#i highkey dunno how to tag this but x
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May 25th, 2013
Walk out of this door and you’re not our son anymore.
Walk out of this door and you’re not our son anymore.
Walk out of this door and you’re not our son anymore.
The words ring in seventeen-year-old Christian’s ears like a loud alarm.
“So that’s how it is? That’s the measure of my worth to you?” he spats. His parents' words are heartbreaking, to say the least. It’s been five days since he’s graduated spy prep and he’s now standing in the middle of the living room, a fight erupting between him and his parents. He’s finally had the courage to tell his parents he doesn’t want to continue with this life. Raúl has been trying to mediate, to calm everyone down---he’s always been the calmest in the family. But even his attempts have gone in vain. It’s too horrible.
Ricardo and Francisca Torres just stand there, expression harsh and stoic. It’s an expression Christian’s used to, but he’s this close to begging his parents to accept his wants and wishes and still want him as their son, but they say nothing. His father then points at the front door.
“Dad, please---” his older brother, Raúl begins to plead. “Think of---”
“Not a single word, Raúl!” his mother cuts him off.
Is this really happening? He’s experienced heartbreak before, but no, this is what actual heartbreak is. Nothing lives up to this. Christian’s expression turns stone cold and he nods. “I’ll be out of here in five minutes,” is all that comes out of his lips, and goes up to his room to pack his stuff and leave.
That had been the last time he saw and talked to his parents.
April 5th, 2021
Christian’s lying down in his room, alone. He’s been trying to nap for the past hour, but sleep doesn’t come easy for him today and it frustrates him even more than he already is. The past month feels like everything has fallen apart all around him and he doesn’t know what to do anymore with anything. He’s got no way out at this point till he finishes what Mr. Stewart has asked of him. It’s his job. He has to. Sometimes he wonders why Mr. Stewart is so hellbent on this---on having the Caledonia agents in Gallagher. The more he thinks of it, the more suspicious he becomes, but he doesn’t have the luxury to do this right now. It won’t really change things, will it?
A year ago today, he was getting intensive training from Mr. Stewart in preparation for his enrollment into Gallagher. Before that, Christian had won a race against a prominent leader of a racing gang. It had cost the man a lot of money and an expensive car, and in return he had threatened Christian, telling him he’ll find him wherever he goes. He was already planning on fleeing after this and he would continue living a runaway life, which he didn’t mind. That’s when Mr. Stewart found him and had informed him the gang leader was a very powerful and influential man, with the means to get to Christian’s family too. That’s when he knew he couldn’t flee, and instead he had accepted Mr. Stewart’s offer to keep him and his family safe for a price: becoming his eyes and ears in Gallagher.
Christian’s always hated being told what to do, only agreeing to this because his family would be safe. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his family got hurt because of him. He doesn’t care if he hasn’t talked to his parents in eight years, he doesn’t care if their relationship is now nonexistent---he wasn’t going to be the reason Raúl and his parents got hurt.
His relationship with his parents, or lack thereof, is complex to say the least. Christian isn’t one to carry any grudges, always one to forget, to shrug off and move on with his life. But his parents remain a big exception to this. He can’t seem to move on from it because it’s a pain he hasn’t been able to deal with, being abandoned and disowned over simply not meeting their expectations and standards. But in a way, it did help him develop the ability to do whatever he pleases at all times and not live to anyone’s expectations if it’s not something he wants to do himself. He often wonders how he gave up his life to protect them when he technically owes them nothing, but for one, his brother doesn’t deserve to live with such grief and pain (if he somehow got out of everything unscathed). Knowing his brother, he’d seek his own retaliation, and that’s just not something Christian wants. He’ll be putting Raúl in additional danger. Also, the mere idea of them being hurt because of him is not something he could stand for. He doesn’t care what they do with their lives, what dangers and missions they make and put themselves through, that’s their own life, but he’ll not be the reason for putting them in harm’s way.
His phone rings and he reaches for it, seeing Raúl on the caller ID, and picks it up. “Hey, Raúl. What’s up?”
Raúl doesn’t reply, but Christian can hear breathing on the other side of the line. Just like that, his stress levels peak and he immediately sits up, thinking the gang leader has gotten to him and he’s in danger. But it can’t be---Mr. Stewart said he’d protect them. “Raúl? Are you here? Say something if you’re okay.” His voice is practically pleading.
“Christian---” It’s not Raúl, it’s his mother. Christian goes dead silent and feels like he loses all composure. He just freezes. He hasn’t heard his mother’s voice in eight years and the first thing she says is his name. “Christian, are you here?” Now it’s his father. Jesus Christ, this is too much to handle. He still can’t find it in him to reply, it’s too overwhelming. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this overwhelmed.
“Christian?” His mother again.
And finally, after God knows how long, Christian finds his voice. “I’m here---”
“Hello,” Francisca greets. “It’s been a while.”
“You think?” Christian says sarcastically. He can’t help it. He knows from Raúl that his parents have known for a few months that he’s at Gallagher. His older brother had been trying to mend the bridge between the two, but both as obstinate as ever, had refused. He doesn’t know why they’re calling right now, he doesn’t think it’s anything good, simply because he never associates good things with Ricardo and Francisca Torres.
His parents don’t acknowledge the sarcasm. “We thought it’s time we talked,” his father broaches.
“About?” Of course Christian is difficult. He sounds like he’s confident on the phone, but his whole body is shaking. He never expected this to ever happen.
Francisca sighs. “Don’t do this.”
Walk out of this door and you’re not our son anymore. Words he’d never, ever forget till the day he dies.
“Do what? We haven’t talked in eight years.”
“It shouldn’t have gone that long.”
“That’s rich,” Christian says, holding onto the edge of his bed, a myriad of emotions flowing within him.
“Christian, do you want to listen or not?” Ricardo’s always been a harsh, no bullshit kind of man. Even now, he’s still sporting that attitude.
“You didn’t listen to me eight years ago,” is all Christian says.
“That was eight years ago.” Francisca’s always been harsh, too, but if he were to compare his parents, his mother was always more likely to soften up, always had more composure.
“What changed?”
“Raúl told us you’re in Gallagher Academy,” his father begins. “It surprised us, to say the least.” That makes two of us, father. I’m only here to protect you and mother and Raúl, nothing more, nothing less. He wishes he could say that, but he can’t. He hates not being able to say what he wants. It’s been the case for a month now, unable to tell people what he wants. His parents, Raúl, Emir, Stella, Tommy, nearly all the Caledonia agents…
“I’ve been away for eight years, figured it’s time.”
“You were very headstrong against continuing in the field of espionage,” his mother says.
“Things change.”
He can hear his parents sighing on the other line. He wonders if Raúl’s listening too. “Is Raúl here?”
“No. We told him we wanted to do this in private,” his father answers.
Christian doesn’t say anything. He just wishes Raúl had warned him, he’d have at least prepared for this. He feels the heat reaching his ears, his entire being shaking.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were back? Why let Raúl inform us?” his mother asks.
“I’m not your son anymore, right? You don’t need to know about my whereabouts.”
Walk out of this door and you’re not our son anymore.
“Don’t be difficult, Christian,” his father deadpans.
“I get to be whatever the fuck I want to be. You’re calling me after eight years of radio silence, after you told me if I walked out of the fucking door I’m no longer your son. And let’s be real here, you’re only calling because I’m in Gallagher. My worth was always going to be associated with espionage, right?”
The words come out of him rapidly, and he moves to cover and rubber his eyes with his free hand. Fucking hell, he didn’t need this phone call right now. His parents are silent for what feels like an eternity, and he’s contemplating hanging up.
“You never wanted us to reach out, yes?” his mother asks. Of course his parents deflect the bit about why they’re calling. Except, Christian is not going to let it drop.
“Did you want to reach out, mother? I was the disappointment, the black sheep. I never lived up to you and father’s expectations, so you decided I’m not worthy of being a part of this family. Why would I reach out, huh? Besides, don’t run away from the question: you’re only calling because I’m in Gallagher, right? You wouldn’t have bothered otherwise. And even then, it took you months.” He lets out a chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “Y’all should’ve waited a few extra months.” He can’t stop the sarcasm. It’s the most Christian’s said to them yet.
Walk out of this door and you’re not our son anymore.
That’s when Christian closes his eyes, realizing they’re burning as he pushes back tears.
“It’s wrong timing, we admit,” his mother begins quietly. “We should have done this sooner---way sooner.”
“And yet.”
“Christian.”
“Hm? Come on, you wanted to talk, talk. I’m all ears for whatever bullshit you’ve got for me,” he spats.
“You’re being difficult,” Ricardo says.
“Too bad.”
Both his parents go silent for a moment and Christian anticipates them ending the conversation, but then his father talks again.
“If we had reached out before, would you have talked to us?”
“Don’t turn this on me, father. You didn’t try. You know I tried to live up to your expectations my whole fucking life and when I realized this was practically impossible, that I was never going to be Raúl for you, I fucking gave up.” There’s no animosity towards Raúl, there never was. His brother is easily the most important person in his life, but their parents had often pinned them against each other when it came to their training---even if Raúl and Christian never saw it as such.
“Have you had a good life? After you left?” his mother asks after a few moments. He can probably count the number of times both sides went silent on this phone call.
“Yeah, it was great. I did everything I’ve always wanted to do, with zero judgment and expectations.” A tear streams down his cheek, because all he wants is to be back on the road, in this car and going from country to country, racing and doing whatever he wanted. Instead, he’s being controlled by Mr. Stewart into doing his dirty work.
“Good,” they both say at the same time.
For someone who agreed to be here to protect his family, Christian’s being awfully stubborn talking to his parents. But for him, even though they’re half the reason he’s here, that doesn’t mean their relationship is mended.
“Anything else?” Christian asks, just wanting to end this call, because he’s feeling so vulnerable right now and he hates it. He can’t handle all these feelings.
“If we were to extend an olive branch, would you take it?” his mother asks.
“Are you extending one or not? Why are you waiting for my answer before you decide?”
“Answer us, Christian,” his mother deadpans.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, has to think about how he’s certain his parents want to mend the relationship because he’s in Gallagher again, and not because they genuinely want their son back in their lives. Would they still talk to him if he ends up leaving again? Would they disown him once more? Call him a disappointment?
“You’re not doing a great job convincing me.”
“You’re not being exactly easy either---”
“Ricardo,” his mother berates his father. “Christian, listen. What happened eight years ago shouldn’t have happened. We’re not calling it a mistake, because it’s much bigger than a mistake.”
He’s surprised by the words that come out of his mother’s lips. They almost sound like an apology. Both his parents have always had an ego that’s sky high, so he doesn’t know what happened the past eight years that changed them this way.
“We want to extend an olive branch,” Francisca adds. “We know it’ll take a lot of work and time to rebuild everything, but we would like to try.”
More tears stream down Christian cheek, and he reaches with his free hand to wipe them. He gets up to walk around the small room, as if walking will shake off some of the excess feelings.
“We understand if you don’t want to answer us right now, we’ve never been model parents to you or Raúl.”
He wants to ask if this is really Ricardo and Francisca on the phone, but instead he asks, “Are you all safe?”
“Of course we’re safe.”
“Okay.” At least Mr. Stewart was fulfilling his part of the deal.
There’s an awkward silence that hangs for a few moments. Christian doesn’t know what he wants, whether to accept the peace offering or be stubborn about it. He doesn’t know what’s right at this point. What he knows is that he’s tired of everything and would like a fucking break. He thinks about Raúl’s words. His brother has been trying nonstop to mend the relationship between the two sides, and he’s always been the wiser of the brothers. Maybe Christian should listen to him and take someone’s advice for once.
“---I don’t know how you’re planning on doing this, but we can see how and where it goes,” Christian says finally. It’s Christian saying he’d like to try, but he’s not giving a definite yes or no just yet. He has little trust in his parents, and it will need a while to rebuild that. But the moment he says those words, he feels a massive boulder removed from his shoulders, and he doesn’t realize till this specific moment that he needed this. He has no idea where it’ll go, or if things will be fine, but that’s a step, right? They have to start somewhere.
“Okay, that sounds reasonable. We would both like that, as well,” Francisca replies.
“We can meet up during the next break you have, too?” his father offers quietly. The offer scares Christian, but he knew it was coming.
“Yeah, we can meet.”
“Until then, we’ll be regularly phone calling,” Francisca decides. It’s funny to him how they’re treating this like some kind of schedule or plan, but that’s how his parents always were.
“Mhm. Take care, yeah? I have to leave in a bit for a class.” A class he’s going to be skipping, because he won’t be focusing either way.
“Of course, you take care, too. Thank you for talking to us, Christian,” his mother says.
“Yeah, uh---thanks for calling,” he says as he rubs his teary eyes. When they hang up, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and things feel a little lighter around him. With everything going to hell right now, it’s relieving to know that at least there’s something going in a positive direction (at least that’s what he hopes). With that, he gets up to go to the garage, the only place he wants to be right now.
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280 characters pt. 4 | john laurens
title: 280 characters pt 4
pairing: john laurens x reader
notes: click on the images for better quality!!
warnings: uhh sex mentions again, highkey sexual tension, bigly confrontation and implied smut??
desc: you don’t expect much to come of it when you wake up with a hazy memory beside who you believe to be a total stranger – you don’t even bother to try and figure out who he is. but when a lost green bra and a few twitter threads lead you back to your mystery lover, will 280 characters be enough to rekindle your past?
tags: @sothisishappiness @nemesis729 @ahsteriawrites @popbubblegumpop @fanfic-addict-98 @noonewouldlisten25 @pachowpachowbucket @justahappylilblog @reidcult @spacefish42069 @wiffle-snuffles @teenwaywardasgardian @booksandfandomsarelife1 @allie-mcginn @katierpblogg @cubedtriangle @sothisishappiness @yxseminx @irlkell @svnnypooh @c0ldfaerie @slytherinssssnake @butterflies123 @dr-bitch-bby @fangirling-central @a-soft-disaster @quixoticallydelusional @myeverchangingobsessions@greywarrenn @comingupwithacoolnameishard @fanfictionsforallfandoms @katierpblogg @notebookgirl30 @poorguys-head @cnco-much @nyxie75 @alievans007 @mjlock @criminallyhamilton @stargazelaurens @idontknowwhatsgoingonokay @the-middle-oldest-child @acciovisio @pagetcult @aidela @marvelouslyemily @checkurwindow @mattsmasterlist - lmk if i missed u on the taglist so i can add u in the future!!
THAT AFTERNOON—
"Alex, you are literally the worst person alive," Y/N groaned, flopping back on his couch, and Alex raised an eyebrow. He walked over to join her from his kitchen, toting both their drinks and a shit-eating grin.
"Aw, c'mon, what do you mean?" he asked brightly. "I only ever have your best interests at heart."
"Oh, of course," she scowled, narrowing her eyes at him, but the satisfaction that flashed in his eyes didn't dull. "Why do you care so much about whether he and I are fucking, anyway?"
"I don't." He shrugged. "But you and John are my best friends, and it's exhausting to have to plan everything around making sure you and him aren't fighting."
"Why can't he and I just be grudging acquaintances, then? Why must it be more than that?" Y/N turned her head to him with a wistful sigh, and though it softened, Alex's expression was persistently smug. He gave her a disbelieving look.
"I've been asking you to make peace with him for years, and this is the only progress I've made."
"Progress you've made?" Y/N muttered to herself, eyeing him skeptically.
"So if you and him hooking up is what it takes, I'm all for it."
"Do you not realize it's just gonna take it us annoyed to wildly uncomfortable?" Though her exterior was dramatic, arms crossed and a pleading pout plastered on, Y/N's concerns were unfortunately deep-rooted in insecurities. The next time she'd have to face him would likely be hell, and there was no getting around that — as such, she intended to put it off for as long as possible.
"You avoid him anyway; it can't get any worse." Alex gave her a pointed look.
"Yeah, but now I'll be avoiding him while both on-edge and anxious," she shot back, jabbing him in the side when he took a seat beside her. "How the fuck do you expect me to face him after he called me out for calling him hot? How in the hell am I supposed to recover from that?"
"Sleep with him?" Alex suggested mildly, and Y/N scowled.
"You're lucky I like Eliza, because if I didn't know it'd break her heart, I may have killed you a long time ago."
"But if I was dead, who'd be around to help you get laid?" he asked innocently, and she groaned, shoving him that time — hard.
"You mean who'd wreck my dignity and make a mess of my social life?" she huffed, but her own words gave her pause. "...Lafayette, probably."
"I do a better job of it." He shrugged, taking a sip of his lemonade, and she glared at him. "What?"
"Do you know what an inconvenient friend you are?"
"'Inconvenient' is probably the nicest thing you've called me all day."
"It's well-deserved."
"We both know I enhance your life." He grinned at her, but she avoided his self-contented gaze, instead reaching down to put the glass he'd handed her onto his coffee table. "If I didn't, you would've ditched me a while back."
"Didn't I just mention that I only put up with you for Eliza's sake?" She raised an eyebrow, but his expression turned concerned as she eyed him.
"Are you telling me you can't think of a single step to take before making my death look like an accident?"
"It's the easiest way."
"How?"
She laughed when she saw the incredulous look on his face, and she gave a pleased half-shrug, pulling her legs onto his couch beside her. "First, then I don't have to deal with our friends trying to play peacemakers, and second, I get to give a kickass eulogy at your funeral."
"That's morbid."
"I consider it good planning." She gave him a challenging look as she took a sip of her drink, and Alex just rolled his eyes.
"Even if you do call a hitman on me, you'll still have to face John eventually."
"Not if I can help it," she grumbled, but her sullen tone made him laugh.
"If that's the case, you're gonna want to head out of here pretty soon," he warned her, but Y/N just eyed him suspiciously, seemingly hesitant.
"... Meaning?"
Alex shrugged, checking his watch. "He's coming over at three is what I mean."
"He what?!" Y/N's eyes widened. She shot up from her spot on the couch, immediately darting back toward the kitchen to grab her bag and laptop charger. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that before? It's 2:55, Alex."
He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think you'd have a problem with it. You didn't seem to on the night you slept with him."
"Alex!" she shrieked, looking back at him with wide eyes. She let out an incredulous huff, shaking her head. "God, you set this up, didn't you? I cannot believe you."
"Relax, I didn't do anything," he defended, and annoyance was clear in his tone. She was too distracted to reply, however, taking inventory of her bag instead. Laptop, laptop charger, water bottle, wallet, textbook— Oh, shit. Her phone charger was missing, and her phone along with it.
She immediately began scouring the granite surfaces of the apartment's kitchen, frantically pulling out drawers and overturning dishtowels.
"What are you doing?"
She only spared Alex a glance, but he was watching her with his brow furrowed, concern written deep into his small frown. She huffed.
"I need my phone. I can't leave without it."
Her wild search continued for another moment, much to the dismay of the paper towel rack she knocked over and the food processor she inadvertently unplugged, but Alex just pursed his lips. "I dunno about your phone, but your charger's in my room. You let me borrow it an hour ago."
Her face lit up with his words, eyes widening, and she didn't miss another beat before hurrying down his hall. Maybe her phone would be somewhere back there, too, with any luck at all. By the time she reached the charger, discarding Alex's phone back onto his bed, the time read 2:59. But where was her phone?
At that rate, if John showed up on time, she was royally fucked.
It was three minutes of haphazard digging through closets and side rooms later that she found it sitting on the side of the sink in his bathroom. At that point, she hadn't heard any voices coming from the living room, so as she sorted through everything in her bag one final time, her mind was all but at ease (though, her heart was pounding — she was still running on a deadline).
"Alright, Lex, I'm gonna run." She emerged from the hall with everything in order, ready to flee with what was left of her dignity. "I just need to grab my shoes, and—"
It was only then that she finally glanced up, only to see that Alex hadn't left his place on the couch, but this time, he wasn't alone.
As the cruelty of fate would have it, beside him sat John Laurens, eyeing her wide-eyed stare with barely-contained amusement, and she froze, all but skidded to a halt.
A moment passed in complete silence, and it was Alex who finally broke it. "What were you saying?"
She let out a shaky breath, and when she finally continued, her words were quiet. "I, um, just need my coat and my jacket..." she trailed off, every muscle in her body tense, before she remembered herself, shaking off her shock. "I mean, my coat and my shoes. I... I'll just be on my way."
John was grinning at how off-guard she appeared, too nervous to take even a step forward for a moment after she spoke. Her skittish gaze darted between him and Alex, and when she caught John's gaze, his smile broadened. She didn't hold his stare for more than a split second, almost immediately ducking her head, continuing quickly forward and pulling the strap of her bag up her shoulder. John laughed softly.
"Come on, I don't even get a 'hello'?"
Though she glanced back at him, the look in her eyes was bitter. "I don't have the energy for this right now."
As she pulled her jacket on, he shook his head, entertainment permeating his demeanor. "If you really wanted nothing to do with me, you could've just ignored my messages, you know. You didn't have to reply." He raised a taunting eyebrow, and she just rolled her eyes.
"Your point?"
"Do you really want me to spell it out?" At his words, she scowled, turning her focus back to tying her shoes, and he let out a huff of laughter. "Relax, I'm just messing with you."
"Hilarious. I'm practically in tears," Y/N responded dryly. That time, it was Alex who responded with a scoff.
"Seriously? You two fucked and you still can't go three minutes without bickering?" His disbelieving words were met with immediate protest from both of them, but it only made Alex look beyond vindicated.
"C'mon, I didn't say shit!" John defended, and Y/N gave a bitter laugh.
"Oh, congrats! You win; I'm just the worst," she said, plastering on a mocking pout. It was then that she stood, looking John up and down with contempt; he only met her annoyed look with a smile. "Bye, Alex. I'll show myself out."
She turned on her heel without another word, starting toward his apartment door, but she caught John's quiet chuckle as she swung it open.
"See you soon, Y/N!" John called after her, and when the door slammed shut behind her, she could hear Alex's laugh. Her face burned.
THAT NIGHT—
"Can we talk?"
Y/N whirled around with a start.
It was finally the night of Eliza's birthday party. Alex and Eliza had kept the group fairly small, close friends and family only, but Y/N couldn't help but feel crowded out in Alex's open living room. Music was blasting — Hercules had made sure of that, deciding it was his responsibility to play DJ for the night — and there was an abundance of drinks, which had its pluses and minuses.
In any case, a room full of drunk people with the sober crowd quickly waning had Y/N exhausted, especially when she and John were two of the few left who weren't five beers deep. Her hyperawareness of where he was at all times was taking up a disproportionately large portion of the room, as far as she was concerned.
And that was why she'd ducked away around halfway through the night. It was already after dark, and as far as she was aware, she'd managed to escape Lafayette's enthusiastic round of karaoke without being noticed, slipping down the hall covertly.
Though she found solace in his guest room, she hadn't realized she'd been followed.
"John," she said breathlessly, stunned to see him standing in the doorway.
"Hey," was all he said. His expression was neutral, expectant as he watched her, leaning against the doorway. "Can I come in, or are you dead-set on avoiding me?"
His words caught her by surprise; she hadn't been expecting to be called out so point-blank. "Yeah. You can come in."
His footsteps were slow after he pushed himself off of the doorway's side. "You look nice."
Her eyebrows shot up. "... Thanks." She folded her arms when he neared her, taking a subconscious step back. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
He hesitated a moment, tongue in cheek, before speaking. "I... don't get you, Y/N."
"Oh?" Her eyebrows were furrowed as she eyed him. Heavy hesitance lay in her gaze.
"Mhm. Do you have a problem with me?" He quirked a brow, but his expression otherwise remained neutral. Her inability to read any sort of intention in his eyes heightened the nerves growing in her every breath.
"I... no? I just..." She narrowed her eyes, and as he took another step forward, head cocked to one side, she took one back. The door fell shut behind him. "I don't think we have a history, but you just seem to take so much enjoyment out of antagonizing me."
"'Antagonizing you'?" he repeated incredulously.
"Yes, antagonizing me. I've seen you three times this week and you've really seemed to enjoy pissing me off," she bit back, taking a step toward him, that time, to point an accusatory finger at him. "Why?"
"What have I possibly tone to piss you off?" he asked, voice laden with disbelief, giving a dramatic shrug with his hands still tucked in his pockets.
"Are you fucking serious?" Y/N let out a soft huff of bitter laughter. "No. No, I cannot bring myself to believe that you're just so oblivious that you can't tell when what you're saying is bothering me."
"I've said nothing vindictive to you, Y/N," he said, and his step forward again pushed her one back. "You can't pretend I'm the problem, here. Why are you so set on hating me?" The squint in his searching gaze had her on edge; he stood between her and the room's entrance, the space only lit by the low glow of a single bedside lamp, and he didn't stop encroaching upon her space. She was quickly beginning to feel trapped.
"I'm not." She scowled, but when she processed his words a moment later— "Wait. Are you implying I'm the problem here?"
"If the shoe fits." He raised a challenging eyebrow, and Y/N could feel the skin of her neck begin to heat. "Seriously, nothing ever went down between us, at least, as far as I know. Did I do something?"
"No, you just—" She cut herself off as she tried to articulate exactly what marked the tension perpetually between them in the air, her lips pursed. "I just can't—" Again, she stopped herself short, letting out a huff.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?"
"No," Y/N scoffed, but her gaze was growing antsier and antsier by the second, darting up and down his stature, around the room. He took another step forward, and her continuing to retreat finally backed her into the guest bed, the backs of her thighs hitting the soft comforter.
"You sure?" Then, there were less than two feet of space between them, and a small smile had begun to tug at John's lips.
"Yes, I'm sure," she said, but her trying to mask how unsettled she was with heated bitterness didn't work as well as she'd thought.
"Oh, really?" When he began to close the limited proximity between them, she could feel her heart rate begin to spike, and her unease must have been written across her face. His smile widened. "I don't make you nervous? Not even a little?"
"Oh my god, you're so cocky," she huffed, taking a step back toward him to shove him by the chest, but he caught her wrist before she could get a chance. By then, he could feel her pulse picking up. They were nearly chest-to-chest, and he raised an eyebrow. "You're fucking enjoying this, aren't you?"
"And if I am?" He raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes.
"Then you're kind of a dick."
"Oh, and you aren't enjoying this, then?" He looked far too smug for her liking. "Or are you a little too flustered for that, right now?"
He reached up to take her face in one of his hands, and the sudden, bold action only left her more rattled. His fingers skimmed along the skin of her jaw, and she fixed back on a glare, replacing her unfortunate wide-eyed gawking. "Oh, shut up."
"Or what, Y/N?" His other hand released her wrist, instead falling to her hip as he erased the few inches that still separated them.
"Or, I... Or..." She let out a grunt of frustration, pushing his shoulders, but he anchored her to his body by her waist.
"Or what?"
"Fuck you," she sneered, but she didn't waste another moment in throwing her arms around his neck, tangling a hand into his hair, and pressing her lips to his.
He had no hesitations about responding in kind, apparently, meeting her with all but bruising force. He hitched one of her legs up over his hip, his lips beginning to trail down her neck before he shoved her, her back meeting Alex's sheets as her eyes snapped open wide.
He didn't hesitate to climb onto the bed after her, yanking her head back by her hair so he could suck a hickey into her neck. "Y'know, that's not a terrible idea," he muttered against her skin.
"You're so obnoxious," she groaned, but her body relaxed in his grip as his hands found the lower hem of her shirt, tugging it out of where it was tucked into the waist of her jeans.
"You don't seem to mind." He raised an eyebrow as she began unbuckling his belt, pulling him closer by the belt loops.
"Just fuck me," she said breathlessly, and he laughed.
"Not so fast, baby." He pulled away from her with his words, leaving her balking at him as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back into place, and lowered himself from the bed, standing up and adjusting his shirt.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Her words were indignant as she propped herself onto her elbows, and he just grinned down at her. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"You forgot to lock the door."
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I was tagged in this self-ship headcanon challenge by @miyuswriting !! Honestly I rarely participate in tag stuff but this seemed fun and I’m bored lmaooo so thanks for the tag, miyu!
rules;; write some hcs about you and your favorite and tag some people!
Leo x Kuroo HCs
This is gonna be a mess, I’ve heard many variations of our ship name: Keo, Leroo, KurooLeo. Idk, take yall’s pick lmaooo
I have 0 athletic ability and dont have much interest in sports unless one of my friends gets me into it, so I highkey wouldn’t really know anyone from the Nekoma team aside from class interactions.
I was always involved in journalism tho, that was my shit. I was always walking around, taking polls and doing interviews, getting pictures and whatnot. So i’m willing to bet that’s how I’d get involved with the team.
I would deffo go to Coach Nekomata, just to let him know I was gonna be covering the volleyball team then oh? Hello? Who’s that tall drink of iced tea over there? It’s Kuroo lookin finer than a mf during practice. Lordy.
Lowkey highkey take a fuckton of pictures during regular practice and practice matches, he’s in almost all of them, if he doesn’t notice immediately it’ll probably get pointed out by Yamamoto.
“Maaan, she never takes any pictures of me, it’s no fair! She only ever gets Kuroo’s!” Snitch...
Then once I’m on his radar he’d deffo be like “Oi, shouldn’t you be getting an interview with the captain for these articles?” And that’s probably the point where I’d die. From then on I could imagine him trying to get me out of my little reporter bubble so I can actually get comfortable with the team.
After some time I’d deffo be friends with p much everyone on the team, deffo closest with Kuroo though cuz 1. he’s hot as fuck and 2. we have matching energies, both in terms of humor and dorkiness and mom/dad friend vibes.
I bounce between being shy and confident, I’d probably hit him with that “Can you hold this for me? *puts my hand in his* thanks!” to let him know I’m interested. I’d probably get a lot of playful teasing from him for it... then shut him up by kissing his cheek
I could see us staying in that weird limbo between being close friends and dating for a while until he’s finally like “Have I not asked you out? damn, guess it slipped my mind. Anyway, wanna be my girl?” He’d get a lil arm punch for asking so casually but I’d still say yes
He’d probably get so pouty because I can’t always have him in my article photos and interviews if we’re dating cuz conflict of interest lmao. “How do I make it up to you?” “Oh I dunno- start giving me goodluck kisses before every game.” “A small price to pay for journalistic integrity.”
Lots of handholding and cheek kisses, I’m soft af and you bet your ass I’m letting everyone know I simp for Kuroo every chance I get. I’m stealing that extra jersey and wearing it to his game too idgaf.
We’re the couple that slips notes into each other’s lockers, doesn’t matter if it’s cute stuff, dorky stuff, or blushy stuff. I would have a folder full of all the notes cuz why not save them for a rainy day?
Loudest ones in the cafeteria either cuz of our talking or our laughing. Our corner of the library is always full of whisper-yelling and not-so-quiet-snickering until we get in trouble. We just feed each other’s chaotic dork energy so much it’s insane.
Aight I need to stop there or I’ll keep going lmao thanks so much for the tag! I tag @allywritesimagines , @vventure , @starboybokuto and @nekoglasses !!
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⭐︎🔠Alphabet Tag🔠⭐︎
I was tagged by @poutypuppybaekhyun thanks honeypie~ 💕
Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 10 people you would like to know better.
(A)ge: Holding onto the last moments where my age ends with “teen”.... in other words Imma be 20 in a few months YEET
(B)irthplace: Saint Lucia, a wee island in the Caribbean. I’m not there right now tho. I’m studying abroad currently.
©urrent time: 3:04pm
(D)rink you had last: A very watered-down Mountain Dew from KFC...
(E)asiest person to talk to: @connie-the-marshmellow @thelimited-unlimited and @pandashounen
(F)avorite song: At the moment... Tear - BTS. That shit goes HARD.
(G)rossest memory: Okay so this one time I was sitting at the front of a bus right... Heading to school one morning, I was in like high school at the time, and this woman and her little daughter were sitting next to me, the kid was probably like 7? 8? I dunno. So anyways, the kid starts getting carsick and then starts vomiting on the floor of the bus... fam I thank the good Lord up above for my quick reflexes cuz I bunched myself up to the side real quick and not a drop touched me. Had I not done that, it probably would have landed all over my shoes... and it’s not like I was wearing designer shoes or anything, nah. It’s just that my shoes were kinda soft material sneakers so that puke would have soaked into them and my socks like a damn SPONGE.
(H)ogwarts house: Not the biggest HP fan but I feel like I’d either be Ravenclaw or Slytherin... I’unno.
(I)n love with: THIS WHOLE ASS RABBIT
One Hoe, I mean Wonho(e), I mean Wonho. Yeah, I’m in love with Wonho.
(J)ealous of people: Nah, mama always raised me to be a humble bean.
(K)illed someone: None that can be proven.
(L)ove at first sight or walk by again: I feel like it’s half and half for this one. I’m part hopeless romantic so I could see myself in the “love at first sight” situation, but I feel like if you’re actively trying to get my attention you’d definitely have to walk by again a few times because I am CLUELESS.
(M)iddle name: Amber, Thalia, Annick. In that order.
(N)umber of siblings: Technically none that are (completely) blood related. I have 1 half sister and 2 half brothers and many friends that I call my brothers and sisters.
(O)ne wish: I wish, I wish with all my heart... that human beings had a little more empathy and compassion dammit.
(P)lace you want to live: To be honest... I kinda wanna live in London.
(Q)uestions you’re asked the most: “Is that your real hair?” Yas bish.
®easons to smile: I exist and as a result I can see the beauty in the things around me.
(S)ong you last sang: Move - Taemin. It’s stuck in my head.
(T)ime you woke up: Today? Around 10/11ish I think.
(U)nderwear color: Black
(V)acation destination: I highkey wanna go to Italy but also Japan.
(W)orst habit: I have the attention span of a damn broken stick I swear I can never get anything done or be completely consistent with things.
(X)-rays: My left ankle. That in itself is a funny story so shoot me an ask if you wanna hear that.
(Y)our favourite food: Anything with meat. Also RAMEN.
**Extra Questions**
Ultimate Bias: I say it’s Namjoon. It may look like it’s Wonho but he’s my boyfriend. Namjoon is my Ult. Two different things. 😂
Ultimate Bias Wrecker: Please click here and enjoy my ranting.
Favourite Kpop Song: At the moment it’s Tear - BTS
First Kpop Song: Mr. Simple - Super Junior
Favourite Kpop Album: Between WINGS - BTS, Face Yourself - BTS, MADE - BigBang and The Connect - Monsta X.
Favourite Kpop Ship: 2Jae man, they’re so precious, I love.
Hard or Soft Stan: Have you seen my tags? I’m a hella hard stan with a little soft sprinkled in 😂😂
Favourite Kpop Company: Uhhhhhhh... YG? Because reasons...
Backstory of How I Got Into Kpop: Okay so basically back when I was in highschool my main hoe/bestie and my mom-friend/bestie came to me and showed me the mv for Mr. Simple and I was like oh shit this is pretty lit and the choreo is popping. (I’m in love with dancing so that’s a big bonus when I see some on point choreography) Then I went home and looked into a few more Super Junior songs and MVs and I was hooked on them for a while until school came weighing down on my back like a [censored, possibly offensive joke]. Then a few years later around the middle of college those same two besties came to me again with BTS - Blood, Sweat & Tears and I looked at Jimin like 👀 how you doing? And then I saw Joon’s fine ass and I was like 👀👀 well hello thurr... Then they showed me Not Today and I saw grapemon and I knew he was the one. It was bias at first second sight.... and from there I just dug deeper and deeper into the world of K-pop and now I’m like an ultimate multifandom dumpsite.
I’m tagging; Imma leave this one open to all who see it. Feel free to tag me, I’d love to know more about you guys.
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