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you-can-call-me-wanda · 3 years

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Fake Dating

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Reader

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for reading :)

When you first started dating Nikki Sixx, it was all for the money.

Now dating someone for money may sound cruel and awful to most, but in your case, it was a little different. Dating Nikki was literally your job.

You had been reached out to by Nikki’s management close to eight months ago and were offered the job of becoming his fake partner. Mötley Crüe had gotten into some sort of scandal once again that had the public upset and protesting their work. It really wasn’t anything that bad that the band had been up to, just their typical hotel shenanigans, but it happened right before their new album release and their label was desperate to change the opinions of any upset mothers to try and increase album sales.

So, they had reached out to you. Why? Because you were exactly what they needed to get the public back on the side of Mötley Crüe. You were a small-time actor and pretty much universally liked. Having gotten most of your fame from starring in a recent and popular children’s movie, you were recognizable to children and parents alike. You were relatively new to professional acting, so there was no sort of rumors or nasty gossip associated with your name. Not to mention, you were young and beautiful and, even better, had no criminal record. You perfect for the role of Nikki Sixx’s significant other.

You were hesitant to accept of course. Sure, you had heard rumors of celebrities with fake or hired partners before, but never had you been asked to be in on one of those schemes. It felt wrong, to be lying to so many people, but the pay was too good for you turn down. You were in between gigs at the moment, having had no job offers since your big movie role. Maybe it was wrong to have ever accepted, but you had, and there was definitely no turning back now.

To everyone’s surprise and Mötley Crüe management’s absolute glee, the tabloids and press was obsessed with your and Nikki’s relationship. After just one “date” out with Nikki, a no-expenses lunch courtesy of Elektra Records and lots of well-timed hand holding and pecks on the cheek, paparazzi photos of the two of you could be seen on virtually every teen gossip magazine’s cover. When people mentioned Mötley Crüe now, they were talking about you and Nikki, not the fact that they got banned from the Hilton or destroyed over fourteen thousand dollars’ worth of property at their last hotel stay on tour.

Like you were, Nikki had been hesitant to play along with this fake relationship. It was weird and the whole thing was uncomfortable in the beginning. You were a complete stranger to him and now he was expected to kiss you in public and take you out on dates? It was awkward to say the least. But over time, the two of you warmed up to each other and your roles. With every staged date, you two got closer and closer and got to know each other more and more. Things got easier, and you actually began to enjoy the company that Nikki provided when you saw him, and the two of you even began to hang out sometimes even when it wasn’t scheduled by corporate.

“Hey (Y/N)!”

You turned around where you stood to see Nikki and his best friend and bandmate, Tommy, running towards you.

“Hey,” you said, smiling widely at the two boys. “You guys ready for your big show?”

Today was the last night of Mötley Crüe’s tour and it was the biggest show yet. You had been invited by management since the show was to be filmed with some backstage footage as well. And since Nikki was your fake boyfriend, it only made sense for you to be there with him.

“Hell yeah!” Tommy cheered, twirling his drumsticks in his hands. “Tonight is going to be killer! You’re gonna be watching from side stage, right?”

“Of course I will,” you said. “You know how much I love seeing you guys play.”

And it was true. The best part about your newest acting role besides getting to hang out with Nikki, was watching his band perform on stage.

“That’s why you’re the best,” Tommy said, ruffling a hand through your hand and bounding off down the hall on the venue excitedly. “I’m going to go warm up!” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t chicken out on me Sixx!”

You turned back to Nikki with a confused smile.

“That boy is all kinds of weird,” you laughed.

“Tell me about it,” Nikki said with an eye roll.

“What does he mean about chickening about?” you asked. “You nervous for the show or something?”

Nikki had never seemed nervous before a performance before. He was normally excited, but maybe since this was his biggest gig yet, the stage fright was getting to him. You examined him carefully. He did look a little nervous. He was tapping his fingers to an irregular rhythm against his leather-clad thigh and biting his lip just slightly.

Nikki sighed through his nose and attempted to look non-chalant. The real reason he was so nervous was because tonight was the night he had decided would be the time when finally he told you that he loved you. He had stupidly mentioned it to Tommy who in turn had told Mick and Vince and half the crew. Now, almost thirty people had wagered money on whether he would actually go through with it or not. Somehow, thankfully, you had been left blissfully in the dark to all of this.

“No,” Nikki said. “I’m not nervous. It’s nothing really. Just Tommy being dumb like always.”

“Oh, okay,” you responded. “As long as you’re okay. By the way, Mick said you wanted to talk to me earlier.”

Nikki cursed under his breath. Of course, Mick would intervene. He had bet a hefty amount of cash on Nikki being brave enough to confess his feelings to you.

“He did? Oh, well, it’s really nothing important. It can wait until later,” he said, swallowing thickly.

In reality, Nikki was genuinely terrified to tell you that he loved and ask you out. Normally, he was confident in matters like this, but with you, he felt like he was diving headfirst into the unknown. He felt a connection with you, and he was sure that his feelings for you were true, but he had no idea if you felt the same. In any other situation, he could probably figure out if someone were interested in him based on how they interacted, but with you that was near impossible. You were literally being paid to date him. How was he to discern between your acting and what you really thought? For all he knew, you could hate his guts and just be putting on a show to keep getting your monthly check.

And if he told you that he loved you, and you didn’t feel the same, he wouldn’t know what to do. Not only would he be heartbroken, but he wouldn’t be able to hide from you. You would still be invited to events and he would still have to pretend to be your boyfriend. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to kiss you knowing that you didn’t and had never had any feelings for him.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “There’s plenty of time to talk now. You’re not on for another hour at least.”

“I just uh, I just- I don’t know,” Nikki stammered.

“Sixx,” you said with a laugh. “Just tell me.” You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’re my fake boyfriend, remember? I love you,” you joked.

Your words pained Nikki because he knew you were only teasing.

“Do you really though?” Nikki asked quietly, finally finding the strength to make his move.

The smile slipped off your face.

“What?”

“Do you actually love me?” Nikki repeated louder, looking up at you. “Do you really love me?”

You were caught off guard to say the least. That was not what you had been expecting Nikki to ask you. Did you love him? Of course you did, but why was he asking? Had he figured out that you were secretly harboring feelings for him, the boy you were supposed to be fake dating? Had he realized that your acting was getting to be too realistic, that you couldn’t possibly be faking this well?

“Why are you asking me that?” you said, avoiding answering his question.

“Just answer me,” Nikki said. His eyes searched yours for an answer.

You could feel your heart hammering away in your chest. Did he know? You were panicking, trying to think of something to say. Should you deny any feelings you had for him? It would be unprofessional to admit that somewhere along the line, you had begun to really love him.

“(Y/N),” Nikki said, realizing you weren’t going to answer him. “(Y/N), I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend anymore.”

You felt like he had punched you in the gut. All the air left you lungs. So, this was it. He had figured you out and was ending things. He didn’t want to see you anymore now that he knew.

“You- what?” you asked, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice. “Why?”

“I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend anymore because I want to be your real boyfriend (Y/N),” Nikki said. His eyes turned downcast, too nervous to look at you. “I don’t know when it happened (Y/N), but I’ve fallen for you. You’re just- you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re smart and witty and fun. You can make me laugh and get me out of a bad mood. You know how to party, but you also can just sit and have an honest conversation with me. I love you and I want this to be real, what’s going on between us.”

You were speechless yet again. You gazed at him in awe, shocked by what he had just admitted.

Nikki took your surprised silence as rejection and his shoulders sagged visibly.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked eventually, daring to look up at you now.

“I, uh- I mean, no. I’m just surprised is all,” you managed to spit out. “You really mean all that?”

Nikki merely nodded.

“Nikki, I- oh my god. I love you too,” you said, finally finding the words you wanted to say back to him.

Nikki looked skeptically hopeful.

“You do?” he asked hesitantly. “You really mean that?”

“Nikki,” you started, breaking out into a grin. “I have loved you for months now. I thought you could never feel the same, so I didn’t say anything. I thought you would hate me if I told you.”

“I could never hate you,” Nikki said, lips curling up to match yours. “God (Y/N), I really love you. Can I- will you- would you be alright if we started dating for real now?” he asked. “No more staged dates or kisses. Just you and me actually doing this.”

You nodded excitedly.

“Yes,” you agreed quickly. “Yes, I would like nothing better Nikki.”

Nikki let out a relieved laugh and quickly threw his arms around you in a tight embrace.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” he said, as you hugged him back.

“Of course,” you said, pulling back to look at him.

“Can I kiss you now? For real this time?”

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue x reader #motley crue imagine #motley crue #wanda writes

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darthwheezely · 3 years

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i walk the line - f.w. - 1

1950s american carnival! au

Summary: The Weasley Bros. Circus has always been a family affair...until they pick up a highly unusual girl with wicked talents...

Warnings: 1950s America and all the shit that comes with it, NSFW/SMUT MINORS NO INTERACTING :) , alcohol usage, cussing, tw violence (fights), carny folk, contortionist, language and desc of intense circus acts, clowns, sad boy George, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BULLYING IN THIS CHAPTER, angst

taglist or people that may like this! DM to be added or removed @cappsikle @lumosandnoxwriting @whizboingies @virgohufflepuff @officialwizardwheezes @amourtentiaa @softlyqoos @breadqueen95 @thehufflepuffwife @george-fabian-weasley @lupinsclassroom @haileymorelikestupid @sarcasticallywitty15 @band--psycho @gcdric @vogueweasley @harrysweasleys @slytherinsunrise @thisismynerdyself @loony-loopy-lupinn @writingsomewrongs @pineapplesandpinas @valwritesx @amxrtentias @theweasleyslut @oh-for-merlins-sake @alyssamalfoy @bisou-doux

“...welcome to our home!”

George listened as the crowd erupted before his father. He had always admired Arthur “Art” Weasley, for many a reason. The way he could walk in and command a room, the way he could silence an entire audience with a simple flick of his wrist of wave of his hand, the way his voice alone could stop his cries in the night, the way he would come up behind him when taking care of the animals was too much and say, “Georgie, go to sleep, son.” but most of all? The way his father noticed him.

Baltimore, Maryland. 1933.

George Weasley was on the run. Again. Charlie Dooley, a boy from his class, and his gang of (as Fred said) “chickenshit babies” had made it a habit of following George home from school and doing one of the following: a) chasing him on bikes, b) cornering him in the bathroom, or c) sprinting after him on foot.

Today, it had been on foot.

“C’mon monkey boy!” Charlie howled, the other boys closing in on him. George sprinted a quick right realizing he dropped his lunch box and thinking a violent but rapid mom’s gonna be so mad, oh no oh no-

George barreled down the street, his house in sight, tears stealing on his cheeks from the sheer speed and necessity to get home. His feet seemed to be operating without him knowing, his body throwing itself backwards and forwards with the blinding need to be home, to hug his dad and say he wasn’t going to school anymore, to ask his mom to stop packing bananas in his lunchbox even though it was his favorite snack because mom don’t you know they call me monkey boy-

“Thought you could really get away from us this time huh, Georgie boy?” Charlie had pinned him to the concrete, George’s heart screaming in his ears. He could barely register that his lip was bleeding, and that maybe if he focused on the sky, his eleven year old shrimp of a body wouldn’t feel-

Pow.

Isn’t that what superheroes say? Pow? Let’s think about superheroes, Georgie, Charlie doesn’t last long with punches anyway just keep lookin’ at the sky, he thought wildly before-

Pow.

He vaguely felt his eyes roll back into his head, but he made a very clear rule to himself that he wouldn’t cry, Fred wouldn’t want him to cry, not that Fred was mean, Fred just hates seeing him cry-

Pow.

P-

And suddenly there was something off his body. He could hear punching noises but they were not aimed at George, but rather someone else. When he was able to open his eyes he saw his brother, Fred, landing blow after blow to Charlie Dooley, Charlie mewling under Fred.

“Touch my brother again, and I promise I won’t just break your nose next time, yeah?”

Art Weasley sat with his son George in the red chair in his caravan. It was George’s favorite chair, as he learned the word “red” from that chair and then equated “red” to his own hair.

Arthur had known his son would have it harder. It wasn’t his fault the boy was different, he loved him just the same for it if not slightly more so for the way he was a bit quieter, the way he listened and thought and thought and then wanted to make choices. The way he asked his mom if he could pack Fred’s lunches for school because only George knew Fred hated crunchy peanut butter sandwiches with white bread.

But more so for the way George wasn’t afraid to show love. To cry. To feel things Art sometimes couldn’t articulate.

George was curled into his father, tears staining his button up shirt and his body shuddering with every anxiety laden breath. Art put a hand on his son’s back and put his lips to his hair.

“George, you have to breathe for me or you’re gonna get sick.” He rubbed his son’s back soothingly.

“I’m sorry, dad, I promised I did what you said and tried to protect myself and when I couldn’t do anything else I just didn’t look at h-him I p-promise, dad p-please don’t be mad at me...” he took another shudder and released a cry into his father’s shoulder. Art was not a helpless man, but there was something that destroyed and cracked his very soul at the sight of his most vulnerable child, the most angelic of his seven children. The one that everyone protected. And at times like these, sometimes all a father can do is hold his child. So that’s what he did.

“I know, son...I know...”

“George?”

George jumped out of his thoughts, his palms sweaty from the inevitable stage fright that always accompanied him before a show. It was no matter how many times he grazed the trapeze with his sister Gin and his brother Ron, the nerves were always the same.

At least this time, no pows would be administered from anyone besides himself.

He heard his name again, the daze breaking as he looked at his oldest brother Bill.

“George. You’ll be fine. You always are, baby brother.” He said softly, placing his hands back on, Cora (short for Corazon) the lion. George gulped and nodded, and Fred patted his back, giving a hearty wink. George smiled a small smile, clapping Fred’s forearm.

“Ready, Fred?”

Fred grinned.

“Ready, George.”

George belonged to the trapeze. The way his body seemed to elongate with grace and dexterity when he grabbed his sister, the way he gave flirty winks at the girls in the crowd, the way he never dropped a muscle unplaced-

The way their father always noticed.

Fred saw these things in his younger brother and couldn’t help the fit of jealousy in his stomach. Don’t get your tightrope in a twist, he was possibly the most proud of his brother, and his hand to God if he didn’t say he hooted his name the loudest watching him do his thing.

But he never felt like he could ever match that.

He knew his hands were meant for something greater, same as his mind. Juggling came almost as easy to the older twin as breathing, smoking cigarettes, witty banter, and sex (in no particular order). But George had something Fred didn’t have.

Approval.

Fred was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. A great person. But his habits could’ve said so much otherwise.

Fred had a nasty habit of letting his temper get the best of him. Ever since he could talk, he had taken on the role of protector to not only George, but to Ginny and Ron as well. Frequently, his hands always seemed to have more things to say than he could which says a massive fucking lot. At the ripe age of 20, he’d gotten into more bar fights and straight up blacked out sober more than his own father, and all of his other siblings. He’d been in and out of detention when he did go to school, and in and out of-

Well, you get it.

The one thing that always seemed to follow him? His charm.

Fred Weasley was a charismatic motherfucker.

And he knew it.

It was simple. All he had to do in between acts was make a couple jokes, a few magic tricks, and by the end of his little charade? He’d have at least 3 girls lined up for that night. And if he was in a particularly bad mood?

Well, it could get a little more than that.

On nights like this, he was fine with just two.

I mean...Fred knew what he was doing.

And on a night like this - he was damn proud of it.

Until he saw you...

Last night.

Fred’s dessert was named Candy. He honestly couldn’t remember what her actual name was, but he did remember she said:

“Call me Candy. I taste like it, too.”

And honestly? That was really all he needed.

It didn’t take him long to press her small body against his caravan. She wound her arms around his neck and fisted into his flame colored hair and yanked, his hips rolling as he moaned into her lipstick stained mouth.

Fred always did have a thing for gals in red.

Fred realized his pants had begun to be a tad too tight, as Candy’s tongue licked into his mouth. his hands found their way under her dress, fingers kneading at her thighs and she squeaked. He lifted her legs at her noise and he wrapped them around his body, his bulge pressing into where she needed him the most.

“Fred, please” she whined, his mouth attaching to the valley of her breasts, the exposed skin of her dress warm and inviting.

“Please what, doll?” He teased roughly, his free hand sliding to cup her ass and squeezing. She gasped at his rough touch and he bit her collarbone.

“Fred, please, fuck me” she said airily. He smirked before pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“Absolutely, baby, see how easy that was?” He licked her bottom lip and bit, before pressing his forehead to hers, the sheer strength of his body pressing her against the van enough to use his hands to pull her panties down enough for her to kick them away. She reached down to unzip his pants when he motioned for her to do so, his hard cock free of his boxers.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He growled against her earlobe. Candy whispered a breathy “please” and Fred slid into her cunt, her wetness echoing sinful noises at the contact. They groaned at connection, and Fred continued to go deeper into her until he bottomed out. He looked at her for confirmation to keep going and she nodded. He pulled out and slammed back into her, beginning to set a rough pace against the van.

“Freddie, fuckfuckfuck you feel s-so good” she sputtered, Candy’s back hitting and arching against the van, causing it to move slightly against her. Fred nipped and sucked at her neck, determined to always leave a map of where he left his treasure behind...

“Look at you, unraveling like a ball of twine. Never had cock this good, doll?” He reached a particularly good angle in her causing her to claw deeper at his back, biting in a scream.

“Thereeee it is, baby. You like that don’t you, c’mon be a good little cock slut and tell me what you want, want everyone in this whole fucking camp to know I’m fucking you so good.” His hand went to her clit, circling it harshly. He wanted her to finish, his dick was twitching all to hard in her and he needed her to release before it was his turn. Her moans and gasps and mini clawings were getting sloppier, losing their tempo.

“Fred-Fred-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you” he groaned against her mouth at her clenching pussy. She gave a final sputter and screamed into his shoulder, a hot electric wave coursing over his cock, with one, two, three harder pumps, he released into her as well. He leaned his forehead against hers and kissed it lightly. But when he looked back at her face, she was already losing interest. Just like the others. But it didn’t bother him...at least not anymore, right?

Just another night.

Memories of Candy and Janie and Jessica and Portia and all the other girls seemed to wash away at the sight of you waiting after the show. Your eyes were full of life but somehow had something tired behind them. The way your hair wasn’t perfectly coiffed but still looked like you had tried to, the way your dress was crinkled at the bottom like you didn’t give a shit if it was crumpled in the bottom of your dresser.

And then you looked at him.

Fred Weasley could have sworn time stopped at the way you walked across the hay to him, your body positioned in a way that would’ve given him every reason to hold you. he realized his face began to flush at the sight of you getting closer.

That, he thought, was an alien feeling.

“Hi.” You said warmly to him.

“You’re Fred, right? I loved your act.”

He blinked twice and then returned your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you so much, I...I really try, I am so sorry but what is your name?” His eyes scanned your face. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and returned the search on his face.

“Y/N. Y/L/N. I’m looking for a job.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader #bill weasley #charlie weasley #Ron weasley #Harry Potter #Ginny weasley #arthur weasley #molly weasley

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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“I am not going to join your band”

Summary: You’re longtime best friends with Mitch Rowland and you’re in love with him. When he starts working with Harry you tag along and watch as Mitch falls in love with Sarah. But Harry watches them too and you realize you have each other.

A/N: Why is this lowkey a Mitch fanfic at the beginning OMG - i didn’t mean for it to be like that but it kind of reads that way. I will definitely be doing a part 2 I just wanted to kind of set the stage for what is to come (likely another three part kind of thing). NOT (really) PROOFREAD AND FEEDBACK MUCH APPRECIATED (I love hearing from you)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, otherwise this is just HS1 Studio FLUFF

Part 2

---

All your life had been exceptionally boring. And you had no complaints. You were from a family with two parents, two siblings, and a pet. You went to public school and performed well, but never excelled in anything because you didn’t care to. You chose to go to college just an hour away from your hometown, a small liberal arts school. Your life was, by all accounts, average. You weren’t super popular and you weren’t bullied excessively around town. You just existed there.

The only thing, or person, rather, in your life that you really thought made it exceptional was Mitch. Mitch grew up next door to you when you were kids, he was a few years older but he didn’t mind hanging with you. You eventually became best friends and did everything together. Sneaking in through his window to play with his pet lizard when you were seven. Sneaking out with him to drive around in his car and drink stolen alcohol when you were sixteen. You did everything with Mitch. You thought he was your soulmate. While he was quiet with others and that sometimes freaked them out, you either enjoyed the silence or got to see his truly imaginative and beautiful personality.

Mitch was a musician all his life and you sat with him when he learned to play on his thrifted first ever guitar and attended every one of his high school rock band’s shows, even if that meant sneaking into a bar at fourteen.

Staying close to home wasn’t hard because that’s where Mitch was. Even if nothing ever had even remotely happened between you and Mitch, you held out hope. He had thought about it just once, if neither of you found anyone else it might be nice to have a family together, but he had dismissed it quickly. Mitch saw you as a little sister and loved having you as his best friend who he could tell anything to, but it was never going to be anything more for him.

So there you and Mitch were, living your little lives in Middle America, nothing to your names, but some average education, affordable apartments, and going-nowhere jobs. That is, until one day Mitch’s roommate called him up to ask if he could come play guitar for some musician’s album he was working on. The musician’s guitarist had called in sick and Mitch’s roommate had volunteered Mitch for the job. That’s when Mitch’s life changed, but what about yours?

It was heading into the second week of Mitch working on the musician’s album, who you had found out to be the famous Harry Styles. Mitch had come home after the first day and called you to come over. When you arrived, he told you how Harry and him had gotten along so well and Harry had invited him to keep coming back and playing on the album. You had never seen Mitch so excited and you were happy for him. You couldn’t help the twinge in your heart though when he kept bringing up someone named ‘Sarah’. She was apparently the drummer and had been very nice to Mitch, as well.

Now Mitch had this whole other life and you were sat there like what the hell am I supposed to do now? Then on that Saturday evening, after a long day in the studio for Mitch, he had come over to watch a movie and unwind with you, he asked if you wanted to tag along to the studio with him on Monday and see how it’s going. He was always telling you how cool everything was and you were quick to jump at the chance to both hang out with Mitch and see him doing what he loved.

On Monday, Mitch picked you up and drove you to the studio. When you got inside the building you were already amazed. The place was small, but so incredibly cool to you. You had never been to a real recording studio before and one of the things you and Mitch loved to do together was music - listening to it, playing it, buying it, so this was an unforgettable experience. Mitch walked through one of the bigger studios doors and the two of you entered the part of the studio that was where all the soundboards and tech was.

Harry, the man who had practically fallen in love with Mitch as well, was inside the room already. He turned to Mitch and beamed his large smile, his teeth a shiny white. You could tell why everyone in the world was in love with Harry just from that smile, it was truly an ‘award-winning smile’. “Mitch!” he exclaimed and gave him a tight hug. Mitch only smiled softly. When Harry pulled back his eyes flitted over to your figure standing just slightly behind Mitch. “You’ve brought a friend ‘round, that is so lovely!” he first said to Mitch and then turned back to you, “What is your name, love?” You extended your hand and said your name, Harry only glanced at your hand and then pulled you into a hug as well, a slightly less exuberant hug, but a hug nonetheless. You loved Mitch, but you didn’t understand how this bright and bubbly man had warmed up so quickly to Mitch’s quiet and solemn exterior.

Harry looked at Mitch with something in his eye you couldn’t quite place after the three of you chatted for awhile. “Well, you’re very lucky to have this man in your life, Y/N, he’s one of the best guitarists I’ve ever met, like, holy fuck, he is good.” You smiled at his praise for Mitch, and glanced adoringly at Mitch. Mitch only ducked his head at Harry’s enthusiastic praise. Whatever reasons Harry had for adoring Mitch, you were pretty sure it meant Mitch’s chance to get out of his old life, including you.

Then, it was time for them to get to work. Harry and Mitch had already written one song together, or at least Mitch had helped Harry to finish it. Today, Harry wanted the band to play it for the first time all together. Harry had told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch in the soundboard room. You watched as the band set up all of their equipment and you felt your ears burn when you saw Mitch talk to the woman you identified as Sarah. You didn’t want to be jealous, you hated feeling possessive over a man that you weren’t even with, but you just felt like you were watching Mitch slip from your life more and more as every moment passed.

The band started playing the opening chords of what Harry had called Woman when he said into his microphone, “Take 1...of many for Woman.” You smiled as you watched Mitch get into his guitar playing for the song, he sounded amazing. But as much as you liked to watch Mitch play, you couldn’t help but stare at Harry when he began to sing. He was talented, beyond talented, his voice sounded angelic to you. He grooved a bit to the instruments as he sang the lyrics. It was a beautiful song, you thought, wishing you could have someone write a song like that about you.

As the song reached over half way through, Mitch breaks into a rad guitar solo and for the first time since Harry began singing you looked back over to Mitch. That was kind of where the song ended, there was just a final time when Harry proclaims “Woman!” and it ends. You weren’t sure if it was normal to stand and applaud after a studio recording session, but you did anyway. You jumped up and down a little and clapped. The entire band smiled back at you and Harry leaned into the microphone, “Y/N, why don’t you come in here and join us?” You happily agreed and went into the adjoined room.

Harry told everyone to take a breather for about five, so the band was drinking water and chatting. When you got there you immediately belinned to Mitch and began to gush over how much you loved his solo and his playing throughout. Mitch talked in hushed tones back to you, saying where he thought he might speed up or slow down at parts. You didn’t notice Harry had walked up behind you and you jumped a bit at his voice. “Didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. How’d you think it sounded?” Harry inquired. You tilted your head to look up at him, while Mitch was perched on an amp, Harry stood tall beside you. “It was lovely, the lyrics were epic and I loved the beat of it. I was just telling Mitch how amazing his guitar solo was…” your cheeks brightening when you mentioned Mitch. Harry had some knowing smile again.

“You’ll have to thank Sarah for delivering that beat, however, Mitch and I wrote those lyrics,” Harry continued the conversation with you. You couldn’t believe how normal he was for being a world famous singer and boy band member - just a year ago. One Direction was a huge deal, yet here Harry was asking you how you’d liked the song and talking to you like you knew a thing or two about music. You and Harry talked about the song for a bit more, Mitch staying silent for almost the entirety of the conversation, you noticed his eyes wandered over to Sarah who was talking to Adam, the bassist. Then, it was time for Harry to listen to the song when the tech crew came back. When he did, he made notes for both the band and the tech crew and everyone got back to work. On the third go around of the song, you decided you were done giving them a round of applause.

They worked on Woman for half the day. When lunch time rolled around, Harry decided he was happy with how the song sounded, ‘good for now’ was all he said, obviously still not satisfied with how it sounded. During lunch you sat beside Mitch and across from Harry. The more you got to know Harry, the more you liked him. He was very playful and free spirited, but also took his passion very seriously and was endlessly grateful for the opportunities he had been given. As you warmed up to Harry, you noticed Mitch being a bit more animated. Had he been keeping his guard up because he wasn’t sure if you and Harry would get along?

There was still sometime before the break ended, but everyone had finished eating. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but when you came back, you saw Mitch occupied with Sarah. You looked helplessly on as he smiled and laughed with her. You felt left out as you really didn’t know anyone else but Mitch there. Sure you had gotten to know Harry a bit, but he was a rockstar and a guy you barely knew, you couldn’t just go up to him and ask to become your new best friend. Harry noticed you standing alone and walked up behind you, this time knowing to tap your shoulder to make you aware of his presence. You turned around at the touch you felt on your right shoulder, you were greeted with Harry’s bright eyes and soft smile. “Do you play any instruments?” Harry asked you. That’s random. “Eh, I can play some piano and guitar. I love piano, but I don’t keep up with it as much as I should.” “Well, you should keep coming here with Mitch. You could get some practice in, we’ve got a piano here somewhere,” Harry said as he raised his head and started to look dramatically around the room. “‘S right behind you,” you smiled at the man who had given Mitch a chance and now seemed to be giving you a chance, too. Harry whipped his head around, “Ahh…Well I’ll make sure it’s tuned for you for tomorrow.” You thanked him and the two of you began chatting about Harry’s visions for the album.

Three Weeks Later

“I am not joining your band, Harry, I’m not even that good of a piano player!” You threw your hands up. “Will you hush? You’re amazing, quit denying it,” Harry grinned as he pinned your arms down to your sides and flipped you around, “Now play exactly what you showed me earlier.” He marched you to the piano and plopped you into the accompanying stool. You huffed a sigh and placed your fingers on the keys. “You don’t even have piano on all-” “Ap, bahp, bahp! Plaayyy…” Harry cut you off and then added, “Please?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Such a baby.

You had been coming with Mitch to the studio for almost a month now. After your first day, Harry had retuned the idle piano for you and you had messed around with it when they weren’t recording. You and Harry had become closer over the time, he realized you were almost the female version of Mitch, but slightly less shy and slightly more opinionated. And you had realized that Harry was the kindest man you knew, only after Mitch. Mitch and Sarah had also become closer in the past three weeks. As much as it pained you to watch, you could never look away. The band and you started to go out every night and every night Mitch and Sarah always ended up sitting apart from everyone else wrapped in their own world. It hurt your heart so much, but you pushed through, happy to be around all the amazing people you had gotten to know. As well, whenever you were left alone, Harry always seemed to pop up, chatting about what was next for the album and what you had been doing on the piano earlier in the day.

Today, you had sought out Harry, wanting to show him something you’d been playing with since yesterday. When he heard what you played he brought up something he had mentioned a couple weeks ago, that you had thought was a joke, he wanted you to join the band - to play keys. You laughed it off, but Harry persisted. Now he was having you play the little random piece you had made up for everyone: the band and the crew. Your stomach was doing flips and your heart was in your throat. This was one of the main reasons you didn’t think you could be in Harry’s band, anxiety. It was minor, but you definitely had some - if your nerves in your physical body and your thoughts in your brain were any indication.

Finally, you began to play. It was the tune of what would become Sweet Creature. When you finished the early sound of it, there was silence. Sarah was the first to clap and then everyone followed quickly after. You ducked your head down and then looked up again with a smile on your face. It widened when you looked over at Harry and Mitch right by your side. You had never had people saying something of yours was great. Harry and Mitch stayed in the studio room with you, excited at the new prospect of a song. The album had reached a roadblock a couple days ago. Harry wasn’t liking any of the songs they were making and he was struggling to write any new ones. This, your art, was a breakthrough. After you had played, Mitch picked up one of the acoustic guitars laying around and began to play the same tune on the strings. Harry began to hum along. They twiddled with your tune a bit, but eventually they had to let it go for the time being. Lunch had ended and they still had to keep working on the other unfinished songs.

1K notes · View notes

blessednereid · 3 years

Text

LFLLLL Prologue: Mutual Pining

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

WC: 3.5k

Taglist: @rogershoe

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Lydia's House

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"Lydiaaaaaa!" You had barged into Lydia's house unannounced that afternoon. You had work that afternoon, but you called in sick, not physically, but emotionally. And only Lydia could help you.

"LYDIA LORRAINE MARTIN!"

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lydia's mom, Natalie, had come out of her office because of your shouts.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin, I didn't realize you were home. Your car wasn't in the driveway," you apologized.

"It's fine, dear. Lydia's upstairs taking a nap. You know how much of a heavy sleeper she is."

"Thank you, Mrs. Martin."

"Please, I've told you many times. Call me Natalie."

You nodded before heading upstairs, where Lydia's room was.

You opened her door, and as you thought, she was lying on the bed, snoring and drooling. A sight you had gotten very used to since you first met her in third grade.

"Lydia Lorraine Martin. We have a code-red!"

Immediately, Lydia jolted up from her bed and began flailing her arms in the air. She lost balance before falling off the side.

"Oh, MY- Ugh." You went to help her sit back upright on the bed, sat next to her, and laid your head in her lap.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why did you wake me up?"

"We have a code red!!"

'Code reds' were what you and Lydia had when you caught real feelings for a guy.

When you were younger and in middle school, Lydia had gotten a crush on the cutest guy in your math class.

On Valentines Day, she wrote him a card and put it in his locker. The card said, "I think you're cute♡︎ What do you think about me?" Later that same day, she found out that almost all of the kids in your two's class had read the card. And on top of that, the guy was a huge jerk about it.

Since then, you and Lydia vowed to never catch feelings for anyone until you were at least twenty-five.

"Who is it, babe? What happened?" Lydia asked with a concerned tone.

"It's Isaac."

"Your partner for the World History project?"

"Yeah, him," you sighed. "We started getting closer, and he started talking to me, and we bonded over our moms' death, and there were carnival rides and vampires and freezy pops!"

"Woah, Woah, Woah! Slow down!"

"So basically, I did what you told me and took him to the county carnival, right? Then, he told me about his mom dying, and we talked about that, and then we went on rides and fought about their pace, and he was fine after like a two-hundred-foot drop. So then, we went on a rollercoaster, and after that, I was cold because I was wearing a light jacket."

"Okay, keep going…"

"So then he warmed me up by giving me a hug and then led me in the building, and we just hung out there until like five? Then when we were doing the slideshow, he started asking me about my room and shit, and when we were done, we watched that show I told you about, with the high school vampires."

"Oh, the babysitter one?"

"Yeah, that. So, he was actually interested. And then we just kept watching it together throughout the week since we finished the project. And then when we were presenting today, you know I have that stage fright. He just held my hand and calmed me down, and he listened to me after we were done, and he actually cared about it instead of dismissing it.

"Not that you dismiss it, Lydia." She nodded.

"Anyways, after that, GB had to talk to us, and she ratted me out about writing his name down, and then he got slightly mad at me but not really, and then I explained. And he just told me he would see me tomorrow for our movie night…" you trailed off, debating whether you should tell her the last part.

"So that's when you realized?"

"After that, I turned away, and then he kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, 'see you tomorrow or something like that!"

Lydia chuckled. "So you have a code red?"

"Lydia, I have a hang-out with him tomorrow. I'm not gonna be able to fucking think straight!"

"Babe, just go and see how it goes. Maybe it's a 24-hours thing, you know? Just adrenaline. It affected you like this because you don't go out."

"Lyds, it's not like that. It's different."

"Y/n, that's what I tell myself before every hookup," she deadpanned.

"Okay, yeah. You're right. It's just a 24-hour thing."

"It's just adrenaline, babes. Nothing more, nothing less."

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Movie Night

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'Nothing more, nothing less…"

Those were the words that kept repeating in your head as you twisted Isaac's hair around your fingers around Isaac's hair as his head rested in your lap.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked rapidly.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine!"

"It's just, you're not watching the show?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"Whatever you say, princess…"

Princess. The pet name made your heart flutter, and you thought you would explode.

"Give me a minute, please!" was all you said before picking up your phone and dashing out the room.

You headed to the bathroom and dialed Lydia's number right after texting her "Code Red Emergency."

"It's not a 24-hours thing, is it?" she said when she picked up.

"No…"

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

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Previous Day

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Isaac

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He watched you as you turned around. His nerves crawled through his spine, and he curled and unfurled his fingers before finding the confidence–, no, before finding the ability to move.

When his lips touched the side of your face, his heart was set aflame.

'How did I just do that?' he thought. But entirely different words came out of his mouth.

"See you," he said, and he internally pumped the air when he saw your lips curl upwards into a smile.

When he reached class, his actions had finally sunk into his mind.

He went to his seat where his friend, Dillon Karis, sat beside him. Dillon was the only friend of Isaac, and they had known each other since middle school.

"Dude!"

Dillon turned his head to his friend, whose urgent tone caught his attention.

"You know that girl I was telling you about?" Isaac said enthusiastically.

Dillon scoffed. "You mean the one who's been taking up all your Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights?

"Yeah, I remember her."

Isaac rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Dude, I think I may actually like her…"

"Holy—" Isaac cut him off.

"Shut up!"

Dillon took two breaths to calm down before speaking.

"Explain. Now!"

Isaac threw his head back.

"I don't know. It's just the way she makes me feel." He smiled. "It's like… the way my mom used to tell me about how she felt about my dad? It's weird."

"Bro, you barely know her. Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I think."

"Well, let me know. This is interesting. Shoulda brought some popcorn today, as I had planned," Dillon burst out laughing, and Isaac followed.

"Dude, I have to go to her house tomorrow."

"Why? I thought you already turned in the project."

"We have our movie night," Isaac said before realizing what that might sound like to his friend.

"Oh shit! So y'all already been going on dates?"

"No! No…" Isaac pointed his finger at his friend, signaling him to stop.

"Dude, so what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know…"

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Movie Night

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Isaac was now highly flustered as he laid his head in your lap. You didn't bring up the kiss, so he assumed he either made you uncomfortable or you didn't like him enough to care.

He looked at your face to see if there were any signals or indications, but he saw that you were completely zoned out.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked before saying, "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

Isaac raised his eyebrows before turning his attention back to the television.

When you dashed out the room with little explanation, Isaac took his emotional matters into his own hands. He had decided to get rid of his feelings, sure that they were unrequited.

He headed out of your room and knocked on Stiles' door.

"Come in!" he heard faintly, and he opened the door.

"Isaac, what's up?" Stiles had barely looked up from his work.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but I need some advice, and I figured that you probably know a lot about girls…"

"Not really, but I'm flattered you would think that. Please come in!"

Isaac stepped into the room and sat on Stiles' bed.

"Is this fine?" to which Stiles nodded.

"So, Isaac. Tell me what's going on," Stiles said before clasping his hands together.

Isaac took multiple deep breaths. He was about to ask your brother how to get rid of his feelings for you. Who does that?

"I have a crush… on this girl. And I know that she doesn't like—"

"You know, or you think?"

"I think, but she's given no sign of liking me…"

"Okay, continue."

"She doesn't like me. And I was wondering if you knew if there was anything I could do to… get rid of the feelings I have…"

"Oh boy. Isaac, I wish I knew. I'm in that same position. However! I wouldn't tell you if I did know. Because you never know, right? Unless they've told you that they don't like you, you don't know for sure. And even then, it could happen in the future."

That was not the advice Isaac was hoping for, preferring to put himself out of his misery before he could get in it.

"Alright, thanks, Stiles."

"No problem, bud!"

Isaac walked back to your room, where you were laid down on your back.

"Hey, where did you go?"

"Nowhere, I just needed to… uh.. get some air."

You squint your eyes, and even Isaac wasn't convinced by his lie, but he didn't say anything else before he laid beside you.

"Lydia is having a party next Saturday. You should come."

"Oh, I don't think—"

"Please, Isaac? It'll be good for you to get out of your house like Mrs. GB said."

He couldn't resist the tug on his heart when you flashed your pouting eyes, and he had to give in.

"Fine, I'll see what I can do. That's not a promise."

"Yay!" You exclaimed before pressing a kiss to his forehead. The action made Isaac's heart race, and all he wanted to do at that moment was kiss you.

In fact, it was all he thought of for the next few minutes.

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Isaac's Daydream

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"Love?"

"Yes, babe?" you responded to him.

"This is the spot. Stop going ahead of me."

You mouthed an "Oh" before laying down on the blanket he set by the flowerbed.

"So, whose house are we breaking into right now, Mr. Lahey?" you teased. You and Isaac were sitting in the backyard of a foreign house you had never seen, but you followed Isaac anyways.

"Yours."

You scoffed a 'what' as you had never seen the house in your life.

"Mines. Ours." He smirked.

Your face of pleasant surprise made his racing heart slow, as he thought you wouldn't like it.

"This is our house?"

"Well, it was my grandparent's house. They left it to me when they died. They said I can only get it when I turn 18, and now since we're together, It's our house."

You leaped onto his lap and kissed him feverishly.

"This is the best surprise ever!"

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Reality

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"Isaac!" You yelled, and Isaac didn't know what you had said before.

"Sorry! I just zoned out."

"It's not a problem."

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You

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"So, do you want to watch a scary movie?"

You actually weren't planning on doing any of what Lydia had suggested you do, which was to just come outright and tell him you like him.

Instead, you chose to suffer in silence, thinking there was no way possible that Isaac liked you back. And even if he had, you two would be better off as friends… Right?

At least that is what you chose to tell yourself.

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Isaac Leaves

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When the movie was over, Isaac went home, and you prepared for bed.

That night you dreamt of things you wanted in your life that you couldn't have.

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Your Dream

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"Hey, Isaac?"

You two were curled up together on a couch watching a movie, much like your reality. However, a few things were different.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Babe, we're in a hotel, and the only restaurants have a pre-set menu. If you want food, you either get what they have, or we Postmates."

"But neither sounds good. I want Pasta!"

He sighed. "Then lets Postmates pasta, babe."

"But I want you to make it," you pouted.

"Okay, how about this." You turned to face him to hear his proposition.

"I get you dessert with the food they have here, and I make you pasta tomorrow?"

You smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You hummed before saying, "That sounds perfect," and he kissed you with a burning passion.

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Morning

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"Y/N! WAKE UP!" Stiles woke you up from your dream.

"WHERE'S THE FIRE?" You flailed around before falling off the bed.

Stiles chuckled loudly.

"MIECZYSŁAW STILINSKI!

"IT'S A FUCKING SUNDAY!"

You groaned loudly before grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, effectively knocking him down but not ceasing his laughter.

"Relax, Relax! Dad's taking us out for breakfast."

You rolled your eyes heavily. "Ugh, I hate you. GO! Let me change!"

"Wait! Wait! I have a question…"

"What?"

"What's going on between you and Lahey?"

You looked down and away from him. "Nothing," you murmured.

When you looked back at him, his eyes were narrowed, and his forehead was crinkled.

"I don't believe you one bit."

Your face heated.

"There's nothing going on, Stiles."

He scoffed. "We may be fraternal, but we're still twins, Y/n. Whatever, I don't like him anyway."

"Why not, Sti?"

He moved his face closer to yours, and you craned your head back for air.

"Because I'm your brother, I'm never gonna like any guy you date. None of them are worthy of my sister."

"Well, you don't have to hate him because nothing is going on."

"Hmmm... Sure," he stated simply before walking out.

You got ready, wearing an off-shoulder baby blue top that was slightly… starchy in texture, as well as a pink plaid miniskirt and black slip-on sneakers.

When you got downstairs, your dad and Stiles sighed a heavy "finally," and you mocked offense.

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Waffle House

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You got in the car and began driving. You looked out the window enjoying all the sights while Stiles tried to coax your dad into talking about cases.

Your dad turned and pulled into the parking lot of the Waffle House.

You sat at the counter and talked until someone came to get your drinks order.

"So, Stiles, when are you going to bring a date home?" your dad asked with a squint.

"Not anytime soon, He's still stuck on Lydia."

Stiles blushed. "Well, I mean, It's working. She knows who I am. "

"No, she doesn't. But… I do know this girl—" Stiles cut you off.

"If it's not Lydia, then no, thank you. I'm stuck on her like white on rice."

Your dad interjected your argument. "Stiles, you sound like a stalker. Normally, we arrest people like you."

"Okay, Let's change the subject. Y/n, wanna tell dad about Isaac or should I?"

You rolled your eyes. "Why should I? There's nothing going on?"

"Wait, who's Isaac?" your dad said while whirling his hand beside his head.

"He was my partner for a project I had for World History."

Stiles laughed. "We presented on Friday. What have you guys been doing in your room?"

Your dad's eyes widened. "Why is he in your room?"

"We just watch movies, Dad! We do nothing else!"

"I highly doubt that. In fact, why don't I ask Isaac right now?"

You blanched. "What do you mean?"

"He's coming up behind us," he said, looking past your head.

You began choking when you saw him in your peripheral version.

"Can I get you something t- Stiles!" Isaac popped up from behind you and began to ask for your drink orders.

"Hey, Isaac," you said as you turned around.

"Hey, Y/n!" His intonation was normal, his facial expression was off.

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Isaac

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"What do you want to drink?" he asked, though his focus was on your dad's squinted gaze pointed directly at him.

"Can I get a coffee?" Noah spoke up first. Isaac jotted down his order.

Stiles followed.

"I'll get an Arnold Palmer!" he said while raising his hand.

"Is that on the menu?" Isaac asked confusedly.

"No, but it's half of a lemonade, half of an iced tea in one glass."

"Okay… Arnold Palmer."

"Y/n," the lovestruck boy said with a smile. "What about you?"

The corners of your mouth turned up. "It's not on the menu, but is there an option for an iced coffee?"

"Uh, I'm sure there is." He knew there wasn't, but he also knew you didn't like hot coffee much.

"Are you sure? I don't want to--"

"It's fine, Y/n," he reassured.

He walked away and headed to the kitchen to tell the cooks the drink order.

"I need an iced coffee, a regular coffee, and A half-and-half lemonade-iced tea. Please," he added.

Isaac glanced outside the kitchen window and gazed at you softly. He admired the way your eyes glimmered in the sun and how your hair bounced with every gesture you made. From this, he began to appreciate how amazing your hair looked and how the light refracted off of it.

He smiled a lopsided grin as he watched the way your lips move. He imagined how they would feel on his. Soft. Smooth. He had the notion that you were probably experienced in that field, more so than he was.

No. He couldn't imagine that. When he thought about the things he just thought, it sounded creepy and perverted. Besides, there was no way that you liked him back, so even thinking about it would just lead to further heartbreak.

He grabbed your table's drinks and walked back, trying to ignore your smile because he couldn't stop the race that his heart ran whenever he saw it.

"Alright, here are your drinks."

"Isaac, can I talk to you outside?" asked Stiles.

"I'm actually working, so I can't do that. But, I can take your orders."

He jotted down each of your orders and went back to the kitchens.

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You

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"Stiles, I swear to God, I'm gonna hurt you."

"Not my fault you're over here pining after Lahey but won't do anything about it."

"Up your ass and off your high horse, Stiles!" You did your best to be quiet with your statement, but your dad still heard.

"Hey, hey!"

"Sorry, Dad," you and Stiles said simultaneously.

You watched the cooks prepare the food in front of you, but you hoped to see Isaac somehow, even though he was in the back.

You thought about his messy hair and how it felt in-between your fingers... How his eyes dilated with each smile, and the tiny specks of green in those ocean blue eyes were always able to calm you down.

You noticed how his lips were never chapped and how his cheeks looked like apples when he smiled, and the one dimple that was prominent in those moments as well.

You wondered if this was how Lydia felt for the boy that caused their entire concept of code reds or if you began to feel something much more for the boy with the shy demeanor and quiet voice.

When Isaac came back, you thought about how you could try to confess your feelings. But, you knew that if Isaac was barely willing to talk to you for a long time, it would be a snowball's chance in hell that he liked you the same way.

"Alright, here's your waffles and your hash-browns, Y/n. Your sandwich, Sheriff, and your All-Star breakfast, Stiles."

"Thank you, Isaac," you said with a smile.

He turned to leave before you called out.

"Um, Isaac!" He spun around on his heel at your calling with a questioning look on his face.

He walked back towards you, prepared to write something else down on his order pad.

"Movie night, tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Yeah, sure."

"Dorota, you cannot tell me you do not like him."

"Mieczysław, I do not."

Your dad cut in. "Sweetheart, and if you do?"

"I don't. Can we just leave it at that?"

#Love lost lovelorn love found #isaaclahey #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey #isaac x reader #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey x you #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey smut #isaac lahey angst #isaac lahey x oc #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski angst #teen wolf #teenwolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf y/n series

111 notes · View notes

ilguna · 3 years

Text

Anteric - Chapter Nine (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. MURDER PLOT, MURDER, SUICIDE MENTION SEVERAL TIMES.

wc; 9.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The next four days follow the same nightmarish pattern of facing your fears early in the morning, and then wielding a gun or a knife in the evening. You think that Caspian and Laurel are really testing fate by allowing a group of unstable teenagers near anything dangerous.

Sure, all of you have to be prepared to be able to wield a gun and defend yourselves in hard situations. But you wouldn’t say that it’s the brightest idea ever, too. You’re not entirely convinced that some of your fears correspond to shooting directly after. The only exception in this case, would be the one where you’ve watched Finnick die.

Despite all of this, you think that you’re beginning to get a hang of the fear-facing, to the point where you’ve managed to increase your time to five minutes. While everyone else works hard to make their time smaller and smaller, you’ve been trying to go against the current to make yourself look less suspicious.

You’ve figured that it’s easier to calm yourself down once you realize which fear you’re in. It’s only the four that repeat themselves, being buried alive, watching someone bleed out and die, and being trapped in an enclosed space with spiders. The easiest of them being buried alive, mainly because it’s not as hands-on.

You’re not forced to save someone, drowning in their blood as you try to cover wounds that will only become insignificant in the end. As more and more appear on the other’s body, screwing your focus and making you forget that you’re in a simulation. And you aren’t aware of the fact that you have to keep moving around for as long as you can without being covered in the spiders.

With the coffin, there’s no imminent danger, no real threat is hanging above you, besides the sure. Sure, you’re being buried alive, the dirt will eventually end up suffocating you. Yet, it’s not chaotic. You’re not fighting anything, you’re just forced to sit in darkness, feign some fright for a while, and then you’re free. If you were being buried without the coffin, that might be a different story. But that isn’t your fear, the coffin is a detail for a reason.

The others don’t seem to be as lucky as you are. They’re stuck in the same loop of facing their fears, and not knowing what to do after. At least you can say that your nightmares aren’t making your skin crawl anymore. For them, they shake when someone asks what they’ve gone through, and wake up screaming at night.

However, there are a few of you who are outshining the others. And it seems to be the people who hadn’t done too well during the first stage of initiation that’re getting the hang of this one. Which is a shame, because their progress isn’t really going to pay off until the final stage, when they beat the rest.

The few that you’ve noticed are Sydney, Nestor and Cass. They act a little differently than the others do. Sydney and Nestor have always been laid back. You can’t really say the same for Cass, since you don’t know her as well. But they definitely have a different attitude when they go into the room, compared to someone like Thyme.

Then there are the people who are naturally good or bad at the simulations, and it’s typically hard to tell which is which. Like Laurel told you, your friends are close to the twenty minute range, and as far as you know, you’re the only outlier. You can always time people on your watch, but it’s not the same, not really.

Anyway, it’s been about four days since you’ve so much as glanced at Finnick in front of Thyme. It was a smart move to make, because she might have started off stiff, but she’s officially cooled down. She’ll still glare at you occasionally, then again she was doing that before the party, so it’s not a surprise or a change of routine.

Because of that, the only times you’ve gotten to talk to Finnick was in bits and pieces when Thyme wasn’t around. Which was practically never, considering that she attached to him like a parasite and doesn’t let go. You’d hardly be able to get a full sentence in before she came around again. Laurel wasn’t much help either, she didn’t give you any accidental golden chances either.

The more time passed, the more anxious you got over the fact that Finnick might have been thinking that you were backtracking. You were making no real effort to get alone time, not to mention you felt like your grasp was slipping. You said so yourself, you had Finnick in your hold. And leaving him with Thyme for four days all alone might change things.

In order to finally ease the stress that’s been eating away at you, you went ahead and sealed the leap of faith. It’s taken you four days to finally come to terms with the fact that you have to tell Finnick that you’re Divergent, whether you like it or not. You can tell yourself that it’s an unnecessary risk, and that he might already have some biased ideas somehow. But the truth is, you won’t know until you try.

A slight problem is you didn’t get to invite Finnick to the chasm before Laurel called you into the fear room. So, you had to ask Laurel for a favor, which was to call Finnick in next and send him through the second door in the room that will bring him to the dark hallway. It’ll be completely out of the way of Thyme, you won’t have to worry about accidentally running into her on the way to the chasm.

Fortunately for you, today you had to be locked in a coffin underground, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You hope that the same goes for Finnick, because you really would like him to be in the right headspace before you go ahead and dump your biggest secret onto his shoulders. You don’t want it to end up being the last straw that does it.

You twist your wrist towards your face, making the watch light up in the hallway. If you’ve been tracking the time correctly, it’s coming in fifteen minutes. You should have another five to go, and even that might be an overestimation.

You yawn, cracking your knuckles before getting to your feet. The last time you jumped out at Finnick from the wall, you scared him pretty bad, so you’re not entirely sure if there’s a way to get around it this time. There’s no lantern for you to steal from the wall, not that you’re sure if you’ll be able to do that, anyway.

About a minute or so later, the door finally opens. You emerge from the wall, standing off to the side of the hallway with your arms crossed. There’s just enough light from the room to light you up, so Finnick spots you easily.

He has one hand reached up and placed over the spot where Laurel injects the serums. For a second, his eyebrows draw in like he’s confused, but then a smile slowly comes onto his face. You lean around Finnick to thank Laurel, she’s already holding a hand up, and then shoos you.

You hold out your hand for Finnick to take, and you watch as he takes it. You pull him along, he lets the door slip shut behind him with a gentle click. The hallway falls back into a pitch black, and you’re left to guide Finnick. You remember when it was the other way around, with you relying on him to warn you of where you step.

“What are we doing today?” he asks, “Another secret party?”

At the thought of your confession, an ache starts in your chest. If only it were something fun, “No, I think I’m going to tell you everything today.” With the exception of one thing, one little thing that doesn’t exactly have any connection to the blackmailing problem.

“Oh.” he says, you’re not sure you’d have anything to say in response to that, either.

The hallway finally splits into two, you head off to the right. It’s only a hundred or so more feet when you begin to hear the rushing water. You have to swallow to ease the growing tension in your throat. Finnick should be fine, you’ve known him a long time. He’ll give you a chance to explain yourself before judgement.

At least, you hope he will.

You let go of his hand in the doorway, continuing to your spot on your own. To the same place you stood last time you spoke to him. This time, you don’t lean against the railing. Knowing you, you’ll get caught up in the conversation and end up falling off backward.

Finnick resumes his spot across from you on the wall.

You have to remind yourself to take deep breaths, “I need you to listen all the way before you make any judgement calls, okay?”

You don’t want to look at him, this will be so much easier if you don’t look.

“Okay,” he agrees.

You know where to start, you’ve rehearsed this exact moment several times, thought up every single possibility. You found the best way to explain why, all you have to do is start speaking.

You swallow.

“It starts with the aptitude test,” you begin, eyes focused on the toe of your shoes. Is this too far back? No, it’s where the root lies, “Normally people get a straightforward result, but I got inconclusive.” you have to look at his face, it’s neutral besides his eyebrows, “Which means that I didn’t place for just one faction, I placed for three. Abnegation, Erudite and Dauntless.”

You pause for a moment, letting him process this. You feel like you’re speaking too slowly, he isn’t a baby. But this is new to him, right?

“How?” he asks, the confusion is setting in.

“Um,” you're hyper aware of your shaking hands, “Well, the choices in the aptitude test are supposed to eliminate a faction each stage. The cheese was for Amity, and the knife was for Dauntless. I chose the knife, so that’s a Dauntless oriented response. But I was vulnerable to the dog, which is Erudite thinking. Then I threw myself in front of the dog, bringing out Abnegation.

“Candor was ruled out when I didn’t tell the truth, and Erudite and Dauntless were brought up again when I posed some stupid question and stood up for myself. And technically it wasn’t a conditioned Abnegation response, either.” You lace your fingers together, “I hold equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless and Erudite. The term for it is Divergent.”

Now you hold your breath, watching the gears turn in his head. You’ll be patient, let him come to conclusions on his own. Maybe he’ll suddenly solve the Thyme problem on his own, only allowing you to fill the gaps. Maybe he won’t, and he’ll demand more information.

The silence is overwhelming, “My legal result is Abnegation.”

His eyes flicker to you, “Why do you say Divergent as if it’s a bad thing?”

You think you’ll cry, “Because I can be killed for it if people find out.”

Finnick understands, you can tell by the way he goes rigid, “You’re not kidding?”

“No.”

Please don’t start running. Please don’t have ill intentions. Please say that you’ll keep it a secret.

“Okay, I can understand why you’ve been like this,” he slumps slightly, a frown coming over his face.

You know what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t think that I don’t trust you,” you move forward a little, “I don’t…” you take another deep breath, “A lot of people know right now, and my worst nightmare has already happened.”

He’s still watching you, “Like what?”

A metallic taste spreads over your tongue, “You asked if Thyme said anything to me, and I said yes,” your throat is closing, “You remember that?”

He nods.

“Well, when our families came to visit, Mox and his small family came and visited me,” Finnick raises his eyebrows, he must’ve missed them, “Just before they left, Mox told me that Caspian knows I’m Divergent, and he’ll look out for me. Then he told me that these two stages of initiation are going to be easy, because of the way my brain works so I need to be careful not to get caught, whatever.

“I went to leave the area that we talked in, and Thyme had overheard everything.” Your eyes find Finnick’s face again.

And he is bright red, eyebrows turned down, “What did she say?”

“She said that if I don’t stay away from you, she’ll tell everyone I’m Divergent.”

He doesn’t move for a long moment, jawline becoming more obvious each time he grits his teeth. His eyes cast towards the path you have to take to get away from the chasm.

You feel like crying, this is the exact reaction you were looking for. Anger because the person that’s been playing sweetheart and hanging off his arm has secretly been blackmailing you for a week.

“Is that all?”

No.

“Yes.”

There’s something else that you need to tell him.

“Does she know that they’ll kill you for it?”

You shrug slightly, “It’s Thyme we’re talking about, do you really think she’d care about that?”

“Probably not.” he mumbles.

You scuff your shoe against the rocks, pressing your lips together. You should tell him, do it real quick to get it out of the way. You’ve already spoken about so much, what’s one more?

When you open your mouth, the words lodge themselves in your throat, refusing to move. You settle for sighing instead.

He catches this, raising his eyebrows, “What’s wrong? Is there something else?”

Tell him.

“No, I told you everything.”

Finnick doesn’t lessen his gaze.

Just tell him you like him.

You smile, he doesn’t smile back, continuing to wait.

You’ve told him so much already, what’s one more?

“Come on, (Y/n),”

What if he doesn’t feel the same?

Silence.

It’s a chance you have to take.

You clear your throat.

No, you’re going to ruin recently established peace.

“I just wanted to apologize for the final fight, is all.”

What a lie.

Finnick doesn’t believe you, he turns his head to the side a little.

You shrug again, “I didn’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to bring up things in the past if you aren’t bothered by them.” you play with your fingers, trying to figure where to go next. Then you realize that there is a problem that you left unsaid, “Ah, right, I remember now.

“Besides the obvious reason why I was mad at you, I realized something during the fight which made it a whole lot worse,” you rub the back of your neck, trying to ease the growing tension, “You--um--you see me as an equal, right? Cause for a second, I was convinced you thought of me as lesser and that doesn’t… sit right with me…”

Finnick’s got his eyebrows screwed in, “An equal?”

“Yeah, like we’re on the same level ground and I’m not in some ditch or whatever.”

His face twists, “I’m sorry, but shouldn’t this had been in the meaningless conversation the other day?”

You open your mouth, eyebrows in. Once he starts laughing, you snap your mouth shut.

“I’m kidding, of course we’re on the same page.” he grins, showing his teeth, “I mean, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t be friends, would we?”

You purse your lips, “I guess not.”

“You guess?” he laughs again, “Anyway, I don’t care about the fight. You won fair and square, even though you were definitely hyped up on adrenaline.”

You smile.

Finnick eyes the hallway for a moment, the humor slowly fading from his face, “So what are we going to do about Thyme?”

Your heart twists when you hear the word ‘we’, “There’s no real way to get her to shut up, Finnick. Unless we somehow make her get cut during stage three.” you clench your teeth, “All my ideas have been permanent and illegal.”

He nods, “I can see why.”

“It’s a lifelong thing she can hold over me.”

“You can always tell Caspian.”

“He already knows,” you lean your head back and watch as Finnick looks at you, “You know when you caught me that morning getting ready super early?”

Finnick nods.

“Yeah, well, the leaders of Dauntless and our trainers will eat breakfast way before everyone else so that they can discuss initiation and stuff. So I got Caspian away from them and told him about Thyme, and he said he can’t help me anymore because Thyme accused him of interfering so he really needs to back off.”

You crack a smile, “Actually, he told me that I should tell you the truth about everything and have you work with me to find some solution. The problem is that he can’t know what I want to do with her, and he told me not to be too brash but it’s not like I have a choice.”

“We,” Finnick corrects, “It’s not like we have a choice.”

You give him a soft smile, “Right, we.”

Finnick stretches, arms above his head, letting out a groan, “I’m going to go ahead and guess that your plan includes murder.”

“Honestly, it was my first thought when she made me agree to it on Visiting Day.”

“And I don’t really see any other option besides beating her up and throwing her to the streets, but she’ll just tell the factionless that you’re…” he doesn’t say the word, eyebrows furrowing, “...and that would be the end of it.”

“Yup.”

He makes a face, “We should probably think it over some more.”

“That works, I guess,” you check your watch, thirty minutes have passed since the beginning of the conversation, “Alright, you go ahead and go back, I’ll follow after you in a couple.”

“Sure,” he says.

You expect him to start into the hallway immediately, but he comes towards you instead. You lift your head from the wall, face twisting in confusion. He holds a hand out for you, you go ahead and take it, not entirely sure what he wants. Is he going to bring you somewhere?

No, he pulls you into him for a hug. His arms wrap around your back, underneath your arms. Immediately, your face feels like it’s on fire, heart pounding in your ears. It takes you a moment, but you hug him back, placing your ear against his chest, closing your eyes. The last time you hugged was before the Choosing Ceremony, when you weren’t sure if you’d see him ever again.

Your thought from earlier boomerangs back, much louder and begging this time for you to tell him that you have a crush on him. That you’ve had a crush on him for years, you just couldn’t say so before because of Abnegation ideals and how taboo a relationship is.

You can’t though. You’ve said too much today, told him everything on your list. This confession, the very last one, is not as significant as the rest. You can tell him some other time.

Finnick gives you a gentle squeeze, “Thank you for trusting me.” he murmurs.

You swallow the tightness in your throat, “I’ve always trusted you more than the rest.”

He moves away first, a smile on his face, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah.” Why are you dizzy all of a sudden?

He leaves now, all you can do is place your hands on your head, fingers interlaced as you turn to the railing. There’s tears in your eyes, and you don’t even realize it until they’re rolling down your cheeks. You sniff, and then huff out a laugh, bringing your hands back down to wipe them off.

You and Finnick are okay.

It’s a thought that keeps running through your head over the next hour. You’re okay, there’s no need to worry anymore. And he thinks that your problems are his again, it’s a good sign. The hug really topped it off, but it’s also the thing that broke you. He must’ve known that you needed one.

You loosely wander back to the dorm, having had enough of the chasm for one day. You’re more than sure that everyone is done facing their fears now, so it should be safe for you to come back without any suspicion. When you reach the door, you softly push against the wood and slip through the crack that’s barely big enough.

You expect to see everyone off in their usual corners, maybe a few people napping because the daytime is the only time when they can sleep anymore, maybe a few people missing. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that everyone is gathered together around the chalkboard that had given the first stage’s rankings.

Caspian is standing within the half-circle, his eyes follow you on your way in, “Now that (Y/n) has finally made it, I can show you.”

A few people glance over their shoulders, none of them dirty looks except for Thyme. You ignore her, and Finnick, going to stand on the side of Blaire that’s away from them, as if he’s some sort of shield. In classic Blaire behavior, he slings his arm over your shoulder.

“Are these the rankings for stage two?” you ask.

“Progress report,” he says, “Caspian’s showing us where we’re at so that we’re prepared for stage three and how badly we need to improve before then.”

An uneasiness grows in your stomach, heart skipping. Everyone is about to see where you’re at, and how far ahead you are. And with Thyme’s accusation of Caspian interfering, this is not going to look good.

Your teeth sink into your cheek, right into the wound you carved up earlier when you were with Finnick. The warm taste of blood crosses over your tastebuds again, the pain sharp.

Caspian doesn’t say another word as he reaches up to hang the board on the designated nail. He stands in the way for a moment, blocking the view. Then, he shoots you a look before stepping aside, a silent warning that you are not as undercover as you’re supposed to be.

And he’s so right.

Your name is the first one on the list.

Your breath hitches, body rigid, eyes glued to the board, blood running from your face. Three minutes and forty-five seconds. This must be your time from the first fear simulation, and you are so incredibly grateful that your two minute one hadn’t been put up there. It would be a lot worse, then. Suddenly, the predator would become prey.

The person in second is, unsurprisingly, Finnick. He has nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. There is a five minute gap between you two, and it is so significant that it makes your stomach twist.

Someone looks at you, you think it’s Eytelle. Judging by the corner of your eye, she is incredibly angry, compared to Blaire, who has a tight grip on your shoulder, shaking it to bring you back to life. You think it’s praise, you think that he’s excited for you.

His name is in the third slot.

You look past Blaire, eyes finding Finnick for comfort. He’s already looking at you, his lips are pressed together. Thyme could easily mistake this as displeasure towards you, good. To you, this looks like worry. You told him you had to be careful, and this does not look like careful.

When you look at Thyme, you can see her arm loop around his, pressing her body into his side. She doesn’t speak very loud, only enough for Finnick to hear. Unfortunately for her, in Abnegation you’re all used to the silence and working around it so that you don’t disturb the others.

“She’s cheating.”

You elbow Blaire slightly, trying to get his arm off of you, “Laurel warned you about accusing me of cheating already.”

The silence in the room is overcome by the blood rushing in your ears, body heating up. You’re tired of people saying that you’re cheating, Thyme, Ameer, now Eytelle. Is it so hard to believe that you can be in first place without cheating? That you don’t need help to get there?

Thyme looks over at you, face twisting until her mouth drops and her eyes widen. She looks at Caspian, shaking her head, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Except you did.” Cass says, she’s standing further back than the rest of you. Which means she’s got a clear view of Thyme, “You mouthed it.”

“But I didn’t say it, there’s a difference.”

“So you’re admitting to it?” Caspian asks.

This is when Thyme pales, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Come with me.” Caspian starts towards the door, “Tomorrow’s a day off, don’t waste it.”

Thyme shoots you a nasty look on the way out.

The tension in the room doesn’t have time to grow, Blaire throws his arm back over your shoulder. You have to force a smile before you look at him, “Congrats.”

“Congrats to me?” Blaire’s laughing, the circle is beginning to form. They’re probably going to want to celebrate, “You’re in first!”

“I’m pretty sure (Y/n) meant to say, ‘Congrats for beating Lennox’.” Sydney laughs too, she’s in sixth, her hand is intertwined with Nestor, who holds the same smile. He’s placed in fifth.

Lennox makes a warning face at her, it’s playful. You can tell because he can’t keep the expression for very long before smiling. Lennox is in fourth.

Trink, who’s in eighth place, is bouncing next to him, face suddenly lighting up, “Oh! That means that Lennox owes you his twenty points!”

Lennox lets out a groan, “No, don’t remind her!”

In order of first place to last, the list goes as follows: You, Finnick, Blaire, Lennox, Nestor, Sydney, Cass, Trink, Ameer, Mirza, Thyme, Allio, Eytelle, and Horace. The rankings from the first stage have definitely flipped. Allio was first, now he’s last. Eytelle’s isn’t all that surprising either, she nearly got cut on the last stage too. She was saved by Amos and Ossie.

There are fourteen of you. If Dauntless only accepts the top ten, then that means Thyme, Allio, Eytelle and Horace will immediately be cut. Which would partially solve the Thyme problem, only she would still know you’re Divergent and would be able to tell people later on,

When you look at Finnick, you think that he’s working on the same thought process.

“Well?” Sydney says, “Hand the points over, loser.”

Lennox punches her arm, “Shut--”

“Hey, Lennox,” you nudge him with your elbow, “You can just pay me five every month so I don’t run you dry.”

He stops, raising his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

You shrug, “How else are we supposed to get celebratory tattoos today?”

Ameer and Mirza let out a whoop, leading the way out. They placed ninth and tenth, you’re not entirely sure if you'd be celebrating if you were them, but then again, they aren’t going to get cut. If they keep this up for the final stage, they’ll be golden.

As expected, there are a couple of people that stay back, namely Eytelle and Allio, who are giving you dirty looks like Thyme normally does. Horace trails behind Ameer and Mirza since they’re refusing to leave him behind. You have to grab onto Finnick to make sure that he doesn’t stay here, either.

“Hey Blaire!” You call, making him turn, “Finnick was wondering who you think the hottest leader out of all the factions is. He was thinking about Haymitch.”

“(Y/n)--?” Finnick strangles out, giving you an incredulous look. You flash him a smile, pushing him forward into Blaire.

“Really? I was thinking Mags.” Blaire snorts.

Even though it was risky, you and Finnick went ahead and got matching tattoos like a couple of idiots. It was a long process of trying to figure out a middle ground. You’d suggest something like the Abnegation logo and Finnick would look at you disgusted. Then he would suggest something vulgar, and it would be your turn to look at him like he was doing it on purpose.

Since it took a while, by the time you two made the decision, Blaire, Sydney and Nestor were the only three that were still willingly sitting with you. Lennox and Trink had disappeared sometime during the middle, Ameer, Mirza and Horace went to play a dangerous game near the Pit drop off. And Cass got distracted when she realized that her blonde hair was perfect for dying.

You can’t take all the credit for the tattoo idea, it really stemmed from Sydney and Nestor when they showed you theirs. If they stand side by side, with Nestor on the right and Sydney on the left, and lift up their shirts, they have a flutter of butterflies across their ribs that make a whole picture.

So, you and Finnick decided to get something like that, but a lot simpler. No color or shading, just the lining of two hands holding out their pinkies to make a promise. Yours is on your left shoulder, and Finnick’s is on his right. It can’t really be seen unless you force your shirt over, so there’s not a lot of risk.

Unless Finnick walks around shirtless, and someone catches a glimpse of your tattoo and Thyme somehow finds out and puts two and two together. However, you don’t see that happening any time soon. As far as you’re concerned, she’s completely oblivious to the planning that’s going on between you two.

You tie your hair in a knot at the back of your head, desperate to get it off the back of your neck. Next to you, Trink is twirling her hair around her finger like she always is. She’s also leaning into Lennox more than she usually does, so something definitely happened between them yesterday when they left.

Lennox seems to be making an effort to stick close to her, too. This morning, they had sat next to each other at breakfast, glued to the hip and refused to let anyone sit in the middle. It makes you think that they’ve officially started dating, but they’re not acting like it. Not like Sydney and Nestor.

Your eyes drag over to Finnick and Thyme, they’re sitting on the other side of the dining hall. She sits across from him, body turned so that she isn’t facing you. Finnick, on the other hand, has made sure that he can see you from where he sits. He’s not eating his lunch anymore, his cheek is cupped in one hand.

And his other is on his shoulder, where his new tattoo is.

You sit up a little straighter, wondering how long he’s been waiting for you to see. You and him decided to make a sign for if one wants to talk to the other, so that you two don’t have to keep waiting to talk to each other after fear facing. He suggested that putting your hand over the tattoo would be it, a telltale sign to go to the chasm after whatever you’re done doing.

Finnick briefly glances over, you go ahead and place your own hand over your shoulder, giving him a gentle nod before looking back at your friends. You need a way to get out, you’ve been sitting here, done with your lunch for a while. You’re sure that they’ll understand.

You place your hands onto the table, getting ready to push yourself up. This immediately catches Trink’s attention, she slowly tears her eyes from whatever Blaire is talking about, to look at you. Her eyebrows are raised, mouth parted.

“I’m going to disappear for a while,” you say, “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Trink pouts for a moment, “Can you be back before dinner this time? I thought we could all sit around and play some Dauntless games.”

You shrug with one shoulder, “Sure, no problem. I’ll keep track of the time on my watch.”

She smiles, “Thank you.”

You say your goodbyes to the others, punching Blaire’s shoulder on the way out.

You’re the first to escape the dining hall, taking your time when you walk to the chasm. There’s no question that you’ll be back before dinner. Only in your dreams will you be able to hang around Finnick for longer than thirty minutes at a time, anymore. On the off-chance that you stay behind for a while, Sydney and Nestor know where to find you.

You get halfway down the long hallway that drops off at your corner, when there’s a rapid sound of footsteps behind you. You raise your eyebrows, a smile on your face when you spot Finnick running at you. He holds his hands out, making a noise that’s a mix of a snarl and a snort.

You get it, you’re supposed to run away.

You play along, running down the hallway in the dark. It’s dangerous, you could trip and fall. But then again, your whole life has been dangerous since the moment you finalized your decision of joining Dauntless. On your first day you jumped from a moving train to a rooftop! You hung from the chasm bridge by your fingers! You ziplined face first off of a building! You’re Divergent, for fuck’s sake!

At this point, you’re beginning to think that danger could really be your middle name.

Your guys’ laughter echoes off the stone walls, you can see your little dip for the chasm coming up, preparing to throw yourself against the wall to avoid Finnick. He’s much quicker than you, his hands clamping around your upper arms as he pretends to roar.

Tears appear in your eyes, you wipe them away, “Okay, get off of me.”

Finnick’s still chuckling to himself when he goes to his far wall. He doesn’t stand, though, he sits down immediately. You go ahead and follow, criss-crossing your legs and placing your hands in the gap in the middle.

“So, what’d you call me here for?” you ask.

Finnick shrugs, “I just didn’t want to be around her anymore. She kept asking me if she thought you were cheating. I think she’s a little on edge now that you keep ranking on top.”

“I can’t help it,” you murmur.

“I know,” he says, his legs extended in front of him, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You smile, “Have any ideas on how to solve the problem?”

He shakes his head, “I mean, at this rate she’ll probably get kicked out, but that isn’t what we’re looking for, right?”

You press your lips together, “It’s not realistic.”

“I figured as much, don’t worry.” he looks off to the side, “What if we blackmail her?”

You don’t answer him right away, “We don’t really have any leverage.”

“But if we trick her into it?” Finnick asks, sitting up, “Like, I could hint at getting rid of you from number one somehow, which will keep her in the top ten so she wouldn’t get cut.”

You try to hide your horror when you remember just how alike you and Finnick are. Sometimes you forget that you’ve been around each other for so long that you ultimately have the same brain. You could be thinking something, and he’d probably be able to guess what.

“I’m… not sure…” you manage to get out, “if I still want to be the--um--center of the danger...?”

Finnick doesn’t question you, nodding, “But it’s an idea.”

“I guess? How about we put that on the back burner and try again?”

Finnick gives you a funny smile, “I’m not sure if any of my other ideas will be as perfect as that one so bare with me.”

“Sure.”

And he’s right, once the two of you try brainstorming again, you’re not really coming out with any ideas that you like. You’d really like to go for the first one, but you’re not sure how Finnick would even lead her in that direction. You have no doubt that Thyme wouldn’t have any qualms about murdering you to get ahead. To her, that would be the perfect solution to keep you away from Finnick forever.

The real problem would be to frame her for thinking it up on her own without getting Finnick mixed in there somewhere. Also, there would need to be witnesses--other than you and Finnick--because it’s already known that you three aren’t exactly the best trio when you’re around each other. You could end up getting in trouble, Thyme could figure out that you’re working with Finnick, and it could end right there.

Finnick suggests accusing her of being Divergent, giving it a little spin. You shoot him down, explaining that your results had to be entered manually. Not to mention, she could always spin it back on you, and then the two of you could be taken away together.

He’s not very quiet when he calls you a buzzkill.

You glance at your watch.

“Is time up?” Finnick asks.

“Is it that obvious?” you joke, beginning to get up, “We can always brainstorm tomorrow, it’s not like we don’t have a week until initiation ends.”

You stretch your arms above your head. Finnick gets to his feet too, sliding his hands into his pockets, “Before I go, I actually had something I wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smile, leaning against the wall.

“I know we just started being okay again...” Finnick trails off suddenly, eyes fixated on something in the dark. You open your mouth, going to ask what he’s looking at, but he takes a hand out of his pocket, palm-down as if to tell you not to speak.

“Who are you talking to?”

You can feel your blood run cold.

Finnick moves forward, “I was practicing.”

You knew that going past thirty minutes would be a mistake, but you didn’t think that Thyme would come looking. Did she follow you guys? No, she would have come out a lot sooner. Then again, she waited until you found her to say anything about you being Divergent.

And there’s only two people that know this spot is yours. Which means that Thyme might have gone asking about Finnick, she came up with some excuse, and ended up here.

You close your eyes, tilting your head up to the ceiling, holding your breath.

“No, there was another voice, I heard it. Who are you talking to?” Thyme demands, her shoes are loud against the floor.

You look over to Finnick, who’s trying to walk towards her to make her backtrack.

“It’s (Y/n), isn’t it?” she asks, her voice is getting closer.

“Thyme, no one is there,” Finnick says.

“Then prove it, move out of the way,” she presses her hands to his chest.

You scoot to the left, moving away as you exaggerate a nod.

You two can trap her here, and figure out where to go from there. The more you think about murder, the more your heart skips. You can’t just kill her, someone will figure out that it’s you two that did it. Thyme goes looking for you two, who are known for hanging out together now, and she doesn’t come back?

You have to convince her not to say anything about you being Divergent.

Finnick moves aside, allowing her to look for herself. His eyes lock with yours, lips pressed together into a tight line, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what you’re going to do, but he’s sure that it isn’t going to work. You wish he’d have a little more faith.

Thyme comes around the corner, arms crossed over her chest, mouth twisted into an angry mess. You reach out, grabbing her arm and throwing her towards the railing, trading spots with her. She catches herself on the railing with her hands. You used too much momentum, she could’ve fallen.

Finnick moves around you, standing on your right side. Thyme slowly turns around, eyes landing on you first, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You stare at her, not saying anything. She goes to walk around Finnick, but he moves when she does. He’s not going to let her through, and she doesn’t understand this at first. Only when he mirrors her movements again, does she shoot a glare at him.

“Finnick, you don’t understand what she is,” Thyme’s voice changes significantly, from anger to softness, “I don’t know what she told you, but it wasn’t the truth.”

“So it’s not true that you’re blackmailing her?” Finnick asks plainly.

Thyme gapes for a moment, clearly not expecting him to outright say it.

“You’re not a very good actress,” you say, “you should work on being less transparent.”

Her eyes flicker to you, and she’s back to being pissed, “I told you what would happen if you came near him.”

“And I warned you about what would happen if you did this to me, Thyme.”

She doesn’t get it, you can tell by the way her face scrunches up. The more the gears turn, the more her face relaxes and she pales instead. You’re glad you’ll be able to see the terror in her eyes, the same terror you felt when you realized that she had heard about your secret.

“You won’t be able to kill me.” Her voice isn’t as smooth as it was before.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, tilting your head a bit, “You think that just because Finnick’s here, he’ll save you? If that were the case, he would’ve let you go by now, don’t you think?”

No comeback.

“What’s the plan?” Finnick asks, glancing at you.

“Don’t let her think for you, Finnick,” Thyme blurts, “You told me yourself that you hate it when she’s in your head like this!” she reaches out for him, he takes a step back, “And now that it’s happening again, you’re just going to let it go?”

“I never said that.” Finnick suddenly snaps, “I said I hated it when she’s in her head, like she can’t tell me anything.”

You ignore the wrenching feeling in your heart. You need to focus.

“Did she tell you that she has Erudite tendencies?” Thyme asks, not a hint of regard in her tone.

You straighten up, because it’s decided. She just sealed her fate by asking him that question. Had she shown a little restraint, a little bit of sympathy, then she would’ve been fine. But just saying it out in the open like that, trying to use it as leverage again…

You reach out, grabbing her wrist harshly, “Throw her over.”

Thyme’s face changes, façade dropping again. She raises her other hand up, fist formed and aimed at your face. Finnick catches her wrist, holding it above her head. She starts yanking her arms down, “No--no, let me go!”

“Give me her other wrist, you can take her feet.” Finnick says, “I can hold her up higher than you can.”

“Stop!” the scream is shrill, “No!”

Finnick holds both of her hands above her head. If he wanted to, you’re sure, he could pick her off of the ground like this. His arms aren’t even fully extended yet, that’ll come in when you have to pick her up to get her over.

“Finnick, please!” she tilts her head back, “Please don’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Finnick glares.

You sweep up her feet, holding her ankles together under your arm for when she starts kicking.

“(Y/n), don’t!” Thyme inhales, a sob follows after, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t say anything, please don’t do this.”

You let go of her feet when they’re over the railing, letting her scramble to find footing. Finnick doesn’t let go of her arms yet.

“I warned you,” you say again, staying on her right side. You place both hands on the railing, leaning forward so that she can see your face, “I warned you that you’d end up here if you went through with this. You’ll be lucky if they find your body this far down the river.”

“They’ll catch you,” she sobs, her eyes bloodshot, hair blowing up because of the wind from the river, “you won’t get away with this.”

You give her a smile, “No one in this faction will miss you.” you lean in a little, “They might even thank me.”

“Or think you committed suicide because there’s no way you’re surviving initiation.” Finnick says.

“Hey, being dead is better than being factionless, right?”

Thyme sucks in a deep breath through her mouth, “Help!”

You snort, “Thyme, we are so far down this hallway that you’d be lucky if someone heard you.” you look at Finnick, giving him a nod, “Any last words?”

“Finnick, I thought I was your friend!” she screams, leaning backwards, away from the river.

“I was wrong.” he says plainly, letting go of her wrists.

Thyme teeters for a moment, looking like she’s going to catch her balance. All it takes is one pat on the back to send her flying forward, “Good luck!” you shout.

Her screams are loud, and are cut off suddenly when she hits the water. You don’t move from where you stand next to the railing, Finnick comes up beside you, wrapping an arm around your back, hand squeezing your upper arm as he pulls you into his side.

All you can think about is what your father would think, after being murdered by a factionless. How his daughter, who had suffered from this loss, went through with a half-baked plan like it was her only option. How selfish it was to save yourself.

You need a distraction.

You suck in a shaky breath, closing your eyes when your head dips, “What were you going to tell me before she came?”

Finnick’s quiet for a moment, “That I’m Divergent too.”

It’s late into the night when they discover Thyme’s body, and you’re already wide awake when Trink shakes you to let you know. You have to pretend to be groggy when she helps you down from the top bunk, already tugging on your arm to get you to move faster.

You couldn’t sleep, not after what you’ve done.

There are only a few people awake, you notice. Blaire is hovering over Finnick’s bed, a hand on his shoulder as he speaks quietly. When Blaire notices you staring, he nods at you. Finnick is rubbing his eyes, but his movements are far too soft for a person who just woke up. He wasn’t sleeping either.

Trink doesn’t stop to wait for them, bringing you right through the door and down a series of hallways, taking you deeper into the Dauntless headquarters than you’ve ever dared to go. There must be another place where the river shows up besides your corner, otherwise you don’t think they would have found her.

“How’d you know?” you ask her, trying to sound like you’ve just woken up.

She seems to believe it, “Lennox was trying to be cute by showing me where the river leads because I mentioned that I like it. And we followed it all the way back here, and I don’t know how he saw her body through the dark because I couldn’t see at all. But he saw, and told me to stay put while he got help.”

She looks at you, “When Lennox got back, he told me that one initiate dies every year because of their ranks.” she’s shaking her head, “But I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just choose to be factionless?”

You shrug, feigning a frown. The plan is working exactly like you hoped it would, not a single finger has been pointed toward you. Then again, it might be too early to speak, her body was just found.

Thumping footsteps makes you and Trink turn back to see who it is. Trink gives room between you two to allow Blaire and Finnick in. Finnick comes right up your left side, his tattooed shoulder to yours. His hand finds yours, squeezing tightly.

You didn’t believe him when he told you he was Divergent. You were convinced that he was just telling you that to level out with you, to make you feel better and that you weren’t alone after all. But the more he kept talking, the details he was giving, the more you realized that he was telling the truth.

On the aptitude test day, Finnick had been stuck in the room with the Candor man. And that detail alone was enough to begin to settle the doubt because the Candor aren’t supposed to lie. An adult man in Candor shouldn’t have the urge to hide a Divergent teenager, especially if they’re supposed to be a danger to everyone else. Candor is supposed to be the law.

Finnick kept going, telling you that he took his aptitude test like normal. It was only after the test did he realize that something was wrong because of the look on the Candor man’s face. Finnick figured that the man was new, he looked confused and didn’t move from the aptitude test for a long time.

When Finnick asked what was wrong, he was told that the test accidentally gave him two results. One of them being Dauntless, the other being Abnegation. The Candor man went ahead and manually entered Dauntless, though, because the Abnegation part of him was ‘so insignificantly small’ that it couldn’t even count towards Divergence. But when Finnick caught a glimpse of the screen…

You were still confused on how Finnick didn’t know the terminology for it, then, if that’s the case. He said that the Candor man never explicitly used the word ‘Divergent’ or ‘inconclusive’, he just said that the results came out as an accident, it happened all the time, and there was nothing to worry about. That was the reason why manually entering results was possible in the first place.

And since you’re not supposed to discuss faction results, Finnick never had the reason to tell you his result or the aptitude problem in the first place. Honestly, he’s lucky he made it this far without casually telling anyone. Plus, you can’t imagine what he felt like while you were explaining your own Divergence to him, the realization of just how dangerous it is.

It explains a lot, though. Why Finnick’s time is so low when he faces his fears, but it makes you wonder why it isn’t as low as yours? Is it because he’s only Divergent in two ways instead of three? And a part of you thinks that Laurel should’ve asked him if he was Divergent, or figured that out on her own. Unless, of course, he’s still within the reasonable time range, which blocks him from being so suspicious.

So many questions, and no one to answer them

“When’s the last time you’ve seen Thyme?” Trink asks, looking over at Finnick.

“Just before I left lunch yesterday.”

Trink looks at you, her eyes lowering into a squint, “Which was a few minutes after (Y/n), right?”

You nod. She better tread carefully, because if she starts pointing fingers at you two…

“Oh my god!” She lights up, “Does that mean you two are…?”

She’s making a scissor motion with her fingers, chopping them together with a slight head tilt. You think she’s trying to ask if you two are together without realizing how odd her symbol for it is.

“Dating?” you guess, Finnick’s grip tightens considerably, “No--”

“They’re holding hands,” Blaire grins, giving Finnick a wink.

Trink raises an eyebrow, “I bet you two are taking it slow, huh? Since you’re both Stiff’s.”

“We were Stiffs.” Finnick corrects her.

“Same difference,” she waves it off, “I’m just surprised you two can hold hands without being a mess.”

If she were standing next to you, you would’ve punched her.

“Anyway, did Thyme ever come find you?” Blaire asks.

You turn to your right to look at him again, “What?”

“Yeah, she asked us if we knew where you were, and Sydney told her that you were probably by some empty corner of the chasm. When Sydney asked why, Thyme said she wanted to apologize or something.”

You called it, you said that she probably went looking for one of you. And she did. If she had waited to eavesdrop, though, she would’ve heard you and Finnick speaking. She could’ve wreaked so much havoc, but she wasn’t patient enough for that. You’re thankful.

Your grip on Finnick’s hand is like iron.

“We never saw her,” Finnick says casually, looking at Trink, shaking his head, “(Y/n) and I were in the party room messing with the microphone for an hour before we decided to head back to the dorm.”

“Oh, it’s still in there?” Blaire asks, he sounds a little excited.

“Yeah! At least when we were in there,” you say.

“Huh,” Trink’s eyebrows are drawn in, “Do you think she was looking for you to make amends or something, and when she realized that you didn’t want to see her, she killed herself in that corner?”

“Didn’t Lennox think it was for ranks?” Finnick’s trying to steer her back to her original point.

“It could be both,” Trink shrugs, “I was just saying. It’s over here.”

She takes the lead, bringing you three around another corner before you all come to a stop. Lennox has his back to you guys, his arms crossed, but he’ll lift one every now and then when he speaks, like he’s trying to explain the situation. Off to the side, there’s a large puddle of water beneath a motionless body.

Thyme is soaked from head to toe, lying on her back. Her head is faced away, toward the ledge that has no railing. Wet hair, flattened against the ground and the sides of her face. Her clothes are like a second skin with the way they stick to her body.

A woman is holding a blue lantern up, staring down at Thyme. If it weren’t for the light, this whole area would be pitch black. And with the light, you’re able to see the ear piercing that you insisted on her getting when you and Finnick got nose piercings.

Finnick draws in a breath, and doesn’t release. Blaire stays on your other side, staring. Trink is the only one who moves forward, coming up behind Lennox to tell him that she’s brought you two. Her hand is gentle on his back, and he offers you three a half-glance, a nod, and then turns back to the man he’s talking to. Trink doesn’t leave his side.

“I’m… so sorry, Finnick,” Blaire says slowly, not being able to tear his eyes from the puddle of water.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really my friend, anyway.” he gives your hand a squeeze.

Was she anyone's?

You try to bring out some sense of remorse, thinking that you should at least pretend to be upset, but what’s the use? Everyone in the transfer initiate group knows how much you hated each other, it would be weird for you to cry over her. In fact, it’s even weirder that Finnick isn’t crying over her.

Besides, you can’t fake an emotion that’s the complete opposite of what you’re feeling. In order to be a good actress, you have to feel what your audience would feel at that moment, and you just can’t do it. There’s something else that’s brewing, something more sickening and vile and would most definitely get you in trouble.

It’s pure gleeful laughter, the relief and satisfaction of knowing that you will never have to deal with her again. Much less worry that she could snap at any moment and get you killed. No more pressing your ears to closed doors, no more walking on eggshells...

At the rate the balloon is swelling in your chest, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to hold it in.

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @liaaacantwrite / @terezasworld / @i-dumb-bitch /

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #anteric #anteric chapter nine #finnick odair anteric

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escapewriter · 3 years

Text

Hug

pairing : jihoon x reader

synopsis : the way to your boyfriend’s heart? obviously it would be singing to him.

genre : FLUFFFFF

word count : 1.8k

a/n : for mr birthday boy sir. lowkey this made me laugh a bit when i was writing but it made my heart melt at the same time. also the summary is crap cuz i didn’t know how to describe it. the story was better in my head a month ago.

svt written masterlist || main masterlist

“Happy Birthday Jihoon!”

“Happy Birthday man.”

“Birthday Happy Jihoon.”

“Thank you guys, thank you.” Jihoon smiled after blowing out the candles of his small birthday cake that his members got him.

“You sure you don’t want to go out and celebrate, Jihoon?” Seungcheol looked at the younger, not sure if he should force him or not.

“No, I’m okay staying in just this one time.” He smiled at his caring leader and the rest of his members, “Thank you guys for the cake and singing to me.”

Various of ‘of course’ and ‘how could we not?’ came out of their mouths as they began to bid him goodbye for the night.

It was 12am and Jihoon had no plans on sleeping tonight, well, not anytime soon at least. Sure it was his birthday, but he still had to work. It’s the same thing for the other members, it’s the same thing on Christmas, same thing on New Years. They have each other, but they never got time to spend it with their families or significant others.

In all honesty, Jihoon really had nothing planned because he finished everything that needed to be done, he just wanted free time. That’s where you come in.

You were currently finishing up the final touches to your gift for your boyfriend as you prepared to head out the door. Yes it was late, and knowing Jihoon, he’s going to make you spend the night for ‘safety reasons.’ He can deny it all he wants, but the man just wants to cuddle you all the time, so you packed some pajamas and toiletries.

Your phone began to buzz on your coffee table.

Jihoon : you on your way yet?

You : i’m just preparing your gift and then i’m heading over.

Jihoon : i told you, you didn’t need to buy me a gift YN.

You rolled your eyes. He says that every year, and what do you do? You don’t listen.

You : i know and i choose to ignore you. but believe me, you’re going to want this gift.

Jihoon didn’t know how to take in your words. Was it a bad gift that you’d enjoy watching him react to? Or was it a good gift?

Jihoon : i don’t know how to react to that, but hurry up.

You : be patient my darling, be patient. i’m on my way lmao.

Jihoon : drive safe

You got into your car and started the engine, driving down the streets of Seoul and to your boyfriends oh so messy (not really, thank you mingyu) dorm.

You got off the elevator, backpack on your left shoulder and Jihoon’s gift in your right hand. You sent him a text stating that you’re getting off the elevator, seeing his door open as light illuminated the dark hallway.

Reaching the door, you saw your boyfriend. “Hi, happy birthday my love,” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he stepped aside, welcoming you into his home.

“Thank you baby.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you away to his room before you could even greet the members who were in the living room. Once he shut the door, he laid on his bed as you set your backpack on the couch.

“You couldn’t let me greet the boys?” His gift was in your hand as he just stared at you. You sighed and softly tossed the box to the couch. You noticed his eyes follow your movement of the wrapped item, “You wanna open it now? Or do you want to ask about your significant other’s day?”

He looked up into your eyes, acting as if he doesn't want to open it right now, “How was your day sweetie?” He shot you an innocent smile as you rolled your eyes and took your shoes off before sitting up on his bed with your feet crossed.

“Ah forget it. It was the same old thing at school, nothing much happened.” He laughed at your attempt to stall so he would open the gift later.

“Hey, at least I made an effort.” You played with the blanket underneath you, staring at his guitar.

“You know, that isn’t the only gift I have prepared for you.” He raised his eyebrows in confusion as he sat up, leaning against the headboard.

“Oh? And is it in the box or just a separate thing?” You didn’t look at him as you continued to stare at his guitar, pursing your lips and nodding your head to signal him to look there. He looked at his guitar that was by his desk before his eyes widened, “Wait, YN. Are you actually planning on singing to me?”

You finally looked at him with big doe eyes, “Do you want me to?”

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

You got up and grabbed the guitar and carefully sat back done because you know Jihoon is about his guitar. “Well then,” you strummed a bit, feeling nerves bubble up in your chest, “I’m comfortable.”

Jihoon crossed his legs and rested his elbows in his knees as he watched you, excitement bubbling in his chest. He’s never heard you sing and he didn’t really ask you to until you mentioned that you played many instruments, one instrument being your voice. However, when he did ask, you became very shy and your stage fright began to show. Immediately, he calmed you down and never dared to ask you again.

He couldn’t believe this is happening right now as he watched you strum, getting used to the guitar.

“You should know this song, Jihoon. It would be nice if you sang along with me.” A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked down to the instrument on your lap. You took a deep breath, strumming the first cords of the song.

Secretly laughing, secretly crying

While hiding my state

The day that seems too much for me passes by

Jihoon’s eyes widened, not because of your song choice (although hug is the perfect song to sing) but because of your breath taking voice. He was completely mesmerized by the sound and passion behind it; he wished it would never end.

Today, too, the words can't be said

And can only be reflected in one's heart

It's hard, it's hard, it's hard

You looked up, seeing Jihoon being hypnotized and having his full blown attention on you. You smiled softly and continued to sing as if you never felt any nervousness.

Whenever it's hard

You can get a hug from me

I am the same

This feeling that he felt, is a feeling he always has when he’s with you. The love he felt as you sang to him, he thought that this is probably how his fans felt every time they performed for them. Finally, he joined you, deciding to give you back that same amount of love.

No matter how much you hide it

You know you can't hide it forever

So we can smile together

You smiled as you sang together, heart pounded and butterflies in your stomach. Your strumming stuttered a bit, slightly giggling as you both prepared for the next part.

Don't be sorry, don't worry

Don't be scared, now don't cry

You paused, wanting to hear his voice, and to feel the love because you know that even if he had a hard time saying it, he told you through music.

To me you are very precious

He scowled slightly as he saw your face light up when he sang by himself. How he loved to see your face light up like that, and if he had the power, he’d never let you feel heartbreak, only happiness.

You can tell me today was tough

You shut your mouth, wanting him to say his lines in the song and he knew from the look on your face that he couldn’t get out of this one. So he sang.

I am here, you suffered a lot

I love you

Jihoon looked up at you, seeing your glossy eyes.

I will hug you

You put down the guitar and immediately tackled Jihoon in a bear hug, holding onto him tightly as he wrapped his arms around you. He softly laughed as you buried your face into his chest. He felt his shirt dampen a bit as his eyebrows furrowed and he lifted your head up with one of his hands.

“Why are you crying baby?” You pouted as another tear slipped from your eyes but he was quick to wipe it away.

“I don’t fucking know why.” Your head fell back on your chest as you closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body heat and his scent, memorizing it.

“Well then, how about we open the other present? Or will that make you cry too?” You shot up off his chest, a smile rising as you retrieved the gift on the couch. You handed it to him, excitement building up as you quickly wiped your eyes to see more clearly.

“I don’t know babe, open it and see.” He gave you an uneasy look as he began to rip off the paper slowly.

“Should I be nervous?” You gave him a smile as you shrugged your shoulders. “Oh god.”

Tossing the wrapping paper off the bed, he shifted in his place to get more comfortable. He scanned the box, looked at it to make sure it’s not a prank. “Come on Jihoon, open it.”

He took off the tape that secured the box together and opened it. The gift was wrapped in tissue paper and a little small.

Tilting his head, he took the item out of the box and started to unfold the tissue paper, a smile creeping up on his face as he saw what you had got him. You had gotten him a Bruno Mars Album CD.

“I love the thought, but you know I love him,” He pointed over to his shelf, different CD’s of various artists, including Bruno Mars. You rolled your eyes, “But I still love it YN.”

“Jihoon,” You sighed and nodded your head towards the CD in his hand, “Open it and look inside.”

He gave you a questioning look before following your word and opening it. His mouth dropped the minute he laid eyes on the note and signature from Bruno Mars himself. “Holy fuck you didn’t.”

“Hell yeah I did.” You laughed lightly as you leaned forward, “Do you like it?”

He looked up at you, surprise on his features, “Like it? Babe, I love it.” He reached out to you, pulling you in for a hug. “Wow, I might be the one crying here now.” He felt you giggle in his embrace as he released you so you could sit up.

“Happy Birthday, my birthday boy. I love you.”

He smiled, thinking about how this is it, you are it for him, “I love you too,” and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

#seventeen #seventeen oneshot #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #svt #jihoon #woozi #happy jihoon day #happy woozi day #escapewriter oneshot

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pilot-boi · 3 years

Text

Snowed In

The first snow of the school year was shaping up to be quite the storm. Not the blow your house down kind of storm, but definitely the bury your house in mountains of frozen water kind of storm.

Ren just wants to get some studying done if he can, and then stay in before the snow buries the whole campus. But he might not be getting buried alone, which might be less irritating than he thinks.

(Secret Santa for @katmotif )

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. And since we’ve no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

AO3 LINK

The sky was growing dark outside, and stars would be twinkling into view if it weren’t for the thick blanket of clouds cushioning the sky. The air was crisp and cold, warning of frost and even colder weather to come.

After days of threatening, and warnings from the campus weather service that nobody heeded, the clouds that had been looming all week were finally fulfilling every student’s wish. Flakes of snow drifted silently from the heavens, dusting the roofs of buildings and cars alike.

While it was getting dark, it was not quite late enough for the streets to be abandoned. So occasionally a car would trundle past, making spotlights in the snow with its headlights. Or a particularly unlucky student would be seen trudging back to their dorm room through the gathering drifts.

One such student was Lie Ren, who was shuffling back to his dorm after a day of studying at the local coffee joint. As soon as the flakes started actually accumulating, he’d waved goodbye to his roommate Jaune, who was one of the unlucky employees, and had headed out the door.

Ren didn’t have a car, and he usually elected to walk around campus instead of employing some sort of transportation. So if he wanted to make it back to his room before the streets became completely un-navigable, he unfortunately had to leave much sooner than normal.

Jaune was not going to have fun biking back through all of this, poor guy.

So there Ren was, messenger bag slung over one shoulder, scarf wrapped tightly around his face, and water soaking through his shoes and into his socks. His breath fogged up the air in front of his face, and, more annoyingly, also fogged up his glasses.

Who needed eyesight anyway? He was seriously debating just taking them off, if only so he could freaking see.

Reaching his building, he swiped his card at the door, waved at the desk attendant, and hiked up all the flights of stairs to his room. He should have the room to himself for the rest of the evening, since Jaune was likely to be occupied at his job for the remainder of the night.

Ren wanted nothing more than to just sit at his desk with a cup of tea and let his mind relax into the comforting haze of schoolwork he already knew the answers to.

All his hopes were dashed when he got nearly tackled to the ground by what looked at first glance like a high-speed ball of cotton candy.

“Reeeeennnn!!” yelled the cotton candy ball, who revealed herself to be Nora Valkyrie. “You’re back already?” she demanded, already dragging him back into his dorm room.

“Nora? How are you here?” he asked, allowing himself to be dragged out of the hallway, through the common area, and into his room. “Did you bully Jaune into giving you his key? Again?” he continued, sighing slightly as he shrugged his scarf off his shoulders.

Nora pouted and plopped herself on his bed, kicking her legs petulantly. “Ren, do you have so little faith in me? I would never! Such baseless accusations, how could you?”

“Nora.” He wasn’t even looking at her as he took off his coat, but he could feel her rolling her eyes at him.

“Okay fine, yeah I did,” she replied, grinning cheekily. “But I promise it’s the last time!”

“Really?” he commented, grabbing his electric kettle and leaving Nora alone in the room to fill it with the water he needed. He didn’t believe her in the slightest. “I don’t believe you in the slightest.”

“Weeeeellll...” he heard Nora trail off noncommittally, in a way that didn’t get Ren’s hopes up at all. “I promise it’s the last time I steal Jaune’s room key!” Ren leveled an unconvinced look at her as he came back into the room. “No really, it is! I’m gonna get Ruby to 3D print me a copy in her next lab!”

She seemed extremely proud of her solution to the problem of how she was going to continue to break into his room. “Nora, I don’t think that’s allowed,” he reminded her, settling the kettle back onto its stand and setting it to boil.

Nora waved him off. “Pffft! Sure it’s not allowed! But it was either this, or breaking out the lock-picking kit Sun got me for my birthday.” Ren reminded himself to remind Jaune to complain to Neptune to yell at his boyfriend for giving Nora the disastrous present. “Besides, you never answered my first question!”

“Which question was that, exactly?” he asked, pulling out a couple of mugs, green tea for him, and specifically the box of non-caffeinated hot chocolate for Nora. Ren’s chances of getting any actual work done were lowered drastically by Nora being here, but they would be non-existent if she managed to get her hands on caffeine.

“Why you’re back so early!” she reminded him, stealing the container of marshmallows before he could stop her. Popping a few in her mouth, she commented, “I thought I’d be waiting around for-EV-er for you!”

“Have you been here that long already?” Ren asked, raising a fond eyebrow at her. He casually pulled the box of marshmallows back out of her hands and ignored her when she pouted. “If you eat all of these, there won’t be any left for your cocoa.”

“So what? They’re still ending up in my belly where they rightfully belong.”

“Now you’re ignoring my question.”

“Hmm? Oh right!” She bounced on his bed, kicking her shoes off to join Ren’s pair placed neatly at the foot of his bed. “But yeah my construction class got cancelled so I got done early. But you usually don’t get back until like freaking midnight!”

It was true. As much as the coffee shop was rarely quiet and he tended to get less work done than he would like, even there he still managed to get sucked into his work and not notice how much time was passing.

More times than not one of the employees would have to usher him out with a sheepish and apologetic smile because he was keeping them from closing up.

“So what’s the deal with that?” she asked, flopping onto her back to stare at him upside down. “Why’re you back already?”

“It’s snowing,” Ren replied simply, nodding at the darkening sky outside his window and the flakes that drifted past. “I wanted to get back before the roads disappeared,” he explained, lifting the whistling kettle off its stand and pouring twin streams of hot water into their mugs.

“What?!” Nora exclaimed, tumbling off his bed and somehow miraculously landing on her feet in a show of nimbleness that definitely would’ve eluded his roommate. “It’s snowing and you didn’t tell me?!”

Ren rolled his eyes at her mock display of offense, hand pressed to her chest and everything. “How was I supposed to know it was going to snow today specifically?” He set his tea to steep in one mug and poured a spoonful of cocoa mix into the other. “You’re the one who’s been waiting all week for this.”

He passed Nora her mug, who had to stop her bouncing to save herself from the burns the sugary drink would definitely give her despite her love of it.

Finally settling down at his desk with his bag and his books and a mountain of papers to finish, Ren got to work on his work. Not his work for work, of course, but damn if his psych professor didn’t make that class feel like a full time job anyway.

Nora started telling him about her day, and his mouth tilted up into a smile in spite of himself. After about a minute her mug was already empty, refilled twice more, and then abandoned. She set it next to his, and without thinking he removed it from the paper she’d set it on, and rotated it so that it faced the same way as his own mug.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ren could see her pacing back and forth and making huge gestures with her arms as she explained some disaster that a fellow stage hand got into. Ren knew that Nora knew that he was only half-listening, but he loved hearing about her day more than he was ready to acknowledge.

He’d comment every so often, and her eyes would light up every time he responded. Even the glimpses he got of her bright-eyed freckle-faced smile were enough to warm him more than the tea ever could.

After about a half an hour of no interruptions, filled with blissful quiet, productive work, and no cocoa refills, he started to get suspicious. Nora not babbling extensively was… oddly off-putting.

It was like when a canary suddenly went silent in a coal mine. You knew something had gone terribly wrong with the universe.

But honestly what was most strange was that he missed her rambling. Ren would’ve thought that she would distract him, but somehow the silence of his room was more deafening than she ever could have been.

He didn’t know how, but he’d gotten used to her stream of consciousness. And now with it gone, when normally he wouldn’t have even noticed that it was happening, its absence was louder than her actual speaking.

Unable to focus on working now, for reasons that eluded him, he sighed and tilted back into his chair. It was really coming down out there, he would barely see the sidewalk outside. And judging by the sky that he couldn’t see, night had well and truly fallen.

And then his eyes landed on Nora.

She was laying sprawled on his bed, one arm looped around his pillow and one hanging over the edge. Still fully clothed, red hair falling like a halo around her head, and completely and utterly asleep.

Well that explained the quiet.

Ren just stared at her for a moment, struck dumb for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate. Something about how he was just now realizing that he’d never seen her quite this peaceful before.

Still fully mobile off course, not even sleep could down Nora Valkyrie completely. Even as he watched she rolled over, pushed the pillow she was holding off the bed, and grumbled something about pancakes under her breath at now finding the pillow missing. Or maybe it was at the missing pancakes, who could say.

But she seemed calm. And exhausted, now that she was keeping still enough for him to really look at her. Dark circles painted the pale skin beneath her eyes, and her naturally frizzy hair stuck up more than even it normally did.

Ren stood up, took one step towards her, and hesitated.

Should he wake her up?

No. He couldn’t wake her up, especially not now that he saw how much she needed the sleep. And, he glanced out the window again, especially not now that the snow was making it dangerous nigh impossible for her to walk back to her own dorm. Even if she wasn’t exhausted Ren didn’t know if he’d be comfortable with her walking back alone in this weather.

And she looked so comfortable, so who was he to move her, really?

Sighing, Ren resolved to let her stay sleeping in his bed and also resolved to bunk on the floor. Or maybe he’d borrow Jaune’s room, as it looked like his roommate had given up on returning home.

After one final sip of tea, he pulled the drawstring to close the blinds and clicked off his lamp. Now the room was lit only by the cool light of the moon. Nora’s hair shone like fire.

He pulled his sweater off, determined that at least one of them would be going to sleep tonight in the correct attire, and folded it neatly. He climbed up onto the bed, intending to pull the blanket more firmly around Nora’s shoulders before leaving, but instead he yelped when she grabbed him and pulled him down.

Lacking the pillow she’d been holding, it looked like she’d made do with him.

Ren froze in her grasp, only remembering to breathe when he saw that she was in fact still asleep. Freckles like a million constellations layered on top of each other speckled their way across her nose and cheeks. Her eyelashes were long and a paler orange than her hair.

Without thinking, Ren wriggled one arm out of her tight grasp and brushed a stray lock of hair off her face.

He froze again, flushed as deep a pink as his eyes, his arm hovering in the air above them. Why the hell did he do that? What if she woke up, what would he do then? What if-

Nora mumbled something else under her breath, and Ren calmed down. He willed the flush out of his face and in froze. Good. Still asleep.

And he was still trapped, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now. Actually...

One arm was pinned to his side, but the other was now free, and having already decided to not wake her up, he instead pulled the blanket up the rest off the way to cover them both.

Shifting as much as he could, he got comfortable and resigned himself to a long night of probably no sleep.

Nora’s grip relaxed, and she nuzzled into his chest. Maybe she somehow knew that he wasn’t going anywhere. This warmed Ren more than the blanket was, and a soft smile spread on his face for a person who was too asleep to notice.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

The snow fell outside, blanketing the world in white flakes. Ren would normally have watched them drift past his window, but he was already fast asleep.

#rwby #lie ren #nora valkyrie #renora #jaune arc #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #seamonkeys #ruby rose #mine #my writing #snowed in #katmotif

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radramblog · 3 years

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Radiohead Retrospective Part 4: We’ve got heads on sticks

Your name is Thom Yorke. You’ve just released what is considered one of the best albums of the 90s, if not of all time, and you’ve achieved a level of fame that at least one band member considers akin to the Beatles. Through the release of OK Computer, you’ve proven that even if people are pretty much over Oasis at this point, British rock bands still rule the airwaves. You’re also stressed the fuck out over just about all of this, and having a very hard time accustoming to the life of a celebrity- let alone the usual mental health issues.

What will you do?

Apparently, the answer was to write the fourth album to be as far away from the previous few as possible, seeking influence from IDM groups like Aphex Twin, jazz stuff, and just some bizarro instruments and experimentation and leaving a lot of the “rock” stuff behind. The primary genre listed for Kid A is usually Electronica or Ambient, with various off-kilter rock subgenres lagging behind, crying “you’re still gonna do guitars and stuff, right?”

Well…not as much anymore. But this era of Radiohead, this career-suicidal swerve, still proved monumentally successful, and showed that the band still had it, and that sometimes artistic risks do pay dividends.

A side note: I usually link music videos for the tracks I discuss as part of each post, as you’ll have seen in previous parts of this series. Kid A, however, doesn’t have any singles, and it sure doesn’t have any music videos. So…maybe just listen yourself. I’m probably in over my head here anyway.

I think the first 5 notes of Everything In Its Right Place are some of the most iconic in all of music.

Some personal background- Kid A was the first Radiohead I ever listened to. A particular cool and good mate of mine was a fan in high school, but I’d never listened to them at all, and I trusted his opinion musically, so I went to buy one of their CDs the next time I was at the shop. And for whatever reason, the cheapest one was Kid A at 10 bucks, and I didn’t want to gamble more than that, so that’s the one I got.

So the opening notes of Everything In Its Right Place were the first Radiohead I ever heard. And considering how much I obsessed over this band, in high school and beyond, it’s no surprise that this song is one of my favourites.

Not only did this song introduce me to Radiohead, it was effectively a gateway track for electronic music in general. This was the early 10s, and the majority of what I knew as electronic stuff was the EDM that was drowning the airwaves at the time. I hated that stuff out of principle, because being a hipster like that was definitely a personality. I don’t think I would ever have gotten into Vaporwave, into IDM, or into any electronic music the way I eventually would were it not for Everything In Its Right Place.

Now that I’ve spent 250 words talking about myself and not the actual song, we should probably stop that. Everything In Its Right Place is defined by this steady build of layering vocals and effects onto the relatively calm synth line, distorted vocals and word salad lyrics and manipulated noises growing and getting more chaotic before it just stops- the vocals fade out, the effects drop, and you’re left with the synth line- except it’s been slowly changing itself the whole time, and you don’t realise because you’ve been distracted by everything else at the same time.

It’s worth noting (and I don’t know if this was the case with OK Computer, because I don’t have an original copy of that one) that this was an album without liner notes, without the lyrics in the cover booklet. But at least in this case, the lyrics don’t matter as much as the v i b e. At least, that’s what I think.

On the topic of unintelligible lyrics, Kid A has a title track! I believe literally two Radiohead albums do this, the other being The Bends (though Hail to the Thief and In Rainbows do appear as lyrics). The song itself is an ambient, quiet piece that feels something like a twisted nursery tune- incredibly affected vocals, a syncopated (?) percussion, and a synth (I think???) that…I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels nursery-rhyme-y. If you’ve heard this song a few times, or you know what to listen for, you can piece together the lyrics somewhat- and they are, frankly, kind of unsettling. What is standing in the shadows at the end of your bed, can it please leave? And imagery of the Pied Piper is always either extremely silly or extremely unnerving, with this clearly leaning towards the latter. There’s a lot going on here- especially for a track most probably wouldn’t listen to outside the context of the full album. I know I generally don’t- not the kind of thing I generally am in the mood for.

We’re at 850+ words, and we’re only up to The National Anthem? Fuuuuck. Well, anyone who wasn’t on board the IDM train can at least appreciate this one more, it’s got an actual bassline. A killer one, at that, that drives the whole track. Well, you know, that and the B R A S S. Seriously, it sounds like they invited a marching band to this bad boy. The combination ends up sounding mostly like controlled chaos, a jazz band traffic jam wound together by that B A S S. But the bass can’t hold it forever, and eventually that shit breaks free and just, it just honks all over the place.

I’m frustratingly running out of things to say about this song I really like, as opposed to the other songs I really liked. Unfortunately, ya boi forgot to take his neurotypicalification pills today, and so I’m getting very distracted. Hopefully, that slightly unhinged nature suits the album somewhat.

The next song, How To Disappear Completely, is a Big Mood with a fun story attached. The main lyrics- I’m not here, this isn’t happening- were allegedly something none other than Michael Stipe from R.E.M. told Thom to help him deal with that massive stage fright that came with Getting Big. Fun trivia aside, this song is gorgeous, luscious with massive strings, an acoustic bend, aethereal vocals, and a background drone running through the thing that makes sure your hair is always a little on end through the thing. It’s a song whose lyrics are an attempt to escape anxiety, whose instrumentation serves more to reinforce it- a calm, melodic piece that builds into nervous swells and threatening strings. A song about fighting your fear, and losing.

Fuck me it’s a bit depressing isn’t it. It’s potentially the most emotionally revealing song the album has- a lot of the lyricism on other tracks is more metaphorical, or subtle, but the meaning in How To Disappear Completely is evident even just from the title. You get lost in the strings and they go from calming, to imposing, to downright menacing (and then back again) in the song’s final minute.

Treefingers, on the other hand, has a lot less to say, and by that I mean it’s an instrumental. A very atmospheric, ambient one, and thereby one I don’t have a lot to say about. I’m not sure I’m particularly good at commenting on regular music, but this kinda thing is a whole different animal. I have no idea how to interact with discussing this. I like it? I will say, that one note right at the end, that echoes for a bit, the one piece of clarity in this muddled, reverbed sphere, feels especially poignant, for reasons I cannot describe.

We go from ambient instrumental to arguable the most rock-song-like track on this album, Optimistic, certified banger that it is. Some might argue that it doesn’t fit here, but like, did they even hear the lyrics? The bridge? It more that deserves its place on one of the best albums around. The little way the guitar scales up during the chorus is excellent, the proggy drums and riffs are glorious, it’s just a very good rock song.

Also this is the first song with the lyric “dinosaurs roaming the earth”, which, aside from being a bit of a non-sequitur, would return two albums later. And I’m really looking forward to that one.

In Limbo is a song I kind of always forget exists until I hear it again. It’s antimemetic, the way the song goes slipping from my mind until I hear those opening notes again. I’m going to be honest, it’s probably because it’s also the most mid song on the album. Far from bad, but it isn’t doing anything that How to Disappear Completely or Optimistic aren’t doing better. If I had to remove any track from this album, it might be this one?

Watch me get fucking lynched from the fandom for that one, if I ever post this to r/Radiohead or whatever. Which I might, though as much as I’d like more people to read my things I’m also extremely anxious about the potential response. Like the album I’m discussing today, I’m terrified of fame.

Incidentally, In Limbo is also the shortest track on the album (Treefingers beats it by 11 seconds), though this isn’t initially obvious online at least, because people keep messing with Motion Picture Soundtrack. But we’re not there yet, hang on.

We go from the forgettable (to me) In Limbo to the utterly mesmerizing Idioteque. Anxious but danceable, confusing but emotive, messy but tightly controlled. I love this fucking song to death. The reason I got the particular Radiohead poster that I did was because it has lyrics from this on it.

I’ve heard that lyrics for this album were largely pulled from a hat, and nowhere is that more clear than here (or maybe Everything In Its Right Place). Despite this, there’s a pretty clear theme in them, a continuation of some of the themes of this and the last albums. A condemnation of wealth and cowardice in the face of ecological disaster. In the form of an apocalypse disco.

What a lot of people don’t know about this track is that it actually samples an extremely old electronic music piece- one written in 1973, on a particularly old computer. The track, mild und leise, is a very interesting track considering its age- I’m reminded of Selected Ambient Works by Aphex Twin- not so much musically, but about how that reason was as influential as it was because it was the first time songs had sounded like that, because it was the first time songs could sound like that- I suppose it’s somewhat similar in that way, if older. These pieces and their composers inexorably linked by the allure of technology, and how that could be used to define new eras in music history- in Radiohead’s case, it certainly defined the next few albums in their lifespan.

Jesus mild und leise is long, it’s still going as I write this. I need to get back to Kid A, man!

Idioteque leads directly into Morning Bell, admittedly another less memorable song. Largely percussion lead, plenty of falsetto, and with a very unsubtle theme if you listen to the lyrics. I recall seeing someone saying that “cut the kids in half” was a really surprising and spooky line, and, yeah, sure, it sort of is, but it’s only particularly bad if you don’t pay attention for the rest of it. It’s about divorce, dude, it’s not subtle.

Or apparently not, according to one interview, but Thom said the interpretation isn’t invalid, so haha still winning baybeeeee.

I think the only part of this I really can’t do without is the outro, because the last minute and a half of this song is really cool. The mumbled lyrics go really well with the rising percussion and eerie effects that end the track.

Our final song is Motion Picture Soundtrack, or, Exit Music (for Walt Disney’s Depression Nap). This and Street Spirit I think are what really cement Radiohead’s reputation for brutal closers, both of them being tragic but hauntingly beautiful in different ways. In this case, it’s the instrumentation- glittering harps attempting the echo 50s Disney. There’s actually a version of this song from the OK Computer era with extremely different instrumentation, piano rather than organ, and no harps (and a third verse that is utterly brutal). Regardless, this is the song they chose to close the apocalypse that Kid A is on- the final lyric being “I will see you in the next life”, as the glittering echoes into the night. Poignant and tragic, but a little hopeful- the next life hopefully won’t have the struggles and pain of this one.

And then, of course, there’s the hidden track. Nicknamed Genchildren by some (that’s just the username of the dude who uploaded it to Napster back in the day), officially known as Untitled, and the true closer to the album. With Spotify slapping it right at the end of Motion Picture Soundtrack, it’s not clear the true nature of this song- it’s actually hidden on the original album, after several minutes of silence, just long enough that you’ve forgotten you left the player running (or you’re still crying from Motion Picture Soundtrack). I don’t think there’s a real word for what this sounds like other than heavenly, and incredibly brief piece I’ve heard compared to the pearly gates. After all, if we end on “I will see you in the next life”, then what can this be but that?

Thus closes Kid A, a gorgeous and powerful album, yet an insane swerve for any rock band to pull, not just Radiohead. A bold strategy, and yet it paid off for them- Kid A would not only be massively influential, it was also massively successful both critically and commercially- but not to the standard of OK Computer before it. But they obviously weren’t trying to do OK Computer part 2, just as that album was deliberately not The Bends part 2.

Kid A would pretty much get a Part 2, though, less than a year later. And it’s that album we’ll be discussing next week, obviously. Until then.

#ramble #music #radiohead #kid a #idm #idm has to be the most pretentious acronym on the planet

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stellar-imagines · 5 years

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HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝Mineta’s harassment.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Aizawa Shouta ]

「Headcanons of Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki and Aizawa defending their S/O when Mineta harasses them.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

♤ Let's be real, Midoriya is nice to everyone. He can't really say that he's close with the class's pervert but he just thinks he's a friend/classmate, nothing more, nothing less. It's usually Kaminari and Mineta who talk about girls. Unlike Kaminari who knows his limits, Mineta often takes it too far. So when Mineta and Kaminari were talking about girls, he's usually at lost, unsure of what to say and ends up just nodding to whatever they were saying.

♤ Everyone knows that Midoriya tries to solve everything with words and through communication, he rarely resorts with force and violence. Just talking about you was fine but he gets really unhappy when Mineta is talking about your boobs, ass or whatever. This boy just tells Mineta to stop treating his girlfriend like some sort of meat and respect her as a person.

♤ He gets super uncomfortable when he notices Mineta looking at your direction and giving you that look, the one akin to when a drunkard has his eyes looked on a woman. Midoriya is silently glaring at his friend and hoping that you wouldn't notice this pervert's eyes on you. He tries to ignore it but if the staring had gone for far too long, he takes it upon himself to reprimand Mineta to look somewhere else.

♤ If you're the type who can stand up for themselves, Midoriya's worries lessen. He'd still be there to make sure Mineta doesn't take things too far. However, if you're the quiet-shy type who has social anxiety 24/7, he's on full offense and defense. He makes sure to stick by your side or at least have the girls accompany you.

♤ When it does get too far, Midoriya would step in front of you, glaring at his classmate with a furious look in his eyes. He tries not to expose you to violence. But when Mineta is talking about you behind your back, he won't hesitate to hit Mineta if he touches you inappropriately. And it won't be those gentle slaps. It will be One For All 100% or Shoot Style. And viola, the filth of Class 1-A had been removed!

♤ Conclusion, he won't hesitate to beat the shit out of anyone who dares to make you uncomfortable, cry or anything. And you bet he's gonna throw someone off a cliff if someone dares to hurt you.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

☆ Bakugou pretends to not pay attention to you but he actually is. To begin with, he sneaked glances at you when he thinks no one was looking and he was pretty damn good at it. This goes on until you start dating. Until one day, Kirishima spots him looking at you and all hell breaks loose.

☆ Without you noticing, Bakugou became your boyfriend and at the same time, a guard dog. He's very observant and he prefers to trail behind you a bit when walking together. But he can't escape when you want to hold hands. If someone dares to make fun of you, that person might as well just play dead because Bakugou is gonna hunt them down and make them regret saying whatever they said about you.

☆ Okay, everyone knows not to mess with Bakugou's territory you, or they will face serious consequences. It's not a rule that he established himself, that reminder is drilled into their heads the moment your relationship was revealed.

☆ So that one time Mineta decides to harass you were either before you were dating or when no one knew that you were dating yet. Whether he just talks about you or stares at you, Bakugou is already storming over and planning a murder. If he goes as far as to touch you. Guess what, Shinsou? There's a seat open for you. Welcome to 1-A.

☆ Whether Mineta is aware of your relationship or not, he won't get off the hook that easily. The girls are there to beat his ass for you if you're too shaken. Maybe it was because Bakugou never did anything when Mineta was up to no good, that the pervert thinks that doing his usual thing was not a problem. But, he was so wrong when he met Bakugou's deadly gaze. His looks can kill. The blonde didn't even have the chance to use his quirk because his looks alone were enough to make Mineta retreat.

☆ Bakugou looks freaking scary when it happens that it haunts your classmates for a long time. It will take them a long time to find something scarier than the look on Bakugou's face when someone messes with you. Stage fright? What is that? Think about this then you'll forget about that stupid fright.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

♡ Similarly to Midoriya, he chooses not to use unnecessary violence. Most of the time, he tries to talk it out. To begin with, Todoroki wasn't well acquainted with most of his classmates. He's usually chill with everything. Just like some of his classmates, he never really paid any heed to Mineta when he was talking about girls.

♡ But now that he's dating you, he's gotten more conscious of what people say. He might be a bit dense when it comes to relationships but he's learning! He's able to identify jealousy and all the weird, fluttery feelings he gets around you. But when Mineta starts talking excitedly about your features, he was able to separate the feeling fro jealousy quite easily. It was just pure disgust.

♡ Now, Todoroki doesn't really speak and only does so when it's necessary. He never said anything when the pervert is talking about the girls and all that. For starters, Mineta is a pervert who frequently lusts after and sexually harasses his female classmates, even though that's far from a hero should do. Boy gets mad when Mineta brings your name up.

♡ Todoroki opts to glare at Mineta when he talks about you, a disapproving stare sent his way. When his glaring does nothing to solve the situation, he will warn Mineta with words, telling him to stop because it's really disrespectful. He tries to stay calm and manages to do so, at least in expression-wise but deep inside, he's troubled. He doesn't like other guys talking about you like that. Sure you had the looks that attracted several men but he can't blame you.

♡ When Mineta takes it too far, to the point you were starting to get uncomfortable and bothered by his comments, Todoroki gets a bit serious, knowing how words weren't the best way to solve this. He didn't want to resort to threats but with the way you were behaving, he can't control himself. He tries to keep casualties to a minimum so he would step forward and face Mineta, glaring at him with eyes that say 'You piss me off, I will turn you into a block of ice'.

♡ Afterward, Mineta never had the guts to talk about you inappropriately. Todoroki sticks close to you from then on, not wanting anyone making you uncomfortable again.

AIZAWA SHOUTA

♧ Aizawa is seriously sick of everything. He always shows up in class looking ready to pass out at any second. His students were usually rowdy, making noise before he showed up for homeroom. There was the group of daredevils who annoyed Bakugou, Mineta screaming about something and Iida's loud voice that tried to overwhelm the crowd, barking orders to make them keep it down.

♧ You happen to be a teacher who was in charge of helping him with stuff, to put it simply, you were like an assistant of some sort. And he was so grateful that you were there to help if not, he would've been twice as tired than he is normally. He has students' homework to grade, wake up early every day, deal with his students and many other things.

♧ Let's face it, everyone is annoyed with Mineta. He was always making lewd comments about girls and in some cases, going as far as to harass them. Aizawa was rarely there to stop him but it seems like everyone in Class 1-A deal with that annoying grape pervert. Something that he's really grateful of. He trusts his students to deal with whatever problems themselves but he makes sure that they know he's there if they need help with anything.

♧ It was no surprise that you had been a target of Mineta's harassment. He drools over any women it seems. You were mature enough to handle the situation yourself but it didn't change the fact that it was annoying you. On one hand, he's very proud to see you standing up for yourself and the students. However, he's irritated at the fact that he can't just expel him on the spot.

♧ Aizawa usually looks like he doesn't care but when push comes to shove, he's not afraid to speak his mind. After all, he is known to expel students who he feels are not suited for UA, he's rigid and strict when necessary, and also has little tolerance for disobedient behavior. Doesn't hesitate to threaten Mineta when Aizawa catches him harassing anyone.

♧ He's very mature about the issue. Makes sure that you're alright before dealing with the issue—aka Mineta by disposing of him in many different ways. Ties him up and throws him into the trash, because that’s where he belongs. Takes you by the hand and cuddles ensure. And during those cuddle sessions, he reminds you not to wear any weird clothing.

♧ “Listen to me, I want to make an announcement, from today onwards, Shinsou Hitoshi will be your classmate. Don’t be annoying. Mineta? I don’t know, he dropped out or something.”

Total: 1623 words Published: 21.08.2019

We’re open for some limited edition prompts featuring Fall and Halloween! Read more here!

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ Oof, please pretend they’re all dating ok? Trying to finish up as much as we can and post em all! PS: we love you for sending us something, anon (´,,•ω•,,) ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! We’ve done our best, please praise us. Hope you like it, anon! We’re happy to hear you say that you love our blog and we’re so sorry to make you wait so long for this (･ω･`〃) ― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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mhdiaries · 4 years

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Wave 3 Operetta Diary

July the Twenty-fifth

Hey Fynn! I’m going to keep a diary. I’ll send it to you when school starts and you can read about my adventures...if I have any. I sure wish you’d join the modern monster world and get yourself a computer or at least an iCoffin so we could exchange email or texts. Having to send everything by ghost post seems like it takes forever, not that we don’t have it, but you get my drift. Anyway, the morning after the going away party y’all threw for us - which was clean outta fright - we caught a scream boat and headed up river to the “home of the boos”. I talked daddy and mama into lettin’ me go see the ghost of “you know who”. Daddy kinda rolled his eyes and said okay - betcha if it was a bunch of them old opera harpies all wearing helmets with horns sticking out he’d a jumped up and clicked his heels. At least he didn’t say no and I could smell the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches before I got there. Turns out there was a jam session and I hadn’t seen that many singers and players gathered in one spot since the day the music died. They even let me sit in with them on a set. I had to promise not to sing though. Must’ve heard what happened down in Terrorbone Parish I reckon. During the jam I used that new lick you taught me and even that big ol’ werewolf guitar player you like so much howled and said, “Oh Red, I’m gonna be singing the blues if you don’t teach me that.” I told him I could show him but I couldn’t teach him. For that he needed to come find you. I was sad to leave but daddy wanted to head east so he could go check out some old opera house that was supposed to be grand. Turns out I enjoyed it more that he did since they weren’t exactly performing the kind of music he expected :)

July the Twenty-seventh

How did we get to the new opera house? Well there’s this underground train that somehow connects to the catacombs below Monster High. That’s where the opera house is, not in Monster High but under it. I actually met a group of ghouls from Monster High at one of the stations while we were waiting to change trains. They were all on the MH Fear Squad and were headed to some kind of competition or training or something. I didn’t really understand it all but they all seemed very nice although the captain of the team was a bit high and mighty for my taste. Got to go now, sorry so short.

August the First

We have mostly settled in although we still got some unpacking left to do. My guitars all made the trip just fine too. I was worried but I guess I shouldn’t have been. Those cases you gave me protected everything just like you said they would. The opera house is in pretty ghoul shape although there hasn’t been a production done here in many years. I reckon that’s why we’re here, well at least why daddy and mama are here. It’s a whole bunch different from the riverboat opera house though. This one has a big ole pipe organ that sounds like a whole fleet of riverboats coming down the “big muddy”. Of course the first thing daddy did was hop on that thing and play Toccata and Fugue in D minor...who didn’t see that coming? Later on I lugged my amp out to the middle of stage, plugged her in and played a little riff that lasted long enough for daddy to come running in and tell me to stop polluting his opera house with “that noise”. Whatever. I didn’t feel like arguing although I did finally quote that thing you quoted to me - “There’s only two kinds of music. Good music and the other kind.” To which daddy said, “Yes and I would have you play the other kind somewhere else.” Reckon I should have seen that coming too. I’m sure in no time though daddy will have this place snoring with “good music”. ;p

August the Seventh

I explored the catacombs a little more today. A ghoul could seriously get lost down there if she wasn’t paying attention. It’s like there’s a passages that go every which a way. Some just dead end and others seem like they go on forever. Some of the things I discovered are:

- An underground lake with a big island in the middle that has an old castle on it

- A passage that leads from the zombie side of town straight up to Monster High

- Lots of rooms and halls blocked by doors that you need some kind of key to get past.

I also found, or I guess I should say Memphis found, my new practice room/recording studio! I would have totally missed it because it just looked like a crack in the wall to me but Memphis must have sensed something though ‘cause he shimmied through that crack quick as a gnat’s sneeze. Before I knew it, a section of what had just looked like part of the catacombs wall swung open like a door and there was Memphis hanging upside down by a thread with a big fly-eatin’ grin on his face. The walls inside were covered by some kind of moss, not like the stuff that hangs off the cypress trees back home, but more like a soft carpet and it lights up! How creepy sweet is that? I have no idea what the room was originally used for but there are power outlets on one wall and a big table in the middle. Memphis and me brought all our equipment down here, cranked everything up and just went to town! You want to know what the best part is? When the door is shut you can be standing with you ear pressed right up against it and still not hear what’s going on inside. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place where I could play and sing without worrying about who might be listening. Maybe moving here won’t be so bad after all.

August the Eighteenth

Yes I have gotten out of the catacombs and my new recording studio to check out the town although I probably wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t needed to get some new strings. I ended up at the Maul - they’ve got a pretty good music store and some shops where I might actually find some clothes I like but you know me - I spent most of my time in the music store. They have a scary slick selection of guitars - nothin’ like you’ve made for me of course but I played a few anyway cause they just looked so sad hanging up there on the wall all by their lonesome. I was just kinda picking a little bit when I got the feeling some monster was watching me. I turned around and sure enough there was this little frizzy haired werewolf staring at me. Now you’d be proud of me cause you know normally I don’t like being interrupted when I’m playing but there was just somethin’ about her that made me call her over. I asked, “Ain’t you never seen a monster play guitar before?”

“Not like you,” she said.

“Good answer ghoul friend.” Her name was Howleen and after I played some more she asked if I would teach her. I put the guitar back on its stand and looked at her for a minute. “Why do you want to learn to play guitar?” She sorta shrugged a little and said, “I guess because no other monster I know plays guitar.” I shook my head and told her that from the time I was a little ghoul all I’ve ever wanted to do was play and sing. “If I’m not actually playing or practicing I’m thinking about playing or practicing and if you took lessons from me I’d expect you to be the same way.” I knew she wasn’t ready for that. I did show her a few chords though and she actually caught on scary quick. She’s got long fingers and good ears. I told her that she ought to sign up for lessons with one of the music store’s guitar creatures and when she had learned everything they had to teach her to come and see me. She screamed all right with that and the music store even threw me in a set of free strings for getting Howleen to sign up with one of their instructors. Who knows, maybe she’ll end up loving to play as much as I do...hey...I said maybe didn’t I?

August the Twenty-fifth

Monster High ain’t like our one room ghoul house back on the delta. I got a chance to really check it out today after Headless Headmistress Bloodgood sent daddy and mama a note asking if they would send me up to see her. So I made my way up from the opera house to her office and introduced myself. She seemed very prim and proper and I was wondering how long it’d be before I’d have a special seat with my name on it outside her office. She told me shad had just been going through my records from the school back home and that she was pleased to have me as a student at Monster High. She also said, “I will expect excellence from you and neither shoddy work nor laziness will be tolerated or rewarded.” I said I reckon I expected the same from myself as long as she didn’t expect me to be the same kind of formal phantoms as my daddy and mama or to back down every time some monster said “boo” to me cause that ain’t who I am! I sat back and crossed my arms cause I expected she was going to give me a lecture on rules and manners and obligations to our monter legacy but instead she just kinda leaned forward a little, put her head in her hands and said, “I understand your father’s performances have been known to bring down the house, but I’ll expect you to blow the roof off this sucker.” Right then and there you could have knocked me over with skeeter’s wing. Monster High may turn out to be a place where every monster has to play off the same sheet music.

August the Thirty-first

Hey Fynn! There was a dandy meteor shower last night. I took that cypress body acoustic you made for me and went down to the beach. I pretended that they sky was a sheet of music and each shooting star that fell was a single note. I played until my fingers gave out and then I just sat back and enjoyed the show. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to keep up with my diary once school starts but I want you to know that even if I’m not glad all over I think I’m going to like it here just fine.

#monster high #monster high diary #operetta #wave 3

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whumpqin · 4 years

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The Party, Part One

Haha......... this is a lot longer than I thought it would be. So this comes out in two parts, now! Yay!

CW: Modern slavery, creepy/intimate whumper, emotional whump, nightmares, pet whump, collars, conditioning, brainwashing, brief mention of a panic attack, touch starvation, accidental self harm, knife mention, dubcon mention / implied dubcon, and probably some other things I’ve forgotten! Message me if further tagging is needed.

Word Count: 3,348

“Where’s your fucking MANNERS, HUH?” the figure shouted at him, swinging a large black baton that he has a feeling could shatter him with one hit. He hadn’t been hurt just yet, but he had a feeling that he would be. He always was.

His other half whines, curling against him in fear. He gathers him up into his arms, a promise without words.

I’ll protect you. Don’t worry.

The shadows wafting off the figure, squared off with thorns that prickle underneath, radiate a strength that makes them both cower. He must pick his words carefully to appease them, to make sure that this didn’t escalate. If he said something wrong, he might never see his other half again.

That was unacceptable.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry. I’ll learn my manners. I’ll be good,” he promises, making a show of looking down on the ground, as if terrified to make eye contact.

It’s a total lie, and both him and the shadows know it. He can tell by the way their eyes narrow, but he isn’t afraid of being hurt by those callous eyes, even though he feels the cracks underneath his skin shift uncomfortably. His bones scream from the beating he had been taking since the beginning of time, begging him not to do this.

“Get your ass over here. I won’t have you disrespect me.” The baton raises, cutting the chain between the two of them in one fell swoop.

He slowly stood up, granting his other half a gentle pat on the shoulder for comfort. His feet dragged as he moved forward, but he forced himself to kneel in front of the shadow, ignoring the way the thorns almost seemed to graze across his skin. Infecting him with the same prickling sensation he knows won’t wash off despite his best efforts. He forced his eyes to look up, hardened and with a tense jaw.

They both know what is going to happen. The shadow will make a show of it, and everyone will laugh.

It’s hard to tell if there’s an audience, but he can feel the multitude of eyes staring at him from his back. He dared a glance backwards, but only sees his other half pressed tightly into a corner and crying. There’s a gratefulness that he can’t see what’s to come. He makes a note to stay quiet, just for him.

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you, I think,” the figure muttered, raising the large baton. He always said that. He always has his fun.

They swing directly for his face.

Emerson shot up in the bed with a heavy gasp.

His body is slick with sweat, soaking the bed, sheets, and blankets as if water had been dumped into it. He panted desperately, as he forced air into his lungs that he’s sure that he had been holding in his sleep, regardless of how much they protested. Emerson kept his eyes open, staring at nothing and everything. He’s completely alone, and he felt a pang in his chest when he noticed the empty space beside him.

He’s alone. Alone and not safe. Emerson forces his hands to his neck, curling in on himself while the pressed fingers underneath his collar. It’s a hopeful reminder that he is safe. He’s safe. There’s no danger.

The collar means you’re safe. The collar means you’re good.

Take off that fucking collar and come over here, ‘552.

Panic set in regardless.

He forced himself to get up and get into the shower, refusing to look at himself in the mirror as he took his soaked clothes off and dropped them on the floor. Emerson didn’t want to see the bruises that were just beginning to fade. It’s a reminder that it’s just going to start all over again today, even though he’s tried hard not to think about it. But his mind ticks down like a doomsday clock regardless, waiting for the deadline.

The party is tonight.

Emerson fell apart in the shower, where no one would be able to see or disturb him. Sobs wracked his whole body, making him shake from every one as the water rolled down from his shoulders. He clung to the sounds like breath, trying to use it to force the panic from under his skin so that he could just be, and he prays that no one waits outside of his door.

Eventually, when he felt numb and there were no more tears left to shed, he finished his shower.

He dried himself off and put on the clothes that he set aside the night before. He went downstairs, and there he realized that he was up surprisingly early. His nightmare must have woken him up in the middle of the night and he didn’t realize because there was no clock in his room.

You don’t need a clock to know when to perform your duties, do you?

No, Master Henrick.

Emerson sighed, considering his options. He could go back to his sweat-ridden bed and try for more sleep, hoping that he would wake up in time to get everything done today, or he could get his chores done early and have some time for reading, if Master Henrick allowed him. Wait until it was time to put on a show for the guests that would arrive. Pray that they didn’t kill him this time.

It was against his better judgement, but he decided on the latter. If he looked like he had proper work ethic, maybe Master Henrick would reward him. Emerson was never the favored one, but he could always hope.

Especially when he knew what the reward would be.

He meandered his way to the kitchen. It’s lonely here, empty and spotless brown counters with a tan marble island for eating, but it’s one of the only places that he can lose himself in his work for a little while and have some peace of mind. Emerson got to work prepping all of the food needed for the day, setting aside just enough to make breakfast in a few hours.

As he worked, he couldn’t help but to let his mind drift to the events of the evening. How the room needed to be decorated, what to make sure he needed to keep in mind while he organized everything. What Master Henrick’s tastes were. How to orientate everything so it was facing the platform that he was going to be on. Everyone, of course, was going to need a proper seat so that they could see-

Emerson cut himself across the index finger.

A sharp hiss slipped through his teeth as he raised the offending finger up above his heart. He found a cloth to serve as a makeshift bandage while he searched for the real bandages that he stashed somewhere in the cupboards. When he did find them he took care to clean the wound, dry it, and then wrap it delicately enough that he wouldn’t put too much pressure onto the wound.

He took a brief moment to breathe through the pain, which felt much worse than it should’ve been, and got back to work.

At some point, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Emerson flicks his gaze backwards to not distract himself too much, catching sight of a wrinkled suit with no tie and tousled hair. Has it been that long already?

Master Henrick lazily surveyed his work, soft and warm brown eyes scouring the countertop before plucking some scraps of apple skin that Emerson had cut up earlier.

“Good morning, Master Henrick,” he greeted, curling his hand at the same time to try and hide the cut across his finger.

His wrist was grabbed forcefully.

“What’s this?” Master Henrick muttered, fighting against Emerson to raise his hand for both of them to see. “I don’t remember doing this to you.”

“I-I’m sorry. I accidentally cut myself. Just a small accident, it shouldn’t bother any plans,” Emerson said quickly. “I’ll have the bandage off soon.”

“No no, keep it on until tonight. I don’t want it getting infected.” His voice was gentle as he spoke, pressing on the wound carefully as if to check how bad it was. Emerson whined through his nose, unable to choke back the sound, and Master Henrick let him go.

Emerson forced himself to go back to work in spite of the throb in his finger now, but listened closely in case anything else was said between them. And, if he knew his owner well, there would be more words.

“Orifel will be down soon. I hope you’ll have breakfast ready by then?” A hand brushed a lock of hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. He tried not to shudder at the touch.

“Yes, Master Henrick.” Emerson kept his voice muted on purpose, an attempt to not let the sudden burst of excitement in his chest show too much.

“I’ll feed him this morning. Wouldn’t want any blood to get in his food, of course. But I’ll let the two of you talk for a bit,” he explained. It’s complete bullshit and they both know it, but Emerson nods like he hasn’t heard the real meaning of the words.

If you hadn’t hurt yourself when you’re not supposed to, you would have gotten to spend more time with him.

“Yes, Master Henrick. I’ll have everything ready very soon.” The words very nearly choke in his throat but he forced them out anyway.

“What is it, Emerson?” Fingers tilted his head to the side, up to the taller man who watched him with careful precision. “There’s nothing to be afraid of here, we’re not putting on a show in the kitchen. It’s just you and me. And Orifel I suppose, if he decides to show up.”

“Master Henrick, he, he can’t see to go down the stairs.” Emerson forces a smile to tug at the corner of his lips, because Master Henrick lets a low chuckle out through his nose. “But, the party tonight. The show. I’m assuming that I’m decorating it? Like normal? I know how exact you like things to be.”

“Is that what’s making you so nervous? Oh, Emerson, are you getting early stage fright?” It’s said in a slightly demeaning tone, like he’s a child. Of course I’d fucking get stage fright over that How could I not? “Don’t worry, you’re trained just how they like. There will be no problem on that end.”

Master Henrick selected another apple skin. “You will be decorating it like normal, though. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, I think you know where everything is. But I’ll be handling the display of tools. Those are mine.”

“Of course.”

They were talking about this as if those tools and that party were just harmless things. As if they both didn’t know what they were going to be used for.

“You’ll do just fine, Emerson.” He repressed a shudder as Master Henrick ran his fingers through his hair, down his neck, and finally hooking into the collar that lied safely against his skin. He tugged, pulling him close to press a kiss to his forehead. “Look at me.” Emerson swallowed, eyes flicking over to Master Henrick’s. “Don’t touch Orifel. Let him touch you, but don’t you dare touch him. Understand?”

“...Yes, Master Henrick.” His gaze dropped to the counter, where he had a bowl of mixed greens and spices.

“Good.” The hands left. As they drew away Master Henrick snatched another apple skin piece, and he walked away without another word.

Leaving Emerson alone in the tense, suffocating silence, while his skin screamed from the empty feeling the hands had left.

He decidedly just focused on cooking. Focused on trying not to hurt his hands any more than he already had.

At some point he heard another set of footsteps approach the kitchen, softer and more light. If he wasn’t listening for them, Emerson wondered if he would have noticed.

“Em?” His body tensed and he was thankful that he couldn’t see it. He forced a smile into his voice.

“Good morning, Ori. How are you?” Polite. Terse. It came out just like he planned. Orifel worked that same smile on his face that he put on for Emerson. His hands reached out, finding the island in the middle of the kitchen and moving them back and forth until he found the chair.

“Green.” His favorite color, of course. Orifel slowly sat down, beginning to kick his legs back and forth when he settled. “How are you, Emmy?”

Emerson slid the final omelette he had been making onto a plate. “I’m… gray today. But I’m just tired. Wanted to get an early start today.” When Orifel frowned, he panicked. “I’ll be fine, though! Just uh… How, how was last night?”

Orifel’s head tilted, and then he sighed. “Pink and green, like normal. Not black, though. It’s never black,” he said, smiling in that mischievous manner that made his nose wrinkle. It fell just as quick as it had appeared, but Emerson couldn’t help but mimic that smile even if Orifel couldn’t see it. “If you’re tired you should get some rest, if you can. Early start or not, it won’t do anyone any good if you don’t feel good, Em.”

“I already said, I’ll be fine.” When Orifel’s sightless eyes stared blankly in his direction, wide and waiting, he quickly caved. “I’ll try to get a nap in or something later, if I can. But anyway, green and pink are good, at least.”

“Yeah, it was nice. I liked it a lot. I’ll spare you the details though, I know how it makes you feel. But it was… good. It was good.”

Emerson glanced down to see Orifel’s hands worrying at themselves. Fingernails pressed gently into the skin, making marks but not harming. He made a note to keep an eye on that, but he could tell from the way that Orifel stopped and started that he was very aware of it.

“Um… good.” He didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t have come off as desperate or like a request. Instead he just stayed quiet.

He hated when it was quiet.

“Hey, Em… can I… touch your face?” Emerson winced at the sound of him practically throwing the cooking pan into the sink, turning to see Orifel cringed. “Yellow. Um, I mean, if you’re done plating the food up.”

“I’m done now.” At least, everything was plated up enough that he was more than done. He painstakingly set the rest of the pans down in the sink before making his way over to Orifel.

His chest hurt as he forced his hands behind his back and settled into a bastardized version of Position 7, even though he needed to. He needed to or else he won’t be able to keep his hands off of Orifel and be good for Master Henrick like he’s supposed to be. Emerson swallowed, leaning forward into the arms outstretched for him.

Orifel’s fingers fall onto familiar areas, beginning with tracing over cheekbones like he usually does. He felt the curvature of Emerson’s face, letting one hand trace over his forehead while the other found his jawline and trailed it with a few fingers. It was as if he was reminding himself what Emerson’s face felt like, a comforting gesture that Orifel’s been doing for as long as he had known him.

Just hold onto my face, okay? That’s familiar. Hang onto that familiar thing and you’ll be okay.

Emerson swallowed, feeling the urge to hold Orifel as close as he can tug painfully at his chest. He can’t, because he’s not allowed. Because he had made a mistake before Master Henrick even saw him.

If you hadn’t cut yourself, maybe you could touch him. Maybe you could spend more time with him.

If only you had learned your fucking manners-

“The, the food. It’s, going to get cold. I need to, um, get it, Ori,” he stated, voice flat and tense and unable to hold itself together as well as he had hoped.

Orifel picked up on the obvious excuse. “Okay. You know I don’t mind cold food. Is something the matter?”

“Just… I’m… Hmm,” Emerson hummed unwillingly as hands slipped up into his hair, carding through it with a loving touch in an effort to comfort him. His eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, sparks rippling down his spine as he leaned into the hands without meaning to.

“Just what? Do you want me to stop? Is… is this good? Am I doing this right?” Orifel’s voice began to waver as his hands paused, holding still exactly where they were.

“It’s fine, Ori, it’s fine. Just…” Emerson’s eyes opened so he could look at him properly, but darted to the side as he saw movement-

And looked directly into Master Henrick’s eyes.

His voice died in his throat as those eyes, once warm and now cold as ice, watched him like a hawk and its prey from a distance. Too far to hear anything important, but still there to witness. Watching.

Waiting for Emerson to make a mistake.

“White and brown,” he whispered quickly, voice cracking under the tense strain he was putting it under. The two colors hopefully would give Orifel enough meaning; tell him what was so wrong.

I’m anxious and he’s here. I can’t say what I want to because he’s watching us. I’m scared.

Orifel’s eyes darted back and forth, faded gray pupils thinking carefully while they rested on nothing in particular. Then his hands moved to delicately hold the back of Emerson’s head, before bringing him close to press a sloppy kiss to his forehead.

“Mwah,” he said, voice low and soft. His hands carded through his hair one last time before drawing away, and Emerson tried not to whine at the emptiness of touch that was left behind, instead huffing out a sigh. “Everything will be okay, Em. Don’t worry.” Orifel offered another one of his bright smiles. “You’ll do just fine.”

Don’t worry. You’re trained just how they like.

“I’ll try. I’ll- I’ll be good.” He forced himself to shift away, instead moving to the counter again to clean up the kitchen. “Master Henrick will be feeding you today. I have some things I need to prepare for the party, so I’ll be in the ballroom if you need me.”

“Okay. Oh, Emerson?”

“Yeah?

“I love you.” Words mean to be comforting, said softly like a reminder. Orifel wanted him to know, that much was obvious, to help keep him going through the day, elevated enough so that he could be heard from a greater distance.

It didn’t stop the ache that Emerson felt in his chest, the one that he constantly felt, now. His eyes glanced over to Master Henrick, watching, his intense gaze hardening into the one that would have him kneeling and begging at his feet if he came closer.

Master Henrick shook his head.

Upon command, Emerson huffed out a forced laugh that came out almost awkward. “You love everyone, Ori. Just try to remember what I told you, okay? I’ve got to get to work.”

Emerson finished cleaning quickly, the distance between them growing more and more unbearable by the second. After that he walked out of the kitchen with a brief pace, caught by Master Henrick at the shoulder.

He leaned in close, too close. “Good boy. Go get to work, now.”

With a nod, Emerson skirted around Master Henrick and walked, practically ran, as he tried to push away the tears that threatened to brim the bottom of his eyelids.

Emerson tried to focus on the task at hand. Reminded himself what he was supposed to be doing and why. That he needed to be good. He pushed away the fear that curled into his chest at the idea of the show, how he’ll need to be good and scream just like his Master wanted him to. Like he was always supposed to.

He swallowed.

Tonight is the party.

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selfignitingimagines · 5 years

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Brett- Siren Song

Request: Hi if it’s not too much to ask can I request a Brett x reader imagine? I want it to be like where the reader is a siren and she’s having trouble learning to control her voice but Brett is just being super fluffy. They’re not dating yet, but they admit feelings to each other sometime during the story and they kiss and make things official and just fluff fluff flufffff! Thanks!

Brett was wandering through the halls, on his way to lacrosse practice, when he heard the voice. It was soft and sweet as it drifted through the school, and something about the sound was intoxicating. The melody was enough to pull him away from his intended path and toward the chorus room.

When he paused outside the door, he peered inside. While he didn’t recognize the voice, he definitely recognized the person sitting at the piano.

Brett had seen you around school, and while he had never heard your voice, something told him he should have. It was enough to make anyone fall in love, purely from the sound.

As if you could feel his eyes on you, you suddenly stopped singing. You turned around to find him staring at you through the little glass window in the classroom door. He stood there, blinking, and your eyes went wide. You raised your hand in a quick, embarrassed wave and moved away from the piano. You usually hated to sing in front of people, and the fact that the lacrosse team captain had been listening in caused you to freak out a little.

Brett watched you gather up your sheet music with a dumbstruck look on his face. His hand was resting on the doorknob, and he was just about to go in and try to talk to you when someone called his name.

“Brett! What are you doing?” His coach was calling from down the hall. “You’re supposed to be setting up for practice!”

Brett looked back into the classroom, but you were already heading out the door on the other side of the room. He watched you disappear with disappointment in his eyes, and then reluctantly headed toward the locker room.

-----

The next time he saw you, he was behind you in the cafeteria line. It took him a few seconds to recognize you from the back of your head, but once he did, he reached out to tap your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, as you turned.

“Oh,” you breathed, blushing as you recognized him from earlier that week. “Hi.”

“You have an amazing voice,” he breathed. “I mean, I’ve been going to a lot of the plays and talent shows this year. How have I never seen you there?”

“Uh, I don’t really like to sing in front of people,” you told him. “Stage fright, I guess.”

“But you have nothing to be afraid of,” he insisted. “Seriously, you’re awesome.”

“Hey, the line’s moving!” someone called from behind him.

“Well thanks. That’s really sweet,” you said with a smile, turning back to grab a tray as the line moved forward.

Brett frowned. He was totally screwing this up.

He took a deep breath and grabbed a tray of his own, trying to work up the guts to ask you the question he had been thinking about all week. He looked down at his sneakers, took a deep breath and blurted “Will you go out with me?”

“Uh…you okay, son?”

Brett went beet red as he realized he was staring into the face of an elderly lunch lady. In the time it had taken him to gain the courage to ask you on a date, you had already paid for your food and moved out of the line.

“Sorry,” he stammered, quickly buying his food and heading back into the cafeteria.

To his disappointment, you had already disappeared into the throng of other students. Brett’s shoulders slumped, and he dejectedly headed toward a table of his teammates.

-----

“I think I messed up.”

Lydia and Malia looked up from their textbooks, sharing a look of concern. You were splayed out at the end of Malia’s bed, aimlessly flipping through the pages of an American Lit textbook.

After a run in with supernatural assassins a few months before, you had become close friends with Scott McCall and his pack. You had more in common with the girls, including one agonizing English class, so you sometimes met with them to study.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked, closing her book with a thump.

“Well, I was staying after school at Devenford the other day,” you explained. “I was singing in the music room, and I didn’t think anyone was there-”

“When you say singing…” Malia began.

You began to pick at her fraying comforter. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“Y/n,” Lydia groaned. “Did someone hear your siren song?”

“It was an accident!” you cried. “And at first I thought it didn’t have any effect on him, but I saw him today, and the look in his eyes...”

“Who heard you?” Lydia asked.

“Okay, so here’s the thing. It was Brett Talbot, so it actually isn’t that bad...”

“Brett?” Malia repeated. “Satomi’s Brett? The one who hates Liam?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, scratching the back of your neck. “But, he’s already a werewolf, so does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Lydia told you. “He’s never going to leave you alone, Y/n. And he’s gonna drive himself crazy-literally-trying to get you to love him.”

“I mean, he is pretty hot,” Malia remarked.

Lydia shot her a glare. “Do you know why sirens were so feared in mythical lore?”

“No,” Malia told her with an eye roll. “But since you pretty much have an encyclopedia in your head, I’m guessing you do.”

Lydia reached forward to grasp your hand. “Sailors used to throw themselves off ships for sirens, Y/n. And if they didn’t, they were slowly driven mad. The same thing is going to happen to Brett if we don’t figure out how to reverse this.”

You felt cool, icy dread creeping over you.

“I don’t know how to control it,” you whispered, horrified.

Lydia sighed and gave your hand another squeeze. “We’re going to figure it out. Besides, I think we could all use a break from studying.”

Thirty minutes later, you were sitting in the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, perched on Dr. Deaton’s exam table. Malia and Lydia sat patiently in the plastic chairs against the wall.

“So he overheard you singing?” Deaton asked.

You nodded shamefully. “Yeah.”

“Was it any particular song?”

“A Thousand Years by Christina Perri,” you said, flushing slightly.

“It had to be a love song,” Malia said with a roll of her eyes.

You groaned. “So how do I fix it?”

“It’s actually quite simple. All you have to do is sing the song backwards. Using your siren song, of course.”

You shared a disbelieving glance with Lydia and Malia. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Deaton promised. “Just make sure he hears you.”

-----

You stayed after school the next day, intending to camp out in the music room until Brett passed by on his way to lacrosse practice. When you got there, you were surprised to find him already waiting for you.

Shocked, you stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

“I figured I would find you here,” he said. “I really need to ask-”

“Can I sing for you?” you blurted out.

Brett blinked, but before he could reply, you began to ramble. “I really need to practice this piece, and uh, it would mean a lot to me if you were the first one who heard it.” A grin broke out across his face. “Okay.”

You let out a quiet sigh of relief and quickly made your way to the piano. Brett crossed the room to sit in a chair across from you, and you felt your heart began to pound. Even though you knew this was necessary, the thought of singing in front of him on purpose terrified you.

Finally, you just closed your eyes and began to play. When Deaton first told you to sing the song backwards, you were a little lost. Then he explained that, because you had a supernatural ability to manipulate notes, all it would take was a little focus. As you opened your mouth, you realized he was right.

The notes rang out high and clear, echoing through the music room and washing over Brett. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, letting himself get lost in your voice, but when it stopped, he felt like he was waking up.

He sat there blinking in the chair and looked around, finally meeting your eyes.

“Uh, hey,” he said. “What just happened?”

You shrugged. “I was playing and you came in to listen.”

“Oh.” His eyes landed on the clock on the wall, and he suddenly jumped up. “Shit. I’m going to be late to practice.”

You nodded, feeling your shoulders slump with relief. Brett scooped his lacrosse bag up from the floor, but as he turned to leave, he paused.

“Hey,” he said, turning around. “I know you might not know me, but uh, I think you’re really cute. Maybe I could take you out sometime?”

You froze on the piano bench, panicking for a second and wondering if Deaton’s trick had really worked. Then you realized that Brett looked completely different from the way he had a few days ago. There was no glazed over look in his eyes, no yearning on his face. He was staring at you with hope, and maybe a little nervousness.

You smiled. “Sure.”

Brett grinned, his blue eyes shining. “Okay. I’ve gotta go, but I know where to find you, right?”

You nodded and watched him slip out of the music room. “See you around.”

You waved as he disappeared down the hall, letting a grin break out across your face. As soon as you were sure he was gone, you whipped your phone out of your pocket and started to text Lydia and Malia. They had already been bugging you for updates since the end of the school day, and this would definitely require a celebratory girl’s night.

You got up from the piano and went to search for some new sheet music. After all, you were going to be spending a lot of time in the music room.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #selfignitingimagines #Brett Talbot #brett talbot imagines

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 5 years

Text

Universe

Summary

You become famous for a love song that you wrote. You’d do anything to keep people from knowing who you wrote it for, and you figured that no one would have any clue where to even start trying to figure out who it was for... But then again, if the dumb song you impulsively wrote at 3 in the morning could go viral, then why wouldn’t all of this happen?

4K+ Words

A/n: I probably never would have posted this. It’s one of those things that I write and then keep to myself but I told my friends about it and they really liked it so they encouraged me to post it. Sorry if it’s not very good!

You were used to people growing tired of you.

There must be something about your personality... Something... Boring because no matter how much they liked you went you first met, no matter how you acted around them to make sure that you two would get along, no matter what. People just... They stopped talking to you.

Eventually, they stopped caring about you.

They stopped wanting to hear from you.

They stopped listening.

You were used to it. In fact, you were so used to people not caring, that it threw you off when people actually did care about you. No matter how brief it inevitably was you were always surprised.

“So tell us, who did you write the song for?”

You laughed and crossed your legs.

“If I just told you that what would the world say?” You responded. The audience booed softly. It was so odd... How they clung to your every word.

“What would the world say? Or what would he say?” The interviewer drilled. Again you laughed.

“You caught me. I’d tell everyone in this room and more who I wrote this song for if I didn’t run the risk of him finding out,” you admitted softly. You brushed your hair out of your face. “I wrote the song for him... But I never thought he would hear it.”

“So he’s not someone you're close to,” the interviewer pried on. You rolled your eyes comedically.

“No matter what he is in my life, the important thing is that he can’t ever know I wrote Universe for him. I wrote it in different languages to establish that no one can understand my feelings properly. No matter what language it is written in...”

You trailed off and laughed nervously.

That was only partly true because... The only language that he knows is Korean, and that means the only phrase that he really needs to understand in that song was the one where you said I love you. Cheesy as that may be.

If you hadn’t been being broadcast on live tv in front of a studio audience, you would have buried your face in your hands.

Instead, you smiled brightly.

“Enough talking about Universe. Who wants to hear it?”

No matter how popular you got, no matter how much you performed your song, no matter how many followers you got on instagram, you couldn’t help but think about how temporary this all was.

In a week, in a month, in a year, no one would even really know who you were.

So you might as well ride this while it lasted. Perform as many shows as you could, meet as many fans as possible, say all the inspirational bullshit that ended up getting you on the stage in the first place.

“I never gave up on myself. I never gave up on my dreams and I will never give up on him. So you guys shouldn’t either. I never thought he would hear this song but he did. I know I sound cheesy, but dreams do come true. I’ll see you guys around!”

Backstage was always busier than you expected it to be. It was a hustle and bustle of movement. There was no room to really think. You just had to smile, thank the crew and keep moving.

In your dressing room, you would just sit and listen to your manager tell you what was next. It was always just show after show after-

“We’re going to Korea. Mnet has invited you to perform as a half-time act at one of their biggest award shows.”

Your fingers curled and uncurled but you went along with it. You went along with everything.

You were happy, you truly were. For crying out loud you were living your dream. You were just worried...

You had some pretty real stage fright, but you wouldn’t know it from watching you perform. You were usually able to get past it once you started on stage too, and you were getting more used to dancing and singing in front of large crowds of people, but performing in front of Korea... In front of him.

That was something else.

You took your spot on stage, back turned away from the audience. Your music started and you sang the opening line.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way...”

You looked at the camera in front of you, taking a deep breath. You gritted your teeth together nervously, but let your lips turn up in a smile anyways, surely giving off a nervous expression.

“Just finished performing in front of all of Korea,” you said softly to the camera. “It went well- I think, I certainly wasn’t performing for a black sea. Now I’m backstage.”

You looked around, and before you could say anything more, you heard someone slowly clapping from behind you. You turned sharply over your shoulder in surprise and found...

Kim Namjoon? You blinked, once, twice, and a third time, before finally dropping your body into a low bow.

“Oh, uhm, h-hello.”

You glanced up at Namjoon just in time to watch him bow just as lowly to you, but instead of holding the position like you had, he leaned up and sharply hit you on the top of your head.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n,” he said. You made a disgruntled face at him, lips stuck out, and eyebrows furrowed while you held your head.

“I wish I could say the same,” you mumbled. “Why’d you hit me?”

He laughed and waved at the camera you had previously talking to.

“Hello,” he said politely. He turned back to you and then chuckled. “I hit you because you were being much too polite. Acting like you don’t know me.”

You made another face at him.

“Well, this is the first time we’ve ever met,” you replied. “And you’re a pretty big deal.”

“You’re a pretty big deal nowadays too,” he wrote off. “And you’ve been writing me since before even you knew what you would become famous for.”

Your eyes widened almost comically.

You had been writing letters to Kim Namjoon since you had first gotten into kpop. You had been writing him letters about just about everything in your life, multiple times a week for so long that you had lost count of exactly what you had talked about before and what you hadn’t.

What you did know for sure was that anyone who actually read your letters would know you better than anyone else.

Despite the fact that you still consistently wrote letters to Namjoon, you had never assumed he actually still read them. Or ever had read them. You had sent so many that you were sure by now Bighit just threw away any envelope with your name on it.

But... If what Namjoon was insinuating was true...

“You actually read my letters?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and draped his arm over your shoulder, starting to lead you deeper into the wings backstage.

“So tell me, who is the guy that you wrote Universe for?”

You stared at him blankly, so he pulled away from you, continuing to speak.

“I mean, I know it’s not me... No you would have made it more obvious in the song, or you would have mentioned it somewhere in one of your letters,” he stated surely. Again you didn’t speak.

“You don’t ever talk about any other guy idols in your letters, but I know it’s got to be one,” Namjoon replied. “Someone here today or else you wouldn’t be so nervous.”

You still couldn’t speak, you were too shocked.

“But I can’t figure out who there are so many groups that he could be from,” Namjoon continued to speak. Finally, you opened your mouth.

“Wait.” you started. “Even you want to know who I wrote the song for?”

“Well, yeah,” Namjoon replied with a scoff. “Aren’t I supposed to be like your best friend or something?”

“We’ve never met before,” you stated bluntly. Namjoon put his hands in the air, palms towards you.

“You’re words, not mine,” he replied.

Geez, had you really called him that at some point?

“Anyway,” he continued with a wave of his hand. “There’s an after-party to this event that everyone always goes to... Your guy will totally be there, so you’re going to hang out with me until I find out who it is.”

“What?” You blurted.

He smiled, and grabbed your hand, pulling you forward.

“Come on y/n!”

You were sure this had been written somewhere before.

Girl loves kpop, girl becomes famous and gets to be around all of the idols she loves.

You knew that the normal reaction to being dragged through a crowd of idols with Kim Namjoon from BTS should be exciting, but instead of feeling that, you were just a tad bit annoyed honestly.

All Namjoon wanted to talk about was who you liked.

You two could have talked about anything. Television shows, music, books, heck even drama between the other idols there but no he just wanted to find out the one thing about yourself you had never told him.

Why was he so obsessed with this?

“What about Seventeen? Is he from that group?”

You scoffed.

“You really think I would fall for a boyfriend concept?” You said it pretty evenly. Anyone who didn’t know you would totally fall for the statement. Even people who did know you would probably hear your words and just assume they were a solid answer.

Apparently, Namjoon knew you pretty well from those letters however because it made him hesitate. His eyes turned to you.

“Oh my god.”

You made a face at him.

“What?”

“You fell for a boyfriend concept?” He asked. “Mrs. Never-have-I-ever-crushed-on-someone-I-didn’t-know-well-personally fell for a boy from a kpop group that has a boyfriend concept.”

“I just said-”

“Oh my god, you did!”

Namjoon started to laugh, the smile on his face ridiculously wide for someone who had just narrowed down his options to thirteen people.

“Holy crap, who?” He mumbled. “I mean, I could’ve understood him being from pretty much any group but a boyfriend concept? It never occurred to me that you would be one of those girls.”

“He’s not in Seventeen,” you blurted out, a frown riddling across your face. “And there’s nothing wrong with liking a guy from a group with a boyfriend concept that is the whole point.”

“Yeah but I just never thought you would fall for it,” Namjoon said in amazement. “And someone from Seventeen? It just doesn’t seem like your kind of group.”

“They have really good music,” you mumbled half pouting. You were going to say more when suddenly you noticed Seungkwan look over at you and Namjoon. You sucked in a sharp breath and turned away from the boy, grabbing Namjoon’s arm.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you who it is,” you said. “But he isn’t from Seventeen, he’s from some other group way way over there.”

Namjoon opened his mouth, clearly not falling for the diversion. He looked over at the group of boys and frowned.

“Hey some of them are coming over here,” he mumbled. Your eyes widened.

“Alright big guy, let’s get a move on.” You grabbed Namjoon’s wrist and pulled but he refused to budge, a smile on his lips becoming larger and larger the longer he stood there.

“You know, I really didn’t think that you actually had a crush on someone from that group but you totally do don’t you?”

“Kim Namjoon if you don’t-”

“Namjoon, Y/n, can’t say I expected to see you two together.”

You turned around before you could properly think through what you were going to do next and dipped the top half of your body down into a bow.

“Choi Seungcheol,” you greeted. You looked up and barely contained the urge to wince. The entire group had wandered over there. “Should I do the whole fanchant or just refer to everyone as Seventeen?”

Seungcheol and a number of the others seemed amused by the joke. Seungkwan, however, seemed mostly surprised.

“You’re a carat?” He asked. You laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, I try not to talk about it too much on shows though,” you stated. Namjoon bit out a laugh.

“Yeah, I can see why now-”

Before he could say anymore you turned and hit him a few times on the chest. He jumped in surprise but laughed as your hands slapped harmlessly against his shirt.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “Don’t embarrass me in front of Seventeen.”

You heard a chuckle, and your heart sank when you realized you recognized the voice. You turned back around and smiled in the direction of the noise, completely unsurprised when you saw that it was Minghao looking at you.

“Hello Minghao,” you mumbled softly, running your fingers through your hair. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You had expected him to be the gentlemen he was. To smile, and tilt his head, and tell you that he was happy to meet you as well.

Instead of doing that, he gestured to Namjoon.

“What’s the big guy over here know that we don’t?” He asked. You scrunched your face at them.

“Why is every idol hear so casual with me?” You mumbled defiantly. “I’ve never met any of you before, and you guys are all acting like we’ve been friends for years.”

“Well, it’s not like we don’t know your name and too much about you,” Joshua stated with a shrug. “And if you’re a carat, that works the other way too... Doesn’t it.”

“I-”

“Oh, is it Joshua?” Namjoon blurted. “If you like me, then you probably like like someone kind of like me... Bilingual?”

You shot him a glare.

“What-”

“What is right,” Minghao piped up again. “What is Namjoon trying to find out?”

You tried to throw them off the scent.

“Noth-”

“The guy that she likes is in Seventeen.”

Why did you ever try talking if everyone was just going to ignore you? Honestly, you might as well have not even been standing there other than to be gawked at.

“Seriously? The guy is in our group?” Seungkwan blurted. “He’s a member of Seventeen?”

Namjoon nodded, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“I know! I couldn’t believe it either!” He blurted. “She’s not really the type to fall for a boyfriend concept!”

“Exactly!” Seungkwan agreed, his eyes wide.

“I didn’t,” you insisted meekly. “I fell for... For... Oh uh, idk-”

You looked around for a male idol that could be feasible, excited when your eyes landed on Leedo from ONEUS.

“Ah! Leedo, duh, tall-”

“Woozi!” Namjoon interrupted before you could get another word out. Your jaw dropped.

“What?!”

“It’s Woozi!”

“Where did that come from?” You exclaimed, a little louder then you meant to. Your cheeks turned a darker shade of red as you stared at the taller, older idol. “Where on Earth did you pull that name?”

“You described Leedo as tall,” Namjoon replied with a roll of his eyes.

“He is tall,” you replied bluntly.

“Yeah, but it was the first descriptive word you used- so you’re compensating for something. And you don’t really bias rappers. Even I know that. Woozi is a producer and a main vocalist. Much more your style.”

“You’re basing this on one word,” you exclaimed.

“And you’ve practically confirmed it with your response,” Namjoon laughed cheerily. “You’re so red, it’s adorable.”

He patted you on the head and then took you by your shoulders, turning you to face the rest of Seventeen.

“It’s him, isn’t it? You have a crush on Lee Jihoon?”

All the boys looked at you, eyes wide, and as hard as you tried you couldn’t help the way that your eyes drifted to the boy in question.

His hair was lighter in color then you had thought it was. It surprised you a bit, almost made you wonder if you were looking at the right guy.

Not only that but his expression was... Oddly red as well. Maybe he was embarrassed by the attention.

“I told you it was Leedo,” you insisted. “So what if I don’t usually bias rappers, that’s what usually happens when it comes to these sort of things. It’s unexpected.”

“Okay but your lyrics directly-”

“Oneus fans are To Moons, why do you think I named it Universe and made it space-themed?” You asked. Everyone looked at you, their minds turning, so you rolled your eyes.

“Become the only star and planet and moon I see?” You quoted, a hand on your hip. Namjoon raised his eyebrows towards you.

“I think you might be my Universe?” Namjoon quoted right back. “Clear reference to Woozi’s instagram. Universefactory?”

“You really think that I would base my first over song on an instagram?”

“Well, you didn’t expect it to blow up,” Namjoon argued back. “You said once in an interview that you wrote it on the basis that no one would ever hear it, and you wanted the person you wrote it for to understand it.”

“I say something along the lines of that in like every interview. It doesn’t mean anything,” you denied.

“You wrote the song almost entirely in different languages, but you use Korean the most of the others. So the guy has to be Korean. You wrote a song so he would notice you- he has to be a kpop idol. You said once that you didn’t think he’d even like the song you wrote for him because he’s a producer himself-”

“I don’t know why you’re assuming you’re not the person I wrote the song for,” you blurted. “You’re all space-themed too. Moonchild?” “You would’ve referenced it in your letters,” Namjoon said dismissively.

“That’s another thing!” You said triumphantly. “Letters! I write letters to my favorite idols and I’ve never sent a single letter to Woozi! But I’ve sent one to all the rest of Seventeen!”

You thought over those words and looked at Jihoon, wrinkling your nose. “Nothing personal-”

“Everything personal,” Namjoon exclaimed, pointing at Jihoon. “You wrote me one time saying- and I quote- I kind of like this guy... Oh, I don’t know. I won’t talk too much about it. But I’ve been trying to write to him and I can’t get a single word right. Funny huh? I could write you miles, and him I can’t say a word.”

You stared jaw-hanging open at the idol.

“Did you memorize my letters?” You asked.

“Let’s take a vote!” Namjoon exclaimed, completely ignoring that question. He gestured to the rest of Seventeen who apparently had nothing better to do than watch you argue with Namjoon.

And aside from that, you guys had managed to get a small crowd of idols watching you two curiously. It made you wish that you two had been arguing in English.

“Let’s not-” “Who here thinks that our lovely lady here has a crush on Leedo from Oneus?” Namjoon asked.

You looked around, hoping that you had been able to convince at least one person that you didn’t have a crush on Jihoon. You knew that without Namjoon tearing down your argument you would have been able to do it.

But the only person who rose their hand was Jihoon. You groaned and sunk to the floor.

“And who thinks that she likes Jihoon?”

You didn’t have to look to know that everyone had their hands in the air.

“Okay, okay,” you admitted. “I concede. I like him alright?”

You felt a hand pat your head.“He’s right over there,” Namjoon mumbled. You looked up, your face burning, making eye contact with Jihoon. His face was still red.

“Did you like the song?” You mumbled. He nodded wordlessly. You nodded too.

“Cool, I’m just going to go ahead and die now. Nice to meet you all!”

Before anyone else could say a word you got to your feet, and began to rush through the crowd. You frantically apologized to everyone you passed but you didn’t stop until you had made it out of the room- away from the idols, into a location in which you didn’t have to see anyone.

It ended up being in a dressing room.

You hated how cliche that was.

You had just admitted you liked a guy and then ran away.

You groaned and buried your head in your hands.

You had one shot- one shot to seem normal. And here you had gone and ruined it. Now all the idols here would think you were an idiot.

You figured you could just... Hideout until the party was over. Stay inside and away from everyone until you could leave without being completely and totally humiliated... Which is of course when the door to the dressing room creaked open.

You looked up from where you sat on the floor, wrinkling your nose when you saw it was Jihoon.

“Oh-”

“I was looking for you,” Jihoon interrupted. He silently slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He stared at you from there at the door, his hands still behind his back on the doorknob. It was like he was worried you would run away again.

Which you were considering.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” you mumbled, looking away from him.

Even not looking at him you could see him tilt his head towards you.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You know- pretend like you care or liked my song or-”

“I did like your song,” he replied. You would’ve just assumed he was lying, but you recognized the tone of voice he was using. It made you look up again, surprised to find he wasn’t looking at you, but the floor, his face red. “Did you... Did you really write it for me?”

Oh, how the tables had turned. It almost seemed like he was shy to be talking to you.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. He glanced up at you.

“It was really good. I mean. The part where you sang eonjena-”

“It was kind of cheesy right? Didn’t really fit the rest of the song?” You agreed with a sigh. He nodded, his eyes widening.

“Yeah, exactly! At first, I didn’t know if I liked it, but I couldn’t figure out what else to replace it with, and along with that in a way it kind of works, because your feelings are sort of cheesy and light-hearted.”

“Oh my god, yes!” You exclaimed brightly. “I can’t believe you get it!” “Well, yeah, of course I get it,” he replied. “I’m a producer too.”

Your face reddened slightly.

“A much better producer,” you mumbled. He rolled his eyes.

“Universe is good. Honestly, the first time I heard it... I still can’t believe someone wrote a song as popular as yours seems about me.”

“I just wish I had picked a better song to produce,” you mumbled. “I’ve been wanting to write a song about like... How being in love with someone is like having superpowers-”

Jihoon snickered at that, and you pouted.

“Well, there goes that idea,” you mumbled. He laughed.

“No, no it’s good!” Jihoon insisted.

“You laughed at it!” You protested, stubbornly.

“I laughed at you,” he corrected, a fond smile crossing his face. “It’s really cute- you wrote a song that’s on the Billboard music chart top 100 and you’re wishing you had written something else instead. You’re going to make it in this industry.”

“I produced one song,” you mumbled back. “I’m hardly Rihanna. You’re such a better producer.”

“We’re both good producers- how about that?” Jihoon suggested. You shrugged your reluctant agreement to the terms and he smiled. “We should do a collab sometime.”

Your jaw nearly dropped.

“You’re kidding.”

“I don’t kid about collab’s,” Jihoon replied, a serious expression settling over his face. “What do you think?”

“Yes, of course, yes!” You blurted out jumping to your feet. In your excitement, you grabbed his hands without thinking. “It’s a dream to work with you!”

Jihoon’s face reddened again and he looked down at your hands curiously. You realized what you had done and suddenly pulled your hands away from his.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, letting one of your hands settle nervously on the back of your neck.

It’s okay,” Jihoon replied, his voice so quiet you could barely hear him. “It was kinda nice.”

“Well,” Namjoon prodded eagerly, poking your shoulder gently as he walked you to your hotel. You tried to ignore the bodyguards trailing not far behind you, but it was hard for this to feel like a normal conversation when they were watching Namjoon and you so carefully.

“Well, what?” You asked rolling your eyes.

“Well did you kiss him!” Namjoon blurted. Your eyes widened and you shushed him, despite no one being around.

“Of course I didn’t kiss him.”

“Wuss,” Namjoon replied without missing a beat. You swatted him on his arm, and you heard one of the guards behind you clear their throat at that. You rolled your eyes.

“I’d be more worried about him hurting me,” you mumbled. Namjoon laughed at that. “Besides, I’m not a wuss, I got his number.”

Namjoon’s expression lit up but before he could say anything else you added:

“And I’m going out with him tomorrow before I leave Korea and we are going to do a collab together!”

Namjoon let out a victorious whoop and grabbed you by the waist. You let out a surprised laugh when he threw you over his shoulder and began to run you through the parking lot. His guards stopped him only seconds after he started, giving him a quick lecture about being more careful about his image in public and about how he couldn’t just pick up a girl without consent.

He looked like a scolded baby, and it made you laugh.

You had a feeling that your time in Korea was going to results in some good friendships... and hopefully with Jihoon, something a little more than just a friendship.

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