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julie-thefatones · 4 years ago

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THERES NO ONE LIKE YOU || BILLY HARGROVE X READER||

A/N : I just wanted to thank @i-thought-i-knew-what-love-was for helping me with the idea of this story for I was having a block lol!!! Also im sorry if i didnt catch all the typos or mistakes, i tried my best lol! anyway i hope you guys like it :)

WORD COUNT: 5290

WARNINGS: 16+ (Kissing, Rude Language)

It was Summer 1985, it was unbelievably hot in Hawkins, IN this time of year.. but this year was different, it was hotter than any summer before that I could remember, so that only meant one thing.......Everybody and I do mean everybody was at the public pool. It was the only public pool in town and no on really thought or maybe they just didn't bother to get a pool of their own.

As I made my way to the pool just like every other day this summer, I felt different. I wasn't sure if it was because I did my hair different than usual, Instead of my usual half up half down action, I decided to do it to the side and crimped, it made me feel like I was in Teen Beat under the 'Your New Summer Doo' Section.... Or maybe it was my new swim suit that was all the rage this year with the coolest Neon Yellow and Hot Pink color block, sure it made me feel somewhat like a glass of strawberry lemonade but if i'm gonna be a glass of strawberry lemonade i'm gonna be the hottest glass of strawberry lemonade there is.

Well whatever, Im not going to let this strange feeling ruin my day at the pool, no way, nothing is going to ruin this day unless its an overly packed swimming pool with no room to breath...... as I walked through the gates of the public pool, I looked around, took a deep breath, and sighed "Ruined" I whispered to my self while closing my eyes. I walked over to my usual pool chair dodging kids left and right as i made my way, blocking out the parents yelling across the way for 'TOMMY STOP PUSHING YOUR BROTHER UNDERWATER!' I mean you think Tommy would know by now that when he tries to drown his younger brother, he's going to get yelled at. Taking deep breaths the whole way to my chair trying not to let anyone get to me, I laid my towel down and took my seat. I laid there for maybe 10 minutes before i heard Mrs. Fowl yelling once more "TOMMY STO-" but this time she was cut off *WHISTLE NOISE* "TOMMY! STOP DROWNING YOUR TWARP OF A BROTHER BEFORE I DROWN YOU! YOU KNOW THE RULES! YOU LITTLE DOUCHE" I heard a male voice call across the pool, I tilted my sunglasses down to see what was going down, first I saw Mrs. Fowl rolling her eyes at what the mysterious male just yelled, I scanned over to discover who this mysterious male was... He made his way down the side of the pool greeting a group of middle aged women who gawked at him. He was slowly getting closer to the Life Guard tower and thats when I realized who it was that was calling orders and greeting people across the pool...... It was Billy Hargrove, the new, but well known bad boy of Hawkins High School. Girls went Ga Ga over him, he was hot sure but I never really understood why these girls threw themselves at him, he was just a guy, I mean not to mention he was a major douche, didn't show respect to anyone he talked too, also I couldn't stand how loud his freaking car is!! like dude, not necessary, especially not necessary when its 3:00 in the morning!! did i mention he lived down the street from me. I was deep in thought, not realizing i was still staring at Billy, but now he was sitting at the top of the Life Guard tower, I didn't realize i was staring until he stared back at me and winked "Oh my gosh" I whispered to my self in embarrassment, I rolled over pushing my sunglasses back up feeling completely mortified, Maybe he would forget about it... I mean he has girls staring at him all the time.

I laid there for about 2 hours, forgetting about my slight interaction with Billy across the pool. I didn't feel bothered the last 2 hours until i felt a large presence blocking my sun, with out opening my eyes for not wanting to get out of my zen "Hey! Sasquatch, who ever you are, your mama wasn't a glass maker, so if you would kindly move out of my sun I would deeply appreciate it, thanks" I heard a cocky chuckle above me, as much i didn't want to, I opened my eyes, and there he was right above me... Billy "Ya know, its not polite to call people Sasquatch... and for your information my mom could be a glass maker... so you making assumptions .. well thats just plain rude" He said, licking his lips before continuing "But, i'm a very forgiving person so i guess ill let it pass" He said with a big cocky smile, I couldn't help but feel flustered, even though he was being so overly confident and cocky... he just had this charm about him ... but i wouldn't let him know that, I rolled my eyes in response and kept a straight expression laying still "Oh, Hey Billy.... I didn't know you worked here" I said with as little emotion as I could express "Now, I don't think that is true Y/N, I saw you checking me out earlier" He said with the same cocky but teasing tone, I scoffed "Oh please Hargrove, you wish i was checking you out" I felt him shift behind me before he answered "Ya know, usually when someone is just staring at another .. it means your checking them out" After hearing his words I tilted my sunglasses down to look at him "You flatter yourself sir" I said with a teasing smile, he scoffed and looked off and then back to me "hmmm alright Y/L/N, well my mistake" I rolled my eyes once more and pushed my glasses back up "Alright, you've blocked my sun for long enough, now move along Sasquatch" I said, back to no emotion, He chuckled "Yes Ma'am, I would hate to deprive you of your sun" He winked before walking away. I couldn't help but stare after him as he walked away..... I quickly looked away, realizing what i was doing ... What was I doing... I don't like Billy.

The next day rolled around, and I was feeling slightly more excited then usual to get ready to go to the pool. I know what you're thinking... NOO it had nothing to do with Billy... I just was excited to cool off in the water...... and lay in the sun again.... and maaaybe it had something to do with Billy, but its nothing big... I just like to give him a hard time, that is all... that. is. all.

I walked into the pool area, same as yesterday, but today I wore my red swimsuit that had little frills on the straps with a red Scrunchy to match. I laid my towel down, again like yesterday and just like clockwork I heard the same male voice as yesterday "TOMMY! DO WE HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS EVERYDAY! NOW STOP DROWNING YOUR BROTHER SO I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHERS TERRIBLY SHRILL VOICE YELL AT YOU TO STOP! IT IS LITERALLY THE WORST PART OF MY SHIFT!" I looked behind me to see Billy finish walking to his place at the Life Guard tower, I couldn't help but chuckle at Mrs. Fowl's face, mouth wide open in offense to what Billy said.

The afternoon flew by and Billy paid absolutely no mind to me, he just say on his tower and every now and then yelled at Tommy.... But other than that.. nothing. I Hate to say i was slightly disappointed, yesterdays banter was not only fun but the most entertainment i have had this summer, all my friends were away for the summer leaving me alone ... hence the coming to the pool by my self everyday. The past week went by the exact same way, I would show up to the pool looking the cutest i can look interchanging the 3 swimsuits i own, and the 3 different hairstyles i knew how to do. But nothing, he would yell at Tommy, sit and do nothing... except when he would flirt with bimbo mcBarbie or wanna be Farrah Fawcett, it made me have a pit in my stomach... not that i was jealous... absolutely not, I was just bored.

The next day, I showed up, the same way as I had been for the past week.. except today i had no expectations except to mock the plastic Phoebe Cates wanna be that would flirt with Billy endlessly today. Today I wore my red swimsuit once again, with the same matching scrunchy... I sat and prepared to be disappointed again. I sat for about 20 mins, and just like a week before.... someone was blocking my sun, I couldn't help but grow a small smile on my face, I tilted my sunglasses and looked right at mr. Billy Hargrove with his cocky smile in front of me "You're blocking my sun Sasquatch" I said with a teasing tone "Oh my apologies ma'am" he said right before walking away. Really that was it .... no banter nothing.... I sighed aloud before sinking into my chair, what was gonna do .... and as I heard Mrs. Fowl and Billy yell at Tommy, thats when it came to me.

I approached the edge of the swimming pool, took a deep breath, was i really gonna do this... just to get Billy's attention? I rolled my eyes at myself, before stepping into the pool. I carefully walked closer and closer to the middle of the pool, looking around at all the kids around me, they looked like they were having so much fun. I started to rethink my plan, I didn't want to scare any of these kids just to get a stupid guys attention... a guy i don't even like! 'this is so stupid' i thought to my self before starting my way out of the pool, but thats when i heard the most annoying high pitched laugh coming from the Life Guard tower, and thats when I saw the Bimbo Phoebe Cates wanna be standing beneath Billy at the tower, and with out thinking I went for it. I started flailing and putting my own head under water to mimic drowning "HELP! HELP!" I screamed each time i came up for breath "HELP! I NEED HELP" I continued to scream, Thats when Billy just casually climbed down from his tower like nothing was going on and walked at a normal pace over to the edge of the pool before getting in. Billy swam effortlessly to me, and before i even knew it he swooped me up into his arms bridal style, carrying me out like i weighed nothing.... as we were exiting the pool, I had to admit, the way the water dripped off his hair and down his chest, Billy Hargrove was insanely hot.... I couldn't help but just stare at him, his face was not only hot, but it was .... Beautiful .. i mean his complexion was flawless... his eyes were such a beautiful shade of blue, and his smile was brilliantly white.. and thats when i realized he was smiling at me, I slightly shook my head in order to leave the trance i was in "Wow Y/L/N, that was quite the scene you made there.... you alright?" Billy asked in his teasingly cocky tone he always had, with his big smile, I rolled my eyes "Gosh Hargrove, please excuse me for making a scene by almost dying .... how rude of me!" I scoffed, he licked his lips with a chuckle "Oh almost dying? My bad ma lady, you did in fact almost die" he glanced at the pool and then back at me "In the 4ft end of the pool" he said with a huge smile looking straight into my eyes, with embarrassment i glanced at the pool and back at him "I was not in the 4ft end! i was at least AT LEAST!!! in the 8ft end!" I exclaimed in defense to myself, I hated lying, not only did it make me feel terrible but i was bad at it!! I noticed Billy was still holding me, and I only noticed because Bimbo Barbie and Wanna be Plastic Phoebe Cates was staring at me with murder in their eyes. Billys grip tightened around my thighs and arm as he effortlessly held me "Y/N, I had to train in this pool for 5 hours everyday for week before the pool opened to get this job..... I think i know where the 4ft end is" He said to me with confidence, I was at a loss for words, I had no comeback except for "Well, they must have painted to numbers wrong on the pool" Great one Y/N, stellar... they totally painted the numbers wrong on the pool, especially since you stood just fine where you 'Drowned' .. it was totally the 8ft end ... I wanted to face palm so badly but i didn't wanna give myself away that easy, my thought was interrupted by Billys laughter "Ya know! I bet they did paint them wrong.... My bad Y/N" He said in a sarcastic tone, I rolled my eyes in response "Well Billy, Thank you for helping me ... now if you would please let me down" I said, even though I didn't mind him holding me.... it sure was fun pissing The bimbo twins off. He smiled and nodded his head and gently let me down "It was a pleasure saving you Y/N" and as he started to walk away he turned back to me "Ya know, i teach swim lessons... I could teach you a couple things" He said with a wink "Yeah! maybe! Don't want to drown again" I said while wringing out my hair "Good! wouldn't want your fellow swim team to know that you forgot how to swim over the summer" He said winking before walking away "Yeah!!! that would be embarrassing!!!" I called after him, once he was not looking my face hit the palm

hand so hard it's like they were magnets.

Before leaving, with all my pride gone anyway, I walked up to Billy "Hey!" I exclaimed up in order for him to hear me up there on the tower, He looked down at me and smiled "Oh Hey Y/N!" He responded "Billy, did you mean it?" he squinted his eyes like he couldn't understand me, I sighed "Did you mean it!!" I exclaimed a little louder, but he still squinted with confusion "Ya know! why don't you just climb up here and tell me" He exclaimed to me, I sighed and looked around "Why don't you come down here!!" I yelled back, and again he squinted, I rolled my eyes and started up the ladder "Was this really necessary Hargrove, I see you talking to the barbie twins all the time with out having them climb up here" I said exasperated, he just smiled propping him self up on his chair "Yes, but you see... Im not actually listening to them.. its the same thing every time" he says before he start " 'Oh Billy, you look so strong, please take me out for a ride sometime' 'Oh Billy, I bet you could bench me with ease' " He said in his best girl impression and then went back to his normal voice "and yadda yadda yadda, but you! if you're talking to me... it must be something worth hearing! so how can i help ya Y/N?" I couldn't help but chuckle "well, i was just wondering if you meant it, when you said you would give me swimming lessons?" I said, looking down at my hands that were clasping the edge of Billys seat to keep my balance, I could feel his eyes on me, but i refused to look at him until i heard his answer "Well, That depends.... are you asking?" He asked, with pure joy in his voice out of amusement, I mustered up my confidence to look at him "Maybe!" I said, he was smiling the largest, cockiest smile, placing his whistle in between his teeth, not breaking his eye contact with me and then *WHISTLE NOISE* "TOMMY! IM GONNA COUNT TO 3 AND IF YOU ARE STILL BEING A LITTLE DICK IM GONNA COME DOWN THERE AND TIE YOU TO A TREE ..... BET YOU WOULDN'T LIKE THAT KID!" He yelled, still not breaking contact , I again couldn't help but chuckle, he opened his mouth so slightly so that the whistle would just fall out with ease, his mouth still open he grew a sheepish smile "Yeah Y/N, It would be an honor to teach you to swim" I smiled "Good!! thanks" I said as I started to climb down the ladder "Hows 10pm tonight?" He said, and I popped back up to level with him to make sure i heard him right "Huh?" he chuckled "I said how about 10pm tonight?" I just sat there for a minute, no knowing what to say.... I would have to sneak out in order to do that but before i could stop myself i said "Yeah sure!! that works for me" He smiled even bigger "Great!! Ill see ya then Y/L/N" I started down the Ladder again "Great!!!" I exclaimed.

I ran home and did the usual, eat dinner with the family, go to my room and read whatever book i'm reading until my parents go to bed, in which i usually go to bed or sneak down to watch some TV to myself, but not tonight.... tonight i was sneaking out.... I've never snuck out before ... let alone sneak out to be with a boy.... and not only that .. the town bad boy ..... ugh! what am I doing.

As soon as I heard my parents bedroom door shut I finished prepping my hair and slipped on some shorts over my swimsuit. I ran down the stairs and snuck out the door, making sure to close the door very slowly in order to not make a sound, clicking it shut ever so slightly, as soon as it shut i sighed in relief and turned running into someone behind me causing me to scream "WHAAAA!" I screamed "Geesh Y/N!! Ya want the whole neighborhood let alone your parents to know your sneaking out" I heard Billy whisper to me as he clasped his hand over my mouth, I let out a huge breath happy it was just him and not some criminal, I licked his hand to get it off my face, he laughed before removing his hand "Excuse me Hargrove, you almost gave me a heart attack" he chuckled "You know this is your second brush with death today, I don't know if me being around you is good for your health" I smiled to myself, Oh no... You definitely are not Hargrove. I looked at him and then realized "Hey!! why are you here, i thought i was meeting you at the pool?" we continued to walk down to his car "You really think i was going to let you walk to the pool, by your self, at 10:00 at night" he said as he held the passenger door to his car open, I rolled my eyes "Im not getting in there" I said crossing my arms, he scrunched his eyebrows confused "and why not?" he asked "Because i hate your car" I said without thinking, he laughed, now leaning on his open car door, looking at me with an amused smile "Oh really? You hate my car!!! you have never been in my car, my car is offended" He said teasingly, I rolled my eyes once more "Why do you hate my car?" He asked, I sighed a big sigh "Because!! it's entirely too loud, which usually wouldn't bother me, but when its waking me up at 3:00 in the morning and i am having a really good dream... yeah that would make me hate a car." He just looks at me with disbelief before bursting into laughter "Well, we're gonna change that" he said winking at me and opening the door wider "Now please get in the car" he said gesturing to the car "No! i'm not getting in the car." I stood my ground, I was not getting in that- My thought was interrupted by strong arms scooping me off the ground and before i knew it I was in Billys arms "Billy!! what are -" he set me in the passenger seat of his car and closed the door before i could finish my sentence. Billy effortlessly swung into the driver seat and within seconds we were zooming down the street, in usual Billy fashion... I had to admit, it was exhilarating going this fast with the music blasting this loud I couldn't help but belt the lyrics along "THERES NO ONE LIKE YOUUUUUU! I CANT WAIT FOR THE NIGHTS WITH YOUU! I IMAGINE THE THE THINGS WE DOOO" I belted, Billy smiled at me in awe, I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks and Billy started belting the song, hitting his steering wheel to the music, nudging me with his elbow to join back in, so I did. We belted songs all the way to the swimming pool, it wasn't a super long drive... but it was probably the most fun I have ever had in a 5 minute drive. As we pulled up to the pool Billy turned off the car and within seconds he was at my door helping me out. "Soooo are you even allowed to be here this late?" I asked looking around for security cameras, Billy chuckled "ummm thats up for debate, but for tonight.. yes" I nodded along "Alright.... why tonight but not other nights? did you bribe the security camera guy" Billy looked at me as he unlocked the gate to the pool "Not exactly" He said with one of his famous Billy winks, I have received more winks from billy in the last 12 hours then i have received in the past year its self.... but I didn't mind. He finally got the lock undone and we walked in, out of habit i started walking toward my usual chair "Ha, where you going Y/L/N?" I stopped in my tracks and realized what i was doing, I started back to Billy, but being flustered I tripped over my feet causing me to fall right into Billys arms, I couldn't tell if he moved to come catch me or I was just falling in

his

direction and caught me... either way, I liked the feeling of his arms around me "You know, you're a real dork" He said with a chuckle, and in a moment we just stared into each others eyes, until me being me had to sneeze, I faced away and sneezed into my arm, Billy helped me gain my balance before letting go of me "ehem.... well i'm gonna get the pool cover off and then we will start the lesson" I watch as Billy hastily got the cover off, I felt bad letting him do it alone, so I started helping him, he looked up at me and laughed "What are you doing Y/L/N" He said with a chuckle, I smiled at him "What!!! I wasn't gonna let you do it by yourself!!" He just smiled at me and then shrugged as we continued to get the cover off. We were now standing in the middle of the pool "Okay, Y/L/N, let start with basics.... Floating" He said looking at me as if to say 'Come closer' "Y/N You're gonna have to get closer to me" he said smiling grabbing my hand a pulling me closer to him, I looked up and our face's weren't even an inch away with how close we were, I could feel his breath on my cheek "you're gonna want to get on your back" He said in almost a whisper, not moving from how close he was to my face, I blinked a slightly turned to look into his eyes "Excuse me?" he chuckled "To float.... you're going to want to get on your back to float" He said smiling, all of a sudden his face was gone away from mine and i felt one hand on my legs and the other on my lower back as lifted up my Legs and balanced me out ... I was now on my back floating in a pool with Billy Hargrove "Alright, Im gonna let go" he said, he actually sounded kind of nervous, which i have never heard from Billy, as i felt his hands start to move away from me I couldn't help stop my self "No" I whispered, not wanting his hands to leave from me, he smiled and moved closer "If i don't let go, you wont learn" He said, i felt his fingers lightly graze my lower back "Well, I also wont learn if you leave me on my own too soon... ill sink" I said trying have a teasing tone but it was slightly ruined by my heavy breathing, i couldn't help i was filled with all kinds of emotions right now. Billy leaned down closer to my face "Thats true, good job" He said with just as heavy breathing as me. We focused on my floating for about 15 minutes before we went on to other things, we swam all together for about an hour or so until it started to get pretty cold, I could help but shiver "You need to stop Y/L/N?" Billy asked making his way back over to me "Im just a little cold, i'm okay though" I said through chattered teeth, he chuckled and ducked lower in the water and came over to me the rest of the way "C'mon, get down here" He said pushing my shoulder so that I would be in the water as deep as him, he moved closer where his arms were now around mine, and once again our faces weren't even an inch apart "better?" he whispered, all I could do was nod my head, I really was getting warmer.... "You smell good" I said, Did i really just say that...... 'you smell good' ? really??? ugh! ... Billy laughed "Thank you, I take pride in that." he said, moving a little bit closer "As you should, smelling good is something you should take pride in" man i am one with the words, i'm surprised he is even still here, with my stellar flirting..... A week ago I didn't even like looking in Billys direction, and now..... Now i wanted nothing more then to feel him closer not only physically but personally... He was a lot different than i thought he would be. I felt him start to lean in closer to my face, I didn't know why but i back away, which made me really mad at myself.... why did I do that "Im sorry I-" as he apologized I moved back to where I was and closer, inviting him to continue what he was gonna do, he smiled and then moved in, before i knew it his lips were on mine with out thinking I started moving my lips with his, our motion so fluid, he was good at this, his hands were now on my back moving me closer, and there we were ... me and Billy Hargrove.. making out in the middle of Hawkins Public

Pool at

11:45 at night. We both pulled away by the sight of lights passing down the street, cautious of getting caught, we both looked back at each other and laughed "You're good at that" I said catching my breath, once again feeling the blood rush to my cheeks "You're very honest ya know that" he said, rubbing my back now "Ya wanna know something though.... You're good at it too" He said looking down and quickly licking his lips and then looking back up at me "How do you do that?" I asked, he scrunched his brows confused "How do i do what?" I sighed "Get me from hating you to ... to... this! in less than a week" I exclaimed in a slight whisper "Its my super power" he chuckled "Now, c'mon... I better get you home" and before I could blink his hands were off my back and he was effortlessly hopping out of the pool. totally disregarding the stairs, he held his hand out to help me out the same way "I think, Im gonna use the stairs... ya know because ... thats why they are there" I said teasingly, he rolled his eyes "But where is the fun in that" he scoffed as he walked over to the stairs to meet me, and as soon as I reached the top he had me slung over his shoulder "Aaahh!!! Billy, I know that events today may prove other wise, but I do know how to walk on my own" I said in protest "Sure! but what if i let you down and all of a sudden a eagle comes down and swoops you away and i wont be able to stop him" I rolled my eyes at his comment "The likely hood of that happening, is about as good as me winning the lottery 3 times in 2 days" I said still hanging upside down on his shoulder "Well, maybe i just like holding you" and then ladies and gentleman .... butterflies happened... oh boy.

We had a good 5 minute ride back to my house, where he held my hand, in which I tried to protest just to mess with him but inevitably gave in... I like it. When we pulled up, just like before Billy quickly got out of the car and had my door open in second, helping me out and walking me to my door with our fingers interlocked, I started for my door until i felt a tug of Billy pulling me back to him, I knew he was strong, but just one tug i was flying back to him, he had to catch me, in which our faces were once again within millimeters from each other "We gotta stop meeting like this" He said teasingly with his famous smile "I gotta tell you something" I slipped out "I know how to swim and I wasn't really drowning, I pretended to get your attention" I said entirely too fast, he chuckled "I know" I paused at what he said "You know?" I asked confused "Ya know Y/N, You are a terrible liar..... First off no one drowns in the 4ft end of a pool unless your 3, and second we may not have talked too often in school... but that doesn't mean I didn't notice you, You're the captain of the swim team, which is why i brought it up earlier today, so of course you know how to swim... I offered the swim lessons as joke.. and then you came and asked and..... I couldn't be happier you did" He said still holding me, I smiled and did a little excited hop "You noticed me?" I said a little too eager, he chuckled and looked away and then looked back "Theres no one like you Y/L/N" he said right before taking my chin lightly with his fingers and bringing me in for gentle but passionate kiss goodnight.

#Billy Hargrove #Dacre Montgomery #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic #Stranger things fic #Marys Fanfic #Marys Fic #Stranger things #🥰

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undyingskies · 4 years ago

Text

Drown

request: no

a/n: I can’t tell if I hate this, love it, or just like it. This fic was just be completely self indulging in this idea and writing it all out. Fair warning it is long but I hope you enjoy!

also this fic includes lyrics from the song drown by clinton kane! i don’t claim them as my own, i just uses them as the writing the reader wrote!

warnings: a few curse words

____________________________________

You fell and you fell hard. Like every cliche story ever, you fell for your best friend. It was a long time coming and most people that surrounded the two of you had called it long ago. Both of you were constantly denying the truth of it though, and all these years later here you are face to face with the truth.

You and Owen had met a long time ago, that fun age in between not being a kid anymore and puberty. You were little miss perfect, always has been and always be. While Owen was quite frankly the opposite, it’s not that he was “bad” or “misbehaved” but he wasn’t shy or afraid to show who he was.

While on the other hand, you were quiet, shy, and kept to yourself. How the two of you became friends, let alone, best friends was beyond you. To this day you still couldn’t pinpoint the moment your friendship began.

Knowing the two of you now, it makes complete sense to everyone. While you may be quiet and shy, you were practically the female version of Owen. A similar personality and humor. You held this certain confidence about yourself that would just draw people to you and Owen always says that’s what got him. That’s what made him want to be your friend.

Now here you are about 10 years later, still best friends but instead of swallowing nervously due to the activities you were always dragged to because of Owen, you were swallowing down the nerves of your feelings for him.

You’re sitting in your shared living room, surrounded by some of your closest friends, your inhibitions low due to the cup in your hand.

You figured drowning yourself in whatever drink was poured in your cup would stop the never ending thoughts of the boy you love. But instead you still saw his face.

I can’t even drink without seeing his face, you think to yourself.

The boys had decided since everyone had the next few days off it would be fun to throw a little party at the apartment. A game/movie night if you will.

So that’s how you ended up sitting quietly in your group of friends, sitting in a circle playing some game similar to truth or dare. You weren’t paying attention when they were explaining the rules, lost in your thoughts, their words just murmurs to you in the background. Until a voice cuts through,

“Y/N! Hey!” Charlie’s voice loud and booming, pulling your attention. “It’s your turn.” A small smirk displayed on his face.

Here’s the thing, you lived with the two boys. Owen and Charlie. When Owen found out he would be filming in Toronto, Canada, he booked you a ticket before he even asked you about it. You have always loved Canada and dreamed about living there, so he took you and now here you are a few months later.

Charlie welcomed you with open arms the same way he did Owen. The two of you getting dangerously close.

Dangerously because Charlie can’t keep a secret for his life and he now happened to know every single one of yours.

Now here you are, staring back at Charlie who has a smirk plastered on his face.

“What was Owen like in high school?” A shaky breath leaves at his question, grateful that his question wasn’t invasive the way you had assumed it would have been.

“Oh gosh,” you say laughing slightly, “ I would say very similar to the guy you know today. He still did the same dumb shit then that he does now! He did get in trouble though, always for being too loud or disruptive!” You admittedly tell them.

Owen scoffs at your words, feigning hurt and a pout. “I was not that bad Y/N.” He says laughing.

“Ya sure Joyner, you had detention like every week!” You laugh out.

“Okay well hey!” He says, holding his hands up, “not all of us can be like little miss perfect over here! Never got in trouble, straight A’s, always on time, always the teacher’s favorite!”

“Well one of us had to be the good one! God knows how many times I saved you from getting in trouble!” You laugh out.

“Very true.” Owen says throwing a wink in your direction. You can feel the heat spread across your cheeks, bringing your cup up to your face to hopefully hide it.

“Anyways next!” You say thinking of who to choose. “Savannah...”

As always you let someone else come up with your question, picking invasive questions for games like this was not your strong suit. Often opting out for something silly or plain, you could never come up with a question good enough.

The point of the game was to get embarrassing answers, get someone to admit something they didn’t want too, or get someone to do something silly. You loved playing but just couldn’t get your questions to match the game.

The game goes on and on. Everyone getting picked on throughout the night. Savannah having to admit who her worst kiss was, Jeremy having to give Carolynn a lap dance, even Tori having to call the guy she liked and asking him out on a date. It just kept going and everyone question or demand getting worse than the last.

Every few rounds you seemed to escape the prying eyes and questions of your friends. You often got up to fill your cup, not wanting to let the substance get below empty.

You were feeling good, giddy even. Your head light, thoughts happy, and mind empty except for your never-ending laughter due to your friends.

That’s until it was Charlie’s turn again. This time he wasn’t letting you get off easy, it happened to many times.

He had hoped that if he asked you an easy question someone else would probe you for a harder one, but no one did.

That wasn’t going to happen again.

“So Y/N, you’ve been writing some things recently haven’t you?” He asks you. Oh shit.

“Yes Charlie, I have been. You know this.” You tell him trying to play it cool. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you knew what he was doing or letting the others know or suspect any embarrassment.

“I want you to read us the last thing you wrote.” You shot him a deadly look, one that does not go unnoticed by your friends.

You feel your ears and cheeks start to turn pink, you would bet that the heat coming off of them would cause people to see steam.

Charlie was very well aware of his knowledge of what you were writing and the topic of such.

Both of you very well aware.

“No, Y/N, you don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable.” Owen pipes up placing his hand on your arm for a split second.

Owen knew his best friend, like the back of his hand. He knew that as much as you were an amazing writer that you hated sharing it. Often times not even letting him read what you wrote.

He was also well aware of how your shoulders tensed up at Charlie’s request and the look on your face.

“No, it’s fine O. I can read it.” You tell him lightly pushing him away from the space he had closed in between you while trying to comfort you.

Then you’re on your feet, heading to your room. Searching for the pale yellow notebook you kept rather hidden, not trusting either of the two nosy boys you live with.

You walk back, yellow notebook in hand and take your seat back in between Owen and Savannah.

With a deep breath, you open your notebook flipping back to the last page you had written on. Wincing at the topic of it.

“Okay,” you start, having to take another breath in, “this one’s called drown.”

Savannah places a gentle hand on your leg for comfort. The two of you also rather close so she was well aware of your discomfort in this situation as well. Your shoot her a small smile.

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance,

but in an instance, you break me down.

I know better than to want you, but I succumb to you without a doubt.”

You look up at all of the faces looking at you before you continue yet again.

“Tell me lies, tell me painted truths.

anything at all to keep me close to you.

Pull me under the way you do, tonight I want to drown in the ocean of you.”

With that, you close your book. You had a few more scribbled ideas around this one but none of them made the cut for it quite yet.

Everyone was quiet after you finished reading it, shocked by your truthful words and ever so obvious confession through your words.

Well ever so obvious to everyone but Owen.

“That was really good Y/N!” Savannah tells you with a smile. “Ya, that was really good!” Tori agrees.

“See I told you it was good Y/N!” Charlie says proud of himself for getting you to finally read something out loud.

“Wait, you read what she wrote?” Owen asks, hurt coming over his face slightly. You never shared anything and on the rare occasion you did with him but no one else.

“Well yeah, she asked me for my opinion on the concept for the piece.” Charlie admits, knowing fully what he was doing.

Charlie knew that Owen liked you, he would even go as far as say love you. He knew that Owen would get jealous that you came to him and let him read what you wrote but not Owen.

Over the last few weeks all he heard Owen do is complain about the distance you were placing between the two of you. He also always heard Owen’s frustration of you not sharing your work with him.

Charlie had a plan and knew exactly what he was doing.

“Well what was the concept then?” Owen asks not reading to let it go.

“Nothing Owen.” Charlie says at the exact same time you say, “Just a guy that I like.”

Your words shocking you just the same amount that they shocked everyone. Your confession makes its way out of you before your mind can catch up with your mouth.

Your newfound confidence from whatever drink had been occupying your cup for the night.

“You like someone?” Owen asks, shocked. Not bothering to hide his hurt from everyone.

You were supposed to come to him about these things, you two weren’t supposed to have secrets. But recently it felt like all that there were was secrets between the two of you.

“Ya I do,” you say shrugging your shoulders, “it’s not a big deal.”

You say with a wave of your hand trying to dismiss the conversation. You didn’t want to get into this, let alone get into it with Owen.

“So,” Jeremy says trying to change the subject and move onto the next person. The awkwardness that surrounded the atmosphere was just getting too much to bare.

“It is a big deal Y/N! It’s a big deal to me, I’m your best friend your supposed to tell me.” Owen says louder and completely ignoring the attempt to change the subject.

“Seriously O, it’s nothing.” You say while getting up to go to the kitchen, trying to escape Owen.

“It is not nothing!” Owen says just as sternly all while following you into the kitchen not letting you escape him or the conversation.

You just ignore him and his pestering as you go into the fridge to grab the water, deciding that it was the better beverage choice to make this time around.

You make your way around Owen, while he is still yelling at you, going to lean up on your tippy toes to grab a cup for the water. The cup just out of your reach, causing you to struggle.

You feel Owen’s hand lay itself on your lower back, you watch as his other hand reaches over you to grab the cup.

Instead of placing it down in front of you, he keeps it in his hand and close to his chest. He uses his one hand on your back to gently move you so that you’re facing him.

“Just tell me Y/N.” He says sounding defeated.

“I said let it go Owen, it doesn’t matter.” A loud sigh comes from Owen, the growing frustration evident on his face.

“Why can’t you get it through your head that it does matter Y/N.” He says through clenched teeth, not wanting to get overly mad at you.

“Why Owen? Why does it matter?” You say, the frustration finally boiling over in you.

“Why?” He says now yelling, “because you’re my best friend Y/N! We’re not supposed to have secrets, we’re supposed to tell each other everything, and now you’re replacing me with Charlie.”

Owen says that last part quieter, his head hanging low at his words.

“You think I’m replacing you with Charlie?” You ask just as quietly, your heart breaking slightly at the site of the boy in front of you.

“It sure feels like it Y/N. You’ve been spending so much time with him, sharing stuff you don’t share with me, and just ignoring me and putting all this distance between us.”

You didn’t know what to say back to him. You would have never guessed that he would notice what was going on or the fact that you were pulling away.

It’s not that you wanted too, it just felt like the right decision to make while trying to get over your growing feelings for him.

Charlie was just a convenient confidant, in the best way possible. He was always there and you trusted him, so you told him about your feelings for Owen and he was doing his best to help.

Until tonight.

“Can you please just tell me what’s been going on?” Owen asks breaking the silence and you from your thoughts.

“I can’t Owen, I promise it’s nothing serious.”

“It has to be serious if you’re pushing me away like this. You like someone and you haven’t even talked to me about it once, that’s never happened.”

You don’t understand why Owen was so hung up on such a small fact. It’s true that he was the one you usually came to with these things but anytime you told him about someone you liked he always brushed it off. It seemed like he was always so disinterested in that part of your life so him being so frustrated by the fact that you went to Charlie with it just seemed weird to you.

What you didn’t know is what was swirling through Owen’s head. Owen felt his heart clenching and his head spinning, anytime you brought up who you liked his heart stopped and he couldn’t get a breath in.

He wasn’t one to admit that though, he didn’t want to admit it to himself either. So he dismissed that feeling and dismissed any conversation that brought those feelings bubbling to the surface.

Deep down Owen knew the reason behind that feeling. He had fallen for you and fallen hard. He always would say he didn’t even know what love was, he couldn’t be in love with anyone not even you. But he did, he loved you.

And where it leaves you is you both standing a little too close for comfort in this situation.

Your heart beating faster because you weren’t ready to admit the feelings you had buried so deep.

And Owen’s breath shallow as he didn’t want to really know the outcome of this conversation yet he was so desperate to have it.

“Owen you never really care about who I like, why so much this time around?” You ask him trying to turn the conversation topic onto him rather than you.

“Of course I care about who you like! I care about anything that goes in in your life!” His tone raising with every word.

“Sure never seemed like it!” Your tone doesn’t match his, you feel defeated.

“I...” Owen trails off not knowing where to take this conversation, knowing that it will have to end in a confession if he continues. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I do care and just want to know who this guy is.”

It was now or never. You can finally admit your feelings that have been swallowing you whole for months now or just keep allowing yourself to drown in them.

“You.”

That’s all you say. Plain and simple.

Then it’s quiet. Too quiet, it seemed like the conversation in the living room stopped at the same time your confession finally came to the surface.

Your heart was beating faster than it ever has, faster than it was beating earlier.

Owen’s heart beating just as fast as yours. His was out of happiness and excitement while yours was due to nervousness.

Neither of you said a word.

“Well alright then.” You take his silence as his answer. You didn’t want to face him anymore; you were doing your best to hold back the warm tears that were threatening to spill over.

You turn on your heel ready to leave before he can see your tears. But before you can take another step his hand is on your wrist holding you in place.

“Say it again.” That’s all he says.

“Say what again Owen?” Your confused and just want to get out of this conversation.

“Who you like, say it again.”

“Just...why?” You don’t want to admit it again, you don’t want to face it again.

“Just please, say it again.” Owen is practically begging you at this point. He needed to hear you say it again, he needed the confirmation before he acted on his own feelings.

“You, Owen!” You say loud and frustrated, “I said you, Owen!”

That’s when Owen makes his move. In a blink of an eye his hand drops your wrist and makes its way to your cheek, and his lips are on yours.

You don’t move a muscle. Your shocked, you never expected to be in this position with Owen.

“Kiss me back.” Owen says with his lips still against yours.

That’s when you break through your trance. Your lips start to move in sync with his. Finally.

It was like a breath of fresh air, his lips on yours.

You pull apart slightly, taking a breath in. His lips chase after yours not ready to let the contact between the two of you end.

The taste of yours lips new and he was already addicted, not wanting it to fade away.

After a few more seconds of your lips moving together, Owen is the one to pull away. His lungs burning from the lack of air.

He places his forehead against yours, placing a kiss on your nose. Now that he finally kissed you, he never wanted to stop.

“I have wanted to hear those words for so long.” Owen admits, a smile on his face and one working its way on yours.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yes really!” Owen laughs, “I’ve liked you longer than I want to admit.”

“Ohhh really?” You ask teasingly. You could tell by the faint tint on his cheeks that he was feeling a little embarrassed. You couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“Yes, really Y/N! Now stop it!” Owen laughs out.

“Make me.” You retort back, the look on Owen’s face causing you to giggle.

With his eyebrows raised, Owen leans in just centimeters from your lips. “If you say so.” Then his lips are on yours again.

They move together in sync, much more passionate the time before. The both of you finally letting your feelings pour into the kiss.

“Are you two done yet?” You hear Charlie yell from right outside of the kitchen.

The two of you pulling apart laughing, of course Charlie was close by listening to what was happening.

“Yes Charlie!” You yell back laughing.

“Soooo,” Owen says looking down at you, your hands still entangled with each other and your chests still touching. “Soooo,” you say back.

“Just ask her out already damn!” Charlie yet again yells causing you two and everyone else to laugh.

“Fine Gillespie!” Owen yells back, “Y/N would you like to go on a date and get this thing started?” He asks you with a big smile.

“Yes, I would Joyner.” You say back smiling, leaning in for another kiss.

The two of you pull apart smiles upon both of your faces. The air light, all your feelings finally on the table, both of you happy and relieved to know that you both feel the same way.

“Now how about you read me some more of what you wrote about me!” He says with an eyebrow wiggle.

You shove him away, laughing.

“In your dreams Joyner.” You tell him.

He laughs, chasing after you as you run away from his hands that are trying to tickle you. His shouts of telling you to show him what you wrote and you laughing back no.

You’d rather show him happy writings than your sad ones. But with your newfound relationship blooming you were sure to show him some soon enough.

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hyucks-archive · 5 years ago

Text

september 19.

word count: 7,342

genre: fluff

member(s): the one and only lee donghyuck

warning(s): it’s a sort of feel good fic, so unrealism™

author’s note: @haeloce has spoken - ask & you shall be given! this post is dedicated to you my love, thank you for always supporting my works

September 19, 2017.

You look up at the azure sky, the gentle autumn breeze causing your baby hairs to tickle at your face. You close your eyes, breathing in the fresh scent of what you imagine to be of wilting leaves and fresh pumpkins. You shove your hands into the pockets of your block-coloured cardigan; while most prefer to stick to the monochromatic nude colour scheme in the autumn, you like to do the exact opposite. Summer is your season for monochromes, while autumn is your season for colour. There’s just something about contrasting the seasons that you’ve always loved to do.

Pulling out the ticket from your jean pocket, you hold it up against the backdrop – you smile, tilting your head to the side, eyes going back and forth between the photograph printed on the ticket, and the actual, three-dimensional scene in front of you.

“Looks even better than in the picture,” you murmur to yourself, shoulders dropping in satisfaction. You bring your hand down, allowing yourself to really take in the entirety of the one place you’ve hoped to visit for more than half of your life – the Nami Island. It first became popular because it was the filming site for Winter Sonata, but that’s not the reason you’ve always wanted to come. It’s the actual view that you’ve always been drawn to; the tree-lined roads, and the maple and gingko trees that would turn golden red and bright yellow in the fall. Autumn has always been your favourite season, but you’ve never really been able to really drown yourself in the things that are said to define autumn as a season.

You’ve always wanted to visit. But you’ve always only wanted to visit on a September 19th.

Why?

Because you first discovered the existence of Nami Island back in 2008, on September 19. You’re usually not one to care for such things, but when you have close to nothing to really look forward to in life, visiting Nami Island on a future September 19 became the only thing you looked forward to. Yet, it took you a good nine years to get here, because every September 19, you were never able to take an off day from your job at the café.

This year, however, you finally managed to. Granted, you only managed to, because you decided to stop being a beta, and start being an alpha. In other words, you submitted your application for an off day back in January, at the start of the year. It’s only because autumn is the busiest season for the café though. Autumn is the time where everyone rushes in for the pumpkin-flavoured drinks and treats. Autumn is also somehow the season that’s the most associated with coffee.

Placing the ticket in your wallet, you slide your wallet back into your bag, finally ready to begin your exploration of the beautiful island.

As you walk, you’re warmed by the site of numerous families and lovers, who scramble about, trying to get the most scenic shots of the island. There are two toddlers who are fascinated by the squirrel that dashed across the pathway, and another three toddlers who are busy picking at the fallen, dead leaves, while their parents attempt to buy steamed buns as a treat. Further in, there’s a waft of coffee, a scent that is all too familiar to you. You look towards the somewhat populated, hanok-looking café.

The atmosphere is so different from the café you work at. Here, it’s tranquil, there’s beautiful scenery to motivate you, and there’s zero signs of the hustle and bustle of city life (which is something you seriously detest). There aren’t business people who rush in for an americano before zooming out of the door, and there aren’t students who hog the seats to mug for their exams (although, you’ve been guilty of that at some point in your life). It’s just people who are here to really take in the flavour of the coffee, and to appreciate everything about the island.

You decide to buy a cup of tea to-go, just to support the business.

With the warm beverage in hand, you continue to venture further into the island, eventually arriving at a water body at the end of the trail. You look around, scanning the area. It’s even more peaceful here than it was back at the heart of the island; there’s barely anyone here.

You spot a boulder under the tree, so you decide that it’s a sign for you to take a seat, to enjoy your off day, sipping on your cup of tea, while listening to the soft, gentle sounds from the water. You really like this. For more than half of your life, you’ve spent it being overwhelmed by crowds, working ‘till your arms and legs go sore, trying to “get ahead” of everyone else. You’ve always quite liked the feeling of sinking in work, especially labour work, because it takes your mind off of every other thing that went on in your life.

Now that you’re older, and your body isn’t as lively and healthy as it used to be, you’re beginning to learn the importance of taking breaks. Sadly, it’s a little too late. The reputation that you’ve established in the café that you’ve been working at all along, is one of the ‘perfect-worker-who-never-ever-takes-a-day-off-even-when-sick”. You have this whole thing about not disappointing people that’s going on as well.

Sometimes you really hate yourself for it. You scoff – who are you kidding? You always hate yourself for it.

Even the thought of it makes your nose sting and your lips quiver. You blink fast; it’s a technique you’ve come to master, and it works absolutely amazingly when you’re trying to hold back your tears. Not everybody can do this, so you consider it a pretty big talent.

You hear the sound of dead leaves cracking, so you turn your head to the side, where the sound had come from, only to be greeted by a gigantic brown bear, that’s holding a tray of tiny cups, that you assume to be samples from whatever store this bear’s a mascot of. You notice the sunflower that’s pinned to the bear’s chest, reading the text out loud, “Smile! It’s a beary sunny day!”

You break out into a smile, murmuring, “Not the first time I’ve heard that one.”

The bear holds out a tiny cup, allowing you to take a peek at the brown liquid that fills it. “Is this coffee?” you ask, looking up at the face of the bear. It shakes its head, pulling out a card that he had hidden beneath the tray. He passes it to you.

“Try our brand new bear liquid! Contains everything bear-friendly.” You raise a brow, looking back up at the bear, “You know that doesn’t sound very appetising, right? No one’s going to want to drink,” you hold up both hands, gesturing inverted commas as you say, “bear liquid.”

There’s a hint of a shrug from the bear, before it reaches behind itself, bringing out a mini sunflower badge. It holds the sunflower badge out in front of you, gesturing for you to take it. “You guys give sunflower badges for free?” you ask, bringing the badge up close to inspect it. “That’s kind of a good marketing idea, actually,” you say, spotting the name of the café printed at the bottom of the badge. “But it doesn’t seem very cost-efficient,” you continue, poking the needle of the pin through your cardigan, hooking it back in, securing the pin on your left chest.

“Thank you,” you say, patting the bear on its shoulder, “You’re doing a beary good job.”

The bear holds out a thumbs up, turning around to take its leave.

You watch the retreating figure of the bear, wondering how tiring it must be for the person that’s inside the gigantic bear suit. Luckily, it’s autumn, which means cool weather, but it also makes you think about how tiring it must be for the bear in the summer. Getting up onto your two feet, you smile to yourself, “Well, I have nothing to do,” you whisper, allowing the curiosity to take over you as you leap forward, taking hurried footsteps until you spot the bear a short distance ahead of you. “I guess you’ll be my entertainment for the day,” you conclude, grinning widely.

You continue to follow behind the bear, taking cover behind trees whenever it gets stopped by a bunch of kids and their parents who wants a photo with it. It continues to give out the bear liquid, but you also notice that even though it has interacted with more than 50 different people, it hasn’t given out another sunflower badge. You wonder if it’s because it isn’t allowed to give out too many of those, which, obviously, would make sense. Then again, what makes you legible for the sunflower badge, and not the rest?

The thought swims around in your head as you continue to trail behind the brown mascot, the tiny cups of bear liquid slowly reducing in quantity.

You stare at the teddy bear sunflowers that decorate the exterior of the café. “Oh, that makes sense,” you think aloud, finally understanding why the mascot of the café is a big brown bear, along with the sunflower. You take a seat on a wooden bench, crossing a leg over the other, sipping on the tea that’s now cold.

Finally, the bear finishes giving out the samples of bear liquid. You watch as it poses with different children who are so amazed by the big, live-sized, animate bear. You take another big gulp of tea; it must be tiring, not only does it have to wear that heavy, stuffy bear suit, it also has to continuously entertain the tourists that come by every day. Because you’re so engrossed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice that the bear has spotted you. It wonders why you’re here.

“Oh, gosh,” you gasp, body tensing up for a split second. The bear is now suddenly in front of you.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling. The bear bows its head. There’s a pause, then you decide to break the silence with, “Do you talk?”

The bear gestures at its wrist, before folding an arm, resting its chin in its paw, tilting its head to the side questioningly. “You want to know the time?” you gather from its gestures. It nods its head, so you check your watch. “It’s seven thirty-two PM,” you inform. The bear claps its paws excitedly, and you react with a confused smile.

“I can talk now,” he speaks, sitting himself down beside you. “Don’t you have to work?” you ask.

“It’s two minutes past my shift,” he replies.

“Cool,” you say. You lick your lips, pursing them, then deciding that you should ask the question that would get you the answer you’ve been wanting to know. “Hey, can I ask you something?” you start. The bear turns to look at you, “You followed me all the way here just to ask me something?”

“Well, kind of,” you say, “Technically, I derived the question after following you.”

“So you admit you were following me?”

“I didn’t deny it to begin with,” you state nonchalantly. You can hear the bear smirk under his bear head. “You’re honest, I like that,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

“Go ahead,” he cues.

“Why’d you give me a sunflower badge, but not anyone else? I thought this was part of your café’s marketing.” You point at the sunflower that’s still pinned to your cardigan. You hear the bear chuckle under its mask, its body folding forwards as he does so, a sign of amusement. “I gave it to you because I thought you might need it,” he explains, almost matter-of-factly.

You’re slightly stunned by his reply. You think back to the situation earlier – you were busy dwelling in the thoughts that make you feel sad, that by the end of it, you were blinking away tears. Just how much of that did the bear see? You’re uncomfortable just by the thought of it; it doesn’t feel right at all knowing that someone might’ve caught a glimpse of your weakness. You don’t want that. You don’t think you can live knowing that someone potentially saw you struggling.

“But don’t worry,” he begins, as though reading your mind, “I’ve already forgotten everything.”

“That doesn’t really reassure me,” you say, eyeline falling to the ground. The bear leans his body forward, mirroring your position. “It’s human,” he says. Your eyes travel up to look at his bear face. “I get really frustrated sometimes, too. But I don’t go all the way to an offshore island to release the stress,” he pokes, eliciting a small smile from you.

“I didn’t come here specifically to destress,” you share, “I came because I’ve been meaning to come for nine years already. I just only found the chance to now,” you finish.

The bear looks at you through its mesh eyes. When he first spotted you back by the water body, he saw the way your brows knitted, the way your lips quivered, and the way you were quick to blink away your tears. He felt bad for imposing on a moment that seemed so private, but he would feel twice as bad if he had just walked away, pretending like he didn’t see what happened. So he decided to build up the courage to go up to you – it worked out really well that he’s in the bear suit. In fact, it’s working out even better now, because he can stare at you, and you wouldn’t even know. He can sit beside you, talk to you like it’s nothing to him, because all you see, is a big, brown bear.

Still, he can’t deny the slight fluttering in his heart. It’s cliché, and it’s definitely not right. But he can’t deny, that he’s attracted to you. It’s superficial, he knows. But he’s also only going to be able to see you today, and today only. After which, you’d return to the mainland, while he’d remain here, continuing his job as a mascot of the café.

He likes the way you’re smiling fondly, just at the thought of being able to finally visit the island you’ve been longing to visit.

“Do you like the island?” he asks, mentally slapping himself for not being able to come up with a better question.

“Of course,” you say, beaming. “It’s everything I imagined. And,” you pause, “I got to meet a really friendly bear, too.”

His heart does another thing at your declaration. It’s foolish, he’s well aware. But again, tonight’s his only chance to experience this. Then, you’d be gone, and he’d be back to his regular daily routine.

“Do you live on Nami island?” you ask.

“I don’t. I take the first ferry here every morning, and the last ferry back every night. The pay is good, so I don’t mind the tedious travelling,” he shares. “Wouldn’t you rather just live on this island?” you question. “Do you know how expensive that is?” he replies.

You shrug, “Wouldn’t your total expenses spent on travelling equate to renting a place here?”

“I travel for free,” he says, “The boss pays for that. I bring in customers by wagging my bear butt, so it’s a fair exchange.”

You laugh, amused by the way the bear phrases its words.

“Must be nice,” you say.

“What about you? You look like a student, so I’m assuming you work part-time?”

The bear notes the smile you force out. He can see the slight bitterness peeking from your eyes. He mentally slaps himself a second time – he must’ve said something wrong.

“I’m actually taking a gap year right now,” you share, “So I’m working full time, to save up for school.”

He understands now. It’s odd, to say the least. He feels a form of connection with you, even though he knows this’ll never come to fruition. Still, even if it’s just for tonight, he’d like to be able to just talk about what he’s been bottling up for the last few years with someone. Even better, that this someone is someone he mildly feels attracted to, and whom will go back to being a stranger after the conversation.

“Somehow, you’ll feel that whatever you make, it’s never enough,” he begins, turning his bear face away. You wait for him to continue.

“No matter how much I earn, it’s not enough. I was once naïve enough to think that I’d be able to eventually fund myself to do the things I want to do, but as I’m ageing, I’m starting to understand that that’s not possible. It’s all fiction. Fantasy. It’s all what I conjure up in my head.”

Your shoulders sink upon hearing what he has to say. Why does it seem to hit the exact points? Why do you seem to be able to relate to his plight? In other words, there are other people out there, dealing with the exact same things as you?

“Don’t say that,” you manage out, trying to think as positively as possible for the both of you. “Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

The bear turns to face you, tone serious as he says, “Yeah, money doesn’t buy happiness. But money buys you the things that make you happy.”

You feel a sting in your heart. You’ve always tried to psycho yourself into believing that what you’re going through isn’t so bad. That you’d still be able to be happy, because money doesn’t buy anyone happiness. Because of that, you’d always feel guilty for not being able to find contentment in your situation. You thought it just meant you’re greedy.

You realise now, it doesn’t.

You try your best to paint on a smile. But the bear knows well enough that it’s all pretence. He wishes you didn’t have to try so hard to be okay. At least, not in front of him.

“Who knows where we’d be a year from now? We might even be doing the things we like,” you say, feigning a tone of excitement.

“We wouldn’t know where each other is a year from now,” the bear says.

“Will you still be working here, a year from now?” you ask.

“I’ve been here for six years now.”

“It must’ve been cute, to be able to see a bear mascot getting taller every year,” you comment, lightening the mood. You can hear the bear smile, which makes you smile in return. The bear’s heart does another flip.

“Anyway,” you say, “How about I see you, a year from now, right here?”

The bear’s breath stops for a moment – are you for real?

“Really?” he asks. You nod your head. “Really.”

“Okay,” he agrees, though you can’t see the goofy grin on his face.

“What’s your name?” you ask, only realising now that you’ve basically revealed just about everything about yourself to him, excluding your name, yet you don’t even know what he looks like under that bear mask.

“Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck,” you repeat after him, smiling, “Nice name,” you say, telling him your name in exchange. “So Donghyuck,” you say, getting up from the bench. “A year from now, I hope I can walk away with my memory of you, not being a bear.”

Donghyuck chuckles, agreeing.

“See you in a year, y/n.”

September 19, 2018.

You hold the bag of carp bread to your chest, your heart filled with excitement. You’ve practically anticipated for the entire of 2018, for the 19th of September to come. It’s interesting how just one conversation, of course, filled with mutual understanding and relatability, had created such a connection between you and Donghyuck.

There hasn’t been a day where you didn’t find yourself thinking about Donghyuck. You’d wonder if he had earned enough to do something he likes. You’d wonder if he’s staying adequately hydrated despite the scorching sun. You’d even wonder, if he still remembers his promise with you. A part of you is obviously afraid that after making a trip down to Nami island, that the boy in the bear suit would’ve completely forgotten about you. A part of you is afraid that when you greet him with a smile, he’d look at you with confused eyes, questioning how you know of him.

Then again, an even bigger part of you is simply hopping around in absolute joy at the mere thought of being able to reunite with a friend. You’ve never been able to meet anyone that could relate to you, the way Donghyuck can.

Upon arrival on the island, you rush off the ferry, immediately heading towards the café he works at. It’s close to 5PM in the evening. You were held up at work, because your boss had insisted that you at least take the morning shift, which made you jittery the whole day because you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it. Luckily, it wasn’t that busy today, so you were even let off ten minutes prior to the end of your shift.

Just as the café comes into view, you spot the giant bear hobbling about, playing around with the group of kids. You immediately break out into a bright smile, a sense of relief washing over you. At the very least, he’s still here, like he said he’d be.

You bring up the bag of carp bread – will Donghyuck like this?

Donghyuck smiles at the adorable children who are rushing to cuddle him. He isn’t sure of the exact time, but he can tell that more than half of the day has gone by, and there is still no sign of you. He’s beginning to think that maybe he shouldn’t have been so naïve in the first place, gullible enough to think that a random stranger would actually come all the way back to the island just to meet with him again.

Heck, he’s in a bear suit. Nobody’s ever going to like a person that’s in a bear suit.

“Look here,” a mother coos, holding up her camera. Donghyuck bends down beside the child, holding him close as the mother begins to snap numerous shots of her baby son. “Thank you,” the mother says, reaching for her child as she presses a loving kiss to his forehead, gushing as she whispers praises to her little boy. Donghyuck has a pursed smile on his face; must be nice for that kid.

Donghyuck isn’t given the chance to dwell on the topic because a rush of kids come by, screaming and yelling excitedly at the sight of the bear. He joins in, chasing the kids around, and that is when he spots the one person he’s been waiting for (a whole year).

You’re standing there, a bag in hand. He isn’t even able to control the smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey!” a child shouts, tugging at Donghyuck’s bear leg.

You bring the bag of carp bread back to your side, smiling widely as you make your way towards the bear. As though working in your favour, the kids begin to clear just as you approach your friend. You give a small wave, your heartbeat picking pace in fear that he might not remember you. Just as quickly, though, your heartbeat slows when he returns the wave. He points at the wooden bench that you were seated on a year ago, and you get what he’s trying to say immediately.

You head over to the bench first, taking a seat as Donghyuck poses for a few more pictures with different children.

Once he’s done, he jogs over, stopping a small distance in front of you.

“Look what I brought!” you say excitedly, waving the bag in the air. “It’s carp bread, because bears eat fish,” you giggle. You thought you were really witty to have thought of such an idea.

Donghyuck chuckles. Now it’s his turn to feel nervous, because he’s going to have to remove his bear suit to reveal himself, like he promised.

“Are you going to change out of that?” you ask, looking on with anticipation.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You wait patiently for the boy to return. He does, within five minutes. He tries to soothe his hair down as he approaches you, moistening his lips with his saliva, tugging at the end of his hoodie to make sure he looks decently presentable.

You look up, meeting eyes with a tanned skin, lean-looking boy, who is making his way towards you. You raise both brows – is that Donghyuck?

Sure enough, the boy stops just in front of you, scratching the back of his head in an attempt to let out his nerves. He smiles shyly, formally introducing, “Hi. I’m the boy in the bear suit.”

Your encouraging smile calms Donghyuck’s active nerves. He looks at you in the eyes, the same feeling of attraction he had felt a year ago, still evidently present a year later. He wonders if you feel it too.

“You know, you kind of look like a bear,” you comment, eyeing Donghyuck up and down. He rolls his eyes in response, scrunching his nose, “I don’t.”

“Here,” you say, holding out the bag of carp bread. “Eat your fish.”

Donghyuck scoffs, feigning offence, before taking the bag from you, and taking a seat on the bench, gesturing for you to sit beside him. He brings out a carp bread, splitting it down the middle. He hands you a half, and you take it graciously, biting a chunk off. “So how has your year been?” you start off, still in a little bit of disbelief that this is how Lee Donghyuck looks like.

For a whole year, the only image you’ve had of him, was the brown bear suit, with the sunflower badge. Even when you tried to imagine what he looks like under the mask; you’ve never came to the visual image of the being before you. He’s good looking, obviously, and by that, you mean that he’s way better looking than you had imagined him to be. There’s something that’s just really cute about his small little button nose, his doe eyes, and his round face.

“What you said was true,” he says, swallowing. “2017-me would’ve never been able to guess where I’d be a year later,” he continues, “I’m learning how to dance.”

You smile in pleasure, “I’m so happy to hear that.”

Donghyuck returns the smile. “What did you do for the past year?”

“I saved,” you say, smiling proudly. “I saved enough for now, so if I keep the momentum going, I’d have enough for university, too.”

“Then I guess it’s mandatory for me to tell you that you’re doing a great job,” he commends.

You feel something stirring in your heart. You’ve never been told that before. It feels funny, now that you’ve heard it. Donghyuck notices the change in your expression, and somehow, he knows the reason why.

“You can always come to me to brag and show off,” he says, tone gentle and encouraging. “I’ll always tell you how you’re doing a good job.”

You look at Donghyuck, meeting his eyes. He’s sending you signals of comfort through his gaze, and you’re receiving them well. Somehow, it’s only the second time you’re having a conversation with him, and it’s the first where you’re looking at the actual him. Yet, it feels as though he’s impacted your life even more than the people who’ve been in it for way more than he has.

“Want to know a secret?” you ask. Donghyuck nods his head.

“Back when I was younger, I was walking beside a classmate in school. We were about to go down the stairs, but she tripped on her own shoelace. She rolled down the stairs, and laid unconscious,” you recall, letting out a deep sigh at the end. Donghyuck looks at you with a brow raised, “And?” he prompts, urging you to continue.

“You’d think my first reaction would be pure concern for that classmate,” you say, focusing on the dead leaves that decorate the ground. You kick at a maple leaf, “But it wasn’t. When I saw the way everyone rushed forward, all attention on her, I thought to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one who rolled down the stairs?’,” you take a pause, turning to read Donghyuck’s expression. He doesn’t seem to have any real thoughts about what you said.

“Twisted, right?” you end off with a pursed smile.

“No,” he states, taking another bite of his carp bread, completely unfazed.

“No?” you repeat.

“No,” he reiterates.

“Why not?” you question.

“Because,” he says, “It’s not abnormal to think that way.”

“You don’t have to side with me just because we are friends, you know?”

“I’m not. I just think that it isn’t crazy weird why you thought that way.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s kind of like how it is in my dance class. There’s this guy, his name is Jisung. He’s younger by two years, but his talent is more than double of mine. He gets a lot of love and attention for being the youngest of the team, and for being the talent that he is. Sometimes, when I see the way he gets praised for executing a move really well, I’d think to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one being praised? I thought I did the move pretty well’.”

You chuckle at his kind attempt to try to make it seem as though what you had thought at the time was normal, though the circumstances are obviously far from being similar. Donghyuck is sweet, to say the least.

“I’m sure you dance well,” you say, eyeing his long legs, “You look like you’d dance well,” you correct.

“I’m serious about what I said though,” he says, reverting the topic, referring to how he’d be willing to listen to you brag any time.

“I might just take you up on the offer,” you reply, “As long as it remains valid, for a long, long time.”

“Are you trying to tell me to stay in contact with you?” he questions.

“You mean you didn’t intend to?” you raise a brow.

“You’d know where to find me when you need me, but I can’t say the same for myself for when I want to see you,” Donghyuck says, looking at you expectantly. Can you take that as a confession? Did he just say that he wants to see you?

Then again, so what if it is a confession?

You’re well aware of how you feel about the boy. You know that there’s a connection. You know that sparks are flying. You know. You know it all too well. But how can you be sure that Donghyuck is meant to be something more? You met him under circumstances that most wouldn’t even consider normal, and it’s barely the second time you’re talking to him. How can you be so sure, that he’s supposed to mean something more to you? How can you be sure that you’re only feeling this way, that you’re only feeling the butterflies and the somersaults inside you, because you’re truly attracted to him, and not because of how he makes you feel?

He makes you feel understood. That’s unfamiliar to you.

“Please,” you begin, in an attempt to try to brush off what he had said. “I kind of like that we see each other once a year.”

Donghyuck feels a light sting in his heart. “Why?” he asks.

“It makes our friendship special. How many people can say that they know of someone, who becomes their friend, on only one day out of the entire year?”

Donghyuck fakes a smile, “So you’ll be back in a year?”

“Yes.”

Donghyuck nods his head. Maybe he should just be happy that this means he’ll get to see you, at least another time, a year from now.

He shouldn’t be too greedy, right?

September 19, 2019.

It’s the third time that you’re going to be meeting Donghyuck. You’re starting to kind of understand what people mean by ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. Oddly enough, in the past year, Donghyuck wasn’t just a passing thought like he was in 2018. This year, he was quite a prominent thought. Sometimes, you’d even have sleepless nights, spent tossing and turning, just thinking about him. You’ve even gotten the urge to just go online to search for him, but there are so many Lee Donghyucks in the world, that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to find the exact one. It would also be a breach of your friendship terms, since the both of you are supposed to only rekindle every September 19th.

Today, you managed to take the full day off. You check your watch – it’s 10:47AM. Why have you arrived at Nami island at such an early hour? Knowing fully well that Donghyuck has a shift to fulfil?

Simple.

You miss him. A lot more than you’d like to admit.

Sounds silly, you’re obviously aware. How can you develop feelings for someone that you only see once a year, and that you barely know?

You’d like to think it’s just because of how curious you are as a person, which results in constantly being curious about Donghyuck. But again, that’s just you trying to talk yourself into denial. No matter what you say, you can’t deny that you’ve debated over fifty times about coming to Nami island before the 19th of September, knowing fully well, that he’d be here.

But every time you were about to purchase the ferry ticket, you’d stop yourself.

A year may have gone by, but the same worry still remains.

How can you be sure, that his presence in your life, is meant to be something more?

“Hey!”

Your attention snaps up to the familiar voice, the voice you’ve only been able to think of for the past year.

“Donghyuck?” you murmur. He isn’t in his bear suit today.

He dons a bright smile, jogging over towards you. “We must have more telepathy than we’re aware of,” he comments, chuckling to himself. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you ask, “You’re not working today?”

“I took the day off,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come this early, though.”

“And what if I didn’t?”

“I would’ve sat at that wooden bench until you showed up.”

His non-hesitance as he said that elicits a feeling of warmth to spread through your entire body. Donghyuck really makes you feel things, huh?

“You’d do that?” you ask, just so you can hear it loud and clear. Donghyuck smiles, nodding his head. “You would’ve done the same. Otherwise, what did you intend to do while waiting for me to end my shift if I were working today?”

Your smile only widens.

“What do you have planned for the day?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit and eat then?” you suggest.

So five hours later, you’re seated opposite Donghyuck, empty plates and half-empty cups between the both of you. He has his arms propped on the table, listening intently to whatever you had to say. Conversation is easy when it comes to Donghyuck. He shows you that he’s listening. He makes sure to pay attention to what you say.

You feel the connection growing by the minute.

“That doesn’t justify why you’ve never dated anyone before,” he says, shaking his head disapprovingly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Says you,” you retort, “But I’m sure if I showed my co-worker a picture of you, she’d go crazy.”

Donghyuck chuckles, “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” you defend, trying to put on the most serious expression you can possibly make. “She’s cute too. Come to think of it, she’s totally your type.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows. “What makes you think I’m into cute?”

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Okay, then what is your type?”

“Shouldn’t you know best?”

Silence.

Donghyuck’s just staring into your eyes.

Your heart is thumping so hard, so fast, you’re starting to lose feeling in your hands and legs.

You let out an awkward laugh – there’s no denying it this time. It’s definitely a confession.

“Very funny,” you say, trying to change the topic. “I have to leave already, I’m working a full-day shift tomorrow and I’m in charge of opening,” you say, getting up from your seat. Donghyuck follows after, allowing you to lead the way out of the eatery.

“Hey,” Donghyuck calls, taking your wrist in his warm hold, turning you around to face him. “Don’t you think it’s about time to tell me where you work? Or where I can locate you? Or your number, at the very least?”

You’re looking into Donghyuck’s eyes, and you can see the sincerity. Like him, you want this to be something more. But you can’t just turn a blind eye and rid the fact that you’re just not sure of what might happen in the future, and that’s what scares you. You don’t want to commit to something, at the expense of knowing all too well, that you might get hurt. What if Donghyuck was never meant to be a part of your life? You’ve seen it in the movies – when you let someone in, and they weren’t supposed to be in to begin with, it only ends in tears and sorrow.

“Look, Donghyuck,” you begin, trying your best to think of a way to get your point across accurately.

“What makes you so sure that we’re meant to be something more?” you ask.

Donghyuck’s brow twitches, a sign that he’s taken aback by your question.

“See? You don’t know it yourself. What if we commit, and it just bites us in the back?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, “How would you know that?” he counters, “What if it doesn’t?”

The both of you just stand there, looking into each other’s eyes, trying to find the answer you’re both looking for.

“I believe in fate,” you say, breaking the eye contact. “On September 19, a year from now, I’ll be working at the café,” you continue, eyes finding its way to meet Donghyuck’s once more. “It’s located in Seoul. If, on that day, on the 19th of September, 2020, you’re able to somehow find me, I’ll take it as the sign that you and I are meant to be something more.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows at your proposition, “But Seoul is so big, how am I supposed to-”

“If you can’t find me, it just means that’s the end of our connection,” you cut in. “And you can’t cheat. You can only start looking on September 19.”

Donghyuck thinks it’s the end. He doesn’t think it’s possible. But if he wants this enough, he’s going to have to try.

“Promise?” you ask, putting out your pinkie finger.

“I promise,” he says, hooking his finger with yours, pressing your thumbs together.

What’s going to happen a year from now?

September 19, 2020.

“Here you go, enjoy your drink,” you greet, passing the iced americano to the man in the suit. He tilts his head in gratitude, before scurrying out the door. You take a moment to stare at the door, it’s going to be afternoon soon, and there’s still no sign of Donghyuck. You wonder if he’s even taken up the challenge, and is actually going about Seoul right now.

“Why do you keep staring at the door today? Are you waiting for someone?” Eunha, your co-worker, asks. You shake your head, shrugging, “I just can’t wait to knock off, that’s all,” you lie. Eunha furrows her brows teasingly, leaning in close as she says, “Please, I’ve worked with you for years now. That isn’t your ‘I-can’t-wait-to-knock-off’ look,” she says, pulling back.

You roll your eyes, hitting her on the arm lightly, before re-busying yourself with preparing the orders of the customers.

Another few hours go by, and now, the sun is beginning to set.

“You’re staring at the door again,” Eunha lilts, a teasing smile on her face as she sips at her coffee. “Stop, I’m really just excited to knock off soon,” you say.

“If you want to knock off so bad, you can knock off now,” she says, placing her coffee down on the counter. “I’m cool with closing on my own tonight.” She blinks her big eyes a few times, smiling teasingly, knowing that you’d deny her offer.

“I can’t do that to you,” you say, laughing awkwardly, “Think about all the times you sacrificed your nights staying with me for closing. I ought to return the favour.”

“Ought?” Eunha repeats, giggling to herself. “You’re definitely hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, moving on to do the dishes to avoid slipping up any further.

Donghyuck sighs, coming out of the eighth café he’s looked into today. As expected, this is basically mission impossible. How is he supposed to be able to find you, when you didn’t even bother with giving him any clue aside from that it’s located in Seoul?

He looks around, trying to spot any other cafés that might be in the area, before he’d move on to the next.

There’s still a good few hours before the end of September 19.

He might still have a chance.

You bite down on your lip. It’s five minutes to closing.

“I guess we weren’t meant to be,” you murmur, eyes refusing to leave the doors.

“Whoever it is you’re waiting for, they’ll show up,” Eunha chimes in, continuing to wipe down the counter.

“What makes you so sure?” you ask.

“Because it’s my first time seeing you anticipate something like that,” she says. Eunha might not be someone you contact outside of work, so it’s easy to forget how well she knows you. But Eunha is right. You've never anticipated anything this much.

“I hope you’re right,” you say, pursing your lips.

You didn’t know it a year ago when you made the proposition, but you know it now.

You really want to see Lee Donghyuck walking through those doors.

But as the time slowly dwindles away, you can’t be sure that it isn’t just your own wishful thinking.

Donghyuck kicks at the pavement, running a hand through his hair. The day is almost over, and still, no luck. He has been to eighteen different cafés already, and there’s just no sign of you.

If only he didn’t have to work the morning shift, then he’d have more time to actually look in more cafés.

He stops a short distance in front of the nineteenth café. He isn’t usually one to believe in anything like fate, but he’s desperate at this point. He looks to the sky, clasping his hands together, “Please. Make 19 our special number. Please let y/n be in this café.”

Taking in a deep breath, Donghyuck walks forward, towards the café.

Eunha checks the time, then looks over at you. You're sitting there, dazed, expression blank. She purses her lips in sympathy, calling out, “Do you want me to lock the doors or wait another f-”

Eunha is cut off when the bell chimes. You immediately turn towards the entrance of the café.

It's Donghyuck.

Oh gosh, it's actually Donghyuck.

Donghyuck makes eye contact with you. A sense of accomplishment and warmth overwhelms him. You feel your nose stinging, and your heart swelling.

“Sorry, we’re cl-”

You don’t know what comes over you, but you run forward. You throw yourself into Donghyuck’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Okay then, I’ll be over there,” Eunha says, excusing herself.

You pull away.

“You found me,” you sniff, grinning wide.

“I promised I would,” Donghyuck replies, reflecting your expression.

“I guess we are really meant for something more,” you mumble, taking in the moment.

“So,” Donghyuck says, holding out his phone. “Can I finally have your number?”

#nct scenarios #haechan scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan #nct fluff #nct imagines #haechan imagines #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct haechan #fic #fic: september 19

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baekdaedream · 4 years ago

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Tag game 🌼

Tagged by @kafkascupcake, thank you Feli 💕

if I were...

if I were a month, I’d be: May

if I were a flower, I’d be: sweet alyssum

if I were an album, I’d be: EXO’s Love Me Right repackage? Or is this my bias showing because Exodus was my first comeback and so the best.. and also the LMR songs.. 🥰 (also though I’ve been told before it’s the album that suits me!)

if I were a mineral, I’d be: jade (because it’s like, a healing one right? that’s what I like about it. to be healing for myself, and like, so a nice/healing presence, if you get what I mean?)

if I were a sound, I’d be: ocean waves, or the sound of an airplane overhead. peaceful white noise sounds :)

if I were a colour, I’d be: light purple or yellow

if I were a drink, I’d be: chai tea :) (not only because it’s my favourite, but I drink so much of it I may as well just be it)

if I were a fruit, I’d be: strawberries

if I were a quote, I’d be: I can’t find the exact quote, it was years ago that I saw like a gifset of it? Tao was in this movie? And there was this quote, that came down to “simplicity is the way to happiness”, and ever since, I’ve remembered it, and it’s something I’ve felt

if I were a television series, I’d be: oh no idea... if only I watched things more huh.. it’s been a long while.. ah.... ?? I can’t think of one gosh I’m doing all these out of order and it’s taken an hour hahah

if I were a movie, I’d be: if only I watched movies more often... how about HTTYD? Just the first one

if I were a fashion brand, I’d be: no idea

if I were a mythological creature, I’d be: I thought about this way too hard and couldn’t find something that felt right :( some sort of mythological cat? I feel like that would be comfy. But let’s go with something simple and say dragon hahah

if I were a taste, I’d be: I’m going to go match the next question’s answer by saying cinnamon (also, kinda matches the drink one, I have tons of cinnamon on my chais at work I may as well just be it. but also maybe like a nice pu er tea ? Warm and earthy I don’t know)

if I were a scent, I’d be: something soft and floral but not potent (cherry blossoms) or cinnamon

if I were a fabric, I’d be: fleece? something soft

if I were a body part, I’d be: ???

if I were a song, I’d be: El Dorado or Cosmic Railway? Am I choosing these just because they’re my favourites? Or because I Feel them? Both

if I were a god(dess), my four attributes would be: like the four things I’d be goddess of? Hm.. can I be goddess of magic? and tea. and cats. and the arts like music/writing. Maybe not the most togetherish combination but it would work :) (and then maybe I’d get my ability to write back..)

•

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (since I don’t have that many stories, and the ones I do have are unfinished and have been in the rough drafts for years and are not at the point of sharing just yet, I will also take the first lines of the 20 last songs I have listened to 😊 uh shall I pause the playlist while I get these all out.. so last songs as of 8pm here)

불을 켤 필요 없어 (you don’t have to turn on the light)

왜 끝도 없이 날 망쳐놓으려 해 (why are you endlessly trying to destroy me?)

Honey 아직도 고민해? (honey are you still wondering?)

가볍게 널 스치는 바람이 좋아 보여 (the wind that brushes by you looks nice)

조금 답답해 너와 눈 맞출 때 (I’m a little stuffy when I make eye contact with you)

거리 위 텅 빈 듯한 이 느낌 (this empty feeling on the street)

Yeah, ooh, 한 번쯤은 스친 것 같아 (한 번쯤은) (yeah, ooh, I think I passed by it at least once (at least once))

7 days a week 넌 어땠니 (7 days a week, how were they to you?)

큰일이 난 것 같아 (this time) (I feel like I’m in trouble (this time))

내가 맞춰 나가는 (as the world I’m heading towards)

So I switch off

Listen, 잘못 눌린 건반이 (listen, the wrongly pressed key)

I remember like it’s yesterday

I know 止まれば先は無いって真っ暗闇でもfight it (I know there is no point if it stops even in the dark fight it)

너무 아름다워 별빛에 물들어 (coloured by the beautiful starlight)

발을 뗄 수 없어 난 아직 이곳에 (I can’t move an inch, I’m still here)

Fly away with me baby

I don’t understand

넌 지금 뭐해 (what’re you doing right now?)

너를 사랑하지 않는 그 사람이 (sometimes, I was jealous of the person)

Tagging: @xiupastry, @whenxoxosmilesunshines, @dayafterdae, @elyxion, @ohsenhun, @abunnycotton, @hanguangjunmyeon, @kkoongiees, @gentlestorms

#the lyric translation for end to start was kinda ?? to find #okay all the translations found across sites or youtube videos are a bit inconsistent but there's some of them #anyways of course you don't have to do it if you wouldn't like to!#tag games #I accidentally wrote availability to write instead of ability... close enough I guess..

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alison-anonymous · 5 years ago

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♡ lake house fever ♡ t.l.

Lake House Fever ♡ Tom Lucitor Imagine

Requested: no, BUT I PROMISE I WILL GET TO THOSE THAT ARE REQUESTING!!! I just keep getting new ideas, I’m so sorry :’(

Warnings: extreme FLUFF, slight angst but not too major

Summary: obviously the main plot line of Lake House Fever, only it’s the reader instead of Star and things are a bit changed up. Reader is a human who has been dating Tom for a long time against her parents’ will because she and him are undeniably in love with each other. The second time he invites her over to hang out with his family, and they end up stranded due to a storm with his mother who is just a little bit skeptical about his new girlfriend...

♡♡♡

To say that you were in love with Tom Lucitor might just be the understatement of the century.

Yes, you were a human.

And yes, you knew it was absolutely insane that you were in love with a demon hybrid who not only lived longer than you ever would, but was also the fucking Prince of the Underworld. There was no way that things would ever work out, right? This logic would have driven you away instantly, except for one fact that made your situation different.

He loved you too.

You and Tom had been dating for almost a year now, and you could feel it in your gut that Tom was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You've never been more certain about anything more than that. And he felt the same, secretly forming a plan to slowly ease you into becoming his wife one day and the Queen of the Underworld. They'd find a way to make the fact that you were a human work, I mean, Star had been teaching you how to cast very small spells that very special humans can perform. Most of them consisted of spells for protection, and one random one about conjuring a cloud bartender she had insisted on teaching you.

Yeah, they'd make it work.

Anyways, your parents definitely did not approve of your relationship for obvious reasons. But ever since the moment you and Tom had laid eyes on each other and it was like the whole world had frozen, Star knew that she had to get you two together. Despite your parents' constant nagging to end it, you forced their lack of blessings to the back of your mind and did your best to let go of your problems with your best friends and with Tom.

It worked every time.

Nothing made you happier than being with your best friends and the love of your life! And while the road may have been a bit rocky, the day that Tom invited you over to his Lake House with his family for some bonding time was going to turn out a lot more... exciting than you had ever imagined it would be...

♡♡♡

The inside of the lava suit you were wearing was growing slightly warm from your closeness to said lava, but with one look at your boyfriend as he joyfully glided along the waves, you knew you could suffer through the heat. Surfing was never really your forte, but once Tom had taught you some tricks, you basically became a pro just to go surfing with him.

Balancing your best on the board below you, you gradually picked up speed until you were side by side with Tom, who, not gonna lie, looked pretty hot when he was shirtless.

“Hey there gorgeous,” he winked, earning a slight blush to rise to your cheeks.

“Hey yourself, hottie,” you flirted back, receiving a sly grin from your boyfriend. His three red eyes were laced mischievously as he glanced towards the shoreline where his family was resting.

“Race you to the shore?”

“You’re on!”

He beat you, of course. Not that you minded! He was totally awesome at surfing, not to mention you got a great view of his backside as you were left in the waves... Shaking your head to snap yourself out of it, you soon realized that you had a prior obligation to get to. Guilt riddled your mind as you popped the circular helmet off of your head and handed it over to your boyfriend.

“Thanks so much for the fun time, Tom,” you smiled. “But I totally forgot that I have to help Star with a Diaz family dinner.”

His mother made what sounded like an angry sigh from her height above you, only making you feel a little worse. With just one look at your hunched expression, Tom was instantly able to read your mind.

“Hey, it’s all cool, sunshine,” you felt the butterflies flitter at the cute nickname. “But you know, you could just stay here!”

You considered it. You truly did consider it because, even though you loved Star, you would choose staying with your boyfriend over attending another Diaz family dinner any day. They were sort of... strange. But the last time you tried to skip out, Star made sure that you paid for it by forcing you into owing her a favor when she needed it, and that usually resulted in cleaning Lavabo’s lint trap or helping Star and Jana awaken the dead... it was terrifying owing Star a favor.

“I would love to, but Star can be very... persuasive,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I really should get-"

A sudden loud, earsplitting bang of thunder erupted through the sky, startling you so badly you jumped out of the lava suit. Up above, the usual tangerine sky had now began turning a fiery red with neon yellow lightning bolts throughout. You quickly latched on to your boyfriend's lavender arm, not even noticing him smiling at how cute you were when you were scared.

"Well, that looks like a pretty nasty storm," Dave commented, already beginning to pack up the lawn chair he had been sitting in.

"We better head inside for safety. Guess you'll be sticking around," Tom grinned at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. You felt you face flush red at the closeness and the exhilaration that never went away. In your flustered state, you completely forgot all about the dinner as you muttered a soft "okay" before following them all inside.

The sky didn't look any better inside their lake house. In fact, it almost looked worse! You were cuddled up on the couch next to Tom while his family was splayed out on the couches next to and before you. To be honest, you weren't quite sure exactly how they felt about you. You hoped they liked you, but the Lucitors were the kind who seemed mostly indifferent which made it even more nerve wracking for you.

Another surprise thunder bolt caused you to squeak and grab onto Tom's arm out of fear. He smiled softly at you and rested his hand on top of yours. Once you realized what you had done, the blush quickly returned, causing you to stutter.

"H-hey there," you giggled.

"This is quite a storm," Dave commented. "Looks like we're gonna be here for quite some time."

Hey, that means more room for family bonding! Sure it made you a little nervous seeing as you were a human in a room full of demons... but then again, Tom's dad was also a human, so maybe things would be okay.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a shrill shriek that appeared to be coming from behind a very scary portrait of an old... bat, demon thing?

"W-what was that?" You stammered, realizing a bit too late that being with demons also meant a lot of scary, sudden stuff. But when Tom snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest, the fear was instantly gone.

"That's just Relicor, he wants to play Scrabble with us." As soon as he finished talking, the painting squeaked open to reveal the exact same creature. He let out a loud squak and flew down to rest on the couch beside you, pointing at the Scrabble box that had miraculously appeared on the table. After playing a few rounds of Scrabble, and showing off your complex vocabulary skills, Wrathmelior was coming back from the kitchen when she spotted a huge photo album book.

"Great idea, Honey," Dave agreed after she made some sort of clicking sound you assumed was her speaking. Everyone rose from their seats to go find a larger table that we could all look at the pictures from. While you were following your boyfriend's enormous mother, you suddenly realized how difficult it would be if you ever had to communicate with her one on one.

"I wish I could speak demon," you sighed to yourself, not realizing that Tom heard you.

"I could teach you," he winked. "It'd be fun!" It was only when you realized the suggestive tone he had added to it that you turned beet red and playfully pushed him.

"You're an idiot, Lucitor."

"And you are beautiful, L/n."

You finally reached the dining room and pulled up some chairs so you could gather around the photo book. She started at the beginning, so baby photos was obviously the first thing you saw. You couldn't help but coo over the adorableness as Tom's groans of embarrassment filled the background. Baby Tom was absolutely adorable!!

"Oh my gosh, T, you were such a cute baby!" You cried, leaning your head on his shoulder. His heart began to race as he chuckled softly.

Wrathmelior turned the pages as we passed through Tom's childhood years and family reunions until she stopped at...

"Oh, here we go," Wrathmelior's sister spoke in her raspy voice, practically rolling her eyes. "The Star and Tom section."

Instant tension filled the room as you felt your heart tighten in your chest. Before you were dozens of pictures of your best friend and your boyfriend... on dates, at parties, on walks in the park, on family reunions or celebrations...

To say that it nearly broke your heart would be an understatement. Dave sent you a sympathetic glance as you tried to force yourself to look away. You didn't want to see anymore. Tom, clearly seeing your uncomfortableness, laced his fingers through yours and cleared his throat.

"Umm... Mom? Maybe we can skip this part?"

She shook her head no and was about to continue on looking at the section until she noticed how sad you looked. She heaved a slight sigh and began to turn the page, but by that point you had already stood up and politely asked them to excuse you.

Wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, you walked through the winding hallways and just as you were about to make it to the door, Tom's hand landed gently on your shoulder, whirling you around to face him.

"Hey- sunshine, what's wrong?" His eyebrows knit in concern as he noticed the puffiness in your eyes, like a dam ready to break.

"I-it's nothing," you sniffed, hastily rubbing your eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I think I should go."

"Why?"

His obliviousness sparked a tiny flame of anger inside of you as you shook your head, turning back to face the door. "Your mom obviously hates me. And from the looks of it wishes you were still with Star so... maybe..." You bit your tongue as tears began cascading down your cheeks. "Maybe you should just be with her instead of me."

You threw open the door and raced out into the firestorm, just being glad to get some fresh air and not even caring about the danger surrounding you. Tom was quick to follow you, grabbing your hand and looking around at the sky with fear. He might be fine, but you? You were human, you might die the second you touched the lava.

"Y/n, please, don't do this. That's not true! My mom just has a hard time with change... just, please, come back inside. It's not safe-"

Just then, the absolute worse possible thing that could happen happened. A huge wave of lava came crashing in and dragged Tom out into the water... or lava? A scream escaped from your throat as you watched him struggle against the choppy waves. His mother was screaming from the window and the panic was beginning to close up your lungs.

But he was your boyfriend. And no matter what, you loved him and would do anything to save him. So, you grabbed your surfboard and leapt on top of the waves, wincing in fear at the heat that radiated around you. One wrong move, and you were gone.

"Y/n no!" Tom's shouts were staccatoed as he bobbed in and out of the lava. "It's too dangerous!"

But you didn't care. Riding the waves, you did your best to angle the board towards Tom and just as you were about to reach him, a huge wave rose high over both of your heads and came crashing down.

The only sound to be heard was your screaming.

♡♡♡

About five minutes later, a large blue orb soon rolled onto the beach out of the lava, and soon dissipated to reveal you and Tom, lying side by side.

Tom let out a soft groan as he quickly sat up, and noticing your motionless body, quickly shook you.

"Y/n? Oh thank gods," he quickly swooped in to press a kiss to your lips once he realized you were okay. You giggled into the kiss until he pulled away and were about to sit up when you winced in pain.

He quickly wrapped his arms around your back to support you and inspected your leg. A huge, red gash was evident right by your hamstring. Just then, his family came rushing through the door and straight up to you.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Tom said, gracefully swooping you up into his arms. "Y/n got burned by the lava saving me. Do we still have that first aid kit?"

"Yes, come on, let's go."

About a half our after they had all patched you up and Tom had never left your side, the sky had finally cleared.

"Hey look," you pointed out the window from your position on Tom's lap. "The storm's over."

Wrathmelior turned to you and began leaking some sort of strange substance from her eyes. You had guessed she was crying and felt a heavy weight press against your chest, soon realizing how much danger you and Tom had both been in. You leaned against him even more and rested your head on his shoulder.

"You could have died," he softly scolded.

"So could you," you countered. "I would rather die than let you die."

Just as he was about to respond, his mom made another series of clicks and sounds. You sat there dumbfounded until Dave translated.

"She says that it was she who caused the storm and she is incredibly sorry that she was so judgemental towards you. My wife has a hard time when it comes to girls hurting our boy, so she gets a little... overprotective," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck before offering you a warm smile. "But please know that we do appreciate you Y/n, and are very happy that our boy has someone like you in his life. Thank you for saving him."

"Of course," you smiled, feeling tears of joy form in your eyes.

Maybe meeting your demon-hybrid boyfriend's family wasn't so bad after all.

♡ a.a.

#tom lucitor imagines #tom lucitor #tom lucitor x reader #svtfoe #svtfoe imagines #svtfoe x reader #tom x reader

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angstyaches · 4 years ago

Text

Alone (Hitori de)

So I feel like I’ve been teasing this OC’s introduction for... a long time?! So finally, here’s your invitation to Ryan Aldridge’s 200th birthday party!

CW: nausea, emeto, loneliness, jetlag, character overwhelmed by language

He was swaying a little – hopefully not noticeably – as he passed countless faces. Countless strangers who, no matter their differences, were all dressed in black and white attire; monochromatic dresses and stiff-looking suits were the order of the evening. All blending in, all the same.

However, most other people at the party weren’t hiding sweat patches under their suit jackets, or struggling to stand upright because of stomach cramps and dizzy spells.

Conversations blew past, the onslaught of the known, yet vaguely unfamiliar, language making everything worse. His hands were shaking, and the loneliness felt like an alien thing attached to his stomach lining, niggling away with the possibility that he wouldn’t find who he was looking for.

He lingered by the refreshments table, resigning to just grabbing a cup of water. There was a selection of food – as well as goblets of blood and various entrails for the strictly carnivorous guests – on display in giant, elaborate glass bowls, anyone’s for the taking. He averted his eyes from all of this; the thought of putting anything in his stomach right then made him want to retch, despite the fact that his last meal had been on a plane ten hours ago.

It could have been the three plane rides that were making him feel so horrible, or maybe it was the fact that his eating and sleeping schedule had been shaken around relentlessly over the past three days. Or was it two days? He couldn’t even get it straight in his head.

The cold water settled in his belly for all of a couple of seconds before he felt it gush back towards his throat. He hiccupped deeply, pressing a hand to his mouth just in case anything had made it all the way up. He glanced around, noting that none of the nearby guests had turned to look at him.

Feet swirled in and out of his vision as he stared at the floor and shuffled away from the table. Arms brushed against his and made his clammy skin crawl. His agoraphobia didn’t usually affect him as badly as his claustrophobia, but right now it felt like the two were ganging up on him.

He needed to get out of there.

He weaved through to the other end of the hall, mumbling “sumimasen, excuse me, I’m sorryyyy” all the while. He began to feel off-balance, like he’d accidentally put his tight dress shoes on the wrong feet. He somehow made it out of the function room and through the foyer, stumbling out into the night.

At the top of the glossy marble staircase that overlooked the mansion’s car park, he loosened his tie and undid his top button. His shirt felt soaked with sweat under his jacket, his hair curled and sticking to the back of his neck. Now that he was away from the party, he could hear his own stomach groaning in discomfort.

He sat down at the side of the top stair, leaning his head against a cool marble column. He was tempted to close his eyes for a bit, but he was afraid his jetlagged brain would put him straight to sleep if he did. He couldn’t imagine any of the Elder and elitists would be too pleased to find an unconscious Japanese boy slumped at the top of the stairs of this very fancy mansion. He could just imagine the scolding phone call he would get from Yumi if she caught wind of it all.

The cold air relaxed him for a few minutes, before he heard footsteps coming up from the car park of the mansion, as well as low voices speaking to each other. He lowered his head a little further, curling an arm around the side of his face to hide from whoever was coming, waiting with the other hand pressed into his gut for his moment of solitude to be restored.

Not that he wanted to be alone, exactly.

“- hear what she said?”

“I heard her, boo, but I still don’t think she meant it the way you’re taking it.”

“Yeah, well, I think you give them too much slack, honestly.”

He lifted his head to see the two figures who had just walked past him towards the entrance to the mansion. One of them was a tall, dark guy whose suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, revealing suspenders worn over a grey-and-white pinstripe shirt.

The other was a lot shorter, paler, and had vibrant blue-green hair. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, and his shirt was silky and patterned like a chessboard.

His heart grew lighter in his chest and tears sprang to his eyes. A brand-new wave of energy struck his bloodstream and his nervous system, and if he’d been in fox form at that moment, he’d have wagged his fluffy white tail.

His legs carried him back inside without much input from his thoughts, and he couldn’t stop smiling to himself. Even the pain in his belly faded to the back of his mind; even the unsteadiness left him alone. The crowd didn’t freak him out as much as he joined it this time; because in the sea of black and white attire, he could see that mint-coloured hair.

It had been a silvery shade of lilac when he had last seen it, and it was about thirty feet away, buried in the crowd.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Fee-kun!”

Heads shot up from drinks and conversations, but none of them were the right heads. Kazu began to giggle as more and more attention was drawn towards him, and it only made him more and more excited, more and more eager to –

“FEE-KUN!”

He looked this time, blinking in disbelief.

“Kaz?” Felix asked, eyes widening as started to push his way back through the crowd.

Kazu allowed himself a shaky smile.

“Kaz?” Felix squeaked, starting to run a bit now.

Kazu managed to brace himself in time for Felix to throw his weight towards him. He scooped the smaller boy into a hug; there was so much adrenaline in his blood that he mustered the strength to lift Felix up off the ground and spin him slightly before setting him back down.

Just like he used to.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s really you,” Felix gushed, clinging to Kazu for dear life. Kazu was a little wary of the pressure this was putting on his stomach, but he still laughed and continued to squeeze his friend back.

He also noticed the disgruntled looks that some of the older guests were throwing their way, but if Felix didn’t care, then Kazu certainly didn’t.

“Hisashiburi, ne?”

“Hisashiburi.” Felix’s voice cracked a bit as he nodded violently, his chin knocking against Kazu’s collarbone. It certainly had been a long time. Six years, to be exact. Felix still looked like the same twenty-three year old Kazu had known back then, whereas Kazu had gone from nineteen to twenty-five in that time.

“Genki?” Felix demanded to know, his voice warm beside Kazu’s ear. Are you well? His Japanese was nowhere near the level of Kazu’s English, but Kazu appreciated the effort. The rushed little greetings were making him feel a little less overwhelmed.

“Genki,” Kazu muttered, though now that he thought about it, he felt far, far from genki, and he didn’t feel good about lying to his friend. “Ah – I – I’m tired.”

“You look it, buddy,” Felix said as he pulled back, frowning as he scanned his friend’s face. “When was your flight in? Today?”

“Ah, uh, yes,” Kazu said shakily. “For me, yesterday.”

“Right, right.” Felix turned his head, beckoning for his taller, darker companion to join them. So far, he had been hovering a few steps below, but he silently came back up, letting Felix take his hand. The rest of the party had gone about their business by now, Kazu noted.

“Elli, you remember me telling you about Kazuhito, right?”

The guy nodded quietly.

“Kaz, this is Elliott,” Felix smiled.

Kazu glanced down, gulping back a mouthful of sour spit as he saw how the two of them were holding hands. He’d never felt anything romantic towards Felix, but he’d also never had to share him with anyone; when he’d come to Japan, Felix had been alone and completely helpless until Kazuhito had offered him somewhere to stay.

Now Kazu was the one in a foreign land. Now he was the one who was alone.

He was working himself up to repeating the name Felix had given, briefly panicking that he was going to mess up the L-sound. He wondered if he should just lean into a funny mispronunciation, to try to break the ice.

“Ni-nice to mee–”

Kazu swallowed mid-speech and clamped a hand to his mouth. The crashing waves in his stomach were even more unsettled after the jumping and hugging and spinning. The excitement and relief he’d felt upon seeing Felix was already ebbing away, leaving just nausea and exhaustion. He really didn’t feel like talking, not with how horrible his body felt, and not while there were so many people around. What he wanted was a bed, preferably his futon back home, but he’d have settled for anything.

“Hey, are you okay?” Felix asked, his eyes widening again.

“Ore – kibun – I…” Kazu mumbled into his hand, too dizzy to try to explain in English. He gently placed his other hand on his stomach for emphasis. “Onaka ga itai.”

“What, really? Your stomach hurts?” Felix glanced around, stepping closer again so he could put a hand to Kazu’s elbow.

Kazu moaned. He felt like the world was tilting on its side. He wanted to warn Felix of just how bad he felt, of the very real danger of –

Before he could make up his mind what to do or say, his body made a decision of its own, and his head shot forward with incredible force. His hand flew away and his jaw fell open, and he emptied out the scarce remains of his in-flight meal and all of the water he’d drank.

A beat of silence rang through his head after the splash.

His mouth was still hanging open wide as saliva and vomit dripped from his lips to the polished white floor. He slowly looked up to see that he’d puked all over Felix and his boyfriend, coating their shoes and the fronts of their clothes with thick white chunks and yellow liquid. The nearby guests had leaped back, shuffling about and looking at their feet and exclaiming things that Kazu couldn’t focus enough to hear.

With his stomach feeling somewhat relieved, Kazu felt his shoulders begin to tremble with a weak roll of laughter.

“Fucking hell, Felix,” the boyfriend growled, as though Kazu’s vomit was somehow Felix’s responsibility. His hands were hovering out from his body as he looked down at his destroyed shirt, his spattered suspenders.

Felix just gave a shaky smile and put his hand on Kazu’s shoulder.

“Fee-kun, gomen,” Kazu giggled, sorry, covering his mouth in response to both the laughter and the nausea that was rolling around for a second appearance. He gulped loudly, making Felix jump. “Go-gomen, ne…”

“Don’t – don’t be sorry, okay? Let’s just get you out of here. Excuse us, sorry, can we just –?”

Kazu let himself be directed back out through the doors and towards the top of those outdoor marble stairs again. His vision was fuzzy, but Kazu broke away and threw himself against a wall, doubling forward and ejected another stream of sick, this time into an elaborate flowerbed about ten feet below.

“Oh, gosh, the hydrangeas.”

Kazu tensed as he felt Felix come up beside him.

“Sorry, it’s – don’t worry, just get everything up. You poor thing,” Felix sighed, rubbing his back firmly despite the fact his dress shirt and jacket were now soaked through with sweat. With his free hand, Felix reached around and laid a cool palm against Kazu’s forehead. “I think you might have picked up a bug, maybe on one of your flights. You’re a tad hot. Atsui.”

“Atsui,” Kazu agreed, spitting away some of the sour fluid still pooling around his tongue and teeth. He lifted his head back from over the wall. He scoffed with nervous laughter as he looked at that first wave of sick again, soaking into the laces of Felix’s shoes. “Yabai. Sorry, Felix.”

“Daichi Kazuhito?”

A woman’s deep voice made Kazu turn his head. His guts felt even wobblier under her pale yellow gaze. She had frosty-white hair, almost as white as the streak that ran through Kazu’s, breaking up the silky black. He didn’t have to wonder who she was.

“Ka-Kazuhito desu,” he muttered. “Ryan-sama, hajimemashite. Tanjoubi omedetou…”

Felix cleared his throat. “He – he said it’s nice to meet you, and happy birthday –”

“Yes, thank you, Felix,” Ryan said evenly. Without any change in her expression, she began to address Kazu, in Japanese, explaining that she was good friends with Yumi, which he’d already been aware of. He had to really focus on what she was saying, not just because of her accent, but also because his belly was still churning, despite its contents now being spread out across Felix, Elliott, and the mansion’s hydrangeas. His ears pricked up at certain words, especially when he realised she was asking him a question. “Hitori de?”

Kazu nodded miserably as his fever- and jetlag-induced fear was pounded into his chest. He began to press a hand against his belly again, as the nausea began to melt into a dull, twisting ache.

“Hi-hitori de,” he said in a quiet voice. He had come here alone. One person. Just Kazuhito. He mumbled softly that Yumi sent her apologies, but work had been too hectic for her to take time off to travel.

As he spoke, he felt Felix reach up to brush his hair back from his sticky forehead. Kazu felt goosebumps breaking out all down his back and his arms.

“He can stay with us, can’t he, Ryan?” Felix asked softly. “Seeing as he’s sick. He helped me out a lot, back when – well, when I was in a much worse state than this.”

Ryan pursed her lips. “Elliott’s already headed for the car.”

A warm glow spread through Kazu’s chest as Felix linked an arm through his elbow and pulled him close. “Thank you, Ryan. So, we’ll see you at home tomorrow?”

“You will, indeed.” Ryan looked Felix up and down swiftly, eyeing the vomit stains on his pants and shirt. “Wash those trousers immediately. You can burn the shirt. It’s an insult to good taste.”

Felix laughed to himself as she stalked off, and Kazu finally eased the last of his weight up from his elbows, up from the edge of the wall. He felt his stomach gurgle, the sound traveling right up in his throat. He burped uneasily into his fist and smiled awkwardly at Felix.

“Come on,” the bright-haired boy coaxed. “Let’s get you out of here, before you puke all over these lovely steps.”

#my ocs #oc sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #oc emeto #emeto sickfic #sick boys #new OC #Kazu #Felix #Elliott #yes Elliott got puked on and didn't kill anyone #stomach bug #jetlag #travel bug

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nonstoplover · 5 years ago

Text

some kind of beautiful ~ Tom Holland (song drabble)

my masterlist │my song drabbles

song used as inspiration: tyler ward ft. lindsey stirling ~ some kind of beautiful

words: 3.3K

approximate reading time: about 15 mins

a/n: i listened to this song and got struck by a wave of inspiration lmao i love tyler and lindsey (and oh my gosh that music video o.O), this song is just adorable and i immediately imagined this with my baby Tom so here you go. i hope you enjoy xx

The headlights cast a warm yellow beam on the road ahead of Tom as he drives in complete darkness. Earlier it was probably raining as the asphalt sparkles underneath the ray of light, something that doesn't surprise him anymore. Whenever he's driving north to see his girlfriend, it's almost always like this. In England, rain is something that comes a permanent part of your life, Tom learned that early.

He suppresses a yawn, raising a hand from the steering wheel for a moment to rub his eyes, then changes the song that's playing from the speakers. A familiar tune immediately fills his ears, and his lips curve into a wide smile. It's their song.

His mind fills with memories of her and the previous exhaustion he felt is long gone. It doesn't matter anymore that he just attended a premiere of his newest movie last night. It doesn't matter anymore that he got up early to jump on the first plane and fly home, then got into his car right away and set off towards Liverpool immediately without a single moment to rest.

He just has to see her. He has to tell her that he wants them to move in together. It's all that has been in his mind for the past week or so, and he knows he has to tell her about it before he goes absolutely crazy. He prepared all the most perfect reasons in his mind, so she just can't say no. And it's way more important than something that could be talked about in a text conversation.

Whenever he's away from her - and for some unknown reason, especially this last time - he misses her non-stop. Her scent. Her touch. The glimmer of her eyes whenever she looks at him, and only him. The way her lips curve into a smile. The sound of her angelic laugh in his ears. The taste of her lips against his. The delicate, feather-like touches of her fingers against his skin. How peaceful she looks when she's asleep in his arms. How happy she makes him just by existing.

He remembers clear as day the first time he saw her, three years back in a café in London. Looking at her made the entire world fade out in his eyes and he still can't comprehend how on Earth he got so lucky that the only empty table was right beside hers. He accidentally heard what she and the other girl at the table - her sister she was visiting, as Tom later found out - talked about and apologetically joined in the conversation with his opinion on the matter. Two and a half hours later Tom left for a meeting with her number saved in his phone.

Within fifteen minutes he had already asked her if she'd wanted to meet with him with a bold and cheeky text, which then led to them spending as much time together as possible throughout the following eight days she stayed in London - with Tom's job and (y/n)'s primary reason, being with her sister in the way. Then she went back to Liverpool and took a part of Tom with her.

They kept in touch, texting every waking moment, driving everyone around them mad with the constant typing and smiling at screens. And a month later Tom drove up north for the first time, visiting her for the weekend. He asked her to be his girlfriend. She said yes. And they have been in a long distance relationship ever since. It was hard, but whenever they could see each other, it made it worth it.

And now he's going to take it to the next step - asking her to move to London.

His cheeks are hurting from the wide smile that stays fixed for the entire drive as he now drives down familiar streets, leading to her. He pulls into the first parking spot he catches sight of around her apartment block, stops the engine and rushes out of the car, right towards the front door without even glancing at his watch to see how late it is.

Tom takes the stairs two at a time, not slowing his speed for one second until he's right outside her door. He presses the switch of the doorbell, then leans forward, supporting himself with his palms on his knees to catch his breath. From inside he hears the soft padding of feet growing louder, then the key clattering in the lock and eventually the door opens.

(y/n) gasps as her eyes take in those very familiar soft, brown locks. "Tom?" She lets out in question.

The mentioned boy raises his head and their eyes connect right away without difficulty and the dark brown sea of his irises sparkle with a new excitement.

"Hi," he breathes out, getting lost in her sight and smell and sound. She's wearing a plain tank top and a pair of pastel sweatpants, no makeup covering her natural beauty, her hair up in a messy bun, and Tom just knows that he made the right decision driving here first thing after landing.

"What the hell are you doing here?" (y/n) crosses her arms in front of her chest, suddenly overly aware of the fact that Tom is wearing a suit whilst she's in her comfiest clothes, looking messier than ever. "You were at the premiere in LA just last night!"

"I know," he lets out a chuckle. "I drove here as soon as I landed."

"You what ?!"

"Now are you going to let me in or am I gonna spend the entire night out here in the corridor?"

"Sorry," the girl's eyes widen in realisation and she takes a step to the side to let him in.

Tom waits until the door closes back behind him, shrugging off his suit jacket in the meantime and stretching his arms as (y/n) secures the lock again. Then as soon as she turns back towards him, he grabs her waist with both hands, pulling her flush against his body.

"I missed you," he mumbles, lips almost touching hers.

"I missed you too, crazy," she whispers back, a small smile lighting up her whole face as her arms slowly snake around his shoulders and neck.

Tom wastes no time to dive in, catching her mesmerizing, inviting strawberry coloured lips in a searing kiss. Then another one. And another. He just can't get enough. And when (y/n) finally tries to move out of his touch, placing her palms against his chest to gently push him away, his raspy voice breaks the silence again.

"I know I've already kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please."

As that sweet, heartwarming, angelic giggle leaves her mouth, he goes right back in, continuing to pepper her with kisses, this time not stopping at her lips, instead moving all around her face.

"Stop! Tom, stop!" (y/n) wiggles to escape from the ticklish touch of his lips against her skin, but the muscles in his arm tense and keep her there effortlessly.

A minute later Tom eventually stops and leans back, arms loosening around her torso, but it's not like he already had enough - quite the opposite actually, but he knows she's getting overwhelmed.

"Come on, you big teddy bear, let's get you changed, then I'll give you some food," (y/n) moves a hand behind her back to lace her fingers with his, then makes her way further inside the apartment.

Arriving to the bedroom, she lets go of his hand so he can swiftly go to the bathroom whilst she rummages out the hoodie and the pair of sweatpants he left at her place during one of his stays from her closet, and then when they meet up again, Tom pulls (y/n) in for yet another lingering kiss.

With a playful roll of her eyes (y/n) moves out of his touch again, then helps him undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders before reaching out for the newly found hoodie and handing it to him.

"Get dressed, I'll be in the kitchen," she pecks Tom's cheek before placing the white shirt down on the chair on her way out, trying to leave it as smoothed out as possible.

She swiftly moves around the small kitchen, starting to make a couple sandwiches and a cup of hot tea for Tom - eventually finishing it with his help -, then they sit down on the couch in the living room and she watches him eat. At first she asks him questions about the premiere and he tries to answer, but given that his mouth is almost always filled with food, they soon give up and change the topic so instead of Tom, (y/n) tells about her past two days.

When he finishes eating and places the now empty cup and plate on the coffee table, they are finally able to cuddle, something the both of them have been waiting for ever since Tom has arrived. Their limbs are tangled and his arms are wrapped around her body in a way that makes her feel safer than ever. (y/n) clings into the material of the hoodie as if she's afraid this is all just a dream, one that she doesn't want to end. Her face is buried in his chest and his face is buried in her hair and they both feel like a whole again after a long time of not seeing each other.

The sound of two relieved sighs break the comfortable silence of the living room at the exact same time, signaling how they are still in sync. Nothing has changed.

"(y/n)?" Tom speaks up a couple minutes later.

"Yeah?" Her sleepy voice mumbles back.

"I've been thinking," he pauses, trying to shake the sudden nervousness that he can feel sweeping in his veins. "I wanted to talk about something."

"Yeah?" (y/n) asks again, but this time much more awake, and Tom can feel her body tensing up under a millisecond before she moves a bit further from him to be able to look at his face.

"I think... well, you know, it's not like we're rushing into anything, it's been three years already, but... I've been thinking and came to the conclusion that in my opinion you should move to London. To my place."

The last part of his speech comes out so rushed that it sounds like one long word, and as soon as his voice fades out he already feels much calmer and better. The tension in (y/n)'s body loosens immediately, a slowly forming smile breaking the worried expression on her face, but still she doesn't say a word which makes Tom fall back into the nervosity and he opens his mouth to continue.

"You know, actually, I thought about everything. You should quit your job," Tom jabbers before a frown appears on his forehead and he halts to think back to what he's just said. "Okay, that sounded pretty bad, but you've already talked about wanting to quit it and find something else because you don't like it, and so I thought maybe you should find that something in London so we could be together 24/7. Or maybe I can find some job for you to do on the set of my following movies, or whatever you like, really, I just-"

"Shhh," (y/n) raises her hand to press her fingers softly against his lips in order to stop his slur. "If you would just stay quiet for a moment, please."

She watches with a small grin as his eyes widen and he shuts his mouth, nodding and making a motion with his hands as if he's zipping his lips shut.

In the new silence, the girl can finally let her thoughts wander around in her mind, finding pros and cons to his suggestion. And it's not like she hasn't thought about moving to London so many times before. Her sister's there, Tom's there, and even her family lives in Birmingham, so it's not like she would be further away from them either. And she can't deny the fact that in London there are much more job opportunities for her to find, and a much better chance to find something she actually loves and enjoys. Now she just has to say yes.

What are you waiting for?!, the small voice shouts impatiently inside her head.

She takes a deep breath and looks back in the warm brown orbs that are still watching her with the same adoration as they have been the entire night. "Okay," she mumbles.

Tom's body goes rigid, the fingers that have been subconsciously caressing the small of her back freeze in place, pressed into her skin. His eyes widen even more than before, and he gapes like a fish that's out of the water. "Okay?" He breathes back, afraid that he heard something wrong.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it too. It'd be nice to move in with you," she sheepishly answers, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Are you serious?" Tom exclaims - a bit too loud and high pitched to his liking, but he's just unable to contain his sudden excitement.

"Yes, I am."

They beam at each other, feeling overwhelmed with love before (y/n) lets out a giggle, shaking her head lovingly at the boy in front of her. "But you're still crazy for driving such a distance while being so exhausted."

"I might be, but I couldn't bare another moment without you," Tom shrugs and before the girl could exclaim against his cheesiness, he swiftly places his hands on her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss.

When they both run out of breath, they go back to the previous cuddling position, staring out into the distance at particularly nothing as they discuss the new plan more rationally. Tom feels like his heart might burst from the joy and love he's feeling at the moment, he's sure he's the happiest person on the planet.

"What do you think, how long will it take for you to pack everything up?" Tom tilts his head, glancing down at the (y/h/c) haired girl.

"Uh, great question. I have no idea," (y/n) grunts as her eyes travel around the room, already dreading the amount of time it will take her.

"We can start it tomorrow. I'll help."

"Tomorrow?" She lets out a giggle. "You really want to rush this so much?"

"Of course, I've been dreaming about this for too long now, I just want it to happen like right now."

(y/n) shakes her head before leaning up to press a chaste kiss against his jawline. "We can start tomorrow, if you'd like..."

"Nice," he grins wide.

A minute of silence comes over the flat, both of them deep in their thoughts about the near future before Tom speaks up again.

"I have a couple things to do in London during next week, but on Friday I'll come back and help you finish packing and then we can drive back together. For the last time," he mumbles, dreamily staring off in the distance, possibly seeing his words form an imagined picture in front of his inner eyes. "So, during the week you should continue packing and arrange moving out with the landlord and I'm gonna properly clean my place so it'll be ready for you and your stuff."

(y/n) takes a breath and opens her lips to give some corny answer, but before any sound could leave her, Tom continues phrasing his thoughts.

"And then when you pack everything out, we can go and buy new things together. I mean, you can decorate the whole house any way you'd like to. And then it'll officially be ours..." Tom's voice swiftly trails off as he hears a quiet sniffle.

He leans back a bit, loosening his embrace on (y/n)'s body before placing his fingers under her chin to gently make her look up at him. With almost no resistance he can lift her head and his eyes are suddenly able to take in the teary, glistening pair of (y/e/c) eyes and damp stains on the skin of her cheeks.

"Hey, are you crying?" He whispers, worry filling his mind and heart.

(y/n) sniffles again and another teardrop escapes one of her eyes, rolling down before Tom reaches out with his thumb to stop it midway. "No, I'm impersonating a fountain," she snorts, a small giggle leaving her lips. "Yes, I'm crying, dumbass."

Tom just rolls his eyes at her sarcastic answer before pulling one hand back from her body so he could fish a tissue out of his hoodie's pocket and hand it to her. "And why are you crying?"

"Because what you just described is the exact thing I've been dreaming of since I was a kid," (y/n) admits while gently pressing the material under her eyes to dry them before blowing her nose in a clearly unromantic way that makes both of them let out a short laugh.

"Ahw, darling," Tom smiles at her, pressing a peck on the now dry skin of her cheeks. "I'm glad I can make it happen."

"Me too," she grins.

They stare in each other's eyes with intense adoration, communicating through the sparkling shades and colours.

"But like there's no need to plan everything in our future tonight, let's just cuddle for now and enjoy the moment," (y/n) speaks up after a couple minutes with a chuckle. "Though you can continue planning tomorrow when we'll be packing, if you want."

Tom responds with a chuckle similar in amount of happiness, only a bit lower in tone.

"Okay. I like the sound of that," he answers before snaking his hands securely around his girlfriend's body and standing up with her in his arms.

(y/n) lets out a small squeal, immediately gripping his biceps in hope of some kind of support as if it would help if she was about to fall. Tom makes his way to the small bathroom and places the girl down on her own feet so she can start her night routine. They can barely keep a straight face as they brush their teeth, knowing that it's actually going to be an everyday thing pretty soon now.

When he finishes, Tom leans back against the sink, watching the love of his life with an amused look in his eyes as she effortlessly makes her way around the small room, reaching to the different shelves for all the skincare products she uses. Their eyes meet every once in a while, making (y/n) blush and let out a giggle from the intensity of his eyes.

It eventually doesn't take long until she's ready to sleep as well and Tom moves his arms around her once more, lifting her up in the air. (y/n) instinctively wraps her legs around his lower body, placing the palms of her hands on the back of his neck.

Reaching the bed, Tom pulls the duvet back with one hand then gently places the girl down on the mattress. He climbs in right behind her after the shortest moment and immediately wraps his arms tightly around her.

"Good night, love," he mumbles in her hair, enjoying the feeling of its smell fill his nose and lungs.

"Good night, Tom," she whispers back. "I love you."

She only pauses for a second in-between the two sentences, but by the time the last word leaves her lips, she can already feel Tom's body going limp and his breaths become more steady and rhythmical as he finally let go and drifted off to sleep, exhaustion completely taking over him as soon as he lets it. Being beside her, he subconsciously knows that he can finally let his guard down again.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

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cartoony · 4 years ago

Photo

The Daisy Project | DuckTales (2017) - Koboli (aka cas, hehe) GEN | Words: 2140 AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005909

Daisy Duck has accomplished her goal of being featured on Emma Glamour's 'The IT List'. Opportunities Daisy has only ever dreamed of have become open to her. Here is one such day.

---------

It is with great devastation that Daisy Duck pries her eyes open as the alarm in the far corner of her room blares louder than a foghorn. She stares at the device with disdain. Eyes opening wider with anger each time the alarm reaches its peak. Daisy wants nothing more than to reach out and slap the snooze button. The exact reason why the device was on the far side of her room, because her doing so has lead to her fair share of trouble.

If she keeps trying to destroy the clock with nothing but her mind, she will reunite with said trouble.

A muddled thought hits the Duck, like it draws itself out of deep and murky waters…. And it's hard to believe. Daisy actually wants to be awake. She’s looking forward to something, isn’t she? The epiphany gives her a burst of energy, and she swings herself out of bed and slams the off button on her clock. She stumbles slightly on her way; even with something to look forward to, she has never been a morning person.

Splashing water on her face, now in the bathroom, she pulls herself together. She grips the sides of her porcelain sink and stares intensely into the mirror. Her hair is sticking in all sorts of directions, signs of her restlessness even during sleep. There are bags under her eyes, visible under the coating of light feathers, leaving purple bruises. She forces a smile, relaxing her grip on the sink, reminding herself to love what she sees.

A beautiful woman with dreams, who's a little weird, but reigns herself in among her peers. With aspirations she’s been told she’ll never reach, but refuses to give up despite that. A woman who above all knows that she is capable.

It’s hard not to smile when she sees all that.

She follows through with her routine; eating, dressing, calling some friends of hers from college, while she does her makeup. It usually lines up that Daisy and her bestie Minnie are applying their looks at the same time. Daisy has always flirted with Minnie without meaning to, and actually it led to them dating for a good while before opportunities took them in separate directions, but Daisy’s connection and care for her never faded. Neither had Minnie’s for her.

Also on the call is Clarabelle, a Senior at their college when Daisy and Minnie were freshmen who took them under her wing. Her sense of fashion is part of what inspired Daisy to pursue designing. This burning urge to create something that would compliment Clarabelle’s incredible figure and style sense.

“Good luck tonight.” Clarabelle says, her voice deep and smile clear.

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Minnie cheers, “good luck, girly! You got this!”

Giving herself one last look over in the mirror, she is satisfied with the complimenting tones above her eyes and light blush on her cheeks. “Oh, I know I do.” She says with confidence, but appreciation is unmistakable in her tone. She doesn’t know what she’d do without her best friends. “Thanks, gals!”

An hour later and Daisy is out to lunch. Seated at a table with gorgeous people, with fantastic clothes. They’re at one of the finer restaurants in Duckburg, Daisy has had the opportunity to dine there a few times before, but always as a planner. Any memory she may have about how the food tastes is marred by her dedication to taking notes on her clients - all hyperfocus on their likes and dislikes, ensuring as few mistakes and faux-paus as possible.

Employee today, she is not. Daisy Duck is here as a contributor.

And contributors get to enjoy their food, and feel like she belongs at the table, Daisy firmly reminds herself. The show wasn’t super large, but it was important enough to be televised. However, the recording was decided at last-minute and the rehearsals had been somewhat brutal. Constant deadlines to meet, long hours, but not a lot of time to form a camaraderie with her fellow designers.

She tries to ignore the slight swoop in her gut. Taking in all the beautiful people sitting at her table, people she’s tried to speak with in passing and had gotten the cold shoulder. Something she is used to from her peers, assuming they find her strange and not worth their time. It makes Daisy want to prove herself, but... She’s seen all their designs, and they’ve seen hers, there isn’t anything left to show off… Except…

She places her napkin on her lap, delicately smoothing out her dress.

This is her first time wearing this out. There’s a nagging whisper of self-doubt Daisy tries to convince herself to ignore. But even since she was a child, the hyperfast racing of her mind is hard to redirect. She feels so confident in this design, at least she did... This feels silly to her, but she’s unconsciously comparing herself to everyone around her, rather than enjoying their designs without bias.

The brown-grey of the dining room cause a warm light to flow throughout the restaurant, it feels a little cloying to Daisy. Conversation is buzzing from every direction, but she can’t follow a word of any of it. Her attempts to join in conversation get little attention. She considers grabbing her smartphone to occupy herself, but finds that a bit rude considering the event. The predetermined meal gets served and Daisy hadn't realized how much time had passed since sitting down, the ice in her water is more than half melted.

Nerves are getting the best of her, and that in itself sends a prickle of embarrassment down Daisy’s neck. She’s really hoping that embarrassment isn’t clear on her face, but it very much is. She gracefully shovels some food into her beak.

“I love your dress.” A flamingo sitting beside Daisy says, and their smile remains patient as the duck takes a moment to realize they’re talking to her. Of course she just took a huge bite.

Funnily enough, at his words, the doubt that she felt was cavernous and never-ending disappeared. Like a hole was filled in, and possibly never was even there in the first place. She gulps her rather large bite of food. “Thanks,” She says, sitting straighter to better show off the craftsmanship. A dark grey structured pencil piece that’s complemented with white and yellow sheer and lace. “I made it myself,” She adds.

Only a moment later Daisy continues, “Your suit is fantastically sewn, I assume you made it yourself too?” She has a kindhearted smirk on her face. This designer in particular… She loves their work, them acknowledging her drove the nerves from being a rookie in the business down. Quieting her racing mind.

The Flamingo laughs in response. “Right you are, and I appreciate that eye you have there.” Much like Daisy, they show off some more of their suit jacket. A hyper dark black, must be some sort of velvet because it’s not reflecting any light. The thread used is a pink matching the exact tone of their feathers, sticking out in a way that keeps it subtle. “But I’m not surprised,” they continue, “your eye would have to be great to make it onto Emma Glamour’s IT-list.”

Daisy can’t help but smile wider at the memory. The very moment her career in fashion had become viable. The catalyst that led the woman to where she is right now. Having lunch with other designers as they all eagerly await the evening event.

The runway show where, for the first time, actual models are going to display Daisy Duck’s Designs.

“Oh, you saw that,” Daisy says around a laugh, barely stopping herself from preening, flipping a wrist lackadaisically instead. “I was actually her assistant for awhile,” She continues, oversharing a bit. “With all the amazing trends I would see her add to the list, I kept feeling like I never had a chance. Was even told so, a couple times, when I got a chance to talk with people who made ‘IT’.” She laughs and waves it off, able to find amusement in the flamingo’s muttered “Owch.”

“Anyway, clearly I did have a chance, and it was only after I beat up the jerks who tried to ruin my party!” She says, and then corrects herself. “Her party!”

The flamingo looks like they were going to ask a question, but the glass of the runway show’s director rings out as she hits it with a spoon. Conversations peter out and soon everyone is looking at the very trendy tiger. She starts giving a speech, but Daisy finds herself reviewing her interaction with her table neighbor. To judge if she had been awkward. She finds she probably had been.

She also finds she should be listening to Mrs. Rayures instead of letting her thoughts get ahead of the moment. “.. And with that! Everybody, enjoy your food. We look forward to seeing what each of your modern, forward thinking minds have to show us tonight.”

Daisy tries not to feel too bad about missing most of what the director had said, focus was something she has struggled with for most of her life at this point. A reason why she took furious notes as a planner, and intern. She’ll be able to prove how all in she is at the show tonight.

Visions of the night float through her mind, excitement stirs in her belly and flutters up to her chest. She can’t deny she’s nervous, but more so she is ready to show this opportunity that nothing can stop Daisy Duck!

… Nothing except the chaos in her workshop.

Before she knows it, two hours have passed, and she can feel the passage of time weighing heavily on her mind. This workspace chaos that she claims is organized, and usually she can understand it’s complexity! She swears by it.

There's just something about knowing a big event is a few hours a way that messes with her ability to find things.

Rather than fussing herself into a tizzy, she breathes in deep, eyes clenched shut, and counts to ten. Opens her eyes, gets frustrated with herself, and repeats the process.

Then once more.

She finds equilibrium. The layout makes sense, the slowness of her breathing pushes anxiety about time to a place she can’t remember it. She gathers everything necessary and piles it carefully by the door. Taking the next moment to fix up her makeup, something fitting for the occasion. The sequin gown she slides into is something she is incredibly proud of. A tribute to her marble-toned IT-list dress, but with the addition of a soft pink and yellow to the teal. Mostly it was black, rather than navy, conscious of not being too loud when adding the other colors.

The dress is also a bit longer, but she’s able to wear the same shoes. Daisy changes bows a couple times, indecisive. For a moment she considers digging up some stockings. It’s all too easy to get lost in final touch-ups to her own look.

Luckily, the anxiety about time she had hidden away flies back at full force and she hurries back into action. But she has planned for this, as everything is still by the door. She grabs the suitcase with each of the designs she’s showcasing tonight, and a few backups to be safe. And the other bag with extra fabric, her mobile sewing kit, her hair styling kit, her sentimental photo of her nieces in outfits she designed for their dance competition. Lastly her purse and car keys. Daisy goes over everything twice for good measure.

Finding no time left to waste, Daisy’s engine revs and she drives off the parking lot of her rented workshop.

So focused on the event to come, the drive feels phenomenally short. She finds a parking space, but doesn’t move after claiming it. Simply sitting in the front seat of her convertible, her hands clutching her steering wheel that would whiten her knuckles if they weren’t already. Suddenly Daisy squeals, nearly shouting, in an attempt to free the pressure of excitement in her chest. Nerves are there, but they have no chance of comparing to the rush of excitement overtaking her entire being.

After regulating her breathing, Daisy checks her makeup in the rearview mirror. Finding everything in order, she takes one more moment to really look at herself. She reminds herself to love what she sees.

But she doesn’t need the reminder.

Daisy Duck is a beautiful woman whose dreams are coming true, who’s a little weird, but loves herself all the more for it. With aspirations within her reach, and will put any amount of work to achieve them. A woman who, above all, knows that she is capable.

It’s easy to smile when she sees all that.

----------

thanks so much for reading!! daisy duck love for life

#Daisy Duck #DuckTales (2017)#ducktales #my art tag #check out my fanned fiction #daisy duck adhd lifestyle

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sirtadcooper · 4 years ago

Note

🎨 hello ruth 🥰 these are fun tysm for doing this

Hello, Cora! Tumblr desktop hates to work properly so I have probably missed some great edits but here are some of my favourites that Tumblr did decide to let me see...

THE MANDALORIAN + Pedro Pascal Tweets - This has to be my favourite thing that you have done! It makes me laugh every time I see it. Perfect matching of tweets to scenes. A very clever idea, too, perfectly executed!

CHAPTER 10: THE PASSENGER - Oh honey this colouring! The purples and the pinks and oranges all fit together so well. So well. This must have taken a long time to get just right but get it just right you certainly have! Especially with an episode with a mostly white set, to get this much colour out of it is no mean feat. A round of applause for this one!

Pedro + Yellow - Yellow is just a colour that suits Pedro so well and this set just makes me think of what a ray of sunshine Pedro is. <3

JOSÉ PEDRO BALMACEDA PASCAL - Gosh this is just so cute! I love how big these gifs are and how each one has a different background colour. And I have just noticed that his hair is different in. Every. Single. Gif. Looks cute as heck anyway!

PPSDCU (Pedro Pascal Single Dad Cinematic Universe) - I love the PPSDCU so much and the way you have blended these various shows and movies together into something so beautiful is really inspiring. It’s all good but the best part has to be Maxwell and Alistair in the word DADDY. What is it the cool kids are saying these days? Oh yes - *chef’s kiss*.

he protec he attac but most importantly he carry stuff on his bac - This made me laugh! Cora your mind!

Favourite Movie/TV Show → THE MANDALORIAN - Just the perfect mix of humour and badassery in this gifset hehe. I love the moments you chose. “I’m not A TAxI ServICe!” cracks me up.

*heart eyes* - A simple edit well done has just as much power as something very complicated. I love this. The torn paper and the block of colour that matches the photos tonally is very pleasing.

Count Down to Season 14, 1 Day - I don’t go here but this is absolutely glorious! I love the use of screencaps and the way you’ve used text and pops of colour. Really well done!

There’s more to life than murder. - I just think this is really neat! Again it’s not necessarily the most complicated edits that have the most impact.

And it goes without saying but I’m saying it here, that your colouring on every single one of these gifsets and edits is complete perfection. As far as I can tell you haven’t put a pixel of colour out of place. You are one of the best gifmakers on this site and that is a Fact, I really mean that. I’m not just saying that because we’re mutuals or because I’m being polite, I really mean it. If you were a stranger and I’d just gone through your edit tag I would say the exact same thing. You’re an incredible editor and I hope you realise that. Never stop believing it.

creators send me 🎨 and i’ll tell you my favourite of your last ten creations and why

#this got away from me haha #cora you're incredible #you're a gift to this tumblr fam #ask #trashcora #🎨 reviews

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miracul0us-multishipper · 6 years ago

Text

Queen of Nothing

I have yet to come to terms with Chloé‘s latest developments in Miracle Queen, so, as one does, I have decided to

make

gay.

So here’s my idea of what Chloé would have done if she actually had managed to sting Ladybug.

- - -

“This is too risky! It’s just us now, we can’t take on all of them.”

“We won’t have to. Stick to the plan, I’ll handle the rest.”

“The plan is bullshit!”

“It’s brillant! Trust me, it’ll work out.”

“Isn’t this the exact same mindset that got us into this mess? Putting your trust in the wrong person?”

“...”

“I’m sorry, that was unfair.”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

“It’s just-“

“You’re worried, I know. But... I know that I can do it. And that she needs this.”

“She needs a lot of things, but you don’t owe her anything anymore.”

“Maybe. But I don’t do this because I think I have to.”

“...then why?”

“Fine!”, Miracle Queen snarled into the purple butterfly outline hovering in front of her face. “Go on your stupid, senseless hunt! Who cares what Miracle Queen, your once-in-a-lifetime-Akuma says- Hawkmoth?”

The glowing symbol vanished into thin air, leaving her talking to herself.

“Hawkmoth! Ugh, whatever...”

Miracle Queen flung her hair back and leaned against the wall. It wasn’t like she actually cared about what happened to that suit wearing egg-head. If he wanted to chase after Chat Noir, let him! With a little luck, the cat and his stupid bug would take Hawkmoth and Mayura out, and then she would be the only superhero left - after she defeated the original duo, of course. The guardian, trapped by his own shield and the sentimonster guarding him, certainly wasn’t much of an opponent for her, the unstoppable Miracle Queen.

Unfortunately, he was even less of an entertainment: he’d sat down on the roof a few minutes ago and refused to move even an inch. She’d considered pestering him about all the Miraculous’ in her possession, but she knew she wouldn’t get any answers out of him, so she preferred to stay out of sight. The old man had something unnerving about her, a vague air of disappointment that reminded her too much of someone she didn’t want to think about.

As for the heroes under her control... They might have made for a decent entertainment, but she had already sent them away to run errands, prepare her castle and fetch her a chair throne! Can’t rule over Paris without a fancy throne, right? But now that Hawkmoth and his blue lackey were off too...

“He’ll get tired of ignoring me soon enough!”, she said to no one in particular. Her voice was booming in her ears, breaking the suffocating silence that had fallen over the place. She continued to speak, just so she wouldn’t have to think about it.

“He’ll realize there’s only one person capable enough to take down the heroes: moi! And then he’ll come crawling to beg for my help.”

She spun around, imagining a crowd applauding her every word. Was that a movement down the stairs...?

“But joke’s on him! By the time he gets back...”, she looked around, expecting one of her puppets to answer her wish for an audience. “...I’ll already have captured-“

She froze, her words dying on her tongue when she recognized the figure approaching.

“-L-Ladybug?!”

One hand scrambling for her spinning top and the other raised in defense, she stumbled backwards as Ladybug kept on walking towards her, her pace steady and eyes lowered - as if she doesn’t want to look at me, as if even the sight of me makes her sick, as if she truly really hates me now-

“Bees!”, Miracle cried out, her back hitting the wall. Ladybug had almost reached her, was close enough to touch her and now she...

“Sting her! Sting-“

...kneeled.

“-her...?”, she trailed off, her buzzing army pausing mid-flight. Ladybug wasn’t attacking her, she wasn’t even moving. She simply kneeled in front of her, her head lowered and back unguarded.

“Ladybug...?”, her voice cracked. Slowly, Miracle stepped away from the wall. “What... What are you doing?!”

Ladybug raised her head and Miracle froze. Her former idols eyes, these sky blue eyes she’d always craved to feel watching her... they were yellow.

“At your service”, Ladybug said in a toneless mockery of her once so cheerful voice.

“My Queen”

“Y-You’re... You were stung.” she whispered, her mouth suddenly too keen on talking while her brain was still catching up. “You’re...”

Without consciously deciding to do so, she raised her hand. Ladybug didn’t move when Miracle’s hand hovered in front of her face, trembling with a suffocating mixture of wariness and shock. It has to be a trick. An illusion. There’s no way she...

Her fingers made contact with Ladybug’s mask. Solid, spandex-like fabric. The her index finger reached the skin of her forehead. It wasn’t wrinkled with resentment, nor was it furrowed the way it always was when Ladybug schemed. Miracle had to know, she’d zoomed in on every minuscule expression on that familiar face, in thousands of different angles on dozens of different news channels. And she’d studied her profile at every opportunity as Queen Bee. In disbelief Miracle brushed Ladybug’s hair aside. It felt... real. Soft even, though a lot less silky than she’d imagined it. This close, she could see how her haircut was a little sloppy on the front. Rushed, unprofessional. Homemade.

Realizing that Ladybug’s unnaturally yellow eyes were on her, she quickly drew away. Not that Ladybug would object, now.

No orange smoke. No attack.

Miracle let out a shaky breath. Then she chuckled. Laughed.

“Oh my gosh!”, she all but cried. “I did it! I... I actually did it! I captured the unstoppable Ladybug!”

Buzzing with excitement she turned around, tapping into the connection she had to that idiot butterfly.

“Hawkmoth!”, she demanded his attention. “Stop chasing the cat and get your purple butt over here! While you were busy ignoring me, I...” - she giggled - “...captured Ladybug!”

No answer came, and it took her a moment to realize the purple symbol hadn’t appeared in front of her.

“Hawkmoth?!”

He wasn’t still ignoring her, was he? Did he think she was lying? No, he had to have felt the truth in her words! Then why wasn’t he answering her?

“Is he... out of range?”

Was that a thing that could happen?

“Ugh, whatever!”, she stomped her heel onto the ground. “Looks like I’ve got to do everything myself once again - even celebrating my victory!”

She looked over her shoulder to Ladybug. The red-clad wannabe hadn’t moved, only her gaze had followed Miracle.

“Guess Hawkmoth won’t make it in time.”, the Akuma shrugged and walked back to her catch. “So I’ll be the first one to know who Ladybug really is.”

She knelt down in front of her, so they were at eye level at last.

“Not so high and Mighty now, huh?”, she gloated. “Bet you regret not asking me for help earlier today!”

Ladybug didn’t answer. Her face remained impassive, like a sculpture made of ice. Miracle suppressed a shiver and put on the most gleeful smirk she could muster up.

“Now, let me see these oh-so mighty earrings of yours.”

Obediently Ladybug leaned her head sideways, giving Miracle direct access to her most precious possession. Triumphant, she reached out to take them, ready to be the first one to ever succeed in revealing Ladybug, her fingers almost touching the miraculous, when... she paused.

Her fingertips hovering only a millimeter over the most powerful object in the world, yet she couldn’t move.

“I’m taking them now.”, she said to no one. “I’ll do it. You’ll be revealed, just like me.”

Swallowing, she risked a glance at Ladybug’s face. The heroine was watching her attentively, yet expressionless. There was no fear in her eyes, nor anger, nor anything else. Not even recognition.

Miracle pulled her hands away as if burned, taking a sudden step back and almost falling over. She caught herself though. Breathing heavy and tucking her trembling hand into the belt-wire of her spinning top, she looked at Ladybug.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Bug!”, she sneered, despite the fact that Ladybug literally couldn’t have any ideas until Miracle Queen told her to. “I am simply taking my time to come up with the perfect revenge for your betrayal. Just taking your Miraculous isn’t enough. I can do better than that.”

She turned away, trying to calm her breathing. What’s wrong with me?!

“It’s not like this is a now or never thing, you know?”, she muttered under her breath. “I’ve already defeated you, after all. I can afford to enjoy the moment a bit.”

Finally composed again, she turned back. Towering over Ladybug, she made sure to show exactly how serious she was.

“I don’t need to take your Miraculous.”, she repeated, emphasizing every syllable. “You’re mine now.”

The words made her head spin with exhilarating triumph, yet they tasted foul in her mouth. She felt like she was going to puke.

For a moment, she wished Ladybug would taunt her. Would look at her with blue, stern eyes and tell her to stop being so dramatic. Can’t you see we’ve got important matters to deal with? I know you can be better than that. Come on, Chloé, stop being petty.

“I’m not petty!”, she said out loud, before realizing Ladybug hadn’t said a thing. She was as quiet as all her other puppets.

“Ugh.”, Miracle groaned and let herself fall on her butt. “Whatever.”

This wasn’t what she’d had in mind for Ladybug. She’d imagined a grand battle, the epic showdown of admirer and idol, the marvelous moment where the apprentice would surpass her teacher. It would have been... a miracle. But now her victory rang hollow.

She’d wished to be the Queen of Miracles. Instead she found herself the Queen of Nothing.

- - -

To be continued

#miramu writes #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml season 3 #ml season finale #chloé bourgeois #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #chloe x marinette #chloenette #miracle queen

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aeris-blue · 5 years ago

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fluffy p r o m p t s aaaa!!! okay okay um--what about grillbz trying to teach gaster to cook somethin? domestic bliss!!

I was so surprised at how hard it was to maneuver around Gaster’s gosh darn pride… but I did my best!

Grillby yawned the taste of smoke lingering heavily about him as he stoked his flames awake for the day. He stretched his arms high above his head and arched his back as he pulled himself awake. Even after his sun drenched oranges flickered to life over him the scent of smoke lingered, had he eaten something odd last night?

Wait. That wasn’t him.

With the increased visibility his glasses allowed he could see the subtle wafts of smoke seeping through the gaps of the bedroom door. Before another thought could emerge he leapt out of bed and tore open the door, “Bun?” He called.

The whole house was covered in a thin layer of gray that danced in the early morning light. A plethora of coughing from the kitchen sent him that way only to discover Gaster waving away at the clouds of smoke that circled him. His sockets were watery as he uselessly swatted at the smoke. ‘Go back to bed I’ve got this.’

Yeah, it looked like he had everything in lock down. Grillby crossed to the oven to flip the vents on before opening the windows closest to the kitchen. ‘Your fire alarm needs new batteries,’ Gaster declared after a coughing fit.

“I don’t keep one of those up here,” Grillby shrugged looking over his poor kitchen. All he needed was some machine wailing at him everytime he was running too hot or too cold.

‘That’s dangerous you know.’

Not as dangerous as giving Gaster free reign of his kitchen. The counters were coated in flour, milk was spilt onto the floor, a mess of towels were heaped over something he didn’t dare to investigate, and his oven, his poor oven, was coated in an unfortunate mix of burnt and uncooked dough. “I thought you said you’d made pancakes before.”

Grillby loved Gaster, with all of his soul, but the same could not be extended to his cooking. Since they’d moved in together he had forced himself through a myriad of experimental dishes that were better suited for Gaster’s line of work than his own. When Gaster declared he was going to make him breakfast in bed he’d foolishly agreed to those wide sparkling eyelights. Toast and some scrambled eggs, maybe some fruit? He could trust the monster with that much. However, Gaster had insisted on pancakes.

The resident scientist promised he had made some before. Apparently, there needed to be follow up questions. ‘I have,’ he defended, ‘just… not edible ones.’

Stars alive how could anyone as smart as Gaster just burn through ingredients like this? He was learning to play the piano, becoming quite the nature photographer, studying human healing and business practices, working with Alphys to make who knows what, and that was all since coming to the Surface but cooking was where the line was drawn. One of the two or three things Grillby could do well and it was lost on his partner.

‘I’m sorry,’ he sighed, ‘I should have known better.’ He shifted his toes against each other looking positively miserable amongst the thinning smoke. ‘Just go back to bed. I’ll clean it up.’

It was a tempting offer, Grillby certainly didn’t want to clean this up, but that would have left Gaster to wallow in his mistake. “Here come with me,” he left him with little option as he grabbed Gaster’s oddly sticky hand to head downstairs. The bar was closed on Sunday which gave them one more kitchen to play with.

Gaster leaned against the counter while Grillby grabbed cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg, and vanilla from the cabinets then eggs, milk, and butter from the fridge. He set the ingredients along the counter before scanning through his recipe cards. ‘That’s not pancakes,’ Gaster winced as he stared at the card.

“It’s french toast,” Grillby stated simply.

‘French toast? I messed up adding water to mix and you think I can manage this?’ Gaster’s hands twitched their signs hastily.

There was something magical about French Toast. The name and appearance made it seem far more complex than battering bread and throwing it onto a skillet but he wasn’t going to tell Gaster. “Don’t worry, I’ll supervise.”

After a hefty breath to center himself Gaster grabbed a bowl and a fork to mix the ingredients together. He was so overly cautious about making sure he had the absolute most precise measurements. One teaspoon of ground cinnamon meant exactly one teaspoon. In fact, as meticulous as he was imagining most of the creations he’d mustered was sort of hard to do. What step was he skipping? Where was his error?

“Ya know,” Grillby started which seemed to shake Gaster’s steely focus, “you’re really good at the prep work.”

‘Just give me twelve years and I’ll finish measuring everything.’

He bit back the urge to inform him being so precise was not a necessity, “No really, you know how to read a recipe, your measurements are exact, and there’s no one I would trust more with a knife.” He shrugged with a cocky smirk, “Aside from myself of course.”

‘Of course,’ he snickered.

Gaster flipped the burner to high then set the pan atop it. There it was, “You’ll want to turn that to medium to help keep the browning even.”

‘Really?’

Grillby nodded and Gaster turned the burner down. “I think this is the part that gives you problems.”

‘Oh yeah?’ A pair of hand bullets signed while Gaster doused a piece of bread in the slimy yellow mix. He was about to flop it to the pan without letting it drain but Grillby caught his hand as an encouragement to let it drip first.

“I think you try to hard on the actual cooking part,” Grillby folded your arms, “plus it’s an excuse to let your pyromania loose.” He crackled warmly as Gaster squared his shoulders in minor insult. The skillet hissed as the egg battered bread was placed within it.

‘I think we’ve established that I’m a P-Y-R-O-P-H-I-L-E,’ his face was sponge painted with regal shades of purple while Grillby traced the letters in his mind. Once he managed to snap the letters into a word he found cyan swirling through him. He quickly covered his mouth as a series of hissing crackles escaped him despite his efforts to quiet his laughter Gaster found himself giddily laughing along. Stars he loved that laugh.

He wrapped his hands around the top of Gaster’s hips and placed his chin between the space in his shoulders. “You need to flip it love.”

‘What?’ He looked over to him genuinely confused before he recalled the task at hand. The aroma of cinnamon sugar wafted in the air between them content to add its’ own presence to the scene.

“A little easier to flip than a pancake isn’t it?”

‘I’ll say,’ Gaster scoffed.

It wasn’t much longer before the toast was finished. “It will be better with syrup,” Grillby insisted, “but go ahead and try it.”

With a nervous shutter in his magic Gaster bit into the bread. A wide smile grew across his teeth while his eyelights sparkled like starlight, ‘It’s good?’ His expression was so incredulous he almost looked like a child. Grillby kissed his cheekbone then held his mouth open like a needy bird.

Gaster tore a piece off and fed it to him, “It’s good,” he confirmed.

‘I cooked something,’ he stared at the remaining bread with reverie.

“You did.” Grillby smirked as he leaned his head closer to Gaster’s, “Should we frame it?”

‘Oh hush,’ he rolled his eyelights but turned to Grillby, ‘Thank you.’

“You’re welcome.”

Gaster pressed his teeth against Grillby’s lips and allowed his magic to sing of his gratitude and excitement. “Well,” he breathed the last of Gaster’s cold magic, “should we make a few more?”

‘Sounds good to me.’

#cute prompts #grillster #domestic #cooking #grillby #gaster #so Grillby mentions being good at three things #they are cooking #counting #and dancing #of course he is good at other things #he just doesn't think so #sorry for the wait #this was attempt three haha #Gaster kept pouting #and not in a fun way

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sprnklersplashes · 5 years ago

Text

not beyond repair (19/20)

AO3

Veronica thought she had everything ready for her senior prom. Dress, check. Make-up, check. Shoes, check. Date, ride, hair. Check, check, check. And to top it off, she had had Heather going through everything with her and Martha the other day, the two of them sitting on her floor and nodding so much it was giving them whiplash. So she was sure she had prepared herself for every possible outcome.

Except one, clearly. Her mother and her ever-present camera. Veronica hadn’t even made it all the way downstairs in her dress before her mom started snapping photos of her and Martha in between gasps of amazement and overly-enthusiastic compliments.

“Okay let me get one of you and Martha before your dates get here,” her mom says, practically dragging Veronica over to the fireplace. She may well be rolling her eyes, but there’s a warm buzz about the room that’s been following her around all day, and she feels like nothing can really chase it away. Since she woke up that morning, even the usual worrying she’d felt following her around recently had evaporated, even if it’s just for the next 24 hours, giving her one day off. So she wraps her arm around Martha and smiles for the camera, willing to accept an overabundance of photos as the price for one golden day.

“Oh, you girls look so gorgeous,” Martha’s mom sighs, also armed with a camera. She nudges Veronica’s mom, her eyes beginning to glisten. “Oh Ella, where did the time go?”

“Hell if I know,” her mom sighs. “Doesn’t it feel like yesterday they were clinging to our legs because they didn’t want to go to kindergarten?”

“Mom!” Martha hisses. “Gosh… Please don’t be like that when Heather gets here.”

“I won’t embarrass you in front of your friend, Martha,” Mrs Dunnstock says. “And I’m sure her mother’s thinking the exact same.” Martha nods stiffly, her lips rolled into a thin line. Heather’s mother has become something of a dark inside joke for their group, and even more so for Martha and Heather. “Oh, Ronnie that dress really is lovely on you.”

“Thanks, Aunt Mel,” she says, pulling at the skirt again. She’s forgone pretty much every accessory she had thought about, going just with her butterfly necklace and a thin silver bracelet she found on her dresser. She touches the butterfly again, her lips curling into a smile and her heart picking up as she traces the outline.

“That’s the necklace the boyfriend got her,” her mom explains to Mel, in a voice Veronica guesses is meant to be low and quiet enough for them not to hear. Needless to say, it failed. Still, her mom gets this soft, tender expression when she talks about JD, specifically to anyone else, maybe because she’s glad they’re still together, maybe she feels responsible for them. Whatever the reason, it brings Veronica more happiness than she thought it could.

A knock at the door stops the photoshoot in its tracks, and sends Veronica’s heart racing, her skin prickling as butterflies take flight in her stomach.

When she goes to open it, the small silhouette calms her a little, but she’s still beaming when she opens the door.

“You look amazing!” is what Heather first says to her. She’s one to talk, clad in a light yellow dress with a glittering skirt, the dress hugging her petite figure and her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, her lips and cheeks pinker thank usual. A yellow gemstone hangs on a silver chain around her neck, glittering in the setting sun, and a gold bracelet shines on her wrist. But even without all that, she’s practically sparkling herself.

“So do you,” Veronica tells her, giving her a quick hug, careful not to wrinkle her dress.

When they turn to Martha, they find her with her mouth hanging open and her cheeks beginning to turn pink. Her eyes move so, so slowly over Heather, committing her to memory, and they shine the minute they set eyes on her. Veronica grins behind her hand, especially when she sees Heather gasping beside her, equally as transfixed by Martha as she is by her.

“You look amazing,” Martha tells her, her voice shaking and breathless with a hint of disbelief. Heather shakes her head, grasping Martha’s hand in a gesture that feel so intimate that Veronica feels bad for watching.

“So do you,” she tells her, stroking her cheek and running her hand over Martha’s curled hair. “I… I got you something.”

“Heather-”

“I know it’s not a corsage,” she says weakly, taking a small box out of her purse. “But you’ve got a lot of flowers already, and I thought you might like this.” When she opens the box, there’s a silver ring inside, a pink gemstone sitting in the centre of two minute diamonds. It’s nothing short of gorgeous. Martha’s trembling hand flies to her mouth, just about hiding the growing smile. “My dad helped me pick it out. It’s from his store.”

“Heather…” She whispers. Veronica knows to avert her eyes as Heather slips the ring onto Martha’s finger. “Thank you.” She doesn’t need to guess what the seconds of silence that pass between them mean. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words are whispers of whispers but charged with so much meaning that even Veronica feels it. If Heather hadn’t already drilled into her that she can’t lest she mess up her eyeliner, she’d be crying for them.

And then, just as she’s turning to follow the two of them into the living room, there’s another knock at the door. One that stirs up butterflies in her stomach and leaves her breathless. She steps back from the living room, squeezing her necklace once for luck. She takes a second to check her reflection in the mirror, her face framed with loose strands of hair that artfully escaped her loose low bun, before turning the handle and opening the door.

“Woah,” he breathes. She can only describe his expression as awestruck, his eyes wide and bright, the smile on his face dazed but so sincere, his mouth opening slightly and closing without words. As if he needs any. She can’t remember a time where she like this before, a little dizzy and a little giddy, bashful and bold at the same time. When eyes meet hers, they overflow with admiration and pride and wonder. They tell her everything he can’t say and she hears every word.

The sight of him does the same to her. His hair falls gently over his forehead and he’s clad in a black suit and light blue shirt, no tie and the top button undone a little, which takes her mind to the cheekiest of places and the whole thing leaves her breathless. Beneath his shirt is a flash of a familiar silver chain and the ring he’s worn since he came back to her is still in its usual place on his thumb. Prom or no prom, he’s her JD, and she utterly loves every part of him.

“You’re pretty woah yourself,” she teases, their fingers brushing against each other and tangling playfully.

“You look stunning,” he tells her, his voice still a little shaky. Warmth rises in her cheeks, even more so when she takes her hand. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you,” she replies, the words admittedly a little weak. She lets go of his hand to run her finger down his cheek and trace all the way down to his collar. “You look amazing.” She presses her finger into the corner of his mouth as he grins.

“Here.” He takes a box out from behind his back, revealing a white lily on a thin blue ribbon.

“Oh my gosh,” she breathes, shaking her head a little as a laugh escapes her body. She looks up at up, into his shining eyes, and she wishes she could just live in this moment. His hands are delicate and gentle, if a little nervous, as he slips it onto her wrist, all the while he bites his lip in anticipation. “It’s beautiful, J.”

She pulls him into a kiss, one that’s threaded with sweetness and bliss and one that, were there not people waiting in the living room and on the porch, she’d have let go one forever.

“Ahem, parental figure in the room,” a familiar voice says behind JD, dry and sarcastic but just as warm as it always has been. Claire smiles, just as much pride in her eyes as her own mother had. “You look amazing, Veronica.”

“Thank you,” she tells her before leading her into the living room. “Come on, everyone else is in here.” She doesn’t fail to notice how she tucks her shirt further into her jeans as they go and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You look nice, son,” her dad says from across the room, raising an eyebrow. JD’s hand tightens around hers while his other one grasps the hem of his jacket and he takes in a sharp breath. Veronica shares a sly look with Martha and Heather, the three of them stifling a giggle.

“Thank you, sir,” he says stiffly, nodding behind him. “This is my-um… This is Claire.”

“You’re the foster mom, aren’t you?” her mom asks, shaking Claire’s hand enough to take her arm off.

“I was,” she says, her eyes flitting to JD and her face growing soft and her smile proud. Beside her, JD smiles back with gratitude in his eyes. “Permanent mom-figure now.”

“Oh, of course, the adoption,” her mom says. “Well, maybe you can tell us over coffee once we get these kids ready.”

Behind them, Martha’s mom has already started taking photos of her and Heather, the two of them more wrapped up in each other than in the camera, Martha holding Heather tightly against her and Heather nuzzling in as much as she can, her arms firm yet gentle around her waist. The smile on Martha’s face is so bright, so carefree in a way that’s completely new and completely wonderful. The sun streams through the window and the two of them glow in its light.

“Okay, Veronica, JD, you two get in front of the fireplace there,” Veronica’s mom says. “Come on before we lose the light.”

“Hey, do you think you could send me a copy of these,” Claire asks, quirking an eyebrow at JD. His mouth falls open in response, and a silent you wouldn’t falls from his lips, Claire the only non-oblivious adult. “I’d love one for the mantle.”

“Oh, I hate her,” JD whispers in a tone that implies anything but.

Laughing, Veronica positions herself against him, one arm around his waist and her head carefully resting on his shoulder, mindful of her hair. JD takes her free hand and squeezes tightly, pressing a gentle, quick kiss to her hair, a bold move in front of her dad, and it only makes her smile grow wider and her heart warmer.

The photo might be fun, but it’s not really necessary, she thinks. Nothing could make her forget this.

“Have a fun night, kids,” her dad tells them as he pulls up in front of the school. “But not too much fun.” He turns and shoots JD a look while he’s pressed into the corner of the backseat. “You hear that, son?”

“Crystal clear, sir,” he replies, his hand fidgeting in his lap as he no doubt remembers the ‘have her home by 11’ speech that Veronica had to negotiate to 12, and then to 1. Eventually he had relented, patting her on the shoulder and telling her to stay out as late as she wants. Within reason, of course.

“Wow,” Veronica whispers as they step into the hall. Outside they hadn’t done much outside of a banner draped across the front door, but inside, she can’t help but feel impressed. She still recognises it as the gym she’s played basketball on for years, but the low lights hide the chipped paint and the mirror ball slowly turning above them gives the room an air of elegance not known to Westerberg High. White and silver balloons roll around the floor, some boys throwing them between each other and stabbing them in girl’s ears, pissing them off and making them laugh in the same breath. Matching streamers hang from the rafters, as do little stars and moons, turning from silver to a rainbow of colours when the light catches them.

She never thought she’d describe her school like this, but it’s beautiful. Clearly, the prom committee have outdone themselves.

“Why don’t I get you a drink?” JD offers as they come to their table.

“Gentleman,” she replies with a peck to his cheek. “Thanks.”

Just as she turns to take her seat, she spots a dazzlingly lovely red dress and blonde hair swept up and held not by a scrunchie, but by a silver and ruby clasp. She shakes off everyone following her, including Kurt, her date, Veronica would guess, sending him off to chase some poor kid around. Even in the half-light, Veronica can tell there’s loneliness written on her perfectly made face, and when she turns to Martha and Heather, she can tell they both feel the same. Especially since one half of her seems to be missing.

“I’m just going to go talk to her,” Veronica says, pushing the chair further into the table before she can change her mind and looking to the two of them. Martha nods and after a moment’s hesitation, so does Heather. It doesn’t take long to reach her at all, and it takes even less time for Veronica to realise she doesn’t actually know what she wants to say.

So she figures she’ll begin with “hi” and go from there.

“Hi,” Heather replies with an uncharacteristic uncertainty. “You… look good.” Veronica steps back out of instinct, a shield raising before she can stop it as she waits for the catch. Chandler just rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her. “It’s just a compliment, Veronica.”

“Well… so do you,” she replies. “And this…” She waves her arm, gesturing to as much of the room as she can. “This is really cool.”

“Thanks,” she replies, looking behind her. “So you’re with… with JD?”

“Yeah.”

“And Heather’s here with… Martha.” Just Martha. Who knew that would make Veronica feel more satisfaction than an aced SAT would? “They’re cute together.”

“Yep. She’s her date.” She grabs her own hand tightly, something silent passing between them. She hopes it’s an understanding, and she’s daring enough to believe it. Heather made her, for a while at least, and maybe she liked some of it. Even if she is a mythic bitch.

“I have to go find Heather,” she says. “Who knows where she got to. If you see her-”

“I’ll send her your way,” Veronica agrees, jokingly saluting her, to which Chandler huffs a laugh.

“Thanks.”

When Veronica makes her way back to the table and to her friends, it’s with a newfound peace of mind and having left her mistakes behind her.

As the night goes on, she finds new memory after new memory to hold on to; from fondly watching Heather and Martha steal kisses in unlit corners, to watching a bunch of boys from her grade dancing in a way that would definitely get them suspended if there were teachers here and if they weren’t so close to finished anyway. As she laughs, dancing with JD, she doesn’t find it surprising at all. If she had to ask herself in sixth grade to guess who would be attempting the splits with ah half-open shirt at senior prom, she’d have definitely guessed these guys. All accompanied by the gentle singing of the alcohol in her veins (one drink per hour, she’s limiting herself) and a tangible excitement that sparks in the air as students who haven’t spoken in years converse like casual friends and girls who brushed past without a second glance tell her how nice she looks. Barriers don’t matter tonight, not when they’re all together like this, and it dawns on them one by one that it might not happen again.

As one song fades, she hears the bouncing beginning to Dancing Queen, and her excitement skyrockets, her eyes finding Martha’s in an instant and the two of them jumping to the dancefloor with barely a thought for their dates. It’s their song after all, the one they danced to in her mom’s living room at barely four years old. JD and Mac watch them as they jump with no rhyme or reason, her head thrown back from laughing so hard, her arms coming around Martha in a hug that contains nearly two decades worth of friendship. Martha twirls Veronica under her arm and they fall into something that resembles a jive, tripping over their heels and acting out the motions they learned as kids in the most dramatic way possible. As they twirl around the floor like no-one is watching, Veronica briefly wonders how different her life would have been if they weren’t friends. Then she realises how grateful she is that she’ll never know that.

When falls into JD’s arms when it’s over, her cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

It’s then that she spots Heather Duke, skulking half in shadow, biting the inside of her cheek and a wistful envy in her eyes. As she comes down from her high, Veronica feels something clench in her chest, something close to pity but not as condescending. She doesn’t like pitying people, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel bad. Especially when someone is alone in the middle of a crowded room.

She squeezes JD’s hand and kisses his jaw before walking over to her, her steps tentative as nerves begin to make themselves known. Heather Duke was always a complicated case. Sure, there were moments, a lot of moments, where she made Veronica want to tear her hair out, but also moments where she made her laugh. And moments where she wanted to hug her but was too busy hiding under her new persona to do it.

“Hey,” she offers half-heartedly. Duke blinks and looks behind her before turning to Veronica, her mouth half-open.

“Hi,” she says rather suspiciously. Unlike Chandler, that’s where Duke ends.

“You look really pretty,” Veronica tells her, meaning it. With her emerald dress and her hair half-up, she’s worthy of the Prom Queen crown.

“I don’t,” she scoffs. “But thanks.”

“You do,” she says so firmly that Duke is taken aback by it before smiling weakly and running her hand through her hair.

“Thanks. So do you.” Veronica nods stiffly, kind of selfishly wishing she hadn’t come over at all and that she was back with JD. She takes a look over his shoulder and sees him dancing with Heather and Martha, trying and failing to twirl both of them under his arms and being pulled down as a result. She hides her laugh behind her hand and looks back, only to find Heather looking in the same direction.

“Heather seems happy,” she says, looking at her near-empty glass. “With you guys, I mean.” Her jaw sets. “I just mean….”

“You could go over and talk to her,” Veronica offers. Heather shrugs, her hand curling into a fist and her face uncertain. After a moment’s hesitation, Veronica reaches out and taps her shoulder. “I mean… think about it?”

“Maybe,” she sighs. “I should go. I need to find Heather. My Heather.” And then, her hand comes up and squeezes Veronica’s wrist gently. Although she could never really know what Duke was thinking and had given up a few days into their “friendship”, she likes to think she hears a ‘thanks’ in there. “See you around. Have a good night.”

Veronica smiles a little as she watches Heather go, letting out a contented sigh.

When she returns to her boyfriend, she wraps her arms around his waist and leans her chin on his chest so she can look up at him, up at the broad, amazed grin across his face and the glint in his eye. Briefly, she thinks about when they first got together, how quickly he hid himself behind dashing smiles and affection. And maybe he’s still a little like that at times, and that’s perfectly okay with her. That’s what they work on, together.

“What?” she asks him as he runs his knuckles up and down her back.

“Just thinking about you,” he says, no trace of irony in his voice. “Just about you and how great you are.”

“Oh, stop,” she sighs, rubbing her cheek against his jacket. “You’re so mushy.”

“I mean it,” he tells her earnestly. “You’re out here, on your senior prom, making up with Heathers.” He kisses the top of her head firmly. “That’s why I love you, you know.”

“Oh it is?” she teases, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “What are the other ones?”

“We’d be here all night,” he says. “And that’s not what senior prom is for.”

“What’s it for then?” His hand curls around hers as an answer and pulls her onto the dancefloor just as the music slows to an old song from long ago, one about steadfast lovers and everlasting affection. Veronica, old romantic that she is, can’t help but feel moved by it. She never really understood love songs that much attention before, just enjoyed them for what they were, but recently, she’s started feeling them right in her heart. Even more so when she’s this close to him.

He twirls her under his arm, letting the skirt fly around her, and pulls her close against her. His smile grows smaller, but not dimmer. In fact, amongst all the lights and the mirror ball and the street lights brightening up the scene outside, it’s his smile that shines the brightest. She presses her finger to the corner of his mouth playfully and he kisses the palm of her hand in response, the gesture bringing an overwhelming sense of calm over her. As they sway gently to the song, she thinks about him, every minute of him, from the day she saw him on the first day of seventh grade, to the day she first met his dad, to losing him, to finding him again, to the time between then and now where she grew a little bit more in love each and every day. She thinks about the first time he kissed her in the playground, then the first time she kissed him in his room. Two different kisses at two different ages, one tentative and sweet and sad, one wild and brave and brilliant. She wonders how many other couples could say what they can; that they had two first meetings and two first kisses.

“Do you ever think about us?” she asks him. Despite being in the middle of a dance floor and bumped into every couple of seconds, they’re alone in their own world, belonging just to each other.

“I think about us a lot,” he replies. “Is there anything specific?”

“Well, just that I met you twice,” she begins. “And it’s sort of my fault you got sent away.”

“Ronnie-”

“I don’t regret it,” she tells him. “Not if it helped you.” His breath catches, his chest stuttering underneath her hand. “And… I got you back.”

“Probably the better version of me,” he says, tearing at her heart a little, even if it might be true. “I don’t like to think about what would have happened to me if I had stayed with my dad.”

“Then don’t think about it,” she says, toying with the hair at the back of his neck. “Just be with me.”

“Always.” Now it’s her turn to catch her breath.

“But seriously… do you ever think about how out of all the places, in the whole country, your dad moved you to Ohio? And in all the towns in Ohio, you moved to Sherwood?” she asks. “And then again, out of all the places in all the states in the whole system, you ended up moving back here?” Back to me she adds silently. “Do you ever think about that?”

“Of course I do,” he admits. “I’m not a big believer in coincidences. And I don’t know how I feel about fate or God or destiny or anything like that.” She shakes her head because for all her fantasy, neither does she.

“So what does that make us?” she asks. “If it was no coincidence, and it’s not fate… then what do you think?”

“I think,” he begins, growing quiet as he looks at her, taking a second to push a lock of hair away from her face and twirl it around his finger, a knowing smile creeping across his face. “I think I must have done something really good to know you, Veronica Sawyer.”

“Want to know what I think?” she asks.

“Of course I do.”

“I think maybe the universe knew we weren’t done back then,” she replies with a shrug. “I don’t mean like fate or destiny… I just think that we were cut short back then. And the universe gave us a chance to pick back up.”

“That’s beautiful,” he says, his voice cracking a little. He nuzzles into her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “That’s another reason why I love you. That beautiful way you see the world.” His fingers intertwine with hers and his thumb strokes the back of her hand. “And people.”

She presses her cheek against his shoulder, smiling into the crook of his neck, his heart beating slowly and steadily against hers. His arms tighten around her and his cheek rests on her hair as they two of them rock slowly together. She might, from time to time, wonder about the years they could have had together. But she also knows she wouldn’t change a thing about them. As far as romances go, she thinks this one might be her favourite. Besides, they’ve got years now to make up for lost time. She pulls away and looks up into his eyes, a little bit dazzled even now.

“I love you,” she tells him, her knuckles brushing against his cheekbone as the song begins to fade. She may never say those words in that way to anyone but him. He owns them now. “So much.”

“I love you too,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. “You know… I should tell you something.”

“Oh?”

“I think leaving my light on that night was the best decision I have ever made.” She takes in a deep breath, blinking against the tears in her eyes.

She pulls him into a kiss, one that tastes like only he does-like something a little rough and ruined, beautiful with a little damage, passion and comfort, shoulder to cry on, friend to laugh with, keeper of secrets and the key to her heart. Her Jason Dean.

When she’s kissing him, she doesn’t feel the crackle of electricity or the goosebumps trailing on her skin, nor does she feel the desire to shove him against something, or the spine tingling thrill she used to associate with being so close to him. No, instead, she’s just happy; the kind that settles in your veins and wraps around you like your old blanket. The kind that’s deeply comforting and oddly familiar. It tugs on the corners of your mouth and pulls it into a smile without you realising. The kind of happiness you may not notice while it’s there, but you’d never want to be without.

Sure, there’ll be plenty of time for thrill and goosebumps and passion later. But for now, she’s just happy.

*****

“One, two, three, say graduation!”

“Graduation!” The camera flash momentarily blinds Veronica, until the world comes back into focus after a few seconds, the dazzling sunshine celebrating along with the class of 1990. Because against all odds, they did it. They graduated.

Veronica removes her arm from around JD’s shoulders and runs to let her mom hugs her close, telling her once again how proud she is. She’s decided not to argue or squirm or blush, because this time she’s proud of herself too. And of them. Her amazing best friend, her wonderful boyfriend, and her lovely almost-best friend. She sees Claire squeeze JD’s arm warmly, telling him something Veronica can’t hear, but the smile on her face tells her everything, as does his equally ecstatic expression. His has a hint of disbelief in there as well, but that’s fine. She’ll hug that out of him later.

“Oh, you guys!” Speaking of disbelief, Heather is probably too busy being in shock to be proud of herself. And although she had had a rough patch, like they all did at one point or another, she’s earned those shining eyes and red cheeks. She throws her arms around Veronica and Martha, pulling them into a hug that’s surprisingly strong for such a tiny frame.

As the four of them talk amongst themselves, Veronica looks past Heather’s shoulder for a moment, noticing Ryan, their valedictorian, high-fiving his friends, Kurt and Ram celebrating in a way that’s probably more suited to the football field. Although she shakes her head at them, her mood is as bright as the sun is, and she guesses it’ll remain that way.

Heather and Heather pass by them, flanked by pleased parents in nice suits and floral dresses, Duke’s mom stroking her back and Chandler’s practically leaning on her to get a better look at the diploma. The two look over at the same moment, both offering friendly smiles and half-waves.

“Hey,” Veronica says, nudging her Heather, whose gaze is held by her old friends-slash-new acquaintances. “Go talk to them. We’ll be fine.” Heather looks from her to JD and lastly to Martha, the question holding in her green eyes. Martha smiles, easy and soft, and gives her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Go on,” Martha says. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Heather replies, taking a moment and looking around before swiftly kissing Martha’s cheek. She turns to Veronica, dimples forming in her cheeks. “I’ll see you tonight.” And with that, she runs up to her old friends with a bounce in her step and greets their parents with the kind of puppy-like energy that’s hers and hers only.

You might think that it would feel like nothing had changed, seeing Mac with Duke and Chandler, like the deadly trio was back again, maybe Veronica should worry. But she doesn’t because there’s nothing to worry about now. Not when their Heather looks over her shoulder to wave at them again and when Heather Duke nods at them without malice.

What a beautiful world, she thinks.

“Can’t believe we made it,” Martha sighs, turning her diploma over in her hands.

“All those long nights paid off,” Veronica tells her, rubbing her arm up against hers. “Told you it would.”

“As did you refusing to take a damn nap,” JD reminds her fondly. “Does that mean you’ll take one now?”

“I’ll take all the naps in the world now,” she promises, laughter lining the edges of her voice. She looks up at the field, taking in the Rottweiler logo hanging proudly behind the stage. “So long Westerberg.”

The three of them, soon re-joined by their Heather, find a spot on the grass, the same spot they ate lunch on at one point. While the adults converse and take advantage of the refreshments, they pass the time with banter and teasing and laughter, all of which then turns into fondly remembering their favourite times at Westerberg.

“Punching Kurt and Ram,” JD says with only a little sarcasm. Veronica turns to him, raising an eyebrow in mock-severity. “Made an impression on my very first day.”

“J-”

“He’s right though,” Martha says with a shrug. “He’s right and he should say it.”

“No he’s not,” she jokes, resting her chin on JD’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what my favourite memory is,” Heather says, cocking her head. “Maybe making cheer captain. Or…” Her fingers creep along the grass towards Martha’s and their fingers intertwine. “My first B on a test.” Veronica giggles into JD’s shoulder as her friend’s cheeks turn the palest shade of pink.

“What about you, Ronnie?” Martha asks. Veronica frowns, cocking her head as JD’s hands run up and down her arms. When she thinks about all four years of high school, not all of them are pleasant. She won’t miss her and Martha hiding out in the library during lunch, or scurrying down hallways to avoid Heather Chandler’s wrath, nor will she miss zoning out during classes or Miss Fleming’s too happy, too sweet morning speeches and faux concern for those in need. In fact, when she thinks about the happiest times of her high school life, very few involve the actual school. They just involve the people with her. The times that made her smile the most weren’t the biggest and loudest ones, but her and Martha giggling on the bus during a freshman field trip, she and JD sitting on the window ledge, or just weeks ago, when the four of them sat out there and exchanged bad jokes during lunch. Mundane and forgettable to everyone else, yet it holds the most meaning for her.

But that’s too sentimental and sappy for the hour at hand, so she mentions the Christmas sing along session they had in English class freshman year, prompting a curious JD and a cheer from Martha and Heather that echoes though the air.

Soon it’s down to just her and JD, Heather and Martha both leaving, hugging her despite knowing they’ll see her hours later. The conversation between her mom and Claire begins to dwindle and that’s when they know they only have a few minutes left.

“Hey,” she says, nudging him a little. “I’m proud of you.” He smiles, his cheeks turning pink as he ducks his head a little.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes you could have.”

“Maybe.” He presses a feather-light kiss to her fingers and curls her hand into a loose fist. “Or maybe I had someone pushing me.” She huffs a laugh and, after a moment, closes the space between them entirely and sits in his lap, her legs on either side of him. “I’m proud of you too. Not every guy can say he has a super smarty-pants girlfriend who’s going to Duke.”

“Stop,” she sighs, running her fingers through his hair. “Not every girl can say that they have a super supportive, sweet boyfriend either.” She quickly kisses his lips and presses their foreheads together, a silent ‘I love you’ passing from her to him. “Or a boyfriend who is way smarter than everyone gives him credit for. Including himself.” Even though her eyes flutter closed, she still feels his smile.

When she opens her eyes, she sees her mom hovering at a distance and looking over at them, pointing at her watch when she notices her. Groaning quietly and pouting, she climbs off of him with warm cheeks.

“That’s my cue to leave,” she sighs, pulling him up to his feet. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Definitely,” he replies, tapping her nose before they go their separate ways.

Her relatives start arriving for her house party just as the sky is turning pink and her mom is laying out bowls of rainbow coloured salad and freshly opened bread rolls and bottles of champagne line up on the counter. She hands Veronica a glass, chuckling at her raised eyebrow and mouth hanging half-open.

“It’s an occasion,” she tells her with a tap to the cheek. “And it’s in the house anyway.”

JD and Claire arrive while she’s in the middle of a rather one-sided conversation with her aunt, and she can’t be happier as she excuses herself.

“Am I glad to see you,” she sighs, hugging him lightly as she lets them in.

“Hi hon,” Claire says, giving her a one-armed hug, the other arm holding a basket covered with a white and blue tea towel. “I was raised never to come to a house empty handed. So I made blueberry muffins.”

“And I ate one,” JD adds. “Just to make sure they’re good. And they are.”

“Thanks, Claire,” she chuckles. “Come on, we’re just through here.”

When Claire hands the muffins to her mom, she’s nothing short of thrilled, asking her if she makes a habit of saving house parties or if it’s just a one-off. Laughing, Veronica tugs on JD’s hand and pulls him away from the kitchen, leaving their respective moms (or mom and mom-figure) to themselves while they brave the backyard.

“So… this is the boyfriend,” her uncle says, his smile friendly and his eyes wary.

“Jason Dean, sir,” JD says, holding his hand out.

“Well, you picked a fine young man, Ronnie,” her uncle says, shaking JD’s hand warmly. “So how did you two meet?” Luckily, he laughs when they give two conflicting answers and exchange slightly-alarmed looks.

One day they’ll come up with a good cover story for that.

The evening rolls on with friends and food and laughter. Veronica crushes Martha in a hug when she arrives, as do some of her relatives. And when Heather comes, she makes a beeline for the three of them, squeezing Veronica and even JD lightly before throwing her arms around Martha. Veronica shares a knowing look with JD as the two take a little longer to break apart but who could blame them?

The music from the radio is carried outside on the wind, the songs just about audible underneath the dozens of conversations going on around them. JD twirls Veronica around and traps her in a dance, kissing her head as she rolls her eyes and laughs, which turning into shrieking as he picks her up and swirls her around, her arms tight around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

“Asshole,” she laughs as he sets her down. She holds his shoulder tightly until the world comes back to her level. He simply kisses her head and responds with an affectionate ‘you love me though’.

Well she can’t deny that, can she?

He drapes his jacket over her when it starts getting cool, just as her mom is rolling out the dessert options. The four of them grab plates and pile them with food (including one of Claire’s muffins) and settle on the patio, disregarding the chairs and table in favour of cross-legged on the ground, even with the stones and gravel against their bare legs. JD’s arm circles around her shoulders and she leans against him, fitting against his chest like she has so many times before. Like she’s made for it. They cycle through a game of Never Have I Ever with varying degrees of blushing before Veronica grabs her dad’s cards and they go through every card game they can, bringing back the old favourites from summer camp and last days of school. They laugh at everything and nothing and look forward to the future while not quite saying goodbye to their pasts. All around the garden the air turns calm and contented as the sky trades the blue for pink and orange and the setting sun paints a gentle golden hue over the scene. Or maybe that’s just in her head. Either way, she doesn’t think the world has ever felt as right as it does now, the puzzle pieces that is her young life slotting into place. She’s not looking over her shoulder, nor is she thinking about how things could be better. Because how could they be better? JD kisses her head in a way that’s as natural as taking a breath and she laces their fingers together, their joined hands resting on her stomach. As they laugh, their voices reach up and mingle in the wind, carried up and mixing in the cotton candy coloured sky above them.

And at that moment, Veronica realises that she’s one of the luckiest people in the world, to have people like this to miss.

#heathers the musical #jdronica #veronica sawyer #jason dean #heathers fanfic #fic: not beyond repair #oh my gosh.....

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the-muses-are-herd · 5 years ago

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A Coda to a private thread I have been playing, under the cut.

(NOTE: You are all welcome to read it if you want, but it’s likely not going to make much sense out of context. It also involves one of my main Muses and one I don’t think I have played in public threads yet)

***

Light, darkness. Light, darkness. But this time Xolotl wasn’t trying to get ‘anywhere away from here’. This time it was a journey back. He was feeling so many things —he was eager to see his friend again, he was anxious (but no longer scared!) of the place he was coming back to, he was — at his destination!!

Yes… Tokyo again. The one specific Tokyo. Even before his feet touched the ground, he was back in his old green business suit and goggles… but this time without the ‘Security’ arm band. He was done with that damned Guild. And after what happened to Aizen, they were probably out for his blood anyway. It was strange to notice that the thought did not bring with it any particular apprehension. Just another thing to be careful about.

Finding the old apartment was not difficult. And he knocked on the door before he could chicken out. Of course, his friend may not live here anymore. Well, the door was swinging open…

… and here he was. Here was HombreTigre, in his casual clothes! Still as cheerful as always.

Tigre looked at him for about a second —to stunned to speak. Then he broke into a huge grin even as he pulled Xolotl into a bear hug, strong enough to lift him. “Xolo!!!”

Every time they had done this, Xolotl usually got red in the face, even if he grinned inwards. He usually tried to pull away when Tigre would next try to kiss his cheek. This time he did the exact opposite: He turned his head at the right moment and kissed Tigre on the mouth. Just a peck.

Tigre let him down —surprised, yet still happy. “Since when do you —oh, man! Come inside, come! I have so many questions…”

Xolotl grinned, only now showing him two boxes he was carrying. Sealed with the best kind of magic —no one would have guessed what they were carrying. “And I have a lot of stories to tell you! Gosh, where to begin…”

Would Tigre accept? Even this, Xolotl discovered, no longer filled him with dread. He would respect whatever his friend chose.

Because now he had a place to return to, a real home. That made all the difference in the world.

***

“Check this out!” said Jagwar, tossing something small so fast most people would have completely missed it.

Dreadmon was not ‘most people’ —he snatched it out of thin air with hardly any effort. It was still a surprising thing to behold: A large berry with yellow spots. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know!” said Jagwar —he seemed to be equal parts puzzled and merry. “I have been getting these… I suppose they are gifts. Every time I visit that place I told you about.”

“You have a secret admirer.” Dreadmon tried to look serious, but could only grin. “Should I be jealous?”

Jagwar shook his head no. “Whoever has been leaving these things must be pretty shy. But who knows, maybe someday I’ll meet them. That should be an interesting experience, for sure!”

#rp coda

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fandom-scribe · 6 years ago

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Dick and Dami Week: Day 1 - Dynamic Duo

Title: Well-Founded Reasons

Word Count: 3,635

Author’s Note: Here’s the fic for day 1, 6 days late as per usual! I honestly don’t know how it got so long but whatever. It’s a Revsere!Age AU, an AU I’m gonna be exploring in a longer fic that’s in the works right now.

Shout out the anyone that recognizes the reference and where it’s from!

—

Damian hadn’t liked the idea of sharing his mantle when Drake came on the scene. He hadn’t been done with it, hadn’t approved of the new holder, and wasn’t going to let some know-it-all sully the name he had spent so long building. It wasn’t right for Drake to demand his costume, wasn’t fair that Father had let him take it. So Damian had done the only thing he could.

He took his mantle back.

He had ripped the cape and mask off Drake right there on that rooftop, couldn’t have cared less who saw. It wouldn’t’ve been a threat to their secret identities: Drake wasn’t connected to them, wasn’t apart of the team. Who cared if he was caught in a torn costume on a rooftop in the middle of the night? It wasn’t Damian’s problem. In fact, very little managed to bring Damian as much joy as that moment had. Glaring at the shot down bird, watching him desperately trying to pick up his plucked feathers - it was the epitome of satisfaction. That is, until Batman crashed the moment, swooping in the save the damaged bird and heal its broken wings.

It was probably that moment that motivated Drake to hand over his own mantle when the time came. It was infuriating how Father had praised Drake for giving Todd his suit, but not as infuriating as Drake’s smugness and holier-than-thou attitude. It was so so obvious that he was only passing on his mantle to get under Damian’s skin. The way he had glared at Damian beforehand and the smirk on his lips as he made the offer - how could anyone else see it!? It had taken everything not to knock Drake out in that moment, and taken even more not to offer up his own old mantle, just to prove something.

Of course, then Todd had gone and died in Drake’s costume which really stained the whole affair.

It would be a lie to say that Richard’s arrival hadn’t worried Damian just a bit. Damian knew how the story went, knew the exact dance that was his father bringing in a new child. There was never a doubt in his mind that they would end up right here, with Richard preparing for his first night in the field. The question was what would he wear. Would he want to carry on Tim and Jason’s legacy? What he be allowed to? Who would stop him? Damian found himself, for the second time, with the urge to offer his own mantle in hopes of never having to answer those questions.

(For some reason, the idea of Richard being the second Shadow didn’t bother Damian as much as he thought it would. He was certainly a better successor than Drake. But, then again, everyone was better than Drake.)

Luckily, any intervention on his part was unneeded. Richard didn’t want to take on Tim and Jason’s mantle: he already had ideas for his own. Sketches and magazine clip outs had seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Richard had talked a mile a minute trying to explain it all. All Damian could do was zone out, dazed by the amount of preparation the boy had done for something Damian hadn’t even considered.

Perhaps if he had paid more attention, Damian couldn’t help but mull, he would’ve been better prepared for… this.

“Ta-da!” Richard exclaimed as he bounced around in his new costume. It was Damian’s fault. He should’ve supervised more, should’ve looked over Richard’s sketches and gone to the fittings. How did he ever think for a second that a 9-year-old could craft a practical uniform?

Richard’s design was… ridiculous, to say the least. He looked like a living traffic light in the bright reds, greens, and yellows that wrapped his body. His cape was comically short, the hem of it fluttering around his waist as hopped from foot to foot, and - oh my gosh - what was with his shoes? They were slip-ons of all things, flimsy with no type of arch or ankle support, and with their… unique shape, they could only be classified as pixie boots, something one might find in a pop-up Halloween store.

But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was his pants - or, rather, his lack of pants.

Panties, that’s what they were. Scaly, green, sequined panties. While Richard’s skin was not pale by any means, his bare legs seemed to glow in the Batcave’s fluorescent lights. Damian could already see the blood and scars that would mar the smooth skin if they weren’t covered soon. Richard’s suit seemed to have no reinforcement but even the shoddy fabric that made up his vest would be a better alternative.

How could Richard think this was an acceptable outfit?

How could Pennyworth let this happen?

How did he let this happen?

“Damian?”

Damian blinked, realizing he’d been staring for too long. Richard had yet to still but he had deflated from a joyful jig to an awkward shuffle. His eyes were wide and inquisitive as he wrung a black domino mask between his hands. “So, uh, whatcha think?”

“Absolutely not.”

Richard’s face practically shattered, his nose scrunching, brows furrowing, and muscles stiffening before Damian could process his own words. He sniffed once, twice - oh no he was going to cry, wasn’t he? For a quick second, Richard’s blue eyes brimmed with tears, but then he squeezed his eyes closed tightly. When he opened them all signs of tears where gone, leaving behind a look of devastating disappointment and hurt.

The pain in Damian’s chest that look left behind was more than annoying.

“I am appalled that you would even think this to be an acceptable ensemble,” Damian continued, hoping the balm that was his words would soothe that annoying pain. “No type of padding, no reinforcement, you are not even 100 percent covered! Is this some type of game to you? Are you trying to get injured out there? If you cannot take this seriously–”

“I am taking this seriously!” Richard exclaimed, his voice laced with panic. Or maybe it was Damian who was panicking, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He was angry but there was something else there, something he didn’t quite want to analyze, nearly afraid with what he would find if he did.

(It was something that had been there for some time now, ever since that night when Richard had entered his room and took it upon himself actually asked how Damian was feeling about his presence and tried to compromise with him.)

“You obviously are not. A bullet would rip through that material like tissue paper, a blind person could those colors 3 miles away, and do not even get me started on your legs! Did you honestly think you could fight crime in panties?”

“They’re not panties!”

“Yeah, and I’m not Batman.”

“You’re not Batman! Bruce is Batman!”

“Father is dead! We have talked about this, Grayson!” Grayson reeled back, as if the sound of his name had physically assaulted him. Maybe it had, considering how long it took for them to get to a first name basis, but Damian couldn’t make himself care. They had talked about it, many many times. And Grayson had encouraged him to take the mantle, had said Damian would be a great Batman, had wanted to work beside him. But apparently he had lied.

Damian didn’t have time for liars.

“Just… go to your room. I refuse to patrol with a laughingstock.” Damian spun on his heels and stalked towards the Batcomputer, ignoring the sharp gasp of pain and sniff Grayson had expelled. He plopped down in the computer’s plush rolling chair, busying himself with powering up the computer as the sound of velcro - velcro - filled the cave. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that Grayson had discarded the cape and vest on the ground, revealing that the shorts were in fact not panties, but rather the bottom part of a green unitard.

Still didn’t explain the questionable placement of sequin.

With a muted sigh, Damian turned back to the computer, losing himself in the files as Grayson sulked away.

~*~

“How could you let Grayson wear such an atrocity!?” Damian exclaimed as soon as he entered the kitchen. He still wore the Batsuit’s under armor despite the strict rule to leave all uniform pieces in the bunker below. He couldn’t make himself take off everything, was frustrated that he even had to take off anything. But he couldn’t go patrolling by himself. Not while bearing this mantle. It didn’t feel right.

“Whatever do you mean, Master Damian?” Pennyworth replied with that tone, the one that was uniquely Pennyworth and completely infuriating.

“You know exactly what I mean, Pennyworth. That costume of Grayson’s is completely unacceptable! He will die wearing that!”

Pennyworth sighed. He placed down the spoon he was using to stir their post-patrol dinner, turned down the stove’s flame, and turned towards Damian, a gray eyebrow raised. “There seems to be some misunderstanding, young sir. I do not design the costume, I simply stitch it together. It is your responsibility to make sure that Young Master Richard is properly dressed for any outings you may have, and to assure that he is properly protected during said outings. I may give the occasional critique or sought after advice but other than that, I have no duty to make anything acceptable.”

“That is bullshit!” Damian snarled, his scowl only deepening when Pennyworth had the audacity to chide his language. “You spent my entire childhood wrangling Father into taking care of himself and making sure he was always in proper condition before letting him out for the night. Do not tell me that you cannot do the same for Grayson!”

“As your father’s former guardian, I took it as a personal responsibility to make sure he was always in good health. You are Master Richard’s guardian now, thus it is your responsibility to do the same for him. I gave him my concerns and learned his well-founded reasons for wanting to wear such an outfit. I still did not agree, however, he assured me he had your approval. …You did approve his costume, right Master Damian?”

Damian pressed his lips tightly together, fighting against the heat spreading across his face. He could not remember what he had said when Grayson presented his ideas. Had he simply waved the boy off or did he actually give some sort of appraisal? Whatever remarks he had made, he had accidentally given the child the impression that he approved of his choice in outfit.

Pennyworth’s silver eyes roamed his face knowingly before he let out an inaudible sigh. With a small shake of his head, he turned back to his cooking, returning the flame to its previous height and picking up the spoon once more. “I believe we have found the problem. You said you wanted to be Master Richard’s new guardian. This is what comes with the title.”

Damian worked his jaw, fist clenching and unclenching at his side. The problem has indeed been found and it was him. He wanted to argue, but he knew Pennyworth was correct. He had neglected his duties as Grayson’s guardian. With a grunt he made up his mind, straightening his back and turning on his heels. He’ll talk to the boy, discover his “well-founded reasons” behind the abomination that was his costume, and then make him see reason.

“Oh, and Master Damian?” Pennyworth called out as Damian strode towards the door. Damian looked over his shoulder at the elder, watching as Pennyworth turned off the stove and balanced the spoon on the edge of the pot. “I hope you do not actually believe that I would ever let Master Richard outside the house dressed like that. I would never comprise a real costume out of such cheap fabric and velcro.”

~*~

Damian found Grayson curled up in the center of his bed, his room nothing but a mosaic of shadows. It was a pitiful sight, one that made Damian feel a great amount of shame for a reason he couldn’t explain. It was obvious that the boy was crying, even if he wasn’t making a sound. The way his whole body shook and the light hitches in his breath was evidence enough.

“Gray-… em, Richard?” Damian winced at his stutter, and winced again as Richard stiffened on the bed. He froze before curling further into himself, leaving Damian to fight the desire to grab him by the ankle and force him to uncurl. Instead, Damian busied his hands with finding the light switch, flooding the room with light once he found it. “Richard, I just want to talk.”

Damian waited with bated breath for some type of acknowledgment. His fingers wouldn’t stop fluttering, which only served to worsen his agitation. He had been trained by the best to control all nervous tics, yet here he was, unable to hide how uncomfortable he was. And why was he so uncomfortable? He was well versed in dealing with other’s idiocy and held faith in his ability to change Richard’s mind. So why was simply speaking to the distraught boy so hard? With a heavy sigh, Damian tried again.

“Richar-”

“What do you want?” The response itself was unexpected, but the dejected tone was even worse. Richard sounded as he did when he first came to the Manor, deep in mourning and filled with anger and despair. Damian had to admit it: that tone broke his heart.

“Richard, please, sit up. I want to know why you designed your costume the way you did.”

“I already told you,” Richard said as he pulled himself into a sitting position anyway. His bright blue eyes were dull and lifeless, partly hidden by usually bouncy curls that hung in his face. Everything about Richard seemed to droop, from his hair to his lips to his posture. It was wrong on so many levels: even after his parents’ deaths, Richard had had a stubborn spring to his step.

“I admit that I was not the most attentive when you took the time to explain your choices to me. For that, I apologize. I am ready to listen now, if you are willing to explain once more.”

The look Richard gave him was not the trustworthy one that Damian had come to expect from the boy. Still, Richard straightened ever so slightly and gave a small nod. Then he held out a piece of crumpled paper.

“What…?” Damian whispered as took the paper. Smoothing it out he saw that it was a picture. From it, Richard smiled up at him, eyes sparkling and smile so wide that Damian could feel his own cheeks cramping. Damian ran his thumb over the image, taking it all in. The trailers in the background, the blur in the corner where a finger was covering the camera’s lens, the costume Richard wore-

The costume Richard wore.

Damian felt sick as his eyes roamed over the attire Richard adorned in the photo. It was, in its most basic sense, a sparklier version of the costume he had tried to wear tonight. A tight green unitard hugged his tiny body, the top part of it covered by a red vest that hadn’t been properly fastened; a golden sash was tied tightly around his waist, and the tips of those damn pixie boots pointed sky-high. There was even a cape, one with a ridiculously high collar that Damian was glad Richard didn’t try to duplicate, though he’d wish he had kept the length the same. Well, at least he decided to tone down on the sequin, that marked everything besides the boots and the vest.

“That was supposed to be our costume for the next show,” Richard said, pulling Damian’s attention back to him. “Y’know, the one after Gotham. But then… then the trapeze… the line, it… y’know! And I’m never leaving Gotham so I thought why not wear it now? I loved that costume so I thought maybe with a few alterations it could be Robin’s costume!”

“Robin?”

Richard sighed, head hanging as he pulled at the comforter beneath him. “It was my mom’s nickname for me. I wanted to use it as my superhero name. I know it’s stupid-”

“No, it is… understandable. But you must understand that… this costume its… its, um-” Damian pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Silence was better than stuttering and stuttering was all Damian could do right now. He had been prepared to set Richard straight but he hadn’t been prepared for this. How could he tell Richard that the costume of his parents was wrong?

You’ve already did, a nasty voice whispered in the back of Damian’s mind, causing Damian to flinch. He couldn’t even be mad at it: he had already told Richard in very clear, very harsh, words exactly what he thought of his parents’ costume.

“Richard, while I can understand the sentimental logic behind your choices, I simply cannot allow you to fight crime in that outfit. The skills you’ve learned on the trapeze may have been adaptable to your fighting style, the same cannot be said for your circus costume.”

“But I made alterations! Like the cape! I shortened it since that one was more for show and not really for flying-”

“And it would be an excellent alteration if you was on the trapeze. But crime fighting is more than just ‘flying’, as you put it. The costume does not work Richard. I am sorry.” Damian didn’t know what exactly he was sorry for but it felt like the right thing to say. Still, Richard’s shoulders slumped and his lip wobbled.

“But-” Richard was cut off as a sob escaped his lips. He quickly threw an arm over his eyes, but that did little to hide the shake of his body or the sounds he tried hard to quell. It took everything within Damian not to fidget; he didn’t know what to say or do to calm Richard down.

“But, I don’t - have any - other - ideas! Bat-Batman needs a - partner. Please, Dami!” Richard choked out between sobs.

“We will figure out something,” Damian said in what he hoped to be a soothing tone. However, his words only seemed to make Richard curl into himself once more. He shook his head wildly, pulling his feet onto the bed and sandwiching his head between his knees. Damian could do nothing but sit there awkward and attempt to block out the scene next to him until Richard could calm himself. When he finally did, he was back to the zombie-like state Damian had found him in, body so still Damian was sure if he was breathing.

“Richard…” No response. Damian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, already regretting the words about to come off his lips. “You can wear the costume tonight.”

Richard’s head shot up, bloodshot eyes wide and mouth agape.

“But only for tonight. Tomorrow we will try to make some more alterations. Like pants. There are leotards with pants, you know.”

“Pants!? Pants are a luxury! My costume is designed to be aerodynamically perfect,” Richard announced with the huge smile Damian was used to.

“Richard…” Damin drawled and, no, Damian most certainly was not grinning.

“What happened to safety? If I were to wear pants, my crime-fighting abilities would be decreased by 20%! I can’t afford that, can you?“ By now Richard was practically vibrating in his seat. Damian shook his head, slightly turning his face away - not to hide his smile or anything, though. Damian was not smiling. Honestly!

“You’re insufferable, Richard. Go get dress, we are already late.”

Richard pushed himself halfway off the bed before freezing, the smile on his face slowly melting away. “But, I thought you didn’t want to patrol with a laughingstock…” Damian flinched once more, this time harder with no hopes of hiding it.

“You are not a laughingstock, Richard, and I am sorry for calling you one. Anyone who dares to laugh at you will have to deal with my sword! Try laughing at that.”

A heavy weight Damian hadn’t noticed before lifted from his chest as Richard’s smile sprung back into place, and the boy gave a hearty laugh. “Batman doesn’t carry a sword, silly!”

“This one does. Now go, Richard!”

Richard darted out of the room, faster than any speedster. Damian didn’t move right away. He would have to keep Richard safe tonight. Keep Richard on the rooftops, away from any fighting. Tonight would obviously be mostly charity work, maybe a chance to work on Richard’s observational skills. Everything would be fine. Tomorrow they’ll get him a new uniform and then the real stuff could begin.

With a solid plan in mind, Damian pushed himself off the bed. A quick word to Alfred, then he was in the Batcave, slipping on the remainder of the Batsuit. Soon enough they were strapped in the Batmobile, ready for their first night at the new Dynamic Duo.

“Ready, Robin?” Damian asked the boy next to him, secretly liking the way the chosen name felt on his tongue. Richard, who was one second from exploding with excitement, could barely answer and settled on a jerky nod instead. With a smirk, Damian reached over and turned on the air conditioning to its highest setting.

“Hey!” Richard screeched.

Damian watched with enjoyment as the boy shivered, his bare legs pimpling with goosebumps. Richard pulled his knees to his chest, desperately trying to wrap his ridiculously short cape around his naked skin. Damian held his breath to keep from laughing and focused on maneuvering the car out the cave.

Oh, yes. Richard would definitely be wearing pants tomorrow.

#DickandDamiweek2019 #dick grayson #Damian wayne #reverse au #reverse age au #reverse robin au #Except Dick is still the first robin #scribe writes

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