#we were filling out college forms and stuff and i told her to click the box that said 'my pronouns are not listed here'

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

ooohh oops

[babyboy-cody]

HI ALYSSA!!! 😃 What you wrote for grayson was beyond BEAUTIFUL. can you write something where they’re in a new relationship and she gets introduced on the podcast??? 🥰

i’m gonna try really hard to not go overboard this time 😭

The atmosphere was lighthearted and playful. Since 7am to the early afternoon, you’ve been extremely nervous and fidgety. Grayson recognized the early signs of an anxiety attack and made to bring out one of your sensory toys, the ones that make the popping and clicking sound. He brought you to a secluded corner of the house, away from everyone and all the noise, and blocked them with his body until you calmed down. The scent of him, the overall height of him, the gruffness of his voice, and the soft teddy bear vibes Grayson was giving off had you feeling more at ease.

“What if… What if they don’t like me, Gray? I mean, I’m not like the other girls you’ve hooked up with before. I’m not some insta baddie or a bad bitch. I’m me and they’re gonna hate it,” you quietly rambled to him while frantically popping and clicking your sensory toy, all the while keeping your eyes on your hand movements. Grayson allowed you to rant, not stepping in until you were fully finished. “I mean, Kris is different because she’s perfect for Ethan and she never really got any hate - not that I know of. She’s like a soft baddie, I’m not even 6% of a baddie.” This made Grayson smile as he crossed his arms and stared down at you. “Like, I’m not Tyson and it just… sucks feeling like this.”

“Look at me,” he told you, his voice low enough for only you both to hear. When you nervously peer up at him, no longer using your sensory toy, he places his large hands on your warm cheeks, thumbs gently stroking back and forth. “You’re not Tyson and that’s why I’m in love with you. You think I care about insta baddies? You’re the fucking queen, you hear me?” When you start looking down again, he quickly lifts your head. “Aye, I’m not done talking to you. You’re nothing like those girls and that’s what made me fall for you. Your kind soul, pretty eyes, and good vibes made me feel so comfortable that I always wanted to be around you 24/7. Ask Kris.” He smiles at the sound of your soft giggle and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners. “If I love with all my heart, the people who support us and want us to be happy will love you too.”

“Yo,” Ethan called out from across the room. “You ready?” He was looking at you, more so worried about your reputation than Grayson’s. “There’s no going back.” His tone was teasing and his eyes held no malice. You looked up at Grayson and he gave you a small nod and grin, as if telling you, ‘You got this.’ When you gave Ethan an enthusiastic nod, he excitedly claps his hands. “Lets do this shit!”

When you followed them to the room where they do their podcasts, you felt that anxious wave crash over you again. Grayson, being the extremely observant man he is, made sure you had your sensory toy in your hands as he rubbed your arms gently. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks that felt like butterfly wings fluttering against your skin because of his growing beard. Kristina shot you a thumbs up from her spot in the kitchen as she ate some avocado toast. You felt more at ease as Grayson and Ethan shot playful jokes at each other back and forth. You took your spot beside Grayson on the swivel chair and took the headphones he hands to you. After setting up the mics and cameras, you got yours comfortable and sat a foot or two away from Grayson so that they’re able to do their intro without you in the frame.

“It’s now or never,” you quietly mumbled to yourself.

“Good evening, everybody!” Grayson enthusiastically speaks into the mic. “Welcome back to Deeper with the Dolan Twins. I’m one of your hosts, Grayson.”

“And I’m your other host, Ethan. If it’s a little harder to tell who is who, I wore white today and Grayson wore black,” Ethan states confidently. “Grayson is always wearing his greasy ass trucker hat.”

“It’s not greasy, shut up.” Grayson sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, sending a look to the side as you covered your mouth to stifle your laugh. “So, today we are doing things a little bit differently.” You sat up straighter in your seat. “As all of you know, we had Kristina on our podcast to furthermore introduce herself as Ethan’s girlfriend.”

“And today,” Ethan rubbed his hands excitedly. “We have a very, very special guest. We are introducing… drum roll, please…” Grayson quickly tapped his fingers against the table. “Grayson’s very own girlfriend, Y/N!”

Grayson was quick to pull your chair closer to his as you held the mic and laughed quietly as they both cheered loud and clear. “This is my very lovely and very beautiful girlfriend, Y/N. Say hello to the audience.”

“Um… hello,” you awkwardly said, causing Ethan to snort. “Shut up, E! I’m nervous.” You shyly covered your face, groaning when Grayson pulled your hands away and placed his hand between yours. You immediately started playing with his fingers; a sense of calm washing over you. “Well as nervous as I am, I am extremely excited to be a guest on your podcast and I hope it receives good reactions.”

“On a lighter note, lets dive deeper into how the relationship between you and Gray… developed,” Ethan said and got comfortable in his seat.

“You tell the short story and I’ll tell the long story,” you told Grayson and lightly patted his shoulder while looking at him with such love-filled eyes that even Ethan can see from across the large table.

Grayson cleared his throat and never once move his hand from between yours. “Well we met a few years ago and started fully dating, I’d say, almost a year ago. And we met through Kristina because you’ve been really good friends story.”

“Okay, guys, people that are listening and watching,” Ethan interrupted. “Remember to get very comfortable because this story is going to be a fucking rollercoaster of emotions.”

“Oh god,” you facepalmed. “Now, for the long story. I’ve been really close friends with Kris since our childhood. I moved to Australia at a young age with my dad after my mom passed away, and we were just two peas in a pod. The way you and Grayson are with each other is the exact same way Kris and I are with each other.” Grayson leans his chin on his hand and never once looks away from you. His attention was all on you… and your lips. “And then, back in 2017 is when she started telling me about Ethan. And she had mentioned that you had a younger brother-”

“Younger by, like, 20 minutes,” Grayson interrupted with a scoff.

“Younger brother,” you emphasized a little louder, causing both twins to laugh. “And she had asked Ethan stuff about Grayson, to which she transferred back to me. So, she was like a bird messenger.” You giggled as you said that, causing a big grin to form on Grayson’s lips. “And then no sooner after that, we started talking more frequently and getting to know each other. And it just.. grew after that.”

“Didn’t Gray ghost you?” Ethan suddenly asked. Grayson groans loud beside you and covers his face embarrassingly. “I remember you freaking the fuck out because of it.”

“Yes, the motherfucker did ghost me for a few weeks. Wanna explain why, hm?” You teasingly asked him with a raise of your brows. Grayson blushed fiercely.

“So within the first three months of us talking, that was when I fully started developing strong feelings for you. And at the time, I had been fucked over so many times by so many people and was never really able to hold a long relationship. And I partially blamed myself for that because I tend to.. rush things, if that makes sense. I’m a romantic and when I fall for someone, I fall hard.” As Grayson passionately spoke and opened up his feelings, your eyes went from his eyes to his lips to his hands and back and forth. The way he spoke with his hands made you hide a smile by biting your lip. “And I was terrified because I automatically assumed that I was gonna fuck it up one way or another. The only way for me to cope was to push my feelings aside, and it just effected us both so negatively.”

“Yeah, from past experiences, it can be really difficult for someone to come to terms with the true emotions they felt. I was the same way with Kristina, you know. It felt like I had to walk around eggshells out of fear of fucking up the one thing that was good for me.” You and Grayson nodded in agreement. “I remember when we came to Australia after what happened and Gray was running back and forth, just writing what he wanted to say to you and he almost cried because his pencil broke.”

You quickly looked at Grayson. “Really?” You weren’t teasing him, you were shocked. Your voice was soft and you had a pout on your lips that he kissed away. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Nooooo!” Grayson yelled out and threw an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side.

“That’s so sweet!” You whined and pouted some more. “I never knew that, Gray. I know that in the past, there were some hardships that we were able to overcome and the way we communicated with each other, it just made our relationship stronger.”

The conversation ranged from topic to topic. Your life growing up, the death of your mother, your dad’s rescue farm in Australia, your college degree, and some moments between you and Grayson. You felt so comfortable and carefree that Grayson noticed a changed. You laughed more and spoke louder. You playfully bantered with Ethan and provided your own insight on serious topics regarding the negative effects of social media and about mental health. He’s so sure in his heart that people who love and support him and Ethan are gonna love you the same.

[mmimagine-40]

Pup 2

Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Nat

W:Age Gap, abuse talk, implied rape. (most abuse is just talking about being hit, not into details about. Implied thing)

*Little note: Someone kindly pointed out that I did in fact wright the injury wrong and got my info mixed up. I’m so sorry about that. I did edit it in the last piece. But to save some time: The readers injury is not a torn ligament it is just a sprained ankle. Thanks again and enjoy. *

Steve noticed the look on her face. And her breath started to pick up. Like the attack she had this morning. “Pup, what's wrong?”, he asked. Y/n turned to look at him, tears starting to fill her eyes. “He’s here or round here. I can smell him.”, Y/n says shakingly. Steve looked around , smelling. Getting a little hint of the alpha. Looking around he didn’t see anyone near. “Hey , it’s okay. The smell is faint. It probably means he was here at some point but it gone now. “, Steve reaches over to cup Y/n’s cheeks. Wiping the tears that tried to fall. And swiping his thumbs over her skin to calm her down. “But why is it so strong to me? It smells like he’s just outside this truck.”, she asked, leaning into his touch. Steve shh’ed her , as he pulls the middle up so he can pull her closer to him. “It’s probably just your mind doing it. You're scared of him coming back. So your senses are trying to pick up on him without you knowing. So it’s taking the slight smell of the alpha and is making it stronger for you. “. Y/n just nodded as she leaned on to him. Closing her eyes. Letting the warmth of Steve’s body and his scent to wrap around her. Calming her down. Steve stayed still letting her calm. Knowing that she just needed  a minute. He tried wrapping his head around something he can do for her. At less right now , so he can show her that it is possible to fully get away from whoever this guy is. So maybe she will open up more and he can help her. Then it clicked. Something Nat used to do in college. Before her and Bucky mated, or where even a thing. Something that can fool any alphas  smells. “Pup, if you're up for it. I know something that can help. So just in case the alpha is near he won’t smell you. But that’s only if you want to. You don’t have to, I can just take us back to the cabin if you want.”, Steve says rubbing her back. Y/n sits back up looking at him. She wipes her face , as a pout still stays on her lip, “What? What is it?”. Steve took a breath , trying to think how to word this without freaking her out. “It’s a fake bond.”, Steve says. “A fake bond? What's that?”, Y/n’s eyebrows scrunched together as she looked at him. “It’s what it sounds like...basically it’s a form of scenting an omega ...or even an alpha. It makes it appear to be like a bond. But it’s not a real one. You’ll just have a fake bond mark for about a day. And it will give off the alpha scent as long as it stays on your skin. Once it disappears the scent will too.”, Steve explains. Y/n looks around as the info wraps around her head. “So you would bite me?”, She asked looking back into his eyes. Steve nodded , “Yes, But like I said this is up to you. If you don’t want to , we won’t and I’ll just take you back to the cabin.”. Y/n looked out to the dinner. Seeing people sitting around. Laughing and talking. The faint smell from the dinner makes it way to her. Making her mouth water. She starts shaking her head as she turns back to Steve. “I would like you to do the fake bond.”. “Are you sure?”, Steve asked. He was afraid if he bite down she might go into an episode and freak out and that's the last thing Steve wants to happen right now. Y/n nods her head smiling a bit, “I trust you.”. Steve smiled at her softly. He moved a bit closer to her. Being gentle to move her head to the side and move her hair out of the way. “Just say the word and I’ll stop. Okay ,Pup?”, His breath fanned over the side of her face. Only an inch above her skin. Y/n thought she would hate it. Be reminded of Brock. But she finds herself enjoying being this close to Steve. Even a light blush covering her face as she felt his nose drag along her skin to her scent gland. Her heart was beating fast and she felt tingly all over as she felt his breath breath out onto her skin. She had to bite her tongue as she felt his lips make contact on her skin. Leaving a delicate kiss over the area. Before she felt his mouth open more. His teeth graze her skin. Before softly biting down. Y/n thought it would hurt, but it didn’t. Just a light binch. But then again it’s a fake. Not a real one , breaking through the skin and scaring into her gland. Steve kissed the spot again, this time she couldn’t help the small whimper that left her lips. Steve pulled back staring down at her with half hooded eyes. The alpha in him , jumping up and down at the small noise of pleasure that left the omegas mouth. Y/n stared back at him with doe eyes. They were so close. And Steve was about to just lean down and kiss her. But the sound of a car pulling in next to them, makes him pull away. He looks to the side to see Bucky’s car pulling into the spot next to them. Steve turns back to Y/n to see her looking down as she scoots back over to her spot. Steve waits for Nat to get out of the car. Before he gets out and makes his way to help Y/n out.  She grabs his arm as they walk in front of the car. Scared she might fall , not used to the boot. “Y/n , These are my two best friends. Nat and Bucky.”, Steve introduces them. y/n waves at them. “So you're the famous Y/n , Steve talked so much about.’, Nat says holding her hand out to shake her hand. Y/n shaked it , looking down blushing. “Nat.”, Steve said out as a warning. Glaring at her. She just smirked back at him. Bucky chuckles shaking his head at his mate. “It’s nice to meet you , Y/n”, Bucky stuck his hand out to shake her hand. y/n stood looking at his hand , shocked. Not seeing the others , looking at her then at each other. Bucky's hand slowly fell. Y/n looked up to be met with his blue eyes. Like Steve but a bit darker. Looking at her concerned. She quickly looked down to mess with her hand. “Sorry, I..I’m just a bit nervous around alphas.”, She rushes out. “It’s okay. I get it. I wouldn’t want you doing anything you're uncomfortable with.”, Bucky smiled at her. Y/n’s head snapped up shocked. At his sweetness and understanding catching her off guard. “Don’t worry Bucky wouldn’t hurt a fly. Would you Bucky Bear?”, Nat says curling up around his arm. Bucky groaned , “What did I say about using that nickname out in public?”. “That you loveee itt!”, She says poking at his cheek. Y/n watch in aw, at how this omega acts around and treats her alpha. Bucky laughs as he pushes her off of him. Y/n looked towards Steve to see if this is how they always act. He was laughing , shaking his head at his friends.  “Okay, why don’t you two  go grab a table while me and Bucky put everything into the truck? Cause after we eat you’ll need medicine and will probably be tired , Pup.”, Steve says breaking the couple up and looking towards Y/n. She smiles at him nodding, before looking back to Nat. She rolled her eyes, “FIne!”. She kissed Bucky's cheek before linking her arm with Y/n making their way inside. Y/n didn’t question it. She actually felt safe with Nat. Not only because she was another Omega. But she seemed like a strong omega who takes no crap from any Alpha. 

Waiting till the pair were inside, Bukcy turned towards Steve. Smirking and raising an eyebrow. “Pup, huh?”, He teased. Steve rolled his eyes as he walked towards the cars. Opening the backdoor to put the stuff in. “It’s just a nickname , Buck.”. “Mhmm, Sure!. I saw how you were looking at her. Pulse that fake bond!”, Bucky says opening the trunk. Steve rolled his eyes again. “It’s nothing. I’m just trying to help her.”, Steve says. They start moving the stuff. “Okay , Jerk. Answer me this: When you first saw her or even talked to her how did you feel? Was your heart racing? Feel like you want to protect her and care for her? Did you feel things you never have felt before? Feeling never felt when around anyone else? ...When she first laughed did your heart smelt and you wanted to hear it more? Do you have an itchy feeling after the first time touching her? Wanting to do it again. How about how you feel right now? Seeing her walk away , even though you know she's just going to get a table?”, Bucky asked, watching Steve put the last few things in. Steve sighs as he closes the door. “What’s your point, Buck?”. Bucky runs his hand over his face as he stares at his friend. “That’s your mate , Stevie.”. Steve looked at him confused. Bucky sighed , shaking his head, “All those feelings you’re feeling , that’s how I felt when I met Nat. When I knew her only one day I felt like I had known her forever. I knew that one day she would be mine. Actually in fact , I due believe it was you who told me we looked like true mates. The way we looked at each other and acted. You pushed me to get her. ….Well now here I am. With the best mate I could ask for. So Steve listens here. You look at Y/n like how I looked at Nat. I know you think this is just to help her and cause you to have a big heart and everything that has happened to us. But I’m telling you , that girl in there. Your , ‘pup’. Will be your mate , one day. Even if that means I have to do the dirty work to make sure you don’t chicken out and lose that girl.”, bucky rambles as he rests a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve shakes his head. “Your wrong Buck. I have only known her for less than 24 hours. I know nothing about her. But her name. So there's no way I look at her like she is my future mate.”. Bucky shakes his head at his friend's stupidity, and just walks away from him. Steve just watches him walk away. Thinking about his words. He described perfectly how he was feeling about Y/n. Hell ,when he gave her the fake bond, images flashed in his of actually bonding with her. But there was a part of his to ignore the feelings. That they meant nothing. In honesty, Steve is afraid of being hurt again. He doesn’t know Y/n’s past. It could be so bad to scare her from mating or having a relationship with an alpha at all. Just cause she seems okay with him doesn’t mean anything. “Steve?”, Bucky called from the door. When he looked up to meet his eyes , it hit Steve. Bucky might just be right….for once in his life. 

Inside Nat and y/n take a seat at the booth the hostess pointing them two. Each sliding in on either side. “Do you and your alpha always act like that?”, Y/n asked as the women walked away. Nat’s head snapped up at her. Y/n looked down ashamed , “Sorry ,it’s just...growing up I was always taught that omegas are to just stand by their alphas till they ask them for something.”. Nat smiles at her , taking her hand to hold it. y/n looked back up at her. “It’s okay. And yeah. That's how most mates act. It’s actually very old dating for how alphas and mates act and think that.”. Y/n looked at her shocked, “really?”. ‘Yeah, Most places have omegas rights now. And parents teach their omega kids how to be strong and not let the others push them around.”, Nat explains. “There are even laws now to help omegas. To help protect them.”, Nat goes on. Y/n smiled at her , “really?”. Nat nodded smiling at her. “You must have been really closed up , if you didn’t know any of this. It’s huge in the news , even till this day. About omega’s fighting back against harmful alphas.”. She gives nats hand a squeeze to think about her past. “I wasn’t allowed to watch the tv or be on any media. I was only to clean and cook. And care for the alphas. I could do nothing else.”. Nat’s mouth drop, “oh girl, I have so much to show you...I mean that is if you’re staying around here a bit more.”. Y/n looked down at their hands biting her lip. “I would like to, I have only been here a day. But the place has grown on me.”, she says. “The town or an alpha has?”, Nat wiggles her eyebrow. Y/n giggles looking at her. Knowing she sees through her. “I mean the alpha is just a pulse.””. Nat squeals excited, “we are going to be best friends! Don’t worry I’ll help you with him. He can be a bit stupid sometimes.”. Y/n looked at her as her smile fell a bit. “I’ve never had a friend before.”. “Well girl you're in luck! Cause now you have three and good luck getting rid of us,”, Nat points out the window towards the boys, “This is going to be great! Having another girl around!”. The smile on Y/n's face widens at Nat. In less than 24 hours Y/n has finally found somewhere that really feels like home.  

The two pulled away at the notice of the two alpha’s coming closer to them. Bucky slides in next to Nat, resting his arm around her to pull her closer to him. The omega curled into her alphas side purring. y/n smiled as she watched them. Never have seen two people so in love. A bump against her shoulder , causes her to turn to look at Steve. He was smiling down at her. She never noticed how big he was till now. He was basically towering over her. Making her feel so small, but not in a bad way. In some ways , she actually liked how he was so big and strong. It made her feel safe and comfortable. ‘You okay?’ , Steve mouthed to her. Y/n smiled at him nodding. She turned back to face Bucky and Nat only to see them both smirking at them both. Y/n blushed as she looked down over the menu. 

Steve helped Y/n into the truck as they said their last goodbyes to Bucky and Nat. He waves them off as they pull out heading to their home, before hopping into the driver's side and taking off to the cabin. “ I like your friends. They are really nice and funny.”, Y/n says. “Yeah but they can be a handful sometimes. But i’m glad you had fun.”, Steve says. Y/n gives him a smile before turning to look out the window. Watching the small stores and house as they speed past. Before they disappear , as they head out of town and back up to the cabin. Which made Y/n turn her attention elsewhere. Her eyes catch the boot. She just stands there looking down at it. Steve looked over to her. Seeing her look at the boot and the sour look on her face. “What wrong, pup?”. Y/n looks up to see Steve keep looking back and forth from the road to her. Looking concerned. She turned back to look at the boot. “It’s nothing. I...I just...I’m going to be in this boot for a while and winter looks like it's about to be here any day now. I have nowhere to go.”. “Tired of me already ,pup?”, Steve chuckled. She softly laughed, shaking her head. “No, but I feel bad for leaching on you.”, Y/n says softly playing with her hands. “Pup, I told you this morning. You're injured and need some help right now. I’m here to help you. As long as it takes for you to get back on to your own feet and even after that, I’ll be here to help you…..Plus it’s nice to have the company.”, Steve says looking over at her. Y/n smiled looking up at Steve. Tears filling her eyes. Out of happiness. Blessed to have someone care so deeply about her. “Why are you so nice to me? You don’t even know anything about me. I know more about you. And you haven’t tried to hide anything or stop Bucky from telling me stories of you guys youth. Yet you haven't asked me a thing about mine.”. “I didn’t want to push you. Just let you tell me what you want. On your own time.”, Steve says. Y/n just sits there watching him. Looking over every detail of his face. “How is it you know all the right things to say? I know that you picked up that I've been abused. But you say nothing of it. Or of the alpha I was running from. You never even asked what I was doing in the woods yesterday. “, Y/n asked. Steve sighed as he put the truck in park outside the cabin. He turns to look at Y/n. Looking over her face. Images flash in his head of his mother. Steve turns back to face the steering wheel. “Growing up I had an abusive father. He forced a bond on my mother when they were young adults. After she refused to mate with him. He was the stereotypical alpha. Made his omega do everything for him. Clean , cook , get him things. Hit her if she spoke to him a certain way or didn’t do something. Or even did something he didn’t like. Ma said he wasn’t always so bad. That he was still controlling that she be the stereotypical omega. But he wasn’t as abusive. Not till I was born. He wanted a whole bunch of alpha pups. As Bucky told you, growing up I was the scrawny little kid. So much so I presented as an omega at first. And my father didn’t like that. Punished my mother for it. Then he tried to get her to have more babies. But no matter what she couldn’t get pregnant. He blamed me for it. Started becoming more abusive to us. There were countless nights when I watched him beat up my mother till she passed out and was hardly breathing. Even nights that he’d hit me. But my mother would usually change his anger to her , so he won’t hurt me. The most I got was a black eye. But Ma she had bruises everywhere , broken bones, dislocated joints, everything possible to hurt a person without killing them.” . Steve put his hand in one of his hands. As pictures flash into his head. Memories of his mother. Her black and blue face as she told him to stay strong that they would get out of this. Y/n Grabbed Steve's other hand holding it. Giving it a squeeze. She scooted closer to him. Wrapping around his arm. As she lays her head on his shoulder. Steve felt his body relax as her smell wrapped around him. He rested his head on top of hers. “What happen?”, she asked. “There was an organization that was helping omegas get away from their abuser and help them start a life for themselves. One day , after my dad left for work, my mom grabbed me and a bag with some of our things and headed to the meeting place of this organization. They helped to make it seem we were elsewhere , when we headed to New York. The people helped my ma find a job and got us into a place to stay. Helping us start a new life. I met many people like us. Including my best friend .”. “Bucky?”, Y/n asked looking up at Steve. Steve nodded, “Him, his baby sister, and his mother were also running from his abusive father. We actually move in next to each other. Our families became close. To where they are my second family. “. Y/n looked around thinking over everything that he told her. Was it really possible to true be gone from an abuser? “Did he ever find y’all?”, Y/n asked, pulling back some to face Steve. He looked at her, shaking his head. “No, he never did.”. Steve looked back to the windshield seeing small droplets appearing as dark clouds rolled in. “Come on , Pup. It looks like it’s about to rain.”, Steve says opening his door. Y/n lets go of him watching as he gets out. He turns back holding a hand out to help her. She takes it as she climbs out. “You think you can get in by yourself?”, Steve asks. Y/n nodded. “Okay , here’s the key. You can leave the door open , I'll be right behind you with the bags. “, He hands her the keys , before turning back to the back of the truck to grab the bags. Y/n makes her way into the house. Her mind was racing after what Steve told her. It made her feel a bit better and more trusting of Steve. He told her something personal. Not to get out of her what happened , but to make her know that he understands what's happening. And can help her. Thinking over his words , describing what happened to his mom. Popped up memories of her own mother. An omega as well, busied and mistreated by her mate. Memories of watching her mother lay clothes on and putting on makeup before going out to the store. Trying to cover up the marks that her father laid on her the night before. 

“Okay that's the last of it.”, Steve says. Snapping Y/n out of her thoughts. She looks up to see Steve setting the last bags down in the kitchen. He checks his watch looking at the time , before turning to grab a glass. He filled it with some water. He handed it to Y/n along with the bottle of meds Bruce gave him. “Thank you.”, Y/n says grabbing the bottle and looking over the instructions before taking them. Her attention went back to Steve after. She watched as he moved around the kitchen putting away the groceries. “His name is Brock Rumlow.”, Y/n says. Steve pauses what he’s doing turning to look at Y/n. “ His father and mine were friends. His father paid mine to have me for his son. My father agreed. I was only 15. When I was first taken Brock never touched me. Only talked to me. He was nice. Told me that if I didn’t want to mate he wouldn’t force it. That was till I turned 18. After that he started forcing himself more on me. At first he was just pushy about wanting a relationship of some kind. Then one time when I was close to hitting my heat , he started pushing me more to bond with him. After a year of saying no he changed a lot. When he brought it up again one day. I told him I just didn’t feel a connection with him. That was the first time he laid a hand on me. He slapped me across the face. Calling me a disrespectful bitch. That he gave me everything. All he’s asking is to be his mate , his omega. To bare him children. It was also the first time he..he…”. Steve dropped what he was doing rushing over to Y/n. Pulling her into a hug. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it or anything else.”, Steve says into her hair. “It just keeps getting worse and worse. He said he would continue till I said yes. Which I never did. A month or so ago I was able to escape while he was gone. I have been running since. I stopped a few days ago , stopping to rest at the town over. But he found me so I ran into the woods , hoping it would cover my smell and I’d lose him. I was running for hours. Till I tripped over a tree root sticking out of the ground.”, Y/n finished. Tears were running down her face as she recalled the memories. Steve shushed her. “It’s okay. It’s all over now. I’ll make sure he never touches you again, pup. “. Y/n cling’ d onto Steve as she cried. Steve rubbed her back soothing her. After a bit they pulled away. Y/n looked up at Steve as he looked down at her. Whipping the tears off her face. “Come on pup. It’s been a busy day. Why don’t you lay down and rest for a bit?”, Steve asked. Y/n nodded. Steve let Y/n go in front of him as he carried the bags that carried the stuff Nat got for her. He led her to one of the guest rooms. “This can be your room to stay in while you're here. It’s right next to my room just in case you need anything.”, Steve says setting the bags down as Y/n takes a seat on the bed. Taking off the jacket and kicking off her shoe. Steve turns back to her helping her take off the boot so she’s more comfortable. He helped her get in and laid in the bed. Steve turned to leave, when a hand grabbing his wrist stopped him. “Can you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.”, Y/n says. Steve smiles at her nodding. He took his jacket off and kicked his boots off before taking a seat on the other side of the bed. Leaning against the headboard. Y/n curled into his side. As soon as she curled around him, her eyes became heavy. As sleep started to take her.

Y/n is awoken  by a bright light shining in her eyes. As her eyes open she is met with a bright light shining through the window. She groaned , turning the other way. Into a warm chest. She opened her eyes , looking up. Seeing Steve laying there shirtless. With one arm laying over her waist. Y/n looked over all of him. In awe at his beauty. Her eyes laid on a mark on his neck. A bond mark. Y/n’s hand moved to her neck. Feeling over where her scent gland is. Feeling a sacred bond. As her fingers ran over the mark, a wave of memories hits her. Memories she doesn’t remember living. Of Steve, them claiming each other, and a life together. “Morning Pup.”, A husky voice says. Y/n looked up to see Steve’s eyes opening and smiling at her. “Morning.”, Y/n smiles back. A bunch of feelings hitting her. A warm happy feeling. One of being complete. Steve turned to look at the time. He turned back to Y/n , pulling her into him. “We have maybe 10 minutes.”, he says as he moves her to her back , kissing her. Y/n moaned into the kiss. Melting into him. Her hands moved from resting on his chest up and into his hair. Keeping him on her. Loving the feeling of his lips and never wanting him to stop kissing her. But the sound of the bedroom door open caused them to pull a part. Steve sighed as his head dropped onto Y/n’s shoulder. She laughed softly. Counting running her fingers through his hair. She leaned down kissing his check. “Mommy! Daddy!”, A voice yells running to the bed. Steve rolled off Y/n as the small child climbed onto the bed. “Buddy, what are you doing up so early?”, Steve asked, helping him up. The little boy shrugged as he made his way to Y/n. Snuggling into her. “Clearly he needed mommy cuddles, right baby?”, Y/n pulls him closer kissing his head. Which was a head full of blond hair. Being his fathers mini me. He nodded looking up at her. “But he interrupted my cuddle!”, Steve pouts. Y/n giggles , shaking her head at him, “Well if you were as cute as Grant , maybe you would have gotten some.”. Steve gasped as his hand went over his chest , acting hurt. Grant giggled watching his father. Steve snapped his eyes at him. “Oh, you think that’s funny?”. Grant nodded , giggling. Steve smirked as he reached over tickling him. He giggled harder and started kicking trying to get away from his father. Y/n’s hand shot to her stomach. Feeling the small bump. “Boy’s!”, Y/n warned. “Careful bud. You kicked sissy.” , Steve said. Stopping his attack on his son and turning to her stomach. Resting a hand over it. “Sorry Mommy. Sorry Sissy.” , Grant said moving to kiss her stomach. “It’s okay baby. You just have to be more careful next time okay?”, Y/n pulls him back up to hug him. He nods wrapping his small arms around her neck hugging her. Steve smiled as he watched them. Grant looks towards his father. Holding his hand out to pull him into the embrace too. Steve kissed his head, wrapping his arm around Grant and Y/n pulling them closer. Y/n smiled as her boys embraced her. Her eyes began to feel heavy again. As her boys snuggle closer , she lets sleep take her over. 

Y/n jumps awake. She looks around seeing that she was in the guest room. She looked over to see Steve gone from where he was sitting with her. Sounds from downstairs catch her attention. She moves the bedding sitting up and puts the boot back on to her feet. She then makes her way down stairs following the noise and delicious smells of something to the kitchen. Y/n stops in the entry watching Steve move around cooking something. She takes a seat at the table watching him cook. Thinking over the dream she had. A smile made its way onto her face. This felt like those stories she used to read. The ones talking about how when you found the one you just knew. Y/n just knew. Steve was the one.

____________________

Part 2 of the Pup story. I’m really loving how this is coming out and I hope you guys are too! If you want to be tagged in the next part leave a comment or message me and I’ll add you. Also if you have an questions and want more info on something you can ask for it and I’ll answer or wright a little piece for it. -MM

Tags:

@woodworthti666   @chrisevanisliterallysir   @sukeraa  @bxnnywriting

[alicemitch09writes]

last love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: Nothing was the same anymore, that much was clear. But it is really? Is it really too late for it all?

author’s notes: This is the final part to the first love trilogy. Please go read the first one, then its sequel - skinny love, before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

He wakes up with a start – sweating all over, heart pounding against his chest, sleep slowly washes over before realizing where he was and the humid heat that was summer gracing his room. He let out a relieved sigh, falling back into his sheets.

“Tetsuroo, wake up already!” came his mother’s voice, which resounded through the house.

The teen waited until his heart calmed to finally get out of bed, still drenched in sweat. A mirror stood across him, revealing his image – still the same gangly guy with serious bed hair, but his eyes still looked tired, even though his bags had lessened.

Grabbing a towel, he takes a quick shower.

He pretends to not have seen the look on his mother’s face when he wolfs on his breakfast, giving her a quick sloppy kiss on the cheek, before grabbing his bag and leaves.

His phone rings – a text message, he flips his phone and sees a text from his sister, quickly typing a reply before going to the music app. Plugging on his earphones, he begins to walk down a familiar path.

Leaning his head back, clear blue skies greet him. It was too much of a good day today.

Closing his eyes, he soaked up on the light, warming his face. When he opened them, the train station was in clear sight, his steps quickened.

Four stops and twelve blocks later, and he was walking down a place he’s grown familiar with the past few months. The grass was still greener, the flowers were much brighter, and the trees were tall as ever – maybe because it was summer. But the paint job was still terrible, even though they had maintenance work on them.

Upon entering the hospital, he nods at the nurses and staff – all of which, were used to his presence for the past months, adjusting the weight of his right arm, carrying his bag.

Kuroo Tetsturou fell into a routine – he woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, made small talk with his parents or sister, and went to the hospital. It’s been that way for months.

He stood in front of the door, about to knock when he heard her – a soft strumming and singing.

“I love this place, but it’s haunted without you…”

He felt the familiar skip of his heart at the sound of her voice. Carefully pushing it open, he finds (Name), playing her ukulele, pen, and notebook on her lap.

“My tired heart is beating so slow,” A thoughtful look crosses her face as she sings as if testing the lyrics. She quickly sketches down on her notebook – chords, and lyrics, falling into her element. Picking her ukulele, she strummed slowly, trying the new lyrics – “Our hearts sing less than we wanted, we wanted, our hearts sing ‘cause we do not know, we do not know” –  a small smile gracing her lips when they came out.

Without even knowing, his body moved on its own accord, stepping inside and towards her.

The song had a light melody to it, repetitive on the notes, yet strangely melancholic and full of longing. Yet somehow, unfinished. She stopped for a moment, stumped, before going over it again. Despite her minor slip up, she smiled through it and went over the song again – she was a perfectionist like that.

The sound of the door clicking broke the moment, (Name) looking up to find Kuroo standing in front of him, surprise written all over her face.

“H-Hey, (Name).” Kuroo says, lifting a hand in greeting.

She gives him a nod, awkwardly glances at him, then back to her notes.

“How’s your song going?”

She fiddles with the page, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s coming.”

“I see.” He nods, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “By the way, I got something for you.” Putting his bag on the foot of her bed, he unzips it and takes out a pink package. “Sis bought some stuff for you, says you’ll be needing it once you get into college.”

Slowly, a smile forms on her face as she reached for it, Kuroo careful as to not let their fingers touch. “That’s nice of her.”

Sitting himself on the couch, he looked at the clutter of papers on the table – university brochures. “Have you decided on where to go? Or are you still bent on getting to where uncle is teaching?” he asked teasingly, especially on the last question, an attempt to lighten the mood.

Her lip curled by a fraction, hugging her instrument close. “…well, it is my dream school and all.”

Kuroo nods at that. “Well, knowing you, you’ll make it – with or without the influence of your dad.” She smiled at that, playing with the ends of her short hair. His eyes followed her fingers tangle in those (hair color) locks, remembering how strange it was to see her usual locks chopped off, of combing them when she was still unconscious.

A tense silence fills in – both teens staring at anything but each other, unsure of what to say next.

“How about you?”

Kuroo made a questioning hum.

“Keiji told me you’re yet to enroll into college,” there was her ever-present concerned tone, (eye color) eyes soft, yet, basing on her tone, there was no mistaking how carefully she had asked.

Peering up to her through his fringe, Kuroo contemplated on his next words. “I haven’t decided on a course yet.” He lied, shrugging offhandedly. “No worries, though, I’ve been working part-time.” That was half a lie, he had just started working at a small grocery store. A small distraction outside the four corners of his own home and the hospital.

Her brows furrowed slightly with worry before it eased away when a knock came from the door. Her doctor – a small middle-aged man named Dr. Ishioka peeked in, beaming at the sight of her.

“Good morning, (Last name)-chan.” Noticing she was not alone, he gave Kuroo a short nod. “And to you, too, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo returned the gesture, having been a familiar face in the hospital for the past few months.

“How are we today?”

 “Good,” she smiled, still hugging her ukulele, forgetting her stationary in front of her. When her doctor noticed, he merely gave it a glance. Having finally noticed at what he was looking at, she started looking sheepish. “A-Ah, I was just writing my song!”

The doctor smiled kindly. “And how is it?”

“I-It’s coming,” she replied, using the same answer she gave Kuroo earlier. “I get stuck on words, and things are a little fuzzy to figure out.”

The man nods, hands buried deep in his pocket. “That’s good, getting some brainwork done. However, don’t stress yourself, okay? You’ve been asleep for six months, and it’ll still take some time for your body to get used to moving.”

“She won’t,” Kuroo says aloud, (Name) and Dr. Ishioka turns to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

(Name) nods dutifully, finally putting down her instrument.

In his professional eyes, there clearly was an underlying tension between the two. Instead of pushing into it, he knew where his limits were.

“Well, that’s good to hear then. You’re in good hands, (Last name)-chan.”

The girl looks up to the doctor, who gives her a kind smile before leaving her a few instructions, which Kuroo was quick to take note of, before leaving.

Just as the door closed behind him, he heaved a sigh, wishing the best for the two.

“(Last name)-saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” a loud, jolly voice erupted in the room, making a dash for the girl. Barely a step in, Yaku kicked him in the back, grabbing the tall teen by the collar and pulling him back. “Geh- “

“Lev, control yourself! This is a hospital, not a playground! Geez, it’s like taking care of a giant baby.” Meeting her gaze, he lifted a hand. “Yo, (Last name), you look well.”

She laughed, eyes soft at the sight of the Nekoma team filling her room. Kenma, sitting beside her, had his eyes stuck to his console per usual.

“(Last name),” Noboyuki nods, holding out a fruit basket. “we brought you fruits.”

Her smile grew, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Kai!”

Kenma puts away his console and takes the fruit basket from the taller lad, putting it on a nearby table. He plucks an orange and disappears into the washroom, momentarily leaving (Name) with the Nekoma team.

“(Last Name)-san, your hair!” Inuoka pointed out. “It’s grown so much!”

She laughed at his comment, touching her hair consciously. “Yes, it has. My head feels lighter, actually.”

“Then, you’re keeping it short?”

She hums, tapping her finger to her chin in thought. “Who knows?”

“It looks good, actually,” Yaku commented. “Then again, it’s your hair, so it’s your choice.”

After the short pleasantries, the boys headed towards the couch and sat down, Fukunaga flipping through the channels. Kenma emerges from the washroom, sitting in his spot next to her.

“Ah, it’s your mom’s turn to watch you, right?” Noboyuki asked, sitting on the couch.

She hummed, nodding, Kenma placing the oranges on a table in front of her as he plumped and propped some pillows behind her, making sure that she was comfortable. When he was done, he sat down and began to unpeel his orange, (Name) mimicking him.

“Although" she broke into a sigh, breaking off pieces of the orange "I just wish I could get out of here, it’s so stuffy in here. Not to mention, it gets kind of scary at night.” She shuddered, blaming it on the time when the boys from Fukurodani visited and Bokuto, who had been channel surfing, stopped upon a horror film – particularly on a very scary scene. Lest to say, she didn’t sleep well that night and Bokuto was nearly banned from visiting her again.

“That’s understandable, hospitals tend to be scary,” Noboyuki says kindly.

“You can say that again!” roared Yamamoto.

“Yamamoto, shut up.” Yaku reprimands the loud-mouthed boy.

“Lev, how’s your read block training going?” as soon as the question was asked, the Russian tensed, beginning to sweat profusely.

“A-Ah, it’s going great!”

“He still sucks at it,” Kenma says, munching on a slice of orange with his eyes glued to his game console. “And no amount of practice seems to work, it’s like he’s meant for failure.”

“You can say that again,” says Yamamoto, arms folded against his chest. “he’s a hopeless cause.”

“H-Hey, I’ve been practicing!”

“Bless Nekomata-sensei for ever thinking you had a chance.”

“Yaku-san, not you, too!”

“Time to scoot, little newt!”

“Goddamn it, Fukunaga!”

(Name) couldn’t help but laugh, missing her rowdy boys.

A month of being holed in here was enough to drive anyone insane – everything was too gray, too cold and too dull. It meant so much to her whenever someone came to visit, bringing color to her room and warmth to her heart. Even as they all ganged up on Lev, she knew they really cared. And as far as Kenma’s told him – being vice-captain and all, Lev’s actually not bad. Though, he is quite clumsy with executing his offense and defense. She missed this, she really did.

But the thing was, it just wasn’t the same anymore.

It was hard to be around him anymore, that was a fact.

When she woke up, it looked like she had emerged from a different world. Kuroo quickly called the doctors, happy tears slipping down his face. Too happy to know that she finally woke up – after six months! – he almost forgot to ring her parents of her recovery.

A few hours later, when she slowly came to, he walked back in the room. Happy tears filled the room, the happy parents engulfing their finally awakened sleeping beauty.

But at the sight of him, she suddenly shook and cried – Kuroo quickly ran out of the room before anyone told him to, for her sake. All his worst fears came to life.

The doctors had assured him that it was just the effects of being unconscious for so long – it was difficult to adjust to her surroundings and the people she cared about. Her mind might still be subjected to her previous mindset, long before she went into a coma. So, when she woke up, there was a lot to take in for her. But with the help of doctors, her family, and friends, she was able to come through.

In a span of two weeks, (Name) was showing progress with her recovery. She was still subjected to strains when she overworked herself, especially when it came to brain exercise. But overall, she was doing well, her energy revitalized with the support of her family and friends. And ever since she woke up, there’s not a day when a friend – from Nekoma or Fukurodani – would drop by and visit.

In fact, the only time she ever seemed comfortable was when he wasn’t in the scene. She was much more comfortable with being in the presence of others than with his. And that hurt.

Things just weren’t the same anymore.

She knew that.

He knew that.

And it was all because of that one mistake of his. Just the thought of it made his gut churn, his hands balled into fists, his anger to rise, geared towards him.

There was no questioning of her newfound fear of him, after all, it was also his fault. Kuroo accepted his fate wholeheartedly, even though it killed him.

He could hear his thoughts twisting: of the reason that he stayed, was to ease himself of the guilt, to make him feel better about himself.

So, he came up with a decision, once she’s done with her rehab, when she finally gets discharged, he’ll leave her alone. As much as it pained him, he knew it was for the best.

After all, who was he in her life anymore?

“To light the night, to help us grow…” she mumbled, jolting down her notebook. “It is not said I always know…” Her nose scrunches, having hit a block. Frustrated, she throws her hand in the air, looking around her quiet room. Everything looked too dull, too gray. Instinctively, her hands reached to her right, where her ukulele usually lay, only to find it sitting on the chair across her – her father, had visited earlier and played her a song in an attempt to cheer her up.

(Name) sat up, turns to her side to lower the rail before sliding her feet off the bed. The cold tingle on her toes was a sensation she never knew she’d want to feel again, having been bedridden for months. Taking deep breaths, she lifted her feet off, remembering to bear the weight – feeling like a toddler walking for the first time.

Just as she reached her ukulele, a harsh voice called out. “Didn’t the doctor say you aren’t supposed to strain yourself?”

She looked up, meeting Kuroo’s furious gaze, seeing her out of bed.

Technically, according to the doctor, she could walk quite well now and advised her to do some exercise when she can. Kuroo couldn’t help but overreact.

“B-But…” without a word, he gently helped her back to her bed. She didn’t argue, her mission to grab her ukulele forgotten.

He sighed, pulling up a chair. “You do want to get out, right?” She nods, slowly, withdrawing her fingers away.

“D-Dr. Ishioka says I’m good to walk now.”

“Is that so?” she nods, like a petulant child. Kuroo sighs, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“It’s okay.” Relaxing, she offered him a gentle smile, which lasted for a minute before realizing the bags under his eyes, how bloodshot his eyes were. “You seem tired.”

“Hm,” he yawned, massaging his throbbing temples. “shitty customer, don’t worry about it.”

“You should sleep.” she offered.

“I’ll be fine,” he calls off, turning his back to look for something to do, anything to avoid her eyes.

“Kuroo Tetsuroo,” she called, using her tone – one he and Kenma were fairly familiar with, even the team. It pleased her to see him tense, slowly facing her. A triumphant smile was ready to break into her face, but concern about his welfare won over.

His shoulders slumped, surrendering. That made her smile, a tiny bit triumphant, before patting on her side. Instead, Kuroo resigned to sitting on a chair next to her bedside, leaning forward to rest his head on his folded arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?” she offered, clearly displeased.

“I’m fine like this,” he tells her softly. I got used to it.

She looked like she wanted to argue but quickly closed her mouth shut. She moved closer so that he was laying on her lap. “Tetsuroo?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I wanna go to the gardens tomorrow, to stretch my legs.”

“All day?”

She nodded shyly, determined.

“Okay then, walking all day it is. By the way, how’s the song coming?”

Her shoulders fell, dejected. “It’s coming…I’m just stuck…”

Kuroo laughed, muffled by the sheets. And then he broke into a yawn, his head heavy, throbbing, eyelids drooping close but he fought to stay awake. Thin fingers soothingly ran through his hair, like they usually did, easing the tension from his head and replacing it with the sense of calmness.

“Hey, (Name)?” She leaned close, face illuminated by the moonlight. How he wanted to touch her face. “Sing me a song?

Smoothing her fingers through his hair, a soft smile crept its way to his lips, especially when she began to sing. His heart tugged, slowly beating faster – he always loved hearing her sing with or without an instrument. In one exhale, his subconscious slipping, the last thing he heard was her sweet voice and the beating of his heart.

“Hey, (Name).”

“Hm?”

“Why have you been avoiding Kuroo?”

She froze, slowly turning her head to blond-dyed teen beside her, hands folded against his chest and console free. He watched her from the corner of his eye, golden eyes inquisitive, waiting.

“Of course, you knew.” She smiled, leaning into his shoulder. “It’s not that I’m avoiding him…it’s just,” she lifted her hands, making gestures before letting them fall. “I-I don’t know how to talk to him...I’m not sure I want to. Just…being around him makes me feel like a black hole if that even makes sense.” The blank TV screen in front of her bed reflected the two, lying side by side on her bed, but she could also see the view outside her window – a dark blanket of night, the moon obscured by clouds.

“Hey, Kenma?” There was a question she was dying to ask, gnawing her the moment she woke up. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready for the answer, regardless of what it was. “My mind’s a bit fuzzy, and I was unconscious and all, but I do remember voices in the dark.” Swallowing thickly, she says. “A-And I swore I heard Tetsuroo.”

Kenma’s eyes noticeable widened, his shoulders heavy from bearing weights of two sides. In his head, he was debating whether he should tell her or not – he was obligated to, after all.

“Yeah, that was him.” He exhaled, recalling the past six months. “Kuroo didn’t leave your side since he found out you were admitted.”

She let out a weak gasp, the dam breaking. Alarmed, the blonde turned to his friend. “Why are you crying? Are you happy? Sad?”

“Both.” She sobbed, crying against his shoulder. But also, she felt incredibly guilty.

Kenma sighed, really, these two were a handful. When they talked, they both had to be careful of the other, as if they threaded on thin ice. He’s had enough of bearing their secrets, especially when it concerned the other – it made him the third wheel.

But as frustrating as they were, they were still his friends and he cared about them.

A few months into (Name) under coma, Kuroo Tetsuroo received word that he had been qualified for the colleges he applied for, one, in particular, was in the United Kingdom. Driven by guilt, he had to turn down their offers of scholarships for her, too broken to even take a step forward.

A day after she woke up, he called the admissions, asking if he was still qualified. To his luck, he still was.

Although the semester wouldn’t be until next month, Kuroo’s things were all packed. He didn’t bother saying a word to anyone, it was for the best.

It was a dick move, but then again, he was a dick.

This was the biggest leap of faith in his life, the opportunity of a lifetime, he had to take it. Yet, as much as his heart yearned for it, it felt like he was taking the easy way out.

He’ll miss Tokyo, his home, his family, his friends.

But what he’ll miss the most was her.

It’ll be alright, he thought to himself. After all, she’ll be off to college, her dream school, where she can start anew.

And as much as he hated the thought of it, he knew that she’ll meet someone else, someone who’ll treasure her in ways he failed to.

It felt surreal to be outside again, to have the sun and the wind kiss her skin. Hands instinctively flew to her hair as the wind picked up, remembering that it was still growing and it was cropped short.

What’s more surreal was the audition she got for her dream school, which was in a week’s time, having considered her situation. Nekoma was going to have a practice match soon with Karasuno, a mini-reunion was planned by the two schools. She was finally going to meet Kenma’s special someone he met at a Game Expo. It was almost too much for her heart to take.

But something was missing in all this fanfare – Kuroo.

For days, she hasn’t heard a word from him, hasn’t seen from him since. If she traced it back, it started just a day before she was released. She missed him. She really did. Her heart ached just to see a familiar hide of messy black hair, his gangly form, his easy smile.

And then she received a call from Bokuto, frantically telling her that Kuroo was at the hospital.

Apparently, he was out drinking with a few friends and suddenly got into a fight. Although he started it, he didn’t fight back, allowing the guy to beat him to a pulp. Had Bokuto not been there and Kuroo’d be critical.

Without a word, she ran out of her house, thoughts flying to Kuroo.

Upon arrival, her heart broke at the sight of him, hating that his arm was bandaged, the bruises and stitches on his face. She had the exact look of heartbreak when he saw her, all the guilt washed over her as she rushed to his side.

“What happened to you, Tetsurou?” he smelled of blood, dirt, sweat, and alcohol, but she didn’t care. “I know you’re one to pick fights, but I never thought you’d go this far.”

He turned away, avoiding her in eyes. That hurt. Kenma’s words surfaced, making her heart twinge.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked Bokuto angrily, completely ignoring her presence. She flinched at his tone, mind flashing to a certain memory.

“She was the best person to call,” Akaashi answered calmly, appearing next to the grey-haired teen. “Kuroo-san, go home. And more importantly, you and (Last name)-san need to talk.”

“Eh? But Akaashi, don’t you think Kuroo’s out of it?”

“I’m very much sober, thank you very much.” Kuroo threw a glare at the raven-haired setter, ignoring Bokuto’s concern, or (Name)’s.

After being given painkillers, Kuroo was good to go. And before anyone could stop him, he walked out of the hospital.

(Name) looked at the two teens worriedly before chasing after him, calling after his retreating form. But he didn’t look back, not even once. She didn’t stop chasing after him either.

Finally, he stopped by the riverside next to the bridge – the same one she found he and Kenma some years ago. Although puzzled, she followed him down the steps. Knowing that she was behind him, that she wouldn’t leave him alone, Kuroo sighed – ignoring the pain from his chest. He sat down, she took it as an invitation, sitting a step above him.

The silence between them was thick with a heavy weight of guilt wrought by the past few months, hearts burdened heavily. It was almost unbearable to even breathe, running away was the perfect option, yet the two stayed, another option weighing heavier.

They remain like that for at least an hour, the night growing older with every second. Two teenagers too afraid to tell the other what they wanted to say, fear holding them back.

Finally, for what seemed like forever, Kuroo exhaled through his nose, a heavy sigh. That was never a good sign. “I’m going to Cambridge.”

Her head whipped to him, he worried she’d get a whiplash. But she didn’t, her world just stopped. “W-What…?”

Sighing again, he pressed his forehead to his palms, unable to meet her eyes. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but this was for the best.

“The next semester won’t start until next month, but in a few days or weeks, I was called to take a test and offered a scholarship. So, I leave sometime this month.”

She could feel her heart twisting with every word he said, and she hated it – hated the way he talked to her, hated how he seemed to avoid her. Then again, she pretty much did the same thing when she woke up. She missed him, she really did.

Brought by the pent-up emotions she’s been feeling, she called out, in a shaky tone. “Hey, Tetsu, won’t you listen to my song?”

Song? He peeked up at her. So, she finally got to finish her song.

Swallowing hard, she reached for her ukulele – the sight of the band-aid sent a sharp pain in his heart, a painful reminder – fingers positioned over the strings, shaking just by a fraction. Before he could stop her, she glanced up at him and began singing.

  I love this place

But haunted without you

My tired heart is beating so slow

Our hearts sing less than we wanted

We wanted

Our hearts sing cause

We do not know

We do not know

 Her singing was as gentle as her music, enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He was reminded of the many times she’d sing to him, in times when he was at his lowest. To cheer him up, all it took was a few comforting words, a gentle smile, a warm hug, or her offering a song. It was cheesy, but he loved it, especially because when she sang to him, it would be only him and just him alone, making it very personal for him. He was selfish like that, especially with her.

  To light the night

To help us grow

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

 Of course, you don’t, he thought laughingly.

He could feel the longing in her voice, the loneliness – it made her seem like she was a princess locked up in a tower. Its lyrics tugged at him, knowing the feeling so well.

When their eyes met, he saw the young woman he fell in love with when they were 8, the young woman who held his heart now.

  You can catch me

Don't you run

Don't you run

If you live another day in this happy little house

The fire’s here to stay

 The emotion in her eyes made his throat dry, tugging his heart – did she just?

  To light the night

To help us grow

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

 His heart was hammering wildly against his chest, a rush of emotions burning inside, igniting his veins. The words were at the tip of his tongue, heart ready to burst out of his chest to tell her.

But not just yet, he didn’t want to jinx it, couldn’t bring himself to, he wanted to hear more.

  Please don't make a fuss

It won't go away

The wonder of it all the wonder that I made

I am here to stay

I am here to stay

Stay

  Overwhelmed by her emotions, by the pent-up emotions she’s withheld for so long, tears began streaming down her face uncontrollably. Alarmed, Kuroo quickly took her ukulele aside and enveloped her in his arms.

At his touch, everything she’s been holding in surfaced - missing him, loving him. “I’m sorry!” she cried, returning the hug, tightening her hold on him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“No, don’t say you’re sorry.” He pulls back to plant a kiss to her forehead, thumbs brushing her tears away. “Don’t you ever feel sorry, (Name).” He whispered against her skin.

Kenma’s neutral look of displeasure came to mind. He felt like an idiot. How could he be so stupid to have dismissed her feelings over his?

(Name) couldn't stop crying, her heart was so full of emotions that it seemed like it would burst anytime. She felt loved, so loved in Kuroo's arms - from the boy she's loved for so long. And somehow, his embrace made everything better, everything was forgiven, forgotten – yet, it made things worse at the same time.

“Tetsurou, please don’t go…” glossy (eye color) eyes begging, his heart aching. She couldn't take not having him by her side, couldn't take the thought of losing him. “Don’t go, please.” Gentle hands reached up to cup his face, tears continuing to stream down. “Stay, please.”

Oh, those (eye color) eyes, she had no idea of its effect on him.

“Stay?”

Placing his larger hands in hers, he leaned his forehead with hers, their noses bumping.

“Always.”

[idyllicstarker]

here's a Christmas prompt for you ;) how do you feel about Peter telling Tony he won't be home in time for Christmas (maybe he's on a trip? at MIT?) but then showing up on Christmas to surprise Tony

I may have turned the prompt a little, but I hope it’s still close to what you asked for 💖

***

Warnings: none

“I was thinking we could maybe watch Elf, tomorrow - Christmas Eve is for cheesy Christmas films after all.”

Peter’s apprehensive gaze eyed the screen on his laptop, completely illuminated by Tony’s face. It was evident by how timid the question was, he knew his suggestion was a long shot - he didn’t want to make Tony anymore mad then he already seemed, but he also didn’t want the holidays to be a complete bummer because of his own faults.

Tony looked up, presumably from his work bench in the lab, eyes settling on the grainy pixels that made up Peter. He had a blanket wrapped around him, having expressed many times that the heater in the dorm pretty much did nothing at all. Tony could tell he was sad. He could tell he felt guilty at not being able to be there over Christmas. But it didn’t mean Tony felt any better about the whole ordeal.

“You’re really expecting to be able to stream and video chat with me at the same time - with your crappy wifi?”, Tony asked, looking back down to whatever work he was completing.

Peter should be used to the man getting distracted during their evening calls. Most of the time Peter didn’t have his camera on anyway, not when his roommate, Harley, was around. But that didn’t stop the pang of hurt in his chest upon seeing Tony so nonchalant about it.

“Well I don’t think it will be that slow. Harley’s gone back to his family for winter break, and most of the dorm isn’t here either”, he muttered quietly. His revision notebook sat untouched on his lap, nervously rolling his pen between his thumb and index finger.

“You know I never used to like Harley, so I can’t believe I’m saying this but you should be more like him.”

Frustrated tears began to form in Peter’s eyes at Tony’s bluntness. But the man still refused to even look over at the screen.

“You know this isn’t my fault”, Peter whispered, it hurt that Tony was pinning the blame on him. How was he supposed to know the weather was going to stop flights?

“If you’d just gotten the flight when I’d told you too we’d be able to watch Elf together on Christmas Eve, on my couch. But no, you wanted to stay for an extra few days”, Tony hissed. The darkness of the screen made his brown eyes almost black, and Peter flinched at the look of absolute betrayal on the man’s face.

“You know I wanted to go to the party”, he said quietly, shaking his head, “I couldn’t have ever known it was going to snow this much.”

“Yes because a party is much more important than your boyfriend-”

“You’re being selfish…”

“Oh! I’m being selfish Peter? You promised to be here, and you’re not. That’s what’s selfish. You told me not to decorate because you said you wanted to do it with me. There’s not an ounce of Christmas cheer in this place, and now I don’t even want to do it. You know how much I hate the holidays because Maria and Howard were never around. I never had that. I never had a nice Christmasz You promised you were going to be here.. to help me experience that, and what have you done.. you’ve let me down. You told me five minutes ago there was literally no way for you to get back in time with the way it’s snowing, and you’re really expecting me to just be okay. That’s what's selfish.”

He leaned forward quite abruptly, and Peter heard the rough click of his keyboard, before his camera turned off. He was still on the call, but clearly didn’t want to be seen. So what Peter didn’t know was that the man was wiping roughly under his eyes, trying to rid himself of any tears.

Speechless, the younger male looked over the blank screen, his own expression hurt. He knew Tony was right, he’d given a lot of promises he wasn’t able to keep. He sighed, moving to turn his own camera off and therefore giving him the relief to let the tears fall. He sank down into his bed, cuddling the blanket to his chest and burying his cold nose into it.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, because honestly he didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah so am I”, Tony’s voice rang out through his speaker, heavy with emotion yet the feedback didn’t quite pick that up distinctly.

Silence followed. A heavy, emotional silence that Peter didn’t know how to fill to get it to stop weighing down on his chest like that. He swallowed thickly, licking at his lips.

There was a sudden fast paced typing, as Peter sniffled before finally Tony spoke again.

“It says the snow’s going to stop on the twenty sixth. There’s no planned flights, but I’ll take the jet instead”, as if predicting Peter’s disagreement with that, he continued: “But only if it’s stopped completely. And If one of my pilots is willing. I don’t want to take them away from their family, a hefty pay rise would be in order…”, by the way he trailed off Peter knew he wasn’t really talking to him anymore.

He sighed out quietly, nodding his head solemnly before realising Tony still couldn’t see him.

“Okay”, he agreed, clearly his throat as he shifted in the bed, pulling his laptop to him and turning on the camera. He waited a few seconds, but Tony didn’t do the same. Nervously he chewed on his lip, and closed his eyes.

“How’s your foot?”, he asked quietly.

A couple of days ago Tony had dropped a hammer on it. He was lucky, it wasn’t broken, but it was swollen. If it wasn’t for that maybe he would have been able to drive down to get Peter. But he couldn’t.

“It’s fine," Tony replied gruffly, “healing..”, he mumbled after a moment. No matter how he was feeling right now, he didn’t want Peter to worry.

“Oh, that’s good.”

It seemed all attempts at initiating conversation again was futile. The guilt he felt was unlike any other. He had promised, and honestly if he knew it was going to end up this way he never would have stayed the extra few days just so he could go to that party and leave when everyone else left. But now flights were cancelled and he was alone. Most people just managed to drive back. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry for getting snappy with you”, Tony sighed out after a long moment. “I know it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this. And besides your young - you want that college experience. I don’t blame you for taking it over your old boyfriend…”, he seemed to laugh at the end, but he sounded solemn more than anything. It wasn’t a humoured or a happy laugh, it was quite broken.

“That’s not true Tony”, he tried to justify, clutching his blanket to his chest. “I’d rather be with you then anywhere else. I made a mistake.. a big one”

He half expected Tony to agree but he actually didn’t get a reply. The only indication that he was actually still there was the faint tapping of his keyboard through the speaker.

“I don’t feel too good”, Peter said after a moment, “I think I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll text you in the morning…?”, he mumbled, the last part more of a question than anything. Even if it was Christmas Eve tomorrow, Tony didn’t look like he was going to forgive him anytime soon.

He was right in thinking such, getting only a low grunt from the man. Peter had to cough to hide his quiet sob.

“Goodnight”, he spoke meekly, voice shaking as he quickly ended the call.

***

If Peter could feel his nose he may have turned around to Ned and laughed about it being a Christmas miracle.

It had taken five hours and driving that most definitely should have been illegal considering they couldn’t see for the most part, but he was here.

Craving comfort after his conversation with Tony last night, he turned to who he knew would never let him down - Ned. He hadn’t asked him to drive down in the middle of the night, to pick him up and take him here, he just did. No amount of panicking from Peter as he realised he’d gotten into his car had stopped him. And now he was here.

The sun was just beginning to rise. Neither of them had slept, but here they were, in front of the tower, in front of his home. Of course, it was still snowing heavily, and as he stepped out of the car, his trainers crunched satisfyingly against the blanket that covered the floor.

“Thanks dude, I don’t know what I’d do without you”, he said softly. His gratitude so strikingly evident in the way his voice softened as they pulled his cases and belongings for his stay from Ned’s trunk.

“Don’t worry about it. It was nice to have the catch up. I’ve missed you”, Ned said, shrugging his shoulders.

Peter didn’t mention the fact that they’d spent half the time screaming whenever they swerved, the tires not quite gripping onto the icy road in a way that comforted Peter enough to not be alert. Instead he simply nodded.

“You should come over, we’ll hang out like old times…”

When all of his stuff was on the pavement, and Peter was beginning to wish he’d put a hat on, he smiled over at his friend. They hugged for a moment, but Ned being tired from driving all night, and Peter eager to go see Tony, let each other go after a moment.

“Thanks man.”

Peter managed to get all of his stuff inside after Ned had left. He decided to let reception send it up, not wanting to haul it all in the elevator and instead just grabbed one small case and bounded over to the lift.

He wiped away at the wetness on his cheeks, and brushed off the snow flakes from his hoodie. He knew Tony would still be asleep, which meant he could go through with his plan easily.

“Friday, don’t alert Tony that I’m back please”, he spoke.

“Yes Mr Parker”, came the reply.

He thanked her quickly, running a hand through his damp hair as let out a deep breath and smiled as the elevator arrived on the floor.

***

“Ho Ho Ho! Good morning handsome”

Peter’s breath was warm against Tony’s cheek. Smelling faintly of chocolate (they’d had a bit of a feast on the way here) and ever so soft and gentle.

Tony blinked his eyes groggily, letting out a disgruntled sound as he lifted his head up to try and make out the sight that was currently hovering over him in the bed.

The small figure of his boyfriend that should definitely not be here, was straddling his torso with the widest grin. His cheeks were still flush from the cold outside, and atop his head was a cute little Santa hat.

“Christmas came early this year”, Peter hummed, shrugging innocently. “Unfortunately Peter Claus didn’t bring you any presents, but he thinks he’s the best gift of all”

Two seconds later and he was being tackled to the bed by a suddenly very much awake Tony. Peter giggled, squirming as Tony’s goatee scratched against his face and neck at all the kisses that were being peppered against his skin.

“How are you here? I thought there were no flights”, he was evidently elated at the sight of his partner.

“Poor old Ned drove all the way over, and then drove me all the way back. We’ve been driving all night. But it’s worth it. I’d rather spend Christmas with you then alone.”

As they both settled down, Peter wound his arms around Tony’s neck, cuddling up to his chest. The Santa hat sat lopsided on his head but he didn’t mind too much, all that mattered was that he was here.

“We’ll have to thank him later”, Tony concluded, pressing a soft kiss to Peter’s lips that the younger male returned eagerly.

“I’m glad you're here. I was worried, but this is the best Christmas gift I could ever get, you’re totally right”, he concluded after a moment of silence whilst they took in the feeling of finally being together again.

Peter nodded his head in agreement, a sleepy smile on his lips as he curled against his warmth.

“Merry Christmas Tony”, he mumbled softly.

“Merry Christmas my love.”

[eutaerpe]

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings—  smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary —  the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

 Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

 You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

 Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

 You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

 Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

 You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

 Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

 You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

 Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

 Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

 Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

 You

[12.52]

;p

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

 Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

 You

[12.52]

i

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

 Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

 You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

 Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

 You

[12.53]

you didn’t

 Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

 Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

 Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

/

 The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

 Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

 Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

 (“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

 The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

/

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

/

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

/

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

[wonderlustlucas]

jack pot ; part 3 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 6.4k ⇢ genre fluff & angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way) ⇢ warnings (18+) drug use, a suggestive make out & the mention of a boner twice maybe ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n AAAAAAAA omg im so excited to post this, this by far is my fav part of jack pot & i cant wait to hear what u all think!!! sorry its a bit shorter than the other parts, & technically this is the *last* part, but there will be an epilogue where you will see how everything comes to be!!!! have fun reading!!! <3

⇠ part 2

five.

“Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Yeji gasps, shoving her phone into Maddie’s hands before faceplanting into the table.

“Are you H-T-T-P because I’m colon-slash-slash without you,” Maddie reads with a chuckle, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. “Quick, YN, look up some pick-up lines.”

Closing the tab on the article you should be reading but has been long forgotten, you promptly do as you are told and open the first link from your search, Minho and Jisung leaning in to help. “There,” Jisung stops you, pointing to one, “’Are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you.’”

The table can’t help but burst into laughter at such a sentence. It’s stupid, but ever since Yeji and Kim Sunwoo began texting, their conversations have been full of tacky puns and emoji-filled compliments.

“Damn,” Maddie whistles, setting the phone back into Yeji’s limp hand, “he’s already typing back.”

“Gross,” Ryujin teases, busy typing away on her laptop. How she manages to multitask so well is a skill you certainly lack. “Why don’t you just like, I don’t know, ask him out?” Jisung asks and when you glance up, he’s looking at you. “Because that’s the guy’s job,” Maddie quickly saves the day, winking to you when you send her a grateful smile.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin scoffs. Everyone, even Ryujin, stops to look at him.

Did he just curse?

“I mean, like,” he stammers, cheeks turning rosy at all the attention, “it’s 2020. Guys have insecurities, too.”

“I agree,” Minho hums, looking to Maddie with hearts in his eyes, “that kind of confidence is enough to make any boy fall in love.”

“Yeah, but—”

Lia rebuts, but your attention quickly falls elsewhere when a text message first appears on your laptop, then your phone.

hwang hyunjin🦔🕺🏻💞🧻 [now] Where r u rn?

Unable to fight your smile, you quickly type back.

[3:39 PM] YN: outside hollin st café [3:39 PM] YN: why? :)

“Have you seen their new house, YN?” Minho asks, prompting you to click your phone off and set it back on the table. “Whose house?”

“Changbin’s parents.”

“Oh,” shaking your head, you distantly curse Chan for keeping your friend busy today. Unlike Jisung, Changbin likes to write lyrics and do whatever other music stuff during the day at a normal time instead of the middle of the fucking night while stoned and trying to finish his computer science assignments at the same time. “No, he forgot to send me pictures.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighs dreamily, “it’s huge. So nice. I think the front door alone could cover tuition.”

“Is it really that nice?” Maddie asks in awe.

“He started to show me pics the other day but couldn’t finish but the kitchen… unnecessary,” Ryujin quips, pausing her work to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s insane. The whole place is unnecessary but the kitchen is like, a house in itself,” Jeongin hums, head shaking in disbelief.

“Damn, now I really want to see it,” you sigh, making a mental note to hunt Changbin down so he can show you. “It’s like Hyunjin and his rings,” Minho snickers, “he has so many. Whenever we’re out, if he sees a ring, boom. It’s his.”

Well, he’s not wrong but… You bite your tongue no matter how badly you wish to defend Hyunjin and his affinity for rings and jewelry in general. The boy has taste, what can you say? You certainly are not complaining about Hyunjin’s long fingers and the way he chooses to decorate them.

“I never thought I’d hear Changbin’s parent’s kitchen be analogous to Hyunjin’s jewelry collection, yet here we are,” Maddie chuckles, leaning over Yeji to peek at her conversation with Sunwoo.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” Jisung pipes up of course as soon as you have reopened the tab to your assignment. Changbin or Hyunjin, you don’t know, head whipping up to find out and a peculiar mix of relief and panic settling over you once you spot the latter. “Uh oh, YN’s gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

As subtly as you can, you elbow Jisung in the stomach and smile at Hyunjin as he nears. “Hey,” keeping his eyes on you, Hyunjin approaches your table and stops behind Maddie opposite from you, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were busy.” His cheeks, already flushed, burn pinker once he looks away to smile weakly at everyone else.

“I’m not busy!” You squeak, scrambling to close your laptop and shove it in your bag. “Are you sure? I can come back later?” He offers, tilting his head and this is when you realize he is holding a bubble tea in each hand. And from the looks of it, one seems to be your usual order. “No, she’s not,” Jeongin answers for you, recognizing your stupefied expression.

“I was just – yeah. No,” rushing to stand and swing your legs out around the bench, you nearly fall flat on your face, “I wasn’t doing anything, actually.” Steadying yourself with a hand on Minho’s shoulder, you heave a labored breath before carefully walking to meet Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he beams, either oblivious to how flustered you are or simply choosing to ignore it. Turning to wave to your friends, he hands you one of the cups and you realize it is, in fact, your favorite boba. Oh boy. “See ya later,” you wave to them as well, nose wrinkling when both Jisung and Maddie wink in return.

Following after Hyunjin, you finally allow yourself to take notice of his attire and can’t help but feel confused. He looks good. And not in the good attractive way—he always looks good. But good as in formal. It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday in October and he’s out here looking as if he just got out of a business meeting. White button-down tucked into fitted black slacks, dress shoes, black tie, and he even has a black suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is styled, too; ever since he dyed it back to black, he’s been growing it out long enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Now, however, it’s parted down the middle and seems as if he’s ever so slightly curled it away from his face.

Suddenly, you feel ridiculous walking beside him in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt from high school.

“Thanks for the boba,” you mumble around your straw, brain still preoccupied trying to get over how utterly handsome he is. “Why do you look so fancy?”

The side of his mouth twitches up at your words, but his eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as you continue to your unknown destination. “I had an audition,” Hyunjin admits, voice devoid of emotion as if it’s not important at all. “An audition?” You echo. “Why do you sound so not super mega excited? How did it go? What was it for?”

“Well—”

“Wait!” You interrupt, stopping your walk once you realize he had an audition and you didn’t know. “You had an audition? What – why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyunjin frowns, avoiding your gaze and dragging his bottom teeth over his top lip. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he finally says before reaching for your hand and tugging you away from the walkway and into your campus’ main courtyard. “Why? Is it some sort of secret or something, Hyunjin?” You scoff, sounding way more annoyed than you intended. But you are annoyed; why didn’t he want to tell anyone?

“No,” he sighs, finding an empty area in the grass and lowering himself to sit, “I just… didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, visibly softening for him and settling down next to him, crisscrossing your legs, “it is a big deal. I don’t know what it’s for, but if it’s important enough for you to audition, then it’s important to us, too. You don’t need to be humble twenty-four-seven, you know. I’m sure you could have used our support.”

“I didn’t get it, though,” Hyunjin whispers, “they just – I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.” Sensing the sadness in his voice, you find a lump forming in your throat when you notice the way his bottom lip trembles. “Hey,” panicking, you set your boba down and sit up on your knees to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head into your chest once tears start falling, “no. Don’t ever say you’re not good enough, Hyunjin.”

“But if I did better, practiced more, than I would—"

“Stop,” you hush, combing your fingers through his hair and brushing strands away from his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who works as hard as you do. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t know what could have happened if you got in. You could have hurt yourself eventually, or maybe met someone who’s a real asshole.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, quiet and muffled when he turns to press his forehead into your sternum, body still trembling as he lets out all his tears. You stay like that for a while, holding him against you and soothing a hand up and down his back until his sniffling falls quiet. “Listen,” you finally sigh, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. Your heart sinks once you take in the wet trails down his cheeks and the puffiness of his eyes. “Forget about it. Was it something for dance?”

When he nods subtly, you cup his face in your hands and swipe his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are an amazing dancer, Hyunjin. You can’t let this get to your head. And I don’t want you working your ass off more than you do already. Practice makes perfect, sure, but you need to rest. What about the idea Changbin came up with?”

“The YouTube thing?”

“Yes! Filming dance tutorials or just posting your routines is a really good idea,” you remind him, wiping your hands on your jeans once he falls back onto the grass with a gentle thud, hair flaying around him like a halo. Your limbs twitch with the urge to lie beside him, maybe throw an arm around him and rest your cheek on his chest, fingers tracing the soft features of his face, stroking through his hair and reminding him just how innately perfect he is, inside and out. You, of course, resist such a temptation, flopping down beside him and staring up at the clouds with a heavy heart.

“I could do that. Maybe,” Hyunjin huffs. Tilting your head to look at him, you find yourself knee-deep in that familiar longing feeling, pausing simply to appreciate how pretty he is in the evening sun, cheeks rosy from crying and hair begging to be touched. Shaking your head to rid such daydreams, you remind yourself how fragile his emotions are right now. Now is no time to get caught up on a fantasy. Reaching for your tea, you lean up on an elbow and redirect your gaze to the trees, the promise of winter having turned what was green burnt sienna and butterscotch, leaving trees barren and branches swaying gently in the crisp breeze that leaves you curling into yourself. “You should,” you hum, distant, mind clawing to come up with the words you want to say.

“Come here,” Hyunjin says now, voice stronger than before and when his hand wraps gently around your wrist, you can’t find it in yourself to resist. Allowing him to pull you back down beside him, you curl into his side, resting your head a safe distance away from his own and onto the curve of his arm. “Thank you for being so good to me,” he expresses. You squeeze your eyes shut when the arm you lie on wraps around your shoulders and pulls you substantially closer. “I need to tell you something.”

A long stretch of silence falls upon you and for a moment, you are unsure the words even left your mouth. What are you thinking?

“Wait! I have something first,” Hyunjin sighs, missing the way your breath hitches. “Okay,” you whisper, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt and focusing all your attention there.

“I just – I think… I owe you an apology,” he finally says, “I need to apologize for something that I did a while ago that I know probably hurt.” Your chest tightens. There’s a lot that has hurt you when it comes to Hyunjin, but none that he’s done purposely. None that are his fault. None that he should be apologizing for.

“I feel like we came to some mutual understanding to not mention what happened when we were freshmen, but it kills me to know that – that something happened, and we never talked about it,” Hyunjin starts, grip tightening on your shoulder and suddenly, you think you are dreaming. This cannot possibly be real. “I know it was awkward but, I also know me and Yiren dating was… ah. I don’t know.”

When he falls silent, you are unsure of what to say or do. You have no idea what the end goal of this conversation is. Hardly a minute ago, your heart and your brain decided it was time to tell him. Now, you’re not so sure you can do that until he finishes, and you are not about to give him your two cents if his reasoning for bringing it up is not the same as yours.

“I just want to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to you about it. I know I was confused, but I’m sure it was worse for you when they told you about her,” Hyunjin continues, sensing your rendered silence, “and it’s been so long since that happened, and now, you’re one of my closest friends.” Ouch.

“But I’ve been thinking,” when he picks up again, your eyes fly open in a panic. He’s been thinking. Hyunjinhas been thinking. You think you are going to pass out. “And I just feel like we… me and you, I mean—"

The standard iPhone alarm blares from beside you, promptly cutting him off and you think it is the biggest cockblock known to man. “Shit,” he hisses, leaning up to tug his phone from his pocket and in the process nudging you from your comfortable position. Sitting back up, nerves aflame and heart racing, your brows shoot up in confusion when all he does is stare at the number calling him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the studio I was just at,” he scoffs in disbelief, barely glancing at you before looking back to his phone. You have never wanted to shrivel up and die as much as you want to right now. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Hyunjin makes a noise of acknowledgement before tapping the green icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Sitting quietly beside him, you watch with a forced smile as his hummed responses and subtle nods morph into enthusiastic laughs and wide, beaming smiles. Hyunjin notices your confusion when you tilt your head, mouthing a ‘What?’ to him.

“They made a mistake,” he whispers, covering the speaker of his phone, “read off the wrong Hwang. I’m in.” When he grins excitedly at you, your response isn’t as cheerful as it could be. As it should be. “Yay!” You whisper, clapping gently but quickly turning to your boba when the other line begins speaking again. Looking away, you take a hefty sip, nearly choke on a tapioca ball, and build the walls around your heart up all over again in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve gotta go,” whispering, you manage one more pained smile before getting to your feet and wiping your butt of any possible grass stains, “good luck!” When he shines you one more breathtaking smile and waves excitedly, you hastily head in the other direction, wrapping your arms around yourself and swallowing past the lump that threatens to form the farther you walk.

It must be nice, you think, frantically wiping at your waterline. Must be nice to put yourself out there and have things work out the way you want them to. Must be nice being told you’re ‘in,’ you’re wanted, you’re desired.

It must be nice.

six.

Pick up food, you said. Ask Jisung, you said.

Your conscience is a big fat oompa loompa ass bitch. You would have never called Jisung to ask him if he wanted anything from Taco Bell if you knew he was with Changbin. And not just Changbin, you realized four minutes into your call; Seungmin and Hyunjin, too. Apparently he went over their place to record, or something, and didn’t care to let you know. Not that you’re his mom and he has too—but it would have been nice, and would have saved you from spending almost fifty dollars at Taco Bell.

“I tried calling Jisung but he didn’t answer,” you snap once Seungmin answers your call with a muffled hello. “Can one of you please come out and help me carry this in?” You glance at the five large sodas and two bags full of food in your passenger seat with a grimace. “Sure,” he agrees and you make a mental note for the umpteenth time just how much you love Seungmin, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

True to his word, you spot him making his way out of their apartment and across the small courtyard to meet you by your car not even a minute later, hauling each bag under his arms. “Thank you,” left only with the cupholder, you hurriedly lock your car and follow after him. “No problem. Thanks for being our Uber Eats,” then, pursing his lips, “how much was this?”

“Forty-seven something,” you grumble unhappily, knowing this was a big hit to your debit. “We’ll pay you back, don’t worry,” Seungmin smiles, leading you up the final flight of stairs and kicking open the ajar door.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell.

“Dear, fucking hell,” making a face, you rub your nose to keep from sneezing, “it reeks in here. How have you guys not been kicked out yet?”

The stench of weed generally does not bother you anymore, but still—they could light a candle, or something. Seungmin shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Luck, I guess.”

“IS THAT YN?” From another room, you hear Changbin shout, followed by an excited shriek from Jisung. “They’re high. Very high. You’ve been warned,” Seungmin whispers just as tweedle dee and tweedle dum themselves come flying around the corner. “YN!” Jisung grins, engulfing you in a dramatic hug. “Watch,” you hiss, regarding the blunt held between his fingers that comes dangerously close to your hair.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then, without warning, sticks the thing right between your lips. “I didn’t even offer.” Well, when life gives you lemons…

You hesitantly take the hit and blow the smoke away from him. You weren’t planning on getting high today, but here you are. “Thanks,” shaking your head as if that will clear it, you turn to Changbin and snugly wrap your arms around him. Every day you thank the heavens that he is a chill, calm high, unlike your maniac of a roommate.

“Thanks for the food,” fishing into his pockets and pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, he slaps it into your palm. You only hum in reply, shoving it into your own pocket and praying you don’t lose it before you remember to put it in your wallet. “Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask, no longer caring about being slick.

“In his room,” Seungmin answers, rummaging through the bags to find what he ordered. Then, “HYUNJIN!” You jump, reaching for your soda and standing away from the other three until they have claimed whatever belongs to them. No sooner than Seungmin calls for him, you hear a door being cracked open and out comes Hyunjin.

He looks extremely disheveled. Like, just woke up from a two-month hibernation, disheveled. In the blink of an eye, however, he rakes a hand through long blonde hair and promptly sets a baseball cap backwards to keep the strands away and suddenly, he doesn’t look so disheveled anymore. You force yourself to look away, cursing the way your gut twists.

“Gimme my crunchwrap,” you say around your straw, snatching the blunt from Jisung’s fingers and moving around him to fetch your dinner. He doesn’t even protest.

He knows you need it more than he does.

“That’s a lot of food,” Hyunjin says once he has finally entered the kitchen, voice groggy and eyes puffy from sleep. Or from being high, you can’t tell. Pressing his chest to your back, he wraps one arm around you to keep you against him while the other reaches into a bag to take what’s his. Swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, you manage a thick inhale from the blunt before tilting your head to look at him and mentally thanking the other three for taking it as their cue to head out.

“Not my fault you guys eat like animals,” you chuckle shakily, trying to ignore the firmness of his body against yours, veins prominent on the arm that holds you against him and the ripple of muscle along his abdomen noticeable even through his shirt and yours. Dear god, it is too early for this. Not even seven o’clock and you are already drooling in more places than one.

Hyunjin pouts as if it is not true. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, finally moving away to grab his drink and you can’t help your disappointment, quickly finishing the blunt before tapping it out into one of the many ashtrays. “Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, digging through their drawers for a paper plate.

“YN,” Hyunjin deadpans, regarding you with a raised brow once you come up and begin unwrapping your food. You refuse to look him in the eye. “What do I owe you?” He repeats, firmer this time and it sends a chill down your spine when it most certainly should not. Sighing, you retrieve the receipt from your pocket and count everything he got. “Thirteen.”

Humming in content, Hyunjin reaches for his wallet on the counter and pulls a ten and five out. “There,” he beams, tucking the bills into your pocket himself. Rolling your eyes, you pray he does not notice how you flush and hurry out of the kitchen to join Seungmin on the sofa.

“House Hunters?” You ask with a laugh, looking at the TV once you have settled next to him. “I told you HGTV is the best.”

Seungmin hums in agreement. “I thought it was stupid at first, but Hyunjin was watching Fixer Upper and I got addicted,” he says, nodding to the older boy doing a little dance in the kitchen as he eats one of his tacos. Your heart does somersaults at the sight. “They’re all so good,” you agree after taking a few bites of your own food, eyes trained on the television, “House Hunters is a classic, though.”

“I like the international one,” Hyunjin adds on his way over, crashing unceremoniously next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Seungmin wrinkle his nose when Hyunjin sets his free hand casually on your thigh. “Shh,” he grumbles, vaguely gesturing to the screen and chewing a mouthful of food, “I wanna hear what the house has.”

One episode turns to two, which turns to three, which turns to four, and suddenly you have been watching House Hunters with Seungmin and Hyunjin for almost three hours. It definitely is the weed, always making time perpetually slower, and it did not help when Jisung and Changbin reappeared sometime during your binge with one of Felix’s bongs. Not necessarily how you intended to spend your precious Friday night, but there is no sense in complaining when you are with your buddies and Hyunjin, of course.

Taco Bell long gone, you watch with blurry eyes when Hyunjin gets up from his slumped position against you to head into the kitchen and open the freezer. This, as well as the realization that House Hunters has ended and gone to some other, not-as-cool show, brings both you and Seungmin somewhat back to reality.

“It’s almost ten,” Seungmin announces, staring dazedly at the time on his phone. You hum in acknowledgment, certainly sober enough to reply but simply too lazy to. “I think I’m going to bed. Or play something. Don’t wreck the place,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face before standing up. “G’night, Minnie,” you smile, watching with a furrowed brow as he continues down the hall and into his room. It isn’t until you hear his door click shut does the weight of being alone with Hyunjin settle on your chest.

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone with Hyunjin before. In fact, that usually is the way it’s been in the past three years; whether the two of you decided to do your own thing or the rest of your friends eventually left or went to bed, you are used to this feeling. Used to ignoring the butterflies in your gut when he does something particularly cute and used to tampering down the mental images you conjure up knowing it’s just you and him.

But that doesn’t make things any easier. No matter how hard you try, you simply can’t help but feel this way around Hyunjin, especially when you’re alone. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hyunjin asks around one last spoonful of ice cream before setting the pint back into the freezer. “Uhh…” You drone, blinking heavily at the TV and back to him as he makes his way back over. “I dunno, I’m sure you’ve been watching some drama. You can put that on.”

“You sure?” He asks with a raised brow, collapsing next to you and slumping dramatically halfway down the cushions. “Yes,” laughing, you find yourself reaching out to tuck messy strands of hair back behind his ear without hesitation, “also, why are you wearing a hat inside?”

Hyunjin pauses, straining to look up as if he will be able to see the back of his cap against his forehead. “I’m wearing a hat?”

“Yes, you idiot,” in comes the endless weed giggles and you find yourself unable to stop laughing, watching with teary eyes as he sits up and takes his hat off. “I don’t remember putting this on,” he chuckles airily, flipping the cap back and forth in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Should I cut it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Shrinking against the arm of the couch, you ignore his amused smile and look to his long hair, freshly bleached strands falling down to his neck and shorter pieces brushing against his cheeks. Fuck, it should be illegal to look this good. “I like it long. It really suits you.”

“It’s annoying,” Hyunjin grins despite his complaint, lifting his legs onto the couch and flopping onto his side, head now resting on your lap. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Now that he’s offered playing with his hair on a silver platter, you don’t hesitate combing your fingers through it, tugging out pieces stuck under his head and brushing it out completely. “You could pull the sides back,” you hum distantly, separating a section of hair near his temple to pull back, “or make a bun with what you can. You just have to play around with it.”

Humming in agreement, Hyunjin resituates himself after reaching for the remote and switching to Netflix. When you go back to simply raking your fingers from root to tip in irregular directions, you don’t miss the way his eyelids flutter at the motion and make sure to pay extra attention to his scalp. When this turned into a head massage, you’re not entirely sure.

The drama Hyunjin puts on is unbearable. You stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing more on him and how he seems to enjoy it, fingers busy braiding random sections of hair, taking them out, and then braiding them again. With two finally done the way you want them to, you are midway through the third when your fingers begin to cramp up.

“Why’d you stop?” Hyunjin asks seconds after you drop the braid and stretch your fingers out. “Fingers are cramping,” chuckling at the disappointed pout of his lips, you crack what knuckles you can before going back and undoing the unfinished braid. “Oh,” he mutters, cheek still pressed against your leg, “feels good.”

Humming in response, you ignore the way his words make your heart swell and begin gathering all his hair into a ponytail, pressing the braids to lay flat and finally tying it with a hair tie once you have combed up all that you can. Immediately, his bangs and hairs closer to the nape of his neck fall out, leaving the ponytail spikey and messy. At least the braids look good. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, pausing his show and leaning up. “What’d you do?”

“Go see for yourself,” pointing to the bathroom, you comb out a looped piece of hair before he stands to do just that. His ponytail bobs the entire walk there.

When he reaches the door and flips the light on, you watch from your position as he checks himself out, brushing away his bangs and flicking the pony. You frown when he accidentally yanks at a braid.

“Come here,” you say, sitting up, “you messed up the braid.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin considers his reflection one last time before skipping his way over, “it doesn’t look half bad.” Expecting him to sit back next to you, your pulse quickens when he anchors a hand to the armrest and leans in front you, only inches away from your face. “No, definitely,” you say once you have gotten over the shock of him being so close so suddenly, “I like it in the ponytail. You’d really impress the girls if you braided your hair yourself.” Reaching up to tuck hair back into the braid and press it down flat once more, you don’t miss the way his brows draw together and lips twitch down. “What?”

Time ceases to exist as Hyunjin begins to come closer. In reality, you know it simply is a matter of seconds, but all of space and time seems to still once he leans forward. It feels as if an eternity goes by, allowing you to count each individual eyelash, memorize the details of his skin, take note of the smoothed lines on his plump lips. The way time slows is cruel; it allows panic to set in, the realization that he most certainly is looming over you with his eyes on your lips sending a spark of excitement and anxiety through your veins.

And then, just as this realization and this panic has set your nerves aflame, a gentle hand comes to cradle your jaw before Hyunjin’s lips press against yours.

It is so easy to surrender to the taste and touch of him. Instantly, an eruption of emotions and thoughts spiraling out of control fills you, yet your brain focuses only on Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. This is not the first time you have kissed him, nor the first time simply having him so close, but the feeling that radiates from your heart outward is unlike anything you have felt before. This is uncalled for. This is not like two years ago. You were not expecting this.

Hyunjin sighs into the kiss when you lean up to loop your arms around his neck. No sooner have you done this, he breaks away to sit beside you once more, hands reaching for your waist and guiding you to sit over his lap.

You could kiss him all day, you think, palms lying flat by his collarbones before fisting the material of his shirt when his tongue prods at the seam of your lips. Blood seemingly coming to a boil and nerves sparking dangerously, you find yourself quickly sobering up as the minutes tick by, completely and utterly addicted to him and this feeling, this feeling you have craved but never crossed the line for. And now, it’s yours to keep.

Forgetting the braids, you seize the opportunity to rake your fingers through his hair. Different, than how you did earlier. Desperate. Combing it away from his face once, twice, swallowing his groans when you tug at the roots, you realize with a whine that his hands have left your face in favor of dragging down your sides, circling back to squeeze at your breasts, rubbing at your thighs and finally sliding back to your ass, situating you more comfortably on his thighs.

When Hyunjin finally breaks the kiss to journey elsewhere, littering chaste kisses across your jaw, below your ear, down your neck, the weight of your actions finally hits you. It is overwhelming, the way you come spiraling back to reality, and you are not sure if the quiet moan that leaves you is due to the press of something else against your thigh or simply the realization that you are making out with Hyunjin.

You have to stop before you get hurt again.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, shuddering when his soft lips brush against your jaw, “wait. We need to talk.”

He pauses at this, fingers digging into your sides and you feel his frown against your neck. “What’s there to talk about?” He murmurs, arms sliding around you and tugging you closer, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him close and pretend like his boner isn’t digging into you.

It���s your turn to frown. “About us,” whispering, you lift one hand to stroke through his hair, “we need to talk about us.”

“I thought my feelings were very clear,” Hyunjin scoffs, all tenderness in his voice gone. Instinctively, you lean back, blinking at him in surprise. “Unless this is just another one of your games? Does this not mean anything to you, YN? I don’t think I could stomach you running off to Changbin or fucking Chan again.”

His words pierce your heart before you have even fully processed them, hurt flashing across your features and your body goes numb. “What?” Is all you can manage, scrambling to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes suddenly burning with the brine of tears. “What are you talking about, Hyunjin?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” He shouts. You flinch, not from the way he raises his voice, but from the genuine sadness in his eyes. “The past three years have been a constant battle with you. We’re best friends, for fucks sake, I figured out a long time ago that you have feelings for me. Feelings more than best friends. Yet every fucking time we started moving in the right direction, you turned your back on me.”

You can do nothing but stand there and let the tears fall. All the words and bottled emotions you wish to say are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you simply cannot bring yourself to voice them. Not when he’s right. Not when you have turned your back on him time and time again.

And then, he hisses more to himself than you, “Is this just sloppy seconds? You never once thought about my feelings in all of this?”

The anger brewing within you suddenly bursts from the dam and hisses through your body like deadly poison. “Sloppy seconds?” You snarl, fists clenching. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Your feelings? You just said you know how I feel about you, so why didn’t you ever do anything about it? How was I supposed to know you felt the same?”

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious,” Hyunjin spits back, gaze narrowing, “didn’t think I had to spell out the fact that I like you, YN. You’re a smart girl.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” clenching your jaw, you have to look away for a moment, pacing one, two, three steps, hands raking through your hair and wiping away the stream of tears from your cheeks. You have never been filled with such rage. Having finally reached its boiling point, it now consumes you whole, sweeping off in waves and destroying all boundaries. “Confessing is not an easy thing, as you apparentlyknow, so don’t make me seem like the only idiot here. But maybe I was wrong about you if you think of me as just sloppy seconds.”

“I never said that!” Hyunjin barks, standing up to grasp your wrist when you turn away to grab your keys. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I would never, never think of you that way. I just don’t understand why you never spoke up after all this time. I’ve been dying, YN, you have no clue how badly I have been—”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you snap, yanking your arm away from him, “I told you, Hyunjin. Telling someone you love them isn’t as easy as learning to ride a bike. You’re right, I have turned my back on you. But not intentionally. I’ve been scared, I’m a pussy, whatever.” Biting your top lip as if it will stop the tears that continue to fall freely, you avoid looking at him and glance back to find not only Seungmin, but Jisung and Changbin, too, peeking out from their doors with eyes blown wide with shock. Once you have noticed them, however, they panic and scramble to get out of sight.

Sighing shakily, you look back to Hyunjin and cannot ignore the way your heart sinks at the sight of him. Even upset, he is beautiful. You wonder how much you will see him after this.

“You don’t have to tell me you like me back to make me feel better, Hyunjin,” bouncing on your heels, you suddenly feel exhausted, body and soul heavy with the words you not only spoke, but heard, too. “We can figure this out another day, but for now, I need to go home. I’ll see you.”

Turning away once more, you do not make it very close to the front door before he stops you once more. “Wait, YN,” Hyunjin huffs, smiling softly when he reaches for your hand and you do not pull away. Running his tongue over his lip, he seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

⇢ epilogue

[svtshine]

Neighbor next door

pairing: Wonwoo x reader 

genre: angst to fluff, Neighbors!au, nonidol!Au

type: oneshot

summary: Falling in love with your neighbour best friend

You heaved the heavy box filled with stuff back at your apartment and entered the apartment building yet again. Probably for the 6th time now. You wiped off the sweat that was forming near your forehead and making the hair stick to your face. Even with the aircon from the lift system blasting you, you were still feeling extremely hot and stuffy.

It was an extremely hot day however, you were still very excited to move into your new apartment and meet your new neighbors. You were told from the nice old landlady that the people here were of different variations. Some were working, students like you or parents with newborns or children. It was a way better environment as compared to your old apartment.

At the old district there was hardly any conversations or interactions between you and your neighbors. You clearly remembered the only interaction you had with one of the neighbors, a floor above you, to keep it down. Even though you weren't making any noise. He was a grumpy looking elderly, and he looked at you with such a aggressive look.

You looked at him strangely but apologized anyhow, wanting so badly to return to the book you were then reading. It was getting to the very best part where the charismatic male character was going to kiss the protagonist and confess to her under the mistletoe, on a cold yet beautiful winter night. 

You kicked your front door with one hand balancing on the box and the other supporting the weight of the door. You placed the box on the floor where it remained with many other cardboard boxes filled completely with all your belongings.

You sighed out and proceeded to tie your hair up into a messy bun to keep it from sticking onto your face. i just have two more boxes, then i can start unboxing....god there is so much to do, you thought to yourself as you sat on the end of the sofa, taking a short break before leaving for those two boxes again.

Yes it was definitely tiring, but you still smiled to yourself as you thought about the new encounters and relationships that might form in this new building. You took a sip of your opened can of soda that was still cool and sighed out in satisfaction, as the cool liquid helped cool you down for a second and satisfy your thirst. 

You smiled brightly and greeted the neighbors that you came across while moving the boxes. They were all very friendly and open in welcoming you, you made note to bake them some of your special cookies later on to thank them. 

Wonwoo was just returning from the nearby convenience store, sucking on a cold soda-flavored ice popsicle. Under the sweltering heat and bright sun, this was what he needed. He was nearing the apartment building when he saw you. He didn't recognize you at all, and he was sure he recalled everyone’s faces. You were struggling with a heavier box, and he remembered the landlady coming over previously with a box of brownies and a notice that someone was going to move in to the apartment next to his.

“Wonwoo dear, someone is moving next door, isn’t that exciting” she said smiling brightly 

“Really?”

“She looks really gorgeous dear, around your age, Slightly younger i believe. She is moving in next month so do welcome her warmly, ya hear me” 

“Yes grandma” Everyone had the habit of calling the warm soul, grandma. She definitely did treat everyone like family, no one dared to mess with her either.

Grandma was watching Wonwoo munch on the delicious brownies and spoke up, “You know maybe you should show her around, get a little closer huh” she smirked deviously. 

Wonwoo only took a sip of his milk, “Grandma this isn’t some fictional romance novel” he replied nonchalantly. 

“You’d never know my dearest” 

His flashback ended and he had noticed that you were still struggling with the heavy box and next to it was a smaller one. He swiftly walked towards to you and took the box from your hands with ease, “here let me help, I’m wonwoo. You must be the new tenant. floor 7, unit 11? i live next door, unit 12″ he spoke up.

it was only then you realised there was a handsome charming man holding onto your box and literally speaking to you, while you stared at him in a slight daze. Holy macaroni, his face is god-like and his voice? come to mama. You continued staring at him, mouth slightly open until he waved his hand infront of you and pulled you out of your imagination. You got flustered at the fact that you were literally swooning over a man you just met, your neighbor for god sakes and in front of him. Get it together Y/n. 

“Hey, i’m Y/n nice to meet you Wonwoo” you stretched out your hand to shake his. Wonwoo placed the box on the ground and shook your hand gently with a warm smile. Grandma was right when she called you gorgeous. Wearing a tank top, pajama shorts, a messy bun and slippers, you still looked amazing. 

You lifted the small box, “Thanks so much for offering to help, these are my last few boxes and i can finally start unpacking” you looked so relieved that wonwoo chuckled. “No worries, we live beside each other so it would be convenient too” He grabbed the heavy box and walked beside you towards the elevator. The two of you starting a simple conversation.

“I can’t believe we’re gonna be neighbors. Not saying i would hate it, i just kinda pictured the next door neighbor to be someone older” You wondered out loud.

“Grandma did say you were around my age, but i’m glad that you’re friendly. You’ll definitely fit right in” Wonwoo smiled at you. “she also told me that you were around my age, are you attending college?” He asked curiously, looking down at you since you were shorter than him. 

“Yeah, i’m attending the college a few minutes walk from here. Psychology course..you?”

“nice, i’m attending the same school but taking business.”

Your stomach growled, you just remembered you haven’t eaten breakfast at all. Wonwoo laughed out loud and you pouted. “Why don’t i help you unpack and get some takeout so that we can share. It’ll help you save time” He suggested. You felt very touched by his kind gesture, “If you don’t mind, it’ll really help, i’ll pay for the takeout.”

The two of you unpacked and continued getting to know each other. It simply clicked between the two of you. There wasn’t any sign of awkwardness, and you never felt uncomfortable at all around him. Wonwoo made you feel at home. talking to him felt like you were reuniting with a friend from long ago.

Wonwoo held up a book from one of your boxes, “Holy shit, i’ve been trying to find this book for ages” you looked up from folding your clothes, “That is one of my favourite books, good eye. i had to queue hours to get that, but at least with the author’s signature as well” you winked at the end at him. His eyes widened and flipped to the first page where in deed, the bold yet elegant signature of the author lay. “i could lend it to you, as a thanks for helping me as well.”

Wonwoo smiled so brightly you were going to faint he looked like a kid who had just received a kitten for his birthday.

From then on, the two of you became the best of friends. Meeting earlier in the mornings to eat breakfast together before morning classes, walking to school together and even eating lunch together most of the times. Wonwoo introduced you to his big group of 13 friends, and not gonna lie when you first met them, you were really intimidated. Most of them were almost a head taller than you and you felt so small standing next to them. However, they welcomed you with open arms and you loved spending time with them and wonwoo.

Movie nights became a weekly thing after the both of you completed all the dued assignments. You would place you leg on his lap and the both of you would indulge in unhealthy snacks and sodas the whole night before falling asleep together.

Doing laundry together, studying at the library together and buying groceries together. it was normal to see the both of you together. There was never an awkward moment between the two of you. For the first time in your life, you trusted a friend that much in such a short time, it did kind of scare you at how fast you trusted this man but well wonwoo had never done anything to make you doubt him. In fact, he has been doing the opposite. Whenever you feel down about missing your parents or a bad test grade, wonwoo would hug you tight and wipe away your tears. He would do anything to make you happy like telling you about the dumb things his friends had done this week and afterwards tuck you in, sleeping on the couch just to be sure you were okay.

You entrusted him with a spare key in case of emergencies. The first time you realised what you felt for him was probably not entirely platonic was when you returned from your part time job one night. You were exhausted, it was a busy night at the restaurant and your manager had you running table to table taking orders and serving dishes. You wanted so badly to just collapse and your bed and sleep till tomorrow noon. You lazily unlocked your door and threw your bag on the floor, bending down to collect your shoes when you realised there was already someone inside your apartment. You recognised the back of Wonwoo’s head, his soft fluffy hair sitting on it giving him a nice look. Wonwoo heard some rustling and turned to find you finally home, “hey y/n welcome home, how’s work?” You organised your shoe and wonwoo came over to give you a squeeze. You felt his warmth and it felt so good to come back and wrap you arms around hi—.

your eyes opened in shock. You realised that with wonwoo, you were always happy. He made you feel at home, just by being next to you. He was your rock, and you looked forward seeing him everyday. Seeing him laying on your couch, a book in his hands when you reached home, immediately made you feel at ease and less tired. It was so natural, seeing him in your apartment, waiting for you to come home to him was normal.

oh my god. i’m falling in love with Jeon Wonwoo

After you started realising your romantic feelings for Wonwoo, you started being more cautious and aware of his behaviours. You would get flustered when your hand accidentally brushes against his when the both of you are walking. When he hugs you, you found is hard to let him go. You realised the sparkles in his eyes whenever he smiled and how much you enjoyed his laughter, never wanting it to stop.

The both of you would continue doing the stuff you’ve originally been doing. Baking together for the neighbours and grandma or going for walks in the park together. Only until one day, Wonwoo told you

“Y/n i’m so excited, i’m going to go on a date” You felt your smile falter, your heart breaking into tiny pieces. All hoped of “maybe he might feel the same way as i am” were thrown out of your window. You dug your fingernails harshly into your skin and you forced yourself to smile again

“hey that’s great, who is she?”

“Min jun, she’s in business as well. Super talented and smart and she’s really pretty too”

tears were starting to form, and you uncomfortably looked down at your lap, “That’s great, when are you guys going out?”

“Tomorrow, 6pm. I’m gonna bring her to that fancy restaurant Minghao recommended me.” Wonwoo looked so excited, it broke your heart even more.

“but won its movie night tomorrow” you said softly. “Don’t worry i’ll get back in time, just maybe a little late” eyes focused on his clothes. He picked out a button down and showed it to you, “Hey do you think this looks like date material”

“yeah” you mumbled. playing with your fingers, trying to distract yourself from breaking down infront of wonwoo. That night you left his apartment earlier than usual, telling him you still had some assignments to complete. If assignments meant crying the whole night.

the next day, you didn’t see wonwoo that much since you had more classes than usual. You were surprised you were still able to pull through them. Your doorbell rang and you opened it to see Wonwoo.

He was dressed nice in the same button down and jeans. His wrist adorned an elegant watch and his hair was styled nicely. he smelled of fresh shave. Your heart was pounding in your chest at how handsome he looked. “Wish me luck Y/n, i’m going to pick her up now” he smiled, showing how excited he was.

“have a great time Won” You said softly, knowing you wouldn’t have a great time knowing the person you love was going to meet someone else. Wonwoo waved goodbye to you and you closed the door. Sliding down the cool wooden surface and onto the ground, bringing your knees together and bawling your eyes out.

It was about 1 am, you sat on the couch waiting for Wonwoo to return for movie night. this heavy feeling of regret on your chest. You wanted to tell him about your feelings, at least let him know how deeply you felt for him. you knew you couldn’t pretend how much it didn’t affect you that he didn’t feel the same way about you.

The doorknob jingled and you realized it was wonwoo unlocking the door. You stood up and cleaned your sweaty nervous palms on your pajamas. Wonwoo opened the door and was shocked to see you still awake and waiting for him, snacks laid out on the coffee table and tv switched on to the netflix channel. “Y/n i wanted to check if you gone to bed already. I’m so sorry, we had such a good time i lost track of it and i walked her home”

Your heart once again broke at the fact that he had a great time. Of course you wanted him to find a nice girl, but it hurt you so much knowing it wasn’t you. “Wonwoo it’s fine...i need to tell you something and it’s really serious” Wonwoo rushed to you and the both of you sat on the couch. “look won, i really treasure our friendship but i just have to get it off of my chest. i-i love you, but more than a friend loves her bestfriend.” The hand that wonwoo used to hold your hand slowly retracted from yours.

“i know you don’t feel the same way” you said, your voice slightly breaking because your tears started dropping freely. “But you found someone, Min jun, who is much better than me anyways. Treasure her okay? i just want you to be happy and if you’re the happiest with her, then she is the road to go” Wonwoo instinctively raised his hand to wipe away your tears, but he brought it back down at the last second. “Y-y/n i’m so sorry, but i-i just don’t feel the same as you do. i really wished that i did” he looked down at his lap

You sighed out, “It’s fine wonwoo, it’s not your fault either, i just want to lay down now so goodnight. See you later Alligator”

“Goodbye crocodile” Wonwoo mumbled.

You snuggled closer into your blankets as you heard wonwoo leave the apartment and let the tears flow freely. 

You know what hurts the most? Loving someone who didn’t love you back.

Wonwoo didn’t sleep that night. you were on his mind the whole time. Guilt spreading his entire body as he could still remember the way you looked when you confessed your feelings to him. The way he wanted to hold you so tight then and chase all your problems away. He reached out his hand to wipe away your tears without even thinking but backed away in the end. 

He raised his hand in front of his face and stared at it. he knew he didn’t think of you as anything else but a friend.....right? He recalled all the memories he shared with you, food fights when the both of you woke up at 3 in the morning and had the terrible idea to bake cookies right then. The way your eyes lit up as you stared at the fishes in the sea aquarium. How bright your smile was when he brought you to a cat cafe. Oh god he loved your smi--

Wait no. He thought, i like Min jun, yeah the girl i’m going out with. Right?

He didn’t see you around that much anymore. You didn’t invite him in for breakfast. You walked to college on your own and you ate lunch that you have already prepared yourself. Wonwoo’s heart broke knowing you were purposefully avoiding him, trying to get over him. He himself spent countless of nights trying to get you out of his mind. But his mind always wandered back to you, have you been eating properly? Taking enough rests? or overworking yet again. he hasn’t been taking care of himself. Meals were half eaten, his eyes were dull and he hardly smiled anymore. he just wanted to see you again 

your smile, your eyes, your gorgeous face, your kind heart. 

his head kept convincing himself, Min jun, Min jun, Min jun.

but his heart chanted, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.

Glasses clinked together, waiters moving around swiftly. Under dim lighting, Wonwoo stared at his date, Seo min. Seo min was talking about her new designer bag that she bought. Wonwoo zoned out of the conversation tapping his fingernails on the table, he switched his phone on from under the table and stared at the screensaver. It was a selfie of you and Wonwoo. 

Seo min clicked her fingers to gain wonwoo’s attention. “Hey you okay? you seem distracted” 

Wonwoo rubbed his face and flashed her a fake smile, “erm yeah i’m sorry, what were you saying?”. she continued droning on and Wonwoo had to put in so much focus just to hear what she was saying. He realised how similar the both of you looked. H/c hair, same hair length, height. But she wasn’t you. She didn’t want to get know Wonwoo, she didn’t care to ask if he was taking care of himself. 

oh god, i’m in love with Y/n, wonwoo realised

“S-Seo min, i-i need to go, i’m sorry. and i can’t see you anymore. Here is the money for this meal. i have to go” before Seo min could even say anything, Wonwoo was running out of the restaurant. 

Wonwoo ran like he never ran before, every breath came out as a light smoke as he ran through the cold wintery streets towards the apartment building. He climbed up the stairs as he was too impatient. 

Wonwoo impatiently knocked on your door, panting heavily from running and climbing so far. He waited for you to open the door and brushed through his hair. 

The multiple knocks on your door made you put down your book and hot chocolate. “I’m coming!” you said, wondering who was visiting you at this hour. You opened the door and was shocked when you saw Wonwoo panting like he just ran miles. 

“Won-” wonwoo stopped you by placing his lips on yours, slowly snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. You were shocked for a second, but hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. You broke the kiss first, leaning away and placing your hands on his face waiting for him to talk

“Y/n, these few week has been misery. As cliche as it sounds, it wasn’t the same without you. I missed you so much, your smile, your laughter, everything. Cooking with you, studying with you and even doing laundry together” Wonwoo said voice slightly quivering as all his emotions poured out for you. “i realised as much as i was attracted to Min Jun, my heart belonged to you. I love you, and i didn’t see it before but i really do. I hope that you’ll consider me again and i’ll really like to bring you out” he finished

You gave him a small peck on the lips, “of course Wonwoo.” He gave you the brightest smile, knowing he has you back in his life and that you love him as well, made him the happiest man alive

He wrapped his arms below your knees and carried you into your apartment and onto your bed. The two of you kay and cuddled for a while. Talking about the events that happened when the two of you weren’t talking.

With you, Wonwoo felt like himself. In contrast to how he felt when he was with Min jun. That night he kissed you goodnight and had the best sleep in a few weeks.

Wonwoo has been bringing you on dates for a couple of weeks now, but he hasn’t officially asked you to be his girlfriend. Regular activities such as having breakfast together and spending time together resumed.

On christmas morning, you woke up earlier to make pancakes for the two of you. A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, you let out a small yelp and Wonwoo’s deep chuckle made your hair on the back of your neck rise.

You turned around and gave him a kiss, “Good morning won.”

“Good morning baby”

You raised your head to realised the mistletoe that you hung were above you guys.

“look won” pointing to the mistletoe, “looks like i get another kiss”

Wonwoo looked up as well, “Well darling, i have one question. Would you like a kiss from won? or a kiss from your boyfriend Won?” he said bringing you closer. “because i would definitely love to kiss my girlfriend Y/n, not just Y/n.”

you can’t believe he was asking you to be his girlfriend, and on christmas morning under the mistletoe. It was a perfect moment. Your hand wrapped against your mouth in disbelief as wonwoo continued staring at you. You finally nodded frantically and Wonwoo’s face erupted into a big smile

He brought you in for a kiss. A kiss under the mistletoe, from your boyfriend next door.

Masterlist

[viintage-pearls]

Snakes only bite

Your senior prom. It's suppose to be one of the one of the greatest nights of your life. Some girls plan it more than their own wedding. The perfect accessories. The perfect shoes. The perfect dress. And of course, the perfect date.

Betty thought she had all of that. She thought she was gonna have the perfect night. And yet, she found herself crying on the floor of her bedroom.

✰✰✰

She had decided to go with Jughead Jones. Yes, he was a bad boy and known as a risk. She had always found him alluring and she always had a good time with him. So, instead of going with one of the many guys that had asked her, she decided to go with the young serpent king. Too bad it would backfire.

Around 7 o' clock,  she walked into the gym. It was decorated wall to wall with violet cloths which had white fairy lights strung along the walls. Long tables with linens that matched the walls. Each of the seven tables had about 8 chairs on each side. There was a long purple isle from the door to the stage. And there was a huge dance floor that glowed a purple color. Clearly it was decorated by miss Veronica Lodge.

Betty and Jughead decided to just meet up at the school because the only form of transportation he had was his bike. And since she didn't want to ruin her dress, she decided just to take her own car. Maybe that was her biggest mistake.

She looked all around the gym, but he was no where to be found. She asked around, but no one had seen him. She found it peculiar but decided to wait a bit. Giving him the benefit of doubt. Thinking maybe he was just a little late.

Eventually, two hours passed. People were dancing and having a great time with their dates and friends. She was trying to. But, she was getting anxious and felt pathetic waiting around for her date. But, there was a topper to the cake. And this was just the icing.

The time to crown the prom royalty. Betty was sure she had it in the bag since she was the head of the cheer team. And she did. Unfortunately, when her name was called for prom queen, her king still hadn't shown. So, she stood there. On that stage, giving the brightest of smiles even though she was only filled with doubt.

Jughead's runner up, archie andrews ending up becoming king and they shared a dance. The entire time they swirled around in circles around the dance area, her mind was somewhere else. She couldn't help but think about how she would rather be dancing with Jughead than the carrot top.

After the dance, she ran out of the gym. She ran outside and got into her car. She practically sped her way over to the Southside. She normally didn't like going into snake territory after dark, but she was pissed off. And this man better have had a good reason for standing her up.

She sped into the trailer park, surely kicking up gravel. Not that she cared, her mind was only other things. She had always liked him and she really wanted to get to know him. They were both going to new york for college next year. So they would've actually had a chance without the weight of Riverdale's civil weighing them down.

She parked in front of the grey dingy trailer. The blonde woman climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Honestly, she wanted him to hear it. She wanted to hear the angry clicks of her heels. She was pissed off and with good reason. Yet, she hadn't had any clue just how upset she would be.

She knocked on the door and waited a bit. She began to hear a lot of steps and loud voices. She peeked into the window, completely unaware of what she was going to see. But when she did, it completely shattered any thought of them making things work in the future.

Her green orbs observed the dumpy living room. There was another woman with him. The woman's upper body was only covered by a bra. Jughead was half naked. The rest of their clothes thrown across the room, a lamp on the floor. It was clear what they had been doing. It was clear what he had rather been doing some random ass woman than going to a dance with her.

The shock, the hurt, the disappoint, the anger. It was all over her face. Her jaw clenched as she couldn't help but stare with wide eyes for a minute.

Then, he turned his head and he caught her eyes. She didn't stay around long enough to see his reaction. She just wanted to go home. She stormed back into her car. And just like that, she was gone faster than she had came.

✰✰✰

It took jughead a little longer than it should've before he decided to come  check up on her. After everything, he didn't know wether or not he should've. He had been such an asshole and he was sure that she didn't want anything to do with him after the night he had gave her. But, he gathered up all of his courage and eventually found himself riding up to her house.

His blue eyes looked up at the red and white two story dwelling. He contemplated for a moment just turning back home. But, he pushed that thought to the back of his head and found himself going up the back way. The andrews always had a ladder so he used it to get to her bedroom window.

He looked inside the pastel bedroom. He quickly spotted the girl on the floor. She still wore the beautiful lilac dress, even as she cried in a fetal position. He gulped as he felt his heart quench at the sight. He sighed before he knocked on the window.

He watched as the girl jumped a bit out of shock. She looked in his direction, anger quickly taking over her face. He watched as she stormed over, opening the window.

"Why are you here?" She asked him with a raised brow.

He looked up at her, bitting his lip. He didn't know what to say to her. He looked down before looking back up into her eyes. He couldn't help but notice her smeared mascara. "I.. I um, can i come in?" He asked her.

She scoffed a bit but gestured for him to come in. " yeah, sure whatever." She said, walking over to her mirror and pulling her hair into a bun.

Jughead nodded and climbed into her bedroom. He had been in the pink room many times before. But never Without Betty all over him. Not that he ever complained. In fact, he preferred it to her simply tolerating his presence in her bedroom.

" Soo.. What do you want, Jones?" The blonde asked him, wiping her eyes of her ruined make up.

"I just.. I wanted to tell you that i'm sorry. I should've been there. I should've been with you." He told her.

She turned around in the vanity chair, looking at him with a glare. "So, why weren't you?"

He sighed softly. He didn't have a real excuse. His best bet was the truth. "We were at the wrym. Me and my friends were hanging. And all of a sudden, this new girl came into the bar. And she came over to me. One thing led to another and." He said.

She nodded. "And you decided that you would've rather screwed her than to keep your promises. Got it."

Jughead sighed and shook his head. "No. I." He started but just sighed.

"You what?" Betty asked, standing up from the chair and looking up at him.

He looked down, he couldn't bare to meet her eyes. Instead, he watched the purple rug across her floor. His eyes traced the little purple and pink flowers.

Betty raised a brow as she watched him. She shook her head. "God dam, jughead jones. Why do you have to be such an âsshole?" She asked him. There was no response. "Why do i have to be so stupid?" She muttered as she ran her hands over her face.

Jughead glanced back up at her. "Betts.. You're not. I am. I'm sorry, okay? I'm an idiot. I just.. I didn't want to go your stupid little stereotypical northside party." He mumbled.

Betty laughed and shook her head. "You do realize how stupid that sounds? You literally asked me!"

He closed his eyes. "Yeah, well.. You knew what you were getting into when you said yes." He told her.

"Oh, really? Okay. So, now this is my fault? I should've seen it coming that instead of going to prom with me, you would've been at your trailer screwing another woman!?"

Jughead didn't know what to say. she wasn't exactly wrong. He made a promise only to break it. He knew how important this night was to her. And yet, stupid was his chosen path.

"Oh my god, elizabeth. Stop acting like there aren't a million other guys that wanted to go with you tonight. You should've went one of your preppy jocky freinds."

Jughead saw a flash of hurt across her face before it descended into anger. "You're right, jones. I got asked many times. But guess what? I didn't want to go with any of them! I wanted to go with you!"

He scoffed. "Why the hêll would you want to go with me? Look at you. You live on elm street. You are valedictorian AND the leader of the cheer team. You are like literal perfection. I'm from the wrong side of the tracks. I'm the leader of a gang. Why would you wanna go with me?" He asked her.

"Because.. I don't care about that stuff. Because as much as i should, as much as i'm scolded for even looking at you, i can never get you off my mind. Last summer, spending like every day together, it was amazing. I never told you but i fell. Big time. But, i knew it would never work in this town. So when i found out that we were both gonna be in new york next year. I was hopeful for some kind of future. But they were right. My sister, my friends. They told me that you are a snake, and not just by title, you are a fück boy. The best thing you have is your poisonous bite." She muttered, wiping a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek.

He took a moment to let her rambling words sink in. She loved him. Never in his life would he thought that she would love him. Yet, he had suppressed the same feelings. Maybe that was why he asked her to the dance. But he was scared. Because he was almost certain that she would never return those feelings. So, he sabotaged things. Because it seemed easier than being shot down. He felt the guilt on his shoulders. The guilt weighed so much. If he was in water, he would've drown by now. But, he was once more brought to reality when betty said something.

"I think you need to go." Betty told him, chewing on her bottom lip.

Jughead looked up at her. He was filled with sorrow and regret. "Betts, please don't make me go." He said, his voice cracking a bit. He wasn't used to vulnerability. But, he felt like he was on the verge of tears.

Betty didn't answer him, she didn't even look at him. She turned her head away from him and refused to meet his eyes. Her jaw clenched as she tried to contain herself.

Jughead sighed, but he had got the message. He looked at her. "I'm sorry, truly." He whispered, patting her shoulder. His heart breaking with each step he took away from her.

Betty looked back at him. She grabbed his hand before he could too far. She turned him around and pulled him into a deeply passionate kiss. She cupped his cheeks as she kissed him.

Jughead breathed but kissed her back. He was confused, but he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him. Though, before he even knew it, the kiss was over.

She pulled away from him, letting her arms fall to her side after she peeled his hands off her waist.

Jughead looked at her with utter confusion. Talk about mixed signals. "Um.. Why?"

Betty simply smiled at him. " I just want to remind you of what you could've had. What you let go. And i hope to good she was a good enough fück to let me go." The blonde told him with narrowed eyes. "Now run along, you dirty snake." She muttered.

He gulped and continued on to the window, climbing out. He watched as she slammed the window behind him. "I love you, princess." He whispered before he continued down the ladder. Perfection was his. And he let it slip through his fingers. That would forever live with him.

@riverdalepromptathon

[obsessive-ego]

Younger me screwed current me over

Beetlejuice finds you clothes from a phase you had back in high school (a legit phase I personally had and I blame anime)

Musical beetlejuice x reader

sorta nsft???

Back in your early college years and laye high school years, you had a style phase, black and white stripes, anime was to blame, it started out as just the stockings, but kind of escalated to other articals of clothing.

As you got older the phase died down, you would wear them still, but to a lesser extent, you still loved them, but newer style choices took over. You still kept them of course, buried deep within your dresser, most of with you forgot.

Forgetting these clothes turned out to be a blessing in disguise, shortly after you finished college you up lifed yourself and moved out to the same town as your aunt Delia, long story short, you were her ex husband's sister's daughter, but Delia enjoyed you since you studied the art, and humored her views on crystals and such, you enjoyed her excessive positivity.

Delia was more then thrilled to introduce you to her new family, Charles seemed nice, and Lydia was quite interesting, of course you were introduced to the Maitlands who were very sweet. Then there was beetlejuice, lydia planned off the bat to introduce you to him as a quick scare, which ended with you sucker punching the demon, and just like that the ghoul was into you, no one had the balls to ever do that before.

Beetlejuice had worked his way into your life, shortly after your introduction he begged you to summon him whenever you wanted, and was thrilled it didnt take much convincing for you to bring him to your little flat, the ghoul got into the habbit of hanging around your place when Lydia was at school or busy. He would even hang around your place when you were at work stating you had better movies then the Deetz, but let's be honest he wanted to snoop through your stuff.

You told beetlejuice you had to pick up some misc groceries, and would be gone for an hour or so, tonight was gonna be your guys movie night, so aside from necessities you were also getting snacks.

He waved you goodbye with a bright smile, but the second the door closed and locked behind you, the smile dropped to a lecherous grin. It's been awhile since he was alone in your place, so he wasnt gonna let this opportunity pass.

You were never the type to have any REAL secrets, so blackmail was never really an option for teasing, instead beetlejuice normally took this time to roll around in your bed, smell your more delicate laundry items, and just take care of his sexual urges. Unknown to you, the demon had quite the crush on you, how could he not, you were kind, funny, basically gave him free reign, and had quite the cute behind, he adored spending time with you, and of course he wanted to pound you so hard into the mattress that you wouldn't be able to walk the next day, but you were clueless and took his advances as jokes, he'd crack you one day, but until that, messing around in your stiff was fine.

Unfortunately for him, your dirty laundry basket was empty, so no freshly used panties, he decided to just dig around through your dresser, nothing much of interest, until he spots a bit of white, in the sea of black shirts, pulling it out, he smiles, ot was a form fitting sweater, black and white horizontal striped, with a neon green trim, it was like beetlejuice designed it himself.

"How long have you had this sugar?" He purrs to himself, he sets the shirt aside before moving to his favourite drawer, inside was where all your lacy unmentionables hid, the demon couldnt help himself, smelling the croch of a few, and licking the croch of a few more, even the faintest scent or taste was enough for him. As he dug around he spotted a few unseen treasures pushed to the back of the drawer, a lecherous smirk crosses his face as he pulls out a black and white striped bra and panty set, along with a pair of matching thigh high socks. He could have came then and there, the tough of you in such a get up drove him wild, he started to palm himself through his pants at the idea of you wearing that cute little get up for him, he was snapped out of his little day dream by the sound of the front door opening.

"I'm home" you yelled, beetlejuice always appreciated this warning you gave him, not that you knew, that was just how you always came back when you lived with your parents.

In a flash the demon was before you, you flinch at his sudden appearance, obviously not expecting that, he chuckles at your response. With a snap of his fingers you bags were delt with.

"Oh! Thanks, you didnt have to do that" you greatly appreciated BJ's help since it was a rare thing, but it always felt weird when he made things disappear on you.

"Not sweat babes, since your free, how bout we have a little chat?~" his gravely voice drops to that unsettling tone that ment he was up to no good. Stating back at him you dont respond, but the ghoul continues as if you did "so sweetheart, you would say you're quite the stylish gal right? Right, I was thinking, maybe youd like a hand or two when i comes to dressing, as a change of pace~" he flashes you that unsettling smug grin signaling he WAS up to no good.

Before you can protest or do anything, beetlejuice snaps his fingers and you were now wearing the form fitting sweater he found earlier, black short shorts with black suspenders that hung around your bum, and the black and white striped thigh highs.

Something clicked in you mind, when you felt the tightness around your chest, you were no longer wearing the sports bra you slipped on today, but rather a tighter, more padded number, in a panic you pull the shorts away from you waist seeing your underwear was different too.

A mixture of anger and embarrassment fill your chest, the clothes changing, not am issue, bit the underwear, that was a step too far. "BEETLEJUICE!"

"Looking real good there sugar, had no idea we had the same taste~ how bout you you shimmy out of those clothes and show me how the panties look too~?" He purrs while walking circles around you, taking in his master piece of fashion.

"Where are my other clothes?" You huff

The demon laughs "dont worry about it, they're in the laundry" aside from your panties, there were in the ghoul's pocket.

You sigh looking at your reflection in the window "I guess this DOES look good, bra's alittle uncomfortable, but it looks like high school me vomited on current me" you turn back to the demon, who was ecstatic that you came around.

"So? Am I your fashion consultant now?" He says grabbing your hands.

You sigh "on occasion sure, just dont swap kit my underwear while I'm wearing them please"

"Wouldn't dream of it doll"

[marawritingstuff]

SUNSHINE

Finally, I would like to thank my fellow classmates.  I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.

Valedictorian speech written.   Come on, Amelia, no sleeping.   Time to write the memoriam.   Everybody would have completely forgotten about Sunshine, aka Jennifer, if those idiots stopped talking about weird stuff.

On this day as the Class of 2008 celebrates our graduation, our Sunshine isn’t here.   Jennifer Halloway sadly took her life seven months ago.  

Couldn’t someone else give this speech? Heaven knows, we weren’t friends. Sunshine didn’t have any friends. I didn’t even know her!  Well, maybe a little bit.

Sunshine always lit up a room with her distinctive style.  She brought laughter wherever she went.

My first encounter with Sunshine occurred the first day of fifth grade.  Jennifer stumbled through the homeroom door dressed in a jumper that was falling apart at the seams with a sun patch centered slightly below her large breasts.  The tall, overweight girl, with a haircut that even a discount barber wouldn’t admit to, clutched her books closely to her chest.  As a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” sprang from the mouths of a group of students near the back, a storm of spitballs flew through the air.  Sunshine didn’t even look up amid the commotion but headed to a corner desk at the far side of the classroom. A wave of sympathy overcame me, and I began to get up to greet her, only to be met by Susie, my best friend’s hand. I looked at my friends.  Some were laughing while others had wrinkled up their faces as if Sunshine had a communicable disease that could be passed through the air by her mere presence.  There is not much I can say now.  Then I was a ten-year-old girl who wanted to be liked so I wrote off Sunshine’s life, joining in my friends’ laughter and jeers that would last for nearly seven more years.

Her intelligence and compassion did not go unnoticed by teachers and fellow students.

Sunshine remained on the periphery of my universe.   We were both smart, extremely smart.  Advanced placement classes cluttered our schedules; at least for a while, but she lacked the social graces to stay amongst the “gifted.”  Group projects were the new fad in education.   My peers pretended to let Sunshine be part of the group during class, but everyone knew the real discussions, work, and fun happened afterschool. Nobody ever told her where the meetups were happening.  When it came to the division of work, the group inevitably responded: Jennifer refused to help.    Some of the teachers would try to elicit a defense from Sunshine, but she remained silent.   I guess she never got over the fear instilled in her in elementary school.  Supposedly, she told on some bullies for calling her “Cabbage Patch Kid” and they slammed her in the mud and kicked her bad.  Of course, there were some teachers who were just as ruthless as the students.  I heard Ms. Reardon, the sixth-grade science teacher, tell her that despite her intelligence, social problems meant that she would never succeed in life and Mr. Pearson, the seventh-grade English teacher, said someone as poor as her shouldn’t have hope. I wish I could say that I acted differently, that I tried to include her, but I didn’t. By the time we reached high school, the group project grades had dropped her out of my academic circle.   However, the continued bullying kept Sunshine burning bright in my orbit.

Jennifer’s grace was an example to us all.

The whole cheerleading squad threw me a welcome party the day before my freshman year began.  They even brought me the cutest outfit and a junior offered me a ride. At 7: 15 a.m., she pulled into the driveway in her clunker.   Fifteen minutes later we screeched into the parking lot, just as the buses were pulling in.  The unmistakable sound filled my ears.  “You Are My Sunshine.”   Mud balls flew knocking Jennifer from the stairs of the bus onto the concrete.   She pulled herself up dredging her splattered sunshine jumpsuit with her.  As she stepped through the entrance doors, Sunshine disappeared from my mind again.

Though she wasn’t one of the more outgoing students, she was beloved by everyone.

That first year our paths didn’t cross much as our classes were clearly different now and extra-curricular activities weren’t her thing.  At times, I would hear calls of “fatso”, “creepy”, and “not so little Orphan Annie” coming from the halls, and witness Sunshine being thrown into lockers.  At lunch she sat alone, while some kids threw food at her and most...okay, all…of us just sneered.   Gossip went around that her grandmother, her sole living relative, got cancer and the water in her house was turned off.      Her hygiene suffered, ostracizing her even more.  One morning I really had to pee, so reluctantly ran to the gross bathroom on the first floor. That giant jumpsuit was in a sink with Sunshine scrubbing it with a bar of soap. Laughter exploded from me.  She just stood there scrubbing…I am sorry I did that now.

I, for one, enjoyed Jennifer’s contributions in the classroom.

A language class was required for all students and, unfortunately, I lacked any skills in this area, so this meant mixing with all the other sophomores. As I walked into class, I noticed the name cards carefully placed on the desks. Señora Amelia Brantley.  Cute.  Assigned Seating.  I scanned the desks.  Señora Jennifer Halloway right next to Señor Harry Hankel, the quarterback, who later became captain of the football team, a notorious bully. Everyone thought Harry would make it to the NFL someday bringing fame, and money, to our school. Thus, his pranks were largely ignored, especially by the popular teachers, like Ms. Garcia. Throughout the semester, every time Ms. Garcia turned her back, he would take hold of Sunshine’s desk and throw it into the wall leaving her reeling. Ms. Garcia refused to discipline Harry, instead admonishing Sunshine for moving her seat.  The worst day came on Cinco De Mayo.   There was a buffet of Mexican delights contributed by the students and Ms. Garcia.  A decorated piñata hung from the ceiling.  At the end of class, Ms. Garcia had us start a Conga line.   When Sunshine tried to join in, no one would touch her back.  They called her a dirty pig and made oinking sounds. Rather than discipline the class, Ms. Garcia simply broke up the line and we went back to the Cinco De Mayo feast. Sunshine went to the back corner of the room, sat down on the floor, and for the first time ever, I saw her cry.   That was the beginning of the end, even though I neither knew nor took any steps to stop it.

She was the picture-perfect student.

To be honest, SAT’s, college applications, and maintaining my 4.0 kept me too busy after that to think much about Sunshine.  I jumped on the chance to assist with developing the year-book pictures, not only since it would add another line to my Ivy League applications, but also because I loved watching the blobs slowly transform into images of happy people.  Cheerleaders forming pyramids.  Football players making touchdowns.  Even Susie’s mug, now a beautiful young lady, smiling at the Junior Fall Dance.    After school one day, I stirred the solution as the last picture appeared.  My arm grew limp as the picture came in focus. Sunshine was sitting in the corner of the gym at a pep-rally, all alone, grasping her knees.  She looked so miserable, like a puppy that had been hit too many times.   Gently, I moved the image towards the trash when the Senior Editor came in and stopped me, laughing and pronouncing that this would be a highlight. I didn’t say anything.   The centerfold of the yearbook was Sunshine’s picture with the caption, “You are the light of our school.”

As we are here to celebrate our own accomplishments, I know the Senior Class wishes they could throw Jennifer a ceremony that could honor her alone.

Unlike my freshman year, I walked through the school doors on the first day of my senior year with confidence and pride; head of the cheerleading squad, member of the student council, editor of the yearbook and a shoo-in for valedictorian.   Frankly, this was just a distraction from the wait on the responses of the Ivy League schools. December was the traditional month that early applicants received an acceptance…or rejection. August. September, November, were all a blur.

December 12th, I arrived home and opened my inbox:

NEW MAIL

HARVARD:   APPLICATION STATUS

SUSIE:    SPECIAL CEREMONY FOR SUNSHINE, DAWN

Clicking the attachment of the first message, my hands shook uncomfortably. The Harvard Crest sat cleanly at the top of the letterhead.  My eyes scanned the document.

“Congratulations.  You have been accepted into the incoming Class of the Fall Semester of 2008.”

The next few hours were a haze.  Screams and tears.  My mother hugging me.   Calling Susie.  It all seems like a huge mess of emotions now.   Later that night, Susie called to remind me that she was picking me up at 6:00 a.m. for the ceremony.  The excitement of the day had overwhelmed me.  I assumed it was another award for one of the teachers.  The second e-mail remained on my computer unopened as I dreamed of Harvard crimson sweatshirts.

The alarm rang all too soon, I threw on a hoodie and my Northface winter jacket and lumbered down to Susie’s car.  The window made a perfectly good pillow and blocked out most of her jabbering. Later, I learned that Susie was explaining that Sunshine’s grandmother had been missing for a few days.  One of the idiots from the football team called Sunshine impersonating the police luring her to the flagpole in front of the school, our destination, with a promise of information regarding her grandmother.  If I had only listened to Susie.  Or opened the e-mail.  Or done…anything.  

Susie screeched to a stop a few blocks from the school where several other cars loaded with seniors had assembled.  I struggled from the car, joining a group of twenty-five in a steady creep.  As we came over the hill, I could see Sunshine standing beside the flagpole in her old, scantly patched coat, shivering in the cold.  She kicked the snow around her, weakly mouthing, “where are you Grandma.”  The group pounced on her. Harry Hankel seized her by the arms forcing her to face the flagpole.  From under the snow, two other blindsiders began to pull ropes causing a pair of bloomers and a bra to ascend. The sunshine patches left no doubt of the owner, though I had no idea where the mob had obtained her private items.  The group broke out into a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” as they blasted her with ice balls, several striking her square in her mouth causing teeth to be knocked fully out.   Seconds seemed liked hours until someone opened the front doors of the school.   Everyone scattered.   I stood there for a second watching Sunshine lie there on the ground.  Blood dripped from her mouth staining the snow. Susie pulled me by the arm, and I turned away.  This would be my last view of Sunshine.

I wish I had a chance to know her more personally.

The incident occurred one week before the holiday break.  Sunshine didn’t make an appearance in school that week.     Holiday cheer soon made me forget the horrible event as my family overwhelmed me with gifts of Harvard paraphernalia: sweatshirts, mugs, anything you could imagine.   When I finally stepped back on the grounds of the school, I shivered. My eyes turned up to the flagpole resting on a shadowy image of one of Sunshine’s patches waving.    Susie dismissed it as an illusion due to stress.  Only a few hours into class, the principal called us all for an assembly in the auditorium.   Despite my heavy sweater, I hugged myself tightly trying to keep warm.  Mr. Lumbre, our principal, stepped on the stage, but I could barely see him despite all the theater lights.  A shadow seemed to be engulfing him.  

“Jennifer Halloway took her own life on New Year’s Day.  She is survived by her grandmother.  Funeral arrangements will be announced.  Grief counselors will be made available in the main office.  School is dismissed for the day to allow time for mourning and processing.”

The senior class sat still. I don’t know what they were feeling, all I know is no one said a word.

We really didn’t have the opportunity to say a proper good-bye.  However, even after she was gone, Jennifer still seemed to be with us somehow.

No sunshine came through the clouds the day they put her in the ground.  Only her grandmother and the church pastor watched as the casket descended into the earth.  I sat in Susie’s car staring.  I read in the newspaper that Sunshine had shot herself with her grandfather’s old gun. Her grandmother, finally recovering from a bout of dementia, returned to find her in the garage a few days later. Some of the other seniors said they were going to come to the funeral.  Susie backed out but let me take the car.   Only the hearse and the pastor’s beat up Chevy kept me company in the cemetery parking lot.  I couldn’t bring myself to get out and drove away in perceived silence, though I thought I heard the faint sound of Nat King Cole’s “When Shadow’s Fall.”

The grief counselors only stayed a few days as no one sought their services. Sunshine never left.   No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, every morning the sunshine shadow enveloped me as I crossed under the flagpole.  As the temperatures rose outside the school, they fell within.  The furnace was replaced, but the temperature didn’t rise a degree. They tore apart the ductwork, vents, and changed all the thermostats.   Nothing worked.   Soon things…well…they started getting scary. Senior girls were randomly being thrown into lockers.  Books flew from students’ arms.  The darkness and “When Shadow’s Fall” were everywhere. Most of the students, and staff, for that matter, were unfamiliar with the song.  My grandmother adored Nat King Cole.   Though I used to love hearing that smooth baritone, I shivered as it creeped from every Ipod, car stereo, and even the PA system.  No other music has been heard in the school since Sunshine’s death.  

I walked into a biology class one day on a mission to deliver notices of the upcoming teacher and student council cooperative meeting.  There sat Harry Hankel snoring away as a film on protozoa projected over him. I stared at him and sighed, sick of the whole damn school. To my shock, an invisible force picked up his desk and relentlessly banged him back and forth into the wall.   I saw nothing touch him but some in the class maintain that a sunshine shaped shadow passed over the film screen before the accident.  Harry’s dreams, and the school’s dreams, were over.  The doctors were unable to repair the damage in his right leg.  He will never play football again.

We wish she could have partaken in the many happy activities of Senior year that are captured forever in our memories.

The final grade announcements confirmed my valedictorian status.  I wanted to drop it all and drive off to Massachusetts, never to look back.  However, the yearbook distribution had to be done.  On the penultimate day of school for the seniors, I walked into the student council office and watched my junior editor sliding receipts into each book. She abruptly stopped, something seeming to catch her eye.  Flipping open the book, she let out a shriek and bolted from the office.  Drifting over to her workplace, the pages of the yearbook flipped back in the constant cool breeze that pervaded the office. I covered my mouth in horror, looking down at the faces, or lack of faces, of the senior class.  Susie should have been smiling back at me.  Instead, there was a black spot in the shape of a sunshine. Book after book, page after page, the same.  Black blotches smeared out any faces of seniors.  Slumping down in a chair, I began to cry.  I wasn’t sure then, or even now, who or what I was crying about. Was it for our lost happy year? Was it for the loss of my hard work? Or was it finally for Sunshine?

We are all sorry for the tragedy that befell Jennifer.  I can only hope that Sunshine can find the peace she was seeking.  Goodbye Jennifer.  

There will be no yearbooks to sign this year.  Mr. Lumbre cancelled the prom.  No one objected.  Soon there will be parents wishing many of us well as we head off to our respective colleges and universities.   The question is will Sunshine be with us?  Will she stay at the school?  I don’t know the answer to that.   I do know that she is here now as I type these words, shivering, in the dark, a sunshine shaped shadow looming over me.

I…am…. sorry….

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part One

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: An AU originally based off of the 2012 TMNT universe, but can be compatible with most versions of the characters. <3 2.7k words. A03 link can be found here. Also special thanks to @cloakedrabbit and @starfiretheninja for beta-reading!

Looking back on the past couple of days’ events, April should have realized that kidnapping an endangered creature was a bad idea.

Well, scratch that.

Maybe attempting to break into a high security laboratory was where she went wrong. Or –

“This is totally wicked!” Casey Jones hollered from the driver’s seat as they took another sharp turn, tires spinning and spitting gravel up into the windshield wipers that were already working overtime. The creature in the backseat squawked and flailed as he skidded across the torn upholstery, desperately trying to sink his claws into something to keep from being thrown about like a rag doll.

“Slow down – and calm down!” The red-head snapped first towards the driver, and then over her shoulder at their passenger as she rapidly typed away on her laptop. A large jolt suddenly rocked the Jeep to one side and then the other, and April threw her arms out as a scream escaped her mouth. “CASEY! BRIDGE!”

Okay. So there were a lot of things that went wrong.

***

“Here we are!” A voice called loudly, causing April to jerk her head up and nearly lose an earbud in the process. “Now I know you’ve told me before, but remind me – what class is this project for? I don’t recall having to do anything like this until I’d reached graduate school.”

April smiled as she rose from her seat and shouldered an air tank onto her back. She carefully pulled the earbuds from her ears and tucked them into the bag of dry clothes she’d brought, then paused to looked out across the ocean. The sky was overcast that afternoon, leaving glare so minimal that even as the boat chugged to a stop beneath them, she was almost certain she could spy movement in the water below. “It’s for a dual-credit course. My science instructor knows that Dad is stationed here and that I study under him, so he said that I could use some of my research work as a science credit.”

“My word,” The fourty-something Japanese man at the stern shook his head in amusement as he pulled a lever to lower the anchor. The ship responded with a groan, lurching slightly at the movement, and the air was soon filled with a steady clack-clack-clack as chains were steadily released into the depths. “I swear, April – you work more than most kids your age. It’s a wonder you even have time to consider college courses. And you’re only – what – sixteen?”

“Seventeen as of last month,” April shrugged lightly and fought back an amused eyeroll as she continued to adjust her gear and flippers. Once she was certain they were secure, the girl reached for her camera and looped the strap over her wrist. She’d known Miles for a few months at this point and was pretty sure that they’d had this exact conversation every time they spoke. Her dad joked that his memory retention was about as long as that of the goldfishthat he studied. “Thankfully most of the college stuff is online, so I don’t have to worry about dealing with all of the paperwork from moving between schools. So it’s not too bad.”  

“Ah. Well then, I won’t keep you from your schoolwork any longer.” Miles tapped his wrist and jerked his chin towards the cloudy sky before moving towards the stairs that led below deck. Typically the rule was to never dive alone, but… “Remember, one hour tops, and then I have to check the boat back in for the evening – no exceptions.”  

“I know, I know – see you in a bit!” Positioning herself on the side of the boat, April fitted the mouthpiece from her tank into place, flashed an okay sign, and then pushed herself backwards into the rolling waves.

***

No matter how many times she dove, April could never not be amazed by the sheer beauty of the sea.She often wondered if she’d feel the same had her dad chosen a different line of work, but she ultimately pushed those thoughts aside and chose to simply be grateful that she’d always had the opportunity to live near open water. It was, after all, one of the only consistent things in her life.

She couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times that she had moved in her short life. Once or twice a year, her dad was reassigned to a new zoo or university and that meant uprooting everything and moving to the next body of water. Everywhere from Florida to Quebec to now Osaka – a large port city in Japan – had served as a temporary place of residence to April, her father, and the rest of the research team.

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin,” Kirby O’Neil had smiled at April over his mug of hot chocolate – a relocation announcement tradition in the O’Neil household. April remembered scowling into her own mug in response. “I spoke to the Board, and they’re willing to keep us in Osaka at least until you’ve graduated from high school. That way you can finish out your diploma in one place!”.

Five months later and the Board – a maniacal creature seemingly dedicated to repositioning its prisoners at random – had remained true to its word. April had quickly settled into the Japanese immersion class at her high school and was actually doing quite well in the school environment – enough so that the headmaster had paired her with another immersion student to help tutor him in math.

Casey Jones was an up-and-coming hockey player, the oldest child of the English Foreign Language teacher, and a big pain in the butt. Even though he was scheduled to graduate later that year, Casey seemed bound and determined to fail all of his classes – meaning that he and April spent more than the intended amount of time studying and hanging out together.

“It’s just you and me against Japan, Red,” Casey often joked as he would flash her a gap-toothed grin. “Us immigrants gotta stick together.”

If not for his cocky attitude and constant flirting, April might have thought that he was cute.

Might.

April gave a few kicks as she allowed thoughts of school to drift away and happily rolled in the cool water. Several silver fish darted out of her way as she sank lazily past, raising her camera in time to capture a couple of photos. Her blue eyes widened in awe as a class of clownfish and several jellyfish followed, and she rapidly snapped several pictures before they could float out of range. The water grew rapidly colder and darker with every few feet, aided by the clouds that were constantly drifting in front of the sun. Minutes slowly ticked away as her distance from the bobbing boat lengthened until it was no more than a misshapen shadow on the surface of the water above.

Thick, twisted chunks of orange and pink coral and a forest of seaweed eventually began to rise up around her, and she paused in the shadow of a particularly large structure to glance at the time on her camera screen – only twenty minutes left before she had to head for the surface. Yikes – that didn’t leave very long to get more decent shots.

She furrowed her brow in thought – maybe she could convince Miles or another research assistant to bring her out again tomorrow -?

Suddenly, a burst of movement out of the corner of her eye grabbed April’s attention and sent her reeling backwards against the coral. Hundreds of tiny fish blew past her in a frantic, unorganized mass, the undertow tearing at the surrounding seaweed and adding to the chaos and confusion. Before she could right herself, a much larger form shot after the fish, closely followed by another of similar size. The masses cut through the water without a glance in her direction, clearly intent on their prey and unaware that they had been seen.

April gasped as she righted herself and stared at the large, rapidly moving shapes that were quickly disappearing into the distance – what the heck had she just seen? For a moment she wanted to brush it off as simply two seals hunting dinner, but something made her hesitate. Something was off.

Heart pounding, she slowly peeled herself off of the coral wall and ducked into the thick seaweed. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t be spotted, April raised her camera and aimed it at the creatures. By now they were far enough away that the camera wouldn’t focus, but this confirmed what she’d thought she’d seen. Those were not the usual side to side movements that most fish travelled by, or even an up and down motion like dolphins or seals would use – these things had arms and legs that they were kicking like human beings.

Still not acknowledging April’s presence, the two creatures suddenly split up and each silently moved to one side of the school of fish. They then began to duck and weave, almost dancing with each other as they continued to direct the fish into a tighter and more condensed mass.

The numbers on April’s camera screen blinked a warning, reminding her that she only had a few more minutes before she needed to head to the surface, but she shoved the thought aside. She had to get closer.

With one hand firmly clutching her camera, April pushed off of the coral and began to propel herself through the clinging seaweed. The creatures had already put several dozen yards between herself and them, but appeared to be slowing as they closed in on their prey.

Moving through the dense seaweed was more difficult than her targets had made it look, however. The girl grimaced as her limbs repeatedly got tangled in thick pieces of the plant, slowing her motion until she tore them loose. She was almost to the edge of the seaweed when the bigger of the two let out a sharp clicking noise, causing April to freeze in place.

Before she could determine what was happening, a net appeared between the two beings and they cast it across the fish. The smaller creature then reached for a long strand of seaweed that had been wrapped around his forearm and tied the bag shut, thoroughly trapping their dinner. He squealed and clicked in pride, sounding like a dolphin that had just performed a trick and was now expecting a treat. The larger creature chirped in response and reached out to pat the smaller one on the head.

April kicked forward, mind reeling as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing, when a thick piece of seaweed tangled itself around her thigh and brought her chase to a stop. The sudden change in momentum caught her off guard, and April flailed her arms around in surprise – only for her camera to slip from her grasp. The small device, now free of anything weighing it down, rocketed towards the surface as the girl let out an exasperated string of curses that were only just masked by her mouthpiece.

Eyes straining to not lose the creatures amidst the bubbles that had stirred up around her, April violently jerked her leg to snap the seaweed. When the clinging inhibitor only seemed to tighten in response, she let out a huff of frustration and reached down to quickly untangle her leg. What met her fingertips, however, was not part of the slimy plants that surrounded her.

The girl let out a muffled stream of bubbles as she twisted around and gasped sharply. The dark tentacle around her leg tightened in response, and several more shot out from the shifting forest to pull at her arms and hair. April instinctively reached for the emergency knife on her belt, but the massive squid let out a fierce grumble as its tentacles tightened around her arms and pinned them to her sides. April’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she struggled fruitlessly and let out a garbled yell of panic.

Had she been diving with a team, the others would have stepped in at this moment to help her get away. But now here she was, alone and trapped with her only hope nearly twenty minutes away from even beginning to question where she was.

Am I going to die down here?

Just as another tentacle snaked forward to tug at her airline, the water around her erupted into bubbles and April felt herself being violently thrown back and forth. The tentacles remained firmly wrapped around her body, but she felt their grip slacken ever so slightly as two blurs rammed into the squid’s head with claws outstretched. Blood filled the water as the squid flailed beneath its attackers, scaly skin tearing underneath their claws.

April screamed again as one of the creatures suddenly turned on her, eyes wide and ghostly white, and then began to violently attack the limbs holding her tight.

Even as she was being tossed back and forth, April could tell that the creature fighting for her freedom was like nothing she had ever seen in her research. Shape-wise, the creature appeared to be a mix between a human and a turtle, roughly several inches shorter than she was. The terrapin was a pale olive color, covered from head to toe with splotches of purple scales. Thick claws protruded from large, rounded limbs and with each swipe it was clear that they were sharp enough to cut through flesh without much effort. A ramshackle string of lavender stones hung from one of the terrapin’s upper arms, somehow not getting cut or knocked off during the fight, and a quick glance told April that the other creature bore similar decorations on its own body.

When the thrashing tentacles finally began to loosen, the turtle nearest to her grabbed April beneath the armpits and quickly jerked her out of their confinement while the other continued to distract the squid. The turtle’s claws dug into her sides painfully as it held her to its plastron and began to swim awayupwards, causing April to cry out and kick her legs in panic. A series of sharp clicks echoed in April’s ears as she fought, and then several things happened all at once.

The water erupted with even more noise and movement – though April hardly believed it possible – and then the arms around her slackened and fell away, almost immediately to be replaced by several pairs of hands that she could recognize as being human. The next few minutes happened as a blur – she vaguely remembered several decompression stops as they ascended, each accompanied by hands gently patting her body and checking for injury – but before she knew it, they were breaking the surface of the water. There her world continued to move in a confusing blur of shapes and colors as more hands hooked under her arms and heaved her on deck, where her diving equipment was quickly stripped away and replaced with warm towels and gentle touches.

April blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. “What – ”

“We’ve got you, Little One,” A female biologist that April recognized from her father’s crew came into view amongst the blur of movement and blankets being piled on her shoulders, her face creased in maternal concern. “Delta Team was out patrolling and pulled up right alongside Miles just as your camera surfaced – we were afraid something terrible had happened to you! And – oh, you’re bleeding!”

“I –”

Miles’ voice suddenly broke through the chaos. “Give us a hand – we’ve got something big!”

Rina’s head jerked around to look at something out of April’s line of sight, and then she wrapped her arms around the girl and turned her away from the ruckus occurring on the other boat. The woman muttered something softly in Japanese, her eyes widening as she pulled April tighter against her body. “Oh my word…”

“What’s going on?” April turned against the arms holding her right as a full net thudded onto the deck she’d been on less than an hour ago. The large mass inside of it was curled inward and bleeding slightly, but one limp arm was clearly visible, bearing a bracelet of string and lavender stones.

Next Chapter

[ecto-american]

Le Freak

Phic Phight Oneshot for @phantomroyalty : Natural born halfas (EX a child with one ghost parent and one human parent) used to be common place. Now they are all gone. What happened to them?

It’s been a rough day lads, and this is purely self-indulgent nonsensical headcanon stuff that I wrote while partly crying over stress! Thus, fun fact for you! You can’t critique or criticize this because if you do, I absolutely will cry again! I know it sucks, it jumps around and makes Zero Sense bc editing? idk her but I just need to be able to post my fun shit and have a good time  :’) I’ll even put literally everything under the cut

Word Count: 1814

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“Cas?” 

Danny looked up from his phone to glance at his mom before his eyes shifted to see who she was referring to. A dark skinned man about his mom’s height with black hair to his shoulders, in jeans and a dark yellow t-shirt was standing with a grocery cart. The man looked around confused for a moment before turning to his mom. Once facing her, he shot her a bright smile.

“Aye, Mads,” he called out cheerfully. 

“Oh, I haven’t seen you since college!” Maddie exclaimed, and Danny internally groaned. He returned his attention back to his phone, continuing to lean onto the grocery cart. He began to text his friends about the interruption. “I can’t believe you came to Amity Park and didn’t tell me!”

He heard his mom continuing to chat. His name soon came up, and he glanced up.

“This is my son, Danny.”

Cas was giving him a bright smile. Danny gave a polite half smile in return, only to freeze as ghost sense went off. He noticed at the end of the isle, a young adult turning the corner, in his early twenties with very long, light blonde hair. Super long, especially for a guy. Jean jacket and dark washed jeans, a regular black band t-shirt. Very ordinary. 

“Dad, they don’t have any salt,” he complained, but he paused upon seeing the conversation. 

“Oh, uh, this is my son, Peter,” Cas introduced briefly, and his entire demeanor shifted. Danny couldn’t help but completely forget the texting conversation. This dude was suddenly...so nervous. “Peter, this is Maddie. We went to college together.”

Peter didn’t come any closer to them. He gave a light, polite wave from afar, and Danny knew that he was staring at his mom...almost nervously. 

“I’m terribly sorry, but we need to get going,” Cas apologized. He pulled the grocery cart with him as he stepped towards his son. “Busy schedule. It was good seeing you!”

“Oh you too!” Maddie was cheerful, seemingly oblivious to the others. The father son duo left the isle, and out of sight. Danny watched after them.

“Where’d you know him from?” Danny wondered. He glanced to see Maddie putting some boxed dinners into their cart.

“Cas? He was an old classmate of your dad and I. Before Vlad, he worked on the portal with us, but ended up dropping out to care for his son, but I’m so glad to hear that he eventually went back and finished. He was always a very smart man,” Maddie replied. She glanced at the list in her hand. “We don’t have much more to get. Let’s try to get done before the rush really comes in.”

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“Phantom,” a voice called out to him. Danny glanced over to see Peter standing nearby. The halfa shot him a smile, capping his thermos and a light salute. Though inside he was a bit shaky. Was he really just? Watching that entire fight?

“Hello, citizen!” Danny put on his public hero voice. He paused, half turning away as he prepared to leave. “Well uh, ghost’s contained. I’ll see you around!”

“No!” Peter’s harsh, desperate plea caught him off guard. “Please. We need to talk. I know your secret.” Danny’s blood ran cold. 

“What secret?” Danny asked quickly. “There’s no secret. I’m a ghost, what secret could I have?”

Peter’s look, that absolute knowing, scared Danny. Despite it, he didn’t seem malicious like he had feared. 

“You can’t run, because I really, really actually need your help,” Peter asked. “I know you’re half ghost.” He hurriedly added at Danny’s panicked look, “But I don’t know who your human half is! I don’t care who either, I just really need to know how you’re so stable.” 

The entire statement caught Danny absolutely off guard. Peter wasn’t giving off any kind of vibe like he was with the Guys in White, nor that he was going to hurt him. He couldn’t even sense anybody else around, and he had been fighting in the area long enough to have already set off booby traps if they existed. And his ghost sense...had gone off around him sporadically. 

“What do you mean?” Danny asked. Peter’s lower lip trembled.

“I’m half ghost too,” he claimed. Danny stared, his heart stopping. “But I can’t...it’s literally killing me.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. Peter motioned for him to move back a bit. Danny did.

There were no familiar rings or flash of light that always signaled his transformation. A dark shadow seemed to overwhelm the other, and left behind a figure that was unmistakably ghostly. Electric blue skin that was forever crackling with purple energy with matching purple eyes, the once blond hair now pitch black and floating around him softly. His outfit didn’t change, but Danny’s ghost sense did go off.

Peter held his hand up, and a purple dome shield came up. An ectoplasmic dome shield. He didn’t know how to feel at this revelation. Danny could only stare in awe at the other. There was more like him. It wasn’t just him and Vlad and Dani. They weren’t alone, there were oth-

The newly exposed halfa doubled over with a groan of pain. The shield quickly melted away, and Danny tensed up. He took a step forward.

“D-Don’t!” Peter’s voice gurgled, and Danny stopped. The newly discovered halfa fell to his knees and knees, and he threw up as his ghostly form melted away. As the form melted away, Danny could feel the air being filled with a rush of electricity and static before it finally faded.

“...Are you okay?” Danny called out.

“Yeah, that’s normal,” Peter wheezed, wiping his mouth as he stood back up, wiping his knees of dirt and gravel. “My ghost powers are super unstable. I can’t…not without...” He paused before glancing up at Danny. “Did you ever have a time where you were struggling to get your powers to work?”

“Yeah,” the teen nodded.

“I’m the opposite. I have to force myself to turn it off, and it takes so much energy, and every time I just try to utilize a little bit of power, it’s this…” Peter trailed off. “It’s overwhelming. And it hurts. And I can’t just bottle it up forever. If I don’t let it lose sometimes...it’s not pretty. I try to do it in isolated areas. Just let the excess energy out.”

Danny could only imagine the kind of destruction. If he had to guess, based on the electricity in the air, this guy had some kind of electric core. 

“How’d you...know about me anyway?” Danny changed the subject.

“I didn’t put puzzle pieces together, if that’s your concern,” Peter assured him. “The other halfa told me.” Danny’s eyes widened. “It’s why my dad and I came to Amity Park. We’ve been looking for a halfa to help us, or uh, rather help me.”

“Wait Vlad told you!?” he blurted out. What the fuck, cheesehead!? Oh, when Danny found him, he was gonna.

“No?” Peter’s puzzled tone snapped him out of his anger. “There’s...more than just us three left?” Danny’s undead heart skipped a beat. 

“Five,” Danny replied. “Who’s this other halfa?”

Peter stared somberly at him, glancing at his feet briefly as he toed with some of the rubble. 

“...I don’t know his human name. I purposefully didn’t ask,” Peter told him. “I originally asked him to help me, but he’s in a terrible spot and needed help of his own, help we couldn’t give. Not without getting ourselves in worse trouble. He said you were a halfa though. It had to be worth a shot. There’s not many of us left anymore.”

“How’d you even become half-ghost?” Danny asked curiously. Peter cocked his head in confusion. 

“I was? Born this way? Ghost mom, human dad?” he said slowly. He studied Danny curiously, and it seemed to click. “Wait were you not born half ghost?”

“You were born this way?” Danny asked back. His mind was going crazy. You could be born a half-ghost? That was possible? How come his parents never knew that? This would definitely explain why his dad seemingly dropped the Fentons as a friend... “Wait, many of us left?” 

Peter’s face told him nearly everything. Something happened. Something bad. The other cleared his throat. 

“Um...yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s kind of a long story. I don’t know all the details, cause I was kinda young, but basically...there was a lot of us. We had our own little section of the Ghost Zone. Do you know how the Bermuda Triangle is a giant natural ghost portal?” Danny nodded in confirmation. “There’s a section of the Ghost Zone near where it spawns most often that we used to inhabit, because of all the otherworldly crossing. Well, we were there. Before the Guys in White found out about us, and they came, and.” 

His breath hitched. Danny felt sick. The Guys in White...knew. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. They not only knew, but did this...oh fuck then that meant that there was a chance that they knew about him, and Vlad, and…..oh no.

“My dad said I nearly died too,” Peter continued. “One of the full ghosts saved me, smuggled me out. And my mom’s a doctor and was able to save me, but I was in a coma for like two months. Some made it out alive too. The unlucky ones…”

“...Died?” Danny guessed quietly. Peter let out a breathless chuckle. 

“No. They’re lucky if the GIW just killed them,” he replied flatly. “It’s honestly terrible. I don’t think you wanna know.” Peter was right; Danny didn’t want to know. It was Peter’s turn to be curious. “So...you weren’t born this way? Right? So how…”

“I was in an accident,” Danny kept it simple. Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Must be one hell of an accident,” he commented. Danny chuckled nervously. Peter sighed heavily. “So, I still don’t know if you can actually help my stabilization issue…cause of the differences…”

“I’ll do what I can!” Danny blurted out. Peter’s face brightened. “Please. I’d love to know more about halfas. We can compare stuff.” The young adult let out a sigh of relief.

“Come to my house tonight, my parents can tell you everything they know,” Peter agreed. He reached into his pocket to pull out the familiar small notebook. He ripped a page out, jotting down an address Danny already knew. “Just...come alone.”

Danny nodded, holding his hand out for the paper. Peter gave it to him, and despite the other powering down, Danny still felt a bit of an electric shock as they grazed hands. 

“I’ll see you then,” Danny promised. 

Grasping the note, he waved a goodbye, and he flew out. He had so much to tell Jazz.

[whimsicalsesquipedalian]

Modern-day witch.

In Salem there were witches. Or there were women who old, bitter men said were witches. We all know they weren’t witches. Not really. Witches aren’t real. Well, at least not the kind the fairy tales tell you about. But there was something. Something about those women. Something that said “I don’t fit”, “I’m different”, something that said: “my deviancy is worth killing me over.”

Gretel didn’t believe in witches. ‘Patriarchal bullshit designed to police womens’ behaviour’, is what she told her father as they watched a Netflix special on the trials, ‘just another way the male agenda enacts violence on womens’ bodies and identities.’ Her father remains silent, probably wanting to avoid an accusation of complacency or even compliance with the patriarchal machine. Her brother isn’t in the room. Her “mother” is away on a business trip. She misses these times when it’s just them, her and her father. No annoying younger brother with his neanderthal behaviours. No bitch in heels and lipstick pretending to be her mother. Just them. Sometimes, she thinks, this is the only part of my life that isn’t just bullshit. ‘I think I would have been killed for being a witch,’ she says, long after the television has gone silent. Her father simply hums. ‘The men back then would have been way too intimidated by a woman like me.’ Her father stares, taking in his daughter. She narrows her eyes, turns down her lips, rolls back her shoulders and puffs out her chest. A less than convincing picture of the “deviant woman” when the canvas is a nineteen-year-old girl who’s never left her hometown. Her father nods, ‘I suppose you would.’

Six months later Gretel sits alone in the dark on a street corner in a city all too large and all too loud, and a perfect fucking example of why the capitalist regime should be torn down by a new and glorious revolution. The marxist group at the local community college ran a seminar on the dangers of capitalism last week. It’s the first time since she arrived here that something in this city hasn’t felt like complete bullshit. ‘We at the Marxist Alternative don’t cater to the capitalist pigs draining you of all individuality or expression,’ she was too caught up in the moment to notice the inherent irony in the statement, ‘the wealthy conservative scum are the true bane of our society. Eat the rich and destroy their legacies.’ She nodded along, caught in the fervour, already seeing a face in her mind.

She had left home. That bitch in heels and lipstick ran her out. She doesn’t need a trail of breadcrumbs to return; she knows the way. That doesn’t mean she will. Not when it’s all bullshit. Not when no-one understands her. Not when the father that should have loved her more than anything chose the bitch in heels and lipstick over her. Over her plain face, her bad hair, her short, uneven nails. Why couldn’t he see that she was the only authentic thing in the white-picket life he had built for himself? It’s cold on the street corner. The owners returned to the place she was squatting in. Policemen, cold blue light, and a station that smelled of piss, all because she had decided to take something back from the Wall Street bastards who took something from her first. A court date on Monday feels like a fucking hatecrime, she thinks. All cops are bastards, or whatever the saying is.

‘Can I help you, baby?’

The woman stands there, under the streetlamp, looking down at Gretel. The wild afro around her head glows like a halo, and frames a dark-skinned face with eyes the colour of coal. Tension runs down Gretel’s spine. Immediately replaced by shame crawling in her gut at her initial reaction. Immediately replaced by the projection of a false sense of comfort so as to appear that she is not one of the racist dicks Twitter seems so keen on calling out lately. ‘I need somewhere to sleep, do you know if there are any shelters nearby?’ She keeps her voice light and her expression blank. It’s only polite, she figures. ‘No baby, no shelters around here.’ The woman looks sorry, looks sympathetic, looks almost pitiful. ‘You got any friends or family? I can call you a cab.’ Gretel shakes her head. There is something authentic about the street corner she has found herself on. Something the bitch in heels and lipstick could never understand. She wasn’t going to compromise that by going home now. ‘I don’t normally do this, but I’ve got a spare mattress. You can come home with me, if you need to.’ The woman looks kind and the night looks dark. It’s still cold. Gretel follows her. I would have followed home a white woman, she thinks.

‘Come in, make yourself at home.’

Dirty floors, mould on the walls, and a dampness in the air that seems to draw the light and warmth right out of the room.

‘I know it’s not much, but I hope it’s alright for tonight.’

Low ceiling, concrete walls, bars on the only window and a stain on the floor that could easily be blood.

‘I’ll heat some food up for you. Skinny white girl like you, you could use a proper meal.’

No light comes on in the fridge. The food looks more than a few days old. The woman’s hands move over the container and suddenly it’s not so certain what Gretel is being served.

‘Put your stuff anywhere, baby. It doesn’t bother me.’

Piles of clutter and mess. Bags of clothes that are far too small for the woman at the kitchen bench. Backpacks and shoes that look as though they once belonged to young children. Another stain on the floor. The smell of rot.

‘Mattress is behind that curtain. Not much privacy in a one room.’

The room is too small. A bed in one corner, a kitchen in another. No bathroom she can see, and a table worn with use. A shower curtain draws over one corner. A mattress that would look at home in a dumpster lies behind it. More stains, more stink. The curtain rustles.

‘Don’t mind the smell. Landlord found rats in the building. Exterminator came, but I think some got stuck in the walls. Hard to have an appetite when the place smells like death.’

The smell hits her harder now. Not just rot, but rotting flesh. An almost sickly sweetness to it, like pus or dead flowers. It fills her nostrils and makes her head spin. The floor is still stained brown.

‘You don’t mind if I lock the door do you? We get some interesting folks in this neighbourhood. I’d rather be safe.’

The lock clicks behind her. The room is suddenly stifling. The food sits on the table, but it smells like everything else in this place. Death in every bite. Her stomach turns.

‘So you haven’t got anyone then, baby? No-one waiting for you to come home? Young girl like you, you shouldn’t be all by yourself. Not in these parts.’

The words send shivers down her spine. The questions a red flag warning her to hold her secrets close. The door is still locked. The food is still warm. The air is still acrid. The woman is still staring. ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she stutters. ‘I’ll just find a shelter,’ the words hang empty in the stale air. ‘It’s really not worth causing you all this trouble...’ The excuses fly past her lips as she edges towards the door. Her phone is in one hand and her bag in the other. There’s a baseball bat by the door, she realises. ‘Are you sure, baby? I really don’t mind.’ The woman takes a step forward and Gretel runs.

‘Hello. Yes, police. I’d like to report an attempted abduction. I got away but it looks like the woman has done this before. Yeah. Blood on the floor. Clothes in bags. Shoes for like 10 different kids. The whole place smelt like there was something dead there. Yeah, I have the address. Please, she just grabbed me off the street. Wanted to know if anyone would come looking for me. I think she tried to drug me. Everything happened so fast...’

It is on the news two weeks later. A black woman in her early forties, shot by police officers when they entered her home on belief of suspicious activity. No one is sure if they had a warrant. No one was wearing body cameras. Apparently she was aggressive. Pulled a weapon. The officer in question had no choice. Six shots for one woman. At five foot two and 160 pounds it must have been some weapon she was carrying. Gretel watches it all play out from the couch of the friend she’s crashing with, counting down the minutes before she has to go start her court mandated community service. 30 hours. It speaks to how broken the fucking justice system is, she thinks.

Twitter and a multitude of news channels host a trial for the woman, post-mortem. Alternating constantly between prosecution and defense; the masses providing a widespread jury incapable of forming consensus. The prosecution opens: ‘The woman was a suspected kidnapper, possibly a child molester. There had been evidence to suggest she was at least a drug user. Weed under a mattress. You know the type.’ The defense rebuts: ‘The woman volunteered for her church’s thrift store, the clothes and shoes were donations that needed to be sorted. She suffered from a chronic condition, the drugs were prescribed to help her manage the pain. The supposed weapon the police keep talking about was a baseball bat she reached for when the door was broken down. She thought it was a home invasion.’ The masses lay their verdict; a hung jury. ‘Blue lives matter.’ ‘Justice for Lucretia Jones.’ ‘He was just doing his job.’ ‘Defund the police.’ The trial is complete and the sentence is hollow. No matter which way the decision falls the witch already lays dead. Burned before trial. Killed without mercy. The cycle continues, it is just the victims that change. Gretel turns off the news and keeps on living. ‘I’m a modern day witch,’ she says, as she drops more tinder onto the pyre.

[kinglazrus]

i saw that post and thought of this yesterday but my brain was unreasonably shy but here it is now usdygbhjn: “It’s three in the morning.” danny @ dash

Milky Way

Sometimes Danny hates living in the city. Actually, most of the time he hates it. Not because of the noise, or all the people, or even the ghosts, but the stars. Or the lack of them, at least.

Danny was ten years old when he realized the sky he saw every night was a lie. He had seen plenty of pictures of the night sky taken from different parts of the world. At that age, he just assumed that’s how the sky worked. Some places had less stars than others, he was unfortunately born in a place with very few stars overhead.

Until his sister got him a big astronomy textbook for his tenth birthday and he learned the city was to blame. All the city lights polluted the sky and kept him from seeing the sky for what it truly was. For weeks, he tried to convince his parents to move, to pack up all their things in the RV and drive out far away into the middle of nowhere, where there was no people and no light pollution, and he could see the stars in all their glory every night.

He never got that wish, but nowadays Danny doesn’t mind it so much. Now, if he wants to see the night sky as it should be seen, all he has to do is fly up, up, up beyond the clouds, just past the edge of the mesosphere.

There, he floats along the Kármán line, the boundary between Earth’s atmosphere and space, and he can see everything. It’s beautiful. He can’t help but think of every childhood drawing he made of the stars and how wrong he was.

The sky isn’t an endless expanse of black peppered with bright white spots. It’s a gorgeous mix of blues and purples, and even some pink in the Milky Way itself. Every inch of the sky is covered in stars. There are so many he has trouble picking out the constellations he knows better than his hometown, but he manages.

The familiar cup of Ursa Minor, Draco’s lithe body winding past, Hercules’ crooked form by the dragon’s head.

Danny traces the familiar lines with his softly glowing eyes and feels as empty as the space between the stars. Even though that distance looks so small from here, he knows how vast it really is.

Tipping back his head, he stares back down toward Earth. Cities make their own constellations across the dark surface. The sixty-two miles between him and the ground right now is not enough. He wants to fly higher, way out into space, and get lost in its cold comfort. But he can’t, because he has a city to protect, friends who depend on him, and a family who loves him.

At least he thinks they love him.

Danny reaches for his phone and goes to check the time, but the screen doesn’t turn on. He frowns, tapping the screen, and even shakes the device a few times. And then he remembers how cold it’s supposed to be up here, something he can’t really feel anymore, and it probably killed the battery.

He’s just lucky it isn’t iced over. At this height, it should be, but he probably has the radiation from his ectoplasm to thank for that.

Grudgingly, Danny tells himself he should probably head home. He flips over, head to the ground, and starts flying.

He takes his time, it’s still barely more than hour before he’s back in Amity. Just before diving through Fenton Work’s roof, he looks back up at the sky. It’s empty and sad.

The first thing Danny does when he’s back in his room is plug in his phone. He considers transforming; it’s dangerous to stay in ghost form while his parents are home. But after staring at his blank phone for a few long seconds he decides against it. He doesn’t really want to be human right now.

Curled up on his bed, head against his pillow, knees pulled up to his chest, he waits for his phone to charge enough to turn on. Those five minutes feel infinitely longer than his flight back from space.

“Screw you, Clockwork,” Danny mutters. It’s not really Clockwork’s fault, but it feels good to have someone to blame, and the ghost of time is a ripe target.

The moment his screen lights up, Danny reaches out and snags it off his bedside table. He notes the time, quarter to three, then goes through his notifications. Some spam emails, a couple game notifications, but no texts or calls. Which makes sense, it’s the middle of the night, who the hell would be up right now besides him?

As soon as Danny thinks that, his phone buzzes and a message appears at the top of his screen.

From Dash: [image]

Another quickly follows.

From Dash: was that u?

Eyes heavy, Danny stares at the texts for a long moment before clicking them. The messaging app is bright and glaring compared to his dark home screen and he squints when it lights up his room. He clicks the image Dash send, feeling instant relief when his screen gets significantly darker.

It’s a shot of the sky from Dash’s bedroom window, the corner of the next building over cutting through the image. Just above that is a bright white speck. If Danny didn’t know better, he might have mistaken it for a star or a planet.

Closing out the image, Danny types back: yeah, it’s me.

He hits send, turns onto his back, and sets his phone down on his chest. He’s not expecting a reply, although he has no reason not to, so it startles him when his phone buzzes not even a second later.

From Dash: thought so. What were…

From Dash: Patrol?

Danny pulls himself up, opening his phone once again, and reads the full messages.

Dash: thought so. What were you doing so high up?

Dash: Patrol?

Hunched over his phone, Danny doesn’t so much stare at the screen as he does zone out in its general direction. He knows what he wants to type in response, but he can’t seem to get his fingers to move.

The phone sits cradled in his hand, his thumbs thick silhouettes against the white screen. The longer he looks, the more he thinks they aren’t his thumbs but just thumbs. Anyone’s thumbs. They didn’t belong to him. He was a hundred miles away, out in space.

Before he can decide if this is a good or bad idea, he hits the call button.

It gets through half a ring before Dash picks up.

“Hey, Danny.”

Dash’s is voice is rough and dry, but it isn’t thick with sleep, reassuring Danny he hasn’t dragged Dash out of partial slumber.

“Danny?”

The call time says it’s been going for over a minute.

Danny swallows. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Dash…” Danny trails off. He rolls his neck. It pops in a way that probably isn’t healthy, but is also so familiar he doesn’t think twice about it anymore. He licks his lips. “Why are we friends?”

That isn’t what he meant to say. He doesn’t know what he really wanted to say, but he knows that wasn’t it.

The call is at five minutes.

“Because Paulina and Sam are dating.” Dash chuckles.

Danny thinks he should be chuckling too, but the sound doesn’t come. It’s a joke they’ve made a hundred times, as familiar as the crick in Danny’s neck, but it’s not the answer he wants right now.

“I’m friends with Tucker because… because we’ve always been friends. I can’t imagine not being friends with him,” Danny says. He takes one the hands—his hands, he has to remind himself—away from the phone and turns it over. Is it really him doing that?

“Sam kind of made herself friends with us. But we always thought she was cool anyway, so, we wanted her.” Danny rubs his hand on his thigh, stopping to grip his knee. He can feel the pressure, but he can’t really feel it. “We hate each other.”

Ten minutes.

“We used to, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t think I ever really hated you. Just, stupid high school stuff.”

“Stupid high school stuff,” Danny repeats. He glances at the time at the top of his screen. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you up at three in the morning?”

“Why are you?”

Danny sucks in a sharp breath. “Just. Couldn’t sleep. Yeah.”

“Yeah? Same.”

This time, Danny chuckles. He can’t figure out why it’s funny, but it is. Dash? Having trouble sleeping? People like him aren’t supposed to have Danny’s problems. They’re supposed to date the head cheerleader, and have tons of friends, and get some big football scholarship that carries them through college, and be famous. Or something.

But the head cheerleader is dating Sam. Dash only has a handful of people he talks to regularly. He told Danny last month that he doesn’t want to play football in college. He wants to be a social worker, like his mom, and not be famous.

Danny laughs again.

“What’s so funny?”

“S-Sam,” Danny says between giggles. “Sam stole your girlfriend.”

“She really didn’t.” Dash sounds amused, a humorous lilt in his voice.

Danny can’t figure out what he finds so funny. It’s Dash’s life that isn’t going how it’s supposed to. Sucks to be him, thrust into a set role the moment he became quarterback in freshman year, stuck with a path he doesn’t want, that he doesn’t quite seem to fit. What kind of high school king is he?

The next time Danny laughs, it sounds closer to a sob. He sniffs and rubs his nose on his sleeve, the thick, rubbery material of his jumpsuit irritating his nose. The suit smells vaguely of burnt flesh and sulfur. No matter what Danny does, he can’t seem to wash it out.

Twenty minutes.

“Danny, I think you should go to sleep now.”

“’M fine,” Danny insists.

“You’re really not.”

“That’s kind of rude.” Danny drags his hand through his hair. It never feels like normal hair in his ghost form. Too wispy and light, like a silk veil.

“I can call you in the morning if you want. Or I can get Paulina to text Sam, or Tucker. I think I still have Jazz’s number somewhere.”

“Don’t hang up,” Danny says softly. He fells forward, curling onto his side around the phone, sticking his feet under his pillow.

They’ve been on the phone for well over half an hour now. Danny’s pretty sure they haven’t talked enough to fill out all that time. He wonders how much of it Dash has spent just sitting there, waiting for Danny to answer. It makes him feel like a bit of a prick.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Danny can tell Dash doesn’t know what the apology’s for, but he appreciates the acceptance nonetheless.

“You won’t hang up?” Danny asks.

“I won’t hang up.”

Danny nods, even though Dash can’t see it. He wishes he could. He wants someone here right now, but not Sam, or Tucker, or his sister, or his parents who maybe hate him, but he can never be too sure because they don’t know they hate him and he’s too afraid to tell them. Without all those other options, he supposes Dash will do.

He falls asleep, eventually, and wakes up human and cold, his phone still on beside him.

[seavoice]

We’ll Dream Of A Longer Summer

A stairwell, some chocolates and the last summer.

[beckendorf/silena]

this is so...random! and unedited. but, it’s here anyway, so just some beckendorf and silena stuff set before tlo, because there’s not enough with the two of them. you can scroll down to keep reading, or click on the title to read on ao3.

Spring bled into summer, and his eighteenth year bled into his nineteenth. Suddenly it was the approaching winds of August that filled the sweet scent of New York breeze, and if the Fates could be counted upon, soon would follow the end of the war.

That’s what Beckendorf had told his mother at least, as he had packed the bags to camp for the last time under her watchful gaze. August was near, and so was the war’s end. This was his last summer at camp—next year he would be off to NYU, and Camp Half-Blood would be a chapter of his life closed for the most part, only to be pried gently open now and again to check in on his siblings through Iris Messages, or to drop by to teach a quick lesson on metalworking for the newbies. But, for the most part, Beckendorf had told her, this would be the last time. This would be the last time his mom had to swallow down her fear and wave goodbye from her car as Beckendorf trudged slowly up Half Blood Hill, to train and craft for the summer.

He was no longer the uncertain eleven year old his mom had dropped off all those years ago after a particularly nasty monster attack. His mom no longer had to drive him to Camp, and she certainly never needed to pick him up. She did so anyway, because Ada Beckendorf always claimed that the summer was too long without him, like an extra hour in the car could fill in the months away from each other, the months worth of uncertainty and fear and missing missing missing .

Some years, Beckendorf had to stay more or less year round, because the monster attacks had got too violent, too frequent. His mother agreed to drop him off during winter break too, sometimes, just to celebrate the holidays with his siblings and friends. But for some reason, summer had always been the hardest. Hardest to say goodbye.

“You miss the entire summer holidays with me,” his mom had told him once, when he was thirteen and greener, and could fit so much more easily in his mother’s embrace. She had been crying the days leading up to the beginning of summer, and Beckendorf had eventually just decided to ask her what the problem was, because he had been getting prickly about her constant tearing up. “I don’t get to see you even for a day.” She had pressed a kiss to the top of his shaved head. “I understand of course, with the monsters and all, and it’s not your fault, baby. But I just—I just wish. It would be nice to spend a day in the city together, when we both are free.”

“When the monster attacks get less frequent,” Beckendorf had promised, feeling that prickliness melt into fondness. A week of summer, when his mom didn’t have to teach college classes for her architecture students, and when he wasn’t getting stalked by dracanae, Beckendorf had promised they’d binge a sitcom, catch a movie, design some fancy building. The promise had been forgotten, like many promises inevitably were when made as a throwaway consolation when you’re thirteen and running late for the Greyhound.

But. He had made it to the other side of his eighteenth birthday, and his mother had a break from her teaching, and he wasn’t getting stalked by dracanae. He had retrieved that promise from its abandonment, taken a cab from Long Island Sound to Manhattan, and he had made it to his mother’s front door. One summer , he had promised, thirteen and tired, and now it was that summer.

That throwaway promise had been fulfilled.

If only he could bring himself to knock. Beckendorf had never hesitated with his mom; he had never felt anything other than at ease with her, but for some reason, he couldn’t help but hesitate now. A line of nerves drooled down his back, and he found he couldn’t make himself knock on the bright candy pink apartment door.

“It’s just your mom,” Silena said, nudging him slightly so that he snapped out of his reverie. She’d accompanied him to the city, and they’d even made a pit stop at her dad’s chocolate shop to pick a box for his mother. “She’s the sweetest lady in all of Manhattan. What are you staring at the door like that for?”

Beckendorf swallowed. “She could be busy.”

“She’s not. You checked her schedule, Charlie.”

Beckendorf tightened his grip on the bag of chocolates he was carrying. “She could have gone out.”

Silena frowned at him. He couldn’t blame her; he wasn’t exactly explaining himself. He didn’t think he could explain himself to her, though. “Well,” Silena said finally, after a few minutes of  confused silence. “Only one way to find out.”

Silena lifted the knocker and let it fall against the door. There was no sound from within. Beckendorf pressed a ear against the door and rapped his knuckles thrice against it, quickly. No sound.

“She’s out,” Beckendorf said, stepping back. “Aw, man, I think she’s out for groceries. She usually goes to pick them up around this time.”

“We can wait,” Silena offered. “She won’t be too long, will she?”

Beckendorf shook his head. “Not too long. But no point waiting for her either. We can…” He cast around for some way to finish his sentence. “We can come back...later?”

Silena crossed her arms, the charm bracelet Beckendorf had made for her glinting at her wrist. “Are you asking or telling me?”

“We can come back later,” Beckendorf said. Outside, the sky was streaked pink and orange, tourists and evening commuters zipping through the streets. “Uh, you can call Blackjack, maybe? Take a spin around this city, drop back in a half hour?”

Silena shrugged. “Look, I don’t mind, Charlie, at all. That sounds lovely. But if your mom’s gonna be back soon anyway...I don’t see a point in  leaving. The chocolates are gonna melt if we take too long.”

Beckendorf kept his eyes on the cotton candy clouds drifting slowly against the vast expanse of sky. They were bathed golden in the fading rays of the setting sun. Eyes still on the clouds, he said, “You’ve got a point there.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t turn around to look at her, but from the slight staying hitch in her voice, he could make out that Silena was a little confused. “Yeah. I do.”

He didn’t say anything. Silena waited for a minute, and then she slipped her hand in his, and they were taking the stairs two at a time. By the time Beckendorf could open his mouth, Silena had whirled him around so that they were face to face in the stairwell.

“Hey,” Silena asked. “Is everything alright?” She smiled—half comforting, half concerned. “You—you aren’t making a lot of sense right now.”

“I’m sorry—“

“No, no, it’s fine.” Silena shook her head. “It’s cool. I just...you were so excited all week to meet your mom, for me to meet your mom, and then you kind of, uh, froze up at the door? And it’s fine, you know. I get it. I totally get it if you’re nervous about bringing me home as your girlfriend to meet your mom, but are you okay? Is something up?”

“It’s not you,” Beckendorf said. “It’s not the girlfriend thing...my mom already loves you. She knows you. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m not worried about that. It’s not even my mom . It’s just…” he trailed off. He sat down jerkily on the bottom step of the staircase.

Silena waited a few beats before she prodded. She joined him on the last step. “It’s just what?”

“It’s gonna sound kind of dumb.”

“Try me.”

Beckendorf sighed. “I was just...on the way here, I kept thinking about how I finally get to spend like, considerable free time with my mom for one summer. It’s been years of summer vacations where I kept promising her that I’d take a break form Camp and visit, and we’d just...hang out I guess. And I kept thinking about how I’d managed to push it to the last possible year I could, and that was you know, it was fine! It wasn’t like we never got to spend time together. She calls. I drop by over winter break. We send letters. It’s cool. And it was fine, it was all fine, and then suddenly it hit me that this isn’t the last summer I get to just hang out with her.”

“Okay,” Silena said. She paused. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“It’s not.” Beckendorf grinned. “It’s not, it’s really not. But I kept psyching myself out by going “it’s the last summer” over and over again...but it’s not. It’s not my last summer that I spend with her. But it is the last summer when I’m head counsellor of my cabin. The last summer I can drop by Camp Half Blood as a regular camper, and not an instructor. For a minute, I just forgot what I was here for, and what that promise I made to her actually meant. When the monster attacks became less frequent, I promised. When it’s not as dangerous.”

“So you got all weird and staticky at the door because you...remembered you’re gonna be missing camp?”

Beckendorf spread his arms. “I don’t know. I remembered the first time I told my Mom that I’d visit her for a week in summer—I told her I’d take a break from camp. And I was just saying stuff because I was getting late for the Greyhound. I did get late for the Greyhound, actually, and Mom had to drop me. I can’t believe that…”

He turned to look at Silena. “I mean just…college? Did you imagine? That we’d make it to eighteen?”

For the first time that day, Silena looked just as uncertain as he felt. “Well, I’ve always…” She sighed. “No, I guess. My dad always talked about me going off to college. He didn’t ever have a doubt that I’d...make it to eighteen. He’s always making plans for the future. A Europe trip together, he always says. I’m saving up for a European holiday. He’s always wanted to go. He’s always said that we’ll go together when I’m eighteen.” Silena pulled up her knees to her chest and put her chin on them. “I didn’t really start believing that till I cut that birthday cake this Jan.”

Beckendorf could understand that. The day of his eighteenth birthday he had woken up to his siblings singing the most ear splitting rendition of the birthday song, and that was when it had sunk in for the first time— they would be getting to the other side. Just till the end of the war. Just till the end of the summer. And there had been so many summers before.

Beckendorf reached into his bag and retrieved the box of chocolates they’d picked out for his mom. He cracked open the seal and offered one to Silena.

“Hey, we bought that for your mom--”

“She won’t miss a couple,” Beckendorf assured her. “Take it as an apology for making you sad when this was supposed to be a fun date in the city.”

“You didn’t make me sad,” Silena said, choosing a truffle with a caramel filling. “This isn’t--sad. This is happy. Eighteen. Who would have thought?”

Beckendorf picked out a chocolate for himself and knocked it against Silena’s like a cheers . “Not me,” he admitted. “Not after the battle at camp last summer. Not after everybody left or died…”

“You were actually right,” Silena said, taking another truffle. “I need another one of these before we start talking about it all.”

"We still will visit, won't we? You're the best pegasus riding instructor in camp. I can't possibly leave my siblings all alone when it comes to forging. Like the demand for the whole of camp is so huge--"

"Of course we'll come back some time," Silena said. "We won't just disappear. They'll tear each other apart. Once Drew and Mitchell get going, I'm the only one who can tear them apart. And you have your brilliant new automaton dragon...it won't be the same, of course, but we'll come back. It won't...this is not goodbye forever."

"It won't be the same."

"It'll be good, though. Different, but good."

"You sure?"

"As I can be." Silena slit the wrapper with her forenail. The chocolate immediately flopped to the ground. Silena groaned. "Anyway, like I said. This isn't goodbye forever. This is just...a change. A lucky change."

They sat in silence for a moment, Silena casting periodic mournful glances at the candy on the floor. A childhood of helping her father with the candy shop had left her with a deep distaste for wasteful chocolate practices.

“I prefer the bon-bons,” Beckendorf said. He offered one to her.

Silena made a face. “My dad loves those. They taste like cardboard.”

“Never really had cardboard,” Beckendorf said. “But if it tastes anything like this, I wouldn’t mind chomping down on a couple of boxcrates myself.”

Silena rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Alright. Next time I get something in the mail…”

“Postal is dead,” Beckendorf said. “Don’t make empty promises, Silena. Take it from me. Never know when you’ll be staring at some random door having a breakdown about the end of an era.”

Silena laughed, just once, a bright sparkle, and then she was leaning forward and kissing him. Beckendorf allowed himself to melt into the kiss, and by the time they were pulling away, his lips smelled faintly of caramel.

“You put on a new charm,” Beckendorf observed. He nodded towards the miniature curved sword on her bracelet, between hearts and fish and tiny doves. “It’s cute.”

Silena’s eyes dropped suddenly to her wrist, like she was seeing the charm for the first time. “Oh.” She grabbed the charm between her thumb and forefinger. “Oh. I forgot that I--ah, shit, I can’t believe I forgot to take this charm off--”

“It looks nice,” Beckendorf said. “Why would you want to--”

“Charlie?” His mom had come through the front door, lugging with her two armfuls of grocery bags. “Silena! Oh, did I keep you dears waiting?”

“It’s fine.” Beckendorf jumped up to his feet and kissed his mother’s cheek, coaxing a bag from her hold. “Hey, Ma.”

“Well, come on in! It’s going to get chilly.” Nevermind they were in the middle of one of the hottest summers New York had ever seen. “This is such a pleasant surprise, Charlie!I wasn’t expecting the both of you till the evening at…” Her voice grew progressively fainter as she trailed into the apartment. Beckendorf smiled at his mother’s enthusiasm, before turning to look at Silena, who was still standing at the bottom of the staircase. Her fist was curled around something. Her wrist was bare.

“Silena,” he said.”You alright?”

Silena shook her head. “Yeah, I’m...uh, this bracelet doesn’t really...I forgot. I had something else in mind. To wear today.”

“It looks really good, I’m not kidding.”

Silena inhaled deeply and then stuffed her curled fist deep into her pocket. “Thanks.”

Beckendorf nodded towards the ajar door. “You coming inside?”

“Yeah,” Silena said. “Charlie, you know I love you, right?”

“I love you too.”

“I know,” Silena said. “I know you do. But all that talk about eighteen, about reaching years you didn't think you’d reach...you know I love you, don’t you? Whatever happens. I love you.”

Beckendorf was half tempted to blurt out I love you too again. But he knew that wasn’t what Silena was asking. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Of course.”

Silena nodded. “We say it a lot,” she said. “But we don’t--of course we mean it, but sometimes it gets lost doesn’t it? What that means? In between the small things, it doesn’t--it doesn’t seem big enough sometimes.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Beckendorf said. “I get it.”

Silena bit her lip. “I don’t know if I love you is big enough. I don't know if the fact that I love you is enough. Will be enough.”

For what ? For him? For them?

“It will be,” Beckendorf told her, because it was the only thing he knew for certain. “I promise.”

“It seems so now, but if--when something happens -- ” Silena stopped suddenly and closed her eyes. Her breath was uneven. “Really? You think it’ll be enough?”

“It’ll be enough,” Beckendorf said.