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marmotish · 3 years

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🎄👻 Duncan Christmas SQ 👻🎄

Part 3. The Crossing

(~2500 words under the cut)

The bus ride down to Cairnryan was awkwardly silent, with neither Duncan nor Freyja really ready or willing to discuss what had happened. Less awkward than actually speaking to each other though, from an outsider’s perspective.

Not a word was spoken until they had boarded the ferry, with the exception of Duncan hissing “one ticket!” when Freyja initially asked for two at the port.

With most passengers choosing to enjoy the onboard amenities, it was reasonably empty up on deck. No surprise though, given it was late December. The winds coming off the water were chilly to say the least, and the overcast sky did nothing to improve the scenery. But they would have to speak eventually, and better it happen out in the open, away from a larger crowd. That was when Freyja decided it had been long enough avoiding the subject.

“So what was it like?”

“What?”

“When you were inside -“

“DON’T SAY IT.”

Freyja stopped talking, and returned to watching the ocean. Looked like the blunt approach wasn’t the best way to start. But the question was still hanging in the air, unanswered. It was now up to Duncan to resume the conversation. But when? Who knew. Minutes ticked by without another word being spoken.

Well, if he wanted to spend the next couple of hours in silence then that was fine. Nothing was stopping her from enjoying everything else the ferry had to offer. If she got moving now, she could -

“It was really quick, I don’t know...”

OK, forget that.

“I didn’t even know what was happening, but then everything kind of hit me at once. The smell of the street, the cold air on my face, the clothes on my body, the ground under my feet... well, your face and all...”

He hesitated, as though he might have said too much. Freyja waited for him to continue, watching his face carefully.

“It was almost like - being alive again.”

Well FUCK.

Freyja didn’t know how to respond to that. Duncan had always seemed more life-like, more alive than any of the other ghosts she knew. The way he moved through the world was reminiscent of a living person.

Not like Professor Binns, who acted like he didn’t even know he was dead. Quite the contrary, Duncan was more than aware of the fact that he was dead. That was just the problem.

Sure, he floated around like any other ghost, but it was little things that Freyja noticed while they were in Glasgow that kind of set him apart. He never took shortcuts through walls, he moved through the appropriate doorways and corridors. He stuck to moving along the sidewalk. He waved away car exhaust even though he couldn’t smell it. When it had started raining, he pulled up the hood of his cloak, even though he couldn’t get wet.

All these behavioural quirks told of someone who was trapped in an existence they didn’t want, who was instead trying to hang onto any threads of humanity, of a real existence. But pretend as much as he like, he would never be able to replicate the feeling of really being alive. And he had never come closer to being alive than for the few seconds he had taken over Freyja’s body.

Choosing the blunt approach again, Freyja broke the silence with another question.

“Would you do it again if you had the chance?”

“What?!”

Duncan leapt back, putting plenty of space between them. Freyja raised her eyebrows in question, waiting for a reply.

No, it was a terrible idea. As much as he wanted to feel almost alive again, he didn’t know if he would be able to handle it. He barely made it to 5 seconds before.

“You know,” Freyja shrugged her backpack off her shoulders. “I’ve been up for almost 30 hours straight, and I’m just now starting to feel it. I wouldn’t mind switching off for a bit.”

Duncan almost imperceptibly shook his head in confusion, watching as Freyja pulled out an impossibly large blanket and sets it on one of the boxy seats on the deck.

“Think I’ll have a rest. Might be my only chance before we reach the port.”

“Up here on deck? In the cold?”

“well I could sleep inside, but then you wouldn’t be able to smell the salt in the air, or feel the wind in your face. Anyhow, this blanket’s thick and heavy enough to keep you warm.”

“You keep saying ‘you’, but -“

Freyja settled down on the seat, pulling the blanket around her shoulders while Duncan hovered from a safe distance looking understandably perplexed.

“Though you’ll probably fall asleep before too long. If you were able to feel what my body felt before, then you’re going to feel tired too. Think of it like we’re 2 drivers of the same car, my body being the car obviously. If the car runs out of petrol, it doesn’t matter who’s driving. It’s not going anywhere.”

“JUST GET TO THE POINT.”

Freyja glared at him. “Oh NOW you want the blunt approach.” Rolling her eyes, she continued. ”Fine. I’m saying if you wanted to try the possession thing again, then that’s fine with me.”

OK. She really said it. He wasn’t really expecting her to.

But possessing someone just to fall asleep? What would be the point in that? Then again, it would be less intense than possessing a body that was being fuelled by pure adrenaline. Surely something like falling asleep should be enough for him to handle. God knows he was emotionally exhausted. Not being able to sleep and spending every moment with your own thoughts would be enough to exhaust anyone. Who knew that would also be the case after death?

“Why would you let me do that again?”

Duncan was wary. On one hand, he was tempted to take up the offer. But this didn’t seem to be an offer made from the goodness of her heart. From the past year, he’d come to realise that Freyja rarely did anything seemingly selfless without some kind of underlying motive. That or she was just bored, and he didn’t know which one worried him more.

Freyja shrugged. “Why not? Besides, I’m curious. I want to know if the theory about cars and drivers is right. I have two conditions though. One, that you get out before we hit port. Two, if you’re somehow able to cart my body around, don’t lose my blanket or any of my other stuff . That includes money. I’m on a budget.”

With that, Freyja dropped her backpack onto her lap and hugged her knees up towards her chin, enveloping herself in the blanket. She watched and waited for Duncan’s response.

He was grabbing at his own sleeves, unsure about what to do. It was strange to see him look so uncomfortable, and he was silent for so long that Freyja regretted ever making the offer.

“Hey, forget it-“

“I don’t even know if I can do it again.” Duncan started, rubbing his arm. “But - I want to try.

“Alright?”

“And I don’t want you watching me.”

Freyja nodded. “Fair enough.” She slumped a little further down on the seat and closed her eyes.

Duncan shut his eyes as well, and took an un-necessary deep breath. He took a moment to steel himself, then peeked out of one eye. Freyja’s eyes were still closed, but her legs were jiggling under the blanket. Impatience or anticipation? Hard to tell.

Screwing both eyes shut, he flew forward, meeting a sudden feeling of warmth followed by a shiver up his spine. Gasping, Duncan opened his eyes. He brushed a silver fringe out of his face. Seated in the deck chair now, he observed the world from this borrowed body. Steadying his breath, he closed his eyes, focusing on each new sense in turn.

Now, having spent more than a few moments in this body, he could also feel Freyja’s consciousness at the back of his mind, and it was slipping steadily towards sleep.

Well, she was right about two things. One, he could definitely feel the exhaustion from this body. It was a wonder she kept going this long. He could feel his eyelids drooping, try as he might to keep them open.

Two, this blanket was undoubtedly warm enough to keep out the winter chill. It was heavy though, weighing down on his body. Not that he minded, it was a comforting weight, like being held in a warm embrace.

He pulled the blanket up to his ears, slowly breathing in the salty sea breeze, feeling the gusts of winter wind across his face. Wrapping his arms around himself, he allowed the sounds of the sea to lull him to sleep.

---

The sounds of screaming (laughing?) children running across the deck jolted both Freyja and Duncan awake, with the latter being suddenly ejected from the former’s body, practically hurtling over the railing.

“Are we there?”

Duncan reeled himself back in on deck before taking a look ahead. “Not far off, the port’s further inland.”

“Ok, ok that’s good.” Freyja rubs sleep from her eyes, stretching herself out. “You have a good rest?”

Duncan turned his head sharply in Freyja’s direction, ready to catch any hint of mockery. But if she was being anything other than genuine, he couldn’t tell by her face. “it was fine.” He answered.

Freyja wandered over to the railing next to Duncan, carefully bundling up her blanket to avoid tripping. He waited for her to interrogate him about the possession, but she didn’t press further. She didn’t even look at him. Rather, she kept her gaze fixed on the water’s edge, taking in the sights. “Can’t wait to see the city.”

Again, Duncan tried to gauge Freyja’s tone. Was she being serious? Sure, a relatively neutral zone like the city centre was nice enough by comparison, but surely she knew the state of things once you ventured past the ring of steel. “You keep up with Muggle news, right?”

“If you’re talking about the situation over here, then yes, I’m aware.”

“I kept up with the news while I could, and I wrote to Gran while I was away as well. But I get the feeling she downplayed a lot of the stuff that happened when I wasn’t there.” Duncan shifted his gaze towards the approaching port. “Now I haven’t been able to write or keep up with the news since ... you know. But I can’t imagine things are much better than when I last came here.”

Freyja took a deep breath before answering. “It’s not the kind of thing that just blows over in a few years.”

“You know what was ironic though?” Duncan let out a mirthless laugh. “My parents told me it would be safer here with my Gran.”

Freyja frowned, but didn’t say anything. Duncan continued. “You know the First Wizarding War started not long after I was born? My family was scared shitless, and they didn’t even see the worst of the attacks, if you can imagine. Muggles were copping the worst of it at that time, and not just from the Death Eaters.”

Duncan’s jaw clenched, and he appeared to be gripping the railing tightly. “sometimes I don’t think my family ever stopped to consider what was happening outside their magical little bubble. Hell, they barely even paid attention to me until I started at Hogwarts. Then they saw that I could be a valuable, contributing member of the magical community.”

The children from before came running and laughing past them again, momentarily filling the silence that had fallen.

“Whether I was at home with my parents or with my Gran, it made no difference to me, safety-wise. There was no escaping what was happening out there. It’s funny - it all seemed so normal, I thought everyone’s childhood was like that. I guess if you never knew any different, you didn’t realise just how messed up it was. “

“By the time the Wizarding War ended, I was already at Hogwarts. I hadn’t been allowed to see Gran since First year. When we heard that You-Know-Who had been defeated, the first thing I did was run off to write a letter to my Gran telling her it was over. Asking if I could come over again.”

“But she said the same thing she’d been saying since I was 11. Not now, we’ll wait til it’s safer.” Duncan sniffed, his expression darkening. “It probably killed her to know that after all the effort she put into protecting me here, I died in a fucking explosion anyway...”

Oh God, things weren’t meant to get this heavy. Freyja had been silently pleading for him to stop talking. But it just kept coming, and she could say nothing. But what could she possibly have said? What input could she have given?

Like Jacob, Duncan’s childhood had been constantly shadowed by the War. Unlike Jacob however, Duncan was unfortunate enough to be caught between two different conflicts from two different worlds. It must have been confusing for him as a small child - not knowing where one finished and the other began.

Freyja racked her brains for something appropriate to say, when the arrival announcement sounded, alerting passengers to gather their belongings and prepare to disembark. Grateful for the interruption, she quickly moved back from the railing and started to fold up her blanket to pack it away.

She stopped mid-fold and ventured a look back at Duncan. He hadn’t moved from the rail, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Duncan, I -“

“Don’t bother hurting yourself trying to squeeze out an emotion, that’s not what I was going for.” Duncan turned to face her, his usual fed-up expression back in place. “But I do want to say that... I appreciate what you’re doing. I know Belfast isn’t exactly one of the top tourist destinations for Christmas right now.”

Freyja nodded in acknowledgment, continuing to pack up her blanket.

“Are you scared?” Duncan asked.

Her head snapped up, fixing Duncan with a stern gaze. She tightened the loops on her backpack with a little more force than necessary, and swung it over her shoulder. “An outsider walking into a decades-old sectarian conflict? Should I be scared?”

“Outsider or not makes no difference if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d be stupid to not be scared.”

Bristling, Freyja jammed her hands into her jacket pockets. She knew perfectly well that being from out of town wasn’t going to be her get-out-jail-free card. She knew that waving her wand around wasn’t going to be any help if she was outnumbered. But part of her just wanted to know if she could do this. A stupid, selfish, insecure part of herself. The same part that reared it’s ugly head when Jacob once again dismissed her as some sort of unnecessary baggage in the Portrait Vault last summer.

“And I know you’re not stupid. Bloody Ravenclaw, and all.”

“My stupidity runs deep, don’t let the blue and bronze fool you.” Freyja grimaced, studiously avoiding eye contact. “but I’m not so stupid to believe that this is going to be a walk in the park.”

The other passengers were filing past now, a more insistent cue for the two of them to get moving. It took two shoulder collisions to bring Freyja out of her reverie, and shake her head clear of nagging doubts. She looked up at Duncan and gave him a decisive nod.

“Come on. We’ll make sure the only one of us who gets back to Hogwarts dead is me, ok? There’s no way I’m sharing my bathroom with you for the rest of eternity.”

---

#hogwarts mystery #duncan ashe #hphm mc #freyja young #this one’s really long I’m so sorry 😂😂#it’s gets a little heavy #but this is where we start kinda getting into Duncan’s head and I didn’t want to cut more out #it’s a bit more comprehensive than my last two to be fair #probably the first thing I’ve uploaded where I’ve put more effort into the text than the pic #the next art I post will definitely be something a little more positive or silly #don’t shoot me I haven’t written this much since uni #Duncan SQ

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miracle-sham · 3 years

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Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 3: And They Were Roommates} |

———

| After getting roped into the Vigilante life by Chat Noir, her friend and partner in crime, Maladroit tries her best to help fight crime to make the city a better place, if only Red Hood and his gang would stop causing problems. |

| Or alternatively, Marinette and Jason are roommates with secrets. Both have huge crushes on each other but more importantly, both are trying to juggle moonlighting as their secret identities. However, when watching the nightly news together, everything changes. |

| Word Count: 5,014. |

| Warnings/Tags: No Miraculous/Different Powers Au, Roommates, minor gang mentions/Red Hood is a gang lord, gun violence, Vigilantism, Identity Shenanigans/Mistakes, Miscommunication, some emotional hurt, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, and Domestic fluff. Also Oblivious, Protective, & Mutually Pining Marinette and Jason. |

———

| A/N: Hey! Sorry this is nearly a week late but where I live got hit with a nasty heatwave and I was barely able to write from sheer exhaustion from the heat. But on a happier note, I'm so glad I've finally been able to write and post a proper Vigilantes au (as in like Spidey style vigilantism with homemade gear and all!) Because that kinda Vigilante au especially combined with roommates is my favourite trope ever! Well maybe joint with Dragonrider AUs, but still! I've had multiple Vigilante Aus sitting in my notes and drafts so it's brilliant to finally release one into the wild! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's Friday night, and Maladroit and Chat Noir are midway through their usual patrol of their slice of territory in the city.

“Race you to the billboard!” Chat Noir calls out, snickering in an almost cat-like-chitter as he launches himself forwards. Swinging over Maladroit's head with his grapple, he lands on the next roof ahead, in a perfect three-point landing.

Maladroit giggles, “Oh, you're so on!” She grabs her grapple and shoots. Swinging after him and onto the same roof. She instead, dive forward rolls for her landing and uses the momentum to propel her into a run.

Losing his lead due to the momentum loss of the three-point landing, Chat Noir vaults over a roof vent.

Forced to swerve to the side, Maladroit barely dodges a massive puddle of rainwater on her side of the roof.

Neck and Neck, the two raced across the rooftop. Closer and closer to the billboard they raced.

Nearly there! She thinks, c'mon! Reaching an arm out to slap the billboard—

Bzzt!

“Eep!” She yelps, startled by the buzzing crackle of her earring-comms. Unintentionally, she accidentally veers to the side and crashes straight into Chat Noir's side.

They collide with a loud thud, and two of them crumple into a pile.

“Graceful as ever, Mal.” A voice teases over her earring-comms. “Joking aside, didn't mean to spook you, sorry!”

Maladroit groans, “thanks,” and gingerly extracts herself from the vigilante limb pile.

“Gamer!” Chat Noir cheers, having heard him through his own disguised comms. “Got any crimes for us to fight tonight?”

There's a chuckle over the line, “Lucky you should ask, Chat, I do happen to have found some villainous plans for you to thwart.”

Chat Noir cracks his knuckles and stretches. “Oh? What are they?”

“Two which are time-sensitive.” Gamer adds.

Maladroit stifles a squawk, “Two! That are time-sensitive?” Her voice goes up a pitch on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“Uh-huh.” He confirms. “Chat Noir, there's a break-in at a jewellery store two blocks over from you. I'm sending you the directions now to your phone.”

Chat Noir does a two-fingered salute to the nearest security camera. “Got it, G! Detective Noir is on the case!”

“And Maladroit, we've got reports of sightings of Red Hood outside his usual area. By the Warehouses on fourth. There are no security cams around there so I've got nothing but rumours to go on. See if you can check it out and find out what he's up to.” Gamer informs her, sounding slightly irritated at the fact he's got little information to give her.

Maladroit nods, grumbling slightly. “When isn't he up to something.”

Slinging an arm around her shoulder, Chat Noir grins like the Cheshire Cat. “C'mon, Mal! It'll be a quick sweep and nothing will turn up like the last twenty times we've gotten this kinda tip-off!”

“You owe me ice cream from André's when we're in civvies tomorrow!” She huffs. “I made us macarons last time!”

“I haven't forgotten!” Chat Noir protests. “Anyway, see you tomorrow if we don't catch each other for the end of the patrol?”

Maladroit nods. “Yep! See ya later Minou!”

The two split. Chat Noir dashing after the directions, and Maladroit swinging towards the warehouses on fourth.

———

Breathe, Maladroit—reminds herself, perched on the rafters in one of the warehouses on fourth. Staring at the blood-red glowing mask of the red hooded villain, who happens to be oh so creatively named the 'Red Hood', leaning on the balcony railing on the opposite side of the warehouse to her rafter, and presumably glaring up at her.

“It's you again, Maladroit.” He growls, distorted by whatever voice modifier he's got wired into his mask.

She can't help but wince at the reminder of the word she had accidentally said the first time she had ever helped Chat Noir fight crime. Which irritatingly enough, stuck as her vigilante name. Especially since her second attempt at a name, Ladybug, didn't stick. She frowns beneath the black and red spotted bandana covering her mouth, and tightly grips her bladed yo-yo—with piano wire instead of string—of the same colour scheme.

“What are you planning, Red Hood?” She spits out, voice also modified by her bandana, a tad too grumpy and bitterly for the awkward-but-smiley "persona" she's supposed to act like (although it's not so much of a persona when that's just how she is almost all the time). But in her defence, she's had a rough day at uni, things have been awkward at home because of her crush on her roomie lately, and more importantly, Red Hood's lackeys have been a pain in the neck for the past week, so her reaction is more than warranted.

He has the audacity to laugh. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Pipsqueak?”

“Well,” Maladroit huffs, “I was hoping you were feeling considerate.”

Red Hood shifts his shoulders. “Aww, sorry Pipsqueak. I'm not feeling particularly considerate today.” In a split second, he slips both guns from his holsters, spins them, and shoots.

Maladroit squeaks, instinctively tugging on her power, and dives off the rafter to dodge the shot. “Rude!”

She's just able to shoot her grapple off and swing up to another metal beam.

“How the fuck do you keep dodging my shots?” He snarls, gesturing at her with his guns in short angry-looking motions.

In response, she throws her yo-yo at him, tugging on her power again. The yo-yo spins through the air, slashing through the Red Hood's jacket sleeve and slicing a deep groove into the gun, then rewinds on the wire back to her. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Bullet Boy!” She parrots back, cheekily.

“Hey!” Red Hood snaps, aiming another shot at her.

Tugging on her powers once more, Maladroit yelps as she swings to yet another metal rafter beam in order to avoid the shot. “Your aim sucks!”

“Fuck you!” He retorts, firing off four more shots aimed at her head.

There's a horrifying moment as she barely manages to tug on her powers in time. The bullets barely skimming past her hood, one even tearing the fabric slightly.

“Mal!” Comes Gamer's terrified voice over her earring-comms, “I need you to pull back immediately! Red Hood and his gang have been spotted nearby and Chat can't get to you in time to back you up if you do get into a fight!”

She raises a hand to her earrings and quietly laughs hysterically. “Little too late for that, G! I'm uh currently staring… face to gun to him”

“Oh, fuck!” Gamer responds, voice going up a pitch. “I'm contacting Chat now. Try and get out if you can but prioritise not getting yourself killed, please!”

Red Hood fires his guns again. “Eyes and ears on me, Pipsqueak.”

Squeaking yet again, Maladroit desperately tugs on her power once more and swings to another rafter. Her heart thunders in her chest as loudly as his gunfire. She spits out a frantic, “no promises!” to both of them.

“I've informed him, your backup is on the way.” Gamer tells her.

The main warehouse doors clatter open with a resounding slam! Followed by the stomping of multiple pairs of boots storming inside.

Maladroit waves at Red Hood, the quiet terrified hysterical laughter practically bubbling out of her mouth. “Haha, well I'm afraid that's my cue to Bug Out!”

“Oh, I don't think so, Pipsqueak.” Red Hood taunts, shooting six bullets at her, rapid-fire. “I ain't finished with our convo yet.”

Squeaking for the umpteenth time, and really just giving him even more reason to keep giving her that stupid pipsqueak nickname, she riskily shoots her grapple, aiming and swinging towards the warehouse's large balcony windows.

“Get the fuck back here!” He snarls, voice deepening with fury. Pausing to reload before firing off more shots at her with abandon.

Maladroit wriggles midair, tugging on her powers to try and dodge the shots. She curls into a dive forward roll as the grapple forces her to land onto the balcony. The same one that Red Hood has been stood on this entire time. Oh, help me! She thinks, eyes widening behind her makeshift red with black tinted lenses, goggles-slash-domino mask.

He aims his gun at her once more. “Move and you fucking die, pipsqueak.”

Putting her hands in the air, she swallows a gulp of air. Her body armour is padded beneath her red, and black spotted, hoodie but it isn't bulletproof. And she can feel the straining exhaustion of overusing her powers clawing at her.

They're at a standoff. Still as statues, the both of them. It's almost poetic how they parallel each other. He's got his gun aimed at her, whilst she's desperately clutching at her grappling hook gun in one of her raised hands. Both donned in red. Both committing crimes in the eyes of the law. Two sides of the same coin, one and the same.

Maladroit feels sick to her stomach, staring down the barrels of his guns. Ever so slowly, she tugs on her powers. The window a little bit behind her creaks quietly enough that Red Hood doesn't seem to notice beneath the clamour of his gang doing whatever it is they're doing below.

She counts her breath and tugs on her power. A minute passes with no movement, no words, nothing happening on the balcony. Out of the corner of her eye, she can just see that it's now open enough that she should be able to make it out unscathed. Or at least mostly unscathed.

Closing her eyes, not that he can see, her power snaps. Instinctively she doubles over and slaps a hand over her mouth. Barely in time as a stifled scream is yanked from her throat, leaving her panting for breath. Her knees crash onto the balcony flooring. A bullet whizzes past her neck.

“Shit. What the fuck was that?” Red Hood grumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. He storms across the balcony towards her.

Maladroit can't help but flinch, bodily throwing herself back as far away from him as she can. Mind racing in panic.

He stows one gun back into a holster then reaches a hand towards her. “Hey, hey, hey. Calm down.”

“Gotta go! Bug-bye!” She squeaks out, wrenching on her power with all her remaining strength, and bolting for the window.

“I think the fuck not! Fucking pretending to be hurt.” Red Hood barks, ripping the gun back out of its holster.

Narrowly dodging the spray of bullets shot at her, Maladroit dives through the window and fires off her grapple. Safely swinging far away from the warehouse.

———

Carefully Maladroit drops with the ease of far too many nights of practise, onto the fire escape outside her bedroom window. She crouches and lets the shadows of the night hide her form. Creeping closer, she checks the windowsill for any marks or signs of tampering but it all comes away untouched. Content with her quick security check, she fumbles for the disguised piece of string wedging the window ajar in a way that's barely visible unless you know where to look for it. Got it! She thinks to herself, grabbing ahold of it and prying it, and the window above it, up and open.

Slipping through the open window, she sits on the sill to rip her thankfully not-too-dirty studded steel-toed boots off. Picking them up in one hand, she wiggles the rest of the way into her room and immediately resets the security measures, yanking the curtain down for privacy.

Maladroit then shuffles over to her bed. Tikki—her gorgeous fluffy red and dark brown miniature dachshund—blinks sleepily up at her, from the dog bed next to it. The puppy yaps in greeting before snuffling and curling back up to sleep.

She coos at the cuteness before continuing on. With the other hand not carrying the boots, she pries the blanket covered duffel bag out from underneath. Wrestling to unzip it in one janky and awkward motion, grunting slightly at the exertion. The metal of the zip digs in but the discomfort is mostly mitigated by the padded gloves and wrist guards she's wearing. The easy to clean plastic bag designated for temporary storing of her boots is dragged out of the bag and said boots are tossed in without a second glance.

Huffing, she starts to take the rest of her cross between mostly homemade and refashioned sports kit vigilante gear off. First, tugging down the hood of her hoodie and unclipping the black scrum cap hidden under it. It's dumped unceremoniously into a secondary plastic bag in the open duffel bag. After that, Maladroit removes the black neck guard and pulls her makeshift goggles-slash-domino mask over her head. Those too, are dumped into the other plastic bag. Then she unties the bandana with the nose guard underneath, from around her mouth and nose. Unsurprisingly, they're also dumped in the bag.

Next, she undoes the velcros on her red and black padded gloves, black wrist guards, as well as black elbow, knee, and shin pads. Also dumped into the other bag. With the outer protective wear removed, Maladroit pulls her hoodie over her head. Continuing on, she peels the padded rugby body armour and shorts off, and then the thermal under-armour. All dumped into the third and final plastic bag. “I swear,” Maladroit mumbles to herself, “getting changed out my gear never gets easier. And to think back when I had my last P.E. lesson at school, I thought I'd never have to touch this kinda kit ever again. Rip me.”

Lastly, Marinette—no longer Maladroit seeing as she is no longer in her vigilante gear—throws on her running-to-the-bathroom spare bathrobe to cover herself. She hastily shoves the three plastic bags into the duffel bag and kicks it under her bed. Purposefully leaving it unzipped but quickly fixing the blanket covering the bag, so that she can more easily grab her kit to clean everything later, whilst keeping it sufficiently hidden.

With that mostly taken care of, she nabs the mouthguard case, some clean pyjamas, and dashes out of her room—clinging awkwardly to the bathrobe. She hops in the apartment's shared bathroom, the rest of the place is silent, meaning her roomie, Jason, must have gone out. Still, Marinette locks the door regardless. If there's one thing she's learnt in her foray into the nightly masked vigilantism, is that one can never be too careful.

“Shit! Nearly forgot to take this out.” She grumbles to herself, just as she was stepping into the shower. Prying the mouthguard out of her mouth as she shuffles over to the sink, she gives it a quick rinse under the tap. Followed by a thorough scrubbing with her toothbrush and glob of toothpaste. She pops it into the mouthguard case and leaves it on the side of the sink for now.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Marinette finally allows herself to indulge in a good half an hour-long hot shower to get the grime from a night of crime-fighting off of herself.

She's only just drying off her hair, having already changed into her pyjamas, when the blare of the TV echoes through the apartment. Tensing up, her anxiety runs wild. It's what they get for living in the cheaper but slightly dodgy apartments where the walls are thin and the doors are thinner. Grabbing the mouthguard case, she wraps it up in the bathrobe and peeks out the bathroom door and looks down the hall into the open plan kitchen lounge. Jason's back, he's sitting on the sofa watching the TV.

Shoulders untensing, she finished drying her hair and heads out into the hallway. In place of a greeting, she exclaims, “oh! Jason, you're back!”

Jason flinches slightly and looks over his shoulder back at her. “Yeah, a friend had an emergency so, y'know.”

Immediately, concern wrenches at Marinette's heart, “oh no, I'm sorry. Are they… okay?”

He waves a hand in a so-so gesture and clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. They're fine now.”

“That's good!” She says, nodding, as she makes her way fully into the lounge and the TV catches her attention. “Oh is it nearly the eleven o'clock news already? I need to watch this! Alya texted me earlier saying I have to, and she sounded really excited!” Glancing down at the bundle in her arms and flushes red. “Actually, I'll be back in a second!”

“I'll yell as soon as it actually starts.” Jason offers, smiling warmly at her.

Marinette just misses the smile, rushing back to her room, and throwing a quick, “thanks,” over her shoulder back at him.

Also missing his smile turn fond and the good-natured roll of his eyes at her antics.

Barely half a minute passes before she's bounding back into the lounge, with a sleepy Tikki at her heels. She plops herself down on the sofa next to him and hopes the blush on her face could simply be mistaken for the flush of running about like a mad thing instead. Tikki whines until Marionette picks her up and lets her on the sofa with them, padding over to the furthest corner to curl up in.

Jason points to the pink floral steaming mug on the coffee table, right next to his Pride Prejudice and Zombies themed mug. “Whilst you were in the shower, I made us both hot chocolates with marshmallows, my granddad Alfie's recipe.”

“Oh!” Marinette responds in pleasant surprise. She turns to him and positively beams, eyes shining with happiness. “Thank you so much, Jason! You're always so thoughtful!”

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, well, I thought it's only fair since you normally make 'em. And I visited Alfie recently, and I promised to get you his recipe to try, so I thought it'd be a nice surprise for once!” He pauses and points at the big bowl also on the coffee table, “also I cooked us some popcorn.”

“Aw! Thank you again! I really appreciate this!” She scoops up the hot chocolate with slight reverence and takes a sip. Immediately her face lights up even more in joy. “Oh, this is delicious!”

Jason chuckles, “isn't it the best! I'll pass that onto Alfie though, he'll be glad to know you like it so much. Speaking of which, he's gonna give making them a try next time I'm up since I wasn't there long enough this time. Would you fancy coming with me to see him, then?”

Her eyes widen and her heart stutters in her chest, feeling close to bursting from happiness. “I'd love to! Do you have a date when you're thinking of going up?”

He nods. “Yeah, maybe around—”

But he's interrupted by the starting audio of the eleven o'clock news.

They both immediately shut up and watch the screen intently as the news anchors appear on the show. The starting discussion is somewhat boring, talking about the local billionaire Wayne-or-something business and a related upcoming charity event of some sort.

Marinette doesn't pay attention to it, but she does catch Jason wrinkling his nose and scowling at the conversation.

Luckily, the topic shifts quickly enough. “And now, over to our newest reporter, Alya. We hear there's been some rumblings regarding the conflict between local vigilante Chat Noir, his sidekick Maladroit, and the gang controlled by the infamous Red Hood himself.”

“That's stupid,” Jason grumbles, “Maladroit is a fully-fledged vigilante in her own right and not just the catboy's sidekick. That's like saying Nightwing is Batman's sidekick!”

Marinette frowns, very touched by his words and trying her damnedest to appear nonchalant. “I don't know… from all the-uh news clips, Maladroit seems like Chat Noir's sidekick to me. She's always hovering nervously near him like a strong wind would spook her.”

“C'mon! She's been reported to have held her own against Red Hood on multiple occasions, alone!” He argues, sounding rather offended on her alter egos behalf.

Scoffing, she shakes her head. “Clearly that's because he's going easy on her! He's never directly shot her, according to the reports clearly, he's soft on her!” The lies taste bitter on her tongue.

Jason splutters and flushes bright red, turning away from her slightly. “W-well that's obviously a testament to her skill and not Red Hood's mercy! He's always reported as being a merciless killer, why'd he be soft on her!”

“I don't know!” She makes a dying-choking noise as she flushes even more red than earlier. Shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth to avoid having to respond any further.

Luckily, the news shows pans over to Alya standing in front of a screen showing a recorded feed of a warehouse. Not just any warehouse, but specifically the one on fourth that Maladroit had faced Red Hood in less than an hour ago.

Marinette feels her pulse quicken at the reminder of the close shave she'd had.

“Hey wait a second, those warehouses don't have security cameras at all? How'd they get this footage?” Jason complains, eyes narrowed at the TV.

It feels as though ice has been poured down her spine at his words. She freezes, body stiffening in shock. He's right… G said there's none because that's why he asked me to check things out. The only people who'd know this are Chat, Gamer, myself, and Red Hood and his gang. She swallows thickly and tries to subtly side-eye Jason. Oh no. I've been crushing on my roommate who works for Red Hood's gang? Oh god! The friend with the emergency was referring to Red Hood calling him into work!

She can't help but inhale a shallow panicked breath. He could've been one of the lackeys shooting at me and Chat this past week. Or, or I could've hurt him with my yo-yo. Or—

Jason turns to fully face, clearly registering the blatant panic on her face. “Hey, hey, hey, Marinette, you're okay, you're safe. What's wrong?”

“Are you working for Red Hood?” Marinette blurts out, accidentally, the words pouring out in an unintentional panicked rush. “Are you in his gang?”

He jerks back, fear, confusion, and hurt crosses his face. “Wh-what? What makes you think that?”

“His gang was just in that warehouse, and you were out on an emergency for a "friend". And how would you have known unless you were there tonight and working for his gang?” She chews her lip forcefully and winces as the taste of iron floods her mouth.

He reaches towards her, eyes widening concern.

She flinches back, suddenly reminded of how similar this is to that moment with Red Hood on the warehouse balcony.

Jason jerks back as if her flinching burnt him. Raising his hands, he leans away from her to give her some semblance of space. “Fuck. Look, I'm not going to hurt you! Have I ever hurt you whilst we've been roomies?”

Nervously, she shakes her head.

“I really care about you, Marinette. Hell, we've lived together for nearly a year now. I would never hurt you, okay! I promise.” Tears prick in his eyes, and he grimaces slightly, lowering his hands to rest on his lap. “Yeah, I uh, I'm working for him. But I do everything I can to keep work from following me home. I didn't tell you because I never wanted to scare you.”

Guilt gnaws at her. “I'm sorry! I shouldn't have judged. I—” She takes a shaky breath, “I really really care about you too. I'm just worried, what if Red Hood, or even Maladroit, or any of the other vigilantes hurt you? What if you get hurt in one of those gang wars?” Her words aren't lies but they're not the full truth either.

He sighs, “I can't promise I won't ever get hurt on the job. Maladroit and the other vigilantes do a lot of good but Maladroit especially is far too nice to hurt any of us. I've uh, seen her fight some of the others gang members, and been fought by her too. And out of everyone against the gang, she's the one who leaves us with barely more than a scratch at worst.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Most in the gang really respect her for that, y'know.”

Marinette's brain feels like the windows shutting down sound. “Oh. Oh.”

Sheepishly, he smiles half-heartedly at her. “Yeah.”

“So, is that why you were so adamant she's a fully-fledged vigilante in her right?” She asks, feeling bashful yet honoured whilst completely surprised.

Jason clears his throat and glances away. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” Her brain rewinds a moment. She splutters for a second, desperation racing through her. “Wait, she's fought you!?”

Full-on grimacing, he nervously laughs. “Left but a scratch!”

“Are you misquoting Monty Python right now? Oh good gods, that's the knight who says that after getting his limbs chopped off!” Marinette exclaims, looking every bit as horrified as her tone of voice conveys.

“Seriously, I've never gotten worse than a couple of minor cuts and bruises, I'm fine!” Jason reiterates.

She frowns and gingerly shuffles across the sofa closer to him. He keeps leaning back away, so she physically throws herself at him, pulling him into a tight hug. Incidentally burying her face in his shirt. “Okay, okay. Just, please let me know next time you get hurt. I've a friend who lived in a bad situation before, so I know how to help patch up minor injuries. Promise?”

Jason stiffens at the hug and slowly moves one hand to cup the back of her head whilst wrapping the other around her back. He shuts his eyes, cocking his head back and sighs. “Alright. I promise I'll tell you. And I'm sorry for keeping something this big from you. As I said, I was worried you'd be scared of me or that you'd get dragged into gang-related shit because of it.”

“You don't need to apologise.” Marinette mumbles in response, “I get it. I really do understand.” She bites at her sore bleeding lips again in guilt, her secret identity left unspoken on her tongue.

He shrugs, “so uh. I'm guessing you're still happy to stay roomies then, right?”

“Of course!” She responds without missing a beat hugging him even tighter.

Eventually, they release each other from the embrace to finish their now lukewarm hot chocolates and popcorn. The news continues playing, no longer forgotten in the background as the two try to act as if nothing has changed.

———

Jason collapses onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his phone and rings a number on autopilot.

The dial tone plays as the line connects. “Hey, whaddup Jay?”

“Holy fucking shit balls, man.” Jason groans. “I fucked up.”

Roy hums, “like need help burying a body fucked up or what?”

Jason groans even louder, smushing his face into his bed covers. “My roomie is smart, right. I accidentally let a tiny detail slip when we were chatting whilst watching the eleven o'clock news as usual. And she now thinks that I'm in Red Hood's gang.”

There's a long pause, before Roy bursts into raucous laughter. “Holy shit, I'm dying! She's not wrong!”

“Yeah. I know. She ain't right either though.” He grumbles in response. “She was absolutely terrified when she realised. Nearly had a full-on panic attack and everything.”

“Oh fuck.” Roy helpfully says.

Jason grunts in agreement. “She was also real concerned that Red Hood or the vigilantes have hurt me.”

“Well, that's better?” Roy offers, sounding rather unsure of his own words.

“Yeah but she's taken thinking I'm some low-level member of my gang this badly, how the fuck d'ya think she's gonna take finding out I'm the big bad Red Hood himself?” Jason sighs. “I don't want to ask her out without her knowing this, 'cause it could endanger her.”

Roy hums again, “well, you've been roommates this long already and she's been completely safe from the Vigilante-Gang life so far.”

There's a gentle thump as Jason lifts his head and throws it into the sheets again out of sheer frustration. He relents, reluctantly. “That's true…”

“See. And since it sounds like she's not planning on moving out, clearly she doesn't mind living with you. Just ask her out to dinner already.” Roy adds, cheerfully.

Huffing, he rolls over on the bed. “I'm starting to feel like those weird girl slumber party ads with the creepy phone-a-boy games.”

Roy wheezes, followed by a thudding noise and the distant sound of his cackling.

“Wow. And to think I called you for help. I'm offended.” Jason goads with no bite, waiting a few seconds to hear Roy's response but it's just more laughter.

He rolls his eyes and ends the call, not like Roy will mind. Throwing an arm over his face, Jason barely refrains from grabbing his pillow to scream into. He doesn't, obviously. Because the walls are thin enough that Marinette might hear him and he's worried her enough this night as is.

Sighing like a lovesick protagonist in a period romance novel, Jason moves his arm to run his fingers through his own hair. A date. Just gotta ask her at some point, to dinner at a fancy-ish restaurant. It'll be fine, what's the worst that can happen?

Her terrified reaction on the sofa flashes through his mind, followed by the reminder of how small and scared Maladroit had seemed when she had fallen to her knees on the warehouse balcony. There was no way that she was faking the pain, like he'd initially thought. She had practically staggered in her mad dash to escape. And there's no way for me to find out whether she got to somewhere safe afterwards. God, she could be lying dead in some dank alleyway for all I know right now. Fuck, I hope she's okay...

He groans in distress and shifts in place. Already feeling like he really won't be getting any sleep at all tonight at this rate, thanks to his concern for those two.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |

| I decided to go close to canon for names this time, hence why Chat Noir remains unchanged but Max is Gamer (because A. that was his Akuma name, and B. he's like Player from Carmen Sandiego in this, couldn't help myself), and Marinette is Maladroit (from the first thing she calls herself in Origins). |

| Oh, also whilst it's not explicitly stated in the text; Marinette/Maladroit's has the power of luck/being lucky, Chat Noir has the power of being unlucky, and Red Hood has "Perfect Aim" aka he's a hitscan. Which is why Maladroit is able to dodge his bullets by making herself "lucky enough" to dodge in time. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July And They Were Roommates #Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies #CYBaSTL #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Me and You Together, 3/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: again, fucking bowled over by the love and support this has had so far. i cannot thank any of u enough, ur all absolute wee diamonds in the sky. hope u enjoy this one- we’re in January for this one, where the girls have to deal with the consequences of December…and Tayce is tasked with keeping a secret for Lawrence.

last chapter: September- On a damp, bright Saturday in September, six flatmates move into their student flat and meet for the first time.

this chapter: January- Tayce and A’whora still have unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December. But it’s only awkward if they make it awkward…right?

***

Tayce is pretty sure she’s going to combust if something doesn’t happen soon.

It’s been a month and a week since A’whora kissed her, and twenty-four hours shorter than that since Tayce kissed her in return. Or thereabouts, it’s not like she’s counting. It’s not like it’s been consuming her every thought every waking moment of the day or anything.

In all fairness, Tayce seems like it’s an achievement to think about a kiss for that length of time. Especially through her first semester essay deadlines, Ellie’s raucous eighteenth, her first Christmas back home, her first New Year seeing all her old school friends after uni and updating Cheryl and Cara on everything. She’d drunkenly come out to Cheryl too after being gently encouraged and supported by Cara, and they’d both cried as Cheryl held her and confessed that since uni had started she’d also begun seeing a girl she really liked too.

It’s funny how at uni everybody seems so much more free. Away from a stifling hometown, Tayce and her friends can properly spread their wings and be who they’ve always been but have either not realised it or been afraid to show it. Tayce is the happiest she’s ever been when she’s at the flat with the others in her little bubble of a home away from home, with Bimini’s intelligent insights and Tia’s funny quips, Lawrence’s chaos and Ellie’s kindness and A’whora being…well, her best friend.

Except she’s not really sure that best friends kiss each other like that.

But maybe they do, because since they’ve all come back from home after Christmas A’whora hasn’t mentioned the kisses, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened between them. Hasn’t even joked about it with her or in front of the others (which is fair enough, as if Lawrence knew she’d probably tease them about it until they graduated). Tayce is pretty sure that none of the others even know, or at least if they do they’ve not spoken about it.

And the worst part is that A’whora has been absolutely…normal. Fine.

See, Tayce could’ve dealt with any awkwardness- she’d be upfront, bluntly ask A’whora if she wants to forget about it or what she wants the plan for them to be. Even better would’ve been if A’whora had rugby-tackled her the moment she’d got back from Wales and smothered her with kisses, told her how much she’d been thinking about her while they’d both been away. Tayce supposes it’s kind of her fault they never properly talked about it since she’d practically bolted out of A’whora’s room when she’d kissed her that morning, but she’d been nervous in case she’d made everything too weird. A’whora hadn’t seemed to be complaining at the time, though.

In fact that night, A’whora had been up for plenty more than just a drunk kiss. If Tayce thinks about everything she’d said when they were walking home her face still gets hot and she has to squeeze her thighs together. She’s definitely glad they never crossed any of those particular lines when they’d both been drinking, but sometimes when she’s lying in bed at night Tayce lets her hands drift between her legs as she thinks about A’whora telling her how much and for how long she’d wanted her.

Best friends definitely don’t do that.

So Tayce feels guilty spending time with just A’whora these days, the fact that things haven’t been awkward between them somehow being worse than if they were. She’s not been avoiding her per sé, she’s just been finding ways to make sure it’s very rarely the two of them alone together: hanging out in the kitchen with everyone instead of in her room, going to bed when the others do instead of staying up with A’whora, inviting the others to anything A’whora suggests the two of them do together. It’s silly, and Tayce does miss spending time alone with her, but A’whora acting like nothing’s happened while conversely Tayce wants everything to happen hurts her embarrassingly more than she’d care to admit.

Such a time is a lazy Sunday afternoon halfway through the shittiest month of the year, when the weather outside is full of misty rain that’s a recipe for frizzy hair, puddles, and misery. Just to add to the rubbish day Tayce is holed up in her room, watching the grey clouds drift and overlap over each other to create a paint colour chart in the sky as she begins an essay that’s due in a mere five days. It’s been hard to focus on anything when her head is full of her best friend and imaginary scenarios but the prospect of an all-nighter isn’t one that’s particularly desirable either, so she and the ninety-five words she’s written so far are engaged in a stand-off as Tayce waits for the essay to write itself and the word document waits for her brain cells to conjure up any more opinions on “Is art a conveyor of emotion?” (4000 words).

And then there’s a knock on the door that doesn’t wait for permission to enter and A’whora bounces in. She’s in a pair of grey joggers and a baggy navy pyjama top that she’s tucked in at the waist and rolled up the sleeves of, and her hair is up in a bun that’s had approximately 5% effort put into it apart from the little diamante hair clasp she’s slid through it at the top.

In spite of herself, Tayce can’t help but snort when she sees her. “Only you could make your shitty potato loungewear fashion.”

“Shut up! This is haute couture. This is actually my final project for the semester,” A’whora jokes in return, moves to sit at the foot of her bed and pout at her. “Tayyyce. I’m boreddd.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow at A’whora’s whining from over her laptop screen. “And I’m doing this essay. Find someone else to bug.”

“Don’t be such a hound,” A’whora frowns, falling sideways and landing onto the bed so she’s hugging Tayce’s legs through the duvet, her head resting on her shins. “I’d annoy Ellie but she’s in town with one of her friends from home. C’mon, let’s do a movie day. We’ve not had one in ages. I feel like we’ve barely had any time together since you got back.”

“Just been trying to catch up on all my coursework. It’s not personal,” she lies, her heart sinking only the tiniest bit at the realisation that her attempts at staying out of A’whora’s way have obviously been louder than they’ve been subtle.

“Please?” A’whora bats her lashes, and if it was impossible to say no to her before it’s surely illegal to do so now.

Tayce sighs and closes her laptop, eliciting a smile from the other girl. “Fine. Fine! But you better ask the others, I don’t want them feeling left out.”

It’s a good spur-of-the-moment excuse to make sure Tayce doesn’t have to spend two hours cuddled up next to A’whora while her heart hurts, but she’s confused by the way a small look of something passes over A’whora’s expression. She can’t put her finger on what it is, but A’whora’s agreeing and bounding down to the living room before Tayce can figure it out.

Tayce throws on her dressing gown over her clothes before leaving her room to join her, the blue fluffy one with the narwhal hood that’s complete with a horn on the top. She doesn’t own many embarrassing items of clothing, but this is definitely one of them. It doesn’t matter too much, though. A’whora’s seen her in it before, when she’s been hungover or sad or hangry and on her period.

It’s so funny how she can only have known her five months and still feel closer to her than half of the friends she spent six years with at high school.

In the kitchen, A’whora’s already cheerfully getting organised as Bimini and Lawrence lounge on the sofa lazily. Tia’s not in either- it emerges she’s gone round to Veronica’s, which nobody’s surprised about.

“Main question is, what’re we watching?” Bimini asks. “It’s a lazy Sunday so it can’t be anything that’s too good. I want something I can rip the piss out of while I watch it, y’know?”

There’s some squabbling about film choices as A’whora makes popcorn in the microwave, burns it, then subsequently has to make another packet. It’s eventually decided that they’re going to watch Love Actually despite the fact it’s January, because they all either hate it or like it because of how bad it is and the film will simply be a vehicle for them to yell jokes over.

“Have we got anything to drink? We could make this into like…a day drinking situation,” Lawrence suggests casually.

“You’re not helping the stereotype that all Scottish people are alcoholics at all,” A’whora quips, causing Tayce to let out a too-loud laugh.

“Listen, if you’ve not figured out that I’m a walking talking stereotype by now, A’whora, are we even friends?” Lawrence shoots back, and A’whora shrugs in an unspoken fair enough.

Tayce tilts her head then remembers something. “I actually still have loads of canned cocktails in my suitcase that my Mum got me for Christmas. Haven’t unpacked them yet. Think there’s about…twelve?”

“Ooh, three each? That’s alright!” Bimini smiles, clearly buoyed by the prospect of being slightly tipsy in the middle of the afternoon.

“Right, that’s settled then. I’ll go get them,” Tayce decides. A’whora’s crossing the kitchen before she knows it.

“I’ll help you with them.”

Before Tayce can speak, Bimini gives a snort. “ ‘Ow much do you think canned cocktails weigh, exactly?”

As Lawrence bursts into peals of laughter, Tayce watches as A’whora rolls her eyes at them, then turns on her heel to follow her to her room. Tayce can’t help but be a little wary, though. It does kind of seem like A’whora’s trying to get her on her own, which Tayce wouldn’t mind if she knew where she was coming from. But she doesn’t.

Tayce kneels down onto the floor as she rolls her suitcase out from under the bed, chatting mindlessly as she does so because if she’s talking it means A’whora doesn’t have a chance to bring up whatever she clearly wants to bring up. “I think there’s actually eleven here, you know. Because, uh…I think I drank one of them while I was at home, so we’re gonna need to fight over who gets one less. I don’t fancy my chances in a fight against Lawrence, she’d probably give me…what’s that expression? A Glasgow kiss? She’d give me one of those. Although Bimini, what do you think they’d be like in a fight? You know I think they’ve secretly got a set of knuckledusters, they seem the type. Although when I think about it-”

“Tayce,” A’whora cuts in, forcing her to snap her head up. Her expression is troubled, and a little frown dips on her forehead as she looks at her. “What’s wrong? Why are you being so…I don’t know, weird? Like you want to get rid of me?”

Tayce feels ashamed for being called out on her behaviour, and she can feel her stomach drop as she looks back at the cans in her otherwise empty suitcase. She wants to tell her there’s a reason for the way she’s been acting but A’whora beats her to the punch, murmuring with her head down and not meeting Tayce’s eyes.

“Is this because we kissed?”

“A’whora…” Tayce immediately groans in exasperation, the heat rushing to her cheeks as if she’s been slapped. She’s embarrassed, because she knows she’s got the capacity to talk about this like a grown-up but there’s a part of her that’s cringing, because if A’whora’s about to tell her she regrets it then she’s not sure she’ll ever live it down.

There’s a small silence where neither of them seem to move, let alone speak. A’whora is yet again the one to break it. “I just feel like you hate me all of a sudden.”

Fuck. If there was one thing Tayce had wanted to avoid, it’s this. Even though she herself is hurting she can’t bear the thought of having hurt A’whora’s feelings too, so she frowns, reaches up and squeezes A’whora’s hand which prompts her to look at Tayce. “I don’t hate you, Rory, of course I don’t hate you. I just…”

Tayce looks up to the ceiling as she searches for the right words, even though she’s not really sure what they are. She wants to tell A’whora she’s yearning for something to happen again between them and that even the fact she’s holding her hand is setting her pulse off all too quickly, but now’s not the right time. Besides, she doesn’t even know if A’whora feels the same way. Either way, Tayce can hear A’whora holding her breath, can feel the way her body’s tense beside her, so Tayce finally formulates something that doesn’t sound too hot or too cold.

“…I just don’t know where we go from here, that’s all.”

A’whora visibly relaxes, then shrugs. Her voice is quiet as she speaks. “Well, it’s only awkward if we make it awkward. And I feel like I’ve been okay at not making it awkward?”

Tayce narrows her eyes at her, laughs. “So what you’re saying is it’s all my fault.”

“Yes.”

The pair of the giggle softly and things already seem to have shifted back into comfortable territory. The green of a spring bulb popping up through the snow.

Tayce swallows her not-inconsiderable pride and smiles up at A’whora. She supposes going back to being friends and not ever talking about the fact that they kissed again is better than existing in a tense purgatory for the rest of their time in the flat together, even if it does make her feel a little sinking feeling of disappointment and a sense of mourning what could’ve been. “I’m sorry for being such a…mingebag.”

A’whora cracks up, repeats “mingebag!” incredulously, before her laughter dies down and she gives Tayce’s hand a squeeze in return. “That’s okay. Just good to know you still like me.”

They share a soft smile before piling the cocktails high in their arms, cradling them as if they’re babies as they rush back through to the living room where Bimini and Lawrence are hanging up a huge white sheet on the wall opposite the sofa for the projector. The projector had been Tia’s addition to the flat, an AliExpress purchase that had turned out to not be broken, or unusable, or made for a doll’s house.

“Tia won’t mind us borrowing that, will she?” A’whora asks with concern. Lawrence scoffs, bats a hand in her direction dismissively.

“She’ll be too mouth-deep in Veronica to care when she realises we’ve used it, let’s not lie!”

There’s a cry of disgust at Lawrence’s turn of phrase from the others, and as Tayce sets up the cocktails on the little coffee table A’whora brings the bowl of popcorn through.

“It’s fun to be able to make jokes about Tia and her girl, in’t it?” Bimini chuckles good-naturedly. “Always feel like we can’t properly tease her when Ellie’s there ‘cause she always looks like she’s about to jump out the window any time we mention Veronica’s name.”

The revelation that Ellie has feelings for Tia had come via a drunken, tearful confession to the others the night of her eighteenth birthday, when Tia had left the party with Veronica instead of staying overnight at the flat. Poor Ellie had been so devastatingly upset that the others had seemed to forge an unspoken agreement that the situation wasn’t going to be fodder for flat jokes. Instead they make sure to ask Tia how her budding relationship is going when Ellie isn’t around.

As she and A’whora laugh in agreement at Bimini’s joke, Tayce doesn’t miss the way Lawrence grows uncharacteristically quiet.

“When d’you think Ellie will get over Tia? I mean it’s a shame she doesn’t like her back, but she’ll ‘ave to at some point.”

“She won’t. She’ll just pine after her every day until we graduate,” Lawrence says. It’s meant to be a joke but her delivery is somewhat flat, and Tayce wonders if she’s the only one that picks up on it. From the way A’whora and Bimini are laughing, it appears she has been.

Bimini and Lawrence step back from the sheet, satisfied with the job they’ve done. A’whora’s busy plugging in the fairy lights Ellie strung up where the wall meets the ceiling a few months ago, and Tayce can’t help but think to herself that sacking off her essay was a good idea as she glances at their setup. Never let it be said that their flat does things by halves.

“Oh! We should bring duvets through. And blankets,” A’whora suggests, and Tayce’s heart is both warmed and hurt by how adorably enthusiastic she is about the whole endeavour. She wishes she could shake the lingering feeling of disappointment she’s got in her gut at the knowledge that they’ll probably never talk about their kiss again; they’ve moved on from it, it was a one-time thing, and it’s only awkward if they make it awkward so Tayce bringing it up would be awkward, right?

So she settles on the sofa with Lawrence while Bimini helps A’whora gather up all their pillows, cushions, blankets and duvets from their respective rooms. Tayce is about to become lost in her own head when Lawrence turns to her with a look in her eyes that Tayce has never seen before. It’s almost conspiratorial and definitely suspicious, and for one horrific moment Tayce is convinced that Lawrence knows everything that happened in December.

“What is it?” Tayce asks her, before her flatmate can even open her mouth. Lawrence sighs, tips her head back to the head of the sofa and squeezes her eyes shut.

“I need to tell you a secret.”

Tayce’s heart drops as if she’s on a rollercoaster. Her mind immediately jumps to A’whora. What’s she told her? What does Lawrence know? It would make sense to wait until A’whora was out of the room before telling her anything. Tayce tries to keep her face impassive as she turns to Lawrence, nods quietly. “Okay, spill.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Tayce,” Lawrence insists, looking at her pleadingly. Tayce promises she won’t, although in retrospect she probably should’ve asked what it was first. The way Lawrence is acting is intriguing, though. It makes Tayce think it’s something about herself if it’s something she doesn’t want the others to know so badly.

“Christ, this is so cringe,” Lawrence groans, dropping her head forward and resting it in her hands. Tayce can still see the pink flush that’s started to dust her face, and by now she’s convinced that this has nothing to do with A’whora and everything to do with Lawrence herself.

Lawrence mutters out something incoherent into her hands. Tayce frowns, humoured. “What?”

A huge huff comes from the girl on the sofa beside her, and as she removes her hands from the front of her face she sticks them to the side of it like blinkers on a horse. It’s the quietest Tayce has ever heard Lawrence speak as she says the secret again. “I’ve got a crush on Ellie.”

Tayce’s face lights up at her friend’s confession. “Do you actually?”

“Christ, don’t make me say it twice. I’ll get struck down.”

Tayce leans into Lawrence, uses both her hands to lightly poke her in the arm. “Look at you! Being cute and having feelings!”

“It’s not, though! It’s not cute at all! It’s just sad!” Lawrence rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the same time. “Because she doesn’t…she’ll never see me like that, and she’s too busy making cow-eyes at Tia all the time anyway, so. It’s pointless, I don’t even know why I’m even hoping for something to happen.”

“Hey, listen! How long do you think Ellie’s gonna be able to keep moaning about Tia when she’s still seeing Veronica? I mean there’s only one way that relationship is going, the only ‘end’ there is in ‘girlfriend’. So Ellie’s gonna have to get over it eventually!” Tayce says supportively, shaking Lawrence’s arm to gee her up. Lawrence bats her away, though, giving another sigh.

“Tayce, it’s not exactly like she’s gonnae suddenly realise that I’ve been here all along! Like some fuckin’ chick flick. I’ve fancied her for years,” Lawrence explains. The information knocks Tayce for six, but when she thinks about it it makes sense- the way Lawrence gently bullies her so much, the way she gravitates towards her all the time, the way she gets quiet if Ellie starts moping about Tia. Tayce had never thought about it in that light before.

Lawrence hugs her knees to her chest as she continues. “Realised I liked her the last time we were at the caravan. And obviously we were at opposite sides of the country but like…I’d still meet up with her in Summer, get the train to Dundee and have sleepovers and all that shite. And when she came into the kitchen on that first day I was so happy she was gonnae be living with us, and I am still happy, because obviously she’s my friend? But like…it’s just shite to know that she’ll never like me back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Ellie’s type is obviously tall, dark and skinny. Which…” Lawrence gestures at herself with a deprecative laugh. “…how can I be any of that?”

“Right, for a start! Stop thinking about what you’re not and start thinking about what you are,” Tayce says firmly, gripping her hand tightly.

Lawrence rolls her eyes and fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, like what? I’m beautiful on the inside! I know I’m the fat funny friend, Tayce, you can spare me the bullshit.”

“Well…you’re fat, and so fucking what of it? Doesn’t mean you aren’t drop-dead-fuckin’ gorgeous. Being fat and being beautiful aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Very easy for you to say, sat there wearing size eights. Tell that to literally any piece of media we consume. Or any of my brain cells. Even if there are only about ten of them,” Lawrence sighs, then pauses. “I do like the way I look, and I don’t want to change anything about myself. It’s just…several things make that very hard almost all of the time, and it’s tiring to feel like you’re constantly fighting a losing battle. And it’s not like I’m pinning all my self-worth on a girl liking me back, but just…it would be nice to be the one that someone has a crush on for a change, if that makes sense?”

Before Tayce can say anything to affirm how Lawrence is feeling, a movement from down the hall makes her flinch and point at Tayce accusingly. “Not a fucking word, right? Least of all to A’whora, if she knows then I might as well just tell Ellie myself and like fuck is that happening.”

Tayce nods rapidly in a promise as A’whora and Bimini emerge from the hall comedically draped in materials, like a child’s attempt at a dress made out of knitting and featherdown quilts. They all set about arranging everything to make their setup as comfy as possible, and as the film gets loaded up they get comfortable in their respective positions. Lawrence is at one end of the sofa, with Tayce in the middle and A’whora at her side, while Bimini sits on the floor with their back to the sofa because they’re quite happy sitting there with enough cushions and pillows. The big lights are turned off, the film begins, and the room is filled with the soft glow of the fairy lights and the hazy light from the movie and all Tayce can think about is A’whora, warm and soft and squashed up beside her sharing the blanket.

Tayce feels silly for being so disappointed. This was what she’d wanted- they’d talked about it. They’d addressed the fact that the kiss had happened, and now they were just…moving forward. Not making things awkward. Because obviously to A’whora, the fact it’s happened has made things awkward.

And that shouldn’t hurt Tayce as much as it does.

It’s hard to dwell on things for long, though, when she has block four flat ten’s very own Ant and Dec in her living room. Lawrence and Bimini keep her and A’whora giggling pretty much from the film’s first scene, and they all fall about screech-laughing when Bimini forces them to pause it on a shot of Liam Neeson’s hall in which there’s a horrific blob of a child’s painting on the wall that looks so cursed they just had to point it out.

It’s probably because Lawrence and Bimini are distracting her that Tayce doesn’t initially notice A’whora leaning into her at first until she’s pressed up against Tayce’s side. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary. They’ve always sat close before, but this time things feel different. This time it feels as if there’s little sparks of electricity between them, metaphorical manifestations of the anticipation Tayce feels of something she’s yearning to happen.

So when A’whora bumps her knuckles against Tayce’s, brings her hand over hers and laces their fingers together, Tayce feels as if she’s suddenly evolved into some ridiculous cartoon character; she can practically feel her eyes bulge out of their sockets in shock and she has to stop her jaw from dropping onto the floor. If her heart could comedically fly out of its chest it would. Tayce keeps her gaze steady and focused on the film, blocking out her peripheral vision and not even turning to see if A’whora’s looking at her too. Because if she is it would make everything ten times worse (better?) than it currently is, and Tayce’s head is already in a spin. They’ve held hands before. It’s not like this is different.

But it is. Before they hadn’t kissed. Before A’whora hadn’t told Tayce she wanted to sleep with her. Before all of Tayce’s feelings for her friend were cooped up into neat little boxes in her mind that were so full they were close to bursting, but now they have and now it’s After and so holding A’whora’s hand has gone from usual to extraordinary, routine to electric.

Tayce hopes A’whora can’t feel the way her pulse is racing because that’ll definitely let her know something is up.

She’s suddenly startled out of her overthinking by a tut of disapproval from Lawrence. “How many fuckin’ couples are in this film and there’s not one single lesbian?”

“Lesbians didn’t exist in 2003, remember?” Bimini deadpans, causing A’whora to giggle.

“Yeah, lesbians were invented in 2013 when Orange is the New Black aired.”

“Nah! When did Sugar Rush come out? Mind that programme on Channel 4? I remember watching that through a crack in the living room door when my parents thought I’d gone to bed,” Lawrence recounds excitedly, her enthusiasm at remembering her lesbian awakening making Tayce laugh and relate at the same time.

“For me it was Sophie and Sian. Remember on Coronation Street? They were my first lesbians.”

“At least you all got representation at some stage. If I wanted to see another pan I’d have to watch fuckin’…Kitchen Nightmares,” Bimini rolls their eyes, their joke making the girls howl with laughter and let out cries of consolation.

And then A’whora squeezes Tayce’s hand under the blanket.

Tayce thinks only for a second before squeezing it back, and subsequently doesn’t think before turning and looking at her friend beside her. A’whora shoots her a little smile that if Tayce didn’t know better she’d say was innocent, but the twinkle in her eye and the way she shuffles herself to lean closer against her and tuck her other hand into the crook of Tayce’s elbow makes her heart give a judder like she’s been crashed into from behind.

She supposes it’s only awkward if she makes things awkward, just like A’whora said. So when Tayce gently strokes A’whora’s hand with her thumb, it’s only to illustrate to A’whora that things aren’t weird between them. It’s not to see how the other girl is going to react to that at all. It’s not because being affectionate with A’whora just feels correct and perfect, the easiest thing in the world.

Tayce is holding her breath waiting for A’whora to do something else. Something to raise her hopes, something to show her that maybe she does want something to happen between them again. She wants the film to go on forever and give them infinite time in this no-man’s-land of comfortable tension, because when it ends she knows A’whora will probably just get up from under the blanket and slip away as if everything is back to normal.

When A’whora lets go of her hand, Tayce feels her hopes drop into the pit of her stomach, a rollercoaster coming to a dead stop. The ride is over.

But a second later she wraps her arm around Tayce’s waist, squeezes her close in a hug, and the ride begins all over again. Tayce’s heart rate spikes as she shifts a little, getting comfortable before bringing her arm around A’whora’s middle too and holding her right back.

It’s then that Lawrence’s voice makes Tayce snap her head away from the film, her glazed-over eyes having to focus on her friend who’s regarding her with a raised eyebrow. “Fuck’s going on under that blanket? You two fingering each other?”

Bimini snaps their head up and yells as Tayce tries to conceal the wave of panic that hits her, rolls her eyes and shakes her head and tells Lawrence that she needs to get her mind out the gutter. She’s sure that being called out will make A’whora flinch away, a woodland animal startled by a twig breaking, but she just giggles and buries her face into Tayce’s side all bashful.

God, Tayce wants to kiss her so much.

The film reaches the scene where Emma Thompson cries in her bedroom to Joni Mitchell, and the sniffing from the floor indicates she’s not the only one.

“Bimini! You said you hated this film!” Tayce laughs, nudging her friend with her foot.

“Yeah, but anyone who doesn’t cry at this scene is a hard-hearted bastard,” they reply, voice thick with emotion.

“Aww, BonBon. It’s okay, I’ve got a little tear as well,” A’whora murmurs from Tayce’s side. She huffs a sigh. “I can’t even believe anyone would fall for that pencil-skirt-wearing cow. I mean, she fucking manspreads and that’s supposed to be some sort of sexy come-on?”

“Aw, and like you could do any better?! We’ve all seen you trying to flirt, it’s embarrassing!” Lawrence cries in outrage.

Tayce is reminded of nights out earlier in the year when A’whora would talk to girls at bars and Tayce would always feel this inexplicable burn in her chest in response. She remembers the unfounded relief when A’whora would come back home to the flat with the rest of them, one-night-stand missions failed, and the churn in her stomach the times when she’d leave with a girl she didn’t know and sneak back into the flat at nine in the morning, ready to tell the others about her exploits from the night before which Tayce never wanted to hear.

She’s really fancied A’whora for a long time, now she thinks about it.

“I could so do better!” A’whora complains, and Tayce isn’t looking at her but she just knows she’s pouting.

Lawrence chuckles, tilting her head in amusement. “Go on then! What would your plan of action be, Miss fuckin’ Womaniser?”

There’s a pause before A’whora says, “Well I’d probably wait until we were both drunk on a night out, do tequila shots with them, drape myself over them, kiss them, then get them to take me back home.”

Tayce thinks she deserves an Oscar for the way she refuses to outwardly react to the way A’whora has essentially just described their kiss from that night out. Inside, however, it’s a different story. She’s not sure it’s possible for her heart to go any faster, and every cell of her body seems to buzz. She can barely hear Lawrence and Bimini laughing in response to A’whora’s comment for the way her blood’s roaring in her ears. Once the others stop paying attention and go back to watching the film, it’s only then that Tayce turns her head, raises one unimpressed eyebrow at A’whora who’s looking up at her with a scheming smirk on her face and a glint in her eye.

And right as she’s looking at her, A’whora closes her eyes and plants a kiss against Tayce’s arm then goes back to watching the movie as if nothing ever happened.

It’s at that point that Tayce feels her mouth dry up, feels something coil tight inside her and a throb between her legs. Something is going to happen the moment the pair of them are alone, she can feel it. There’s no way it can’t. In stark contrast to earlier, Tayce now wills the film to end sooner rather than later.

And it does. Finally. The credits roll, the Beach Boys are playing, and Lawrence slaps her thighs. “Well, that was a heap of shite!”

“I’ve still not forgiven Alan Rickman. God love the dead old bastard,” Bimini shrugs, heaves themself up off the floor and slides their phone out of their back pocket, scrolling busily. “Oh, Ellie’s asking if we wanna come join her an’ Anne for drinks. Apparently they’re in some boujie cocktail bar in town spending all their student loan and need responsible adults to stop them.”

“Why the hell are they asking us then?” Tayce quips, the giggle it elicits from A’whora sending a shockwave down her spine.

“I’m down to go meet them both. I’m already tipsy, might as well go the whole hog and get rat-arsed,” Lawrence says decisively, leaping up from the sofa and fixing Tayce and A’whora with an inquisitive glance. “You two coming?”

Tayce lets go of A’whora’s waist and stretches to make a point. “Nah, babe, I can’t. Got this essay due on Wednesday I’ve not started.”

Bimini snorts. “Yeah, I forgot. You’re dead on it and organised, in’t ya?”

Tayce pulls a face at them while Lawrence asks A’whora.

“Mmph. Think I need a nap before I even think about drinking any more, hun.”

Lawrence eyes them both suspiciously and appears to be about to say something else before Bimini tugs on her arm and distracts her. “C’mon then, let’s leave these two to be boring. Have fun, losers!”

Goodbyes are exchanged between them and Lawrence and Bimini finally leave, the fire door to the kitchen swinging shut and leaving the warm glow of the fairy lights, the blanket, the sofa, and A’whora gazing at her with that shit-eating smirk on her face again.

So Tayce wastes no time in bringing a hand up to her jaw, leaning down and kissing her, and judging by the way that A’whora melts into her and lets out a little happy sigh of satisfaction she’s been waiting for it just as much as Tayce has. They fall together like it’s easy, as if both of the times they’ve done this before have been all the practise they need. A’whora brings her hand to rest against Tayce’s cheek as if she’s trying to somehow pull her closer than she already is, and her neediness makes Tayce giggle against her lips. In turn it sets A’whora off, and when she pulls away their faces are still close and there’s little smiles on each of them.

“What’s so funny, you little bitch?” A’whora smirks, her barbed words cushioned by the way she’s wriggling onto Tayce’s lap and bringing her arms up to circle around her neck just like she did the first time in the club.

“Just you’re kind of giving me mixed signals here, baby. Saying you don’t want things to be awkward and then moving to me the entire film,” Tayce mutters, keeping a playful smile on her face despite the fact her words hold entirely too much truth.

It clearly takes the wind out of A’whora’s sails because she casts her gaze down, pauses before speaking and looking at Tayce from under her lashes. “I didn’t mean that, I just meant…I want us to be able to do stuff and not have it be awkward afterwards.”

Oh.

This is a game changer. So A’whora doesn’t regret anything. She doesn’t want them to go back to the way things were- well no, she does, just with an extra little bit of something more added in. She wants the friendship they have but she also clearly wants Tayce like she wants her back, and the realisation makes Tayce squeeze her thighs together, anticipation now so high she feels scared for her blood pressure.

Tayce tries not to let her realisation show on her face. Instead she looks at A’whora with interest, raises an eyebrow at her in amusement. “What’s ‘stuff’, then?”

“Well, just like…if we’re both horny and in the same flat then it saves us having to swipe Tinder for hours on end only to find a girl with a boyfriend who’s looking to ‘experiment’ and never found another girl’s clit in her life, doesn’t it?” A’whora shrugs blithely despite the blush that’s hit her cheeks, her turn of phrase making Tayce bite back a smile. “Whereas I’ve been told I’m quite good at that.”

The twinkle is back in A’whora’s eye again and the combination of that, her smirk and her words make Tayce’s stomach do a somersault. She can’t let it show, though, can’t let A’whora see her crack so she blinks to maintain her composure, tilts her head with mock-curiosity. “Have you now.”

“Yeah. Could show you if you wanted,” A’whora grins brazenly back at her, shifting a little in Tayce’s lap and sending her into orbit. “Plus I can’t remember if I put on matching underwear this morning, so…you should come help me check.”

Tayce breaks the stalemate to throw her head back in a laugh. “Jesus Christ, Lawrence was right. You actually can’t flirt to save yourself.”

She watches A’whora’s face drop into a pout and instantly feels as if she’s kicked a puppy, so Tayce brings one of her hands up to rest on top of her thigh and gives it a squeeze. “Says a lot for how fit you are that it’s still working though, doesn’t it?”

The pout cracks into a scheming smile, and Tayce matches it before A’whora leans in and kisses it off her face. It’s more heated this time, that little undercurrent of intensity as Tayce runs her tongue over A’whora’s and hears her whimper against her lips. As A’whora pushes her fingers into Tayce’s hair Tayce lets her hands drift around to the small of her back, and the way A’whora keeps shifting needily in her lap only makes Tayce want her more, which she didn’t think was even possible.

“We’ve got a free flat, you know,” A’whora mutters in between little kisses, her voice low as she whispers against her lips.

“Probably a good thing. You couldn’t be quiet if your life depended on it,” Tayce teases, running her fingers over the waistband of A’whora’s sweatpants in an attempt to try and convey how much she needs her.

“Oh, you have no idea, babe,” A’whora smirks before pulling away, ripping her top out from where it’s tucked into her waistband and tugging it off, barely even giving Tayce a chance to react. She’s left in a little black bralet with Playboy logos along a white band at the hem, and Tayce feels her mouth go dry.

She’s really, really hoping A’whora put on matching underwear this morning.

But she’s still taken aback because after all- they’re in the middle of their living room, and any of the others could walk in at any given moment- so she can’t help the way her mouth drops open and the way she lets out a little shocked giggle. “A’whora!”

“What?!” A’whora smiles smugly back at her, clearly glad she’s got the reaction she wanted.

“We’re not shagging on this couch, are you insane?! It’s rotten! Kim Woodburn would have a fit if she saw it!”

“Oh, so we are going to shag?” A’whora regards her with one cocked eyebrow, and Tayce can’t help but mirror it. There’s a pause before she gives a small huff of mock-resignation, sealing their fate.

“God. We’re really doing the whole friends with benefits cliché, then?”

A’whora smirks affectionately at her. “Only awkward if we make it awkward.”

She holds out her pinkie between them and Tayce takes it with a resigned laugh, the childish nature of their promise contrasting deeply with the whole situation.

“C’mon then, bestie, lead the way.”

And as A’whora scrambles excitedly off her lap and Tayce takes the opportunity to smack her ass playfully, she feels her heart soar and her head grow light at the thought of being able to do everything she’s been thinking about doing for over a month with one of her best friends in the world.

She wonders why everyone seems to say that a friends with benefits situation isn’t a good idea. This is already the best decision she’s made in years.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #tayce #a'whora #friends with benefits to lovers #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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dutten-does-the-fanfic · 3 years

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Obviously you don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel motivated or don’t want to write but i was wondering if you had any big plans for the future- both personal/original projects and fan fictions. Love ur writing! Again, plz i mean not to pressure you just genuinely curious

Hello! And thank you, that’s so sweet of you :3 I don’t remember if I’ve said this (I’m pretty sure I have??) but I’m currently in uni, and course-load and exams have practically made it their mission to kick my ass at every possible moment, which is why there are these long breaks where I’m just, completely inactive (and I hate it, but I haven’t unlocked enough levels of adult to figure out how to healthily balance my work life and personal life - maybe in a few years ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

But I am still writing!! (or, am going to be when I get a moment to breathe) Definitely motivated and interested and keeping at it!! :D

As for projects, oh boy. What haven’t I got going on (loads, is the answer, but to go over a few!)

I don’t really have any original projects - I’ve never really liked creating oc’s for some reason? I much prefer having the characters from a show/book/whatever and working off of them for the story/plot whilst still keeping some of the character we all fell in love with intact - I don’t know. I really love making small comments about the OG platform (quotes, moments, mentions, really anything, just small easter eggs for myself and whoever reads the story) that I obvs wouldn’t be able to make with my own OG content xD Everything would be canon then.

As for fanfiction! So much!! Absolutely none of it is finished, because I have zero patience or sense of delayed gratification when it comes to posting - I just want it all out at once and to read everyone’s comments at once xD

I’ve got stories going for a few different fandoms and ideas just written down in my ever-growing ideas-doc for even more! I think I’m going to correctly assume you might be here for the SKAM fics, tho ;p

Basically, I’m horrible with understanding what is and isn’t a spoiler because I know the twists and turns so I just take it all for granted - however, when I actively try to describe a fic without spoilers, they end up sounding genuinely dull xD But I’ll do my best without giving too much away!

I’ve basically got so many stories going at once that I genuinely have no idea how many there are as I always forget some, so here are a selected few!

Obvs, there’s Even’s POV for “Something Great” (aka “that fic” aka my twitter legacy) which is nowhere near done. I’m really loving what I have got down, though! As far as I remember, I’m about 8k in, but I’m shooting for 30-40k, so no time frame. In case you didn’t know, I’ve done an entire announcement post where there are also a few previews included :D

Then there’s a pretty much crack fic with some angst and a way for me to memorize my course work that actually isn’t too far from being finished, but... it needs some work. It’s basically one of those “heeey, you’re pretty much my best friend and I don’t have unrequited feelings for you at all (lies), so it’s totally okay that we pretend to hook up to get back at our roommate who keeps sexciling us only for it to turn real” kind of AU.

Then there’s the other crack fic from boy squad’s POV (well, Jonas, but they practically serve as one entity) about them being oblivious to Evak until one day Isak announces #Evak is real, but they’re just so sure they would have noticed something, so they think Isak and Even are pranking them, so they set out expose them. A+ content, if I have to say so myself.

Next there’s my newest pride and joy that I’ve currently got sitting somewhere between 50-60k with no end in sight. I love this story, I cannot being to describe just how much I love this story. There is so much to this story, and I don’t want to give anything away :’( Basically, Isak has quite serious trauma from something that happened in his childhood, and it’s set during his second year in high school - he’s living in the Kollektiv (with four rooms, ‘cause I aint sending Noora to London), and he’s got the boy squad, Eva and Jonas are still dating so the girl squad also make a lot of appearances. And it’s basically just this major character exploration of the different ways Isak’s trauma appears, how it impacts the way he interacts with other people, the way he sees the world and other people, how he basically doesn’t deal with the trauma and how severely it affects him. And then there’s this entire thing about the sudden suicide of a famous Norwegian pianist (not one of the major characters, I ain’t about that life) that somehow ties into everything and everything turns very shady.

That barely covers the actual story and I’m pretty sure it sounds so jumbled up, but I literally can’t figure out how to describe it without spoilers.

Then we’ve got another angst-galore! A traveling AU! Which, timing, I know. We’ll ignore that. With my pace, it won’t be ready until traveling is allowed again anyway ^__^’ It plays on the themes of lost and found, and it’s basically about how Even travels to find out who he is, but he ends up finding Isak instead, running into him in different cities and countries, and they fall in love, but Isak is traveling to lose himself and everyone - ah. Angst-galore indeed.

What else - there’s a snakesak ABO!AU, because I’ve never written either, and for some reason, I must’ve apparently felt the need to put the two together. ABO is the kind of AU that pretty much everyone holds different opinions on - it’s not a tag I filter out, but it pretty much differs from story to story how much I like it. All I know is, when it is done well, it is done well.

I know there are more, because there are always more. I’ve definitely got so many ideas that I haven’t gotten anything down more than the premise: There’s a murder mystery AU, because I’ve wanted to do one pretty much since I wrote the first chapter for Beat the Record (you know, back when it was still just supposed to be a oneshot xD) and now I’ve finally got a basic storyline for it! Featuring detective Even who has been demoted to a permanent deskjob and basically only kept on out of pity after screwing up evidence? an assignment? plans still pending. Not accepting this, he sets out to catch the new serial killer with the help of newly hired forensic scientist Isak, whom he asks for help because of how talented Isak is, not because Even has a big-ass crush on him. Then there’s the university AU that’s basically a rom/com where Even is one of the hosts for the uni’s radio station, sees pretty boy Isak generally being a mess, falls instantly in love and keeps talking about “the cute boy” on the radio, asking if anyone knows his name and if they can get him his number. Isak only finds out about it because Magnus is a listener and accidentally figures it out.

And so many more. Literally. We are talking pages upon pages, let alone some quite long stories I also have going for other fandoms. I seriously can’t wait - I just need to get myself writing xD

I hope this helps tide over the long waiting period a little :) xx <3

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acoupleofbravedorks · 4 years

Text

Through Thick and Thin

Hey yall! Heard about @shipmistress9‘s Hiccstrid week 2020 celebration, and I wanted to take part in it. I’m writing up a few things I hope will be done in the next couple days, buuuut I had this rather fluffy commission laying about involving a set up I haven’t seen played around with much in the fandom.

I will note that this is not my work, and that the author is fine with this being released, but wishes to remain anonymous. I hope yall like it as much as I did!

Hiccup meandered along the street, heading nowhere in particular but feeling the need to get out of the house. Typical, his first proper day off work in weeks and he'd woken up too damn early, and then got bored trying to stay indoors and relax. Still, at least it was a nice day out, sun shining but just enough breeze to stop it being sweaty and stifling.

He was just debating heading to the shop for nothing in particular other than a distraction from boredom, when a big shadow fell across his path.

"Hiccup Haddock, is that you?"

Confused, Hiccup looked up from the ground to the source of the voice. His eyes found a very curvy lady, with round cheeks and thick thighs and a soft, round belly resting beneath an ample chest. Realising he was probably staring a bit too low, he lifted his eyes up to her face.

There was something familiar in the blonde hair, the round freckled cheeks and blue eyes...

"Astrid?!"

She'd been his best friend when they were kids, spending endless hours together talking about dragons. Astrid used to chase him with an axe if he bugged her, but it always ended in forgiving cuddles and childish giggles. Then her parents had a very, very messy divorce, and Astrid was whisked away to live with her grandmother to keep her out of it. They'd meant to stay in touch, but they were only kids and it wasn't easy. He lost her grandmothers address when his own parents split, the bit of paper with it written down obviously stolen by mountain trolls when packing up to move out.

Of course, Astrid had been a lanky, skinny child back then, shooting up in height before most of their classmates and charging around so much she obviously burned off a lot of energy.

Now, lanky and skinny were definitely not words he could use to describe her. She seemed to follow his thoughts despite him not voicing them, reaching up to pat her big belly with a laugh. Her smile hadn't changed, completely and utterly her.

"Yeah, I gained quite a few pounds over the years. Grandma's cooking and a lot of lazy food in college, yanno?"

He shrugged, smiling, awash with fond nostalgia for his oldest friend.

"No, no, you look great. It's so good to see you!"

They hugged, her body soft against his but the strength she held him with was surprising, reminding him of how she could easily crush him when they were kids with her super-strength.

"Great to see you too. I barely recognised you, you actually learned to do your hair. And you're so tall!"

"Yeah, puberty hit me like a ton of bricks, as I've been told. And I had to learn to do my hair, else I get awful helmet hair when I'm out on my bike."

"Finally got your wheels?"

She obviously remembered him fawning over motorcycles in his dads mechanic-themed magazines as a kid, always insisting he'd be riding one as soon as possible.

"Yep! So... what are you doing here? Are you around for long? Want to go somewhere and catch up?"

He realised he was talking kind of quickly, still buzzing with the pleasant surprise of seeing her again. Astrid nodded, beaming.

"Sounds good!"

As they walked, Astrid informed him she'd just moved back to the area when her job got transferred there.

"What do you do?"

"Just some machine assembly work. Not exciting, but pays the bills and it fit around classes when I was at uni. And, to everyones surprise, I'm not phased by trudging around on my feet all day on the factory floor. What about you?"

"Garage, obviously. Up to my elbows in grease and metal all day every day."

Astrid smiled.

"You must be thrilled!"

Hiccup nodded, grinning.

"Yeah. So, where are we going again?"

"Little place I like. Good food and sturdy furniture."

She wasn't kidding - Hiccup didn't actually fill the chair, and it definitely felt strong under him as he perched, watching Astrid scour the menu and exchanging friendly greetings with the staff.

"You brought a date! Sarah, come see this!"

"He's not my date, you mad woman. Just a friend. Hiccup, please ignore her."

Feeling his cheeks flush slightly, he laughed it off.

"Oooh, with a smile like that he'll be snapped up if you won't have him Astrid!"

Blinking in surprise, Hiccup watched as Astrid shooed off the waitress with demands for chocolate milkshake while they looked at the food options.

"Sorry. They're a little too friendly sometimes. I think I keep them afloat with how much I eat here."

She giggled as she said it, humming before smiling over the top of the little paper foldout at Hiccup. He smiled back.

"It's fine. So, what's good here then, if you know them so well?"

"Oh, everything. But if I remember rightly, you like your food meaty, so I'd go with the steak burger. And if you ask nicely, they put a scoop of ice cream in your milkshake."

Trusting Astrid's judgement - and it did sound delicious - Hiccup ordered what she recommended, and was very pleased by how tasty it was. Astrid had the same, plus some kind of cheese-fries mountain on the side. They chatted between bites, catching up on all the years gone by since they lost touch, whiling away well over an hour there before Astrid frowned at her phone, then looked up at him.

"Sorry, I gotta go, work needs me in. We should do this again soon, now I'm back down here."

"Yeah, sounds great."

They traded numbers, paid and tipped the servers and hugged goodbye outside. Hiccup found himself smiling, warmed and happy about Astrid being back in his life already. He continued on to the shop, pleasantly full of food as he pottered about the aisles, picking up a few things and heading home afterwards.

Astrid texted him that evening when she got off work, and the two quickly compared schedules so they could hang out again soon by phone call.

"If you tell me what you like eating, I'll cook you dinner one of the days."

Hiccup offered, hearing the smile in her voice when he offered.

"Ah, you already know the way to my heart!"

"Well, you said you ate a lot of 'lazy food', I thought home cooked might be a nice change for you."

"Hey, I'm not complaining!"

After forgetting to give her his address on the phone and hastily texting it to her the next day, Hiccup got to planning and prepping, ready to cook. Her hearty appetite was a bonus to him - he loved cooking, and was pretty used to cooking for his dad and uncle Gobber, so big portions came rather naturally. When he visited his mom, she often reminded him neither of them could put away as much food, and there were always leftovers.

He opened the door at her punctual knock, Astrid beaming as she stood in his doorway.

"Come on in."

"Ooooh, your place smells amazing!"

"That'll be dinner. Unless it's me. I did shower today."

She snorted, shaking her head at his feigned bragging.

"Oh, you haven't changed."

It was like no time at all had passed, the two reconnecting easily, having each other in fits of laughter. Astrid still shoved him playfully, though it had a bit more force to it now than when they were kids. They reminisced over childhood TV favourites, and got a little tipsy on the wine Astrid brought over to accompany dinner.

"Ah, I missed you so much!"

Astrid threw her thick arm around him, squeezing Hiccup to her side. Chuckling, he hugged her back.

"I missed you too!"

He offered to let Astrid stay the night (platonically!), but she declined and so he saw her in to a taxi that evening after plates were clean and they'd arranged another meet-up. She pecked a kiss on his cheek with a smile before climbing in to the car, Hiccup watching her go and feeling genuinely sad to see her go. Their friendship had awakened effortlessly, and there were years to catch up on.

It was a couple of days before they got to see each other again, but they chatted over the phone and put on the same terrible TV shows so they could rag on them together, which Hiccup found absolutely hilarious.

At first, Astrid's weight gain didn't really... come up. She was still Astrid. There was just... more Astrid.

But when they were both off work and the weather was nice, Hiccup suggested a picnic. Others obviously had the same idea, so there were quite a few people out in the field. Hiccup put an old throw down for them to sit on, Astrid joking she'd need help getting back up as she sat down, mid-thigh shorts straining slightly as she got comfortable.

Some rude passerby made a rude comment about her size, and Hiccup found himself incredibly annoyed. Astrid barely seemed to notice, at least until she looked up with a glare that could curdle milk.

"I can lose weight. You'll always be an asshole, and I don't remember asking for your opinion. Now go away."

The guy recoiled, then looked over at Hiccup. Hiccup was, incidentally, holding a knife. It was for cheese, but it seemed to look threatening enough that the rude stranger decided not to continue digging themselves into a hole and left.

"Are you ok?"

"Me? I'm fine. It happens, and hey, they can go home to a salad while I have a heaping pile of lasagna. Guess which of us is happier for dinner?"

She was smiling, but Hiccup still shuffled over and gave her a hug. Astrid let him, then nudged him and nodded at his bag.

"Food?"

"Sure."

They ate and chatted and lounged in the sun, Astrid looking pretty and at ease as she laid back on the throw and closed her eyes, soaking up the sunshine that hit her skin. After a little while, she cracked an eye open, peering up at him.

"Are you watching me?"

"Not intentionally. I'm debating if it's too bright to get my sketchpad out, and your top is white so it's a good point of reference."

She rolled her eyes, then went back to sunbathing. Hiccup did get the sketchpad out, doodling the nearby scenery - there was a river a little ways away, with some rocks and trees littering the banks.

"You were always scribbling when we were little too."

"I like drawing. It was something me and mom did together a lot, so I guess it's a lot of happy memories. Oh, by the way, mom wants to see you soon!"

"She does?"

Hiccup nodded.

"Yeah. I mentioned you'd moved back down this way and she was thrilled, asked when I was bringing you over."

Astrid smiled.

"I did always like Valka. How is she doing?"

"See for yourself, next time you're free I can invite her over to come for dinner?"

For a minute, Astrid looked oddly... nervous.

"Is that wise?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is she gonna go all 'should you be eating that' or sly digs about my weight?"

Hiccup raised an eyebrow, bemused.

"You do remember the size of my dad, right? Mom's not gonna care in the slightest. She'll probably laugh and say I found someone who's appetite matches my cooking portions."

Finally, Astrid smiled again. Eventually, they agreed to go, and Hiccup managed to help Astrid back to her feet, taking a leisurely walk along the path to get out of the park before school let out and the place was flooded with children itching for freedom.

The only flaw in the walk was the rather aggressive wasp that chased Hiccup, but he managed to lose it eventually while Astrid very unhelpfully roared with laughter.

"I think he liked you."

"I think he wanted the leftover juice in my bag."

Feeling that usual contentment that spending time with Astrid gave him, Hiccup was sad to see her go, but she did agree to the dinner with his mom. Hiccup relayed that information to Valka, who was thrilled and giddy about it. He did give her advance information that there was quite a bit more of Astrid than before, so that she was prepared and wouldn't make Astrid feel uncomfortable. His mother, as Hiccup predicted, was not phased in the slightest.

Valka arrived first, hugging Hiccup tightly and ruffling his hair as she asked about the minute amount of things that had happened since they last saw each other and he shooed her away from the kitchen side.

"You're a hazard!"

She tsked, then leapt excitedly when the door knocked again.

"Astrid!"

"Oh my gods, Valka! I swear, you haven't aged a day!"

Well, those two were getting on like a house on fire in seconds, Hiccup smiling to himself all the while as Astrid headed over to hug him in greeting. She looked very nice that day - not that she didn't always, really - in a brown skirt and blue shirt, placing a bottle of wine to contribute to dinner on the side before she went back to chatting with Hiccup's mother.

The evening went absolutely wonderfully, conversation flowing easily. Of course, his mother did her best to fill Astrid in on all the embarrassing moments that happened while she was away, Hiccup's awkward teen years out in the open and Astrid fell about laughing while Hiccup pouted. He couldn't stay mad about how happy the atmosphere was though, and after walking Astrid down to her taxi, he returned to his mother who was loading the dishwasher for him (one of his little weaknesses, because he cooked so much).

"Did you have fun tonight mom?"

"It was wonderful! And I'm so happy you two reconnected, that you've found someone t-"

Wait, wait. Hiccup realised his mother had gotten the wrong idea somewhere along the lines.

"Whoa, mom. Slow down. It's not like that."

She stopped, blinking.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, Astrid's great and it's amazing having her around again, but we're just friends."

Somehow, she did not look convinced.

"Really?"

"What do you mean, really?"

His mother shrugged, knowing look on her face as she checked the side and closed the dishwasher.

"Nothing, nothing. I just... you seem very cosy, that's all. And I see the way you smile at her. I just thought you seemed rather smitten."

Now it was Hiccup's turn to blink, confused.

"I... what? No. I'm not smitten."

"If you say so son. I should get going, I have work tomorrow."

She hugged her son and kissed his hair, all while Hiccup was still sorting through his thoughts somewhat. He hadn't really thought about whether or not he was attracted to Astrid. She was Astrid. They were childhood best friends, and he'd assumed they'd just reverted to the same sort of relationship now. Simple, right?

And his mother thought they were actually dating. So... did that mean Astrid was giving off some kind of signal only moms could notice too?

No, that was ridiculous...

Right?

He scrubbed a hand across his face, drained the last bit of wine into a glass rather than bother storing what was barely a single serving. Then he sat down on the sofa and sighed, sipping slowly at the wine and absently picking at leftover dessert.

Hiccup was no closer to clarity the next day, a mild headache from either the wine or the constant thinking nagging him when he woke up. A couple of painkillers washed down with his morning coffee took that away though, leaving him to text Astrid and invite her over for movie night sometime soon. Plenty confused by his mothers words, Hiccup figured the best chance of clearing it all up in his head was to actually talk to Astrid.

They sat on his bed, a huge bowl of popcorn between them, and pizza delivery called for and due thirty minutes from then. Hiccup fiddled with a few bits of popcorn until they were crumbs, knowing he'd regret it later when he had to get all the crumbs out of his bed.

"Want to hear something funny?"

Astrid glanced over, raising popcorn to her mouth.

"Sure?"

Hiccup drank some water for his suddenly dry mouth.

"My mom thought I was introducing you to her as my girlfriend."

He watched for her response. Astrid crunched her popcorn a little more slowly, using her drink to clear the remnants from her mouth before she answered.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Started gushing about how happy she was I'd 'found someone'."

Astrid tsked, rolling her eyes.

"Like that's ever gonna happen."

Hiccup, still unsure until just then, realised he was disappointed by her dismissal.

"Wow, you are really rough on my ego."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"I didn't mean cus of anything about you! I just meant... come on, it's not like you're gonna be interested in me like that."

Hiccup frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave him an exasperated look.

"It means... I'm fine with how I look and all that, I could change it but yanno, I'm healthy enough and I can move around. But it's not... pretty."

Hiccup shook his head.

"That's really what you think?"

Astrid nodded, gave a non-commital shrug.

"It's the truth."

She reached for more popcorn. Hiccup moved the bowl, placing it aside so he could kneel up next to her without sending the kernels cascading everywhere. Astrid frowned.

"What?"

"I just... I don't like you putting yourself down. And... well... I think you're beautiful."

Astrid, normally so forward and confident, dropped her gaze from his, freckled cheeks flushing.

"Yeah. Sure."

"I'm serious!"

She turned back to look at him, expression unreadable.

Then she kissed him.

Hiccup wasn't expecting it, but it didn't take much time for his brain to catch up and respond in kind. They found themselves horizontal sooner rather than later, hands roaming and touching exploring over clothes. There was so much of Astrid to feel, after all, thick thighs he squeezed at gently, enthralled by the way Astrid gasped against his mouth.

She was soft and pliant everywhere his hands landed, from her plush hips to her juicy backside. Her hands made short work of him, sliding under his shirt to roam his bare skin beneath. Hiccup felt himself harden against her stomach, prominent and soft and warm as it pressed against him. He kept his own hands above clothes for the moment, though he let his hands roam a little over her chest, pleased when he was not rebuffed.

Surprising even himself a little bit, Hiccup let his hands wander down to her belly, rather transfixed by it now he had the free reign to be. He rubbed it, felt Astrid tense up slightly at his touch.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just... big."

"So?"

Hiccup continued to rub her belly, fingers finding bare skin where her shirt had rucked up with their squirming on his bed. There were bumps and ripples of stretch marks that he couldn't quite resist tracing, Astrid letting out a sound halfway to a giggle. He wriggled down, wanting Astrid to feel reassured, safe, desirable. Kisses dropped over the soft bump of her belly, and she actually giggled at the tickling of his hair when Hiccup wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her tummy properly.

"What are you doing?"

"Proving to you that you have nothing to worry about. Plus... I like it."

"Seriously?"

He nodded, smiling when Astrid relaxed. She urged him back up, but their kisses grew a little lazier, more relaxed when he moved, hands staying above the waist. Astrid played idly with his hair, which he found sweet enough that he smiled in to their kiss, Astrid returning it before they both dissolved in to giggles, breaking apart to catch their breath.

The timing was good, as the door knocked just then to announce the arrival of their pizza.

"Back in a minute. You want a plate or shall we eat out the box?"

"Well, there's fries and garlic bread too, so yeah, plates might be a good idea."

Hiccup nodded, pecking a kiss on Astrid's lips that brought another adorable smile to her face before he climbed off the bed reluctantly, exchanging money for tasty food. The delivery guy definitely gave Hiccup a "no way you'll eat all this" look, not matching the volume of food to Hiccup's narrow frame.

Stacking plates on the top of the pizza box, Hiccup headed back to where Astrid awaited him, cheeks still pink, eyes bright, clothes rumpled and he felt a little breathless for how gorgeous she really was.

"Can I interest you in dinner, milady?"

"Absolutely. Although, garlic bread seemed a better idea before there was kissing."

He chuckled.

"We'll both have bad breath. Alternatively, I have a spare toothbrush you can use."

They plated up, and after a little adjusting, Astrid leant herself against Hiccup with a soft sigh. He could only eat one handed, but that was a small price to pay. He rather liked the weight of her there. Astrid was harder to convince, eventually suggesting they swap places. Perching himself on her lap did have it's perks, like the feel of her soft thighs under him, her round belly against him, and he could feed her until she let out the sweetest little giggles.

"So..." Hiccup dared to venture the question when they'd finished eating, having lost all track of whatever film he'd put on earlier "what is this? What are we?"

Astrid hummed, wrapping a thick arm around him and Hiccup thrilled in the reassuring grip.

"Well... much as you will surely hate to admit it, I'd say you can tell your mom she was right after all."

As she kissed him again, both paying no mind to garlic breath, Hiccup found the prospect of having to tell his mother that wasn't so bad, since it meant Astrid was now his girlfriend.

#ooc #Astrid #Astrid Hofferson #Hiccup #Hiccstrid #Hiccstrid Week 2020 #commission #chubstrid #plumpstrid #iunno #just think the idea of her liks this is both cute and interesting

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shoddy-sonneteer · 4 years

Text

Chasing your Dreams

CHAPTER 2

pairing: Min Yoongi*Reader

Genre: Angst, smol parts of fluff

“(Y/N)-ah!” Yoongi yelled your name as you were walking down the corridor to go to the canteen to grab a snack before heading to the next class.

“What happened, Yoongs? You sound happy.” You asked with a smile on your face, happy to see him happy after a long time.

“I’m going to participate in the auditions.” Yoongi said showing you his gummy smile.

“This is amazing! Tell me more about this!” You asked pulling him into one of the empty classrooms to know more about the auditions he was talking about.

“The audition is in two weeks and it is conducted by a company called Big Hit. I don’t know much about them, but it’s a start, right?” He asked looking at you with doe eyes.

“Yes! Of course. You already are an amazing musician and they would be dumb to not select you. Just go and do your best like you always do. I’ll be there with you throughout. Promise.” You said giving him one of your genuine smiles.

“Thanks babe. For everything.” He said hugging your waist.

“Pabo. You don’t have to thank me. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure you would do the same for me too. Besides, I love you a lot dumbass.” You moved closer to press your lips to his.

“I love you a lot too, jagi.” He confessed bridging the gap between your lips and kissing you passionately. Just as the kiss was about to get a little heated, the bell indicating that the break time was over and you were forced to pull away making you whine a little.

“It’s ok babe. We’ll continue this later after school ends.” Yoongi suggested with a smirk that made you blush deeper shade of red than you already were.

“We’ll see about that later. Now let’s get to class. I don’t want Mr. Kim to bite our ears off for being late.” You said starting to walk towards the door to get to the class.

The day of the audition couldn’t have come sooner. The audition was taking place at a lowkey restaurant and you were waiting at the back with Yoongi till his name was called. Soon his name was called and it seemed like he had been gone for hours when in reality it was only 15 minutes.

After, he came out the both of you decided to go out and have some lunch at the nearby ramyeon shop and come back to know the results of the audition.

The results were being announced just as the both of you returned and it was declared that Yoongi came second and that the company would contact him soon regarding the details.

“This is amazing, Yoongles! You made it!” You said hugging him out of excitement. You hoped that the soon was real soon so that he can pursue his dreams as a producer and composer soon.

But all Yoongi did in response was just a deep sigh hugging you back.

“What happened Yoongs?” you asked looking at him worried. This was supposed to be a happy moment. He was one step closer to achieving his dreams as his talents are no longer hidden in his room and your school’s music room.

“It’s just that, I didn’t think that I’d make this far and you know I haven’t told my parents about this audition yet. I don’t think they will agree to this because if I do get a call, I will have to move to Seoul and… that’s kinda a major reason why they won’t let me go.” He said letting out another sigh.

“Yoongi, I can understand. But first try talking to them about your dreams. Yes, I know you have done it a lot of times before. But do it again. Tell them about this audition and that you came second and that it’s not an easy thing to do. Tell them that them telling you that they will call you soon regarding the details is not something that every one that auditions gets. Try to have a heart to heart talk with them.”

“Let’s hope for the best.” Yoongi said hugging you back tightly.

It had not even been two hours since he dropped you home and left for his to talk to his parents regarding the auditions, you heard tired knocks on your doors.

Upon opening the doors, you saw an equally tired Yoongi with a cut on his lip. Shocked at his appearance, you immediately pull into the apartment and make him sit on the couch while you ran to go grab a first aid kit. But before you could move, he pulled to sit beside him and hugged you tight. You immediately wrapped your arms around and started rubbing his back in a comforting manner when you felt him tremble before he began sobbing.

“Yoongi-ah. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.” You kept chanting still rubbing his back to calm him down. Seeing him completely broken made you tear up too. But you tried to remain strong for him.

After staying like for quite some time, you noticed that he had calmed down considerably. So, you pulled away to see that he soaked your shirt. But you didn’t care. You stood from the couch mumbling something about the first aid kit.

When you came back with the first aid kit, you noticed that he hadn’t moved an inch from his place. Without any words, you knelt in front of him and treated the cut on his lip. You were curious to know what happened but at the same time you didn’t want to upset him further by making him recall what had transpired.

You just sat there beside him silently giving him the space that he needed right now. Even though you didn’t know what exactly happened, you had a fairly good idea that talking to parents didn’t go too well.

After several silent moments, he started speaking about what actually happened at his place.

“I went to talk to them about how we discussed and it started out good. I was speaking a bit more confidently because of the auditions but then my mom asked me what would happen to my studies and I said that I would go for it only after I finish my school and that since I was making a career in music, I didn’t think that I would need to go to a college or something. This happened to enrage my dad and he began yelling at me. I tried so hard to remain calm but he kept saying I want to do was useless and a waste of time and that it would teach me a lesson if he broke the equipment’s in my room. He even went as far as breaking it. When I tried to stop him, he hit me. Thank god hyung came at the right moment to stop him. He asked me leave the house for some time so I came here.”

Hearing the story, made you want to tear up again. You remember how Yoongi saved all his allowances to buy those equipment’s. He sometimes even went as far skipping his meals to save money and took up double jobs a few months.

You really hoped his hyung could calm his dad down and make him understand that Yoongi’s interests and passion lies in music and not in some bookish knowledge.

“You can stay the night here if you want to. I’ll talk to my parents. I’m sure they’ll agree.” You said hugging his torso.

“Thanks.” He said hugging you back.

At that moment, you really wished you could somehow make him forget his pains. You wanted to give you his gummy smile without any trace of the pain that he was feeling right now. So, you just hugged him tighter to let him know that you were always going to be there by side supporting his dreams no matter what happens.

Almost two weeks had passed since the incident with his parents, you and Yoongi were sitting at the cafeteria eating your lunches discussing about the final exam that you had just written and your future plans regarding uni since you were all graduating this year.

Just as you finished your lunch and started walking towards your next class, Yoongi got a call that made him stop in his tracks. You looked at him curiously as he answered the call with an unsure look and answer with a trembling lip and hang up.

“Who was it, Yoongs?” You asked shooting him a curious look.

“Big Hit.” He said finally looking at you.

“Oh. What did they say?”

“They asked to come join as a trainee soon.”

“That’s amazing, Yoongs! Told you they would select you.”

“I told them I would get back to them after discussing with my parents.”

“Oh. Yea. You should talk to them when your hyung is there.”

“Yea. Of course. We should get to class or we will be late.”

“Yea. Tell me how it goes when you talk to them.”

“Who else will I tell?”

“Yea. Just saying.” You said sheepishly dragging him towards the classroom.

You got a text from Yoongi asking you to meet him at the park near your apartment around 6 in the evening.

When you went there, you saw Yoongi sitting on one of the benches with his head on his hands not even looking up to see if it was you that sit beside him.

“What happened, Yoongs?” you asked putting an arm around him hugging him to your chest.

“They kicked me out.”

“THEY WHAT!?” You pulled away to look at his face hoping it was a prank he was pulling on you. They can’t just kick him out on the streets like this. They are his parents and raised him with love for the past 18 years. But, seeing the broken look on his face, you realised that realised that this was no joke and hugged him tighter.

“Don’t worry, Yoongs. Maybe they just said it at the heat of the moment. They probably regret it right now. Don’t let it get to your head. Please.” You begged rubbing his back.

“I don’t know. I don’t think there is going back.”

“Don’t say that pabo. They are your parents and they love you. Just give them some time to understand and accept the fact that you aren’t going to change your mind about this. Don’t ever say that ok? You are their amazing son.” You said hugging him tighter trying to comfort him as best as possible.

Yoongi didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He was too hurt to even feel anything right now. He wanted to prove his dad wrong and show him that this profession wasn’t as bad as he thought it was and he just hoped that the decision he stuck to was worth it.

#bts #bts fanfction #bts angst #bts fluff #bts suga #bts namjoon #bts jin #bts min yoongi #bts jhope #bts hobi #BTS jimin #bts taehyung #bts v #BTS jungkook #bts scenarios

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dreamin-of-somewhere-else · 5 years

Text

Sacrifice

Marvel

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Friend!Reader, (Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark [mentioned], Stephen Strange [mentioned])

Warnings: Angst, major injuries, major character death (or is it? Wink, wink). Basically, don’t be too scared!

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Hello fam! Last spring I truly discovered Marvel and fell in love with it, and has been writing some one shots here and there since then. I know I’ve gotten some requests to write other stuff, but I have so much to do with uni and everything right now so I don’t have time really to write something good enough to post. This however, has just been sitting on my computer since summer, and today I finally pulled myself together and did the final tweaking it needed, so hopefully this is okay for now, even though it isn’t the greatest thing I’ve written haha. And also, the gif isn’t mine even if it really does things to my heart lol (I just wanna hug him, okay?) Also, I suck at titles.

You glance to your left, where Bucky and Steve are standing, as safe as they can be in a battlefield. And then you smile at them, softly, with a sad, apologetic, expression on your face. Because you are sorry, sorry that it has to be this way. And Bucky’s eyes grow rounder and rounder, while Steve opens his mouth to yell something — your name? A cry for you to stop? — while there’s an increasing fear in their cerulean and steel blue eyes as the realization of what’s really about to happen settles in. And you know, that this is where it ends.

A couple of hours earlier

You turn the corner of the hallway, and are greeted with the sight of Steve and Bucky, standing in the other end. Bucky is leaning back against the wall, and Steve stands before him, arms crossed over his chest. As far as you can tell from a distance — judging by their body language — the conversation is casual and lighthearted, despite what’s about to happen later today.

”Hey guys,” you call as you walk up to them, excited bounce to your step.

”Hey kid,” Steve greets you, with a smile ghosting over his lips when he sees you.

”New suit?” Bucky asks as he looks you over, straightening up and turning to face you, eyebrows perking up.

”You bet,” you reply, grinning proudly as you do a little pirouette, holding up your hands into the air. ”You guys jealous?”

Bucky huffs with an amused expression on his face.

”Nah, I’ve grown to like mine,” Steve teases, placing a hand on his hip before gesturing towards your new uniform, as he would call it, ”but it looks fancy.”

”Thank you,” you respond with a grin. ”Tony designed it for me, I’d love to tell you about all the new finesses and stuff, after all of this,” you continue, winking and wondering if they’ll take the bait, take the opportunity you gave them to tease you even more.

Because listening to you talk about all the new functions and details of your suit has a strong possibility of being quite boring — although, you are pretty invested about it yourself, finding it all very cool. Awesome, even. But then again, it’s your suit, so.

”Well, I’d love to hear it,” Bucky says as he tilts his head slightly to the side, eyes leaving the details on your shoulders that he’s currently looking at, to meet your gaze, a glimpse in his eyes.

”Me too,” Steve agrees, and you look up at them with so much adoration in your eyes, you don’t even try to conceal it. How did you find friends like them?

Because now you’re once again reminded of how great they both are, and you feel all embarrassingly soft on the inside. You’re incredibly lucky to have them in your life, and you do try to remind yourself that as often as you can, because you really don’t know if you deserve them.

You met Steve in a time he felt the loneliest, and when you felt the most lost. You were technically still a kid back then, and now a few years later, when you’re more secure in yourself and your powers are stronger, your bond isn’t any less strong, thank goodness.

And then Bucky came back and you stuck by Steve’s side through all the angst and heartbreak. And when Bucky really was back, you tried to distance yourself — to give them some space to catch up, and also, Steve had his true best friend back now, he didn’t need you. But Steve wouldn’t let you, telling you that he never had much friends in his life and he wasn’t going to give one up just because another one came back, even if it was Bucky, who he grew up with. So then you got to know Bucky as well. Once, the former assassin — well, the Winter Soldier wasn’t even him in your opinion — even said that he often forgets ’how you were born in the 90s and weren’t with them yet back in the 40s’ and that is something you’ve taken to heart and carry with you.

Of course, it’s a fine line to walk, because you don’t want to intrude on their friendship. But so far, they haven’t said or implied that that would be the case, so as far as you can tell, you’re good.

”Are you ready (Y/N)?” Steve asks, his tone more serious now, bringing you back to the moment.

”As ready as I’ll get,” you reply, shrugging and looking directly into his blue eyes, giving him a nod.

The fight that’s about to go down is a serious one, but you try not to think about that too much. It makes it harder to focus, and you don’t want to be too tense.

Get in there, do what you came to do, and go home. That’s the motto.

Although, you are still very aware of the battle’s importance, and that’s not something either of you can deny.

”How ’bout you?” you ask, looking from Steve to Bucky.

”Meh,” Bucky shrugs, casually.

”Of course,” Steve says and nods.

It’s quiet for a moment, before Steve speaks up again, looking from Bucky to you.

”Should we go and meet up with the others? We need to go over the plan again.” You and Bucky both nod.

”Sure thing,” Bucky says, and then you all leave your spot — Bucky curling his arm around your shoulders as you walk — the impending battle feeling more and more real and threatening by the minute.

You walk along the empty street. To your left is Steve and Bucky, Steve with his shield at the ready, and Bucky clutching a rifle. To your right is Natasha and Clint, both at the ready too. For as long as possible you’re going to stick together as a group. Safer that way.

It’s eerily quiet. Since the confrontation a few blocks back, there has been no one to be seen. There’s no cars on the streets and no people outside. And that goes for both civilians and enemies.

The only movements are some papers blowing in the wind. The sky is a dark gray and seemingly hanging low above your heads, like it’s about to fall down.

You’re just about to open your mouth to state out loud what you’re all thinking — that it’s too damn quiet — but never get so far.

Because suddenly, you’re under fire. Further down the street, hostile figures jump out from the connecting passage ways to the street you’re on. Bullets, grenades — and ammunition you’ve never seen before — are also coming from above, so they’re in the surrounding buildings.

You and your friends just walked into a trap. Without thinking, you throw your hands out, and the bullets closest to you freeze in the air. A few are only a couple of feet away from Natasha’s face when they stop moving. With your powerful mind, you push them further back towards the other bullets that’s hanging in the air — while Natasha stares with round green eyes — and as your enemies keep shooting, more bullets get stuck in the invisible vail.

It takes a lot of concentration. All of your concentration, more exactly, everything else around you seem far away and fading. Your face is set in a deep frown, and your jaw is clenched. You feel the headache coming like a pressure that wraps itself around your head. You hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

”(Y/N),” Steve breathes from besides you, staring from the growing ensemble of bullets and grenades and whatever, to you. ”Wh—what are you doing, you’re going to wear yourself out.”

Your arms are beginning to shake, and there’s a tickling sensation on your upper lip; you know your nose has started to bleed, as it does when you’re about to knock yourself out by pushing yourself too hard. Meanwhile, the bullets keep getting stuck in your invisible power wall, like flies in a spiderweb. Or even better, flies in one of those sticky fly traps.

”Move,” you hiss, through gritted teeth. You hadn’t heard what he had said, but it doesn’t matter. He and Bucky and the others need to get out of here now.

No one moves. Natasha looks at Clint, and Bucky looks at Steve and then they all stare at you.

”I said MOVE,” you scream, and then the redhead and the archer moves out of the way, running to the side of the street, hiding behind a building, out of the line of fire. They’re smart, you think to yourself through the hammering headache.

”(Y/N), what are you going to do?” Steve calls back over the noise of the battle. There’s alarm in his voice and it doesn’t seem as collected as usual. It’s even a bit wobbly.

This time you try to listen, even if it makes your head hurt more. Because he’s Steve, and he isn’t going to move if you don’t reply.

”I’m… going to redirect… the bullets…” you force out, not happy about having to talk while trying to stop the rain of deadly ammunition to reach your friends.

And as much as you want your reply to be true, you can’t guarantee that it will be. And that’s why you want the people you care most about in the entire world to move out of harms way, just to be sure.

If this goes south, you’re not only saving their lives, but the lives of the many people you know they’ll save.

Because your knees are growing weaker, and you’re feeling dizzy, but you try hard not to let it show. If not even a part of them believe you, they won’t leave their spots.

You dare to glance to the side, where you see Bucky and Steve both hesitating.

”Get out of the way,” you then scream, with finality in your voice and so much fire in your eyes that they actually move.

Bucky grabs Steve’s arm and pulls him away.

”Just trust me?” you ask, glancing up at your two taller friends.

Bucky nods. ”Of course.”

It’s time to trust you, he decides — what else can he do? — but he does find it harder to breathe against the pressure over his chest, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage. His mouth is dry and he tries to swallow to make it better, but there’s a lump in his throat that makes it hard.

When he and Steve reach the far end of the street, hiding behind a corner, pressing their backs close to the wall, they are left with no options but to wait and see what their much younger companion is going to do. Both hold their breaths, without realizing it. Bucky clutches his weapon, and Steve his shield.

You press your trembling, tired arms together directing them straight forward, so they’re outstretched right in front of you and as you do, the bullets draw together in front of you. You then lower your arms, and the lump of ammunition goes along with it. Now none of it is in level with your head at least.

The plan was to blow up all of the ammunition while still keeping it at a safe distance — while hopefully buying some time for your friends to attack as your enemies weapons are useless — but now you know that that isn’t going to happen; you’re too tired, there’s too much ammunition. You try to peak your attention, your energy, to push it all further back, to a safer distance. But the bullets don’t move at all, just wobbles in the air, and the only thing that happens is that you let out a groan as a reaction to the searing headache that peaks as well, while the blood from your nose turns to a steady stream.

So you glance to your left where Bucky and Steve are standing. Their blue eyes find yours and despite feeling like throwing up and caving in, you smile. You watch their facial expressions morph into their individual versions of pure, uncensored horror, and your stomach twists.

But you try to stay strong, even when your body is about to give out. This is your choice after all. You choose to save them, no matter what the cost will be for you.

So you give them a small nod, because this can very well be the last time you see them. You catch Steve leaving his spot and trying to run towards you, eyes wild, so you know you have to do this fast, before he gets too close and goes down too. This world needs all the heroes it can get, so you turn your head forwards and with the last bit of concentration, you blow up as many of the handful of grenades as possible, before you give in, completely emptied of all of your powers. The vail crumbles as you do, but you don’t have enough time to fall to the ground before the bullets comes soaring through the air, hitting your middle and lower body with such force that you’re thrown backwards like a rag doll.

You’re only briefly aware of the screams surrounding you, while your vision blacks out as your back hits the ground. And when the darkness slowly fades away, and you come to, you are left to stare up at the gray, rain-laden clouds above and the papers sailing down from it — a hole in the skyscraper to your right — unable to move. You draw a raspy, gurgling breath and then two familiar faces come into your field of vision.

”For g-god’s sake (Y/N),” Steve stammers and he feels his eyes sting, trembling hands finding the sides of your face, cradling your head. ”No.”

He can’t believe what he’s seeing. Despite the blood — on your torso, on your face, all over your legs — he can’t wrap his head around the reality that life is currently leaving you, the young girl he found those years ago and practically adopted. His eyes dart over your face and he winces when it scrunches up as a new wave of pain hits you. You don’t realize that it’s Bucky desperately trying to put pressure on at least some of your — larger — wounds.

You glance up at Steve with glassy eyes, not being able to see the details of his face anymore, which makes you sad. He’s a blurry shape now and you can’t really focus on his gaze that you so desperately want to meet, like you always do when you need reassurance.

Bucky leans into your field of vision too, his face bright with fear even though he tries his best to keep calm. A sweaty strand of his hair falls from the knot he had tied his hair into that morning, into his eyes.

”(Y/N), stay with me kid, and don’t you close your eyes just yet,” he says with a determination, but softness, in his voice that you admire but know is a waste. ”It’s not your time, not yet.”

Because your eyelids feel impossibly heavy and the world is going even fuzzier around the edges and it doesn’t even hurt anymore. You try to smile, but it’s probably not a pretty sight with bloodstained teeth and a numb face.

”’S okay…” you breathe out, and you don’t know if they hear it or not.

Steve shakes his head, blond bangs swaying back and forth as he does so. His eyes keep stinging, filling with tears and blurring his vision, and he keeps blinking them away because he needs to see.

”Steve, we need to move her, now,” Bucky says, lifting his gaze from the blood and glancing at Steve. There’s something dark and heavy in his eyes and Steve understands it, even though he doesn’t want to admit it.

A whole minute has passed since you fell, and that’s more than the majority gets once they’ve fallen on a battlefield. Steve and Bucky must not be under too much fire at the moment because then they wouldn’t be able to be here with you even if they wanted to. That brings you to the estimation that they’ve probably gained some back-up by now; and if you had been able to see, you would have spotted the familiar suits of the previously absent Avengers, as well as a ship — soaring through the sky — that’s one of your own.

Steve staggers to his feet, and holds up his shield.

”Don’t worry, (Y/N), we got you,” he says, with glossy eyes as he looks down at you. ”Just… just stay awake.”

Bucky snakes his arms under your knees and behind your back, and lifts you up. Your sight goes away for a moment as he does so. When it returns you spend a moment just looking up at Bucky as he weaves through the scene, following Steve closely. And there, pressed to Bucky’s chest, you really feel how tired you are, and your whole body just feels so numb and limp and your eyelids grow even heavier and then you let them slip close, not really noticing that they do.

”Here,” Steve breathes when they find a hiding spot, a block away from the center of the fight. ”Here’s good enough.”

Bucky nods, not trusting his voice, and kneels down to place you on the ground. He feels bad, laying you down on the hard asphalt but there aren’t any options. Steve crouches down next to you and Bucky, and when he sees how pale you look, and how your lips are losing their color, his heart lurches.

Steve grabs your shoulder, giving you at little shake. ”(Y/N)?”

A tear rolls down Bucky’s cheek as he realizes, he knows.

Steve doesn’t, and he shakes you again — your head lolling to the side — sounding much younger than he is when he calls your name again.

”(Y/N)?”

”Steve—” Bucky interrupts with a choked voice, gaining Steve’s attention, placing a hand on the blond’s shoulder.

When Steve looks up at his best friend, and sees the brunet’s puffy, red and tear-filled eyes, he understands.

He stares down at you again. Somehow you look peaceful, underneath all the blood, and yet it’s very, very, very wrong. Steve grabs your hand.

”No,” he whispers, ”no, no, no, no, no, no. You can’t be dead, (Y/N). She can’t be dead.”

Steve stares up at Bucky, blue eyes pleading. Bucky slowly shakes his head.

”No!” he then yells, shaking his head in denial.

”M’sorry Stevie,” Bucky says, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Bucky who, as many people as he killed while he was the Winter Soldier, has never had someone close to him die like this. Sure, he always prepared for having to face Steve’s death but it never came. The other man, however, had seen his ma die, Bucky die and then Peggy had died. Bucky’s whole family is dead, yes, but it had never happened in the present for him and not when he was in his right mind. And now he doesn’t really know what to do, besides feeling fully and utterly crushed.

Meanwhile, Steve looks down at you, before grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug. He presses you close to his red, white and blue clad chest, a hand on the back of your head, buried in your hair.

Bucky watches and cries quietly, continuously wiping away his tears as they roll down his face. This is all so wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

”Way too young and way too good,” Bucky murmurs after a moment, mostly to himself but Steve hears anyway.

”I-I’m gonna end them… all,” Steve growls to the sound of bombs and bullets in the distance.

Right here though, it’s quiet.

He then slowly lays you down again, head last and gently. His lower lip wobbles for a moment but still he can’t take his gaze away. He reaches down and tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. Then he wipes away some of the blood from your nose with the back of his hand. Hot, heavy tears spills over, landing on his cheekbones and then rolling fast down his face.

”What the hell are we gonna do, Buck?” he whispers with so much devastation and heartbreak on his voice that Bucky’s heart shatters all over again and his face twists up in pain.

He hasn’t felt this way in a long time. The only moments that could compare are the ones that took place when he was young and Steve so sick that nobody knew if he would survive the night. But again, he always did.

Steve looks absolutely hopeless, and Bucky quietly pulls him into a tight hug. Neither of them know what to say, so they just cry silently. They should go back to the fight, help their team members, but they can’t bring themselves to move. Instead they spend a long — seemingly endless — moment in the worst pain there is, before it’s abruptly cut short of something gaining Bucky’s attention. He looks down at you again, to the sound of Steve asking what’s wrong.

He doesn’t answer right away though because it’ll just hurt even more if he’s wrong, and since the other option isn’t possible, that’s what’s going to happen.

But he stares, eyes round and mouth hanging slightly open as he watches tensely. Steve slowly lets him go, and turns to look at you too. And then you twitch. At first Bucky just thought he’d blinked, but then he noticed Steve’s head turning towards him in the corner of his eye. He glances back at Steve and they look at each other for a moment before you let out a groan and Bucky’s heart lurches, because of all the pain, relief, confusion and absolute joy all together.

You’ve always been very good at tugging at his heartstrings — ever since Steve introduced you to him, him being kind of a mother hen, practically claiming you as his own — but this is understandably the worst one yet. He might need to retire after this, or at least not do anything for a couple of weeks to recover from this emotional rollercoaster, because his nerves are now broken.

”(Y/N)?” he breathes, and when you move a little more he almost slumps forwards as all the stress that’s been keeping him indescribably tense leaves his body.

And when you open your eyes, Steve and Bucky agrees that it’s probably the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen. Top five, at least. They have no idea how it’s possible, but both of them have seen enough unbelievable things in their life to not question it too much.

Bucky sits back, mouth hanging open. He blinks, his mouth slowly curling into a smile as tears well up in his eyes again, but this time they’re happy ones.

Steve scrambles forwards, hand on your shoulder. He looks intently down at your face, looking for any sort of flutter of your eyelashes or twist of your mouth, or any sort of movement or twitch.

And then your eyelashes do flutter, your eyes slipping open. At first you just gaze somewhere in front of you, eyes half open and observing a white star on blue fabric. Your eyebrows draw together a little, until you lift your gaze and meet the sky blue one of Steve. And then you smile, a very small, tired and crooked one, but a smile nevertheless.

You begin to try and sit up, but Steve gently applies pressure to his hand on your shoulder, motioning you to lie down again. Not yet.

”(Y/N)?” he breathes, eyes filled with so much emotion.

You can tell that he’s holding back the happiness that wants to break through because he’s not sure if this is all real yet.

You nod. ”Steve,” you croak, and then your eyes drift to the brunet behind the blond, ”Bucky.”

Steve lets out a small, quiet chuckle in spite of himself, lump still in his throat but the pressure over his chest is easing up.

Meanwhile, Bucky is looking over your abdomen. It’s hard to see because of all of the red staining, but when he inspects it closer he can see that the wounds are closing up, not as deep as before. The bullets have all risen to the top of them as well, so much that Bucky can pick them out.

”How are you feeling?” Bucky asks when he’s done, voice still small and raspy from the crying but all the sadness gone from his features. Now he just looks astonished, red rimmed eyes wide.

It feels like a dumb question, but he doesn’t really know what to say.

”A little sore… but good,” you reply and this time Steve and Bucky lets you sit up when you try, both of them grabbing one of your hands each.

Steve can’t stop himself, and throws his arms around you. You smile wider, before scrunching up your face.

Meanwhile, Bucky turns on his earpiece again. He doesn’t know when he turned it off, not wanting to hear the other teammates talking about the fight anymore, but now that it’s back on, he uses it.

”Guys, we need medical attention,” he says into the comms, but his voice aren’t filled with that much fear anymore. Instead he sounds quite calm for a change. He glances up at the brick wall next to you three and reads the street number into the comms as well.

”Barnes,” comes a voice that he recognizes as Natasha’s. ”How is (Y/N)?”

Her voice is strained, as if she’s trying to keep herself together, but still there’s a hint of hope in her voice. She’s probably thinking that Bucky’s tone would be different if you were either dead or dying.

”She’ll survive,” he replies and looks down at you and Steve hugging with warmth in his eyes and his lips curling into a smile.

A sound that he defines as Natasha sighing with relief is heard and Bucky can’t help but to breathe out himself.

”That’s… fantastic,” Clint replies for his red-haired partner and Bucky has never heard the archer sound like that before; a little lost for words.

Bucky nods to himself, despite them not being able to see it. ”It is,” he replies. ”I’ll keep you updated,” he says finally before turning back to you and Steve.

”Ssssteve,” you groan finally, smiling but scrunching your nose. ”Too tight…”

Steve releases you instantly. ”Sorry,” he murmurs, worried, but when he sees your expression, he relaxes.

Bucky shuffles closer, taking your hand; his eyes soft but confused. ”(Y/N)… you’re not a super soldier, are you? Or is there something we don’t know about you?” He looks worried, eyebrows drawn together.

You shake your head and both Steve and Bucky look a little relieved, relieved that you’re still the person they think you are. ”It’s the suit.”

”Tony freaking Stark,” Steve murmurs with amazement, his blue eyes glossy, a grin ghosting over his face though.

”How?” Bucky questions, completely fascinated.

”He made it with material… Doctor Strange… charmed… or something. Has these healing properties. Owed me a… favor,” you explain, flashing a crooked grin before letting your eyes flutter close for a moment, tired.

This time Bucky and Steve aren’t so scared that they won’t open; and they do, a few seconds later.

”That is the best thing I’ve heard,” Bucky concludes, smile bright on his face.

”You guys could tell them thanks,” you state, voice raspy still.

”We will,” Steve nods, and the way his eyes are so sincere and soulful, you know that he will make sure of it.

”Send… flowers, or somethin’”, you continue, and it’s a joke but you can’t manage to let the humor shine through in the state your in.

Bucky and Steve understand anyway.

”I think they deserve a little more thanks than that,” Bucky replies, his warm, steel blue eyes meeting yours. Then he leans closer and gives you a tight hug, pecking the top of your head. ”I’m so happy that you’re okay, you little punk.”

”Thought I was the punk,” Steve comments from besides him, trying to sound offended, but the relief on his rosy-cheeked face, and the way his eyes are glossy, gives it all away.

”You’re both punks,” Bucky looks up at his blond friend and sets things straight with a stern but loving tone, before turning his head towards you again. ”And little shits that keep testing my sanity. Please don’t. I’ll kick your asses if you do that again.”

You laugh tiredly, and smile. Steve gives your hand a squeeze. ”I promise.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder, as if he has a sixth sense, and sees a discreet van pulling up, one that he instantly recognizes as SHIELD’s — he has a practiced eye for details — and two paramedics jump out of it as it stops a few feet away from your small group.

”Help is here,” he murmurs softly as his eyes land on you again.

You frown a little, sitting up straighter. ”I can still fight, you know.”

”(Y/N),” Steve instantly objects, ”you were practically dead just ten minutes ago.”

”You’ve lost a lot of blood, even if your wounds are healed,” Bucky states calmly, and your gaze moves from Steve to the brunet. ”And besides, it sounds like the battle is dying down, so I think we can manage by ourselves. We’ll be offended if you think that we can’t handle it without you.”

You look a little unsure still, eyes worriedly looking at Bucky.

”Try to stand up,” he says then, trying to prove his point. ”You’ll probably be dizzy.”

So you gather yourself — pulling your legs closer to your chest and then pushing yourself upwards — to prove him wrong. The only thing is that he is actually right, and your knees give out instantly, black flashes across your vision, and your head is spinning, reeling. Bucky catches you, picking you up and laying you down on the stretcher that the paramedics has brought out. Steve watches with a little sadness in his eyes when you have to be carried, but really, he couldn’t possibly be more relived than he is in this moment. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Finally, it feels like the oxygen really enters his lungs again and he can finally relax.

Bucky places his large hand softly on your head, sending you a fond, small smile. Then he leaves to join Steve a few feet away, to let the paramedics work in peace.

You keep your eyes on them as they strap you down to the stretcher. Once again, tiredness wraps itself around you like a thick blanket, fully, heavily and scarily comfortingly. You let yourself relax, and it feels like you just melt on the stretcher that now supports your weight.

”Will you come and look for me, at the hospital?” you ask, eyelids drooping once again.

”You already know we will,” Bucky replies without hesitation, a reassuring security in his voice.

”As soon as we can,” Steve adds, gaze earnest as his blue eyes rest on you. ”It won’t be long. We’ll hurry.”

”That’s nice,” you hum, before the paramedics carry you away and into the van.

Somewhere on the way to some sort of a hospital, you fall asleep.

Next time you open your eyes, coming to, you’re looking straight up at a white ceiling. You subconsciously curl your hands up into fists, gathering blankets in them. Meanwhile, the memories of the fight start to come back, first slowly and then all at once, and you know that you’re in the hospital.

You tip your head to the side, eyes landing on Steve in a chair next to your bed. He has his elbow on the armrest, and the side of his face placed in his open palm, supported by his elbow’s placement. His long legs are stretched out, feet somewhere under your bed, and he’s fast asleep.

You scoff softly, smiling to yourself, and as if on queue, Bucky enters the room, two coffees in his hands and his hair tied into a bun on his head. His steel blue eyes goes round — his whole face lightening up — when he sees you up and awake and reaching for Steve’s hand.

”You’re awake,” he beams, setting down the coffees instantly on the table next to your bed — by a bouquet of flowers that they must’ve brought with them — before swatting Steve on the upper arm so that he jerks awake with a snort, blinking as he tiredly looks around himself.

”Yeah,” you murmur, pushing yourself up into a sitting position with Bucky’s hands quickly there to help you up. ”How long was I out?”

Steve cranes his neck to look up at Bucky. ”And how long was I out?”

”(Y/N), about five hours, Steve 30 minutes,” Bucky replies, looking from you to Steve.

You nod slowly. ”How did the fight go?”

”Good,” Steve replies with a small smile as you look him over. Whatever injuries he had must’ve already healed — thanks serum — because you can’t see as much as a bruise.

”Yeah, the others had it under control, so we pretty much just went there and finished it off,” Bucky says, and grins, placing his metal hand on the backrest of Steve’s chair and leaning on it.

You scoff and smile. ”Good.”

Steve reaches out a hand and catches yours in his bigger one. ”I’m really happy that you’re okay,” he says and he manages to keep his voice steady but the raw emotion is clearly there.

”Me too,” Bucky agrees, smiling softly now as he places his other hand — the flesh one — on your knee.

”Well, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you joke quietly and a little awkwardly but your eyes are filled with warmth as you look at Steve and Bucky.

Even though you didn’t hesitate to sacrifice yourself to save them and your other friends — and you would make the same choice again — you’re really happy to be alive and remain by their side for a little longer. Because the thought of leaving them behind, breaks your heart.

”Just… next time, lets go over the new functions of your suit before we go into battle, okay?” Bucky says, and he tries to sound casual, but you can hear the flicker of desperation in his tone, see it in his eyes.

”Yeah,” you laugh, shaking your head to yourself as you do. ”That sounds good.”

Steve just smiles, eyes almost a little glossy again, before reaching out and placing a hand on your head, running it over your hair. Meanwhile, you settle back into the soft pillows and Bucky help you pull up the covers that’s gotten tangled into your legs.

”Go back to sleep,” Steve murmurs softly, just like his ma would back when he was a kid and had a fever.

You continue to keep your eyes on him, even as you lie down. ”Can we go home… when I wake up?”

”Yeah,” Steve nods. ”Then we’ll go home. Promise.”

”Good,” you state contently, before closing your eyes, letting yourself drift back into sleep.

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shall-we-imagine · 5 years

Text

And I'll still love you. (Klaus Goldstein x Reader *AU*)

Sequel to Mess me up.

In which Klaus gets back with his ex.

Jk I'd never 😂👌🏻

Genre: Angst/some fluff?

A/N: This is long, and I mean long, so strap yourselves in I guess? CuZ iTs A lOnG aSs RiDe (A Mark Lee tribute 👌🏻)

Also guys we have a lil Cedric (from BIR) cameo here so um idk there's that ig 😂😂

(Second Person Point of View)

"Okay, one day left till finals; you guys know what that means!" Zeus smirks, though the only one that knew what that means was apparently Luca.

"This time; we're not getting kicked out of the VIP lounge." Luca points an accusing finger at Zeus.

"It's not my fault you lied about our identities without letting me know that I was a famous producer and not just a fucking college student!" Zeus growls.

The intense argument only grew louder from the two opposite sides of the table, isolating you and Klaus from the rest of the group in a strange way. Everyone knew to ignore when Luca and Zeus started arguing, so Amelia and Guy - on the other side of the table - were already having a separate conversation, leaving you and Klaus in an awkward silence (If you ignore the two yelling dorks, of course).

As frustrating as the awkwardness is, you'd already decided to ignore the blond ever since the incident, and no amount of awkward can change that.

It'd been around five days since you even looked him in the face, and he didn't seem to be planning to fix anything. Sure, he constantly looks uncomfortable, and you're sure he knows he fucked up, but that doesn't change his lack of attempts to even apologise properly.

"Hey, what's up, you guys?" Scarlett beams, sitting next to you. Elias, Yukiya, and Augustus take seats around the table as well. "Sigurd's still busy with some work at the library, but he'll be here soon." She announces.

"Anyway, this time we're not going into the VIP lounge; you can get kicked out alone if you want to, but I'd like to keep my dignity!" Zeus crosses his arms.

"Which club are we visiting anyway?" Luca looks around the table.

"None! We're supposed to be studying!" Klaus snaps, earning confused looks from everyone. Sure, it was a logical statement, but his sudden outburst left everyone at a loss of words.

"Don't be such a killjoy." Sigurd's voice is followed by a chuckle. He places himself in the empty seat between you and Klaus; however, you could still feel Klaus stare at you for a bit after it.

"He's right though. Finals start in like two days.." Yukiya states, to which Elias nods.

"Yeah, I need to revise." The younger blond agrees.

"It starts in a week for Amelia, Guy, Augustus, and I." Scarlett shrugs.

"Yeah, we're in." Guy grins.

"Sorry, guys, I don't think Yukiya and I will be joining; we still have stuff to study." Elias gives one of those polite frowns, where you know he's not disappointed about missing out on any of that. Knowing Elias, you can tell he's probably pleased to spend his day in a library instead of a club, and normally, you'd agree; you enjoy peace, and it's never too fun to be in crowded places.

However, you need to do something fun to get your mind off of Klaus. If he's gonna be a dick then so be it; you have to move on.

"I'm coming." You shrug. Part of you wanted to turn to check Klaus's reaction, but you stayed composed.

"What?!" He semi-shouts, but immediately clasps his hand over his mouth, clearly embarrassed by his accidentally loud reaction. He clears his throat, "I mean, you're in the same uni as these dumbasses and I; you start finals the day after tomorrow! What do you mean you'll go clubbing today? You should be studying!"

"What makes you think I have any studying left? I'm already done." You weren't gonna bring it up. You really weren't. Not in front of everyone too, but before you could think it through, you found yourself quoting him from that night. And it wasn't a lie either, you spent your days binge studying to keep your mind busy, so at this point, you really needed something else to keep you occupied.

Something flashes in his eyes, recognition maybe: you weren't sure, but either way, he stays silent. And perhaps you should've left it at that, but the built up anger inside you is now clawing its way out.

"Plus, even if I haven't finished studying; what is it to you?! Who even are you to object and involve yourself in my life?! Mind your own business!" He, once again, doesn't respond, but this time it wasn't because he was caught off guard. He just seemed slightly broken, but in the midst of the fury and anguish you felt, you couldn't care that much.

"Um, what's up with the weird tension between you guys?" Zeus lets out a nervous laugh. If Zeus was giving nervous laughs then it was definitely obvious to everyone how serious whatever is between you and Klaus.

"Haven't you two been ignoring each other a bit too? Like you guys used to be super close." Augustus points out.

Amelia's eyes meet yours, and she immediately gets the memo. "You guys are crazy; they're fine! They've always argued a lot; it's how they are! Can we focus on who's coming and who's not?" You give her a small smile, as to say thank you.

Scarlett catches on to the silent conversation between you and Amelia, immediately joining in. "Yeah, don't worry too much; we've seen it happen a lot! So, yeah, let's just focus on what's important here."

"Uh, sure." Zeus lets it go. Luca, Guy, and Augustus were smarter than that, unfortunately; they remained skeptic. Regardless, none of them make any further comments.

"I've also done my studying, so I'm good to go, as well." Sigurd shoots you a wink, earning a giggle in return. A genuine one, which you were thankful for. It made you relax a little after that rage you let loose on the blond jerk.

Klaus slams his fist on the table, "Fine. I'm coming too."

"Man, could you fucking chill; you're starting to sound scary. More so than normal." Luca complains but moves on to deciding the time and place to meet.

Your eyes drift to Klaus, who was already looking. You quickly look away, unsure why your heart suddenly leaped into your throat.

You avoided looking in his direction for the rest of the gathering.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

"You're not gonna tell me what's up with you and Klaus?" Scarlett glances at you before looking back at her own reflection and applying highlighter.

Amelia sticks her head out the bathroom door, one eye lined perfectly till the wing while the other was left with a random stray streak as if she rushed to the door at hearing Scarlett's statement, and in the process fucked over her left eye. Of course you know that's exactly what she did.

"Um, excuse you? I think you mean us??"

Scarlett sighs, "You're not gonna tell us what's up with you and Klaus?"

"Nothing." You apply your favourite lipstick, absolutely pleased it goes perfectly with your dress. At least one thing is going right here.

Scarlett frowns slightly, but doesn't push it.

"You're so full of shit." Amelia chuckles before pulling herself back inside.

You roll your eyes at her, but a small smile tugs at your lips.

"Who's picking us up?" You wonder.

Scarlett clears her throat. "Well, we initially asked Sigurd, I swear, but...well, um, Klaus insisted..."

"That's fine." You put on your best nonchalant expression.

As if he calculated exactly when to arrive, Klaus calls Amelia's phone the second you're done fixing your hair, aka the last step to getting ready. Excluding shoes, of course.

"Can someone pick up? My hands are busy!" Amelia yells from the bathroom.

You glance at Scarlett. Also still busy.

Not wanting to sound even more suspicious, you force yourself to pick up. "Hello?"

"He-..(Y/N)?"

You swallow awkwardly, "um, yeah, they're not done yet. Are you here? Like, um, to pick us up?"

"No, I'm here to hand you your mail, (Y/N)." You don't need to see him to know he's rolling his eyes.

"I meant are you here already?"

"Yeah."

Amelia sticks her head outside the bathroom again, this time with both eyes looking perfect. "Invite him up here." She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. "Unless, of course, you have a problem with Klaus being in your apartment."

You throw a pillow, and it barely misses her face.

"Hey! That could've ruined my make up!" She yells but doesn't come back out again.

You considered inviting him like she said, but just the thought of it brought back too many unwelcomed memories. You blushed and immediately decided against it.

"Hello?"

"Oh, sorry, um, I'll just come down and keep your company till they're done, okay? Bye!" You hang up, leaving him no chance to reply. It was already awkward enough.

You slip your feet into your high heels, grab your purse, and head outside- not forgetting to remind the girls to lock the door before leaving.

If it were for you to decide, you'd let the jerk rot in his car as he waits for the three of you, but for the sake of letting things go smoothly, you decide it's for the best to try to make it seem like you don't wanna punch Klaus in the face.

Quickly enough, you spot his car. Also quickly enough, you notice the familiar fluffy, blonde curls you were so used to running your hands through. He looks as handsome as usual, but that hurt you in a different way this time. Sure, everytime you noticed how attracted to him you are, you'd be upset, solely because he's not yours to admire this way. However, today, it hurts you because everytime you look at these perfectly drawn features, a few written words come to mind.

He notices your presence but says nothing. He just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

Not wanting to look odd just standing in front of your building's door, you stiffly walk to his car as fast as you can without face planting into cement.

You take a back seat and say nothing.

Klaus lets out a slight, humourless laugh. "What's that? A back seat? You always call shotgun."

"Wasn't feeling it." You shrug and pull out your phone, using it as your own personal don't talk to me sign.

Unfortunately, Klaus doesn't care about any signs you're giving if it doesn't match his desires. "You look pretty, but with a dress like that, people will mistake you for a prostitute. Couldn't you wear something more revealing??" His voice dripped with irritation, an irritation you couldn't understand.

"Excuse me? My dress is fine; not everyone is a pervert, but you wouldn't know, would you?!" You clap back, not in the mood to let him take out his anger on you.

"Are you trying to call me a pervert?" He laughs in disbelief.

"I didn't say that, but, hey, if the shoe fits, feel free to wear it."

"That's what I get for trying to make sure no one hurts you?" He complains.

"Well, too bad you already did." You spat, tears blinding you momentarily. You hated yourself for letting this escape your lips, but it ended up silencing both of you for a few moments, allowing you to regain composure before the girls hop into the car.

"Uh, what's up with the weird vibe?" Amelia raises an eyebrow.

Scarlett sighs from the front seat, "I don't even know anymore."

Neither Klaus or you respond, so, naturally, the conversation died, leading to a rather quiet ride, excluding Scarlett and Amelia's countless attempts at making it less awkward.

"Finally! I felt like I'd suffocate inside from the tension!" Amelia stretches her arms happily once she leaves the car. It's safe to say...she wasn't the only one happy to exit the metal cage of awkward.

You meet up with the rest of the group before going inside, which wasn't all that helpful, since you lost each other fairly quickly.

Thankfully, Amelia and Scarlett were still with you, and finally, you were ready to block all thoughts of a certain blond and enjoy your life for the time being.

As planned, the three of you were already singing and dancing your hearts out after a few drinks, not a care in the world. You didn't have time to think about what Klaus is doing or how much of a dick he was to you.

Well, until a familiar guy approaches you. And perhaps Klaus shouldn't have been the one your mind drifted to, but that didn't stop you from letting the blond you'd ignored all year try to flirt with you for the billionth time.

"(Y/N)! Didn't think I'd see you here!" Cedric yells over the music.

You tried your best not to roll your eyes, "Yeah, me neither."

"Wanna dance?"

"I'm sure you can see I'm already danc-" both girls nudge you. "Sure. I'd love to dance." You force a smile, not skipping glaring at the girls before following Cedric a little further away from them. You weren't sure why he dragged you away, but you also couldn't care less; being near him was already annoying enough, so it really didn't matter.

The only reason you found yourself agreeing to this nonsense is that you know how much Klaus dislikes it when Cedric flirts with you. He always claimed that Cedric only cares about looks and that you should stay away from him, which normally you do. Mostly because you don't enjoy his personality, or the lack thereof.

However, something about being with the guy Klaus would most hate for you to be with just made you feel pleasure. It was like you wanted to piss him off, even though he really couldn't see you anyway, but you so desperately wish he would.

The dancing got really awkward really quickly. Cedric was already getting touchy, and he didn't seem to catch on to how uncomfortable you felt.

"Could you not fucking do that?!" You aggressively push his hand away from you.

He frowns, "Do what? We're just dancing together. You agreed to that."

"I didn't agree to you groping me though, did I?"

Before he could respond, your eyes drifted to Klaus, who was sitting at the bar. He'd just spotted you.

And maybe common sense would say to just ignore him.

But no.

You look Cedric in the eye, pull his face closer to you, and smash your lips together. You can tell he was confused but quickly recovered, using both hands to pull you closer to him by the waist.

This could've went on for longer if you weren't harshly yanked away from the blond.

"What's wrong with you?!" You try to pull your arm away from Klaus's grasp, but the furious male didn't budge. He didn't even respond; he just pulled you away.

"Klaus! Let go!" You try to wriggle your arm out of his grip. As annoyed as you acted, a huge part of you was extremely giddy. You can tell he's furious, and as sadistic as it sounds, it makes you happy. Your mind didn't seem to catch on to how awkward it would be next time you see Cedric; all it could focus on was that Klaus is jealous.

He only lets go of you outside the club; the sudden change of temperature causes your skin to tingle with goosebumps. You rub your arms to keep yourself warm.

"Bloody hell. I told you that dress wasn't a good idea." Aggressively, he marches to his car and opens the trunk. He pulls out a jacket and wraps it around you.

Blushing lightly, you clear your throat. "Um, thanks."

"I'm not done. What the fuck were you doing with Cedric, (Y/N)?!"

You roll your eyes. "Exactly what you saw."

He nods, letting out a humorless laugh. "Okay. Let me rephrase that: why the fuck were you kissing Cedric?"

Smirking, you poke his chest and whisper, "Because I wanted to."

He grips your hand, "No, (Y/N), you didn't. You hate that guy."

"Well, why does it matter? Why do you care?" You pull away.

He stares at you in silence for a few seconds. "Get in the car."

Not even waiting for a reply, Klaus walks over to the driver's seat.

"What?!"

"I said get in the car. Passenger's seat this time." He shuts the car door.

You snap out of your confusion when his engine roars, pestering you to get moving. You rush and follow his instructions of not sitting in the back seat.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"You'll see." And with that, neither one of you spoke a word to the other.

***

"I'm not going for a swim with you, Klaus." The moment your gaze met the familiar lake, you were ready to bawl your eyes out, but you kept it together.

Leaving his seat, Klaus sighs. "Calm down. We're here to talk. Like we always do."

Leaving his jacket in the car, you take a deep breath and try to hold yourself together. You can't just break down now. You block away the memories of every other time you and Klaus came to this place.

You sit down on the grass but make sure to keep a distance between you and the male.

"Because it wasn't obvious enough that you're mad." He sighs.

"What do you want, Klaus?"

He looks away, "It's more about what I don't want...I don't want to lose you."

The butterflies went wild in your stomach, leaving you with a clear shade of pink on your cheeks. However, this isn't enough for you to move on and forgive him, so you do your best to keep a stern look.

"Why did you lie to me, Klaus? You don't have feelings for me, and...and I already knew, but part of me wanted to believe you, and you weren't making it very easy to reject you. You could tell I had a crush on you, and you decide to manipulate me into having sex with you?! And you have the guts to criticize Cedric? You're even worse!" Well, there goes your perfect make up. Perhaps raccoon eyes could be the new trend; you can totally pull that off.

His eyes glisten, and you almost want to take back everything, but you have to stand up for yourself. He can't just walk all over you like you're the old weelcome doormat some unknown person placed in front of your apartment door. Who the fuck misspells Welcome? Why the fuck would anyone buy that? Why place it in front of your apartment? Why haven't you thrown it away? All unimportant thoughts you'd rather talk about right now than have to deal with Klaus and this emotional mess.

"I didn't lie to you. And you went out of your way to kiss that douche bag, didn't you? You wanted me to see."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Klaus?! You're trying to make it sound like I'm wrong now?!" You push yourself off the ground, the blond immediately following.

"Listen, okay? This isn't what I meant! I just- I'm still being petty about it, alright? I wanted to punch him square in the face."

"Well, you have no right to be even mildly annoyed. Leave me alone." You start walking away, but he gets a hold of your arm.

"(Y/N), could you just let me explain myself, please?!" He snaps.

"No, Klaus, all you do is blame me; fuck off." You push him away. What you didn't prepare for is stumbling backwards towards the lake. High heels deciding to join The Klaus Movement of Being a Dick to (Y/N), you quickly find yourself falling off the edge.

Panic-filled eyes follow your movements. Klaus's reaction came late, and by the time he grabbed you, he was already falling into the freezing cold water with you.

Surrounded by fear of drowning, you involuntarily call out for Klaus.

"(Y/N)?! (Y/N)!" Klaus's nervous voice echoes around you, but in the middle of trying to stay afloat, you couldn't decide where he was.

So, naturally, he had to be the one to find you. His arms wrap around you, trying to pull you closer to him, but the way you kept flailing your arms wasn't helping him. "Hey, hey, (Y/N), it's fine."

Eventually he was able to snap you out of it and hold you close to his chest. "There, it's okay. You're safe with me. You know I'll always make sure nothing hurts you."

You'd begun to calm down, you'd begun to forget about the dumb note, about him manipulating you; you'd started relaxing in his embrace, but his last statement brought you back to real life. "Let me go, Klaus." You try to pry yourself away from him.

"(Y/N), you can't swim! What are you doing?!"

"Just let me go, Klaus! I'm fine!"

"Didn't seem like it when you started calling for me!"

"It was a mistake! Just let me be!" You begin pushing him away again.

"(Y/N), fucking stop! You'll hurt yourself!" He grips your wrist tightly.

"Fine!" You stop struggling. "Just take me to the edge."

He remains silent. "You're not gonna leave the second I put you back up on land, are you?"

"What? Of course I will! I can't stand looking at your face." You turn your face to the side.

"That so?"

You roll your eyes and begin facing him. "Ye-"

He forces his lips onto yours, leading you to push him away with all your force, this time allowing you to break free from his grasp and latching onto the edge.

Furious, you find extra energy to easily pull yourself up and onto the grass. Unfortunately, your strength was immediately gone after, and this is when you couldn't take any of it anymore. You lost it all.

"Why do you keep ruining my life? I never asked for this." You sob. "Tonight, all I wanted was to have fun and forget about you, but no, you had to ruin things for me again! Look at me! My hair, my make up, my dress, my whole fucking night is a mess! And it's because of you!" You point an accusing finger at him.

His head drops in shame, and he slowly climbs to the edge near you. You start to get up but stop when you hear his shaky voice.

"Wait! Please..." His voice cracks, "I won't touch you anymore. I will drive you home. Just please...please let me explain first; hear me out."

"Get it over with, Goldstein." You cross your arms. You were starting to feel cold again, but you made sure to not make it obvious this time.

"Listen; I didn't lie. I genuinely felt attracted to you; in fact, I have been for the longest time. It's just that I'd already accepted we were merely friends, and I had to move on, and I figured the only way to truly stop viewing you romantically is to commit to someone, so when I found someone I was remotely interested in, I took it as a chance, but then suddenly, everything was gone. I didn't have her; I didn't have you. I didn't have anything." He takes a shaky breath. "And...and I came to you for comfort, but before I knew it, I was trying to get you to do what you clearly didn't want to do. It was selfish; I know. And by morning, I felt disgusting. I knew you wouldn't wanna look me in the face, so I left. I wanted to apologize, but you continued to ignore me, and if I'm being honest, I was also scared to confront you."

"Klaus-"

"Just let me finish." He sighs. "I'm not trying to say I'm not wrong. I am. I just want you to know I would never intentionally hurt you; I was just confused. I was heartbroken; I still had feelings for you; you let me have my way with you. I never knew you were actually into me as well. And when you ignored me, I just wanted to do anything to get your attention. Even if it meant to piss you off...which I suppose you got back at me by getting with Cedric, but that's not the point. You're right I don't have the right to be mad over it. It's just- everything just ended terribly, and I know everything is a mess, but I promise you I never meant to hurt you."

"I don't want to lose you." He starts sobbing, but Klaus being his prideful self, he quickly does his best to hold back.

You shouldn't brush everything off. He was wrong, and he hurt you. But seeing him trembling like that, you couldn't stop yourself from taking him into your arms. "I forgive you." You mumble.

"You do?" He perks up, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah...I understand. Feelings can be confusing at times." You shrug. "Also...you never forced me into something I didn't want to do...I thought you knew I liked you?"

"Me?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"Yeah? You literally said it?" You let out a confused laugh.

Klaus pulls away from you. "When did I ever say that?"

"You were drunk; you said you knew I like you."

"Oh...that's just something I say...to everyone...when I'm drunk..." He rubs his temples in embarrassment.

You laugh. "Well, it's not like you're any less narcissistic when not drunk anyway."

"Hey! Watch it! I could still push you back into the water!"

"Shut up. You literally freaked the hell out when I fell the first time." You get off the grass.

He follows. "Not true."

"Yes true."

"Nope."

"Yup."

Well, maybe two stubborn people shouldn't be friends because this went on for a while. You were glad, however, that the tension between you guys was gone, and you two were back to normal again.

"Wanna go back to my apartment this time?" Klaus smirks before quickly adding, "Promise you won't be waking up to any notes this time...?"

Your face heats up. He was still recovering from a break up. This was still a bad idea. You should just decline and take things slow.

"Sure."

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

The Virgin (Social) Suicides

WRITTEN BY: @ally147writes

PROMPT 85: Katniss makes unsettling discovery that everyone in her close and extended group of friends has dated at least once and sometimes even each other. Except for her. The “late bloomer” teasing (b/c she’s never even been kissed) stings. Older boy Gale crosses paths with group, finds he shares common interests with Katniss, they get together to hunt, leads to him casually inviting her out for a real dinner date. Not feeling desire but pressure to “get it over with,” she accepts. Peeta has regrets. [submitted by @567inpanem]

NOTES: I desperately wanted to have this complete, but uni conspired against me. A million thanks to our angel mods, @xerxia31 and @javistg for holding this exchange, and allowing the extra week 😊

This is parts one-and-a-half (ish?) of a (probably?) four-part story. I won’t be posting to AO3 or anywhere else until the rest of it is complete. Parts 2, 3 and 4 are all between 30% and 75% complete already, so hopefully it won’t take me too long to wrap up.

Unbeta’d. All errors are my own.

Rated M for swears and discussions of sex (or lack thereof)

Thom and Lavinia’s engagement party is a sedate affair, which Katniss never would have guessed. Whenever Thom or Lavinia were left in charge of planning anything, it always started with them drowning themselves in cheap beer at Abernathy’s, got a bit muddy somewhere in between, and ended in a trip to the hospital for someone to get their broken wrist or dislocated shoulder set.

And once, to the police station, to face indecent exposure charges.

The doing of their mothers, Katniss supposes. (Probably a smart move, considering the alternatives; no one’s engagement party should end in a holding cell). They’re perched by the string quartet, amongst a cluster of white rose bushes, their oversized, feather-trimmed hats knock against each other’s with every exaggerated, bird-like nod and squawking laugh they release, while their husbands make awkward small-talk by the fence overlooking the golf course.

How they’re out there like that in the sun, in dark suits and all, Katniss has no idea. She dabs a napkin across her damp hairline and peels her sticky skin away from the plastic of the chair. An afternoon in the sprawling gardens of the Snow estate, when it’s pushing a hundred degrees out, isn’t exactly her idea of a good day — if she weren’t part of the bridal party, Katniss would have skipped out hours ago. Add that to the cocktail dress she all but shoved her body into and the hair that’s falling out of her braid and sticking to her glossed lips, she’s about ready to revolt.

But, she concedes, Thom’s parents are loaded up to their eyeballs, and they’ve made sure there’s free — mercifully cold — booze everywhere, so bottom’s up.

The happy couple don’t seem to mind the heat, or the change in pace too much. The groom-to-be dips his laughing bride over his arm and kisses her square on the lips, swaying along to the soft tones of the violin strings, the intimate connection between them somehow the simplest thing in the world. The scene should inspire at least a smile — she’s happy for her friends, right? But it tugs somewhere deep at Katniss instead, unrelenting and unrepentant, leaving behind an odd sort of hollowness, demanding more yet leaving her starving for… something.

“They’re sweet together, aren’t they?” says Madge as she sips her champagne.

Katniss shakes her head, but she can’t stop the nagging in her gut. “Yeah, I guess. It’s a little sickening, actually.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

“What? They’re hunting for each other’s intestines through their mouths.”

“You are absolutely disgusting.” Madge swipes a celery stick from their shared crudité platter and nibbles at it like a rabbit. “Please stop speaking.”

“I’m still not wrong.”

“I guess it is kind of funny, though,” Madge goes on, chomping through the celery. “You’d never guess he could be so doting. I mean, when I dated Thom, the nicest thing he ever did for me was give me the olives off his pizza.” She sighs and smiles an odd little smile as Katniss’ hand freezes with a cherry tomato halfway to her mouth. “I guess it really does change everything when you meet the right person.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She drops the tomato, and it bounces off the table and lands on the floor, where someone will slip on it later, probably her. “You dated Thom? As in, Thom, Thom?”

Madge arches a plucked brow. “Well, yeah, a while ago now, not long after we first started college. Well before Lav was in the picture, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you knew about it; we were all friends then.”

Katniss frowns and tries to dredge the memory — what would Thom have looked like then? Was this during his mohawk days, or after? “For how long?”

Madge quirks her head to the side, and not a single strand falls out of her intricate up-do. “I don’t know. A few months, maybe? Not a long time.”

Katniss taps her index finger — unadorned with polish, to Prim’s everlasting dismay — against the pristine surface of the timber table. “Is it… weird? Being friends with him now, I mean?”

Madge laughs. “Kat, if it was weird to hang out with someone I’d dated before, I’d have to find a whole new group of friends.”

“Why?” Madge smiles that weird little smile again, and the urge to slap it off is overwhelming. “How many of them have you gone out with?”

“Uh…? Let’s see.” Madge counts them off on her fingers, like there’s a real need to keep track of them. “Thom, Darius, Gloss. Leevy a couple of times, too, but that was over pretty much as soon as it started. Oh, and Peeta once, as well.”

Katniss chokes on a piece of cucumber. Oh, god. “Peeta, too?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Katniss?” Madge flashes another grin as Katniss knocks back a hearty sip of her drink. “Jealous?”

“No!” she exclaims. But without even meaning to, she finds Peeta across the courtyard, where he’s entertaining Lavinia’s many nieces and nephews with embarrassing Dad-style magic tricks. The sleeves of his starched, pale blue dress shirt are pushed up around his elbows, and there’s a rogue curl stuck with sweat against his forehead. He meets her eyes and smiles at her, as warm and tangible as a touch. Her cheeks flood with heat and she tears her gaze away. God, it’s like they’re in school all over again.

Madge shoots a grin Katniss can only describe as shit-eating, and it’s all she can do not to throw her remaining champagne in Madge’s face.

“No, of course you’re not,” Madge says, like she’s talking down a screaming child. “That would mean you had a soul or something.”

There’s nothing she can say now that wouldn’t incriminate her further. Katniss turns to the dripping glass of ice water at her elbow and drains it.

“Well…” she says, once she’s certain the nuclear blush on her cheeks is under control. “Why’d you only go out with him once?”

Madge smiles that stupid little smile again. The secret one Katniss has no insight to or context for.

“Peeta’s… very sweet. He’ll make the girl he’s got his eye on extremely happy.”

The words are innocuous, but something in Katniss seizes urgently. “Peeta’s got someone in mind?”

Madge nods and adds solemnly, “Has done for years now.”

“Years?” There’s no good reason why this information should make her want to break something. None at all. “Why won’t he make a move?”

Madge snorts, and the sound is weird coming out of someone so refined. “Honestly?” she says, as she flags down a waiter for another class of champagne. “I’d say he’s terrified. The girl isn’t exactly one who’ll take his declaration with open arms.”

She shouldn’t — she knows she doesn’t want to — but she prods anyway. “You know who she is?”

“She was pretty much the basis of our one and only date. He didn’t think he had a chance, needed someone to wallow with, that sort of thing.” Madge smiles a dreamy sort of smile and tips her eyes closed. “God, we got so drunk.”

“…And?”

“I’m not going to tell you!” Madge nudges her with her bony elbow, but the effect is ruined by the draping, bell-sleeves of Madge’s deep-aubergine dress. “Ask him yourself if you’re that curious.”

Yeah, there’s not a prayer in hell of that happening.

“So,” Katniss says instead. “Have our friends always been so… incestuous?”

Madge rolls her eyes and, for the first time since this awkward line of questioning began, looks vaguely annoyed. “Katniss, what’s the problem? I’m pretty sure Annie and Finnick are the only other completely monogamous people we know. Johanna’s dated pretty much everyone, too. Cato made the rounds too, before he got his shit together with Clove. Darius dated Lavinia, too, when he and Thom were roommates. That’s how she met Thom in the first place.”

“So… yes?”

Madge laughs and sighs at the same time. “It’s people in their mid-twenties being people in their mid-twenties. Honestly, I’m surprised you never noticed before — it’s not like Johanna’s discreet about it or anything — but I guess you’ve always been a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“A bit… I don’t know… pure, I guess?”

“Pure?” She spits the word out like poison and leaves it in the air.

Madge pats her arm. “There’s nothing wrong with pure, Kat. It’s just… we’re twenty-five now, you know? You don’t need to be so embarrassed about anyone else’s love life. Hell, maybe we should get you a nice date of your own, so you’ve got something else to focus on.”

Heat crawls up her chest and settles in her face. Her fancy cocktail dress feels way too small and way too hot.

“Uh…”

“Kat…”

“… Yeah?”

“You have gone on a date before, haven’t you?”

“I… uh… no?”

She’s not sure why it comes out as a question. She sure knows about her complete and total lack of love life; no need to have other people confirming it for her.

Madge’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I joke about that?” she retorts. “And we’ve been friends for how long, now? How didn’t you notice?”

“I don’t know! It’s just that…” She scrutinises Katniss like she’s a wayward science experiment. “Really?”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “Yes, Madge. Really.”

“Not even in college? No one? Nothing?”

“Is it so hard to believe?” Katniss snaps. “No, Madge. I have never, not once, ever gone on a date.”

“Well, you’ve… you’ve at least had sex before, right?”

Heat fills her cheeks until she’s sure she’s about to melt from the pain of it all, though she’s got no idea why it embarrasses her so much. It’s normal, right? Or normal-ish, at least. And it’s not like she planned on it happening. Or not happening. Whatever.

Her virginity isn’t some sacred, precious jewel she’s carting around in a bubble wrap-lined basket. And it’s not something she’s hoarding, just so she can get down on bended knee and present it to The Right Guy when The Right Moment comes along. It’s not a personal choice, a feminist statement or even a religious one. The opportunity to do so just hasn’t… come up, so to speak.

And it’s fine. She guesses. Most of the time, it doesn’t even bother her. She’s had enough going on in her life that it isn’t something she’s missed, or even had time for. And it’s not like she’d be any good at any of it, anyway. The hand-holding. The intimacy. The kisses.

The sex.

The mere idea almost makes her shudder. She’d suck. And not in the sexy way.

It might be nice. Maybe. One day. When she’s good and ready to make it happen.

Until then, though…

“Uh…”

Madge’s bright blue eyes blow wide. “Katniss!” she shrieks.

A hundred people turn and stare at them, Peeta included, not even slightly helping her blush to fade faster.

“For the love of God, Madge, would you keep it down?” Katniss swats at Madge’s arm and hisses down at the table, “No, I’ve never done… anything.”

Madge lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “Not even kissed?”

Right on cue, Thom kisses Lavinia again, long enough for it to get awkward. Katniss scowls and looks away. “No, Madge,” she mumbles. “Not even kissed. Or held hands. Or hugged or by someone who wasn’t an immediate family member.”

“What about yourself? Do you masturbate?”

“Fucking hell, Madge, really?”

“Okay, sorry. I just…” Madge gives a tight laugh and shakes her head. “I… You cannot be serious right now.”

“What part of this is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you’re gorgeous, for one. A great person, kind, generous, brave, loyal to a fault. Anyone would be lucky, you know?”

Katniss snorts and drags a carrot stick through a warm bowl of hummus. Why couldn’t they have held the party indoors, like normal people? Yeah, maybe she’d still be getting the third degree, but at least the condiments might be cold. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so.”

“Well,” Madge starts, leaning in so they’re a hairsbreadth apart. “Have you ever… you know, wanted to?”

There’s no right way to answer that question. If she says yes, she’s as doomed as if she answers no. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Are you…” Madge stops, starts, opens and closes her mouth like a fish blowing bubbles. “Have you ever thought that you might be ace or something?” She holds up her hands and all but yells before Katniss can say anything, “Not that there’s… it doesn’t matter if you are or anything like that, I just thought… maybe you’re —”

“— No,” Katniss cuts in, before Madge can hurt herself. “I’ve had… you know, crushes and stuff before, I’ve just never been in a relationship, and I wouldn’t have rejected one if it came along.” She shrugs. “It just never did, and I’m okay with that.”

But, is she? God, and she’s always thought of herself as an enlightened, modern, don’t-need-no-man sort of woman, too.

“Honestly, Kat? You’ve probably been hit on a thousand times, but it never registered in your head that it was even happening to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that… I don’t think you’re aware of the effect you have on people, that’s all.”

Katniss frowns at the wilting crudité platter. “You’re making me sound like a heartless bitch.”

Madge rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re not a heartless bitch. I’m just saying you should… I don’t know… open your eyes a little, take a second look, you know? Someone might really surprise you one day.”

Again — completely against her will, she swears — she finds Peeta across the courtyard. This time, he doesn’t look up from pulling a coin from a little girl’s ear. “I’ll think about it.”

“You definitely won’t, but I’ll give you a pass for tonight.”

Katniss cringes. “You’re not going to make it your mission to get me laid, are you?”

“This isn’t a shitty eighties movie, Katniss,” Madge says as she pushes her seat away from the table and stands on her ridiculous four-inch heels. “So, no. I’m not going to try and get you laid. Now, let’s go dance or something; it’s a party, for God’s sake.”

XXX

The next time they’re all together, at a reasonable temperature and in normal clothes, Katniss surveys her friends with a strange, acute sense of awareness she didn’t possess before. Annie perched on Finnick’s lap, feeding him pretzels like coins in a slot machine; Cato and Clove with their arms wrapped around each other so tight it looks like it should hurt; Johanna and Bristel with their tongues so far down each other’s throats that they’re probably going to leave and do God knows what before their next round arrives. All of them know a sort of intimacy Katniss can’t even begin to fathom. All of them… except her.

And it’s… weird. Like she’s on the outside of a joke that’s been going on for years.

How are they all still friends? How is it all so… natural for them? Granted, it’s not like she’s got any insight to what’s going on in their brains, but it must be awkward on some level, mustn’t it? How can you share so much of yourself with one person, then pretend like it never happened? And then, how can you do it with four or five or maybe even more of the people you hang out with the most? Katniss can’t wrap her mind around any of it.

Only Peeta, sitting beside her, seems to notice her out-of-body experience.

He nudges her ankle with his foot beneath the table and leans in to whisper, “Are you all right, Katniss?”

She shivers at the warmth and scent of him, of cinnamon and dill and all kinds of other delicious things. He’s never smelled bad in all the time she’s known him. “Yeah. Just, uh… weird day.” She tips back her gin and tonic and almost chokes on it.

He nods, thoughtful, and takes another sip of his own drink, the only one he’ll have for the whole night. “That sucks,” he says, and she can tell he means it, too. He smiles, and another shiver races through her. “Wanna talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Just the usual.”

“Another drink, then?”

“I think I’m done for the night, but thanks.”

He shrugs and takes another sip. “No problem.”

“Hey… is it true you dated Madge?” She wants to punch herself in the face as soon as the words leave her mouth.

He almost spits out his drink. “What?” He coughs and thumps his chest with his fist. “She told you about that?”

“She just mentioned it. I had no idea.”

“It was… uh, a while ago.” He drags a hand through his curls and surveys her with something almost like worry. “What else did she tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you guys went out a couple of times —”

“— Once,” Peeta cuts in, a tendon in his jaw twitching. “We went out once. Years ago.”

“All right.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “Sorry for mentioning it.”

“No, Katniss —” He breaks off with a sigh and twirls the last of his beer around in the bottle. “Yeah, Madge and I went out. It wasn’t a big deal. We were both dealing with… I don’t know, shitty personal lives, I guess?”

“Madge said it was to forget a girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ, would someone please, please, cut out her tongue?

“I… uh…” He chugs back the rest of his beer in one feel swoop. Awesome, now he doesn’t have to watch her tear at her hair. “I guess it was kind of like that. I think Madge had just stopped seeing that Blight guy? It was… a while ago, that’s for sure.” He looks at her critically. “Why do you ask?”

She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Just, she mentioned it and I was… curious, I guess.”

His lips quirk into a hint of a smile. “Curious about what, Katniss?”

Yeah, her brain taunts her. Curious about what, Katniss?

Even if she knew, she’s got no clue how to go about admitting it to Peeta, of all people.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles at her empty glass. “Nothing, I guess.”

Now, the concern is back full-force. “You sure?”

Not really, but she’s not so sure why or what or how anymore. “Yeah. I’m sure. But I think I’ll take that drink now, if you’re still offering.”

He flags down the nearest server and says, “Yeah. I think I might, too.”

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #ally147writes #Prompt 85 #567inpanem

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday, onlymollygibson!

Today, we wish a Happy belated Birthday to @onlymollygibson! We hope you had a wonderful day back on March 22nd, and celebrated in style! To bring your birthday feels back around, @ally147writes has written a story just for you!

AN: Apologies for the delay, @onlymollygibson. I’ve got a massive presentation to give at uni next week which has consumed much of my time. Also, this prompt was... kind of hard :/ I tried to make it lighthearted and fun, but it just didn’t work. I’m not 100% happy with it, but I do hope you like what I managed to cook up, though.

Unbeta’d. All errors are my own. Rated T.

Peeta’s front door is wide open when he arrives home from work.

There’s a dozen things wrong with this picture, not least the fact that he forgot to lock his door before leaving at half-three in the morning — again — but there’s also the fact that it’s just gone one in the afternoon, it’s broad daylight out, and on the short five-minute journey from the bakery to his home, he passed a dozen people walking dogs or jogging. What sort of person’s brazen enough to stage a daylight robbery in full view of the entire neighbourhood?

His hands shake as he slams the car door shut, and his heart feels halfway up his throat as he plucks his phone from his pocket and punches in 911. He hovers his finger above the call button as he darts across the driveway as silently as he can manage.

There’s no carnage, he notes with a sigh when he’s inside. (Does he lock the door behind him or what? What’s the protocol when you’re getting robbed? Do you keep them in or let them out?) Nothing overturned, his lounge room is intact, no frames broken, and his television is right where he left it. A cursory glance to the hollowed book on one of his shelves that houses his rainy-day savings tells him that’s safe, too. The only thing telling him there might be something wrong is the dusty set of boot-prints leading into his kitchen.

He frowns. The kitchen?

His kitchen sits at the end of a long, narrow hallway. His pride and joy, filled with every fancy appliance he can afford on his meagre salary, and a spice rack even the most well-stocked restaurant would be jealous of. Peeta picks up his pace a little, the thud of his heart seeming louder than his footsteps.

His stomach falls. The fridge door is wide open, so too the pantry and the cupboards. Bags of flour and pasta and pulses lay strewn over the floor, crunching under his feet. The fridge is still beeping its alarm to say it’s been open too long, and the toaster is laying on its side on the bench.

Most concerning, though, is the slumped-over young woman pressed tight in the narrow gap between the wall and dishwasher.

Peeta’s breath falls from his lungs at the sight of her. She’s thin, painfully so. Black hair he imagines would glint red in the sunlight lies in dull, ashy clumps along her prominent spine. Her coat and trousers are at least five sizes too big, ending in men’s work-boots too large for her feet. He can’t tell if she’s a threat or not, but desperation makes people do crazy things, and this girl looks all kinds of desperate.

He clears his throat and inches his way forward, as though she’s a wild animal. She doesn’t stir, but tears roll down her cheeks, cutting lines through the layer of soot covering her skin.

“Uh, hello?” He sets a hand on her sharp shoulder and shakes her gently. “Miss, are you all right?”

She opens her eyes. Grey, red-rimmed, glazed, and confused. “I’m… I’m hungry.”

He stops short, frowning. “You’re hungry?”

“I haven’t eaten… I don’t remember when it was.”

“What… what are you doing here?”

She shakes her head and slurs, “Your door was open, but you have no food. I fell over. Didn’t want to get back up.”

He glances over her, as though he can spy whatever injuries she might have through her layers. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No. Not much. Just… do you really have nothing you can just… eat? Like, right then? Like a bag of chips or something?”

“I… uh… I usually make everything from scratch. That’s why —” He pulls himself short; he’s got no reason to explain himself to this girl. He sets his phone down on the bench and sits beside her on the floor. “Do you need me to call you an ambulance?”

She shakes her head, closes her eyes. “I just want something to eat. Please.”

“Do you, uh, want me to… I don’t know. I’ve got a loaf of bread and some other stuff in the car. I could make you a sandwich?”

He doesn’t even wait for her to reply before he’s up and out the door, grabbing the bag of bread and misshapen pastries he left on his passenger seat. When he gets back inside, the girl has moved so she’s sitting up. He spies the sharp angle of her collarbones through the gap in her shirt’s collar and looks away immediately.

“I… just, hang on a sec, all right?”

She nods, and he sets to work. Nothing too heavy, just a grilled cheese. Some soup would be better, but he hasn’t gone grocery shopping since the weekend. Just this poor girl’s luck that the first unlocked house she found was the one with jack all food in it.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” he asks once the sandwich is sizzling in the pan.

She traces the lines in his hardwood floor with her blunt fingernails. “Just… have you ever had everything in your life go horribly, unimaginably wrong at once?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

She hums and tips her head against the wall, closing her eyes again. “It completely sucks.”

“Yeah, I… um, I guess it would. Sorry.” He plates the sandwich and cuts it into four triangles. “Is there anyone you’d like to call? You can borrow my phone.”

She shrugs. “No one left to pick up.”

He’s not sure what to say to that.

“Here.” He hands her the plate and sits beside her again. “Eat slowly.”

She stares at the sandwich like it’s something far more elaborate than a grilled cheese on sliced white bread.

“It smells amazing.”

“It tastes pretty good, too.”

She starts off with nibbles, eating the crispy edges before she inhales the middle. Soft noises escape her while she eats: tiny sighs and breathless little moans. The more she eats, the more she cries, and the more awkward Peeta feels watching her.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, because he hasn’t gotten a straight answer out of her yet.

“I’ll be okay.” She takes another bite and smiles. “This is wonderful, though.”

“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you. No one else would have done this.”

“I’d like to think they would.”

“You’d be wrong.” She finishes the sandwich in silence while he watches her for new clues. He doesn’t find much, but he’s not sure he’d be allowed to see it, anyway.

“Do you want anything else?” he asks when she’s done and staring at the plate.

She shoots him a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “I don’t think you’re supposed to keep offering me things. I mean, I did break into your home.”

“Well, I did leave the door open, so I was probably inviting it.”

“Yeah, you really should remember to lock it. Who knows what sort of crazies are out there.”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem so bad.”

“You really don’t know me well enough to be making those sorts of calls.”

“Well, maybe we should change that.” He clears his throat and holds out his hand. “I’m Peeta.”

She stares at him like he’s crazy — and, yeah, he probably is — before she smiles at him properly.

“Katniss,” she says as she takes his hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “My name is Katniss.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaygifts #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #fan fic #by ally147writes

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blade-revolutions · 6 years

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Kai x Lyla first kiss scene (short version)

Due to studying of uni entrance exams, I haven’t written in a long while so I finally had time to sit down and write a bit - even if the piece is truly short.

The events take place in my Beyblade AU which is supernatural / magic powers themed. Both characters are 15.

Darkness.

Lyla Hart can’t seem to be able to see anything past it. Truthfully, she isn’t sure if there could be anything else except for it.

Voices scream, desperate for help, for any sign of humanity. Flames are scattered everywhere.

How could they?

Firstly they sacrificed their own teammates for more glory, more power. Then they burned them, turning their bodies into ash.

The cries of pain and agony echo in Lyla’s ears and she stills. She can’t see the river anymore, or hear the soothing flow of the water as it carries on. The night sky dotted with stars is replaced by the terrifying sight of James and Marcus, a fire is surrounding their whole being. She’s rendered speechless, her body frozen in spot as her mind replays yesterday’s events. She sees the boys breathing harshly, coughing, their skin glistening with sweat due to the unbearable heat. She hears their shouts vividly, their pleas when James says they won’t loose again.

A new gang arrived in town two weeks ago. Rumours began spreading they were the strongest team of the capital and had returned from worldwide competitions abroad. She recalls Hilary’s expression, half-doubtful, half-mocking.

“Just what kind of competitions?” she put her glasses down and arched her brow in disbelief. “As far as I know, no one’s heard of them.”

“Well, we had been out of town for quite a while.” Lyla admits and stares at Hilary expectantly for her response. Both of them were agitated by the appearance of a new group out of nowhere - which proclaimed to be the best in the entire capital.

“Please.” Hilary dismisses her and takes a ship of her tea. “Claiming they’re the best when we’ve never encountered them - not only we, but anyone is suspicious alone. It’d be foolish to believe such claims. We’re not eight.”

Lyla sits on her bed, folding her legs underneath her. She held the urge of sighing pleasantly because her bed is so warm and nothing can be as good as coming back to the comfort of your own bed. “Although that’s true, we’ve lost track of everything. We’ll have to gather more information as soon as possible. Don’t want them running to Kai and Johnny.”

“Tala, Julia and Ian are already on it. Apparently, this supposed gang loves the survival kind of team contests. They are already advertising themselves by placing posters in the city to grab the citizens’ attention for the upcoming tournament. And for the Kai and Johnny part, I definitely agree. They won’t want to know how the boys react to those to who pull the superior act when in reality they’re not.

Lyla is amused by Hilary’s words and the way she views the situation. To think the girl actually encouraged the idea of the boys putting some people in their rightful places entertained her to no end, considering Hilary would scold them for being hot-headed and a bunch of idiots with super powers.

“Wait till Tyson is added to the mix.”

Hilary catches her best friend’s glance and a laugh escaped her throat. “ For once, I’d be looking forward to it.”

She’s been a fire fairy for the past two years and she always perceived magic as the purest form of art and self-expression so when she had a taste of how destructive it could be, something inside her shattered.

Is magic truly evil?

She wants to stay alone and think, to find her sanity and her lost positivity. However that plan is proved to be a major failure when footsteps approach her from behind.

Lyla doesn’t have to turn around. She knows it’s him.

“How long are you gonna stay here like this?”

She merely rolls her eyes. Kai is as critical as usual, he just picked the wrong time for it. Lyla’s grip around her knees tightens and she buries her nose on the top of her knees to prevent the cold air from seeping in and to the rest of her face, despite the fact her attempts are futile.

“Ignoring me won’t make me leave.”

Oh he couldn’t hold himself back from being an ass! Not all hours are the same and Lyla is reluctant to put up with him.

“We’ll do everything to win next time.”

Next time. Heck they knew there wouldn’t be a next time and they still tried. They were willing to do everything, they could do everything. Out of the five, Marcus and James were the only ones with a heart and real potential to become better. Yet, death decided it was time to take away whatever good that gang had. Them.

A tear cascades her cheek. It was unfair, it still is unfair. They didn’t deserve any of this.

“You’ll have to leave sometime, Lyla.” Kai huffs.

Can’t. He. Just. Shut. Up?!

“I don’t remember having a babysitter surrounding me.” She tries to retort with a steady voice but it wavers slightly as she reached the end. Hiwatari is starting to get on her nerves and she can’t even stand on a verbal fight with him. So great.

“You know I’m not but what I said before was right. We have to go.”

She despises his ability to go from hot to cold the next moment. She often wonders why he doesn’t want to pursue being actor. Kai has perfected the technique of raising the brow - Lyla’s sure he has spent hours in front of a mirror practicing it, otherwise, he’s not normal - and since honey drips from his lips whenever he speaks, he’d be beyond perfect for any role of bad guy.

��You’re not always right.”

Kai’s mouth stays agape briefly, staring at Lyla’s back stunned. Where did that come from?

“I didn’t say I’m always right.”

“But you definitely act like it.”

He presses his lips firmly shut. She is definitely bothered by something and that’s enough to push Kai’s ego back slightly. He remains silent before making another try and convince her it’s time to get home.

“It’s getting cold out here.”

Lyla doesn’t respond immediately. The thought of ignoring him till he gets bored and leaves is too appealing. But Kai won’t let her get away easily.

“I like the cold.” She replies stubbornly.

“No you don’t. You like spring.”

“And you don’t like summer.”

“I don’t like a lot of things.”

“But you definitely enjoy getting on people’s nerves at the wrong at time.”

Kai chuckles. He wishes he could see her face since Lyla’s cheeks tend to get covered with a soft red whenever they get into an argument - something that doesn’t happen often to his surprise.

Upon hearing him hold back his laughter, Lyla turns her head abruptly. Kai sees the tears on her cheeks and whatever comeback he has come up with dies on his throat. What can possibly has shaken her this much?

Then a thought crosses his mind.

It’s swift and he could have missed it...but he’s positive that this could be exactly it.

He pushes his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his eyes looking anywhere but her as one thought brings the other. Lyla takes a moment to trace his features; a part of his neck is exposed since Hiwatari isn’t fond of scarves along with hoodies and her toes curl unwillingly. She can’t deny she doesn’t like his neck. She really does and often wonders how it’d be to taste it. Then again she’s fifteen and shouldn’t accuse Kai of having a dirty mind. Hers isn’t any better.

Her eyes travel higher, to his rosy lips and soft breaths against the cold, to his mesmerizing purple eyes and red-tinted nose and to his slate blue hair which is pushed back into his black beanie. There’s a softness about him at seeing his face this vulnerable, free from the bangs that hide it from the rest of the world.

Her heart clenches.

“Kai?” She asks hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think magic is evil?”

Kai ponders the thought for a minute. Afterwards, “No. I don’t think it’s evil at all. It depends on how you choose to use it, the purpose you have.”

More tears roll down her cheeks and realization dawns upon her; she can’t stop them from flowing. She can’t bury the pain anymore.

“That’s what I believe too but whenever I do, there’s the haunting image of Marcus and James, their unfair fate, how they deserved better and how they were always the best ones at heart from their group. They could be developed so much more, they could be everything the rest of their teammates would never be. They were kind and no one recognised that in them. People viewed them as the weakest members of the gang and all of that because of one loss at a match One fucking loss.” her sobs have made her voice lower. She doesn’t mind the tears because Kai knows. He knows her well enough. “I’m tired. I feel like breaking. I-I don’t think I’ll be able to use magic for a while after this. I don’t think -

Her eyes fly wide open when Kai’s face comes too close for her comfort to hers and the next thing she knows is his lips on hers. For a heartbeat her brain is preoccupied by the fact this is not a dream, that she’s not in her bed fantasizing how kissing Kai Hiwatari would feel like since her crush on him only got stronger the longer she got the chance to know him better and spend time with him.

She lets her eyes close and sinks in. Lyla moves her hands from her sides to Kai’s neck and intertwines her fingers there, bringing them closer. She’s surprised when she notices his hands have come around to secure her waste, making her forget everything and her heart almost explodes at the feeling of his thumb, smooth on her cold skin as he wipes away slowly her tear.

How someone so distant can be so soft?

She doesn’t have time to process the thought. He pulls away and heat rushes on her face.

Holy shit, it did happen.

Then another thought occurs. Why did he kiss her? To offer comfort? To stop her from babbling while crying her heart out?

“Why did you - “ her breath hitches on her throat and she swallows to calm her nerves. “Why did you do that?”

A small smile flickers on Kai’s lips and Lyla wishes to see that more often “Because I wanted to.” Her head shoots up from the ground to stare at him astonished.

“And because you seemed to lose your self.” he mumbles softly.

A grin lights up her face. She’s supposed to not lose her spirit, even if the world around her collapses.

“Come on. Let’s go home. The guys will be worried.”

She nods and paces quicker to reach him, thanking God for making Kai a part of her life that reminds her she’s much stronger than she thinks.

#beyblade fanfiction #kai x lyla

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moonduskt · 4 years

Text

BOOK TWO: Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood

“Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood”

Author: Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamolodchikova

Year: 2020

Publisher: Penguin Randomhouse

Note: Possible spoilers, for those who’s uncomfortable with them please read the novel first, okay? Thank you.

I have an endearing little problem in life. Amusing enough to make me chuckle and save it on my phone’s memory, yet also more than enough to annoy me to no end.

My juniors at uni like to call me a Boomer these days, or an old lady, whichever is best used in the moment; they cackle and giggle and tease me fondly. All of that because I consciously seldom myself from the madness of social media. That way, whenever they’re talking about something viral and the most important news of the day, or latest meme and high-charted funny song, I never, ever, understand any of them in full context. That is how they start with their old woman jokes.

So I, in my early twenty years of age, need to find a way to prove to them that I am not the old hag they accuse me of. A modern woman with impeccable taste, a futuristic and visionary one if possible. Hence, the moment I have a hold of Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamolodchikova’s “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood”, I read it as soon as possible like it is my only Bible to the future.

(No, I’m just half joking. I read the book because I love Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamolodchikova, too, from the north pole to the south pole and back to the north pole again.)

As the title suggests, “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” is a guidebook, or a life-advice book, for the women (but not limited to men) to be the baddest modern woman out there, ready to tackle the society’s expectation successfully. Written in various methods, the book is divided into three important parts: beauty and style, homemaking, and relationships.

As you may guess, through the ‘Beauty and Style’ part, Trixie and Katya told us how to be dazzlingly beautiful from the physical realm until the inner self-love we all need in order to achieve it successfully. From the basics such as hair, makeup, heels, personal style, and personal hygiene, to the side-quests we need to be aware of like alcohol, drugs, and most importantly self love. Presented in an advice columns, a questionnaire, bullet points, and even a short essay of their own experience meticulously, we would be the shining, shimmering, and splendid pretty women (and men) ready to face the world by the time we turned the page for the second part of the book.

It turns out that being beautiful inside and outside simply isn’t enough to be a modern woman according to these two biological women. We need to be knowledgeable in our home affairs too, especially money concerned matters, because it is very expensive to survive in this world as a woman. Another important thing we need to be masterful of is our kingdom of digital platforms. How to put out the correct persona on the internet and manage it carefully to avoid any unwarranted problems because of the internet’s unforgiving harsh judgement, and most importantly how to take a rest from the madness of it for some time, the world that never sleeps.

I feel like I resonated through this chapter so much. I used to be a very active user of social media platforms, especially twitter. In my younger days, I was this utterly stupid, embarrassing clown who should’ve been banned from the community for existing alone. Then I realized how foolish I was, and some other reasons slipped in the middle of it that made me stop using any social media platforms other than WhatsApp and YouTube. It takes time to build the courage to take care of social media again, and I need to always stay alert in case I make the same mistakes as the past, too.

From the words of famous Barbie dolls collector Trixie Mattel, decorating your own home is an important thing to do, too, since it shows who you really are. Your own home is one part of you that other people don’t get to judge, a part of personality that should be barricaded from the harsh opinion of the outside world. Related to this theme was the decluttering part of having your own home. Sometimes we get too little too attached to the things we don’t actually need anymore.

Relationship is another condiment element of our life that we couldn’t not talk about, but don’t worry, because Trixie and Katya lightly guided us through the art of meeting new people and how to properly hooking up. After those cheery cherry on top advice, these women also gave us the ultimate how-to’s on breakups and friendship. I will write it in here because I think these two were the most important advice pieces from the third part:

One, Trixie said that the thing you need to do when you just broke up with someone is to not let yourself succumbing into the sadness to much, you have to be rational about the break-up too because parting ways with your ex is not the end of the world and there is still a lot of possibilities of love out there;

Two, in friendship, it is actually good not to be possessive of your friend. Just because you don’t spend your every waking time, every minute, every second of your life talking with them that it means bad. No, sometimes it’s healthy because both you and your friend do have your own life and need the space and time to breathe. It’s okay to stay away for awhile, and it’s okay to catch up.

About this book, I thank God in Heaven that there’s nothing I don’t like in this book. To be honest, I promise myself I will close this book as soon as I feel like I am being scolded for the poor choices I make my whole life. It is an important thing to note, because I have a personal vendetta against any kind of motivational or life advice’s materials, even if it is given in the form of magical words on a best-selling book or the alluring vocals in a heart-wrenching song. No particular reason for my hatred towards motivational bullshits, it’s just in my nature to reject any hopes that certain people are trying to inject into society.

“Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” is an easy to read book, sometimes with self-deprecating jokes, humorous advice, or flippant statements that never fails to make me grinning from ear to ear. A lot of the advice given inside isn’t even that serious, I think, but when it is actually serious, it never makes me feel offended or anything. If there is any reaction extracted from me, is that I am seriously thinking and considering the point given by Trixie and/or Katya. Instead of telling me what to do with steps too demanding and expecting instant perfect results, like the other life-advice and motivational books out there, this book is giving me options with rational reasons behind it. This book urged me in a joking way, yet sternly, to do better. This books told me that it’s okay to fucked things up because human do fucking shits up most of the time, as long as we try to do better and actively trying to make amends about our messy past.

Isn’t that what life-advice books are supposed to be doing?

For some people claiming that they don’t really like to read books and are amateur writers, sure Trixie and Katya write a very excellent piece of book. It’s suspicious enough to make me think that they’re just bluffing about it. This book feels like it was written by veteran writers who write as their main job, and not a couple of drag queens who are busy touring and appearing on various YouTube channels with every other side jobs and business they currently own.

What an effortless read, this book is. It’s not that serious like more heavy-weight non-fictional or super engaging like the fictional one, I can sit it out for few hours and when I get back to it, “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” will welcome me with open arms to read it again like I never leave in the first place. Trixie and Katya choose to write it with such simple words for simple sentences, and my illiterate ass is so grateful for that. Yet behind the unassuming sentences and the never-ending jokes, hids all the brilliant tricks to make those paragraphs magnificent and elegant while the clown make-up is still on. The power only Trixie and Katya has, all of you (and me) should take note of it.

Last thing about their writing style, I need you to know that Trixie and Katya knocked me on the head and told me to read my dictionary more, since there were some words that I never knew existed in English. I have to say that I bought a very thick notebook since late June, intended to write all of the unfamiliar English words I come across inside the books I read, yet I haven’t done anything with it until now. This book is the proof that I need to do better. In a way, this book motivates me to be better just like Trixie and Katya.

(Whether I proceed with that motivational sentiment is another topic to talk about another time.)

What I also like from this book is that as much as it is a life-advice book, it is also a life-style magazine in very thick pages, perhaps a super super special edition one. “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” is very cute in interior design, despite the fierce red of the cover. Splashes of pinks and pastel blues, cute big quotation and tips column, and the photos! Lord in Heaven, the photos! I can’t stop looking at every picture for more than two minutes, happily observing every silly pose Trixie and Katya made, and little trinkets and wigs and the costumes they’re wearing on those shoots. I feel like I’m having a special photobook of the K-Pop artist that I like.

(No, I never bought a K-Pop album before, nor a K-Pop photobook, so I’m just talking out of my ass.)

I’m so happy that I have the chance to read this book until the last page, and I also feel grateful because this book is kind and takes care of me well. For someone who doesn’t like reading motivational or life-advice books like me, I can guarantee you that you will love and cherish this book so much, whether you like Trixie and Katya or not. They won’t judge your every inch of life, nor they will kick your asses for being you. I’m hoping that Trixie and Katya will write another book next time. Cheers to these two biological women!

#book review #book blog #review #books #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixie and katya guide to modern womanhood

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the-fauxpas · 7 years

Text

three / apple martini

UNI AU co-written with @ineffably-styles

a story of late nights, unorthodox household plants, and a trip to Vegas that changes everything

Harry groaned. “Please don’t start a war with him,” he begged. “The last time someone started a war with Louis we all ended up spending the night at the police station. I still haven’t heard the end of that from my dad. He banned me from seeing Louis for two weeks afterwards. I was twenty. My dad grounded me when I was twenty because of Louis,” he frowned. “Maybe he had the right idea banning me from seeing him.”

chapter two / story page

Savannah was clever. That was a simple fact and almost everyone knew it. She knew how work a situation so that it benefited her and she knew how to manipulate people into doing whatever she wanted - which was partially why she’d gone into Psychology. She’d figured she might as well make a career out of it since she was so good at it.

Or she had been - until she’d met Reyna and Alexa. Of the seven billion people in the world, Savannah had managed to befriend possibly the only two who seemed to see right through her. Which was why she couldn’t seem to get them to stop bloody asking if she was alright - which she was - but that apparently hadn’t been the answer they were looking for so they began to pester her about Harry Styles instead. Which, again would have been fine and perfectly avoidable if not for Louis.

“Look, I’ll answer whatever questions you guys have later,” she eventually gave in. “But I have class in less than an hour and I’d really appreciate not being late on my first day back at uni.”

“I think that’s something we’d all like,” Reyna sniffed, staring disinterestedly down at her nails. “And it could have all been very well avoided if you’d just answered a few very simple questions when I - we - asked them,” she corrected herself.

“Fine,” she caved. “I’ll answer whatever questions you have as long as Lex starts driving and you promise that the conversation ends as soon as we get to uni. Permanently. That means no more questions about Harry and no more jokes and prodding and loosely hidden innuendoes,” she looked pointedly over at Reyna.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Always knew you were a prude anyway,” Reyna shrugged, earning herself a swift punch in return when she leaned between the seats. “Ow,” she glared.

“I’m not a prude!” Savannah argued, throwing a look over at Reyna who was sat in the cramped backseat with all of their bags and textbooks. “I just don’t like my personal life to be out there in the open like you do.”

“What personal life?” she snorted.

“Reyna!” Alexa exclaimed, shooting her a shocked look. “You can’t just say things like that after what she’s been through.”

Reyna rolled her eyes and glanced at Savannah who was staring back at her with a slightly closed off expression. “I just meant you end up sharing everything with us eventually, is all,” she said softly, glaring once again when Sav’s expression turned cheeky. “You just played me!” she pointed, narrowing her eyes.

“Not fun, is it?” Sav grinned, turning back around to stare out of the front of the car.

“Whatever,” Reyna grumbled, crossing her arms. “Did you have fun?” she asked.

“What?” Savannah shot her a confused look.

“With Harry,” she clarified. “Did you have fun? That’s my question.”

“Oh,” Sav frowned a little. “I mean, I don’t remember much,” she admitted, “but yeah. Yeah, it was fun.”

“Ok then,” Reyna leaned back. “That’s pretty much all I want to know since you’re not willing to really share the gory details.”

Alexa rolled her eyes. “You gonna see him again?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Probably,” Savannah scoffed. “Not like that,” she quickly rushed when she noticed Reyna’s eyebrows start to rise. “I just mean he’s friends with Louis so it’s pretty much impossible for me not to see him again, innit? No matter how much I hope not to,” she muttered under her breath.

“Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad. He seems nice,” Alexa tried to comfort her.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. But it’s not him I’m worried about.”

“Louis?” Reyna guessed sympathetically.

Savannah didn’t answer. She loved Louis like a brother – she couldn’t exactly escape him because he and Reyna were apparently attached at the hip – but he had a tendency to not think about what he said before blurting it out and having him around wasn’t exactly comforting when it came to delicate situations like the one she currently had with Harry.

“Look, I’ll chat to him,” Reyna reassured her friend with a pat on the shoulder. “Tell him I’ll shave his eyebrows off if he says something stupid.”

Alexa snorted, “I don’t think that’ll work, he’ll probably think that it’s hilarious.”

“Sadly you might be right,” Reyna sighed from the backseat. “Louis has always been uncontrollable.”

“Speak of the devil…” Savannah trailed off, pointing to a figure walking towards their stationary car.

“Hey girls,” he leaned his head in through the rear window, a smug smile playing on his lips. “What do we have here?”

“Louis this light is going to change in approximately 2.5 seconds, I’d suggest you move if you don’t want your head chopped off,” Alexa warned, her head twisting back to glare at him.

“Guess I’ll have to join you, then,” he said, pulling the door open and shoving Reyna into the pile of bags against the door. “How’ve you all been?”

“I was fine until you almost killed me with the bags,” Reyna grumbled, frowning. Louis smirked and flicked her nose with his finger.

“Now, suffocation via textbooks is not the way you want to go, I can assure you,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Thanks so much for the tip,” she quipped in reply, rolling her eyes. “Like I had much of a choice with your aggressive actions.”

“So, Sav,” Louis started, ignoring Reyna and leaning in between the seats as Alexa looked for a place to park. “Have you talked to our dear Mr. Styles since we helped you escape the fiery dungeons of the Red Keep?”

Savannah blinked, “Come again?”

Louis sighed, “Sometimes your lack of culture astounds me. Game of Thrones reference,” he clarified.

She rolled her eyes, sighing before pointing out an open space to Alexa, “If I wanted incest and rape, I’d read a history book. Also, I haven’t.”

“Looks like that’s going to change,” he grinned, pointing out a tall brunette guy leaning against the brick wall of the lecture hall Savannah had her first class in.

“You set this up!” she said accusatorily, hooking her bag over her shoulder and climbing out of the car. Everyone else followed suit, moving towards the building as Alexa scrambled to lock her car.

Louis grinned, not even moving to deny it. “I may have been going through Reyna’s phone one day and saw that you emailed each other your class schedules,” he stated haughtily. “A bit of shuffling and hacking into Harry’s student account means that you two now have most of your classes in the same buildings.”

“Louis, what the hell?” Reyna smacked him on the arm.

“You’re an absolute freak, Tomlinson,” Savannah scoffed. “That’s such a violation of privacy. Change his back now!”

“Well, I can’t now,” he said, rubbing his arm carefully. “It’s too late and most of the other classes are already full. Fool didn’t even know what had happened. Besides, it’s only the lectures – in what world would the Psych classes be in the Law building?”

“That doesn’t make this any better. You’re intentionally making my life hell, and you’re going to pay for it,” she warned, glaring at him before grabbing Alexa and pulling her along with her. Not wanting to be rude, Savannah smiled and waved at Harry before pushing her way through the doors.

“You’re dead,” Reyna warned Louis before turning to follow her friends into the building. She paused after a couple of steps, turned back and punched him on the arm again.

“Ow,” he complained, glaring at her as Harry walked over with a confused look.

“Everything alright?” he asked carefully.

“Just peachy,” Reyna replied a little too brightly.

“Riiiight,” Harry dragged out the word, his already slow drawl exaggerating his disbelief. “Is there anything I can do to help…this?” he waved his hands to gesture at the two of them.

“Yeah,” Reyna nodded, hitching her bag higher up on her shoulder as she prepared to leave for her own lessons. “Start planning his funeral,” she pointed to Louis without glancing at him before stomping off.

“Looks like you’re in for it, mate,” Harry commented amusedly.

“Shove off,” Louis glared, his eyes following Reyna as she disappeared after her friends.

“Hey.”

“Bloody hell,” Savannah jumped, twisting around to face the voice. “Make some noise next time will you? Almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” Harry grinned, pulling out the seat beside her and slouching into it. “And sorry about Louis too, by the way,” he gestured to the building he’d just walked out of, which was incidentally the same one Savannah had vacated only moments before.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, simultaneously rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty used to his meddling by now so I should’ve expected it when he caught on that we, uh, knew one another.”

“If it helps, your friend with the scary eyes gave it to him pretty good earlier. If I wasn’t so miffed at him myself, I’d probably be a little worried. But,” he leaned forward to rest his arms on the table before turning his body towards Savannah, “I’m actually looking forward to seeing him squirm a little.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she scoffed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Louis scared of anyone.”

“Dunno, he seemed pretty worried after Reyna had walked away. Kept mumbling about how he’s always sticking his foot in his mouth.”

Savannah quirked an eyebrow. “So the ‘friend with the scary eyes’ is Reyna now?”

“He never shuts up about her, I probably knew her name before I even knew yours,” he shrugs. “What?” he asked nervously, noticing the way her eyes seemed to take up a slightly devious glint.

“Nothing,” she grinned. “That’s just an interesting development.”

“Interesting?” Harry scoffed. “Try annoying. Every time we go somewhere it’s ‘oh, Rey told me about this place’ or ‘Rey would like this’ or ‘Reyna this and Reyna that’. I know more about her than I’d necessarily like,” he grumbled.

Savannah laughed at him. “Yeah, this is definitely something I can use against him.”

“You’re joking,” she bit her lip to keep from laughing, but the moment Harry nodded with a miserable expression on his face, Savannah couldn’t help the laugh that burst through her lips. “That’s bloody brilliant. Wait till the girls hear about this.”

“Oh, please, no. Don’t,” he asked weakly, knowing it was probably no use.

“Think it’s only fair considering how much you probably know about us from Louis and his ridiculously loud mouth.”

Harry grinned cheekily. “He did tell me about that time you were all invited to his place and-”

Savannah cut him off. “Don’t even finish that sentence, please,” she grimaced at the memory. “Even though no one will admit it, I’m pretty sure that’s the reason Louis’ family comes to visit him now instead of him heading down.”

“Can you blame them?” Harry chirped, far too amused for his own good.

“Probably not. Come on,” she changed the subject, shoving all her things into her bag. “We’ve got another class in about fifteen minutes.”

“How do you know that?” he shot her a confused look.

“Louis apparently doesn’t understand the term ‘quit meddling’ and forwarded me your timetable,” she sighed, standing up and hooking her bag over her shoulder. “I need to get a backpack,” she frowned as the weight on her shoulder caused her body to tilt to the right.

“So you memorised it?” Harry raised his eyebrows as he fell into step beside her.

“Can’t help it,” she shrugged. “I have a knack for remembering things that I’d much rather forget,” she side eyed him pointedly.

“Hey!” he protested indignantly. “If anything, it should be Louis you’re trying to forget. He’s the twat in this whole ordeal. We’re just the victims.”

Savannah merely shrugged. “If you say so. Do you have a ride after class?”

“Why, are you offering?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I was going to, until that comment,” she glared, making him laugh.

“Thanks, but I’m driving,” he smiled.

“See when you do that, you seem almost normal,” Savannah shook her head.

“Do what?”

“Smile,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m always smiling,” he sounded affronted.

“No,” Sav shook her head. “You’re always smirking. It’s different and doesn’t count.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ve got an entire term of this to look forward to, don’t I?” he sighed.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she grinned, stopping in front of her lecture room. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

“See you, Sav,” he waved walking backwards for a few seconds until she disappeared into the room.

By the time 4:30pm came around, Savannah was ready to go home and collapse into her bed. Her first day had been filled with gruelling lectures, and a compulsory introductory tutorial class that she had been to every single semester for the past two and a half years. Her head was filled with so much content that it felt like it was bursting at the seams - and she just knew that the next few months were going to be crazy.

The only problem was that Alexa was in a lecture and wouldn’t be out until 6pm, and considering she held the only key to the apartment, Savannah had no other option than to sit by herself in the university’s dining hall for the next hour or so.

She found an empty seat in the darkest corner of the hall and plopped herself down, pulling out her laptop and opting to get a head start on all of her notes while she was still ahead - a strange concept for her. She had just finished up when she looked up just in time to see a hunched figure sit themselves down next to her.

“Zayn,” she said, trying to hide her shock. He smelt like a mix of cigarettes and spray paint, which meant that classes had finished for him a while ago.

“Hey,” he greeted her, looking exhausted and slightly sheepish when he noticed her staring at the amount of colour he still had on his hands. “What’s up, Sav?”

“Doing some therapeutic art?” she observed. She had met Zayn a few months ago, when Reyna had first started placement at the hospital and he’d needed a lift home with the girls.

Zayn looked sheepish for a second before nodding. “Yeah, and I got it all over my lab coat too. Spent the past hour trying to bleach all of the colours out.”

“Good thing it’s white then,” she laughed, sliding half her muffin over to him. He thanked her silently before pulling off a chunk and popping it into his mouth.

“Not too sure my demonstrators will enjoy the smell though,” he noted, chuckling lightly.

“Oh please, you guys work around bacteria all day. Reyna’s apartment basically smells like those weird agar plate things that you guys use. Bleach is the least of your worries,” Savannah laughed, finishing off her sentence and closing the file.

“How are your classes so far?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Pretty intense,” she replied, “But nothing against Medicine, I’d say,” she smiled. “Reyna brought three textbooks into one of her classes today. I don’t know how you guys do it.”

Zayn smiled, “That sounds like something that she’d do… how is she, by the way? And Alexa too?”

“They’re good!” Savannah replied truthfully. “I can slowly feel Alexa’s stress levels rising, though, so ask me that question again in a few weeks’ time,” she laughed.

“Ditto,” he agreed. “Speaking of stress levels, I’m throwing a party at mine this weekend. Just something casual to celebrate the start of the new term. I was going to text Rey about it later, but since I’ve got you here might as well tell you about it Bring Alexa and Reyna and all that. It’d be cool to have you guys there,” he plopped the rest of the muffin into his mouth. “Rey and I can compare timetables, see if we have any labs together. It’d be good to partner up with a familiar face,” he said more to himself.

“That sounds great,” she said excitedly. “The girls would love to come – don’t think we have any plans.”

“Excellent,” he said, moving to stand up. “I gotta go. Text me if you need anything.”

“Lex should be finishing soon,” Savannah frowned, checking the time. “Did you want to wait to say hi?”

Zayn rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I would, but I have a meeting at six. Tell her I said hey though!”

And with that, he was gone. Savannah’s plans of getting Zayn and Alexa together were difficult, but realistic, and she was going to make damned sure that it would happen before they graduated. She had already recruited the help of Reyna - though she was pretty useless in all aspects of romance - but she was a key factor in getting to Zayn.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” Alexa groaned, resting against the steering wheel as Savannah sat in the passenger seat with her laptop open, the glow being the only source of light within the car.

Savannah shrugged, “This is all your fault. You know how persuasive Reyna can be. It’s best to just walk away whenever you see her sporting puppy dog eyes.”

“This is true,” Lex sighed, closing her eyes briefly before leaning back to watch the doors to the emergency ward closely. “I can’t believe we’ll be doing this three times a week for the next ten or so weeks. At the rate we’re going, I’m going to buy her a car before the term’s up.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t complain about that,” Sav laughed, tapping away on her keyboard as she summarised the last of the day’s lecture. “How was class today, by the way? Learn anything new?”

Alexa shot her friend a look before rolling her eyes, “Sav I study art. Everyday in class learning from those professors is another day for me to feel inadequate about my work. But no, not really. We just partnered up for one of our projects and that was basically it.”

“Sounds… boring as hell,” Savannah made a face. “Who’s your partner?”

“Some dude named Jeremy. Bit of a tosser, really,” Alexa replied, drumming on the steering wheel impatiently.

“Who’s a tosser?” a voice piped up through the window on the left side of the car. Both Savannah and Alexa jolted in shock at the sight of Reyna’s dishevelled form in her pale blue scrubs.

“Is it just me or is everyone trying to give me a heart attack today?” Sav muttered, thinking back to earlier in the day with Harry.

“Ooh, you think? Perfect timing to have a heart attack, by the way. You’re literally three metres away from the emergency department,” Rey replied, sliding into the backseat and promptly closing her eyes and leaning into the leather. “Now tell me who’s a tosser.”

“Alexa’s new project partner, apparently,” Sav replied, saving her file and closing her laptop.

“Is he cute?”

“Why is that always your first response to everything?” Alexa said exasperatedly, starting the car and pulling out of the carpark. “Also, I hate to say this but I may have to go back on my word about this whole picking you up after work business.”

“Hey! We had a deal - you wouldn’t leave your struggling friend to catch a bus by herself a night, right?” Reyna replied.

“Told you she’s a good persuader,” Savannah piped up unnecessarily.

There was a beat of silence as Alexa seriously considered her options. “Ok, fair point. But why can’t you make Louis get you instead?”

“Oh please, with the way Louis drives, I’d rather catch the bus. I’ll have a lesser chance of dying that way.”

“This is true,” Savannah commented once again.

“Anyway, stop avoiding the question - who is Jeremy and is he cute?” Reyna asked, changing the subject back to the original topic.

“Like we said, Jeremy is my new project partner,” Alexa started, turning right down her street. “And because I’m not you, I haven’t completely noticed his level of cuteness.”

“Yeah, and that’s because you’re completely hung up on somebody else,” Reyna teased. “He says hi, by the way.”

“What?” Alexa glanced at her through the mirror sharply.

“Yeah, we’re on rotation together. He’s taking the bus home,” she shrugged.

“What?” Alexa repeated, while Savannah reached back and tried to whack her on the knee.

“Ow, I’m kidding!” Reyna whelped, curling away from her friend’s reach. “Your man’s coming to pick him up in ten,” she nodded to Sav.

“My man?”

“Yeah, the one we met a couple of weeks back. Harry,” she grinned devilishly.

“You’re a twat,” Savannah rolled her eyes, turning to face the front of the car once again.

“A tired twat,” Reyna groaned. “I have no idea how I’m going to make it to Zayn’s place this weekend.”

“You have to come,” Savannah glared. “I already told him we would all be there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reyna waved her off. “I promised him I’d show up too, so I can’t exactly get out of it now. Maybe I should just sleep for all of tomorrow. That should keep me awake for the whole weekend.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely healthy,” Alexa stated, pulling into her usual parking spot and turning off the engine.

“Nothing’s entirely healthy when you’re studying what I study, Lex,” Reyna reminded them as they headed towards the elevators that would take them up to Alexa’s apartment.

“The irony,” Savannah noted, laughing lightly. “You guys are out here saving lives while barely surviving, yourself.”

“Whatever makes me six figures a year, Sav,” Reyna joked, snickering slightly while Alexa shot her a bemused look.

“Remind me not to die anywhere near her – wouldn’t want to contribute to her salary in any way,” she commented, unlocking her front door and letting the girls in. Savannah dumped her bag by the lounge and fell backwards onto the couch.

Reyna rolled her eyes, following suit and collapsing next to Savannah. “Do you guys have any leftover food?”

“Yes, please eat it all before it goes bad,” Alexa begged, opening the fridge and pulling out the various containers. “I can’t believe this food’s lasted us a week. This is borderline ridiculous.”

“It’s called planning in advance, Lexie,” Reyna teased. “Now are you going to hand me a plate or not?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion,” Savannah rolled her eyes, spooning some pasta into her mouth while she waited for her uni emails to load. “The sauce goes in the fridge.”

“That’s disgusting, why would you want cold sauce on your hot food?” Harry asked seriously, a tomato sauce-drowned fry hanging inches from his mouth, a look of utter astonishment on his face as he looked at Savannah.

“Sometimes food needs a bit of variance,” she shrugged, noting the time changes for one of her upcoming lectures before shutting the screen. “Why would you want room temperature sauce on your hot food? That’s even worse.”

Harry popped the chip into his mouth and chewed carefully while he thought about his next point. “You’re wrong,” he stated simply, unable to think up an argument that Savannah wouldn’t be able to counter. “Sauce goes in the pantry, end of story.”

“I will fight you on this until the end of time,” she said, popping her laptop back into her bag and turning back to her pasta.

“You’re the one who brought it up!” he said defensively. Their spat was now attracting the attention of the people also seated in the same café, who cast them curious looks intermittently.

“Whatever,” Savannah waved the issue away, casually changing topics. “How’s your week at uni been? Done anything interesting?”

“Please, I’m already drowning in work. It’s already going to be a horrible term,” he replied sullenly.

Savannah could relate – one week of classes and she was already feeling the pressure from their teachers. She and Harry had spent most of their breaks between lectures together – largely thanks to Louis – and the time they were together, they were either complaining about their current workload or working on summarising their introductory lectures – which were two hours or more each.

“At least we have Zayn’s party to look forward to,” Savannah shrugged, forking a piece of pasta and popping it into her mouth. “It’s good to finally not think about the impending doom of a semester.”

“Nice imagery, Sav,” Harry snorted, finishing off the last of his fries and pushing the dish aside. “Although, hate to break it to you, but I don’t think I’ll be coming.”

“What? Why not?” she asked, perplexed. It had come up every time they had time to chat that week and this was the first time she’d heard of this.

“Ah, my dad emailed me this morning telling me that I have dinner at their house on Saturday night. So it’s a no from me,” he said apologetically.

“You can’t get out of it at all?” she asked sadly – her plans to prank Harry had been foiled by this unexpected complication.

“Nope,” he replied, lips popping on the ‘p’. “What father wants, I must deliver.”

Savannah had been brought up by a mother who’d pretty much let her run free – and so seeing this non-negotiation father-son relationship was something new to her. Reyna and Alexa’s parents were also strict, but she knew that they could be talked out of family dinners. Harry’s not so much, it seemed, which was perplexing to Savannah. She thanked the universe that her mum allowed her to do as much as she did.

“Well that’s a shame,” she poked at the few pieces of pasta left in front of her.

“Why, you gonna miss me?” Harry teased jokingly.

“The night’s gonna be a total dud now without you there,” Sav monotoned back at him, making Harry laugh.

“No need to be like that, I’m sure you’ll find other opportunities to play tricks on me,” he tapped his nose knowingly.

“Who told you that?” Savannah narrowed her eyes at him, pushing the pasta aside after deciding she didn’t have anymore room left for it.

Harry just shrugged.

“I haven’t even told anyone about that,” she pushed. “So how’d you find out?”

“You forget that we’re pretty much together for several hours a day, five days a week,” he grinned. “And you tend to leave your notebook open when you leave for the bathroom. I might have caught a glimpse of a page dedicated to me.”

“Bummer,” she muttered.

“Bummer?” Harry quirked a brow. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know where it came from. Probably one of the girls,” she shrugged.

“You guys are pretty close, yeah?” he quizzed her.

“I’ve only known them for a couple of years but they’re pretty much my best friends; them, and Louis too - on the odd occasion he’s not being annoying. Rey and Louis have known each other for ages though so they’re probably the closest. What about you guys?”

“I met Lou cause we had a class together, and that was pretty much it,” he shrugged. “We got partnered up for a project in one of the business electives my dad insisted I take and then once the project was over, he just kept popping up everywhere I went.”

“He’s a bit on the clingy side, isn’t he?” Sav mused, unable to hide the fondness in her voice.

“You’re telling me,” Harry snorted. “You know, once I woke up to find him passed out in my kitchen. I still have no idea how he got in. And all he said when I woke him up was that I need to get better locks, before helping himself to my food.”

Savannah burst out laughing at the completely outraged look on Harry’s face. “It’s not funny,” he mumbled, even as his own lips twitched.

“It’s a little bit funny,” she grinned at him toothily. “Louis learnt how to pick locks when he was sixteen so he could sneak into his parent’s liquor cabinet when they went away on business trips. According to him and Rey, he used to throw some of the best parties.”

“Until he got caught,” Harry supplied for her. “He likes telling that story, especially when he’s drunk.”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “Usually when we go out, we all take bets on how long it’ll take for him to whip it out.”

“That’s what she-”

“Don’t,” Sav warned him. “You know, I’m starting to see why you and Louis are friends. You’re both childish, you just try to hide.”

“I do not.”

“Whatever you say,” she sing-songed. “Are you absolutely sure you can’t skip your dinner or whatever?” she asked after a second.

“Believe me, no one wants me to skip the dinner more than I do,” he admitted miserably. “But I don’t have any choice,” he sighed. “Dad’s meeting with some super important people from different law firms and I have to be there to smile and pretty much suck up to them all. It’s apparently really important that I start networking from now if I want to have a guaranteed job after I graduate,” he rolled his eyes.

“But, doesn’t your dad run his own firm?” she frowned.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “But he doesn’t want me to get complacent and if I get offered a job he wants me to actually consider it seriously - before obviously turning it down,” he shook his head. “And since I’m most likely going to inherit his firm once he retires, he wants me to make my own connections.”

“That sounds shitty,” Sav commented.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he moaned. “An entire night dressed in a stuffy suit with men who think they’re the centre of the universe - I’d much rather listen to a drunk Louis tell the same story over and over again.”

“Don’t worry,” Savannah grinned deviously. “We’ll make sure to send you some snaps from the party so you can see exactly what you’re missing out on.”

“Oh gee, now I really can’t wait,” Harry monotoned.

“Cheer up, Harry, I’m sure there’ll be other parties,” she pat him on the back.

“You’re really not helping, you know that right?” he turned to face her.

“I know,” she said, the smile on her lips growing the more Harry glared at her.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Harry said, gesturing to the emptying lecture theatre behind them. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see ya,” Savannah mock saluted him, where Harry responded with an eye roll and a wave.

AN: hey guys! we’re back with another update (it’s been consistent so far, go us). please let us know what you think of the chapter and the story so far. we value your feedback so much! we’ll be back in two weeks with another one :)

#wus #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #1d fanfic #one direction fanfiction #1dff #harry styles fanfiction #these tags are such a chore #sorry guys #imagine harry styles #fic: wus #wus2

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englishflagcumrag · 4 years

Note

for the fanfic ask: even numbers betch

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

Probably my as yet unpublished hetabang fic. It still needs work but I have a pretty good idea of the story now.

4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?

Probably Partially A Ghost or Pretend, they’re the ones I get the most comments on.

6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?

I take solace in the fact that I was like 13 and this was 100% a joke fic but in hetalia’s heyday i wrote iceland/mr puffin fic in which it was heavily implied that he fucking put the bird’s entire head in his mouth. I’m never visiting my old Wattpad again in my life.

8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

It’s a tossup between No Need To Be Brave and Shoot You Down. I think I’ll be able to get back on NNTBB as soon as I either rewatch Ackley or season 4 comes out, and it’s short so once I get that back it’ll be like a month and then it’s done, but SYD has a really good ending I’m excited to write even if I haven’t quite ironed out the middle.

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

I don’t read fic very heavily, but I’ve only really written for aph and ackley, both of which I’ve read a few fics for. I definitely could since I don’t really use it as research or anything, I just haven’t.

12. Have you ever written a fic and decided never to publish it? Why?

There’s a few that are niche even for me, like my loveparent drabbles, so I just send them to you and Surya since I know nobody else is really that bothered? Not in a salty way, it’s just Our Thing.

14. What’s the biggest change in your taste between when you started in fandom and today?

Death of the source material.

16. Have you ever stopped writing a fic/for a fandom because it wasn’t receiving enough attention?

Not really. I sort of don’t care who reads things as long as my friends do.

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

Something That Lasts probably? I spent a lot of time at it when I made it.

20. Have/Would you ever rewrite a fic? If yes, would you take the original down?

Probably not.

22. Has there ever been anyone who’s made you freak out because they read your work and followed/favorited/reviewed?

No big-name fans when the fandom is you and your two friends. Also no big-name fans when the fandom is barely there.

24. What’s the meanest review you’ve ever gotten? Do you think the reviewer intended it?

I don’t think I’ve ever got any mean reviews? However, I screenshat my nicest one without realising that was an odd-numbered question so

This was on Something That Lasts and I still smile when I read it, thank you @kanadka

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

Character I guess? I put a lot of thought into character and I like to know when it shows.

28. if you could only ever write for a single crossover or a single fandom again, which would you pick?

I already write almost exclusively hetalia. It’s a cringe and fail existence but I will take it.

30. Do you continue to write for a fandom after you’ve moved on or do you focus solely on the new one?

I’ve only written for ackley and hetalia like I said, and I haven’t moved on from either of them, but I also haven’t updated or worked on No Need To Be Brave since the last season ended and the hype sorta died down. I think I would stop writing if I moved on, though. I write more because I enjoy it than anything else and I wouldn’t write something if I didn’t like writing it.

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

Eduard for sure, I think I know his character well enough that he sort of writes himself by now.

34. Was there any fic that you wrote that really surprised you in the fandom reaction? Was it just by the numbers or did they take it an entirely different way?

Not really.

36. Have you ever sincerely written a ship you do not support into a fic?

No. I’ve definitely written ships in the past that I now no longer like, but I write what I want to write.

38. Have you ever purposefully written something you know your readers would find uncomfortable/would not enjoy? If yes, why?

See question 6.

40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?

I update when I update.

42. How many views has your most popular fic gotten?

Partially A Ghost has 747.

44. Do you follow/favorite/kudos/comment/review more stories than you have received?

I don’t read much, but I do try to comment when I can think of something to say.

46. Do you consider yourself a diverse author?

In terms of character? Yeah, I try to include whoever I can. In terms of genre? I feel like I stick too heavily to real-world settings when I would genuinely like to do wilder high-fantasy shit at some point.

48. Does anyone you know from outside of fandom know you write fanfic? Are they involved in the same fandom too?

Yeah, a lot of people. Generally, though, there isn’t a lot of overlap.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

It’s definitely made me a better writer. I wouldn’t be on the uni course I’m on now if I hadn’t started writing fanfic.

#strudelmugel

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hetmusic · 8 years

Photo

A conversation with ROCH | HumanHuman

One year ago, top discoverer Going Solo introduced the fresh-faced London artist ROCH (pronounced “rock”) to us with this description: “London female singer/songwriter, reminiscent of Soak and Daughter. [...] she's currently working with Ben Christophers (Bat For Lashes), Richard Frenneaux (Laura Welsh), and Leo Abrahams (Wild Beasts).” Alongside the fact that ROCH is a sculpture student at Central St. Martin’s, that’s pretty much all the information on offer from this talent who shirks any unnecessary limelight.

Since that initial discovery, ROCH has released two more singles “Kintsugi” and “Vienna”, plus her first accompanying music video. These tracks further a sound of forlorn melodies, ice-cool guitar arrangements, a sprinkling of tambourine and percussion, and the singer’s gently soulful voice. It’s an atmospheric combination that the artist brings to her live set, honed on London’s fast-paced gig circuit, and sure to be seen on September 2nd at the free HumanHuman Showcase.

Whilst we do our part to keep ROCH’s biographical identity hidden, we do get to know more about this polymath on an creative level.

Easy first question, what have you been up to lately?

Today I’m in the studio with Blue Daisy, we’re just making some music and writing a new song. I’ve just come back from holiday, so I’m just getting back into it.

Let’s dive in and talk about your debut song “Closer”?

I wrote the song with no expectations really I had just started the project under the name ROCH and it was quite a personal one. I thought about putting it out, but I didn’t really want anything written about me at the time. It was really nice that people had such a good reaction, which encouraged me to write more and to write what I want to. I just keep putting my emotions down into my songs.

Is that how getting into music started for you, as an outlet for your emotions?

Well, I started playing guitar quite young and always sang along to that, so it seemed like a natural thing to do. When I started studying art, music became a way for me to look at the themes I was exploring in the studio in sculpture. It’s another outlook, another artform.

I would say one theme I’ve noticed in “Closer” is repeated reflections on the past.

Yeah! It’s about looking on the past and trying to find a way to communicate things that I wasn’t able to at the time.

Speaking of the past, what’s your earliest musical memory?

Probably listening to all the records that were played in the house and picking up my guitar for the first time. I learnt guitar when I was nine and I just really gravitated towards singing along to it. So yeah, the first time I picked up a musical instrument probably. After that, I started playing piano and drums, but guitar has always been my main instrument.

That still is the case with your music now, I guess?

Yeah, it is. Live I play guitar all the time, but in the studio I like having a go with anything that’s about. Any instrument that I can find, pick up and make a noise with.

Time for a cliche question, where did the name ROCH come from?

I was confirmed as Saint Roch and I just took the ‘saint’ off it and used the ‘roch’. That’s where it comes from!

Was there any particular reason for ditching the ‘saint’?

There’s been quite a lot of saints in music - Saint Vincent, Saint Raymond and so on. I didn’t want to jump on that bandwagon. I thought that ROCH was short, simple, gets to the point and it’s still the name I chose.

The song name “Kintsugi” obviously has a special meaning, taking inspiration from its Japanese origin. Would you like to explain that in your own words?

I wrote it with Ben Christophers and we were talking about different kinds of art, like ceramics and ways of building sculpture, because I do a sculpture course at university. We were just talking about what sculpture is, what it means, what materials it uses and then we broke off from that and started talking about my time at uni and how I feel about that. The different people you come across and how you can feel quite alone in such a big, creative space. It’s about feeling fragmented and like one of the lyrics “broken pottery reused”. That linked up to this Japanese word ‘kintsugi’, which is putting broken pottery back together using gold leaf. All the conversations we were having in the studio on sculpture, pottery and lyrics all just came together.

I read that the song was partly inspired by Grace Slick.

Oh, I had forgotten I said that! Yeah, I was listening to a lot of Grace Slick at the time and I think she’s got a really wicked voice. I was listening to Angel Olsen as well. I love all those drone guitars, which I was really inspired by. At the front of “Kintsugi”, I wanted a repetitive guitar part that turned into this droney space. Yeah, Grace Slick and Angel Olsen inspired that arrangement.

Two very good artists there. Is there anyone else you have you been listening to lately?

I’ve been listening to Nico’s live performances. There’s this album which is just her live and it’s amazing! I can’t remember the name of it, but it’s really dark, sparse and her voice is really cool. You should check that out. Also Saint Vincent and Angel Olsen - I can’t wait for her new album to come out, she’s gone all synthy and it’s so cool. I’m also going to see PJ Harvey in October and I’m so excited about that, because I love seeing people live. I saw Angel Olsen live before I actually heard her music. I think that the live aspect is really important. I like to see musicians live before I listen to their music.

Wow, so you use live settings as a way of discovering new music?

Yeah, just because I think live is really raw. It’s what-you-see-is-what-you-get and you can tell from there whether you connect with that person or whatever the songs connect with you. It’s a great way of finding new acts. You can also take what you do on stage and reflect on what other people do.

Anyone who is familiar with your background will know that you make performance and video art, we’ve already spoken about the sculpture course. Would you say that these artforms have influenced your music?

Yeah, I think they’re pretty symbiotic. They work off each other, especially with the themes. My videos are usually me performing in front of a camera, it’s quite a DIY, non-high-tech video, but the things that I look at with video and performance, I translate that into lyrics for my music. Things that I talk about in my music or how I perform sometimes weave their way into my art. They play off each other. They have to keep going like that - if I stop one then the other dies.

Are there any key differences between your music?

I don’t use any music in my art, well so far I haven’t. In that way I suppose they are quite separate, but theme-wise they are very much the same.

I guess the most obvious place for any artistic crossover would be with music videos. You recently released a video for “Vienna” - what was the idea behind that?

I had seen a lot of these videos recently that have been portrait shoots, really simple, but I think they’re quite capturing and alarming in some of the videos I’ve been looking at. It’s the first video I’ve put out and I wanted a simple video portrait. I filmed it with the music and if you switch the music off it also works. It’s just me in front of the camera.

Did you have the song in your head while you were filming?

No, I wanted it to be just capturing what I do in front of the camera and how I react to that. The whole idea of a video is to be an instant reaction, so I didn’t want to think about the song and react off that emotionally. I just wanted it to be an instant of what I do in front of the camera. It was a bit awkward because I wasn’t that comfortable with it. It’s a portrait, just a snapshot.

As for the song itself, the lyrics and instrumentation seem to be filled with longing. Was there a particular moment or thought that sparked “Vienna”?

It’s about wanting to get somewhere, but at the time something doesn’t feel right or something pulls you back and not getting there. Then on reflection, maybe I should have done that. It’s about longing to be somewhere, but then making decisions that counteract that.

Now you’re based in London, a place famed for its live music scene. What’s the last great gig you went to?

You know what I haven’t seen anyone live in a while, I’ve just been gigging loads. Oh! I saw Benjamin Clementine, I thought he was really good, his voice is just something else! I usually go see friends’ bands at little venues around Basildon.

You said you’ve been gigging a lot, and has your live performance changed over that time?

I think so, yeah. I just did a South London residency and did gigs in Peckham, New Cross, Deptford and you have to change, because you have to get used to the venue you’re in, you have to be really comfortable with your set so that you can switch between venues quickly and not get distracted by them. Me and my band are pretty comfortable with the set and change it often, to keep it exciting, It’s been good doing the residency and hopefully I’ll be doing another gig at the end of the year in London.

And of course, you’ll be in Antwerp on September 2nd! Will there be any unheard material on the night?

Yeah, there will be, three more songs in fact! There will be three different songs on the set which we will try out to see if people like them. I’m excited to play Antwerp and see the other acts as well, it should be good!

https://humanhuman.com/articles/roch-interview

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