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vcidgalpin · 3 years

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Heart Monitor PT 2

Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Eventually)

Season 1 Masterlist

Word Count: 1789

A/N: I AM BACK! Sorry I had a lot of stuff going on in my life, but I am here again like 9 months later. I haven't watched season 1 in forever so I hope this reads well. Anyway: Stiles continues to have bad ideas as to how to teach Scott control, and a glimpse into Y/N's past is shown.

Warnings: Mentions of sex

“It’s her,”

“What are you talking about?” Asked Scott in response to my claim.

“Allison. She doesn’t make you weak Scott, she makes you stronger. Like, remember what you said about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her. About protecting her,”

“Okay and?” He continues to look puzzled as to what I was getting at,

“And remember the first lacrosse game? You said you heard her voice when you were out on the field,” Stiles followed on from what I was saying. “That’s what brought you back. Not to mention, you didn’t try to kill her in the locker room. At least not like how you tried to kill me,”

“Let it go Stiles,” I suppress a lighthearted laugh, rolling my eyes.

“But it’s not always true. Because literally every time I’m kissing her or touching her-”

“That’s not the same. When you’re doing that you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex. See, you’re thinking about sex right now. Aren’t you?” I punch Scott’s arm to draw him out of his daydreaming state, scoffing.

“Perv,”

“Sorry,” He bashfully smiles, rubbing the part of his arm as it heals. I do forget my strength sometimes, but at least he can handle it.

“Now when she was holding your hand in class, it was different. I don’t think she makes you weak. I think she actually gives you control. It’s like she’s a kind of…”

“Anchor,” I interrupt, not really meaning to speak aloud. My stomach starts to churn, and I can feel energy instantly leave my body at the concept of anchors. Feeling a pair of eyes on me, I shake off my intrusive thoughts and take a sip of my water, looking at Scott.

“You mean because I love her,” Water goes down the wrong pipe in my throat as I hear Scott’s confession., and I try to clear my throat. “Did I just say that?”

“You just said that,” Stiles smiles at his best friend.

“I love her,” The smile on his face keeps growing, to the point where it seems painful.

“That’s great. Anyway, moving on-” Stiles tries to move the conversation along, clearly already bored of this lovey-dovey talk, but once again being interrupted by Scott’s daydreaming monologue.

“No I do, I really do. I think I’m totally in love with her,” Okay now I’m starting to feel sick of this ‘puppy in love’ stuff.

“And that’s beautiful. Before you go off and write a sonnet can we figure this out? Because you obviously can’t be around her all the time,” I snort at Stiles’ bluntness but nod along with what he says.

“Okay well what do I do?” A small pout replaces his cheshire cat smile. Stiles starts pacing around a bit before stopping with a lightbulb clearly going off in his head. “Stiles? You’re getting an idea aren’t you.”

“Yeah,”

“Could this idea get me in trouble?”

“Maybe,”

“Is this idea going to cause me physical pain?”

“Definitely.”

Stiles leads Scott and I to the school parking lot, stopping close to a few large dumpsters.

“What are we doing here?” I say, looking around us warily, noticing a senior exit his truck, a pack of smokes in his hand, joining a group of some other guys.

“You’ll see, my young padawan,” I shake my head, trying to conceal the smile that broke out without me being able to stop it. “Right, Scott. Stand here,” Grabbing his friend’s shoulders, he moves Scott in front of him, closer to the clean looking truck. “You have your house keys right?” Scott nods and Stiles continues on. “Hold them up. Like this.” Stiles positions his friend’s hand to be holding the key outwards. “Now, whatever happens I want you to think about Allison. Find her voice like you did at the game? Got it?” He nods again. “Good keep holding the keys,” Stiles then pulls his own pair of keys out of his jeans, walking over to the senior’s truck. Wasting no time at all, he drags his key along the side of the truck, the noise making me wince before the shock of what he was doing even hit me. Me and Scott both stand, mouths agape at the horrendous scratch now left on the paint. Stiles quickly pockets his keys, moving back over to us again before saying “Dude, what do you think you’re doing to that truck?” fake shock and blame fills his loud exclamation, and I see the group of seniors start to move towards us from the corner of my eye.

“What the fuck?” The owner of the truck’s face turns beet red in rage, and Scott stumbles back. I catch the smirk plastered on Stiles’ face. When he looks up at me I just send him a look of disbelief, shaking my head, to which he just shrugs. The mob of seniors (that reek of weed by the way) jump Scott in seconds. I can’t help but feel pain hearing and seeing the impact of each punch as he tries to defend himself, arms half covering his face. Stiles’ shuffles awkwardly over to me, trying not to draw unwanted attention, and takes out Coach’s phone, watching the heart rate rise as Scott continues to be pummeled into the ground. I can taste that familiar smell of blood in the air now, making my face scrunch up. It’s hard to see with all of the fast moving limbs gathered in a big pile, but I notice Scott’s face shift, as though he is trying hard to concentrate. He’s listening for her voice. For Allison’s voice. Surely enough the numbers reach a plateau, not rising high enough to where he would typically shift.

“Stop! Stop that right now! What do you idiots think you’re doing?” Suddenly Mr. Harris bellows, walking over to break up the fight. The seniors disperse, being made to follow the teacher as we step forward to help Scott up from the floor. Blood is dripping from his nose, down to his lips, as he brushes his clothes down with his hands, and Stiles flips the phone around to show Scott the screen. A steady, normal heartbeat.

“It worked,”

Mr Harris saunters back over to us, an angry look on his face, but I’m pretty sure at this point that is his natural resting state. His arms cross in front of his chest.

“I assume you can already guess what I am about to say,” His voice is pissed and sarcastic as always. “Detention after school. The three of you,” Stiles scoffs loudly, instantly flailing his arms in shock,

“What? What for?” I elbow him in the side, maybe a bit too hard, as a way to get him to make sure he doesn’t make it worse, like usual.

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you damaged another student’s personal property? Or maybe it’s because you stole a teacher’s personal property? Or maybe, just maybe, I like seeing you punished,” He says the last sentence with a smirk, shaking his head slightly as a taunt. “Need I go on?” The rhetorical question is left up in the air and Stiles’ mouth hangs open, and we watch the chemistry teacher grab the Coach’s phone from Stiles’ hand and then walk off, back to the school building.

“Way to go, Stilinski,” I roll my eyes at his sputtering attempt at a reply.

Stiles and I sit at one desk, with Scott at the one in front of us, in the otherwise empty classroom. Well, except for Mr. Harris of course, who is sitting at the front of the room with his feet up on his desk, newspaper in hand. I pull out a biro and start mindlessly drawing on the back of my hand, catching myself too late when I realise that I was drawing my old pack symbol (the ‘Healer’s Hand’ - which is a hand with a spiral on the palm. A symbol of protection and healing but also a symbol for ‘eternity’. The second meaning always made more sense to me, as the last thing I would’ve called that pack would be ‘healing’). It’s a symbol that is permanently burned into my hip, which I really wish I had never gotten. To be honest, I never really wanted it that much in the first place. I can feel Stiles’ eyes on the drawing, and I quickly move my other hand to cover up the pen marks.

“What was that?” He whispers to me softly, clearly just curious, but I can’t stop myself from quietly snapping back at him,

“Does it matter?” I pause to breathe, calming myself down before apologizing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just- I don’t really like talking about it, if that’s okay,” Stiles moves a hand to gently rest atop of both of mine, he peers up to look me in the eyes. I push the hair out of my face and meet his warm gaze,

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to, okay? And that goes for whatever. You don’t need to feel guilty or anything for wanting to keep some stuff to yourself,” I let myself smile, looking back down to our hands. Stiles rubs his thumb soothingly along my hand.

“Excuse me, sir, I know it’s detention and all, but I’m supposed to be at work. And I don’t want to get fired,” Scott speaks up suddenly, catching both mine and Stiles’ attention, but not Mr. Harris’. The man continues reading his paper, and Scott suppresses a growl of annoyance in his throat. Scott then whips around to us, and Stiles’ slips his hand off of mine, awkwardly deciding what to do with it. He rests his chin on his hand, his elbow and upper arm supporting him, but his eyes glue themselves to the desk. Scott looks between us, catching the skip of both of his friend’s hearts, but choosing not to say anything about it. Instead he goes on to say “You knew I would heal,”

“Yep,” Stiles replies.

“So you did that to help me learn,”

“Yep,”

“But partially to punish me,”

“Yep,”

“For not being there the other day when your dad got hurt,” Stiles then looks up to Scott,

“You have something, Scott. Whether you want it or not. You can do things other people can’t. That means you don’t have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something,”

“I know, and I will,” After that, I notice Harris placing his newspaper down on his desk.

“Alright, the three of you. Out of here,” We all scramble out of our seats, grabbing our things quickly, eager to get the hell out of there.

#teen wolf #teen wolf series #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf season 1 #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles x y/n #Scott McCall #teen wolf rewrite

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magireco · 3 years

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Would love to hear more thoughts on how these girls have understandable teenage motivations (A+ tag analysis by the way)

1. Thank you!!!!!!

2. ALRIGHT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS (shuffles my papers). i’ve gone off about homura’s motivations in depth before but i think it was only in dms/groupchats? anyways i’ll go in order with All the girls bc i think about this all the time as a teenager who grew up mentally ill and had their perceptions skewed because of it, and also i don’t think it’s talked about nearly enough for the others, at least on my blog... so, buckle up!!! this is REALLY LONG!!!!

3. i tried writing like, an individual thing for every member of the quintet all together in this one ask, but i ended up talking a little too much about homura and now i’m going to split up all the different analysis stuff for each character into the reblogs and work on it every so often! you’re free to kinda skim of course because i really did write a whole novel but here we go!! read under the cut. :3 this is literally essay length btw. i did NOT expect it to get this long but if you want to read it all i’d recommend it but i don’t expect most people to

First: Homura Akemi

okay so i’m going to kind of summarize everything but from the perspective of empathizing with her so if you don’t want to reread a whole recap you can skip to the ending few paragraphs

Summary

first of all, in episode 10, homura’s past is explained for the viewer. she was a shy, unsure girl who had been bedridden for a long time. she was clearly unsocialized, not to mention she went to a catholic school and those can be brutal, esp in japan... that’s all we know about her in that episode, but it’s revealed in one of the drama cds that she was bullied as a child(& further at mitakihara middle), her parents never were mentioned ever (i assume them to either be dead or neglectful, considering she lives alone and unchecked), and in magia record, homura says to natsuki that she’s never had friends before, she hasn’t been on vacation before until the beachside bonds event, hasn’t ever celebrated valentine’s day, has never celebrated new years, etc...

clearly, she’s missed out on a lot not only because of her sickness and hospitalization, but because of her isolation as a child at school. judging by her demeanor and the way she reacts when madoka comes up to her without being asked to, something like that had never happened to her before. it’s clear to me that madoka was many of homura’s “first’s”, her first friend, the first person who reached out to her, the first person to compliment her name honestly(validating her, disproving her dislike of her name), the first person to regard her so kindly rather than judging her based off of her appearance and demeanor (like other students had apparently done, this is also shown when the other students at mitakihara middle make fun of her for being tired after only being able to run one lap). AND, madoka (and mami, but homura knew madoka better at that time) saved her life, even though homura was so willing to die, just in that moment... i’d assume it made homura feel like someone believed in her even when she was at her worst. it’s really clear by the glimmer in her eyes that these are nice people that made her feel happy and welcome... and then walpurgisnacht came. she didn’t know much about magical girls and just believed in madoka and mami to be able to defeat the witch because she saw them as strong and saw the witch as defeatable, despite its size. and then mami died, right in front of her and madoka...

this kinda seems headcanon-y when i phrase it this way but it’s practically proven in her actions but i really think homura is scared to be abandoned, especially by someone who was as overtly kind and nonjudgemental to her as madoka... it’s in the way she cries her name and says “don’t go” before madoka runs away to fight walpurgisnacht. OH ALSO, i need to address this one thing really quick because people like to assume that homura didn’t care about mami from the beginning and only liked madoka. it’s not that she wasn’t sad when mami died, she was clearly terrified and didn’t want the same to happen to madoka, also mami LITERALLY WASN’T IN HER CLASS OR HER GRADE so i assume she spent most of her time with madoka considering they were in the same grade and class and probably shared most of their periods with each other... but also, once again, mami is older than both of them and homura probably saw her as more of a mentor/teacher that she needed to impress rather than madoka who was more on her level, i guess?

anyways, moving on... homura had to see madoka die (& experience the crushing guilt she felt for “letting madoka go” even though there was nothing she could’ve done) and literally says “i’d rather you had lived than saved someone like me” ... her self worth is below zero. she makes her wish to be strong enough to protect madoka(because she sees madoka, her first friend, who saved her life which she felt had no worth, as so strong and noble) which causes her to go back in time, etc. etc., you know the deal. okay before i move on to talk a little more abt the timelines and the personality change i’m going to address why it’s reasonable that she’d be attached to madoka.

i mentioned before that homura said herself that she had never had a friend before. just like, put yourself into her shoes for a second. this girl has no idea how to make friends; it was never taught to her. it’s literally rational that she’d get attached to her first ever friendship. it’s not “normal” the way she views madoka, but how could it be? this is her first time having a friend, she’s afraid of being abandoned by her, but she’s had to see her die over and over again anyway. she doesn’t want to lose madoka. even if she doesn’t go about it in the right way, there’s no way she would’ve actually known how to Do relationships. no one taught her. i think that needs to be empathized with more...

i kinda feel like i need to summarize all this just bc if i word it right it kinda reminds you & puts into perspective just how terrible and scary all of this was.

anyway Again, i would skip straight to the end of timeline 3 (where a New Flavor of trauma is given to homura) but i need to first address timeline 2 for a second. it was homura’s first time repeating the timeline, she trained with madoka and mami again, she was still hopeful despite what happened, etc. kinda just bonding further with madoka Again... and then it’s at the end of this timeline that she watches madoka turn into a witch, just in front of her very eyes... and realizes the true fate of magical girls. when she resets the timeline again, it’s up to her to start anew and break the truth to the group when she sees them again. when she tries telling the truth, sayaka immediately shoves this aside, claiming homura was just trying to split everyone up. it’s clear that that hurts homura. (also the little shinies in her eyes were wavering which is anime-code for sad) her feelings were immediately disregarded by sayaka and she couldn’t defend herself, but madoka did for her, and mami tried to diffuse the situation.

after they all find out homura was right when sayaka turns into a witch, mami kills kyoko and ties up homura in her ribbons and aims a gun at her, and this, rightfully, ignited a fear within homura... madoka is forced to kill mami in order to save homura, leaving only the two of them to fight together. then, when walpurgisnacht comes that time, The Promise is made... madoka tells homura to go back in time and save her from becoming a witch (because she doesn’t want to curse the world that way, she still sees beauty in it) and homura agrees, saying she’ll never stop until she saves madoka, and then... homura has to mercy kill madoka before she becomes a witch. she cries loudly and shoots madoka’s soul gem... it’s literally so heartwrenching and (usually) brings the viewer to tears, or puts something into perspective for them...

then we assume the personality change happens in the timeline right after. this personality change causes a lot of discourse because sometimes it’s seen as kind of irrational, but personally, i think even moemura had at least SOME resent for the world around her considering what she’d been through. it’s madoka’s repeated deaths that finally push her over that edge. i could get further into the coolmura arc but that’d take a WHILE, so i’ll just kind of explain something briefly though -- why homura ended up becoming even MORE focused on madoka. and i’m also going to debunk the claim that homura doesn’t care about her other friends as fast as i can before moving on.

also, ONE LAST side tangent, for those that think homura really did do a 360 degree personality turn are wrong. it’s shown explicitly in homulilly’s labyrinth that there’s this... “core” homura, a shadowy purple silhouette with braids. every time the series depicts homura’s internal self, it’s always glasses+braids, symbolizing her “child” self, who she truly is. she never stopped being that person. she doesn’t want to kill. ...but i can get into that in a rebellion analysis later! this is also shown in wraith arc bc the person inside her soul gem has glasses+braids. anyway let’s get to the next part i’m going to rant about

Homura’s Love for Madoka, but Otherwise Apathy

homura has seen many different, yet all similar, versions of her friends. the first claim i’m going to talk about which i saw brought up quite a few times before is in regards to homura and mami. first of all, homura absolutely still cares for mami, and not just in the “i only care about your life if it affects madoka’s” way. one part that always gets me is when mami ties her up in the series timeline after homura frantically warns her that this witch isn’t normal, to which mami IMMEDIATELY brushes this off, without even giving homura a chance. then, when mami’s ribbons fade away, homura looks horrified and just goes “oh no...” and it’s kind of obvious to me that it was in response to mami’s death rather than madoka’s reaction. this is arguably up for debate i guess because i’ve seen different takes on that reaction and it’s ambiguous, i guess? but i’m about to get into something extremely similar and that’s the sayaka situation, where madoka throws sayaka’s soul gem onto a moving car. homura gasps and immediately pauses time and disappears, running in literal open traffic and climbing on top of a moving car to retrieve sayaka’s soul gem. one could argue that this is ALSO only just because homura wants to save madoka (and kyoko) the fear, but don’t you think her expression would be different? if homura truly didn’t care for sayaka’s wellbeing, wouldn’t she be making an expression more similar to like, “oh, this shit again...” instead of the frantic one she was making in the scene? this kind of thing Also happens when kyoko asks homura to leave while kyoko’s about to sacrifice herself in oktavia’s labyrinth, and homura looks up sadly at kyoko and then back down at madoka, and once she knew kyoko was dead, she just quietly said “kyoko...” to herself. she usually refers to them as [last name, first name], but she dropped that during that moment... it otherwise sounds like a bare minimum thing to do, but keep in mind the timeline we’re shown in the series is implied to be like, the 110th timeline, i think? like, this is the last timeline, she’s worn down, but she still does have empathy -- or at least sympathy -- for the others. she still loves them.

homura promised to be madoka’s protector, she dedicated her life to her, and also she doesn’t have a choice not to dedicate her life to her anymore, even though that’s not fair to her... homura is in a really hopeless situation and madoka is her hope, and madoka is the one that judges her the least out of the quintet (like saying “i’m sure homura is good” to herself) upon first impression. also okay i mentioned this already in my last post (which you saw) but i’m going to bring it up one more time, homura is not mentally 26!!!!!! she is still 14 mentally!! in order to be 26, you have to have experienced 26 years of new life experience. maybe you acquire that through school, maybe you aquire that through friends, whatever it takes. but homura just repeated the same month over and over, and it’s not like her body (canonically) ages ever. she just kind of gets transported back into her body in the hospital again considering she’s back wearing her braids and pajamas... so, yeah. no mental development there. i also mentioned this here but i’m gonna say it again, that just makes it even harder for her to actually age correctly... it stunts her to 14. imagine being 14 for 10-11 years...

In Defense Of My Own Claims

btw before you think i’m just going full-on radical homura apologist, i’m not explaining all of this to be like “homura made ALL THE RIGHT DECISIONS because her trauma gave her an excuse!!” because like, Obviously, she did a lot of bad things, she killed people, did a lot of callous things, a lot of thoughtless things, a lot of things that make her seem emotionless, etc. but i just have trouble blaming her considering how things ended up, and it’s not like she enjoys killing people. she’s not sadistic... she ends up becoming short with all the others not only because of her (extremely) weakened trust in them, but also because the amount of times she repeated the timeline. i’d imagine it makes her feel like the others can’t truly die because she can just go back and see them again. (this is also why wraith arc/post-tv series must’ve been hard for her because she can no longer turn back time, things are permanent now, deaths are forever) she’s become so worn down that she’ll do anything to escape the loops... also considering she has no choice but to continue? although it shouldn’t be, it’s technically her job as a magical girl to defeat all witches and walpurgisnacht counts. it kills magical girls and tears up the whole city and she’s usually the only magical girl left... her choices, when defeated, are either to give up and die or to go back and try again, and she made a promise to her first ever friend to do just the latter... i just don’t understand how this isn’t easier for people to comprehend, that all of this trauma and stress and responsibility on top of an already traumatized 14 year old does not mix well. ever. she had to figure out all of this by herself.

TL;DR:

homura was a previously traumatized, unsocialized 14 year old with (very)low self esteem & self worth whose first friend (and first love, really, let’s be honest) died in front of her in horrific ways and she watched as she (and the other friends she came to make) drifted slowly apart from her in her endless and futile attempt in saving her from what proved to be an inescapable fate. also she’s 14 and also she’s (canonically) mentally ill and a lesbian. not a monster, not evil, not “psycho”. and that’s that!

#asks #luna-mistrunner #homura akemi #analysis #THIS MAY HABE TAKEN ME LIKE 2 DAYS ON AND OFF

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heyitsyn · 4 years

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Manager!Seijoh Part 2

a/n: lmao this is kinda weird for me but i think this was an interesting request so lets try it!

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

lowkey kyotani kentaro typa beat but you gotta squint (??)

also warning! angst!

anon request: Hii! I just read the seijoh manager headcannon you wrote, it made me cry so much, i love those seijoh boys so much, and you are such an amazing writer! I dont know if requests are open or not but i was wondering what would happen if the boys ever find out what happened to reader cha? If requests aren’t open or if you just don’t want to write about it, I completely understand! Thank you for your wonderful writing again! Stay safe!

the stageplay was *chefs kiss* like MY MANS IWA WAS SERVING LOOKSSSS

soooooo

this might get really angsty idk so just a warning in advance

anyways

i mentioned in the earlier part that no one really knew what happened to you

so this one is when they DO find out what happened and what theyre gonna do about it

so first off, kyoken was basically the only one who saw you that day and saw how badly you looked

the thing is, at that current moment, he didnt really know the reason why and what happened

he had theories that you got jumped or you just got into an accident

but he was prettttttyyyy sure you got beat up

so you went home and rushed to yanno, take a shower and get your wound treated and cleaned so that it would heal bc you really cannot afford to let the boys see that

they would think of the worst at the smallest sight of blood on you and you really didnt want to deal w that chaos at the moment

you cant let them get suspended from school since they were going to interhigh soon and you cant let oikawa and the boys ruin their reputations just for you

a first year girl theyve just met

it was kinda hard to rinse all of the milk from your hair but you were able to at least get the smell out and clean up your mess

then you looked in the mirror and saw faint handprints around your throat from that girl miyo and you cringed as you touched it

‘jesus christ, seriously what does she eat? bricks?’

after your clothes were in the wash, you went to bed to get homework done and also looking up how to use the concealer to hide your bruises

you didnt really own any makeup but your mom has some so you could just use that

during dinner, you wore a turtleneck to prevent any suspicion from happening but you couldnt really hide the big gash on your face

‘y/n, what happened!’

‘i was dumb and accidentally fell up the stairs’

your parents shared a chuckle bc theyve actually seen you do this before so it was easy to believe the lie

‘darling, do we need to get you glasses? it seems your sight has worsened’

‘haha’

you went along with the joke but you weren’t eating and just pushed your food around

‘y/n? is the food not good?’

your mother asked but you shook your head with a convincing smile

‘its good! i just had some meat buns with the team earlier and i ate a lot so im still full’

you cursed at yourself for making it sound so rehearsed but you were relieved when your mother nodded

the next morning, you were satisfied with the reduced puffing of your face and you snuck into your parents bathroom where her makeup bag would be

as you held up the concealer, you started getting anxious because this was not the same shade as your skin and it would definitely raise suspicion if you had a different color on your neck than the rest of your body

you already planned to blame your wound as acne that you accidentally scratched but what were you going to do with the handprints?

the website you read said that it would take at least a day for them to fade

so you decided youd just wear a scarf and pretend you were cold

kunimi was confused as to why you had a scarf bundled around your neck and his eyes even widened at the sight of the bandaid on your face

‘y/n! what-!’

he shot up from his seat and your eyes widened before hissing at him to sit down

‘what happened to you?!’

he worriedly asked but you waved him off with a small smile

‘acne. this was the only available bandaid in my house so i had to work with this’

kunimi might be a lazy little shit but he was observant

and he noticed the way you said that sentence

it was like a robot

like a robot programmed to say what was written on its script

but before he could press on further, you already pointed out that the teacher was coming in and to hush so you could listen

the entire time, kunimi was awake alright, but he was too busy looking at you and a bright red thing that poked from the edge of your bandaid

kindaichi went to your classroom for lunch and you had to repeat your excuse for him but he pointed at another thing

‘why are you wearing a scarf? its like burning in here’

you didnt look at him as you just opened your bento

‘being in your period causes your temperature to fluctuate and cause unexplainable chill at even the hottest places’

okay what

they both shared a look and just shrugged, blaming it on your time of the month for the way you spoke with no emotion in your tone

this had to be the longest school day of your life

the whole time the scarf remained on and kunimi cant help but notice your flinches at the smallest of sounds

finally practice arrived and you really thought you could pull this off until oikawa barreled straight towards you and hugged you tightly

‘y/n-chan! you okay?! oikawa-senpai was so worried for you!’

you cringed but nodded

‘im okay, oikawa-san’

‘senpai, y/n-chan! call me senpai!’

‘im not going to feed into your kink, oikawa-san’

*cue everyone busting a lung*

‘y/n, what’s the-’

‘acne. only bandaid available in my house’

eventually, everything was fine

you were still cracking jokes w the others and you were still laughing w them so kunimi and kindaichi were at ease

but that shattered when oikawa was being oikawa and was being all touchy and bothering you about the scarf around your neck that he ended up pulling it off and he saw the marks

he was silent, just staring at them

ofc you were freaking out and you started breathing heavily

oh god he found out and he was going to hurt them

‘o-oikawa-senpai, listen, it’s not what it-’

‘y/n’

his voice made your eyes shut in fear and the others crowded around you and they all had scandalized looks on their faces

‘is this why you werent in practice yesterday?’

his voice was sharp, a complete opposite to his normally cheerful tone

you shivered and sighed

‘senpai, please dont-’

‘who is it?’

the other third years shared a look bc they were truly shook at oiks voice

‘w-why should i tell you?! its none-’

‘i am your captain and i deserve to know who is pulling you away from your managerial duties so he could just give you these damn hickeys!’

the gym turned silent

you stopped then furrowed your eyebrows

‘hickey? what-’

‘dont act like you dont know, y/n. so just be honest and tell me who’s your boyfriend’

lmao i shouldnt laugh bc this was supposed to be sad but im cackling at how dumb oikawa really is sometimes

‘i-i,,,,’

you stuttered but you knew this was the perfect opportunity

you could just blame it on this ridiculous misunderstanding

its a difficult hole to get out of but it would be easier than the other

so you pretended to be flustered and turned around to hide your face

‘it was a one-time thing, oikawa-san. i promise it wont happen again’

HELLO WHAT

the team was leaking the feeling of RAGE

how dare someone take their manager!

she was theirs!

and it doesnt help that every player might have a little thing for you

is this really turning into a harem

oikawa kept demanding answers but iwa hit him enough to quit and they finally went back to practicing but they were still distracted

every time they looked at you, they would grow flustered and red and end up missing a block or a serve

they just cant see their baby manager like that

you noticed it quickly and irritably got on them

‘stop staring at my neck and get back to practice!’

they flinched and saluted at you

lmao this little first year girl is able to control nearly a dozen <5′10 men who are all older than her

but you were glad that they finally stopped asking about it

this was going to go by smoothly and you were going to be okay

however,,,

several days later,,,

this is an angst fanfiction so i will bring thy angst

you were taking out your class garbage since it was your group’s turn in cleaning the classroom when you were grabbed by the arm on your way back

it was still outside and after school so it wouldve been an unlikely situation that someone would help you

it was that biatch miyo again and her 2 minions behind her

then you recognized one girl from the track team who was actually a year older than you but you saw her dropping off some files in the office

if you tried to run, she could easily grab you w her fast legs

great

you were stuck

you let out a tired sigh and crossed your arms on your chest

‘what is it you want from me, again?’

she smirked

‘you really dont know how to listen, do you? i told you to stay away from oikawa but youre still flaunting around with him!’

is she serious?

this girl was borderline stalker/yandere type of girl

you gave her an incredulous look and frowned

‘girl, do you hear yourself? you damn crazy and im leaving’

but she grabbed you back and shoved you against the wall

but this time, you kicked her on the chest to make her fall on her flat booty

surprise was written on their faces and you stretched your arms in front of you to symbolize distance

‘one more step and ill beat tf out of you. i just got my nails off so id watch it if i were you’

miyo huffed and stood up, brushing herself, glaring at one of the girls who tried to help her

then she remembered what you told her

‘hmm? if you hit me, you could be kicked off of the team since you hurt another student. so, go ahead, little kouhai’

she was right

even if it was self-defense, the school’s disciplinary section sucked and just suspended or kicked off people left and right even though they didnt do anything wrong

you were stumped

you were here on a scholarship, not on tuition

your mom would KILL you if she found out you got into a fight and got a record

but you didnt show that and kept your tough facade

‘dont challenge me. i could be a crazy bitch and i dont think youd like your little face being all messed up. so watch your mouth and leave me alone’

you turned to leave but she grabbed your hair and tugged it back

lmao flashbacks to the other part

she twisted your hair into a ponytail and had a firm grip while a girl kicked you behind your knees so you would fall to the ground

oh no you were done w this

you elbowed miyo on the stomach the hardest you could and she groaned which loosened her hold and you kicked her again to the ground

some other girl hit your side and you winced before slapping her straight across the face bc you didnt want to punch her and hurt your knuckles

but they were really testing you

the last girl still had your hair but you twisted around to face her and just did the last you could think of that would hurt

hit her right between her legs

you finally escaped their hold and miyo lunged after you

‘oh my god leave me alone!’

you yelled before holding up your arms to protect your face but she scratched your arms

obviously you were losing this bc it was just you but you were going to fight as much as you can

‘bad kouhais need to be punished! your senpais need to teach you a lesson!’

miyo screeched and you grabbed her arm before punching her straight at the boob

sorry rebecca

however, one girl was smart and did the same thing you did to her knees and made you fall to a kneeling position and eventually made you curl into a fetal position

gurl we actually fighting so hard considering we’ve never been in a fight

they continuously kicked you before miyo pulled up your head so you could sit up and kneel in front of her

ofc you tried to grab at her and punch at her

but these other girls were able to catch you and trap your arms in their hold and had their feet on your legs so you couldnt kick

great, another bathroom scene

your arms were bleeding from miyo’s scratches and your sides were hurting after their kicks

you lost and you were already bleeding in places you didnt think you would

this would be the last attempt and if he doesnt come, you’re done for

‘IIIIIIWWWWWAAAAAAAA-SAAAAAANNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!’

your scream echoed throughout the entire are

possibly could be heard in new york

and your voice became hoarse

ofc the girls were surprised and caught off guard but when there was silence and clear that no one was coming, they started laughing

‘oh, so cute! iwa-san? is that supposed to be iwaizumi-san? heh, you whoring around w him too? thats so cute-’

‘LET. GO. OF. HER. NOW.’

I GOT CHILLS

the girls holding you shrieked and dropped their hold on you before scrambling back causing you to drop to the ground

miyo’s eyes were wide and there was horror all over her face at the voice of that infamous boy

kyotani kentarou

‘WHAT THE FK ARE YOU DOING?!’

he yelled and miyo turned around to be met with his piercing eyes before screaming and running away with her minions in tow

‘YEA RUN AWAY! FKING COWARDS!’

ltr the cursing is so awkward for me to do but this is his character and im just so awkward so sorry!!

you coughed and winced at the pain on your side which caught his attention

again, he noticed you as the manager of their team and you’ve been hanging out w him, well, just him staring at you, at the alley while you feed the animals

you were actually nice and caring and definitely didnt deserve this

‘oi, y-you okay?’

you didnt look up, just closing your eyes in pain and biting your lips to not let out the crying

his eyes softened at you and he noticed you were trying to act tough and brave even though you just got beat up

normally, he wouldnt even help anyone but it seems you just did something to him

he sighed before gently picking you up, you not even bothering to stop him, and he held you tightlyin his arms as he carried you to the nurses office

he had a feeling you didnt want to be seen like this and hes been in the nurse enough to know she actually leaves the moment school ends

you let out a shaky breath as he set you down on the cot and you opened your eyes to reach your hold for him when he went away

‘n-no, don’t leave-’

but he grunted softly before holding your wrist

‘im just getting your damn medicine. chill out’

lowkey getting bakugou vibes

you nodded and went to close your eyes again

kyo returned w some pain relief medicine from his bag that he carries

babie actually gets into fights often and he needs it sometimes

and he had alcohol medicine kind istg and bandaids for your arms

it was silent as you drank the pills and he sat down next to you so he could treat the wounds

but he let his curiosity take over him

‘why the fk did you let them do this to you’

he grunted and you scoffed with a smile

‘let? more like overpower me and grip me as they just hit me’

‘cant you fight them back?’

you glared at him

‘bruh i literally kneed some girl in their cooch but they just some superhuman typa girls that cant be hurt’

he sighed

‘maybe you just werent strong enough’

okay listen here you lil shit

you didnt want to listen to him scold you anymore so you just went back to closing your eyes

but kyo is actually lowkey nosy so he kept asking questions

‘the first time we met. was it her too?’

you flinched in surprise

‘you remembered that?’

‘ofc i did. you looked like shit. not as bad as this but still like shit’

‘gee thanks, stranger-kun’

‘kyotani,,, kentarou’

you smiled

‘nice to meet you, kyotani kentarou. im l/n y/n’

‘i know’

he mumbled but you didnt catch it

‘thanks for hearing me and coming to help’

he hummed

he wasnt going to tell you that he actually heard the scream for his idol and thought hed be there so he ran to go see him but instead saw you

kyo just respects and looks up to iwa-chan so much it warms my heart uwu-

once you were all patched up, you were finally able to stand but you still staggered

he grabbed your arm softly and sat you back down

‘what the hell are you going to tell the team?’

you paused then sighed

‘i dont know. ill figure something out’

but he knew how observant the players would be and they would catch on

after all, he was there watching at the top bleachers as oikawa yelled at you for the ‘hickey’

‘if they didnt hit your face, you could get away with it. but you have wounds all over you and theyd find out. im guessing youre doing this bc you dont want to trouble them or burden them? bc they would do something about it?’

you just stared at this guy

‘how-’

‘just a guess’

he also wasnt going to tell you that he was actually part of the team but the constant fighting got him in suspension

and the fact that his parents were donors for the school, he only got a tap on the wrist

‘so what do i do, then?’

‘tell them-’

‘no i cant do that! another plan, kyo-kun!’

‘oi, im a second year, idiot. treat me with respect’

the irony bc he totally treats oikawa like trash

‘i just,,,, oikawa-san is seen as this prince/gentleman type and i know how protective he is towards me so the slightest problem could cause him to be ballistic. miyo is popular enough to circulate rumors about him and hes already in his third year and she is too so i just have to endure one year until theyre gone’

kyo was disgusted

all this for that stupid idiot captain?

‘youre dumber than i thought’

you weakly hit him at the arm

‘so mean, kyo-san’

‘i dont think its right youre suffering for someone who isnt even worth it’

you glared and linked your fingers together

‘im the manager. i knew this would happen the moment i signed up but i didnt care. as manager, i have to keep up the team’s image and their popularity for support so i cant let all that be ruined just bc a little first year girl couldnt fight for herself’

‘just tell them, kid. less problems’

then he stood up to leave

‘kid?! im only a year younger than you! what you mean!’

but you were panicking

someone knew about you being hurt and they could easily tell the team

and it only increased when he entered the gym and later introduced himself as a player

you were so surprised that you stopped breathing

‘kyo-san,,,’

you muttered and he glared at you

well, more like look at you but i have a theory that kyo actually has problems w his sight so it looks like he’s glaring at you constantly but hes just actually trying to see clearly

‘yo’

oikawa was surprised at this interaction

‘eh? you know kyoken-chan?’

you nodded, still looking at the blonde

‘i-uh’

‘its none of your business’

kyotani grunted and you sighed in relief

maybe your secret would be safe

you were still uneasy about him accidentally revealing it, especially since he practically worships iwaizumi-san, but he kept his mouth shut

your caring personality at first was overbearing on him but he appreciated your efforts like volunteering on helping him with his eyeliner or asking him if he needed help with his medical tape

ngl, he also thought you were there just bc it was a team full of guys and you thought you could have that weird girl fantasy of having a harem

but you cared for them like practically a mother and continuously made it clear to oikawa that you were NOT interested in going on a date with him

you werent annoying, you were nice, and you weren’t pushy so he actually showed you respect and took a liking to you

this created a soft of protectiveness around you

sometimes, he would see you around school and he would practically glare at the girls he knew hated you

and when he wasnt there to protect you, you would call him to the nurses office where he would mumble apologies of not being there while patching you up before he would go over and threaten them to touch you again and he would bite their fingers off

aww hes so cute

ofc he still kept your secret bc it wasnt his business to tell

until that one day

it was normal practice with you helping the boys toss the balls so they could spike it

iwaizumi spiked it really hard making you flinch and he apologized profusely after you almost fell off the chair you were standing on in surprise

‘im just angry that that damn shittykawa is the captain and is late to his own damn practice’

oikawa? late?

that was unheard of

you were about to get off the chair and look for him when the devil himself entered the gym with the devil’s mistress on his arm

miyo was holding on to his arm as he laughed at something she said and ruffled her hair

you dropped the ball and kyotani quickly moved to you so he could stand in front of you protectively

‘oi! shittykawa! youre late!’

oikawa just smiled and pointed at the girl

‘miyo-chan made us cookies, iwa-chan!’

at the mention of food, the boys ran forward but you and kyotani remained at the side at the infamous name

you got off the chair and hurriedly placed an arm in front of him

‘don’t, kyo-san’

‘the bitch-’

‘i know. but please, dont’

you begged and he huffed before aggresively wrapping an arm around your shoulder

aggressively cares for you

‘if she does something or even talks shit, i will-’

‘kyoken-chan! y/n-chan! come here!’

oikawa called but kyotani snarled at him

you smile wobbled when miyo’s eyes narrowed at you and she smirked

‘oh? your manager is so cute, oikawa-kun!’

the rest of the team was just blinking at this weird tension

kyo had his arm tightly around you and hatingly glaring at this girl, who was icily smirking at you, and you tightly holding kyo’s shirt with a worried glint in your eyes

‘you were late to your own damn practice, oikawa. stop wasting time eating this shit and go back to playing’

tbh it still shocks you at how rudely kyo talks to oikawa but you were too pre-occupied on making sure this kid wasnt going to lunge at this girl

‘a-ah, right. oikawa-san, we have to return to practice. if you excuse us, miyo-san-’

you were about to gently grab oikawa’s arm to bring him back when she grabbed your wrist and secretly gripped it

‘oh, dont be so uptight, y/n-chan! i worked so hard-’

but kyo immediately snatched her hand away from you and squeezed it as tight as he could, making her wince

oikawa noticed the pain in miyo’s face and he was angry that kyotani was hurting a girl

‘oi! kyotani!’

he shouted and pushed him away, making the team, even iwa, worriedly look at kyo and brace themselves for the beating

iwa jumped into action and held the second year back while you jumped in front of oikawa

‘kyo-san, calm-’

‘you! be quiet’

he shouted, finger pointing at you

‘and you!’

before pointing to oikawa

‘you are a shitty captain’

‘kyotani!’

iwa was just straight out confused and hes really questioning life decisions right now

mom is stressed and confused, i repeat, MOM IS STRESSED AND CONFUSED

oikawa’s eyes narrowed but he just calmly talked

‘we’ll talk about this later’

‘miyo-san, we really need to practice so if you could see yourself out’

iwa gently smiled to the girl, who was about to protest, but makki and mattsun has already pointed to the door

she huffed then turned to leave and once she was gone, iwa let go of kyotani

‘kyotani, what the hell was that’

oikawa lowly asked and you were about to put your arms out to separate them but yahaba and watari grabbed you so you wouldnt be caught in the middle

then kyo turned to you, fire in his eyes

‘either you tell him or i will’

can we just talk about how protective kyo is?

you trembled and you roughly left yahaba and watari’s grip so you could gently place your hands on his chest

‘please, kyo. just leave it, okay? remember, it’s my busi-’

‘if i see that bitch enter this gym again, i dont give a flying fuck if shes a girl. ill beat the living daylights out of her’

‘kyotani kentarou, what-!’

oikawa shouted but your glare shut him up

‘y/n-chan, what is going on’

‘n-nothing. kyo-san is just, yknow, being him. you know? okay. now lets get back to practice, everyone!’

coach irihata and the other guy sharing that look

to say the least, miyo was pissed

and when she was pissed at you, she always did what she normally does

she corners you wherever its deserted and beat you with the help of her minions who holds you down while she slaps, hits, or kicks you

girlie you needs to tell the boys youre literally getting hit and abused and im just-!!!!!!!!!

and thats exactly what she did

only this time, she wore hard-tipped shoes

‘see, y/n-chan? i saved up and got these shoes just for you!’

the minions were just sharing looks of fear and genuine sympathy for you

they were only there bc she blackmailed them with pictures doing questionable things and if they dont help, they would be released

as usual, you didnt cry, biting your lip as you winced from the pain of her kick at your side

‘youre so pathetic. how could you do this to a person? and all this for your oikawa-san? for a boy?’

you wheezed at her causing her eyes to flare

‘HAH?! SAY THAT AGAIN!’

‘i said-’

but you were cut off when she slapped the soul out of you

her ring cut you at the lip and you cringed at the taste of blood from your lip

‘what else? we gotta hurry this up, miyo, because practice started like 5 minutes ago and im going to get yel-’

‘SHUT UP!’

kyotani entered the gym after his talk with his teacher and immediately looked around for you

his honey brown eyes scanned the area and they widened as your figure wasn’t in sight

‘oi, yahaba, wheres the manager’

the boy shrugged from the side

‘i dont know. shes late though’

oh god

‘kindaichi! kunimi! youre in the same grade right? did you see where she went after class?’

kunimi paused to remember before answering

‘she stayed after to talk to obe-sensei for the homework, that’s all i know’

that meant she stayed behind and was probably somewhere

‘SHIT!’

he shouted before bolting out the door

ofc the boys were all worried of his outburst and started yelling after him

‘kyotani!’

‘kyoken-chan?!’

they followed him, who was running as fast as he can

the girls would probably do it outside to avoid having to clean up their mess and he almost wrenched the door open in a hurry to take a lap around the school building

it was certainly a sight to see: a boy with dyed blonde hair and two brown lines followed after an entire volleyball team who were screaming after him

‘YOU-!’

he heard that bitch voice and bolted towards the back, where the dumpster was, and found you at the same position like the first time he saw you

blood was dripping on the floor from your busted lip and a cut on your cheek while your eyes were wide at the sight of kyotani’s panting form

‘kyo-!’

‘kyotani!’

your eyes watered at the sight of the entire volleyball team behind him, also eviqualiently surprised yet fuming angry

the girls who held you dropped your arms and ran for the hills so they wouldnt get caught

kyo pushed miyo aside as he grabbed you from the floor and held you

oikawa gave miyo a look that cannot even be described in words

all it was: incredibly, super, ridiculously, heatedly, furiously, angry

now multiply that by the entire team

‘hm, my father, who is the chieftain of the police, mentioned about there being jail time for even minors who commit serious acts like assault or bullying’

mattsun seethed

‘really? i think he’d like the video as evidence against kenta miyo for assault and battery, including bullying, so how many years would that add up to? nearly a decade?’

the girl miyo squeaked as oikawa and iwaizumi roughly grabbed each wrist

‘how long’

miyo trembled at the increased pressure on her wrist

‘IM ASKING YOU A FUCKING QUESTION! HOW LONG!’

iwaizumi has never shouted at a girl before and hopefully, it would be the last

‘s-s-since l-last month’

you burrowed your head in kyotani’s shirt

‘please dont’

‘shut the fk up, y/n-chan, we’re not talking to you right now’

oikawa coldly reprimanded

‘everyone, take y/n away. iwaizumi and i can take care of this. but mattsun, makki, track down those 3 girls and find others who have even touched our manager’

‘got it, boss’

if it was in a different situation, you wouldve applauded oikawa at his ability to be a leader but you were currently in pain from the bruises and the cuts all over you

your fellow first-years were angrily punching things in the nurse’s office

rip nurse in the morning when she finds holes all over her walls

the irony is, the most agressive one, kyotani kentarou, was the calmest as he quietly cleaned your wounds and placed ointment on the bruises

‘i told you so’

he mumbled and you scoffed

‘howd you find me anyways?’

‘dumb bitch yaps really loud’

he answered

no one was yelling at you and no one was saying a word

eventually, oikawa and iwaizumi entered followed by the rest of the third years

‘why. why didnt you tell us, y/n?’

oikawa asked as he sat down on the chair beside the bed

you looked down and fiddled with your fingers

‘if i did, you wouldve hurt her. and she wouldve spread rumors about you and ruin the image and reputation of the grand king and the volleyball team. i didnt want to do that to you and thought i could just endure it one year since youre graduating anyways’

iwaizumi sucked in a harsh breath

‘you wouldn’t have known what we were going to do. you are no oracle and you dont know how we are going to handle this situation. so you were really stupid for keeping these things to yourself, y/n. you may be our manager and our caretaker but let us take care of you too’

you nodded but your tears fell

‘sorry. im really sorry. i didnt meant to trouble you’

‘stop apologizing, y/n’

‘sorry’

‘y/n!’

you bowed your head low and bit your lip in guilt

‘i shouldve told you but i didnt and now everyone is troubled-’

‘we’re a team, y/n. youre not a lone wolf anymore. you have a pack standing right beside you’

watari mumbled and he sat down to give you his favorite hug: the one arm hug

‘im super angry right now and it might seem like im snappy but i really want you to know, y/n, that i really love you and i am just hurt that you didnt trust us enough to tell us you were suffering when i trust you with my entire being. so next time youre hurting or in pain, dont you dare keep it to yourself. tell us, okay? tell your senpais and friends about it so we can share that burden’

oikawa babie you are so mature like what-

what started out as a hug from watari turned into a team hug around the tiny bed, even kyo joined, and you were so happy you found a good team that appreciated you and everything youve done and accepted you as one of their own

‘oikawa-san, what did you do to miyo?’

‘again, im mad y/n-chan, so please dont talk about her right now’

‘iwa-san?’

‘dont use those puppy eyes on me! dont you dare-- okay, we’re pressing charges’

silence

‘WHAT?!’

‘and iwa-chan slapped her!’

‘WHAT?!’

‘shut up shittykawa you did too!’

‘WHAT?!’

a/n: this hurted a bit and im sorry if this was lowkey awkward and all over the place but i didnt exactly know how to portray this situation since ive never experienced this, just bullying in general, before but for those who have, please tell someone so that you dont have to carry that burden by yourself. it doesnt have to be a your parents, but talk to a trusted adult so that this type of stuff doesnt happen to you bc you truly dont deserve that type of treatment and deserve to be happy and feel safe in an environment like school or anywhere in general

1K notes · View notes

teukyo · 3 years

Text

One Warm Spring — Hamada Asahi

pairing: hamada asahi x reader (gender neutral)

genre: fluff, very cheesy lol

word count: 3.2k

a/n: this had no business being so long i apologize D: i tend to overwrite whoops.. oh this is also my first fic so i hope you enjoy ! i’m still a bit rusty lol

Spring; after long nights of endless slumber, the Sun creeps up to the earth, its rays planting warm yet gentle kisses. The orb’s cheeks fill up in heat, flowers of endearment blooming, butterflies catching in the atmosphere’s stomach.

The Earth smiling back, showing a bright welcoming smile, and with open arms, tells the sun “good morning”.

The quiet exchange of sweet nothings transferred to the buoyant citizens, as everyone would jump in joy about the newly welcomed season.

And during this time of the year, peoples hopes grew along with the blooming cherry blossoms until, they too, find a loved one

With late march rolling in, comes the blossoms fully bloomed, the arms in everyone’s hearts opening to everyone.

Yet, you often found it a mistake to open up your heart in a time full of tender love like now.

Empty confessions mimicked to be heartfelt at the spur of the moment, fleeing away just as quick as the cherry blossoms came and went. You just never understood it.

Snap!

“Y/N~~ the cherry blossoms are coming soon,” your friend, Jihoon sang into your ear, “And you’re out dozing off into dreamland, are you perhaps thinking about participating in the blossoming of love this year?”

You lightly shoved him away, giving him a glare. Jihoon was always jumping around during this time of the season because he never failed to have a crowd lining up to confess him; his ego flying as high as the newly born butterflies.

“Haha, very funny.” You deadpanned, leaving him behind to go to the cafeteria.

“Hey, you get the drinks and i’ll get the food!” Jihoon shouted, you simply responding with an ‘okay’ symbol with your hand.

Because this was a routine everyday, you had your exact footsteps to the vending machine engraved in your head.

‘11:43—by now everyone should have already gotten their drinks’

‘1, 2, 3, 4.. don’t trip over the crack.. 5, 6, 7—’ beep!

That beep.. wasn’t part of your procedure.

You looked up, your eyes landing on an unfamiliar figure in front of your destination.

Focusing your vision on him, he was made out to be a raven haired boy, his posture slightly hunched over focusing on the number combination assigned to each drink.

His dainty fingers lightly pressing the right combo, pressing each digit carefully like his joints were made of glass

Shoving the crumpled up $5 bill into the slot, his eyebrows furrowing when the machine rejected it

5-5-6-2— banana milk?

You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring at him the entire time until he started walking away, a banana milk in his hand, accidentally brushing past you.

“Ah, sorry” he simply muttered under his breath before continuing on his path. His voice, a deep contrast to the season; hearing his hushed voice chilling you like a midwinter night. His entire presence stood out, almost like a wilted flower amongst the blossoming ones. Yet here you are, warm as ever, feeling the sun pressing warm gentle kisses on the place his fingertips brushed yours.

—

“Y/N? banana milk? you seem to be switching it up today” Jihoon said when you set your drinks down on the table.

“Ah.. i just — maybe i needed a change for the season” you simply responded because, you too, didn’t know why you had a banana milk in front of you instead of your usual chocolate milk.

Throwing your half empty banana milk carton to the trash after lunch, you heard a voice peer behind you.

“Oh! you drink banana milk too! it’s my favorite!” a student you knew the name by Jaehyuk vocalized. You snuck a peek back at the banana milk slowly spilling out of the tiny straw, smiling back at Jaehyuk looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“Ah— this is actually my first time trying it! And it’s.. good!” you returned, attention on Jaehyuk until you see a much smaller figure peer behind him, a chocolate milk in hand.

“Of course it’s good! don’t buy too much of it though— don’t need it going out of stock on me! cmon Asahi”

Asahi. Asahi is his name.

You took one last quick glance at him, watching him throw the empty chocolate milk carton in the bin.

“Yeah.. The banana milk was too sweet for me anyway.”

—

Squatting down to touch the freshly grown flowers outside the school yard, you had recalled the times of your youth as a child running so eagerly to the same flowers in your hand right now.

Gazing at the pretty pink petals in awe as you wiping the morning dew slightly so it can slide off the petals, dripping to the ground.

Running back into your home, crying for a bandaid because you accidentally poked your hand with one of the thorns on accident.

Such simple yet vivid times you remember that made you cherish life a little more.

“Y/N? what are you doing here— our last class is gonna start soon” you heard your classmate Hyunsuk call. you spotting an ever so familiar figure behind him.

Small yet vivid moments.. how does this remind you of—

“Y/N what are you doing cmon!”

—

After school, you sneakily slid into the art classroom after realizing you left your phone in there. Checking the clock, you had 15 minutes before art club would commence, assuming you had 5 minutes to find your phone before members of the club would start arriving.

You observed the colorful classroom with the array of paintings laying on the drying rack, the paint brushes laying on the counter to dry, the sink covered in copious amounts of colors with its original silver color peeking through. The room gave off the feel of an elementary school art classroom. You guess the term “art is timeless” applies to the setting art is made in too.

“Ah there it is!” you whispered to yourself, snatching it off of the teacher’s desk. The sound of the door sliding open shocked you, ducking down under the table out of instinct.

‘Crap—how do i get out of here’ you thought before hearing a tiny tap on the desk.

And during this time of the year, peoples hopes grew along with the blooming cherry blossoms until, they too, find a loved one

“Uhm.. are you okay?” you looked up, seeing him.

With late march rolling in, comes the blossoms fully bloomed, the arms in everyone’s hearts opening to everyone.

“Oh sorry! I just- I forgot my phone during class so I just came in here to grab it..” you trailed off, quickly getting out of your ducked position and brushing the dust off of you.

You just never understood it.

“I should get going since art club is starting soon” you mustered. Before you could open the door you heard him speak.

“Are you looking to join the art club by any chance?” he said. You looked back at him, unable to scramble words together.

‘Just say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes say-‘

—

You handed out the application form to the leader of the art club, Yoshinori was it?

“Thank you thank you! You can join us for today to see the gist of what goes on” he said while giving you a smile that can easily flutter the hearts of others.

You looked at the room around you seeing Asahi and Jaehyuk, and a freshman that went by Haruto.

To be honest, why did you apply? Your experiences in art were little to none and your current piece you were working on in class was a “dog”— at least that’s what you called it.

“There should be one more person arriving and then we can start” Yoshinori said whilst you and him took a seat.

You stared at Asahi across from you who was absent mindedly looking down at the table, fiddling with his fingers.

‘Cute’ you thought before getting interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“oh! Y/N what brings you here?” you looked behind you to see Jihoon at the entrance, giving Yoshinori a polite smile.

“I think i should be asking what are YOU doing here,” you retorted, knowing very well that both you and him had the same level of art skill, “and I just joined because i’ve been interested in art.”

“Sure—“ Jihoon scoffed, “Asahi told me about this today so i decided to join—“

‘Asahi. How does he know Jihoon?’

“And you’re not even listening to me!” he exclaimed, ruffling your hair roughly, you lightly punching him in the gut in return.

After the commotion died down, everyone went in session, drawing on a piece of paper whatever went into mind. It definitely meditated your mind but it wasn’t appealing— visually.

The room was filled with small chatter, Jihoon’s voice overbearing everyone else’s.

“Your doodles are very cute” you heard him softly speak. You looked up at his paper, your eyes widening at the sheer talent that bestowed upon your eyes.

“You’re a funny jokester” you simply replied, looking at your own paper with a tight lipped smile. You heard him stifle a laugh, warmth flooding throughout your veins.

“It’s amusing to look at— i like the dog” he said, pointing at one of the drawings.

“It’s supposed to be a zebra >:(“ you looked up at him, trying to contain his laughter before calming himself down and continuing to draw on his paper.

“Well it’s fine because art club isn’t necessarily based on skill. i mean, if we have Jaehyuk in here then that says something” he responded pointing at Jaehyuk’s paper. You couldn’t quite comprehend what he was drawing— a person playing baseball??

“It’s a frog by the way”

“HUH?!”

—

You hadn’t realized how late art club ended, but when you walked out of school, you saw the once blue sky turned into an orange hue indicating the late time.

“We hope to see you again Y/N” Yoshinori said. You nodded and hummed in response before taking your leave with Jihoon.

You took one last glimpse of Asahi, sticking out amongst the orange sky. The sun was setting yet— looking at him gave you the exact warmth you would feel on a midsummer day. You watched his mouth slowly bloom into a smile when made eye contact. You think in your mind that spring has never felt so warm.

—

You looked up at the trees in the process of blooming, white buds formulating on the branches.

“The trees are gonna be really pretty in about two weeks or so” you heard a voice from behind you. Him. You clenched the chocolate milk in your hand before turning towards him.

“Yeah— oh sorry i’m blocking the vending machine” you murmured, sliding away.

“Oh no no,, it’s fine,” he said before taking your spot and getting the same drink in your hand, “Are you by any chance— planning to confess to anybody?”

Oh, right. You looked up at the blossoming trees once again. The time of the season you once never understood. The time of the season you once could say you despised. Yet here you are, having the rush of spring flowing down your veins. Is this the adrenaline that everyone feels? The unknown feeling gave you goosebumps throughout your body as he asked you that question.

“I don’t quite know yet,” you simply responded, looking back at him taking the drink out of the machine, “What about you?”

A sheepish smile wiped on his face, his dimple showing ever so slightly. He shrugged before looking at you.

“Only my heart knows the answer to that question.”

—

Over the so little time you’ve known Asahi, you’ve picked up on his mannerisms and his actions.

For one, he was more on the reserved side, and even when he talked his voice would always be on the softer side. You unknowingly started to associate him with winter because he gave off the cold feeling of a winter night. It was also your favorite season.

Most people knew him because he was friends with Jaehyuk, one who was very popular amongst the school. You had heard a couple times in the hallway about how handsome Asahi was. The feeling you felt when hearing that was unknown to you.

He enjoyed drawing a lot; him and Yoshinori were the best out of the club (though you’d be a bit biased if asked whose art you liked more), and he was always focused on his work, always scrunching in a little corner tending to his painting. But yet he always complimented your drawings no matter how bad they were, never failing to give you a warm feeling right after.

You could say you had developed an endearment towards asahi.

You stepped out your home, looking at the once bare trees flutter into pink hues, you thought the cherry blossoms were beautiful.

Today you decided not to walk out with Jihoon because well— confession season is always different with that boy. You had no intentions to get caught up in his relations.

You took timid and slow steps towards school. Taking your time looking at the petals and happy groups walking and aweing at the blossoms. Your mind was also off somewhere— of course it was, it always was.

Arriving at school, you saw Jihoon getting flooded by countless individuals, a letter in most of their hands. You could say the same to Jaehyuk on the other side who was also getting bomboarded. You took your routined steps to your locker, opening it as per usual except— it wasn’t usual.

You watched the letter flutter out, swaying to the floor imitating a loose flower petal. Picking it up with a shaked up expression, you carefully opened it up.

You saw the scribbled up lines at the top of the letter, indicating that the said person was trying to make a poem.

‘ah— who am i kidding? i’m not one with words. i never was. yet here i am trying to pour my feelings out on this letter. but i cant seem to combine the right words to express it. maybe because my feelings could not be described in the first place. maybe my feelings are best not worded out on this crumpled up piece of notebook paper. because if i’m being honest— this is my 27th time writing this and yet i still cant get it down. just.. meet me at class 104B? 4:15 pm after school today? please? -♡

Your grip on the paper tightened, the heart fluttering confession bringing a small smile to your face. You looked back at your locker seeing chocolate milk in sitting atop. You grasped it in your hand, taking it out before closing the locker and heading to class, your hands gripping tightly onto the objects. Unknown to you a figure watching your every move with focused eyes.

As time went by in school awfully slowly, your mind went off to one person only. You had foolishly deluded yourself into thinking that the letter and milk was from him. well— he did see you buy chocolate milk that one time. And well,, the handwriting did have a print of him.

‘Enough thoughts. just wait until school ends and your mind can finally-‘ ring!

You looked up at the clock in shock, realizing that it was, in fact, 4:00pm.

You purposefully gathered up your belongings slowly, trying to pass as much time as possible. Putting your care into every single step taken, from the 1st floor to the second.

Taking a deep breath, you slid open the empty classroom door. It was very convenient that it was just across the art classroom as the club did have a meeting today.

You traveled across the room to look out the window, seeing someone announce their feelings to another under the cherry blossoms. Just last spring you would stick your tongue out in disgust yet here you are somewhat in the same position, your heart aching as each second ticks by.

You watched them hug each other, their feelings being reciprocated, a petal getting caught in ones hair. You looked at the trees and how it really set the mood, almost getting lost in the alluring sight until you heard someone clear their breath.

You turned around deliberately, looking down at your shoes before looking up.

Yet, you often found it as a mistake to open up your heart in a time full of tender love like now. well— maybe not.

It’s him. The person right in front of your eyes is him.

You felt like the sun had just rose, your heart beating out of your chest almost like it was about to burst and run away. You felt the butterflies prance around in your stomach, feeling like you could cough one up right now. Does he feel the same right now?

“Ah,,, hello” he mustered shyly. You clenched the letter in your hand.

“Did you perhaps—“ though it was quite obvious, the slight nod from him gave you your answer.

You observed him, his hair slightly covering his eyes. Lightly kicking at his feet, you had figured he couldn’t compromise the right words.

“I have something for you” he spoke out after what seemed like a few minutes. He reached his hand out, silently telling you to take the initiative to grab it. You placed your hand in his, feeling like your hand was molded perfectly just to cusp his. His grip so gentle you could barely feel him grasp your hand.

Leading you to the art classroom across, your eyes spotting on the covered canvas on an easel. Using his other hand, he took off the cloth, your eyes widening in awe.

Your mouth laid agape as you looked at the drawing of a portrait of you with cherry blossoms in the background. Your heart stammering in your chest.

“Is this what you’ve been working on the entire time in art club?” you asked, eyes still on the painting. He hummed and nodded his head.

“Do you like it? Or is it a bit too—“

“No no! I like it a lot— Actually I love it. I love it so much” you cut him off, looking at him with excitement evident in your eyes. Words couldn’t describe the feeling flowing through you. Is this real?

“Well, I like you a lot too. I was trying to find a way to tell you, so I used my strong suit which is art” he proceeded to tell you, taking your other hand in his. He smiled tenderly at you, his signature dimple showing once more.

“Asahi— I like you too” you beamed, staring straight into his eyes. His smile widened more, his teeth showing. You took this as the initiative to hug him, arms wrapping around his neck, his wrapping around your waist.

You felt the sun shine on you, the warmth of spring immersing through you, your heart feeling more than alive as ever. The cherry blossoms you once thought as a mistake becoming the blessing in disguise for you. You think in the time of the moment that Spring has never felt so warm for you.

109 notes · View notes

dewykth · 4 years

Text

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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rxsie-the-demon · 4 years

Text

Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: heyo! so i haven’t written fanfic in FOREVER, and i never have on tumblr. so please be patient with me (haha). this is gonna be a series, basically everything that i want (dreamed?) about that happens in season 2 of outerbanks. i hope you enjoy!

chapter summary: Nikki Reddy is new to Outer Banks High School, aka ‘Kook Academy.’ After befriending Topper, Kelce, and Scarlet and getting a crash course on OBX culture, she meets the school outcast, Kiara Carrera

warning: swearing, mentions of drowning, shooting, death, smoking, etc. nothing super bad, just usual stuff from s1

word count: 2075

CHAPTER 1: Shades of Cool

I honestly had no idea what was going through my brother’s head when he decided to say, “Fuck it, let’s move to the Outer Banks.” In the middle of the school year. In the winter!

Like, he could’ve at LEAST waited ‘til the summer or spring. But nope, we’re going to the Graveyard of the Atlantic in fucking January.

JANUARY.

I can’t even wear cute sandals or shorts.

I sighed deeply and turned into the parking lot of Outer Banks High School, or as some kid I heard called it, Kook Academy. I have no idea what that was supposed to mean because no one at the school seemed crazy. But then again, this was my third day here. For all I know, these kids are batshit crazy.

I parked her white Lamborghini Aventador that I had gotten for my sixteenth birthday (just Sweet Sixteen things) and grabbed my pink Kanken backpack and flung it over my shoulder, brushing her shoulder lengthed hair out of my way. Stupid hair always getting in the way of everything. While I walked into the building, I pulled her schedule out of the pocket of the bag, not remembering where my AP US History class was.

“Nikki! Hi!” I heard a girl’s voice call out. Turning around, I was met with the energetic, and for a lack of a better word, preppy girl who was assigned to show me around the school two days ago. Scarlet, I remembered. The girl whose name matched her hair. Next to her, the tall, HOT, tan blonde friend wearing khakis and a sweater, and the other boy, also tall, equally hot, dark-skinned friend. Topper and Kelce, was it? I couldn’t remember. Or was it Topher, like Christopher? I knew a guy who went by Topher instead of Chris. He was a weird guy.

“Hey! Scarlet, right? And...Topper and Kelce?” I gave them a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I suck with names.”

“No, it’s all good, broski,” Topper smiled. “And you got them right if that makes it better.”

I sighed with relief. “Oh, good.”

“I LOVE your dress,” Scarlet cooed. I did too. A yellow plaid cami dress over a thin, white turtleneck sweater, complete with white converse and a simple silver necklace with an ‘Om’ symbol.

“Aw, thank you! I love your outfit, too! I could never rock a green tube top and jeans, you’re BLESSED.”

“We should start walking to class, guys,” Kelce interjected, “Otherwise we’re going to be late, and Miss Newbie here doesn’t need that on her third day of school.” Topper rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Facts, love. Let’s get a move on,”

As we turned to walk to class, we passed by this girl whose rather dull aura caught my attention. I only saw part of her face when we walked by her, but she had sunken eyes as if she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in who knows how long. Her frizzy brown hair was spilling out of the hood of her black sweatshirt, and her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her black sweatpants.

Honestly? I thought she looked like shit. But not in an insulting way, in an “Are you ok? Do you need a hug?” kind of way.

“Hey, Top,” I turned next to him to asked, “Who’s the girl in all black that looks like she’s gonna pass out?”

The three OBX OGs spun their heads around to catch a glimpse of who I was talking about, before letting out a laugh at her question. “Ah, that’s Kiara. She’s a freak.” Top responded, chuckling.

I smiled sarcastically, a little mad that they outright insulted someone like that, but couldn’t show it because, well, I had no other friends. “True, but uh, how so?”

“She’s friends with Pogues, that’s how.”

“...Pogues?”

“The poor kids on the island, from The Cut. They’re all freaks and whores, they run around, stealing stuff, trying to shoot people.” Scarlet chirped up, emphasizing the different words. I nodded slowly.

“Yeah! This one Pogue, John B, like, he stole my girlfriend, uh sorry, EX-girlfriend from me, and his buddy JJ tried to shoot me in the head!” Topper exclaimed. Nikki’s eyes went wide.

“Wait...hold up, wait, he- WHAT? WHY did he try to shoot you?”

“I got into a fight with John B.”

“OK BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S GONNA- WHAT?”

“OK OK, I may have stuck his head underwater for a bit. I wasn’t gonna KILL him, I was just messing around, you know?” Topper looked at Kelce and Scarlet, who agreed with him, “Gotta show those dirty Pogues their place.”

I laughed dryly. What the flying fuck?

We stepped inside the classroom and took our seats, with me right behind Scarlet, and Topper and Kelce on either side of her.

Scarlett spun around. “Bro, our teacher isn’t even here!” She rolled her eyes and pulled out her Puff Bar from her bar and took a hit. She looked over at me and held it out for me. I shook my head no and turned to Topper. “Wait, Topper, that ex-girlfriend. Does she go here?”

Kelce and Scarlet immediately looked over at Topper, who looked like I just ran over his cat.

“Oh I’m sorry,” I immediately apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked about-”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Top said awkwardly and coughed. He turned to face me with a sad smile. “Uh, remember how I mentioned she’d left me for some Pogue?”

“John something, yea?��

“Well, he killed her and himself, about six months ago.”

My jaw dropped. “What the fuck?! How are you so casual about- Shit I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, he shot the last sheriff, Sheriff Peterkins, who by all accounts was actually a sweetheart. Then he proceeds to convince Sarah, or maybe he blackmailed her, I don’t know, into riding his boat into a tropical depression. We found the wreckage of the boat a couple weeks later, but...their bodies were never found...”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Yeah... That girl, Kiara, she was best friends with both John B and Sarah. John B was, by all accounts, trash, but he was still her friend, I guess.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process all the information Topper had just dumped onto me.

Despite my extremely wealthy upbringing, I was raised to not be classist. Or at least, I hope that’s how I turned out; Scarlet, Topper, and Kelce also don’t seem like the most honest people. But these...Pogues that they were talking about...don’t seem like the sweet people.

But something about that girl’s eyes...they seemed so sad. You don’t feel for someone like that unless they’re a good person. Right?

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

Our teacher was droning off about...gosh who even fucking knows, I stopped paying attention the second he walked in.

I was on autopilot mode, taking down notes but not, like, actually paying attention. Instead, my mind was on these really cute boots I saw while online window shopping yesterday. I had bookmarked the link. Maybe I’d buy those?

“Nikhita!” My teacher called out. Hearing my first name, I snapped back to reality.

“Hi!” I smiled back. The class chuckled a bit.

Mr. Obi, a Nigerian man with the biggest glasses I’ve ever seen, rolled his eyes. “Hello. Did you hear what I said?”

“Not at all, sir, not at all.”

Topper and Scarlet were losing their minds; the former had to put his head down on his desk because he was laughing so hard.

He sighed and shoved his glasses up his nose. They slid down again. “I asked you what was the impact of the election of 1860?”

Shit shit shit shit shit

“Uh...wait, we want to war? Yea, that, like, started the Civil War.” I said, thankful I knew the answer. Mr. Obi was unimpressed.

“Mhm. Anyway, so...” and he continued to drone off.

Topper turned to me, smiling, and we both laughed.

As the lesson went on, I kept glancing at the clock. Ok, 45 minutes left, which means we’re halfway through class.

Mr. Obi kept going on and on about the Civil War, until, 15 minutes later, a little alarm went off on his phone. He turned and pressed the ‘Stop’ button.

“Right on time. Ok, so, I shortened today’s lesson because I wanted to talk about your project. Nikhita, you got here two days ago, the first day back from winter break, so you have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’m sure most of your classmates have forgotten. So I’ll refresh your memories: the second semester of U.S History is not going to the usual. You’re going to have a semester-long project that can be about anything. Literally anything, so long as it has something to do with either world history or current events. Yes, I know this is a United States history class, but we expanded this project to make it more interesting for you guys..”

Mr. Obi stopped for a second, looking at all of us. I nodded, partially because I felt bad because everyone was just giving him black stares, and because I found this project interesting.

“Now, in the past years, I left my classes to choose their partners or groups. But before the break, I’m sure you all remember the catastrophe that was your mini-project, yes?”

The class mumbled something incoherent, except for the boys in the back of the class who started cheering, which made our teacher smile.

“Well, because of that, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you. Well, more like the Pyramid of Doom.”

The Pyramid of Doom. This mini pyramid statue that has a little opening on the top, with all of our names in them.

Mr. Obi opened the Pyramid and began. I stayed quiet, listening to see who I was going to be paired with. Hopefully one of my three friends, or maybe one of the boys in the back. They’re cute.

When my name was called, I leaned forward to pay attention. The intensity, the suspense. Who was gonna be my partner?

Mr. Obi stuck his hand in the Pyramid and pulled out the next piece of paper. “Kiara Carrera.”

My eyes went wide.

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

“So, you excited to be partners with the freak for class,” Topper asked, taking a bite of his pasta. I laughed sarcastically.

Outer Banks High School has an A/B schedule, which means third block is two hours instead of 90 minutes, and everyone has a different lunch at a different time, depending on their class. On A days, I have lunch with Topper and some other kids. On B days, I’m by myself.

Today’s an A day.

“It’ll be fine. She doesn’t seem that bad.” I turned to my left to face him, popping a grape into my mouth. Yum. I love grapes.

“Yea, just wait ‘til you get to know her,” this boy across from us said. “She’s so weird. She hates being a Kook. Like, she never goes golfing.”

“Or shopping!” One girl piped up. “She just likes to sit at the beach and surf, and smoke weed and stuff.”

“Well, that sounds fun,” I shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love going to country clubs, and shopping, and going out to get breakfast, but I love chillin’ at the beach. Maybe she just has different interests?”

“Ok, that’s fine,” Topper stated, “but she’s friends with Pogues. And not just any Pogues - John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward.”

“Ok, but like, one of them’s dead. Look, I’m all for holding people accountable for their actions, but...bro, stop tryna cancel a dead dude,” I laughed. Topper punched my arm, and I winced jokingly.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I blushed a bit. Topper’s cute, definitely, and I like the attention, but I knew what was going on. Sarah Cameron, the dead girl, was this school’s Queen, with Topper as King. He’s looking for a replacement, not an actual girlfriend.

But...I liked the attention. I put my head on his shoulder.

“Hey, so, my friend Rafe’s 20th birthday party is this Friday. He’s a family friend and I would love it if you’d join me at the party.”

I turned to look at him, debating whether or not I wanted to go to some rando’s birthday party. But Topper knows him, and it seems like everyone else does, too.

“Sure,” I smiled. “Why not.

__________________________________

chapter two

#outerbank #outer banks #jj #jj maybank #john b #john b x sarah #obx kiara #pope #jj fluff #jj smut #jj angst #obx fic #obx

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

Text

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝔻𝕒𝕪

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Heyo this is my first time writing on the blog so be kind. I just got obsessed with the idea of Aizawa being an elementary school teacher

>> Admin B̷r̷a̷n̷d̷o̷

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Ok, maybe this won’t be so bad?

He put on a fake smile and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes were somehow more apparent then usual. His face quickly faded into his trademark apathetic scowl.

Who am I kidding? This is the worst possible situation.

Aizawa sneered at the thought of his current situation. Of how his pristine English classroom was being taken from him because they needed “fresh blood”. Of how he was not only being forced into a new school, but also a new grade. He sighed (heavier than usual), leaving his dim apartment early, to beat traffic and give him time to dwell further on his current situation.

As he drove, his brain on went on auto pilot and all his worries and thoughts crossed his mind once again. Aizawa had never taught anything lower than 6th grade, and he never wanted to. It’s not that he didn’t like kids, it’s that he didn’t love kids. High schoolers were almost adults, so he didn’t have to sugar coat anything. No snack time, no name calling, no bullshit. The sudden unemployment was truly a wake-up call (not just because he would fall asleep in class), telling him that he needed to get his shit together. He was thankful that his good friend Nezu happened to have a job opening, he just wished it were at any other school.

Arriving at the school made him sick. The bright colors. The intricately hand painted signs reading “Welcome To The New Year!” and “Start the school year with a smile.” The line of staff waiting outside the school to welcome him. The line of staff? Jesus.

His wish to quietly slip into his new classroom vanished before his eyes. There was no way he could avoid meeting his new colleagues now. Hopefully, he thought, I can get through this without too much headache.

“SHOUTAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

And the headache began.

“Oh my god, Shouta! It’s been so long! And you never returned my texts?? I can’t believe we’re working together again! I thought you didn’t like elementary school?? Anyway, c’mon we need to get you all settled!! I heard you got fired?? What’s up with that? Did you- “

Before he could even fully get out of his car, Hizashi was pulling him toward the crowd of faculty almost against his will. The crowd was full of smiling faces, kind waves, and judging glances.

Ugh

“Welcome Mr. Aizawa! I am glad that Mr. Yamada was telling the truth that he was a close friend. Well I know that our little pocket of perfect isn’t quite the high school setting you’re used to but believe me that you’ll love it soon enough.” Principal Nezu smiled happily and gestured to the quaint little school.

“Starting in the middle of the school year isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it,” he added with a wink.

Aizawa glanced briefly at the bright marquee reading “U. A. Elementary School”, then back to the group of hopeful faces. He put on his best “I’m totally not wishing I was somewhere else right now” face, and /reluctantly/ expressed his joy to be there.

With his seemingly pleasant response, the evaluative air cleared somewhat, and the gossipier teachers left the gathering, no longer interested.

Taking Aizawa’s arm, Nemuri pressed her chest against him, “Hate to interrupt but Shouta- Mr. Aizawa, really needs to get to his classroom.” With that, the tall woman, along with Hizashi, practically dragged the poor man away, though he was internally grateful to be away from the crowd.

They arrived at Aizawa’s new classroom, still full of the previous teachers’ belongings. He pulled himself away from the others, brushing himself off.

“Thanks Midnight.”

“Oh, stop with that,” Nemuri responded, fixing her immaculate hair in the reflection from the window, “I haven’t gone by that since college. No one here needs to know the escapades of Ms. Midnight.”

Aizawa chuckled lightly, “At least I have some familiar faces here, aside from Nezu.” He peered over to the other two, seeing their “trying to be respectful but insanely curious” faces. “Fine, I’ll address the elephant in the room. Yes, I was fired. No, it was not for selling drugs to the kids, Hizashi. I just… had trouble staying awake, apparently a few times too many.”

Hizashi sighed in defeat and pulled a twenty out of his pocket, handing it sadly to Nemuri.

“Good thing there was an opening here for you,” Hizashi replied, almost like a whine as he mourned his loss, “Too bad it came at the loss of Yagi. Poor guy having to be stuck at home after that dumb injury.”

Nemuri chuckled, “It’s his own fault for jumping out of the second story window to give one of his students the lunchbox they forgot.”

“He’ll be back next year, and I’ll be long gone. hopefully.” Aizawa interrupted, tying his long hair back. “Now can you two leave? I have kids coming in less than an hour to a teacher that could care less about them right now.”

Nemuri exhaled sharply through her nose, a smirk crossing her face, “You need a better attitude, my friend, or they will eat you alive.” She pushed herself off the desk, pulling Hizashi along.

“Good luck!” He called out, “let me know if I can help! The music room is always open for you!”

As the door slowly closed, Aizawa turned back to his new classroom. The desks were arranged in neat rows and columns, small pieces of tape on the carpeted floor to ensure that they remained in their neat arrangement. He was appalled by the disorganized mess that was Yagi’s previous desk arrangement.

Aizawa sat at his new desk, dropping his head into his hands. He had never taught 2nd grade before. Sure, he was certified to teach it, but that was more of a trophy to him than an actual career choice. Like when someone minors in art history. What made it especially difficult was that he was taking over a class run by the one and only Yagi Toshinori, legendary his teaching. He was the “symbol of peace” for teachers, doing interviews for local news stations and giving presentations for the school district.

The four of them (Yagi, Hizashi, Nemuri, and himself) had gone through college together, but lost touch as they all chose their path. Yagi with younger kids, Aizawa with teens, Hizashi with music, and Nemuri with administration. Aizawa knew that Yagi was a better teacher than him, and that he had big shoes to fill, literally.

Aizawa broke from his lamentation as the morning bell rang. He opened his door to be greeted with the cacophonous sound of 20 children itching the get into their classroom. He was nearly knocked over by the force of almost two dozen children running into inspect what the new teacher had done. Surprisingly, the new layout did not stop the wave of children, they all quickly found their name tags and sat down, most of them loudly complaining.

Aizawa moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat. Twenty small faces focused on him. “Good morning students. As you may know, Mr. Toshinori is injured and will not be able to continue teaching this year. My name is Mr. Aizawa and I’m going to be your teacher for the remainder of the school year-” A series of small hands shot up in front of him. He sighed, “Yes, you,” pointing to the small girl sitting politely in the front row.

“Excuse me, but why can’t Mr. Toshinori come back?” she asked, cocking her head.

Before he could answer, another young girl, this one with pink hair, jumped up, “Momo, he broke his butt, that’s why he can’t come back!”

“He didn’t break his butt! He broke his feet, stupid.” A blonde boy in the back stood up and pointed at her.

“Who are you calling stupid? I saw it, you buttface.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Seeing her mocking face, the boy began throwing his pencils at her, to which she started throwing her pencils. Momo began crying at the violence, while the other students began cheering for one of the other two students.

This was going to be a long day.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

As Nemuri entered the teacher’s lounge, she was greeted with the sight of Aizawa looking… well, dead. “Well, I was expecting this.” She commented, setting her stack of papers down and sitting on the table in front of him. “Rough day?” Aizawa merely groaned in response. She patted his head lightly, “You know what they say about kids, it’s like wrangling kittens.”

“I’ve never heard that.” He replied, lifting his head up to a more alive position. “I don’t know how he did it. Those kids just don’t listen.”

“How did you deal with your high schoolers?”

“None of us wanted to be there so we respected each other’s time and got shit done.”

Nemuri clicked her tongue, “It’s a wonder why you’re a teacher at all. You used to have passion for teaching, Shouta. Try to tap into some of that.” With that, Nemuri hopped off the desk, scooping up her papers, “If you need advice on how to deal with them, we’re here for you, all three of us.”

The door to the lounge closed softly behind, and he was once again alone. Aizawa hesitated at the thought of asking any of them for help. He had not spoken to any of them for years. While he enjoyed their company, Aizawa knew he did not belong. Nemuri, Hizashi, and of course Yagi, all had this passion and fire for education that Aizawa himself had lost years ago. It felt wrong to him to be there.

The soft chime of the lunch bell reminded Aizawa that he had to return to his classroom. Which he really did not want to do. The kids barely got along with each other, who they have known for months, how were they supposed to cooperate with him, a total stranger? He trudged back to his classroom, just as the students began pouring in. As they took their seats, he stood, and began writing their next lesson on the board. Once all were seated, he turned around to address them.

“I am very disappointed with how the morning went.” At this remark, half the students rolled their eyes, while the other half looked like they were going to burst into tears. Aizawa stopped and began thinking. What would Yagi do in this situation? He would be cheery and upbeat and overly personal with the students. Well, he thought, nothing would hurt to try at this point.

He sighed, sitting down on his desk, “Listen guys, I know this is hard for you, its hard for me two. The only way we can make this work is if we give each other a chance and get to know each other. So..” he looked at the confused faces of the kids, “Let’s go outside.”

The students all filed outside behind Aizawa, confused yet intrigued. He turned to face them, “Now I have a task for you, we’re going to go on a hike around the school, and you’re going to tell me about everything interesting you see.” The students collectively gasped and nodded excitedly.

As the class walked around the school, Aizawa learned many things about the kids. Like how Tenya liked to walk this path with his brother, or how Shoto would take trips through the woods when he wanted to get away from his family, or how Yuga collect only “the prettiest and shiniest” rocks. Although this was far more effort than he usually put into teaching, Aizawa was having fun.

The week from that point on went… surprisingly well. The students slowly warmed up to Aizawa, and even began enjoying his teaching. They continued setting time aside for a class hike and decided that they would start a nature journal to write about what they saw on their hikes. Aizawa, even though he would never admit it, even started smiling more in class. Before he knew it, the end of the week had already come.

As the students filed out of the room, several waved goodbyes to Aizawa. He smiled and waved back, eyes wandering to the small boy standing shyly next to him. “Hey Midoriya, do you need something? You should be heading home.”

“I am going home! But I made you something to celebrate how much fun we are having! I still like Mr. Toshinori more, but you’re really fun!” The boy shoved a piece of paper into Aizawa’s hands. “Ok my mom is waiting, bye Mr. Aizawa! See you next week!” Before Aizawa could respond, the boy ran out of the room. He looked at the paper. On it was a crudely drawn picture of him and the class on one of their hikes. He chuckled lightly, pinning the picture to the wall.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the sudden vibrations of his phone. Without checking, he answered, “Aizawa speaking.”

“Um, hey! It’s been a while.”

“…Yagi?”

“Yeah! Hizashi told me you were taking over for me, and I, uh, wanted to say thanks!”

“I should be thanking you,” Aizawa commented, amusement crossing his face upon hearing the familiar voice again, “I needed a job and you had some broken bones.” They both chuckled awkwardly.

After a moment of thick silence, Aizawa sighed, “Its good time hear from you, Yagi. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

Yagi chuckled, “We should catch up soon. You know, when I can walk again that is.” he paused, “So I, uh actually called to... uh, How are the kids?”

Aizawa laughed at how the blonde could barely hide his intentions. “They’re doing fine, no need to worry.”

“Are you handling them alright? I know they can be a handful.”

Aizawa looked fondly at the drawing Midoriya had handed him, “It’s an adjustment, but I think we’ll be able to get through the year.

#mha #mha au #my hero academia #my hero academia au #nonpowered au #school au #bnha #bnha au #boku no hero academia au #boku no hero academia

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winchester90210 · 5 years

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. - Ch. 1: Baby’s First Pilot

What’s a rewrite? A rewrite is taking the show already written and inserting your new character/s and their storylines into it. It takes already known and loved (or hated) characters and gives you a chance to see how they react in situations they never would have faced otherwise. But in this case, I’m going further than the episodes that are there and adding my own, both to make the story flow more cohesively and because I enjoy writing it!

Chapter Summary: West Bev gains a new student, the Walshes gain a new friend.

Pairing: No one…yet.

Chapter Warnings: A few swear words, other than that nothing!

Word Count: roughly 1,500

Disclaimer: my work is not to be reposted in anyway without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging Is fine!)

Song: None this chapter! if there is, I’ll put it here with a link to the audio from youtube. If it goes with a specific part of the chapter, I’ll put a symbol to let you know when.

A/N: Tags are under the cut! This is just a little intro chapter, once we move on from the reader’s pilot we’ll delve into the series starting with The Green Room! (1×02)

November 9th, 1990

“And if you go down to the Guidance Office, Brenda Walsh will be there to give you a tour.”

“Right. Okay. And the Guidance Office is…” You trail off, cocking your eyebrow at the principal.

“Down the hall, take the first left. It should be the first door on your right,” he continues, “Welcome to West Beverly High, Ms. Y/L/N.” You give him a smile and make your way down to the office. Down. Left. Right. Got it. As you walked down the hall you could swear every person looked straight from an issue of Vogue. Opening the door with a squeak, you see a girl with long, dark, brown hair and meticulously styled bangs. Hopefully, not everyone would look this perfect. Right? You became painfully aware of your own appearance, quickly messing with your hair and straightening your clothes. You spent an hour and a half getting ready this morning, and that’s after you picked your outfit. To say you were nervous about looking good enough was an understatement.

“Hey! You must be Y/N,” she smiles, standing from her chair.

“And you’re Brenda?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m here to show you around. The classes, the offices, the cutest guys,” Brenda began, a smirk on her face, “We can walk through your schedule first though. Later I’ll show you to the quad, that’s where me and my friends usually hang out.” You nod, a nervous glint in your eye. Brenda seems to pick up on the way you’re chewing your lip and fidgeting with your hands and adds “They’re totally cool, don’t worry. My brother Brandon can be incredibly annoying but other than that they’re great.”

“Oh, you have a brother? Older, younger?” You ask, following her as she starts to make her way through the halls to your classes. She introduces each room as she goes. You stay slightly behind her, being careful not to bump into anyone as you weave through. You could feel the intensity as soon as you stepped into the school, like you could make one false move and end up committing social suicide before you even got started. You saw the thousand dollar jackets, the shoes, the dresses, the way everyone carried themselves. It was like a false sense of arrogance, the good in them screaming, wanting to get out, rid themselves of the materialistic trap they found themselves in. Or maybe that was just you. You caught their stares, the way they eyed you up and down. They seemed to pick up on the fact you were new very quickly. How? Was it your hair? Your clothes? You’re dragged out of your thoughts from Brenda’s response.

“Twins, actually…although he likes to act like he’s my older brother,” She says. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Um, I have an older brother, Eric.” You pause before saying, “He’s more of a…free spirit.” You make small talk with Brenda until you reach your first period, learning little things about each other as you go. You tell her you’re from Wisconsin, you learn she moved down from Minnesota not too long ago. You feel the tension in your body go away the more you talk with her. It comes back though, geared into full swing as soon as you walk into class. Your hands are shaky, balancing yourself onto the wood desk and setting your backpack next to you. Sitting down, you gaze at the room. It’s covered in maps and pictures of places in Europe you couldn’t identify. The bell rings and students file into the room. Thankfully, it’s a smaller class for 11th grade World History. Here goes nothing.

The teacher gives a small lecture and hands out worksheets, a true or false quiz on the Spanish Empire. While you’re zoned into the quiz, two boys behind you murmur.

“Hey. Bran. Do you recognize that girl?” A boy, his head adorned with blond curls whispers, gesturing to you with a head nod. However, you don’t notice, too preoccupied with finishing and passing your first quiz at your new school.

The other boy shakes his head, “No, ‘she new?”

“She must be, I’m pretty sure I would remember her.”

“Yeah, no kidding…” They both pause, looking to you for a moment. Brandon continues his thought with a whisper, “Dibs.”

“Dude, come on!” Steve’s voice rang out in a whine, startling you. What was his problem?

“Steve Sanders.” She scolds. “Do we have to have this talk again?” You follow the teacher’s gaze behind you, and sparkling blue eyes meet yours, paired with coiffed dirty blond hair, and a denim outfit. He gives you a smile and you flash him your own, all while Steve tries to fend off the teacher.

“No, ma'am. I’ll be quiet, ma'am. Sorry. It won’t happen again… ma'am.” Brandon looks at you, both of you holding back rounds of giggles at Steve’s flustered retort.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The rest of the class is peaceful, all of you silently doing your work. And while peaceful, there’s still a mischievous air in the room, you and Brandon catching glances at each other while you think the other person isn’t looking. You finish up your sheet and turn it in at the front of the room. Your shoes squeak a little too loudly, attracting a few stares as you walk back to your desk to pack up your things. You cringe at the sound but try to brush it off. The bell finally rings, but when you go to walk out you’re stopped in your tracks.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Well, that’s a way to talk to someone you’ve never met, I guess. You eye him up suspiciously. “I’m Sanders,” he takes an unneeded dramatic pause, “Steve Sanders.” You watch his friend from earlier roll his eyes and chuckle at his friend’s cocky introduction. You want to laugh too. Are you supposed to laugh? Is this Steve guy kidding? Cause he had to be. But what if he wasn’t? What if this is just him? Compose yourself, Y/N! Deep breath. In. Out.

You take a breath and speak, “So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah? You’ve heard about me?” His smirk is dripping with arrogance as he talks, leaning into you.

“Yeah like, literally just now…when the teacher totally grilled you?” You let out a laugh that time, holy shit. This guy was serious.

“Hey! She didn’t grill me, okay? She was just trying to act like she was in charge. It’s her job.” You study his face as he defends himself. Huh. He would be cute if he wasn’t being such a jackass, you think.

You sigh, “Look, I have a class to go to, and someone’s waiting for me. Sorry, Steve.” Apologizing, you slip past him and into the hallway.

“Good effort out there, Steve-o,” Brandon laughs, giving Steve a pat on the back and grabbing his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Oh, there you are!” Brenda calls out, grabbing Brandon on the arm and pulling him outside of the class. “The girl I’m showing around is going to work on the West Beverly Blaze next period. Can you go with her? Kelly needs me, so I can’t. Wardrobe malfunction. It’s a total disaster.” Pleading eyes are shot Brandon’s way.

He hesitates for a moment but says “Yeah, alright…bring me to her and I can get her there.” His sister’s face immediately lights up, a grin on her face.

“Yes! Thank you! I owe you!” And with that, she’s dragging him over to you while you look over your schedule. “Y/N! This is Brandon, I told you about him earlier,” she starts. And then you lock eyes with him for the second time that morning and it’s as if time stops. Your stomach churns, feeling the butterflies wreaking havoc, fluttering around. And something about the way he shifts on his feet, messes with his hands, and has a goofy smile on his face tells you he’s just as uneasy as you are. Hopefully a good kind of uneasy. “Brandon? Y/N? Hello??” She had never seen her brother like this. He had always been a natural with girls. Cool and confident. But right now he was flustered, giddy even. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like this either. Maybe it was the anxiety of a new school, he thought. He just felt so…awkward.

“Oh, sorry, uh…nice to meet you, Brandon,” you smile and hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.” Shaking your hand, he continues “Brenda wants to me to show you to the journalism room.” Before you get to respond, Brenda is already darting off without a word. You cock your head at the sight of Brenda bolting down the halls while Brandon just shakes his head and laughs.

“So, shall we?”

tag list: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines

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icyharrington · 6 years

Text

Sinful Thoughts (Michael Langdon X Reader) Part 1

ok now that i read this over i lowkey hate the way it turned out, but i spent a lot of time on it so im gonna post it anyways lmfao. y’all wanted sexual tension, so sexual tension you shall receive!

plot: you’re the epitome of a good christian girl. michael langdon intends to ruin that.

warnings: high school au, fem!Reader, masturbation, sexual tension, no actual smut

word count: 2.7k

“Alright, last pairing. (Y/n), your lab partner will be Michael Langdon.”

You were sure the color drained from your face, because a collective snicker spread itself throughout the classroom the minute you registered your teacher’s words. You’d always hated group projects. Even worse to you were involuntary pairings. Especially when it meant that you were now obligated to do your school project with the weirdly flirtacious kid who lived across the street from you.

You froze, looking across the classroom to the boy who’d been named. He smiled at you innocently, hands crossed neatly in front of him. Your stomach lurched.

“Uh, Ms. Calvin? Would it be okay if I, um, worked by myself instead? I don’t mind taking on the extra work.” You swallowed nervously. More laughter from your classmates, which you did not acknowledge.

Your teacher frowned, emphasizing the deep-set lines in her face. “If I let you work alone, I’d have to let everyone work alone. This project is meant to be completed with a partner.”

You sighed, trying not to seem too distressed as you fidgeted with the sleeves of your pale pink sweater. “Then could I possibly get a new partner?”

“Ms. (Y/l/n), sometimes we are dealt things in life that are not ideal to us. Michael is a perfectly capable young man, and you will work with him.”

“But-“

“Unless you have a valid reason not to work with Mr. Langdon, he will remain as your lab partner.”

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip. What was the reason you were so opposed to working with him? He hadn’t done anything to you, not really. You’d known him since he’d first moved into the neighborhood two years back- from the second you’d saw him, clad in all black with a confident stride, he made you nervous.

Of course, there was also the fact that he seemed to love making you uncomfortable. He’d make some sort of flirtatious comment nearly every time your paths crossed, and it made your insides churn. But still- it was possible he wasn’t even aware that he was being flirtatious, though you doubted that from the way his eyes would glint each time he’d make you blush.

The bell rang, jarring you, and you tucked your books away into your sensible messenger bag. Then you tugged gently on the dainty cross which hung around your neck on a thin gold chain. You always fiddled with it when you were feeling anxious; it brought you comfort to feel the smooth symbol under your fingers.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when somebody leaned on your desk, placing both hands palm-down with a startling thud. You didn’t even have to look up to see who it was: you saw a leather jacket and black button-up, along with large hands adorned with several rings.

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” came a smooth, slightly mocking voice. “What’s so bad about being my partner?”

You looked up timidly, flinching slightly under the boy’s piercing blue gaze. “Nothing. I just- um.” Your voice trailed off, and you realized it probably hadn’t been the wisest choice to request a new partner in front of the entire class.

“You just what?” He tilted his head to the side, widening his eyes. “You has no problem voicing your thoughts a minute ago.”

Since looking into his eyes was making you impossibly nervous, you tried instead to focus on his hair, which even you had to admit was lovely. “I just think we’d both work better with other partners.”

He shook his head, allowing his blond waves to fall in front of his eyes. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you, (y/n),” he said softly. “Perhaps you’d like me better if I weren’t so nice?”

You scoffed, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, seemingly pleased with your defiance as a grin began forming across his full lips.

“You’ve never been nice. You just love to make me uncomfortable.”

“If anything I’ve said has made you uncomfortable, then that’s on you.” He stood up straight, drumming his fingers on the black belt around his slim waist. “Why would you think I care enough to try and make you squirm?”

You pushed back in your chair and jumped to your feet, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Just- don’t talk to me unless it’s about the project.”

“So we’ll meet on Friday, then?” he grinned at you, baring his perfectly straight teeth.

“I am not going to your house,” you snapped. “You can come to mine.”

“Fine with me. I’d love to see the way a girl like you lives.”

“I’m not even going to ask you what that’s supposed to mean,” you muttered, walking around your desk so you wouldn’t have to cross paths with Michael on your way out.

“Oh, (y/n)?” he said, just as you were about to leave. Back still to him, you grimaced.

“What?”

“That’s a nice necklace you’ve got on.”

Your hand flew up to your neck, caressing the cool metal frantically. In your head, a prayer repeated itself over and over; you shut your eyes, hoping it’d calm you down, but for the first time in your life, it didn’t.

ii.

The week went by impossibly fast, and before you knew it, it was Friday. You’d almost forgotten the plans you’d made with Michael— almost— but Michael had made sure to cheerily remind you that morning as you left your house to leave for school.

Now it was 3:59. He was supposed to come over at 4. Your palms sweat profusely as you waited in the living room, and you wiped them on your modest knee-length skirt.

You hoped maybe, by some miracle, he’d forget. But you knew that would never happen. He was looking forward to this, looking forward to getting under your skin.

The clock on your phone switched briskly to 4:00, and you winced. There was a beat, and then came three sturdy knocks on your front door. Of course he’d show up at 4 on the dot. What else had you expected?

You stood up and fixed your hair, hoping he wouldn’t be able to sense the intense anxiety coursing through you. Then you made your way to the door and swung it open, letting out shallow breaths in an attempt to compose yourself.

He stood there on your welcome mat, backpack slung over his shoulder and smirk on his lips. He made no attempt to conceal the way his eyes traveled over your body, and you shifted, uneasy. “Michael. Come in.”

“You seem enthused,” he said, brushing past you and into your home without a second thought.

You turned around, watching him enter your living room, his head turning to observe every last detail. His lips curved upwards slightly as he regarded the various religious symbols mounted on the wall- an old-fashioned crucifix, a simple wooden cross, a framed painting of Jesus that your mom had bought at a yard sale. Then his eyes fell upon the leather-bound bible on the coffee table, and he chuckled.

“What?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing,” he sang, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket and flashing you a close-mouthed smile. You returned it with a straight face, entirely unamused.

“Wait here while I get my stuff,” you said, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs. “And don’t follow me.”

You made your way up the carpeted steps, tensing as you could practically feel his eyes bore into you from behind. All at once you felt self-conscious, and you wished you’d changed into a pair of sweatpants instead of staying in your skirt.

When you got up to your room you let out a breath, immediately relieved once you were out of his admittedly intimidating presence. You walked over to your desk, impeccably tidy save for your biology binder set in the middle.

“Hm. Looks exactly like I expected,” came a drawling voice in the doorway, and you jumped.

“I thought I told you not to follow me,” you said through grit teeth, jaw clenching as you tucked your binder under your arm. That was strange, you thought, the way he’d snuck up on you without you hearing his footsteps on the stairs. He ignored you and tilted his head quizzically, running his fingers along the rosary hanging off your doorknob.

“Don’t touch that,” you said, and he let it drop, beads bouncing noisily against the wooden door.

“So you really believe all this Jesus shit, huh?” he said, amused, taking a few steps inside.

“Get out of my room,” you said in as firm a tone you could muster, but you were surprised when your voice trembled.

He looked at the wooden cross hanging above your bed, and then down at the blue blanket and matching pillows, positioned evenly and smoothed out. You felt vulnerable, somehow, knowing that he now had an image in his mind of where you slept.

“Everything in here is so impossibly perfect,” he stated, running his fingers idly along the frame of your bed. “You want to be perfect, don’t you? You want to be mommy and daddy’s perfect little Christian girl.”

You stared at him, feet planted to the ground as you tried to come up with something to say. He sounded so sure of himself, like he’d been inside your mind and was simply reciting the facts. You wanted to punch him right between those hooded blue eyes, but something inside you prevented you from moving.

“I assume you’re saving yourself for marriage?” he continued, coming closer to you with a smug expression on his handsome face. You willed your feet to move, and your eyes widened when you realized you literally were unable to. Panic rose in your throat, contrasting harshly with his cool exterior.

“None of your business,” you spat, curling your fingers into your palm to try and conceal the silver purity ring you’d been given at church camp several years ago. He laughed, stopping in front of you.

“You’ve never even kissed a boy, have you?”

He craned neck slightly, just looking at you. Then he reached up and tucked two fingers beneath your chin, tilting it up so you could look at him. “And I’m certain you’ve never touched yourself.”

Your face burnt up at his words, and you knew he was enjoying watching the redness creep across your face. He was mere inches away from you now, smiling serenely as you tried your hardest to pull back.

“I’ll even bet that every time you feel that ache between your legs, you drop to your fucking knees and beg god for forgiveness,” he whispered, breath hot on your face.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, focusing all your energy on trying to move. What was keeping a hold on you? It couldn’t possibly be Michael- how would he be able to do something like that?

“Because good Christian girls aren’t allowed to feel carnal pleasure,” he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Are they?”

His hand moved from your face to your neck, his pace painfully slow. Your breath hitched when his fingers reached the thin chain around your neck, toying with it for a moment before continuing downwards. He took the cross in his hand and surveyed it, running his thumb across it as he leveled it in his palm.

Before you could do anything, he let go, and all at once the hold on you seemed to break. You pushed him back, hard, silently thanking god for freeing you.

“Leave. And don’t come back. I’ll do the whole project myself. You can take credit for half, I don’t even care.”

He let out a low chuckle. “I’ll let you get back to your prayers.”

You eyed him as he turned around and left, following him to the top of the stairs and watching as he left through the front door. You waited a minute before returning to your room, fixated on the door as if Michael might change his mind and burst through it. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as a familiar, unwelcome sensation began radiating from between your thighs, which you intended to ignore as usual.

You were so distracted by the thoughts of what on earth had just happened that you almost didn’t notice the small change that had been made in your room.

The cross above your bed- which you could’ve sworn had been upright when you followed Michael out- was now, plain as day, upside down.

iii.

You blinked twice, mind foggy as you took a step forward, toes curling at the feeling of cold wood against your bare soles.

You looked down; you were naked, skin dotted over with clusters of goosebumps as your hair stood on end. Your nipples hardened at the low temperature, and all at once you realized you could see your breath in front of you.

You heard something stir from afar, and finally you averted your attention to the opposite end of the room. You were in a church, it appeared, the pews of which were empty. The noise you’d heard had come from behind the altar, and it quickly became apparent that somebody was standing behind it.

Your mouth went dry. It was Michael. His face was heavily shadowed, but from his stature alone you knew it was him. He, too, was naked, at least as far as you could see from the portion of his body that was visible.

A chill rolled up your spine and you wrapped your arms around your stomach, shivering as the cold set into your bones. Michael raised one hand, and though his eyes were obscured with shadows, you knew they were settled on you, your body.

From his fingertips, a flame ignited. He rolled his wrist back, cupping his hand around the flame as it grew. Then he flicked his hand forward, and you stumbled backwards as each pew went up in flames, the rich scent of burning wood invading your lungs. Your skin prickled at the feeling of unbridled warmth enveloping you, and from your throat spilled a grateful moan.

“Touch me, and never again will you freeze,” came a booming voice, loud enough to bring you to your knees. You realized that Michael was now much closer to you than he had been before, standing bare as he looked down upon you. You reached for him without shame, lips parting, and before you could feel him, everything went black.

“Michael-“ you croaked.

Your eyes shot open; you were in your bed, legs entangled in a mess of sweat-stained sheets. It took several seconds to collect yourself, and once you finally had, you discovered that your hand was slipped underneath your underwear and buried between your thighs.

“Oh my-“ you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, removing your hand as if it’d been burnt. Running your hand over the fabric of your underwear, you were alarmed to find that it was completely soaked through.

Face flushing with guilt, you groaned at the pounding coming from your core. It almost scared you how badly you wanted to touch, how badly you wanted to slip your fingers up inside yourself and ride them until you couldn’t hold back the screams.

There was something seriously wrong with you. Usually you were able to ignore the feelings, but with each passing second the throbbing intensified, causing you to squirm restlessly. Images of Michael flashed through your mind, the filthy words he’d spoken to you earlier vibrating in your ears, and you bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Your hips bucked up towards nothing involuntarily; your chest rose and fell hard, one hand settled on your breast through your sleep shirt.

It’s not right, you thought, applying slight pressure to your nipple before drawing your hand back. You squeezed your eyes shut, moving your lips silently as you methodically recited prayer after prayer in your mind, hoping to find the strength to ignore the feeling and go back to sleep.

It felt like an eternity had passed before you fell back to sleep, and when you woke up the next morning, you couldn’t help but feel disgusted with yourself, sneering at your reflection in the mirror for being so goddamned weak.

You didn’t know what kind of spell Michael had cast over you, making you think such vulgar thoughts, but you were sure of one thing: Michael Langdon was nothing but trouble.

#michael langdon #michael langdon one shot #michael langdon x reader #x reader #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #ahs one shot #cody fern #michael langdon smut #ahs smut #mine #high school au #alternate universe #ahs au #apocalypse

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moviegroovies · 5 years

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brad majors: a character study

ok i think it probably says something when the first time i tried to make this post the power to my entire house went out, wiping my progress and turning off my dvd player, but fuck if i’m gonna let prognostic signs stop me from being on my bullshit.

the point is: y’all ever devote a few hours worth of time and effort to making something that nobody is ever, ever gonna read? if you do, then we here at moovie groovies dot tumblr dot com feel sorry for you, although naturally we can’t relate. no, you don’t need to check how many notes we get on these stupid posts. don’t worry about that. ANYWAY

sometimes you just wake up and, despite knowing that your classes start up again in less than a week, you just have to spend some of the precious few hours you have left on deconstructing everyone’s favorite asshole’s fragile, fragile psyche. and by you, i mean me. and by sometimes, i mean now.

let’s go!

so, i’m gonna start with the scene in front of the church (let’s start at the very beginning, the beginning’s a good place to start...). brad’s introduction is the first time we meet any of the major characters of the film (unless you count patricia quinn’s lips and richard o’brien’s voice as an intro to magenta and riff), and it sort of sets him up as our “protagonist,” a role he... doesn’t quite maintain for the duration of the film. obviously, the second frankie shows up, he’s the main event, babey, but even for our “hero” and “heroine,” brad, who seems to be the main focus for the first act, gets less on-screen development than his female counterpart. plus, janet’s solo song wasn’t cut. sorry brad ):

regardless, i like the church scene quite a bit in terms of brad's character. the movie isn’t entirely huge on the character development kind of thing, so you have to take it where you can get it, but imo, introducing brad with ralph as a counterpart/sort of foil was a good choice, because it lets us compare our hero with what i’m just going to assume is the standard for the society he’s living in. we jump in: the first conversation we see in the whole movie is between brad and ralph, who we learn is a friend of his from high school. it seems likely that brad and ralph aren’t as close as, perhaps, betty and janet are (this is just my speculation, but if you look at the other wedding guests, there’s at least one other girl who’s wearing the purple dress that janet is in, which could be the bridesmaid’s dress, while i don’t see anyone else wearing brad’s little outfit, making him not one of the groomsmen), but brad initiates the conversation, struck by social norms, if absolutely nothing else, in the need to be polite. their conversation seems awkward (asshole boxing!), but more so for brad than ralph, who just steamrolls on totally oblivious to how fake brad’s laugh is. brad comes off as the more thoughtful, conservative one of the two--he’s kind of cringing under his smile at the conversation, and everything he says is sort of.... stiff. also, did you notice his face when ralph says the only reason he showed up to the science class was because he was trying to get in good with betty? brad, who actually likes science, has sort of a blank/disappointed look while he announces this, which he turns to an awkward “ha ha ha” laugh. when betty throws her bouquet and janet catches it, ralph tells brad it could be his turn next, which he seems to somewhat brush off (”who knows?”), but once ralph leaves, he’s definitely caught up in thought again, perhaps contemplating the timing of his proposal (who the fuck brings a ring to someone else’s wedding??).

side note about that scene: both betty’s dress and ralph’s suit are white, which, at a wedding, symbolizes virginal purity. even the lewd message on the car (”wait til tonite--she got hers, now he’ll get his”) implies that both betty and ralph have been waiting until their wedding night to, y’know, consummate their relationship, which brad and janet initially parallel, but...

the conversation then switches to brad and janet, and their first interaction together is kind of,,, tense. janet is gushing about the wedding, but once again, matter-of-fact brad majors is kind of awkward, and his comments are all very forced. “everyone knows that betty’s a wonderful little cook.” “ralph himself, he’ll be in line for a promotion in a year or two!” both of these come off as commentary on what he thinks people are supposed to be thinking about--brad, at this point, is a man who has a framework of what life should be (domestic wife, upward movement at a respectable job, white wedding) and who is doing his absolute best to fill his role in all of that. his stoicism even fits that, because, as we’ll see in a moment, he does have real, giddy emotions around janet--he’s just doing his best to keep them down until the very moment of his proposal.

and that brings me to: dammit janet! it’s really very cute, and kind of the closest thing to a brad-centric song we get if you’re watching a version that doesn’t have once in a while which.... you probably are. brad gets flustered while he just tries to start the proposal, and compare his wide, shameless smiles at janet throughout this song with the way he kind of grimace smiles at ralph beforehand. he’s in love! and you know he’s in love, because he says it outright six times over the course of the song, while janet only explicitly says it once. maybe he just got luckier with the rhymes (dammit janet, i love you is the same syllables as brad, i’m mad, for you too), but tbh i think it’s sort of telling--brad’s playing the emotionally stunted prototype of the american man, but deep down he’s deeply in love and thinks his girlfriend is the most special person in the world. meanwhile, janet clearly cares for brad, but i think what she’s really in love with is the idea of marriage (she’s so enamored with betty monroe’s transition to mrs. ralph haphshatt, and in the scene beforehand she’s definitely anticipating brad’s proposal and waiting expectantly for it)--but this is a brad character analysis, so i’m going to try to stick to his side of things. he beams at her while he fumbles through the first bit (“hey, janet, i’ve got something to say”), and has to lean back on a tombstone once he gets through it. i love him! i love how he drops his composure and starts jumping and running around (backward!). also, peep that bit where janet leans in for a kiss and he pulls away at the last minute... telling? maybe not, he does kiss her in a moment.

the most excited janet seems throughout the duration of the song is when he pulls out the ring. in his excitement, brad fumbles trying to put it on her, and falls over while spelling her name and telling her how much he loves her--meanwhile, she leaves him on the church steps while she goes inside to admire it. all of brad’s lyrics in the song have been about their courtship and how much he loves her, while hers are about how her ring is better than the one her friend got, and how it’s good that he’s already done the proper thing and met her parents. this isn’t janet hate, really, but i think the comparison is interesting--brad was introduced with somewhat awkwardly stunted emotions, but he’s the more open, idealistic one of them when it comes to romantic feelings. janet, meanwhile, knows exactly what she wants--but maybe it doesn’t matter so much who gives it to her, as long as she ends up in that dress she’s built up so well in her head. basically: he wants to plan their future, she wants to plan their wedding.

that theme is showcased pretty well in this exchange toward the end of the song: janet leads with her “brad, i’m mad,” bit, which he eagerly answers with “i love you too,” though janet has yet to say that she loves him. also, i wish i had screenshots, but if you watch that scene, he’s looking adoringly at her, while she’s looking adoringly at the ring. the song is about different things for the two of them.

it’s pretty cute to me that brad’s immediate first thought upon getting engaged is not that they need to announce it to their family, or their friends (like betty and ralph) of similar age, but their tutor. also, look at them when he says this--i think that maybe the two of them were on different pages when saying “there’s one thing left to do.” janet probably did want to tell family and friends, because she’s finally getting her dream, she’s getting married, she has a beautiful ring, and she wants to tell people! brad wants to tell one person, because he thinks his whole relationship is owed to his teacher, whom he admired, and he wants to share his happiness with dr. scott. we learn later that the two of them had been working together on scientific pursuits even after dr. scott was his teacher in high school, which i like for brad. i love his devotion to science! i don’t love his devotion to dr. scott, because he’s the real villain of the movie, but brad doesn’t know that. i don’t blame him.

anyhow.

i bring all that up because janet looks a little disappointed when he starts talking about dr. scott, doesn’t she? maybe i’m totally reading too much into it for the sake of my theory, but she looks sort of blank until “made me give you the eye and then panic,” where she dutifully giggles and looks down at the ground.

they do kiss at the end of the song, but it’s close mouthed and brief, and the screen cuts away to riff raff, magenta, and columbia (or their actors playing bit parts, at the very least) for most of it. this is probably more about the stand up american kid’s sexual repression than lack of attraction, if we’re being honest. i’m not saying at any part of this that brad wasn’t in love with janet. the two of them, at that point in the movie, are very dutifully filling roles they think they should be filling, and that means they’re being the perfect distant WASP couple. no impure thoughts until the wedding night. and so forth.

next up: the police statements. i actually hadn’t read them until just now, which marks the two hour mark of me writing this analysis... and i’m about 15 minutes into the movie. funny how that happens, right? don’t worry, i’ll have less to go on soon so i can shut up. until then, though: brad’s police statement is a fun ride because the whole thing is written like his first stilted conversation with ralph. also, it reveals his name is bradley j majors. what’s the j for? that’s for you to decide. he introduces himself and mentions that janet is still his fiancee (which is backed by janet’s police statement), and explains that everything started at ralph and betty’s wedding. he goes into some backstory with dr. scott’s class, and gives this line in relation to his first thought about janet: “she’s just the little help and support I’m going to need throughout my life.” god, brad, that was straight of you. it’s perfectly in character (fitting his comment re: betty that she’s a “wonderful little cook;” he’s thinking about women in a supportive, domestic role, and not so much as people, although his actions when janet are actually around make him a little less of an asshole about it), but it makes me want to slap him a little. at the same time, in the context of him having a perfected ideal in his head and trying to stick through it, that’s just about love at first sight for him. i think it might just be that janet is in love with the idea of marriage, and brad is in love with the idea of janet. he thinks he’s found the perfect woman to round out his fantasy american home life. she’ll give him support, and cook his meals, and pop out their 2.5 kids. meanwhile she’ll get to have her wedding and be a nice little homemaker, and if that’s not exactly what she wants, well, it’s what she seems to think she wants now.

both brad and janet’s police statements are funny because you can see them projecting their thoughts and actions on each other while changing the occurrences of the story. i’ll scatter references to the stuff that happens after along with my commentary on the stuff themselves, but brad says that janet “got sort of excited and kind of did a bit of a hop and a skip – she gets a bit carried away when she’s excited – and skipped into the church.” yeah, brad. janet was the one who was carried away. he mentions that he should have noticed that there was a funeral going on while they were in the church (janet doesn’t comment on that), and that he would have noticed, had he “been so confused by her saying yes.” brad. darling. she was saying yes in her eyes before you even pulled out the ring. in her police statement, she says she “thought he’d never get around to it,” but that she “couldn’t hint to him. but anyway he did it.” janet’s been trying to get him to propose probably since they graduated high school. brad says that “ralph and betty got engaged and then married before [he] had the nerve to ask Janet if she would kinda get married to [him]. You know what it’s like ? You don’t like to take these things on until you’re sure.”

side note: i like his little “kinda get married.” he does that a lot in this--kinda, sort of. i think it’s his way of downplaying his emotions and what he wants. it’s sad, but it shows a lot about him, i think.

his full explanation for not noticing the funeral until he thinks back on it later is that he and janet “kissed, and [he] felt so hot and cold that [he] just didn’t notice.” once again, i say brad. DARLING. i love you. you are so so emotionally stunted.

their next scene is the car, driving to dr. scott’s house. i know i take the opportunity to wax poetic about my great love for brad majors just about every other line, but i LOVE how he’s got nixon’s resignation speech taped and playing on the way there. it’s such a funny little detail, and also it begs some questions in my mind--does he like listening to it out of some kind of respect for nixon? (i ask this mostly because the way nixon presents the speech is reminiscent of brad’s early dialogue/his police report) or does he just like hearing the bastard step down? (more likely, since brad would probably find unamerican actions quite heinous, and regard the whole watergate scandal as entirely treasonous) either way, it shows a trait i just want to call attention to: brad is a NERDDDD. i love him.

janet seems much more casual and chatty in this scene than he does. brad’s a man on a mission, or maybe his persona just doesn’t allow room for unnecessary chatter. either way, it makes for an awkwardly quiet car ride. janet tries to break the silence, first by offering him chocolate (this is also part of her seeming younger than him, though if they were in the same high school class i suppose they really can’t be), then by commenting on the motorcyclists. brad takes this opportunity to show his disdain for their “type,” probably meaning rebels, junkies, and general counterculturalists. oh, brad. you have no idea what you’re in for here, do you?

not that relevant, but i find it funny that while janet recalls that brad told her to wait in the car (which she uses to bring up the fact that she “wasn’t going to risk losing him if there was a sophisticated, seductive woman in the castle,” a comment which i find more indicative of her devotion to her wedding than her devotion to brad), brad describes leaving together as a joint decision. maybe it’s just not that important to him, maybe his ego smarts a little from her brushing off his attempt at protecting her, maybe he just wants to portray all their decisions as a joint effort. man and wife. awwww.

his actions in this scene are mostly focused on his protective element. he does the “mom hand” across janet when they first get the blowout, and then tries to convince her to stay while he wanders off into the darkness alone (which, let’s be real brad, would have resulted in a man door hand hook car door kind of thing, wouldn’t it have?). basically this scene is full proof that brad majors would 100% be “white dad in a horror movie” material if he wasn’t changed by the experience, which he seems not to have been, if the police statement is anything to go off. so, they both get out of the car. part of me likes to think about what it would be like if brad really had gone in alone, but at the same time, the au necessitates that janet be alone in that car all. fucking. night. so.

i don’t have any commentary on him in “over at the frankenstein place,” particularly, except that he’s a dork who doesn’t take off his glasses in the rain. seriously, brad, you have to be completely blind at this point. what the hell are you doing.

unrelated side note: amanda seyfreid should have played janet in the 2016 remake, i always think that susan looks a little bit like her in this scene. plus i just... didn’t like victoria justice in the role. whatever.

brad kind of ignores janet’s worry and fear from that point on for a while. on one hand, asshole! but on the other hand, like, why go all the way to the castle just to turn back at the door? maybe because castles don’t have phones, but he doesn’t know that yet.

brad falls in to introducing janet as “my fiancee janet weiss” very quickly. in my heart, i’m going to say that this is because he’s been doing it for a while in his head. brad and janet seem a little uncomfortable with riff raff, but brad reassures janet it’s just a weird hunting lodge, and they go inside, still holding out hope that they might use a phone here before the night is over. oh, brad’n’janet. if only you knew. magenta (who both brad and janet call “madge” in their police reports) slides down the banister, and they get a little startled. both of them find this important enough to note in their police statements, with brad commenting that her maid’s outfit “somehow didn’t look right;” in fact, he felt “a bit embarrassed by it actually.” i think this is another instance of him downplaying every emotion/feeling he reports on. janet, meanwhile, just comments that her dress had lost some buttons, which i feel goes along with a common theme in her report--brad’s sexually frustrated, janet judges other women. it goes along with pitting herself against betty (”it’s nicer than betty monroe had!”); janet comments that the wedding was perfect, except betty’s train should have been longer. just little details like that.

next: the time warp! janet Does Not Like the time warp. she faints twice, and another time right before sweet transvestite. brad is initially as startled and disturbed (?) as she is, but by the time columbia’s verse is over, he’s smiling and he seems sort of into it--bobbing his head and so forth. janet’s the one who tugs on his shirt and tries to lead him out. interestingly, in her police statement, she switches the blame for their inching out of the room and puts it on brad--“i would have quite liked to see the dance right through but brad insisted we leave and he’s so strong and brave.” brad, again, presents this as a joint decision he and janet had: “janet and i backed out of the room.” at this point, i really am just thinking that he wants to believe that he and janet are unified in their decisions, maybe as a kind of mental block to the shit they’ve been through. it’s cute. he still loves her quite a bit.

oh, before i go on. i want to pull your attention to this bit from the police statement: “now, this bit is going to be a bit hard to believe but you’ve gotta believe i’m telling the truth. I mean I had a very upright honest christian upbringing and I don’t lie about anything. no sir. i never lied to my mother about whether I’d cleaned behind my ears or not.”

i don’t like, have anything in particular to say about it. i just love him.

so, the time warp ends. janet urges brad to say something; apparently, him asking the transylvannians if they know how to madison isn’t the something she wanted him to say. that’s one of my favorite brad lines, honestly. it also proves that brad’s a lot more comfortable here than janet is--for now, at least. he defends the strangers’ rights to act strange by suggesting that they’re foreigners with different ways from their own, and seems to be a bit irritated by the fact that janet’s reacting so harshly (”get a grip on yourself, janet!”). his thought process at this point is probably that she’s behaving like a hysterical woman, while he’s a paragon of rationality. funny how those roles kind of switch by the end, no? right now, though, it’s still brad’s turn with the calm juice, so janet faints again when the elevator comes down--brad, to her right, says in his police report that he “was about to get angry with her” for screaming. harsh much, brad?

these next parts are going to be hard to analyze because watching brad when frank is on the screen is... hard. i’m a man of simple tastes; i see tim curry in drag, and i watch him. ah, the things i’ll do for a completely pointless character study.

anyway, frank’s first appearance has brad kind of stammering. frankie is going through the “how do you do’s,” and brad is just standing there, working his jaw. he didn’t catch janet that time. interestingly, though janet noticed from the start that frank was a man “who looked like a woman,” brad apparently didn’t catch that until he saw the corset--up until that point in his report, he refers to frankie as a woman, saying that janet fainted, and he “decided that there was nothing to faint about – there was just this woman getting out of the lift.” he goes on to say “yes, she was about 6’1”” which, baby, i don’t know who you’re kidding but tim curry is 5′9″ and that’s generous. i guess he was factoring in the heels, but he mentions the heels in the next line: “but wearing very high heels, a lot of makeup and a shiny black cloak with a silver collar. She motioned us back in to the ballroom and I thought we could follow her.” at this point in janet’s statement, she notes that “brad says that [she] went of [her] own volition, but he was really pushing [her]” to follow dr. furter. huh, brad, i wonder why you were so intent on following...? he goes on to say that “when we got there she started talking about being a transvestite. now, I don’t keep up with the modern trends that happen in new york and all those big cities and i wasn’t quite sure what a transvestite was.” brad... never change. didn’t frank only start talking about being a transvestite once the cloak was off? maybe this is one of those things where not all the song sequences happen in universe. whatever. anyway, he notes that frank is a man, and finishes with “yes, i did get further confirmation of this fact later and i’d rather not go into it, if you don’t mind,” which is the only allusion he makes to sleeping with frank.

brad is pretty stiff/shocked for most of the song, but by the time he remembers himself and recovers enough to ask for a telephone (brad, babydoll, you are never going to get a telephone here), he gives an awkward little nod/smile at the “well, babies, don’t you panic.” then it’s back to freaky & awk. he’s self consciously feeling his hair at the insinuation that he might not be shivering because of the rain. still, when he’s getting stripped down by magenta, he’s pretty cool again, introducing himself (asshole!) and janet (slut!) even while she’s pulling his shirt over his head. to columbia, he’s a little rude: she tells them they’re very lucky to be invited up to the lab, and that some people would give their right arm for the privilege. snidely, brad asks “people like you, maybe?,” which i think goes back to his “life’s pretty cheap for that type” comment from the car. he’s very us (clean, straight american kids) versus them (motorcycle junkie amoral delinquents) here. still, though, he’s not protesting too violently when they get put in the elevator. in the statement, he seems to be asked about whether or not frank’s castle was a gambling den because of his “we’ll pull out the aces” comment, to which he replies that it wasn’t, and furthermore, that gambling is evil--his mother told him. that makes a lot of sense--he seems quite a bit like someone who never questioned the morals his parents instilled in him. this is probably the first experience in his entire life that ever gave him reason to question them, and he still comes away swearing he tells the whole truth, and that gambling is evil, and so forth. even if he’s been shaken... he hasn’t been shaken that much.

when they get up to the lab, brad (who is, by the way, wearing the world’s ugliest underwear) does a little “ladies first” gesture and lets janet out in front of him. and they say chivalry is dead. he still gets out before columbia and magenta, however.

brad gets to do his “i’m brad majors (asshole!), and this is my fiance janet weiss (slut!)” bit that i’m sure he’s been rehearsing in his head since tenth grade for a third time, but fucks it up this time with “vice,” which shows you exactly where his mind is. it’s interesting that this is where he fucks it up, and not when he was introducing them to columbia in the last scene--columbia being a scantily clad young woman watching while he was being stripped naked, while frank in this scene is still crossdressing, yeah, but is much more moderately dressed since he put on the gown thing. funny, no, which one elicits his freudian slip? i don’t think brad is completely gay, since i’ve already gone into how strongly he feels for janet, but i think a lot of his attraction to women is based around his idea of what he’s supposed to do, while when he’s not keeping a close grip on his feelings, he lets attraction to men just sort of... slip out. he’s back to being his dominating american man persona in this scene tho (it’s a bird, it’s a plane... it’s super asshole!), and seems awfully jealous when frank flirts with janet, probably because janet does very little to seem unreceptive. he also gets pissed as fuck when frank mentions how hospitable and generous he’s being by letting brad’n’janet stay here, which... there’s still no phones in the castle, asshole. he’s more reserved and a little bit self-conscious both when frank compliments their underclothes (don’t listen to him for a moment, brad, you area still wearing the world’s FUGLIEST underwear) and when his outraged “hospitality!” speech is met with frank telling him how forceful he is (which the conventionalists find ENTIRELY amusing). i guess it’s understandable--this is almost definitely the first time in his life he’s been hit on, by a man or otherwise really, and he’s repressed enough that he kind of shuts down. you can’t just be openly sexual in brad’s mind. that’s not how it works. the question about the tattoo brings him back to himself, though, which again shows his distaste for counterculture. tattoos are things that type has. not him.

janet giggles when frank asks her, and he stares at her in disbelief for a while. when janet claps along with the transylvannians for frank’s experiment, he just stands and watches before holding her so she can’t do it anymore--but when janet starts getting scared of the lights and the noises, he’s back in his a-game, reassuring her there’s nothing to be scared of. he really does like being the one with power--he thinks he has it when he’s yelling about hospitality, frank brings him back to earth by looking at him, for lack of a more tasteful phrase, like a piece of meat. while he’s reassuring janet, and she’s thinking of how strong and protective he is (a comment that she makes many times in her police statement, and which frank is perceptive enough to have picked up to use in the seduction scene), he’s okay again, and he starts looking in shock at the machines frank is using. that’s another thing about brad--he can get used to these situations pretty easily, and he’s still easily distracted by his interest in science. it’s just frank himself and janet’s flirtations with frank that are throwing him off his groove.

side note. in the police statement, brad implies that he thinks rocky was just “having a snooze” in the tank, though whether he says this because that’s actually his impression or because he legitimately does believe that the story he’s telling is too fantastic to be true is kind of unclear. if he did believe that frank was able to create life, i think his dislike at this stage would be pretty easily overcome by his dorky science questions--but maybe that’s just me.

brad totally checks out rocky. he puts on his glasses and does this whole once over--subtle. in the police statement, he comments that “frank got very concerned about his being frightened and kept telling him he was beautiful. he wasn’t a bad looking guy – but i wouldn’t have called him beautiful.” suuuuure. maybe rocky’s just not brad’s type, though; he does go on and on about eddie.

when frank asks what brad and janet think of his creation, brad smiles briefly at janet for her (flat out lie that) she doesn’t like men with too many muscles; before frank even reacts, though, his face falls when the spectators laugh, and he seems a little embarrassed. i would have liked to see his answer--although, like i said in the last paragraph, it may simply be that rocky (whom he calls “rock,” citing rock hudson, who, side note, was gay, altho i have no idea whether or not they knew that in the 70′s) is not quite his taste. we don’t see brad’n’janet for all of i can make you a man, but we do see them again in hot patootie--eddie seems to flirt with rocky and janet and maybe even brad, a bit (if he was one of frank’s conquests, eddie must be bi too, right?). brad’s face seems mostly just flat out baffled for the duration of the song, but all his comments in the police statement seem pretty positive--“this guy who burst out on the harley sang his song. i held his sax for a while he was singing. good voice”--which is somewhat strange, given that eddie embodies all the stereotypes of the “other” that brad has been shitting on since the beginning--he has a motorcycle, he’s got tattoos, he’s part of frank’s little circle, and he pretty much humps columbia right there on the floor. brad doesn’t seem actually distraught by the murder, though, saying not much beyond “god rest his soul” like a good little christian boy would. he does note that he would have thought that eddie “could have made a lot of money as a singer,” which is again, cute, because he really doesn’t seem to believe all those stereotypes as much as he seemed to think he did.

side note, if he was attracted to eddie, and we know he’s at least somewhat attracted to frank, doesn’t that mean brad has the exact same taste in men as columbia? which could be related to him thinking that rocky wasn’t anything to write home about--neither of them seem to be that interested in muscle.

brad’s not even slightly subtle about checking out frank when magenta and riff raff take the gown off him. he looks away, as if that helps anything about it. he also looks absolutely betrayed by janet’s announcement that she’s a muscle fan. dammit, janet.

he takes the time to mention frank and rocky’s “wedding,” which he makes sure to detach from the other one we see in the movie by assuring the police that it was nothing like ralph and betty’s, although he praises them on about the same level: about the haphshatt’s wedding, he says “very nice wedding it was,” while in regard to frank’s, he says “it was quite nice, i suppose.” i appreciate that he never really expresses disgust for any part of the night except for the cannibalism--he never demonizes frank as a q***r or anything like that. in regard to what happened after the wedding, he either is ignorant (unlikely) or feigns it--he says that he “didn’t think it was [his] business,” which i feel like is the polite streak that was pounded mercilessly into his head jumping out.

off topic, but he wasn’t completely accurate in saying the wedding was nothing like ralph’s--at the end, the transylvannians throw flower petals and chant “rocky, rocky, rah rah rah!,” which parallels the wedding guests cheering “haphshatt haphshatt, rah rah rah!” at the end of ralph and betty’s wedding. is that a custom i didn’t know about, or was it a nod to the fact that the guests were supposed to be played by the transylvannians?

next: sex! i probably don’t have to say anything for y’all to know that this is one of my favorite scenes--i’m predictable like that. the seduction of brad and janet go pretty similarly, with mostly the same lines--frank changes “i think you’ll find it quite pleasurable” to “i think you’ll really quite enjoy it” for some flair, and brad gets angry (nevernever. never!) while janet gets weepy. janet protests that she was saving herself (for marriage, which she’s built up in her head), while brad gets pissed because he thought it was the real thing--it’s notable, though, that while janet was already getting hot and heavy when she thought it was brad, brad doesn’t get into anything sexual until after he knows it’s frank; he was only holding “janet” and petting her hair. frank gets smart after janet makes him promise not to tell brad and leads with the fact that he won’t tell janet, and after making sure that frank promises he won’t tell, brad’s out there arching his back and moaning. can’t say i blame him--i wouldn’t have even said no in the first place. in the statements, brad seems to have either blocked out the entire memory (which i doubt) or just refuses to say it, much like he did with what frank and rocky did in their room; first of all, he leads with “well, janet and i went off down all these corridors and things and were shown to our bedroom. one each. even if we hadn’t been given a room each, i would have insisted on it. you’ve got to do the right thing.” yeah, sure, brad--that’s why you let janet in so quickly, huh? anyway, he continues with “a few things went on during the night. no, i’d rather not talk about it. no, i can’t remember. yes, i think someone did come into my room. no, i’ve got no idea who it was. i was asleep at the time.” what was it that brad said earlier about always telling the complete truth? not that i really blame him--look man, it was the 70′s, and even if he didn’t have a 100% upstanding citizen’s image to maintain, casually announcing that you’re a fag probably doesn’t have amazing consequences for anyone involved. janet, in her report, is free with the fact that she knew it was frank, though she still doesn’t acknowledge that she had sex: “i thought it was brad at first, but then it was frank so that was o.k. i mean i would have been shocked if it had been brad. he’s always been so respectful towards me.”

basically, “i would have been shocked if brad touched me like that. he’s way too repressed to go beyond closed mouth kissing.”

but i digress.

we see brad again on the television monitor, smoking a “we just had sex” cigarette and looking back at frank casually. they seem to be talking, and frank seems super pleased with what he’s done. i suppose he would, he’s just gotten off two (three?) times in the last hour or so. like, fuck, that’s pretty impressive. especially if you have a dick. brad seems a lot more chill with what they did than janet does--janet’s crying and guilty at first, then crying and betrayed, which is... strange. janet, did you somehow forget that you fucked the exact same man in the past twenty seconds? maybe she just wanted to believe that his will was stronger than hers, or that he was straight. how would she have reacted if it was, say, columbia in that bed? i guess we’ll never know.

maybe she’s just thinking about her ruined marriage, if we’re being honest.

anyway, brad, unlike janet, seems content to follow frank after they make it, and doesn’t really seem unsettled by what they did. he does seem unsettled by watching frank whip riff raff, but once that’s over and the three of them are looking at dr. scott on the television monitor, he’s gotten over that, too, and he’s happy to announce (with no mind for reading the room) that he knows scott--that’s an old friend of his! frank gets apprehensive and angry, concluding rationally that dr. scott (who he knows as a UFO investigator, and who would naturally prove dangerous to his continued stay on earth) sent brad and janet to his castle to spy on him. brad tries to reassure frank that he’s there because his car broke down--and here, he’s still smiling a little, until he drops to a serious “i was telling the truth.” maybe he should tell frank that thing about washing behind his ears? frank doesn’t believe him, and starts jabbing him backward (but not hitting him) with the handle of the whip. brad gets increasingly angry at this disrespect, and seems (like he did in the lab earlier) about to snap out, until he trips backward, and frank raises the whip, at which point his weird relation with power dynamics saves his ass. he almost forgot, before, where he stood, but now he’s looking up at a man with a whip who’s clearly not afraid to use it, and so he chills out quite a bit. frank asks him to confirm that dr. scott works for the US government in the investigation of UFOs, and brad shoots back that he might, which angers frank, until brad drops his own anger and submits in a more placating “i don’t know!” frank chills out, and then summons dr. scott up to the lab.

despite being threatened with a very real whipping, brad seems no less excited to see dr. scott than he initially was. he really is quite devoted to his mentor, and has no shame when offering his hand to shake--like, how does he not realize his robe has blown open and dr. scott can definitely see his dick through his ugly tightie whities? no idea. but damn if he’s not happy. frank makes a comment about how adaptable he is, and only then is brad embarrassed enough to look away. scott saves brad’s ass a little by assuring frank he had no idea that brad was going to be here, to which frank seems a little surprised, but probably pleasantly. it’s better to know that the dude you just fucked wasn’t secretly a spy conspiring to out you to the planet earth, right?

brad seems hurt and confused in the rocky horror role call bit by janet’s betrayal--which is a little fair. after all, brad only fucked one guy, but janet’s been caught in bed with at least two. still, infidelity is infidelity, and neither of them has much room to judge at this point. brad probably gets this, because, while he still seems a little miffed when they sit down to dinner, he’s not trying to confront her about it or anything. in fact, he doesn’t try to do any confrontation at all until frank-n-furter implies that dr. scott is a nazi (which. doesn’t really work if he’s been doing the german accent the whole time, but whatever), and brad, who doesn’t know that it’s true, gets righteously angry on his behalf. poor baby. might want to get a better fcking mentor.

he still seems a little upset when dr. scott starts singing “eddie,” but makes his peace, i suppose, enough to get into the song by the end, where he sings with what i’m just gonna assume is righteous anger at how bad eddie was. i think at this point he’s more or less loyal to frank, at least in the eddie department. less so when frank slaps janet a second later; then he’s back in the “righteous anger” department. he takes off his glasses and then is apparently so blind he can’t see which way they went. that’s not how glasses work, brad.

he’s pretty impressed with the science in the latter half of “planet schmanet janet.” like yeah, they’re glued to the spot, but he doesn’t seem as upset about that as janet does, and knows exactly what dr. scott’s impression of the transducer means. once again, i just want to emphasize how much i’d like a fic of frank and brad talking about science and machines and stuff. brad’s a scientifically minded guy! he’d be fucking fascinated with all this shit if he had time in between his bouts of righteous anger to be!

despite being trapped, brad tries to get a hit in while frank sings the sexiest line of the movie. respect, i guess. and another after janet beats him for a little!

there’s protective!brad again. he’s trembling with anger while he threatens frank... completely ineffectually. you’re trapped, dumbass.

ah, well.

then, the floor show! the floor show gives us kind of a jump in brad’s character. according to his statement, he wasn’t conscious for the part where he sings on stage--he says he doesn’t really remember anything between the dinner (which he refuses to answer questions on: “oh yes, we did have dinner at some point. no i feel ill when i think about it. i didn’t eat anything. at least not very much. i’ll be sick if you keep asking me about it”) and waking up in the pool. the little segment in the show itself tells a lot about him though: here, though brad seemed pretty cool & collected up until this point, we learn that he’s massively uncomfortable with the role he’s found himself in--the sex, the company, and probably above all else, the corset and the fish nets. he calls on his mother to save him, which supports that bit in his report when he says that his mother told him that gambling is evil--he’s kind of a momma’s boy, and he’s reverting back to that while finding himself in a situation he can’t control. at the same time, though, he doesn’t totally seem to hate it--he does admit to feeling sexy dressed like that, and once he gets in the pool, everything gets blissed out. even in his statement, he doesn’t try to hide that part of his evening--“yes, i did have a nice swim. it was warm – it was beautiful really.” that’s probably the most glowing review he gives of anything that happened that night, and his actions in the pool consisted of... licking frank’s chest, rubbing his head on rocky’s dick, and getting dipped by columbia. yeah, i think beautiful pretty much sums it up, actually. he returns to his “it’s beyond me” chorus for a moment in the pool, but columbia puts an end to that.

oh, i love his pose while frank is singing, too. i know i’ve used the word repressed like fifty times in this review, but...

all i can say about the rest of the song is that i’m really feeling his legs in the chorus line. he’s got more devotion to the dance than rocky does, at least.

then there’s protective brad again; he pulls janet away from frank when riff raff and magenta start threatening him (and gets a heel to his foot for his trouble). during “i’m going home,” he looks appropriately sad at frank’s departure. maybe even more than appropriately, since this isn’t exactly his closest friend in the world, is it? still, we also get protective!brad protecting someone other than janet for the one and only time when riff raff announces frank’s death and brad yells out “you’re going to kill him? what’s his crime!” there’s that righteous anger again... and like, even though this is a man that brad has seen murder one man, brutally whip another, and who has threatened him and his beloved mentor and harassed his fiance... brad really can’t fathom why they would kill him! it might be a side effect of the mind control ray frank was using, but dr. scott was under the same stuff, ostensibly, and didn’t find a single problem saying that they had to kill frank for society’s protection.

i love that short little scene with brad burying his head in janet’s hair while he holds her. i think he’s a little disillusioned with his mentor by the end, or at least i would hope so. poor frank ):

brad’s part in superheroes is mostly just about him being sexy for me. like. the words he’s saying mostly just tell me that he’s freaking out because of what happened. but the way he’s sitting and writhing around in the smoke.... undeniably hot.

anyway, holy shit, i’ve been working on this for like seven hours now. tl; dr: brad majors loves janet weiss a lot, or at least the idea of her, but is completely sexually repressed and can’t deal with it when he has his gay awakening and then subsequently tries drag for the first time before watching the dude who fucked him dying. i probably should have gotten more out of that, and maybe i did, but that’s in the past now. FUCK i wrote too much. ok.

#rocky horror picture show #brad majors #janet weiss #eddie #dr. frank n furter #dr. everett scott #text post #rocky horror #i can't even add clever tags.... this is all i'e got

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enbycupcake · 5 years

Text

“we’ve been dating this whole time but you didn’t know??”

post kh2. sorikai. on ao3 [ here ]

Riku snorts when he sees Sora stumble out of his front door, almost tripping over his large feet and desperately clutching onto an aluminum tin. His mom calls out to wish him a good day, and his ma laughingly tells him to wish Riku a happy birthday from her. Sora shouts back he will; Riku raises his voice, too.

“Thanks, Arisa!”

Sora smiles at him as he basically skips towards him, and Riku hums as Arisa whistles at him before the front door closes. Turning his attention to his friend, Riku looks at how big the tin is. Someone went overboard.

Again.

Laughing, Riku ruffles Sora’s hair, ignoring Sora crying out for his balance. “You’ve fought against heartless, but holding one oversized tin is enough to get you scared?”

“You’re gonna ruin the cupcakes! I frosted them, and everything!”

“I hope you don’t expect me to carry those around school all day. Kairi’s made me some, too, right?”

Sora perks up at the mention of his girlfriend, and Riku grows fond against his own volition. The two of them are cute together, just like he knew they’d be. Riku lets out a small smile while Sora answers.

“Yep! And you have to eat all of them.” Sora gives him a mock glare. “No giving them out to the rest of our year.”

Eyebrow rising, “No? You know Selphie’s gonna take one of each, and Tidus is gonna whine until I feed him.”

“They’re our friends! But no one else! We worked hard on these!” A dusting of pink litters Sora’s cheeks. “And they’re special. We made them with extra love this year.”

“...are you saying that my cupcakes from two years ago, you held out on me?”

“You’re so annoying.” Sora bumps his shoulder with Riku, still ever so careful about the tin in his arms. “You know what I meant, stink face.”

Riku thinks he does; for a while, none of them thought they’d get to see another birthday. And his is the first one since they’ve been reunited. It’s more than just him getting another year older; it’s a symbol that they’ve made it, that they’re all still together. “Of course, Sora.”

“Good.”

Sora lingers close to his arm, Sora’s own brushing up against Riku’s, all the way to Kairi’s house. Riku smiles over his friend’s head, just looking at him, fondness coursing through him – they could make it to Kairi’s house blindfolded, the both of them. Listening as Sora chatters about what he thinks of last night’s episode of his moms’ favorite drama, Kairi’s house draws closer and closer. She’s waiting for them, no mad dash like Sora to greet them.

In her hands is another tin, this time a glass one. Riku can make out chocolate cupcakes and yellow frosting.

“Riku! Happy birthday!” Kairi beams at him, raising the baked goods in her arms. “Mine are better than Sora’s.”

“They are not! You’re using my ma’s recipe, may I remind you.”

Snorting, Riku leans down pretend to inspect them. “I dunno, Sora. Did you make the frosting yellow?”

“Duh.”

“Chocolate cake?”

“Obviously.”

Riku straightens, putting on a solemn face. “Then it comes down to taste.”

Kairi giggle-snorts while Sora huffs. “None of you appreciate the blessing Ma gave us.”

“Aw, of course we do.” Riku pulls the both of them to him slowly so as not to disrupt the cupcakes, arms around their shoulders. “Thank you for the extra love cupcakes, guys.”

Both Sora and Kairi’s faces heat up, Riku notes. His stomach flutters at the reminder of how important he is to them. He can’t believe his younger self was jealous and doubtful because of Sora’s crush. Even with the new development of his friends dating, he’s still just as included as he’s ever been.

“You’re welcome, Ri.” Kairi grins up at him. “Everyone is gonna pout seeing you’re already loaded up with stuff.”

Riku groans. “You’d think after being gone a year I wouldn’t be popular anymore.”

“Ha! So you’re going carry the cupcakes!”

“Of course he is. And it’s because you look like a bad boy. Also you’ve got soft hair.”

Ignoring Sora, Riku blows his bangs out of his face. “You think a haircut would cut it?”

“No.” Kairi and Sora pout at him. “Do you want to cut it?”

Shrugging, Riku notes they’re almost at school. “I just thought of it.”

“Well, you’d look hot long or short hair.” Kairi gives him a wide mouthed smile, face full of affection. “I’ll get Selphie to give you a discount if you really want a cut.”

Sora laughs. “She’d probably do it for free just to say she got to touch it.”

“Probably,” agrees Kairi.

Riku rolls his eyes, detaching himself from his friends. “Why aren’t either of you disastrously unattainable in the eyes of the student body?”

“We don’t have muscles, sadly.”

“I could workout with you two, you know.” Both of his friends make disgusted faces at him. “Fine, don’t join me in popularity.”

“We’ll survive, I’m sure,” Sora drawls as he opens up his tin. “Take one so I can eat one!”

Rolling his eyes, Riku obliges and takes out two cupcakes, knowing Kairi won’t eat one until break. “You could’ve just had one before putting them in here.”

“They’re for you!”

“And you’re still gonna eat like half of them.”

“Duh, you aren’t gonna eat like fifty cupcakes by yourself.”

Kairi laughs at Sora talking with cupcake in his mouth. “Maybe finish your bite first.”

“No.”

Riku shares the long suffering look Kairi shoots him. Sora, while the greatest friend they could ask for, is a sloppy heathen. Kairi shakes her head at her boyfriend, rolling her eyes as he proceeds to inhale the rest of his cupcake. Riku purposefully makes a show of slowly eating his, enjoying the way Sora makes silly chewing faces at him. Kairi fondly mutters about them, eyes slipping between them.

Wiping the little frosting he got off the corner of his mouth, Riku lets out an exaggerated sigh as he holds out his arms; with Kairi saying he’s gonna carry the cupcakes, it’s better to just give in. Kairi’s cheeks are flushed with happiness, probably because he didn’t even pretend to resist. She places her tin in his hands, and Sora delicately stacks his on top.

“A birthday Riku, ready for the masses!”

Snorting, Riku pulls his arms in a little. “I’m always ready for the masses.”

“Uh huh.” Kairi pushes some of her hair behind her ear, glancing at Sora before him. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“You know it!”

Riku nods. “Yeah. Please don’t make any dramatic birthday declarations.”

“There will be no promises,” both of them say in sync.

Selphie gawks at him when he walks into class. Riku takes his seat next to her. “Another Sora and Kairi cupcake bash.”

“No shit.” She lifts Sora’s tin up to get to Kairi’s, fiddling to get one cupcake from each. “I’m so jealous; did you see what my boyfriend did for my birthday?”

“I still say you should break up with him.”

“He’s cute, though! And I guess we can’t all have Sora’s ma’s talent for chocolate cake.” Selphie takes a bite, moaning at the taste. She finishes chewing before continuing. “Besides, not all boyfriends can be as great as Sora.”

Riku thinks of how Sora thinks the absolute world of Kairi, how far he’d go for her safety, the easy way the two transitioned from friends to lovers. The lack of any jealousy between them for how close Riku and Kairi are. “Touché.”

“Soooo!” Selphie raises her eyebrows suggestively. “Any plans for after school?”

Wrinkling his nose at the implication, Riku shakes his head as he digs into his backpack for his pen. Their teacher should be in soon. “We’re probably gonna go to the play island, hang out.” ‘We’ is easy enough for Selphie to figure out is Sora and Kairi; it’s not like Riku really hangs out with anyone else besides them and her. “Sora’s mom’s probably gonna make dinner.”

Selphie blinks at him. “You’re not spending your b-day dinner at home?”

“No.” His tone is harsh, but he knows it’ll make Selphie drop it.

True to form, her lips pull up into another smile. “What did the lovebirds get you?”

“Cupcakes.”

“Rikuuuuu,” she whines.

“Probably an embarrassing announcement at lunch, if I’m right.”

“You’re so lame. I’d be fawning if my boyfriend did any of the things Kairi and Sora do for you.”

“Break up with him, Selphie,” Riku tells her as their teacher walks in.

Tidus takes a plateful of cupcakes; he came to class with a plate ready.

“Dude, I’ve looked forward to your birthday since we were babies. Sora’s ma’s cupcakes are the shit.”

“I’m feeling very used.”

Shoving cupcake into his mouth, Tidus nods. “You know our friendship is just a sham. I’m only here for Sora benefits.”

“That hurts.” Riku puts a hand to his heart. “I thought what we had was special.”

“Nope!”

Swiping at him, Riku is pleased to see frosting jam into the other boy’s cheek as he misses his mouth. “Asshole.”

“I’ll let that slide since you’re gonna let me eat as many of these as I want.” Tidus wags a finger at him. “But know, come tomorrow, I’m gonna be pissed at you for ruining my cupcake.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am. And I’ll beat you at something, for once.”

“Kairi and Selphie’s scoreboard doesn’t agree with you.”

“I hate you. But tell Sora I love his ma.”

“You can tell Sora that yourself, weirdo.”

Tidus slaps his shoulder. “What’d Sora get you anyway? Kairi?”

“Cupcakes.”

Groaning, Tidus punches his shoulder this time. “You used that on Selphie, too, didn’t you?”

“Yep.” Riku dusts off his shoulder, making a point of blowing off the imaginary dust. “You two are too easy.”

“I bet Sora and Kairi can say that about you.” He wiggles his eyebrows the exact same way Selphie did. “You gonna give it up today, huh, Riku? We gonna see a kiss today?”

Eyebrows scrunching, Riku looks at Tidus. He’s not dating anyone. He’s never even flirted with anyone at school. “What are you and Selphie on about today?”

“Psh. We’re just being nosy; sources say birthdays are romantic occasions.” Tidus dramatically lies across his desk, barely missing his cupcake plate. “Besides, I’m living vicariously through you and Selphie, man.”

“...I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I guess you of all people wouldn’t.” Tidus looks up at him pathetically. “Can I steal more cupcakes?”

“It’s not like I was stopping you before.”

Sora and Kairi are waiting for him at their usual table, hands linked together. Riku smiles at how cute they are, both of them raising their hands, still connected, to wave him over. Their smiles are beaming, and Riku makes his way over. Sora’s cheeks dimple while Kairi’s eyes crinkle.

“Are you two gonna embarrass me?”

“Nope!” Sora declares. Kairi reaches for a cupcake, one of the ones Sora made since it’s easier to get to one handed. “We’re just gonna play footsie under the table and eat lunch.”

Kairi’s foot comes out to bump his, shortly followed by both of Sora’s, and Riku laughs. Of course Sora was serious.

“You dorks.”

A peak of Sora’s tongue while Kairi salutes. “You know it.”

“Embarrassing you comes after school.”

“Oh, so your moms are gonna participate?”

“Yep!”

“Kairi, please save me.”

“No way. Go against Sora’s moms? Pass.”

Riku knocks her foot. “So much for trust.”

“You wouldn’t trade me for the worlds.”

“You’re damn right.”

One of Sora’s feet does a little kick, and his arm comes up so he can rest his cheek on his palm. “I love you two.”

“Love you, too,” is Kairi’s easy response.

“Me, too.”

“It’s ‘me, three,’ c’mon, Riku,” comes Tidus, swinging down to sit by him. “If there’s three of you, you might as well do it right.”

“Nobody asked you.”

Selphie waves Riku off as she sits on the other side of him. “The peanut gallery always is allowed opinions.”

“Are not,” says Sora. “It’s still ‘too,’ anyway. Two people love me, not three.”

“Don’t you ever bring grammar up to me ever again. You gotta do it for the vibe.”

Selphie and Kairi roll their eyes, and Sora sticks his tongue out. Riku grabs a cupcake. Sora’s right, but not for the reason he gave; Riku, however, isn’t gonna give Tidus anything.

“So, where the fuck are my gifts, anyway, Tidus, Selphie?”

Flipping her hair with an eyeroll, Selphie doesn’t even look at him as she opens her lunch sack. “I didn’t get you anything. Do you want–” she pulls out fruit gummies and waves them.

“On principle.”

She hands them over, and Riku raises his eyebrow at Tidus. Sora’s face is red trying to hold in his laughter. Kairi’s hand is over her mouth in amusement.

“Dude, my presence is a present.” Tidus shrugs. “I have nothing.”

“Some friend you are. I got you a smoothie.”

“Yeah, because it wasn’t on a school day!”

“Your point?”

“Kairi, tell him to stop being mean to me.”

Kairi puts her hand on top of his, her face now serious. “Riku, keep going.”

“Rude!”

Selphie tuts while Sora can’t contain his laughter any longer. “You know they’ll never team up against each other, Tidus.”

“I can hope; what was that saying about friends before girlfriends?” Tidus waves his hand. “And Soras.”

Kairi snorts while Sora lets out a “hey!” "Even before we were dating he’d pick us over you, remember?”

Riku blinks. And he examines Kairi to see if she’s feeling okay; she’s dating Sora, not him. He ignores whatever Tidus comes back with, and turns his attention to Sora. Sora, who isn’t even jokingly butting in, who isn’t even fazed, who just has a big smile on his face. It doesn’t settle right in his stomach. Sora would never take it to mean anything – there’s a reason he trusts Kairi and he trusts him – but what Kairi said isn’t right.

Sora notices him looking, his smile getting softer. Riku, for just a moment, thinks about not drawing any attention to this weird moment – to just confront Kairi later. But he immediately puts that thought out of his head. The three of them are a team, and Kairi said this in front of the both of them. Besides, Sora’ll probably love teasing him once this is over; Riku’s probably missing something.

Subtly jerking his head, Riku starts packing away his lunch. Sora nods, and Kairi, ever aware, also starts putting away her tiny food containers.

“Well, it’s time for us to give Riku one of his presents!” Sora gives an apologetic smile to their friends. “Riku, close your eyes. It’s in our spot.”

Selphie squeaks. “You waited until half of lunch was over just to tease us!”

“Maybe.” Kairi puts her hand on Selphie’s. “But you’ll get to see it next class, so I think you’ll forgive us.”

“It better be good!”

Riku snorts as he picks up the cupcake tins and stands. Sora throws his lunch pack hazardously into his backpack while Kairi puts hers in her front pouch. “I think it’s my job to judge if their presents are good or not.”

Sora pushes him forward, and Kairi slots herself on his other side. Her hand hangs close to his, ready for either him to take it or for her to take his if he’s feeling overwhelmed. Sora’s stays on the small of his back. Swallowing, Riku feels bad that they think he’s...feeling lost, as they’ve taken to calling it when one of them needs the reminder that they’re finally home.

Once they reach the little supply closet that is never locked and never checked, Kairi leans in to look him in eyes after he places the cupcakes on a shelf. “You okay, Ri?”

“Yeah.” Riku gives her a reassuring smile before dropping it to continue. “I’m just...confused. About earlier.”

“Earlier?” Sora asks, his hand drawing away from his back. He puts his hands above his head.

“Kairi said we were dating.”

Both of his friends look at him blankly. “Uh, yeah?”

“Um.” Riku can’t detect anything but confusion from them. “You two are dating?”

He’s met with frowns, Sora and Kairi looking at each other before Kairi’s hand comes up to his forehead under his bangs. Her hand is warm against his skin. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Ri?”

“Did you hit your head? Are you missing anything?”

Riku shakes his head, Kairi’s hand falling to instead over hesitantly around his cheek.

“But you don’t remember us asking you out?” she says.

“You....have never asked me out.” Riku thinks over all his memories, trying to find any piece at all makes any sense of this. Kairi and Sora have been their usual selves, nothing at all telling him something is out of place or someone’s been dream snatched or he’s being messed with. “Are you my Kairi and Sora?”

Sora whacks him in the arm. “Are you our Riku?”

“Neither of you have mentioned alternate realities, so one of you better start talking, my Sora and Riku or not.”

“We’ve never encountered them, but Kairi! We’ve had so many date nights, he can’t be ours if he hasn’t lost any memories!”

Riku sighs. “How about we start from where we remember dating beginning and go from there.”

“Right.” Sora nods enthusiastically.

Kairi sits down, patting the spots beside her. “We might as well get comfortable.”

Riku folds himself down as best as he can, but Kairi and Sora prod at his legs until he just sits with them on top of the two of them. It’s more comfortable, like Kairi wanted, and she smirks at him for it before pushing some hair behind her eye, face getting serious.

“So, I guess Sora and I’ll go first.” She grabs Sora’s hand, fiddling with his fingers. “Remember after Tidus’s birthday, we went to the play island for the weekend? And we watched the sunset?”

“And Sora wanted to sleep right there on the beach? Yeah.” Riku smiles. “I had to throw him over my shoulder to get him up to the shack.”

“Listen, it would’ve been nice!!”

“Not after the tide came up.” Riku and Kairi counter at the same time.

Sora rolls his eyes. “But, we changed into our pajamas, and the two of you were very warm. I almost kissed you right there.” He scratches his head. “I figured it’d be better to wait until morning, though.”

Kairi flicks his forehead while Riku laughs.

“Stop it.” Sora pouts at them. “But morning rolled around, and the sun was shining just right to make both of your hair shiny when we went back out. And when you grabbed us, I had to.”

Kairi’s smiling, love woven into her face despite her blush. Sora’s cheeks are flushed, and Riku feels too warm. Sora’s always frank about his emotions, but for the most part Riku’s never been exposed to it in a romantic context. Listening to Sora talk about his memory – their memory, so far nothing has changed between their recollections expect the end product – makes Riku wish that he could have what they’re insisting is real.

Swallowing, Riku ignores the urge to grab at his friends. Sora and Kairi are happy, and he won’t ruin it in a moment of weakness at whatever is happening here.

“Kairi let me kiss her, but you told me not to.” Sora flashes a smile at him. Riku feels his stomach drop; his Sora had done the same thing. “You looked really panicked about it, so I grabbed your hands, and I told you I loved you. Then you told me you love me, too, and that it was about time, and you let me rest my head on your shoulder while Kairi made us breakfast. And I told her I love her, too. That’s how we started dating!”

Riku stares at his friend, and then he turns to stare at Kairi. He once again looks at Sora. “That’s...exactly how I remember you two started dating.”

Kairi groans. “What part of that makes it seem like just me and Sora were dating? You were right there. Sora said he loves you.”

“Uh, the part where Sora’s been crushing on you since forever? I thought he was panicking about kissing you in front of me.”

“Wait, so you don’t mind kissing?!”

“Sora, focus.” Kairi puts a finger in Riku’s face. “And our date nights? What, pray tell, where you thinking those were?”

Riku glances at Kairi’s finger, wetting his mouth. He’s in deep shit, whatever he says. There’s been no reality swapping, just miscommunication, it seems. “I thought we were hanging out.”

“Hanging out!” Sora cries. “I was sitting as close to in your lap as I thought you’d be comfortable with! We had a rotating schedule!”

“A...rotating schedule?”

“We'd rotate Saturday mornings; one for you and Sora, one for you and me, one for me and Sora. And Saturday evening we’d have a group date. Did you not notice?”

“No?” Riku says. He was definitely aware that he thought it was weird that Sora and Kairi never went out as a couple on the easiest weekend day, but he never thought it was because they thought he was supposed to be a part of the date.

Sora hits his face with his palm while Kairi pokes him in the forehead. “My gods, I’m in love with idiots.”

Her voice is fond, and Riku takes solace in that. “I...don’t know what to say.”

Kairi clamps her hand over Sora’s mouth, speaking over him. “Do you need time?”

“No.” Riku looks at his legs, thrown over Kairi and Sora’s. Looks back at all the time he felt warm at being included, at not being third wheeled. Knowing, now, it’s easy to see how their interactions with him have changed. It’s the little extra touches, the little softer smiles, the pink cheeks. Sora wasn’t panicking or feeling pity when he tried to kiss him; flushing, Riku looks the both of them in the eye. “I want to do this right, this time.”

Kairi and Sora’s smiles are blinding. Riku lets his lips pull into a small one, reaching for his friends hands.

“Can I kiss you?” Sora asks, clumsy.

Rolling her eyes, Kairi shakes her head, and Riku laughs. “Yeah.”

“Thanks, Riku!”

Sora lunges over Kairi, and Riku ignores the way it makes his legs hurt. It’s a quick peck, Sora’s chapped lips only just brushing his, but Riku feels his heart skip a beat at how pleased Sora looks when he pulls away. Sora’s fingers tangle into his shirt as he settles back on his side of Kairi, and Kairi finds his hand.

“So, is this a you don’t mind kissing, or is this a special occasion?”

Riku shrugs, just enjoying their attention now that he can. He’s never thought he’d date; Kairi and Sora have been it, for him.

Kairi kisses the corner of his mouth. “Keep us posted.”

“Yeah.”

#sorikai #destiny trio #kingdom hearts #kh #my fic #kh fic #food mention

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ivadeshin · 6 years

Text

Five Soda Maximum (High School AU) pt 10

(need to catch up?)

“You are sure it is okay?”

Fjord grins at him. “We like the Moondrop kids,” he says. “I’m more surprised than anything else. They mostly just hang out with each other... doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be happy to have ‘em hang out with us.”

“Ja. Um. Moondrop?”

“The street they live on,” Fjord says, and laughs. “Weren’t payin’ much attention when you were drivin’ over?”

Caleb feels his face heat a little, and Fjord gives him a friendly punch in the arm. “Well,” Caleb says, looking around the hallway a moment before leaning in. “You are one to talk, with-”

“Shut up,” Fjord says quickly, pulling the collar of his beholder t-shirt up until his face is half hidden. Muffled, “I never shoulda told you.”

“I will not tell,” Caleb reassures him.

“I know you won’t. Just.” Fjord’s cheeks are tinged dark green. “You know how she is.”

“Sweet?”

“Fancy.” Fjord lets go of his shirt and huffs out a sigh. “She’s always swoonin’ over, you know, slick guys with hair gel, and skin routines, and...”

“Metrosexuals!” Caleb interjects excitedly, a little too loudly. A half-elf boy shoots him a weird look as they turn the corner.

Fjord chuckles.

“I just learned that one,” Caleb mutters, embarrassed. “I have not been able to use it yet.”

“Perfect usage. A plus.”

Jester leans in, tail swishing a bit in the grass at she stares at Molly’s face. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Molly blinks. “...sure?”

“Do you use an eyebrow pencil?”

Molly grins shyly as Fjord and Beau roll their eyes. “A little?” he says.

“It looks so good,” Jester enthuses, clapping excitedly. “I love when boys do their brows. I love it. You do yours so well! Do you do them? Does Yasha do them? Yasha doesn’t do them.”

Molly laughs and shakes his head. “I do them. The twins got me some fancy stuff for my birthday... I think the brand is like Beverly Hills?”

“Anastasia Beverly Hills,” Jester says immediately. “Good brand. Good pencils.” She beams and turns to Caleb. “He’s good,” she says approvingly, and leans back again to start in on her salad.

“Well,” Caleb says, clearing his throat, “now I will get to the second half of his introduction, I guess, which is: his last name is Tealeaf.”

“Jester kinda jumped in on ya, huh.” Fjord gives Jester a look.

“I noticed really really suddenly,” Jester says unapologetically. “He’s stylish!”

“I think I might get tattoos someday,” Molly says, dropping into a cross-legged position on the grass as Caleb takes his bag off his shoulder and adds it to the pile. “But I only want to get them if they’re the really amazing kind? Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Beau enthuses, lighting up. “Like those geometric ones, or the white ones? Do the white ones work on your skin?”

“They’d probably disappear on me faster than on light-skinned humans,” Molly grouses, frowning at the back of his forearm. “But I want something really colorful, anyway.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Caleb starts opening his lunch bag, looking over. “Do you think, um, a little one, or a lot of little ones, or a big one...?”

“I kinda want a whole...” Molly grins bashfully and gestures his hand over his whole body.

“Like a Yakuza,” Fjord supplies. Molly’s red eyes light up.

“Yeah! Except I don’t want to get banned from hot springs.”

Fjord laughs. “I see tattoos all the time at the docks... trust me, the best advice I can give is to spend good money to get good art. I’ve seen enough pin-up girls going like...” He puts his shake down and sits up straighter, putting his hands behind his head and tucking his feet together, then distorting it at last minute by crossing his eyes and sticking a leg out at a weird angle. Jester snorts loudly and Nott tips over.

“Beautiful,” Jester gasps.

Molly leans in, super seriously: “Fjord, are you a model?”

Nott asks Beau about the debate team, and that starts an epic and extremely entertaining rant that could go on indefinitely.

Caleb is setting his water bottle back down when he feels something nudge against his back - he frowns and turns, surprised to find it’s a lavender tail that’s very inconspicuously brushing against his ribs. He watches it a moment, the lazy little pattern it seems to be waving in, before peeking at Molly and discovering that Molly is just... listening to Beau, grinning, happy. He seems to notice Caleb looking at him, though, because the tail curls away rests on the grass.

“It is okay,” Caleb mumbles under his breath, when Fjord interrupts Beau to remind her that invitations to ‘take it outside’ will probably get her disqualified.

Molly doesn’t say anything, but his ear flicks out a moment and a few seconds later, Caleb feels a faint pressure on his back, like someone brushing their hand between his shoulder blades. He smiles down at his sneakers.

While waiting for History to start, Fjord snorts at his phone and leans over to Caleb’s desk, holding it out for him to see.

Me: yeah i guess

Nott: no, he’s allowed two after school hangouts a month not including (robot emoji) classes

Beau (pink skin woman facepalm): jeez his parents are the WORST

Me: comin from you...

Jester (shortcake): MORE LUNCH DATES THEN

Jester (shortcake): AND HIS SIBS!!!! (devil emoji) (two girls emoji)

Beau (pink skin woman facepalm): stop it

Me: sounds like a plan

Beau (pink skin woman facepalm): fuck you f don’t join her

Caleb giggles. “May I borrow your phone, please.”

Fjord smirks and sets his phone down on the desk.

Me: This is Caleb. Yasha seems very nice. We should ask her to eat with us.

Beau (pink skin woman facepalm): This is Beau. Fuck You

“I’m not... great with computers,” Yasha admits, opening her laptop as she sits down. “Can I pick your brains while we eat?”

“Yeah, of course.” Beau shrugs casually. “We like, do study groups together a lot, you know, research... reading... studying. Stuff.”

Yasha nods and tilts her screen toward Beau, who leans in and starts reading something. “I’ve got this paper about the cryptocurrency bubble, and I understand the financial part, but, um, a lot of the technical details...”

Nott leans over Yasha’s other side and frowns. “LTC?”

“Litecoin,” Caleb mumbles, breaking a few grapes off of the stems and popping them into his mouth.

“Oh.” Beau scans the page further. “XMR sounds like... a file extension...”

“Monero,” Caleb says, blushing a little as people turn to look at him. “They are both. Cryptocurrencies.”

“I thought that was what Bitcoin was.” Fjord frowns.

“It is one of them.” Caleb swallows and shrugs nervously. “It is just. Nerd stuff.”

“I thought XMR was a programming language.” Molly frowns.

Caleb chews a few grapes and snaps his fingers. “You are, um, thinking of XML.”

Yasha eases her laptop and holds it across the circle to Caleb, who takes it. “Can you help me translate some of this? I’ve only gotta write three or four pages.”

“S-sure,” Caleb says, trying to ignore the burning stare of Beau behind her.

Me: Hello! I have made a new group chat! Because now I have a real phone number and a real phone!

Jester (lollipop emoji): CONGRATULATIONS CALEBBBBBBBBB (balloon emoji) (balloon emoji)

Nott (green skin fist): (green skin waving emoji)

Fjord (notebook): (green skin waving emoji)

Nott (green skin fist): haha we match

Fjord (notebook): were practically twins

Beau sends a screenshot of the new group chat, revealing that Caleb’s name is followed by a pager emoji.

Me: Fuck off it is not that old

Beau (collision symbol): it is a BURNER PHONE and you are a DRUG DEALER

Jester (lollipop emoji): BE NICE BEAU

Me: Hi Molly. This is Caleb.

Molly: WHAT

Me: (pink skin waving emoji)

Molly: you said end of semester

Molly: I DISTINCTLY remember

Me: The store had a very good deal and so my dad bought early.

Molly: I’m freaking out

Me: Is this bad?

Me: You mean happy I think

Molly: I do! We can talk whenever we want now

Molly: Are they going to read your texts? Are they those parents?

Me: I have already jailbreaked the phone, I made many changes, it is not a problem

Molly: Did you use cryptocurrency to to break it open

Me: You do not use money to jailbreak a phone

Molly: I’m just teasing.

Molly: Can your old drug lord burner phone get pictures?

Caleb turns beet red and pulls his comforter over his head.

Nott sends Caleb a picture of Frumpkin on top of a cage, slightly blurry.

Nott (green skin fist): He got really chatty when he saw me and then I think he realized you weren’t with me and now he’s PISSED

Me: Really???

Nott (green skin fist): idk if he’s really pissed but I really think he looked for you once he saw me

Me: I love him

Nott (green skin fist): (cat heart eyes emoji)

Me: Please send more pictures

In the first after school Robotics class, Caleb more or less hides behind Fjord while the teacher explains how LEGO Mindstorm works and what programming languages they’re going to be using.

“You’ll pick everything up,” Fjord murmurs under his breath, so the other students can’t hear. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Nein, I already understand how to do this,” Caleb mumbles. “I just. Wanted to mess around with it and make friends.”

Fjord turns around and squints at him. “And how’re you gonna do that from behind me?”

Caleb smiles awkwardly. “Um. I will come out soon.”

“There’s brand new kids! From the school across town!” Fjord nudges his chin toward a shy looking half elf girl whose right arm is in a green cast. “She looks weird! Go sit with her.”

“You think so?”

Fjord snorts and pushes off of the table he was leaning against, waving to a random human and sitting down next to him. Caleb, now alone, looks around at the paired tables and feels himself start to sweat. The girl notices and looks around too, lifting her (right) arm to wave and wincing when it starts to pull. “Ow! Jeez. Um. Do you want to sit here?”

#critical role #critical fic #widomauk #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #fjord #jester #nott the brave #beau

239 notes · View notes

buzzedbabe · 6 years

Link

@thewolfdragon @richard-madden @maddennfl86 @thenorthremembersalways @thefashionprofessor @robbstarkmademedoit @what-would-wonderwoman-do

story below for those that can’t read it

How much time are you spending thinking about Bodyguard? A lot, I bet. The new BBC thriller, about the relationship between an ambitious and unknowable home secretary and her PTSD-addled protection officer, was written by Jed Mercurio of Line of Duty fame, and was cynically and artfully designed to hook, obsess and fixate an audience into appointment viewing.

Bodyguard is made to steal us away from all newly acquired suit-yourself, binge-watch and content-stream habits, with charismatic heroes who might actually be despicable antiheroes and a succession of frenzied plot twists that simply must be consumed on the night lest someone catch you out with a spoiler on social media. Even if that doesn’t happen, even if your viewing isn’t partly ruined by a stray Facebook comment, watch an episode even a little late and find yourself locked out of all the best conversations, the most detailed post mortems, most frenetic speculations. Bodyguard is, in essence, a middle-aged Love Island, a reason to gather excitedly round the screen at the prescribed hour in a way that hasn’t really happened since the late Nineties.

Bloody hell, it’s good, I tell its star Richard Madden. The 32-year-old Glaswegian actor made his name as Robb Stark in Game of Thrones and consolidated it as Prince Charming in 2015’s Kenneth Branagh-directed Cinderella. Now, after playing Mellors in Mercurio’s 2015 Lady Chatterley’s Lover for the BBC, he trembles on the verge of Poldarking himself into borderline indecent, heavily fetishised glory as Bodyguard’s David Budd, the protection officer at the heart of the story.

“Oh, right,” he says. His accent is broad, non-posh Scottish; unexpected to those who remember it as generically Yorkshire in Game of Thrones. His eyes are intense. He’s arch and funny; he’d probably qualify as dangerously charming if there weren’t also something watchful and cautious about him. “Thanks very much! I enjoyed playing something a bit more adult, less boyish. I’m keen to play more grown-up roles, without actually growing up myself. Pretending to be adult. I’m done playing princes. Princes and royalty and lords. Also, it’s nice not to do an accent.” David Budd is – conveniently – Scottish. “One less thing to think about. Shall we get a drink? It is a Tuesday night, after all.”

It’s a Monday, I point out, but all the same we order a beer and wine from the front desk of the photographic studio in which we sit.

This is not the first time Madden and I have met. Three years ago, he bowled up to me at a friend’s party and demanded to know why I hadn’t featured him in Grazia magazine’s Chart of Lust recently. A placing in the list (which I compile weekly, and does exactly as its title suggests – rates the most fanciable people of that moment’s news), is deeply coveted among those who present themselves as above that kind of vanity, but definitely aren’t. Newscasters, Hollywood A-listers, national treasures, disruptive artists (Grayson Perry once told me he’d pinned his mention up on the wall in his studio), award-winning novelists … I’ve been lobbied by spads chasing mentions for their political charges on more than one occasion. But this was the first time a candidate had ever approached me in the flesh. I was both impressed and amused by his front.

“It does my frail ego good,” he’d elaborated, which, I’d thought, demonstrated a surprising amount of self-awareness in a young actor.

I remind him of our first meeting.

“Oh, God. Great start,” he says. Then, “I’m just trying to work my way up [the chart].”

Well, let’s see how this goes, shall we.

One of the reasons I think Bodyguard resonates so hard with its viewers is that it’s dealing with themes of safety – and so are we all. Terrorist attacks, suicide bombers and rooftop snipers recur from episode to episode; our current nightmares, and most catastrophising daytime fantasies, the ones that flicker through our minds every time we board a plane, go to a concert venue or swipe into a subway system, are played out in high definition on our small screens. Madden’s David Budd thwarts and buffers and foresees and repels; a hero with a fantastically of-the-moment brief. If Poldark is our ultimate historical TV pin-up – manly, tortured, good with his shirt off – then Budd is our ultimate Threat Level: Severe pin-up – manly, tortured, good in a bulletproof vest (“An actual bulletproof vest,” he’ll tell me, “which is so comfortable, for five months”).

I run this theory past Madden. How nervy is he in London right now?

“I don’t feel unsafe. I used to be more panicky, but I’m just less uptight. A few years ago, I’d get off at Tube stations because I’d have a sense of something.”

How much of David Budd’s wariness did Madden inherit through the course of filming?

“You get to a point where you clock everything. That’s what I’m doing for 12 hours a day, so …”

Walk into a room, scope it out for the nearest exit?

“I did that anyway. My dad’s a fireman, so that’s built in. Check into a hotel, first thing I do, find the fire exit.”

Richard Madden was born just outside of Glasgow, an only boy among older and younger sisters. His mother, Pat, is a classroom assistant. There were no other performers in his close family – no pub-singer uncles, no sisters at dance school.

You’re, like, a rogue luvvie.

“Yup!” he says.

How does that happen?

“I don’t know. I was fat. And shy. Crushingly shy, going to what was a fairly tough high school. Aggressive. Masculine. So I thought the best thing to do would be to go and be an actor. Ha ha! Not go and play football. Or get good at boxing. I’ll go and be an actor. They’ll love that.”

Aged 11, Madden joined Paisley Art Centre’s youth theatre programme. “And of course, they did not love that. But then I managed to dodge a couple of years of school, because …”

Because he was good enough to be cast, as a young teenager, in professional roles: in the film adaptation of Iain Banks’ Complicity, and in a kids’ TV show called Barmy Aunt Boomerang.

“So I was like, ‘I’m going to be acting, and not go to school.’ And get paid.”

Did you realise you were good? “I don’t think you ever feel good at it.”

He gave up acting in his mid-teens – “Life got a bit shit, when you’re on telly, among your peers, and you’re 14 years old”. He returned to it when he was 17, “because you have a bunch of teachers going, ‘Right, now you must decide what to do with the rest of your life,’ and 17 is of course the best time to choose.”

In 2004, he began studying at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. “I wasn’t allowed to apply for drama school unless I applied for a ‘real’ course as well, which was computing science. I didn’t even know what it was. Had no interest. And then, luckily, the day before my first exams, I received a letter saying you’ve got into drama school, so I went to my exams and just wrote my name.”

At 22, barely out of the RSAMD, he was cast as Robb Stark in HBO’s epic, fantastically successful Game of Thrones. Stark is the noble, brave, integrity-hampered son of Sean Bean’s Ned Stark; a character with a genuine and credible claim on the kingdom’s iron throne, all of which condemned him to a phenomenally gruesome death in an episode entitled The Rains of Castamere, only fans of the show (among whom I count myself, unashamedly) call it “The Red Wedding”, on account of the blood-drenched ceremony during which Madden, his pregnant wife and his mother all die.

Madden says he thinks that early, formative brush with a TV career was both “a head-f***” and, “I was so thankful for it, because, going into the world of Game of Thrones, I’d already learnt so much from doing it as a kid, of feeling isolated, or getting arrogant because you’re on a TV show. I’d kind of done all that. I could deal with it a lot better.”

A lot better than whom, among your co-stars?

He cackles. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Yes! Can I guess? “No.”

Madden went into Game of Thrones knowing he would die within three series – the books on which the shows are based spelled out Robb Stark’s demise long before Madden was cast – which he thinks is a good thing, professionally speaking. “I didn’t just want to be known as that guy from Game of Thrones.” It also meant that his celebrity has, until this point at least, been tinged with pity, partly for the grotesque manner of his fictional death, partly because he was booted out of that juggernaut of a TV sensation early.

That might be about to change with Bodyguard. I am reasonably confident Madden’s fame is about to be tinged with something rather more lecherous. David Budd is in no sense a straightforward romantic hero – physically and emotionally scarred, with an undivorced wife and kids squirrelled away in a safe house – but heavens, he does brooding intensity well. His love affair with Keeley Hawes’ home secretary, Julia Montague, is as intensely sexy as it is quietly subversive, for making no reference to Hawes’ Montague being ten years older than Madden’s Budd. The whole thing is designed to charm the pants off us, and I wonder how prepared Madden is to receive the unbridled lust of thousands of women on social media.

If Twitter erupts with lechery …

“I won’t look.”

Why?

“Because if I do, and if I believe someone going, ‘Oh God, he’s hot,’ then I’ll also have to believe the person that goes, ‘He’s got pumpkin teeth.’ Do you know what I mean?”

Yes, but, you are widely considered handsome, so …

“I don’t see it.”

Truly not?

“Truly not.”

It is form for beautiful young actors to deny their looks, in the interest of seeming more humble and likeable than they really are, but I think, in Madden’s case, he could mean it. He tells me fame has made him feel less attractive, not more. “You chat to a girl at a bar, have a couple of drinks, and shy Richard is slowly going. This is going well. And then it’s, ‘My boyfriend’s a really big fan. Can I get a picture?’ And you go, ‘F***.’ You think they think you’re hot, but it’s because you’re on telly.”

I ask Madden if he thinks he’s irredeemably defined by the chubby, shy child he used to be.

“I feel like I should lie down on that sofa and give you a hundred quid.”

Were you really so scarringly fat?

“Thirty-eight inch waist when I was 12. I didn’t wear denim until I was 19, because denim is really hard to take up. My mum couldn’t take my jeans up.”

Would you say you have body issues?

“Absolutely, yeah.”

Despite all of which, Richard Madden does OK with women. When I originally met him, he’d been in the final stages of a long-term relationship with the actor Jenna Coleman, who stars as Victoria in the ITV show, and who is now in a relationship with her onscreen Albert, Tom Hughes. Since then, Madden has been gossip-column-linked to a succession of beautiful women – model Suki Waterhouse and TV presenter Laura Whitmore among them – none of whom seem notably put off by his pumpkin teeth.

“I think in the last year I was, as far as the tabloids went, dating seven different people. And when you receive a text saying, ‘Are you sleeping with blah blah,’ and you go, ‘No,’ that’s a bit weird.”

Who are you sleeping with?

“I’m not saying.”

But you are sleeping with someone?

“I am sleeping with someone. I am very happy with someone. There are pictures of it on the internet.”

If it’s the one everyone thinks you’re dating, I say – by which I mean the 21-year-old Ellie Bamber, with whom he was pictured most recently at the Serpentine Gallery summer party – then she’s another actor. Is it really a good idea to go out with other actors?

“Yes and no. Yes, because you understand what each other’s going through. No, because, there’s a certain level of self-focus you need, in order to do the job you’re doing. That’s hard on all relationships, because what am I going to talk to you about? I walk up and down for 12 hours a day, dealing with this character’s shit. That’s all I’ve done, every day, for the past three months … I really haven’t got anything to offer you as a friend.”

We return, briefly, to Bodyguard. He says he got on brilliantly with Keeley Hawes. “Love her, love her to pieces. She saved my arse, because it’s not a fun job. It’s not a comedy. But then Keeley and me, me and her, off screen, were just like two kids.”

Were you paid the same?

“No idea. I imagine she earned more. I care less about how much other people are paid, and more what it takes for me to shut up and go and do my job. The equality thing needs to be addressed hugely between male and female co-stars; I know that from friends of mine. But there’s only so much I can do for myself. Agents and lawyers, they do all that stuff. I just kind of deal with what I need to, so I don’t look a producer in the eye and f***ing hate them when they’re talking about their villas, and you’re thinking, shit, I’m getting the bus at the weekend, because I don’t have the money for a cab, you know?”

How rich are you?

“Not very. People think I am, because of Game of Thrones, but you know, when I signed up for that I was 22, with f*** all on my CV, so I was paid f*** all.”

Then, somehow, we end up talking about his body again.

“In between filming, I eat pizza, drink, don’t work out, get fat, then it’s six weeks till you have to be naked again. It’s always six weeks. Actually, that’s if you’re lucky. I have ten days till I take my clothes off again this time.”

What’s the occasion?

“I’m filming Rocketman, the Elton John film, and I play John Reid, his first boyfriend, his manager for 28 years.”

A straight man in a gay role; casting that has become contentious after Disney named comedian Jack Whitehall, who is straight, as the voice of its first openly gay hero.

“Yeah, and Taron Egerton [who is playing Elton John] is a straight man in a gay role,” says Madden, “and I think we’re all f***ed if we start going down the route of you can only play a gay part if you’re a gay actor. Diversity, equality and pay – of course we need to make sure of all that, but at the same time … I read reports that so and so’s pulled out of this role because they’re not transgender, and you go, yeah, but they’re a f***ing actor, and they’re probably really f***ing good in the part, and maybe that is part of the reason why that film’s getting made …”

We wind up with him telling me he isn’t bothered about an Oscar. “Because, who won best actress last year? Best actor? Best supporting actor? What won best musical?”

No idea.

“So what does it matter?” he says.

After which, he is beautifully mocking (off the record) about a very famous actor’s latest endeavour, before hugging me goodbye and pretending – well – he hopes to see me again soon, socially. Richard Madden made it to No 2 in the current issue of Grazia’s Chart of Lust Bodyguard continues tomorrow at 9pm on BBC One. Episodes 1 and 2 are on BBC iPlayer

#richard madden #bodyguardbbc #robb stark

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nightblogofficialbook · 6 years

Text

Chapter One

Also available on the Tapas.io Website, search for Night in the Novels tab!

“Helen, time to wake up!”

I turned over with a groan. “My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, mom,” I complained, burying my head further under the pillow.

“You set that thing way too late, you’re always rushing yourself in the morning!”

Mom clicked the light on and I groaned louder. “Come on, I’ll make you pancakes but you have to get up now little missy.”

I gave in and sat up. My hair was a nest, my muscles still asleep. I yawned and stretched, and got up to walk out of my room to the bathroom to fix my mess.

My name is Helen Morris. I’m sixteen, tired of life, and ready for retirement already. It’s currently 5:30 a.m. thanks to school being an hour’s bus route away from home. In three months I turn seventeen and qualify for driving unsupervised. Not that I have a car to drive, but at least I’ll be able to work without the school stepping in, too. I live with my mom in an old, rickety two-bedroom, one bathroom house with walls that creaked and water that didn’t always run hot for very long. It wasn’t much, but it was paid off and in her name. My dad’s in prison, but I don’t want to think about him.

I got dressed in plain jeans and a blue t-shirt and walked through the hallway to the kitchen. Mom had some homemade blueberry pancakes made up ready the way I usually eat them. I groggily sat down and took a bite, enjoying the flavor for the moment. Mom glanced back at me from the sink where she was cleaning the pans and bowls.

“See, isn’t this nicer than rushing off with no breakfast?” she said matter-of-factly.

“It is, thanks Mom.” I really was grateful to being woken up like this. Mom usually works overnight as a nurse, so mornings like these are the result of her still being awake after her shift. It was hard to fully appreciate it in the moment, though, with the not being fully awake yet and all.

I finished my pancakes and milk, and dropped the dishes in the dishwasher. After finishing up the rest of my boring morning routine of brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I grabbed my bag, hugged my mom, and went out the door for the ten minute walk towards the bus stop.

The air was still cool and crisp, but I knew it was a lie. In two to fours hours it would be hot as hell. I still wore a jacket nonetheless because the school, in addition to being terrible already, did not know what the meaning of climate control is, and tended to have its classrooms ranging from stuffy to freezing. But for these ten quiet minutes, it was a nice morning.

The aged houses and trees of my neighborhood gave way to a more modern urban sprawl, the neighborhood of the better-off kids. I like to think I was only envious of the fact that they had less things to worry about, given their financial stability. Granted, I had no idea what kind of lives lived behind those doors, but I couldn’t help the bitter feeling that it surely couldn’t be anything nearly as bad as the rest of us. I haven’t really been out in the world necessarily yet, but I did see how much mom struggles to keep us afloat and happy.

Past this neighborhood was the community center and library, which is where my bus stop was. Behind this was a large, forested area which I sometimes use as shortcut to get here from home as it cuts the time in half. Which I frequently have to do. It can be pretty creepy this early in the morning, even more so after dark. But the five minutes of sunset was where it’s at; the way the golden-red rays fell through the trees...it was pretty magical.

Fun fact about this forest; there’s this huge creepy castle that no one ever goes near, somewhere right smack in the middle. It’s not like people aren’t allowed to go near, but, inexplicably, people avoid that place anyway. Some say it’s haunted, some claim it’s not even there. Apparently some have even actually gone in but never came back out. None of it is backed up by anything, but I’ve always avoided the area nonetheless. It’s a bit out of the way from my route home anyway, and I’m not dumb enough to go trespassing on someone else’s property in the middle of the woods.

The bus arrived, and thank goodness, because the other kids at my stop started to arrive at the same time. I didn’t want to interact with anyone if I could help it. One dude quickly put out a cigarette soon as he saw the bus, and a couple girls my age looked disappointed to not have any time to gawk and gossip about the shabbiness of everything in general. Since the bus barn is close to this area, ours was the first stop to be picked up in the mornings, but also the last one to drop in the evenings. Which meant we got first pick on seats but also had to deal with everyone else for the maximum amount of time possible. And this bus picked up both junior high and high schoolers.

I remember being in junior high, I grimaced as a bunch of fourteen/fifteen-year-olds loaded up at the next few stops. It really wasn’t all that long ago honestly, but it was such a weird age. Girls figuring out puberty, boys learning how to be asses but not understanding why girls won’t be attracted to them, but at the same time both genders thinking the other is stupid. I really hated that age. Not that high school is much different, but at least everyone has enough going on to keep out of each other’s business.

The hour passes and I nearly fell asleep as the bus dropped the high schoolers off first. I got my stiff legs moving and made my way into the building.

Classes pass in a daze like usual. Nothing is very interesting, but at least it’s consistent. I know what to expect from my day, and what’s expected of me. I know what periods I’m going to hate, and which ones I can relax in. It really isn’t as bad as I complain about, sometimes. That’s just how life goes. You settle into monotony and enjoy the calm ride however you can.

Unfortunately for today, I had forgotten about my math test. I’m not bad at math, but I’m not great at it either, and the teacher is REALLY confusing most of the time. She needs to seriously consider retirement; hardly anyone could make heads or tails of what she’d say. I bombed the test of course, I forgot to do the practice homework to prepare for it. When I got my test back, there was a note in red pen telling me I need to apply myself or I’m going to have to take remedial lessons. The last thing I needed was even MORE time at school. That would mean I’d have to miss my bus and catch a public bus. Which means getting home after dark and making mom worry.

Last class was just a seminar hour for study, and thankfully I had this with my best friend, Emily. We both took a dead language class as an elective and were translating a runes assignment.

“Tell me if you think this is close,” she said quietly. “Here be a person of shared...tree?”

“That’s the symbol for parent, not tree,” I corrected, “so it should be ‘Here be a person of shared parent.’ They’re saying it’s their sibling.”

“Ooooooohhhh I get it now,” Emily mused. “I swear though, I had to have gotten somebody’s eulogy or something.”

“It might be, it’s gotta be more interesting than mine. I’m pretty sure I just have someones written layout of their town.”

“Seriously though, how are you so good at this? These are dead languages, and the teacher freakin’ loves you.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. I have a hard time with the roman based letters sometimes, which is dumb, but give me runes and I’ve got it. I think it’s because there’s a simpler pattern to decipher for me. Like, the structure just makes sense with the language syntax or something.”

“I dunno,” Emily stared dubiously at her text. “We’re already in the second course and this is still all just gibberish to me.”

“You got that far, though, didn’t you?” I said, gesturing to her project. “You got halfway through the assignment before getting a symbol confused with another.”

“Yeah, but I still have to use a cheat sheet.”

I shrugged again. “Nothing wrong with that. Plus, no one else has it as easy either. Maybe I’m just a weirdo.”

She laughed, and I grinned. Our seminar teacher shushed us angrily, even though we weren’t being that loud. I narrowed my eyes his direction but just let it go. He had always been an ass that could only ever amount to a gym teacher, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight with him. Besides, there was nothing I could really do about it.

School let out and Emily walked with me to my bus. She was one of the lucky ones whose parents were able to have time to pick her up after school. “You think you’ll be able to come over today?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, not this time either. Mom wants me to pick up some stuff from the community center for her work and by that point it’ll be almost dark.”

“Dang. You should ask her if it’s cool if my mom just picks you up from school and then takes you home.”

“Ha! Good luck with that, she barely feels comfortable with me riding the bus, let alone someone else’s car.”

We said our goodbyes and I got on the bus to settle in for the hour-long drive back. The town flew by in a blur of hills and houses and trees, every now and then passing through the small business district again as the bus weaved back and forth, unloading it’s contents like a slowly hatching spider’s nest. The tiredness of the day began to weigh on me, and I felt a little guilty for lying to Emily. Mom didn’t actually have anything I needed to get; I just didn’t want to ask her again, only to be told no and reminded of the dangers of why. And with her busy schedule, she really didn’t even have time to meet parents and give proper assessment. It was so frustrating, but even more so because I understood why.

At least, in a few months, I’ll legally be allowed to work, and I’ll be able to use that as a reason for her to allow me to start making my own decisions.

My stop finally arrived, I got off the bus like all the other little spiderlings, and began my walk home. I still have enough time before sunset actually happens and it gets too dark, so I decided to take my nature path through the woods. It was quiet, immediately a different atmosphere from the civilization around the community center. The trees were tall and loomed far overhead, not impossibly tall or really even impressively tall, but gentle. The oaks and sycamores and birches all commingled their leaves, creating this wonderful blanket of patterned light through the summer green foliage. A breeze would sometimes drift through, causing the treetops to shimmer and rustle and bring relief from the fading summer heat. Below my feet was a lightly worn path from all the times I’ve walked through these woods, every now and then branching off into other less worn paths from the times others had walked through here as well. I breathed in and enjoyed the peace. Sometimes I wish I could just live out here, in the trees, away from all the people. Away from all the noise and frustrations of everyone’s expectations.

The peace was short lived of course, as it always was. The path was only a five minute walk after all. And before long I was back near my house with its tall privacy fenced in yard and it’s peeling paint and creaky hinges.

Mom was already awake and getting ready for work, wearing her baby blue scrubs as I walked in.

“Dinner is on the stove,” she instructed, “ and I have the oven on warm so don’t forget it. Remember to keep the doors locked.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Love you baby, be safe.”

“You too mom,” I hugged back, and locked the door as she left. I checked all of the windows and back doors absentmindedly, thinking about how different things would be if things were...well, different. Mom could stay at home and wouldn’t need to work so much, I could possibly have a life outside school and home, though to be honest I don’t know how much I’d actually want that. Maybe we’d have a bigger, newer house.

I shook my head, assembling the chili tortillas mom had prepped for me and sitting down. No, this is nice, this is okay. We’ve got a warm home, enough good food, and new clothes when we need them. We’re not hurting for money, and getting by modestly. This was nice enough.

After cleaning my dishes and putting the food away, I went back to my room to my desk to deal with the remedial homework my math teacher had given me. I clicked the radio setting on my alarm and listened to music while I worked through the numbers. The song playing on the station made me smile; it was a pop classic Emily and I liked to make fun of, due to it sounding exactly like every other song out there but with the lyrics being horrifically bad. I sung to it softly, wondering what she was up to.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the phone rang. My heart gave a start from the sudden noise. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hey! It’sa me!”

I laughed. “Hey Emily. I was just thinking about what you’d be up to.”

“Making pizza rolls. Well, waiting for pizza rolls. So I just heard our song on the radio and I thought hey, Helen better be hearing this too ‘cause I can’t just enjoy the hilarity of it again all by myself.”

I laughed again. “I was, actually. Trying to plow through this stupid extra math work Mrs. Marrow gave me.

“Ugh, Bloody Marrow, she needs to retire.”

“For sure.”

“Anyway, so I actually wanted to tell you something that happened to me today!” she began, excited. “Erin asked me out in the most sweetest adorable way ever, she had given me her phone number last week ‘cause we had a science project together and had to coordinate outside of class and whatever, and today she sent me a text wanting to know if I like ice cream and would want to go get some at this new shop opening up at the mall this week!!”

I sat forward in amazement. “Emily! That’s awesome! You’ve had a crush on her for like, forever, I’m so happy for you!”

“I knoooooooow,” I heard her squee on the other end, and the sound of rustling as she was probably rolling back and forth on her bed happily. “She’s so prettyyyyy and I’m so gaaaaaaaaaaay.” I laughed.

“Well, I really hope it works out for you. It’d be really cool to see you two together.”

“Yeah, I’m a little scared though. I mean, this clearly sounds like a date, but I have no idea if she’s like, INTO me, or just ya know, looking for a friend or whatever.”

“Dude. She’s totally into you. How could she not be?”

“Buuuuuut-”

“For reals though. I’ve seen the way she acts when you come around. Plus you’re not exactly hiding your rainbows. She’s totes into you.”

“Uuuuuggghhhhh I just don’t knowwwwww.” I heard her shift. “Have you ever had a massive crush on anyone? Or have a crush on anyone currently?” she added with a hint of probing in her voice.

“I did once,” I grimaced. “That was a few years ago. You remember James?”

She made a noise of surprise. “Ugh that jock-head?”

“Yeah. He went to my middle school before we had moved here.”

“Dang, small world.”

“Yeah. Well, I used to think he was cute back then, and he kind of was. But I never really knew him. When I first moved here and started high school, I found out he went to this school too, so I tried to go talk to him since he was the only person I knew, and he essentially said ‘Ew, no, go away.’ Or something like that.”

“Ugh, boys are so rotten. You should switch sides, girls are way nicer.”

I gave a small laugh. “I wish. I get why you like girls, but I just kinda...don’t like anyone.”

“Dude, confession time to lighten the mood? I once had a crush on you.”

“I know,” I laughed. “You gave me chocolates and your lunch like, everyday. I felt bad for not realizing sooner after I ate all of your food.”

She laughed too. “S’algood, s’algood, I think I may have been mixing feelings a bit, you just seemed like someone I HAD to get to know.”

“I’m really glad you did. I didn’t have any friends at that time.”

“And you’re like, the most open-minded person ever. A lot of girls would get really defensive. Which sucks, but is also pretty hilarious too.”

“Well, I’m flattered you thought I was gay,” I teased. “And sorry that I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you could be bi though, and I just wasn’t your type. Or maybe even ace.”

“I dunno, I kinda just...don’t care? I don’t really care what category I’d fit in, I just want to be treated like me.”

“Saaaaaame, girl, same.”

We chatted for a few more hours before it started getting really late. The phone call distraction extended my homework by the same amount of time, but it made it easier to get through, and at least it was done. As the last tangent conversation ended we said our see-you-tomorrows and hung up.

I flopped back against the musty pillows. I should really wash those. Our earlier conversation went through my mind, and I turned over on my side, hugging a large stuffed husky my mom got me when I was ten. It’s not like I didn’t want to like people, or that I didn’t want to date anyone. No one ever felt like they were actually interested in ME, not even Emily. At least Emily was aware of it; that’s the reason we became friends. But...I didn’t want to risk the possibility of actually really liking someone, and they just turn out to be like James had been; a stuck up jerk who didn’t even want to be nice. Or like some of the guys that were too thick to understand that Emily likes girls and certainly not them.

Being alone though...that’s what sucks the most. And for me, being around people who make me feel alone is the worst feeling of all.

I sat at the computer lab in the community center, looking at job listings, looking for any that hire seventeen year olds. It was still a few months away but It wouldn’t hurt to try to get a head start. I could use the shortened time to convince them to at least consider me; there was a public bus route that made a stop just down the road from where the school bus drops, at roughly the same time. I could take my seminar hour at the end of the day and check myself out of school, work for a couple of hours, and then commute back here. And mom wouldn’t need to know about it, AND I’d be able to help out with expenses. It’s a win-win scenario, it wouldn’t even cut into homework time.

I leaned back and stretched, and noticed that it was unusually quiet, and dark, in the building. I looked around; everyone had left save for the front desk lady, who was quietly reading her book. The auto lights had already gone out.

I checked the time on the computer. It said 8:05.

Oh crap.

Logging out as quickly as I could I bolted out the doors; the sun was already in setting position. “Oh crap oh crap.” Mom is going to be furious, this was her night off, I should have been home an hour ago…!

I ran towards the woods, debating whether to take the chance of it being dark before I made it through or getting into even more trouble with mom. To be honest, mom is probably scarier. The implications of it being after dark by the time I made it home was enough of a risk. I dove right into the treeline.

There was a different eeriness to the atmosphere here today, maybe it was because I was in a hurry, and maybe because it was minutes from full darkness. Something sent prickles across my skin, like I was being watched, like something was following me. I moved quicker, faster, my breath starting to become labored. A chilling mist was filling the forest; the sun had set. A strange lurch in the pit of my stomach pulled me in a direction that I was sure was the path home. Surely I was close now…?

I stopped, unable to believe my eyes as the treeline gave way to a clearing, my heart sinking as I realized it wasn’t because I was leaving the forest...and rising again from the sheer awe that was before me.

Towering far above me and covering the entire expanse of the open treeline I stepped out from, was an impressively large, black stone castle.

“It’s real…” I whispered. “No way…” How on earth did I end up here? I know that path by heart, I shouldn’t have veered off for a moment…!

Curiosity governed my senses. I walked through the white rose bushes that lined the outer wall and towards the brick; it wasn’t just a flat dark stone, it was carved with intricate details and patterns and symbols. With a start I recognized a lot of them; sanskrit, rune, greek, hebrew, korean. None were written in a manner I could read or understand, but something told me it was all the same language, whatever it was. Running my fingers across them felt almost electric, as if they held magic or something dumb like that.

I walked along the wall, carefully avoiding the rose buses that lined the way, coming up to a wrought iron gate. It twisted into intricate vine-like patterns with an almost glossy new sheen, as if it had just been made. A similar theme was applied to the rest of the castle beyond the wall, like a gothic style mansion with darkened rooftops. It was gorgeous and glossy and new and…

Wait, new?

I looked closer at the walls, and tried my best to look closer at the inner castle itself. Everything looked pristine and kept, fresh painted with muted and yet vibrant colors, even the stone and iron showed no discernable age. As if it had been freshly built. If this was the legendary castle in the woods, it would have to be SUPER ancient, because that myth has been around since our parents’ parents were little. It would be worn, the stones cracking and nature attempting to take over, or at the very least look uninhabited.

This looked very inhabited.

A chill fell over my body and dread followed suit. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what kind of people would live here, but I got the feeling they’d be the kind that wouldn’t care about shooting some random teenager looking like they’re about to trespass. I backed away quickly, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise as it felt like I was being closely watched again.

“Ouch!” Pain stung across my forearm as I stumbled into a rose bush, dragging a very thin bead of blood in a line down the scratch. “Ah, crap…” Now mom won’t just be mad. She’ll be paranoid.

A light snap! sounded from my left and I spun towards it, fear filling my pulsing chest. A million thoughts ran through my head, my breath started to catch. Very slowly, carefully this time, I started backing away. I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel ran out from a bush, but the tension remained. It was time to leave.

But then I heard another crack, and this wasn’t a squirrel.

A pair of eyes shone in the dark, and a large, lithe figure began to step out from the shadows; that was all I needed to turn around and nope the heck out of there.

I had barely taken ten steps before I felt a rush of wind, and then suddenly I was jerked backwards into something solid by my arms. “NO-!” A scream had just barely begun from my mouth when pain erupted my from shoulder. Numbness overtook me and then everything was black.

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