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robberskisses · 8 months

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The boy next door pt 2

Part one

cw: matty healy x reader, mentions of drinking, smut.

note: idk how I wrote so much for just one tiny part, not proofread as I want to get these parts posted and I’m tired :,)

As your alarm clock rings, wind gushes your hair into your face, reaching to move it out of the way you start batting your eyelids, as you suddenly remember everything. You spin your head to face the other way. He isn’t there. Just the window wide open, making your room all cold and you start to feel frustrated. You knew your imagination could run wild, but this? He had to have been here last night. You know it was real, you felt it. You spring up feeling deaf with silence, taking a glance out of the window; Matty’s window was closed along with his curtains too. In this state you had no other choice but to get ready, and you did quickly.

Creeping downstairs once again, you grab to trail your bike out when you decide to quickly take a peek if Matty has left yet, you know the part where he brought you home wasn’t a dream, and he did say he felt bad about you riding to school. Surely if he had slept in your bed he would remember the offer on at least one day. Peeking through the shutters of the window you feel a sense of relief. Leaning onto his van, smoking a fag, he stood right infront of your house.

“Hey” you say stepping out of your door, in your best efforts to sound chill about what could or could not have happened. He looks up abruptly from his cig he was attempting to relight, “y/n im so sorry” he motions his hands out towards you, “leaving your window open, I had no way to close it when I climbed back through this morning, I”. So it was real. The boy next door had stayed over, told you that you were beautiful, and the worst part is you were the one to kiss him. But maybe the best part was how calm he was about it all, how he only cared about leaving the window open.

“That’s okay,I didn’t even notice”, you lie, “the temperature isn’t all too bad out here in spring” you add as you walk to the van door. He lets out a sigh of relief whilst trying to take an extra step forward to open the door for you, “I was scared about you getting cold or sick that’s all”. You hide the way your blushing by looking out of the window when he gets in. “Your words got to me” you look his way, “I’d really like to come tonight, if that’s okay with you”. “That’s cool” he responds with a smile. Something in your heart hurts a little when this was such a big thing to you, part of you hoped you weren’t just another one of his side hookups, and the moment you got to school he would just go quiet on you.

Feeling nervous as the pair of you arrive at school, you peer over at him wondering if he wants you to get out first and clear off before he gets out. “What?” He glares back at you. “Have I got something on my face” he says whilst going up to grab the font mirror, smushing his lips around to check his teeth. “No sorry, no I was just wondering if we were getting out” you interrupt his face scan. Looking your way with a sense of relief he rolls his eyes sarcastically, “ahhh are you getting used to me opening so many doors for you, wait a minute i’l be around in a sec princess”, he laughs, you do too, feeling the usual flush you do around him. Hurrying around and opening the door for you, hopping out you look around for the girls you made friends with yesterday. “Leaving me so soon?” Matty says whilst getting a pack out of his bag. “Well I can’t exactly waltz into the boys school can I?” You respond. “You wouldn’t pretend to be a boy just to spend more time with me, hmm maybe we aren’t as good of neighbours as I thought we were” he says sarcastically, patting the top of your hair lightly, “See ya later”. “Bye matty” you reply. Should I tell them everything or should I keep quiet, you think to yourself, whilst you want to tell your new friends every last detail and reminisce out loud on what had just happened last night, you are also aware of two things. Firstly, they all are obsessed with him, and you don’t want to loose your first group of friends through jealousy or coming across as a slut. You are aware of how dramatic you sound, and second, yesterday you spent the entire day rattling off how much you hated him, you are going to sound crazy.

You spot the girls sitting on the steps that enter the girls school as they sip on their morning milk. “Umm did we just see you get out of you know who’s car” Lacey says questioning you, the group of them all peer your way like knives. “I did, it was so weird he just randomly offered a lift, we basically sat in silence like the whole time though” you respond. Meagan tilts her head in confusing “Him offering a lift.. unheard of, he must be in the best mood of his life”. You laugh nervously, “he did mention he has a gig tonight though, somewhere called volume bar?” You add trying to build your story. The girls begin to bustle excitedly, “y/n you better be joining us” Lacey says, “He probably picked you up to promote it” Liliya says giggling, “We usually hear about these things weeks in advance, must be last minute”. “Haha probably” you lie, “Il definitely be there though”.

Spending the next two hours planning your outfits, you learn how obsessed the teenage girl is with the teenage boy. Being isolated in your small town from them really held you back from an entire life of addiction. They assessed boys like assignments, knowing what they liked and what they didn’t, the patterns in their behaviour, how to impress them and get their attention. The one thing that confused you though, was how little they really knew about Matty. They grew up alongside him, yet viewed him as the cold hearted, rouge boy you thought of him to be, knowing him for a day. Strange, strange, strange you thought to yourself.

As the day grew closer to an end and the girls whispered to other classmates about the gig and helped you with what you should wear, Liliya suggesting you would apparently suit curled hair more than anything, the moment the boys came into mass, silence finally calms your ears. Finding his seat you see Matty, he ever so slightly smiles your way. “Did you see that y/n, did you actually just see that” Meagan says in a panicked tone. The girls all glance your way around you. “Yea I saw he just smiled at you” You lie. She starts going on how she knows he’s always had a thing for her. Being scared Matty was using you, and embarrassed of being around you, you have no idea why you are the one hiding whatever the pair of you have going on.

“Y/n you should totally ask Matty some questions about Meagan on the ride home. “Oh my god please you’d be the bestest friend ever if you did” she exclaims, hugging you. “Don’t make it too obvious though”. You nod wandering over to Matty’s van once again. For some reason, all of the girls talk about Matty today makes you more excited than you ever have been to see him, to spend time with him.

“Hey” you say as you arrive to them loading the vehicle up with instruments. “I don’t think there’s enough space in here for another person, your gonna have to rely on a ride home from George I’m afraid” Matty tells you trying to roll a drum in. You glance at his friend George, half smiling. “Hi” he says more out of it than you’ve ever seen a person. “If it’s too much trouble I can just walk, it’s okay” you say trying to avoid an awkward fifteen minutes. He turns around proudly after successfully getting the final piece of kit in, “don’t worry he’s going the same way”. “Don’t worry il still be able to get you tonight, and open the door for you” he winks. You giggle at home whilst trying to stay cool in-front of the band you’d heard so much about, “Just please don’t make it too obvious your there to pick me up” you whisper to Matty before stepping over to George’s car. Getting in at least it isn’t just you in the car, two other boys sit in the back flicking through sheets of paper, discussing which songs they should play tonight. Music you’d never heard on is quietly coming from the radio, that seemed broken as every few beats would have a scratching noise.“So friends with Matty then” George asks while tapping the ash from the bottom of his fag out of the window. “Uhh yeah.. he’s my neighbour didn’t he mention” you reply to him. “That boys got a million things going on” George says. You don’t reply at the puzzle his answer gives you. You pray it doesn’t really mean that boy brings home a new girl every weekend, so many even his best friend can’t keep up.

Arriving at home, you rehearse the lie you’d been coming up with the whole way home one final time in your head. Your new friend Liliya has invited you over for a meal and board games with her family, as their grandparents and cousins are coming over. You could get a lift both there and back and you’d be home around 11pm. Seems innocent enough and equally as important. “No!” Your parents say in unison. “What, what do you mean no?” You say frantically, beginning to get stressed. “Now that’s just silly waltzing in on a family’s special night” your mother says, “come on you can’t say that she says her friends always come around for those meals, you don’t want me to be left out do you” you add to her stupidity. “That’s the thing, we don’t know any of them, go next time when we get a chance to meet all of these people” your father tells you demandingly. “Come o-“ you get interrupted, “now I don’t know where you’ve learned that tone from but if you think that’s getting you anywhere you aren’t so bright” your mother says sternly, almost shewing you away.

Slamming the door of your room you don’t feel as life is fair, how is it that you’ve spent the first seventeen years of your life trapped from what real girlhood is like, and boys, and music, and a chance at living for something more than religion and family. You stress at how much this means to you. An idea spawns, scanning the room for something heavy, but not glass breaking heavy you pick up a little white ping pong ball. Quickly getting ready and curling your hair, just like you had been advised to. You slip into your black mini shirt and a denim skirt you had loaned from your cousin last year when you went on vacation with them. Putting on slightly more makeup than usual you swing the window open, throwing the little ball at Matty’s, praying that he was in there. To your delight his window opens, “I was just about to go outside to wait for you” he spectates. “Matty quiet down, please” you say, he tilts his head in slight confusion. “I made up a silly little lie and they wouldn’t even let me go out for that” you tell him. “Oh.. right we” you cut him off, still whispering, “The ladders, let me sneak through please”. His face brightens like you had just invented the cure for everything. Placing the silver ladders between your rooms he grabs on tightly, “careful, please”, you begin to climb up. “Tell me your going to be careful y/n”, you look up abruptly, he’d never used that tone with you, “okay, il be careful Matty”. Carefully crawling between rooms, Matty grabs onto your waist when you are closest to him, carrying you into his room. You both do that thing again, the not so awkward stare. You notice in all of that brown, there’s a little golden yellowy colour in his eyes, so hidden you’d have to go so close to see it. “Almost give me a heart attack there” he softly laughs. “Oh so it’s okay for you to do that but not me”, you speak in the same quiet tone, burrowing one of your brows. Looking down at you still he’s quiet too, “you know that’s not what I meant”. “MATTY!” George screams. “Hurry up NOW”. “Ups I forgot I had people waiting”, Matty awkwardly pulls a face. Hurrying downstairs you pinch the bottom of your skirt making sure it stays in place. “What I thought you were his neighbour not his roommate” George says in a misty tone. Matty pushes his cap into his face, blinding him as he collapses into a wall. “Im not waiting any longer” the mousy hair one adds, going through the front door. “That’s Adam, and behind me’s Ross” Matty tells you, “I doubt they had the courtesy or social awareness to introduce themselves” Matty says shaking his head at Ross. “Hi, Hello” you say to each of them spinning your head around to the back seats. The pair of them shooting tiny waves. “How’s it fair the three of us are squeezed back here” Ross says looking at Matty. “It’s called kindness and decency Ross” he responds, “and since when did you ever posses either of those traits” Ross says while they all laugh.

Arriving at the bar, you see your friends waiting outside, you wave at them slowly pausing as you see their faces drop. You walk over with the boys trailing behind. The girls all greet them, telling Matty how excited they are to see them play. Matty tells them that they need to go get things ready, and they go inside. “Vip entrance much” Lacey says. “Right, like where was my invite to pull up with the band” Megan adds. “Live next door to one of them, I guess” you try to sound unsuspicious. As the girls get drinks, you spot the boys coming out. Meagan grabs your hand and pushes through the small crowd opposite the barfront. The four of you find yourselves up front, despite the angry murmur from the girls around you. Standing tall above you Matty’s palm wraps around the mic, despite all your self talk about how much you knew him you didn’t even think about which role he had in the band. The singer. You felt selfish and mean for not taking more interest. “Hi, I’m Matty, this is the band, we’re called drive like I do, and you better like our stuff”. Adam starts playing a low chord, and slowly everyone joins in. A few girls around you sing a few of the lyrics, the song was good but part of you was shocked they were as big to have people know their songs yet. “Slow down, yeah I want you” Matty sings softly into the mic, looking down at you with that same Matty smile on his face. “Yeah she’s doing it all the time” Matty finishes the song with George joining in loudly, everyone cheers for them. “That ones called You… or something” Matty backs up ready to play the next song.

Dancing with your friends, and admiring Matty’s music felt blissful. Drinking for the first time and being gifted a little silver cross necklace by your friend Liliya, because it would “suit you soooo well”, is what being a teenage girl is. Feeling happier than ever you and the girls cheer and clap in unison as the band wraps up, exiting the stage. After a little while the boys join you around the bar, “You drink?” Matty asks you, “Apparently now I do” you respond, “Il get you something if you like”, Matty says after asking for a vodka coke. You spot Meagan side eyeing Lacey. “That’s okay” you respond. Looking down at George’s watch as his arm is spewed across the bar counter, you spot the time. You start to get nervous as it’s getting late, and in the chances that your parents did catch you, you could at least be home for curfew. Watching Matty finish his drink you whisper in his ear, “Do you know when we are leaving, I’m getting a little nervous and I”, “Well I’m gonna call it a night” Matty announces to the group. “So soon?” Both George and Meagan say, as George turns around and pulls a face at her, as if he said it first. “Sorry lads, promised the family I’d be home early” Matty responds, George clearly not buying it speaks “and since when do you follow”, being cut off by Matty shushing his lips. You wave goodbye to your friends and Liliya gives you a hug. Matty makes you wait at the door for a second, “just need to get the van from around back, don’t go anywhere, I mean it don’t leave”. The sweet unseen side of Matty was everything to you, but the protective, sort of controlling part to him, something you’d never felt by anyone close to you, was the cherry on top. Tonight, something felt different.

#matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #matty healy #smut #matty healy smut

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nctangelz · 6 months

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SPREAD OUR WINGS — EP.1 :: TRAVEL WITH MOCHI MONI ☀️🌊

note :: italics are in english!

THE VLOG STARTS with monique sitting in her bed, still in her silk pj’s and messy hair. SHES SO GIRLFIEND!!!!

“good morninggggg, nctzens!” monique yawns, stretching and climbing out of her bed. she placed her camera on her desk infront of her window, waving at the camera before she walks around her room. she grabs her clothes and runs away to her bathroom, singing EASY by nct angelz.

once moni returns, she’s dressed in her oversized sweatshirt she got from her harry styles concert, sweatpants and her favorite black cap! nctzens could see a man poke out in the corner of the room with black short hair, unfortunately his face was blurred so we’ll never know who this mysterious man was 💔…but he tags along! moni is the queen of mystery & suspense.

“today, i am awake very early to catch a flight to jeju island!!” monique shares, yawning while she reaches over to grab her makeup bag. “typically, i book night flights…but i can only stay in jeju for a few days, so im going to make the most of it!” moni shares, massaging her face with her mosturizer and sunscreen.

“i’m going to apply some concealer just to make me look a little more alive….i got eleven hours of sleep and i still look like i got none.” monique sighs, “that’s what years of insomnia do to you,” monique chuckles, applying her makeup. ( YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL MONI! ).

“i’m going to put some mascara and lip gloss on and then im going to leave…hopefully i have enough time to grab coffee and a snack before my flight takes off.” monique says, grabbing her camera and going to her living room, sliding her sneakers on and grabbing her duffle bag. “i parked my stuff right by the door last night - that way i can get up and go!”

monique and the mysterious man made their way out of her apartment, climbing in the taxi and driving towards the airport. “i’ll update you once i get on my plane!”

the vlog resumed by monique showing her view outside of the window, with the plane soaring through the clouds. “hello, mochizens! (she’s adorable) if you’re wondering, i got some coffee and some breakfast before i took off, so im all fed and happy!” monique whispered, setting her camera down on her table infront of her. “i land in about twenty minutes, so i’m going to fix my hair!”

monique took her cap off and widen her eyes at the frizzy hairs, frantically pushing her hair down. “my hair is wild!” monique states, brushing her hair and separating it into two sections. “ever since i was a kid, i had crazy hair. it never does well in the heat, so im going to braid it to attempt to contain it.”

monique showed herself braiding her hair, pulling out her tiny baby hairs and waving to camera when she was done. “am i so pretty?” monique asks, posing infront of the camera. “im going to keep my makeup as it is…i think once we— i get settled im going to go to the beach and have a swim!”

“the first time i ever went to jeju was right after my debut…johnny, jaehyun and I saved our money up and booked a trip to jeju as soon as time allowed! it was so nice to have a relaxing trip after having really busy schedule and working really hard…we didn’t stay in the nicest hotel and we weren’t able to eat out at any restaurants but we still had fun! i remember johnny would wake jaehyun and i up everyday by singing beyoncé and throwing our swimsuits at us.” monique giggled, scrolling through her phone to find some pictures.

“we were so young! look at what babies we were!” monique laughs, showing the camera an old picture of the trio, the three of them standing on the beach together…monique on the middle with the boys on the side of her. “how old would we be? johnny and i were around 21…jaehyun was only 19! that’s crazzzyyyy.”

“i never traveled a lot growing up, but i’ve been able to go visit nctzens in so many other countries and explore their countries…and it’s amazing! i love traveling! this is going to be my third time visiting jeju…i think. in 2019 my cousin came to visit me and we took a trip to jeju!”

“i’m landing in a couple minutes, so ill see you at the beach!”

monique brings the vlog back by showing the beautiful view at the beach, zooming in at the beautiful ocean. she later flipped the camera, bringing it up to show nctzens her swimsuit. there was another apperance from the mysterious man…his hand was resting on monique’s hip but quickly moved when he saw the camera. “it’s so bright out here!” monique says, bring her camera down to put her sunglasses down. “i’m going to swim for a bit…and then go to this beach bar!”

monique inserted a few clips of the ocean, her walking on the beach, and eventually, her at the beach bar in her coverup, sipping on her drink. “i never drank on a ocean before…it’s nice!” monique shares, bringing her drink up to show the viewers. “strawberry daiquiri…tasty.”

“the sun is setting now…so the heat isn’t too crazy anymore. i don’t like drinking when it’s hot out…i had a bad experience doing it when i was young and naive.” monique chuckles, “i sound like a grandma…i bet haechan would have mocked me if he was here.”

“i just became an adult and was drinking outside in the middle of the summer with my friends…and i got really hot and passed out…it wasn’t fun.” monique shared, “listen to your bodies and don’t surpass your limit, kids.”

monique kept sipping on her drink, playing with her hair in the process. “i feel really relaxed, nctzens! after you finish watching this, go do something that brings you peace!”

monique finished her drink, gently placing it down and sitting back in her seat, admiring the view infront of her. the vlog goes in fast pace, showing monique walking on a trail through the beach and the mountains, returning to normal pace once monique is back to her rental.

“this rental is really nice and big!” monique exclaims, now dressed in a pink night dress, her hair put up in a claw clip. “it’s really close to the beach, and it has a bunch of windows!” monique says, turning her camera to show wall length windows in her living room, giving her a wonderful view of the beach. “i would love to live in a place like this one day,” monique shares, giving a brief tour of the living room, “i could have movie nights with my kids in this living room and show them my favorite movies! look at these speakers, it would be like your in the movies!” monique giggles turning the camera back to her face. “and then when we are done watching movies, i’ll show them my favorite videos of the members!”

moni then walked to her room, showing the viewers her big bed and the ocean view! “nctzens, i’m going to get some rest after this long day…thank you for tuning in! i hope you all get to take some nice and relaxing vacations this year!” monique says, smiling and waving to the camera, blowing kisses before ending the vlog.

1.8M VIEWS, 1M LIKES, 100K COMMENTS

uploaded in june, 2023

WANT TO READ SOME COMMENTS?

WHO IS THIS MAN? and don’t be telling me it’s her manager CUZ DID U SEE THE HAND PLACEMENT? 🧎 moni is getting treated right

i feel like i’m interrupting…why did SM make her record on her romantic getaway..poor girl

the editors did her dirty…they caused a whole scandal for their carelessness

moni sharing her memories with nctzens is so 🥺🥺 she loves her boys sm

THIS VLOG ISNT LONG ENOUGH! I WANT A WHOLE MOVIE DEDICATED TO MOCHI TALKING ABOUT HER MEMBERS AND HER FUTURE FAMILY

tags :: @yjjnfied

#nct addition #nct added member #nct extra member #nct female addition #nct female subunit #nct female member #nct female oc #nct female unit #kpop oc #nct 24th member #nct 127 added member #nct 127 female addition #nct 127 addition #nct 127 female member

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m3dardas · 3 years

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heyyy so idk if you know me but its 💀🛏 anon over from abadbitvh's page + i saw that post ab that shower scene w vi being turned into an x reader + im not saying im desperate but... the vi hashtag is looking a little dry rn anddd.... 🤲🤲🤲

minors do not interact 18+

violet x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT, shower sex, masturbation, some domestic relationship stuff.

blurb: morning showers are so much better with company.

proofread: nope

author’s note: hmmm those emojis do look familiar 😟😟 and i’m here to provide some violetta content... I GOTCHU <3 this is truly mediocre at best BUT i did my best to provide thanks for requesting!!!!

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The heated orange rays of the burning hot sun in the sky, rarely reached the pits of the Undercity. So, flowing through your windows were the green flickering neon lights of the irrelevant bar next door — their obnoxious sign glowing through your frosty window panes.

The natural alarm in your body woke you, with your arms wrapped around the shoulders of your beloved — the pink-haired athlete you called your girlfriend. She was a very heavy sleeper. Her head laying on your bare chest, expelling sleepy hiccups every once and awhile. The firmness of her strong arms wrapped around your waist. Holding onto you as if you were going to leave her in the dust in the middle of the night.

A tired smile spread onto your swollen lips. One of your hands, brushing back her wild pink strands, pushing them away from her face, adoringly. Her lips were pushed out into a pout, and her thick eyebrows with subconsciously deepened. Your thumb grazed her freckled cheek — the subtle movement causing her to readjust her body, smacking her lips together.

Carefully, you lifted one of her lazy arms, sliding from beneath her. Her head sunk into the pillow that was under you, nuzzling into it. Oh, how sleepy Vi was your favorite — she was always so peaceful in her sleep.

You quietly stood, completely bare. The glowing neon bouncing off the hues of your exposed skin. The dark wooden floors of your home weren’t very accommodating to the contact of your feet — shocking the pallets with coolness. You released a huff, walking around the bed on the tips of your toes. Your eyes glancing over to the brawler in your shared bed, shuffling.

She’d turned over, completely laying on her stomach. Exposing the machine-like ink on her back that she’d come up with a few years ago. Lining her arms, neck and back with gears. Violet had grabbed onto a pillow, wrapping her arms around it to replace your warmth — snuggling into it with a tiny smile. You snickered, slipping into the bathroom.

Shutting the door, you flicked the light on, clearing your throat tiredly. Your lips were pressed together as you reached for the purple tooth brush, that was right beside the pink one. With one hand leaning against the sink, you cleansed your teeth with minty paste.

As you were beginning to actually wake up, your eyes were starting to focus on your body in the reflection. Little circular bruises littered your chest, the valley between your breasts and places on your hips.

Instantly, memories from the night before began to cloud your mind.

Her soft delicate moans filling your ears and causing your body to react and tremble. Her plush lips leaving no place unscathed, sucking and nibbling. The pace of her fingers inside of you — the pace of your fingers inside of her. That stupid neon light fixture beaming against your naked and perspiring bodies.

Which, weirdly enough, set the lustful mood.

Placing your toothbrush back down, you mused at the marks she left you with. Touching over them lightly with your bottom lip between your teeth. The sheer memory of her touch made you internally clench, sighing airily. Even though the two of you have been together for, what many consider to be awhile, you couldn’t get enough of her.

How you felt about her sexually and emotionally hasn’t changed, and you assume that it’s never going to. Those steel puppy dog eyes were going to forever have your heart, mind and body — and nothing was going to come in between that.

But, right now, you needed to shake her off. The both of you had things to do (which is really just lounging around the house, or running errands), and in order to do them — you need a shower. Especially, after the long sweaty night the two of you had.

So you turned on the shower, immediately getting inside. Hoping that it’s initial cool temperature shakes that yearning feeling off of you.

It’s cool stream sent chills through your scalp and down your back. It didn’t do much for your bothering feeling of desire, because of how quick the temperature rose to the warmth you loved. The much hotter stream replaced the cold one, practically wrapping warm hot arms around.

The droplets lightly burned your skin, but in the way you preferred — which only egged on the feeling you were trying to suppress.

Losing the fight, you slipped your dominant hand down your wet body. Bracing one hand on the foggy glass panel beside the entrance of the shower, you quickly found your hardened clit. Stroking the bundle of of nerves slowly to rile yourself up. Your breathing had become shallow at your concise movements, hips bucking every few seconds.

You dipped your fingers into your cunt briefly, whining at the short intrusion. “Fuck.” You mutter, imagining the replacement of your hands with your beloveds. Her dense fingers entering you while her cold irises bored into yours sensually. Her naked body pressed up against yours, while her other hands roamed and groped you.

The loud stream hitting the grey tiles under your feet, muddled your sounds. Preventing the awakening fighter from hearing you, at least until she entered the bathroom.

Violet awoke shortly after you. Waking to half of the bed being much colder than she remembered. She pouted at the loss of you, dialing in on the dull sound of the shower running. She rubbed her hands over her face and hair, pushing her strands back out of her face. Her eyes slightly squinty from fatigue.

She rose up out of the bed, stretching as soon as her feet hit the cold wood. A yawn opened her mouth, while she scratched at her stomach, tiredly. Opening the bathroom door, she was hit with mild steamy air — seeing the silhouette of your body through the foggy glass walls of your shower.

“Mornin’...” Violet called, wiping her eyes, heading to the toilet. She sat down, doing her business, with her face in her hands. Still, daunted with her sleepiness. So much so, that she didn’t care to notice if you greeted her back. After, she walked over to the sink, shutting on the faucet. She scrubbed her hands with soap, before brushing her to perfectly aligned teeth.

With her mind blank, she shamelessly began checking herself out in the mirror. Seeing her structured frame, and the marks you left behind on her fair skin. Even in her slight tiredness, she sported your markings like a badge — managing to flex her biceps as an accessory to the art you created.

That’s when she heard you — loud and clear.

You were whining and swearing under your breath, with one hands gripping onto the glass wall for support. The heavy stream of the shower head swallowed some of your sounds, but she knows your moans when she hears them.

She perks up, raised her eyebrows and widening her eyes. Just before a smirk began to curl at the edges of her scarred lips. Violet breathed into her hand, checking her breath as she approached the shower door. “Want some company in there?” She inquired knocking lightly on the fogged glass.

You jumped at her voice, and her closer figure in the glass. Removing your hands from inside of you, quickly. You grabbed one of your sponges, lathering it up with soap before you responded. “Y-Yeah, sure.”

The two of you have showered together plenty of times — there was nothing for you to be nervous about. Minus the fact that she might have caught you touching yourself inside of said shower.

Something about that had always been so humiliating. But, equally sexy.

She opened the door, slipping in behind you. As she shut the door, one of her hands slid into the divot of your waist — pulling your back to her front. “Good mornin’, beautiful.” Violet purred in your ear, giving a chaste kiss to the tender place below your earlobe. You automatically leaned into her, soapy hands sealing over the ones placed on your abdomen.

“Morning...” You hummed, trying to ignore the burning feeling of your walls clenching around nothing — yearning for release.

“You’ve been in here for awhile, and you’re just now washing up — is our water bill not coming into consideration?” She raised one of her eyebrows, playfully. Scooting by you to grab her loofa, to behind scrubbing her body. You shuffled back, trying not to slip on the soap bubbles going down the drain.

You snorted, crossing your arms with your soapy loofa still in hand. “I was just washing my hair. It’s better to do that before you wash up, anyway.” You shrugged, lying through your teeth. Violet had spread the liquid soap onto her sponge, immediately rubbing at the skin — spreading the lavender aroma suds over her body. Peeking over her shoulder, subtly.

It was much colder behind her, but the sight was worth it. Her muscular, toned tatted back dripping with soapy water. Her magenta hair darkened by the stream from the shower head — her firm glutes staring you in the face.

“I don’t smell shampoo...” She turned around, exposing the front of her body, while rubbing the loofa over her abdominals. You ogled her with a doe-eyed look, lamely scrubbing your arms with your loofa. She rinsed off her body, keeping firm eye contact with you.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying your hardest to avert your mind. “Need help with that?” She wondered, walking closer to you. Water droplets ran down her cut body, traveling down the valley of her perky breasts, down to her...

You nodded, with a faint needy look in your eye that she was so familiar with.

She traded places with you — her eye contact unmoving. Your heart picked up in your chest, as you got under the heated stream. Violet slowly took the loofa from your fingers, placing a wet hand on your shoulder. Kneading your trapezius, firmly.

“You’re a little tense, y/n.” She voiced, starting at your shoulders. Scrubbing in circles, she covered your body in suds. The heat and gentle massage of her fingers lulling you into a much calmer state. Urging breathy moans to fall from your barely parted lips.

Subconsciously, you poked out your ass towards her — while she washed at your hips. Her distance from where you wanted her was so close. Your mind was doing a lot of the work for her, getting back into its imaginative state.

Violet knew what you were up to, and was only trying to taunt you into telling her or giving in. And you were bound to do either of them. A smirk had groan into her face, as she rubbed at your hips. Her breath ghosting over the skin of the back of your neck. She lightly plotted them against the wetness of you skin, ultimately dropping the loofa to the ground.

Her hands gripped at your waist instead, pulling your ass flush against her front. You gasped, wrapping your fingers around her wrist. One of her hands drifted down your thighs, groping at the fat and muscle of them. “Is this what you were hoping for?” She breathed into your ear, cupping her hand over you.

Your breath hitched, reaching one of your hands up to the back of her neck. “W-What do you mean?”

“You think I couldn’t hear you?” She rubbed her hand up your mons, towards your breast. Her hands gripping at them firmly, playing with your hardened nipples. “What was on your mind... When you were touching yourself.” Vi questioned, sucking on a bruise she’d already curated on your neck.

A moan escaped you, your fingers forming through the shorter pieces of ground hair. Of course, she knew — it’s not like you did that good of a job hiding it. Her hand ran down your body again, but this time pushing past your lips with two fingers — splitting them around your clit achingly.

“Y-You...” You whined, leaning your head back on her shoulder to meet her eyes. Her grey irises were dilated, while her lips were parted.

“And what was I doing?” Vi kept the slow pace, splitting her fingers around your throbbing bundle of nerves. You released a vocal moan, holding onto her neck for balance. The feeling of your inner walls clenching, tightened your lower abdomen — causing your legs to go weak. Her touch absorbing the strength you once harbor with just a simple stroke.

You hiccuped, your other hand gripping her forearm — trying to direct her to go faster. “You— You were fucking me with your f-fingers.” You whined, rolling your hips along her hand and wrist. “Fuck, please, baby.” You begged, fluttering your eyes shut.

Frustrated moans escaped you, as you ground your pelvis on her hand.

“You want me to fuck you, princess? Huh?”

You couldn’t formulate your words correctly, bubbling with desire. Her other hand running up your side, scooping your breast into her hand. All you could do was nod with furrowed eyebrows, grasping at the nape of her neck. “Uh huh.”

Violet removed her hand completely, flipping you around. She laid her lips upon yours, ferociously. Her hands gripped your hips, pressing your against the cold glass shower wall — her thigh pushing between your legs. The briskness that hit your back was nothing compared to the feeling of her hands roaming your body.

You moaned against her mouth, bucking your hips on her strong thigh. She flexed the muscle, causing your cunt to clench around nothing — unfortunately. Her lips trailed away from yours, nipping at your jaw. Your mouth opened into an ‘O’ shape. The steam from the faucet and firm touch of her hands clearing every thought from your mind.

“Vi, I need your fingers.” You moaned, fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of her neck. You heaved, practically begging for her.

“So needy for me...” She breathed into your ear, her hands traveling down between your legs. Despite the water running and dripping down your body — you were sopping wet. Violet taunted your clit, circling the sensitive bud. She delved two fingers into your cunt, curling at a steady pace.

A whine fell from you, breath escaping your lungs. “Fuck, yes — please, Violet!” You gripped at the roots of her hair. One of your legs bending for her to give more access. You rocked your hips against her hand, chasing that orgasm you’ve been dying have.

She pulled back, eyeing you as your hips shuddered. “You’re so fucking hot like this... Dripping — all for me.” Violet growled, nipping at the shell of your ear.

“Mhm.”

You opened your eyes, meeting hers immediately. She released light moan, feeling your walls squeezing at her fingers. “Takin’ me in like the pretty little slut you are... Huh?”

“Y-Yes, Vi...” You wantonly moaned, convulsing under her touch — skin beginning to tingle and be set aflame. Her free hand had gone up to your breasts, tweaking your nipples, pushing you closer and closer.

The water started getting cooler, since it was just running over the pink-haired’s sculpted shoulders. But, you couldn’t have cared less. Her fingers thrusting into you and groping in all the right places was the only thing on your mind.

Gripping into the nape of her neck, the lewd sounds you were producing silenced. That build up reaching its peak. Your cunt gave her one last squeeze, just before you gushed all over her fingers. “Fuck!” You swore, holding on tightly to her firm body. Shaking and shuddering against the glass.

Your body curling, strangled moans escaping your throat into her chest. “That’s right, that’s right — come for me.” She slowly curled her fingers a few more inside of you, before pulling out.

“Shit... Baby....” You whined, running your fingers up into her wet hair again. “S-So good —“ You pushed her lips against yours, lazily kissing her with desire. Violet’s hand pushed against the glass wall, bracing herself. Her hand slid down the side of your body, holding your hiked up leg — then, squeezing your ass. Still sensitive, you yelped against her lips.

Pulling away, her sparkling eyes gazed at you with flushed cheeks. “You hungry?” Violet casually asks, raising a thick eyebrow. Rising from that pit of lust you had just succumbed to, you briefly thought. Yeah, you could eat.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Awesome, I’ll go start some breakfast-“

You cut her off as she’s about to exit the, now freezing, shower. You caught her by a gentle hand cupping her cheek, with puppy dog eyes begging her to stay and get something in return. “You don’t want me to-“

“No, it’s okay. This mornin’ was all about you, babe.” She grabbed the hand on her cheek, pulling to her lips. “I’ll start breakfast, you just finish getting washed up.” Violet stepped out of the shower, grabbing her towel from the hook. She left you inside the shower so simply after putting her pleasure before yours — what a woman.

And you were completely and utterly in love with her.

#arcane imagines #arcane smut #vi arcane #vi arcane league of legends #vi x reader #vi x reader smut #🌼.requests

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peaches-writes · 4 years

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penalty kick

description: maybe you got off on the wrong foot...actually, jisung did actually pushed you off the wrong foot. member: jisung / han genre: fluff, slice of life, coming of age, childhood frenemies / rivals to lovers au, idiots to lovers au, neighbor au, high school au, college au, lil dashes of soccer baseball musician & campus dj au bc jisung ace, female reader, off-season universe (mc from naturally is jeoyeon, mc from tumbles & turns is bora, and mc from off-season is kira hek) word count: 12k warnings: explicit language, alcohol (a tiny mention of underage drinking pls drink responsibly!), mentions of injuries, jisung issa lil dumb & a lil shit but issokay hes an adorable lil shit note: @crscendoforsung so i scraped the witch jisung au (but i’ll come back to it in the future maybe it’s still in my drafts lol) so here is dumbass jisung for now + im away on christmas day so here’s my gift a day in advanced lmao

Age four. Your neighbor and favorite playmate, Han Jisung, pushed you so hard on the swings at your neighbourhood playground that you literally flew out of your plastic curved seat and bruised your knees, elbows, and chin.

Maybe you did had it coming from continuously complaining that he ‘pushed like a sissy’ and even standing up on the swing set just to brag that you can balance all of your body weight on such flimsy material. Maybe your neighbor has always had a secret grudge on you finally enacted through this incident. Either way, the next thing you knew, a wide-eyed Jisung was on your side alternating between calling for adult help, crying over your bruises, and muttering curses he probably heard from his older brother under his breath.

“Shit, shit shit...” He squeaked out frantically in his tiny voice, gently moving you to a sitting position on the stone pavement and dusting the dirt off of your bleeding injuries despite your loud complaints that your entire body was hurting. Looking around your surroundings, his breath then got caught up in his throat at seeing your mother fast-approaching with a mix of furious and worried in her expression. “Auntie! Help!”

Your mother was hovering over you in an instant, examining your bruises with furrowed brows and clenched teeth. “Ah, dear God, what happened here?!” She exclaimed in a scolding tone, piercing gaze darting between your tearful eyes and Jisung’s panicked ones. “Jisung, did you do this?”

“It was an accident auntie!” The boy in question answered immediately as he shook his head nervously and scooted away with his hands up in defense. “It was an accident, I promise!”

However, with your back turned to him then, you naturally had a different impression of the incident as you quickly retorted, “He pushed me, mommy! He pushed me off of the swing!”

Your mother never made any clear indication that she believed you as she simply shook your head and lifted you by your shoulders and knees, carrying you to a nearby bench to treat your wounds.

Angered by your outburst, Jisung reluctantly followed you and your mother to the bench then glared at you until your injuries were cleaned and bandaged. With his arms crossed and a permanent frown bordering a pout on his lips, he stood next to you in his attempt at looking visibly angry for a puny five-year-old while you hissed and whined in pain the entire time.

What’s worse is that his own mother made him apologize by sending him off to the nearest convenience store to buy you apple juice and steamed buns. Because of this, you’ve been mortal enemies, rivals, each other’s designated future potential killer, whatever you want to call it ever since.

Age seven. Han Jisung helped perpetuate a wild rumour that you and the rest of the class’ female population had ‘cooties.’

It’s only natural for boys at this age to gravitate to similar actions, of course. After all, you’ve heard worse from boys in the other classes (read: Hwang Hyunjin crying and demanding to get sent home because a girl kissed him on the cheek on the first day of classes). It’s the fact that Jisung actually seemed to have to believed it for a brief period of time in your first grade, however, that completely threw you off.

He pulled on your braids during the time he sat behind you and kicked your shins while in line for P.E. class to ‘test your anger patience’ that was apparently fueled by cooties and occasionally stole your snacks for actual ‘DNA evidence’ of said cooties among other petty little things. It was nothing short of annoying and the very bane of your existence then.

“Han Jisung cut it out!” You yelled at him one day, hitting him on the shoulder with the curved end of your wooden broom during after-class cleaning time. In this particular incident, the boy managed to swiftly take one of your pigtails out while wiping the windows in an attempt to ‘examine’ the DNA in your hair.

“What?!” He snickered, taking a big step away from you and lifting up the blue scrunchie to examine it for miniscule strands of loose hair. “It’s for research!”

You groaned in annoyance, reaching forward to retrieve the scrunchie with one hand while the other instinctively ran through the messed up half of your hair. “Jisung, give it back, you weirdo!” You scolded through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes when he shakes his head stubbornly and takes another step back from your reach.

“Tell me the secret first!”

“Secret of what?!”

“Do you girls actually have cooties?” He quirked a genuinely suspicious eyebrow at you, raising the scrunchie above your heads after when you proceed lunge forward at him. “Does it actually make you guys this irritable all the time?”

Somehow, the questions struck some kind of nerve in you. You were tired from classes, cleaning, and having to put up with Jisung’s childish antics. Maybe 1st grade girls did have cooties but for tapping into unbridled anger. “I’m going to kill you!” With the broom in your hands and the dust pan you snatched from his in retaliation, you then proceeded on repeatedly hitting Jisung in the forearms and shoulders until he surrendered with his arms protectively over his head and your scrunchie finally within reach.

He also offered to fix your pigtail back for you but given the amount of distrust you already had for him, you simply smacked him one last time and went to the other end of the room to fix your hair.

Age nine. Maturing a little bit through summer camps and classes, you and Jisung redirected all of your energy from physical violence to outsmarting each other in class.

It started in English class when Mrs. Lee introduced the idea of recitations garnering students points and a fancy award at the end of the school year. Coming from the same piano class in the summer prior wherein you and Jisung also competed for your instructor’s attention, the two of you were quick to consider this as another one of your competitions.

You devoted most of your time to studying the lesson from the what’s, who’s, when’s, and where’s while Jisung thought that focusing more on the deeper why’s and how’s would somehow garner him better points no matter how many times Mrs. Lee reiterated that all recitation points are given in 1 point’s.

As the school year progressed, especially after the first semester report cards came out and the two of you were tied to first place in English to the very third decimal, the academic rivalry immediately extended to competing for the most amount of extra-curricular activities. You were more favored with the way you handled baby animals at the local shelter and competed in debates and quiz bees while Jisung was mainly noticed by the soccer and baseball coaches and the school choir’s moderator for his skills in sports and music.

Jisung’s mom, who always picked the two of you up from school in her minivan, obliviously thought it was cute.

“You know, instead of competing over everything all the time, you guys can take some notes from each other.” She pointed out one time after hearing your comment on Jisung ‘smelling like a polluted Pacific Ocean’ as he climbed in the backseat of the car. The sentiment almost went in one ear and came out of the other with the two of you, however, as Jisung proceeded on complaining that you smelled like ‘Cruella de Vil’s fake fur coat’ then hitting you on the head with his soccer ball. “Especially you, Sungie. You can learn a thing or two of keeping a goldfish alive for more than a week from Y/N.”

You laughed at Jisung’s immediate shocked reaction of wide eyes and gaping mouth at this, slapping his arm in amusement and toppling over the backseat in laughter. “Yeah, Sungie, you really need help from that department.” You stuck your tongue out at him teasingly, laughing even more when he groans and hits you back with a light punch to your own arm.

“Stop it.” He hissed at you before turning to his mother again, meeting her gaze through the rear view mirror. “Mom! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Mrs. Han was also stifling her own laughs then, forcing herself to focus on the road ahead instead of checking for her son’s pouting expression and crossed arms through the mirror. “Okay, okay.” She chuckled playfully with a dismissive hand, catching your eye after with a giggle. “Y/N, you should learn how to commit to exercise more with Jisung, then. There? Happy?”

Satisfied, Jisung stuck his tongue out childishly at you as if completely forgetting the fact that he was attacked by his own mother first. “Bleh!”

You rolled your eyes at him with a light-hearted scoff of your own, laughing away the way he proceeded to exaggeratedly tease you. “You’re so childish, Sung.”

When your moms did seriously consider this idea later on, you were then forced to dedicated one weekend to taking each other to your respective extra-curricular activities. It was right before your final examinations and Jisung ended up getting scared over a golden retriever giving birth while you received severe cramps from the elementary soccer team’s rigorous conditioning training.

It was a recipe of disaster, basically, and it ultimately led you and Jisung to cram knowledge for your exams on Sunday night in his bedroom. When you stubbornly didn’t learn anything from going to each other’s favorite extra-curriculars, you unconsciously ended up learning from each other in the six hours you both stayed up trying to review your notes. Miraculously (as in the miracle of hot brewed Milo-induced sugar rushes), it went well and the two of you tied or were close in grades at the second release of report cards.

The only downside of it all was just the fact that the fancy recitation award in your English class that started it all somehow went to Hyunjin.

“Ah, this is so frustrating!” You exclaimed on the ride home from school. You had your report card in your hands like Jisung, looking back on it all the while stressing out about Hyunjin winning the award the two of you spent a whole school year competing for.

On the other side of his mom’s backseats, Jisung then turned to you and suggested, “Want to prank him? We’re playing soccer next week, you can swap his Cola for soy sauce.”

You glanced over at Jisung, your pout slowly turning into a mischievous grin at his raised brows. “You’re onto something...”

Age ten. You went on your first class field trip with a stuffed purple lunch bag of snacks.

Your mother specifically suggested that you share it with Jisung, thinking that the two of you would sit next to each other on the bus since he’s your only classmate she’s actually familiar with. But of course, when Jisung didn’t bring up any hints that he knew of this while waiting for the school bus to arrive, you immediately thought against it and planned out how you were going to hide your seemingly endless supply of snacks from him on the back-and-forth rides to Namsan Tower.

It was a well thought-out plan involving sitting near to the front and as far away from him as possible with your own group of friends then hiding the lunch bag under your seat until you caught Hyunjin not-so-discreetly trying to steal from you while he re-checked attendance after a stop-over.

“Jisung put you up to this, didn’t he?” You frowned, candy successfully retrieved from Hyunjin’s prying hands and popped into your mouth as the lanky boy scratched the back of his head in shame. “It’s okay, Hyunjin, I won’t kill you. It’s Jisung’s corpse I’m planning to roll down Namsan if he’s actually behind this.”

After a few more coaxing, Hyunjin eventually nodded sheepishly and admitted to Jisung convincing him to take a candy bar from you.

“Ya! Hyunjin!” Jisung whined from across the bus, peeking his head up from the identical red seats with balled up fists. “I told you not to rat me out!”

“Y/N was being scary!” Hyunjin argues back, sprinting back to his seat as soon as the the bus stopped at a streetlight. Hiding under the sea of seats, he then exclaimed, “You two take me out of your fights! Geez!”

Jisung pouted at you as soon as you lifted your own head up from your seat and turned around to face him, holding his hands out in front of him and then asking, “Can’t I really have candy?”

You shook your head stubbornly. “If I give you one, everyone’s going to ask me for it too.”

“But everyone’s basically asleep!”

“They could be fake-sleeping for all I know!” You hissed, popping another ball of candy in your mouth. “I don’t trust anyone in this class with food but myself.”

“Y/N!” He whined, only to get pulled down by force when the bus abruptly begins moving again. Scrambling up right after, he then continued pleading, “Please?”

“No.” You firmly concluded, sitting back down on your seat.

Jisung even tried staying behind to try and steal candy off of you while the entire class was piling outside to enter Namsan Tower, only to trip in surprise when you jumped on him from crouching under the seats. Poor boy almost hit his head on the seats in shock.

“I knew you’d pull this kind of shit.” You tsked in disapproval with a slight stutter towards cursing at such an age, smacking him over the head anyway before throwing the smallest piece of chocolate candy you had from your bag. Moving past him to the bus exit, you then added, “You don’t even do nice things for me.”

You only meant it half-heartedly, though. Whether Jisung actually wanted more candy or he did sincerely felt bad over what you said, either way, he paid for the expensive pink lock you and your friend wanted to hang at the very top of the tower later on but only if you promised to share your snacks.

Jisung received three packets of gummy bears and a bottle of banana milk from you in the end on the ride home.

Age twelve. The Hans temporarily moved to Malaysia in the summer before the seventh grade because of an assignment for Jisung’s father at work.

On the day before their flight, Mr. and Mrs. Han organized a farewell party in their house at the other end of the block and invited your entire class. Jisung tricked you into getting him a farewell present by telling you that everyone was planning to do the same thing as a surprise but he secretly found out thing.

He didn’t actually expect you to get him something, not with the way the two of you have always been at each other’s necks since you were kids, but you ended up surprising him in the middle of the lunch party by giving him a small notebook of useful Malaysian phrases you wrote down yourself. You don’t always agree with Jisung but you think of yourself as thoughtful and civil enough to buy something practical. Also, your parents insisted.

“O-Oh, you actually got me something?” He fumbled through an intense blush that matched the redness of his Supreme cap, almost tripping over nothing as you both stood on the steps leading down to the back of his house. It didn’t help that a few classmate passersby were glancing your way as well, either cooing or snickering at the awkward sight in the corner of all the socialization. “L-Like—like, this is actually for me?”

You raised a brow in confusion and reluctantly shrugged, releasing the red phrasebook from your grip as he held onto it by the other end. “Yeah, you said you’re getting presents so I...got you one.”

“I actually lied—“

“What?!” You exclaimed a little too loudly for your taste, earning you a sharp glare from your mother all the way across the backyard. Mouthing a quick apology to your her, you then quickly averted your glare back to Jisung who instinctively resorted to looking at anywhere but you. “But you said—“

“I thought for sure that no one would give me any farewell presents since it’s not a birthday or anything but I know you would if you’re like forced to or something so I thought...hehe...” He mustered up a sheepish grin, pressing his index fingers together in a comical shy gesture. When your glare intensifies, he then immediately held his hands up in defense and visibly winced, “Ya, don’t hit me!”

Every fiber in your being really wanted to hit him with the notebook then, maybe even push him down the stairs while no one was looking, but after a moment of thinking your way out of such violent thoughts, you resorted to exhaling a sigh and saying, “Whatever, just keep the notebook or something. I don’t care. It’s not expensive, anyway.”

You chanted to yourself that you’re mature, especially as Jisung’s eyes lit up and he immediately thanked you for both the gift and sparing his life that day.

Though he didn’t hear the end of the other teasing from Hyunjin after that, Jisung kept the notebook around anyway throughout his entire two-year stay in Malaysia. It was helpful but he’ll never admit that to your face.

“You kept it.” You pointed out one day, more as a statement than a question as you realized that the notebook he was using for exam reviewer notes was in the same color as the phrasebook you gave him. When Jisung came back in the summer before the ninth grade, the two of you met again in the same cram school wherein mostly everyone but you and the transfer student, Kim Seungmin, refused to help him keep up with the heavier than usual workload. “The phrasebook...”

“Yeah—well, I didn’t want to waste any of the pages you didn’t write on.” He pouted stubbornly as he flipped through the older pages to compare the amount of pages you used to the empty sheets. His tone actually sounded like he was convincing himself much more than he was trying with you but you missed it complete in the moment. “Be more eco-friendly, Y/N.”

You simply rolled your eyes at him. “Glad to know I kept you alive in another country somehow, then.”

Age fourteen. You went to a soccer game to see Jisung but only because one of your friends, Eunha, developed a crush on the striker and eventually hatched a plan to confess on the game before Valentine’s Day. Fortunately, Jisung barely noticed and didn’t tease you for it since it’s already an established fact that you’re always at his games with either Yang Jeongin or Seungmin to cheer on Hyunjin instead.

You really didn’t get it. Of course, fifteen was the time when some, if not all, parts of your day were starting to become dedicated to vanity and all the artificial things in life to attract kind of puppy love in school but at this point Jisung always wore the same green hoodie, red Supreme cap, and white ‘Eyez on You’ shirt to every school function that didn’t require wearing a uniform.

You understood how your classmates suddenly began fawning over Hyunjin right after the summer when he got his braces removed and then Seungmin for bringing a suit and tie one time for an inter-school debate but the hype over Jisung suddenly bringing in his guitar to class breaks everyday and re-emerging as a star soccer and baseball player throughout the school year is an absolute mystery to you. That or, maybe compared to your junior high peers, you’re just as used to him at this point than they all are. In your perspective, the only legitimate thing he has going on is how he always seems to beat you in most Arts subjects and how annoying it is that he always makes sure to rub that in your face.

“I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t shower properly right after training.” You shook your head disapprovingly at Eunha during the game. Soccer is an interesting sport for surprisingly bringing you up to stand and cheer at some moments, you’ll give it that, but watching Jisung get cocky and interact to the crowd whenever his team scored a point was somehow cringe-worthy to watch. “And I’m so sure he still doesn’t clean that soccer ball of his right after practice. You deserve better, sis.”

But no matter how much you talked shit about him throughout the entire game, Eunha still held onto the box of handmade candies she coerced you into picking up from Jisung’s favorite candy shop on the weekend prior and cheering him on with the slogan she made herself. It would’ve looked cute and sweet to you if it was some other guy but it’s Jisung—the guy who pushed you off a swing, pulled your hair, stole candy from you, and made all of your elementary after-school rides home an actual rollercoaster—and you would never wish his treatment of you to any other person ever.

“You said that was in elementary, Y/N.” Eunha chuckled softly, nudging your elbow before a sour expression could completely overtake your face. “Surely he’s outgrown that girls have cooties phase every boy had then.”

“No, it’s Jisung and I refuse to believe it.”

You really didn’t want to believe it with your natural instinct to see Jisung as the bane of your existence. What’s worse is that Eunha was right and Jisung shyly accepted the Saturday movie date at the mall that she came up with on the spot when he surprisingly received the candies well, a complete stretch from the Jisung who would’ve lied about being busy or tricked your friend into doing something else altogether. Suddenly, it was selfishly annoying that you’re the only one he actually tortures the life out of.

“Told you.” Eunha giggled throughout the drive back to your house. Your mother picked you up from school right after the soccer game for a sleepover you insisted was a must whether or not your friend scored her Valentine’s Day date. “Ah, I’m glad he accepted. I was a nervous wreck there! You don’t happen to know what kind of movie he likes, do you?”

You never heard the end of it from her for the remainder of the semester. The two were never official—middle school just didn’t have that solid idea of significant others, then—but they did went on numerous ‘dates’ almost every weekend that followed Valentine’s Day. Naturally, Eunha would tell you all about it.

“He’s so sweet and caring and thoughtful!” The girl endlessly gushed out to you so genuinely you would’ve been happy had you not been sincerely expecting a major fuck-up from Jisung. Nothing romantic really did come out of these dates, even Jisung surprisingly swears by it, but they did become really close friends after and as Jisung’s only other female friend at the time, you can clearly see a point of comparison between his different treatment of you. “Though, I’m gonna give it to you that he is annoying sometimes but he does know a lot of good places to hang out around town for someone who’s been away for two years!”

“He does the bare minimum for everything, Eunha. I could barely call it sweet.” You scoffed unamused.

Age sixteen. In the summer after the tenth grade, an upperclassman from school by the name of Lee Minho started volunteering at the same local shelter you’ve been under since elementary after surrendering a lost cat to you while he and Jisung were playing baseball at the nearby park.

He adopted Dori in the end but prior to finalizing the adoption papers, he actually made the effort to come in at your MWF schedule to help around and see the dark grey kitten. To you, it was endearing and thoughtful since you didn’t have much active co-workers at the shelter your age but to Jisung, it was slightly inconveniencing how Minho would cut off their play-time to see the cat. He even thought Minho had a crush on you and vice versa but you knew that Minho liked one of his own closer friends.

“Jeoyeon?” Minho scoffed, crouching down next to you one time as you watched over the new litterbox of kittens eating with Dori on your feet. Crossing his arms over his knees, he shook his head and chuckled, “They’re cool and we’ve been friends for a long time but I’m sure they have a big fat crush on Bang Chan. Something happened after their McDonald’s date after our prom, I’m telling you!”

“No, not Jeoyeon! I meant Bora!” You argued back with a laugh, picking up a white kitten that wanders off to your feet and lifts its body up cutely for a lift. Gingerly pressing the kitten to your shoulder, you then turned to Minho and continued, “The one who came by the other day to see Dori with you. Aren’t you guys rooming together in college?”

Minho clutched his chest dramatically at this, shaking his head with a comical conviction. “What?! How could you accuse me of that, Y/N? Bora’s from a different cheerdance team! That would be like sleeping with the enemy!”

You rolled your eyes, knocking him off of his balance by elbowing his sides. “Ya, I didn’t say that, you did!” You scoffed at him, sighing when he laughs off landing on his butt before sitting up in a crisscross position. “Anyway, don’t you like her?”

“If I don’t like her, we wouldn’t be making all these plans to move in together for college, stupid.” Minho snickered, earning him another elbow jab from you. “Well, what do you want me to say? You asked me if I like her, you didn’t ask me how exactly I like her.”

"Okay then, you wise wise person: how do you like Bora?” You sighed dryly, plopping down on the ground at feeling your ankles starting to ache from crouching. The kitten on your arm then jumped down to your lap, circling your legs a few times before finding a comfortable position to sleep in. “You know, the more you visit here with this kind of sarcasm, the more I’m starting to understand where Seungmin and Jisung are suddenly getting all of their newfound sassiness from.”

Minho chuckled next to you, picking up Dori for himself once he saw him finish eating before hugging the kitten gently to his cheek. “Bora’s...someone I’d probably punch a guy in the team for if they ever disrespect her. I mean, I’d punch a guy for Dahyun, Jeoyeon, and Jihyo, too, of course, but Bora’s in the same sport where she’s always getting lifted in the air and touched by who knows who and now that we won’t be in the same team, I feel even more responsible for keeping an eye out for her.” He shrugged casually, ignoring the way your jaw just dropped at how naturally he explained himself. “Plus, it took a lot of convincing to get her to be my roommate so I can’t really have her dying under my care in the next four years.”

“I—” You furrowed your brows in thought, pursing your lips in a pout. “Wow, I’m jealous.”

“Then get on my good side, Y/N.” Minho winked with a laugh, holding Dori in front of you. “Let me take this baby home at the end of the summer.”

You rolled your eyes again at this, shaking your head. “No, I mean...I hang out with Jeongin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jisung and they aren’t really the most well-versed boys on treating girls properly.”

“That’s why you hang out with me. We all know that Hyunjin just can’t say no to anyone who offers him a slightly more expensive bouquet of flowers, Seungmin’s in a relationship with baseball and academics, and Jisung...Jisung’s just dumb in general.” Minho then pointed out with a somehow knowing tone, smirking when a familiar figure passes by the hallways right behind you. “Speaking of...”

Jisung joined you and Minho after, making sure to sit in between the two of you and drowning himself in as many kittens who wanted to sit on his lap as much as he can. “Dude, you shouldn’t have left early!” He scolded Minho with a pout and a slightly breathless tone from running all the way from the park. “Seungmin joined us today and he completely wiped out Sunwoo’s team!”

“Then even more reasons to come here early so you guys could play with Seungmin on your team.” Minho laughed, gently handing Dori over to you from across Jisung before standing up and dusting the lint off of his jeans. “Y/N needed help with feeding the cats and puppies today, anyway.”

Jisung frowned, turning to you after and asking, “Don’t you have any other co-workers around here?”

“Jeno has allergies so I don’t let him in here on most days.” You shrugged, handing Minho the empty pet bowls nearest to you as he proceeded to clean and collect them. “I can do it myself, you know. It’s just that Minho comes over and insists.”

“Then you should’ve just told him that so we can play longer.”

“Why is it a big deal? Do you like Minho?”

“Do you?” Jisung’s eyes widened, almost getting scratched by a random cat in the process. “Because...because that’d be gross, to be honest...”

At this moment, your eyes accidentally met Minho’s right behind Jisung and the older boy had the audacity to wink at you before sprinting out of the room with a thumbs up above his head.

In the end, you shrugged and answered, “I like him.”

“What?!” Jisung sat up so quickly he almost scared a bunch of kittens walking all over his chest into jumping away.

“I’d be a psychopath if I don’t like him but let him volunteer around here, dumbass.” You deadpanned, moving the kittens around him to a safer space on the floor. “Besides, you asked me if I like him, not how I like him.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Minho had a whole laugh out of eavesdropping from this conversation that he felt bad and actually adjusted his schedule for volunteering and playing soccer better so ‘Jisung would have one less thing to whine about all the time.’

Age seventeen. You and Jisung tried convincing your respective parents that going to prom as a group is the more practical and actually trendy thing to do but your mothers wouldn’t have it. Ultimately, the two of you ended up lying that you’re going as each other’s dates.

You initially planned on begging to Seungmin until he pulled up balloons, roses, and a song number to his lab partner right on the lunch break that you planned on doing it and, of course, you had enough dignity to not fall in line with the countless of students that basically worshipped Hyunjin’s locker as if it were a shrine.

Jisung, with Eunha already set on going with someone else she started dating at the beginning of the 11th grade school year, was the convenient choice. Your parents knew each other, he knows someone (his older brother) who can drive, and he’s recently gotten over his Emo-Hypebeast wardrobe phase after joining the school’s radio club with Chan and Changbin. With some convincing (read: an elaborate PowerPoint Presentation he made you do on the spot during one of your lunch breaks), the two of you decided that you would take all the photos your respective mothers wanted, carpool to the hotel, then go on your separate ways until his brother picks the two of you up at the end of the night.

It was a simple and fool-proof plan, one that you almost forgot when you rented an emerald green and gold prom attire then Jisung’s mother told you right after about hearing her son trying to order a purple callalily boutonniere that clearly did not match your taste nor your colors (you sorted this out by cancelling the order and taking matters into your own hands). Then, the most awkward photo op at your house happened.

“Sungie, put your arm around Y/N!”

“Y/N, stop slouching, you’re going to wrinkle your outfit!”

You were never serious-looking in any photos that had Jisung in it as well, preferring to pose like the two of you planned on murdering each other right after the photos instead, but your respective moms were holding your Instax camera and the family film cameras across the living room in this particular situation and so you reluctantly kept it inside. Straightening up your shoulders and elbowing Jisung to at least wrap an arm over your shoulder, you held up smiles right next to your red rose corsage and boutonniere set until the two women were eventually satisfied with their photos.

“Aah, you two really make a cute couple!”

“Mom, we’re not a couple!” Jisung whined, glaring at you after which you immediately returned with the same expression.

“God, I’d sell all my limbs first before we actually become a couple.” You deadpanned back at him.

Fortunately, Jisung’s older brother allowed the two of you to basically try and throw each other out of the car windows on the thirty-minute ride to the hotel venue in compensation. You almost had him by the neck and he almost ruined your hair that you spent hours curling until Hyunjin pulled you back with a smack to your head and dragged the two of you away to help in the Prom Committee’s final preparations since Jisung was going to perform with Changbin and you were a part of the Prom’s Logistics team.

You mostly stayed out of each other’s hairs for most of the first part of the program as you were busy pulling everything together while Jisung was having the time of his life with the soccer and basebal teams. The next time you bumped into each other, you scolded him for running late to his and Changbin’s set after dinner.

“Where were you?!” You mostly hit him in the back with your clipboard, frantically passing him his already set up electric guitar and a microphone. First, one of your peers got drunk too early in the dinner to help out in the program, then one of the event’s award sashes briefly went missing and, not to mention, a lot of the people from the other committees somehow forgot about their event tasks when you asked in the main groupchat. You really weren’t having anyone’s antics at this point. “Geez, we already practiced this!”

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop hitting me! Why are you so on edge?” Appropriately, he whined in complaint and took a step back after receiving his equipment, holding his hands up in defense as he always does. “Cut me some slack, Y/N! It’s prom!”

“You’re so late when your table is literally right next to the side of the stage!”

“I was dancing with everyone else! You wouldn’t know since you wouldn’t even take a break!”

“Because I’m busy!”

“No, you’re just being more irritable than usual!”

“Fuck you, Han Jisung.” You rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh, coldly directing him to the stage. “You’re on, get on the stage.”

You knew he didn’t mean it cruelly, especially when his pupils started to shake and his shoulders instinctively slumped as he glanced back at you right before reluctantly stepping up the star-filled stage, but you were too tired of having to run around and making the event perfect for most of the night to process anything, much less his usual jabs at you. Being in such a tired headspace, you couldn’t enjoy his songs no matter how undeniably great they were, much less meet his eyes when you knew how he kept glancing at you throughout the entire set.

He even covered your favorite song on the spot (which surprised Changbin and had Hyunjin running around backstage to inform everyone of the sudden extension) but you already sat down on your shared table with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Eunha, and their dates before he could even begin singing the chorus.

“Hey, you good?” Minjung, Eunha’s date, asked you with an offering of an extra shawl to cover your exposed shoulders from the nearby air-conditioning unit. Eunha had previously left to go to the bathroom after stopping by your shared table. “Y/N, I told you if you needed extra help with the program, you could’ve just told us. We just planned on dancing tonight, anyway.”

“I’m good.” You grumbled in a half-lie, resting your chin on your propped up hand tiredly, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ for the shawl as you fought away your tiredness. “I think I’ll just sit the rest of Prom out. Hyunjin can run the program on his own.”

Minjung frowned, sitting down next to you and fixing the loose strands on the haphazard ponytail you managed to pull up in the middle of the program. “Are you sure? Eunha and I can stay with you until you’re feeling better. Besides, the program’s still long, you deserve to enjoy your hard work later at least.”

Stubbornly, you simply scrunched up your nose and shook your head. “I think I’ve had enough of prom for one night. You should go and dance more, though. I’m okay as long as you guys are having fun.”

But equally as headstrong as you are, Minjung got Eunha in on convincing you to agreeing to one dance with them as soon as she came back from the bathroom, reasoning out that, “We can stay in the back and just dance silly! It’s prom!”

The pair proved themselves to be unstoppable in their joint persuasiveness when they got you to stand up and actually join them at the next set, right as Jisung was about to approach you to apologize. The poor boy ended up waiting the entire night until the two of you were alone instead, shivering right next to each other at the lobby while waiting for his brother to pick you two up.

“Why did you even pick out something off-shoulder? I get that it’s trendy these days but you picked the venue knowing it’s cold and didn’t even connect a few dots there.” He hissed lowly, contemplating on teasing you further or keeping it quiet until he can muster up a ‘sorry’ to you. Shrugging off his jacket, he then gently draped it over your shoulder and added, “Don’t catch a cold or something...your mom’s going to kill me.”

“Shut up.” You hissed back, crossing your arms further in over your chest as you spotted his brother’s car approaching the lobby’s driveway. You didn’t remove his coat from your back, though, clutching it tightly instead while convincing yourself that he willingly gave it to you so there’s no reason for you to throw it back at him when you really needed it. “ You don’t even do nice things for me.”

The familiar words visibly caught him off-guard, almost foiling his plan of opening the door for you as he freezes in his steps but he regains composure in time and almost trips ahead to swat your hand away from the car’s door handle. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled in the awkward silence, gulping down his fears of your death glare as he briefly averted his gaze away from you. With this, he missed the way your gaze softened. “There’s candies in the pockets.”

And there was, coincidentally enough the same brand he tried stealing from you on your school field trip.

“These aren’t expired, right?” You chuckled, popping a chocolate in your mouth anyway.

That was enough for Jisung to relax his shoulders and laugh along. “No, promise.” He held a hand up as if he was swearing by his words, easing you into another fit of laughs. “I ran all the way to the convenience store down the block to get you those tonight! I felt really bad...I didn’t mean it.”

He could be sweet if he wanted, you’d give him that.

“I’m sorry too.” You whispered to him at the end of the night, right after scoffing at him for insisting to walk you all the way to your doorstep of course. “I was so stressed with managing everything that I took it out on you.”

Standing awkwardly with you right in front of your house’s front door, the sheepish boy rubbed the nape of his neck and shrugged. “Nah, I think I deserve it. I do annoy you a lot, don’t I?” He chuckled, eyes trained to the ground. “I didn’t even ask you to one dance.”

“Not like you actually had to, we’re no—”

“But you were still technically my date and I don’t want to be a bad prom date, even to you!” He insisted anyway, only then looking up at you. “I’ll make it up to you in the distant future, okay? Reserve me your next dance in the distant future, no matter where it is!”

Before you could even retort, he was already running back to his brother’s car.

Age eighteen and a half. Jisung began dating a girl named Haneul whom he met in one of his general classes and didn’t have one single clue about baseball or soccer. Naturally, his entire friend group was concerned.

Though you’re much civil friends now, you still didn’t really care. Or maybe you didn’t want to out of spite (or a really really weird and displaced feeling of jealousy?), you weren’t sure. You just thought that Jisung can do whatever he wants even when it’s something that’s generally not advisable when you’re a freshman in college, but it seemed as if it was all Jeongin talked to you about whenever the two of you met up to study for one of your shared classes so naturally you forced yourself to take in all of the gossip. What’s worse is that Hyunjin would come over often to loiter around the library and gawk at the cute student librarian, ultimately encouraging the younger boy to talk about it more.

“You’re being unfair to her.” You always reminded the two, sometimes Seungmin when he would sit quietly in the middle of the topic and say nothing to defend Haneul. In this particular time, Jeongin took you to watch the baseball team’s Wednesday scrimmage after hours of studying your nursing notes together at the nearby library. “Like, look, I don’t even do any sports myself but you guys hang out with me.”

“But you’re different, you’re not dating any one of us.” Hyunjin snickered, hugging his helmet to his chest as he sat a step below you on the bleaches. When a thought then crossed his mind, he dramatically gasped over his gloves and added, “Wait, does that mean you have a crush on someone? Is it me?”

You smacked him in the head with your hand, rolling your eyes after. “You know what I mean.”

Next to you, Jeongin mustered up a shrug as he tried getting an injured Kira to sit back down on her seat. Your stubborn best friend, after playing at an underground derby game on the weekend prior, kept on moving around because sitting down with her injuries made her uncomfortable. “But at least you make an effort for us even if it’s just small.” He reasoned out, huffing tiredly when Kira finally sits down and promises not to move for the next five minutes. You would’ve helped him but personally you thought he deserved to suffer alone after letting her go out despite her injuries today. “Haneul got dragged by Jisung to watch last week’s scrimmage and didn’t even last a set. She just left in the middle of the game—literally!”

“He made Jisung skip on my derby game to too!” Kira pouted, waving her bandaged hands frantically in the air. “I’m personally offended, Y/N!”

“And she doesn’t seem to like talking to us in general.” Hyunjin shrugged in conclusion. “Like, sports aside, she’s a bit rude and nonchalant when she talks to us in general especially when Sung isn’t around. It’s a bit sus to me.”

“To be fair, Kira, I wouldn’t be going too if you and Yeji aren’t so insistent on it. It’s so worrying seeing the two of you get hurt.” You pointed out before averting your attention to Jeongin once more. “And Jeongin, you know the only reason I can’t leave baseball and soccer games these days is because you and Seungmin are usually my ride home.” You scoffed. “If I could, I’d be hanging out with Felix more and only going to Kira’s games. Ya, why is he even allowed to skip games and I’m not, anyway?”

“Because he’s taking classes and training with the cheerdance squad until 8 PM and as far as I’m concerned, you’re free after 12 noon like me!” Jeongin simply grinned at you, earning himself a glare. “Also, I need you here with me as the medic team. You know I’ll panic alone!”

Fortunately, no one ever actually gets injured at any of the games regardless if they were formal or not. By the time the game has finished, you were reminding Kira to rest more at her dorms and sprinting out of the baseball field to the samgyeopsal place the team promised to treating dinner at. You completely missed the boys’ conversation on Haneul in the process but you did get free food.

You really didn’t get it. The one time you met Haneul by chance, when you and Felix bumped into the two at the mall near the supermarket, she seemed a bit distant but she could be polite when she wanted to. Of course, it rubbed you the wrong way but you and Felix thought that it was none of your business anyway, given that neither of you are dating her.

“When the guys walked me out of the baseball field last Wednesday, they did mention something about Jisung aiming for the soccer national team but who knows if they’re exaggerating again or something.” Kira confided in you later that week when the two of you met up over lunch. “Either way, I’d understand. If I were in Jisung’s shoes, I’d feel a little disheartened if someone I really like doesn’t appreciate the things I’m passionate about!”

Still, you simply let your friends sort it out for themselves. “Jisung’s a grown-up, he can figure things out on his own at the end of the day.” You reasoned out.

Age eighteen and three-fourths. Jisung asked—practically begged—you to go to the movies with him because he and Haneul broke up the week before his birthday after opening up his worries to her. The other ticket was meant to be a surprise for his ex-girlfriend.

From what Jeongin and Felix have gossiped to you on two separate occasions, Haneul apparently didn’t like you and the rest of Jisung’s immediate friend group no matter how many times the boys tried warming up to her and getting to know her over the summer. She didn’t really support Jisung’s passion for sports, too, and mostly just stuck around for the ‘clout of it all’ or however Felix worded it to you.

“I’d ask Hyunjin but he has a date with that librarian!” Jisung frowned over the phone on the night before the scheduled screening of Weathering with You. Reminiscent of a similar time long ago, he sounded more like he was convincing himself than you. “And Seungmin’s taking care of Kira, Minho and Felix are training, Changbin’s doing God knows what with his finals, Chan has swim training and—and yeah, you know where I’m going with this!”

You sighed, rolling over on your back in your bed after submitting your online work. “You can ask the baseball team, the soccer team, your Introduction to Musical Theory class, the campus radio club, and—and yeah, you also know where I’m going with this.”

“Yeah but—but it’d be weird if I just went with anyone or something!” He mumbled under his breath, pausing on the other line to scratch his head in thought. “Come on, it’s not your midterms week yet, right? Can’t you come over and go to the movies with me?”

“You’ll probably strangle me in the dark or something.” You argued next.

“But it’s free tickets! At least you’re going to die with free tickets!”

“So you are planning to kill me! I knew it!” You snorted dryly, rolling your eyes. “Seriously, don’t you have anyone else to go with? Why me?”

Jisung took in a sharp breath in the longest pause you’ve ever heard from the usually rowdy boy. At that moment, only then did you notice the faint sounds of pre-recorded dialogues for soccer arcade games. He must’ve been at the one near his dorm then as he usually was when he was contemplating on something. “I just—honestly, I’m still processing all of this and I don’t want to open up to the guys...and Eunha’s abroad and I’m not that close to Kira or Bora so I thought of you.”

Now, it was your turn to be speechless.

“It’s silly, I know.” Jisung continued with an awkward laugh when he didn’t hear anything on your end. “But even when you’re annoying sometimes and you always get angry at me because you always misunderstand, you’ve known me the longest and I know you listen well and you’re always open-minded about things so I thought I’d vent to you, if it’s okay...”

You finally released a defeated sigh, sitting up properly on your bed as if he was actually in the same room as you. “God, you’re too good at making me feel guilty.” You mused out loud. “Fine, just text me the place and time and no funny business!”

You met up with Jisung at the nearest shopping center the following night, surprise paper bags of take-out and a mini cake for two to eat at the cinema.

“I’m only going to be nice to you this time because you just got dumped and it’s your birthday later.” You explained as serious as you can to a giggling and blushing Jisung, handing him the take-out paper bags. Once the dinner meals are in his hands, you then take out the blueberry mini cheesecake from its separate paper bag and set up the candle you brought along with it. “Now, make a wish and get it over with.”

Jisung’s eyes widened at the pink candle suddenly being pushed up to his face, distracting him from the passersby cooing and making comments at the two of you. “Really?”

You nodded impatiently, thrusting the cake further up his face. “Yes! Now, blow on your candles or I’ll do it myself and eat the whole thing!”

Jisung wasted no time blowing the single candle and taking the cake from you as well, jumping up and down in place as he closed the lid carefully and returned it to its paper bag. “Thank you!” He exclaimed gleefully, pulling you to a side hug. “Now, I feel a bit better.”

“You better.” You frowned back at him, biting down a small smile when his hug lingered on a second longer. “Now, let’s go or we’ll be late to the screening.”

Fortunately, Jisung didn’t actually tried strangling you in the dark while the movie played since he became busy with eating his dinner and cake as well as crying over the plot.

Age nineteen. Jisung took you to the arcade inside the shopping center after to vent while scoring kicks at the mini soccer game.

“Basically, she said—” Score. “—that she felt annoyed that Hyunjin, Minho, Jeongin, and Seungmin were mostly onto her for ‘seeming off’ whenever they met or interacted.” Another score. Standing outside the protective fence, your gaze darted quickly between Jisung and the small net across the long room. “So I said that’s just how those guys are: they’re very curious of new people and make a lot of effort over it so when they feel that the other person’s energy seems off or doesn’t match theirs in any way, they’d worry.”

You nodded along whenever he glanced over to you, agreeing halfheartedly. “Hm, those guys don’t take bullshit, of course...”

“Yeah, right...” Jisung kicked another ball, barely missing the goal as he thinks of what to say next. “Then she started accusing the guys that they don’t like her because she doesn’t do sports which doesn’t even make sense because I know it’s not superficial like that.” He sighed, scoring again. After this particular kick, he then stopped altogether and turned to you. “The guys just feel off that, as someone I’m dating, she doesn’t make enough effort to watch my games or be familiar with the sports I love. It’s not the same thing.”

“But does she make an effort to listen to your music?” You blurted out of nowhere, surprising not only Jisung but also yourself.

It just occurred you to on the spot. All this talk about Jisung’s passion for sports had you thinking if Haneul also disliked the one other thing that Jisung was absolutely passionate about: his music.

And it seemed to have caught him off-guard as it took the boy longer to contemplate on the question. “I—n-no? No...” He furrowed his brows in thought, walking over to you on his side of the chain link fence. “Come to think of it, she never told me what she thought of the songs I used to send her for feedback...”

You nodded, mumbling under your breath, “So much for defending her from everyone last summer...”

“Hm?”

“Like, I’d get it if your friends don’t immediately warm up to her because that really does happen in some relationships and it can be remedied over time but not appreciating the things you, the person she’s dating, are passionate about is another thing. If she doesn’t like the things you’re passionate about, then maybe she really isn’t the one you should be with.” You shrugged nonchalantly. “She could be all things nice but if she doesn’t support your own ambitions, other things that make you really happy, then everything else doesn’t mean anything.”

When he doesn’t speak, you allow yourself to continue. “Kira told me that you’re aiming for the national team in either baseball or soccer which is a bit surprising since I know you’re already being sought after for your music even at university so clearly those things are very important to you. Having someone around that doesn’t see that importance enough to make efforts is a bit meaningless in the long run, if you think about it. You...you deserve better, it’s what I’m trying to get at.”

Still, he wouldn’t speak after everything you said. Instead, the boy just gaped at you from the fence. It definitely unnerved you as time dragged on longer.

“I let you vent and made my own input on it like you wanted me here to and you just gape?” You tsked through your nervousness, crossing your arms teasingly and leaning over the fence on your side. “Ji, say something.”

“...thank you.” He finally breathed out before you could complain further, catching you off-guard this time. “I needed that.”

“What?”

“This whole thing just made me feel really conflicting feelings.” He confessed, voice lower than usual now as he mirrored your position. “Thank you for listening and telling me what you thought. They definitely made a lot of things clearer.”

You smiled, shoving him slightly through the fence separating the two of you. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it birthday boy?” You teased, laughing even more when he pouted at your teasing tone. “So? Feel better, then?”

“A bit, yeah.” He nodded, grinning widely now. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.”

“You won’t admit it to my face but I know you’d do the same for me if I annoyed you into it enough.” You shrugged, standing up properly now and walking over to the entrance. “Now, would you let me play? You’ve been at it for twenty minutes, it’s getting tiring watching you.”

He laughed at this as you joined him in the arcade space, kicking a soccer ball towards you as soon as you came in through the chain entrance. “What? You think you can do better?”

“I had to watch you all the time after school back then because you were my ride home and Mrs. Han always picked us up late. I’m sure that could amount to something.”

Age nineteen and a half. For a mandatory community service class, all of your friends signed up to volunteer at an orphanage.

The majority vote was actually at the shelter you used to volunteer at but your old neighbourhood was too far from the university you were attending and so the most practical option, the orphanage just two blocks away, was the natural next best thing. And from this one semester’s worth of experience, you definitely learned a lot about your friends.

For one, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin were only popular with kids but only for their looks (additionally, his baking skills for Felix). Whenever you passed by them during volunteer hours, you would often find the three buried underneath a pile of toddlers hitting them with all kinds of toys. Feeling bad, you actually got the orphanage’s matron to assign them to the older kids after a while.

Seungmin and Kira, on the other hand, were so awkward at first but naturally got into the groove of it. Maybe it’s because they only started dating then and everything was flustering but they surprised you the most with how much they got along with almost all of the kids regardless of age.

Then, there was Jisung whom almost all of the younger kids practically fought over to play with at the playground. As if it was an inside joke of some sort, it made you laugh the most how the kids would often ask him to push them at the swings.

“Careful now,” You reminded him once jokingly, elbowing his side as the two of you approached the swing set where the kids were already waiting to get pushed on their respective seats. “don’t want their knees to get scraped or something.”

He simply scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “I won’t let that happen, not at this age.”

“So if I asked you to push me on the swings later, you won’t try and kill me this time?” You asked next, waving hello to the children before going around the swing set to gently push them to momentum. Jisung followed suit, making a beeline to his favorite, a toddler named Ara who always asked to be pushed higher on the swings.

“That’s a trick question because we’re not actually allowed to play here.” He answered matter-of-factly, turning to Ara right after. “Isn’t that right, Ara? Y/N isn’t allowed to play here because she’s an adult, right?”

The two of you would sit on the swing set and take turns pushing each other when the orphanage staff weren’t looking anyway, giggling amongst yourselves while watching the kids migrate to the jungle gym.

“You were so annoying when we were kids!” You mostly complained, letting yourself laugh about it now as it was all in the distant past. “You had the ‘girls had cooties’ phase and everything.”

“Because the boys all said it was true!” Jisung was quick to say in his defense, twisting the chains on his swing around to make himself spin. “And I was seven so of course I’d believe them that easily!”

“What about when you pushed me from the swings?”

“We both know that was an accident.”

“You could’ve secretly held a grudge against me as early as that time! You were so mad when your mom made you buy me snacks!”

“Because you told your mom that I did it on purpose! I thought you hated me even before that too.”

“Well, I never hated you before that, just to set the record straight.” You shook your head immediately, turning your swings to the side to face him briefly. “You? Did you ever hate me?”

“Never.” He shook his head back at you in response, equally serious now. “You were annoying at times but that was because I was kinda annoying to you too.”

“What about now?” You asked next, voice unexpectedly wavering at asking such a question and even more when he chuckled at this.

“You were with me on my what was almost my worst birthday ever just three months ago. What do you think?” He scoffed playfully, returning to his spinning to ease his flustered face. “Besides, we’re like better less-trying to kill each other all the time friends now! We’re even studying together again these days.”

“We both know you’re only at the library since you’ve been trying to wingman Hyunjin with the librarian and dote on Jeongin like he’s your baby.”

“What? No, I’m there for you too! Moral support!”

Age nineteen and three-fourths. Jisung’s older brother invited you along with your parents to his wedding during the Spring break and Jisung immediately jumped on the chance to redeem himself as ‘the best dance partner you ever had.’

You didn’t even think he’d remember something he said himself back then. Personally, you thought it was just his guilt from pissing you off or sleepiness from dancing too much at prom that was talking then. But the moment the dance floor was opened at the rather extravagant cherry blossoms-themed wedding, the best man was by your side within seconds after sprinting from his table across the wedding hall.

“Y/N!” He called to you as he ran to your table shared with all of your friends, your parents, and a few people from your childhood neighbourhood; his obnoxiously loud voice against the jazz music and his hand raised up above his head to wave at you catching a few guests’ attention. “Y/N!”

Felix was about to ask you to dance after Seungmin and Kira as well as Hyunjin and Jeongin paired up, your hand already up in the air to accept his, but Jisung was quick to swat your hand away from the other boy as soon as he arrived. “Sorry, Lix, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal Y/N away!” He dramatically interrupted in between tired pants, flashing the confused Felix with a sheepish grin. “I owe Y/N a very important dance!”

“What dance?” You raised a brow, bringing your hand away from his and back to your lap.

“The one—t-the one I promised you that night a-at prom.” He sighed, finally catching his breath after. “I promised you then, remember?”

From the corner of your eye, Felix’s eyes lightened up in excitement as he clasped his hands together and cooed. “Aww!” He giggled, making you and Jisung turn to him after. “If that’s the case, then why should I stop you two? I’ll just see if Chan or Changbin aren’t dancing yet!”

“But Lix!”

The other boy’s quick to wave his hands to you snappily, shaking his head. “No buts, Y/N! You two go and do that cute promised dance thing you have going on! I’ll be fine!” He assured, much to your protests. “I knew something was going on!”

“Nothing’s going o—“

“Thanks, Lix! I owe you, dude.” Jisung pats Felix’s shoulder appreciatively, turning to you after and taking your hand once more to pull you up into a stand. “Now, come on! My brother said he has my songs on queue!”

He whisked you away before you could protest further, taking you to the dance floor just as the music slows down to his own song. “Right on time!” He even exclaimed happily before placing his other hand on your waist. You’ve heard this one before as the one he would always sing at the Open Mic Nights at university. “Now, to make it up to you...”

Jisung didn’t dance so bad. He was still playful, making it a game between the two of you on who can step on the other’s feet the most when the next songs became more upbeat, but he was serious when he wanted to, sheepishly apologizing that it took him long to make it up to you.

“I didn’t even remember it until you brought it up tonight.” You assured with a laugh as the song slowed down once more. Without even realizing it, you’ve danced all of the songs in the two-hour setlist with him. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Well, it is to me.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he can, visibly looking nervous towards the end. When you quietly asked him why, his only response was, “Because that night I really realized that even when I liked annoying you, I don’t like pissing you off so much to the point that you hate me.”

And at that moment you realized that Jisung has some way of catching you off-guard so randomly. “W-What? I mean—” You wanted to joke something along the lines of ‘wow, took you long enough,’ but the words ultimately never came out as Jisung chuckled at your baffled expression.

“I mean, trying to piss each other off, joking around, competing over studies—those are our things.” He confessed sincerely, unconsciously tightening his grip on your hand as the song progressed. “But I said something that night thinking of it as a joke and not really considering the thought that it would piss you off so much because you were so stressed already. I didn’t like pushing you on edge like that—”

“You already apologized and everything, it’s all g—”

“—But most importantly, I really wanted to dance with you then, regardless of the incident.” He breathed out before you could even finish your thought, rendering you speechless for the second time. “Maybe I’ve always liked you then, maybe even before that; either way, I really wanted to have one moment where we weren’t fighting or anything—and, surprisingly, even when we’ve started hanging out better, I still want one. I still like you.”

You immediately stopped dancing, bumping shoulders with a stranger behind you which Jisung instinctively responded to by pulling your frozen form to the side of the dance floor. You pursed your lips once to speak, only managing to fumble out, “Y-You...you liked me?”

“I said I like you. Present tense.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, hands dropping to his sides immediately at sensing how tense and awkward the atmosphere suddenly became. “And I like you the way Seungmin dotes on Kira and Minho’s always protective of Bora and Jeoyeon’s been helplessly pining over Chan, those kinds in case you’re going to pull that how exactly do I like you bullshit you learned from Minho before again.”

“I—r-really?” Was your only response as you tried your best to process this revelation. “You like me? W-Why—why me?”

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yes, Y/N, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” He teased as casually as he could muster with his growing nervousness. “And why you? I don’t know, either, but I think I can start remembering as far back as the time you teased me at the playground that I push like a sissy but didn’t look for another playmate anyway. I’ve always liked you...just a little bit more now that I’m much more sure of a lot of things.”

It was all so overwhelming, honestly, but you belatedly muster up a laugh as he recalled such a distant memory from you. “Y-You...God, Han Jisung, you’re insufferable!” You mumbled under your breath, hitting him by his arm with one hand while the other covered your mouth. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“So, does that mean you like me too?”

“I let you dance with me the entire night. What do you think?” You scoffed playfully, gaze softening as you looked up at his relieved smile and bright eyes. “You did push like a sissy at the playground when we were kids, though.”

Age twenty. When Minho bought his roommate flowers to their last cheerdance competition and asked her to be his girlfriend, Hyunjin dared you to one-up the upperclassman and wear Jisung’s jersey to his own final game of the year.

“Well, you did give him that talk over dating someone who appreciates the things he loves.” Eunha told you over video call with the rest of your friend group on the day Hyunjin brought up the idea. Before you could even protest and repeatedly assure that you do support everything Jisung does, she was quick to add, “Yeah, I know you do appreciate them but I just think it’s fitting now! He’s been making a lot of effort for you lately and didn’t you say you wanted to do something in return? Maybe you can finally ask him what you’ve been wanting to ask for a while now too...”

You hated how she was right and very convincing about it. Since the wedding earlier in the year, Jisung has been nothing short of nicer to you. From actually hanging out with you at the library now (and not just to wingman Hyunjin or dote on Jeongin), buying you food randomly, to letting you vent your own worries and unwind from school by playing soccer with you or playing you music with his guitar, he’s been ‘making it up to you’ with quality time and sweet gestures; the only catch is that he hasn’t officially asked you out like he would.

The two of you aren’t exactly the direct words type of people but it’s still nice to have some sort of affirmation.

With a few more coaxing on her part combined with Seungmin’s own persuasiveness nagging at you in real time, your friends eventually got Jeongin to steal one of Jisung’s spare soccer jerseys later that day to give to you for his game on the following Saturday.

To say that Jisung was flustered is an understatement to say the least. Quickly catching you at the very front of the bleachers before the game started, he waved at you and the rest of your cheering friend group shyly, approaching only when the coach gave him permission to.

“Hey, that’s mine.” He snickered with even more sheepishness at seeing you up close, holding the jersey he wears by its shoulders before gesturing to the identical one you wear. The two of you stand by the stairs leading down to the field, on the side where you aren’t in the way of passing players and staff. “The jersey—maybe the one wearing it too.”

You held up the bouquet of daisies in your hands close to your face, effectively hiding the heat rising up to your neck. “I bought your favorite flowers too.” You pointed out next before gesturing to your friends sitting around you. “Those smartasses dared me to outdo Minho’s stunt at the cheerdance competition which I still think is dumb since you were in on that one but, hey, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”

“Just seeing you is already enough.” He added with a flirty wink, making you cringe teasingly. “The jersey’s a really big bonus, though. I think I can score everything on this one because of you.”

“You better or else this jerseys’ going to be mine now.”

“I don’t mind.” He shook his head immediately, pulling you closer by the waist in his now ritual good luck hug from you and placing the flowers back on your sides. “I don’t mind calling you mine too.”

The cheesy pick-up line makes the two of you laugh. Either way, you push yourself to not let go of him too soon. “...ew, Jisung!” You hit his back instead, heaving a sigh of relief anyway before finally pulling away from his hug to send him off. That’s enough confirmation now. “Now, go win this game and get it over with. We’re still on for movies later, right?”

“Yep.” He assured, patting your head affectionately before boldly leaning closer again for a kiss. “I’m looking forward to it!”

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kyun-toast · 4 years

Text

[MONSTA X] Changkyun - Run With Me

word count: 1.1k warnings: none a little note: I was so excited when Changkyun covered “도망가자 Run with Me” by Sunwoojunga which is a song that I hold so close to my heart. It was posted on Monsta X café with the caption translating something roughly to “grab you and run”. Everybody should go and listen to the full song; it’s written so beautifully! As much as I think that he had covered the song to comfort Monbebe that may be going through some tough times, I felt that he might be needing that comfort just as much as we do. Soon after he posted the song, I read his interview with Vogue (Feb 2021) and it solidified those thoughts. As much as he and Monsta X as a whole have achieved so far, I want to be able to tell him that he’s done so well, that it’s okay to rest, to take his time, and that we’ll always be there for him. Even if it’s through me writing about it in a fictional universe lol. *I also included a translation of a line from one of my favourite poems “낮은 곳으로” by Lee Jungha in this, please give it a read too! I can’t describe the love I have for both the poem and song mentioned. I’m not entirely sure if there’s an English translation for it but if not, I’d be more than happy to translate it the best I can just message me! Wow I’m really baring my soul out on the internet like this.

song translation

Changkyun had left you a message, letting you know that he’d be back home late from the studio. With promotions and Kyun just being so committed to his own music, you rarely got to see him anymore. You would feel him rest his body against yours as he collapsed into bed while you slept, and then wake up to find only his perfume left on the pillows in the morning. But even those brief moments where he’d find your hand within the sheets to hold at dawn, you treasured.

With the weekend ahead of you, you decided to stay up to see him when he got back. You settled into the sofa with a cup of tea and a book of poetry that you had found lying around on Changkyun’s bedside table. Poetry wasn’t your go-to for leisurely reading, but you were curious to see if you could get a glance into the extraordinary mind of Im Changkyun through it. With a pot of tea on the coffee table, a thick blanket across your lap, and the soft glow of a lamp illuminating your book, you were more than ready to navigate through the long night with poet Lee Jungha.

The soft bleeps of the keypad lock stirred you awake from the sleep you had unknowingly fallen into, and in your excitement, you clumsily got up to greet Changkyun. He entered into the living room, eyes covered by his long hair, dragging his feet along the floor. You could tell by his slumped shoulders that the day had not been so gentle on him. There you stood with a little ache in your heart and a wistful smile on your face, while Changkyun crashed into your body, toppling you back over onto the sofa. Hand curled around the back of your head, and the other around your waist, he nestled his face into your neck and let out a heavy sigh.

“Bad day, baby?” You asked. He replied with a little nod into your neck as you brought a hand up to stroke his hair.

“Can you look at me? I haven’t seen you all week.” This time, he shook his head.

“Okay, not yet.” You continued to stroke his hair as he breathed in your familiar scent, comforting him. There had been many trials and errors in working out your relationship with Changkyun. He had his own way of showing affection or processing his thoughts and feelings and all you knew now is that you just had to give him space. And when you did, he’d come back to return the love and understanding in multitudes.

Though the most important thing during these times was his return, it still bothered you a little that he wouldn’t share what he was thinking while he was gone in his own headspace. You had usually found comfort in exchanging the ins and outs of the deepest of your mind, but it was different with Changkyun. Though he had opened up a lot more since the two of you started seeing each other, there were times like this that just defeated you. Often, you would doubt yourself, wondering if it was something about you that stopped him from breaking down those walls between you. But it was those firm squeezes he gave your hand, silent but sure kisses on your forehead, and loving gaze in his eyes that assured you otherwise.

You both lay tangled on the sofa for a while. Changkyun comforted himself in listening to your pulse, so steady in comparison to the mess that had become of his mind, but you could still sense that he had yet so much to unravel. Seeing him like this teared you heart apart.

“Changkyun. Let’s go.” You said gently. So out of the blue, he stirred to look up at you.

"Let’s go now. I want to show you something.” He sat up as you got up to grab your jacket and keys.

“I know the perfect place.” You finalised, smiling.

Hand on the wheel of your car, you drove without even thinking as this route was so familiar to you. Changkyun sat by in the passenger, looking at the coloured lights of Seoul city passing by the window. The cool night air washed through your loose hair as you both sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the music, hands still held tight until you reached your secret destination.

Leading your boyfriend by his hand, you led him to the secluded beach. By the time you had arrived, it was well into dawn; sun just about to rise above the horizon, birds ready to start their days.

You lay next to each other; your hand still held onto Changkyun’s while the other ran through the soft sand. He looked at you with a soft smile on his face and you could feel that little something in his chest unfurl ever so tentatively.

Having been walled in by the skyscrapers of Seoul, you or Changkyun had never had many chances to look up at the sky in its grand entirety. Coming to the beach had not opened up your horizons to an unobstructed sky but it had also lifted something heavy off of his chest, allowing him to drink in the wild air.

“Hey, look.” You tore your eyes away from his, pointing at the sky. The sun had started to peer over the ocean, sending the deepest hues of pinks and purples to paint the morning sky – a watercolour dream. This was your favourite time of day, when the colours of the sky tints bright whites a soft purple grey, and deep blacks an earthy navy. Nothing is ever as harsh as it seems.

By the time the colours had faded only to leave some golden pink streaks within the porcelain blue, you were both grinning like idiots over what felt like nothing. Hands still held tight in the sand, you turned your heads to face each other and smile.

“Thank you.” He finally breathed out. “Thank you for showing me.”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief in how he was finally at ease.

“I’ll always be willing to run away with you Changkyun, remember that.” As you both turned to look back at the sky, a short passage from Kyun’s book you had read earlier came to mind.

잠겨 죽어도 좋으니 너는 물처럼 내게 밀려오라

Come to me, like the swiftness of water, and I will die happy submerged in your waves.

With each day you spent with Changkyun, he bared more of his soul to you yet there was still so much you had to learn about him. But that was okay because you had all the sunrises in the world.

“Let’s go home”

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justcourttee · 4 years

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im not sure if youre taking asks but here goes: platonic jasonette, bc there isnt enough sibling jasonette in the world

We stan sibling Jasonette. It is literally my life as much as Daminette. Hope you like it! @sixtyeightdays

A Brother’s Love

If a year ago you had told Jason Todd that he would be smushed flat against the wall of a small coffee shop in Paris, France spying on his favorite designer’s first date, he would’ve laughed in your face. After all, nobody knew MDC’s secret identity and even if his jerk siblings found out, they wouldn't tell him anyway, just to torture him.

Yet somehow, he found himself in this exact situation, his anger rising with each passing minute that her date was late. He watched as Marinette picked up her phone for the hundredth time to check the time, check her messages, and sigh as she placed it face down once more, defeated. Part of him wanted to storm over to her table, scoop her up in the tightest hug and take her out for two scoops of ice cream from the best creamery in Paris.

But alas, if he even moved an inch, she would spot him and he’d never hear the end of him being an overprotective ass. The sound of her phone ringing caught his attention as he watched her fumble to try and answer.

“Hi! Yes, I’m at the coffee shop. - Have I been waiting long? No, no, not at all.”

Jason rolled his eyes. She was too kind for her own good. It was how she got into the Lila debacle. It was how she let her classmates walk all over her for too many years. It was why she was letting this Adrien kid treat her as a second rate now.

“The Louvre? I mean I guess I can close out here and meet you there.” There was a pause as her head dropped in disappointment.

Jason felt his blood boiling. Not only did this punk leave her waiting here for forty minutes without a signal message or call, but when he does decide to let her know he’s running late, he insists she comes to him? Jason didn’t care how well protected the model was, one way or another he deserved a black eye courtesy of Jason’s right fist.

He waited for Marinette to finish gathering her stuff. She laid a note onto the table, not bothering to ask for change, she never did, and exited the door, her face heavy. Laying a note of his own down, he raced after her, careful to keep a few hundred feet between them.

Jason felt as though he was beginning to break a sweat as he tried to keep up with her pace. As she turned down an alleyway, Jason broke into a sprint, trying not to lose her. As he turned the corner, a hand shot out toward his jacket, slamming him into the wall.

“I thought I told you my first date was off-limits.”

“Hi princess,” his voice was breathless as he tried to keep the pain from seeping in. “Just thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him before letting go, allowing him to readjust his jacket.

“Besides, doesn’t seem like much of a date. I haven’t seen the punk once.”

Her eyes seemed to blaze as they cut into his. Jason raised his hands in defense, but he refused to apologize. They seemed to be locked into a staredown, both standing in the alley, arms crossed, neither budging in their positions.

“He’s not a punk Jason, he just was running late on his photoshoot. They just finished up at the Louvre which is where he invited me to. We’re gonna walk the museum and try to find Andrè’s ice cream afterward.”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact, so confident that he wanted to believe her, but her eyes were broken. They seemed so tired as if she almost expected to be stood up at this point.

“Mari, I’ve been here a year now. This is the twelfth first date you and Adrien have attempted. Every month he gets your hopes up and every month something always comes up last minute. How do you know he really is at the Louvre?”

Her arms dropped as her hands curled into fists. Jason knew he hit a sensitive topic, but he couldn’t watch her break her own heart. Not again.

“He’ll be there. Now leave Jason, this doesn’t concern you.”

She turned on her heel, exiting the alleyway without another word.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jason huffed as he landed on the nearest roof with a view to the courtyard. Following on foot grew too hard as Marinette constantly kept looking back, checking to see if he was still there. Besides, she said it didn’t concern Jason but she said nothing about Red Hood.

He tapped the side of his helmet, enhancing the zoom, silently thanking Barbara a million times over. The courtyard was empty besides Marinette and a blonde boy sitting on a bench, neither looking particularly happy.

“Don’t fail me now helmet.”

Jason hesitantly reached up to tap the newest installment Barbara had insisted on; audio enhancement.

“-it’s just ridiculous Adrien! You can’t sit under her thumb forever!”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Marinette.

“Lila will turn my father on me Marinette, you have to understand. I really do like you and I would love to date you, but it’s a choice between you and freedom.”

For the third time that night, Jason felt his blood pressure rise from this punk kid. Before he realized what he was doing, the rush of air filled his ears as his grapple strained under the weight of him. His landing was rough as he tumbled less than ten feet from the bench, rolling to a stop right in front of the couple.

As he struggled to his feet, his eyes met Marinette’s. They were a mixture of anger and tears, fueling his rage.

“You.” His voice was menacing, all of his anger directed to the blonde sitting in front of him.

“Me?” Adrien seemed to shrink in on himself, his eyes widening as he took in the hero in front of him.

“You are a literal piece of scum. Do you understand what you’re losing here?”

“Hood, don’t-” Marinette tried to reach out, her voice begging, but he simply shrugged her off, grasping Adrien by the neck of his shirt.

“Marinette is an amazing girl. She’s absolutely brilliant, I mean have you seen her grades? They freaking fly off the charts. If you all had a GPA system, she would knock all of you out of the ballpark with no chance of recovery. Marinette is so talented. Her designs have so much potential to run an empire in the future. She already has multiple big-name clients and I know she’ll only expand from there.”

Adrien tried to object, but Jason didn’t give him the chance. His grip tightened as he lifted Adrien from the bench, his tiptoes barely scraping the courtyard stones.

“Marinette is daring, courageous, compassionate, and way too caring for her own good. None of you deserve her. Paris doesn’t deserve her.”

He felt two small hands wrap around his arm, attempting to pull him off of the boy but to no avail.

“Marinette do something! Tell your friend to stand down.”

Adrien struggled under the man’s grasp, his wild eyes begging the girl.

“You little punk, face me yourself. After tonight, you don’t have Marinette to hide behind anymore. If I even see you in a twenty-foot radius of her, you’re dead. Got it, kid?”

He dropped the blonde, watching as he stumbled backward before taking off into a sprint, never looking back.

Jason wanted to chase after him, finish teaching him a lesson, but the sound of soft sniffles from behind him required his immediate attention. His arms automatically pulled her into his chest, the sniffles muffled by his suit.

“Don’t worry Marinette, he’s never gonna hurt you again.”

She didn’t answer him as her sniffles slowly died out, her arms tightening around Jason’s waist.

“C’mon.” He slowly pulled back using his gloved hand to wipe a stray tear from her face. “Let’s go get some ice cream.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jason accepted his cone from André, attempting to hand the man a tip, but he simply blocked Jason, shaking his hand.

“Anything for Marinette. I could feel her broken heart before she even arrived. A girl like her doesn’t deserve to be so broken.”

Jason sighed in agreement as he returned to the bench she sat on, handing her one of the cones.

“Thanks, Jason. I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I just really wanted to believe that Adrien would come through. That our love could outweigh any obstacle this world throws at us.”

“Princess, did I ever tell you the reason I came to Paris in the first place?”

Marinette shook her head as she took a timid bite from her cone.

“My brother’s had a competition with each other to see who could discover the identity of my favorite designer, MDC. It took a couple months, but low and behold, August 16th comes around and my youngest brother handed me a wrapped folder that contained a plane ticket for Paris and your parent’s address. He said it was my birthday gift and it was scheduled to leave in the morning.”

“You came all the way to Paris, from Gotham City, to meet me?”

Jason nodded, taking a bite from his cone as well, throwing an arm over Marinette's shoulders.

“I was never expecting a small child of only seventeen years to be my all-time favorite person in the world. I mean your leather jackets can hold through a lot of trauma, trust me, Roy and I tried.”

Marinette giggled, her face slowly relaxing into one of peace.

“If Adrien can’t see how amazing you are, amazing enough for some guy to fly half-way across the world to meet you, then I’m sorry but I don’t think he really loves you.”

“Did you mean every word you said to Adrien?”

Jason looked over at the smaller girl, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Every last one.”

Marinette nodded, a small ‘cool’ barely audible escaping from her lips. They sat in silence for a few moments before Marinette spoke again.

“I’m over Adrien Agreste. For good this time.”

“Finally.” Jason pumped his fist in the air earning another giggle from her.

As they finished up their cones, Jason helped her to her feet, a sly smile crossing his face.

“You know, you graduate in a couple months. Maybe you can come back to Gotham with me, meet my other family. I’m sure they’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Maybe I can meet that little brother of yours. After all, anyone who can figure out my well-guarded secret sounds like a very intelligent person.”

Jason laughed, his mind tracing back to the image of Damian with a pot stuck on his head after pissing off Dick’s former teammate Raven.

“I don’t know about intelligence, but I would say he’s extremely devoted to the people he cares for.”

Marinette saw the wheels turning in Jason’s head as she tried to form a no before he could blurt out what she thought he was thinking.

“You two would be so great together! Oh God, I sound like circus boy. Anyways, it’s settled. As your honorary brother and full-time wingman, I am setting you up with Damian Wayne.”

Jason dipped down, snatched her phone off the bench, and took off in a sprint.

“Jason! JasoN I DON’T HAVE INTERNATIONAL DATA!”

The streets filled with the sounds of their laughter as both took off into the night, a bright future lying ahead, neither looking back on the events of the night.

After all, ice cream mends most broken hearts, but nothing fixes you quite like a brother’s love.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07

#maribat #jasonette #batfam

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hallowed-be-thy-username · 3 years

Text

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and… the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert, porn with plot, longfic

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: angst!, threats, intimidation

Word count: 4,334

Author’s note: Oh my god, ok, I was stricken with a particularly persistent case of writer's block but I'm finally back! Here we are with part thirteen!! It took me SO long, as you can see 🙈, but I'm super excited for this chapter (even though I say that about every chapter, it's true!) and I'm sorry it isn't a bit longer! But we've got loads of plot development and dialogue, I hope you enjoy it! This one's smut free for now, but don't worry, it'll be back very soon 🔥

Please read the warning above and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! Comments and reblogs always appreciated ❤️

Musical Inspiration: Something In The Way by Nirvana

- Part Thirteen -

Sleep should have been the last thing on your mind as you followed Joker out into the warehouse, but your fatigue was starting to grow stronger than your anxiety by now. You actually had no idea what time it was, but it was late enough that exhaustion was beginning to set in behind your eyes. Or was that just from the wild range of emotions you’d experienced in only one day?

You worked on taking steady breaths while you carefully stepped behind him and watched the bottom of his coat sway around his calves to keep yourself from looking at the handful of men standing nearby. Because they were looking at you, you didn’t need to lift your gaze to know that.

Embarrassment heated your cheeks when you arrived at a table with a few folding chairs around it and looked across the table to lock eyes with the man who’d guarded the office door earlier. He stared back for only a second before averting his eyes and rounding the table to pull a chair out for you, making your face burn even hotter. It almost felt as though you were being treated like one of those posh wives that often accompanied many of your wealthy clients, so superior and self-important. The contrast was ironic, funny really. Instead of a ritzy downtown Gotham restaurant, you were in an abandoned warehouse covered in graffiti. And in place of an affluent husband dressed in a pristine suit, you sat next to the Joker, his distinctive purple coat falling open across his lap as he leaned back in his chair, showing where he’d missed a button on his green vest.

The comparison made your throat go dry and you almost choked when you swallowed against it. You had to get out of your own head if you wanted to get through whatever was about to happen without humiliating yourself further.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

Joker’s voice snapped you to attention and not a moment after his statement, a man with black hair slicked back against his head and a pointed nose was lead into the room. Your stomach dropped when you noticed what he was wearing. Black tie, white shirt, navy jacket with silver buttons and a shiny police badge over the left pocket.

The heat drained from your face and all of a sudden you felt compelled to run but you couldn’t move. Instead, you stayed firmly planted in your seat, failing to hide the terror in your face while they sat the man down in a chair across from Joker.

He sighed and licked his lips, lacing his fingers together to rest across his stomach before finally speaking. “What kept you so long, Thomas?”

You noticed the man was trembling slightly and starting to sweat, raising the feeling of dread into your throat before he answered, “I-I got news, boss.”

The cold sinking feeling that had fallen over you suddenly dissolved. You were preparing yourself for what he was about to do to this unfortunate police officer, but it seemed that things were more than they appeared, as you’d learned they often are with him.

“Do you? Well then, do tell,” Joker replied in a mocking tone, looking down at the knife from his pocket he’d begun to toy with.

The man, whose name was apparently Thomas, fought hard to swallow before speaking again. “Dent saw the name a-and started askin’ questions. He was gonna shoot me but the Batman-”

Joker’s eyes flashed up from the knife and Thomas froze in place. His mention of Batman instantly raised the tension level in the room, and you found yourself gripping the seat of your chair.

Keeping the knife in his hand, he leaned over the table and growled, “But the Batman wha-t?”

Thomas forced shaky breaths in and out through his nose, keeping his eyes on Joker’s with his jaw clenched tightly. “He… he stopped ‘im,” he managed to utter without his teeth chattering.

“My hero,” Joker answered derisively before leaning back into his seat.

You let the breath you’d been holding out from between your lips while the man in uniform, his forehead now beaded with sweat, blinked and tried to catch his own breath. Joker must enjoy the power he held over people. Inducing so much fear and anxiety by just looking at them. Your heart fluttered when you thought about the thrill it gave you. It was like you’d had been trained to feel more than fear. He stirred up such a complex arousal within you that was hard to explain, even to yourself. Was it because he made you tremble with pleasure and not with pain?

Then your thoughts were interrupted when Joker spoke again, “Now is there more to this little story of yours, Schiff, or have you wasted my very precious time?”

He kept his dull gaze on Thomas, blinking at him, seemingly bored by the whole situation while the man struggled to speak again, his pursed lips quivering. After his tongue slipped out of this mouth to lick the forked scar on his lip, Joker shifted to stand up and Thomas flinched before blurting out, “He’s turnin’ himself in!”

Joker whipped his head back around to stare at the now visibly shaking man with a new fire in his eyes and you stiffened in your chair. There was that thrill again. Your stomach churned a little as a new thought entered your mind. Yes, he enjoyed the power he held over people, and so did you. The way people would freeze, and their eyes widened. The menace that surrounded him came from so much more than a purple suit and smeared greasepaint. He was becoming some obscure figure or representation of fear. His name had been uttered by almost every citizen in Gotham, spoken with an undertone like it left a bitter taste on their tongues, and it wasn’t even his real name. But to the city of Gotham, it was his real name.

“T-…Tomorrow,” Thomas managed to stammer as Joker’s shadow cast over his face.

He approached him and leaned in close, his towering frame hunched forward at his waist. “Wanted to save the, uh, head-line for last, did ya?”

Thomas’s face grew paler, and he vigorously shook his head as Joker licked his lips with a loud smack before continuing, “My time is precious, Schiff, and it’s a terrible thing to waste.”

You took quick breaths in and out through your nose, the air almost burning the back of your throat, like gasoline. It was him. His scent reached your mind and turned your thoughts to how it felt to have him close, as if the smell of him was enough to absorb you. The shirt. Your eyes glanced down at the blue diamond patterned button-up that covered your body and goosebumps suddenly tickled your skin.

“Now. Before any more of it slips away, why don’t you go with these nice gentlemen so they can collect some de-tails from ya, hm?” he said with faux repose before patting Schiff on the cheek.

Two men that you hadn’t noticed approach made you flinch when they appeared behind the man before each took hold of one of his arms to stand him up from the chair. His gaze finally broke away from Joker’s face to scan over the men, making a soft sound, like a whimper, as they silently escorted him out through the side door.

It slammed and you felt like you’d just been dropped into your chair from where you’d been floating somewhere above it, blinking your eyes as if to clear fog from your vision. The warmth of arousal swiftly faded and the uneasy feeling of eyes on you began to crawl up your back. The room was eerily quiet now and you couldn’t seem to dare yourself to move, you just stared ahead into the darkness on the other end of the warehouse.

Then you nearly jumped out of your chair and gasped when you felt hands rest on your shoulders. “What’s the matter, doll face? Afraid of cops, hm?”

So much for getting out of your own head. Your face heated up once again and you fought against the cascade of nervous impulses trying to take you over before turning your head to see Joker’s gloved hand on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered relentlessly, as if trying to flee from your chest every time you saw him.

“Mm well, no need to worry. Thomasover there works for me.”

It was strange, the contrast between the way he spoke to that man and how he spoke to you. It was hard not to read into it. Part of you knew it was because he wanted something from you, but you couldn’t stop the little rising feeling that maybe you meant something to him. Why would you want that from a man like him? Had you been corrupted that much? The whole thing was enough to make your head spin all over again. But you took a deep breath before your thoughts could consume you and finally lifted your gaze to look at him.

He gazed back at you with heavy eyelids and your heart rose up into your throat, your lips parting as you blinked at him. This was all on purpose. Giving them a show, bringing you out here wearing one of his shirts, making sure they could see you. It should have made you upset, the way he paraded you around, but it made you feel something else. Tingles traveled up your neck and through your burning cheeks as a sense of gratification bloomed in your chest. You were his and he wanted them to know that. Maybe you wanted them to know it too. You wanted them to know that you were his… that you’d slept with Gotham’s most dangerous man.

A small smile appeared on your face, the air carrying the smell of greasepaint and burnt matches as the corner of his mouth stretched into a smirk. Still no sign of the bottom of this rabbit hole.

_______________

The deep darkness of a dreamless sleep lifted as your eyes slowly opened, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings where you found yourself waking. This wasn’t your bedroom. Your mind, still somewhat shrouded by sleep, tried to make sense of where you might be instead before jolting you awake, and it all came back to you. It’d only been one night, but it felt like so many more.

You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen asleep. But you remembered following him back to his office, there were some passing remarks to the men in the room, you thought maybe then you sat down on the bed, but your exhaustion obscured any more details. What time was it?

Raising your arms over your head, you stretched beneath the blanket that had been placed over top of you and took a deep breath of the cool air. After rubbing your eyes, you heard a small sound coming from the little bathroom in the back of the office. Your breath caught in your throat and a flutter of anxiety came over you when you realized you weren’t alone. Holding still, you listened carefully and heard the sound of water running. It must be him, who else would it be? That maddening flutter grew stronger along with the familiar rise of heat in your face. Was that ever going to stop?

Swallowing against the tightness in your throat, you quietly pulled the blanket away and swung your legs over the side of the mattress, your bare feet making contact with the concrete floor. Once your weight settled onto your tip-toes, you carefully took silent steps toward the bathroom. As you approached the doorway, the sound of running water was accompanied by a metallic clink and a low hum.

You cursed your nerves for being so on edge, it was becoming embarrassing at this point. So, in an attempt to boldly ignore your meek apprehension, you took a breath and stepped into the doorway.

The warmth in your cheeks increased ten-fold as your eyes scanned the sight in front of you. Leaning over the sink while a steamy flow of water ran from the tap, Joker’s reflection in the mirror glanced at you without turning around. He was bringing a straight razor to his face, carefully gliding it along his jawline before rinsing it under the tap and bringing it back to take another row of shaving cream. He was wearing the same thin thank top with only traces of greasepaint left around his ears.

“Mmm well, there she is. A regular sleeping beauty, aren’tcha, doll?” he said, his eyes returning to his own face in the mirror.

Make that twenty-fold. You huffed a breath as you tried to come up with a response, too stunned by something so seemingly ordinary. Sure, you’d seen men shave before, but this was different. It was strange to see him move with such precision, so careful with his hands, running the sharp blade around the rough edges of his scars with ease. His penchant for chaos came with a certain finesse, an accuracy that he made appear so effortless. Perhaps you’d been staring too long.

“Now that you’ve rejoined the, uh, land of the living, we have some work to do.”

You blinked and tore your gaze away from the mirror, trying to look anywhere else before it finally landed on the tile floor. “Um… what kind of work?”

He chuckled and you could feel him looking at you in the mirror again when he answered, “The kind that requires some subtlety, a little nuance that no one else here can measure up to.”

Your eyes lifted from the floor after you thought for a moment about what he said and you asked, “No one else but me?”

“You catch on quick, baby doll,” he replied, clicking his tongue as he swiped away the last bit of shaving cream from his face. Then he set the razor on the edge of the sink and turned around, looking you up and down as he closed the gap between you. “It’s your time to shineonce again.”

That feeling had begun to fill your chest. That strange sense of pride tangled up with your willingness to do more, your desire to please. You didn’t seem to be in control of it, that was something you gave up days ago, but you could see it blurring the line between what was right and what was wrong even further. Soon you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

He stopped in front of you, keeping your gaze locked with his as you felt the ghost of his breath on your skin. The more he looked at you like that, the stronger that feeling was becoming. He knew it too, didn’t he? He knew that you belonged to him by now and you had no wish to put a stop to it, even after everything you’d seen.

“What do you want me to do?”

A small smirk appeared on his face and he answered in a low voice, “That’s what I like to hear, doll.”

The heat that had been rising in your body came to a sudden halt when he then turned to pass you through the doorway, leaving you taking slow breaths to regain what little composure you could manage.

“This one’s simple,” he called over his shoulder from his desk. “All you gotta do is blend in. Be a fly on the wall, so to speak.”

Were you ever going to be able to keep your mind out of the gutter whenever he got close? Probably not. But you could try to hide it. After letting out one more breath, you turned to follow him into the office where he’d sat at his desk with the small hand held mirror you’d seen before, dipping his fingers into a jar of white paint before starting to smear it across his face.

“Blend in where?”

He chuckled, scooping more paint out cover his jaw line. Then without looking up from the mirror he answered, “Check the suitcase by the bed.”

A tattered leather suitcase beside the bed quickly caught your eye. You weren’t sure if he’d ever answered any of your questions directly before and it seemed that was unlikely to change soon, so you tentatively followed his instruction. It wasn’t heavy when you picked it up to place it on the bed. Then after clicking the latches open, you shifted your gaze toward the desk. He’d moved on to smudging black around his eyes, still not turning to look at you. Those insidious butterflies in your stomach made themselves known and in an attempt to shoo them away, you hurriedly lifted the lid on the leather case.

Not sure what you were expecting to see in the first place, you blinked for a moment at the articles of clothing folded neatly inside before reaching in to pick them up. On top was a black pencil skirt, just the right length for the hem to lay above your knees, and beneath it was a deep purple cardigan with opalescent buttons down the front. The purple knit fabric matched that of his coat almost exactly. Heat returned to your cheeks then your eye caught sight of a pair of black heels in the bottom of the case.

“Can’t have you going out in that, hm?”

Your heart leapt into its familiar place in your throat as you looked down at his shirt you were still wearing, goosebumps crawling up your back before you turned around and nearly ran into him. He’d finished with the bright smear of red on his mouth and was now standing over you, the look in his eyes drawing even more warmth to the surface of your skin.

His fingers slid down your wrist before he took your hand in his, turning your palm upwards as his eyes remained locked with yours, your breath now a shallow huff. After reaching into his pocket, you felt him place something in your hand.

Holding back the excitement climbing up behind your tongue, you forced your eyes down. It was some kind of ID card. In bold letters along the bottom, it read “PRESS” and in the corner, you saw an image of yourself. Your eyes widened when you recognized it as the photo from your driver’s license.

Your eyes darting back up to his face, you asked, “What’s this?”

He raised an eyebrow and replied, “What does it look like?”

“How did you get my license photo?”

A chuckle vibrated in his throat and he turned away from you to go back to his desk where he took something from one of the drawers.

“Always so many questions, doll. But never the right ones.”

_______________

It was hard to keep yourself from fidgeting with the hem of the skirt. It was actually very well made and fit you like a glove, but your nerves were getting the best of you once again. You sat in the backseat of an SUV with tinted windows where Joker had just slid in next to you moments ago.

The brightness of the morning sun was only partially lessened by the darkened glass, it’s beams still nearly blinding where it peeked out from between buildings. Lifting your hand to shield your eyes, the other clutching the ID card, you squinted out the window to try to discern where you here headed. He’d left you to get cleaned up and dressed then took you straight to this car outside where a driver was waiting, not a word exchanged between anyone. He said this would be simple, but you couldn’t keep your stomach from tying into a tense knot while you worried over what you were expected to do.

“Ok, doll. Like I said, this one’s simple.”

His timing couldn’t have been better. You turned away from the window to see him reach into his coat pocket, retrieving something small that he held between his fingertips.

“With this, you can be my eyes and ears,” he said, holding it out.

It was a little black earpiece, small enough to fit comfortably in your ear. When you lifted your eyes, about to ask what it was for, you stopped before the words could exit your lips. He’d shifted closer to you and reached out to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. The leather of his glove brushed against your cheek, rendering it scorching as he placed the small device in your ear.

“You are now an esteemed member of the press and today you’ve scored the opportunity to report on the biggest story sweeping the city…” he grinned, taking the ID from your hand and clipping it to your sweater. “The Batman is turning himself in.”

Next thing you knew, the car pulled up to the curb then the man sitting in the front seat reached behind him and pushed your door open. The cool air rushed over your face and you whipped back around, mouth open but no questions left to ask.

“Your time to shine, baby girl.”

Your feet carried you toward the tall building in front of you, its ground floor lined with windows while your chest shuddered against the quick breaths you forced in and out of it. You hadn’t been given much instruction, but you knew standing around on the sidewalk looking confused wasn’t what you should be doing. Scanning the entrance in search of where you should be going, you noticed a small crowd entering the door on the far end of the building and turned toward it.

“Bingo. You’re gettin’ good at this, doll.”

His voice suddenly rumbling in your ear sent a rush down your back and you almost stopped in your tracks, but you pressed forward as warmth filled your face, trying to keep your expression calm and unassuming. You had to resist looking behind you to look for the car you knew he must be watching you from.

After taking a quick glance around you to make sure you were still alone, you swallowed and asked quietly, “Can you hear me?”

He answered with a low chuckle and said, “Mm loud and clear, sweetheart.”

Great, how were you supposed to stay composed when it felt like he was following right behind you? But the door was getting closer, and you didn’t have much time to ask questions. Now you could see inside where news cameras were all pointed in the same direction.

“Are you gonna tell me what to do?”

“Eyes and ears, doll. Your big story awaits.”

He probably heard the frustrated sigh you couldn’t hold back as you pulled the glass door open to follow the crowd, his giggle tickling in your ear.

The large conference room was packed with people sitting in rows in front of a small stage where a podium was set up, more standing along the walls and backed all the way up to the door. You quietly squeezed behind the group just inside the entrance and made your way toward the last spot against the wall, eyeing the handful of police officers to your right. As if your nerves weren’t weighing heavy enough on you, now there were cops here?

You looked down at the press badge clipped to your sweater and tried to relax. Just blend in, they weren’t there for you. Staring at the podium rigged with a handful of microphones across the room, his words echoed in your head, the Batman is tuning himself in.

Then the crowd gradually fell silent when flashes and the clicking of cameras followed a man with a head of sandy blonde hair as he stepped up to the podium. You recognized his face from his campaign ads right away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I’ve called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to ensure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done.” Harvey Dent continued to speak over contentions from the crowd and said, “Secondly, because the Batman has offered to turn himself in. But first, let’s consider the situation. Should we give in to this terrorist’s demands?”

You couldn’t understand the rest over Joker’s burst of laughter in your ear. You quickly covered it with your hand to smother the sound before he held his giggles back and said, “Me? A Terrorist? Oh Harvey, you’re gonna make me blush.”

The crowd continued the argue against him until Harvey made a promise. “The Batman will have to answer to the laws he’s broken but to us, not to this mad man.”

A mad man. You supposed that wasn’t untrue. You’d seen enough to know that. But it still somehow didn’t feel true to you. Like it was what people said because they felt threatened by him. They were frightened and faced with a particular unease, unable to explain what it was. It gripped them and wouldn’t let them look away. You felt it too. But it didn’t scare you away, it only drew you closer, didn’t it?

Before you fell further into your thoughts, agitated demands for the Batman to turn himself in echoed through the room as Dent’s speech failed to bring any sense of righteousness to the crowd of cops and reporters.

“So be it. Take the Batman into custody.”

Everyone fell silent, waiting for the vigilante to step forward. Was that really about to happen? But Harvey waited only a moment before he stated to the crowd, “I am the Batman.”

Disbelief settled over the room, everyone watching as a few officers approached him to put him in handcuffs and swiftly lead him off of the stage. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep chuckle resounded in your ear.

“Ahhh, well there you have it. Now Harvey wants to play.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

Text

@sicktember Prompt # 27: Blankets

Title: Sick Day Spells

Fandom: N/A

Based on an ask box prompt. The prompt: “It’s all well and good until the cleric gets really sick.”

What does a party of adventures do when their cleric is forced to take a sick day after a battle? Featuring a Halfling Rogue, a Dwarf Fighter, an Elf Sorcerer, and a Human Cleric.

(Author’s note: Holy crap this was fun to write, and I’m thrilled with how it came out! I can’t believe it took me so long to write a D & D-based story. This is the first time I can say with confidence that you will almost certainly see these OCs again. I loved them way too much to let them go. And there's three more people here for me to whump in all ways magical and physical. So keep your eyes peeled for them again soon!)

They say pride comes before the fall, but most people like to think that applies to everyone except them. Still, perhaps the adventuring party should have kept their pride in check, or else watched more vigilantly for the possibility of falling.

The party of four were riding out of the village they had simultaneously saved and partially destroyed. True, they had fought off a school of necromancers that were terrorizing the local area and destroyed the necromancers' constructs, but the fireball they had used to wipe out the zombies had also wiped out the entire market and half of the residential district. Still, collateral damage was to be expected, and the slightly-singed foursome were in high spirits as they left the smoking town in their wake.

Their calamity came from a very unexpected source, and it started with a sneeze. The party always traveled in pairs of two, with the fighter and the sorcerer in front and the cleric and the rogue in the back. This meant that Filius and Kandry were generally surrounded by a cloud of dust while on the road, but they didn't usually mind, both being the hearty sort.

Today though, the dust began to make Filius sneeze even before they'd left the town. After two sets of three sneezes nearly back to back, Lorellyn turned, looking at him with concern.

"Are you all right, Fil? Your cold is still bothering you, isn't it?"

"I suppose. Honestly I'm so tired I barely notice it right now. I just want to get back to camp and sleep for a day or two," said the cleric, congested and hoarse, trying not to cough.

"Well yeh certainly earned it. It seemed yeh were everywhere at once ou’ there, throwin' out healin' spells left an' right, an' destroyin' th' zombies in droves, plus flingin' necromancers here an' there with tha' mace o' yourn," Gundor said.

"He's right. We couldn't have done this without you," Lorellyn said earnestly. "You're the hero of the day."

Filius smiled tiredly, but before he could reply, a sickly green bolt of energy hit him in the back, making him spasm. He froze, then slowly his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward on his horse.

The other three jumped into action immediately. Kandry leapt off of her mount and onto the back of Filius’ with flawless acrobatics, somehow managing to prevent him from falling off of his horse and take control of the steed immediately, though she couldn't reach the stirrups.

Lorellyn whipped around, immediately shooting a firebolt from her palm, aimed at the bush from which the offensive spell had come. The dry bush caught fire immediately, causing the pair of tiny goblin mages hiding inside it to run out shrieking, heading toward the smoking village. Gundor was already off of his mount and chasing them down with rage in his eyes, ending them with his axe before they knew what hit them.

Gundor and Lorellyn were at Kandry's side as soon as the threat was eliminated. The halfling was anxiously checking Filius over for visible injuries.

"He's burning up!" she cried. "What did they hit him with?"

"It was a wimpy Ray of Sickness. I saw it out of the corner of my eye," Lorellyn said, taking over assessing the cleric. "Those mages were barely second level. I'm surprised they were able to hit him at all. There's no way this is just from that. There's something else."

"Well can't you figure it out?" Kandry snapped.

"I'm trying! But divination is Filius' specialty, not mine!" Lorellyn snapped back.

"Let's jus’ get ‘im back ta camp. We need ta get off th' road. We're too exposed, an' distracted ta boot," Gundor said, looking around worriedly. "Yeh can look ‘im over there just as well as here."

The other two quickly agreed. They hastened back to their base, with Filius slumped in the saddle in front of Lorellyn, and Gundor leading Filius' horse behind his own.

The ride was somber, the high spirits from their successful battle all but forgotten. Filius had a raging fever and was dead asleep, unable to be woken, but seemed to be in the throes of terrible nightmares, for he writhed and cried out the whole time they were moving. Whenever he would yell, it would send him into an awful coughing fit that left him panting and sweating. Lorellyn tried her best to soothe him, but she was clearly distressed, especially when it seemed to have no effect, and she had tears in her eyes most of the trip.

Arriving at their camp, they made a makeshift stretcher for him from a blanket, gently carrying the tall man to his tent and laying him down on his mat. They lingered at his side, unsure how to proceed.

"Why don't you do a healing spell on him or something?" Kandry snapped at the sorcerer. "There's got to be something we can do!"

"I don't have any spells left after that battle," Lorellyn hissed. "I need to rest my magic! And anyway, sorcerers can't do healing spells. Our magic is too chaotic. Bad things would happen if I tried. Do either of you have any healing potions?”

"I never waste time with that. They're too heavy to bother with. You all always carry them... Or Filius takes care of it," Kandry mumbled.

"I gave mine ta th’ villagers tha' got hurt in th' blast," Gundor said sheepishly. "Filius planned ta brew some more, so I wagered I wouldn't need 'em."

"Some adventurers we are," Kandry groaned. "We can't even take care of our cleric."

Lorellyn wrapped Kandry in a hug, which the halfling immediately tried to wriggle out of, but the elf was stronger.

"We'll figure something out. It will be fine," Lorellyn said bravely.

At that moment, the party heard a commotion on the highway, with many people screaming and yelling loud enough to be heard at the camp, though they were well away from the road. The three healthy members of the party gave each other worried looks. Lorellyn attuned her hearing to better assess the situation while Kandry and Gundor waited breathlessly.

"It's a green dragon," Lorellyn gasped after a moment. "Something angered it and now it's flying around, attacking randomly. It's already killed dozens of people."

"It's all well and good until the cleric gets really sick," Kandry groaned, covering her face.

They didn't have time to make any sort of plan, for immediately they heard the sound of running footsteps approaching their camp. A young man with wild-looking eyes dashed into their midst.

“Adventurers!” he gasped. “Have you heard? There’s a dragon terrorizing us! We need your aid to defeat it!”

Gundor stepped forward. “We hadn’t heard o’ this trouble. O’ course we’ll do what’s necessary in this time o’ danger.”

“So you’ll come? We must go right away!”

“Give us time ta make our necessary preparations. Leave us fer now.”

The lad nodded, hurrying away again.

Gundor, Lorellyn, and Kandry shared a look. Without a word, they quickly began to break down their camp, hastily packing their things and snuffing out the fire under cover of Lorellyn’s disillusionment cantrips, and taking full advantage of Kandry’s stealth. In minutes they had packed their belongings on their horses and were heading in the opposite direction of the main road, deeper into the forest. Through it all, Filius remained unconscious, mumbling and sweating and weak with fever.

After another hour or two’s ride, having hidden themselves deep in the forest, Kandry found a secure cave in which they could hide out. The party was in no shape to fight a dragon right now. Here, they wouldn’t be in danger, or be run out of town for not assisting with the dragon. Gundor secured the perimeter while Lorellyn attended to the sick cleric, laying him out gently on his bedroll once more and bathing his sweat-slicked face with a wet rag while Kandry saw to the rest of the camp preparations. The cool water slowly brought Filius to consciousness, with much coughing and trembling. However, wakefulness did not bring awareness with it. He looked around dully, his eyes heavy-lidded and fever-bright, but seemed to take in little of what he saw. He closed his eyes again wearily without acknowledging his companions hovering over him worriedly. Shivers wracked his body.

“ ‘m so cold,” he coughed. “Thirsty….”

Kandry rushed to get him a mug of water while Lorellyn snatched the blankets off of each of the other bedrolls and brought them over, covering him in all of them. They seemed to have no effect though, and he continued to shiver violently. Gundor built up the fire frantically, but it took a while to catch, and the smoke only made the sick human cough more. After drinking two mugs of water, Filius fell back asleep, which was somehow both a relief and a worry to his friends. His fever never changed, neither going lower nor higher.

“I’ll run ta th’ village ta get ‘im some kind o’ potion,” Gundor murmured over supper. “I can’t watch ‘im suffer like this.”

“And risk being seen, or worse attacked by a dragon?” Kandry scoffed. “After all the trouble we went to to find this place and stay hidden? Please don’t.”

“She’s right,” Lorellyn said. “That’s at least two hours' ride, and one of us will be left alone and vulnerable. At least wait until morning, when our health and spells are back up. If he’s the same or worse, then go. We’ll see how he does through the night.”

Once night fell, with nothing else to do, the party tried to sleep, rotating 6 hour shifts keeping watch, as usual. However, even when not on guard duty, the party members found they couldn’t settle, and kept lifting their heads to shoot worried glances at their cleric, or make sure he hadn’t worsened. Gundor had had the first watch, and when it came time for him to rest, he settled on his bedroll, but then tossed and turned for a long time. He was usually snoring like a bear within moments of shutting his eyes, so this had the ladies on high alert. Finally, the dwarf got up with a huff, picked up his bedroll and carried it over to Filius’ side, dropping it there. When he lay back down, he was close enough that his shoulder touched the cleric’s. The dwarf then pulled a corner of one of the blankets over himself and rolled to his side, pressing up against the human, and immediately falling asleep with a weary snore.

Lorellyn had the second watch, and she kept shooting tender, but envious looks at the sleeping men. Filius never woke, but he seemed to sleep more peacefully after Gundor had joined him. As soon as her watch was finished, she followed the dwarf’s lead, pushing her bedroll up against the other side of the sick human, sliding under the blankets, and resuming her meditation.

Kandry was not so easily swayed, and tried to ignore the thoughtless sharing of germs happening behind her as she took her turn at the watch. However, when no one was looking, she surreptitiously slid her bedroll around to the other side of the fire, placing her closer to her companions.

Had Gundor and Lorellyn been aware of their surroundings, they would have noticed that in the wee hours of the morning Filius began to sweat profusely. He had hardly moved after the other two had settled in with him to share their body heat, but he began to mutter and toss a bit once more. Finally, just as dawn was creeping over the horizon, he woke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright with a hacking cough. Lorellyn and Gundor were instantly awakened as well, and Kandry was at their side in an instant. Filius tried to catch his breath, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Where ‘m I?” he croaked. “What happened?”

Lorellyn leaned over to press the back of her hand to his forehead, then his neck. “We’re safely hidden in the forest. Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” Filius groaned. “Sick. How long have I been asleep?” He yawned hugely.

“Almost a day,” Kandry said, pressing a mug of water into his hands. “You scared us half to death. You got hit with a Ray of Sickness and you just… passed out.”

“I did?” he said worriedly, looking confused. “I don’t remember that….”

“Yeah. Did you have some poison in your system too or something? I’ve never seen Ray of Sickness do that,” Kandry said accusingly.

“Not that I know of. Might have to do with me already being sick when it hit me. Just exacerbated everything, made it worse temporarily.” He coughed roughly into his shoulder, wincing, then downed the mug of water.

“Well your fever is much better,” Lorellyn said happily. “Let’s hope you’re on the mend now!”

“I’d be on the mend faster if I got some whiskey,” Filius sniffled, looking meaningfully at Gundor. The sleepy dwarf readily got up and shuffled to his pack. Finding what he was looking for, he returned with an amber-colored bottle and handed it to the cleric, who took several unceremonious gulps.

“Good ta have yeh back, mate,” Gundor rumbled happily, reclaiming the bottle and taking several swigs of his own.

“What are you all doing over here anyway?” Filius said after a moment, yawning again. “This cave is plenty big enough for all of us.”

“You were freezing, so we shared our blankets with you,” Lorellyn said.

“Really? You mean you slept here all night?”

“Tha’ we did. ‘Twas a mighty fine night’s rest, too,” Gundor said. “Matter o’ fact, I could use some more shuteye if it’s all th’ same ta you lot.” With that, he lay back down right where he was, pressing up against Filius once more and closing his eyes. The cleric looked surprised, though not unhappy with this development.

“Some more rest would be nice. Filius, are you able to put up some protection spells so we can all relax for another day? I hate to ask so much of you--” Lorellyn began.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, coughing chestily. “I can manage.” He grasped his talisman of Njord and closed his eyes, his brow furrowing. After a moment, an opaque barrier appeared over the cave’s entryway. No creature, magical or otherwise, would be able to pass through. Looking exhausted now, he lay back down alongside Gundor and shut his eyes, a tiny smile appearing on his face as the dwarf shifted cozily against him and Lorellyn too pressed closer.

Lorellyn was also grinning. “Come join us, Kandry.”

The halfling rolled her eyes. “I don’t cuddle.”

“I don’t either, but here we are,” Filius mumbled, almost asleep. “Just call it team bonding.”

Kandry almost declined again… but it really did look very cozy to be surrounded by blankets and pillows and teammates. With a little sigh, she shuffled over and slotted herself in, with Filius’ long legs on one side of her, and Lorellyn’s on the other.

They spent the rest of the day just like that, sleeping and eating and talking, content to take a day to simply enjoy each other’s company as they let their cleric take a sick day.

#sicktember2021 #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 27 #sickfic

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kal-djarin · 4 years

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Memories From the Past

Fandom: Star Wars

Date Posted: February 8th, 2021

Pairing: Reader x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive themes but no actual smut, fighting?

Request: n/a

A/N: Okay I’m actually kinda proud of this one. I really love the dynamic of Obitine so I tried to translate that into fic without stealing the entire plot, but it steal is very obviously similar. I really hope the flash back scenes and change in pov. make sense, I had some issues trying to figure out what tense I should use for them, but hopefully it’s not confusing. IM SORRY THE ENDING IS RUSHED!!! As always please let me know what you think!!

Word Count: 4.5k

The news of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi’s return to Sundari caused an array of emotions throughout the Palace. The Royal Guards were more watchful than usual, still not truly able to release the years of grudges held against the Jedi Order and Satine, was glad to be reunited with her old friend, despite the impromptu meeting being over possible changes in where the planet stood in the Clone Wars; a figure dressed in Mandalorian armour attacking a Republic cruiser would bring anyone to question the supposed position of neutrality Mandalore held.

You, on the other hand, were instantly filled with dread. Years have passed from the last time you have laid eyes on Obi-Wan and still the mere mention of him causes hundreds of memories to resurface.

When Satine became Duchess of Mandalore, many people were happy, but there were still insurgents that would not accept her pacifist leadership. They would send bounty hunters to try to eliminate her and the power she held. These constant threats against her life compelled Obi-Wan and his Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn to remove her and you, her most trusted advisor, from Mandalore and live on the run for nearly a year.

You lived one day at a time, trying to focus on surviving the present and live to see what uncertainties the future held. Most people would think that living in such dubious conditions would be terrifying, but it was one of the best years of your life.

Right when you met Obi-Wan, you were instantly turned off by him, despite his handsome looks. His diplomatic kindness and reverence felt impersonal and fake instead of charming and he was far too arrogant for your liking. Qui-Gon, on the other hand, was someone you befriended very quickly. His empathetic and wise nature instantly connected the two of you and he became almost like a father-figure. He was constantly giving you advice and was the only reason you tolerated Obi-Wan in the beginning.

Obi-Wan instantly felt this disfavor towards him, bringing out his sarcasm and frequent jabs, making him even more unbearable. The two of you spent weeks either trying to see who could irritate the other more or just completely ignoring each other, to both Qui Gon and Satine’s dismay. Qui-Gon always tried convincing you that you and Obi-Wan would make a great pair if the two of you would just stop being so stubborn, but his advice fell onto deaf ears.

Your hostility towards each other did die however, when you were being chased by venom-mites on a cliff on Draboon. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought them off as you and Satine escaped to the ship. Satine ran onto the boarding ramp and just as you were about to join her, you tripped over a divot in the ground, the momentum of it almost completely hurtling you off the side of the cliff, had you not grabbed a hold of the ledge.

All you can remember was the absolute terror that coursed through your veins and Satine’s horrified scream. Your body was hung over what seemed to be a bottomless pit and the only thing anchoring it were your hands; hands that were rather weak from a life devoid of physical exertion and that were slipping as each second passed.

You struggled, trying to find a way to climb up to solid land, but soon realized all the effort was fruitless. Obi-Wan, startled by Satine’s cries for help, turned around and saw your rather unfortunate situation. His eyes widened and he quickly turned from his Master and ran towards where you hung. When he was close enough, he slid to his knees and stretched his arm out to you.

“(Y/N), Take my hand!”

You wanted to, you really did, but the fear of falling to transfer your grip from the ground to his hand was too debilitating.

“Obi-Wan, I can’t, I’ll fall!” You managed to choke out

“You have to trust me!” His voice was loud, but still held its usual steadiness. His eyes however gave away his true emotions. They were frantically searching your own trying to convince you to lay your life in his hands. You could practically feel his terror radiating off of him.

Realizing you were out of options, you slowly released your grip and reached out to grasp his outstretched hand. Your fingers barely grazed his own and you knew it was too late. Gravity met you full force, and you felt yourself scream as your body began to plummet.

Then, all of a sudden, a warm cradling feeling caught you, interrupting your imminent death. You felt yourself rise over the cliff and saw Obi-Wan’s concentrated face and twitching hand. When you were about a foot above the ground, you dropped into Obi-Wan’s arms, and let out a sob of relief. Your body was racked with tears, still trying to process what just happened, and Obi-Wan just held you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, seeking comfort for your near death, and leaned against Obi-Wan’s own shaking body.

That day was the start of a new relationship for the two of you. You began to confide in each other more and felt the trust between the two of you grow as time passed. Obi-Wan dropped his guard of fake diplomacy and began to act more like himself. Of course, he still had his sarcastic humor, but it was more endearing now and his kindness felt genuine.

Soon, your relationship became more than just finding comfort in each other. When one of you couldn’t sleep, you and Obi-Wan would just sit together and talk until you became tired or if it was time to get up. Being around him was effortless and there was an understanding the two of you had that was rare to find. Of course, there was still tension between the two of you but it was different, less hostile.

If your relationship with him had ended there, innocent and full of what-ifs, you would have been just as excited as Satine was to see him. You wouldn’t currently be standing in the throne room, shaking with anxiety, waiting for him to step through the doors.

Just as you begin to contemplate completely ditching Obi-Wan’s arrival, the doors are opened and you hear the Prime Minister talking to him.

You look down and try to not draw attention to yourself, which is impossible considering Satine insisted you walk in beside her. Satine knew you and Obi-Wan were close, but you never told just how far your relationship with him went, so she didn’t see anything with the reunion. She sits down at the throne and you stand next to her. They greet each other briefly and the sound of Obi-Wan being so close to you again gives you the courage to finally meet his gaze.

He looks absolutely radiant, somehow looking more attractive than you remembered. His hair is a bit longer and a perfectly trimmed bear adorns his handsome face. You can’t help but stare, trying to take in the view you have been deprived of for almost 15 years.

“After all these years, you're even more beautiful than ever,” He says towards Satine, but still keeps his eyes locked on you.

You break the intense eye contact and try to not let his smooth words affect you. He doesn’t falter at your discreet rejection and continues the diplomatic conversation between him and Satine. She invites him on a walk through the city, and to your dismay, she gestures for you to join them. You walk just behind Satine, allowing the two of them to lead the way. Air speeders whistle by around you and people walk around the city, going about their day, unbothered by the Duchess and Jedi moving around them. You hear Satine talk about the current predicament Mandalore has found itself in with the Death Watch and you know you should be paying attention and adding into the conversation for sake of not seeming rude, but can’t help but carefully watch Obi-Wan’s side profile as he walks.

It’s perfect just like the rest of him and triggers yet another memory in your mind: you and his first kiss. It was a couple months after the incident on Draboon, and the four of you were forced to spend the night in a cave because of a rather wild storm. You sat on the cold floor near the fire Qui-Gon made, unable to rest, just watching the rain hit the mouth of the cave for hours. Unlike you, Satine used her time wisely, quickly finding much needed sleep. Qui-Gon had been meditating earlier, but now seemed to be resting as well, facing the inside of the cave. Obi-Wan sat cross-legged, reading a book about, if you remembered from his earlier explanation correctly, the method of Jar’Kai, farthest from the fire.

It wasn’t long before he noticed your restless form and decided to sit down next to you, close enough for your shoulders to touch.

“What’s up with you?” He asked, nudging your shoulder with his own.

Usually this kind of touch wouldn’t have caused you any issues, but more recently, you began to take note of every physical contact the two of you made. Obi-Wan was rather reserved, so knowing he so frequently chose to make contact with you gave you conflicting feelings. You turned and looked at him and suddenly felt rather sad.

“Don’t you wish we could be more carefree, like other people our age?”

He looked taken aback from your sudden question, but soon began to contemplate, fingers coming up to gently grasp his chin. After a moment, he looked back at you and shook his head.

“I never truly have thought about it. Why?” He questions further.

You knew why. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, Obi-Wan has found a special place in your heart. Months of confiding and building trust with one another let you get to know his true personality, making it impossible not to feel so much for him. But, although you were just teenagers, the both of you had responsibilities and expectations of you. He was a Jedi and you had to stay focused on helping Satine rebuild Mandalore after the raging civil war.

So instead of answering his question, you decided to satiate the need to feel reckless by standing up and walking out into the rain. The feel of the cold drops on your skin should have annoyed you, but instead it made you feel alive; it helped numb the feelings you so badly wish you didn’t have.

“What are you doing!” Obi-Wan yelled, looking alarmed at your sudden uncharacteristic decision.

“I’m living!!” You replied, soaking in the feeling of the rain and quickly running back and grabbing his hands with your dripping ones.

“Come on, Obi Wan, join me” You urged. His eyes are wide in shock but, nonetheless, takes off his outer robes and walks out into the rain.

His trust to join you with no question made you feel even more giddy and you dragged him into the middle of the valley that the cave sat in. You grabbed his hands and began to dance, if you could even call it that. Obi-Wan, as comfortable as he was with you, immediately stiffened up, since he was never truly taught how to dance. This setback, however, caused little pause in your actions and you just spun with him around in a circle.

The drumming of the rain did little to drown out your laugh whenever Obi-Wan would stumble, to his dismay, but he too began to chuckle at the unskilled dancing going on. You gazed up at him and just from the look on his face you knew your feelings for him were going nowhere. His hair laid flat on his head, soaked, and his face was covered in water and he looked breathtaking. He made you feel safe and trusted and maybe that was the reason you decided to risk it all.

You grabbed his face between your hands and pressed your lips to his. It was short-lived, with him quickly pulling away with his eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.

You instantly were filled with regret, embarrassed from the rejection, and went to run back into the cave to hide from your mistake. You felt selfish, trying to act on feelings that completely disrespected everything Obi-Wan lived for. Right when you pulled away from his arms, Obi-Wan quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back in.

His hands went up to cradle your face and he kissed you. It was overwhelming how much emotion he was channeling through it. The kiss was needy and hard but his hands were gentle, one of them coming up to tangle itself in your soaked hair. You could tell he was inexperienced, his form being a tad messy, but the passion put into it made up for any mistakes.

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder and are instantly pulled out of the memory. You see Satine looking at you, worry written all over her face.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” She asks, her eyes searching your face.

You go to answer her and shut down any of her worries about you, but catch a glimpse of Obi-Wan and lose the words. His face looks almost distraught and you know he must have seen what you were thinking of. You force yourself to look away from him and respond to Satine.

“Yes, sorry I must have zoned out.” You apologize, hoping she buys your white lie. “As a matter of fact is it alright if I return to the Palace, I think I need a little rest”

She still looks worried, but quickly approves of your request and turns back to walk with Obi-Wan, who still seems bothered by your memory, but remains cordial and attentive.

You turn and go back to the Palace, a single guard flanking your side. When you return, you do exactly what you told Satine, you lie on your bed and rest, or at least try to.

***

When Obi-Wan sensed the memory you were thinking of, he was no longer able to focus on the important matter at hand. Even after the bombing on Mandalore after you left and him nearly being crushed to death on Concordia, he found himself thinking about it. He remembers that day so clearly; the first time he truly gave into his temptations.

He had worked so hard to stay in the Jedi Order- nobody wanted him as a Padawan. He was always not enough and it was only by fate that Qui-Gon decided to take him under his wing. He knew better than anyone that the title of Jedi was invaluable and there you were making him question everything he ever knew. He knew Jedi weren’t supposed to form attachments or express their emotions, so why did he keep indulging himself with your presence.

The moment you kissed him, Obi-Wan’s instinct was to run. He was powerless against the attachment he had to you, so he knew the best way to stop it was to completely remove himself from the situation. He had every intention of doing so when he pulled away the first time, but then his other instincts kicked in. He felt the feel of your hands on his face, the closeness of your body, and realized there was no way he could let this go, at least not now.

Days after the kiss, Obi-Wan was filled with disgust at himself. He hated that he let himself indulge. He hated how he completely disregarded everything he was ever taught. He hated the fact that he loved every second of it, and what he hated most of all is that he began to wonder how it would feel to kiss your neck, skin, and other very un Jedi-like places.

Because of this, the months of progress the two of you made in your relationship were completely erased. He knew it was unfair to you, but he had to uphold the morals of a Jedi, and being around you made that goal impossible. He reverted back to the arrogant and guarded Padawan and pushed you away every time you tried to fix things.

But his efforts were fruitless. You knew Obi-Wan and were not able to let go of his sudden change in personality.

His Master also noticed the sudden change in relationship and decided to take matters in his own hands. He decided to send the two of you off on a mission to retrieve some sort of plant and herb. The two of you walked through the woods, The entire trip, Obi-Wan ignored every attempt of yours to engage in conversation and didn’t even truly acknowledge your presence. You finally decided to confront him, to his dismay.

“Was it truly that horrifying to kiss me, Obi-Wan”

“What?” He said, trying to keep the act up.

“Was it so bad to the point of ignoring me,” You pushed, getting angrier by the minute.

“I hardly see how that is relevant to the current task at han-” He began to deflect but was cut off by you grabbing his shoulder and whipping him around. Angry tears began to form in your eyes and at the site, Obi-Wan felt his facade crack.

“You don’t get to decide to drop me when things get hard, Obi-Wan” You spat, emphasizing your words by jabbing your finger on his chest.

Obi-Wan tried. He tried so hard to stay away from you. But the look of anger and heartbreak on your face made him, give into your spell, once again. He grabbed your hand and looked into your eyes.

He knew he was going to hate himself after, like last time, but the temporary pleasure it brought was impossible to resist, so he kissed you.

The kiss was hard and full of anger: anger at you, at himself, at the Jedi Order, and at the world for making you his weakness. You instantly reacted bringing your hand around to run through his short auburn hair and pulling your body as close as possible.

Obi-Wan deepened the kiss, letting his tongue explore the inners of your mouth, inciting a moan from your lips. Obi-Wan felt himself flush from the obscene sound and couldn’t help but feel bolder from the thought of bringing you pleasure. He started to kiss along your jawline and down your neck, his brain becoming muddled from the pleasure of it all.

You had begun to take off his robes and that was when he came to his senses. He knew he had to stop this, it was completely un Jedi-like and uncivilized, especially out in the open. His thoughts were immediately shut down however when you slid your hand down his chest. He decided to burn every single pleasure and feeling into memory and worry later. Your hand began to venture between his legs and that was the second time Obi-Wan gave into temptation.

You were all he could think about while fighting on Concordia, and he knew this was why Jedi don’t form attachments. Just the memory of your relationship caused his judgement to be clouded. He couldn’t imagine how he would have been if you were there during the fight with Death Watch: constantly worried, focused on an individual rather than the greater good.

He was relieved to get on to the Coronet and away from the memory of his failures as a Jedi, but that relief was short-lived when he saw you boarding the ship alongside Satine.

***

Satine, as strong-willed as ever, insisted on you going to Coruscant with her. She didn’t want you to be alone on Mandalore, vulnerable to the rapidly more aggressive Death Watch attacks. Once aboard the ship, you settle into your temporary room and head down to meet back up with the Duchess, who was currently discussing her position of neutrality with other senators down the hall.

As you walk towards the meeting, you run into a young, handsome man and Obi-Wan. You immediately freeze, not prepared for the sudden direct interaction and just stare at him. “O-Obi-Wan” You stutter out, not knowing how to fully go about this.

Obi-Wan looks equally as startled, but recovers quickly and introduces you to the younger man.

“(Y/N), this is Anakin Skywalker, my Padawan and Anakin this is Adviser (L/N).”

You tear your eyes away from Obi-Wan’s and quickly greet Anakin with a nod and small smile. Wordlessly, you walk through the door and head to Satine’s side, not before hearing the Padawan say, “On a first name basis, huh, Master?” and a small grunt following a hitting noise.

The meeting was full of high tensions, many, including Obi-Wan, disagreeing with Mandalore’s neutrality. It was always an issue when brought up, and even you saw the issues with it. The idea of staying neutral and not interfering in a war is noble but is much harder in execution and can cause more turmoil in the long run.

As soon as the meeting is dismissed, you file out of the room, trying to avoid any more confrontation. You head to the room where you are supposed to have dinner and find Satine waiting for you.

Obi-Wan enters the room, walking with other leaders. All you had to do was get to Coruscant. Once there you can get out of here and not have to think about Obi-Wan Kenobi ever again. You zone out for most of the meal, not noticing the nervous atmosphere starting to settle over everyone or the warning Obi-Wan gives about a situation going on below decks.

You are suddenly pulled out of your own head, when you hear him yell to the guards about securing the lifts. You see the blue light of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and Satine quickly stands up from the table, bringing you with her.

A horrifying crunching sound is heard and the doors to the lift begins to wrench open, revealing a giant spider droid. It easily knocks down the guards and clambers onto the table, quickly approaching the group of senators. Obi-Wan goes into action and severs the spider droid's legs and lands a fatal lightsaber wound to its head.

The people around you breathe a sigh of relief but soon find out that it's far from over. Miniature spider droids begin to pop out of the body of the larger one and spread out to box the group of you in. Senators begin freaking out, but you and Satine know better. Years of dealing with the pushback of the people have forced you to learn how to defend yourself. Not to mention, the year spent with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan required you to spend quite a bit of time learning to fight. You and Satine immediately pull out your deactivators and get to work killing the droids.

Obi-Wan joins the fight with his lightsaber and the two of you fall into the instinctual rhythm from all those years ago. Back to back, slowly turning, ensuring the other doesn’t get too overwhelmed by the enemy. As much as you hate being reminded of your once very close relationship, it's easier to connect to him through the ease of physical touch. You can predict his movements and fighting techniques, making it much easier to interact than dialogue. Once all, except one, of the droids are eliminated, Obi-Wan turns towards you and seems as if he has something to say but quickly stops himself and walks away to check on the others. The adrenaline coursing through your veins from the fight keeps you on edge however, even after you return to your seat.

It stays with you, even when Anakin returns to inform Obi-Wan that there is a seperatist among you. The surviving spider droid is walked around the table, a test to see who it won’t attack. When Obi-Wan reaches Tal Merrik, a sudden change in the droid's hostile behavior proves him to be a traitor.

You watch in horror as Tal grabs Satine and holds a blaster to her head. The adrenaline from the previous fight serves you well because, even before Obi-Wan has time to react to the sudden change in severity of the situation, a fallen guard’s blaster, set to stun, is in your hand and has already raised and fired at the Senator. He quickly falls, releasing Satine.

You release a shaky breath and everyone, including Obi-Wan, stares in shock at your quick save.

“T-thank you,” Satine says, obviously shaken from almost being held hostage.

You nod in acknowledgment and watch as Tal Merrik is put into custody.

For obvious reasons, all the senators decide to retire to their rooms for the rest of the night.

Exhausted emotionally and physically, you do the same and head to your room after making sure Satine arrived at hers safely. You are about to relax into your bed when you hear a knock at the door. You open it to find Obi-Wan standing there, looking rather uncomfortable. “What do you want, Obi-Wan,” you sigh, tired of hiding from your past.

“I thought that we could talk”

“You are the last person to want to talk about feelings, Obi” You say turning around and heading back into the room, silently allowing him access to your space.

He walks in and closes the door behind him and leans against the wall opposite of you.

“I thought it would be a benefit to the both of us if we just talk”

“What do you want me to say Obi-Wan?” You raise your voice, tired of his roundabout way of talking.

“Do you want me to say I’m in love with you? But you already knew that didn’t you, all those years ago, and you still left” you accuse spitefully, not believing that you could somehow still have feelings for such an emotionally constipated man.

His face contorts into one of regret and grief at the mention of his abandoning you, but you still don’t let up.

“I think it’s better if you just go, Obi Wan. It’s what you do best.” You spit out, turning around to face away from him.

You hear him push off the wall and begin to move, but instead of leaving like you told him to, he walks up to you. You sense his presence against your back and he is so close you can feel his breath gently hitting the back of your neck. He stands there and lightly touches your hand with his own, breathing you in, again resorting to physical touch when his words fail. You bask in the closeness of him, giving into the way you missed his touch.

After a few moments, you hear him sigh and pull away from you.

“Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order”

With that confession, he slowly leaves and shuts the door, leaving you more confused and heartbroken than ever.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan oneshot #obi wan x reader #obiwan #obi wan headcanon #clone wars x reader #obi wan angst #obi wan smut #starwars x reader

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ultimatebethylficlist · 3 years

Text

Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82 started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so.

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

#bethyl fanfiction #veteran author of the month

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twink-frank · 3 years

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hi i’ve noticed the pencey prep gay conversation going on over on @awsugar and i have spent lots of time dissecting pencey prep lyrics and subjecting nathan @faggot-frank to my deranged ramblings so Here is my pencey prep super ultra mega gay lyrical analysis masterpost. it’s very long so its all under the cut but i will include a TL;DR for those who dont wanna read paragraphs of my deranged ramblings: Pencey prep uses lots of themes of: heartbreak, forbidden love, keeping love a secret, and toxic relationships. which none of that is gay on its own but combined with them almost never using gender indicators in their songs and the “nail in the coffin song” of 8th grade it ends up being a very Fruity Album.

I will be going through heart break in stereo in order and pointing out which lyrics and elements of certain songs jump out to me as Super Mega Gay and then summarizing my conclusions at the end <3

1 ) PS Don't Write

PS don't write is about leaving a toxic relationship, it has notes of moving on and leaving someone behind. "packed up all my shit / stole back all my tapes / left your spare key under the mat / this is not a joke / you'd better learn to take a hint / 'cause i'm not coming back / maybe you'll understand / when you're waking up alone / in a cold and empty bed." it has no gender indicators or pronouns which is the case in a lot of pencey prep songs, and something i'll bring up quite a bit. it also has general "coming of age" themes, something common in lots of pencey prep songs. which Yeah apply to straight people to but read in this context combined with future evidence can be pretty Fuckin Gay. "somewhere along the line / i found a hidden strength / i didn't know i had / standing on my own / cutting all the strings / that you used to control / surprise surprise / i am long gone / if you thought you could hold me down / by holding me up / you were wrong / you don't call the shots anymore." not to say only gay people can find inner strength and the room to love themselves but combined with other context it is a really poignant message about accepting yourself for who you are.

2) Yesterday

Yesterday is very repetitive and has a lot less to analyze, but the constant themes of wanting to "run away" strike me as very Fruity. once again, not saying gay people are the only people who can want to run away or escape from something But Combined With Other Context. and once again a song with no gender indicators, doesnt specify who the speaker is running away with or what they are running away from. just that they want to Leave. "i wanna run with you / i don't care what we do / gotta get out of this place / because it feels like yesterday." also saying "it feels like yesterday" could mean that the town feels backwards or old timey in its beliefs, implying homophobia. how the speaker wants to run away from an old fashioned town.

3) Don Quixote

i'm going to bring up the cultural significance of this title and literary reference first. Don Quixote is a classical novel by Cervantes which is about a crazy dude who thinks he's a knight, and goes on weird adventures with his best friend. It's typically used as a symbol of following your dreams and breaking free from what people expect of you. In the context of the song its used as a symbol of following your dreams with Someone. once again this someone is given no gender indicators. "you say it's not worth it / been burned too many times / if your spine's receding / you can borrow some of mine / don't go and quit right now / cause i'd follow you through hell." "you say so many things / and not a word of it was true / if you're still in that state of mind / i'd still vacation inside of you / cause i think you're worth every minute / and every dime that i spend / i'd spend all my time fighting dragons / just to keep you alive and talking." it's about wanting to spend time with someone, wanting to be with them no matter what. and its also about how this person feels unreachable, like being with them would be a fairytail but the speaker Still Reaches for it. "your imaginations running wild / round your deceptive heart / this is my crusade / and you're the unreachable star / but i'm reaching." talking about this person being unreachable and unattainble. which isnt gay By Itself but again combined with the other context. FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

4) 10 Rings

another breakup song once again with no gender indicators, are you guys sensing a theme here? anyways this song is about someone cutting you off and then coming back suddenly wanting to talk again after breaking your heart. it has a sense of forbidden love, like this person Told the speaker they cant be together for Whatever Reason ;] and is now trying to come back and repair their mistake when the speaker is already hurt and reeling. "learn to live with decisions you make / i learned things from the break i can't forget / catch you doing drive-bys at 1 AM / it must kill you to know we can't be friends." "end of the summer you cut me off / i cut you out all the pictures i have." which this Isnt Gay By Itself. but bringing that phrase back with other context this is such a uniquely gay experience. being in love with someone and they cut you off Because theyre weirded out by that and then they try to come back, convince you it meant nothing.

5) The Secret Goldfish

my FAVORITE pencey song. this one has a lot. it's another breakup song about heartbreak and loss and im not even gonna dwell on the no gender indicators because yall see the theme now. it has themes of heartbreak and losing someone who is very close to you and having to let go of them and having to accept that this person cant be yours and you cant be with them. "land of the lost / i found myself in nothing / this time, promises broken find me / clutching to you for something / something that you're not / believing in what you say / it makes me lie awake at night / the truth, the truth is not what scares me / it's why you have to lie / all the time." here we see these themes of having to let someone go because they just Aren't The Same as you. "clutching to you for something / something that you're not." maybe like chasing after a straight boy and getting rejected? also the repetition of "heartbreak is forever" when you're young and gay losing that first person you felt some kind of love and attraction to can feel like the end of the world and can be a huge deal because of the lack of representation and guidance young gays get. and the themes of nothing lasting forever, the fact that gay people never get promised eternal love the same way straight people do.

6) 8th Grade

this song is the nail in penceys fucking coffin honestly. the rest of these songs have a lot of plausible deniability, just vague enough to maybe Not Be Gay. but framed in the context of 8th grade they all start to get a lil fruity. Im just gonna go through lyric by lyric for this one. "caught staring again / like a deer in the headlights / when you can't move fast enough / i take a hit for the team / pretty girl is blushing / i can't tell if she's disgusted / laughter starts to swell / someone gets the joke." this kid was staring at some cute boy ass and got caught and everyone is laughing at him for being gay. the "pretty girl" here is what most people think he's staring at but with the rest of the song it's obvious she's not the one he's looking at. "bells ring, i make my escape / helps a little, but doesn't save / beat downs a common thing / with us every day / maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools / so maybe i like the abuse / or maybe i just like you." literally This is the nail in penceys fucking coffin. "maybe i like the abuse or maybe i just like you." this kid purposefully takes beatings from his bully who is Obviously male if you take into context the next verse. because he Likes Him. "maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools" literally willingly taking beatings from his bully bc he has a crush. "another confrontation / you've got something to prove / your girl can't tell how tough you are / when you beat me up in the boys room." this just confirms that the subject of the song is a boy, and a tough macho boy with something to prove. maybe also hiding his own internalized homophobia through bullying? "well i made a big mistake / but i can't help who i like / this may not cost my life / but i am branded forever lame." LITERALLY ITS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. "can't help who i like" "branded forever lame" do i even need to fucking explain this oh my god. he got outed as gay, he Can't Help Who He Likes and is now branded forever as "the gay kid." the rest of the song is general "im gonna get back at my bully" stuff but literally THIS. THIS is the song that brands all penceys other very vague songs as 100% verified super mega ultra gay.

7) 19

this song has a lot less, and is more about internal struggle than anything. but it is the only song with a "she" pronoun in it. but there is one thing i wanna mention. "I scream out loud / but no one hears a sound / i take my life with lack of sleep / i believe the things i feel / the things i see are fooling only me." this song is about not believing what the world shows you, believing what you think is true in your heart and what You feel. not what anyone else tells you. which is a gay experience. believing in yourself and your heart and your feelings, believing theyre right and theyre true and valid. Also this song has a significance in coming right after 8th grade on the album, going from being 13 to 19, from being unsure in your feelings and angry about the people who dont like you to lost and hopeless but somewhat grounded in yourself.

8) Trying To Escape The Inevitable

this song is about an abusive and toxic relationship, knowing you Need to escape it but being so infatuated with the person you literally cant. “i have this reoccurring dream / you make it hard for me to breathe / i gave you everything i could / i gave up everything i owned / and when you smile it’s not for me / you offer little sympathy / your grasp so far exceeds your reach / i wake up, this is not a dream.” “i have this reoccuring dream / where you admit that you’re not happy / i know that you will never leave / you’re here just to torment me.” which like again this isnt an exclusively gay experience but it is very interesting when framed that way. in that gay people are way more likely to throw themselves into abusive and toxic relationships because they dont feel like they can get anybody else. the repetition of “i know i should run” makes it seem like the speaker Knows he should get out but he just Cant because what if he never finds love again? and the little reprise in the middle “i have a new dream / and everything is perfect / the sky is pink, yellow, green, blue, and orange / and all the past has been forgotten / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and i fell into your trap.” implying that even if he escapes, even in his dreams he still falls for this person because he feels like he cant have anything else.

9) Lloyd Dobbler

another love song about wanting to have someone but not being able to because of Unspecified Forbidden Reasons. “why are you so far away / even when you’re standing next to me? / your eyes give you away / telling secrets your mouht don’t feel like talking.” falling in love with someone, maybe sensing that they like you too. that they Are Like You and that they have a Secret they dont want to vocalize. do i even need to explain it at this point? and in the chorus “That I’ll be your lloyd dobbler / with a boom box out in the street / and i’ll be there if you need someone / even if he isn’t me.” saying you’ll be there for someone even if that person isn’t you, also the use of Pronouns which is big for pencey prep. which yes the use of “even if he isnt me” could imply a straight girl ooorrr....Fruit Behavior. also this line “There’s a norman rockewll painting / of two kids sitting on a bench / it reminds me of all the stupid things / i’d like for us to share, but i dont care.” normal rockwell is a painter that paints traditionally “american” scenes. like the american ideal, that maybe he wants with this person. but he knows he cant have, but its stupid and domestic and he wants it but he Cant Have It because of FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

10) Florida Plates

another of my favorite pencey songs, and this one brings back those tragic “love but we cant have it” themes, except with a more somber tone. instead of being angry or resentful or spiteful in the face of adversity. its an Acceptance, of what they had and how good it was and how it just Cant Last. “kiss a mouth to open eyes / stall one last moment before goodbye / drive in different cars in different directions / never write all the letters full of good words, better intentions / it’s for the best although we don’t know it / paper words will cheapen the moments we shared / it’s better if i say nothing at all.” it’s about knowing you have to leave someone, even if having them in the moment is great they Can’t Stay and you can’t even talk or write about the moments you had. which do i even need to explain it at this point? forbidden love, not being able to have each other, not even being able to Talk about it. its a secret, and painful one but its beautiful while you have it. Conclusion alright!!! thank you so so much if you read all the way through that i Know it was long i Know it was a lot of repetition but i wanted to make my point. pencey prep has very big gay themes in their music. with forbidden love, letting go, heartbreak, keeping secrets, toxic realtionships. which none of it is gay on its own but in the context of: almost none of the songs having clear gender indicators and always speaking really vaguely about the subject and Eight Grade the “nail in the coffin song” you can see my point thank you and goodnight.

#adrian speaks #mcr #pencey prep #frank iero

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dewykth · 4 years

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SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy!”

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

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

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

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

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

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

Your voice sounds just like honey.

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

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

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

“Oh-”

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

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

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

Too long.

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

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

“It’s okay. Really.”

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

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More than I’d like to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

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

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

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

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

“Ms. ____!”

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

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

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

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

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

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

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy! You came!”

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

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

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

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

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

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

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

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

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

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

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

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

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

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

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

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

“Let’s find Dasom.”

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

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

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

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

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

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

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

Well do something, dumbass!

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

“____!”

You still. You turn.

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

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

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

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

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

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