have made his excuses and bowed out of his agreement, or maybe simply not shown up at all. But Jason was not a good man, so he let himself have this one day, a single day to forget his life.

It ended up being a great day. He’d had misgivings at first, but Marinette’s friends were pretty fun. Alya finally got her footage, a frankly impressive video of Adrien and Marinette tag-teaming a mugger – that definitely didn’t help him break his growing attachment to the girl, although it did make him rethink the whole “too delicate” thing.

By the end of the day, Jason had been accepted into the group. He couldn’t remember laughing that much for a very, very long time. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of the motley crew, but they definitely kept him on his toes. It was pure chaos, with moments where Marinette tripped, only to somersault and land perfectly on her feet, holding her hands out like Dick did whenever he pulled one of his gymnastics stunts. At lunch, Adrien got so distracted that he ordered his food in at least four different languages before Nino finally took pity on him and ordered it in English. Meanwhile, despite Nino and Marinette constantly kidnapping her phone, Jason was pretty sure that Alya had already finished an article to accompany her footage of the mugger.

It seemed that Marinette hadn’t told any of them about the incident with Killer Croc this morning, so he forced himself to take every opportunity he could to remind them never to walk around alone.

He was also forced to make his excuses about being gone for the rest of the week for a sudden family emergency. Just the words were almost enough to make him gag.

Marinette looked a little sad, which made Jason feel so weak. But with the same smile as always, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to show us the best things today.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She raised her own, putting her hands on her hips. “Is that white patch of hair on your head fake?”

“It’s actually natural.”

Mirth glittered in her eyes. “I don’t believe you, but get a move on! We’re wasting daylight.”

The following day, no matter how much Jason tried to forget, or pretend that it didn’t happen, was ingrained on his very soul. It was the best day of his life, and it quickly turned into the best night of his life. Never before had he… well, Jason laid awake long after Marinette had fallen asleep, wondering if this was what love felt like.

Leaving her was worse than being shot, worse than being resurrected, and worse than dying in the first place. Jason felt like he was leaving that best part of himself with her, but it was the only way he could protect her.

Moving as quietly as possible, Jason collected his things. He couldn’t have known how much he would think of and obsess over this day, this woman. He couldn’t have known that this day would change his entire life, or that it would do the same to Marinette.

We cannot know the future, and the same held true for Marinette in Jason. Almost in mourning, Jason would go on a two-month road trip around the country, trying and failing to distance himself from the memory of her. Understanding that everything about that final day meant goodbye, Marinette would never try to find or contact Jason again – although it would have been nearly impossibly had she tried. She didn’t even know his last name. No, in some ways she was completely alone the mornings she woke up nauseous, and when she finally decided to buy a pregnancy test. She had her friends and family to hold her when it came back positive, and again in the delivery room.

Marinette’s joy would be more than she could have ever imagined, but it would always come with an edge. A part of her mind would always dwindle on Jason with every first word or step.

Years later they would reunite, and together lament their lost time and experiences. Jason would be surprised at how sweet it felt to be called “dad.” But the unknowable future is always held captive by the cruel present, and although it grieved him, all Jason knew was that in the present, it was time for him to leave.

It pained him to think of abandoning her without leaving a trace of him behind, so Jason gave her the two parting gifts he could afford to give her: a kiss on the forehead, and a single red rose.

Taglist:

@jasonette-july-2k20 @ira-sairain @myazael @pawsitivelymiraculous @nik-nak-3 @dast218 @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

Note:

Sorry if you ask to get tagged and I don’t get to it right away, things are super chaotic rn. On that same note, the next couple days might not come out strictly on time, my life is a complete disaster at the moment. I look forward to seeing what you guys think.

#jasonette july 2k20 #jasonette #maribat #mominette #jason x marinette

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Note

Can i get a scenario of a abused Survivor trying to work up the nerve to ask out Inas. Inas likes her very much but knew he frighten her with his height, strength & intimidating muscles. After months of her hiding from him or out right running away Inas started backing off. It took a while to figure out she's a afraid of him so slowly he start talking softer and backing off. Imagine the surprise of not only being asked out by his crush but her also sharing her past with him and her telling him.

Here you go! Thank you for being so patient! I hope you enjoy the little art I made for it too!

Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare down what, for you, is your biggest paradox.

A broad shouldered man, hair just short of a buzz cut whose bellowing laugh is as nice as it is scary.

His voice booms with passion, firm body standing at attention while large palms seem gentle yet so very deadly.

You've seen his quirk, his power only adding to his already frightening stature.

His muscled body seems same and yet dangerous as your eyes follow his every move as your past begins to creep up on you. Your skin tingles from ghost actions of the past, a cold sweat dripping down your spine as he approaches you during lunch.

"Y/LN!" He shouts in his normal vigor and you flinch out of habit. His tone is friendly and yet his voice still has your heart racing even faster.

Hard enough that it's beginning to steal your breath. Especially so as he towers over you, standing closely, as he does with everyone. A gentle breeze wafts the smell of cool crisp air carrying a threat of rain, the kind that can only be found just before the stratosphere.

He doesn't know, he doesn't know. You repeat in your head over and over as fingers dig into tender flesh, losing sight on what he's saying to you.

Did he say something about the school festival? Oh please Kamisama say that he didn't. Did he need your help with something in it or did he expect you to go?

You couldn't do that, the hum of so many people would drive your already sensitive quirk mad. It was difficult not to ease drop on people's thoughts but the more flustered you were the louder all of the voices got.

As they are getting now, even in the mostly deserted courtyard of maybe ten people including yourself. All of their voices overlap, drowning out whatever the hell Inasa is saying. And honestly whatever he's thinking.

But one thing stands out and you are unsure if he said it aloud or if his thoughts somehow won out over the others.

"Please say yes."

You gulp, gasping for air as you squeeze your eyes shut. Hoping beyond hope that you'd disappear in the darkness behind your lids.

But the world doesn't work that way. Hammering heart in your chest that claws it's way up your throat has you choking out.

"E...excuse me s..senpai."

Cheeks burning as you flee from your trigger.

Inasa is handsome, kind, passionate he shares nothing in common from the man of your past.

Nothing but the same powerful stature and booming voice. But never the same tones or body language. A shiver tremors through you as *his* face services to the forefront of your mind.

Cami approaches a stunned and defeated looking Inasa. Her hand is gentle as it touches a thick bicep.

"Why does she keep running away from me? It's been like three months! Do I smell?" His brow furrows scrunching up his handsome features. Cami pops her gum before sighing, grabbing onto his muscular arm.

"Well she was..." Cami hesitates as the pair watch your retreating form, both sets of eyes lingering in your glistening scars. She thinks better of it, popping her gum once more before admitting the lesser evil of the truths.

"She must like you at the very least. I mean no one else gets that red around you unless they wanna kiss!" Cami returns to her dumbed down personality, pursing her lips into a delectable smooch. Inasa's heart pounds into his chest, tips of his ears turning a slight hue of pink.

"Sh..she doesn't like me. She can't." He hadn't felt this way before, really. Maybe once upon a time he allowed his heart to flutter in anticipated admiration until the hand of his most prized "hero" dashed his innocence to the ground. Paper crumpled and marker long since rolled away.

He grits his teeth, fists clenched and vows to make you a friend.

Meanwhile his stuttering heart demands you be made more.

But he pushes the odd feeling down as he sets out to find out what exactly is going on.

Whether it be by you or another means.

He tries to get it straight from the source first. Approaching you during lunch for the next few weeks. Causing you to freeze up or fleeing the second you see him.

He cannot take it any longer, even trying a softer approach but you have figured out his schedule and you are no longer beneath the thick oak tree.

He finds you by chance, a breeze wafting the smell of you his way. He would know that delicately sweet scent anywhere and when he spies you beneath the small tree he smiles and waves.

You look around you frantically before your cheeks turn into deep shades of red. Barely able to wave back before he divulges information from somewhere else.

Not too many people were even aware of your existence, which you were more than happy with, leaving Inasa with more questions than answers.

He stares out the window of the third floor as he watches you retreat nearly off campus to that new tree. He watches you swipe a hand over your forehead as if to remove sweat. He sends gentle cool breeze your way.

"You sure are causing a commotion over her." Seiji states as he peers over a broad shoulder, "You might want to stop."

Inasa grits his teeth, grip on his chair threatening to snap the wood as he glares up at his friend.

"Why is that?" A feral bite from the normally loud, dog like man. He is met with a sneer as Seiji stands with hands behind his back. When it doesn't click in that big head of Inasa's he sighs rolling dark eyes.

"Didn't you ever wonder why she keeps to herself?" He prompts, not entirely expecting an answer. Silence passes on a steady breeze as Sakura flutter to the ground.

"It's because she's never really been treated like a person before. A small ring of villains used her for her mind reading quirk for quite sometime. The man who stole her from her family is still at large." Its now that Seiji pulls out his phone, bringing up an article with a damning picture, "And you look just like him. "

His face goes slack before his jaw clenches. Teeth creaking from the pressure as black eyes narrow on his doppelganger.

A twin of sorts aside from the lotus tattoo that blooms across his Adam's apple. If Inasa didn't know any better he would wonder him kin.

He jumps from the third floor, passionately and irrationally rushing for you.

Your brows furrow when you see the thick figure land on two feet before the streamline for you. You swallow thickly, idly gathering your things together as he approaches with a dark look in his eye.

But the closer he gets the more you're paralyzed, like a cornered rabbit as a snarling wild eyed wolf stares down his meal. You jump to your feet, head screaming for you to move until his voice comes out sharp and demanding.

"Stay." It booms, having your knees collapse beneath you from fear itself. Quirk deadly silent as you're fearful to use it, to hear exactly how he is going to hurt you.

What bones he will break first to find out what you know of him.

But he bypasses you, close enough to be seen but far enough to be out of arm's reach. You hear the bark scrape at his shirt as he slides down the other side of the tree. Your heart pounds in your feet with the tingling need to run. But you pull your legs to you instead, slowly nestling your own back into the young tree.

A part of you screams, demands to flee, that this small tree, barely thick enough to fully separate the two of you, could fail you soon enough. He could rip it from the earth with clumping roots clinging to the last visage of home, whether he would use his bare hands or his powerful quirk you were unsure.

The only thing you were sure of was the deafening sound of rushing blood in your ears as you try so hard not to use your violating quirk.

Odd silence stretches between the two of you. Making it even more unsettling since you were so used to Inasa's normally thunderous voice causing you to think you've done something wrong. Especially so when it is barely heard when he speaks.

"I uh...I heard what happened..." He trails off, broad hand rubbing over his forehead and through what little hair, "I'm sorry."

You want to ask him what for but your voice seems stuck in your throat. As it always has been when it comes to him. You had been instantly attracted to himabs and yet your body repelled you. Evolution doing it's best to avoid being put in another damning and dreadful situation. It is quiet long enough you think him gone until a deep growl leaves his throat.

"I'm sorry someone ever did that to you. Most importantly I'm sorry I was insensitive to your situation. That I approached you so aggressively these past few months. It makes sense why you'd run away from me. But I'm here for you and I want to protect you. If...if you let me protect you I swear by Kamisama above I WILL keep you safe. You will never be harmed like that again." Conviction weighs heavy in his soft spoken voice, his hand suddenly coming into your peripheral vision. Palm up and waiting.

It weighs heavy in your heart, and truly you believe him.

That he would never hurt you.

Lock you away.

Fear you and use you until you were reduced to nothing more than a lie detector that collected dust in the darkest parts of the house. Forgotten until needed again.

He would never do that to you and here he was offering you his heart in the form of his outstretched hand in a gentle way.

Something you weren't sure he was capable of. And it was all for you.

You lace your fingers in his squeezing tightly in response.

Telling him through your kissed palms that you trust him, that you'll accept his offer.

A heavy wind blows bringing with it your most favorite scent.

Inasa, cool crisp air from the stratosphere, a threat of rain and a hint of the changing seasons.

The smell of hope for a better future. A future he will gladly help you build.

#bnha ask #bnha ask prompt #bnha asks #bnha x reader #inasa bnha #yoarashi inasa #inasa yoarashi x reader #mha inasa #inasa

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finallyaniguana · 5 years

Text

Watch The Eyes: Paris 12:30pm CET [6]

[5] masterpost ao3 [7]

Marinette blinked back to her own body utterly confused. Who was that? Why were they fighting? Why were they speaking English? (Again thanking the kwamis themselves for having taken English lessons for several years). Why were they in a CAVE? And what was with the masks?

Taking into account that she had now moved from the classroom to the park she adjusted quickly to her surroundings. Her phone was in her hand. The time was 12:30. Six hours later than the time zone she had just left. The Americas, clearly. But why?

Adrien stood next to her, looking at her expectantly.

"Bug?"

She looked at him.

"Yes?"

"We're supposed to be picking out a spot to sit," he reminded.

"Oh... of course." She looked around and saw a vacant bench not too far away. "How about there, minou?"

He smiled at the nickname. It had been a few months since the reveal. Their friendship had only grown. Adrien might even go so far as to say they were closer than he and Nino.

It was a tough conversation at first. His vision still clouded with his juvenile declarations of love. He came to realize he really did love her. And she loved him.

But not in the way he had been expecting. She was his platonic soulmate. Not everyone who has a romantic soulmate will have a platonic soulmate as well. Some people have one or the other. Adrien was lucky enough to have both. It manifests by a slight glow at contact after a strong friendship had been formed.

He had been born with a tattoo tucked away on his shoulder blade.

He had mentioned it before and found his lady had no such mark. It nearly crushed him. But he got over it and realized that losing her completely would be far worse than never having the relationship he thought he wanted.

He grew up. He changed. Their partnership grew stronger.

The platonic bond is what gave him that final push to discovering her identity. He passed something to Marinette, skin fainting glowing from the brush.

He was surprised to say the least. He didn't think he and Mari were that close.

When they finally revealed themselves he nearly cried with joy. The strong willed amazing girl in his class he so desperately wanted to be closer friends with was already his best friend. She seemed quite excited too.

She was ecstatic to find out the sweet boy in her class she used to hope was her soulmate was her best friend. She grew out of her crush a long time ago, especially after seeing how well he got along with a certain fencing partner.

He was her strongest ally against Lila's manipulative lies. Without his support and backup, Marinette sometimes wasn't sure she would have been able to face the classroom over and over and over again.

Her repeated threats had no effect since Adrien couldn't be used against her.

The class was baffled at why Marinette would be so resistant to being Lila's friend. She knew the Italian girl's lies would pile up against her one of these days. She was, with Adrien's help, quietly undermining the falsehoods spread to her classmates.

When Marinette took a frontal attack on Lila's lie about her sprained wrist, in turn upsetting Max about the dangers of balled up napkins, Adrien had gone to Max after the fact and suggested he do more research on the statistics of people getting irreparable eye damage from paper. After just one quick search, he found out the truth, approaching Mari afterwards to apologize.

"I should have known you would never do anything that would put me in danger," he quietly confided.

She smiled her bright smile.

"That's okay, Max. I totally understand."

She and his back and forth dynamic of coming in after Lila to do damage control for the easily disproven lies helped keep the class on her side, even if they were still quick to believe it in the first place.

The lies about her famous connections were a bit harder to disprove. How could she show that it wasn't true if she didn't know the celebrity themself.

Of course, having done many commissions for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, she had easy access to that proof. But she wasn't Marinette. She was MDC. Nobody knew that but her three closest friends and her parents. She wasn't trying to advertise that. She didn't want to win popularity like Lila did. That's why, even though that was the one she could easily fix, she didn't.

The biggest beam in her support network sat down beside her on the bench she had picked out. She deliberated what to tell hin for a moment before deciding to just say something. A few beats of silence passed.

"Adrien, the weirdest thing just happened," she said suddenly.

He looked up at her, startled.

"What? But you haven't moved," he said.

"I swear on my Kwamii I was literally just somewhere else for the last fifteen minutes," she looked over at him, wide eyed.

"You mean... like-"

Alya and Nino finally arrived with the icecream.

"Your favorite!" Alya claimed, passing off a cone to the birthday girl.

"Here you go, dude," Nino said, handing Adrien his.

They all looked at Marinette, smiling. It was an all around good moment. But the fifteen minutes of misplaced time would continue to trouble her. Adrien didn't get a chance to bring it back up at lunch.

She had fifteen minutes of someone else's memories. Throughout the rest of lunch and her remaining classes Marinette maintained an eerie calm. A calm that usually wouldn't be there. Normally she would be freaking out. For some reason, she was inclined to figure this out for herself.

Arriving home that afternoon her parents greeted her warmly, letting her know they would be closing up shop a bit early and cooking her favorite for dinner that evening. She hummed her thanks before heading up to her room.

Sitting a her desk, she jogged her mouse to wake the monitor, home screen showing an image of her superhero family, smiling wide.

Marinette clicked open the internet and put in a few key words.

'Mind switching for fifteen minutes'

"Rare Mind Switching Soul Bond"

An article popped up. Her eyes widened and she opened it up.

She pulled a notebook towards herself, copying down all the important information.

• Younger person's birthday in the year the two would meet

• Fifteen minutes at a random time

• Eyes follow the mind

• Eyes are windows to the soul

• As the souls grow closer, the two people begin to trade traits until they finally meet at some point during the year

This had to be it. She scrolled a bit further down but found the article ended there. There was very little data for this soul bond.

So all Marinette knew was that she was going to meet her soulmate this year. But there was no way of knowing when. But... she had submitted an essay to win a trip for her class. To Gotham City. Three weeks fully funded, Mlle Bustier said. She put her heart and soul into that essay. For even a little while she wanted to get her classmates she cared so much about out of Paris. They deserved a break from the stresses of holding everything back. They deserved to feel their emotions.

It ended up being lengthy and it took her a good bit of time to perfect. But once she submitted it to the Wayne Enterprises educational class scholarship competition she felt incredibly proud of herself. Hopefully it would win her class the respite they needed.

#daminette #maribat

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pixiedst · 4 years

Text

Dance With Me 04 // KYG

Request from @lost-midnight-flower

Hiii can I request a got7 fic? Maybe something along the lines of meeting the guys at a fan meeting or something and one of them falling head over heals with the reader? That seems pretty cute to me, is that weird? If you choose to write this, you can pick which member you want to write about ^^ have a great day/evening ahead!

Genre: Fluff Pairing: Reader x Yugyeom Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None Description: Dance studio owner Y/N meets Yugyeom at a fan sign. Word Count: 6,997 A/N: First of all, I just want to say thank you for reading this story. It's my first fanfic in two years, so my skills have gotten rusty but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!! I also apologize for the month long wait since the previous chapter. Writer's block is really a pain in the ass, but I finally got through it! Thank you for your patience!! Lastly, I'd like to thank @lost-midnight-flower for requesting this. I hope I reached your expectations and enjoyed what I wrote for you!!

Index // Part One // Part Two // Part Three

BREAKING: Kim Yugyeom Caught Kissing Mystery Girlfriend, Source Tells DISPATCH

It's all his fault.

Yugyeom knew the risks. He knew how thin the ice was the moment he asked her, but he did it anyway. Now, with the effects of his mistakes unfolding, he not only put his career at risk, but Y/N’s too. If only he could turn back time and take it all back. He would have stayed quiet, kept his thoughts to himself. He would have kept her safe.

But that doesn't make sense either. How is this fair? How does being an idol take away his right to a normal life? Since when did the media control him? No, it's not his fault. It can't be. Falling in love with Y/N was never a choice. He only did what felt right.

Y/N knew the risks as much as he did, but she still took the leap.

“You can still make things right. There isn’t any proof. Just a source.”

Yugyeom slumps lower in his seat and wishes he could melt into the cushion. “But it’s true. Everything the source said is true.”

His manager shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is your next move. You can confirm this, but think about how it could affect your careers.”

“So you want me to deny all of this? Nobody would believe it.”

“It’s better than having the media in your face every second. Take a couple days to think about it. But remember: you’re the only one we can protect here. She’s on her own.”

Nothing is going right for her anymore. The studio has been tense; she only talks to the girls when she has to, and despite their invites, she committed to eating lunch without them. Sure, she's got Yugyeom, but he's too busy to have lunch with her. They haven't even talked much since the news. It’s been rough for the both of them.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N is completely alone.

She put her social media on mute. The notifications froze her phone too much, it nearly broke. It was ridiculous. She was able to handle all the hate before, but after Sunhee told Dispatch what she saw, Y/N has not been getting any peace at all. The worst part is that she has to pretend like nothing is bothering her. She still teaches. She still goes according to plan.

She tries to be professional, but she doesn’t know how much more of this she could take.

They say there’s no place like home.

Maybe that’s why Y/N is ugly crying on her childhood bed. She’s been at low points before, but she never thought about going home to face them. She simply told the girls the studio is closed for a week and hopped on a train.

Her parents were the most surprised. They could only stare as their daughter pushed the door open, bags and all, with a face full of tears and puffy eyes.

She was never the most comfortable with her parents. Her monthly visits would only last for a weekend. It’s not like the people who tried to hold her back from her dreams would be her favorite people.

But they’re her parents. No matter how hard she tries, she will always have a soft spot for them. Maybe that’s why she came home.

“Y/N?” her mother calls from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?" When she doesn’t answer, the door opens.

Y/N buries her face in her pillow, embarrassed to face her mother. She’s not ready to hear the I-told-you-so speech.

"I brought apple juice."

Y/N’s heart falls. Her favorite drink when she was a child. She looks up.

“I remember it always made you better,” her mother says and sits on the bed. “Every time you drank it, you would be ready to take on any challenge.”

Y/N smiles. If only it would give her the energy like it used to.

“Have you been drinking apple juice?”

She shakes her head and immediately regrets it when the world spins. "I'm not a child anymore, mom. I have so much work to do in the studio, and… with everything going on, I don’t really have time to think about having energy anymore.”

“That’s not right, now is it?”

Tears cloud her vision again. Her body trembles as she sobs and falls into her mother's lap. “What should I do?” she asks.

She lets out another sob, and a beautiful string of snot drips from her nose. She wipes it helplessly.

Her mother strokes Y/N’s hair. “You've always been a strong person. You defied your father and me to chase your dreams, and you ended up doing so well. Eventually we realized we were holding you back because we were afraid. We didn't want what we were comfortable with to change, but in the end we knew it would only make you miserable if you stopped doing what you love.”

“What if I failed, though?”

"People fail. It's normal. But knowing you, you would have just chugged a gallon of apple juice and gotten back to work. That's just how you are. You are so determined to prove to the world that you are worthy of what you love."

She gets up. “What are you trying to say?"

Mom takes the glass from the nightstand and hands it to her. “I'm telling you to drink your apple juice. The ice is melting."

At this point, Y/N is sure she’s crazy. She watches the gray bar slowly fill with blue as a video of her and Yugyeom dancing to I am Yours uploads. Yes, she has completely lost her mind. Nobody was supposed to see this video—it was used for reference when they practiced—but she’s about to change that. She needs to get this out there, to face the cameras and the comments. To show them they are untouchable.

During her week at home, she realized that artists tend to deny their relationships when the media put pressure on them. They crawl away and keep the truth to themselves or break up altogether. She doesn’t wasn’t want either of that to happen to them. Her mother did not raise a coward.

This could be it for her career, for a stupid reason too. She’ll have to move back home and find a way to make a living again. But if it means standing up for what’s right, then perhaps it’s worth it.

67%.

The hate will not matter. She will not let it touch them.

She sips her apple juice and sits back on her seat, the wheels rolling her from the pressure. She scans the room. How long has she lived here? Two years? Three? It's been a long time. This studio apartment holds her biggest memories. These walls watched her cry when the stress of opening a studio overwhelmed her. This floor kept her on her feet when the world shook as her parents begged her to come home and do something "practical." And this door has pushed her to face so many tomorrows, especially on days when she’d rather stay locked in.

This has been her home, and she hates to leave it for a reason so shallow.

But everything happens for a reason, right? That’s what they always say. Who knows? Maybe miracles will come her way.

100%.

She did the right thing. She chose to be strong. This must be the right move.

Her phone lights up. Naver uploaded a new article.

BREAKING: Kim Yugyeom denies dating rumors.

When they say communication is key, they’re not joking.

Her hands are sweating so much she fears she might drop her phone. For the first time ever, his voice does not calm her down.

"This is only getting worse," she says. “Is it too much to ask for you to come over? We can’t talk about this on the phone.”

“I’m on my way to you right now.”

“Okay, drive sa-“

But the call ends.

He’s at her apartment in less than 10 minutes, and nothing could be more tense. The air around them has never been like this. When she felt safety and comfort in his presence, she now feels anxiety and fear. She doesn’t know how this conversation will play out, or what their relationship will be like when it’s over.

She uploaded the video, unafraid of losing her career, but never thought that she might lose him.

“Yugyeom, I-“

"You should have told me you were going to do this. We’re supposed to work this out together, not make the move on our own. I can’t believe you right now! Not only did you jeopardize your job, you hurt mine too!”

She tries to keep her voice calm as she says, “Yugyeom, you made the statement without telling me either. Can we take a breath for a moment? We made the same mistake, and I’m sure it was because we thought it was best for both of us. "

"I understand we both made a mistake, and I know I should have talked to you first, but I didn’t exactly assume you would throw yourself right into the hate for this. Have you even read the comments in the video?”

Y/N shakes her head. “You said I shouldn’t let them touch me.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful!” he sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I assumed you wouldn’t want to act so impulsively. I didn’t know that week at home would lead you to make a decision like this.”

She scoffs. “What are you trying to say? You think I can’t act on my own? That I can’t make good decisions?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know that. Let me put this simply. I thought you wanted to protect your career, so that’s what I prioritized. Denying the claims won’t kill the rumors, but it could reduce them. The company's plan was that if we could just protect the secret better, we could make this work. They were worried about you, Y/N. They could only legally protect me. They thought if we denied the rumors, we could protect you too.”

The air is thick. She wishes she could be thankful for his consideration, and to maybe even feel guilty for uploading the video, but she can’t. She could never be guilty for doing what she thinks is right.

“Yugyeom,” she says. “I did what I did because I want to be with you. I want to fight for what I believe in, and that’s respecting idols’ privacy. I thought you believed in that too.”

He groans. “I do believe in that, Y/N! But we have to accept the reality, and sadly, it’s not that. People have no respect for our privacy because we are business products! That is literally what we are. That’s why we can’t swear on camera. That’s why we can’t make mistakes in public. That’s why we can’t date whoever we want! It’s messed up, I know, and I hate it as much as you do, but we have no choice. Uploading that video is not going to make a difference. If anything, it makes matters worse. "

If you hated it as much as I did, you would take action, she thinks, but says nothing. But he is right. Idols are products. Everything they do is walking on thin ice. What right did she ever have to try and interfere with that?

Before he can say more, his phone rings. She doesn’t listen. His voice is muffled, like someone put him in a box and hid it in another room. She shifts her weight on each foot every few seconds, like simply standing is tipping her off balance. The call seems to go on for hours.

Finally he hangs up and looks at her. “I have to go. They want me to come back to the company.”

“Let me go with you. This is my problem too. Maybe we can discuss this better with me around.”

He shakes his head. “No, this is my problem as an idol. You wouldn’t make sense there.”

Her heart drops. This is unbelievable. This is not the Yugyeom she knows.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I-“

“Just go. I don't really want to look at you right now.”

He hesitates and keeps his hand on the doorknob like he wants to say something, but his phone rings again and he leaves.

Y/N rushes to her computer and deletes the video, but there’s no use. 100,000 people have already seen it.

Y/N is having a very pleasant morning. She absolutely loves going to the studio to see the windows completely covered in spray paint. At least now it’s noticeable. Maybe this is the advertising she needs.

She groans. Could her life get any worse? She barely has a boyfriend anymore. The least the universe could do is give her an hour of peace before the dance classes begin.

Yugyeom hasn’t spoken to her since that night in her apartment. Two days without contact may seem short, but with a heavy situation like theirs, the lack of communication is suffocating. The worst part about waiting for him to talk to her is resisting the urge to text first.

Maybe it’s pride, but Y/N calls it self respect. She admitted her mistake, but he still hasn’t spoken to her. He screwed up just as bad, so why is he being so childish?

She sighs. Missing him is not going to clean the windows. With a bucket of water mixed with vinegar and a cloth in hand, she gets to work. She doesn’t exactly have the energy to add force to her strokes, but she doesn’t have a choice.

"Hey, boss." Jia’s voice brings her to a stop.

Y/N turns. Somehow, even as she looks at them, she feels nothing. She wishes she could feel even just the slightest irritation at the sight, but she can’t. Not even if Sunhee avoids her eyes and keeps her hands pocketed in her hoodie.

“Hi,” she says, squeezing the rag as if it would ease her mind. Water drips from her fingers and onto her feet, but she doesn't move.

“We wanted to see if you were okay.”

Her chest burns. She licks her lips and laughs, raising her arms in the air like she’s trying to imitate a welcome sign. “What do you think?”

Areum tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and clears her throat. She takes a step forward, and just when Y/N thinks she’s about to hug her, Areum walks past and enters the studio. Jia follows, and Sunhee comes in last.

If Y/N could describe the breeze that passes between them as Sunhee walks, it would be like fire burning her face. Brutal, but she doesn’t know how else to feel around her. It’s not like she can smile at the very reason why Dispatch ultimately ruined her life in a week.

That’s why when they come right back out with buckets and rags, she doesn’t know how to react. They stand next to her and wipe off the marks.

She could only watch. She knows she should help them, but her body refuses to move. Why are they being so nice to her now? Do they feel sorry for her? Is that it? If that’s the case, she doesn’t want their pity. They could quit for all she knows, and she would not be angry. Okay, maybe a little, but that's not the point.

Areum speaks up. “I think it’s stupid that you’re getting all this hate.”

Jia nods and reaches for the bucket. “Me too. It’s been like, what, two weeks? Week and a half? I can’t even remember. It’s old news, like, move on, already.”

“Why…” Y/N whispers.

Sunhee turns around. This is the first time she makes eye contact with Y/N. “I know you think I told Dispatch, but it wasn’t me.”

Her mind whirls. “What? Do you realize that doesn't make any sense at all? "

Sunhee nods. “It doesn’t, right? But I swear I didn’t tell Dispatch. I don’t even know how to do it! "

Before Y/N could reply, Jia steps in between them. "All done! How about we talk about this inside?”

If anyone told Y/N two years ago that she would sit in the middle of the studio having a heart-to-heart with Jia, Areum, and Sunhee, she would laugh in their face.

With everything going on lately, nothing feels real anymore. It's like she's floating around and looking at her life under a microscope.

“You know, I’m really surprised you guys came to help me today,” Y/N says, her voice so quiet, she’s not sure they heard.

“Why wouldn’t we help?” Areum asks. “You’re our boss.”

“I don’t know, I thought you guys hated me or something.”

Y/N plays with the hem of her shirt, as if the texture of the fabric is more interesting than the conversation. She doesn’t know how to face them. She feels like a failure of a boss. Hell, she feels like a failure, period.

“What? How could you think we hate you?” Jia asks.

Sunhee leans a little closer to add, “You are pretty rude sometimes, Jia.”

Jia pauses and nods after a moment. “You know, I totally get that.” She turns to Y/N. “I’m sorry. I never hated you, though. I think you’re pretty cool, just intimidating.”

“Intimidating? How am I intimidating?” Y/N asks.

“Well,” Areum says. “For starters, you’re our boss. I think it’s kind of the natural order of the universe for us to feel that way. But also because you’re a hard worker. You’re so focused on work, we never really got the chance to relate to you. You’ve always been closed off. The only time you show interest in things is when we’re interested in them too.”

“It’s also why we were so surprised to find out you were an ahgase. You keep so many things private, it’s hard to connect with you. We never hated you, boss. We just didn’t know you,” Jia adds.

The room is silent after that. Y/N’s mind scrambles for memories of the two years she shared with them. They’re right. She’s so used to people being against her, she assumed they were the same. She cannot rule out the times they were annoying, but that’s normal. Surely they got annoyed with her at some point. They’re only human.

Y/N sighs. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. I never gave you guys the chance to prove yourselves to me as anything other than great dancers. I should have been a better boss.”

Sunhee shakes her head. “You’re a great boss. You just need to learn to be a friend.”

“You’re right. You’re definitely right. I am too closed off. But I need to know,” Y/N faces Sunhee. “How can you say you didn’t tell Dispatch? You’re the only one who saw us.”

“This might sound unbelievable, but I don’t snitch. Well, except to them,” Sunhee gestures to Jia and Areum. “But I swear, I didn’t tell Dispatch.”

Jia nods. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and the only thing that makes sense is that someone may have heard us talk about it.”

Areum taps on the floor. “I bet it’s that girl from the steakhouse.” They all turn to her. “Think about it. The first picture that went viral was them in a steakhouse. And remember when Sunhee came running to us after she saw them? We took a walk just around here and went past it. A waitress was outside by the big chalkboard menu. It could have been her.”

Y/N slouches. That does seem to make sense, but it’s also a just a guess. And even if they did confront her, what difference would it make? It’s not like she can take it all back. The damage is done.

Jia clenches her fists. “Let’s go to her! I bet we could totally make her confess.”

They stay seated and wait for Y/N’s signal, but she only shakes her head. “Don’t bother. It wouldn’t change anything.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Sunhee asks.

Y/N shrugs. “I don’t know.” When they slouch, she adds, “But it’s okay. I have you guys now. That makes everything better.”

Bad things happen all the time, but if you know where to look, you just might find a little bit of good. That's what her father always said. She didn’t know it then, but maybe his words stuck enough to push her this far. Despite their unwillingness to support her dream, it seems they were also the reason she achieved it.

If none of this happened, she wouldn't understand how Jia, Areum and Sunhee felt about her. She might even spend the next couple of years slowly losing the strength to keep up with them. As much as she wishes none of this got so out of hand, she’s glad it brought them together. They are the perfect example of what her dad meant.

The good in the bad.

Her phone screen lights up, and just when she thinks it’s a text from their group chat, her heart stops.

GMAIL: JYP Entertainment

She screams. The room spins. Her hands shake, and she almost drops her phone. An email from JYP Entertainment? What could it be about? Is she in trouble? She already deleted the video! Instead of unlocking her phone to open the email, she calls the girls through the group chat.

“You got an email from who?” Areum screams.

“J-JYP Entertainment. Oh my God. What should I do?”

“Read it!” Jia says.

"Out loud so we can hear it!” Sunhee adds.

“Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Y/N pulls down the notification bar and takes a deep breath before tapping on the email.

“What does it say!” Areum asks.

“Dear, Y/N. We are pleased to inform you that we are interested in hiring you as a dance teacher for the artists and trainees of JYP Entertainment. We received a recommendation for having you on our team and after researching your activities as a dance studio owner, we would like to hire you. If you are interested, visit the JYP Entertainment building on Saturday at 2:00 PM for an interview. Thank you.”

Y/N falls to the floor. She can’t believe it. Even with the words staring back at her and the girls screaming in her ear, she can’t believe it. The company her favorite group works for is interested in hiring her. Her! A low-rate dancer with a small studio. Her, even after the mess of the scandal. They want to hire her.

“What do I do?” she whispers.

“Go! Take the job!” Areum says. “This is what you worked so hard for!”

And that’s when it clicks. When she uploaded the video, she wasn’t afraid of losing her career, but not once did she think about the girls losing theirs. They worked just as hard as she did. They share the same dream, the same passion. How could she be selfish enough to risk that?

She has to take this opportunity. A part-time job at JYP? This could save all of them.

Y/N’s heart feels like it’s going to explode.

Standing in front of the JYP building has never felt more intense. She’s visited before, ate at the famous JYPBob, but with a new intent in mind, the building looms above her like a taunt ready to criticize her every move.

But she can totally do this. At least that's what she keeps telling herself, anyway. So much is at stake here. She needs to do everything she can to get this job. That’s all that matters.

“Okay, Y/N,” she mutters. “One step at a time. Just walk to the door.”

She could see the inside through the revolving door, but it somehow looks better on the other side. The first thing she notices is the JYP logo on the wall, which glows as if it's greeting her. Two women sit behind a long marble counter with a huge stone slab in front. Y/N wonders how they managed to make it look good. This room looks like the entrance to a god’s house. There’s no way she’s worthy of standing on this floor.

After explaining what she's there for, she follows an employee up the elevator. As they walk along the blue walls, she can only think of one thing: she might work here. One day, she could get used to walking down these halls, passing idols and giving them a smile. This could be her life.

But first, she has to pass the interview.

Behind this door could be the turning point of her career. She takes a deep breath. There’s no telling what could happen next, but it's okay. This is where her efforts brought her. She just hopes she drank enough apple juice.

“Hello, you must be Y/N,” a man in a black blazer and khaki pants says as he extends his hand. “I’m Jung Wook.”

Y/N shakes it. “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“So,” Jung Wook sits behind his desk and smiles. “you’re a special case here. We received a recommendation, and we don’t get that often. We watched some of your videos on YouTube, and we think you’re very talented.”

“Thank you.”

“But first, tell me about yourself.”

Here we go.

The interview is a blur. With so much adrenaline running through her veins, it’s difficult to catch the details. The words roll off her tongue like she knows exactly what to say, but in reality, she has no idea if anything made sense.

She just hopes they accept her anyway.

After an awkward amount of bows and thank yous, Y/N opens the door to find a man sitting on the floor. He looks up.

Yugyeom.

“Did you get the job?” he asks and stands up.

She closes the door and sighs.

“I know you’re mad at me, but can we please talk?” he says.

“All right.”

She follows him around the building. Honestly, she's glad he's here. She was too nervous to pay attention to where she was going, she doesn’t remember how to get back to the front door. At least after this, Yugyeom can escort her out.

He takes her to a dance practice room, and she swears she almost cries. It’s bigger than her entire studio, and they have more of these in one building? The lights are much brighter, it's like they flow through her and give her energy to dance. She runs to the middle of the room.

“Makes you wanna dance, right?” he says, bringing her back to reality.

She frowns, and all the energy the room gave her seeps from her body. She turns to him.

“You recommended me, didn’t you?” she asks.

He nods. “With Jaebeom-hyung’s help. He’s more persuasive. It was the least I could do after…” When she looks away, he adds, “I’m sorry I hurt you. You only wanted to fight for our relationship, but I chose to be a coward. I should’ve consulted you first.”

She sighs and sits on the floor. “Even the floor feels better.” She looks back at him. “I should’ve talked to you too. But you were right. JYP could only protect you. I’m on my own. Denying the rumors was the safer choice, but I ruined that.”

“How did the interview go?” he asks as he takes a seat in front of her.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It was kind of just a blur. I don’t remember the questions or what I said, so I really can’t tell if I bombed it or not.”

“I’m sure you did great. You’ll fit right in here.”

“If I become an official employee here, does that mean they can protect me too? The way they protect their idols?”

Yugyeom nods. “You’d have a powerful company to take legal action against anyone who attacks you again.”

Y/N slouches, as if the weight of the information is too heavy for her shoulders. “I need this job.”

They stay silent for a moment, like they’re waiting for someone to say something. To be honest, Y/N doesn’t know what to say. She said sorry, she took responsibility for what she did and asked about the recommendation. What more is there to say? That she misses him? With so much happening at once, she never really got the chance to think about him.

Now that he's right in front of her, it’s like her emotions finally caught up. Sadness and anger come at once that she has to look away, but in the middle of it all is the one thing she did not expect to feel—longing.

“I miss you,” they both say, their voices echoing and bouncing off each other like a trampoline.

Then they laugh. She missed this, being with him without a care for anything else. To be in his presence, even when they were nothing but friends.

“Y/N… I hope you know I didn’t just recommend you because I wanted to help you,” he says. "I want to be with you. I still do. I was angry, but I missed you anyway. Everyday.”

She meets his gaze. “I wanna be with you too, Yugyeom. But I'm afraid if I don't get the job, I won’t have the same protection as you. How would that work?”

“I’ll protect you.”

She snickers and looks away. “You’ve always been so idealistic.”

“You’ve known me three months.”

“I’ve known you since you debuted. You’ve known me for three months.”

"Touché," he laughs. “But really. Whether you get the job or not, I’ll do what I can to protect you.”

“My knight in shining armor," she says, placing the back of her palm above her forehead like a damsel in distress.

He stands and bows, offering his hand as his other rests behind his back. "Anything for my love."

She smiles and takes his hand, which falls to her waist and pulls her closer. His eyes scan her face for any resistance, and when he finds none, he smiles.

“I missed this,” she whispers and rests her forehead on his.

She wishes more than ever that the door is locked.

"I love you," he says.

Y/N pulls her head back and looks at him, like the words he spoke touched every inch of her skin. He looks at her, his eyes shining with the reflection of the lights.

“What-“

“I know it might be too soon. We haven't been dating for a long time, but I love you. I hope I don’t scare you away.”

She must be dreaming. She hasn't woken up yet and still needs to go to that interview. She’s imagining all this because she misses him, because she-

"I love you too." If this is a dream, she never wants to wake up.

Before she could think further, he kisses her, and her mind shuts down. His arms wrap around her body and pull her closer than she already was. They could not waste any more distance between them. She melts into his embrace, his lips, his hands, and the sound he makes when she kisses him back. This is their reminder to each other that the world cannot touch them. It tried, and it hurt for a moment, but they found their way back to each other.

He walks them to the wall and guides her so her back rests gently. But they don’t pull away. They need this. They’ve been needing this, because the last time didn’t go so well.

For someone who hasn’t had a lot of experience, Yugyeom is a fantastic kisser.

When they pull away, their faces remain close, like going further apart is wrong.

Y/N smiles because this is real. She knows because no dream could ever compare to him.

It’s been at least two months since Yugyeom went live, when he told the world Y/N waswasst a friend. Nobody believed him, of course. Just as no one believed him when he denied the claims once more. But tonight, he’s going to right his wrongs.

Y/N is great as a new dance teacher in the company. The trainees seem to really like her because she’s his girlfriend. They think it's cool that she met him at a fan sign and managed to win his heart. If only the rest of the world were as accepting as they were.

“Hi, guys. Did you miss me? I missed you,” he says, watching the comments fly up in a swift.

It’s always hard to read them, but he manages to catch a few. A lot of them are ‘I MISSED YOU’s and ‘ARE YOU OKAY’s, which he always finds so sweet.

“I know I’ve been gone for some time, but I have a good reason. I’ve been taking care of my girlfriend. Yes, she's my girlfriend. I know what the news said, and that was my fault. I was scared. But that was because I was afraid of what you might think. I know a lot of you won't like this, but it’s the truth. And I came on live because I wanted to tell you guys on my own instead of some news article.”

He chuckles as he reads more of the messages. His basic English skills can catch the supportive ones. He’s surprised to see a lot of the Korean comments following the same theme. It takes a great deal of the weight from his chest.

“I’m glad to see some positive comments on here, but I know there are still some who don’t like this. But I’m here to ask all of you, as my fans, as my best friends, to respect us. You don’t have to like it, but at least respect it. I’m… I’m really in love with her. We are all human and we all fall in love. You wouldn’t want the people you care about to restrict you from doing what your heart wants, right? We all deserve this freedom. I deserve this freedom. So I hope you guys can be okay with that. Because you guys mean a lot to me.”

He takes a deep breath and smiles at the comments.

"Hello, Brazil," he laughs. “Well that’s all for now, guys. I’ll come back soon, I promise. I’ve missed you all. Goodnight everyone!”

He lays in bed and takes a deep breath, the weight of the past few months slowly leaving his chest. He did the right thing. Not everyone is going to be happy with the news, but he’s happy with Y/N. That’s all that matters.

Together, they will face the hate, but they will not let it touch them.

“That’s all the boxes, right?” Y/N asks as Sunhee sits at the truck driver’s seat.

She nods. “Yeah, I counted. Get in.”

Y/N does as she’s told and sighs. Her heart falls. She already said goodbye to the studio at least five times, but she can’t help but get emotional. That little room was the beginning of her career. Sure, she has to move on and continue the road that very room started, but the emotional value is too much.

It’s why it took one year of convincing her to finally move to a larger space. The new studio is still in Hongdae, which is nice because they’re familiar with the area, but it’s much larger. It’s almost like JYP dance practice rooms: spacious with the most beautiful bright lights.

“Can I ask you something?” Y/N asks.

“What’s up?”

“What does it mean when a guy doesn’t reply to you for over 24 hours?”

Sunhee snickers. “Normally, I would say it means he’s mad at you, but in your case, your idol boyfriend must be exhausted from his world tour. Give him time to sleep and relax. You can make out in the studio when he’s ready.”

Y/N sighs. “I just don’t get why he wouldn’t text me a simple ‘I’m home’, you know? It doesn’t take much energy to type it. He can even just say it, and his phone will send it! A world tour doesn’t mean he can just forget his girlfriend.”

“He hasn’t forgotten you, Y/N. He’s crazy about you, and it’s already been a year. That says a lot.”

“How can you be so sure? What if he’s tired of me?”

“Just trust me. I’m sure you’ll see him again very soon.”

Y/N nods and takes a deep breath. She looks out through the window to distract herself. She’s pretty bummed out that her boyfriend can’t do something as simple as send her a text.

Especially on her birthday,

When Sunhee pulls over, Y/N gets off right away to bring the remaining boxes into the new studio, but Jia and Areum run out immediately and block her path.

“Oh, good. We’re gonna need the help. These speakers are heavy,” she says and walks to the back of the truck.

“Wait!” Areum says and gently pulls Y/N’s arm. “Aren’t you hungry? Why don’t we go inside to get some food first?”

Y/N pauses. “There’s food inside?”

Jia scowls at Areum before smiling back at their boss. “Yeah! We ordered some take out because we were starving. Setting up is a lot of work! We waited for you guys so we could eat together.”

“Okay, but there better not be an odor. We don’t want the first problem in our new place to be a stench.”

“What are we? Stupid?” Areum says, laughing a little too loudly, which earns her a slap in the arm from Jia.

Y/N walks past them and pushes the door open only to be greeted by a very dark studio.

“God, where are the lights here? Why did you guys turn them off?” she says as she feels for the switch on the walls.

When the lights turn on, she takes a moment to adjust to the change before she realizes her friends are standing in the middle with Kim Yugyeom.

“Happy Birthday!” they say in terrible unison, but the effort makes her smile anyway.

“Oh my God!”

Despite the bare room and boxes at the side, the table in the center with cake and take out food makes up for it. And Yugyeom. That ass. She walks toward them.

“Is that apple juice?” she asks, pointing to a clear plastic pitcher.

They nod, and she laughs. She turns to Yugyeom and glares.

“I’m sorry I ignored your-“ he starts, but Y/N interrupts him with a combination of hits on his chest.

“You! Could! Have! Texted!” she yells.

He takes her hands to stop the attacks and pulls her into a hug. “I missed you too.”

She buries her face in his chest and takes in his scent. Before their relationship, she never thought she would be the clingy type, but Yugyeom proved her otherwise. There’s something about him that makes her feel safe and at ease, that being away from him for too long makes her want to hop on the next plane to wherever he is.

“Alright, guys, I know this is a birthday surprise, but I wasn’t kidding when I said we were starving,” Jia says.

Y/N pulls away and smiles at the girls. “Thank you. Really. A year ago, I never thought I would ever say this, but I love you guys. I’m so grateful to have all of you.” She turns to Yugyeom. “And you. Thank you for taking time out of your rest to come here. I know you must be tired, so get some sleep after this, okay? Now. Let’s eat!”

They cheer, and together, they celebrate.

There is no way Yugyeom could afford this place.

“Look, this guy is really desperate to sell this apartment! I kinda feel bad for him,” Yugyeom whispers.

“You are not buying this apartment because you pity the agent. It’s probably only a trick he does for rich guys like you to give in!”

“Yeah, but look! Let’s put that aside for a moment. This place looks really nice. Admit it. You’d live here.”

She sighs and takes another glance around the empty living room. “Yeah, but I could never afford it. But this is you we’re talking about. Look at this price! This would be a total waste for when you’re away on tour. Who’s gonna keep it clean?”

He smiles and glances at the real estate agent who peeks from one of the rooms. The man blushes and hides back.

“That’s why I want you to move in with me,” he says.

Y/N’s breath hitches. “W-what?”

“Think about it. I could send money every month when I’m away so I can pay half the rent. You’re right. I could never afford this place, but only on my own. You’re really successful now, with income from your studio, YouTube channel, and JYP,” he takes her hands. “What do you say? Will you live with me?”

She takes another look at the apartment. Her imagination fills the room with a couch, television, plants, bookshelves, and an image of them having dinner together at a table. He makes a good point. Not to mention, they don’t see each other at the JYP building as often as they’d like. Having one home could change that.

It could change their entire relationship, but since when did change every scare her?

She squeezes his hands and smiles. “Okay.”

Yugyeom pulls her close and kisses her, not an ounce of shame in the real estate agent’s presence. Why would it matter?

He’s home.

#ultkpop #dancewithmefic #got7 #got7 fanfic #yugyeom #yugyeom fanfic #kim yugyeom #kim yugyeom fanfic #got7 fluff #yugyeom fluff

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atths--twice · 4 years

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Mulder and Scully share memories of how and when they fell in love with one another. Little places along the way, where pieces of their hearts were given and shared.

A Patchwork Heart 3a/8

Chapter One

Moments Lived in Miles Traveled

After their car breaks down, they must use a rental car. As a result, memories of the past begin to rise to the surface.

March 2020

Scully tried not to laugh as she held Faith and watched Mulder struggle to put her car seat into the rental car they were picking up, after his car overheated and they discovered the radiator would need to be replaced.

The steam coming from his car as they were heading home, still miles away, had led to waiting on a tow truck, the warm spring day feeling even warmer as they waited in the non running car. When the man arrived, he had smiled at Faith, who was intrigued with the big truck and flashing lights. Discovering it was not a simple overheating, but a broken radiator, Mulder had sworn and shook his head.

The driver had kindly taken them to the nearby rental agency before heading to the dealership, their warranty still thankfully covering the repair. Scully and Faith had waited outside, petting the big furry cat who had been laying in a patch of sun when they arrived, as Mulder picked out the car.

The cat had pushed at Faith’s hand, purring loudly, wrapping in and out of her legs, and then falling to the ground and rolling onto his back. She had laughed as she bent down and patted his fluffy belly. He had jumped up quickly, pushing his head into her chin, and rubbing against her face.

“Cat,” Faith had said and Scully grinned as a new word was added to her vocabulary.

“Yes, baby girl, it’s a cat.”

Mulder had walked out, scaring the cat and causing it to run across the parking lot. Faith had attempted to chase it, and Scully stopped her, picking her up and kissing her cheeks.

“Cat,” she had said again, pointing toward the cat who was now licking his front paw.

“Whoa… she said cat!” Mulder had grinned and blew a raspberry on Faith’s cheek, causing her to laugh and momentarily forget about the cat.

They had walked to the car and now they stood waiting for him to put the seat in, which was a battle he seemed to be losing.

“I swear to God,” he muttered loudly. “This car doesn’t have the hooks for the buckles. How are we supposed… no wait, I found them. Fucking hell…”

“Hey,” Scully called out to him with a laugh. Glancing down at Faith, she nodded as he looked up.

“As if she can understand me,” he replied, with a roll of his eyes.

“She said cat a few minutes ago and she said S-H-I-T the other day so… you’re wrong,” she countered, raising her eyebrows at him.

“She did not. Stop saying that she did.” He shook his head with a heavy sigh and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Sure sounded like it to me,” she teased and he laughed.

“Maybe you should get your hearing checked. You know, especially as you’ve recently had a birthday. As we age, Scully…”

“Oh, buddy, no. You’re gonna want to stop right there,” she said, putting up a hand and shaking her head. He grinned and she glared at him. “Your daddy is skating on very thin ice, my girl.” She held her stare as she spoke to Faith and he laughed and shook her head again. “Put the car seat in the car so we can get some lunch. Your ladies are getting hungry.”

Turning around with a grin, he finally set the seat in the car securely, and came to grab the backpack and place it in the car. Kissing Faith, Scully handed her to Mulder. He nuzzled her neck, causing her to laugh, before he put her in her car seat and shut the door.

“Let’s get going, old lady,” he teased, looking at her with a grin as he opened the drivers side door.

She cupped a hand around her ear and turned her head to the side. “What was that? I’m having a hard time hearing you.” She closed her hand, leaving only her middle finger up, and he laughed.

“Get your ass in the car,” he said, gesturing with his head to the passenger side.

She smiled and walked over, getting in and taking a deep breath, the scent of rental cars never seeming to change. It was a mixture of faux new car smell, greasy meals, and old cologne and perfumes. An odd combination and others may find it overwhelming or perhaps not even notice, but to her it was a familiar scent and one she found oddly comforting.

He looked at her as he started the car, giving her a wink. Suddenly, she saw him on their first case: younger, no gray hair at his temples, the lines in his face far less prominent. His eager excitement as he continuously cracked open sunflower seeds, something she had found cute and charming, was nearly palpable.

She saw him staring at her and laughing, or rolling his eyes at something she disagreed with, as he tried to prove his point, and the concentration needed that went into reading a huge fold out map, no smart phones with fancy apps available back then to help them find their way.

She smiled as they backed up and pulled out of the parking lot, the wind from the open windows blowing cooling air inside the warm car, as Faith babbled in the backseat. She laughed softly as she looked out the window and shook her head. Her mind drifted through her memories, thinking back on the many miles they had traveled together, learning about each other in cars similar to the one they were now driving down the road.

That first case… so green and without any field experience, she had not known what to expect, but it definitely was not someone like him...

____________

He filled the silence in the car, chatting about everything. It was very different from any other man she had traveled with in the past. Jack usually had a topic planned ahead of time, thus the car ride was spent wisely, as he used to say. Ethan liked listening to classical music and for the short time they were together, she heard more Bach and Beethoven than she ever wanted to hear again.

But Mulder, though not her boyfriend, thus not an entirely accurate comparison, loved to discuss anything and everything. Conspiracy theories, current events, old cases, places they each had been, childhood fears... nothing was off topic. She learned more about him than anyone she had ever known in her life, including her family members.

He was brilliant, his mind absorbing and retaining knowledge in a way she had never seen. He could call up baseball statistics, a case from years ago, addresses, and telephone numbers. He knew her senior thesis by heart, which he rattled off at the strangest of times, never ceasing to amaze her that he knew it so well.

He knew so much, about so much, it led to conversations that sometimes left her head spinning. After a while she learned to simply nod and stop listening to what he had to say, finding it to be the best way to handle the nonstop chatter.

It had, of course, backfired on her as he would bring it up later and, at her blank stare, he would sigh and pout with that big bottom lip sticking out, before explaining it all over again. She enjoyed those times, though it was a repeat of what he had already said, his excitement over a topic evident as he rambled and paced around the motel room.

When he would leave, his mouth finally running out of words to say, she would lie down in bed, wondering if it was normal to go to sleep with the thought of that bottom lip jutting out and those puppy eyes staring at her. He was her partner for God’s sake, and yet his eyes and that lip taunted her.

They would take turns driving of course, neither of them able to stay awake for hours and hours on end; the towns they visited were sometimes far from commercial airports. The first time he commented about her struggle to adjust the seat, his six foot frame needing more space than her smaller one, her angry eyes quickly shut him up. He never mentioned it the same way again but she saw his grin, his smirk, as she pulled the seat forward and adjusted the back.

He got his comeuppance though and it always made her laugh. When he would forget about the fact that she had driven last, he would attempt to sit down in a seat that was far too close. His head would hit the roof of the car, his knees hitting the steering wheel, as a curse fell from his lips. Covering her laugh with a cough, he would curse again as he moved the seat back.

When she was the driver, he was able to read and most often would share the information with her. Sometimes it was about the case, but other times it was about a book he had read, or an article he found interesting in the paper. As he tended to drone on at times, his words tumbling over themselves, his voice becoming louder in his excitement, she would call for the agreed upon ten minutes of silence.

One night when they had been upset, angry, and extremely tired, they agreed that if silence was called for, the other had to adhere to the request for at least ten minutes. Oftentimes, the other person would agree without any problems, but some days he was not so acquiescent.

If he had a topic he was dying to discuss and she had called for silence, he would check his watch, making sure he would know when the allotted time would be up. With him not talking, sometimes the pressing quiet in the car would then become too much. Turning on public radio, she would breathe a sigh of relief, finding it refreshing to have something else to focus on besides the silence or the topic of his choosing.

When the radio was on, they would generally both become engrossed in the story they heard, forgetting why the call for silence had been asked for in the first place. In those occurrences, the ten minute call for silence would have long since passed as the show ended. A lively discussion would then take place over what they had just heard, the miles rumbling beneath them and carrying them forward.

When she became ill, she noticed a change in him. He was quiet, especially when they drove, their lively discussions halted, as if he did not want to disturb her, or cause any undue problems. She felt how he withheld things from her at times, his frustration or his anger, and she hated it. Hated being treated differently because she had a disease inside of her.

She was tired after the treatments, sometimes for just a bit and other times for days after. She fell asleep in the office a couple of times, his hand laid gently on her shoulder waking her up, his eyes sad and concerned. She pushed away from him, away from those sad hazel eyes, walking down the hall to the restroom, where she allowed herself a cry before splashing cold water on her face.

In a meeting, she had dozed off, and he ever so slightly touched her arm and whispered her name, letting her know that she had fallen asleep without any other words spoken. Her cheeks flushed but she was unable to rush out of the room like she had in the office. He kept his eyes straight ahead, but she knew exactly how they would look at her if he turned his head. Broken and scared; exactly how she felt.

After those times, he began to drive more often when they were out of town. No discussion had between them, he simply took over the lion’s share of what they were doing. She tried to stay awake and be the navigator as she always had been, but she failed. He never said a word, instead he turned the radio on low or remained silent, allowing her to sleep, knowing she was exhausted, but would not discuss it.

With a general knowledge of how long it would take for them to get from point A to point B, some days when she was nauseous and had a hard time not vomiting, she would feel the car slowing and the drive taking longer, in order to allow her to be her when she arrived to work on the case.

There were small plastic trash bags in his suitcases which he placed in the glove box of any rental car they used, along with packs of tissues. Just in case, he would say, not meeting her eyes, closing the glove box softly. While a part of her wanted to scream that she could take care of herself, that she did not need his help, she knew that it was not true. Not always.

He carried gum and mints in his pockets, silently handing them to her after she had thrown up either outside the car door or into one of the plastic bags he so thoughtfully packed. He always took one for himself, thus making it seem as though only she needed it. His caring both annoyed and meant the world to her.

On one of the rare nights she did drive, he made a comment about switching places as she looked tired, and she snapped. She did not need his worry, his attempt to hold her back, she would not stop driving or working for that matter, even if he felt she should. He said nothing, letting her yell and release her frustration, something that had been building for a while she realized, as she ran out of steam and finally fell silent.

Turning her head to look at him, she found him staring at her, his eyes hurt and sad. He said nothing, and she knew she had gone too far. He had been nothing but supportive since it had all happened, and while she did not like the feeling of not being in control and at times, less than, she appreciated the little things he did.

Feeling like shit, but unable and unwilling to apologize, she kept her eyes on the road, the motel not far away. When they pulled in, he stopped her from leaving the car with a hand on hers as she unbuckled her seat belt. He stared at her, trying to say words, but failing to articulate them.

“I need to be here, Mulder,” she whispered, squeezing his hand and dropping her eyes. He squeezed back with a nod.

After that moment, she was more accepting, if that was how it could be described, of his help and care. He never said it, but his eyes watching her and the silent things he did, were not unnoticed.

Scully shook her head, tears in her eyes, as she looked out the window. What a different time it had been, and how different they had been. She released her breath, and in the silence of the car, Faith most likely sleeping in her car seat, she thought again of days spent with him in cars similar to the one they were in now…

They sat together in traffic jams, through heated discussions about whatever came to mind. Times when silence was heavy and filled with worry or times when it was light and welcome. There were times when they laughed, both of them overly tired with miles to go before they reach their destination.

Days of worn out bodies, exhausted injury, standing beside the rental attendant explaining the mess in their car. Being yelled at by Skinner, or Kersh, over the complaints from the rental companies.

There were days when the weather was freezing but the heater did not work and his coat was offered to her as she shivered. Then there were days when the heat was unbearable and the air conditioner was on the fritz. His coat was not needed then, nor was her own as she stripped it off and threw it in the backseat along with her dress shirt sometimes, sitting in the car in just a lace camisole, causing him to swallow hard.

There were places where the rain came down so hard, they had to nearly yell to be heard above it. Or decide when to make a run for it as the lack of umbrellas would lead to wet clothes if they were not fast enough. Then the days came when wet clothes were welcome, as it led to stripping and warming each other up.

They traveled many miles together and along those miles and bumpy roads, she fell in love with him. In cafés, diners, interrogation rooms, watching him with children, how he spoke to women, his kindness and care in his voice. All those places, she fell in love with him, but nowhere so much as in those stuffy, and often smelly, rental cars as they drove all over the country.

Back roads, highways, interstates, surface streets, his voice singing along with the radio, droning on about his theories, or softly telling her of his worry for her, simple words that spoke volumes.

Within the confines of the four doors, they learned the give-and-take that became the cornerstone of the partnership. Respect, admiration, and understanding traveled with them, the car their touchstone, their way to re-center when everything around them was chaotic…

“Hey, Scully?” Mulder's voice said, breaking into her thoughts. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Anywhere is fine,” she said, wiping at her eyes discretely, though her tears were happier than before.

“Italian?”

“Anything,” she answered, looking at him with a smile, reaching for his hand and locked their fingers together giving it a squeeze. He turned his head to look at her and gave her a quizzical look.

“What?” he asked and she shook her head.

“Nothing,” she replied with a smile of her own. “Nothing at all.” He smiled, his eyes back on the road and she saw again, the young excitable agent, out to save the world.

Closing her eyes, she saw through the years, all the different versions of him, and she smiled, happy to have known each of them.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him as he was now, the best version of himself; still him, yet older and wiser.

“Still gonna tell me it’s ‘nothing’ with the way you’re staring at me?” he teased, squeezing her hand.

“Yup,” she said, smiling as he looked at her, his eyes happy. He laughed and nodded with a sigh. “Just keep driving.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, raising her fingers to his lips for a kiss, as he stepped on the gas, going wherever the road took them.

______________________________________________

So this particular story was written for on my really good friend on her birthday. It is also the 100th XF story I wrote and I was bound and determined to have it ready for her. I was so excited to post it for her. Hope you all enjoyed it!

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series #Humor #Fluff #Family Fluff #Memories #Rental Cars #Learning One Another in Miles Traveled #Love #Caring #Together

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