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jinpanman · 5 years ago

Text

It's You

pairing: hoseok x fem. reader (+ lowkey yoonjimin)

word count: 14k

genre: pg15, fluff, friends to lovers au, teacher au, coworkers au

warnings: a lot of awkwardness, excessive blushing, drinking, some non-explicit nsfw (dirty thoughts, brief mention of boners, hoseok blurts out wanting to put babies in you😌)

synopsis: An accidental confession throws your years-long friendship with Hoseok into disarray.

a/n: my first finished fic in 2 years!!!!! WOW. from what started out as a literal dream months ago to a 3k monster of illegible scribbles to a 9k mess to this. thank you to the BSH members for being amazing and helpful and oh so wonderful. thank you to Connee @writerly-love for being so lovely and encouraging uwu she writes so check her out y’all 💖 and the biggest BIGGEST thank you to my beta reader Melissa @hauntedlilies for doing me the biggest solid and helping me with 31982 things in this fic. you have been the best help and your advice and commentary is invaluable to me. thank you for encouraging me and thank you for loving my idiot characters! she draws and writes btw. check her out!!💖 i hope you enjoy this story, dearest reader 🥺🌱 (edited 05/2021)

yoonjimin drabble: It’s You 2.0

Is it normal to be so endeared watching your students jumping with excitement around your colleague?

You love your students, you do. Why else would you have become an after school teacher? Sometimes, though, there are days when you’re scrambling to come up with an activity hours before the kids flock in from their day class. It’s tiring to always have to be on your toes in order to meet the needs of your students—which change at the switch of a light every day!—but it’s a welcome weight in your life.

You’re thankful that you don’t have to do it all on your own. Every other week you collaborate with other teachers at the school to foster friendship and camaraderie outside of your student’s usual age range. Today your class is combined with Hoseok’s, and they are all too excited to see their favorite Mr. Hobi. Not that you blame them.

Hoseok claps his hands, drawing the attention of your students whose loud chatter lowers to a hum, albeit still excited. The students flock to him like little ducklings to their mama and you absolutely cannot help but giggle at the sight. He has such a natural chemistry with children and choosing a life as an educator fits him so well.

Your eyes wander to where your colleague is situated in front of the class. He instructs the students to raise their hands along with him and together they stretch for a good minute. His face is scrunched in a goofy smile as his head tilts, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. Would he mind if you walked over to fix his glasses?

The herbal tea he brought you before class warms your hands as you stand in the back to observe. The steam from the cup brings out a lovely smell of peppermint which you inhale happily. Despite being a strong advocate for coffee and knowing next to nothing about tea, he somehow knew the exact type of tea you liked to drink. You take a long sip and listen to him entice the children with one last hour of fun before they have to go home.

“Okay kids! Today we’re gonna make the ground really pretty for everyone to see tomorrow morning! What do you say?”

They all cheer and he directs them to stand in two orderly lines in front of either of you by the front door while he hands you a bag filled with chalk sticks of varying colors. You raise your brows in curiosity.

“Last minute decision?”

He scoffs and hands a chalk piece to the next student in line.

“No!” You raise a brow at him and he sighs in resignation. “Fine, yes. But no one needs to know that, okay?”

You both laugh in complete understanding of the teacher struggles. Oh, the simple life of a child; so easily amused by a little piece of chalk.

“Teacher, teacher! Come look!”

One student pulls you away from your bad attempt at a portrait of Grumpy Cat, the greatest cat to have walked the earth. You walk over her and she points out something she drew on the cement.

“Look! It’s you and Mr. Hobi!” she exclaims in excitement while jumping up and down.

Sure enough there are two clumsily drawn stick figures. You assume the one with glasses is Hoseok since he’s donned a pair of round glasses today, paired nicely with his red flannel. You applaud her artwork, thanking her for drawing you so nicely, when another student comes up from behind you and squints at their peer’s drawing.

“That looks like Mr. Hobi and his girlfriend!” they say.

“No! That’s not his girlfriend. That’s Ms. Y/N!” she stomps in defiance.

The two students argue until they both yell for Hoseok to come over. Their loud commotion gains many of the other student’s attention and they all seem to watch on with curiosity. He casts a puzzled look at your direction to which you shrug, not entirely sure what your students are trying to prove. When he’s standing beside you they both shoot rapid fire questions.

“Mr. Hobi, who does this look like?”

“No, no! Mr. Hobi, who do you think these are?”

“Do they look like you and Ms. Y/N?”

“No, do they look like you and your girlfriend?”

“Do you even have a girlfriend?”

The other students have somehow flocked around you during this squabble. They giggle and you hear a unison of audible gasps in approval and join in on the questioning.

“Yeah! Do you? Do you?”

Hoseok stands there like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicker over to you, silently begging for help. Both your students are normally well behaved and usually do well not to ask personal questions about information you don’t voluntarily share. You can’t fault them for forgetting to be polite in the heat of the moment. They are children, after all, so you do your best to redirect them.

“Hey hey, why don’t we let Mr. Hobi speak before you ask any more questions, okay? Remember what Mr. Slug says?”

They slouch over and robotically recite Mr. Slug’s motto about letting other people take a turn to talk but their eyes still glimmer with hope. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. As much as you want to laugh at his skittish stance, you know it won’t do to leave your fellow teacher hanging. The laughs can come later when the kids are gone.

“Alright, kids why don’t we—” You start to change the subject to shift their attention elsewhere when a student behind you speaks up.

“Ms. Y/N you have to help us!”

The other students join in and echo the plea to find out who Mr. Hobi’s secret girlfriend is. You cup your hands around your face so no one can see you mouthing to Hoseok—earning several groans from your students—and exchange silent communication with him. The easy smile on his face tells you that it’s okay to humor your students today, so you begin to laugh with your students and egg him on.

“Mr. Hobi, please, please, will you tell us?” you ask, putting on a half hearted puppy face and clasp your hands together to appease your students.

You swallow back a snicker at how his face morphs into embarrassment. So maybe this isn’t what he thought you’d pull, but his reaction was worth it. You tease him and poke at his reddening cheeks.

“Ahh, you don’t need to do that,” he mumbles from his pouty lips.

You pull away before he can snatch your hands. Your students laugh at your antics and chant “Mr. Hobi has a cruuush!” You chant along with them in good fun, giggling at your friend’s increasingly flushed face. He seems to finally find his senses and holds his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright! Calm down and I’ll tell you who she is.”

The students jump in place, cheering for their victory. His gaze lingers on you, but you think nothing of it, instead donning a shit eating grin. The children waddle in even closer, eager to hear what he has to say.

“Okay, well she’s this really, really pretty lady who likes cats a lot.”

“Ooh, like Ms. Y/N’s cat she drew?” one student interrupts and points to the striped cat you have yet to finish.

“Mhm! Just like her cat.”

“What else? What else?”

“She also doesn’t like coffee at all and makes fun of me for drinking it.” You raise your eyebrows and nod your head in approval. Whoever this lady is, you like her already.

“What does coffee taste like?”

It’s clear he didn’t expect that question and fumbles with trying to explain what coffee is to five and six year olds. You rub at your cheeks, aching from having been smiling for so long. It’s impossible not to smile when you’re around Hoseok. Simply being near him has always been enough to get you to smile.

“Tell us more about your girlfriend please!”

You hadn’t expected them to still be after that and you laugh at their boldness.

“Yeah, c’mon. Who’s this secret lady who hates coffee as much as I do?” you ask cheekily.

“Ah,” he looks away and scratches at his nose. “Well she’s—”

Just as he’s about to reveal more about this mystery woman, the dismissal bell rings. He clicks his tongue and cackles at the disappointed faces all around him.

“Oh well! Guess you’ll have to wait ‘til next time, kids. Let’s get back to class.”

The students moan and groan but they comply and head back to the classroom to be picked up and go home.

It’s become routine to walk out to your cars together any time your classes are paired. Today is no different. Hoseok waits for you by the door, hair tousled from running after students and long sleeves rolled up his arm, revealing a black watch wrapped around his delicate wrist. As he fiddles with his phone, the rings on his fingers glint under the afternoon rays that sneak through the classroom door sidelight.

“You took your glasses off,” you nod your head at the glasses now tucked inside his shirt pocket. “They looked good on you.”

“Ha. Nice as they are, wearing glasses for too long hurts my ears.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo and reach forward to rub his ears.

He grumbles and swats your hand away. He pushes open the door and motions for you to go first. You think back to the earlier fiasco with the children and wonder how is he still single? Having known him for many years prior to working together, you remember many interested suitors, both men and women alike, trying their hand at wooing him. You can’t think of a single person who doesn’t like him, or at least have a begrudging respect for him.

Outside of your job, you also know he’s the life of the party when you meet up with your friends. Your mind briefly wanders to what it would look like if you were coupled with him. Maybe you’d drive home together and wind down after a long day at work. Then you’d change out of your work clothes, cook a meal together and dance while you’re waiting, maybe even cuddle in bed together until you fall asleep. You’re thinking dangerous thoughts and you take a mental note to chastise your inner conscience when you’re alone.

“So,” you clear your throat and pretend like you hadn’t just imagined a particular fantasy about the man walking beside you, “since the kids brought it up, now I’m actually really curious.”

“Oh man, not you too,” he groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Hoseok, come on! We’ve been friends for years now and you know what, I don’t remember you ever dating? At least not seriously. Is there anyone you’re interested in these days?” You see the hesitance on his face but you press on. “You know me, Hobi. You know I won’t tell anyone. Not even Yoonji.”

Yoonji, half of the reason why you and he are friends in the first place. The other half being her twin brother, Yoongi. You met Yoonji in your first year of university, and through her you met the crazy bunch you now call your friends. Hoseok and Yoongi had been friends long before college. Once you and Hoseok became acquainted through the twins, you’d bonded over the mutual suffering dealt by them. It had been easy to get along with him, and it didn’t take long at all to move up from acquaintances to friends. You were more than happy when you found out you both had been hired and placed at the same school after university.

He shakes his head at your request. “Nah, you wouldn’t know her anyway.”

“Okay, see! So there’s no problem in me knowing! ‘Cause I don’t know her.” You bump shoulders with him and tug at his arm. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, I’ll drop it. I promise. But I really am curious about the person who’s stolen Mr. Hobi’s heart.”

You’ve stopped in front of his car and now there’s nothing to distract him from your pleading face. You do your best not to look like a wide-eyed crazed cat lady and more like the pleading Puss in Boots. You hope it’s working.

“You really wanna know?”

“I do! But only if you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Promise you won’t run away when you find out?”

You’re puzzled by the shift in his demeanor, in the way his voice has dropped to nearly a whisper, but you nod anyway and extend your pinky finger out to him. He brings up his hand to wrap his pinky around yours. You’re taken aback by how seriously he’s taking this, but you wouldn’t do anything to betray his trust. He waits for a few seconds, then nods, seemingly satisfied and stuffs his hands inside his jean pockets.

His eyes are downcast and with a heavy exhale he says quietly, “It’s you.”

You blink. Then you laugh. And you can’t stop laughing. The nervous energy rolls off of you in peals of inappropriate laughter. It isn’t until you see he’s frowning—an expression that doesn’t cross his face often—that you try to reign in your nerves and calm down.

“You got jokes Hoseok!” you say, trying to lighten the sudden sour mood.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I—I like you.”

Your residual giggling immediately subsides when you realize he really is serious. A wave of confusing emotions wash over you. You’re shocked, you’re confused, and you’re in denial. This can’t be happening. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your brain flips through your dictionary of words to try to understand what you’ve just heard.

Frustration spills out of his lips when you remain mute. “It’s you! I want you! It’s been you for years. Is that not what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now that you know?”

Wait. What?

Your mind still hasn’t caught up and all you can do is stare at him. You catch a quiet "fuck” escaping his lips as he roughly rakes his fingers through his already messed hair. He gives you one last glance before he dashes into his car. Seeing him leave finally gets your tongue working.

“Wait.” You try to grab his arm but he’s already shut the car door. “Wait Hobi, I—I’m sorry. No, no wait please!”

He drives off without a single glance back.

You have never felt like the shittiest person to exist on this planet until now. You survey the lot to make sure no one witnessed this scene and are relieved to find no one. You scurry into your car, forcing back the hot tears that want to come out.

You don’t deserve to cry after being so cruel. Even if it was unintentional. You scramble for your phone as soon as you’re strapped in. The screen immediately unlocks once your face is in view and you swipe on your best friend’s number starred at the top of your contacts list.

Yoonji picks up after the third ring and her voice drawls out through the speaker, “Did Hobi finally spill the beans, ‘cause thank fucking god.“

You briefly register that you can hear Yoongi in the background talking to another man whose distressed voice sounds vaguely familiar. Blinking your tears away, it takes a second for Yoonji’s words to sink in and you are, for the second time today, at a loss for words. You’re out of the parking lot when your voice finds itself but your brain has yet to catch up, still stuck on those three words that came out of Hoseok’s mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait. Yoonji. You knew? About him? But—wait. How did you—why didn’t you know—er, tell me?” Your free hand flies wildly in the air as you drive.

“He’s not exactly subtle about his feelings for you, you know. Do you not remember last month when you complained about wanting milk tea and he immediately dropped everything to personally drive to a shop 10 minutes away to get you one—a large one, might I add!—with ‘for miss beautiful’ written on the side of the cup?”

“He does that for everyone,” you mumble into your phone.

“No he does not. You’re just a dumb squirrel and apparently he’s attracted to dumb squirrels.” You don’t need to see her to know she’s pacing mid rant and examining her freshly manicured nails like the princess she is. You wish you knew how she had the funds and time to repaint her nails every other week.

“How come I never noticed?” you ask, pointedly ignoring the squirrel jab.

“Again, you’re a dumb squirrel—”

“What am I gonna do? I didn’t mean to make him feel bad about confessing to me. I feel like such an ass,” you whine into your phone, once again ignoring her insult. You roll your eyes at the fake sounds of her humming in thought. She enjoys making you antsy beyond belief way too much.

“Yoonji! Stop teasing me please!” Your face contorts into the best puppy face you could muster, and you’re sure the driver next to you is giving you a weird look.

“Ew, gross. I can feel your puppy eyes on me 70 miles away. Stop it.”

Worth it.

“Well first of all,” she begins, “you were an ass. How would you feel if you confessed to someone and the first thing they do is laugh? That was shitty of you, babe!”

If you weren’t driving, you would have hung your head in shame. “Yeah, I know…”

“Mhm. At least you know.” As much as she loves you, Hoseok’s her friend too. You don’t blame her for not comforting you. “Anyway, you could go about this several ways. One, let him down easy. Or two, open your eyes and realize you feel the same way. Or three, avoid him for the rest of your life and run away to a convent to make certain you’ll never see him again.”

You whine again, just as pathetically as the first time. “You’re not helping! Those are all impossible!”

“Fine, fine.” She sighs into the phone. “So answer this for me then. Do you like him?”

And that there is the million dollar question. Do you like him? You’ve never given yourself the luxury of seeing him in that way. He was obviously a very attractive man with an equally captivating personality. Yes, he may have made your heart flutter at least a dozen times in the time you’ve known him. Okay, so maybe more than a dozen…

And yes, you may have indulged in one or two fantasies about what it would be like to date him but you never allowed your mind to wander farther than a few innocent thoughts. You valued your friendship with him far too much to divulge in selfish daydreams. You reveal as much to your friend.

“Babe, all I can tell you is that knowing Hoseok, he’s probably at home wallowing in despair and embarrassment and will probably hate himself for making you uncomfortable. Aaand drinking himself silly because he’s stupid.”

You hear Yoongi snort in the background.

“B-but I’m not—”

“So go tell him yourself then!”

“Ah Yoonjiii..” you whine... again.

“Figure it out, bitch! I gotta finish painting my nails now. Love youuu!” She hangs up before you can wail her name once more and you’re left to stew in your feelings for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Hoseok doesn’t show up for work. Or the next. By the third day, you’re tempted to ask your supervisor if he still even works here. Okay, so maybe you’re overreacting a little bit. Maybe Yoongi would know if he was still alive, but then he’d pry into why you’re asking in the first place and you’re not ready to answer any questions.

You’ve just gotten home and your shoulders droop heavily. You have yet to receive any news or texts from Hoseok since he left you in the parking lot that day. It didn’t help that the kids were exceptionally testy today.

Your mind is riddled with worry, but rather than for yourself, you worry about him. Actually if you’re being honest, you’ve been thinking about him endlessly since then. You hope he’s taking care of himself. You want to apologize. You need to apologize. This realization is what helps you to make your decision.

With a sudden blaze of courage, you grab your purse off the couch and head out to the bus stop just a street down your place. It takes about thirty minutes with one bus transfer that leads you directly to his apartment complex. You’ve been there many times and while you know the route by heart, this visit feels like a whole new experience.

Your feet know exactly where to go and how many steps to take, leading you out the bus, into the apartment complex, and up the elevator until you’re standing in front of his door. You stare at his door and a brief flash of doubt rings alarms in your head. You ring the bell before you can overthink your actions. A few seconds later his voice chimes out from the speaker box.

“Who is it?”

His voice sounds very tired. Has he not been sleeping well?

“Hello?” He tries again.

You lightly slap your cheeks, bringing yourself back. You weren’t even aware you had frozen up.

“Hey, it’s me. Um, Y/N.”

No answer.

"Can we—can we talk?”

Again, you are met with silence.

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt, unsure of your next move. You came all the way here on complete impulse. You don’t do well when you don’t have a plan. And right now, you have no plan, which is ironic, considering you’re a teacher for young children who require a level of spontaneity every day.

You’re itching to escape but your feet remain wooden against the pavement. You bend your head down and glare at your legs, willing them to move goddammit. You nearly find the will to finally bolt when you hear the door creak open. Your head whips up and you immediately seek out his face. You come eye to eye with a disheveled looking Hoseok hiding behind his door. His bleary, sunken eyes follow you warily as you take a step forward and blurt out his name, but before you can get another word in he addresses you.

“Look, I don’t need a pity party okay?” He pauses to slink further away from the already small opening through the door. “Especially from you. It was a mistake and I’m sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have told you like that and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was a bad move.”

You open your mouth and breathe in, ready to counter his allegation but he puts a hand up, an unspoken request to continue talking uninterrupted. “I just need a few more days to clear my mind. I can’t promise I’ll be okay soon but—”

You interrupt him anyway.

“I’m not saying no Hobi,” your voice is meek but you mentally pat yourself on the back for finally finding your voice.

“Wha—what? What did you… er, what do you mean?”

“I,” you pause to collect your thoughts but alas, when you have no plan your brain goes haywire and your mouth rambles away without your permission. “Well, first I want to apologize for forcing you to talk and for not taking you seriously. I really didn’t mean to disregard your feelings or make fun of you. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all actually! It’s just that… no one’s ever—I mean, I didn’t think you saw me in that way and, well, I mean I always thought you were cute. You’re so handsome and dreamy and you’re funny and when you smile your eyes crinkle into little moons and your hearts a smile. I mean! Your smile, it makes a heart and I love it so much and I, um, but I didn't—I mean I don’t know why you even like me in the first place.” You laugh nervously, anxiety rising up inside you like bile at not being able to get the words out right.

A warm hand wraps around yours and you’re bewildered. He’s opened the door just big enough to let his hand out to hold yours. He’s the one hurting and yet he reaches out to comfort you when you showed the slightest unease. If anything, he should be lashing out at you right now. The warmth in his eyes tells you he has no intention of doing that. His thoughtfulness and care towards you, even after you hurt him, causes your heart to stutter and you fight on despite your nerves.

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m still not sure about my feelings but I’m willing to try? If you are too? I don’t really know how to do this, but—but I’m willing to explore whatever this could be with you. And I’m not saying you have to consider my feelings because that isn’t fair to you. You can absolutely tell me to fuck off and I won’t bother you again. Um, yeah I think—I think that’s it.”

God, you can’t wait to get home so you can punch your pillows for rambling so much! You stand there, staring at the side of the door so it looks like you’re looking at him but you’re really not. Your halfhearted smile slowly dwindles into a tight lipped smile the longer he stays silent and you’re wondering if now’s a good time to skedaddle.

“Okay, got it. I’m sorry Hoseok—” You turn your back to him, completely prepared to walk away with your tail tucked.

“Can I hug you?”

You whirl around and blink owlishly at him and stutter embarrassingly so. “What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“I mean, y-yeah? I guess?”

You’re dying internally over how your voice squeaks and inflects into a higher, unsure tone. He pushes the door open and pulls you by your hands into his arms, effectively drawing you away from your internal conflict. The feeling of his warmth around you sends your heart into an unfamiliar tangle of emotions.

Hoseok has always been the best bear hugger. He believed hugs revealed what a person was like, and his preference for full hugs definitely conveyed his desire for physical contact with the people he loved. This hug, though, was different in the way that he held you so close to him, with his face nuzzled in your hair. You breathe in his scent that’s brought you comfort throughout the years and wrap your arms around his waist. You feel his arms tighten and pull you closer into him. You pray the stuttering heartbeat felt between the two of you isn’t only yours.

After a long minute of silence—which somehow felt like one hour and one second all at once—he murmurs close to your ear, “If this is you giving me the okay, then I’m not gonna hold back anymore and I’m going to pursue you honestly. And… hopefully show you that my feelings for you are sincere.”

You let out an involuntary squeak much to your horror and hide your face into his chest, not trusting yourself to speak. You feel the shake of his shoulders as he laughs, the puff of breath tickling the back of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He eventually pulls away from your hug but instead of letting go, his hands reach down to hold your own and he looks down at you with shining eyes. His face paints a tender gaze and the combination of how he smiles at you has you bashful so instead, you focus on the way his thumb rubs against yours. It only sends your heart into further overdrive.

“It’s late.” His voice is soft as he speaks to you. "Did you drive here?”

You shake your head no. Then you gasp and tilt your head in mild bewilderment.

Okay but why didn’t you drive? Are you dumb or are you dumb? You try to convince yourself you took the bus to save Mother Earth. Not because you were in such a hurry to see him that you forgot you have a car.

“Let me drive you home then,” he says and squeezes your hands.

“No, no it’s okay. I can get a taxi!”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t let you do that. It’s dark out now and I’d feel much better if I take you myself.”

“Hobi, I’ll be fine. I promise!” His brows furrow and you bring your arm up to flex your bicep. “See, look! I’m a strong girl.”

He’s entirely unimpressed and rolls his eyes. “Look, either you let me take you home or you’ll have to sleep over tonight. I don’t want you going home by yourself.”

“Eh?” Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You’re a deer in headlights thinking about a night alone with him. Nope. No way. Nu-uh. Vetoed. You won’t survive. Especially not after your almost-kind-of-but-not-really confession.

You sigh in defeat and bow your head.

“Fiiine. You can take me home, I guess.”

He grins and while you’re pouting that he won this trivial argument, your heart is whistling a happy tune at seeing a smile grace his face once again. You wait outside while he grabs his wallet and keys. When he reemerges from inside his house, he gestures to his left.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm!” You motion for him to lead the way and you follow after him.

The car ride back to your place is quiet, save for the low ambiance of his music playing on the stereo, but it’s a comfortable silence. You have more questions you want to ask. There’s still a lot you want to know, but you figure you’ve both had enough of a surprise tonight. You trust that there will be many opportunities in the near future to ask.

Once he’s parked his car outside your apartment, you turn to thank him and bid him goodnight only to be met with an empty seat. He’s already outside, waiting for you.

“Hobi you didn’t have to come out!” you protest as you exit the vehicle. “It’s cold!”

He only hums in response and walks with you to the front entrance. You’re half expecting a goodbye hug, considering he’s out here with you, and you’re surprised to feel your chest swirl in disappointment that he does neither of those. Instead, he takes a step away from you and the words that leave his mouth bring you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“We’ll take this slow, yeah? I don’t expect you to know how you feel by tomorrow or even next month. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

He strokes your cheek, lingering in front of you for a few more seconds. He leaves you with his touch etched onto your cheek. You fall asleep with the sole thought that you wouldn’t mind falling for Jung Hoseok.

The following morning feels like a daze and you’re on autopilot for the rest of the week. Before you know it, it’s your biweekly get-together with your gang. You’d gained a chaotic but solid group of friends in your college days. While the group has slowly decreased over the past two years after graduating, your bond is still as strong, even if you don’t meet as often as you used to.

It’s Hoseok’s turn to host this time and you’re freaking out. You recount every conversation you’ve had with him this past week at school. The both of you made a point to only talk about school related topics, very obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. The only thing that’s changed is the rate of daily text messages between the two of you. You now awaken to “good morning texts.” Throughout the day, you send each other “this reminded me of you” texts and end each night with “how was your day?” texts. Your heart is slowly becoming conditioned to jump any time his name appears on your phone screen. Today is no different. Your heart is racing at the thought of finally seeing Hoseok outside of work.

[Y&Y’s Minions Group Chat]

Taetae: aye bro heads up im bringing some juice w me

Taetae: yknow. for us nonalcoholics.

Hobibi: 👍

Yoonji(min’s Wife): weak ass bitch 🙄

Taetae: Shut up or im not bringing jimin with me 🥱

Min Suga: she just punched me cause i laughed man wtf

Taetae: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

You: LOOOLLL it’s what you deserve

You: also tq for bringing juice taetae 🤧 idk if i can handle another of jimins mystery concoctions 😩

Taetae: that’s what you got hobi for right?

Hobibi: Exactly ;)

Min Suga: right. like he can hold his alcohol????

Hobibi: also can yall actually come on time so we can start our movie early?

Hobibi: dude i’ve gotten better at drinking tghank you very much

Yoonji(min’s Wife): sorry what im jared 19

Min Suga: she lies. shes putting makeup on for Park

[IMG_2831 delivered]

You: lmaaaoooo you got called out babe!!!

Yoonji(min’s Wife): fuck you min yoongi. find ur own ride there bitch <3

You snort reading through the messages. One day someone’s gonna fight and you have no doubt Yoonji will be one of the contenders. You’ve already resigned yourself to the role of her babysitter, knowing full well you’ll be tending to her every whim and command the day it happens as well as the following day of her recovery. Your phone pings again.

It’s a separate text message from Hoseok.

Hobibi: i can’t wait to see you beautiful :)

You gasp audibly and your face heats up instantly. You’re grateful there’s no one around to hear you. What should you text back? You’re still unfamiliar with the Hobi who flirts. He is flirting, right? You fumble with your phone, heart racing a mile a minute, texting a (hopefully) flirty reply back when Yoonji’s winking selca takes over your screen. You drag your finger across the Accept button and her voice drawls out from your speaker.

“I’m heeerre!! Come outside so we can get wasted tonight!”

You snort and hang up without replying back to her. As soon as you plop into the passenger seat she thrusts a bottle of alcohol into your hands.

“Drink.”

Apparently, her idea of calming you down is with some pregame booze.

It doesn’t help.

When you arrive at his apartment, you attach yourself to Yoonji’s back, but she was having none of that. Her shared telepathic powers with her equally chaotic twin brother draw them together as soon as they’re in the same room. You squeak at having been left behind and follow her, intent on hiding behind her the whole night.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have blindly followed after your friend because the person accompanying Yoongi was none other than his best friend who also happened to be the man you were trying to avoid… which wouldn’t have worked anyway considering this was his home. Yoonji drags you out from behind her and you’re given no chance to pretend like you weren’t hiding.

You shoot daggers into her boobs, praying that her boobs will swell and explode right in front of Jimin for outing you like this. You clear your throat and straighten out your shirt, then exchange greetings with the two men, feigning nonchalance. You don’t mean to but your eyes flicker down Hoseok’s figure. His hair looks freshly dried and curls around his face in the most beautiful way. A thin blue crew neck sweater hangs off his shoulders and hugs his torso just right, but when do his clothes not fit him well? It’s cut low enough to just tease the outline of his collarbones and it doesn’t help you with your already heightened nerves. You gulp and lower your gaze. For some godforsaken reason, he decided it was a good idea to roll the sleeves up and expose his forearms. You’re on your way past his hips when—

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Oh dear, did he catch you staring?

His voice draws your gaze back to him and you find him looking right at you with a shy smile that flutters your heart. A compliment from him would usually have elicited a laugh and a “thank you Hobi.” Now, it evokes a stutter and a burning face. It’s a change the twins catch onto quickly. They exchange knowing glances which neither you nor Hoseok see, too busy staring at each other.

And then you’re colliding into each other.

“Oops!” Yoonji cackles and raises her glass to her brother.

"My bad. My hand slipped.” Yoongi raises his own and clinks his drink with hers. They take a sip and completely ignore the two frozen statues beside them.

“Hey, what do you say we go say hi to the soulmates?”

“Right on my sweetums. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

“You’re disgusting and also you’re wrong.”

Yoongi forcefully links arms with his sister and they shuffle away still bickering, meanwhile you and Hoseok are a blushing mess, locked in each other’s arms. His hands burn pressed against your lower back and you pull yourself away from him. You ignore the way your body screams at you for leaving his warmth. Your eyes flit around, looking at everything except for him. And then it lands on a sliver of skin peeking out behind his sweater that had risen up in this blunder.

Wait. This is bad. Don’t focus on that.

Focus on your annoying best friend. Yeah… this is all her fault.

“Sorry Yoonji’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Understatement of the year.” He snorts and readjusts his sweater back down. You bite back a pitiful whine and suddenly you have no idea who you’ve become.

“They’re both menaces. Remind me never to have them in the same room again.“

You laugh at the truth in his words and then it’s back to a dead silence. One you’re not used to, especially not with him. He rubs the side of his arm and clears his throat.

"Um, well, you know, if being here makes you uncomfortable it’s okay to leave. My feelings won’t be hurt. Or I can just, I don’t know, not talk to you tonight? If that’s what you want?”

You wince at his offer.

“No!” you say immediately, wanting to remedy his misinterpretation of the nervous waves radiating off you. “I wanted to come! I… well, as nervous as I am, I wanted to see you?”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, right. I could definitely tell from the way you hid behind Yoonji as soon as you got here.”

You force out a weak laugh at having been caught. Should you apologize or yeet yourself out of this situation? Thankfully, he makes the decision for you.

“Why don’t we go say hi to Tae and Jimin? Since you just got here.”

You swallow the apology that hangs on your tongue and nod slowly. You walk in silence to where the rest of the gang is gathered. Yoongi and Jimin are engrossed in a conversation about the latest EP released by their favorite duo RM and JK. Meanwhile Yoonji is making very no-so-subtle heart eyes at Jimin while Taehyung is chatting away about something she obviously has no interest in.

You’ve known Jimin for a few years and he’s only just started coming along this past year to your meetups with Taehyung, his childhood friend. He integrated so well into your little group and you all were quick to adopt him and dub him as the Resident Giggly for how beautiful his laughs were. His bubbling personality also somehow snatched the Resident Shady’s heart, despite her always denying it. You decide to do your friend a solid and save her from Taehyung’s ramblings. It’s definitely not to distract yourself from the Resident Smiles beside you.

“Hey Taetae!” you call out to the broad shouldered man who turns around, bright eyed and smiley. You notice a cup in his hand that you hope is just juice. He doesn’t drink often but when he does… Well, you certainly won’t want to be present.

“Y/N you’re here! Finally someone who will listen to me!” He pulls you into a side hug.

You laugh. “That’s ‘cause she’s too busy making goo goo eyes at—oof!”

Yoonji shoves Taehyung who still has his arms draped around your shoulder. He trips and sends you nearly toppling over as well. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you. Hoseok pulls you to his side, a safe distance away from the two rowdy ones.

“If you both know what’s good for you, you will shut up or else!” she hisses between her teeth. The blush growing on her cheeks tells you otherwise, though.

“I love you too, Yoonji poo!” Taehyung teases and pinches her cheeks.

She slaps his hands away, scowling. Then her attention redirects to you and you don’t like the way her eyes have turned alight. She nudges Taeyung and nods her head at you and Hoseok. He looks at the pair of you and his lips turn up into a sinister smirk.

“Well, well, well. Wouldya look at that?” You don’t like that both his and Yoonji’s smug faces are now focused on you. “So anyone wanna tell me when you two became a thing?”

You and Hoseok share a confused albeit nervous look. It’s then you realize how close you are to each other and you don’t hate the close proximity.

“You do realize you have your arm around her, right hyung?”

It’s not until he points it out that Hoseok realizes he never let go of you. The arm that rested around your hips tears away from your body and falls back limply to his side. Yoonji snorts at how fast he let you go and you try your best to hide your disappointment, calling upon all the times you’ve had to school your face of irritation at work. You note that he doesn’t move away though, and his hand ghosts yours with every breath he takes.

“Don’t be mean Tae,” you scold him and push him away.

“It’s not like that. We’re not a couple.” Hoseok’s strong protest wavers at the last word and the way his ears redden don’t do well to support his claim. Your face flushes at his word choice.

“Who’s not a couple?” Jimin pops in, hands propped around Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung eyes Yoonji and says with a smirk, “You and Yoo—mmph!”

Yoonji pounces on Taehyung and slaps a hand over his mouth. In typical Jimin fashion, he falls to his knees, laughing at their bizarre antics. As much as those two clashed, you knew they loved each other a ridiculous amount. You tug at Hoseok’s shirt sleeve and ask if he wants to get a drink.

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go before they strike again.”

The two of you share a laugh and head into the kitchen where two glass bowls are filled to the brim with dark liquids. The smell of alcohol reeks from the one nearest you and you nearly gag.

“Did Jimin make this?” you scowl and point accusingly at the punch bowl with a dark red liquid sparkling dangerously. You hope alcohol doesn’t spread through air particles because if it does, the other punch bowl is surely spiked by now.

“What did you expect?” He chuckles and hands you a glass cup.

You grab the ladle laying beside what you hope is the nonalcoholic drink and pour into your cup.

“Hey, so um… about earlier,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “er, sorry about that. I didn’t even know I was still... touching you.”

“Ah, no it’s okay. I didn’t know either actually.” You take in a breath and brace yourself for what you’re about to admit out loud, “To be honest, I kind of liked it.”

You hear him take in a sharp inhale after your confession and you wonder who’s blushing harder. Probably you. You hand the ladle to him and hold your breath when his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He recovers quickly and winks at you. Your recovery rate is much slower and his wink only sets you back further. “So, um, I’ll let you catch up with everyone. I gotta go set up for the movie anyway. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He briefly reaches his hand to brush against your cheek, then leaves you alone, starstruck in the kitchen, to be the good host that he is. The rest of the night goes off without any other hitches. Plenty of laughter is shared between the lot of you. Jimin may have tried to spike the literal juice bowl a few times, but both Taehyung and Yoongi dragged him away each time.

Throughout the night, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the room for Hoseok only to be met with a pair of brown eyes already looking at you. Each time you make eye contact, you both blush and look away at having been caught staring. Each time it happens, your friends turn around to stick their fingers in their open mouths and fake a gag.

You’re on popcorn duty as the evening begins to settle down for the “movie” part of movie night to finally start. You emerge from the kitchen with three large bowls with freshly popped and buttered popcorn. You sigh with resignation when you see only two available empty seats. One next to Hoseok on the love seat and one in between Yoonji and Jimin. You absolutely are not ready to be in such close proximity with Hoseok for the next two hours, but you also don’t want to cock block Yoonji.

Although she’d never admit it to anyone, you knew she harbored a secret crush on Jimin. Anyone else outside your group and they wouldn’t know any better, but every one of you except the object of her affections knew those faux mean jabs and rosy cheeks were reserved for Jimin and Jimin only. You have a suspicion that he felt the same way about her with the way he always seemed to apparate in whatever room she’s in just to giggle at whatever she says or does. You can’t wait for the day they both stop toeing the line and confess to each other.

You pass out two of the three bowls of popcorn and peek over at Yoonji and Jimin. Jimin’s leaning over the empty seat, phone outstretched to show something to Yoonji. Their voices are hushed but you can see her lips curled into a dopey smile. Right, no cock blocking. Your gaze flickers to where Hoseok is seated. Okay girl, you got this. No time to be a chicken or Taehyung and Yoonji will never let you live it down.

Your leg collides with his when you sit down and your poor heart is once again fluttering. Should you let it stay there or should you move your leg? Why are you suddenly so self conscious about every move you make around him? The answer was obvious but let a girl stay in denial, please.

Unbeknownst to you, the man sitting next to you was going through his own inner turmoil. Should he act like his usual self? Should he be chill? Should he try to flirt? He wants to put his arm around you, but what if he came on too strong and scared you off? Before the both of you noticed, the film was already ten minutes in, popcorn in your hands untouched.

“Hey, Hobi! Y/N! If you two aren’t gonna eat your popcorn, pass it on!” Taehyung shouts over the movie with a mouth full of popcorn.

He pulls you out of your thoughts and you grimace at the way the light from the television makes the butter grease around his mouth shimmer in the dark room.

“You’re disgusting. Swallow your food before you speak, you heathen. And for the record, we aren’t sharing.”

Hoseok grabs the bowl from you, smushes it into his chest, and grabs a large handful shoving it into his mouth as if to prove a point. Several pieces of popcorn fall out of his hand back into the bowl. In his haste, he gets grease all over his outer mouth. Your mind dares to flash a dirty thought about the lubricant on his lips and you cup a hand over your mouth.

Oh god.

Your brain really just went there.

You make a point to ignore the way your body heats up and instead reach over to wipe the oil off his mouth with a swipe of your thumb. He looks at you quizzically and when you lock eyes you both freeze. His eyes grow comically wide, his jaw locked mid chew.

Hold on. Did you just touch Hoseok’s mouth? With your thumb?

“Gross.” Taehyung grumbles at the sight of you and turns away to focus back on the movie.

You pull away quickly and shift in your seat. “S-sorry your mouth was dirty and, um, well, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um… thank you.” He wipes off the remainder of what you miss with the back of his hand and offers you a sheepish smile. And with that, you fall into another silence, popcorn once again forgotten.

Great. Back to square one.

By the time the end credits roll out, everyone is dead asleep save for you who remained wide awake thanks to your very imaginative and hyperactive brain. You decide to disregard the awkward cloud that hung over you and Hoseok tonight to figure out all your sleeping arrangements. It isn’t unusual for everyone to crash at the host’s place, drunk or sober, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. You arch your back off the couch and stretch your tense body, letting out a soft moan as your muscles loosen up.

“Hey, Hobi?”

When you don’t get a response you look over to find him leaned against the couch with his eyes closed and lips scrunched in a small pout. His chest raises rhythmically and you feel bad for having to wake him. You’re nearly tempted to push back his hair to get a better look at his sleeping face. You scoot closer to him and shake him by the shoulder while softly calling his name. He jolts slightly and his eyes flutter open, scanning the room until they fall on you. Your breath hitches in your throat seeing his eyes slowly light up with recognition.

“Hobi,” you try again, voice quiet so as not to disturb him, still in a state of slumber. Your hand rests on his arm and you can’t find it in you to remove it.

He calls out your name, tenderly, carefully. You bite your lip to hide the way it wants to curl into a smile at the way he whispers your name. You don’t realize how close you’d gotten to him until his hand moves a mere inch to rest atop yours. You twist your hand up until your palms are touching. Your fingers instinctively curl around the slots between his own. You feel his fingers twitch but neither of you makes a move to actually embrace, instead reveling in the way both of you vibrate with warmth.

“Sorry I woke you. I just figured you wouldn’t appreciate having everyone drooling all over your couch and carpet tonight.”

He shifts in his seat so that he’s sitting upright and squints at the fallen figures scattered around the room. Then he shrugs.

“Who gives a fuck. Let them sleep there.”

You giggle at his remark and nod in understanding. It would only be too much work to try to move them and you definitely did not want to deal with a drunk and sleepy Yoongi.

“Why don’t you go sleep in your room then, and I’ll see you in the morning?” You take the popcorn bowl laying haphazardly on his lap and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

“No, no. You go sleep there. I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You scoff. “You don’t need to be a gentleman, my dude. This is your house, it’s late, and we both need to sleep.”

“You’re exactly right, it's my house. My house, my rules. And I say that you’re sleeping on my bed tonight. I won’t let you take the couch.”

“Hoseok!”

“Do you want to share it with me then?”

Your words die in your mouth and you gape at him. He nods and says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable. Fine, take me to your room. Wait.” Your ear begins to burn as soon as you blurt out that sentence, the insinuation not lost on you. Oh god, why did you have to say it like that? “I mean, uh, er, I’ll just go by myself.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. C’mon, I’ll take you.”

If he’s flustered by your request, he doesn’t show it. Instead he helps you up from the love seat and leads the way to his room. Despite having been to his house many times, you’d never actually seen his bedroom. There was never a need to go in there and now the first time you’re going in is after you find out he likes you. It’s a lot to process.

His room is a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The first thing to catch your eye is a shelf filled with a mixture of figurines and music albums. You appreciate that he hasn’t abandoned his likes and hobbies for the sake of appearing more mature. Beside it is a desk littered with books and paper scrap, presumably for work. In the left corner of his room rests his bed; a thin wool blanket lies unmade at one side.

“Sorry my room is so messy. I didn’t think anyone would be sleeping in here tonight,” he says as he rummages through his drawers.

“If you call this messy, you don’t wanna see my room,” you mutter.

He says nothing back until he finds what he’s looking for. He calls your name and tosses a large shirt and gym short your way.

“You can change into those. I think they’ll be comfier than what you have on right now.” He turns away and scratches the back of his neck. “Um, I’ll, uh, let you do your thing and, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” You reach out for his hand and squeeze it. He’s blushing again. You like it when he blushes. Maybe you’ll have to initiate this more often. Holding his hand, that is.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” The giggle that escapes from your lips causes his heart to soar. He looks at you standing in the middle of his room and smiles. It’s something he’s only dreamt of and he knows it’ll be a portrait etched into his memory for a long while.

You wait until he’s closed the door behind him to soak in the feel of his room. This is the room where he sleeps in, where he changes in, where he… Nope. Not gonna go there. You strip off your clothes and discard them in a pile by the bed. The shirt he gave you is thankfully oversized and you decide to forgo the shorts. No one’s going to come in tonight and you loathe wearing pants to bed. After climbing into Hoseok’s bed, you’re hit all at once with his scent. Fuckfuckfuck. He smells good. Your brain seems to manage only that one thought. Again, it’s a lot to process.

Does he have a side of the bed he prefers to sleep on? Does he have a preference at all? Does he sleep fully clothed or… You gasp at yourself and shake your head. Bad thoughts. Unnecessary thoughts. But not unwelcome thoughts. You spend the next while thinking back on the unexpected turn of events that transpired the past two weeks.

Hoseok has been a continuous and pleasant presence by your side. What was once only brief greetings in passing easily evolved into a comfortable friendship. As easy as it was to befriend him, your relationship never became stagnant. There was always something new to learn about each other and it didn’t bore you to talk about topics you’d already previously discussed. It definitely helped that he was just as eager to talk with you. Now you know part of the reason why he seemed to like being around you so often. Not that you’re opposed to it.

Your mind wanders back to earlier this evening when his hand rested on your hip. It was such a foreign feeling but you liked it a lot more than you anticipated. If you think really hard you can still feel his touch. You lied when you told him you didn’t know. You felt everything the moment he put his hands on you, from the way his bicep flexed against your back to the way his fingers absently circled your clothed waist. Almost like it was meant to happen. You can’t stop the smile and warmth that spreads on your face and you roll around the bed, squealing into your hands.

“Bye teachers!” Your last student waves goodbye as they leave with their older sibling.

You both wave back and resume cleaning up the classroom after your last activity. There’s not much left to do thanks to the children helping to clean up before it was time for them to leave. You grab a disinfectant and wipe down the snack table while Hoseok neatens up the rows of desks and chairs.

You may be a bit distracted at the bright blue striped collar shirt that pulls taut at his chest whenever he pulls his arms back. He has at least three buttons undone, not that you’re counting. You’re wiping until the table suddenly disappears beneath your hand and you nearly fall on your face. You catch yourself just in time and move onto the next table, pretending as though nothing happened. He clearly saw you though, if his snickering in the corner is anything to go by.

“I’m about done, Hobi. How ‘bout you?” you ask him as you shove the last of your paperwork into your work bag.

“Yep! I’m good to go.”

He’s fidgeting by the door when you finally grab your bag and walk towards him. His eyes are downcast and worries at his lower lip, but you don’t press him about it. Instead, you nudge his shoulder and motion for him to leave with you.

When you exit the building, he asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

A smile creeps up on your face. “No plans. What’s up?”

You already know the answer and your heart rate is picking up the pace from the anticipation. He curls his pinky finger around yours, eliciting a contented sigh from both of you. He hums thoughtfully and swings your hands around as the both of you walk to the parking lot at a leisurely pace. Neither of you seem to be wanting to leave this moment just yet.

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow.” His voice is firm and unwavering.

Your smile only broadens. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

He nods shyly and his face beams at your reply.

“So I was thinking—and if you think it’s a lame idea please tell me!—but I was thinking, since you’ve recently started a rock collection, maybe we could… go to the river and find you some rocks? Maybe you can help me find some rocks too?”

You didn’t think your smile could grow any bigger. It’s been a few weeks since his accidental confession and you were truly moving at a snail’s pace. Not that you weren’t grateful for it. It’s really allowed for you to take the time to evaluate your friendship and your newfound feelings for the man walking beside you. You’re stealing glances at him more often these days, thoughts straying to how he’s doing. Your phone’s found a new activity, consistently vibrating with text notifications from him. He makes you happy.

You’d been waiting for him to ask you on a date. Yes, it’s the 21st century and no, you don’t need no man to make the first move, but you still wanted to wait until he initiated it. You’re almost surprised by his date suggestion, but you know Hoseok. The wonderful man has always been thoughtful and considerate of his friend’s passions and hobbies. You just didn’t expect him to be so in tune to your interests. Knowing he was aware about your current rock obsession causes an eruption of butterflies and giddiness to flutter in your chest.

“Oh, wow! You’re full of surprises, Hobi. Of course I’d love that! Maybe we can even have a little picnic afterwards.”

“I think I’d like that a lot,” he echoes your previous words. “So, it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

He still hasn’t let go of your pinky finger by the time you reach your car which automatically unlocks from your near proximity. The day still has so many hours until sundown and already you’re buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. Neither of you have stopped smiling since you left the classroom and you decide to give him a surprise of your own.

“Close your eyes for me?”

He raises a brow at your request but complies and shuts his eyes. You wave your hands around his face to confirm they really are closed. Once you’re certain, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage and tiptoe upward to plant a kiss on his cheek. With a teasing smile, you rush into your car. He jolts, eyes shooting back open at the sound of your car door closing. Giggles escape your lips, watching him standing in a daze. You wonder if he’s as out of breath as you are, despite not having done anything cardio related.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobibi,” you say as you reach across the opening to poke his nose.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin and he moves to brush his lips against your finger. You shiver at the sensation. He starts walking backwards to his car and brings 2 fingers up to his forehead to salute you.

“See ya, beautiful. I’ll call you tonight?”

Your heart leaps at how hopeful he sounds. “I’ll be waiting, handsome!”

You wait until he’s inside his car, wave goodbye one last time, and then drive off.

By the time he walks you to your apartment after your date, the moon has risen high in the sky and encompasses the both of you in a faint glimmer.

Today had been the perfect day to go to the river and you both spent hours crouching in the river bed, your faces nearly touching the water in order to see the rocks clearly. It had truly been a wonderful date and you came home with a good handful of small river rocks to add to your collection.

You love that this wasn’t a conventional first date. It did, however, bring a different type of first date anxiety because of the fact that you were already friends. Sweet Hoseok didn’t let the nerves take control though. He’d pulled you into the cold water with him as soon as you got there, effectively washing away all worries. You shared plenty of laughs and water fights today. You’re still damp from spending so much time in the river and while the evening breeze should have sent goosebumps all throughout your exposed skin, you’re instead filled with a cozy warmth merely being in the warm and calming presence of Hoseok.

“I had a great time today, Hobi. Thanks for taking me out to find cute rocks.”

“And thanks for making me wet,” you add for good measure. You snicker under your breath when he chokes on air.

“Oh my god. Um, you-you’re welcome. Your rocks are just as cute as you! Um, and thanks for packing us delicious food.”

It’s entirely too amusing seeing him flounder at your brazen declarations. You liked this shy Hobi. Actually, you’ve come to find you like a lot of different Hobis. The one who brings you tea every other morning at work, the one who walks you to your car even when you’re not teaching a class together, the one who has recently started calling you every night just to say goodnight, the one who blushes any time you compliment him, and most definitely your favorite: the one who has given you a beautiful friendship as the foundation of this newfound relationship with one another.

You have always loved how his smile seemed to shape into a heart. A beautiful physical display of the love he so eagerly and openly shares with the world. Here in this moment though, you know this smile was only for you and you are suddenly so eager to kiss those heart shaped lips. You sigh happily and reach up to smooth down Hoseok’s wind blown hair. You clasp your arms around his neck and bask in the stillness, soaking in the memory of his glowing face under the moonlight.

“Don’t forget to take care of your rocks, okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/N.”

“Gross. Don’t call me that,” you scrunch your nose in distaste and push him away. “You can go home.”

He laughs again and grabs your face to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad you had fun. Go rest up, okay?”

Okay, so maybe you were kidding when you pushed him away. He moves to let go but you grab onto his shirt and lick your lips in anticipation. Maybe you weren’t taking conventional steps and yes, there is that unspoken social rule not to kiss on the first date but you don’t care.

Some time halfway into the day, you were swept in a sudden wave of acceptance—of your feelings for this man, of toeing the line between friends and potential lovers. For the remainder of the day you were plagued with thoughts about how kissable his lips are. Splashing him with water until he was soaking wet did not help your dilemma. You zone in on his lips and surely he picks up on your cues because he removes your hands from his shirt within seconds and keeps them clasped in his hold. Your eyes quickly shoot up to glower at him. He chuckles and swipes a thumb across your lips, his expression mirthful.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?” An echo of what he had said that fateful night in front of his apartment.

You quietly grumble in understanding, knowing he was right not to rush into this, earning you a beautiful laugh to slip from his annoyingly beautiful mouth.

“I won’t say no to another kiss on the cheek though,” he teases.

You scoff at the audacity. “You’ve lost that right. Goodbye!”

He laughs at your outburst and learns forward for another kiss on the forehead. With a final wave goodbye and a heart ready to burst, you head inside. In hindsight, you should’ve known Hoseok’s a glutton for “taking it slow.”

Tonight you’re at his apartment to Netflix and chill. Literally.

It’s been several official dates—and many more unofficial ones in between—throughout the three months since your first date. Many cuddles, many accidental boners pressed against your thigh during said cuddles (leading to some awkward repositioning and pretending it never happened), and many kisses shared all around your faces save for your lips. You’re cuddled up against him tonight watching a rerun of Running Man when you’re hit with a pang of need that you’ve become intimately familiar with these days.

You want to kiss him. Every time you get too close, though, he’d move away. You try not to let it get to you. You really do. But it’s hard not to feel the sting every time you’re rejected. You know he likes you and he knows you like him too. Amidst these thoughts, your mind drifts back to the day you finally confessed that you liked him too. You suppress a laugh thinking about how much of a blubbering mess he’d been. You just wish you knew why he didn’t seem to want to kiss you.

Thinking about all the times he’s rejected your advances completely kills your mood. You unconsciously pull away from him and scoot closer to the other side of the loveseat. Tears are pooling under your eyes and you’re blinking furiously, willing them to disappear. You don’t mean to suddenly feel this way and you certainly don’t want to ruin the good atmosphere tonight.

Hoseok laughs and comments on something in the show but you can’t bring yourself to muster up fake enthusiasm. You feel something rub against you and you flinch until you realize it’s Hoseok pulling you back to his side. His face is masked with worry and he rubs your arms in a comforting motion.

“Hey there,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and adjust your posture on the couch. His eyes furrow at your lack of response and he pauses the show. He shifts to face you and holds your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You bite down on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You’re usually not embarrassed to cry. In fact you’ve cried many times in front of Hoseok, but those were different times. You don’t want to scare him away. Of course, your body never does like to listen to you. Your chin quivers without your permission and it was like the dam broke. Hoseok’s frown only deepens and he immediately scoots closer, cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes flutter close, completely embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.” You try to move away but his hands hold your face firmly in place, wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, don’t apologize. If you really don’t wanna talk about it I’ll drop it. I will. But you know that I’ll make time to listen to you whenever you’re ready, right?”

You take in a deep, shaky breath. The pet name doesn’t help with your already frazzled emotions and you whisper, “No, it’s…we—I can talk.”

He doesn’t speak, instead waiting for you. You’re tempted to ask him to forget it and pretend you’re okay but you know if you never address this, you’ll continue to be stuck in this limbo and you don’t know how much longer you’d be able to handle it. Might as well be direct about it. Beating around the bush never did anyone any favors.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Your voice cracks and comes out weaker than you meant it to. The following seconds are completely silent. You can’t even hear Hoseok breathe. His lack of reaction causes fresh tears to fall down your face.

“I’m sorry,” you both say.

“I-I thought we’re good now, you know? And, I don’t know, I figured that since we—”

“Wait. Wait, baby let me speak first. Please?”

You hiccup and nod your consent. His thumbs stroke both sides of your face, continuing to catch your tears. His brows are still wrinkled and you want nothing more than to smooth them out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you this much and I’m sorry I didn’t notice… I know it’s selfish of me and it’s not a good enough excuse but to be honest I don’t think I’d be able to deal with it. And I’m gonna sound really corny but I just know if I kiss you once, I’m scared I may never want to stop and if… or when you decide you don’t want me anymore, um,” he pauses to lick his lips and laughs nervously.

You flinch at his words. Was he still holding onto that? Your heart now aches for an entirely different reason. It hurts that he still thinks you’re unsure about your feelings for him. Has he been stressed about that all this time?

Before he can go on, you push him until he’s resting against the couch cushion. You swallow down your insecurities. It’s something you can come back to later. Feeling bad about him not wanting to kiss you holds little value when he’s been worried about this for god knows how long. His hands fall from your face and you maneuver yourself until you’re straddling him, giving him no chance to look away from you. It’s true that he liked you first and that he had longer to realize his feelings for you but you knew what you felt for him was genuine. You were in this for the long run and tonight you want to make it very clear to him.

“Hobi.”

It’s your turn to hold his face in your hands. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and your heart lurches. “Do you still think that I don’t like you? That I don’t want you? I’m sorry I must not have been a very good girlf—” You stop yourself barely in time. You didn’t mean to let that slip. You’ve yet to establish your relationship with Hoseok, and you didn’t think it was a good time right now. Your blunder didn’t seem to be lost on him though, as you feel his heartbeat race against your chest and his grip that found purchase on your hips tightens.

“I may have been unsure in the beginning, and it may have been new to me at first but my feelings for you now… I love being your friend but you know what? I also love getting to know this other side of you. This side of you that only I get to see. I like when we pretend that we accidentally color code our clothes at work. I like it when our students and our stupid friends tease us. I like that you send me ugly cat memes and that I can send you stupid tweet screenshots. I like it when you come home with me to cook dinner for us. I like all of it.”

You pause to give him some time to let it sink in. He’s staring at you with so much longing and hope that it almost scares you, but you know you yearn for him just as much. If this goes well, maybe you can be scared together.

“I don’t want to go back to being just friends, Hobi. I want to keep exploring life with you.”

His palms are hot against your hips and his breathing becomes erratic. You lean into him until you’re certain he can feel your heart beating at the same frantic rate as his.

“Do you feel that?” He nods. “You do this to me. And... as for my daily problem down there,” you flush, looking down at where you’re connected below the waist. You look up to see him just as flustered, “is because of you too.”

“Loving you... falling in love with you is so easy.”

You feel his breath hitch at your implied declaration. And you realize your mistake too late. Was it too early to say it? Is it too late to take it back? He makes no move to say anything so you attempt to do damage control. In the form of distraction.

You lean even closer into him, pressed flush against his chest until your lips brush against his earlobe, knowing full well this was his weak spot, and say softly, “So there’s this guy I’m into. He’s really tall and handsome. He likes to drug himself up with caffeine every morning and will one hundred percent drop 200 bucks for limited edition shoes without a single thought. Can you guess who it is?” You don’t give him a chance to reply. “It’s you, Hobi. It’s you and only you and I really, really like you.”

Your confession is honest and true. What happens next is entirely unexpected and you would have fallen off his lap if not for his firm grip on you. He practically lunges at you and before you can process it his lips are moving roughly against yours. You had always thought your first kiss with Hoseok would be soft and slow, much like how he’s moved throughout your budding relationship, but no. He kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he was capable of. He nips at your bottom lip, earning him a soft groan from you.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs into your lips.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain is still trying to catch up and process what just happened.

You pull away from him and you blurt out dumbly, “Oh my god you’re kissing me.”

He laughs contentedly and nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He plants a faint kiss, causing you to shiver against him.

"You drove a hard bargain. I couldn’t not kiss you after that.” A quick peck on the lips. “And for the record, I really, really like you too.”

“Kiss me again, Hoseok.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Epilogue

The wind tries to steal your hat away but you hold onto it before it has a chance to fly off. It’s a breezy day today and your boyfriend had the absolutely brilliant idea to teach you how to longboard.

This brilliant idea ends up being him skating down steep hills at the park while you walk in the grass behind him. You had shouted at him several times to slow down or he’d end up hurting himself but of course in typical male fashion, he ignored you every time.

You’re in the middle of firing a comeback at Yoonji’s most recent text about how gross you and Hoseok have become now that you’re a couple when you hear a cry from your boyfriend several feet away. He’s going down a rather steep hill when the wind picks up sudden speed. Loose gravel breaks his smooth run and you watch in horror as he loses balance and tumbles onto the pavement. He hisses as his skin skids against the rocks.

“Hoseok!”

You stash your phone into your purse and run to him. As you get closer he schools his pained expression, in an attempt to hide any pain he may be feeling.

“I’m fine.” He attempts to reassure you before you can start fretting over him.

You immediately kneel down in front of him, ignoring him and grab his hands to assess the damage.

"You shouldn’t have gone so fast,” you scold as you rip out a few alcohol wipes from your bag. You’ve heard one too many horror stories about people injuring themselves falling off skateboards, so you’ve learned to keep several wipes and bandages handy when you found out Hoseok owned a few of his own. You carefully wipe down his scuffed palms and arms. You worry about his knees too but that’s something you’ll have to take care of at home.

He silently drinks in the image of you kneeling between his splayed legs, tending to his barely-there wounds. His heart may very well burst right there. You blow on his hands and flick your eyes up briefly to find his face mere inches from yours, looking at you with such a fond look.

“Ah, babe you’re too close to me,” you mumble shyly and lightly push him a few more inches away.

This only prompts him to lean in even closer until your foreheads knock together and his nose bumps with yours. It’s been several months since you had the “kiss talk” and made your relationship official. It’s been several months and yet your heart is still sent into a panic when you catch him staring. It’s barely your fault that you react physically when he makes you so nervous. You squeak and push his face away from you, causing him to fall over. His chuckles morph into a gruff wheeze as he falls. Embarrassment momentarily gone, you fuss over him again.

“Hobi! Oh no, I’m sorry!”

He lunges for you and pulls you down on top of him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t expect him to grab at you and you brace your legs for your eventual fall.

“Oof! Oh god!” He exclaims in pain.

He recoils from you and grabs his crotch, rolling away into a fetus position. “Oh god, baby please be more gentle with me! I won’t be able to put my babies in you if you break me!”

You both freeze from his declaration. You, more so in shock, and he, in mortification. You’ve certainly had your fair share of heavy petting and make out sessions since that night at his place… Okay, fine so you can’t keep your hands off each other for even one day and you kiss every chance you get, but you have yet to go any farther than that with one another. Your sanity has been slowly dwindling the longer you go without knowing how he looks and feels. Hearing him basically say he wants to cum inside you in the near future has you perking up instantly. You watch as his eyes grow comically wide and he immediately sits up, pain forgotten.

“Oh shit shit shit. I said that out loud didn’t I? Oh god. I’m sorry I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—I mean it’s—I know we only just started dating and we haven’t even talked about sex yet and—I’m sorry. Oh my god.” He buries his head in his face, ready for the earth to swallow him whole.

You tug at his shirt and focus intensely on where your fingers are fumbling with his shirt and mumble barely loud enough, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, you know?”

He swears he feels his dick twitch. Great. It’s not broken. Awesome.

When he doesn’t respond you continue on, “W—well not right now!"

He snorts. "Obviously not. We’re in public, silly… Unless you’re into that? I mean it’s not my thing but I’m willing to try it if you want us to—” Your eyes widen at his bold declaration and slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. You can’t lie though, the idea has you quivering on your knees.

“Hobi!” You hiss. “I meant not for a few months!”

His eyebrows raise and you’re quick to fix it. “I-I mean next year?”

You feel his lips curl into that awful smirk he fancies anytime he turns you into a blubbering mess. Then you feel something thick and wet against your palm.

“Ew! Hobi!” You pull your hand away from him. He leans into you, tongue still out, and licks your lips before you can shrink even further away. You don’t have the energy to protest again, too engrossed on how good his tongue feels.

“Don’t tempt me with the patience game because we both know I’d win.” He grins when you pout at him because you know he’s right. “I can’t wait to explore this new territory with you, baby.”

You flush at his remark and stand up to create some distance to prevent yourself from doing something stupid.

“I need to find your skateboard,” you breathe out and run away from your cheeky boyfriend.

“Longboard!” He corrects you and watches your figure trail away from him.

Hoseok muses how he got so lucky that you, the one he’d been pining after for years, actually reciprocates his feelings. He picks himself off the pavement to help you find his longboard. He thinks he’ll hang it up somewhere in his apartment later today as a commemoration of this lovely date. And he definitely can’t wait to get home and find out how long it’ll take for you to break underneath him.

a/n 2.0: HI ISN’T HOBI HOBI JUST A DREAM???? i hope you liked this fic 🥺 pls share your thoughts with me💗 my asks and dms are always open 💕 like.....always.... <<3333

(gif credit: @jengkook)

#bts fanfic #jhope fluff #hoseok fanfic #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #jhope #hobi #jhobi #the sweetest man #how do u tag things #i can't believ ei did this #pls read ;w;#i worked hard uwu #now lemme go hide in my cave #f:it's you

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! I hope you're doing okay over there. Are your requests open? If so, could you do a Din x reader with the reader sketching him (the child and their special moments together) when she thinks he isn't looking, but one day he finds the sketchbook? If they're closed just ignore the request but hold on tight to the wishes of good furtune and health ♥ Stay safe!

I’m hanging in there sweet anon and I hope you’re doing okay too (okay but this is so cute omg).

Warnings: It’s really just two dorks and good ole fluff. Some of this is unedited as well

*Reminder that the forum for my taglist is still up and pinned!

__________________________________________

If he would turn slightly to the left, you’d be able to get the perfect angle you need to finish the sketch.

The helmet reflects the glare of the stars, illuminating a bright shine around the top of the beskar and stinging your eyes just a little when you look up at it. You can’t help but do it anyway. The Child is asleep, a day of actually getting to use those little feet of his wore him out - you love the little one, but you and Din have exhausted yourselves keeping up with finding him his home and protecting him at the same time; this peace and quiet right now is highly overdue.

The pencil glides easily against the paper, connecting every line to another, creating another favorite of yours; the perfect piece of art that’s sitting in front of you, unaware of the stacks of sketches that you’ve drawn silently in the whatever corner you can lurk in. To be honest, with as attentive as he is, you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on to you yet.

You’re so lost in finishing the shades that you don’t notice the Mandalorian turning slightly towards you in his seat. He watches your brows furrow in deep concentration, the light scratching in the air a comfort to him since the months of hearing it. He’s never actually seen any of your drawings, however, and he knows that one day the curiosity will get the better of him and he’ll ask... eventually.

Truth is he’s not all the sure on why he hasn’t asked you yet, despite the growing and gnawing interest with teeth that grows sharper and longer as more time goes on. And it’s not like you’ve ever brought it up, either. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you - a dance that’s familiar in any language; of scared love and child-like curiosity that seeps into something deeper.

That’s exactly what he’s afraid of.

It’s in this moment of sensing a pair of eyes on you - the pair of eyes you can’t see, but imagine they must be green, or brown more than anything. For a moment, you’re almost afraid to find out.

With a small intake of air you will your head to tilt up. The visor spins away so quick that it’s almost comical, and you bite your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling in your chest.

“Din,” you call his name teasingly. “Is there something you wanted?”

It’s almost too hard to hide the laughter when his helmet jolts towards you, like he’s surprised that you called him out on it.

“I -” You think you hear a gulp through the statics of the vocoder. “- I was... I was just wondering what you were drawing. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity of his apology, and the fact that he was watching you, which has you wondering if this is a reoccurrence you’ve been blind to this entire time.

“It doesn’t,” you voice croaks. “It’s-it’s nothing really. Just the ship, whatever I see throughout the day.” You sit up, still clutching the book to your chest. “I’m going to check on the kid. Call for me if you need anything.”

When the hell did the air get so thick like this? You feel bad, so bad, and a part of you wants to desperately show him this simple thing that he just wants to look at, but... but he’ll know. One look and he’ll know.

“Okay,” the modulator cracks - you wonder what it’s masking right now, what you can’t hear through the robotic statics. “You can rest too while you’re at it. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

You nod and awkwardly wave your departure, climbing down on wobbly legs to the hull and the cot the Child is asleep on; you’re relieved to see that he’s still bundled in his blanket, a peaceful expression gracing his features.

It’s here you feel the fatigue settling on your shoulders. The dull beating You sigh and settle inside the small space, careful of your weight and making yourself as comfortable as you can get. With the book and pencil still in hand, you decide to finish the little details of his belt.

***

Mando sighs as thoughts of you plague his mind once more.

That, and the fact that he needs to sleep at least an hour before the landing at the next destination.

He keens his ears for any sings of movements down in the hull, but when he hears nothing he climbs down to ladder in quiet, graceful strokes.

The dim light does absolute injustice to your features in his opinion. It’s the first thing he notices, not the Child is gurgling over your open sketchbook that’s sprawled out on your lap as you sleep.

“Kriff,” he curses under his breath and rushes as quietly as he can towards the bunk. He tries to keep his eyes averted of the drawings, but he can’t help it, especially when the Child pouts and slaps against the page when his hand clasps around it.

It’s... well, it’s him. He’s leaning against the wall of what he can tell is the Razor Crest based off the small details you made sure to put in - he really admires that. Down at his feet is the little one, grinning up at him. Beneath the helmet that’s shielded him from the rest of the world for almost all his life, he smiles back; orange caresses the rough paper, imagining that he can actually feel it through the lead and gloves.

The next page is of a planet he cannot name off the top of his head, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s of home.

Each page is filled with memories; past and present etched and filled with the kind of skill and warmth that can never be replaced; promises of mystery tied in like a piece of string. Most of them towards the end are of him and the Child. Small moments, mostly, like when he fell asleep with the kid secured to his armored-less chest, and moments when it’s him, sitting in the pilot’s seat or his cape flowing behind him as he walks away to a new bounty or clue to the Child’s powers.

He recognizes them with a deep fondness that makes his head swirl with all types of emotions. Din knows what they mean, but it’s the fear. Yet each drawing - he’s on the one from hours ago - scolds each inch of doubt within him, and in this he finds a type of bravery he’s hasn’t faced much before; it makes it more terrifying to him.

“I like to draw what makes me happy.”

Your voice startles him from his thoughts. He’s never frozen up like this before - at least long ago - but now it feels like your stare alone is the only thing keeping him grounded to this spot. The doe like expression on your face the guilt that started to creep within his chest dissipates.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he still feels that he needs to apologize. “The kid had it and I... he likes the one where he found that flower.”

You smile widely at that, looking down at the child in question as you sit up. Din silently watches you climb out from the bunk and takes a few steps back to let you lean against the cold interior.

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” you say; proudly, Din thinks. “And the one where you fell asleep in the pilot’s chair... you were so tired that day and I kept trying to get you to rest and let me take over, but you can be so stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

His chuckle radiates the room, and fuck it, it could radiate the entire galaxy. Yours join in with ease, but it quickly dies down, though not awkwardly or uncomfortably; it feels natural among the countless other laughs you’ve shared over the years.

“I um - “ you clear your throat nervously, battling with the endless fluttering of butterflies in your stomach and the shakiness in your voice. “- I guess this is a good time to say that I really like you, Din. And I’ve been drawing these sketches of as many of these moments as I can because they’re so precious to me.” You take a deep breath. “Just like the Child is. Just like you are.”

You finish with a light scoff. It’s quiet, you have to pee, and you hope to the Maker above that this isn’t how your journey with Din ends; you should really open your eyes and at least do something if he’s just going to keep standing there.

“I like you, too.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when those words reach your ears. It feels like your heart just stopped beating, your body frozen, and your thoughts bouncing wildly around like a blaster; that crackled laugh (that you know somehow is soft) brings you back to your body, back to the man standing closer to you know and slowly reaching his hand out.

You glance at it before tracing your eyes over the worn out boots that’s seen better days, the scratched and scraped armor that you have shared more than enough time cleaning and polishing, the signet that the Mandalorian never fails to honor proudly, even in his own quiet ways; and now the helmet, the t-shaped visor that shields him.

In this you find no fear. The weight of his hand in yours settles you and the soft link of his pinky with yours brings a stinging to your eyes.

“I can’t do this alone,” he says. “And I want this to work. The Creed -”

“I know,” you interject quietly. “It’s not always going to be easy. But we got this, just like always, don’t we?”

“At least one of us has to.”

His heart warms when the loudest snort he’s ever heard you make jolts the Child from his sleep, blinking those big eyes wearily as your muffled laugher continues against your fingers. “You should get some sleep now,” you tell him. “I got this one.”

It feels very natural to lean down and pick the Child up and smile at Din with assurance; he feels the air in his lungs draw out of him until he literally starts to feel breathless, and his lips stretch in a smile - it’s small and shy; hopeful.

After he makes sure that the hull is closed off and lays his helmet by the plates of his armor (one of the rare times he actually can), settling onto the unforgiving but familiar cot, he imagines you’ll make a fuss about the scar on his nose with a pencil and book in your hands.

Tags: @talesfromtheguild, @absurdthirst, @chews-erotically, @hiwelcometochillys, @legally-a-bastard, @bluengrayfox, @pascaliprincess, @oloreaa, @thisis-theway, @jaynoellef, @ben-is-a-hoe, @hayley-the-comet, @pascalisthepunkest, @kenedyybrooklin, @garrshep, @paintmekala, @marian, @fit-fierce-gamer, @altersw, @hoodedbirdie

#this was so sweet i can't #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #fanfic #request #pedro pascal #anon #i have a little cold and finished this a little loopy *jazz music plays in the background*#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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burningthemidnightcityoil · 4 years ago

Text

FAIRYLANDS

I found what I was looking for.

Let’s talk about Homestuck environments, and the Sylph / Maid class.

Throughout Homestuck, we’ve all seen spaces / rooms that both aesthetically and non-aesthetically match our many characters. Many which dictate their tastes, desires, interests and general themes.

But non-take this as far, as the Fairy Classes: Maid and Sylph.

In Scottish and English folklore, Fairyland or simply Fairy, is the abode of Fairies. And in Homestuck, we do notice that many of the Sylphs ‘n Maids often control or inhabit a large stretch or area (much larger than a simple bedroom).

For Maids and Sylphs, their “Fairylands” aren’t just abodes they preside over, they’re also areas to draw power from, and places they create.

Jane Crocker - Maid of Life Part of Jane’s fairyhood is already taken, by giving her “inheritance” as the Crocker Empire (Effectively controlling her as a “Fairy” by controlling her Fairyland). I believe that, like another fairy in Homestuck, she’s should find her own Fairyland or make one.

Possibly, hers was meant to be the Earth?

After all, her fairy motif is the Gnome, the Earth Elemental.

Aradia Megido - Maid of Time Aradia has gone through a couple Fairylands throughout her time, though if we were to nail one consistently, it’d be areas of Death or Doom. When she was a Robot, her Fairylands were the various doomed timelines.

When she became a God, it became the Dream Bubbles. Notice how when she officially presided, the time-chaos that was (Where future and past could meet all a once) ordered itself into coinciding with the present of Homestuck (Now everything is set to a particular time; the present).

Kanaya Maryam - Sylph of Space Within Homestuck, Kanaya actually hasn’t claimed a Fairyland yet. In fact, most of her journey is to find one. Particularly, for the Troll Species to repopulate again.

As her fairy-motif is the Rainbow Drinker, she would literally garner her power from the Troll Species itself. And as her aspect is Space, her Fairyland would be a Planet, particularly Alternia (Which was destroyed).

I guess that means we have Two Mother Planets.

Post-Scratch Aranea Serket “Mindfang” - Sylph of Light We’re talking about a lady who’s literally Captain Hook meets Tinkerbell. However, her Fairyland is explicably not a Land at all, but the Alternian Seas. She was a Pirate.

And very possibly more than that, she drew her power from Information (Light) after all.

Or that her Fairyland became the minds of other people.

Pre-Scratch Aranea Serket - Sylph of Light The problem with being dead when Death isn’t your fortee, is that you don’t have anything to draw on. Aranea’s attack on the narrative is a dark parallel to both Jane and Kanaya’s Journeys-- Securing a Fairyland.

But with Aranea, she wanted it to be the Universe.

Considering the association with Light, her previous fairyland could’ve been Beforus’ version of the Internet.

Pre-Scratch Porrim Maryam “Dolorosa” - Maid of Space Funny how her story was about running from the caves her Ancendant was trying to create. There’s no information as to what her fairyland could’ve been, though its likely suppose to be Alternia, like Kanaya.

Like Kanaya, she shares a Fairy Motif with the Rainbow Drinker or Vampire.

Post-Scratch Porrim Maryam - Maid of Space Dido with Aranea, Porrim lost any fairyland she might’ve had with her death.

SPECULATION Snowman - Sylph of Mind That’s right, the Black Queen herself.

Easy to say that her initial fairyland was Derse, but as of the Alternian session, it moved to be the entire Troll Universe itself. She can not only jump spaces, but even travel the Multiverse (The Multiverse is a Mind concept), and can in fact see into other multiverses (Consider Slick’s death to Quarters).

And as it turns out, the Fairyland would also draw power from its fairy. If the Fairy or rather, Fairy Queen dies, so does the Fairyland. And thus, the Universe dies with Snowman.

Her Fairy Motif would be the Fairy Queen (Consider the Unseelie Court); but this incarnation, it became Universe Frogs.

Stitch - Sylph of Space / Time (?) A different kind of Sylph of Space; Stitch’s hold is likely either the Felt or Felt Manor, consider his ability over the Effigies. He does try to sew up Lord English, perhaps he holds over Time? Particularly, the Alpha Timeline.

Leprechauns are already Fairy creatures.

Dad Egbert / Crocker - Sylph of Mind THAT’S RIGHT, DAD FECKIN EGBERT.

Part of this classpecting is simple elimination; what classes and aspects do the Kid sessions not have that isn’t filled by Carapaces? This is especially so when you look at the fact that The Black Queen (Another Sylph of Mind) ends up dying or being removed from any session that contains Egbert.

His Fairyland is both his House and his Business (Partners?), which collapse without him. He even attempts to make one on Derse in the Alpha Session (Which is headed by DD, who just about bows to this guy as the new “Fairy... King?”)

And as a Sylph, he is prone to creating and serving others willingly. For one thing, he’s THE Parent of all sessions. His attempts to create spaces for his kids within his Fairyland... which doesn’t work out well, because he makes too much, and he’s doing via logical reasoning (He sees John’s wall drawings, and goes for Harlequins; he sees Jane’s detective posters, and attempted Detectives).

... But uh, it hard to communicate with a fully realized Fairy. You can’t tell what they’re thinking (just about every fully realized fairy in Homestuck has this effect; there’s an indescribable oddness about them that alienates others). At best, Jane beats him as being more wild a fairy than he is.

His various notes are him trying to think of every logical route his kids could possibly take, and encourages their growth.

Problem with the Crocker Dad is that he’s been set on the idea that the Crocker Empire is the logical path, and possibly any Fairyland that would’ve been Egbert’s, got subsumed by the Empire instead (Literally making Dad Crocker get a minor variant of what happened with Jane when she went Crockertier).

His Fairy Motif?

First Guardian. Because he IS the very FIRST Guardian of Homestuck. ... And there’s the idealized 50s Parent (50s Dad Aesthetic, but holds both 50s Parents).

#homestuck #classpect #sylph/maid #jane crocker #aradia megido #kanaya maryam #porrim maryam #aranea serket #mindfang #dolorosa (homestuck)#dad egbert #dad crocker #snowman (homestuck)

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oneunexpected · 4 years ago

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Gregor+friendship headcanon, and Hamnet+sad headcanon 👀😭💕

This got REEEEEALLY long.

Gregor + friendship headcanon:

-He doesn’t know what to do about Larry and Angelina when he gets back to the surface.

-the lie his family settles on is Lyme disease: they say both Gregor and his dad contracted it while camping back when the “miscommunication” between his mom and dad occurred (read: the first time Gregor and Boots fell), and it’s had chronic implications for the both of them.

-it makes it easier to explain why they decide to move in with his uncle in Virginia, too.

-he wants so badly to tell the truth. SO badly. But he’s unwilling, because if they believed him... what then? What do you do when your 12-year-old friend disappears and comes back a war veteran? And even then, what if they got too curious and sought out to find the Underland? Gregor can’t risk it.

-even though he figures it’s for the best, he always regrets it a little.

-after Gregor moves, they play video games together online. It’s a good way to stay in touch. That way, they spend some time together virtually, and any discussion outside of game strategy is relegated to the simple catch-up stuff: what projects they’re up to in school, how their families are doing, wild rumors they’ve heard. It helps everything feel a little more normal for Gregor.

-when he met Larry and Angelina, it was back when he was young enough that kids just made friends with whoever. By the time he gets to Virginia, though, friendships are made a lot more through clubs and mutual interests. There are plenty of random people who reach out to him when he first moves, though, concerned about the new kid, wanting to make sure he felt welcome. They’re all nice. Some of the friendships stick, some don’t. He fits in well enough with the band kids, though band’s inherently clique-y format makes it hard to break in at first. By high school, the scars on his legs are flat enough that he joins the cross country and track teams. Sometimes people question why he always wears long sleeve t-shirts, even in the sweltering heat, but they never push him past his generic excuses. He also joins the school robotics team. Between the three, he has lots of friends across the school.

-he’s not particularly close with many, though. His closest friends are a clarinet player, one of his track relay teammates, and a kid who was always cracking jokes in biology when they were stressed about upcoming tests.

-everyone knows there’s something a little off, but none of his friends mind that much. He’s kind, he’s clever, he’s a great sax player, he’s fast, and once again, he’s really kind—so who cares if he’s mysterious as hell.

-that changes when he loses control of raging and breaks a guy’s nose in the hallway during his 8th grade year. His fairly large circle of somewhat shallow friendships shrinks significantly—but those he’s closest to stay loyal, and they do their part to make sure he’s not ostracized. “Honestly, man, he had it coming,” says his friend from bio.

-it all makes things a little easier for Gregor. There’s still so much he’s healing from. There’s still so much that limits him. There’s still so much he misses, both in New York and the Underland. And it can be so alienating. But when he’s playing in a jazz ensemble, or when he’s at someone’s birthday party, or when he’s crammed into a car with some cross country buddies headed to get some fast food after a particularly exhausting practice—it’s all a little easier.

-sometimes, though, even the good moments hurt when he remembers just how different their lives are from his.

-he visits Larry and Angelina the summer before his senior year, and even though their video game shenanigans are few and far between by then, he’s relieved by how easy it is to be around them. They cover lost ground fast, fueled by their excitement to see one another. Angelina’s working as a stagehand on Broadway for the summer. Larry’s mom just bought him a new drawing tablet and he shows Gregor what he’s been working on. They spend hours just catching up and laughing. They’ve grown apart, sure, but the affection remains.

Hamnet + sad headcanon

Nothing I could headcanon would be sadder than actual canon, so I hope it’s alright if I take an alternate approach here:

-When he disappears, nobody asks Susannah how she’s doing that much.

-Maybe they think she’s removed from it, sequestered away in the Fount. Maybe her physical distance just puts her out of sight, out of mind.

-Maybe they think she’s too immersed in Howard and Stellovet and the twins on their way to really feel it.

-Maybe it’s because Judith and Hamnet were just so close. For Judith, it’s like losing a part of herself. “He was a part of me, too,” she sobs to York one night.

-Maybe, just maybe, it’s because she’s the eldest: she’s supposed to be the strong one, the caretaker, the first to sacrifice.

-Judith knows she has to stay strong. She is a queen. Her weakness is her people’s weakness, and losing their best commander is a vulnerability enough in itself.

-but she’s so angry, angry at her husband and her mother for organizing the attack, angry at her father and herself for not doing anything about it, angry at Hamnet for leaving her, oh, she’s furious at him.

-it doesn’t take long to strip the anger back. When you do, there is only the grief.

-when the baby is sleeping, when her husband is sleeping, she slips down into the abandoned nursery where she and Hamnet and the others her age were once cared for and wails.

-after a few weeks, she visits Susannah. They cling to each other in Susannah’s drawing room until the early hours of the morning, at first in silence, until Judith finally says, “I think I was too passive.” Susannah wants to laugh—everyone always said she was the passive one of the three.

-after that, it’s like a dam has broken. (Ooh, poor choice of words.) Susannah tells stories of when the twins were really little. There’s the time when Susannah was trying to feed baby Judith mashed sweet potatoes and Judith bit her, which had their mother in stitches of laughter even as she tried to scold Judith, the time four-year-old Hamnet refused to leave Susannah’s side during a festival because he was afraid of the people in costumes roaming about... there are many stories. Judith chimes in with her own. They laugh and cry and laugh and cry.

-the elephant in the room is the injustice of the attack itself. Neither one of them knows how to navigate it, but it fuels their confusion and it fuels their grief.

-Their father doesn’t know how to navigate it, either.

-Vikus knows he is culpable. It’s his job to make sure Regalians stay true to their word. It’s his job to balance out Solovet’s tendencies. It’s his job to look out for his children’s well-being. He’s failed. He’s complicit. And his son is gone.

-he knows, on some level, that the part of him that’s in Hamnet is what drove his son to leave. It’s what drove him insane in the first place, and it’s the reason he tried to save the drowning gnawers that day, too. Vikus doesn’t know how to sit with that knowledge. If his son was more like Solovet, maybe he would have lived.

-it wasn’t an easy birth. Solovet lost way too much blood and the twins were just so small when they were born. Even then, when her mind was clouded by hypovolemic shock, she couldn’t stand to see the doctors whisking them away. When she came to, someone had laid the twins in her arms, where they slept peacefully. Vikus beamed at her from a corner of the room. She was so, so proud.

-she never knew fear quite like she did when Mareth brought Hamnet home and he couldn’t recognize any of them. Couldn’t even speak. She never let on how scared she was, of course, but she felt it nonetheless. She was disappointed, too.

-when they received word Hamnet was missing, Solovet was immediately giving orders. “Check every route out from the city. Locate and interrogate every guard on duty last night. Send word to the Fount and Troy.” Find him.

-she knew they wouldn’t. He was too clever for that. As she goes to sleep that night, there’s a cold weight pressing in on her sternum. He could have been great, she thinks. He was so close.

Thanks for the ask! Headcanon meme found here.

#mmmmmm I really wanna develop the Vikus/Solovet clan more but it’s SOOO hard. so little characterization for Susannah or Judith #gregor the overlander #the underland chronicles #headcanon #gregor #angelina #larry #hamnet #susannah #judith #vikus #solovet #answered

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brickercupmasterx3 · 5 years ago

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“Confessions in the Darkened Room”-

AN: I’m NOT exactly too proud of this fic and I’m still going back and forth on it, but I shared it with a friend (you know who you are) and she said it was fine... So I’ve decided to post it anyway? (I’m going to log off for the rest of the day so I don’t feel tempted to delete this minutes after I posted it. However when tomorrow comes, don’t be surprised if I do delete this post.)

And no, this was NOT the second fic I had in mind that I mentioned on my Lukanette blog.

These deal with my own headcanons dealing with Feloe (Felix x Chloe pairing). This ship has little to no content, and I’ve been kinda into it lately. So yeah... Here’s my (terrible, imo) contribution. (If I do end up drawing them eventually, that’s why. They’re a fun pair and I have a few story lines prepared for them. I’m NOT planning to write them out though.)

(I would also like to apologize in advance if anything seems out of place or rushed? I tried my best to make things organic, but anymore and I probably would have screwed this up further.)

Anyways, I’m done talking. So here. Enjoy?

______________________________

First thing Chloe knew, she was arguing with the most insufferable guy she’s ever known and the next, the two were shoved inside a closet. She had no doubt about who pushed them, considering there was only one other person in the room, aside from herself, that knew about her feelings for the boy.

It had been around half an hour since the two blondes were locked inside the closet, neither having said a word since then. Chloe knew she’d have to say something sooner or later, but when? There was never a right time to admit to someone who had brought you down and made you feel inferior all your life that you’ve grown feelings for them, could there?

Felix sighed, clearly annoyed at the situation they were forced into. While it wasn’t in the most pleasing of circumstances, at least this provided him the space to get some closure with the girl. She may have those infuriating moments when all she can talk about is Adrien, but lately, throughout their whole “fake dating” scene… He’d found himself falling for her more than he thought possible.

He enjoyed the closeness and getting to know her more, in and out of character. He’d memorized her facial expressions, the sound of her laughter, her touches… Basically everything… Not that he’d admit it aloud to the blonde girl at all. Otherwise, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“So… What’d you want to talk about?” Chloe asked, trying to speed things along so that she wouldn’t have to be trapped with him any longer than necessary. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather get out of here as soon as possible. Don’t exactly find it thrilling to spend too much time with you.”

He rolled his eyes at her usual antics. “Not like spending time with you is any picnic either.”

“If I’m that revolting to you, then why ask me to play the role of your fake girlfriend?” She asked, awaiting for whatever response he’d be willing to give her. His responses were always the same, and she knew she shouldn’t have hoped for anything different, but she could dream.

“I needed a favor, Chloe. You fit the bill and that was it.” He responded, keeping it short.

"That's all you ever say." She said, crossing her arms. "Sometimes, it just feels like you're this emotionless robot with the same practiced lines. Is there really nothing else on your mind?"

"Why does it even matter to you? The only person you ever cared about was Adrien!" He shouted, just about done with her.

"I can't believe you…" Chloe started, anger evident in her eyes. "That's honestly what you think? Even tracking back to our childhood where I tried so hard to be your friend? Need I remind you that you rejected me?"

"Did you really expect me to take your friendship?" He looked over to her, returning her glare. "And watch you become another one of those annoying fangirls of Adrien's?"

"Did you really think so lowly of me then that you couldn't find a single ounce of genuineness in my eyes then?" She looked away from him, trying so hard to conceal all those horrible childhood memories. "Of course you did. After all, I played my part perfectly well… The bratty, spoiled rich kid who wanted nothing but to be part of the Agreste family. No matter the cost…"

“Are you seriously trying to get me to buy into that?” Felix looked at her as if she was crazy. “Would you stop trying to make up excuses to justify your petty behavior from back then? And just take responsibility for what you really are.”

“Responsibility? For what exactly?" Chloe shouted, more than fed up with his attitude. "Do you really think that this is what I wanted for myself? You don't know me! You never tried to get to know me, even with the several chances offered to you!"

"Why exactly would I want to? You've shown your true colors and by the way you're acting right now, you're not making yourself look any better." He said matter of factly.

"Ugh!" She groaned. "Fine! Think whatever you want about me! I'm done trying with you… Done with this stupid arrangement of ours altogether!"

“We had a deal… You can’t just back out of it now.” “Why not? You’re insufferable, Felix! You constantly treat me like trash, bring me down all the time with your pathetic insults and just expect me to sit there and take it like I’m inferior to you!” The blonde girl knew she couldn’t normally act out like this in public, but considering Sabrina locked them inside to talk feelings, that’s precisely what she was going for. “Well… You’re not any better than I am. These petty feelings you say I have, well, you have the same ones towards Adrien. Neither of us get why, because you refuse to tell us anything.”

“That’s hardly any of your business.” came his simple reply. “I didn’t ask you to help me out with this in order for us to get to know one another better. I could care less about your opinion on any matter. I simply just needed someone around to get that annoying Bridgette out of my life. You just fit the part.” “So… You’re just using me?” Chloe laughed, of course it was moreso a fake one, not that he’d know the difference. She needed to save her pride, not give him the satisfaction that he’d gotten to her yet again. It was just as she’d feared, wasn’t it? He never cared about her, no matter what she did. “Of course, you are… It never mattered how well I played the doting girlfriend part… Nothing can ever satisfy you.”

He just stared blankly at her, rolling his eyes at her usual dramatics. “Are you done yet?”

“As done as I am with you…” She responded, rolling her eyes at him.

How she fell for him over his nicer, denser cousin, Adrien, she wouldn’t understand. In ways, Adrien was everything she should have desired. He had the status, the cash, the looks… Those were the things she was supposed to chase after for the sake of her mother’s approval. Chloe was a Bourgeois. And Bourgeois’ don’t settle for anything less than the best.

But that wasn’t what she wanted for herself… Adrien just wasn’t it for her.

While he was kinder, sweeter, most endearing and at times a bit more understanding than his jerk of a cousin… Adrien couldn’t understand most social cues, which was indeed beyond frustrating. Nor could he tell the difference between liking someone as a “friend” or more. The boy had been sheltered from the real world for the majority of his life, she knew that and she couldn’t fault him for those things… And she didn’t… but she knew he’d never be more to her than just that childhood friend she adores…

And it hurts, because loving him would’ve been easier… Adrien wouldn’t reject her out of malice, unlike Felix. He’d do his best to let her down easy, if he came to figure out her feelings, because first and foremost, the two were friends. And the Agreste boy obviously treasured the Bourgeois girl as family, just as she did him.

Chloe then resigned to sit down at the farthest corner from Felix, quietly mumbling something under her breath as she finally registered her thoughts.

“If you have something to say, come out with it.” The boy said. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy and mumbling just wasn’t his style.

“Why would you care so suddenly? I’m of no interest to you.” She said softly, hiding her face between her legs… If she’d said anymore, her feelings would probably be out in the open and he’d know.

Felix had been witness to many of Chloe’s outbursts… but this? This wasn’t one of them.

She was never this quiet or reserved around him. She always had something to say and that's how he liked it. Chloe may be loud, annoying, spoiled and all-around self centered from what he'd seen, but he wouldn't have it any other way… So why the sudden change in attitude?

He tried to reach out to the other blonde, but his attempt was met by a slap. She clearly was in no mood to entertain him, much too lost in her thoughts to do much else. It didn't help matters that she was shaking either.

Had he really upset her that much?

"Chlo, come on. Just come out with it." He insisted.

She didn't budge, just kept her head down and ignored his words. If he wasn't going to listen to her at all, then she wouldn't either. It was a two-way street after all.

_______________________

Within the next fifteen minutes or so, her breathing had finally evened out again. Chloe couldn’t even bother herself to give him the time of day at all anymore. She’d finally raised her head and stood up silently, making her way back to the door.

“Sabrina... Whatever it is you thought was going to be resolved here isn’t going to happen… So just open the door, will you?” She spoke, still pretty soft, but a little louder than the response she'd given Felix just minutes ago. Chloe couldn't be bothered to yell out as angrily as she’d had done when she and Felix were both thrown inside.

Unluckily for her, there was no response from her redheaded friend on the other side of the door. Though she supposed it was to be expected, not that she could blame her.

The blonde girl then sighed again. Not only was she stuck with the guy she liked, but she wasn't even close to being in control of her own emotions either. So she decided to keep the silent treatment intact, and have her back turned to him for as long as she could.

"You're seriously going to keep this act up?" Was the blonde boy's interjection in this silence. "You can't stay silent forever."

Why he was still even trying to get to her is something she wouldn't understand, but knowing him, he probably wouldn't stop until she gave in.

"Fine… What do you want from me?" Chloe asked, obviously annoyed by him. "To tell me how much it is you hate me? Because if you haven't figured it out by now, I know that already."

"I just want to know what's wrong with you. You normally have more bite to your words." He said, because she did. She wouldn't let him get away with what he normally said.

"What's wrong with me?" She finally turned and glared over at him. "What's wrong with me is you… You, Felix. You'll always be the problem!"

"What?" He raised a brow, confused.

"Seriously? You don't even see it? You ask me for a favor and you're in no way, shape or form, grateful for any of it! I play this role I hate perfectly, but you're NOT man enough to admit it!" She yelled out beyond frustrated with him.

She hated that she gave in to her emotions so easily, but how else was she going to get those feelings out in the open? She hated him for making her feel the way she did and she wasn't going to let him off easy until she was done.

"Do you think any of this is easy for me? Do you even try to act like a boyfriend, fake or otherwise, would to someone he's dating? No! Because it seems you're incapable of showing any emotion to me other than one of hatred or indifference, all depending on your mood!" She continued. "If you hate me this much, just end it! This isn't going well for either of us and… and I'm tired of it… I'm tired of growing angrier than I've ever been. Exhausted from everything that's going on between us…"

“There’s nothin-” Felix started, but couldn’t finish because the female blonde wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t you think I know that?” She asked, nearing her breaking point. It was unbelievable how he couldn’t get what she meant. “That’s precisely why this has to end... You hate me as it is, and I just can’t deal with this anymore!”

Chloe wasn’t one to just break down without reason. Having always had to bottle up her emotions and fake others, wasn’t an easy task and it’s started to take more of a toll on her since this dumb “fake dating” favor started. What was she supposed to do? Continue this when it wasn’t doing her heart any good? No. That wouldn’t have been healthy and she knew that well enough already.

“... I… I wish I did have actual feelings for Adrien, you know?” She started, pretty much having to hold back from shedding any tear at this point. “Things would have been easier… He wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me. And I would have been perfectly content just being his friend.”

“Are you ever going to stop denying such an obvious fact? You’ve been into him literally all your life!”

"That's not true! He was never the one I fell for…" She responded, hugging herself, because she was sure that after this there would be no going back. "Even back when we were younger, loving him never crossed my mind. I didn't have many friends… And I still don't, but I wanted to try…"

“Try what? Befriending someone with no interest in you whatsoever?” He asked, still extremely annoyed at how hard she tried to prove him wrong. “Becoming friends with just another girl who claims to be in love with my cousin isn’t something I’d ever want.”

“Well, good then! Since that’s NOT even the reason I tried so hard anyway!” She yelled back in frustration. “It was never my intention to make you feel like second best… but you wouldn’t know that since you rejected me every chance you got!”

“As if I’d believe anything you’d have to say… There’s nothing you could say that could sway me to believe you in the least.” He rolled his eyes. Who did she think she was anyway?

“O-Of course not… You’re heartless, Felix…” Chloe said, looking straight into his eyes. The girl never wanted to believe such a thing, but he’d proven it, especially with the way he normally treated her. “It’s sad how nothing could ever make its way through that cold and tough exterior of yours… You’re so unwilling to let anyone in, that I can see now that nothing’s ever going to change.”

The tears became harder to contain with every word she spoke. Chloe was very self conscious and she hated that it had come to this. She was stronger than this.

"... You never made it easy, you know?" The blonde girl continued, closing her eyes shut, as if that would have been enough to keep the water in. "At first, I thought that was just you playing around… but the more time went by, the more I realized that was just you… You hated everyone and everything around you… And I still don't understand why I tried so hard to change it… because you're never going to see me that same way…"

He just stared at her. Was she trying to tell him the one thing he always wanted to hear? She wasn't completely clear, so he wouldn't know.

“It was never even about Adrien… He wasn’t the one who’d stolen my heart.” She’d looked down upset, tears on the verge of slipping away. “But then again, why would you care? I’m nothing but an inconvenience to you.”

Not being able to hold back much longer, the girl just let her tears flow freely. What else could she do now that things were out in the open? She wasn't sure anymore.

"I… I hope you're proud of yourself…" Chloe said in between sniffles, all the while wiping away whatever tears she could with her hands. "J-jerk…"

Before she could utter another word, she found herself enveloped in warmth. She wasn't sure how or when it occurred, since her main focus was ridding herself of the tears in her eyes. And when she looked up, she'd found herself staring at those same hues belonging to the one person who had stolen her heart.

"W-What are you-?"

"Look, I'm not too good at this "comforting" thing… I just know I don't ever want you feeling this way, okay?" He said. "Especially if it's because of me."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" She asked, curiously.

"Because if I'm honest, I never actually hated you, Chloe. I was just under the impression that that's how guys would act around girls to show them that they were interested in them." He responded.

"That explains a lot actually… Sabrina thought as much, but I just couldn't believe her." Chloe commented, in between sniffles. "Though an easier way to let a girl know you're interested is to just ask them out."

"And would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?" He asked her straight out. Not at all planning to waste another second, as he'd had the last few years. "A real one this time."

"Hmmm…" She hummed, as if deep in thought. "Maybe… if you can handle high maintenance and clingy?"

"Only if it's you."

"Damn right." She said, with a little soft smile on her lips, before it turned to a serious thin line. "I still expect you to make it up to me though. For making me so angry and upset in the past."

"Demanding as always, are you?" He said, a little playfully. "Alright… Whatever you want."

"We'll talk about the details later. Just hold me close for now, okay?" The girl requested, just enjoying being near him.

"Okay." He agreed, not at all minding her request. Felix could get used to this.

He just hoped that the next time they hugged or had an intimate moment, it wouldn’t be under these circumstances.

#chloe bourgeois #felix graham de vanily #sabrina raincomprix mentioned #adrien agreste mentioned #chlodrien friendship #feloe #miraculous ladybug #ml #brickercupmasterx3 #bmx3

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fappellmoan · 5 years ago

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the promise (ch. 1)

a/n: hi yes i wrote for the clown gays like a year ago and im deciding to post this now sjdghfg pls be kind

pair: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

word count: 8.5k

warnings: swearing, blood ment, homophobic slurs, abuse mentions, psychological trickery, richie’s parents start out a lil absent but they get better i promise

excerpt: “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

“I know.”

read on ao3

No, it’s not that Richie is gay. It’s not like he daydreams about taking it up the ass all fucking day.

Henry Bowers and his dipshit crew might have a different opinion, but they can honestly, truly suck his dick (in the non-homo way - he has taste). The fact that they took joy in throwing him and his friends around, calling them names, and threatening their whole lives never mattered before; the losers took care of each other, and most of the time it was easy to forget about those other assholes.

Being called four-eyes when he needed glasses in the second grade never got to him that bad - they were saving him from having to see their ugly faces when they knocked them off, so really, he should have thanked them - and he didn’t care when they shoved him around for being short before his growth spurt, and it didn’t even bother him that much when they mocked his totally refined voices. He knew his own talent, and what he could do with it if he could just focus.

But the first time they singled him out as the fag of the group, well, it stung.

He never told the others about that day. He never told them how long he cried, how broken he felt sobbing on that park bench. He never worked up the nerve to tell them why he couldn’t face Paul Bunyan anymore, no, he simply breezed past without lifting his eyes, without missing a beat of conversation.

At least it got easier with time.

All things considered, his home life isn’t terrible.

Richie has his own room, a roof, and usually a decently-stocked fridge. Enough to get by.

He’s left alone a lot. His parents are always at work, and when they’re not, they take on the personalities of monotonous robots sitting in front of the TV, so he spends a lot of time skimming through comics or jacking off when he’s not running around with his friends.

But, that’s just the thing. Somehow, Richie, life of every conversation, King of Comedy, Trashmouth, funny-man Tozier, was born to the most boring people of all time. They never engage with his jokes; on a good day, he receives a breezy, “That’s nice, sweetie,” from his mom, or, “Okay, that’s enough, son,” from his dad. Blank stares. Pasty, purple-tinted white eyes. Never a hug, never much past a ‘goodnight.’ Not even a simple, “How was school?” when they got home.

Richie vividly remembers the day that he bounced in his seat at the end-of-the-year ceremony at school, a bustling bundle of nerves prepared to brag and boast to his parents about his awards in science and, surprisingly (his teacher hated him) English - he took to the dramatics of Shakespeare quite well. He practiced his entrance to them several times over in his head, perhaps overly, unconvincingly modest or Shakespeare wants what I have. Anything to get a laugh. A ruffle of his hair from his dad. A forehead kiss from his mom, like when he was little.

They didn’t show. He still doesn’t know where he went wrong.

In a stark, bubbling contrast to his parents, there’s this kid in his group of friends. He remembers one of the first times they met, the boy approaching him, all sweet apple-cheeked and neat polo and ironed khaki shorts; Richie had flicked an eyebrow upward, a not-so-subtle really?, because he never figured that clean-freak Eddie Kaspbrak would be able to handle more than three seconds in Trashmouth Tozier’s presence.

But boy, was he a lot of fun.

Eddie was loud and super easily wound-up, screaming about fucking UTIs and do not fucking push me man all the piss on the walls of this city could fill the lake and despite his good-boy appearance, he shot back with just as much fire as Richie threw at him.

And fuck, Richie loves it. He loves the ease with which they bounce back and forth. He loves the fury in the boy’s eyes when Richie pisses him off, the laughter that always comes about between them once they settle. The crossing arms and pouting Eddie, who he theorizes secretly loves it when Richie calls him pet names (not that he’d ever admit it); the loud and greatly-gesticulating Eddie who yells louder and pushes harder when Richie coos at him; the one who quietly accepts Richie’s affection, and offers it back in subtle ways: simply holding Richie’s arm when he slings his arms around Eddie’s neck from behind, allowing him to sit next to him thigh-to-thigh, and overall not completely cringing and pushing him off. He took it as a compliment, though they’d never mention it out loud.

On an unfortunate night, his comfortable little world comes crashing down.

His parents are out for some sort of conference weekend trip or whatever, and they’ve called in his deadbeat uncle to ‘watch over the house.’ Not necessarily him (probably because he isn’t home that much), but the house obviously can’t stand up by itself—and, well, maybe they didn’t trust Richie to not accidentally leave the door open, or leave the stove on, or some other stupidly irresponsible little thing. So, the crusty old guy shows up with his greasy, oiled hair and his lack of deodorant and his wilting knees. It makes Richie miss Eddie so, so much when they part, because a.) he smells a lot better, and b.) it would be fucking hilarious for him to see what Richie has to put up with. Like, he’s really not the most rodent-like of his family.

Anyway, Richie doesn’t remember what he says. Something slightly instigative, about the lack of any gourmet-level food in the house (he claimed calmly while wasting away on microwave tater tots and bread, even though his parents had left behind plenty of money to keep him alive), and then suddenly hands were on him.

It stings like a bitch.

His uncle gets up, with a quiet mumble that Richie makes out to be, “Well, let’s see…” and when he finally gets in the kitchen, facing Richie with eyes rung red and shaking fists, he grabs his nephew by a fistful of t-shirt and shoves him against the counter.

At that moment, he really wants his mom. Why the fuck did she and dad leave him with this guy?

“I don’t see you fucking working, or doing much of anything around here, kiddo.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.”

A blow to his mouth. Richie resists the urge to lift trembling fingers to the spot that he can feel swelling.

“Don’t talk to me like that, asshole! You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” His uncle drags him forward and shoves him back with conviction, and this time Richie doesn’t answer.

He should have known to stay quiet when he saw his uncle drinking and smoking incessantly in the house, even though his mother had requested that he stay outside for that. It must have been a rough day at the bar, or wherever the fuck he spent his time.

“You need to learn when to be quiet, dipshit. Have some fucking respect.”

For the guy who ignored him for years, didn’t stay in touch, and wasted his existence away on the couch.

Right.

But Richie is snapped from his indignant, grounding thoughts when his uncle lowers his voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

Richie frowns in his face, utterly confused from the swell of attention, still limply holding a bag of bread in his left hand.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes sir.”

The wretched man makes a point to push him into the corner of the cupboards with such a force that he collapses to his knees and can just feel the bruises forming. And he sits there for a minute, all sorts of betrayal and anger and sadness suffocating him.

But he stands up.

And with stinging eyes, a stuffy nose, and shaking hands, he makes himself a simple peanut butter sandwich.

And he stays upstairs for the remainder of the night

It’s a warm, soothing day outside; the sun glows and birds are chirping like some kind of fucking cartoon. In the tall grass the losers sit in frogs croak and crickets chirp and they make a mess of themselves in the circle they form.

“Damn, Rich, what happened to you?” comes Stan’s voice, concerned eyes flashing down to his now royally fucked-up mouth.

“Yeah, dude, what the fuck?” says Bev through a sandwich, truly a charmer.

Richie grins at Bev but answers to Stan, ignoring the sting in the corner of his lips. “Guess I’m a fighter at heart.”

“Richie—“

Bev chimes in once again, a bright, snarky grin on her face, “Richie, you can tell us if it was another accident, we won’t judge. Promise.”

Bev has a way about her; he knows she’s not genuinely the largest, most gaping asshole on earth, and that she actually cared a lot and cried over her friends in the darkest nights, but she also knew how to make light of something dark (even the worst). She probably knew. She probably just had his back in her own funny way, like taking the pressure off the reality.

“Bev, I’ve really, truly, always appreciated your charm, but as my dearest favorite person on earth, fuck off.”

“Richie,” Bill says, then hesitates. In that time, Bev flips Richie the bird, which he answers with an air kiss. “What really h-ah-happened?” He looks him over with a frown, clear blue eyes swallowing him in concern and maybe love.

Richie offers a simple smirk before settling against the trunk of a tree. “Don’t worry about it, Billiam. I’ve got it under control.”

“Whatever you say,” Bev says. She tosses a baggie over to him with his favorite sandwich.

Stan isn’t so easily convinced, eyeing Richie up carefully, but he sits with Bev on the boulder she’s settled on when Richie doesn’t falter in his casual disposition.

It takes a lot of work, as always.

Ben shows up moments later, with a calm and tender, “You alright, Rich?” and when Richie goes off on a stupid tough-guy spiel, he simply lays at the foot of the boulder and flicks open a book, meeting Richie with one of his melting smiles, a gentle invitation, a sweet If you ever need it, I’m there, but allowing him the space to go on as normal. Which is nice.

Richie knows they all care. He knows he could tell them, could pour all of the terror and tragedy he felt the night before into the air and they’d fill up the space; Mike would give him the tightest hug in the world, one to combat the most heinous of things; Stan would sit with him as long as he needed it, Bev would come through with a smoke and the best advice in the world, and Ben would tell him stories or just hang out with him until everything felt a bit lighter, and Bill would give him anything in the world because Richie would do it back. That’s the way they were.

But he can’t do it.

“Sorry I’m late guys,” comes a nasally voice, huffing and puffing, new pressure leaning against the tree, and Richie grins. Eddie.

“It’s okay, Eds,” he says, reaching over a few fingers to tickle Eddie’s knee, giggling when the boy smacks at his hand and doubles over with an exclamatory, Richie!

The others offer a few sleepy greetings, all soaked up in their own forms of entertainment for the quiet afternoon: Bev and Ben, heads close enough to share his walkman; Stan, reading some lengthy oath to birds or something; Mike snoozing lightly on Bill’s shoulder while Bill pores over some adventure map from a fantasy novel.

They had all agreed that it was too tiresome to go swimming today, as the previous night was spent out at Stan’s with a bonfire, and for a few of them, some stolen booze (not very much, but enough that they could pretend to be drunk and giggle profusely). But they still wanted to hang out, so this was the middle ground. An afternoon picnic in the shade.

Eddie quickly notices his lip and drops down to his side. “Richie, what happened to you? Was it Bowers again? I swear to god, I will fucking kill that guy--”

Richie smiles softly at the protective words, and tries to turn it into a smirk. “Eddie, baby, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s just a little bump.”

Surprisingly, Eddie sidles up next to him, using the pad of his thumb to press at the sides of Richie’s mouth, apparently assessing some sort of damage. “Don’t call me that.” He scowls. “What did you do? Did you ice it? Clean this cut at all? Cause you could get an infection, you know, you really should clean it.”

Richie bats his eyes. “Clean it for me, sweets?”

“Fuck off. Forget I cared.”

“Ah, come on, Spaghettio. I didn’t mean it.” He pulls Eddie down with a simple gesture, pressing his palm to the boy’s shoulder and dragging. The boy rests against the trunk, nestled in Richie’s side.

But that’s the complicated thing. He sorta wishes he could mean it. In a small, poking-at-the-back-of-his-head-always kind of way.

“Just—tell me what happened,” Eddie pipes up quietly from his side.

When Richie glances down, he takes to heart how disgruntled Eddie still looks, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

He shrugs. “Your mother was simply affronted by how good I am with my mouth, Eds, she couldn’t take it anymore.”

Eddie presses his mouth into a line, rolls his eyes at the stupid British voice Richie had developed, and busies himself with a thrilling edition of The Lancet

Later, as dusk settles in and pale purple skies replace the bright blue, and the club leaves with simple ‘goodbye’s and promises to do something fun tomorrow, Eddie shifts from his nap. He’d passed out with his head slammed back against Richie’s arm (he’d caught it just before he fell to the ground, avoiding a lengthy rant about potential concussions and medical bills), curled in the opposite direction from Richie’s abdomen. As he wakes, through, he rolls over, elbow digging into Richie’s side.

“Ah-ow,” Richie groans, sitting up from his cataconic state of reading Ben’s stolen comics and avoiding moving and waking Eddie. But he’d just dug the pointiest part of his entire firecracker body into Richie’s ribs, where Richie had attempted and failed to nurse a bruise he’d accrued from a vicious cupboard corner. It was at an awkward angle, and he refused to go down to get more ice packs once they melted, so he slept unsoundly and laid uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, voice muddled with sleep. “Shit, it’s late. When did I fall asleep? My mom’s gonna kill me.”

Even in that gurgly, world upside-down state of post-nap consciousness, the boy freaks out about his mother. Richie sighs and rubs his shoulder.

“You’re all good, Eddie boy,” he attempts for a creaky, witchy voice, but it’s half-assed because he gets so tired of this lady. Not Eddie ranting, that was fine, and he knew the kid needed to get it out of his system; but he was fucking tired of Mrs. K hurting his boy. “You took your meds on time, fell asleep shortly after. Might need to amputate my arm now, though.”

His boy.

Eddie sits up, and Richie stares at his back, illuminated in the dusk, because he wore a fun yellow today, resting prettily against his tanned, freckled skin.

(Maybe Richie had looked over, amused, for a few moments, as Eddie snored and twitched his nose in his sleep; and he counted the freckles on Eddie’s arm, his cheek, whatever he could see for entertainment.)

Eddie glances back at him, and Richie distracts himself with his bag, shifting his eyes awkwardly from the boy’s gaze.

“Well, well, good sir, shall I walk you home on this fine night?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Richie, what’s that?”

His eyes are trained intently on the aforementioned bruise, and its cousins that pepper his hips, only exposed because he slipped and let his shirt ride up when he bent over.

He clears his throat, scrambling for some dumbass answer, wholeheartedly unprepared for the severity of this conversation. “You know how the ladies throw themselves—“

“Okay, you know what, fine.” Eddie stands quickly, stumbling slightly, and braces himself against the tree. “You don't have to fucking tell me. Just come home with me, okay?”

“A night with Eddie Kaspbrak? Why, you’re really a dream-come-true kind of guy.”

“Your lip is bleeding again,” he responds simply, apparently not one for fun at this very moment. “I can clean it.”

Richie pops up from the ground, feeling quite pip pip, tally ho about the whole thing. “Righty-o, Eddie boy.

That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of Eddie’s porcelain-white bathtub, dirtying it with his messy jeans and dirt-coated nails.

It takes a lot of strategic planning, lots of sneaking past Mrs. K, and then sweet-talking and kisses from Eddie once she wakes up freaking out about how late he was. But, after about fifteen minutes of contest-worthy screeching from the woman, Eddie stomps up the stairs, slams the door with a very I’m gonna pull my hair out look, and has to take about three extra minutes to compose himself, ranting under his breath.

Richie just stares at his distorted reflection in the shining silvery faucet, the violet under his eyes and the renewed puffiness of his lip, Hawaiian pattern of his shirt disheveled in the odd mirror.

He knows not to engage unless Eddie actually speaks up to him, meaning this run-in was probably just overly grating and mentally draining, considering, well, how his mother is. He just needs a second to get it out, not any kind of heartfelt talk (which Richie sucks at anyway) or even a lighthearted joke. The boy paces and growls into a fist. Then, eventually, he breathes, “Okay.”

Eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes of sitting around and waiting for Eddie, just for him to kneel in front of Richie, doe eyes clear and focused, dabbing so, so gently at his battered lip.

In a way, it’s heaven.

“I take it your mom can’t wait for me to buy dinner, eh?”

Eddie sighs. “Apparently this time I’m gonna contract malaria, Rich, didn’t you know? There’s an incredible outbreak this time of year and I’m obviously not prepared to avoid fucking mosquitoes, what with my fifteen bottles of bug spray and essential oils. I’ll probably die tomorrow!”

“I will make sure that your funeral is a fucking rager dude, don’t you worry. Booze on me.”

A ghost of a smile.

“Richie…” he breathes out in a long winded way, saying nothing and everything for way too long. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

Richie raises an eyebrow. “Man, I thought you were gonna back out on your previous offer, but I guess the call for a night with Richie Tozier is too much to back away from. I get it.” He smiles painfully at the way Eddie’s face crumples with something like boredom. “Christ, dude, what’s your poison?” He makes a face at the antiseptic substance that trickles into his mouth.

“Maybe if you kept your mouth shut for once, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

Richie beams, which just causes Eddie to huff even more.

“Please, just stay still!

“It was my uncle,” Richie finally says, forcing a bored expression onto his face as he flips through a rather dull magazine, sprawled on Eddie’s bed. “And it wasn’t a big deal.”

Panic flashes across Eddie’s face. His cheeks burn red, and his leg jitters anxiously against Richie’s, but his voice remains level, which Richie thanks dear lordy Jesus for. “Your uncle? He hit you?”

“Well,” Richie pauses. “Uh, kinda. He was just really drunk, Eds, and he got mad and I was in the way.”

“In the way?”

He shrugs, a small smile quirking his lip up. “Am I not usually?”

“Rich.” Eddie’s voice is really soft in that moment, gentler and quieter than anything Richie has heard from him in all the time he’s known his fellow loudmouth. It simultaneously terrifies and thrills him. Eds. Eddie brings his knees to his chest, leaning back against the headboard. “You say a lot of dumb shit, but that doesn’t mean you should be hurt.” He must notice Richie’s uncomfortable look, because he adds lightly, “Most of the time, anyway.”

“Woah, Eddie, don’t go overboard with the kindness or anything--”

“Damn it, Richie.” He casts his eyes downward. “I’m just trying to say - um - thanks for telling me. Sorry if that’s fucked up to say, but I know you didn’t want to, so, yeah. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Richie swallows deeply with a slow nod, focusing his eyes on the blurry words in front of him. “Well, if there’s anyone I’d tell, it’s Dr. K. He’s gonna be the one to save my life, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right.” He kicks at Richie’s foot, a subtle way of telling him to move over so he can get under the covers.

“Night, toots.”

“Goodnight, Richie.

Richie thinks he knows everything possible about Eddie thus far.

He knows when he needs to take his meds, an internal clock he recently developed; he knows that the boy is not nearly as fragile as he sometimes seems, and if he really tried, he could pack a punch; he knows that he loves fervently and he’ll always take care of his friends, even if it’s in a way that would usually disgust him.

Case in point: he didn’t seem to freak out at Richie’s bleeding lip, even when a steady stream of blood started dripping down his chin from the contact of trying to clean it out, though he usually cringed if he got so much as a scratch from a twig. Somehow, some way, he simply held pressure on the wound and told Richie to hold some ice on it (“Ordering me around now, hot stuff? I can work with that,”), and washed his own hands thoroughly in the sink.

What he doesn’t know until that night, is that Eddie is a cuddler. At least, half-asleep, groggy Eddie is. Like, this kid must be more starved for affection than he is. Richie had curled himself in a ball toward the edge of the mattress, willing himself not to do so much as even press his back against Eddie’s, way too afraid of the ease with which two people can tangle themselves together in the night, terrified of what would happen if he woke up with Eddie’s hands on him, wrapped up in Eddie, Eddie’s terrible morning breath against his cheek, Eddie Eddie Eddie. But while Richie had stressed himself into falling halfway off the bed, Eddie had flopped over in his sleep, slung an arm across Richie’s waist and, seeming to sense that he had something to hold, pulled him in tight to his chest. Though Richie’s breath caught in his throat, he figured, well, no one could really see them then, so what was the harm in passing out like that? No one had to know. He could pass it off like he’d been sleeping the whole time.

But he cherishes every fucking minute of it

Richie wakes to the sound of something pounding, a steady beat, and in that state of slowly waking from a dream he thinks it’s some old drum, playing lowly in the corner by some restless figure. When he comes to, his eyes creaking open slowly, he sees the gentle orange-ish hue of the morning sky, the neat room around him, the scent of detergent and soothing fabric softener wafting near his face. And he realizes his head is tucked into Eddie’s side, the boy’s slowed heartbeat thumping softly against his ear.

Normally, he’d just let Eddie sleep, as he’s usually only the asshole waking everyone up when it’s the whole gang. He doesn’t mind spending a few hours by himself in the morning. In fact, he enjoys the opportunity to try to fall back asleep (even though he never does).

But with a sudden impulse, he lays a palm on Eddie’s ribcage and pushes himself up onto his elbows, then shakes the boy.

“Eddie.”

A muffled, “Mmph?”

“Eds, wake up.”

The boy drags a pillow over his ears for all of two seconds before Richie tickles his stomach. Then he crankily sits up and lets out a gruff, “What?”

Richie grins. “The sunrise, Eds! Look, it’s so pretty, you have to believe me.”

Eddie responds by laying his cheek on Richie’s shoulder blade, slumping forward with his eyes still closed. “You do know,” he breathes, “that if the sun is just rising, it’s like, six a.m.?”

“Hmm, 5:49, but close enough, I suppose.”

The most huffy breath that Eddie can manage at this hour tickles the hairs on the back of Richie’s neck. “Did you know that people who don’t sleep enough die a lot younger? There are serious health consequences.” It doesn’t come out in his usual fiery, punctuated tone; it’s soft and filled with a yawn and he’s pretty sure Eddie might fall back asleep just like that. “You can’t die early on me, Richie. And I don’t want to. Go back to sleep.” He peeks one eye open at the window, squinting at the glow of the sun. “It is pretty, though.” With that, he falls back against the pillow and curls into a ball against the wall.

And Richie’s pretty damn sure in that moment that he’s, like, in love

And, sure, that’s terrifying.

He has no one to talk to about it and nothing could convince him it’s normal, so he shrugs it off and pretends it isn’t there.

Cause that’s a good way to cope, right?

It doesn’t matter that Eddie is so easily comfortable with him—he’s a low-pressure person, is all. And no one had called out the way pet names rolled off Richie’s tongue so easily, because that was just a part of his joke. Normal. Easy.

Until it wasn’t

You see, there’s this bitch Pennywise. This idiot clown terrorizes his friends, kills people, haunts their nights and days, and fucks with their minds. Tries to turn them against each other. And they can’t even throw a jest back! It’s a sick system.

Well, anyway, the losers end up in some crickety, wooden, falling-apart-at-the-seams murder house on Neibolt, because Bill wants to find his brother and none of them are willing to abandon him. Instead, Richie gets to see himself dead, face off with a monstrous fucking clown, and hear heart-wrenching screams from Eddie that he can’t even help, because he can’t get out.

When he does, he reunites with Stan and Bill, using the few seconds he has to catch his breath.

Just as quickly, he loses it.

In front of him lies Eddie, arm twisted at the ugliest, most heinous angle, and not only is he probably in pain and freaking out about the arm, but a 7-foot tall clown is sauntering towards him with a stupid swaggering gait, like it knows that they can’t do anything to save Eddie.

Eddie.

The boy cowers against dust and fallen wood that must be itching to give him splinters; tears streak down his dirty face and his chest rises and falls rapidly, as Pennywise taunts him. Fucking horses around, making stupid noises and joking while Eddie falls apart, and Richie doesn’t know how to save him, even after everything Eddie’s done for him. Richie is vaguely aware of Stan grasping his shoulder, trying to ground him, and he silently thanks him as he glances around for fucking anything to use as a weapon, because he certainly can’t jump into this blindly--

Then Beverly busts into the room and stabs the bitch in the head, and Richie can’t think but his feet are moving and he lands in front of Eddie in the few seconds’ time he has to play catch-up. He reminds himself to remind Bev of just how much he loves her later.

For now, though, his focus is Eddie. His ears are ringing and he’s noted the commotion going on behind him, he even realizes that Bill ends up at his side, but his gaze is right on his Eds, grasping at his face, trying to do anything to help him.

“Eds. No, no, no! Look at me! It’s okay. Please be okay.” He steadies his voice and tries really hard not to think about how much he sucks as a caretaker, how he has no fucking clue what to do, but he’s scared and he desperately just wants to take Eddie from the room and keep him safe, forever and ever.

Terror-filled eyes find him as the clown continues toward the three of them, flexing horrendous claws; Richie kneels in front of Eddie and Bill’s at his back, and Richie knows Eddie acknowledges him but he’s whimpering and shaking and staring back at the clown. And Pennywise is thriving.

“Eds,” he says, louder, grabbing Eddie’s chin and forcing it in his direction. “Please just - fuck the clown, okay? Fuck everything. It’s me and you. I’ve got you.” And he’d probably be much more convincing if he weren’t shouting and clinging to Eddie’s shoulders like it means death.

But, he seems to capture the boy’s attention, as he keeps his eyes steadily on Richie and blinks a few times. “My arm!” he cries. “Fuck, I can’t fucking move. I’m gonna die. It hurts, Rich.”

“Hey, you’re not gonna die. I don’t die early on you, you don’t die early on me. That’s the deal.”

“Some deals are made to be broken.”

Eddie is just staring at him, blank eyes staring through him with a grin, a stark contrast to the screaming that was going on just moments before. A surge of panic rises in Richie’s chest, like a freezing wind knocking through his stupid little preteen body. He shakes his head in confusion.

“Eddie, shut up. It’s just your arm. You’re gonna be fine!”

A shrug. “Who’s to say?” And then he sits up, arm convulsing at his side like some dying snake, and Richie flinches and flies back into Bill’s chest. He can’t do this. He can’t help Eddie like he should, he can’t take care of him like he wants to. He’s a coward.

“Rich.” Bill is a million miles away.

Right here, right now, is that thing in Eddie’s place, body rattling like a rag doll. “They’ll find out.” Eddie’s voice is fucked up, scratchy, and his eyes are all wrong; the way he’s staring at him is fucking uncanny. “Get too touchy, Rich, and you know what’ll happen.”

“Stop, please, fucking stop!”

“Richie!” Bill is finally right there, shaking both of his shoulders from behind. “S-stop. You’re f-f-fine. It’s just fucking with your head.”

It takes a few deep breaths, but Richie turns to him and says a quick, ‘Thanks,’ before turning back to real-Eddie, who is now dry-heaving and wailing at the sight of his arm.

Eddie’s chest thrusts forward and back rapidly, and he keeps trying to back further from the bedlam in front of them. His face contorts into an absolutely heart-wrenching cry, and as he looks at Richie, gripping his hand with an iron fist, Richie’s heart splits in two. It’s hard, it’s way too hard not to say I love you, after all that. And it’s hard not to run.

“I don’t wanna die - ”

Richie crawls closer to cradle Eddie’s head. “Eddie, if you die I’ll kill you.” He wants to go home, he wants to cry, he wants to sleep for about three days and pretend this never happened. But he can’t. He has to be here for Eddie, as much as he wants to flee right now. “You’re not going to, you know that? I still owe you ice cream. And I’m gonna get you inside the arcade—“

“Fuck the arcade!”

Somehow, in all of the fuckery going on, Richie laughs. “That’s the spirit!” Eddie, in a scramble to back away from the startle of Pennywise running away, shifts into Richie’s lap. “Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Richie gulps down a breath himself. “I’m gonna snap your arm back into place.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, completely on fire, spitting poison at Richie. “Rich! Do not fucking touch me!”

Richie winces at the words but he hears Bev screaming, “Richie, his arm!” and uses the moment of yelling to just do it, to get Eddie’s arm back to a relatively normal shape, and then he’s screaming and it’s like he wants Richie to cry in front of everyone.

“Okay okay okay, it’s done. No more.” Richie, awkward and lost at what to do, brushes back sweaty hair from Eddie’s forehead, because he’s pretty sure the boy would hate how sticky everything had gotten, and if he could help even one thing, well, it’s something.

He wishes he could help carry Eddie home, sit with him in the hospital, anything to cheer him up.

But he doesn’t get the chance. Mrs. K is outside and snatches Eddie from the losers in the flash of an eye, talking like they broke his fucking arm or something.

That’s when it all goes downhill

Richie storms away from his stupid feud with Bill, the fucking dumbass who punched him in the face because he said he didn’t want a clown to kill him and his friends. He thinks it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever said, objectively, but whatever. He doesn’t want to lose his friends. But in that moment, he doesn’t see many other options.

When he trudges back home after his third day alone at the arcade, following newly-formed muscle memory to avoid his uncle (close the door slowly, shift weight and run upstairs, wait at least twenty minutes to go back down for food in case he stirs), he notices another car. Immediately, Richie throws open the doors, calling out, “Mom!” and finds her in the kitchen, with his uncle.

“Hey sweetie, I just got home—“ she startles at the sight of him.

“Jeez, that bad?” he jokes, running a hand through his hair. “Just remember, mom, half of this is ‘cause of you.”

She approaches him quickly, summer blazer flowing behind her from the speed, and crouches down just slightly to be at eye-level. “Richie, honey, what did you do to your lip?” she asks. He doesn’t realize right away, but he tilts his head into her touch, and she strokes his cheek gently.

Richie had forgotten about the whole ordeal—his friends almost dying at the hands of a killer clown was pretty damn distracting from his low-life uncle—but now, he sets a spitting glare on the man leaning back and manspreading at their kitchen table.

“Uncle Alan had a few kind words to say over dinner the other night.”

Her tender touch to his face is lost when she whips around to face his uncle, and Richie feels like a little kid again, standing behind his mom and clutching at her coat while she takes care of everything.

“You hit him?” she says, her voice threatening in a low mumble, teeth clenched together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You touched my kid?” She holds back a hand as though to shield Richie as she slams her other fist on the table.

“How do you know it wasn’t one of his faggy friends? Or maybe some other kid with common fucking sense?”

She leans down and takes him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you dare, Alan. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Uncle Alan yells back in her face, spit flying, and Richie would jump forward to defend her if she weren’t holding him back so protectively (with one hand!). “Listen, Maggie, if he’s gonna act like that, I’m just preparing him for the real world.”

“You absolute shit! You don’t get to make that decision!” Richie has never, ever seen his mother so angry. “You battered a twelve year old boy! What, do you feel really big now, you pathetic piece of shit? Get the fuck out of my house!” At this point, she’s shaken him and thrown him back against the chair so he falls, catching himself just in time as it cascades to the ground.

“Fuck you, Maggie!”

She follows him down the hall.

“Fuck you!” Richie calls out at his retreating back, before his mother screams about pressing charges and slams the door behind him.

Richie’s mom rushes back into the kitchen to face him. She’s red in the face, eyes on fire, but she softens at the sight of him.

“Richie, sweetheart, I’m sorry we left you.” She cradles his face again. “Hey.” She holds him with both hands. “Listen. If anyone ever hurts you, you call me. If anyone ever so much as threatens you, Rich - ”

Richie, choked up, interjects, “I didn’t know the number, mom. I don’t know where the little paper you wrote it on is, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay.” She looks at him for a few more moments, then swaddles him up in a big, mama bear hug. “I love you, kid. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too.”

For a few minutes, she just holds him, stroking his back while silent tears fall down his face and onto the chest of her shirt. She doesn’t seem to mind

It’s late. Richie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s on top of the world.

He ends up at Eddie’s house, even though he knows they’re not talking and Eddie’s mom might kill him on sight, he has to see him. Mrs. K can go fuck herself.

Outside the boy’s bedroom window, he raps quietly with his knuckles, just about buzzing with a high, high feeling toward life. He can see Eddie lying in bed, struggling to prop up a book to read, lamplight cascading onto his skin - that is, until he hears Richie, and flies toward the window with a crazed look.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, brows knitting together. “My mom will kill you if she hears you.”

That doesn’t matter so much to him at that moment. “Eddie!” He swings his legs over the banister and jumps into the room, adrenaline and something like love pushing him to lift Eddie to his chest and spin. “Eds, my mom came home early and she kicked that motherfucker out of my house!”

Eddie’s eyes are crazed from the spinning and he clings to Richie’s shoulder with his good hand; and he grins, a giggle caught in his lips. “That’s great, Richie. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck him! And god Eddie, she - she protected me, and we just spent hours together, watching movies and making dinner like old times, and it was amazing, and - god, I know I sound like a dork, but I - ”

He pauses, mostly because he’s out of breath from machine-gunning a paragraph out of nowhere; but also because in his flustered state he didn’t register the sweet-cheeked smile that Eddie is currently melting him with.

But when he does, Richie thinks to himself: sure, blue eyes are great; they can be compared to the sky or the ocean or whatever other cheesy nature bit all goddamn day. But Eddie’s eyes - hell, he doesn’t care if he sounds like a cornball - they’re fucking amazing. They usurp all of that bullshit. He’s used to them when they’re blown wide in surprise, or holding him in a steely glare for some dumb joke, and he loves them then; but right now he catches a kind of tenderness hidden in the dark. Something that envelops him in warmth and pinks his cheeks.

Eddie takes the opportunity to pipe up. “Richie,” he says, “I’m really happy for you.”

He means it. Richie knows he means it, because for the last several days, he’s heard Eddie mumbling to himself somewhat privately about ‘that piece of shit,’ and right now he’s clutching Richie’s sleeve and smiling without a trace of mockery.

And he’s perfect.

His tousled hair that’s rustled from what looks to have been a constant stream of fingers, stressed over the book or his mom or god-knows-what; the oversized t-shirt he’s drowning in and short shorts and perfectly matched socks; and those shining eyes and friendly smile and soft fucking hands that hold all the electricity of Richie’s excitement - all perfect.

And Richie, Richie could just kiss him.

He doesn’t.

Mrs. K knocks at the door.

“Eddie bear, it’s time for your nighttime oils!”

Richie cracks a wise-ass smile. “Eddie bear, if I’d known you needed nighttime oils, well, I would have come prepared.”

“Get the fuck out,” Eddie says. The laughter catching on his lips tells another story.

Richie throws an utterly charming wink in his direction and crouches in the window, preparing to jump out and make his escape.

“Wait!” Eddie grabs the back of Richie’s t-shirt. “It’s cool that you stopped by. It’s - it’s been lonely in this hellhole. I might have gone insane if I thought you guys forgot about me.”

“Aw, I’d never forget you, cutie.” Richie, stomach twisting and turning, supports himself with his forearm on the outside of the window. “And, anyway, I gotta practice my Romeo somewhere, right?”

Eddie lets out a characteristic huff. “Whatever.”

It’s quiet, save for the distant tweeting crickets, and the scent wafting through the nighttime is intoxicating, and for the following moments the world reminds them to just breathe.

“You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

“I know.” He smiles. “I’ll see you, Tozier.”

Richie, without any reservations (until he thinks back on it later), reaches out as though to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but instead, runs his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “See ya, Eds.” He smiles. “I’m gonna get you out of here someday.”

Eddie shakes his head as Richie takes his hand away from Eddie’s newly red cheeks and makes his way back to the ground, muttering, “My hero.”

And Richie looks back with a grin at the silhouette of the dork in the window, saluting before taking off

It sucks when Beverly leaves.

It’s an early morning, red and orange hues breaking across the skyline like a cracked egg, and Richie, Stan, and Ben all gather around to watch her disappear off to the nearest airport, and then disappear from them forever. Though it’s not nearly as mopey and depressing as it could have been, it’s hard to watch her go; a warm energy follows her as she hugs them all goodbye, looking at them with her all-knowing, crooked little smile, rolling her eyes but expressing more love than any of them had ever known, and Richie knows she means every word of loving and missing that she says. And he knows he’ll miss her more than anything.

He does. Not much helps with the pain of missing someone, but as the days go by, pieces of her slowly slip from his mind, until finally she’s all gone

New Years offers promises of ‘new me’s and resolutions and maybe some kind of peace. And considering everything, it’s the saving grace Richie thinks he needs.

A chance to forget his uncle, the murderous clown that haunts his dreams, and his personal revelation that he loves Eddie Kaspbrak.

It didn’t ruin their friendship by any means, just made his cheeks flush and heart throb and his rebuttals come back stutter-y when Eddie merely smiled at him. It was stupid textbook puppy love. He never thought he’d fall for that.

And, he’s not gay. He can’t be, or he’ll have to pay the price.

It's just that Eddie is his best friend. They’re all best friends, but Eddie never really stopped engaging with his exhausting jokes like the others, when it was finally too much. Eddie always bickered back, he took the bait and bit back. Eddie took him home when he got hurt and cared for him and then went right back to fighting.

He loves Eddie the way he should love someone like Bev.

But it’s nothing.

The night is cutting, crisp with a fresh wintery bitterness, biting at Richie’s nose until it’s practically bleeding. To be fair, he’d opted to only wear one of his lighter jackets and some gloves, so it’s his own fault that his scalp is freezing over and he’s shaking on his way to the loser’s little spot in the meadow.

At least his friends are smart.

Stan sports a matching tartan hat and scarf, bundled up around his face so only the pinkish tip of his nose is poking out; Bill has a nice puffy coat and a hat with a bauble rested atop his head; Ben’s ushanka hat is wrapped tightly under his chin, and he waves at Richie with mittens keeping his hands warm; Mike is representing a lot of fleece, and he grins at Richie, shaking his head when he sees his lack of winter clothes; and then there’s Eddie, wearing a coat that has to be at least an extra large, and a knitted cap, bundled up so only his fussy eyes and nose are squinting out at Richie.

In Richie’s defense, he was running late, and he had sprouted a little bit in the last few months, so his previously comfortable winter coat was now tight and painful in the shoulders and chest. This jacket was his best option in the 30-second long window he had to get dressed and run out the door to attempt to be on time.

Stan levels a look at him, thoroughly appreciating his idiocy, and obviously not pitying his shaking form more than a quick flash of sympathy in his eyes; he cares, but Richie obviously brought this upon himself. The ensuing cold would be his own fault, and he’d call Stan to complain, just to grin quietly as the boy went on the calmest rant about how stupid he is and then hang up. It’s just how they worked.

Richie wonders if he’d tell a potential partner that they should have brought a coat to a date if they complained of the temperature. It’s beside the point, but amusing.

“C’mon man, you didn’t think about a scarf at least?” Mike says as a greeting, laughing a little bit as he removes his own and wraps it messily around Richie’s neck. In that moment, Richie would give up his life for this kid. The body heat/fleece combo immediately brings him back from the brink of a nosebleed.

“Richie doesn’t think, period.” Stan sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at him, ghosts of amusement playing on his cheeks.

Richie flashes his teeth in a big ol’ grin. “That’s pretty accurate, actually, I just wanted to be with you guys on time so badly, you know.”

Bill lets out a small, unenthused, “Aww.”

Richie simply chuckles and tries to wrap his fingers in Mike’s scarf to help with the inevitable hypothermia. Eddie winds up next to him in their gathering, sucking in a big breath through his nostrils and huffing out shortly.

He bumps Eddie’s arm with his elbow and says, “What’s up with you, Eds?”

Eddie nearly topples over from the size of the coat weighing him down, and he curses under his breath before standing back up and glaring at Richie. “You really didn’t wear a bigger coat, dumbass?”

“As you can see, no,” Richie chuckles.

Eddie presses his tongue into his cheek. “Well, you can share mine. It’s more than big enough.”

Oh.

Right, sharing a coat. That’s fine. No pressure or anything.

Richie aims for a cool response, some funny voice or smooth and subtle, and lands on, “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

So, they share. And it’s pretty great.

Eddie unzips it and pulls Richie in, and they collaborate to pull it up and then Richie is pressed up against Eddie’s side, in public, already sweating even though he’s still cold because he doesn’t know if he can handle this.

Fortunately, they’re hidden by the dark, so maybe the boy or their friends won’t notice his red cheeks (or they’ll chalk it up to the cold) and the extra focus he has to place on acting normal. Because Eddie smells nicer than most boys their age, and he’s got a heart too big for his body, and Richie’s sure that Eddie loves him back in at least some way. It’s not just anyone that would get to be this close, squeezed into a coat with him.

Richie feels sick.

But the fireworks are starting, and they might be sparse and lackluster in the hell that is Derry, but each loser looks to the sky with love, with appreciation, in awe of the fact that something beautiful can apparently come from hell.

Barely, just barely, Eddie’s head falls against Richie’s shoulder as they gaze up into the inky black sky illuminated by cakes of fireworks, and he whispers, “Wow,” under his breath right next to Richie’s ear, and now Richie’s contemplating between the two possible causes of his death: he combusts, or he stops breathing - to be determined.

Richie begs the universe for advice in the ultimate predicament. And to his great relief, memories seep back into his brain; those of freckled cheeks, teeth balancing a cig as a mouth talks, and bundles of ginger curls bouncing as her head turns in his direction.

“Bev would love this.”

Riche catches the way Ben looks over at him pretty much immediately - at them, sharing body heat in Eddie’s coat - and then how the boy stares at the ground and mumbles a soft, “Yeah.” He looks back at Richie, holds his eye contact for a sweet, lingering moment, then gazes back at the sky, hopefully thinking of love as much as Richie is.

Bill, Mike, and Stan all follow, tearing their eyes away briefly to make quick eye contact with each other, and then Richie, and Eddie even shifts to look up at him, and they all smile wistfully as though the girl is there with them, snarky remarks and toothy smiles keeping them all afloat. Richie feels like he’s going to break open and cry enough to fill the whole universe, so he sniffles and looks back up at the sky, breaking the moment of magic.

But it remains with them.

It remains as they share this together, as they enter the new year together, promising hope for a happier future as long as they stick with each other.

And it remains as Eddie Kaspbrak takes his hand under the coat and murmurs, “Happy new year, Richie.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #fanfiction #fluff #angst #sharing a bed #pining #new years #summer #mine #gosh i hope this isnt too dorky sfhdgjhsdfg

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grigori77 · 5 years ago

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2019 In TV - My Top 10 Shows

This past year may have sucked balls in a lot of ways, but we certainly never got short-changed when it came to our TV. There was an absolute WEALTH of truly cracking TV around, both on regular networks and on the various on-demand platforms, and so here is my pick of the best, my absolute favourites of 2019.

10. WATCHMEN

Lost co-creator Damon Lindelof brings us a blinding sequel to comic book legend Alan Moore’s legendary graphic novel with a delightfully trippy, ruthlessly efficient rug-puller that seems pretty tailor-made for HBO. Old faces return in interesting ways, while there are some cracking new “masks” on offer, particularly Regina King’s Sister Night and the always-brilliant Tim Blake Nelson as morally complex antihero Looking Glass (in some ways very much the show’s own answer to Rorschach). It never goes where you expect it to go, and refuses to give easy answers to the questions it raises, effortlessly paving the way for more next year ...

9. THE BOYS

Amazon offers up its own edgy, thoroughly adult superhero property with this darkly funny antiheroic gem based on the cult Garth Ennis comic, expertly adapted by Supernatural creator Eric Kripke. Karl Urban dominates as Billy Butcher, the foul-mouthed, morally bankrupt “leader” of a makeshift crew of mercenaries, hitmen and psycho killers devoted to “taking care of” superheroes when they inevitably go bad. Season 1 ultimately serves as an origin story, showing how the team come together, laying quality groundwork for the incoming sophomore tour that promises to open the already fascinating world out significantly.

8. PREACHER (SEASON 4)

More Garth Ennis, namely this blinder of a closing season for AMC’s consistently impressive adaptation of his best known series for Vertigo comics. Surprisingly epic, deliciously subversive and constantly, darkly hilarious, this thoroughly non-PC series from showrunners Sam Catlin, Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen (yes! I Know!) certainly went out on a high note, providing its loyal followers with perfectly-pitched bow-outs and sometimes heartbreaking goodbyes for all its players, especially its dynamite leads, Dominic Cooper, Ruth Negga and, in particular, Joe Gilgun as unapologetic bad boy vampire Cassidy. A worthy end to one of my all-time favourite TV shows.

7. THE WITCHER

While it’s clearly taken its look from the wildly successful video games, Netflix’s second most ambitious long-form offering of the year takes its lead from the fantasy book series by Polish author Andrzej Sapkowski that started it all. With its somewhat episodic set-up and decidedly twisted narrative timelines, it take a few chapters to get the hang of it, but there’s plenty to draw you in, from the exotic world-building to the frenetic action and compelling collection of richly crafted characters. Henry Cavill is the titular hero, lovably grouchy mutant monster-hunter Geralt of Rivia, but the real scene-stealer is co-star Anya Chalotra as roguishly self-serving mage Yennefer of Vengenberg.

6. CARNIVAL ROW

One of the year’s two big sleeper hit TV surprises for me was this inventively offbeat allegorical Amazon fantasy series from The 4400 creator René Echevarria and screenwriter Travis Beacham. Orlando Bloom and Cara Delevigne are the star-crossed lovers at the heart of this intriguingly dark and dirty murder mystery thriller set in Victorian London-esque city-state the Burgue, in which humans struggle to co-exist alongside a struggling disenfranchised underclass of fae (fairies, fawns, centaurs and the like). The racial turmoil undertones are writ large throughout, but this is far more well-written and lavishly appointed than you might expect on first glance, and almost ridiculously addictive viewing.

5. LOVE, DEATH + ROBOTS

My other big TV surprise was this wonderfully bizarre sci-fi anthology series of animated shorts from Netflix, mostly adapted from an eclectic selection of short stories from a wide range of top-notch literary talent including Peter F. Hamilton, John Scalzi, Marko Kloos and Alastair Reynolds (a particular favourite of mine). As you’d expect from the brainchild of Deadpool director Tim Miller and producer David Fincher, this is edgy, leftfield stuff, frequently ultra-violent and decidedly adult, and the wildly varied nature of the material on offer makes for a decidedly uneven tone, but there are some absolute gems on offer here, my favourite being Suits, an enjoyably simple tale of salt-of-the-earth farmers on an alien world utilising clunky mech suits to protect their settlement from rampaging giant xeno-bugs.

4. THE DARK CRYSTAL: AGE OF RESISTANCE

The show with the biggest cinematic wow factor in 2019 had to be this long-awaited prequel series to Jim Henson’s classic fantasy movie masterpiece, created for Netflix by, of all people, Louis Leterrier (yes, the director of The Transporter, Now You See Me and Clash of the Titans, if you can believe it). The technology may have evolved in leaps and bounds, but there’s a wonderfully old school vibe in the delightfully physical puppet effects used to bring the fantastical world of Thra and its denizens to life, so that it truly does feel like it’s based in the same world as the film. This was EASILY the most visually arresting show of 2019, packed with exquisite character, creature and set design that perfectly complements the awesome work done by Henson and Brian Froud on the original, while the writers have created a darkly rich narrative tapestry that makes Thra seem a more dangerous place than ever.

3. THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

I was a HUGE fan of My Chemical Romance frontman Gerard Way’s magnificently oddball alternative superhero comic, so when I learned that Netflix were adapting it I was a little wary because I knew how spectacularly hard it would be for ANY showrunners to get right. Thankfully Steve Blackman (Fargo season 2) and Jeremy Slater (The Exorcist TV series) were the right choice, because this perfectly captured the outsider nature of the characters and their endearingly dysfunctional family dynamic. Ellen Page, Tom Hopper (Black Sails, Merlin), David Castañeda and Emmy Raver-Lampman are all excellent as the more “functional” Hargreeves siblings, but the show is roundly stolen by Misfits star Robert Sheehan and Nicky, Ricky, Dicky & Dawn’s Aidan Gallagher as nihilistic clairvoyant Klaus and the old-man-in-a-child’s-body sociopath known only as Number Five. Consistently surprising and brilliantly bonkers, this was definitely the year’s most wonderfully WEIRD show.

2. STRANGER THINGS (SEASON 3)

Writer-director duo the Duffer Brothers’ ultra-nostalgic 80s-set coming-of-age sci-fi horror series remains the undisputed jewel in Netflix’s long-form crown with this consistently top-drawer third season expertly maintaining the blockbuster-level standards we’ve come to expect. This year the cross-dimensional shenanigans have largely been jettisoned, replaced by a gleefully nasty through-line of icky body horror that would make major influences like David Cronenberg and Stuart Gordon proud, as perennial teenage bad boy Billy Hargrove (the fantastically menacing Dacre Montgomery) becomes the leader of an army of psychic slaves under the control of the Upside Down’s monstrous Mind Flayer. The kids are all brilliant as always, Winona Ryder and David Harbour really get to build on their strong-yet-spiky chemistry, and the show is almost effortlessly stolen by Joe Keery as one-time golden boy Steve Harrington and series-newcomer Maya Hawke as his nerdy new foil Robin Buckley, who were very nearly the cutest couple on TV in 2019. Another gold standard season for a true gold standard show.

1. GOOD OMENS

Sadly, legendary author Terry Pratchett died before he could see the adaptation of one of his most beloved novels (and one of my all-time literary favourites too) see the light of day, but at least his co-author Neil Gaiman was around to bring it to fruition with the aid of seasoned TV director David Mckinnon (Jekyll, Doctor Who, Sherlock), and the end result sure did him proud, perfectly capturing the deeply satirical voice and winningly anarchic, gleefully offbeat and gently subversive humour of the original novel. David Tennant and Michael Sheen could both have been born to play Crowley and Aziraphale, the angel and demon nominally charged with watching over the young Antichrist in preparation for his role in the End Times, even though they would both much rather the world just went on quite happily the way it is, thanks very much. This is about as perfect an adaptation as you can get, the six hour-long episodes giving the surprisingly complex story time to breathe and grow organically, and the result is the most fun I spent in front of my TV this year.

#best TV 2019 #watchmen #the boys #preacher #the witcher #carnival row #love death + robots #love death & robots #the dark crystal age of resistance #The Umbrella Academy #stranger things 3 #good omens

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liliesoftherain · 6 years ago

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My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader Ch.2 Battle of Heroes vs Villains

Pt. 1

Here’s part 2! Sorry for any mistakes, I hope you enjoy!

-*-*-*-*-*-

The next day at school you felt better than ever. Even though you had to sit through regular core classes like any other high school, it was still amazing to you. You were learning from Pro Heroes. How could that get any better?

When lunch rolls around you're shocked to find Lunch Rush, the Cook Hero making the food. You sit next to the friends you made yesterday, and get to know them a lot better while digging into the amazing food that has been served. Then came your favorite part of the day.

During your afternoon classes is when things finally were turned up a notch. You were sitting in your desk for your Hero Basic Training to start, when a loud and booming voice came through the door.

"I AM HERE!" Everyone turned their heads to the door, eyes wide. You were amazed, you've heard that the one and only Number One Pro Hero was teaching at the school, but you never would've thought he'd be teaching you first years!

"Coming through the door like a hero!" AllMight yelled, his grin from ear to ear as always.

"So he is a teacher!" Kirishima stuck a fist in the air, he turned to you with a wide smile.

"This year is going to be awesome!" All you could do was nod back, too excited to speak.

You noticed he was wearing an old classic costume of his, and only smiled larger when Tsu- is what she wanted everyone to call her, pointed it out as well.

"Consider this class as Hero 101! This is your most important class, and you'll be learning the basics of becoming a pro! As well as what it truly means to fight in the name of good."

He turns around, looking like he was grabbing something from behind the desk, before turning back around and presented what he had. A card with giant block letters spelling out 'BATTLE' was shown.

"Fight training!" You heard Bakugou shout out, his voice sounding less nasty and more like he was having a good time? Well, he did seem like the guy to have a great time bashing heads together. You shake your head and focused back to AllMight.

"One of the keys to being a hero issss.. LOOKING GOOD!" He pointed over towards the wall, where a bunch of suitcases lined up with a number representing each student. These had to be your hero costumes!

"These were made with the designs you guys had turned in with all that enrollment paperwork!" You tried not to let it show but you were really curious on how they made your costume look.

You suited up with AllMights directions, ready to see what will be happening at training ground Beta. You walked outside the locker rooms to see Bakugou walking out as well. His costume was, pretty extreme. But, you had to admit it really suited his personality. You had to stifle a laugh at the gauntlets, but you didn't do a good job when he turned his head in your direction.

"You got something to say you fucking glow worm."

Your eyebrow raised at the name, trying to figure out why he was calling you a glow worm of all things. Then you realized, you tend to glow when you try to make your body into Photons to act as light. So you smirked light while crossing your arms, giving him a sassy retort back.

"Uh glow worm? C'mon Bakugou I'm sure you can do better than that." He huffed at you, eyes narrowing. He seemed to actually be thinking of another name, and although you didn't like the fact he had to call you a nickname, it was still nice to not be called a shitty extra, as he so liked to call everyone.

"Tsk, stop wasting my time glitter bomb." With that he walked away to the training ground.

"Glitter bomb?" You muttered to yourself, following him. That was really any better, you almost preferred glow worm.

. At least glitter bomb was much cuter, and even if he said it with a nasty frown, hopefully he didn't think too badly of you. You walked out with everyone else following behind you, hearing AllMight yelling about how now you have to think of yourselves as heroes in training. Ah, you liked the sound of that.

"You all look so cool! You bunch of newbies!" AllMight laughed as soon as you all were standing in front of him. You took the time to look around and you had to agree, you all looked really amazing. However you noticed Deku's costume and you actually had to let out a laugh. It was kind of cute of him in his fanboy costume. It looked not as nicely made as the others costumes, so maybe it was a gift. Still, it was a nice sight to see. You saw AllMights face when he realized the same thing, causing you to laugh again.

"What's so funny huh (y/n)?" You looked to Kirishima and shrugged, slyly looking towards where Deku was talking to Ochaco.

"Tsk, a second rate suit for a second rate nobody." You hear Bakugou grumble under his breath, and you meet his eyes.

"You know it's kinda cute how simple it is, and the fact it's supposed to resemble AllMight." You swear you saw a vein pop out of his head.

"Shut up stupid glow worm!" Kirishima looked between the both of you, confusion painted on his face.

"Glow worm..?" You ignored him for the moment, still looking at Bakugou.

"What happened to glitter bomb?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" He briskly walked towards the front of the class, leaving you and Kirishima towards the back.

"UH? Glow worm? Glitter bomb? I'm so confused." You pat his arm with a smile, choosing to say nothing once more before looking back at your instructor.

"Now that your ready, it's time for combat training!"

"SIR!" Iida called out, he was decked out in a full body suit of armor. "This is the fake city from the entrance exam, does that mean we'll be conducting urban battles again?"

Give it to Iida about going above and beyond with asking questions. You admired his high sense of authority, and couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Your father acted like this every day, having to deal with sidekicks and his own crew, making the most tactful choices and asking all the right questions. You hands clenched at your side. You had to step it up if you were one day going to be as great of a Pro Hero as he was.

"Not exactly!" Replied AllMight, holding up a peace sign with his fingers.

"I'm going to get you two steps ahead!" AllMight begins to talk about hero vs villain fights happen outside, but things can always take place indoors. He went on giving examples of backroom deals and home invasions. You mentally agreed that the most shadiest stuff was always going on inside, somewhere that was more private to the public eye.

"This training exercise will be split between the heroes and the villains., and pin you up against each other."

"Isn't this pretty advanced for us?" Tsu asked, her brows furrowing as she thought.

"Think of it this way, the best way to learn is through experience! Plus you won't be dealing with robots, you'll be dealing with actual people now.

"Sir will you be deciding who wins?" Momo asks.

"How much can we hurt the other team?" Of course the one to ask that was no one other than Bakugou.

"Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled?" Ochaco was nervous when she asked, you saw her almost shaking in worry.

"Will you be splitting us up on chance or skill?" The ever so thoughtful Iida asked.

"How exactly will we be able to win?" You asked, "What's the goal of the exercise?"

"Is the cape amazing?"

With all the questions being asked, AllMight looked far too overwhelmed. This guy dealt with villains all the time, you'd think he can handle a few kids.

"I wasn't finished. LISTEN UP," He pulls out a script.

"The situation is the villains have hidden a nuclear weapon somewhere in the 5 story building. The heroes must stop them and their plans! You have two ways to complete the job, either catch the villains, or recover the weapon! Likewise the villains have a chance to win if they protect their weapon or capture the heroes. There's a time limit so here, we will choose teams by drawing lots!"

"Why lots? Can't we decide teams based off of quirks? Wouldn't that be more practical?" Iida asked. You looked up at him from where you stood and spoke up.

"It's easy to believe that when fighting villains you'll be able to team up with people you know. But that really isn't the case."

Deku smiled at you, nodding quickly to agree.

"Yea Iida think about it, most heroes don't have a choice for who they are partnered up with for cases. That's probably why we're learning it like this!"

"Yea you guys are right, life is not a straight line. Excuse my rudeness." Iida bowed at AllMight, who just turned and waved him off.

"Don't worry about it, let's draw!"

You all walked up and picked papers out of the box, you were team A. You looked at Kirishima who only shrugged.

"Sorry man, guess we aren't together on this."

"U-uh hey (y/n)! I think we're partners!" You saw Deku smile at you, and you grinned back.

"Hey there Midoriya, sounds like a plan!" He nodded shyly and rubbed the back of his head.

"You can call me Izuku if you want. Not that you have to, I just know that everyone has been calling by your first name so I figured since I'm calling you by your first name you'll want to call me by my first name, or even just to have it even so we can call each other by our names. But maybe you don't feel comfortable and are only going to do it out of obligation-" Deku was talking a mile per minute and you had to get your thoughts together before you could shut him up.

"Izuku chill out, I don't mind. I prefer calling everyone by their first names. To me it makes us all closer don't you think?" You smiled, to show him you were serious. He was blushing, probably because all that talking made him out of breath. Before nodding again eagerly.

"Y-yeah of course!"

"I declare the first team to fight will beeeee..." AllMight trails off, digging his hands into both boxes labeled 'Hero' and 'Villain'.

"These guys!"

He held up an A ball and D ball.

"Hey looks like we're up first Izuku, isn't this going to be fun-Izuku?" You looked at him with a grin before it faded at his shocked expression. You saw why once you felt a glare towards your team. Bakugou was frowning, murderous intent in his red eyes.

"Everyone else, head to the monitoring room! A team you're our heroes, D team, the Villains!" You watched the class walk on, still looking at the glaring Bakugou and shy Midoriya. You gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, and he glanced over to you.

"We got this." He smiled stiffly, his eyes hardening in determination and his fists squeezed together. He stared straight back at Bakugou, which caused the other to jolt back in surprise. He must've never seen him like this before you thought.

Bakugou practically growled at the two of you with an intense look. Which was only cut off by AllMight telling the bad guys to get settled inside the building. So Iida and Bakugou headed inside, while you and Midoriya stayed out. You were given a layout of the building, and you stared at it trying to formulate a plan.

"It's a lot to take in, but it's better than going in blind. Most Pro Heroes don't get the luxury of knowledge." You say while looking over the paper, trying to drink in all the details you could.

"So we can relax just a little-ah geez Izuku you're practically sweating through your costume." You snicker while glancing at the boy next to you. He looked terrible nervous, none of that determination from earlier when looking at Bakugou had stuck apparently.

"Uh well, it's um," He bit his lip looking away, you felt your stomach churn, This kid was like a chihuahua, he was going to come right out of his red sneakers. "We're just going up against Kachan, and there's Iida too. We just really need to stay on our guard." You hummed in agreement.

"Bakugou, you have a funny nickname for him too, huh? Yea seems like he likes those." You chuckle, remembering the stupid ones he called you, and that he calls Izuku, Deku.

"What's up with you two anyway? He's always glaring at you. Well, even harsher than he glares at everything else."

"Uh, it's a long story.. But, I just know we have to be careful because he's really amazing. He can be a real pain sure, but he has strength, ambition, and confidence. Plus his quirk is so much better than mine. But that just means I have to try harder than ever. I refuse to lose today." He glares up at the building, popping his mask on. His shaking has stopped, and you felt yourself smile.

"So I see, it's a battle we can't afford to lose." He looked at you, blush back and shakes returning. Oh man, this kid has some mixed emotions.

"You don't need to try so hard for me! I can't get you mixed in my fight!"

You take a hold of one of his outstretched hands. Giving him a bright smile. His cheeks went darker as he stared at your hand in his.

"It's not just for you. I want to win too. Plus, we are a team. No way in hell am I letting us lose today, you can count on me Izuku."

"Yeah!"

"Alright! Let's begin, team A enter the building! The clock starts now!" AllMights voice sounds from the intercom, you give Deku a nod as you both race inside. You both crept in through a window, carefully walking around corners. You both fixed your ear pieces, making sure your contact stayed on. You felt energy swirling in you, an adrenaline rush coursing through your veins. You let Deku lead the way, guarding his back, and he looked around corners. You two were silent and stealthily.

You wondered if both of the boys would both be waiting for you in the room where the weapon was, sure Bakugou may have been a hothead but surely he was smart and tactful. Along with Iida, you were sure he had a plan at the very least. You both paused before coming up to your next corner, moving onward. You heard a slight movement and you held Izuku back, signalling him to be quiet. But it was too late, Bakugou was jumping from a hallway that you both hadn't seen before hand, aiming a punch directly at Deku. You held onto him as you jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding a full on punch. Smoke went everywhere, and you fell straight on top of Izuku.

"You good Izuku?" You questioned, jumping off of him and getting back on your feet. You missed the blush he had when you were pressed against him, but he shook it off. Going back to the battle in front of him.

"Yea I'm good." You looked down and saw no blood on his face even though his mask had been torn off along the left side.

"Good, it was just your mask." The smoked cleared as Bakugou smirked towards Izuku.

"What's wrong Deku, afraid to fight me yourself?"

"I knew you'd come for me first." Izuku gritted out, standing beside you. You looked between both boys, your hands starting to glow with your light. You willed the light to change it's formula as you let it harden over your wrists. The light burned you, but over many years of trying to perfect your quirk made you numb to the pain, as well as the gloves you wore really helped with it.

"Sneak attack, very villain like Bakugou. " You said while you jumped up and swung, missing him by a thread as he tried to counter with a kick to your torso. You dodged it last second, landing behind him. Using your quirk like how you did during the long jump, you shot out a few light rays, solidifying them to give you a boost. You went to give a roundhouse kick but ended up missing again. Bakugou was able to grab your wrist and toss you to the side, close to the ground by Izuku. You spun yourself last second landing on your feet crouching to stop your momentum with your hand. You were able to lessen the damage of what would've happened if your back had taken the fall.

"Stay out of my way shitty glitter bomb. I'm not here for you." He glared at Deku, charging forward.

"I want to hurt you so bad, they're going to have to stop the fight!" Before you could run towards him, Izuku sprinted past you, and grabbed his right arm last second as if he knew that'd be his first move. You were as shocked as Bakugou looked when Izuku managed to flip him over and land him on his backside with a painfully loud thud. You saw spit fly out of Bakugou's mouth and you wondered how much force Deku actually put into that throw.

Izuku was breathing deeply as he spilled his secret.

"Kaachan, you always use a big right hook when you start a fight." You looked over at Deku, was he seriously that in tune with his surroundings and the people in it? How observant was this guy?

"I know because I've watched you for years! I've analyzed every amazing hero, that includes you. Everything was in the notebook you burned and tossed out the window." He stood up tall, fear in his eyes but body held up with something much stronger than that.

"You can call me Deku, but I'm not the same hopeless kid anymore! You understand? I've changed, for now on, Deku is the name of a hero!" You grinned, a part of you felt happy that Izuku was overcoming any obstacles. It seems these two had a rough past, one you didn't want to get into or get in the middle of, but that didn't mean you couldn't feel proud for someone standing up for themselves.

You quickly realized that if you left now to go obtain the bomb more than likely Bakugou would not follow you. His fight was 100% with Izuku and you were just someone in the way of that. But if you left him here with Bakugou, with Izuku's quirk the way it was he had no chance of really doing anything to him. Bakugou may have been surprised and taken down by that sneak attack, but there was no way he'd be able to keep that up. Bakugou would overcome that in an instant.

"Deku.." Bakugou huffed, his anger rising faster than you've ever seen it. "You're shaking in your boots you're so scared. Why do you always insist on fighting me.. THAT’S WHY I HATE YOU!"

You saw the blue light from Bakugou’s earpiece go off, before he yelled back in it for Iida to shut up and defend the weapon. You realized if you were going to go, you would have to go now. You made eye contact with Midoriya who nodded in your direction. Seems that great minds think alike.

"(y/n) hurry go!" You cast a beam of light, aiming for Bakugou's eyes as he used his quirk to push himself forward towards Deku, before running off. Bakugou snarled as that caused him to miss kicking out Izuku's legs and hitting his arm instead, giving him a slight advantage.

" FUCK!That was fucking too bright, that shitty girl. Ballsy move Deku. You think you're so tough trying to take me on without that STUPID GLOW WORMS HELP!"

That was the last you heard of their battle before you dashed away. You were trying to locate the bomb and Iida who was with it. You knew at least he was taking this seriously, and you really needed a plan before you found him. You knew you were safe from Bakugou, the guy must've been working alone, which you're sure put Iida in a sour mood. He's going to try to make up for his missing partner and be an even bigger pain in your ass.

You heard shuffling from one of the rooms, and you knew this must have been it. You hid behind a pillar, taking a quick glance and saw Iida talking to himself. Hearing him mutter about villainy things. You tried not to make any noise as you snuck around, pillar after pillar. Hoping to make this a quick and easy mission, to make sure Bakugou didn't hurt Izuku more than he had to.

You unfortunately misinterpreted a move and Iida spotted you from the corner of his eye.

"Ah (y/n)! There you are, I knew you would be here alone Bakugou ran off to engage in a battle with Midoriya. Your quirk has to deal with sunlight right? Well I made sure you wouldn't get any of it, seeing as I blocked off the windows allowing no light to shine through! Muawhahah! What are you going to do now you hero scum!" You glanced around saw all the impressive ways he blocked the sunlight from entering.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, villain! I don't need direct sunlight all the time!" You sent off a ray of light, blinding him just like you did with Bakugou, before running off behind another pillar.

You couldn't make a run for the weapon, Iida was faster than you when you weren't using your quirk, and since there was no water nearby you couldn't afford overheating yourself too early in the game, you'd be defenseless for a while until you were able to cool yourself down. You held your earpiece and contacted your partner.

"Izuku, are you alright?" The piece crackled as he responded.

"I'm here, what's wrong."

"Right now nothing bad, Iida spotted me before I could reach the weapon, and he blocked off any light. I may be able to outrun him but if it doesn't work I'm down for the count. Even with my suit built for me I doubt it'll cool me down in time to continue the fight before I get caught."

"I understand, where are you at?"

"Near the middle of the top floor."

"You're right above me, hang tight. We probably don't have much time. We can't give up yet. Keep him distracted, I'll tell you when."

"Roger. I'm counting on you Izuku."

You didn't hear anything back, so you got to work, You kept making small bursts of light come off your hands, dodging from one pillar to the next. Even without his sight, he was able to find you and take swings. You dodged them all, rolling and ducking away. Till a giant explosion had the whole building rattling, you looked at Iida, shock on your face, and while he was wearing a mask, you assumed he had the same expression when he asked you what the hell was that.

You bit your lip, praying Izuku was alright, things weren't going well based on the current position. Iida got side tracked, trying to contact Bakugou through his own earpiece.

"Bakugou! Come in, did you cause that blast!" You were going to take advantage of his distraction. You willed your light to travel to your feet and you took off, simultaneously making your light from regular beams to solids, back to rays again. Giving you an added boost. It was terribly difficult, and you were focusing on making sure you didn't mess up. Your feet burned but you kept going, the sweat never reaching your eyes as your mask caught it all. Your body was overheating itself but you couldn't afford to stop now!

However, Iida was too fast, and used his engines to burst his speed and move the bomb towards the other side of the room. You were able to stop yourself right before you ran into the wall, turning around and shooting a glare.

"Nice try, but you're no match for my speed the way you are now. I'm sure the fact that there is no light is causing you to use whatever kind of storage you have, meaning if you keep this up you'll be drained. So I can easily keep this weapon out of your grasp until you run out, or the time does! Muahahah." You huff, teeth grinding as he actually got that part of your quirk right.

You never remember telling him how the ins and outs of your quirk was, and you briefly explained it to Kirishima and the others when you ran the race, so all he knew was from that conversation. Even then, that was very brief and you didn't go into details. All you could do was bluff.

"You're smart, I'll give you that. But you're completely wrong about my quirk. I can keep going, can you?" You threw another beam dashing around trying to get to the other side of the room, but Iida knew how to keep you at bay, moving it back to another position across the room. You clench your hands into fists, willing the light around them. You threw punches, anything to try to get him away from the weapon, even if you couldn't reach it, he wasn't able to move it. You heard your earpiece crackle, and Izuku's voice come through.

"(y/n) what's the situation, you okay?"

"Not looking too good, I can't get close to him or past him. He's too fast for me right now."

You didn't hear his reply, but AllMights voice rang throughout the area.

"Bakugou, use that stored up power again and not only I will stop this fight, but your team will lose. " You glanced at Iida, taking this time to give yourself a break. You were heavily overheating, and you could feel your suit work to try to cool you down, but it wasn't enough. At least not for what you have planned. You needed the rest of your strength if this was going to work.

"To employ such a strong attack indoors is inviting the destruction of the stronghold you should be protecting! That's a poor strategy, whether you're a hero or a villain. The penalty is a massive loss of points resulting in your loss."

"Get to the pillar by the window, get there now and stay out of the middle."

You smiled. This will finally be over, you both were going to win. You dashed there, ignoring the strange look from Iida.

"Running away are we? No matter, time is up soon anyways! Attack from long range all you'd like!" He shouted after you, and you used smaller light blasts to try to let him think you were still trying to do long range.

You felt the ground rumble and you knew this must of been it, you heard him shout your name.

"(Y/N) GO NOW!"

"Roger!" You shouted back, charging up your energy, feeling yourself break down and start to glow. You grew hotter by the second and felt the building shake even worse than it did for Bakugou. The windows shattered and you felt light poor in, which help you out even more now that you can replenish your energy. The ground in the middle split off and a beam fell which allowed you to use it as a pathway.

You charged up and sprinted, reaching the weapon before Iida could even get his bearings in order. He was so focused on not getting blown away by Izuku's blast. You ended up hugging the base of the weapon, almost knocking it over with how fast you were going. You let out a sigh of relief, but also a groan of pain when you felt how hot your body was an the air surrounding you. Your suit was going into overdrive, and you're lucky you didn't have to continue fighting, you were drained.

"NO! THE WEAPON!" Iida yelled, upset he had lost.

"The hero team, WIIIINS!" You heard AllMight's shout. "Your indoor combat training is over."

You fell from the bomb and landed on your behind, steam coming off of you and mixing with the clouds from the destroyed building. Iida rushed to your side, trying to stroke your back but you were too hot, even with his gloves. He immediately pulled away. He was surprised you weren't melting through the floor at this very moment.

"Are you alright?" You nodded weakly, trying to breathe in large amounts of air in hopes you'll cool down faster. Iida began to fan you, hoping something would help.

When you were able to stand after cooling down a bit, Iida helped you to the bottom. You both walked back to the examination room to see how well you did. You looked around for Deku but you couldn't find him.

"Do not worry miss Hakamata, young Midoriya is with Recovery Girl, getting his wounds healed.

You only nodded in response, still slightly out of it but getting better. While there wasn't any more steam, you were hot to the touch, like accidentally touching a cooling stove. Not terrible but still painful.

"Despite the winners here today, I can say that both sides have done amazingly. Miss Hakamata and young Iida have proven themselves to be co-winners in the battle!"

You both looked at AllMight in shock, not understanding how you both could have won.

"Shouldn't there be only one winner? Like just (y/n), since she was one of the winners?" Tsu asked, her tongue flopping out of her mouth as her head tilted.

"Valid question! Who can take a guess as to why it was the both of them?"

Momo raises her hand.

"Sir, I can tell you exactly why. Iida embraced this challenge wholeheartedly, and thought logically as the villain. Taking steps to ensure his enemy's defeat, like by blocking all the sunlight in the room to weaken his opponent. He adapted to his assigned role perfectly. While Hakamata was very quick thinking, knowing that she couldn't use her trump card so early on, and sticking to dodging and smaller attacks to watch out for not only the missile, but even the villain. As heroes, we should always aim to immobilize not kill. To look for the perfect opportunity in any situation and that's exactly what she did." You felt proud that someone saw what you were trying to do, and even a bit bashful getting this praise.

"While Bakugou had his judgement clouded due to a personal grudge, he had no care for what was around him, causing him to let off a large scale attack that would have been bad if the missile were real. Villain or not he should always put the plan first. While the same thing goes for Midoriya, while his plan gave his team the edge it needed to complete the mission, it was poorly thought out and could've- did, render himself helpless, which helped no one considering Bakugou was still on the loose."

You could see the praise getting to Iida from where you stood, he was on the left side of Bakugou while you sandwiched him in on the right. You flushed lightly, looking away from the eyes of your peers. AllMight looked to be shaking as Momo finished her rant, coughing before continuing.

"well uh yes, you missed a few things such as young Iida could have relaxed a bit, and Miss Hakamata should have been more open to using her move if it would've meant less damage in the future. However, good job! You nailed it! Let's move on to the next battle."

You looked at Bakugou and saw the look on his face. It worried you to see him look so devoid of emotion. You looked away, not wanting to start any more problems and focused on the next students beginning their match.

You couldn't help but let out a gasp, you were amazed at the brute strength this Shoto Todoroki had. He made the entire place freeze over, making sure his partner was safe outside. The sheer amount of power had you taken a back. You could feel the cold all the way from the room you were all in, and it caused your body temp to drop instantly, the temp regulating it out.

"Wow.." You whisper out, still somehow standing next to Bakugou even though the class moved closer to the screen.

"This guy is insane." You finished, noticing the others, even AllMight shivering in front of you. This guy was one of four to get in on recommendation alone.

‘Incredible.’ You thought.

The rest of the matches seems to go by just as fast, you realized a lot of classmates had powerful and useful quirks, but your mind was still on the 3 boys who, in your opinion, out shined them all.

You cheered on Kirishima and Sero as they fought bravely. Even Mina as she burned holes into the flashy kids cape. You couldn't remember his name.

It was finally all over, and AllMight congratulated you all.

"We had no major injuries, accept for young Midoriya. You should be proud, that was excellent training from you all."

He took his exit as said he was going to check on Izuku, rushing away and leaving the students buzzing with excitement. You all returned to change out of your hero outfits, and went back to class to collect your stuff for the next class.

"(y/n) you were badass! I wish my quirk was flashy like yours!"

"Thanks Eijirio!" You slapped his arm playfully, "You're quirk is pretty good too. I wish I had it! I could fall and not get hurt? Yes please!"

You all settled down as the next part of your afternoon classes began, your thoughts circling back to how Izuku was fairing. To be honest you weren't sure if you'd be allowed to go see him if he still wasn't back by the end of the day, but you decided it's fine. You were partners after all.

Before you could go once classes had ended. Eijiro, along with Sero, Kaminari, and Mina kept you behind to chat. You figured a few minutes wouldn't hurt so you let yourself go in the laughter and happiness that swirled around you. Your head snapped towards the door once you heard it open, Kirishima beating you to the punch of saying hi.

"Hey it's Midoriya! Good to see you! I don't know what you were saying during that match but you were all fired up huh!"

"I can't believe you held your own against Bakugou!" Sero pitched in, "He's super strong!"

"Glad to see you still in one piece partner!" You grinned at his overwhelmed expression as he started rubbing the back of his head with his uninjured hand. The other being in a cast and sling.

"You really went all out didn't you." You hummed while poking the sling, grinning up at him. "We made a badass team yanno, you were pretty good too I guess." He laughed, nodding in agreement,

"We sure did, we won thanks to you."

You saw his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as others, including yourself, told him he played a big part in that win. Everyone introduced themselves to him and you could see his eyes swirl with so much going on. You ll stopped to watch Iida go berserk over another student putting his feet on his desk, and failing to get him to listen.

Denki also walked in at that moment, along with Ochaco, holding books for the class. She blushed slightly, before excusing herself and running over to join the group. Izuku brushed her off in a nice way, letting her know he's fine and there's no need for any worrying. he glanced behind you, then looked at you in the eyes,

"Hery uh (y/n)? Where's Kaachan?"

"Oh Bakugou? He just left. We tried to make him stay but he really wanted to go." You saw Izuku run out at that very moment, and knew something was going to happen. You wanted to go and be there in support but you knew better than to get involved.

You went to glance out the windows with other students, seeing Bakugou shouting at Izuku. You couldn't tell what was being said, but you saw that Bakugou was in a lot of pain. Maybe he's realizing that he can't win every battle? Who knows, so you ignored it, and shrugged along with everyone else. Packing the books that were brought in and making sure you had all of your other materials before leaving with your newly made group of friends. You saw that AllMight had dragged Midoriya away, you wondered why they always seemed so close. That was really suspicious and you felt uneasy. Was he somehow related to AllMight? They have similar enough quirks, and AllMight, while he tries to hide it, obviously cares about Izuku.

With that on your mind you waved your friends off once you parted ways at the station, you began to head home. Once there, you did whatever homework you had, mind still reeling on the secret around those two. You made dinner, and left it in the fridge for your father, it seems he was going to be late tonight. You readied yourself for bed. Staring at the ceiling, now thinking about just more than the Number One Hero and his fanboy. You thought back to Bakugou and his face after he lost, and that Todoroki kid with his half-and-half quirk. It was amazing to be surrounded by so many talented people, you really weren't expecting it.

Honestly, you didn't even know what to expect when you first started. It was only the second day and you felt exhausted by all the people, by all the work. But that wasn't going to stop you from reaching your goals. You aim to be as great of a hero as your father, maybe even better. Your goal is to show him you can one day care for him and others, just like he does for everyone around him.

Damn anyone to hell if they were going to get in your way.

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